#supernatural/fantasy fanfiction

[mahoutoons]

honestly, i am so deep into magical girl fandoms that i forget their focus on female characters and sapphic ships isn't the norm in every fandom. like i was just watching this video because i needed some background noise while i drew

and i was so blown away by how male centered all the fandoms featured here are. m/m ships are the front and centre while f/f ships and female characters are pushed to the back. even in fandoms with a more platonic/family oriented focus, the relationships between male characters always take precedence over those of female characters. and you can't tell me "well, the female characters in x media just aren't well written" because male characters can be worse written and fandoms will take what little personality they've been given and make so many aus, hcs, fanart, fanfics etc. bbc sherlock fandom gave a male character who never even fucking appeared in the show a whole personality, backstory, characterization etc but never bothered to do the same with the female characters they claim were poorly written.

and honestly, its so sad. because there's so many good female oriented media and f/f ships out there but they just won't get the attention that male oriented media gets because people always need a man in everything. you can use the excuse of the female characters being poorly written all you want but even in media where they ARE well written, they get pushed aside in favour of men.

and god forbid you call this out, especially if you're a lesbian, you'll be accused of being homophobic and hating all mlm. i've seen it happen so many times on twitter. just because someone criticizes how mlm always gets precedence over wlw, doesn't mean they hate mlm. mlm rep is important but it sucks how its always given preference over wlw just because people prefer following men's stories than women's stories.

[therhythmafterthesummer]

IBDIJEUIDJBEYAI

I JUST HAD A BIG BRAIN MOMENT!!

Kitten surprising Min with her old school uniform and a lil role play. His mind is racing from the skirt and the memories and he can like touch her how he always imagined her

-🥝

you're so absolutely right, kiwi. this was a humongous brain moment.

i've had this ask in my inbox since mid-august bc i just had to write something I HAD TO since it stirred something within me. thankfully, i recently figured out how i wanted to go about this, and finally got to writing it💜

Pairing: Werewolf!Minho x Human!F.Reader (one of the main pairings of my WereRoomies series, but you probably don’t really need to read any of the other instalments to understand this one, although it's highly recommended!). | Word Count: ~3k | Themes & Warnings: Supernatural/Fantasy AU · Smut · Fluff · Established Relationship · role-playing as high schoolers (disclaimer: they’re both consenting adults fulfilling fantasies of their past, neither are genuinely attracted to minors in any way) · nipple play · unprotected penetration [piv. no barrier method, but reader is on birth control] · a smidge of a breeding kink · cumshot · barely proof-read as it usually is with these “drabbles”...

minors do not interact.

“Min–Minho…”

Oh, how sweet you sounded when you said his name like that… It was just how he’d dreamt it’d be. He’d heard you before, of course. But not in this situation, in this particular setting…

“My dad could be home anytime now–Oh, shit…” Your words got caught in your throat the second he bit one of your nipples. How could he not, when you were on his lap, with your uniform shirt open, and your bra just down enough for him to play with your chest.

“Shh, it’ll be fine, kitten”, Minho mumbled against the swell of your breast, leaving a love bite that he hoped would be visible when you wore one of your low tops. “If he were to come home, you know he doesn’t bother us when we’re doing our homework…”

You whined as soon as his mouth reattached to your nipple, as he gently rolled the other between his thumb and index finger… Your hands buried in his hair, keeping him close while you rolled your hips to find some friction against his crotch. The pressure had his mouth salivating further, borderline drooling all over your nipple like the dog he’d recently become.

Or, at least, in this fantasy, he had probably been turned a few years prior…

When you and Minho had come to your father’s house today to help him clean up some of your old stuff from your childhood room, Minho certainly hadn’t expected for the afternoon to take him right here. To him sitting on the edge of your bed, dressed in his school uniform, with you sitting on his lap, and dressed in your school uniform.

It had been such an impromptu thing… You found the pieces of clothing at the bottom of your dresser, forgotten from the last time you wore them in your final year. Back then, you always kept a spare change of Minho’s uniform for those nights when he unexpectedly stayed over.

‘Ohhhh, you should put it on. I used to love how the uniform looked on you’, you’d told him as you handed him the dress shirt with the school’s logo on it, and the white vest top he used to wear under it.

‘Alright, but only if you put on yours. The whole thing. I also loved how you looked in that uniform’, he’d told you immediately, because it was the truth. That plaid skirt and the white button-up used to make stellar appearances in his teenage-hormones-driven wet dreams. 

He used to feel embarrassed about it. You were his best friend in this world, and the fact that he found himself daydreaming of how it’d look like if he took a peek under your skirt, or how it’d feel if he buried his face in your cleavage, certainly made him feel guilty.

Now, as an adult well into his twenties, after you both shared your affections, he no longer felt as guilty about it. Especially after learning that you yourself had those thoughts about him back then, too.

When you put on that uniform shy of fifteen minutes ago, Minho was reminded of all those thoughts he used to have, of all the sleepless nights and hidden chubs at school… It hit him then that maybe this was exactly why he loved seeing you in skirts so much in present day. A result of his teenage-self’s never fulfilled desires.

Sure, he couldn’t button his shirt since his shoulders and arms had broadened with age, and your skirt was certainly much shorter than it used to be, but that didn’t stop either of you from falling into your roles.

‘Mmm… It’s almost like we have just come back from school and are getting ready to get some work done’, you chuckled as you looked at yourself in the mirror and adjusted your thigh high socks.

That sentence alone lit up the bulb in his head, it sparked a naughty little idea that he knew you’d either entertain or laugh about. Either result was fine by him, so he had no qualms when he walked behind you, and looked at you through the mirror.

Calling your name as he placed his hands on your waist, Minho had asked you to turn around to face him. ‘There’s… there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you for so long… Please don’t be mad…’

Minho feigned nervousness, like he was once again that boy that had seemingly unrequited feelings for his best friend.

‘I really, really like you… Can’t stop thinking about you. How’d it be like to kiss you, to feel you close in ways other than platonic. You’re my best friend, and I cherish that deeply, but I just… I like you so much’, funny thing, how those were pretty much the same words he’d wanted to say to you back then. Words he had practised in front of the mirror a few times, but he was always too much of a coward to actually tell you.

You looked at him in what Minho figured was feigned shock. Oh, how he loved you… You just knew him so well, and knew exactly what he was doing without saying a single word. ‘I… I like you, too. Have liked you for so long, Minho…’

Minho had cupped your cheeks and pulled you in for a kiss. He kissed you as if he’d never done it before, desperately, hungrily, no time for being tender and soft when all he’d wanted was to devour you whole. And you had retaliated, of course. You’d pulled him close by the collar of his shirt and pressed your chest to his, kissing him with fervour.

‘Even if I’m… If I’m now…’ A beast, was what he wanted to say as he spoke between kisses. Minho had maybe fallen a little too well into this role of his younger self. He could still remember how insecure he used to be about his condition, how he looked down on himself after being infected with this goddamn lycanthropy… Those were feelings that no longer existed within him, he had now long since accepted this was part of him. If anything, with time, he’d embraced it. 

‘I’d like you even if… Even if you were a worm’, you replied simply, making him giggle, which in turn made you giggle.

Minho scooped you into his arms after that, and he walked the remaining steps to your childhood bed so he could sit on it with you on his lap. In no time, he was groping you over your shirt, under your skirt, and you had started to beg for him to touch you more.

His instincts were stunted, you knew that, he knew that, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have this animal side to him. Sometimes, especially when he was horny, that animalistic side of him took over his logical mind, and, back when he was a teen, he could recall having a harder time with certain feelings and emotions like these. So, he let them cloud his reason a bit as he fulfilled this little fantasy of his…

Minho ripped your shirt open, the buttons flew all over your room, and you gasped when he buried his head between your breasts. The thing was also a bit too tight on you, so he was sure you wouldn’t miss the garment if it got ripped a bit in the process.

You scrambled to take a hold of his hands, bringing them to your chest so he could fondle you over your bra, once again begging him to touch you. To ‘Please, please, Minho, touch me. I need it. I need you…’

And he was sure his cock was about to pop out of his jeans with how hard it got at your desperation.

So here you were, grinding into each other, on your childhood bed while Minho feasted on your tits.

“Fuck, that feels so good, baby. Harder. Do it harder…” 

How could he deny you when you sounded so needy? When he’d wanted to do this for so long? 

He bit harder, pinched harder, pulling strangled sounds of pleasure out of your lips. The more attention he gave to your chest, the more you rolled your hips against him, effectively pulling sounds of pleasure out of his lips.

His senses were flooded by you. The smell of your arousal on your lavender scent, your weight of him, the taste of your skin on his tongue, all combined had him almost delirious, especially when his free hand found its way under that godforsaken skirt of yours to tightly grope one of your buttocks.

“Baby, I think I’m… I might…”

Fuck, if you came just from him playing with your chest and you grinding your cunt on the tent in his jeans, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to contain himself. Although, he supposed coming in his underwear would’ve been a very accurate representation of what would’ve happened if his teenage self had ever had the opportunity to have you on him like this…

Minho couldn’t help but groan when you tightened your grip on his hair, when you started to roll your hips faster, harder… God, all he wanted right now was for the girl of his dreams to come, he needed to feel you trembling in his hold, to drown in your scent so he could convince himself this was happening.

Seeing you come, holding you tight while you did, was just absolutely delightful. You bit on your fist to keep your moans contained, while your whole body shook with your release.

Minho had to make the conscious effort not to blow right then and there. He was sure that if this had happened back when you were still that young, he would’ve certainly done so. He imagined that this would’ve probably been your first sexual experience together, that you’d laugh about how he soiled his underwear and how needy you’d been, before you laid down and cuddled for a bit…

Maybe you would’ve had sex a different time, on a different day where you were sure your dad wouldn’t come back home… But this wasn’t about being fully realistic, this was about having fun while fulfilling a shared fantasy.

“Fuck, Minho, baby, stop… I’m sore…”

Minho finally pulled himself away from your chest, mumbling a very unconvincing ‘Sorry’ before he attached his lips to the pulse point on your neck, relishing how fast your blood was pumping in your veins.

“You’re so fucking hot, my kitten. I’ve been dreaming of this moment, y’know?” He mumbled in your ear, taking one of your breasts in his hand to fondle the flesh, with special care to not stimulate your nipple too much.

“Me too, baby…” You were still trembling occasionally within his arms, taking deep breaths to get your racing heart to slow down inside your chest. “I’ve wanted this so bad… Even… Even touched myself thinking about it”.

“Mmm, fuck…” Minho started sucking love bites on your neck, following this faint need in his gut to leave his mark on you. “Have you?”

“I have… Sometimes, I did it while we slept in the same room”.

Minho wasn’t sure if this was you playing your fantasy, or if this was a real thing that happened, but, being honest, it didn’t matter. It made his mind disconnect completely as soon as the words came out of your mouth regardless.

Before he could even register it himself, he had stood up and thrown you on the bed, eliciting a shaky, surprised gasp from your lips. In a second, he was on you, kissing you hard, messily, even desperately. Your limbs wrapped around him, your arms around his neck, and your legs around his middle, bringing him further down to lay flush against you in your heated kiss.

He was dizzy, lightheaded, and for a second, he almost believed he was in the past, that he was making out with you on your bed after school, that he was about to lose his virginity to his best friend.

“Fuck, I need to put it in…” Minho barely detached his lips from yours while he spoke, just kept messily kissing you between words as he ground his hips to your core. “Please, please let me put it in… Need you…”

“We–we need a condom, Min”, your hands found their way under his top, where they settled to caress his back, making him shiver. “I don’t have any here”.

“Fuck, I don’t have any, either”, Minho left your lips to instead attach his own to your collarbones, to nibble on the sensitive skin, making you whine. “I’ll pull out. I got quick reflexes, it’ll be fine, please…”

He certainly was playing into this horny-teenage-boy thing all too well. Although, he was sure his younger self wouldn’t have been this stupid to believe just ‘pulling out’ would be an effective contraceptive, and surely neither would you. After all, back then, your dad made sure you both knew about being safe, which Minho was grateful for to this day. 

Regardless, the very real implant you had in your arm made it so he could play like this, so you both could play like this.

“Shit, you’ll pull out?” Your hands trembled when they found his backside and squeezed him. “You would, wouldn’t you?”

“Promise, kitten. Cross my heart”.

One of your hands left his bum to move to his crotch, where you cupped and squeezed him and overall felt him over the fabric of his jeans. He couldn’t help but buck his hips to let you feel as much as you could of him. “Fuck, okay. But Min… I’m not sure this will fit…”

“It will. I’m sure it will. It has to. You trust me, no?”

With a deep breath, biting your lip, you nodded. “Trust you with my life”. 

When Minho pulled himself away from your hold, he just had to tell you how fucking gorgeous you looked with your hair all messy, your tits out, your ripped shirt, and that fucking skirt… The hem pooled on your belly, exposing your underwear and the mouth-watering wet-patch on them.

God, he wanted a taste… But there wasn’t enough time for that right now.

Minho hastily unbuttoned his jeans, pulling them and his underwear down just enough to free his length. You swore under your breath, taking him into your hand and spreading the pre-cum that had beaded at the tip so you could easily stroke him. 

“Baby, please…” You guided him to your core. With your free hand, you pulled your underwear to the side, and dragged the tip of his cock all over your folds. “Need it. Need you, Minho…”

One day you’d be the death of him, he was sure. 

Under normal circumstances, Minho would’ve stretched you open with his fingers, he would’ve made sure you were absolutely ready to take that annoyingly big alpha cock of his. But he figured skipping the step would be a bit more… in character.

“Oh, fuck, fuck…” Minho pushed himself into your heat slowly, letting your walls adjust to his length with what he hoped wasn’t much discomfort. He knew that if there had been any, you would’ve said the word that would immediately stop everything you were doing. “That’s so fucking tight…”

You whined, not necessarily in discomfort, but in that way that made him know you were feeling impatient. Wrapping your legs around his hips, you tried to push on his backside to get him to get in already. “Please, I need it all. Now”.

“Shit–!” As soon as Minho bottomed out and had propped himself on his forearms, you took a hold of his hair and pulled him down for a messy kiss.

There was just so much spit. Everything was so sloppy and messy and he was honestly enjoying it way more than he ever thought he would.

“Fuck, you’re so hard… Can’t believe you fit”, you mumbled breathlessly against his lips, releasing his hair to place your hands on his back.

“Didn’t doubt–Shit, if you keep clenching like that I’ll come, kitten… Didn’t doubt I’d fit right in. Isn’t this cunt for me? Hm? Hasn’t it always been?” Minho didn’t even give you time to respond, he just started to thrust, a borderline animalistic pace that had you biting on his shoulder to muffle your moans.

There was nothing but heavy breaths and desperate groans and whines and moans… Nothing but the sound of skin slapping against skin and the headboard hitting the wall and your nails sinking on his clothed back…

Minho vaguely realised he was growling with each thrust. Like an animal. He was making all these sounds like the animal he was. And every time he did, your body just immediately reacted. Either by clawing at his back, or biting harder on his shoulder, or clamping hard around his length…

It was honestly driving him crazy. It reminded him that, ultimately, you accepted him, that you loved him just as he was. What an odd, but pleasant reflexion to make when you both were fucking, and pretending to be your teenage selves at that.

“It–It is”, you meekly mumbled after a while, and Minho, a bit puzzled, pulled himself away from your neck to look you in the eyes. “It’s yours. Has always been. I’ve always been”.

Minho swore loudly, throwing his head back once your words registered properly in his hazy mind. Your cunt was his, you were his. You’ve always been…

That reassurance, coupled with the vice grip of your walls, got him so incredibly close…

“Fuck, kitten, gonna come. Need to–need to pull out”, Minho was panting, drunk on the pleasure he was feeling and the fog clouding his reason.

Your legs tightened around his frame, keeping him as close as you could while he kept thrusting into you. “What if–What if you don’t?”

“Oh, God… Don’t say that…”

“Why? What if I want your puppies? Hm?”

He was going to die. Minho was sure he was seeing the gates of heaven open up right in front of him.

“C–can’t. We can’t…” Shaking his head, Minho tried his best to hold back, a titanic effort with how fucking good you were making him feel, with how fucking in love with you he was.

“Can’t…?” There was a pout on your lips, highlighted by your blown pupils, and Minho, once again, shook his head in response.

Minho just desperately shook his head. “Kitten, baby, please…”

The hold of your legs relented. Minho immediately straightened himself and pulled out of your warmth to take his cock in one of his hands while the other gripped your hip tightly. One, two pumps and he was groaning deeply, coming all over your underwear, over your mound and your now only partially exposed folds.

The sight was nothing short of exquisite. Your wrinkled, open shirt, your tits still falling out of your bra, with your nipples slightly puffy after all the attention Minho had given them, the skirt hunched at your waist, and your underwear drenched in his cum… 

Minho felt light, satisfied, and, as he tried to catch his breath, he just took you in.

After a few moments of silence–silence, save for the sound of your heavy breathing and the ringing in his ears–a grin made its way to your face, and, a second after, you broke into laughter. It made him laugh, too. Maybe uncontrollably so.

“Oh, that was awesome”, you chuckled, wiping the tears that had collected in your eyes at your outburst. “So good”. 

“Totally agree”, Minho leaned into you to press a brief kiss on your lips before he left the bed to find a face towel from your dresser to clean up the stupid amounts of cum that had come out of his stupid monster cock off of your body.

“‘Suppose it was a good thing that my dad isn’t coming until very late today. It would’ve been seriously awkward to explain what was going on if he found us… Well, like this”, you started shrugging your shirt off as soon as Minho had finished cleaning you up, and proceeded to work the couple of buttons on your skirt.

“I don’t think he would’ve appreciated the sight, to be honest”, Minho chuckled, getting out of his shirt and vest top as well to put his t-shirt back on and do his jeans. 

As soon as you two were dressed properly and in clean clothes, you both laid back down, unbothered by the soiled sheets. Minho simply pulled you into his arms, and pressed a brief kiss on your forehead before he hugged you close.

“Kitten…” Minho mumbled against your hair after a while, dragging his hand up and down your back in a gentle caress. “Was that true?”

You absentmindedly traced patterns on his chest, shapes that he could’ve sworn were hearts and stars. “Was what true?”

“Y’know… that thing about… About you touching yourself while I was in the same room…”

You pulled yourself away from his hold a bit so you could look him in the eyes. A smile came to your lips, right before you started opening your mouth to speak.

© therhythmafterthesummer 2023. all rights reserved. do not repost or translate my stories.

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[alfredosauce50]

Night at the Museum

[America x reader]

Rating: M Word count: 5, 887 Synopsis: You and Alfred decide to visit New York’s Museum of Natural History for old time’s sake. In a stroke of bad luck, you two get locked in overnight, unaware and unprepared for the dangers lurking within. It’s where history comes alive, and he ends up in a dangerous game of cat and mouse with a bloodthirsty warlord. The whole time, he’s also wrestling with his feelings for you, and he doesn’t know which is harder. Solipsism: knowledge of anything outside one’s own mind is unsure; the external world and other minds cannot be known and might not exist outside the mind.

“The more you know about the past, the better prepared you are for the future.” — Theodore Roosevelt

“Man, we haven’t been here since we were little kids,” Alfred took it all in as he made it inside, to where he was greeted by the skeleton of Tyrannosaurus rex in an awe-inspiring pose. With its head bowed toward the entrance, he and other patrons were greeted by a set of razor-sharp teeth grinning down with a hunger for the ages. “I wonder if anything’s changed. Probably a lot.”

“A bunch of stuff, actually. But it looks like they did a huge revamp on all the wax figures,” You lifted your gaze from a brochure you collected from the front. The museum of natural history wasn’t half as impressive as the Smithsonian, but it had a special place in both of your hearts. “They’re meant to be super realistic now. You know, the whole ‘history comes alive’ pizazz.”

“Huh. Then what would be the difference between here and Madame Tussaud’s?” He glanced at you.

“The people here are worth remembering.”

“Good point.”

As local New Yorkers, it was tradition to come back every once in a while. Yellow cabs, subway crazies, and the best pizza in the world — there was no other city quite like the Big Apple, and you two decided to swing by during your semester break to reconnect with your roots. Needless to say, it was nice to get away from the upbeat chaos of life on campus.

“You think you’re gonna go to Arthur’s Christmas party?” He asked you, peering around the room of American history. There was a shining stagecoach pulled by four black horses, mannequins in confederate and union uniforms with their guns trained at each other, a giant moose, and eagles watching over everything else.

“Well, we kinda have to. Can you imagine how upset he’d be if we didn’t? He’d probably be heartbroken.”

“Yeah, but I get crazy diarrhea every time.” He scoffed, eyes wide as he recalled blowing up the toilet last year.

”You don’t have to remind me.” You shuddered.

“I know, I was just saying. I was thinking we could go somewhere fun,” Alfred gave you an expectant look as he tried to sell you on it. “We could go skating, or just watch a movie back at my place. What do you say?”

“Hm, I don’t know. I’m really craving his scones.”

“Seriously?” 

”But not as much as our time together,” You smiled, watching him light up. Taking his hand, you pulled him along and said this with a laugh. “I’d rather go to the dumpster with you than the Met. You’re my best friend.”

“Yeah.” He softened his gaze. You said that, but the way you held his hand said otherwise. Or was it because you two were that close? Either way, he was starting to go down the pipeline he swore that he wouldn’t.

”Are you okay?” You asked.

”Yeah, I’m fine.” He adjusted his glasses.

“Wanna kiss it better?” You swung his arm playfully.

Alfred glared at you as the only diversion from the fact that he was blushing. It was so like you to say things like that. You were attractive, and you knew it. With your sense of humor, it made for a dangerous game. But he’d been playing it for a while. He covered your entire face with his hand, then pushed you down to a nearby bench in one clean movement.

”Hey!” 

“Hey yourself.” Alfred walked off with his hands in his pockets, as cool as a cucumber.

This might’ve been all fun and games with you, but you weren’t the loneliest animal on the planet here. Not that it made his feelings for you any less real. He liked you, and not because you were an idea in his head.

You were real, every strange thought and neuron of your imagination. You could be as sharp as a tack when you wanted to be. He loved your mind and the way it worked, or at least when you weren’t tantalizing him.

“Remember when we were little we used to take baths together?” You sprung up out of the blue.

”Barely.” Alfred exhaled, wildly unprepared for what just came out of your mouth. But before he reacted any further, he reminded himself just who he was talking to. “That’s probably why we did it in the first place. Why?”

You were sleeping over that time, as you always did every Friday after your philosophy class. Your things were strewn all over his bedroom, like a half-eaten cup noodle, some snacks, and the clothes you brought over.

While he browsed the rest of the displays in the room, he let himself get immersed in that particular memory.

That was when you caught up with him again, even having the nerve to smile up at him with ‘hehe’ written all over your face. He glowered down at you, but really, he was just happy that you were by his side again.

You had a thirty second rebound before doing or saying the next pain in the ass thing, but he forgave you even faster than that. And it had been that way since horseshoe crabs were the only thing roaming the Earth.

”You think we could fit in the bathtub?”

“If you’re asking if I wanna take a bath with you, it’s an immediate no. We’re way too old for that.”

“You don’t have to be such a prude,” You mumbled, rolling your head away. “I was just wondering.”

“I’m not a prude.” He grumbled.

“And it’s not like I haven’t seen your dick before.”

“Yeah, when I was little!” 

“Can’t imagine it’s grown much since then.”

He glared at the ceiling, not wanting to give you the satisfaction of seeing how embarrassed he was.

As much as he’d like to pull his pants down to prove you wrong, he didn’t. Someone had to uphold a sense of decency around here, even if that person had to be him, the worst possible example of it, if he was one at all.

“If you’re done, I’m gonna go to sleep,” He sat up and twisted around to fluff up his pillow. You were starting to drift off by then, but he didn’t let you off so easily. “Don’t let me catch you peeking or I’ll molest you.”

“I wasn’t planning on it, geez.”

And to think he used to be such a cute kid, kicking his ball over your fence just so he could come over to play. You both grew up since then, and with that, came his awful sense of humor among other things.

But if you asked him, he learned from the best.

“You know the nicest people make the best Nazis?” You asked, walking by a glass display of three wax figures. Sakagawea, a young Shoshone woman who guided Lewis and Clarke on their expedition to the Pacific.

“Do they?” He narrowed his eyes in interest.

“Nice people look the other way and just wanna get along with everybody else.” You said, towing him along. “Have the whole country doing that, plus a heap of propaganda, you could get away with anything.”

“Well, if I was a German, I wouldn’t buy into it.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Alfred frowned, genuinely offended. “I’m not a freakin’ racist.”

”Being scorned is your kryptonite,” You pointed out, getting him to roll his eyes. So he didn’t like to deviate from standards, and being a raving right-wing was one at the time. “And trust me when I say you would be.”

”That’s why the second amendment exists,” He smiled sagely with a hint of mischief. “If the government was to push some crazy agenda into us, the rednecks wouldn’t have it. We shape society to what we want.”

”What if the society you want isn’t the society someone else wants?” You asked, stopping in front of an exhibit of a male Algonquin warrior. “We all worship something. What’s normal to you might be crazy for someone else.”

”I guess you’re right,” He agreed, gazing upon the person who lived — and believed — in things drastically different than did. His brows came together as he marveled at the man who stood over him, a chief’s son who had been dead for well over a thousand years.

Allen was his name. He had striking scarlet eyes, dark maroon hair, tawny brown skin, and a toned body from a life of hunting and gathering. As he stared out into the middle distance, there was something uncanny about him, like he could come alive at any second, but didn’t.

“What do you think this guy worshipped?” Alfred murmured faintly, strangely captivated by him.

It was humbling to be in the presence of all of these historical figures, but intimidating to imagine them as people who existed. He was a history nut, and one thing he understood was how astonishingly cruel and violent the past could be. From the swashbuckling tales of the Wild West to the burning sands of Ancient Egypt, everything was best enjoyed from the comforts of his modern American home. Or in this case, a museum.

Where all of the exhibits were mere imitations of the long dead and gone, it would take no less than a miracle for any of them to come back to life. Little did he know, a miracle was exactly what he’d be in for tonight. 

You two poked around some more, eventually ending up in the Northern European section of the museum. Nothing really stood out to him besides the Vikings, who also caught the attention of the general public.

“This man was the greatest viking to have ever lived. Mathias Densen, the king of Danes,” A guide showed off a wax exhibit to a crowd of tourists. You and Alfred were among them, having taken the liberty to tune in.

Some took pictures, others whispered amongst themselves at the impressive lookalike made to imitate a legend out of the sagas. He had blonde hair swept up in the front in an unruly mane, and the bluest eyes you’ve ever seen. With his arm raised and axe in hand, he was frozen in time, suspended in a pose so natural, it looked like he’d bring it down at any given moment.

“He was the most feared warrior in all of Scandinavia. When he threw an axe at his enemy, he never missed. But all blood and gore aside, he will go down in history as one of the best leaders and explorers of all time.”

”Wouldn’t wanna get him angry, huh?” Alfred gave you a side-eye, returning his gaze to the information plate. That was when he saw a portrait of a woman who was supposedly the only one who could go toe-to-toe with his ruthlessness. “You know, she kinda looks like you.”

”Really?” You leaned over. “I don’t see it.”

”No way. You guys are like twins!” He exclaimed.

“Maybe just the eyes.”

“Maybe she’s your long-lost ancestor or something.”

After another hour of walking around and talking, you and Alfred left to get to the exit. It was approaching closing time, and you two were among the last to leave. A security guard stood near the revolving doors, bidding farewell to guests. But before he could acknowledge you two, Alfred stopped and patted around his shirt.

“Shit, I left my glasses.” He winced.

Neither of you two thought it would’ve been problem to go back and retrieve them at the time. Who would’ve thought they’d made the security so much tighter that it would end up the biggest mistake of your lives?

After sweeping room after room, he eventually found them on the ground next to a bench. Sliding them onto his nose, he picked up a brisk jog as he made his way back downstairs. But by then, it was too late.  

“Now let’s get out before we get locked in.”

”Don’t jinx us.” 

”Not gonna happen.” 

And he said that so confidently too. Because when he pushed at the revolving door, it didn’t budge. 

”What’s wrong?” You asked from behind. 

“Nothing, just give me a sec…” He rattled it a few more times, but to no avail. Then, he let out a heavy breath as he admitted the one thing he thought could never happen. “… Okay, I think we’re locked in.”

“You’re joking.” You blurted.

You brushed past him to give the door a strong shake, needing that same taste of defeat before believing it yourself. Sure enough, it was locked shut, and would likely stay locked all the way up til morning.

“Oh my God, we are. What are we gonna do?”

”Call the cops.” He suggested, pulling out his phone to dial 9-11. After a few tries, to which he stared at you tensely with it pressed up to his ear, he found that the call kept failing. “Annnnd the cops aren’t picking up.”

“Well, keep trying! Call Arthur or something.” 

For the next thirty minutes, you both paced around while trying to reach local government services, then friends or loved ones. It slowly became apparent that you two weren’t getting out anytime soon.

You weren’t the type to express it, let alone say it, but you were getting scared and uncomfortable.

So was he, but like hell he’d let it show. Not because he didn’t have the balls to admit it, but it was the last thing you needed right now. You weren’t looking at him, and he knew in an instant that you were on the verge.

“We’re not gonna make it out, are we?”

Alfred was crushed with so much guilt, he couldn’t even react when the lights dimmed, plunging the museum into a pitch-black darkness. His eyes stayed wide with remorse, even when he couldn’t see you anymore.

In that moment, he came over and hugged you as tight as he could, lips pursed in a deep frown. It wasn’t every day that he could hold you like this, but he set aside every shard of his shattered ego to do it.

Even if he had to do it in the dark.

There couldn’t be a better metaphor for his feelings. Alfred had always been too afraid to tell you how he felt, and if he did, he’d do it in a way that was hidden from plain sight. This was one of those times.

It was one thing to admit he was scared. It was another to say he was sorry. But telling you how much you truly meant to him was damn near impossible. So instead of doing any of the above, he let you sleep on him.

He had his back on a cold hard bench while you drifted away. There was no way he was getting any sleep tonight, but this was just his karma. So he stayed like that for the next few hours, to which you began to stir. 

“You good?” He asked in a soft murmur.

”Yeah,” You rubbed your eyes. “Just a little thirsty.”

”I’m pretty sure there’s a fountain outside.” He helped you up, putting on his glasses. “I’ll come with you.” 

”No, it’s fine.” You sighed, getting up to leave the room. 

”Hey,” Alfred softened his gaze, getting you to slow to a stop. He was so exhausted, all of his walls were coming down. And he couldn’t stand to bottle it up inside him any longer. “I’m sorry, okay? This was all my fault.”

”It’s okay. We can’t all be born perfect.” You cracked a smile, walking off. But the happy note only lasted so long once you got to the hallway outside. It was so dark, you could barely see the ground beneath you.

With nothing but the wall lamps to illuminate the empty halls, the institution turned into nothing but a graveyard: a dim labyrinth of the long dead and gone. And like all graveyards, there were ghosts.

The black outline of wax figures lined your peripherals, and you gazed at them nervously as you made your way to the fountain. After a few satisfying gulps, you began making your way back to the room. That was when you heard the echo of footsteps in the distance, too far away to have made sense at the time. Someone was at the end of the hall, and it couldn’t have been Alfred.

“Hello?” You called out to the source.

The shadow of a man appeared around the corner, the details of his wild, upswept hair showing up on the wall. When he revealed himself, he was covered head to toe in thick fur pelts and armor. Your eyes went wide ever so slowly, heart racing as you were struck with this realization. He was a spitting image of the viking you’d seen on display, but he wasn’t just an inanimate statue made of colored wax and glue. He was moving.

Breathing. 

He was alive.

Alfred waited patiently for you to come back, though he regretted letting you go out by yourself. It wasn’t like there was anything out there, but you must’ve been afraid under that bravado you showed him. If only he knew how wrong he’d been. As he sat on the bench, the museum slowly came to life. All of its waxy inhabitants, people gone for centuries, returned from the dead.

And the lights came back on, one by one.

The Viking’s chest heaved for the air that hadn’t filled his lungs in eons. And with eyes as blue as the oceans he sailed across, he stared at you like he had just seen a ghost. They had a light in them they never had before, a consciousness, a soul, and you stared right back. But the way he looked at you was like nothing you’d expect. There wasn’t a trace of hostility in his gaze, but something deeply emotional and coherent.

Not that any of that mattered to you.

You split, running from him as fast as you could and with more adrenaline than what you thought was humanly possible. But then again, what you witnessed was a testament to the impossible. The dead walked, and you were trapped in here with hundreds of them. Whipping your head over your shoulder, you let out a frightened cry when you saw him chasing you. 

Your screams echoed down the hall, and Alfred felt his blood go cold hearing them. But he forced himself to stand, and without a shred of hesitation, he ran outside to look for you. When you weren’t by the fountain, his heart sank to the pit of his stomach. And his face, now whiter than a sheet of paper. Where did you go?

“(F/N)!” He yelled, sprinting down the hall.

But more importantly, what was it that made you scream? Whatever it was, he knew he’d never forgive himself if something happened to you. The lights were now on, and he swore he could hear the tapping of what sounded like hundreds of footsteps. There was something around the corner, or someone, he just never would’ve anticipated it beyond his wildest imagination.

“Where are you?” Once be got around the turn, what he saw put a stopper to his thoughts, derailing them with the most fantastical thing he had ever seen. His eyes flew open, and his mouth went agape so he could let out a shaky breath. “What the hell is going on?”

Swathes of people dressed in cultural adornments and even objects were out and about, talking to each other in languages he couldn’t even begin to decipher. Inuits, African tribesmen, and Edwardian socialites walked along the halls like time had just shattered upon itself. Marble sculptures, copper statues, and other pieces of art were moving about like they weren’t made of some kind of rock. There was even a Terracotta soldier, who was accompanied by a Chinese dragon made entirely out of green jade. Elephants, rhinos, and giraffes passed by in a strangely calm fashion like this wasn’t their first rodeo in the museum. Everyone did, except for him. 

“No way.” He whispered, glancing left to right as he picked up a jog. If he wasn’t wrong, everything in the museum had come to life. Was he dreaming? He had to be. In his dazed stupor, he ran into a medieval knight. There was a loud clank, and he would’ve winced from how much it hurt if it weren’t for being spoken to. 

“Excuse me. Watch where you’re going!” 

“Sorry!” He blurted. “I’m so sorry.”

”That’s alright! But you look a bit pale there, kid. What seems to be the problem?” The knight questioned, still wearing his helmet and hiding his face. Aside from his silver armor, he wore pure white garments with a blood red cross — the signature outfit of a crusader knight.

“Oh, um, where do I start?” Alfred panted, speaking in a frazzled manner. Funnily enough, this was the straightest he’d been thinking now that someone was talking to him. “Oh, I know! How the hell is everyone and everything in this museum alive right now?”

“I’d normally have a better answer, but I’ve never read anything like this in the Bible,” The other scratched their head through their helmet inquisitively. “Maybe I missed a chapter. But honestly, I’m just as lost as you are.”

“I’m sorry, what?” 

“The Bible. The word of God. Haven’t you heard of it?”

”I know what the Bible is!” Alfred raised his voice into a frustrated hiss, but he instantly felt bad for it. “Sorry. I’m talking to a monk, here. I should be more respectful. But never mind that. I’m looking for my friend. I’m worried something happened to her.”

”I could help you look for her!” 

“That would be great, thank you.” 

”I’m Gilbert. Proud Templar Knight and brother from the Temple of Solomon.” They took off their helmet and held it against their hip, revealing a head of white hair and ruby-red eyes. Then, they outstretched a gloved hand for him with a toothy grin. “Pleasure to meet you.” 

“Nice to meet you too. I’m Alfred, uh, son of Arthur, and student hailing from New York,” Alfred improvised awkwardly, giving it a slow, disoriented shake. “Wow. I can’t believe I’m talking to a Crusader knight right now.”

“So where did you last see your friend?” Gilbert asked.

Mathias carried you all the way to the other side of the museum, and you thrashed the whole time, begging him to let you go. When he finally put you down, he kept a firm grip on your hand. You were greeted by other Vikings, and just when you thought you’d be sacrificed like a goat, they broke out in wide smiles.

Besides them speaking in old Norse to you, which you had no way of comprehending, they were more than pleasant to you, even offering you some plastic food, which you politely declined. From the way they acted around you, it was like being with an old friend.

It became clear that they had no intention of harming you, but why they brought you here was still a mystery.

”I’m sorry, but I don’t understand what you guys are saying,” You interrupted meekly, darting your nervous eyes between them. They stared at you with blank faces before exchanging confused looks with each other. “Could you please let me go? I don’t want any trouble.”

“Where did you run off to? I haven’t seen you all week. I was worried something happened to you,” Mathias spun you to him, hugging you tightly before putting his hands all over you. “You’re speaking in tongues and acting very strange! We need to get you a doctor.”

”I didn’t understand that either.” You sighed.

”It’s worse than I thought. Somebody get Olaf,” The Dane ordered, summoning another Viking to come over. They took your arm and led you off, much to your dismay. “Look after her for me, friend. In the meantime, I have a man to hunt. He’s the one responsible for this.”

”Hey, wait! Where are you taking me?” You exclaimed, glancing back at Mathias as he left. In that precise moment, your best friend’s words replayed in your mind like a tape. You looked just like his wife, and so much that it had the actual guy fooled. “Oh no. Alfred!” 

It didn’t take a linguist to know that he was in trouble, but there was nothing you could do. Your companions kept you inside their make-shift hut, treating you as one of their own. They laid you down and spoke to you very slowly, so they must’ve thought you had a concussion. Either way, they weren’t letting you out of their sight.

You just hoped Alfred brushed up on his history, because he’d be needing it tonight.

”Where the hell could she be?” Alfred walked with his newest companion. “We checked everywhere!” 

”Actually, we still haven’t checked Northern Europe.” Gilbert corrected, getting the blonde to turn in the direction of said location. But he launched a hand out and grabbed him, pulling him back. “Don’t. It’s suicide.”

”Why?” He frowned.

”It’s occupied by Norse Pagans.” The albino warned, pulling him close for a tantalizing whisper. He glanced around before he continued, almost as if speaking of them would summon them like the devil himself.

”Norse Pagans? You mean Vikings?”

“They came here last week, and it’s been Hell ever since.” Gilbert took his collar as he whispered in a panicked hush. “We sent a missionary up there once, and he came back to us completely dismembered!”

“Oh, fuck.” Alfred dug his hands through his hair, now a nervous wreck as he envisioned the thought. But what made his stomach really churn was the unshakeable thought that it was probably where you were.

For that, he was surprised he hadn’t vomited already. And he almost did when Gilbert went off on a passionate spiel of the Scandinavian heathens and everything they’d done. That was when one appeared at the end of the hall, and it wasn’t just any Scandinavian heathen.

”I mean, he’s okay now, but it was really disturbing.” The other made a face of unease as he recalled the sight. It wasn’t something a person was meant to see in their lifetime, but at least he was in a more dubious position now. “I don’t think they care for God.”

“Dude.”

”What?”

”That’s the Viking I saw earlier today.” Alfred whispered, locking eyes with Mathias who stood no more than three hundred feet away from him. In the next three seconds, the Dane broke into a sprint, charging at him at a terrifying speed like a mad bull. He let out a wheeze, likely the sound of his soul escaping his body. “Aaaand he’s running at us. Well, this has been a good life.”

”God hasn’t forsaken us yet!” Gilbert unsheathed a gleaming longsword, swinging it in impressive circles.  

Mathias launched an axe at him, and it spun through the air so fast, it passed as nothing but a white flash.

It cut Gilbert’s head clean off, getting it to land on the ground with a thump. There was no blood or flesh, just a cross-section of wax where he was decapitated. While he had his face planted on the floor, he said this in a muffled voice. “So that’s what that feels like.” 

But Alfred had already fled by then.

He never stuck around to see his friend lose his dignity, much less his own. He whimpered a little as he pumped his legs as fast as he could. He was running on so much adrenaline, his bloodstream may as well have been battery acid. But not everybody could outrun a Viking, and he would’ve eaten it if it weren’t for the arm that shot out from the side, pulling him into a room.

When he turned to the stranger who’d saved him, he recognized him to be the native Algonquin warrior he’d seen earlier that day. Only this time, he was perfectly canny and had an unrivaled sharpness that would end up ensuring his survival. While Mathias ran by outside with his pelts and armor clinking away, Allen put a finger up to his mouth to get him to stay deathly still.

But above all else, quiet.

There they crouched, hidden from plain sight like the watchful forces of nature. In the most tense ten seconds of their lives, they stared at each other, cerulean and scarlet eyes as wide as they could get them. For a moment, Alfred forgot he was being chased, deeply enchanted by the person in front of him. He was quite literally gazing back into history, a thousand years into the past to be precise. But once the coast was clear, he went back to hyperventilating. He was still in shock from everything that just happened, and the first thing he let out was an excited, albeit exasperated gasp. 

“Oh my God. You just saved my life. Thank you!” 

”Don’t mention it.” Allen took his bow off so he could arm himself with it. Then, he peered outside the door, making sure there weren’t any Vikings in the area. Turning back to the blonde, he pulled an arrow from his quiver without breaking eye contact. “I’ve been tracking that guy for days, and this is the craziest I’ve ever seen him. You have any idea why he would be after you?”

“How should I know? I don’t know the guy personally!” Alfred exclaimed, following him out into the hall. 

“You must’ve done something to piss him off.”

”But I didn’t do anything!” 

“Then he wouldn’t waste his time chasing you when he’d rather search for his girlfriend.” Allen remarked. “One of my pals can speak his language, and he says he’s been looking for her ever since he got here.”

“Fuck, that’s it. Why didn’t I think of it before?”

They ran to the elevator, to which he pressed the button for the basement. It had always been on the tip of his tongue, but the whirlwind of a night left his head more scrambled than he thought. And now that he had it all pieced together, he came up with a plan to save you.

“I came here with my friend, and she looks exactly like his wife. He must’ve seen us together. But it’s okay, I have an idea. They must have extra wax figures in storage, right? If she’s as important as they say, they must have her tucked away down here somewhere.”

“Okay, so we do a trade-off.”

”Exactly.”

”Smart.” Allen pursed his lips, thoroughly impressed.

The doors slid open and thus, they began their search, sweeping the entire basement for the reason why the museum had turned into a war zone. After an hour or so, Alfred heard someone banging away and calling for help from inside a tall wooden crate. A woman, and she sounded just like you. He and Allen walked up to it, then cracked it open like a treasure chest. Lo and behold, it was your doppelgänger, but dressed in the height of fashion from what was a thousand years ago.

“I think we found our girl.” He murmured in awe.

The three of you got back to the elevator. It was a given that the you from the Viking age was a little hesitant to get into such a tight box, but Allen had a way with body language. He made a few gestures to let you know where he was taking you. What more was that these two men had just broken you out of an even tighter box, so you had no reason not to trust them. 

“You know, I meant to ask, but doesn’t it bother you that there is a living, breathing, homicidal axe-wielding maniac running around the museum every night?” Alfred asked, feeling strangely calm now that he sensed that the night’s excitement was coming to an end. 

“We’re not alive the way you’re alive,” Allen told him. That was right. As magical as it was to have the museum come to life, it wasn’t real. History had done its course. He spoke with power and humility as he confronted that fact, and for that, he seemed to be at peace. “We’ve had our shot. But you still have yours.”

“I have the craziest chills right now.”

”But also because we’re made of wax.”

“Okay, that makes more sense.” Alfred laughed a little, turning to him. ”So how come you speak English?”

”I’ve been on display here for years,” Allen grinned, walking out now that the elevator doors opened. They returned to the bustling halls of the Museum of Natural History, where history had really come to life that night. “New York is my home. Always has been.”

”Explains the accent.” 

It didn’t take long to track down Mathias again, and when he finally laid eyes on the one he’d been searching for, he turned into an entirely different person. His anger, terror, and everything that made him a legend, had all but melted into a deep emotional coherence.

He was nothing but a man now. A man with his own joys and sorrows like everybody else.

He dropped his ax and ran up to his long-lost love, picking her up and embracing her after what felt like an eternity. He finally found her again after a thousand years, and the scene was quite profound to behold.

But if you asked Alfred, it wasn’t as touching as his reunion with you. He found you in the hall of Northern Europe, holed up in a tent and rubbing your eyes. They were red from crying, and the way you looked at him was something he’d burn in his mind forever. And the way you hugged him, a feeling he’d never get tired of.

”I knew you’d come.” You squeezed him.

“Of course I came,” He squeezed you back, burying his face into the crooked of your neck. “But maybe it’s time that I switch out my glasses for some contact lenses. Don’t wanna keep losing them like I did tonight.”

“No way!” You gushed. “I like the way you look now.”

”Yeah?” He smiled rosily. From that outburst alone, he knew you’d forgiven him for everything that happened. But from the sound of things, you had a much easier time than he did. On the way home, he enthused you on the people he met and his close brushes with death. 

“You ever hear of a term called solipsism?” You asked. 

“Doesn’t ring a bell.” He shook his head.

“It’s the concept that everything around you doesn’t exist and is made up by your own mind,” You explained, stopping him in the middle of the street. It was dawn by then, and the rising sun cast a golden glow over your tender smile. “But if everything around me is just my imagination, you’re the best thing I’ve come up with.”

His eyes went wide, shocked by how sweet you just were. Just like that, everything he ever pined away for didn’t matter anymore. He was worth more to you than an adventure of a lifetime because he was that adventure. But at the same time, Alfred fell even harder for you, and it showed in the way his gaze softened. 

”Right back at you, sport.” 

[arxims]

𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘,𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋

After committing a serious violation of the Higher Realms protocol, You were punished to live on earth for 30 human days without your powers. Considering your lack of experience on earth, you doubted your survival on the mortal plane especially without any powers, you only had one choice, the human you met 8 mortal years ago. But you were completely oblivious of the chaos awaiting you on the mere mortal plane of earth.

au /genre : human!Jungkook x guardian!reader, fantasy au humor, fluff, crack, a bit angst, supernatural au

Warnings : mentions of dark elements like satanic worship and black magic, and human sacrifice, magical elements, spiritual elements, eventual smut.

Rating : 17+

© All rights of this story belong to arxims. This cannot be modified, translated or republished without my permission or knowledge.

This is a work of pure fiction and has no relation with the BTS members in real life. Please take it in a story sense.

ᴾᴿᴼᴸᴼᵁᴳᴱ

Word count : 1.4 k

In the multiple realms existing in the universe, exist the higher realm. A realm which is home to the guardians. A species created by the almighty creator, blessed with certain powers, born to maintain the balance of all realms and all multiverses. The powers and abilities of the whole realm was provided by a rotating Mystic sphere, called the Mystic core situated in the heart of the realm. The source of magic. The higher realm is divided into peculiar subrealms, each subrealms, houses guardians with similar powers and abilities. Air Realm, Fire realm, and all elementals have it's own realm, with Mind Realm, Space Realm and Time realm. Each realm was ruled, looked forward by the superior of each. And the most powerful realm of all subrealms is considered to be the Energy realm. And the new superior of the energy realm was Jieun, Guardian of Cosmic energy.

Though all kinds of energy guardians were present in the energy realm, one kind of energy was rare. The primordial energy guardian. The Higher realm will only contain one primordial energy guardian in one generation and it's a rare phenomenon of the birth of an energy guardian. After skipping a generation with no primordial energy guardian, born You, (Y/N). The guardian of Primordial Energies. Capable of controlling any energy. Even the primordial energies itself.

Growing up as an enigma, you were spoiled by everyone. Especially by the superior of that time, Boa. Boa trained you by herself, as at some point, energy realmers believed that you would be crowned as the next energy realm superior. But Boa knew you couldn't look after a realm all by yourself. She chose Jieun before her death. And Jieun treated you, Just like Boa did. It does erupt jealousy from other sub realms that (Y/N) of the Energy realm was given more importance than other guardians, given allowance to roam anywhere in the vast expansion of the multiverse. But one thing remained strict is the set of rules that has to be strictly followed by any guardian, even you. And you, of all, unintentionally violated it.

The council chamber of the higher realm was silent. The tension resonated on the pristine white walls.

The vast hall was filled with a tense atmosphere. The guardians of the various realms were assembled, seated according to their ranks and realms. At the center dais sat the Council Elders, who were also the superiors of their respective realms – Zephyr, the wise Elder of the Air Realm, Ignis, the stern Elder of the Fire Realm, and Aquarius, the ancient Elder of the Water Realm. Their faces were etched with concern.

You, the Guardian of Primordial Energies, stood defiantly before them, your eyes blazing with indignation. Jieun, the Superior of the Energy Realm, stood beside the Council Elders, her expression grave. Orin, the Superior of the Mind Realm, and Tharos, the Superior of the Space Realm, flanked Jieun, their expressions inscrutable.

"Elders, I implore you to reconsider," you pleaded. "The energy surge was an accident, a result of my inexperience, not malice."

Zephyr, the wise Elder, spoke up in a gentle tone. "We understand, (Y/N). However, the consequences of your actions were catastrophic. The destabilization of the time-space continuum and the Mystic Core's rotation could have been disastrous."

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the gathered guardians.

You stepped forward, voice laced with defiance. "I never intended for such chaos to unfold! It was a miscalculation, nothing more. Surely my service and loyalty to the Higher Realm count for something?"

Ignis, the stern Elder, leaned forward. "Your power is unmatched, (Y/N). Such power comes with great responsibility, which you have failed to uphold."

"Failed?" you scoffed. "I have dedicated my life to maintaining the balance of the multiverse! One mistake should not negate all that I have accomplished."

Aquarius, the ancient Elder, rasped, "We understand your frustration, young one. But the threat you posed to the very fabric of existence cannot be ignored."

All eyes turned to the Superiors, awaiting their judgment.

Orin, the Superior of the Mind Realm, stroked his chin thoughtfully. "While I empathize with (Y/N)'s position, the Council's concerns are valid. Her power is immense, and a lack of control could prove catastrophic."

Tharos, the hulking Superior of the Space Realm, nodded in agreement. "Indeed. Perhaps a period of intensive training and guidance, rather than outright banishment, would be more appropriate?"

Jieun remained silent, her expression inscrutable as she weighed the options before her.

You seized the opportunity, turning to Jieun with pleading eyes. "Superior Jieun, you have been my mentor and guardian. Surely you can see the injustice in punishing me so harshly for an honest mistake?"

Jieun held your gaze, her expression unreadable. After a long moment, she spoke, her voice heavy with reluctance. "Your actions, however unintentional, put the entire multiverse at risk, (Y/N). This cannot be overlooked."

Your shoulders slumped, but her defiant gaze remained fixed on her mentor.

"However," Jieun continued, "I agree that banishment may be too severe. Perhaps a period of intense training and reflection, under the guidance of the Council Elders themselves, would be more appropriate."

Zephyr considered Jieun's words, her brow furrowed in thought. "A reasonable suggestion, Superior Jieun. What do you say, fellow Elders?"

Ignis stroked his beard, his stern gaze focused on you. "The threat she poses cannot be ignored. But perhaps, with proper guidance, she can learn to harness her abilities responsibly."

Aquarius nodded slowly. "Yes, a period of training and reflection may be the wisest course of action."

The Elders exchanged glances, silently communicating their thoughts.

Finally, Zephyr spoke once more. "Very well. The Council has reached its decision."

The hall fell into a heavy silence as all eyes turned to the Council Elders.

"(Y/N) shall be stripped of her powers and sent to the Realm of Earth for thirty human days," Zephyr proclaimed. "During this time, she shall live amongst the humans, without her abilities, and learn the value of control and responsibility."

You recoiled slightly, but remained silent, her jaw clenched tightly.

"Furthermore," Zephyr continued, "upon her return, (Y/N) shall undergo rigorous training under the guidance of the Council Elders themselves. Only then will she be deemed fit to wield her powers once more."

Jieun bowed deeply, relief and gratitude evident in her features. "I accept the Council's decision, and I shall ensure that (Y/N) understands the gravity of her actions and the importance of her training upon her return."

The Elders nodded solemnly, their expressions a mixture of respect and relief at the resolution.

Orin and Tharos exchanged glances, silently acknowledging the wisdom of the Council's decision.

Jieun turned to you, her eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and determination. "I know this is not what you wanted, child. But as your mentor, it is my duty to ensure that you learn the lessons you need to wield your power responsibly."

You took a shuddering breath, her defiance deflating in the face of Jieun's unwavering resolve. "I understand, Superior. I will use this time on Earth to reflect and grow. And when I return, I will prove to the Council that I am worthy of my power." your fierce attitude returned.

Jieun placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "I know you will, child. Now, go and prepare yourself for your journey to the Realm of Earth. May the light guide you on your path."

You never wanted to live on earth. But little did you know that the set of events waiting for you on earth would potentially change your celestial life forever.

Prologue is here. I've made some changes from the prequel since this was supposed yyo be a one shot with no romance and thus I never considered adding elements that could potentially lead the story. We'll here we are on our way to approach the fic. I thought it'll be better to post prologue before posting the chapters so that readers could get a good look on the premises of the story. But trust me, the story is not as serious as the prologue looks like. It's more of a less serious one. Oh I'm spoiling it more. But let me tell you, this more of a (Y/N) story than Jungkook story. So let's goo

I'll only start posting angel baby angel after finish moonstruck. So this is all you'll get of angel baby angel before moonstruck. This is more of a fantasy fic so be readyyyy. Love yall so much, kisses...

- mars

ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ : @looneybleus @ttanniett

[moonlight-rider25]

In case you were looking for a Supernatural fanfic series to read...check this out...https://www.tumblr.com/moonlight-rider25/695202029229031425/stories?source=share

[chimcess]

→ Chapter Nine: Landscapes Pairing: Jimin x Reader Other tags: Werewolf!Jimin, Witch!Reader, Shifter!Reader, Shifter!Jimin, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha!Jimin Genre: Supernatural!AU, Werewolf!AU, Angst, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Smut, Word Count: 10.2k+ Synopsis: Within the four realms of Lustra lay the Bangtan forest home to the Foxglove pack of the south and known as the “land of magic.” It is also home to the Bridd, a powerful witch from a cursed bloodline who is one of the sacred guardians of the forest. Y/N is the newest Bridd, a young girl who was given her position too early. Now a woman, Y/N is revered amongst the wolves as the most powerful witch they have ever known, but hiding under the surface is a woman who has to battle between her duty and her heart. Warnings: ANGST, strong language, PTSD, flashbacks, self-hate, self-depreciation, talks of death, nosey birds, Moland is a lot of fun to write about, (sorta) theft, home sickness, magic, very tame A/N: Don't know how I feel about this chapter. It was a bit difficult to write. I think you'll understand why in a moment. Thanks for reading!

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Namjoon pov

I stood in the cramped boat house, the scent of Bridd lingering faintly but unmistakably fresh. It was a small concession I could offer Jimin, a flicker of hope in a sea of frustration. Hoseok had instructed me to search outside and follow the trail, a task I’d already performed yesterday. Jimin, in his usual manner, insisted on a double-check. Today’s search yielded better results; I could discern the subtle shifts in the scent. Bridd had stood exactly where I was standing no more than forty-eight hours ago.

“She’s long gone,” Hoseok’s voice echoed clearly in my mind, despite the distance between us—five miles at least. “Wonder where she went.”

“Taehyung mentioned Viridi Gramine,” Hyuna interjected, her focus sharp and unyielding as she scanned for any trace of Bridd. “Do you think she might be headed that way?”

“Doubt it,” I said, tracing the scent from a small cot on the floor to a rusty fridge. “I don’t think she was ever planning to visit our cousins.”

Hyuna mulled over this, while Hoseok wrestled with guilt. We had all chided him for it, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that if he had been able to speak to Bridd and Jimin, none of this would have happened. Apologizing for his perceived failure, the younger wolf returned to pondering Bridd’s whereabouts.

“Not far,” Hyuna mused thoughtfully.

“She could be out of Moland by now,” I said, my tone edged with concern. “I have no clue which direction she might have taken. She could be lost out there.”

The thought unsettled us all. Hoseok, knowing Bridd’s limited experience with the outside world, worried about her lack of navigational skills. Without a map, she was likely adrift. Hyuna, however, believed in Bridd’s survival instincts. If she had to fight, she could, and her shifting abilities would serve her well. Most likely, she had flown over the swamps and into Clarcton—an efficient and practical choice.

“That makes the most sense,” Hoseok agreed, his mental voice tinged with resignation.

Following her scent outside, it abruptly stopped at the small deck adjacent to the house. She must have shifted from there. We had hit a dead end. Hoseok let out a frustrated huff, while Hyuna attempted to calm him. I could now catch my sister’s thoughts, fraught with anxiety and worry. Yeong-Mi had always been prone to migraines and panic attacks; her stress was palpable.

“Shut up,” she snapped at me, her irritation clear but tinged with underlying stress. “He’s right, oppa,” she addressed Hoseok. “You can’t blame yourself. We all know who’s really to blame for this.”

Sol’s face flickered in her mind—distorted and unfamiliar. Yeong-Mi’s memory of Sol was tainted, a far cry from reality. She had no intention of facing the Luna again anytime soon, a sentiment Hyuna echoed with a delighted giggle. Hoseok mumbled something about Sol only trying to help, but none of us paid it much mind.

“Sol can’t bear all the responsibility,” I gently rebuked my sister. “Bridd still made the choice to run off.”

“If she had just minded her own business,” Mini barked, her frustration boiling over, “Bridd wouldn’t have fled! God, how could she say that to Jimin Oppa when we all know how stressed he’s been?”

“An idiot,” Hyuna snapped back, her anger flaring once more. “Between Bo, his brother, and the copiae, the guy hasn’t had a moment’s peace.”

I had tried to remain neutral but found myself agreeing with Hyuna. Sol had overstepped her bounds. Taehyung’s reaction to her misjudgment offered some solace. The boy had yet to touch his mate since Jimin’s frantic panic the night he discovered Bridd’s empty bed. Rumors of their constant arguing since her disappearance were spreading through Bangtan.

“Eun-Jin mentioned that Jimin said Bridd was heading to the Ozryn mountains alone,” my sister added. “I haven’t been around him since she left, so I don’t know the full story, but he’s devastated.”

Hoseok growled at Jimin’s name. Mini defended her favorite alpha while I reminded him of the bigger picture. Sol’s misleading information had set off a chain reaction. Jimin’s reaction, driven by incomplete information, had resulted in his current turmoil. Hoseok vehemently disagreed until Hyuna asked him how he would have reacted if he had believed she was going off to harm herself after recovering from an injury.

“She’s alone out there,” Hoseok grunted, his resolve wavering in the face of his wife’s reasoning. “He should have never let that happen.”

“It’s not his fault,” Jong-Hyun, Jungkook’s older brother, chimed in, having returned from his eastward search. “They’re both stubborn, and I doubt Bridd would have allowed him to come along. Ji-Hyun mentioned they had an argument the afternoon she left. He feels partly responsible for what’s happened.”

I growled, “That boy’s attitude is going to get him hurt. Is that why Callisto’s been even more irate than usual?”

Mini laughed, “I think that’s just how she is around you.”

We shared a laugh, the tension briefly easing. Hyuna and Hoseok had found each other, and my sister was their next stop. She was almost to Syrena, and the couple wanted to go for a swim. We declined their offer—I had no desire to be a magindara’s next meal. Yeong-Mi chose to wait with us, keeping an eye out for any elves.

I drowned out the cacophony of voices, focusing instead on the faint, elusive trail I was following. The swamps were vast and treacherous, a labyrinth where finding Bridd seemed almost impossible. Fear gnawed at me. I hoped to God she was out there, safe and vigilant, though I knew she wasn't invincible.

I sat by the murky water, staring into its depths as if it might offer some answer, until Hyuna’s voice broke through. Taehyung was looking for me. My father was worried about a group of elves spotted in the northwestern corner of Moland and needed me out of the forest. Jimin, stubborn as ever, refused to come home. Taehyung needed my help to strategize. Hyuna had looped back to meet me near Bridd’s now-destroyed cottage.

“We’re leaving him out here alone?” I asked, a hint of disbelief in my voice.

“Of course not,” Hyuna replied, her small red form bristling slightly. “Jong-Hyun and Hoseok are keeping an eye on him. He’s deep in the forest somewhere.”

She was disappointed about their postponed beach trip but chose not to dwell on it. I tried to offer some comfort, imagining them swimming and laughing together another day, but she waved it off. She was grateful, but the thought of discussing it further would only trouble Hoseok.

“And he hasn’t found anything?” I asked.

“Nothing,” Hyuna confirmed.

As I stepped into Bridd’s clearing, the sight of the wildflowers struck me. Her garden was a riot of colors, an oasis of beauty amidst the desolation. Her cottage, surrounded by a lush garden of vegetables, fruits, and herbs, seemed almost surreal. A porcelain birdbath stood at the front, perpetually full, as though enchanted. The perfect, curated meadow seemed a divine attempt to keep Bridd from sinking into despair. Hyuna lay in the grass near the ruined house, her face etched with sadness. Taehyung had said an elf caused the damage. Bridd’s scent still clung to the remnants of her home, but it was fading.

“I wanted to go inside,” Hyuna said, her gaze fixed on the gaping hole in the cottage’s front. Her sadness was palpable. “But I don’t think Jimin would appreciate it. This is the only place that still smells like her.”

“He’s been here,” I said, noting the strong, fresh scent of Jimin. “Is he sleeping in there?”

She nodded. “I think he’s trying to fix things up. Jungkook mentioned it to Cadoc. Jimin’s obsessed with getting everything right before she comes home.”

We exchanged a look. Neither of us held out much hope that our little bird would return soon. I had more faith in Bridd’s survival skills than Hyuna did, but neither of us knew when—or if—she would come back.

Hyuna recalled her trips to Bangtan when she lived in Viridi Gramine. The Ozryn mountains were harsh, unforgiving, and lethal. Despite her royal lineage and traveling with the most skilled guides, there was always a risk she might not return. After finding Hoseok, the thought of crossing those mountains had never crossed her mind until her mother fell ill.

I had never traversed the Ozryn myself, but Hyuna’s memories sent a chill through me. Bridd might very well perish out there, and no one could prevent it. I considered suggesting that Jimin and I abandon Foxglove to search for her, but a single glance from Hyuna wiped the thought clean. We couldn’t leave the village without more information.

Bridd’s death would shatter Jimin, and Taehyung and Sol’s marriage—already strained—would likely fall apart completely. The Park family would never be the same. I desperately hoped she would return to her senses, but deep down, I knew she wouldn’t. The fierce determination in her eyes when I visited her cottage after Sol’s birthday spoke volumes. Bridd had more fire in her than Hyuna realized.

“She’s never seen so much of the world before,” Hyuna whispered, her voice as if confessing a forbidden truth. “How can she know where to go if she doesn’t even know what to look for?”

“She has maps—”

“Maps that predate the industrial revolution,” Hyuna cut me off sharply. “That girl is lost, and you know it.”

I didn’t need to say more; we were in agreement. I reminded her of Bridd’s tenacity when threatened, recounting our fight outside the cottage. Hyuna chuckled, acknowledging Bridd’s fighting spirit but still worried. When Bridd was in the infirmary, the witches had mentioned her fainting spells. How could we be sure she wouldn’t collapse out there?

“We don’t,” I admitted. “We just have to have faith. For Jimin’s sake. For her friends’ sake.”

“And Bridd’s,” Hyuna added.

“And Bridd’s,” I agreed.

A distant howl pierced the forest, signaling it was time to move. Taehyung rarely shifted anymore, so it had to be urgent. Hyuna decided to accompany me and wait for her husband at the Temple, her thoughts wandering to the prospect of confronting Sol, though I chose to ignore it.

As we neared the village, I heard the voices of the other copiae joining the search. Ji-Hyun’s loud complaints about his sister-in-law’s dramatics stood out. Hyuna fought to suppress a snarl, her thoughts simmering with anger. The younger wolf quickly dropped the subject, but my distaste for him remained. Taehyung shared my sentiments and told the Park boy to head home for the day. Ji-Hyun managed to keep his thoughts to himself long enough to change, severing our connection.

“Irrumator,” Hyuna grunted, her thoughts shifting from Ji-Hyun to Sol.

I chuckled. “He’s young. Cut him some slack.”

“He’s older than Taehyung!” Hyuna snapped. “He should know better. What he said to Bridd was out of line. How can you defend him?”

I bowed my head, conceding. I respected Hyuna enough to avoid an argument, especially with the looming threat of war. Disagreements with her would mean disagreements with Hoseok, and that was something we couldn’t afford right now.

“It’s not defending him,” I said, trying to keep annoyance out of my voice. “I just think this is a time for unity. Arguing over something we can’t change is pointless.”

Hyuna huffed but let it go. I felt a small victory in that, knowing we needed to focus on more pressing matters. Taehyung’s thoughts reflected his inner turmoil. While he agreed on the need for unity against our shared threat, he was hurt and betrayed by his closest friend’s disappearance.

Sol stirred complex emotions within me. My yearning to lead had once blinded me to her true nature. When Taehyung was chosen over me, I was disappointed, but any lingering romantic feelings vanished. I was genuinely happy for him, even if my actions didn’t always reflect it.

Sol had always been obsessed with Jimin, her infatuation apparent in her teenage ramblings. Ahn had asked me to escort her while she shifted, and her incessant daydreams about Jimin were the last thing I wanted to hear. I found myself wanting to be at her side, to lead, and her thoughts of me were less than flattering.

Sol’s heartbreak over Jimin’s lack of interest was palpable. She had desperately sought his affection, willing to overlook her mates. Jimin, though kind and cordial, had rejected her advances. I understood now, and it made sense. He was deeply devoted to another.

Sol’s life took a nosedive into chaos the moment she found herself wrapped in Taehyung’s arms. At first, confusion and disbelief painted her world in shades of gray, but soon, that confusion melted into something pure, almost ethereal. It was as if she had been in love with him all along, as if it was written in the very fabric of her being. For Taehyung, the feeling was a mirror image of hers. Before Sol, his heart had been tethered to a local girl named Minji. But love, it seems, has a way of changing the script.

Still, Sol’s obsession with Jimin was almost automatic, a reflex she couldn’t control. They were closer in age than most of us (except Taehyung), though Jimin was still seven years her senior. He was always kind and thoughtful, qualities that drew her in like a moth to a flame. When she heard he might be in danger, she rushed to his side. What she told him, which I knew only because Jimin couldn’t stop replaying that night in his head, was meant to soothe him. Yet, she shoved her friendship with Bridd aside, put her trust with Taehyung on the chopping block, and risked straining her bond with Jimin himself—all to protect his fragile heart. It would have been admirable if she’d taken a moment to think, rather than barreling into his house like a bat out of hell, spewing melodramatic, and frankly, distorted versions of the truth.

The fallout was catastrophic. Jimin’s argument with Bridd was fueled by Sol’s words. The man was already on edge. His pack of fifteen had dwindled to seven, the newer recruits too green to be of much use. Stress and frustration boiled over the moment Sol’s dramatic tale hit his ears. She painted Bridd as a suicide-bound lunatic, claiming the witch was deceiving everyone about her intentions, determined to atone for her past sins. It was absurd, though not entirely untrue, but it came from a teenage girl who hadn’t truly listened. To Jimin, all he could hear was his mate marching to her death to atone for her silence.

The whole situation with Bridd was surreal. I was irritated by her reluctance to share her visions, but that frustration faded when I realized the depth of her fear and helplessness. We weren’t on good terms. Foxglove had distanced itself, and Ahn had been vocal about his plans to visit her cottage. I couldn’t blame her for hesitating to speak up when the threat was uncertain. Ahn might have had her killed.

“He would have been a fool,” Hyuna mumbled, breaking the silence.

“When wasn’t he?” I shot back, my tone dry.

Everyone shared my sentiment. Bridd was the last person to blame. Her actions, once she understood the gravity of the situation, revealed her true care. Cadoc’s account of waking up to find the little witch, broken and bloodied, but still determined to reach Foxglove, was enough to reduce even the toughest to tears. The second her eyes opened, all she could think about was getting back to Foxglove. Any lingering doubts about her intentions evaporated. Only a few, Ji-Hyun among them, remained wary, but they were making an effort for the pack’s sake.

At the village’s edge, I parted ways with Hyuna. She gave me a brief farewell before I shifted. I was more private than the others, especially Hoseok and Hyuna, and they were accustomed to giving me space during the shift. It was my most vulnerable moment, and I loathed feeling exposed.

Bangtan had various items of clothing stashed away, none of them tailored or particularly stylish, but they were functional. My mother was responsible for keeping the copiae clothed and cared for, a job she took very seriously. It was one of the few things my father felt proud of. He often demeaned her, telling her she needed to do better, be better, spouting the same old demeaning slogans the older men in town were fond of. I could never see the faults in any of the women, especially not my mother, but she never commented on it, and neither did I.

I found a pair of large, baggy pants and shifted. After putting on the cotton garments, I decided to forgo a shirt and made my way to the Temple. Taehyung was waiting for me, and I didn’t want to add to his burdens. I felt I had done enough of that already.

As I walked through the town, I saw Jimin’s mother, Mi-Jeong, helping Jungkook’s father chop wood for his roof. The Parks were an unusual family. Mi-Jeong was outspoken, fierce, and refused to bow to men’s expectations. Her stubbornness was rivaled only by her youngest child. My own family often criticized her ‘atrocious’ behavior, but I had always been fond of Mi-Jeong.

Ji-Hyun, on the other hand, was a quiet boy, favoring his mother with his sharp features and moss-brown eyes. He followed his brother around for years without complaint. That quietude lingered into his teenage years, but when he fell for a human girl, it sparked a fierce possessiveness. He fought for her, both verbally and physically, a devotion that changed him. His attitude was often defensive and quick to judge, but his love and loyalty for his family were unparalleled, even surpassing his older brother.

Jimin had always fascinated me. From the moment he was born, he had the village at his feet. His father had been a formidable figure, embodying the strength our people revered. His choice of bride was unusual, but everyone believed Ji-Won was up to the challenge of handling Mi-Jeong. Jimin, like his father, possessed all the traits of a Park: charm, wit, courage. What set him apart was the hidden sweetness he kept from the world. I saw it. I had always seen it.

The first glimpse I got of that sweetness was when he chased butterflies in his backyard. He was no older than four, but even at that age, boys were expected to show maturity. In public, Jimin was the epitome of a perfect child. Yet, watching him blow bubbles and giggle as he chased a monarch butterfly, I knew his public persona was an act.

Now, that same sweetness was on display once more, though in a far more public and painful manner. Jimin had shut himself off, avoiding conversations and shunning his closest friends, hiding away and waiting for the other piece of his heart to return. It was a strange sight: Park Jimin, usually so strong, now weak and in agony.

As Mi-Jeong’s eyes met mine, I saw the same sadness and worry reflected in her. I hoped her family would pull together, but I doubted it would happen until Bridd returned, if she ever did. The thought of the Park family’s fate if she didn’t come back sent a shiver down my spine. 

I didn’t stop to talk to anyone, as I usually did. My mind was too scattered, and frankly, I was done with conversation. A constant stream of thoughts and voices in your head will do that. Fortunately, no one seemed put off by my silence. We were all grappling with uncertainty since losing one of our strongest fighters.

“Anything new, dog?”

The voice slithered through the air, smooth and grating, a rasp that scraped against my nerves. I clenched my teeth, trying to ignore the familiar sting. With a deep, slow breath, I turned to face the source of my irritation.

Seokjin was there, of course. He had become my personal Dante’s Inferno over the past few days. The man had a grudge that could outlast a vampire’s curse, and he still hadn’t forgiven me for taking a swing at his friend. His face was a storm cloud, eyes dark with disdain. Beside him, Yoongi was a ghost of his former self. He looked worse than ever—thin and ragged, like a paper doll battered by the wind. His hair was a disheveled mess, and his once vibrant blue eyes had dulled further, his pupil barely visible.

“Unfortunately not,” I said, keeping my voice even, though I wanted nothing more than to escape this confrontation. “A few are still out searching, but I was pulled away.”

“Hmft,” Seokjin crossed his arms, a gesture that seemed to tighten the knot of irritation on his face. “Figures.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I snapped, irritation bubbling up.

I never did like much about him.

“You don’t give a damn if you find her or not,” Seokjin’s voice was thick with anger, each word dripping venom. “None of you do.”

My patience was fraying, “That’s not true—”

“It’s that bitch’s fault she’s gone,” Seokjin shouted over me, his voice cracking like a whip.

“Stop yelling,” I said, struggling to keep my composure. The scene we were causing was spiraling out of control. My father would lose his mind. “I know what Sol did. None of us are happy about it, but I’m not a god. I can’t rewind time or bring her back. What’s done is done.”

“Yet you still follow her orders like some lapdog.”

“I follow Taehyung,” I corrected, my voice tight with restrained frustration. “By extension, that means I follow his wife. We’re at war, Seokjin. I’m sorry about Bridd, truly, and I hope she’s safe, but my life doesn’t revolve around her. I have a village to protect, a village she isn’t in. I won’t abandon it to chase shadows.”

Seokjin’s face was a furnace of rage now, tears brimming in his eyes. I couldn’t help but feel a pang of pity for him. Bridd was a close friend of his, and she had abandoned them—harsh words, but accurate in the rawest sense. The others had voiced their disgust when she vanished, their anger directed at our governing bodies. Sol had barred them from the Temple after one of Seokjin’s entourage had lashed out. Since that night, they’d remained cloaked in silence, not a whisper of their departure from the Park house.

“You’re going to let her die,” Seokjin’s accusation was a punch to the gut, raw and brutal.

Yes, if it meant saving my own. Bridd was a distant concern compared to the stakes at hand. I barely knew her; respect didn’t equate to prioritizing her over my sister. In this high-stakes game, I had to trust that she could handle herself and accept it.

“Jin,” Yoongi’s voice cut through the tension, soft yet firm. I had almost forgotten he was there. “Let it be. Namjoon has done what he can. Let’s return to Mi-Jeong’s.”

I was relieved that Yoongi seemed more composed than Seokjin. I sneaked a glance at him and was glad to see his hair growing back, a sign he was getting enough to eat. It was a small comfort, considering the grim reality of his condition. Yoongi’s blindness wasn’t just a loss; it was a nightmare. I remembered how his pain had been described—a brutal assault on his senses, panic attacks ripping through him like storm winds. Samanya had said the spell should have killed him, and his survival, with only his eyesight lost, was a cruel twist of fate.

“But—”

“Drop it,” Yoongi said, his voice a low rumble, stopping Seokjin before he could unleash another tirade. Without turning his head, he addressed me. “I apologize for his callousness. We’re all on edge. I hope you understand.”

This was the most I’d heard Yoongi speak, even during our time at Bridd’s cottage in the Spring. “It’s not an issue. I hope you’re feeling better.”

It was unnerving to talk to someone who couldn’t meet my gaze. Yoongi’s eyes, unseeing and vacant, stared blankly at the village’s edge. His voice was gruff and monotonous, a strange contrast to the depth of the situation.

“I am fine,” he replied. “We’re here because my mother wanted to know how far you believe she could have gone. I’ll tell her that she must have shifted and lost her scent.”

“Thank you,” I said, relieved by his ability to keep Seokjin quiet. “She was on a houseboat for a few hours before she left. Any ideas?”

“Thelma,” Seokjin grunted. “She must have rested and then taken off. Was anything missing?”

I shrugged. “I couldn’t say. Sorry.”

Seokjin shook his head angrily, a futile gesture.

“No need to apologize,” Yoongi said, raising a hand in a dismissive motion. It was unclear what he intended, but I chose not to dwell on it. “We’ll leave you alone now.”

Seokjin opened his mouth to argue but thought better of it. I smirked, feeling a bit of triumph. Yoongi’s presence was a useful deterrent for the annoying one. Scowling, Seokjin wrapped an arm around Yoongi and turned towards the residential district, their figures fading into the distance.

Taehyung was pacing when I finally found him in the Temple library. Books were strewn across the tables like fallen soldiers, pages ripped from their bindings stacked haphazardly at the edge of a massive oak table that had seen better days. His blonde hair was a shaggy mess, the back grazing his neck while the front hung just past his ears. Thick, wavy bangs spilled over his eyebrows, so long they were kept at bay by a headband.

The sight of him worried me. Taehyung was unraveling, a fraying thread in a tapestry of stress. He managed to keep it together during the elder meetings, putting on a brave face to avoid giving Ahn any satisfaction. But anyone could see the cracks beginning to show. Jimin was doing his best to keep Taehyung from falling apart, but he had his own demons to battle.

I had taken it upon myself to pick up the slack where Taehyung faltered. I owed it to both him and Jimin after my role in their exile. Taehyung, ever the forgiving soul, was more generous with grace than Jimin. But I knew I was skating on thin ice. Others might have taken my head for the disrespect I’d shown. Jimin might have if he wasn’t so focused on keeping the peace with his mate.

I needed to focus on the task at hand. Taehyung had summoned me for a reason, and I had to be there for him. His pacing showed no signs of stopping as I entered, a bad omen for the kind of conversation I was about to have. He seemed to find a semblance of calm when we discussed strategy, a fleeting solace in the chaos.

“Sorry for the delay, Tae,” I said, my voice soft and steady, hoping to cut through his distress.

He paused, his eyes bloodshot and glossy, cheeks flushed like someone had poured a pot of boiling water on them. His lower lip quivered despite his best efforts to steady it. Taehyung’s emotional rawness was always a puzzle. He was kind, gentle, a giant child who laughed at his own clumsiness and played with his younger siblings as if he were still a child himself.

He never shied away from tears. When Jimin’s father died, neither he nor Ji-Hyun shed a tear in public, though I knew better than to believe they didn’t grieve privately. Their show of stoicism was celebrated, a mask of bravery they wore for the town. Taehyung struggled to wear that mask as seamlessly as Jimin had.

Taehyung’s father hadn’t died in a blaze of glory. No heroics, just illness. Ahn had called him weak for succumbing to an infected wound, a sentiment not widely shared but unchallenged. My own mother, a loyalist to Ahn, had called him cruel for further tormenting a grieving family.

“I didn’t realize it had been so long,” Taehyung mumbled, resuming his restless pacing.

In that moment, he looked more like his father than ever. Dong-Min had been respected and wise, but he wasn’t the sort to attract crowds. An artist from Viridi Gramine, his works were beautiful, but he remained in the shadows. He’d found his muse in Hana, who had come from an abusive home. They had fled Withertusk together, and their troubles had melted away in Foxglove.

“You’re upset,” I said bluntly. Taehyung preferred directness. “What’s wrong?”

“Have I done something wrong?” His voice cracked, the tremor betraying his tears. “I want your honesty, Namjoon. Have I done anything horrible to her?”

“To who?” I asked, stepping closer to comfort him. His shoulders shook with quiet sobs, an effort to hide his pain from the world. It never occurred to me that he was trying to conceal his suffering so well. I had always misread him. He could only shake his head, eyes squeezed shut as new tears poured forth.

I wrapped him in an embrace, feeling the weight of his grief pressing into me. The last time he had cried on my shoulder was at his father’s funeral, a day when Ahn’s cruel words had cut him to the bone. Taehyung had stumbled out of the building, bleeding and torn, begging me to hold him. My father, showing rare kindness, had taken him home to clean up.

“You could never wrong her,” I said, not great with comfort but hoping my words would help. “Whatever happened between you two is just a wrinkle in time. Sol is angry with herself. She loves you, and she knows how much you love her.”

Tae sniffled, his cries muffled against my shoulder.

“Not Sol,” he sobbed. “Y/N.”

That was a harder pill to swallow. I could spout meaningless platitudes about his mate all day. Their love was a given. Taehyung had been furious with her for talking to Jimin behind his back, but I knew they’d work through it. Their bond was strong. His relationship with Y/N, though, was a different matter. I had never witnessed it firsthand, but I knew it was meaningful. Taehyung saw her as the older sister he never had, but I felt ill-equipped to guide him through this grief.

“You didn’t do anything to her, Tae,” I reasoned. “She made a choice to leave. She didn’t harbor ill will towards you. She even left you a note with your necklace. Doesn’t that say something?”

The red gem from Bridd’s gift pressed against my skin, a bittersweet reminder of her kindness. Taehyung had worn the necklace since reading the note, a gesture he hadn’t truly earned but had been given nonetheless. I had my own connection to Bridd through that journal she gave me, which had turned into a poetry book. I respected her, and that respect guided me in my attempt to console Taehyung.

“I told Sol,” Taehyung whimpered. “I told her after she asked me to keep quiet. It’s all my fault—”

“I’m done with the blame game,” I sighed, gently pushing him back to arm’s length. I gripped his shoulders. “Everyone’s been wallowing in self-pity. Y/N left to find help. No one forced her to do that. You and I both know she’s capable. Stop acting like she’s dead. She’s out there trying to help us. We need to stay focused.”

“What if she…” His voice faltered, unable to utter the word “death.”

“Then we make sure her sacrifice isn’t in vain,” I said, releasing him. “We plan, strategize, and fight tooth and nail against those things. For Bridd.”

I didn’t relish invoking her name this way, but I knew Taehyung would cling to it. Her name was a beacon of hope in this dark time. His eyes ignited with a renewed fire, the heat returning to them.

“For Bridd,” he echoed, as if making a solemn vow.

Inside, I prayed for her safe return. I was unsure how long this newfound fire would last, or what would happen if it burned out of control. Taehyung was obsessive by nature. As a child, he painted like his father, sculpted like our grandmother, and later, dived into gardening. Now, I feared his focus would be consumed by this war. He wasn’t ready for what was coming, but I had to believe in his strength.

“You should go see your mom,” I said sincerely. “I’m sure Jong and Jin miss you.”

I left unsaid my concerns about him being cooped up in the Temple since his return.

He nodded, “I will. Let one of the maids know I’ve left. I don’t want Sol to worry.”

“You’re not telling her you’re leaving?”

He frowned. “We’re not on speaking terms at the moment.”

Oh, Bridd, why did you have to leave? Why did Sol have to stir things up? Seeing Taehyung so defeated was a blow. The fire I had ignited in him didn’t soothe my worries. He was still adrift, and I feared my attempts at comfort had done more harm than good. Maybe it would have been simpler to let him cry it out. Navigating whether I’d said or done the right thing was a far more daunting task.

The day slipped through my fingers like a handful of sand, the minutes eroded by the grind of endless work. After my talk with Taehyung, he had gone off to find his siblings, while I remained buried in the heavy silence of the library. Despite our grim business of war, we still had our East Coast obligations to handle. Hours ticked by as I drafted warnings and travel advisories, scribbling frantically until my hand ached. 

When the time came to face the maps spread across the tables, I hoped the change in scenery would spark a breakthrough. The library was a cavern of paper and ink, and I dived into its depths, searching for something—anything—that might tip the scales in our favor.

But the talk of war had become a cacophony of angry voices. My father and Jimin were at each other’s throats, each stubbornly clutching their own version of strategy. My father wanted to march straight into Northorn, to meet our enemy head-on. Jimin, with his uncanny knack for seeing beyond the obvious, thought it was nothing short of idiocy. He argued that the elves would have the upper hand on unfamiliar ground. Our pack knew the forest better than anyone; it was our home turf, and it should be our advantage. 

Jungkook and I were on the same page, much to my relief. We didn’t want to die, but if the situation demanded it, we would. He leaned towards Jimin’s strategy, favoring a defensive stance in Bangtan. It made the most sense—until the elves found a way to stir up trouble.

The witches from Syrena arrived in the late afternoon, a storm of anger and despair. Their leader had fallen during the attack, leaving them in the care of the swamp witch. I felt a pang of sympathy for them, as they stumbled into our midst. Their rage was palpable, their grief a raw wound that bled into everything they did.

Yoongi was on my mind again. He was adjusting to his blindness, but the idea of him fighting was laughable. He was a fantastic fighter when he could see, but now he was little more than dead weight. It was a shame—he had been a force to be reckoned with, even if a spell had temporarily taken him out. I had no doubt he’d be back, even if it meant defying orders. His death, when it came, would be a dignified one.

Then there was Seokjin. He surprised me in ways I hadn’t anticipated. Despite my dislike for the witch, I had to admit the man could fight. He had defended his girlfriend, taken down countless elves, and even saved his father’s life. I hoped we could set aside our differences and train together. It was crucial that we learned to fight as a unit. I planned to discuss this with Jimin later.

Before I could lose myself further in thought, I caught her scent. The sweet, cloying aroma of Sol was unmistakable, a stark contrast to the damp, cold air of the library. Her bare feet were a whisper against the marble floor, and I braced myself for the encounter. Sol’s attempt to mask her natural scent had always been a losing battle, but I couldn’t fault her for it. Ahn had stripped her of her self-confidence, leaving her to second-guess everything about herself.

She appeared before me, her small figure framed by the ornate grandeur of the library. Her hair, unbound and flowing, was a cascade of dark waves, a sharp contrast to the cold sterility of the surroundings. I couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable with her exposure. Modesty was an old relic, but Sol had been taught its importance, and Ahn had made sure she lived in its shadow.

“Luna,” I greeted, my voice tentative. “Your hair…”

She sighed, as if resigned to my reaction. Her tone was edged with annoyance, but I couldn’t decipher why. Ahn had instilled in her a warped sense of propriety, and the way she wore her hair now seemed to mock it.

“Does it matter?” she murmured, a hint of bitterness in her voice. “We all know I’m no longer virtuous.”

I frowned. “Your virtue isn’t tied to your virginity, Sol.”

I could feel the discomfort between us, the unspoken boundaries crossed. Sol’s presence was like a weight on my chest, and I had to force myself to remain composed. Taehyung would be devastated if he caught us in such an awkward position. I stood up, putting a respectful distance between us, and turned my attention to the doorframe, trying to look anywhere but at her.

“What’s bothering you?” I asked, keeping my voice steady. “Aside from the obvious.”

I leaned against the doorframe, peering into the hall, grateful for the distance it offered. I heard Sol take a seat in the chair I had vacated, the sound of her movements marking her presence more than her words.

“You must think I’m pathetic,” Sol’s voice was a fragile whisper.

“Why would I think that?” I countered, genuinely puzzled.

She laughed, a hollow sound that resonated with self-deprecation. “You’ve been a constant in my life longer than anyone. You were there before Taehyung. You and I were almost betrothed, according to my father.”

The mention of Ahn made my skin crawl. He was no father of hers. The real truth was darker—Ahn had taken her from her real parents, Cho Haneul and Bong Ha-Yun, who had vanished from the village under suspicious circumstances. Whispers hinted at banishment or worse, but I’d always taken my mother’s word that Ahn had been behind it all. 

“I’ve never been fair to you,” Sol continued, her voice trembling. “I was mean, rude, and cold. I wanted Jimin so badly that I mistreated you. I’m sorry for that.”

I listened, indifferent. Sol’s words were a weak balm to old wounds. I knew her well enough to understand her manipulations, her selfishness veiled under layers of false remorse. 

“Why are you telling me this?” I asked, trying to keep my tone neutral.

“You knew me before Taehyung did. I know you didn’t like me, but I trust your opinion. I know I don’t deserve your kindness, but I’m asking for it anyway.”

Her voice was weary, and I found myself disenchanted with her pleas. I reminded myself of her age and the naivety that came with it, but it didn’t soften the irritation I felt. She had made mistakes, breached boundaries, and caused chaos, all while thinking she could remain unscathed.

“Am I a bad person?” she asked, her voice barely more than a breath.

“No,” I said firmly, though it was hard to mask my irritation. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll lie to make you feel better. You’ve caused enough damage, and it’s your responsibility to deal with the consequences.”

Her soft sniffles were a distant echo to my frustration. She had stirred trouble and failed to take responsibility for it. I wasn’t here to placate her. I was here to get through the day.

“I’m not the one to offer you comfort,” I said, turning away. “Seek solace from your maids. They’re trained to dry tears; I’m not.”

With that, I left the library, my mind already set on finding a place to rest. The Temple was no refuge from the turmoil of the day, but it was all I had. Maybe Sam would be around, and her company would be a welcome distraction. Her beauty and confidence had always been a bright spot, even if I wasn’t ready to entertain any advances. Tonight, though, I’d take any semblance of normalcy I could get.

I had no desire to return to my family home. Spending too long around my parents was like slowly going mad. The pretense I maintained with my father was exhausting, and my mother—well, she never had the backbone to stand up to him. My childhood was a grim carousel of beatings, with my mother watching, her own misery forgotten as long as she avoided the brunt of his rage. By the time Mini arrived, those days were behind us, and my father had stopped drinking. Our relationship had improved, but the bitterness lingered, festering like a wound that never fully healed. Sometimes, I wondered if I truly hated them both.

Lately, I had been crashing at Hoseok’s place. But he’d asked for some space, and I was buried in work, too tangled up to find another spot to crash. It was a far cry from the opulent room I had at the Temple, but the Temple had become a place I loathed. I’d have joined Jimin and the rest of the copiae, but the weight of my responsibilities kept me tied down. Stepping down as head council would mean my father or Bo would handle public relations, and the thought of that was enough to make me want to gnaw my own arm off. Taehyung would go berserk if those two were left in charge.

I racked my brain for other friends to stay with. The Parks would welcome me, but their home was overflowing with guests. Yoongi and the swamp witch’s families were still there, Jin’s group was with Taehyung’s family, and the Syrena witches were scattered among the wolf families and humans. They’d planned to stay at the Temple, but Sol had made a mess of that arrangement. Everything had spiraled out of control faster than I could keep up with.

“Lost in thought?” Jimin’s voice cut through my musings. 

I stopped in my tracks, realizing I had wandered into the copiae grounds. Jimin lounged on his porch, a large glass in hand, his face shadowed by a dark expression. The sharp scent of alcohol reached me even from the street. I approached him, trying to ignore the tumultuous thoughts of my father.

“You’re drunk,” I observed, taking the glass from his hand and sniffing it. Mead, probably from Jungkook’s stash. “This isn’t going to help.”

He shrugged, a gesture of defeat. “I know. Just needed a distraction.”

Here I was again, being dragged into someone else’s emotional wreckage. Even if Jimin hadn’t asked outright, I knew I’d end up hauling him inside and making him sleep. At least, I could crash here afterward. Tomorrow, I’d make sure he ate something and then convince him to help me go over documents at the Temple. He was the battle strategist, after all.

“I’m not in the mood for a heart-to-heart,” I said bluntly. “I’ve already dealt with two sob stories today, and my patience is shot. So you’re going to let me help you, and we’ll talk in the morning.”

Jimin leaned back, sweat glistening on his forehead and his hair a tangled mess. He looked uncharacteristically disheveled. I rubbed my face in frustration.

“Fine,” I sighed, “how about this: I need a place to sleep. I can’t stand Taehyung and Sol right now, and you—” I gestured at him, “—look like hell. Obviously, you’re a mess, but the pack needs you to pull yourself together so we can get through this.”

Jimin didn’t move. He remained like a statue, eyes fixed on something distant. “I’ll stay the night. Tomorrow, we’ll talk feelings or whatever. Then, we’ll come up with a plan to get you back in the game. Sound good?”

He rolled his eyes, a humorless laugh escaping his lips. “What’s the point?” His face crumpled in despair. I felt lost at sea, unable to handle his sorrow. Thankfully, he composed himself, though the heaviness lingered. “What’s the point of anything? Without her... it just doesn’t matter.”

I sat down beside him, the cold, rough wood against my legs. I tried to focus on this as a conversation between friends. Jimin had never asked me for anything before. When Taehyung was chosen, Jimin had been the first to urge me to stand firm against Ahn. I had been foolish, ignoring his advice. Now he needed me to be the rock, and I couldn’t let him down.

We couldn’t keep going like this. Jimin wasn’t in the right frame of mind, and I knew the only way to get him back on track was to think of something drastic. My mind was already spinning a plan, one that had seemed hopeless earlier, but now felt like a desperate gamble. Maybe, just maybe, giving him a glimmer of hope might help him pull himself together. Feeling a pang of guilt, I decided to go for it and face the consequences later.

“I know you’re hurting,” I said, trying to soften my tone, unsure if it worked. “I can’t even imagine what you’re going through. When you and Taehyung were gone, the guilt nearly ate me alive. It must be worse for you.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he started to protest, but I brushed it off.

“I think I do. No one else seems to be,” I said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We’re in deep trouble right now, Park. We need you.”

Jimin shook his head. “I wouldn’t be much help right now, Joon.”

“I don’t believe that,” I replied. “Honestly, anything you do would be better than the mess you’ve got going on. And by the way, your girl’s on my side. She’d be furious if she knew how much you’ve been slacking.”

That made him chuckle softly.

“That’s fair,” he said, a wan smile spreading across his flushed face. “She’s such a little firecracker, isn’t she?”

I nodded. “She once tried to set me on fire.”

We shared a laugh, remembering that day. Truth was, she scared the hell out of me. If she had really wanted to hurt me, she could’ve. I’d barely escaped with just a few scratches and bruises. Jimin had beaten me senseless when she got hurt, but I had a lifetime of memories that made me untouchable. Bridd, however, was another story.

“What if I made you a deal?” I asked, catching his attention.

He perked up. “What kind of deal?”

“If we make it through the next wave on top, I’ll help you find her.”

His eyes sharpened, a flicker of hope lighting up. “Really?”

Guilt twisted in my gut. I didn’t truly believe we’d reach that point. The elves were everywhere, their grip tightening on Northorn with each passing day. We were far from ready, and with traitors in our midst, the situation was dire. The alliance with the quietus was fragile, and the witch problem was something only Jimin could fix. It could be weeks or even months before we could search for Bridd. Still, I had to use her as leverage. We needed strong leadership, and the witch was the best motivation I could offer.

“I’ll go with you,” I said, doubling down. “We can take a small group. I’ve got connections with a quietus who knows the lay of the land. Finding her could be straightforward.”

“You’d do that for me?” He looked genuinely surprised.

I nodded. “If we’re in a position to do it, why not?”

I watched as he mulled it over, the distant look in his eyes dissolving into something clear, almost serene. He was on board. Hope unfurled in my chest like a fragile flower reaching for the sun. With Jimin on my side, dealing with Taehyung would be a breeze. The older alpha’s desire for redemption would give us a leverage, and if Jimin and Taehyung could join forces, we’d have Hoseok back in the mix too.

Things were starting to tilt in our favor. Soon, the elementals and witches would be joining our discussions, the elder council would be edged out by a new generation of leaders, and the war would start to feel like something we could actually manage. I might even be able to recruit a fresh wave of warriors to the copiae once the village saw Jimin’s renewed determination.

“Stay here as long as you need,” Jimin finally said, and I was doing a mental victory dance. “You can crash on the couch.”

I sprang up, ready to hit the sack, and gave his head a playful shove. He chuckled, swatting my hand away. We used to mess around like this all the time as kids—Jimin always had a knack for winning our wrestling matches. He was slippery as an eel.

“Let’s go, kid,” I said, stretching my arms above my head. “We’ve got an early start tomorrow. Council meeting.”

He nodded, reaching out for my help to stand. He must have imbibed more than I realized; it took a lot for alcohol to hit us this hard.

“Hopefully, Taehyung will deal with the two ancient relics in the Temple,” he slurred, stumbling inside and mumbling about how his bed felt like it had swallowed him whole.

A/N: So Joon pov??? How do we like? He's not the only pov switch we're going to have, but we will be seeing a lot of our favorite (to hate) alpha joining our main squad. I thought he would be a good outside mind to get inside of since he's not as emotionally connected to Bridd as the others. Any guesses as to who our other switches might be?

p.s. These pov chapters will be a bit shorter than our normal, reader pov ones, but not by much.

Taglist: @greezenini@adventures-in-bookland@kthstrawberryshortcake-main@zae007live@jimin-neverout@nikkiordonez12@canarystwin@yamekomz @chimthicc@michiiedreamer@amorieus@mima795@yunki-yunki-yunki

© chimcess, 2024. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[underground-secret]

The Hunter and The Witch: Dean Winchester x Fem! reader

Description: A small town where dark secrets unfold isn’t anything new to these seasoned hunters, except when it has something to do with urban legends…apparently.

Warnings: cannon violence, mentions/talk of suicide, mentions of gruesome death, eye bleeding, Blood Mary (idk if this would be a warning but like 🤷🏼‍♀️), mentions of murder, witchy stuff

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld , @okayiamkassandra ,@fablesrose

A/N: I’m so sorry this took so long to get out again my AP class is really AP-ing and has taken up literally all my time. I spent four days working on a 20 pages packet that took forever meaning I had zero time for this. Again so so sorry.

Word count: 7,719

Bloody Mary

(Masterlist, Previous Chapter, Next Chapter)

“Sam, wake up.” Dean nudges the man in question, the car in park.

Sam wakes, confused, he sits up and looks around. “I take it I was having a nightmare.”

“Yeah, another one.” Dean confirms, and I nod too a frown on my face.

“Hey, at least I got some sleep.” Sam offers

“Sam” I stretch out his name, “that cannot be your positive to this.”

“You know, sooner or later we're gonna have to talk about this.” Dean adds.

But Sam ignores us, avoids the whole conversation, “Are we here?”

Dean lets him avoid the whole ordeal and I have to wonder how long he will let his brother lie. Though I guess I'm no better. “Yup. Welcome to Toledo, Ohio.”

Sam picks up a newspaper that sat on the console of the car, the obituary of Steven Shoemaker circled.

‘The Shoemaker family is sad to announce the sudden death of their beloved husband and father Steven Shoemarker. Steven was 46. A short service will be held on Wednesday, [...] 31 at 2:00 p.m. at the Toledo [...] and cherish you [...] Your [...]’ The article read.

“So what do you think really happened to this guy?” Sam asks us.

“That's what we're gonna find out.” Dean answers, turning off the car. “Let's go.”

We exit the car, entering the large hospital building that stood in front of us walking up to the two desks that lie in the room. One of them is empty with a name tag that reads, ‘Dr. D. Feiklowicz.’ The other one however was occupied by a Morgue technician in blue scrubs, “Hey” the man greets us as we approach.

“Hey.” Dean answers back.

“Can I help you?” The technician asks, looking between the three of us.

“Yeah. We're the, uh...med students.” Dean lies.

“Sorry?” The man asks back.

“Oh, Doctor—“ Dean stammers over the name, “—Figlavitch didn't tell you? We talked to him on the phone. He, uh, we're from Ohio State. He's supposed to show us the Shoemarker corpse. It's for our paper.”

“Well, I'm sorry, he's at lunch.” The tech informs us.

“Oh well he said, uh—“ Dean sighs, “—oh, well, you know, it doesn't matter. You don't mind just showing us the body, do you?”

“Sorry, I can't. Doc will be back in an hour. You can wait for him if you want.” He tells us, gesturing to the seats on the side of the room.

“An hour? Ooh. We gotta be heading back to Columbus by then.” Dean looks at me and Sam as if queuing us to lie with him.

“Yeah.” Sam and I say at the same time, “Jinx” I mumble underneath my breath just loud enough for Sam to hear me who in return gives me a scrunched face.

“Uh, look, man, this paper's like half our grade, so if you don't mind helping us out—“ Dena explains getting cut off by the man in scrubs, “Uh, look, man...no.”

Dean laughs a little. He turns around to face us, mumbling, “I'm gonna hit him in his face I swear.”

But I mean we can’t really blame the guy he’s just doing his job.

Sam hits his brother on the arm, taking a step in front of him he opens his wallet and pulls out some twenties. He lays a few of them, at least five, down on the desk. The Morgue Tech picks up the money, “Follow me.”

The technician gets up and leaves. I go to follow, seeing in the corner of my eye Dean grabbing Sam when he too tries to follow, forcing me to stop and go back a step to see what they are on about.

“Dude, I earned that money.” Dean complains.

“You won it in a poker game.” Sam clarifies.

“Yeah.” Dean answers.

Sam rolls his eyes, pulling away from his brother to follow the technician.

“You’ll make it back” I say, patting Dean on the back shortly to go follow the morgue man.

Dean stays back a half a second before following after us.

“Now the newspaper said his daughter found him. She said his eyes were bleeding.” Sam said as the Morgue Tech pulled back the sheet over Steven’s face. Revealing a pale, long faced man with dark hair, blood stained on his cheeks below his eyes as if he had cried them.

“More than that. They practically liquefied.” The tech scuffs.

“Any sign of a struggle? Maybe somebody did it to him?” Dean asks him.

“Nope. Besides the daughter, he was all alone.” He answers.

“What's the official cause of death?” Sam questioned.

“Ah, Doc's not sure. He's thinking massive stroke, maybe an aneurysm? Something burst up in there, that's for sure.” He replied.

“You mean like cerebral bleeding?” I ask, wanting to clarify.

“Yeah. This guy had more blood in his skull than anyone I've ever seen.” He responded.

“The eyes & mash;what would cause something like that?” Sam asked.

“Capillaries can burst. See a lot of bloodshot eyes with stroke victims.” The technician explains.

“Yeah? You ever see exploding eyeballs?” Dean scuffs.

“That's a first for me, but hey, I'm not the doctor.” The tech shrugs.

“Hey, think we could take a look at that police report? You know for, uh...our paper.” Dean requests.

“I'm not really supposed to show you that.” He answers, stretching out ‘that.’

Sam sighs clearly annoyed, as he pulls out his wallet.

Now leaving the hospital, walking down the stairs Sam suggests, “Might not be one of ours. Might just be some freak medical thing.”

“How many times in Dad's long and varied career has it actually been a freak medical thing and not some sign of an awful supernatural death?” Dean points out.

“Uh, almost never.” Sam answers.

“Exactly.”

“Well then, let's go talk to the daughter.” I announce”

We walk into Steven’s funeral, a picture of him on the desk.

All the men in the room are wearing black suits and the women adorned in black dresses, everyone except us. Dean points this very fact out, “Feel like we're underdressed.” I nod in agreement, my lips in a tight line, the guilt of interrupting these people’s mourning with not only us being undressed but also for not having a reasonable explanation of us being here.

But no one stops us as we keep walking through the house, all the way towards the back and outside to the backyard.

A man points us towards Donna and Lily Shoemarker, the daughters of the man we had seen on a metal table only moments before, who are standing near two people whom I can only assume is a friend or family member.

“You must be Donna, right?” Dean greets the eldest daughter as we approach the group of people.

“Yeah.” She answers sadly brushing her short brunette hair out of her face.

“Hi, uh—we're really sorry.” Sam says.

“Thank you.” She replies, and I know she must have heard that same phrase of ‘i’m sorry’ and must have answered the same ‘thank you’ over and over to each person here. As if the death of her father hadn’t broken what’s inside her enough.

“I'm Sam, this is Dean, and that’s Y/N. We worked with your dad.” He explains.

She looks at one of the adults near her and then back at us, “You did?” And I feel bad for lying to her about this to give her a connection to her father that had never existed.

“Yeah. This whole thing. I mean, a stroke.” Dean goes on.

“I don't think she really wants to talk about this right now” One of the men with her say, stepping in.

“It's okay. I'm okay.” Donna says, with a sharp nod.

“Were there any symptoms? Dizziness? Migraines?” Dean asks, listing out various options.

“No.” She says simply.

Lily, the youngest daughter, turns around, “That's because it wasn't a stroke.”

“Lily, don’t say that.” Donna snaps.

“What?” Sam asks.

“I'm sorry, she's just upset.” Donna explains.

“No, it happened because of me.” Lily speaks up.

“Sweetie, it didn't.” Donna tries to convince.

“Oh Lily”, I say sadly crouching down to be closer to her eye level, “What makes you think that?” I knew what it felt like to blame yourself for someone else’s death, especially your parents, especially when it happens twice and you're too young to understand why this would happen to you. I feel the eyes of the people around me bore into me, especially from the brothers behind me.

“Right before he died, I said it.” Lily answers.

“Said what?” I ask her.

“Bloody Mary, three times in the bathroom mirror.” She explains, pausing, “She took his eyes, that's what she does.” My eyes go wide, not exactly expecting that answer.

“That's not why Dad died. This isn't your fault.” Donna reasons.

“I think your sister's right, Lily. There's no way it could have been Bloody Mary. Your dad didn't say it, did he?” Dean offers, giving the kid some logic to combat what she believes.

“No, I don't think so.” Lily answers. But I know it will take her years to really believe it wasn’t her fault, if ever.

Saying ‘bye’ to the grief rickened family we head back inside the house, but instead of truly leaving we sneak upstairs, approaching the bathroom.

Sam pushes the door open, dried blood stained to the white tiled floor, “The Bloody Mary legend...Dad ever find any evidence that it was a real thing?”

“Not that I know of.” Dean answers, him and I trailing in after Sam who stoops to the floor touching the dried blood, “I mean, everywhere else all over the country, kids will play Bloody Mary, and as far as we know, nobody dies from it.”

I grimace, why would he touch the blood?

“Yeah, well, maybe everywhere it's just a story, but here it's actually happening.” Dean offers.

“The place where the legend began?” Sam asks and we both shrug, Dean opening the medicine cabinet.

“But according to the legend, the person who says B—“ Sam looks at the medicine cabinet mirror, it now facing him, he closes it before continuing, “The person who says you know what gets it. But here—“

“Mr.Shoemaker gets it instead” I finish his sentence.

“Right.”

“Never heard anything like that before. Still, the guy did die right in front of the mirror, and the daughter's right. The way the legend goes, you know who scratches your eyes out.” Dean adds.

“It's worth checking in to.” Sam concludes, as we leave the bathroom.

“What are you doing up here?” A blonde woman stops us, the same woman who was comforting the daughters outside.

“We—we, had to go to the bathroom.” Dean lies, poorly, because it makes perfect sense for three people to be using a private bathroom all at once.

“Who are you?” She asks us, naturally not accepting the poorly down lie.

“Like we said downstairs, we worked with Donna's dad.” Dean confirms.

“He was a day trader or something. He worked by himself.” She counters, and we should really start researching these people before we make up lies of how we know them.

Dean tries to cover, “No, I know, I meant—“

“And all those weird questions downstairs, what was that? So you tell me what's going on, or I start screaming.” She tells us, leaving no more room for any nonsense.

“All right, all right. We think something happened to Donna's dad.” Sam begins.

“Yeah, a stroke.” She answers.

“But it isn’t a typical sign of stroke, it might be something else.” I say softly, ashamed for suggesting such a thing to someone who has no knowledge of our world. These people are going through so much the last thing they need is some random people questioning what they know, I wouldn’t blame her if she did scream.

“Like what?” She scoffs, crossing her arms in front of her.

Sam explains this time probably sensing my unease with all this, “Honestly? We don't know yet. But we don't want it to happen to anyone else. That's the truth.”

Dean tilts his head, “So, if you're gonna scream, go right ahead.” My eyes widened, snapping to look at him, and suddenly that unease I felt vanished, replaced by a burning hot feeling that rushed through my veins and brought a flush to my face. I gulped, trying to push down the feeling a simple sentence that wasn’t even directed towards me made me feel. The cockiness it held as well as the allowance in his voice…it shouldn’t have affected me, and really shouldn’t have created a burning-longing in my gut.

“Who are you, cops?” The woman questions us, but my eyes haven’t left Dean as if he was light and I a moth.

I catch Sam and Dean looking at each other, speaking without words, in my peripheral vision. “Something like that” Dean answers.

It’s then that Dean must have felt my gaze on him, my lips slightly agape as I looked at him through my lashes. His attention turned to me as Sam continued the conversation that I had long blanked out of. Dean looked me over, eyes trailing over my very being, only worsening the burning I had felt within. His eyes met mine again giving me that devilish smirk of his, I swallowed again my eyes falling to his lips.

Sam clears his throat, nudging his brothers hard enough that he knocks into me slightly. Effectively catching our attention.

“Let’s go” He tells us, the woman still in front of us this time her attention to a small piece of white paper that I assume has some sort of contact information on it.

“All right, say Bloody Mary really is haunting this town. There's gonna be some sort of proof—Like a local woman who died nasty.” Dean begins as we walk into the oddly dark library, the stale smell of cleaning products surrounding us.

“Yeah but Blood Mary is a widespread legend with tons of versions of who she actually is, with no clear answer. There’s the mutilated bride, a spirit conjured to tell the future, a witch, and a whole lot more” I answer.

“All right so what are we supposed to be looking for?” Dean asks.

“Well in every version's got a few things in common. It's always a woman named Mary, and she always dies right in front of a mirror. So we've gotta search local newspapers—public records as far back as they go. See if we can find a Mary who fits the bill.” Sam adds, answering.

“Well that sounds annoying” Dean admits.

“No it won't be so bad, as long as we…” Sam trails off looking over to the table lined with computers all that say ‘Out of Order’, he chuckles “I take it back. This will be very annoying.”

We quickly turned around, heading back to the motel we were staying at to do our research there. Dean sat leaning with his head on his hand on the small table in the room on his brother's laptop. The younger brother in question had fallen asleep on one of the beds, the rustling of the sheets giving away the fact he was tossing and turning. I however sat crisscrossed on the other bed Deans to be specific, not like he cared anyways, researching on my laptop trying to find any relevant info on a Mary in this town or deaths relating to mirrors.

“Why'd you let me fall asleep?” Sam suddenly speaks up, voice evident with sleep.

“Cause I'm an awesome brother” Dean scoffs, he’d never admit it was really because Sam hadn’t been able to sleep or at least sleep long for the last couple of weeks.

“And what’s your excuse Y/N?” Sam questions me, leaning on his side with one arm propped up.

“You were sleepy!” I admit simply, smiling at him. He rolls his eyes, huffing a laugh.

“So what did you dream about?” Dean asks him, though what he was really asking was ‘did you have another nightmare?’

“Lollipops and candy canes.” He answers sarcastically. So sassy and for what?

“Yum” I reply, my eyes going back to my laptop.

“Did you find anything?” Sam asks us.

“Oh besides a whole new level of frustration?” Dean huffs, making Sam sit up, “No. We’ve looked at everything. A few local women, a Laura and a Catherine committed suicide in front of a mirror, and a giant mirror fell on a guy named Dave, but uh, no Mary.”

Sam falls back on the bed, the crisp sheets making a ‘whoosh’ noise beneath him, “Maybe we just haven't found it yet.”

“Thing is, there’s also been no strange deaths in the area, no other eyeball bleeding. Nothing. Which you know is good in hindsight but not quite helpful for us.” I explain.

Dean adds on, “Whatever's happening here, maybe it just ain't Mary.”

Almost as if on cue Sam’s phone rings, he answers, still laying down. “Hello?”

Charlie, the blonde woman who questioned us before, sat on the park bench slightly hunched. I sat next to her to offer some comfort, while Dean sat on the back on the bench, his leg nearly brushing my back.

“And they found her on the bathroom floor. And her—her eyes. They were gone.” Charlie nearly sobbed, having explained everything that happened with her friend Jill.

Jill, who had wanted to tease the blonde women about believing in such a legend, saying the name in the mirror and winding up dead. Her death being in the same manner as Mr. Shoemaker.

“I'm sorry.” Sam answered, eyebrows scrunched together.

“And she said it. I heard her say it. But it couldn't be because of that. I'm insane, right?” She whimpered, using the back of her hands to clear the wetness from her cheeks.

“You aren’t insane” I tell her clearly.

“Oh God, that makes me feel so much worse.” She whines and I try to not let it hurt me, because she's griefing, even though it does.

“Look. We think something's happening here. Something that can't be explained” Sam explains. Dean adding, “And we're gonna stop it but we could use your help.”

Dean lifts me up again, this time to reach an elevated first floor window rather than a fence. His hands sliding from tight around my hips, to brushing down my thighs as he lifts me in reach of the window sill. The window wasn’t that high to reach in the first place but with my height, amidtely being shorter than both the boys, it wasn’t exactly comfortable or super easy to reach the window and pull myself up and in.

My hands grasp the cold white window sill, my rings clinking against the surface as I pull my body up. I swiftly slide my hips sideways making my butt land on the sill, in the same sort of movements you would use when you lift yourself out of a pool.

I move my legs inside the carpeted room, ducking slightly as to not hit my head on the open window. The room belonged to Jill, and as my feet hit the soft gray carpet I officially feel the disgust of intrusion creep up on me.

I slide off the windowsill moving into the room more, Sam quickly taking my place near the window to pick up the duffle Dean threw up at him. He catches it, putting it on the bed and immediately digging through it.

“So what did you tell Jill’s mom?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest, the uncomfortability of being in someone’s bedroom let alone a dead girls bedroom crawling up my skin and in my bones.

“Just that I needed some time alone with Jill's pictures and things.” Charlie answers looking between us and the door nervously. Dean climbs through the window shutting the curtain behind and Sam pulls something out of the bag. “I hate lying to her” Charlie adds.

“Trust us, this is for the greater good. Hit the lights” Dean orders.

She goes over to the lights, “”What are you guys looking for?

“We'll let you know as soon as we find it.” Dean hums.

Sam hands him a camcorder on and ready, the object he got from the duffel, “Hey, night vision.” He recalls prompting the older brother to do so, his face scrunched with focus as he finds the button.

“Perfect.” Sam smiles.

The little screen of the camcorder is facing Dean, in a ‘selfie’ like mode, “Do I look like Paris Hilton?” He smiles.

I laugh, slapping a hand to his upper arm on instinct, “Sure you do, baby” I joke, the pet name not something I ever use slipping from my tongue before I could realize. His head turns to give me an amused and smug smirk. In his distractment Sam takes the camera back, going over to the closet door filming around the mirror.

“So I don't get it. I mean...the first victim didn't summon Mary, and the second victim did. How's she choosing them?” Sam asks out loud.

“Beats me.” Dean answers, focusing back on the situation at hand. “I want to know why Jill said it in the first place.”

“It was just a joke.” Charlie reasons.

“Yeah well somebody's gonna say it again, it's just a matter of time.” Dean replies.

Sam wandered into the bathroom now, looking at the mirror there. “Hey!” He calls out, getting us to turn and look at him. “There's a black light in the trunk, right?”

Dean immediately went off to go get it coming back rather swiftly, just as Sam placed the mirror on Jill’s bed laying it upside down after having carried it from the bathroom. With the black light now in hand, he peels off the brown paper that’s on the back of the mirror, shining the purple light on its back revealing a handprint and the name ‘Gary Bryman.’

“Gary Bryman?” Charlie reads out loud both as an acknowledgment and also a question.

“Do you know who that is?” I ask her.

“No.” She answers simply.

Back on the bench, in nearly the same positions, Sam recalls his findings. “So, Gary Bryman was an 8-year-old boy. Two years ago he was killed in a hit and run. The car was described as a black Toyota Camry. But nobody got the plates or saw the driver.”

“Oh my God.” Charlie gasps, horror in her eyes as she covers her mouth.

“What?” I ask the question we’re all thinking.

“Jill drove that car” She answers. Without looking for confirmation I know the boy's eyes are wide too, but there’s no room for the talking that comes after shock.

“We need to get back to your friend Donna’s house.

Somehow, with the help of Charlie, we convinced our way into Donna’s house back up to the bathroom we were in only hours before.

Hunched over the mirror with the black light, our suspicions were correct. There’s a handprint, one I have to say looks like the one in Jill’s bathroom, but I'm no criminologist. This time the name ‘Linda Shoemaker’ is written on it.

We all look at each other, knowing it’s likely that Steven killed his wife hence why Bloody Mary went for him and not the young girl who chanted her name. But the only way to have any idea of this theory is correct is to ask the brunette teenager downstairs.

“Why are you asking me this?” Donna asks us.

“I’m really sorry, Donna, but this is important.” I try to explain, but I know it won’t make sense to her. I mean we are total strangers asking her uncomfortable questions about her dead mother.

“Yeah. Linda's my mom okay? She overdosed on sleeping pills, it was an accident, and that's it.” She fumes, eyebrows scrunched together in fury, “I think you should leave.”

“Now Donna, just listen.” Dean reaches a hand up, as if to motion ‘calm down.’ But it doesn't work. Teary eyed and a little red in the face she yells, “Get out of my house!” Swiftly she runs up the stairs, not giving us another option.

“Oh my God. Do you really think her dad could've killed her mom?” Charlie asks, finally picking up on our theory.

“Maybe.” Sam shrugs.

“I think I should stick around” Charlie announces, referring to staying with Donna, which is probably a good idea.

“All right. Whatever you do, don't—“ Dean tries to warn getting cut off, “Believe me, I won't say it.”

The crisp smell of old books and, oddly, cinnamon fill my nose as I take a deep breath, flexing my hand as I work out the cramping from writing a little too intensely in my small journal.

Dean sits next to me on the cold metal chairs in the library we decided to research in (different to the original one we were at), he’s typing away on the clunky computer the library has. Sam’s staring off at a bulletin board behind us with all sorts of things on it.

“Wait, wait, wait, you're doing a nationwide search?” He asks Dean, alerting us of him coming back to his seat on the other side of his brother.

“Yep. The NCIC, the FBI database—at this point any Mary who died in front of a mirror is good enough for me.” Dean answers.

“But if she's haunting the town, she should have died in the town.” Sam points out.

“I'm telling you there's nothing local, I've checked. So unless you got a better idea—“ Dean explains and as much as I love him I cut him off.

“Well, Mary’s victims have a pattern, which I know you guys already know so I'll just cut to the good part. Both victims had secrets relating to where people died and, here’s the good part, there’s a lot of folklore on mirrors, specifically that mirrors are a reflection of your soul. And with that your secrets and lies are revealed to the mirror.

Fun Fact! It was the Romans who believed that the soul would regenerate every seven years, so if you broke a mirror then you’d have to wait seven years until your soul was cleansed of the bad luck and misfortune.

And while I have more fun facts about mirrors I will end it there.” I smiled, satisfied with my information vomit as well as my fun fact because fun facts are wonderful.

Both boys look at me strangely, a mix of confusion and what I think is amazement (they should be amazed cause that was a really great fun fact). Dean seems to shake it off, “Right. So if you've got a secret, I mean like a really nasty one where someone died, then Mary sees it, and punishes you for it.”

Sam adding, “Whether you're the one that summoned her or not.”

“Correcto!” I answer, and by correct I mean that’s what I was thinking for our working theory.

“Then take a look at this.” Dean announces, clicking a few buttons on the computer before leaning over to the nearby printer, pulling out and handing us the paper. It’s a picture of a woman lying by a mirror in a puddle of blood. He prints out another picture, this time of a handprint and the letters “Tre.”

“Looks like the same handprint.” Sam points out and I nod in agreement.

“Her name was Mary Worthington—an unsolved murder in Fort Wayne, Indiana.”

“I was on the job for 35 years-detective for most of that. Now everybody packs it in with a few loose ends, but the Mary Worthington murder—that one still gets me.” The detective states, unfortunately I immediately forgot his name. It's not the nicest thing to happen but I was also really focused on his country accent that’s just a little too funny.

“What exactly happened?” Dean asked, leaning forward in his chair, his elbows resting on his knees.

“You boys and girl said you were reporters?” Mr. Detective questioned.

“We know Mary was 19, lived by herself. We know she won a few local beauty contests, dreamt of getting out of Indiana, being an actress. And we know the night of March 29th someone broke into her apartment and murdered her, cut out her eyes with a knife.” Sam recalls the gruesome story.

“That's right.” He confirms.

“See sir, when we asked you what happened, we wanted to know what you think happened.” Sam clarifies for him, somewhere between a curious and condescending tone.

Mr. Detective eyes us over as if he’s contemplating something. He spins his wheely chair around swiftly getting up and going to a large file cabinet. “Technically I'm not supposed to have a copy of this” He huffs, pulling out a file and then a picture, the same picture Dean had already found on the computer. “Now see that there? T-R-E?” Detective reads out, even though unbeknownst to him it’s old news to us.

“Yeah” Dean answers.

“I think Mary was trying to spell out the name of her killer.” He theorizes.

“Do you know who it was, or any theories?” I ask, trying to get any sort of new answers.

“Not for sure. But there was a local man, a surgeon-Trevor Sampson.” He pulls out another photo, this time of this Trevor guy, he has an oval face with curly short hair definitely on the darker side but I can’t say exactly what color due to the black and white photo. He’s also wearing some sunglasses.

“And I think he cut her up good.” He finishes, his accent thick.

“Why do you think it’s him?” I question further.

“Her diary mentioned a man that she was seeing. She called him by his initial, ‘T’. Well, her last entry, she was gonna tell ‘T’'s wife about their affair.” He answers, and for a detective that truly means nothing.

“No offense but how does that directly correlate to Sampson… I mean there’s other people with the initial ‘T’ right?” I question him again, hoping it doesn't offend the man.

“It's hard to say, but the way her eyes were cut out...it was almost professional.” He explains.

“But you could never prove it?” Dean asks, chiming in.

“No. No prints, no witnesses. He was meticulous.” Mr. Detective nods.

“Is he still alive?” Dean follows up.

“Nope.” He sighs, sitting down. “If you ask me, Mary spent her last living moments trying to expose this guy's secret. But she never could.”

“Where's she buried?” Sam asks this time.

“She wasn't. She was cremated” He answers. No digging up bodies for us today.

“What about that mirror”, Dean nods towards the one in the photo, “It's not in some evidence lockup somewhere is it?”

“Ah, no. It was returned to Mary's family a long time ago.” He explains, leaning back in his chair.

“You have the names of her family by any chance?”

We drive down the roads, the sun setting behind us. Sam’s call dictates where we go, either to whatever location he gives us or back to the motel.

“Oh really? Ah that's too bad Mr. Worthington. I would have paid a lot for that mirror. Okay, well maybe next time. All right, thanks.” Sam hangs up, pocketing his phone.

“So?” Dean asks.

“So that was Mary's brother. The mirror was in the family for years, until he sold it one week ago to a store called Estate Antiques. A store in Toledo.” Sam stated.

“So wherever the mirror goes, that's where Mary goes?” Dean raises.

“Her spirit's definitely tied up with it somehow.” Sam simply puts it.

“Isn't there an old superstition that says mirrors can capture spirits?” Dean asks.

“Yeah! People would cover up the mirror when someone died so that their spirit/ soul wouldn’t get trapped.” I explain, happy to spew some more of my fun facts.

“So Mary dies in front of a mirror, and it draws in her spirit” Dean works through the facts.

“Yes! But I don’t know how she’s working through various mirrors” I admit.

“I don't know either, but if the mirror is the source, I say we find it and smash it.” Dean proposes.

“Yeah, I don't know, maybe.” Sam gets cut off by his own phone, “ Hello.” A look of concern washes over his face, becoming pale “Charlie?”

The motel room is colder, the rain outside causing that meek fact. Charlie’s sitting on Sam’s bed, her head on her knees, after we picked her up from school all terrified. All the curtains are drawn shut, all the mirrors and reflective surfaces are covered with sheets or turned aquas towards a wall or the floor there will be no bloody mary getting in here.

Sam sits next to Charlie, “Hey, hey it's ok. Hey, you can open up your eyes Charlie. It's okay, all right?” She looks up reluctantly and slowly, “Now listen. You're gonna stay right here on this bed, and you're not gonna look at glass, or anything else that has a reflection, okay? And as long as you do that, she cannot get you.”

“But I can't keep that up forever. I'm gonna die, aren't I?” Her voice wobbled, fresh tears running down her cheeks.

“No. No. Not anytime soon.” Sam comforts, but I don’t think it helps.

Dean sits on the bed too, “All right Charlie. We need to know what happened.”

“We were in the bathroom. Donna said it.” She answers simply, rocking herself slightly.

“That's not what we're talking about. Something happened, didn't it? In your life...a secret...where someone got hurt. Can you tell us about it?” Dean pushes.

She looks around uncomfortably, swallowing she begins, “I had this boyfriend. I loved him. But he kind of scared me too, you know?” She looks over at me for confirmation knowing without any previous conversation about it that I would understand. And she was right. It was as if bad boyfriends were sewed into the fabrics of being a woman, it would be a little strange if you hadn’t had one.

I nod and she continues, “And one night, at his house, we got in this fight. Then I broke up with him, and he got upset, and he said he needed me and he loved me, and he said "Charlie, if you walk out that door right now, I'm gonna kill myself." And you know what I said? I said "Go ahead." And I left. How could I say that? How could I leave him like that? I just...I didn't believe him, you know? I should have.” She cries harder, going back to her previous position.

I move towards her, Sam getting up to allow me to sit close to her. I hug her, holding her close despite her awkward position. “That’s not your fault” I told her simply, and I meant it too. She uncurls herself, quickly wrapping her arms around me and stuffing her face into my neck. I hold her tighter. “You did the right thing, leaving him” I mutter.

Dean huffs, gripping the steering wheel slightly tighter, “You were right back there Y/N, her boyfriend killing himself, that's not really Charlie's fault.”

“You guys should know as well as I do that spirits don't exactly see shades of gray. Charlie had a secret, someone died, that's good enough for Mary.” Sam reasons.

“I guess” Dean sighs.

“You know, I've been thinking. It might not be enough to just smash that mirror.” Sam suggests.

“Oh, what do you mean?” I ask with a tilt of my head.

“Well Mary's hard to pin down, right? I mean she moves around from mirror to mirror so who's to say that she's not just gonna keep hiding in them forever? So maybe we should try to pin her down, you know, summon her to her mirror and then smash it.” Sam explains.

“Well how do you know that's going to work?” Dean questions.

“I don't, not for sure.” Sam shrugs.

“Well who's gonna summon her?” Dean follows up.

“I will. She'll come after me.” Sam states as if it’s the most obvious answer and with no care for himself.

“You know what, that's it.” Dean nearly shouts, pulling the car over quickly and roughly making my body shift nearly knocking into the door.

“This is about Jessica, isn't it? You think that's your dirty little secret that you killed her somehow? Sam, this has got to stop, man. I mean, the nightmares and calling her name out in the middle of the night—it's gonna kill you.” Dean fumes, not quite yelling but also not quite talking.

“Now listen to me—It wasn't your fault. If you wanna blame something, then blame the thing that killed her. Or hell, why don't you take a swing at me? I mean I'm the one that dragged you away from her in the first place.”

“I don't blame you.” Sam answers plainly, almost in defeat

“Well you shouldn't blame yourself, because there's nothing you could've done.” Dean adds.

“I could've warned her.” Sam sighs, and the pain in his voice makes me want to cry.

“Sam…you couldn’t have known that would happen.” I chime in, though it doesn't quite feel like my place.

“And besides, all of this isn't a secret, I mean we know all about it. It's not gonna work with Mary anyway.” Dean exclaims.

“No you don't.” Sam states, no further explanation given.

“I don't what?” Dean asks.

“You don't know all about it. I haven't told you everything.” Sam shrugs.

“What are you talking about?” Dean questions, face full of confusion.

“Well it wouldn't really be a secret if I told you, would it?” He replied sassily.

Dean looks surprised, “No. I don't like it. It's not gonna happen, forget it.”

“Dean, that girl back there is going to die unless we do something about it. And you know what? Who knows how many more people are gonna die after that? Now we're doing this. You've got to let me do this.” But Sam doesn't get any answers, with a roll of his eyes Dean drives off. Conversation over.

Sam is trying to pick the lock on the shop's door, somehow without any word he became the designated lock picker. The dark oak door opens and all around the store are mirrors, mirrors of all shapes and sizes and varieties. Truly the worst place to be in this situation.

“Well...that's just great, '' Dean sighs, pulling out the photo of Mary’s corpse to look at the mirror, the one we’re looking for being a wooden frame. Not very helpful considering our location where there are countless mirrors that look exactly the same. “All right let's start looking.”

I nod in agreement handing both boys their crowbars. I shifted my baseball bat in my hand, there wasn’t a third crowbar and there was no reason for it anyways, a baseball bat is just as good at smashing.

We enter the dark store, flashlights on, splitting up we look for our specific mirror.

“Maybe they've already sold it.” Dean suggests, from some part of the store.

“I don't think so.” Sam says, stopping in his tracks. Dean and I walk over on either side of the taller man, Dean pulls out the picture again comparing the two. It’s our mirror.

“That's it.” Dean sighs, “You sure about this?”

Sam hands over his flashlight and sighs, “Bloody Mary. Bloody Mary.” He looks between the both of us, “Bloody Mary.”

A light shines through the store windows, illuminating the room.

“I'll go check that out. You guys stay here, be careful. Smash anything that moves.” Dean shuffles away.

I grip my bat tighter as a breath that isn’t mine nor Sam’s surrounds us. He turns around quickly but I keep my back towards him, “Nothing?” I ask and he hums in confirmation.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Mary in one of the mirrors, I step forward swinging my bat back and then forward hard. The glass shatters falling to the floor around my feet. Then Sam hits a mirror behind me, before swiftly turning back to her mirror.

“Come on. Come into this one.” He mutters underneath his breath.

He tilts his head watching his regeneration weirdly when suddenly he starts breathing heavily grabbing at his chest.

“Sam!” I shout, grabbing his arm. His eyes begin to bleed, blood trickling down his cheeks. He drops his crowbar, the metal clinking against the floor loudly.

“It's your fault. You killed her. You killed Jessica.” A voice rings out, one that sounds like Sam’s though I know it’s not him speaking. I help him to the floor carefully as he grabs his chest harder.

“You never told her the truth—who you really were. But it's more than that, isn't it?” The voice fumes.

I get up leaving Sam to the floor, “That’s enough of you” I mutter, gripping my baseball bat tight. I hit her mirror, the glass shatters around me.

I hear Sam take a deep breath in, when I look down at him he’s no longer holding his chest. He holds a thumb up to me, weakly.

But for some reason the voice didn’t stop, Mary was no longer hurting Sam but her accusations wouldn’t stop.

“Those nightmares you've been having of Jessica dying, screaming, burning—You had them for days before she died. Didn't you!?! You were so desperate to ignore them, to believe they were just dreams. How could you ignore them like that? How could you leave her alone to die!?! You dreamt it would happen!!!”

I smash three more mirrors, anything to get it to stop by it doesn't.

“SAM, SAMMY!” Dean shouts, rushing into the room and crouching down to his brother.

“It's Sam” He answers meekly.

Dean holds onto his brother's face gently, eyeing his face and the blood on it, “God, are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah.” Sam replies, a little unsure though considering the circumstances I get it.

“Come on, come on.” He pulls Sam up, bringing his arm around his neck with a nod of his head towards the door. I follow the boys towards the exit.

A sudden crunching noise forces us to turn around. Mary crawls out of the frame of her mirror, her long black hair covering her face, she walks over the broken glass with no care, her head tilting to the side as she crawls towards us. Her dark nearly black eyes bore into us, somehow she forces us to the floor.

My chest feels tight as if someone was squeezing my heart, I try to crawl backwards on my hands like a crab walk when a sharp pain surges through my hand followed by my eyes. I bring my hand in front of me, a large slash runs through my palm, a piece of glass sticking out of it. The ache in my eyes I know is not caused by glass but by Mary, I reach my gold hand up to my cheek blood trickling down my face. I suck in a breath, the pain not helping the already pain I was feeling. I look over to the boys on the left of me nearly on top of each other as blood runs down both their cheeks.

Mary stands approaching us with a head tilt and a limp. I grumble holding up a shaky hand, waving my hand once, slowly, making long mirrors form in a line in front of Mary acting as a wall between us.

“You killed them! All those people! You killed them!” A female voice cried out, Mary’s voice.

She looks at her reflections scared, when she begins to choke. She grabs on to her throat and her chest, crumbling down to the ground she shrieks, turning to a puddle of blood

With another wave of my hand the wall of mirrors shatters, glass falling to the floor loudly.

“Hey Y/N?”

“Yeah?” I hum feeling a little defeated.

“This has got to be like...what? 600 years of bad luck?” He asks me and I can’t help the big smile that falls on my face.

“Mmm I can’t wait” I laugh, the sarcastic comment coming to me with ease.

The sun rises in front of us, gleaming on the Impala. Our faves are cleaned up, ridden of blood and the event that unfolded. The only proof of it happening being my hand that’s carefully wrapped in white gauze, the glass now out and the cut cleaned.

Charlie sits next to me in the back seat as we pull up to her house, it's odd having someone else back here with me.

“So this is really over?” She asks us, her eyes puffy from her night of crying.

Dean looks at her through the rearview mirror, nodding, “Yeah, it's over.”

“Thank you.” She says, Dean reaching back to shake her hand. She turns to me next, arms open in a hug. I close the gap between us and give her a good squeeze.

She smiles a little sadly at me, getting out of the car.

“Charlie?” Sam calls out, stopping the woman in her tracks. She turns around, “Your boyfriend's death...you really should try to forgive yourself. No matter what you did, you probably couldn't have stopped it. Sometimes bad things just happen.”

She smiles faintly, turning back around to go into her house.

Dean hits his brother's arm gently, “That's good advice.”

We drive off the car falling silent for a beat before Dean talks again, “Hey Sam?”

“Yeah?” He answers.

“Now that this is all over, I want you to tell me what that secret is.” Dean tells him, looking between him and the road.

“Look...you're my brother and I'd die for you, but there are some things I need to keep to myself.” He admits with a sigh, looking out the window.

The car falls silent again.

Healing isn’t easy. It's not something you can put a bandaid on and expect to be fine, and maybe all that Sam shared will be enough for now but that’s not something we can gauge.

That is times doing, and time isn’t something we can control.

God knows i’ve tried.

[eu0n1a]

the month is ur MCs role in a fantasy world (pt 1/2)

part 2

[layce2015]

Supernatural (Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

What Is And What Should Never Be

Masterlist

*3rd Person POV*

Dean was driving down the road when his cell phone rings. "Yeah?" He said once he answers his phone. "There's a cop car outside." (Y/n) replied as her and Sam look out the window of the motel room to see a cop car outside.

"You think it's for us?" Dean asked her. "I don't know." She said, a bit nervous "I don't see how. I mean we ditched the plates, the credit cards." Dean said just as the cop car drives away. "They're leaving. False alarm." (Y/n) said, relieved. "Well, see. Nothing to worry about." Dean said.

"Yeah, being fugitives? Frigging dance party." She said with sarcasm and he chuckles a bit as (y/n) and Sam stand in front of a table, covered in books about a specific demon called Djinn, and on top of them is John's journal, open on the same subject.

"So you got anything yet?" She asked Dean. "Are you kidding me? How could I? You and Sam got me sifting through like 50 square miles of real estate here." Dean said. "Well, that's where all the victims disappeared." She replied.

"Yeah well, I got diddly-squat. What about you guys?" Dean asked. "Just one thing. We're pretty sure of it now." (Y/n) said as she pulls one book closer. "We're hunting a Djinn." She said. "A freaking genie?" Dean asked, shocked. "Yeah." She said.

"What? You guys think these suckers can really grant wishes?" Dean asked. "I don't know. I guess they're powerful enough. But not exactly like Barbara Eden in harem pants. I mean, Djinn have been feeding off people for centuries. They're all over the Koran." she said. "My God. Barbara Eden was hot, wasn't she? Way hotter than that Bewitched chick." Dean said and (y/n) sighs, exasperated.

"Are you even listening to me?" She asked, annoyed, then he clears his throat. "Yeah. So uh, where do the Djinns lair up?" He asked. "Ruins usually. Uh. Bigger the better – more places to hide." She replied. "You know, I think I saw a place a couple miles back. I'm gonna go check it out." Dean said. "Wait – no, no, no, no, no. Come pick us up first." (Y/n) said.

"Naw, I'm sure it's nothing. I just wanna take a look around." Dean said and he hangs up the phone. (Y/n) lowers her hand with the phone in it and sighs while Sam gives her a concerned look.

The Impala pulls up and almost comes to a stop in front of an old factory. Dean gets out then enters the factory, with a flashlight, swinging open a creaky door. He walks through what appears to be an abandoned office, with typewriter, file cabinets, etc. There's a dripping water sound, but otherwise it appears empty to him.

He looks back and forth in it a few times, and then starts walking back the same direction he came from but this time in the hall. On his right, among all the old things but what Dean doesn't know is that a figure, nearby, is watching him. He doesn't see it and walks on.

Suddenly, it attacks him, pinning him against the window wall. Dean drops the flashlight and the Djinn slams Dean's right hand up against a wall, forcing him to drop his knife.

The Djimm opens its left hand, which begins to glow blue, at the same time that the its eyes begin glowing. The Djimm puts its glowing hand on Dean's forehead and Dean's eyes roll up, and take on a faint blue hue.

Dean wakes up, bare-chested, and wearing a necklace that is not the amulet. He looks around to see a tv was on, playing some old movie. Then he looks to his left to see a nude woman lying next to him, but she had her back to him. He leans over to get a look at her, only to be shocked when he sees that the woman was (y/n).

He gets up, quickly, then looks around for a moment before he goes to get dressed and begin to walk around the apartment.

Sam, in another location, gets a phone call on his cell. He sees it's Dean and looks a little worried. "Dean?" Sam answered. "Sam?" Dean said, worried. "What's going on?" Sam asked. "I don't know. I don't know where I am." Dean said.

"What? What happened?" Sam asked, concerned. "Well, the uh, the Djinn. It attacked me." Dean replied. "The gin? You're...drinking gin?" Sam asked, confused. "No, asshat. The Djinn. The...scary creature. Remember? It put its hand on me and then I woke up...next to (y/n), who was with you..." Dean said and Sam furrows his brow in confusion.

"Why would (y/n) be with me?" Sam asked, confused. "Because you guys were doing research on the Djinn!" Dean exclaims and Sam laughs alittle. "Dean, you're drunk. You're drunk-dialing me." He said. "I am not drunk. Quit screwing around!" Dean growls at him.

"Look, it's late. All right, just get some sleep and, um, I'll...see you tomorrow. OK?" Sam said. "Wait, Sam! Sam!" Dean pleads but Sam hangs up, and flips his phone down, laughing a little. He sighs and slams shut a book he was reading.

Dean puts his phone back in his pocket, frustrated, and looks around. He sees an envelope, and picking it up, sees that it is addressed to:

(Y/n) (l/n)

53 BARKER AVE

LAWRENCE, KS 66044

"Lawrence?" He said, confused, then he looks at two more envelopes, which were addressed to him with the same address as (y/n)'s. "What the hell?" He mutters, confused. 

"Dean?" A voice asked and Dean spins around to see (y/n) standing by the bedroom doorway, wearing a bathrobe. "What are you doing?" She asked as she starts to walk over to him. "Hey, (y/n), uh, I just uh..." he stammers and she smirks a bit at this.

"Does this mean I win?" She asked, smiling, and Dean looks at her confused. "Oh, now don't pull that crap on me, Winchester. We had a bet, remember? You made me watch that horror movie and said if one of us wakes up in the middle of the night first, the other gets to pick date night." She said and Dean gives a slight shake of his head.

"Yeah, yeah....sorry, it's just the dream I had was...pretty bad...couldn't go back to sleep." he said as he laughs, nervously. "Aww, my poor big, strong man." She said in a teasing tone as she walks up to him and places her hand on his chest. "Well, why don't you come back to bed and let's see if I can do anything to help." She said, in a seductive tone, which really made Dean go weak at the knees a bit. You have no idea how long I've wanted you to say something like that. He thought.

"Sure. Yeah. In a minute. You - you, you go ahead." He said and she smiles. "OK. Don't stay up too long." She said to him. "No." Dean said and (y/n) leans up and kisses him, warmly. As Dean kisses her back, he felt his heart leaping in his chest as this was something he had been waiting for for a long time. But something in the back of his mind was telling him that this isn't right.

They break the kiss and she walks back to the bedroom. Dean, meanwhile, goes to a bookshelf and sees a photo of (y/n), and another of him and (y/n) embracing. Then a picture, which made Dean's eyes widen, of the couple with (y/n)'s parents. He turns and sees something else shocking, he picks up another photo, and drops it, the glass shattering as it breaks. Dean turns on his heel and leaves the room.

He drives up in the Impala across the street. He shuts off the engine and goes over to his old house from his childhood. Dean begins banging on the door then rings the bell two times as well. The porch light turns on and the door opens. "Dean." Mary said, concerned. Dean just stares at her a few seconds, not believing his eyes. "Mom?" He said, his voice breaks almost like he's on the verge of crying.

"What are you doing here? Are you all right?" Mary asked, concerned. "I don't know." Dean said. "Well...come inside." She said and she steps aside and let's him in. "(Y/n) just called and said you just...took off all of a sudden." Mary said as she closes the door but Dean can't take his eyes off of her.

"(Y/n)? Right....Let me ask you a question. When I was a kid, what did you always tell me when you put me to bed?" He asked her. "Dean, I don't understand -" Mary said, confused. "Just answer the question." Dean said, with a hard tone. "I told you angels were watching over you." She replie and Dsan stares at her. "I don't believe it." He said and he walks over and hugs her tightly.

"Honey, you're scaring me." Mary said and Dean backs off. "Now just tell me what's going on." She said, worried. "You don't think that wishes can, can really..." Dean mutters. "What?" Mary asked. "Forget it." Dean said and he hugs her again. "Forget it. I'm just uh...I'm happy to see you, that's all." He said as he almost starts crying but pulls it together and releases the hug, looking down on Mary.

"You're beautiful." He said and he laughs a little. "What?" She asked, laughing. "Hey, when I was uh...When I was young was there ever a fire here?" He asked as he walks towards the wall, looking at the books and pictures. "No. Never." She replied.

"I thought there was." Dean said, slightly confused, then he sees a picture of John and Mary smiling with Dean and Sam as little kids in front of them. "I guess I was wrong." He mutters as he sees a picture of him, as a kid, in a cap, looking cool into the camera. Another picture of Dean and his prom date, clearly taken at prom.

Another of Sam as a graduate then another of picture Dean, Sam and (y/n) as teenagers. Dean picks up another picture, which is a black and white photo of John, dressed in baseball clothes with a cap and a baseball bat in his hand, ready to swing, smiling at the camera.

"Dad's on a softball team." Dean mutters to himself then he turns around, to see Mary looking at him, seriously. "Dad's...Dad's softball team. It's...That's funny to me." Dean said and Mary smiles, fondly. "He loved that stupid team." She said and Dean took notice of that. "Dad's dead? And the thing that killed him was a..." Dean said.

"A stroke. He died in his sleep. You know that." Mary finished for him. "That's great." Dean said. "Excuse me?" Mary asked, confused. "That - that's great. That he went peacefully, I mean. It sure beats the alternative." Dean said as he sets the photo back.

"You've been drinking." Mary said and Dean shakes his head. "No, I haven't. Mom." He said and she shakes her head. "I'm just gonna call (y/n) and have her come pick you up, OK?" She said as she goes to the phone.

"Wait. No, no!" Dean said as he puts his hand over Mary's, which is over the phone about to pick it up. "Don't - don't do that. Don't do that. I wanna stay here." He said. "Why?" Mary asked. "Because I-I miss the place. It's okay, you - you go to bed. Okay?" He said and he goes over to the couch, sits down, and looks around a bit.

Mary walks up to him, and strokes his face tenderly. "Are you sure you're all right?" She asked him. "I think so." Dean said, nodding. "Okay." She said and she bends down and kisses his forehead, like all mothers do. She starts out the room then stops by the door. "Get some rest. I love you." She said to him. "Me too." He said. She smiles and then goes to bed. Dean stays on the couch, looking perplexed. 

The next morning, Dean wakes up on the couch to the sound of birds singing outside. When his eyes focus, he sees a picture of the whole family, including (y/n)'s family, the boys and (y/n) as kids and John is wearing a Santa hat, looking very happy. Dean opens his eyes completely, sitting up, confused. Then he dials his phone.

"Hey, it's me. I can't come to the pho-" Sam's voicemail said and Dean hangs up.

"Well I don't think I've seen you in my class before." The professor said as he stares at Dean. "You kiddin' me? I love your lectures. You...You make learning fun." Dean said and they laugh.

"So. What can I do for you?" The professor aske . "What can you tell me about Djinns?" Dean asked him.

Later, the two stand over a bunch of books, looking through  them. "Well, a lot of Muslims believed the Djinn are very real. And they're mentioned in the Koran—" the professor started to explain until Dean interrupts him. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. I know. Get to the wish part." He said, quickly.

"What about it?" The professor asked him. CDo you think they could really do it?" Dean asked. "Um...Uh, no. No, I don't think they can really do it. You understand these are mythic creatures?" The professor said and Dean nods. "Yeah, I know. I-I-I know. I know. But uh...I mean in the stories. You know, say you had a wish, uh. But you never even said it out loud. Like that, uh...that a loved one never died. Or that, uh, something awful never happened." Dean said.

"Supposedly, yes. I mean they have godlike power. They can alter reality however they want. Past. Present. Future." The professor said. "Why would the Djinn do it? What, self-defense? Or maybe it's not really evil." Dean said, questioning.

"Son? You been drinking?" The professor asked and Dean chuckles a bit. "Everybody keeps asking me that. But uh...No." he said.

Later, Dean opens the trunk to the Impala and sees only old magazines and paper cups and a rag in there, no guns or other weapons. "Well, who'd'a thought, baby. We're civilians." Dean laughs as he closes the trunk, and looks over at the building. A girl is standing in a white shirt, skirt and shoes, staring at him. Dean's smile fades as he senses something. He looks at her for a little while and then starts to cross the street, walking towards her.

Suddenly a car screeches to a halt as it avoids running into Dean. The driver hits the horn and Dean holds out his hand as he looks at the car. When he turns back towards the girl, she's gone. He looks puzzled for a moment, then turns back to the Impala.

Back at the Winchester house, Dean takes a bite out of a big sandwich, grunting 'cause of the goodness. "Mmm. Mmm. Mmm! This is the best sandwich, ever!" Dean said, calling out to Mary. "Thank you." She said from another room

"I tried to get hold of Sam earlier. Where - where - where is he?" Dean asked her. "Oh, he'll be here soon." Mary said. "Good. Dying to see him." He said. "Sweetie, I–I...Don't get me wrong. I am thrilled you are...hanging out here...all of a sudden." She said as she quickly strokes Dean's chin. "But uh...shouldn't you be at work?" She asked.

"Work?" Dean said, confused. "At the garage?" She said. "Right. The garage. It's where I work, yeah. No, I-I–I've got the day off." Dean snickers. "Heh. Good thing." He said as he takes another bite, again with the grunting of goodness.

Then he looks to the window. "That lawn looks like it could use some mowing." He points out. "You want to mow the lawn?" Mary asked. "You kidding me? I'd love to mow the law." He said. "Knock yourself out. You'd think you'd never mowed a lawn in your life." Mary said. Dean shrugs, thinking that no, he never has mowed a lawn. He looks all kinds of happy about the prospect of doing so.

Dean starts the lawnmower then begins to mow the lawn, looking really happy, enjoying it. He's not very adept at it. He sees the neighbor across the street putting out the garbage. He waves to him like a regular guy does in this regular world. The neighbor waves back, telegraphing surprise with his wave, and then Dean continues the mowing.

After he finishes, Dean was sitting on the steps to the front porch, drinking a beer, feeling happy when a car drives up and parks at the curb. "I don't believe it." Dean mutters.

He gets up to go greet Sam and Jessica, who are getting out of the car. Dean attacks Jessica with a hug while Sam takes out the luggage from the trunk. "Jessica." Dean said, happily, as he hugs her, tightly. "Agh! You're, uh...Good to see you too Dean." She said as Dean laughs. "Can't breathe, okay." She tells him and he lets go.

"Sammy." Dean said to him.

"Hey." Sam greets as Dean smiles. "Look at you. You're with Jessica, it's - I don't believe it." He laughs. "Yeah." Sam said, uncertain. "Where'd you guys come from?" Dean asked him. "We just flew in from...Califor–"

"California! Stanford. Huh? Law school, I bet." Dean said, interrupting Sam. Sam chuckles, somewhat disapprovingly, then motions to the beer in Dean's hand. "I see you started off Mom's birthday with a bang, as usual." He said and Dean stops and stares. "Wait. Mom's birthday, that's, that's today?" He asked. "Yeah. Yeah, Dean. That's today. That's why we're here. Don't tell me you forgot." Sam said and Dean looks a bit dumbfounded.

Suddenly, there was another car horn and they look over to see a new car pulling up. "Oh, looks like (father's name) and (mother's name) are here." Sam said and Dean stares as (y/n)'s parents get out of their car and Mary comes out of the house.

"(Mother's name)! (Father's name)!" Mary said, happily, and the two women go and hug each other then Mary hugs (father's name). "You made it!" Mary said to them. "Well, of course! You didn't think we would miss your birthday!" (Mother's name) said as they chuckle and Dean, Sam and Jessica walk up to them.

"Dean! What a surprise!" (Mother's name) said as she goes to hug him. "Hey, (mother's name)." Dean said, smiling, as he hugs her back. Then Dean looks over at (father's name), who was giving him a stern look. "Hey, (father's name)." Dean greets. "Dean." (Father's name) greets in a stern tone.

"Oh, (father's name), stop it." (Mother's name) said as he glances over at his wife for a moment then turns to face Sam. "Samuel! How are you?" He greets in a much friendlier tone than he did with Dean, which makes Dean look at this confused as Sam talks to (father's name).

That night at a restaurant, they're all sitting at a round table as Dean gets served a plate with asparagus spears bound into an upright sheaf. "Wow, that... looks awesome." Dean said as everyone chuckles. "All right. To Mom." Sam said as he raises a glass. "Happy birthday." He said as everyone raises their glass too.

"Happy birthday." Jessica, (father's name), (mother's name) and (y/n) said in unison. "Thank you." Mary said and they all clink their glasses in a cheer. "To mom." Dean said and he watches as Sam and Jessica kiss and smiles at them. (Y/n) then leans towards Dean, a look of worry on her face.

"I was really worried about you last night." She whispered to him. "Oh I'm...I'm good. I'm really good." He replied to her. "Okay. What do you say, later we get you a cheeseburger?" (Y/n) asked and Dean smiles. "Oh God, yes." He said and she smiles. "How did I end up with such a wonderful woman?" He asked her. "Years of wearing you down until you finally asked me out." She teased and Dean laughs then kisses her.

"All right. Jess and I actually have another surprise for Mom's birthday." Sam said then he turns to Jess. "Ah...You wanna tell 'em?" He asked her. "They're your family." Jess said, smiling. "All right." Sam said and Mary looks between them, smiling in anticipation.

"What? Tell me what?" She asked. Sam holds up Jessica's left hand, showing of an engagement ring on her finger. Mary laughs happily and (y/n)'s parents applaud and smile. "Oh my God! That's so wonderful." Mary exclaims, happily, and she gets up and hugs Jessica, who's also gotten up. Sam, (y/n) and her parents get up as well, while Dean still sits.

"Congratulations." (Y/n) said as she hugs Jess. "Thank you." Jess said then (y/n) turns to Sam. "Congratulations, Sammy." She said. "Thank you." Sam said as Mary goes and hugs him then (father's name) shakes his hand and (mother's name) hugs him.

"I just wish your dad was here." Mary said to Sam. "Yeah. Me too." Sam said, sadly. "Jessica, let me see that ring." Mary said to Jess and the women all gather around Jess as Dean goes up to Sam. "Congratulations Sammy." He said. "Thanks." Sam said.

"I'm really glad you're happy." Dean said to and Sam looks a little puzzled at Dean's intensity. Dean looks over his shoulder and sees the same girl he saw on campus. She looks much filthier this time. Dean brushes past Sam and walks over. Sam turns around when Dean hits his shoulder while passing by.

Dean passes a lot of people and when he passes the last one, the girl is gone. He turns around and looks at his family, as they stand looking at him, wondering what's up.

"So, Dean, what was uh...what was all that back at the restaurant?" Sam asked Dean as they enter Mary's house. "Ah... I-I thought I saw someone. I'm sure it's nothing." Dean said. "Well, I had a lovely birthday. Thank you. Good night." Mary said. "Good night." Jess and (y/n) said. "Good night." Dean said. "Night, Mom." Sam said then he turns to the others. "Yeah, well I'm beat." He said then he turns to Jessica. 

"Ready to turn in?" He asked. "Sure." Jess said. "All right. Good night guys." Sam said. "Wait a second. Wait a second. Come on, it's not even nine o'clock yet. Let's uh...Let's go have a drink or something." Dean said and Sam gives him a weary look. "Yeah, maybe another time." Sam said.

"Come on, man. Look at us. Huh? We both have beautiful women on our arms. You're engaged. Let’s go celebrate." Dean said to him but there was an awkward silence after thar. Then Sam turns to the girls. "Guys, can you excuse us? I just want to talk to my brother for a sec." He said.

"Sure." Jess said while (y/n) gives a worried look to the boys. "Sam, please don't start." She said. "It'll be fine, (y/n)." Sam said and (y/n) sighs at this and she and Jess leave the room

"Come here." Sam said, onc she turns to Dean, as he walks to the other side of the living room. "What?" Dean asked as he follows. "Okay. What's gotten into you?" Sam asked.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked, confused. "I mean this whole warm, fuzzy ecstasy-trip thing." Sam said. "I'm just happy for you, Sammy." Dean replied. "Yeah, right. That's another thing. Since when do you call me Sammy?" Sam asked as Dean stares at him.

"Dean, come on. We don't talk outside of holidays. God, knows (y/n) has tried her hardest to get us to talk." Sam said. "We don't? Well, we should. I mean, you're my brother." Dean said and Sam scoffs. "You're my brother?" He said, repeating Dean's words. "Yeah." Dean said, laughing.

"You know, that's what you said when you snaked my ATM card, or when you bailed on my graduation, or when you hooked up with Rachel Nave." Sam said. "Who?" Dean asked. "Uh, my prom date. On prom night." Sam said. "Yeah, that does kinda sound like me." Dean mutters before he speaks up. "Well, hey man, I'm sorry about all that." He said and he walks towards Sam, who backs away.

"No that, look, that's all right man, I-I just...You know I'm not asking you to change. I-I just, uh, ...I don't know, I...guess we just don't really have anything in common. You know?" Sam said and Dean blinks before Sam starts to walk away.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Yes we do. Yes we do." Dean said before he laughs. "What?" Sam asked. "Hunting." Dean replies, like it was obvious. "Hunting? I've never been hunting in my life, Dean." Sam said to him. "Yeah, well, then we should go it sometime. I...I think you'd be great at it." Dean said and Sam starts to walk away again.

"Get some rest." Sam tells him and he walks away, leaving Dean in the living room.

Back at his home, Dean was sitting on the sofa, thinking, his brow furrowed when (y/n) offers him a beer. "My favorite. I guess you know me pretty well." He said and she laughs. "Perks of knowing you since I was about twelve years old."

Dean chuckles, softly, beforeshe looks down again and she frowns at this. "You all right?" She asked him. "Sammy and I...We don't get along." Dean mutters and (y/n) sighs at this. "Yeah, you two have had a rocky relationship." She remarked.

"Sam said that you've been trying to get us to talk." Dean said and she nods, slightly. "Well, yeah...you two are brothers and I hate to see you two this broken. But I think Sam's given up on trying to work it out as you have broken his trust one too many times." She said.

"And your dad doesn't seem to like me." Dean said and she waves a hand, vaguely, at this and said. "You know him, he's just being this overprotective dad. He's slowly getting over it, mainly is cause I think mom is wearing him down. She adores you." She said to him as he thinks for a moment.

"I can fix things with Sam. I can make it up to him. To everyone." Dean said and (y/n) smiles. "Okay. What's gotten into you lately?" She asked as she raises an eyebrow at him. "This isn't gonna make a lick of sense to you. But I kind of feel like I've been given a second chance. And I don't wanna waste it." He said. "You're right, that doesn't make any sense—" (y/n) said, chuckling.

Dean then leans in and kisses her. "You know, I get it." He said. "Get what?" (Y/n) asked. "Why you're the one." He said and she smiles. "Well?" She said as he kisses her again. "Whatever's gotten into you...I like it." She said and they begin to kiss, passionately.

"Ohhh...come on! Don't do this to me now. I've gotta get ready for work." She groans and she gets off the couch, leaving Dean sitting with his hands as if she was still between them. "You got to work now?" He asked. "I told you. I've got the night shifts on Thursday." (Y/n) said to him and he starts to get up.

"You work nights at the, uh..." he said and he goes to their shared bedroom to see (y/n) standing by the closet, taking out scrubs. Dean stands in the doorway. "…hospital." He said. "I'm dating a nurse. That is so...respectable." he said and she smiles and giggles at his words. 

Later that evening, after (y/n) left, Dean was on the couch, putting his feet on the table, drinking beer and watching TV. He changed the channel to the stock market, cartoon, and then the news. He sees a land plane and hear a reporter. "And today marks the anniversary of the crash of United Britannia Flight 424." The reporter said and this gets Dean's attention and he leans forward as he continues to watch.

"Indianapolis residents held a candlelight vigil in memory of the hundred and eight people who lost their lives..." the reporter said and Dean shakes his head. "No, no. I stopped that crash." He mutters.

Then he goes to his laptop reading headlines that relate to cases he has solved.

Indianapolis Sun, December 5TH, 2005 - FLIGHT 424 CRASHES, 108 DEAD; Tragedy shocks the nation, as emergency crews continue to search rubble...

Nine Children Comatose; ... Mystery illness baffles doctors at Dane County Hospital

Parents mutilated in bed..; …Brutal double homicide in quiet residential area causes shock

GIRL DROWNS IN HOTEL POOL; Mother devastated after discovering daughter drowned

He catches a glimpse of a passing figure, a woman in white; maybe the same woman he has seen twice now. He gets up to see what it is. He opens his bedroom closet door and sees several female corpses, hanging. He hears a sound and turns around to see another woman, with a wound in her head, flickering in front of him.

He pants, shocked, and turns back around to the closet – to see nothing out of the ordinary.

Later, Dean was standing by John's grave, staring at it in sadness. "All of them. Everyone that you saved, everyone Sammy, (y/n) and I saved. They're all dead. And there's this woman, that's haunting me. I don't know why. I don't know what the connection is, not yet anyway. It's like my old life is, is coming after me or something. Like it like it doesn't want me to be happy." He said. "Course I know what you'd say. Well, not the you that played softball but...So go hunt the Djinn. He put you here, it can put you back. Your happiness for all those people's lives, no contest. Right?" He said then he becomes angry.

"But why? Why is it my job to save these people? Why do I have to be some kind of hero?" He asked and he begins to cry while talking. "What about us, huh? What, Mom's not supposed to live her life, Sammy's not supposed to get married? (Y/n) and I can't have a normal life together? Why do we have to sacrifice everything, Dad? It's..." Dean said then his lips tremble. Then he hears the sky rumbling and tears begins to falls on his cheek.

"Yeah..." he mutters and he wipes the tears on his cheeks. Then he turns around and walks away.

Back at the Winchester house, Sam was fast asleep when, suddenly, he hears a noise downstairs and he wakes up. He comes down the stairs, quietly, with a bat in his hand then he stops in the doorway, leaning looking into the living room.

He sees the window open and under it, someone is in one of the cabinets. Sam goes in, swinging, but the person gets up and counterattacks, throwing him on the floor. "That was so easy, I'm embarrassed for you." A voice said and Sam looks to see that it was Dean.

"Dean? What the hell are you doing here?" Sam asked him as Dean gets up, letting Sam get up off the floor. "I was looking for a beer." Dean replied. "In the china cabinet?" Sam asked as he goes to turn on the light and sees the box with their parents' silverware on the floor, open.

"That's Mom's silver." Sam said as he looks at Dean, upset. "Sam." Dean mutters and Sam becomes angry. "What, you...you broke into the house...to steal Mom's silver?" He asked, angrily. "It's not what it looks like. OK, I didn't have a choice." Dean said to him. "Oh really? Why? What's so damn important you gotta steal from your own mother?" Sam asked.

"You want the truth?" Dean asked. "Yeah, yeah I do." Sam said and Dean shrugs. "I owe somebody money." He replied. "Who?" Sam asked. "A bookie. I lost big on a game, I gotta bring him the cash tonight." Dean said.

"I can't believe we're even related." Sam grumbles. "Sam, I'm sorry." Dean said. "Yeah." Sam mutters, quietly. "I'm sorry that we don't get along. And I wish to hell I could stay and fix it. But I gotta do this. People’s lives depend on it." Dean said to him. He turns around and take a knife from the box.

"What are you talking about, Dean?" Sam asked him. "Nothing. Forget it. Just uh...hey, tell Mom I love her." Dean said. Sam frowns, seeing that something is up, as Dean goes for the door. "Dean." Sam said, worried, and Dean turns around. "I'll see you, Sammy." Dean said and he walks out the door, taking one last look at the house and Sam.

Sam stands in the living room where Dean left him, confused, then he hear the Impala's engine start.

Dean was sitting in the car, engine going, thinking, when, suddenly, the passenger door opens and Sam gets in the car. "Get out of the car." Dean tells him. "I'm going with you." Sam said. "You're just gonna slow me down." Dean tells him. "Tough." Sam said, firmly.

"This is dangerous and you could get hurt." Dean said to him. "Yeah, and so could you, Dean." Sam said.

"Sam—"

"Look, whatever stupid thing you're about to do, you're not doing it alone. And that's that." Sam said to Dean, firmly. "I don't understand. Why you doing this?" Dean asked him and Sam sighs. "Because you're still my brother." Sam said and Dean stares at him for a moment.

"Bitch." Dean mutters and Sam gives him a confused look. "W–hat are you calling me a bitch for?" He asked, offended. "You're supposed to say jerk." Dean said to him. "What?" Sam asked and Dean shakes his head. "Never mind." He mutters and he puts the Impala in gear and they drive off.

As they drive down the road, Sam looks down on a bag on the seat between them. "What's in the bag?" He asked, sighing. "Nothin'." Dean replied. "Nothin'?" Sam asked. "Yeah, nothin'." Dean said. "Fine." Sam said and he grabs the bag and begins to open it.

"You don't wanna do that." Dean said. "Oh really?" Sam asked. And he takes out what was in the bag. It's a container of blood. "What the hell is this?" Sam asked, staring at the container. "Blood." Dean replied, flatly. "Yeah, I can see that it's blood, Dean! What the hell is it doing in here?" Sam asked, upset. "You don't really wanna know." Dean said.

"No I-I do really wanna know. I really, really, do." Sam said. "Yeah, well you're gonna find out sooner or later. I needed a silver knife dipped in lamb's blood." Dean replied. "You needed a silver knife dipped in lamb's blood, why?" Sam asked. "Because there's this creature. A Djinn. And I have to hunt it." Dean said.

"Okay, um...stop the car." Sam said. "I know how it sounds." Dean said. "Great. Just...stop the car." Sam said, again. "It's the truth, Sam. All right, there are things out there in the dark. There – there – there are bad things. There are nightmare things. And people have to be saved and if we don't save them, then nobody will." Dean tells him.

"Look, I wanna help you, all right. I-I really, really do, but you're having some kind of psychotic breakdown, so, I...just –" Sam said. "I wish." Dean mutters and Sam picks up his phone and starts dialing a number. Dean rolls down his window, grabs Sam's phone, throws it out, and then rolls up the window again.

"What the hell was that, Dean? That was my phone!" Sam yells. "I'm not going to a rubber room, Sammy. And we got work to do." Dean said to him. "What? I was just trying to help you out, Dean. I don't, I don't want you to get yourself hurt." Sam said.

"What? You protect me?" Dean asked him. "Yeah!" Sam exclaims and Dean laughs. "Oh, that's hilarious. Why don't you just sit tight and try not to get us both killed." Dean tells him and be starts the radio and the music blares out.

The Impala drives up between the factory and stops in between two buildings. Dean looks over at Sam, who is asleep. DeN picks up his flashlight and shines it on his face. Sam wakes with a start. "Where are we?" Sam asked. "Well, we're not in Kansas anymore." Dean said as he chuckles at Sam. When there's no reaction, the smile dies. 

"Illinois." Dean said. "And you think something's in there?" Sam asked. "I know it is." Dean said and they get out if the car and head towards the building.

"See? There's nothing here, Dean." Sam said as the boys walk along the the building, Dean holding his flashlight. "Look, (y/n)'s gotta be worried sick about you, Dean. Come on, let- let's just go." Sam said after walking for a few minutes until they hear a sound. "Shh!" Dean said to him

"What the hell is that?" Sam asked him. "Stay behind me and keep your mouth shut." Dean said and they head into a large room. There they see bodies hanging from the ceiling appearing before them. It's the same bodies Dean saw in his closet earlier. There was a drained blood bag hanging next to one of the bodies.

"What the hell?" Sam asked as Dean looks further to the right, and the woman Dean has been seeing was hanging like the bodies. They approach her and see another blood bag next to her, filled with blood. Her eyes are open, but she looks close to dead. 

"It's her." Dean mutters and Sam looks at the bag and at her wrists that are tied, just like the others. She begins to moan and whimper. "Dean, what's going on?" Sam asked then Dean grabs him. "Shh!" He said as he sees the Djinn is coming out.

When it comes out from behind a wall and walks up behind the woman, the guys are gone. "Where's my dad?" The woman crys. "I won't tell..." she sobs as she looks at the Djinn. "Don't." She moves her feet away from the Djinn. "Where's my dad." She cries as Sam and Dean, who were behind a shelf, watches.

The Djinn touches her face. "Sleep." He whispers as some blue flares go over her cheek while he strokes her. The Djinn's eyes glow bright blue. "Sleep...Sleep." he continues and her head falls forward, eyes still open and her feet relaxes, falling forward again.

The Djinn rests his face against her arms, touching her right arm and breathing heavily, eyes closed. He then goes for the blood bag, pulls out one straw and puts it to his mouth, drinking her blood. Sam sees this and gags in disgust.

The Djinn hears this, and turns around right away; its eyes flash blue and he begins to move towards their hiding place. When he gets there, the guys are gone. The Djinn walks up some creaky steps while the boys were standing below them, looking up, following his steps.

When a door closes, Sam begins to breathe loudly. "This is real? You're not crazy?" Sam asked while Dean stares at the woman. "She didn't know where she was. She thought she was with her father." Dean said, thinking aloud.

Then the boys walk up to the woman again. "What if that's what the Djinn does? It doesn't grant you a wish, it just makes you think it has." He mutters. "Look man. That thing could come back, all right?" Sam said, worried, but Dean walks past Sam in the opposite direction of the woman.

He looks up at a light bulb and it starts to flicker in brighter light. "Dean, please." Sam pleads and Dean starts to breath, heavily. "What if I'm like her? What if I'm tied up in here some place? What if all this is in my head?" Dean asked then he walks up to the woman. "I mean it could, you know, maybe it gives us some kind of supernatural acid, and then just feeds on us slow." Dean said.

"No. Dean, that doesn't make sense. OK?" Sam said. "What if that's why she keeps appearing to me? She's not a spirit. It's - it's like more and more like I'm catching flashes of reality. You know, like I'm in here somewhere, and I'm - I'm catatonic, and I'm taking all this stuff in but I, but I can't snap out of it." Dean said.

"Yeah, OK, look. Yeah, yeah, yeah, you're right. I was wrong. You're not crazy but we – we – we need to get out of here. Fast." Sam said and hs starts to pull Dean with him. Dean pulls his arm loose from Sam, who looks at him and throws his arms out like what?

"I don't think you're real." Dean said. Sam, agitated, sucks in a breath. "Dude, you feel that?" H asked as he grabs Dean by the arms. "You feel this? I'm real. This is not an acid trip. I'm real, and that thing is gonna come down here and kill us for real. Now, please—" Sam said.

"There's one way to be sure." Dean said and he pulls out the silver knife. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. What are you doing?" Sam asked, backing away. "It's an old wives' tale. If you're about to die in a dream, you wake up." Dean said and Sam shakes his head. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no. That's crazy. All right?" Sam said.

"Maybe." Dean said with a determined look. "You're gonna kill yourself—" Sam said as he walks up to Dean but Dean holds out the knife and his other hand to stop him. "OK." Sam said.

"Or I'm gonna wake up. One or the other." Dean said. "OK. This isn't a dream, all right. I'm here, with you, now. And you're about to kill yourself, Dean." Sam said. "No, I'm pretty sure. Like, 90% sure. But I'm sure enough." Sam said and he turns the knife on himself, takes both his hands to the handle, ready to thrust it into himself.

"WAIT!" Sam shouts and Dean stops. Suddenly, Mary walks up next to Dean, in the same nightgown that she died in. Behind Sam, (y/n) appears. "Why'd you have to keep digging?" Sam asked him as Dean looks back at Mary as Jess appears on his right side.

"Why couldn't you have left well enough alone?" Sam asked as Dean looks around. "You were happy." said Sam and Mary comes up in front of Dean. "Put the knife down, honey." Mary said and tears form into Dean's eyes.

"You're not real. None of it is." He said. "It doesn't matter. It's still better than anything you had." Mary said. "What?" Dean asked. "It's everything you want. We're a family again. Let’s go home." She said and Dean shakes his head. "I'll die. The Djinn'll...drain the life out of me in a couple of days." Dean said, his voice breaking.

"But in here, with us, it'll feel like years. Like a lifetime." Mary said and Dean looks over at Sam, who half-smiles and nods to him. "I promise." Mary said as she takes his chin in her hand, and he looks down on her. "No more pain." She said as she strokes his cheek. "Or fear. Just love and comfort. And safety. Dean, stay with us." Shd said and she strokes his other cheek and he leans into her hand, closing his eyes "Get some rest." She said.

"You don't have to worry about Sam anymore." Jess said and Dean looks over at her. "You get to watch him live a full life." She said and Mary steps away, and (y/n) walks up to him, taking his face in her hands then kissed him. "We can have a future together. Have our own family. I love you, Dean. Please." She pleads, softly, and Sam walks up to him.

"Why is it our job to save everyone? Haven't we done enough?" Sam asked, echoing what Dean said earlier. "I'm begging you. Give me the knife." Sam said and Dean looks at (y/n), Sam and Mary with tears in his eyes. Then he backs away looking at the floor. He raises his head, looking at Sam and (y/n).

"I'm sorry." He whispers and he thrusts the knife into himself, and blood immediately comes out of his mouth.

*(y/n)'s POV*

"DEAN! DEAN! Dean." Sam and I shouted as we walk up to Dean, who was hanging from the ceiling, a blood bag hangs next to him. "Oh God. Come on." Sam whispered as we shake him. "Hey. Wake up. Wake up, damn it!" I said, panicked, and Dean grunts a little. His eyes begin to focus on us.

"Hey. Hey." Sam said as we shake him awake. "Ahh...Auntie Em. There's no place like home." Dean mutters and I let out a sigh of relief. "Thank God. I thought I lost you for a second." I whispered as Sam pulls out the tube in Dean's throat. "You almost did." Dean whispers and I smiled at him.

"Oh God." Sam said as he breathes, heavily. "Let's get you down." He said and Sam reaches up and starts to cut through the rope as Dean winces over the pain and grunts a little. "(Y/n)! SAM!" Dean yells and I turn around, see the Djinn then I go to the Djinn with the knife.

The Djinn knocks me down then goes after Sam for a moment, gets him to drop the knife. I shake my head and see that the Djinn had got the upper hand on Sam, and is holding him by the throat. The Djinn's hand was glowing blue, and he is moving it toward Sam's forehead, but Sam was struggling, pushing against his wrist and trying to stop him. 

I grabbed my knife and thrust the knife into the back of the Djinn. Then I pull the knife out and it falls to the ground dead. Sam breathes heavily from being strangled and I help him up and go over to help Dean down, who doesn't look too good as he was pale and with red-rimmed eyes.

Once we get him down, we walk up to the girl. He puts his hand to her neck, feeling for a pulse. A tear rolls down one of her cheeks. "She's still alive!" Dean said and he pulls out the tube in her neck as I cut her rope. Dean and Sam catch her as she goes down.

"We gotcha. We gotcha. We're gonna get you out of here, OK? We gotcha." Dean said as the girl makes small wheezing sounds while I watch Dean and Sam help her down. "We got you." He said.

"OK, uh, thank you so much for the update. OK, bye." Sam said into his phone as Dean and I were sitting on the edge of a hotel bed. Dean was looking down and I placed a hand on his shoulder. He looks at me and I give a reassuring smile then he smirks back and takes my hand in his.

"That was the hospital. Girl's been stabilized. Good chance she's gonna pull through." Sam said once he hangs up his phone and comes up to us. "That's good." Dean said and Sam nods.

"How 'bout you? You all right?" I asked Dean and he clears his throat. "Yeah, I'm all right. You should have seen it, guys. Our lives. You were such a wussy, Sam." Dean said, chuckling.

"So we didn't get along then, huh?" Sam asked. "Nah." Dean said. "I thought it was supposed to, to be this perfect fantasy." I said, questioning. "It wasn't. It was just a wish. I wished for Mom to live. That Mom never died, we never went hunting and all of us just never uh...you know." Dean said.

"Yeah. Well, I'm glad we do. And I'm glad you dug yourself out, Dean." Sam said and I nodded. "Yeah, me too. Most people wouldn't've had the strength, would have just stayed." I said. "Yeah...Lucky me. I gotta tell you though, guys. You know, you had Jess, Sam. Mom was gonna have grandkids...(y/n), your parents were alive." He said.

"Yeah, but...Dean...it wasn't real." Sam said. "I know. But I wanted to stay." Dean said as he looks sad and lost. "I wanted to stay so bad. I mean, ever since Dad...all I c– all I can think about is how much this job's cost us. We've lost so much. We've...sacrificed so much." Dean said and I go and remove my hand out of his and wrap it around his shoulder.

"But people are alive because of you." I said and Dean scoffs. "She's right. It's worth it, Dean. It is. It's not fair, and...you know, it hurts like hell, but...it's worth it." Sam said and Dean looks at us then down again, sadly and pensively.

[lanitalay]

Supernatural 2

in which you encounter a couple of hunters on a case

Azriel x reader

a/n: babes I'm alive. I have been traveling for a while and have not had the mental capacity to write anything but here is a lil fic to remind you I'm still here lol

warnings: angst, canon typical violence

wordcount:1.5k

Part 1

When three loud knocks rattle the dingy motel room door, Azriel rolls his eyes. He noticed you left your keys behind and when you did not come back he assumed you had gone to Dean. The night was spent in itchy sheets, tossing and turning to the thought of you in another’s bed. Before he opened the door, he steeled his face, wiping away any semblance of care or concern. 

“Open up, pretty boy!” 

Weird. “Dean?” 

“Is y/n with you?” The eldest Winchester barges in. “Y/n!”

“I thought she was with you.” Guilt bites Azriel’s mouth as Dean shows him the cracked screen of a phone. Your phone. “Where did you find that?” Your partner snatches it out of the practical stranger’s hands. 

“Sammy and I went to the lobby to ask for more shampoo because someone refuses to get a haircut.” Sam huffs and finishes the explanation “there was nobody there, but we found her phone. It looked like it had been thrown against the wall or something.” 

Azriel couldn’t understand. Had you gotten that fed up with him? Had last night been the last straw for you? Had you broken your phone, the only thing keeping you on the grid, to spite him? He could almost hear you say “have it your way.” 

“Azriel?” Sam’s voice shakes him. 

“She left.”

“What?” It was Dean this time, bewildered. “Listen, we looked around the desk and found the ledger. Take a look.” Azriel’s mind was reeling and this guy wanted him to look at a ledger? He strained his eyes to focus on the wonky lettering. Amelia Johnson, Benjamin Parker, Chloe Thompson, Dominic Rodriguez, Emma Smith, Finnegan O'Connor…

“Why are you showing me this?” His world had just fallen apart and these guys wanted to work a case? 

Dean groans.“Clearly Y/n is the brains in your operation, take a closer look.”

Azriel rereads: Room 9, Amelia Johnson, Benjamin Parker, Chloe Thompson, Dominic Rodriguez, Emma Smith, Finnegan O'Connor, Azriel Singer, Y/n Y/l/n.

Oh. 

Crap. 

“Crap, crap, crap.” You take in the gray bodies of people you had been trying to save for a week. Your arm hurt, a lot. Because of how you were tied you couldn’t look to see what had been done to it. But based on how your vision blurred at the edges, you deduced that blood had been drawn and based on how difficult it was to breathe, it had been a lot. 

The motel attendant walks in. With all the strength you can muster you spit at it. For what it did to those people, for what this would do to Azriel. He flashes his fangs. A warning.

“I must say, your blood is particularly delectable.” He rips your sore arm from its binding and jams a needle in it. Blinding pain shoots to your neck, up to your throat and a meek whimper escapes you. It was like he pierced your soul. For a second you think he’s draining more than just blood. Before a coherent thought can form your consciousness gives way to darkness. 

“She’s gotta be here. There must be a basement or cellar or backroom or-” Azriel is rambling, scouring through files and cursing himself for not having the blueprints to the motel. He had spent so much time in the archives and didn’t even think to get them. 

“Azriel, she’ll be ok. We will search this place up and down until we find her. But right now we have to sharpen our machetes and come up with a plan.” Sam said while Dean had already begun working on his weapon. 

An hour later they had set out to the lobby.

No one was at the front desk. The hunters quickly made their way to the back room. It was set up as an office. Papers piled sky high, most of them blank. Sam opened a door labeled “storage” and cursed when he shone a flashlight down a steep set of stairs. “Guys, over here.” He whispered. Vampires are heavy sleepers, especially after a meal but they needed to be careful. Azriel tightens his grip on his machete and follows Sam down, Dean watching his back. 

When they reach the landing, distant snoring lets them know they are not alone. There are two doors. Sam presses his ear against one and nods to the others, confirming that it's clear. He opens it, cringing at the squeak. Every damn hinge in this place is rusty. Azriel walks in, flashlight landing on a limp figure. A silhouette he could recognize anywhere, even as it was awkwardly hunched forward. He goes to check your pulse and sighs when he finds it. Weak, but there. 

“Hey, y/n, it's me. We’re gonna get you out of here.” Azriel whispers to your unconscious form while he tears through the ropes that secure you to the chair. Sam and Dean at your flank. He cuts through the bindings of your right arm, cursing to see it discolored, practically  mauled. When he moves it from your back to your front you shriek. Even with the gentleness of his touch your limb felt like it was on fire. The shriek turned into muffled moaning as Azriel covered your mouth with his hand. “Shhh, shhh, we have to be quiet.” 

But the warning was issued in vain. The motel attendant and the janitor were in the room in a matter of seconds. Engaging both winchesters in combat. “Get her out, Az!” Dean shouted through the slashing of machetes against the metal chair the vampire was using as a weapon. 

“I’m sorry if this hurts.” Azriel apologizes as he cuts through the last of the rope and picks you up, aiming to lunge up the stairs. Before he can begin the climb though, the janitor throws Sam across the room and into the pair of you. Azriel does his best to shield your head from the blow. In the beat that it takes Sam to recover the janitor is on you, yanking you away from Azriel and piercing the delicate flesh of your neck with its fangs. 

It's all Azriel sees as he storms forward, swinging his machete like a Tasmanian devil. The janitor is so enthralled by your blood he reacts too late to the blow that severs his head from his body. Your legs give out and Azriel lurches forward to catch you, looking back to Sam who says “go, I’ll finish the job with Dean.”

You woke up in pain. But you woke up in a bed to worried hazel eyes. “Az? Az! The manager and the janitor-”

“I know, Sam and Dean are dealing with them now.” 

“And the people..?”

He shook his head. It was a confirmation of what you had already known, but it did not hurt any less.

Azriel laid down next to you, offering his shoulder for you to lean on. Quiet tears streamed down your face. It was long before he broke the silence “we need to get you to a hospital.” 

Just then, Sam and Dean walked back, covered in blood and clothes tattered to bits. 

“That last sucker put up one hell of a fight.” 

“I’m gonna take y/n to the hospital, thank you for every-”

Dean waved his hands “no no, we got a guy for that. Let me call Cas.”

Azriel and you share a look before you ask. “You know Cass?” 

Sam and Dean share a look. “You know Cas?” 

“We know Cass, but you wouldn’t actually call him for medical attention.”

“Then it’s not the same Cas. Give me a minute.” He never takes out his phone but before you can remark on the effectiveness of his call a flash of light blinds you and at the foot of the bed stands a stoic man in a trench coat.

“What the hell…” 

“Castiel this is Azriel and Y/n. Guys this is Cas, he’s an angel.” Dean’s shit eating grin makes you want to slap him. 

“Dean said that you needed healing?”

You look at your bloodied body and nod.

“This will hurt, but it will be over quickly.” He places a hand on your head and molten energy courses through your veins. It feels like your body will combust from it. In a second it's over though and you are left in a panting mess, no gashes anywhere on your body. 

You pack up quickly after that. Promising the boys you will stay in touch and reach out if you ever need help. 

Soon enough you and Azriel are back in the front seat on his truck. 

“Y/n?” 

“Yeah?”

“About last night-”

“I know.”  You lean into him, placing a kiss on his cheek. “I think there's a case in Florida, I was just reading an article about…” 

You knew the conversation had to happen at some point. Someone was bound to give in or to give up. But there were monsters out there and also, apparently, angels.

[ssplague]

Warnings ⛔️ Soulmates, Vampire AU, Smut, supernatural pregnancy, angst, violence, great bodily injury, blood, attempted SA (not detailed), feticide, radicalized religion, ye old time Misogyny, death.

This is the continuation (2/3) of Save a prayer 🙏🏽

Honorable Mentions:

@viridianheroics @maggiecc

🫀 🔥 ❤️‍🔥

The very first time Katsuki had intended to have you for dinner was four hundred years before you two reunite. He had been watching your little cottage outside of town for weeks, he studied your routine, noticed you lived alone and how many visitors you had on average. You were a vision to the hungry vampire, your beauty made both his fangs and loins ache with desire. So much so that he peeked into your bedroom more than once, watching you in your most intimate moments. He decided to have some fun with you before ending your life, which wasn’t something he often even considered doing with prey.

Faking an injury, he limped up the path approaching your home as the sun was setting. You’d just returned from town when you noticed him, and your eyes shine with worry, “Sir, do you need some help? Are you alright?!”.

Katsuki turned on the charm for you, and even with you normally being impossible to sway, he had you internally swooning. When your hands fly up to touch your burning cheeks, the supernatural male realizes he may have over done it a bit. Considering he wasn’t faking his interest in you, it had been a bit easy for him to do so. Regardless, you pull him along the pathway, eager to get him inside your house “its warmer in here, I’ll make some tea and we can sit infront of the fire”. Over an hour had passed and the two of you had already discussed a wide array of topics. The smile he wore was genuine when you would stifle a giggle and lightly slap at his arm when he said something vulgar or mean spirited. Just as you had slightly shifted closer towards him, a knock came from the front door. You immediately looked uneasy as it came again, and Katsuki’s hand came to rest over your’s, “What’s wrong?”. “The preachers son has been coming around in the evenings to see me…I believe he intends to begin courting me…” you whispered, finding yourself moving even closer to the man beside you “I don’t like him Katsuki, I’ve never even given him any sort of attention before…The people in the village keep trying to push me into a courtship, no one will listen to how I feel…They just dismiss my refusal, claiming that it’s normal to have doubts”.

The thought of some man forcing his unwanted presence inside of your house made Bakugou mad. The sadness and fear in your eyes brought some strange protective side of the angry vampire out. Hearing the knocking become more insistent, it’s without thinking he takes your little hands between his much larger ones. If you were suprised by the slight chill of his skin you made no fuss, only stared up at him with something akin to both hope and a slight tint of something else….”What if I answer the door, and when he asks for you, I will inform him that your late parents and mine had an agreement that betrothed us, and I have finally come to claim you after the two of us had lost touch during the time I spent working over seas”he was suprised that something made up on a whim could sound so serious.

“That’s a wonderful idea! Especially with my parents being unable to confirm or deny this! Please do it, I’d be ever so grateful” your hands grow warmer in his icy ones, and that warmth begins to creep up his arms and sink into his chest. The vampire instantly regretting letting you go for even a second as he gets up. Once his back is to you his frown is switched out for a truly menacing expression. Katsuki swings the door open and the man outside has his fist in the air to continue his assault on the wood. “May I help you?” the ice in immortals tone has the smaller man flinching. Though the creep is quick to recover and immediately begins sizing the handsome stranger in the doorway up, (despite being incredibly small in stature himself) “I’m here to see Ms.L/N, who exactly are you?”. “Who I am is none of your business, and you won’t be seeing her this evening, we aren’t taking visitors” Katsuki says dismissively, attempting to shut the door, only to have the smaller man try to grab ahold of it and keep it open. “Why are you speaking for her? You are-“ “Y/N is my betrothed, and has been for years, I’m speaking for her because I am her soon to be husband, it is not appropriate for an unmarried man to be coming round visiting a woman in the evening, especially without invitation, so don’t bother returning, good night!” Katsuki yanks the door shut, the preacher’s son barely able to let go before his fingers were slammed in it.

You descended upon Bakugou soon as he locked the door and turned around. You two stayed quiet for a moment before the male you were hugging gave a nod that the coast was clear. You looked like you were about to burst with excitement, “I think it worked! Thank you so much for getting rid of him!”. Gods you were too sweet, and so beautiful as your eyes sparkled with gratitude. Katsuki allows you to lead him back towards where you’d previously sat in front of the fire, albeit much closer together this time. “So um…he’s rather persistent if you hadn’t noticed” you begin, with nervousness evident in your slight fidgeting. “I noticed” sneers your companion, pulling you further against his side. You feel your cheeks warming up and your heart begins to thump rapidly beneath your bosom, forcing yourself to continue, “So what I was meaning to say was…he will probably check back up and see if you’re still with me sporadically throughout the next few weeks…so I was just wondering if you weren’t in a hurry to get somewhere…I’d enjoy your company for however long you’d agree to stick around…”.

You were supposed to be his dinner, and now he’s playing the role of your soon to be husband. “Hmmm I suppose I can stick around…but what will I get out of this arrangement?” The handsome devil is certainly playing his part as he smirks back at your wide doe eyes and parted lips. “I don’t have a lot of money…but I could part with some if that’s what you wish-“ you gasp as you find yourself on your back, staring up into the captivating crimson eyes of your guest. “Nah I’m not after your money princess, what I desire from you is just something as simple as a cure of my loneliness” a cold calloused finger plays with your bottom lip, and you lay there wide eyed and clueless “If I agree to your proposition, then for the entire duration of my stay I want you to act like my wife, you’re to preform all the womanly duties carried out by an adoring wife to please her beloved husband, do we have a deal then?”. You turn your head to the side to contemplate your decision, only to have him tsk at you “Look at your husband when he’s talking to you beautiful”.

So what if he might have had to use his power of persuasion a bit here, couldn’t risk you possibly denying him.

When you look back up at him your eyes immediately lock with his own. His eyes are such a vibrant crimson it’s almost like they’re glowing as the draw you in further, until they are all you can see, “Y-Yes, we have a deal”. Then it’s over and you shake your head a bit, must have been a trick of the fire light, since you must have extinguished all the lamps earlier during your uninvited guests appearance. “Good, now come here so I can hold you properly”.

The first week you’d spent having Katsuki in your home was a strange one, strange but good. Sometimes he would take off for most of the day, and you would go about your usual routine. At night when he would return, you’d welcome him home, and the two of you would sit at your rickety little table and have dinner together. One of those dinners he brought out a bottle of wine and asked you to have a drink with him. You tried to turn him down stating you didn’t drink, but somehow you find yourself with a half full glass infront of the fireplace once more. Only this time you are in a much more intimate position, your seated between his legs with your back to his chest. The wine has you feeling warm and a bit drowsy, so much so that the kiss pressed to the back of your neck doesn’t even startle you. “Kat…Suki” you mumbled before you fell asleep, head resting on his shoulder.

Since that time, you had gotten more comfortable with physical contact between you and your guest. When you would cook he more often than not would come up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist, always kissing your neck so sweetly as he did so. Two weeks had passed since the preacher’s son had last come calling (You had eventually mentioned the idiots name, Mineta). Earlier that afternoon a friend of yours had invited you to pick apples from their orchard, and you had agreed, promising Katsuki you would make him the best apple pie he’s ever had when you returned. For once it was you that surprised him with a quick peck on the cheek and a nervous “I’ll be back soon my beloved husband”.

The blonde was stuck in the spot you’d left him in over an hour later, his hand over the warm spot you’d left on his cheek. Trying to deny the accusatory voice inside his head that claimed he saw you as more than a meal or a conquest, until a loud knock interrupted his thought process. Already aware who’d be standing outside, he stormed over to the door and throws it open with a frightening scowl on his handsome face. “Oh, you’re still here are you?” Mineta sneered as he took a step back. “Why the hell wouldn’t I be? This is the house of my intended, what brings you out here to visit us again?” Bakugou uses his much larger body to block the annoying young man’s view as he tries to look past him. “No one has seen y/n in town recently, so I just thought I’d check in-“ Katsuki interrupts the twerp “Correction; YOU haven’t seen her, we went into town just yesterday, Now correct me if I’m wrong but you sure do seem to have an interest in my soon to be wife, shouldn’t you be taking your vow of abstinence soon? If you plan on being a proper man of god that is”. “How dare you insinuate something so-“ Mineta tries to defend himself but Katsuki is quick to shut him down; “Stay away from my woman, she’s taken, or are you too stupid to understand what that means?” “Now see here, you just show up out of the blue one evening claiming that her parents planned on marrying her off without any proof of it…I’m merely looking after my father’s flock, as they will be under my protection one day so it’s only normal for me to look into any situations I think have inkling of some sort of supernatural dabbling or rather unholy air about them” Mineta sniffs as he smirks at the angry “man” infront of him “Miss y/n has such a pretty neck, would be a shame if it was to remain unprotected wouldn’t it?”.

The sound of your name was enough to make Katsuki keep his anger in check, and he couldn’t help but laugh at Mineta’s attempt at a threat. “It’s a good thing she has me here with her then isn’t it?” Without waiting for a response he shuts the door, laughing loudly as he left a scandalized Mineta staring slack jawed at it.

“I’m back!” You called out as you hung up your coat and removed your shoes. The heavy basket on your hip filled with apples but a couple extra things on top of it. “Welcome home my dearest, you were later than I’d imagined…I was about to go out looking for you” Katsuki appears in the doorway of the kitchen, allowing you to slip past him. “I’m sorry to worry you, MoMo and Ochako invited me to prepare pies with them! I think it was just so they could question me about the handsome man who accompanied me to the market yesterday…When I mentioned being “engaged” they almost lost it, MoMo sent me home with a bottle of her father’s apple wine as a present!”. You stopped unpacking your basket after making a sudden realization, “You made dinner for us? Oh Katsuki you didn’t have to-“.

“I wanted to give you the night off since you were out with your friends, i assure you it wasn’t that big a deal my love” Your face heated up at that last part, you were quick to set about putting your already prepared pies in the oven. Afterwards you allowed Katsuki to pull out your chair at the kitchen table, pushing it in before taking a seat himself. You noticed he already had poured each of you a glass of the gifted wine, and as he raised his own you were quick to mimic his action. “To us” he said simply, giving you that devilish smirk that made you feel all sorts of ways you shouldn’t. “T-Too us” you simper, raising the glass to your lips. After taking a bite of the meal Katsuki had prepared you stared at him wide eyed, “This might be the best thing Ive tasted in my entire life!”. The rest of the meal went on in a similar manner, you continuously complementing the smug man’s cooking longer after he had finished. Regardless, he waited for you patiently to be done, unable to take his eyes off of you as he sipped at the wine in his glass.

Once the kitchen was cleaned and the pie had been removed from the oven, you set it on the cooling rack and began to fidget nervously upon realizing all your night time chores were done. “Come sit with me beautiful” Katsuki called to you from the usual spot the two of you occupied on the plush living room rug. “I was thinking about heading to bed early tonight…if you’d like to come join me” you say over your shoulder as you head towards the bedroom. Having been on this earth long enough to recognize what that meant, the vampire was on his feet in an instant. You’d just began to undress as he entered the room, watching with hunger as your dress fell to the floor. Once you had everything off, you shyly turned back towards him and he was infront of you in the blink of an eye. Allowing him to pull you forward against his hard body, the feeling of his cold hands was soothing across your warm skin. You feel your back meet the old worn blankets of your bed, you tried your best to remain calm as you feel his tongue slip past your lips. Soon you were copying his actions, a burning need starting to build between your legs as you felt his manhood slipping across your sticky lower lips. “I-I’ve never done this before” you manage to stutter out. The man above you replied with a gentle hum, he figured as much, “Do you want me to stop? We don’t have to-“ “No I want to give myself to you, I want you to be the one…I want to be able to remember this night long after you’ve moved on and left me…” your words have you feeling choked up, the thought of him leaving you eventually, has now become a painful one. Seeing your eyes filled with tears is what finally makes the cold undead monster accept the fact that he truly had fallen in love. You were without question his destined one, the only person capable of stirring up these feelings inside of him. “What if I want to stay here with you? What if I asked you to really become my wife? The only woman I’ll ever want, the only woman I could ever truly love?” Those words felt so foreign on his tongue, but seeing the happiness in your eyes and having your arms wrap around him in the tightest of hugs, had him happy to have said them.

“Then I would say please make love to me, and how much I love and adore you, my future husband”

Katsuki made sure to keep a level head once the tip of his cock breeched your virgin cunt. The tight heat of your internal walls and the sound of your pained whimpers was almost proving to be too much for him. “Can I move now angel? Are you ready for what’s to come?” The strain in his voice is evident and you cling tighter to your lover as you encourage him to continue. It took a bit to get used to the continuous intrusion and withdrawal of his hardness but after some time had passed the good feelings began to come. “Oh Katsuki, ohhh god I’ve never felt like this before, please give me more I want to feel all of you” you cry as your nails scrape at the skin of his back. Allowing himself to get lost in the sensation of being inside of you, he can do nothing but comply to your request. The once shallow thrust of his hips become deeper as the pace becomes to quicken. Feeling you tightening up around him and hearing your begging has his own orgasm overcoming him, “Come with me angel, I wanna feel you let go while I fill up your tight little cunt…that’s it there you go baby, take it fucking take all of it…fuck!”.

You let out the most content of sighs at the feeling of his seed pouring into your womb. Over come by the bliss of your first ever orgasm, you kiss Katsuki again, playfully sucking on his tongue. After a few moments of silence he feels you shifting beneath him, lifting his head up he’s surprised to see the serious look you’re giving him. “I meant what I said, I know I’m in love with you…but I need you to tell me the truth, what was the real reason you came here? Your answer won’t change the way I feel, you’ll still have a place here with me, but if I’m to truly give you all of my love then there can’t be any lies between us”. The empty feeling as he pulls out of you is an obvious shared one, because you find yourself being pulled against his chest as soon as you had begun to scoot towards the man you love. Katsuki feels his frozen heart grow heavy with fear at you not accepting him or his love for you. Expecting to be forced from your bed as soon as he utters his confession. Yet your reaction comes In a surprising manner, one he’ll eventually come to expect from you in the future. “Oh….well don’t you need to you know…drink some of my blood?”. So he does.

The sensuality of the action leads to you begging to once again to make love, and you do until the sun comes up. He doesn’t let you leave the bed when you finally wake up, and the two of you take turns feeding each other apple pie afterwards. The new found domesticity in his once tumultuous life has the vampire relaxing into it with surprising ease. It most likely stemmed from the continuous outpouring of your love and the eager ways you displayed your affections. He’d met the townsfolk and friends you’d spoken so highly of. The same people who attended the marriage ceremony, had even come together to throw you two a celebratory banquet and toasted to your lengthy and loving union. The daily routine you’d developed now as newly weds didn’t differ much from what it had been before. With the exception of Katsuki venturing out more, helping the townsfolk do various odd jobs with which they’d require either his muscle or wide array of skills to get completed easier.

On nights he returned home late, you’d often be waiting up for him in bed, naked as the day you were born and wanting something you still became flustered to ask for. It was only after you’d spent one full year of your lives together when you began waking up feeling ill and much too tired to leave home as often anymore. After coming to visit you one morning, MoMo had returned that afternoon with the town’s doctor. One check up told him all he needed to know, and you nearly fainted after he spoke “Congratulations Mrs.Bakugou, it seems you’re with child”.

You let Momo talk your ear off with excitement as she helped you prepare dinner. Your hand resting upon your stomach after giving her a hug and bidding her goodbye. You tried to calm your nerves as you awaited your husband’s arrival back home. The knowing smile MoMo gave Katsuki as she bid him hello when they met on the road, seemed to freak the man out and afterwards he rushed home. The two of you ate dinner in mostly silence that evening, and once you were finished your lover has no objections as you pull him towards the fireplace. Once settled in his tight hold, you told him what the doctor had said earlier. The joy you’d expected from your partner was replaced with a look of bewildered confusion, “H-How? That shouldn’t be possible! Are you sure?!”.

You begin to shrink in on yourself, already beginning to picture a future of you and your baby alone. In his surprise the vampire had allowed his grip to go slack, this made it easy for you to move away from him and get to your feet. He looked up at you, but the faraway look in his gaze made it appear as if he was looking through you. Rather than continue standing there and looking foolish, you fled to the bedroom. Once the door shut behind you, you finally began to cry. Curling up on your now shared bed, you sobbed your heart out. He’s going to leave now, I’ll have to do this alone.

Meanwhile in the living room, Bakugou was still sitting gobsmacked in-front of the fireplace. Pregnant? But how? It just couldn’t be! He’d been positive the ability to impregnate someone had been lost with his humanity. Granted, it’s not as though any human he’d taken to bed in the past lived to tell the tale. You’d looked so excited to inform him of this new development, and now… The thought of your eyes losing the sparkle that accompanied your excitement, your lips trembling as you tried not to cry. “Dammit!” He hissed in frustration, realizing you’d left him alone in here awhile ago.

The bedroom door creaked quietly as Katsuki peeked In, you weren’t moving in your fetal position on the bed. Your even breathing was picked up by his heightened sense of hearing. You must have cried yourself to sleep…Silently he approaches the bed, leaning down to place a single kiss on your forehead, “I’ll be back, I promise”. If you had been awake you’d have seen the shadows in the bedroom elongate and seemingly absorb Katsuki inside of them.

Appearing inside of a well worn house just as far out in the woods as your own, Katsuki glanced around the living room. Deciding he wasn’t about to go hunting around for the owner of the home, the blonde takes a deep breath, only to immediately bellow “Where are you? You damn DEKU!”. A commotion comes from behind one of the two doors off the living room’s hallway, a few more bumps could be heard, another loud yelp afterwards. The door opened just as the vampire was about to start cursing, “O-Oh hey th-there kaachan! What brings you-“ stutters the green haired man as he tries to stifle a yawn. “What took so long were you asleep or some shit?” Katsuki questions raising an eyebrow, but before the other male can reply he continues, “Cause if you were I don’t care, I need to ask your opinion on something”.

Seeing the way Deku’s face lit up at that Katsuki sneers at him, “Not that it’s worth anything I just…I don’t want to fuck this up”. Izuku starts the fire back up in the grate as he sits on his sofa, ready for his old friend to begin his explanation. “You got married and didn’t even bother sending me an invitation? Not even an announcement? That’s hurtful Kaachan…I thought we were past all th-“ Izuku’s chastising is cut short by Bakugou’s temper flaring up “THATS ALL YOU HAVE TO SAY AFTER MY ENTIRE EXPLANATION?!?!”. Then it dawned on the other man, Izuku may be petty, but there was a much bigger problem to deal with than that. “Did you say your lover is…pregnant? It can’t possibly be YOUR baby Kaachan, she must be lying or-“ “Don’t you dare say another bad word about y/n! I know that baby is mine, there is no way it could be anyone else’s! She’s never been with anyone other than me and I know that for a fact” Katsuki spat, red eyes narrowed at the other immortal man.

Izuku gets up, muttering as he grabs a candlestick, lighting it then entering the previously closed door. Before the angry vampire can start his rant, his companion returns with a few different books in his hands. Spreading out the large tombs infront of the fire he begins to pour over the various dog eared pages. Katsuki had sat quiet, letting the damn nerd do his research and hoping he’ll have an explanation to give him as hours fly past. The sun would rise soon, he knows that you waking up alone would only worsen the pain he’d caused you last night. “I need to get back to her, so-“ Katsuki is interrupted by Izuku “Take that orange gemstone so I can find or signal you, the one on my nightstand that you refused to take last time I-“. “Got it, look, I know it’s annoying to do this but if you do figure this out then….I guess you can come to dinner or something, to meet y/n! Not as a thank you or some simp shit like that” The blonde refuses to meet the ecstatic green eyes that began to sparkle with happiness. “I’m going to hold you to that Kaachan” “Tch, of course you Fuckin’ are…nerd!”.

Sneaking back into the bedroom, the nervous vampire sheds his clothes before sliding into bed behind you. He’s gentle when his arms wrap around you, his larger hand coming to rest over your’s laying protectively atop your belly. “I love you and whatever you got growing in there….I couldn’t leave you guys even if you asked me to” he whispers, squeezing your soft body and finally allowing himself to relax. For the first time in a long time he dreamt of his mortal life; Being a carefree child, living with his loud mom, and quiet dad.

It took a couple days of constant reassurance, but you soon began believing Katsuki when he said he wasn’t planning on abandoning you or the baby. Izuku had yet to contact him, and it made the vampire anxious. After completing some work in town for the day, Katsuki began to feel a familiar hunger in his gut…How could this work if you were now carrying a baby? It needed all your nutrients, but still Katsuki wouldn’t be satisfied with anything other than your blood. He’d make sure you ate a bigger dinner than usual tonight to hopefully replenish what he takes from you later on.

☁️🌒☁️

The moon shifted behind the clouds as Mineta makes his way out of town and through the woods. He’s a coward at heart, every little sound of leaves rustling or twigs snapping has him jumping or running. Finally he sees your cabin up ahead, and he tip toes stealthily up the path. As he gets closer the sounds that reach his ears are something better than any fantasy he could imagine. Peering through the gap in the blinds he sees you spread out infront of your fireplace. If only you were alone… Of course you were getting pounded by that damn Bakugou, or that’s what it seemed like…Hold on what is he-? The peeping Tom stifles a gasp as he takes in the scene behind the glass. He’s careful as he slowly walks back the way he came, a look of absolute terror on his face.

A vampire! You married one of those undead demons of hell, not only that but you let him ravage, defile you, and calmly lay there allowing him to drink your blood? Surely you could see reason and repent for all this wrong that you’d been coheresed into participating in. Mineta knew it was his personal duty to bring you back into the light, and assist you in casting out that hellspawn. This task was up to him alone, he wouldn’t tell anyone! You would become his wife afterwards, lest he threaten to tell the entire town you’d laid with a demon, a hit your reputation would never recover from, you’d be exiled from society. The perverse mind of the preacher’s son began fashioning the most absurd of tales that made him out to be heroic and magnificent; Busting into your home and saving your life but as for your unfortunate coward of a husband…he will have taken his own life after selling you off to a demon. Surely the townsfolk and his father would praise him for such noble acts of bravery for years to come!

🪵🔥

“I didnt take too much did I? Are you sure you don’t want to wait and finish this up tomorrow” the fretful voice of your husband asks as he hovers over you. Katsuki was hesitant to continue making love to you after he’d had his fill of your blood. You appreciated the concern, but right now you felt quite lively, and something inside of you wanted sex now more than ever. So imagine the surprise of your lover, when you sat up quickly and shoved him down on the rug in your place. Not giving the vampire a chance to recover as you began to lower yourself down on his length, hissing softly at the familiar stretch. No time was wasted once you had him buried inside your cunt, you began to bounce yourself up and down repeatedly. “I don’t need you to be gentle and doting right now, I need this!” You shamelessly exclaim, throwing your head back and moaning loudly as you continue riding your lover enthusiastically. Katsuki could only lay there and stare at you in wide eyed fascination. His adorable shy little wife was the one fucking him? This can’t be right, who are you and what had you done with y/n? Then a thought occurred to him, could this be a side effect of human pregnancy? The vampire had been learning by trial and error when it came to both bodily and hormonal changes being experienced by his pregnant wife.

As the months begin to progress, Katsuki began to notice you growing pale and increasingly more exhausted. It scared him one day when you’d slept over twelve hours straight. With no word still from that damn Deku, the irritable immortal decided to take things into his own hands. You probably wouldn’t appreciate just drinking blood outright, but the little leech inside of you needed it, and it would continue taking yours if it didn’t get the sustenance it required. Soon it was your husband who prepared all the food you ate, and slowly but surely you regained your color, energy, and started gaining weight. When the doctor came for your six month check up, he’d ruled both mother and child to be healthy. When he mentioned how quickly the baby was developing, you’d mentioned the father’s family’s good genes being to thank.

After showing the physician out, Katsuki was about to serve you dinner, only for a frantic knocking to interrupt this. Resting a hand on your shoulder to make sure you stayed seated at your rickety kitchen table, the angry blonde stomps out to shoo this unwanted visitor away. As soon as he opens the door however, the sight of his old friend standing there with a shit eating grin on his freckled face, only makes the vampire’s teeth clench and eyes narrow. “I believe you invited me over for dinner Kaachan” Izuku’s smile widening as he continues “Arent you going to invite me inside? It’s chilly out here”. “My love, who is it?” You call out, waddling slowly from the kitchen only to spot the newcomer and freeze. No longer waiting for an invitation, the guest side steps Katsuki and strides towards you. “Hello! My name is Izuku Midoryia, and you must be y/n! Kaachan and I have been best friends since we were children, im so happy to finally be meeting you!” The green haired male moves to hug you but stops short, blushing furiously as he reigns himself in. Only to be surprised by you moving the rest of the way to try your best at hugging, despite your baby bump lightly poking at him.

“How far along are you? If you don’t mind me asking?! Oh and Congratulations!” Izuku stammers, nervous he will invoke the wrath of an angry Kaachan. “Six months! And thank you! I’m glad you finally came to see us, Katsuki had mentioned you once but refused to tell me anymore about you or anyone else in his life for that matter” you chirp happily, letting the aforementioned male steer you back into the kitchen “Let me grab you a chair! The other two are in the closet-“. Before your guest can refuse you over exerting yourself, Katsuki makes sure you sit down and pushes your chair in. Then he leaves the room and reappears immediately, huffing angrily as he shoves the chair into Deku with more force than necessary.

You and Izuku chat animatedly as Katsuki brings the dishes full of food to the table. Grabbing an extra set of silverware, glass, and plate for the green eyed idiot, who promptly thanks him. Katsuki loads your plate up ridiculously full and kisses your forehead as you thank him for cooking yet again. Always the observant one, Izuku noticed that the food on your plate had been purposely separated from the rest of the meal laid out on the table. As he served himself he smiled at the realization that his friend had figured something so important out on his own. The deliciousness of this meal was not to be wasted on the pregnant female, or the green haired know it all. Katsuki drained half a bottle of spirits to put up with the non stop praise from the two of them.

The trio moved to the living room, getting comfortable on the worn out furniture and continuing to make conversation late into the evening. Katsuki noticed your eyes growing heavy, despite your protests he scoops you up and takes you to the shared bedroom. “Good night Izuku! See you next week at the same time, right?” You shouted over your lover’s shoulder. “Most definitely, sweet dreams y/n-Chan & baby!” Deku replied, still smiling as he stayed put on the sofa. Staring into the fireplace the flames dancing around inside his green eyes, the cheerful disposition you’d left him with began to dissipate the longer he waited. This conversation was going to be as dreadful as it was difficult, a serious choice needed to be made. A choice that would end your life either way it was decided, but it had to be done. You were too far along for any sort of pregnancy termination, the alchemist had spent an extra month trying to find some sort of extraction method but at six months there was nothing more that could be done.

Ever the doting husband; Katsuki helps you strip down and ensures the room will stay warm enough, courtesy of the new wood stove he’d acquired. Since your tummy began to grow you’d taken to sleeping in just your panties, now the room was always comfortable in temperature for you both. “I need to talk to Deku some before he goes, I’ll come lay down with you afterwards” your lover says, kissing your lips and pressing another to your stomach before he leaves the room. Sleep came easily to you that night.

The two men sat side by side on the sofa, the room around them growing ever darker as the lamps had been extinguished. The dwindling fire had been reduced to embers by the time the green haired male finishes filling in the other on the research he’d done. The pitch black surrounding them was a perfect representation of their conversation, and overall disposition. The blonde hid his face in his hands halfway through the other’s explanation. His friend waited for the other to speak, calmly allowing the much needed moment of silence. Izuku knew Katsuki was coming to terms with what had to be done, this would weigh heavily on his conscience for years to come. Either way the love of the vampire’s life was doomed, the choices were essentially the same. That being said, they were also drastically different….It had to be your choice, and when the time comes hopefully your husband would honor your wishes.

“The doctor in the village obviously can’t deliver the baby…So wha-“ one immortal talks over the other, saying; “If you will agree to it, I will assist you with the birth”. Sighing heavily the father to be comes to an agreement with the man seated beside him. “Well I’ll get out of your hair now, good night Kaachan” Izuku says quietly as he begins casting the spell that will return him to his own residence. “Y/n’s looking forward to seeing you again so you better show up” the threatening implication evident from the always aggressive one. “I wouldnt dream of missing it, see you then” as soon as Izuku says this he disappears. Katsuki sighs heavily, now left alone with his thoughts he begins to tremble and tug at his hair. Knowing you were the only cure for this pain he was experiencing, has the vampire hurrying into your shared room. After stripping down and sliding into bed, he pulls you close. Sleep eluded him that night.

“Katsuki…what’s wrong?”you asked him after dinner one evening, “Ever since Izuku came by you’ve been acting different”. The words of his dearest of course rang true; Katsuki had been in a constant state of complacency since the alchemist’s departure. His self loathing had reached an all time high, how could he have possibly done this to you? No matter how badly he felt he could never fully bring himself to regret ever catching sight of you that first time. The creature that is supposedly cruel to the core and incapable of feeling love, or any emotion for that matter, had proved centuries of lore to be a lie. The sad part about it was that you would be the one to pay the ultimate price. “Katsuki”

You weren’t about to let him keep this from you anymore, he had to tell you. Allowing yourself to be lead to the same spot you and him had occupied that first night you’d met, you sat down and watched him pull the drapes closed and extinguish the kerosene lamps. When he finally came to rest by your side, you couldn’t help noticing the grave expression and pain in his crimson eyes. “This is going to be hard for you to hear, and it sure as fuck is hard for me to say…so please don’t interrupt me until I’m done explaining” he begs, hands gripping your’s tightly. You nod and he swallows thickly, pressing a kiss to your forehead and holding your body close to his so gently it’s as if he thinks you might break.

“A child being conceived between a human and vampire is incredibly rare…It’s also extremely dangerous, if the child isn’t given the required amount of sustenance than it will begin to feed on the life source of its mother…Which can be depleted in a matter of days, I figured that out when you began getting pale and could barely get out of bed so that’s not the issue we’re currently facing” Katsuki pauses, his hold tightened around you as he forces himself to get through this, “I had Deku researching this topic and it took him over a month to track down anything, what he found wasn’t exactly great…”. Another pause, he remained quiet for so long you turned your head to look up at his face, what you saw was surprising but before you could mention it he started speaking shakily, despite the tremors and tears leaking down his face. “The birth of our child will kill you, and the only way to save you would be for you to become like me…Either way you won’t be a normal human again, I-I’m so sorry y/n, for not just coming in and ruining your life, but now it’s my fault it’s going to be ending now too, and I-“ you silence him with a kiss, wrapping your arms around him and holding him tightly. “I dont care about that, I care about you and the new life we’ve miraculously created, I want us three to be a family, I want to spend forever by your side Katsuki” You begin to cry too but not from the thought of losing your life, “Please don’t let me miss out on our child’s life because you think it’s wrong to change me, to me that change doesn’t warrant death, it’s the promise of a new and happy life “.

He tried to argue with you, tried to get you to tell him how awful and selfish he’s been, but you wouldn’t. By the time the two of you lay together in bed that night everything was calm, you’d both decided that your baby would grow up with both parents to help nurture and guide it. “Katsuki?” “Yes Princess?” “Um..is there a chance that I could become pregnant again after our first baby is born?” You avert your eyes from his, nervous as to how he will feel about you possibly hinting at carrying more half vampire babies. “There will always be a possibility for the rest of your undead life…. But you don’t sound too upset about it” Katsuki replied, smirking as he takes the chance to give you a hard time “Do you want more little leeches running around? Or you just want me to breed you hm? Is that it?”. When you don’t respond he chuckles, “Good night my love”.

With the birth of your child a mere week away the village women had gathered at your home to throw you a baby shower. Your husband was busier than ever since he was going to take a month off from working all his various odd jobs, and fortunately everyone in the surrounding area had made the most of this. So money wasn’t going to be a worry as the two of you adjusted to life with a newborn. The final job had been raising Ezikel’s new barn and it was well after dark by the time the soon to be father was heading home. Bakugou’s head was filled with thoughts of you and his child, he was happy and actually smiling as he walked.

Then all of the sudden, he wasn’t.

The vampire’s hand clawed at his chest as this sudden burst of searing pain began in his long still heart. It was so bad he nearly collapsed, and it didn’t stop, it only intensified. Something had to of happened to you or the baby and upon realizing that, Katsuki’s running at an inhuman pace through the forest.

Please let them be okay, just hold on until I get there!

The door of the house was wide open and the sign of a struggle was evident. Distressed cries coming from the bedroom alerted him to where you are. He was in the bedroom doorway in an instant and white got fury burned him from the inside out at what he saw.

With a rage and strength unimaginable by a mere mortal, the furious vampire ripped the preacher’s son away from you and threw him from the room. Dazed by the force he hit the ground with, Mineta is slow to sit up and attempt to blink the world back into focus. Only for a snarl that would befit a beast from the depths of hell to bring the man back to earth. Grabbing the crucifix around his neck the purple haired rat began to scoot himself backwards. “Stay away from me you demon! Unclean beast!”. Attempting to flee from the advancing blonde monster, whose eyes glowed like the flames of hellfire itself. Without a word Bakugou lunges forward, Mineta shrieks as he throws his body to the side, knocking over a table that held a kerosene lamp atop it.

Katsuki grabs ahold of his prey, instantly crushing the terrified man’s windpipe. He keeps gripping the mortals throat until his face matches his hair and his eyes shut. “Don’t worry, you’re just going to take a little nap, and once you are awake I’m going to drag out your death and torture you all night you disgusting piece of shit” the blonde sneers as he scowls down at the unconscious Mineta.

“K-Ka-Katsuki!”

The terrified shout from his wife snaps Bakugou from his predatory state of mind. That’s when he realizes that half of their home has been set alight, the fire was spreading, it’s flames growing rapidly in height. In an instant he was back at your side, carefully picking you up, making sure to wrap your blanket around you as the two of you fled outside. Now a safe distance away from the flames, but the sight of your Home burning still in your shared line of sight. “Baby, I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you, as soon as I sensed you were in trouble I came…I can’t believe this happened, are you-“ A familiar scent reaches his nose, and the feel of wet fabric beneath his shaking palms has crimson eyes growing wide in terror. Peeling the blanket back, his worst nightmares were brought to life. Your clothes were soaked with blood, and the slice in the material showed the deep stab in your stomach. “Kat…Suki I don’t have much time” “Y/N! No don’t say that! Dammit why didn’t you say anything!” Katsuki shouts, but not out of anger it’s pure despair that sounds beneath his normally harsh baritone. “I cant feel…can’t feel our baby anymore…” a choked sob racks your entire body “It’s gone, before they even had a chance to be…Listen to me please Katsuki, my greatest and only love”. Your shaking hands grip each of his cheeks as you struggle to keep your eyes open, “Im sorry to have to leave you alone again…but please don’t give up on me, I’ll be reborn one day, and I don’t know how long it will take, who I will be, or where on earth I will reside, but please look for me, find me again, even if I resist you at first, make sure we’ll never have to suffer like this again, make sure that we’ll truly be together forever next time, promise me?”.

“I promise”

With the last of your strength you force your head up and kiss the only entity in this world that you vow to ever love. You’re both crying once your grip on him goes slack, “I love you Katsuki, please remember what you promised me, don’t give up-“. The blood from your hands left smudges on his cheeks, but the trails of blood pouring down his face come from his tears. “Y/N?” He croaked, you didnt finish speaking, your eyes remained shut. “Y/N?!” The roof of your home caves in as the fire enveloped the entirety of the structure. In the midst of the chaos a figure appears, emerald eyes widen in a panic as they began to take in their surroundings. Before Izuku can call out for either of you the most heartbreaking wail assaults his ear drums. Whirling around the sight that greets the alchemists has hot coals of dread piling in his gut, “K-Kaachan!”.

His best friend was hunched over someone, clutching their face and it seemed like he was trying to wake them. “Let me see her! I can help, I brought my things with me!” Izuku exclaimed as he rushed over and kneeled beside the two of you. “She’s gone, They both are…There is nothing to be done, my love and my child are dead…” the blonde immortal stuttered, leaving his friend shocked. “How could this have happened?! What-“ before he can ask any more questions, Katsuki snarls with a vitriol that not even Deku has bore witness to “That fucking preachers son! He’s lucky he burned in the fire, I would have flayed him alive!”. Placing you on the ground with the utmost care, the grieving immortal lifts his head to the darkened sky and screams; “FUCK! FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!”. His hands tangle and tug at his blonde locks, he didn’t care how deranged he might look in this moment. There was a hollowed feeling inside of his chest, the searing pain only worsening in both his heart and head.

Izuku could only watch Katsuki’s tirade in silence, he patted your hand gently as tears brimmed behind his eyes. You were a kind, loving, woman that had her whole life ahead of her…Only to have it stolen by a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Hearing the vampire’s broken sobs and screams as he mourns the love of his life, the alchemist can no longer ignore the revelations that will stick with him for the remainder of his immortal life. So rather than banishing the thoughts, he lets them echo freely, the barely there breeze carrying the words off into the night:

The true monsters of this world are those that walk undetected among us; With evil souls hidden behind smiles, deranged thoughts drowned out by laughter, bloodied hands appearing spotless as they reach out to those around them. Their next victim may be innocent, perhaps a bit too trusting, or just unwise to the stalking devil waiting for the right moment to strike.

The townsfolk will forever remain clueless of the tragic events that transpired on that fateful night. Regardless; They all mourned the loss of the little family that never came to be complete, and though the three of them were lost, the fond memories, and relationships each of them had built with the two young lovers remained alive within the living’s hearts and minds. Only to finally be laid to rest when the last of those who knew them personally, had died.

A/N: I’m not going to lie, I’m proud of myself for this one! Heart broken, but proud. One more chapter to go, and for anyone wanting revenge, I promise that it will be served up nice 😊

[therhythmafterthesummer]

Alpha Dog (M) ~Bang Chan

Pairing: Werewolf!Chan x Human!F.Reader Themes: Supernatural/Fantasy AU | Smut | Fluff | Roomies to Lovers | Soulmate AU? 👀 Warnings: Chris’ POV, curvy/chubby MC, pet names, mentions and descriptions of werewolf mating cycles, mandatory Christopher is Intense™ warning (it’s even worse when you can read his thoughts), graphic depictions of intercourse (smut warnings under the cut). Word Count: ~17k sobbing | AO3 Summary: Chris had a dream since he was very young. He wanted to have a pack of his own, to build a safe space for people with views just like his. Once he managed to accomplish that, he would’ve never imagined that his next dream would arrive at his doorstep in a pretty sundress.

Author’s Note: i wanted to expand Chris’ character in this series of stories, so this monster was born ! i think it could actually be a good starter piece for my WereRoomies series, or, if anything, just a good read 🤭 if you’re reading this, hope you enjoy, and don’t hesitate to let me know what you think !

Due to all the abovementioned warnings, this story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors please do not interact.

Chris’ WereRoomies Instalments:  It’s Cold Out · Rut · Alpha Dog · It’s Warm In · Love is Easy · Afraid to Lose You. For extra drabbles, check out the series masterlist.

Smut Warnings: thigh kink · possessiveness · a barely even present breeding kink · praising · oral [F.&M.Rec, but the M.Rec is not as detailed] · breast/nipple play · forced orgasm (F.Rec) · fingering [F.Rec] · unprotected penetration [piv. no barrier method, but reader is presumed to be on birth control] · cum eating · marking (as in, sucking love bites on someone’s skin) · intercrural · cumshot/cum on body. there’s just a lot going on i’m sorry or am i? 👀

Disclaimer: the story represented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.

Since the moment Chris gained his consciousness when he was very young, he knew what he was. It was impossible not to know, when the dynamic of his entire family was basically ingrained in his DNA. 

Chris was a werewolf. His mother was a werewolf, his father was a werewolf, as were his grandparents, and they were all part of the same pack since his grandparents joined it before Chris’ parents were even born.

Chris’ childhood pack was big, consisting of several different blood-related families that were being led by the same alpha. Due to the numerous members of that pack, it felt like it was more of a closed off community than a family–especially considering members of the pack that weren’t blood related would often mate with each other. Even as he grew up, Chris felt as if these people weren’t really close to him, aside, of course, from his blood relatives and his best friend, Changbin.

It wasn’t as if they were all bad people, he just didn’t feel like he could be fully himself with the rest. They were often a bit close minded when it came to werewolf ‘traditions’, with deep desires to keep humans at bay, or turn them whenever it was suitable for the pack, whenever they saw fit, regardless of the human’s wishes. Some of them would even believe in the designation hierarchy–alphas over betas and omegas, always–which was something Chris never really understood, nor supported in any way.

Thankfully for him, his blood family was quite progressive compared to the rest of the pack, and even if the others looked down on them for it, his parents decided to socialise Chris with humans from a young age. They sent him to a human school, let him have human friends–with the only condition to not reveal anything about his lycanthropy or the pack to them–and that contact with the outside world simply highlighted the fact that all these archaic customs in the pack made absolutely no sense to him.

So when puberty hit him, and his alpha nature started to really settle in him, he knew that he wanted to start a pack of his own. A pack where no member would feel judged or held back by the rest, where everyone could be equal.

It wasn’t really that much of a surprise, honestly. His parents always knew he would be an alpha–based on how thick-headed he was and how he would often lead his group of peers from a young age–so when Chris told his mother about this desire of his, she immediately supported him.

His father took a bit longer to accept it, but eventually he simply understood. ‘It’s too late for us. This pack is our family, we’ve already accepted the good as well as the bad, but you’ll always be our son whether you’re a member of it or not’, which was enough acceptance for Chris.

So as soon as he was of age and he went to university, he broke ties off with his childhood pack, and for a couple of years, he was seemingly on his own.

Some people from his childhood pack would even try to ridicule him, to look down on him whenever they met him on the streets or whenever he went to visit his parents. Chris knew it was because they thought he was crazy for being out there on his own. 

What they didn’t know was that he wasn’t really alone. He had Changbin and Jisung.

Before Chris left his childhood pack he told Changbin of his idea, of his goal of leading a pack of his own, and without missing a beat Changbin immediately told him he’d join him as soon as he was of age, as long as Chris wanted him. And of course Chris wanted Changbin in his pack, he was one of the few people he trusted more in this world.

Jisung was also a childhood friend, but he didn’t belong to the same pack Chris and Changbin did at the time. He became friends with them after his pack moved away from their previous den to form a new one in the same city Chris and Changbin grew up in. His parents enrolled him in the same school as them as soon as they settled, which was how the three of them met.

As it turned out, Jisung was also unhappy in his childhood pack, he was an omega, and much like Chris’ childhood pack, omegas were viewed as of lower status than any other designation, so he was often disregarded or even mistreated. And just like Changbin, as soon as Chris told Jisung of his future plans, Jisung also decided to join them when he was of age.

So while someone outside of Chris’ circle might’ve thought he was a lone wolf, a packless misfit, the reality was that he felt happier, more at ease while he waited for Changbin and Jisung to defect, than he ever did in his childhood pack. Two years wasn’t that long of a wait–considering that was the age gap between him and Changbin–so he decided to place his focus on his studies for those couple of years on his own.

Eventually, as the three of them grew up, Chris’ pack started to take more shape. Changbin was his obvious right hand, he had this sense of responsibility and protectiveness that made him a perfect second in command. However, Jisung never even entertained the possibility of being his left hand, because, in his words, ‘I’m not cut out for that, I’d get everyone starved or killed’, which was valid in Chris’ opinion, after all, it wasn’t really in his inherit nature to lead or protect others, quite the opposite actually, so Chris let it go without much of a fight.

Jisung did offer a candidate, though. A childhood friend of his, Minho, a human turned werewolf with no real pack of his own who had no real desire to lead, but was incredibly caring and protective, and, in Jisung’s words, someone who had a heart of gold.

As time went on, as they met more friends throughout their years at university, Chris’ pack grew. With the addition of Hyunjin, Felix, Seungmin, and Jeongin his pack became a tight group of eight young werewolves who were simply trying to find their place in the world, a group of people who weren’t happy in the conditions they lived in before and wanted a change, a healthy environment. 

Since then, Chris, Minho, and Changbin tried their absolute best to keep this safe, healthy ecosystem. And in Chris’ humble opinion, they were succeeding at that. Sure, they fought sometimes, just like any other family or pack or group of friends would, but things could always be solved one way or another. For once, Chris truly felt as if he was exactly where he was supposed to be, doing what he was supposed to do–what he wanted to do. 

Aside from his supernatural condition, Chris always thought of himself as a simple man. When his mind wasn’t dominated by his wolf instincts, he’d just feel like any other dude out there. He liked to play computer games, he had friends he’d often hang out with–not only his packmates, but also people he’d met throughout his life–and he had a stable, decent paying job as a software engineer which he quite enjoyed. But he’d admit that sometimes, it felt as if something was missing… And that something was romantic love.

The topic of love and romantic relationships was quite tricky for him. He’d dated a few people in his life, but no one really seemed to stick for too long, either because he was always a bit too intense of a guy, or because they simply didn’t really understand his pack’s dynamic.

Oftentimes, especially when he dated a human, they just couldn’t really understand why his ‘friends’ were so important to him. He’d been told things from ‘you care more about your friends than you care about me’, to ‘it’s a bit weird how close you are. Y’all practically live together?’ They simply wouldn’t get it, and it wasn’t like he could reveal his condition to just anyone and explain, so those relationships would end as soon as the person showed any discomfort in regards to his pack, which was honestly for the best.

Then on the other side of the spectrum, when he dated other werewolves, it all often fell too much into the traditional dynamic of ‘you’re an alpha, I’m an XYZ, so we must be and do things this and this way’, and even if he tried to break those moulds a bit, it just wouldn’t work out.

So one day, right after another failed relationship, Chris decided to just… Let things flow. He was fine being single.

Did he have the intense need to pamper and take care of someone romantically? Yes. Did he have physical needs that he wished he could fulfil with the warmth of another person? Also yes. But he decided to bear it regardless. If he never found someone who understood him and his family dynamic then he was happy to die single. After all, his pack was, and would always be, his utmost priority.

He would’ve never imagined that it would all change once he finally realised he couldn’t live on his own.

In the very early stages of Chris’ pack, they had to decide where their den would be. Changbin’s parents were well off, they owned a handful of buildings throughout the city, so with a bit of convincing, they let Chris, Changbin, Jisung, and anyone that came after settle in one of their buildings at a discount price. 

For a couple of years, the three of them lived in the same flat, but as more people joined Chris’ pack they kept rearranging themselves to get the best comfort, leaving Chris in a flat of his own, which was great at the beginning. He had his own space and privacy, and for a while, it was fine.

But when his grandparents passed away, leaving a huge house under Chris’ name, things changed. Between the expensive utility bills of his flat, and what he had to spend upkeeping his house in the woods, he just never had money to spare. He had to accept the fact that he needed a roommate, but everyone was already settled in their own living arrangements within the den, and he didn’t want to disrupt any of his packmates with this.

One day, during a phone call with his mother, Chris told her of this predicament of his, and she offered to help find a suitable roommate–as long as Chris wanted her help, of course.

He trusted his mother’s judgement, so he agreed, and next time she came to visit him, it looked like this woman had seen an angel come down from the heavens, because her face was glowing, and she exclaimed the most overly excited ‘Oh, honey! I got the perfect candidate. Remember my coworker’s daughter I always talk to you about?’

How could he not remember her coworker’s daughter when his mother tried to bring her up at least once whenever he came to visit? Of course he remembered you. His mother had met you a few times, always described you as a ‘beautiful, sensible, young woman’, and honestly sometimes Chris wondered if she was trying to set him up, especially when she’d conveniently mention how ‘you really need someone like that in your pack, pup… A sensible, caring figure would do you all some good, especially a female one. There are just too many males at your den, I don’t know how you get anything done…’

It honestly didn’t surprise him that much for her to say that, she was surrounded by incompetent males all the time, always had to pick up their messes, so she’d gotten quite radical on the importance of female figures… Chris just didn’t really care about the gender of his roommate or his packmates at all, so he decided to follow through with her suggestion.

Apparently, you had been looking to move out of your mother’s house, or that was what your mother told Chris’ mother, so considering you were someone his mother already knew who seemed to be nice enough, he said fuck it and told his mother to give you his number, requesting for her to ‘not get too excited. I just need a roommate, mum. For all I know she might not even integrate well, maybe she’d hardly ever be home… Relax, I’m not getting married, jeez…’ Which his mother honestly didn’t look too convinced about.

He expected nothing of it, really. He wasn’t even sure if you’d call, but a few days after he had that conversation with his mother, you finally called, and you both arranged a time for you to come visit so you could see the place for yourself.

He was, admittedly, a bit nervous, mostly because he didn’t want to make his condition known, or to make you uncomfortable in any way. After all, he was just an unknown man you were coming to meet and possibly live with.

When the day finally came, the moment Chris opened his door and met you he realised three things:

One, that you smelt like flowers. And not in a perfume way, more like in your natural scent way. Everyone had a different scent, it was typically more noticeable to him in other werewolves than humans, but humans most definitely had a scent, and you smelt just like freshly picked flowers.

Two, that you had a smile that could easily outshine the sun. When you smiled your cheeks would round up, and your eyes would disappear, and it was just such an endearing gesture it was hard for him not to focus on it. 

And three, that you had the most scrumptious body he had ever seen. 

Chris often prided himself on being a rational being, with a lot of self-control even for someone with a condition just like his, but as soon as he took in the shape of your body, it was almost as if he could feel his human mind short circuit and hear his inner wolf howling in desire.

He’d never been much of having a ‘type’ when it came to his partners, at least not physically. Sure, there were certain attributes he preferred, but in the grand scheme of things he’d fancied people with all different types of looks. That day, though, as he struggled to make coherent sentences and act normal while he showed you the place, Chris realised–quite puzzled, he might add–that maybe he did have a type, and maybe that type was you.

“So, this is the living room… As I mentioned on the phone, my friends often come to watch movies or just hang out. Don’t worry, though, they’re good people and very respectful. But I could totally understand if that’s something you can’t deal with”, why did you wear a sundress? Sure, it was starting to get hot out, but did you even realise how good that dress looked on you? You must’ve, there was no way you didn’t know how good you looked… Would you notice how hard he was trying not to look at your cleavage? He hoped you didn’t.

“If they truly are as nice as you say I don’t think I’ll mind, to be honest… If I move in I’d just… Prefer if they didn’t enter my room, I guess? Other than that I don’t mind”, you sounded genuine when you said it, and that did ease Chris’ worries a bit.

He took his sweet time showing you the place, the bathroom, what would be your bedroom if you moved in, even his bedroom, the kitchen, the pantry, the laundry room… All as an easy conversation flowed between you two, all as he struggled massively to not focus on the movement of your hips when you walked, to not focus on the sudden impulse he had to wrap his arm around your waist and pull you close.

Stop being a creep, Christopher… She’s a person. A person with feelings, stop being a creep… He repeated to himself every time he caught his eyes wandering, and for the most part, he was succeeding. At least, until you sat down on one of the kitchen stools and crossed one leg over the other, making the hem of your dress rise a bit, exposing the skin of your thighs.

This must be a test, he reasoned with himself.

The universe was trying to test his self-control by presenting you to him, all pretty, kind, and with the softest looking thighs he had ever seen. Chris could feel his hands literally itching with need, wondering if you’d feel as soft all over as you looked, but he quickly shoved all these thoughts as deep as he could within himself, focusing instead on the things you were telling him.

You were so nice. Just as his mother had told him, you seemed to be very sensible, very down to earth, and those traits made it so he had no reservations about having a human like you living with him. Sure, Chris knew it would be difficult to keep his condition hidden, but regardless of that immediate reaction he had to your presence, there was just something in the back of his mind telling him that having you here would be good for him and his pack, so he decided to follow that gut instinct, telling you you could move in whenever, and in a week’s time, you did.

It was honestly a bit odd at first. Chris had been living on his own for a while, and sure, his packmates would often drop by and stay over, but having an unfamiliar scent at home was certainly weird the first couple of weeks. Even then, he’d admit it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. If anything, it just added a bit of life to the otherwise silent–and sometimes lonely–space.

You quickly got acquainted with his friends, Chris supposed it was hard for you not to when they spent so much time coming to his flat, and somehow you never really seemed to question it. At one point, you even adopted their mannerisms.

Chris’ pack was very affectionate, he’d be the first one to admit it. Pet names were a constant thing among the pack, cuddling was a must, and even if you still didn’t know about their condition, you simply accepted their loving, overly affectionate behaviour as the norm, and even embraced it.

The fact that Chris and his friends were werewolves was something he had decided was best for you not to know, at least not from the get-go. He told his packmates he just didn’t see the need, that it could be dangerous–in reality, he just didn’t want to spook you. He feared that the moment you found out of their lycanthropy you’d leave, and even if he wasn’t sure why, he just didn’t want that to happen, so he would often conveniently dance around the truth whenever their condition was involved.

A month after you moved in, Felix suggested to have a movie night, simply saying ‘we haven’t had one in a while, and I could really use one to unwind!’ It had been a really long week for Chris, too, and he figured it’d be a good way to include you in their communal activities. So, as it was customary, those who wanted to join would come to Chris’ flat.

It was just Felix, Changbin, Seungmin, you, and Chris that night, the rest of his packmates had other things to do, so they had to skip it, which maybe was for the best, that way all of you wouldn’t have to cram on the sofa.

Felix had promised to bring a big box of macarons from his workplace, and he delivered. The box was filled to the brim with an assortment of different flavours–not an elegant presentation by any means, and some of them got crushed on the way, but that wouldn’t stop any of them from devouring each and every cookie.

When he placed it on the kitchen counter and opened it, Chris spotted the pink ones immediately. They were his favourite, but there were only a handful of them in the entire box, to which Felix gave him an apologetic smile, a ‘there just weren’t enough by the end of my shift’, and a shrug when Chris looked at him with a sad pout on his lips.

Chris took popcorn-making duties, and by the time it was ready and in its designated bowls, the vacuums he had for packmates had somehow eaten almost every single pink macaron, leaving only one in the box. He saw the scene play in slow motion as you made your way into the kitchen and reached for that last cookie.

Chris liked to give things to people, he really did, but that pink macaron had been holding together his last shred of sanity that day, so he acted quickly, snatching it out of the box and giving you a “nuh-uh, cutie. This one’s for me”.

“Aw, Chris!” You tried to reach for it, but he held it over your head, as far away from your grabby hands as he could. “C’mon! Those are so good!”

“I know they’re good! That’s why I want it”, he chuckled, pulling it further away from your reach when you tried to grab it again.

“Don’t be mean, babe”, you were pouting and everything, which had his heart clenching a bit, but you didn’t need to know that. He had to stay strong so he could have this delicious treat. “Give it to me?”

“Say please and maybe I’ll consider it”, he wasn’t going to consider it, which was why he had the biggest shit-eating grin on his face. This was his strawberry macaron that he desperately needed, just the thought of the sugary cookie melting in his mouth had him already salivating.

However, Chris realised very quickly how ill-prepared he was for the situation he’d put himself in the moment you took a step closer to him, taking a hold of his hand that had been limp by his side, caressing the back of it with your thumb as you looked him right in the eyes with that pout on your lips.

“Please, baby… I really want it. I’ll bring you some tomorrow. Promise”, you brought your free hand to your heart, making a cross over it to emphasise that promise. “Please?”

For a second, he froze. His arm was getting tired from holding the stupid cookie over your head, and he dumbly stared at your face, shifting his focus from your lips to your eyes a few times. Did you… Did you know how cute you looked? Were you doing it on purpose? You must’ve known, right?

As soon as Chris started to feel his heart thump aggressively in his chest, he realised he had–very stupidly–walked himself into a corner. He had lost, and, in a poor attempt to not let you know how fast you had disarmed him, he sighed–rather dramatically–in what he hoped came across as annoyance.

“Alright, you can have it”, he brought the macaron down and held it to your lips. “But you’ll seriously have to buy me some tomorrow, yeah?”

The smile that came to your face made his heart skip a beat, and the second you took the macaron between your lips, lightly brushing his fingers in the process, Chris could’ve sworn his heart stopped completely. 

Before he could even register the movement, you had moved closer, suddenly pressing a quick, loud kiss to his cheek, muttering a ‘you’re the best, darling. I’ll bring you at least two dozen tomorrow!’ before you walked away and left the kitchen to join Seungmin and Felix on the sofa.

It all happened so fast, Chris could feel his skin burn where you had kissed him, and he realised too late that it was because he was blushing. Blushing! Why was he blushing? How dared his cheeks betray him this way?

“Dude…” Chris’ head snapped in the direction of Changbin’s voice, where he was looking at him from the other side of the kitchen counter, with the most insufferable grin on his face.

“Don’t”, Chris grumbled as he lifted a finger in Changbin’s direction, which only made Changbin’s grin widen. Grabbing the biggest bowl of popcorn, Chris decided to ignore his friend’s teasing eyes completely, finally leaving the kitchen to place the bowl on the coffee table and sit his ass as far away from you as possible. He could still feel his face burn, which made it all so much worse.

That night, after everyone left, after you retreated to your room and Chris was finally able to lay in bed, completely alone with his thoughts, he couldn’t stop thinking about that moment.

About the way your eyes were almost sparkling when he told you you could have the damn cookie, about the look of delight on your face when he fed it to you, about the damn kiss… It was all just a friendly gesture, really. You were just being nice, like you always were, but as his mind recounted the moment in an endless loop, he eventually realised that all those things he felt the day he saw you for the first time had just been warning signs.

He tried to push all these thoughts to the back of his mind again. You were his roommate. His human roommate who had no idea what Chris and his friends were. It was stupid of him to think about you as anything other than that, and yet, the more he interacted with you, the more time passed of you living with him at his den, the harder it became to ignore what he felt, especially whenever you went out on dates.

His logical, human side always tried to brush off the fact that you were dating people. After all, sometimes, you did come back home looking happy, as if you even had fun, which was a good thing. But his idiotic, wolf side just hated whenever you came home smelling like other men. He couldn’t–and wouldn’t–stop you because of it, of course. That would’ve been absolutely insane of him to do, but one day, when he saw your laundry hanging on the drying rack he just couldn’t help himself… 

Chris figured scenting your clothes wouldn’t hurt, right? You wouldn’t notice… And other people might not even notice, either, but he just wanted you to come home and still smell like him, and frequently, that worked. He’d admit he even grew a bit more shameless about it as time went on, hugging you or kissing your forehead before you left the house to leave his scent on you–something you never really questioned, either.

Whenever his pack members commented on it, Chris simply told them it was for protection, to keep you safe from other wolves–he wasn’t sure if they believed him, considering they wouldn’t stop teasing him about it every time they could…

By the fourth month of you living here, he was sure he had mastered the art of Ignoring His Feelings.

He would still scent your clothes, especially on nights like this one, where you were going on a date with some guy. But other than that he was doing an excellent job at not thinking about you in any ways other than platonic–or at least, that was what Chris tried to tell himself.

Truth was, he still had those impulsive thoughts from time to time. Soft. Nice. Pretty… 

He would quickly stop his train of thought whenever he caught himself, disregarding the almost instinctual way his hands flexed whenever he looked at you. Tonight, before you left, he tried his best to absolutely ignore the dress you were wearing and how good you looked in it, and how it hugged your curves so nicely, and the way your thighs looked in those tights… Would he ever be able to touch them? Squeeze them? Maybe even kiss–

The sudden sound of growls startled him, breaking his train of thought. Chris chuckled, amused by the way Hyunjin, Jisung, and Jeongin chased their tails while running in circles in the middle of his living room. “What the hell are you even doing?”

“They’re trying to see who can catch his tail faster”, Felix replied simply, taking a sip of the soda in his hand, slinging an arm over Chris’ shoulders.

“You’re gonna hurt yourselves. Stop that”, Minho grumbled from the kitchen, where he and Seungmin prepared snacks for the night.

Among the growls coming from the three spinning wolves, and the constant talking between the rest, Chris failed to hear the sound of the front door opening. It took him a second too late to be hit by the smell of your floral scent, and by the time he had registered it and jumped to his feet from where he had been slouching on the sofa, it was too late.

You stood wide eyed by the hall, looking between the three wolves in the middle of the living room. For a second, everyone froze, looking in your direction, and before Chris could even say anything, he stared in horror as Jeongin started to shift back into his human form.

“It’s not what it looks like!” Jeongin had the nerve to say to you, as if he wasn’t buttnaked, as if he hadn’t just shapeshifted right in front of your eyes.

Your mouth opened and closed a few times. Your gaze shifted from the two wolves and Jeongin to everyone else in the room, landing on Chris last. He saw your hands tremble a bit, and, in an instant, before he could even register the movement, you were bolting out the door.

Chris immediately sprung into action, chasing you, calling for you. “Wait!”

You weren’t supposed to be here. You had a date. You were even prepared in case you wouldn’t even come back tonight, or, at least, that was what you told Chris before you left earlier that day. Panic brewed quickly inside of him, he really couldn’t let you go like this.

Chris caught up to you on the stairs, right on the landing between one floor and the other. Taking a hold of your elbow, he tugged you back before you kept going on your way. “Wait! Listen–”

“What the fuck?!” You tried to pry yourself away. In a different circumstance, Chris would’ve let you go on the spot, but this was no ordinary situation, so he simply tightened his hold, keeping you in place and within reach. Your eyes widened, and he saw immediately the exact moment you realised the extent of his strength.

“Listen to me. It’s not–”

“Don’t you dare say that!” Your eyes frantically roamed his face, and the combination of confusion and fear he could see in your eyes made his heart clench. “What does it look like, then?! Huh, Christopher?!”

Chris opened and closed his mouth a few times, but the words wouldn’t come out. What should he say? That what you saw wasn’t real? That you must’ve misinterpreted it all? That would’ve been the right thing to do, wouldn’t it? But as he looked into your eyes, he just couldn’t find it in him to lie to you.

“I just saw Jeongin’s body twist and turn in ways I would’ve never even imagined were possible!” Your lower lip was trembling slightly, the words that came out of your mouth were unsteady, and your scent was starting to tint with what Chris could only define as panic, which in turn was making him panic. “What the fuck was that about?! What are you people?”

“I– We–” The words just wouldn’t come out of his mouth. He should’ve had a plan for this, it was only a matter of time for you to find out their little secret, but he truly hadn’t expected it to be so soon. 

Upon his unresponsiveness, you tried to pull yourself away from him again, and Chris couldn’t help but tighten his hold on your arm in response. He hadn’t meant to, but he was going into fight or flight and his body seemed to be trying its absolute best to keep you from leaving.

You winced, and the grimace on your face started the alarm bells in his head. “Chris… Please. It hurts”.

Chris let go of your arm as if it had caught on fire, and when you brought your other hand to soothe the area he had been holding onto, when he saw that look of discomfort on your face, he couldn’t help but feel incredibly guilty.

He’d failed you.

He hurt you, he failed you, and the amount of distress that realisation brought him was quickly taking a hold of each and every single one of his nerve-endings.

“God, I’m so sorry”, Chris took a step back, avoiding your eyes entirely. “So, so sorry… I didn’t mean–”

“What are you, Chris?” Your voice trembled again, but it didn’t seem like you’d run away.

With a deep intake of breath, Chris tried to find the courage to look you in the eyes again. “I’m… I’m a werewolf”.

You blinked, looking him up and down, looking at him like he had three heads. “A… A werewolf?”

“Mm… Only Jeongin shifted when he saw you, probably out of stress or because he panicked… The three wolves… It was Hyunjin, Jisung, and Jeongin. We’re all werewolves”.

“Werewolves… As in… Half human, half wolf? Like in fairy tales?” You sounded genuinely incredulous, and Chris couldn’t blame you.

He shrugged, tucking his hands in his short’s pockets, looking away from you again, fixing his gaze on the floor. “They’re not just fairy tales. There’s a whole world of creatures out there you don’t even know about, but it’s there”.

“Can’t believe this…” You muttered to yourself, threading your fingers through your hair, tugging the strands between your fingers.

“You… You can’t tell anyone–”

“Who the hell would I tell?!” You chuckled, a chuckle that lacked any semblance of amusement, and it made him wince.

You both stayed in silence, neither of you sure on what to say to the other. Until finally, you heaved a sigh, turning to continue your walk down the stairs. “Werewolves… This is all madness…”

“Wait–!”

“Don’t!” You whipped your face in Chris’ direction. Your hands were shaking. Actually, it looked like your entire body was shaking. “Don’t follow me”, was the last thing you told him, and he would never forget the look in your eyes that day, completely lost, void of your usual shine.

Chris just stood there for a moment, listening to the quick clack clack clacks of your heels as you walked the steps, until he finally heard the main door of the building opening and eventually slamming closed. He could feel his heart ache, just the memory of the tone of your voice and that look in your eyes made his heart race for all the wrong reasons.

Chris was at a loss, unable to comprehend how it all got out of hand so quickly. He should’ve known, this was bound to happen eventually, they couldn’t keep hiding from you forever. But what he hadn’t expected was the feeling of utter dejection the entire exchange brought him.

After a few minutes, when Chris was back in his flat, with the seven pairs of eyes staring worriedly at him, he realised he had to get a grip.

“Chris, I’m sorry. It’s my fault–” Jeongin started, looking absolutely ashamed, but Chris stopped him immediately. 

“Don’t worry about it. She was going to find out eventually”, he was honestly proud at how even his voice was coming out of his mouth, and he hoped his packmates couldn’t feel the weird emotional state he was in. He shot Minho and Changbin a quick look, and they seemed to catch onto his signal fairly quickly–if the way they stiffened was anything to go by. “You guys go on. I’m… Tired. I’ll just be in my room, Yeah?” 

No one seemed to question it, for which Chris was grateful. He needed some time alone to think, but even then the presence of his packmates just out of his door did comfort him a bit.

You were gone for a long while after that. The mood of the pack had almost reached the core of the planet by how low it was, but admittedly, Chris had taken the biggest blow. Eventually, everyone noticed, but no one other than Minho talked to him about it. ‘She’ll come around, I’m sure’, he told Chris one day, but it was hard for him to believe those words when he could still get a phantom of the panic in your scent whenever he was on his own. 

You didn’t tell her in time. You hurt her. You failed her… His brain wouldn’t stop nagging him day and night. He tried to convince himself that there was no need for him to feel the way he did, that these things happened sometimes, but he knew it wouldn’t be that easy, he had to make it up to you somehow.

He tried to text you, a ‘hey… how’re you’ that you didn’t reply to. The rest of the pack tried to as well, explaining as much as they could, but you also didn’t reply to them. No one had been able to get a hold of you, and Chris was just losing all hope. 

Until seven days after the entire thing the sound of a key going into his front door’s keyhole startled him, pumping adrenaline through his system, making him jump out of his bed. By the time you were opening the door and stepping into the flat Chris was already coming out of his room, looking at you.

“So…” You cleared your throat once you closed the door behind you, dropping your keys in their designated bowl on the bureau, and crossing your arms over your chest. “Werewolves?”

Chris nodded, staying rooted on the spot, afraid any movement he made would scare you in any way. “Werewolves”.

“Does it… Does it hurt when you shift?” Out of all the things you could’ve asked, that wasn’t exactly what Chris thought you’d ask first, not after being away for so long, but he decided to answer regardless. There was no point in hiding it now, the cat–or should he say, the wolf…–was already out of the bag.

He shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest as well. “It’s not comfortable, but it doesn’t really hurt hurt”.

“Mmm…” You stayed silent for a bit, until your eyes found Chris’, and you took a step closer. “So… You guys are like… A pack? A pack of wolves?” Chris simply nodded in response, and since he didn’t say anything else, you continued. “Why would you even let me move in?”

“You’re nice”, Chris replied immediately, maybe a bit too fast. But it was the truth, so he felt like saying it. “Very nice. At the time it just… Made sense to me”.

“So, you’re like… Their leader? What’s it called… Alpha?”

Chris chuckled. “Where did you even get this from? But yes, I’m the alpha of the pack”. 

“It’s amazing what you can find on the Internet these days”, you shrugged. “Did you ever even have intentions of telling me all this? Did you lie to me about anything else?”

Chris shook his head. “No, we… We’re exactly the same people you met. The fact that we are what we are was the only thing I didn’t…” Chris sighed. “Honestly? I wanted to tell you. But I was… A bit scared you’d get spooked and leave”.

“You don’t want me to leave?” You sounded genuinely incredulous, and it puzzled him. 

“‘Course not”, Chris said it like it was the most logical thing in the world. In reality, it wasn’t. You were a human, a human living in a werewolf den. It seemingly didn’t make sense, but to Chris, somehow, it made all the sense in the world. “Do you want to leave?”

You looked at him for a moment. Chris held his breath, watching you closely once you finally moved, coming towards him.

Tentatively, you walked into his space, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close to you. As soon as your scent engulfed him fully, his body reacted almost on its own, wrapping his arms around your waist to hold you close, and heaving an almost involuntary sigh of relief.

“I don’t”, you mumbled against his shoulder, and the way your lips brushed his bare skin had his ears heating up. He should’ve put on a t-shirt before he left his room to meet you… “You guys… Are really nice, too”.

Chris hummed, hugging you a bit tighter for a while, for as long as you’d let him. Eventually, you were speaking again.

“So… If I’m staying at this werewolf den, does that mean you’re my alpha, too?”

Chris was glad you were not a werewolf. If you had been you would’ve heard how quickly his heart started to beat when you said that. The mere idea that you’d call him your alpha awoke something in him. Something he couldn’t unpack right here right now with you in his arms. 

You clearly didn’t know what that meant, you just made a logical assumption based on the little information you probably had, but if he ever heard you call him your alpha out loud he was sure he’d explode. So he decided to reach a middle ground, innocuous enough you wouldn’t be able to tell how much he was struggling with this. 

“Only–” His voice betrayed him, coming out of his mouth a bit strained. So he cleared his throat, trying to act normal. “Only if you’re a member of the pack, I suppose”. 

“Am I?” You asked, sounding genuinely curious. 

“If… If you want. Being a member of the pack… Entitles many things. if you’re willing to abide by those things then of course you can”. 

You hummed, burying your face further in the crook of his neck. 

“For what is worth, I… Already see you as one. It’s been that way for a while, actually”, Chris could’ve sworn he heard your heart start beating a bit faster after he said that, and in turn his heart started to beat faster in his chest.

“Oh?” You pulled away from his neck, finding his gaze, looking him straight in the eyes. “So I’m under the big bad wolf’s protection, huh?” 

Chris huffed out an incredulous laugh, amused by your choice of words, but he couldn’t help himself when the following words came out of his mouth. “Well, I’m not doing a good job at that, am I?”

You frowned. Smooth it out. Make her smile, his instincts told him, once again pushing to the front of his mind those impulses he so desperately tried to ignore. 

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, I mean…” Chris suddenly couldn’t hold your gaze, but the way his eyes decided to focus on your mouth were certainly not making it any easier. Plump, soft, kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss–stop. Focus… “The day you left, on the stairs… I hurt you. I didn’t mean to, and I shouldn’t have. I’m incredibly sorry”. 

You went quiet for a moment, your eyes flickering between his, looking at him so intensely Chris could feel heat start to creep on the back of his neck, suddenly aware of how close you were. Finally, you inhaled sharply. 

“I forgive you”.

Chris blinked, and his brows furrowed. “But–” 

“What do you mean ‘but’?” You chuckled, untangling your arms away from his neck to cradle his face in your hands instead. “You apologised, and I accept your apology. Honestly, it was barely anything. I… Understand what you were trying to do. In the four months I’ve been living here you have never hurt me, not even made me feel uncomfortable, Chris. This is all insane, completely nuts, and I’m warning you right now, I’m gonna be super annoying about it, but I trust you. All of you. But you especially”. 

At that moment, Chris pulled himself away from you entirely, hopefully before you noticed how quickly his cheeks were flushing, making his way into the living room and rambling on about how you could ask him anything you wanted and offering you dinner from what he had prepared that night for himself.

It seemed like you took a lot of interest in their condition after that. 

‘So that’s why you’re so warm?’

‘That’s why y’all leave once a month? To run under the full moon, seriously?’

‘Can you eat chocolate?’ 

‘Would you show me your wolf form?’ 

‘What’s a knot?’

You were really curious, maybe a bit too much. Chris was more than happy to answer your questions, but when you started to ask about mating, and knots, and ruts, and heats, he’d admit he got a little flustered–maybe embarrassingly so. Mostly because, whenever you so much as mentioned anything that got too into the topic of sex, he’d just get waves and waves of improper thoughts. He’d wonder too much, he’d start getting worked up as if he was a fucking teenager who’d never touched a person in his life, so he tried to avoid those questions whenever he could.

The rest of the pack welcomed you back with open arms. They liked you before, but now that you knew their secret, it was almost as if something flipped in the way they interacted with you.

The first time one of them called you ‘mum’, Chris almost dug himself a Christopher-sized hole and buried himself alive. It was Seungmin who started the entire thing, because of course it was, Seungmin loved to see him struggle the most, clearly. And when you asked Chris about it, he simply told you the rest of the pack started to see you as a person they could lean on–which was half of the truth, he would’ve been caught dead before admitting to you that they were rubbing in his face how absolutely smitten he was.

He knew it before, of course. How he felt. Even if he tried to ignore it, if he tried to pretend it was all an instinctual thing because he had a pretty girl living with him, there was no way he could lie to himself for much longer. The moment you found out of their lycanthropy and you decided to stay and help, instead of running away in fear, he just couldn’t deny it any longer.

Sometimes, it felt as if the universe had taken all these qualities he could’ve ever needed in his life, all these qualities he hadn’t even realised he yearned for, and put them all in a person, put them all in you and threw you at his doorstep in a pretty sundress, as if to say ‘here, this is the one. Good fucking luck’. Honestly, in retrospect, Chris stood no chance. There was no way he wouldn’t have developed feelings for you.

Regardless of how he felt, he tried his best to be respectful, to not make you uncomfortable in any way. He really did try his best, but by heaven and hell if there weren’t moments where he almost risked it all…

Chris could still remember the first time he saw you wearing a pair of leggings. The stretchy material hugged your lower limbs so perfectly it didn’t exactly leave much to the imagination… The sight of the fabric stretched over your perfectly round bottom and your big thighs almost broke down all those protective walls he had decided to put between you and him–especially when the very first thought he had as soon as he saw you on them was to bend you over the kitchen counter, rip the thing to pieces, and dive face first into your cunt from behind.

He couldn’t help but feel guilty every time he had those thoughts about you. In his mind, you just didn’t deserve that, for some horny creep to be secretly looking at you and thinking all these lewd, dirty things about you, but the more time passed, the more he got to know you, those thoughts became more and more frequent. And the most painful part of it all wasn’t just the undeniable sexual aspect of it all.

Chris often wanted to talk to you about anything and everything, to hold you, kiss you, feed you, cuddle you, just overall take care of you, and that feeling only intensified as soon as you started to take care of his packmates, as soon as you inadvertently fell fully into the position of pack parent right next to him for real. Sure, the rest of the pack members looked up to you to some degree, and they often called you mum to tease him, but he hadn’t truly grasped the extent of it all.

Chris hadn’t noticed that was what was happening at first, but one day, he saw as you took care of a sick Seungmin so attentively it just hit him like a ton of bricks.

You were so perfect for that role in his pack, and the fact that you were doing all those things, without even being romantically involved with him made him feel both warm with love and pained with longing. He knew then that you were supposed to be there next to him, with him, but that was something he couldn’t push on you, not when it didn’t seem like you were feeling the same things towards him in the slightest.

Or at least, that was what Chris tried to tell himself, to delude himself into not overstepping those boundaries between you two. The reality was that, sometimes, Chris thought he might’ve had a chance.

Times when he hugged you tight and he could hear your heartbeat pick up its pace, or when you sent him silly memes that you thought he’d find funny, or times when you teased him, almost, almost as if you were flirting with him, or whenever you took interest in his lycanthropy, or…

He often recalled very fondly how you would snuggle into him whenever you fell asleep on the sofa while watching a movie with him. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, he’d wake up with you in his arms, with your head tucked under his chin. Those times, he’d always pretend to be asleep for as long as he could, selfishly enjoying your warmth until you eventually woke up, gave him a kiss on the cheek with a racing heart, and mumbled sleepy apologies before retreating to your room. He’d tried to convince himself that you possibly feeling the same way was all wishful thinking, so he never truly entertained those thoughts.

Even then, there were things he just couldn’t stop himself from doing. At some point, scenting your clothes just wasn’t enough for him, so he started lending you articles of clothing of his–hoodies, mostly. He would’ve loved to see you wearing his t-shirts, or his bathrobe, but hoodies were a good enough compromise in his mind. He’d always give them to you whenever you showed any sign of feeling even remotely chilly, and he soon realised that that need of having you wrapped in his scent only grew bigger the closer his rut was.

The first rut Chris went into after you moved in was, quite honestly, insane. He was able to recognise the signs early enough to leave the flat he shared with you and stay at one of the vacant ones in the building, and when it finally hit him, it hit him hard. He didn’t think he’d had such a painful rut in his life–aside from the first one, which to this day he was sure was the perfect representation of what being in hell would feel like. 

Logically, he could’ve asked a friend to help him out. It was always best to deal with these things with another person there, but, somehow, the mere thought of being with someone like that after he realised his feelings for you was… Really unpleasant, so he decided to bear it on his own.

During that rut, all his inner wolf wanted was to have you. Your scent plagued his mind, the mental image of you and your thighs and your soft body had him with his fist around his cock the entire time, but it was never enough. He yearned to pleasure you, to taste you, to make you come undone for him as many times as he could, to have you in every possible way he could, to pump you full of his cum and breed you, and the fact that he couldn’t do that had him in both physical and emotional pain.

The worst part was that Chris felt like shit not only because whenever he was able to orgasm it didn’t seem to quench his desires a single bit, but also because he was thinking of you in such a way again. At the time, he was so desperate he could hardly think about it, but as soon as his rut subsided he had this immense guilt plaguing him. So much so he wasn’t able to look you in the eyes for a week straight after, so he swore he would try his best to never break your trust like that ever again.

And for a handful of months, it worked. He’d still share his hoodies with you, still have the need to hug you, and touch you, and take care of you, but whenever his mind drifted too much he’d give himself a reality check. She’s your roommate. Your friend. You’re more than just a horny dog, Christopher, he’d berate himself often, keeping his distance however he could.

It was hard sometimes, though. You’d taken this habit of looking him in the eyes… You used to do it before, too, but somehow it seemed different lately. Your gaze would linger on his for a few seconds longer than usual, enough to trigger his primal instincts, to make him want to assert his dominance–normally, that’d mean he’d want to physically fight for it, but with you, the only way his body wanted to assert his dominance was by bending you over and fucking you stupid, which didn’t help his case one bit.

It was incredibly silly of him to think that way whenever you looked him in the eyes for too long, considering that, even if you could, he just knew there was no way you’d challenge him for his position in the pack. So he’d always talk himself down of his instinctual reaction, reminding himself of who you were, of how he couldn’t let himself hurt you, or cross your boundaries in any way.

But his resolve crumbled a little over a year after you moved in, when Chris saw your freshly washed clothes messily sprawled on your bed while you were ovulating, almost as if you had prepared a pretty little nest for him to breed you in. That, coupled with the fact that you were wearing his clothes at the same time, triggered his already upcoming rut right then and there.

His mind clouded quickly, your floral scent filled every single crevice within him, making his alpha instincts kick in. Pleasure, dominate, breed, breed, breed… The words resonated repeatedly within him as he struggled to keep it together, to not jump you on the spot and do something he would regret, to not hurt you.

When he desperately tried to leave the flat, you just wouldn’t let him, you were clearly worried about him, and if there was one thing Chris had learnt about you was that it wasn’t in your nature to just ignore a friend in need. But God, you just smelt so good… It was getting increasingly harder to not act on his impulses. 

You kept looking him in the eyes, and it wasn’t making it any easier, not when his instincts wouldn’t just shut the fuck up. Show her. Make her submit. Dominate, dominate, dominate…

‘Go lock yourself in your fucking room while I can still think and hold back’, he held to his last shred of sanity until the very last second, all while his humanity and his inner wolf fought for dominance over his actions during the entire interaction.

What he hadn’t expected, though, was for you to return his feelings, for you to want him. ‘What if I don’t want you to hold back?’ 

In a second, as soon as the words left your mouth, he finally let himself see, hear, and smell all the signs. Your flushed face, your heart thumping aggressively in your chest, the smell of your arousal lingering in the air… He simply snapped. The second you gave him your consent and he finally got a taste of you, Chris knew there was no going back for him. He was in deep.

He wouldn’t be able to get over the feeling of your lips on his, the sounds that came out of your mouth whenever he touched you, the smell of your scent laced with so much lust he was almost vibrating with excitement at the prospect of all the things he could do to you, of how good he’d make you feel.

‘Wanna be mine? Just say it, love, and I’ll make you mine. All mine’.

Claim, claim, claim… No, no claiming, Christopher. Too soon, too soon, that’s not what she needs right now…

‘Wanna be yours… Wanted to for so long, too’.

For so long, for so long, for so long… She’s mine, mine, mine, all for me…

Finally, Chris was able to let go of his inhibitions and fulfil all those desires and needs he’d had for the longest time. Not only was he able to quench his thirst with your essence on his tongue, or release all that tension that kept on building within him with the intoxicating feel of the soft skin of your inner thighs and the velvety walls of your cunt wrapped around his cock, but also he made you feel so much pleasure you were barely even able to talk and walk after he did. That simple fact had his chest swelling with pride, had him going through so many waves of his rut that by the fourth day of fucking you nonstop he could barely stand the tiniest movement around his cock.

Chris was being driven by both his emotional and physical needs the entire time, driven by his instincts to fulfil both his and your desires, but by the fourth night of his rut he had regained some of his human clarity back. It was just as you two were having a bath, as you took care of him, washing his hair–something no one had ever come remotely close to doing after he became an adult–that he came to a very important realisation.

Not only had you taken the time to understand him and the role he had within his pack, you’d taken the time to understand each and every single member in it, you supported them all in every way you could, and even though you were human, your body was able to take Chris in his most animalistic state. So it was right then, right as he looked at the soft, focused features of your face when you massaged his scalp, that he realised that the universe had really made you all for him, perfect just for him.

He’d said this to you time and time again throughout his rut, because it just felt right to say them, but only then did he realise how true it all was.

It wasn’t unheard of. It happened often in werewolves. Not to every single one, but it was often enough that he was able to connect the dots. It was said that there would always be someone out there that would be able to strengthen those areas a wolf might be lacking in. And for Chris, that someone was you. 

Even when he woke up the next day, with his mind finally clear of his more animalistic impulses and desires, he knew that to be the truth.

It was a lot to take in, and if it was a lot for him who had been labelled Mr Intense several times throughout his life by both friends and partners, he was sure it would’ve been a lot for you, too. So he decided to file this for later, for it to be discussed when the time was right.

As it was now, he felt as if everything had been done backwards, so he had to start settling the foundations of a possible relationship with you–sure, you’d let him fuck you silly for four days straight, but what if you had been influenced by his pheromones? What if you realised you didn’t want him like that? That it’d be too much?

So he asked you out on a date, he wanted to take you to the seasonal fair, and to his delight–and maybe relief…–you accepted. It was almost comical how fast his heart would beat whenever you got close to him during that date, especially so considering he had already told you so many filthy, intimate things during his rut, but as you tugged him along to rides and games and food stalls, it all felt different to him somehow. More meaningful, perhaps.

That evening, when you were both walking back home, as Chris held your hand tightly in his, right under the seasonal lights that had been placed above the road, he just couldn’t help himself when he cradled your face and kissed you. A slow, sensual kiss that had his heart doing flips in his chest, and he simply revelled in the way you moved closer to him, in the way you held his coat tightly in your hands, in the way your lips moved against his.

A motion so natural he just couldn’t believe he hadn’t been doing this since the day he met you. When he pulled back, he asked you to be his girlfriend, and the moment you said yes, his heart soared, and he couldn’t help but feel incredibly giddy.

Now, Chris could hold you as much as he wanted, touch you as much as he wanted, he could tell you everything without having to measure his words, and he was so, so ready to enjoy every second of it. To enjoy every single second he’d spend with you–even more than he did before.

You were still sleeping in your bedroom, or at least, you did for the first few days after your date. That was fine by Chris, he had been making up for the lost time at work because of the ‘unexpected sick leave’ he had to take during his rut, so he was coming home late at night, barely even seeing your pretty face before he took a shower and dropped dead on his bed until the next day. It was best for you to sleep on your own so he wouldn’t disturb you. That was Chris’ reasoning.

At least, until tonight.

“Hey”, your voice made him look away from his phone and over his shoulder, finding you peeking your head from behind the door with a shy smile on your lips.

“Why are you up? You should be sleeping, love”, Chris turned, lying on his back and fixing his eyes on you.

“I missed you”, you replied simply, making your way into the room, your words effectively bringing heat to the back of his neck.

Chris let out a content sigh, watching you get on his bed and finally straddle his hips. His hands settled on your thighs, rubbing up and down in soothing motions. If only it weren’t so cold so you weren’t wearing these pyjama bottoms… They were cute, fluffy, with doughnuts printed all over them, but he selfishly wished he could feel your skin under his hands.

“Missed you, too. So much”.

You leaned into him, resting your entire body weight on him to press a kiss to his lips. Chris could definitely get used to this. To the feeling of you pressed against him, even with the duvet separating your bodies, he just loved feeling you close, especially when you kissed him so softly, so… Lovingly.

You’d been his girlfriend for a total of three days, it had been almost an entire week since the end of his rut, and you two hadn’t had sex since then. You’d told him you needed some time to recover, which was perfectly fine. Chris himself felt like he needed a short break as well, after all, getting back into his normal rhythm after a rut was always a process.

Besides that, though, your comfort was always his first priority, it had always been that way, but even more so now. He wanted to wait until you felt fine, until you were ready for it again. 

Although, he’d admit it wasn’t particularly easy. Not when you looked Like That all the time and he just wanted to sink his teeth on your soft flesh any time he got the tiniest glimpse of your skin. 

Sure, he was no longer in a rut, he was a coherent man, with coherent thoughts, completely capable of simply enjoying your presence without escalating any further than a hug or a kiss. But tonight, as his tongue made its way into your mouth, as your hips rolled against him, as his hands started to roam your back, only to settle on your rear to fondle the supple flesh, Chris was truly starting to feel ravenous, desperate to feel you, desperate to make you feel incredibly good.

“Chris, baby…” you mumbled against his lips, resuming your motions immediately after the words left your mouth, pressing pecks on his lips. 

“Hm?” Chris took your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging gently, gripping your buttcheeks tighter, and the whimper that came out of your mouth almost, almost made him lightheaded with how fast blood rushed to his cock. 

“Want you…”

Chris’ eyes snapped open, and he pulled away from you to look you in the eyes, finding your blown pupils and flushed cheeks. Beautiful, gorgeous, pretty… Swallowing, he brought a hand to your cheek, softly dragging his thumb over your skin. “Pretty… You sure? Are you feeling okay?”

“Mm”, with a hard roll of your hips to emphasise your statement, you pressed a brief kiss on his lips. “Positive. I’ve almost forgotten how you feel like inside me, baby. That’s a crime”.

Chris huffed an incredulous chuckle. “So soon? Damn, must’ve not fucked you enough, then”.

“Oh, you fucked me plenty. I just want more”, a grin spread on your lips, looking utterly shameless, and Chris would lie if he said it didn’t excite him.

“Greedy, huh?” 

Before you could even attempt to bite back, Chris rolled to the side, taking you with him, effectively wrapping you in the duvet, like the most adorable burrito, and trapping you under him, eliciting a yelp from your lips with the movement.

“Not fair”, God, you shouldn’t be allowed to pout, it disarmed him way too quickly. Chris couldn’t help but peck your lips, as many times as necessary, until you started giggling.

“What? My pretty baby wants to be on top?” Chris placed a kiss on your cheekbone. Your skin was warm, soft, you smelt like your moisturiser and your floral scent, and he just absolutely loved it.

“Maybe”, you mumbled, sounding more distracted now that Chris’ lips had descended to your neck, now that he was kissing and nibbling your skin.

Your hands roamed his back, making him shiver, especially so when you dragged your fingers down his spine, finally reaching his bum, and confidently squeezing. “Why are you naked?” You chuckled, clearly amused, and Chris settled his weight on his elbows so he could look at your face better.

“I was already ready to sleep, baby. You know I sleep naked”.

“You do?” You laughed, and it made him smile. “I thought the kids were saying that just to mess with you”.

“Oh, they were messing with me”, Chris chuckled. “But they weren’t lying”.

“So… If we start sleeping together, you’d sleep naked, too?” You squeezed his buttcheek again, a bit harder this time. It was barely anything, but it was working him up way more than it should have, for sure. Chris was already hard and leaking just by your presence, by your warmth and your kisses, but even then the simple implication that you wanted to share a bed with him every night had his heart doing flips in his chest, had his cock twitching with need.

“Would you mind?” He pulled away from you enough to untangle the duvet away from your body. As soon as you were released, he tugged on your pyjama top, and you let him get it off of you immediately.

“Not one bit”, was all you replied, and Chris gave you a hum of acknowledgement just as he tugged your bottoms off.

He got, admittedly, a bit distracted. Of course you wouldn’t be wearing any underwear under your pyjamas, you were ready for bed already, but it still caught him off guard.

The marks he’d left on your body during his rut were starting to fade, and all he wanted right now was to mark you all over again. Did he have a problem? Maybe he did. As his hands made their way to cup your tits, squeezing them briefly only to finally settle on playing with your nipples, the sounds that were coming out of your mouth made it incredibly hard for him to care.

“How’re you this pretty, huh?” While Chris kept softly rolling your nipples between his fingers, your hands came to hold his wrists, gently rubbing his skin with your thumbs as you arched your back, moaning oh, so sweetly for him.

“Chris, babe…” Your hold on his wrists tightened, shifting Chris’ attention from your breasts to your eyes again. The smell of your arousal had him literally salivating, had him feeling like a hungry dog, ready to devour you whole, and when you dropped the most desperate ‘kiss me’ he couldn’t help but do just that, removing his hands from your chest to hug you close.

You whined as soon as his lips landed on yours, moulding to yours time and time again, eventually pushing his tongue inside your mouth, savouring you, swallowing every sigh and every whimper that fell from your lips. He kissed you for a while, enjoying the feeling of you holding him tightly, enjoying the way your heartbeat kept picking up its pace, until the slow, deep kisses turned messier, more eager, until he couldn’t ignore just how badly he wanted to have a taste of you.

As he started his descent down your torso, kissing your clavicle, your chest, sucking your nipple into his mouth to play with the hardened bud for a bit with his tongue, he couldn’t help his hands from roaming your body. Your thighs, your hips, your sides, anywhere he could reach.

His fingers sunk on your flesh, eliciting quiet whimpers from your mouth, just as he kept licking the pebbled skin of your nipples and your hardened buds. Chris just really couldn’t help himself from kneading and squeezing your skin, tracing every dip, every roll, every curve, until his mouth finally resumed its path further down your body.

“Baby…” You mumbled once Chris’ mouth attached to your lower belly, nipping and kissing and sucking on your skin, making you squirm.

“Hm?” Chris would admit he was only partially listening, there was not much coherent thinking going on in his brain at that moment, all he could think about was you, you, you, and your soft skin, and your floral scent, and how it was all heavily tinted with lust.

You didn’t say anything, though, you simply inhaled a shaky breath once Chris’ attention was shifting again, from your lower belly to your mound, and finally, bringing his forearms under your thighs, he pushed them towards your chest, attaching his mouth to your skin so he could repaint all those marks that had started to fade.

He vaguely registered the words ‘such delicious thighs, fuck…’ coming out of his mouth, just as he vaguely registered the whimper you gave him in response. He repeated his motions until he was satisfied with the amount of freshly made love bites on your thighs, finally directing his attention to your dripping heat.

Chris truly was just a simple man.

A simple man with simple needs.

Sinking his fingers in the soft skin of your thighs, keeping you spread open for him, he finally dived, licking a slow, fat stripe from your entrance to your clit, all but moaning at your taste on his tongue, brows pulled together in bliss.

Chris got comfortable, laying on his stomach, and slurping you up. The moans and whines and whimpers that came out of your mouth with each and every single one of his movements, the way your fingers threaded through his hair, the way your hand pushed on his head to get him impossibly closer to you, only encouraged him more. Your free hand came to rest on one of his, and he wasted no time letting go of your thigh to hold your hand instead, linking his fingers with yours, relishing the warmth of your palm against his.

“Oh, fuck…” Your legs started to tremble as soon as he eased two fingers into you, and his mind raced with the feel of your heat wrapped around his digits. So warm, soft… He wasn’t sure if the words actually left his mouth or if it was just his instincts taking a hold of his mind, but he honestly didn’t care, either. 

As he started to add more and more fingers, until he was stretching you open as much as he could, your thighs clamped around his head, and Chris truly, truly couldn’t contain the literal animalistic growl that came out of his mouth, muffling against your skin as he diligently sucked your clit into his mouth and licked it with his tongue.

Letting go of your hand to grip your outer thigh, he simply encouraged you to keep that position, to borderline suffocate him with your legs, and honestly for all he cared he could’ve died right then and there, choked by the most delicious thighs he’d ever had the pleasure of touching, of kissing, of fucking–

Shit, he wanted to fuck your thighs. Would you ever let him do that again? Between the feeling of your walls around his fingers, your taste on his tongue, the sinful sounds coming out of your mouth, and the mere thought of fucking your thighs again, he could feel himself start to leak even more fluids, surely soiling his bedsheets–not like he cared much about it, to be honest.

Chris decided to ignore that thought altogether. He didn’t want to ruin the mood by bringing that up, not right now. So he shifted his focus back into the now, back to your hand tugging his hair and his fingers in your cunt and his mouth on your clit.

For a split second, he wondered if he should stop, if he should slow down to prolong this further, to eventually build you up once again and enhance your impending release. He’d been the one teasing you about it earlier, but the truth was, tonight, he was the greedy one, desperate to bring you unadulterated pleasure, so he didn’t stop.

Instead, he just sped up his fingers, thrusting harder, curling them up against that sweet spot within your walls in the exact way he’d learnt would have you curling your toes and flexing your thighs. He sucked harder, licked harder, revelling in the cries coming out of your mouth, revelling in the feel of you, all soft and warm and his.

When you came, moaning his name like the sweetest song he’d ever heard, Chris’ thoughts hazed, feeling your walls clenching repeatedly around his fingers, feeling your thighs twitching slightly around his head. And the moment you tried to pull yourself away from him, he just didn’t budge, bringing his hand from where it had been gripping your thigh to your hip, holding you tight and pinning you in place.

“Oh, fuck… Fuck, fuck, Chris, you–Shit–” Whatever it was you were trying to tell him got caught in your throat, all words replaced by broken moans and whines, which only fueled that determination that had quickly built within him. Pleasure, pleasure, pleasure, pleasure…

Chris didn’t relent until you were shaking with a consecutive high, until you tugged on his hair and begged with a breathless ‘Shit, Chris, darling, can’t handle it anymore, please…’ effectively snapping him out of it. Pulling on your thighs to get you to release your hold on him, and kissing his way up your body, Chris’ lips finally found your face, kissing away the salty tears that had run down your cheeks, only to finally find your mouth and kiss you deeply.

You let out the dreamiest sigh of relief when he kissed you, making him hum against your mouth, and as you hugged him close to you, tightly, bare chest against bare chest, his heart felt as if it was ready to burst at the seams.

“Fuck, love, you okay?” Chris wanted to check, to make sure his greediness didn’t get the best of him, and when you nodded enthusiastically, finding his lips and kissing him again, that minimal worry in his mind dissipated instantly.

“No business being that good with your mouth, fuck”, you mumbled against his lips, making him chuckle, just as you wrapped your legs around his torso, pulling him closer.

“Got a bit carried away… I can tone it down next time, if that’s what you want”, he teased you a bit with a grin on his lips, just as he held the base of his length and guided it to your entrance.

“Don’t you dare”, you replied almost immediately, pressing another loud kiss on his lips. “Want you just as you are. You always make me feel so good, baby…”

Chris hummed, content, keeping himself propped up on one elbow, kissing you as he dragged his tip up and down your folds, getting drenched in your slick. He was fully intending on not fucking you yet, on giving you time to catch your breath, he truly just wanted to feel your wetness against his cock, but when you noticed what he was doing, and urged him with a ‘if you don’t get inside of me right now I’ll cry for real, baby, please’, he simply couldn’t deny you.

Heaven, heaven, heaven, heaven, warm, warm, warm… “Fuck, it really hasn’t been that long, but I missed being inside you”, Chris couldn’t help but mumble against the skin of your neck once he bottomed out, relishing the way your walls just hugged him so perfectly, relishing how warm and snug it felt.

“Me too, baby”, you chuckled softly, threading your fingers through his hair, mindlessly playing with it. 

Keeping himself propped up enough, and once his other hand found yours, linking your fingers together, Chris finally started to move. He started slow, savouring every drag of his cock against your heat just as he kept kissing you, swallowing your quiet moans.

Burying his face in the crook of your neck, he pressed slow, wet kisses on the sensitive skin of your neck, making you squirm in his hold, and the whines that came out of your mouth as you bared your neck for him had his pace picking up just the tiniest bit, had his instincts kicking in and his lips sucking purple splotches on your skin. Mark, mark, mark, mark…

It truly hadn’t been that long, but now that he was able to feel you like this again, Chris realised he had missed it more than he thought. How could he not, when you were so warm, so soft, and just so, so perfect for him in every way, and as he whispered these things in your ear, all while bringing his hands under you, one holding your shoulder, and the other holding one of your buttcheeks to keep you from sliding away from him with his movements, there was absolutely no doubt in his mind that that was the absolute, irrevocable truth. 

“All yours, Chris”, you mumbled back to him, rolling your hips to meet his thrusts, the reassurance alone sending sparks of pleasure up and down his spine, and when you added a “just like you’re all mine, too”, emphasised with a tug on his hair, he just couldn’t hold back the sounds that were coming out of his mouth, nor the rumbling that started to resonate from deep within him. Which, had he not been absolutely drunk on your presence, would’ve puzzled him, and maybe embarrass him a bit.

It wasn’t that common for alphas to rumble outside of their rut, and Chris was no exception to this. He could probably count with one hand the times he had rumbled after puberty. But as he continued to pleasure you, to indulge in your body, he realised his quiet, slow, almost involuntary rumble was just another sign. Another sign that he was all yours, you were all his, and nothing had ever made more sense to him in this life than those two facts.

Holding you tightly, he rolled to the side, bringing you with him so you could sit on him, making you gasp with the change in angle once he was buried within your walls again.

“C’mon, pretty… Didn’t you want to be on top? Ride me”, he mumbled against the skin of your neck, sinking his fingers on the swell of your hips. “Ride me like you mean it, love. Show me how much you wanted it”.

And you did. He attached his mouth to your chest, determined to leave as many love bites as he could like he did with your thighs, just as he could feel his body burn from the inside out while you bounced on his cock. Mine, mine, mine, mine…. 

Time slipped between his fingers, his mind and body lost completely on you, just like you got lost on him, exploring one another until you came once more, until you eventually got off his lap, took him between your lips and made him come in your mouth. When he borderline begged you to open up and show him, he was sure the sight of his cum pooled in your mouth would be ingrained in his brain forever, and when he asked you to swallow and you did, showing him your clean tongue right after, he couldn’t help but feel tingly all over, so incredibly enraptured by you, and your mouth, and your body, and your mind, and your absolutely everything.

After a quick clean up and more kisses and more caring words, Chris simply hugged you close under the covers, burying his face in the crook of your neck as your fingers buried in his curls and massaged his scalp softly. The sound of your heartbeat under his ear was lulling him to sleep, and when you held him even tighter against your body and he started to rumble again, he simply didn’t question it, too tired and sleepy and in love to care at all once he finally fell asleep that night.

Starting a romantic relationship with you meant that there were hardly any reservations in this flat anymore. Chris would walk around almost naked most of the time, wearing nothing but comfortable, loose fitting pyjama shorts, just as you’d do the same. Walking around topless or wearing only your underwear under one of his oversized tees, and honestly Chris was having the time of his life seeing so much of your body all the time he had to make a conscious effort to not have his hands on you all the time–he failed miserably every time, but by the heavens he was trying.

You both had decided to keep Chris’ bedroom as your shared room, whereas your room would become a study of sorts for both, since you kindly requested ‘no work in the bedroom, darling, please’, which was perfectly reasonable. 

The dynamic within the pack didn’t change at all, you were already doing all the things the partner of a pack’s alpha would typically do before you got together, so the only minor difference now was that you and Chris would often engage in very shameless public displays of affection, eliciting a groan or two from the younger members of the pack. They’d have to endure it, because Chris had no plans to stop any time soon. And he was very unapologetic about it.

Others, though, started airing his dirty laundry to you. ‘I wish you could’ve heard how fast his heart would beat when you got close to him before. How flustered he got…’ Seungmin just wouldn’t shut up about it, and even though you were his girlfriend now and all his prior struggles were something you were very aware of, Chris still threatened to smack him with a slipper if he kept talking to you about it–a completely empty threat, but it did slow down his jabs a bit.

By the two month mark Chris was one hundred percent sure he’d never felt this good in a relationship before, and if these couple of months were an omen of how the rest of his life would be, he was more than ready for it. 

“Baby, no offence, but no wonder you had to get a roommate”, you chuckled, mindlessly playing with his hair.

Chris laid on his back with his head between your legs, your tummy posing as the softest pillow he’d ever used. Your legs draped over his shoulders, caging his head between them while he played on his phone. It was a common position for Chris and you to ‘cuddle’ at this point, just laying together on the sofa as both of you took some time to unwind from the long day, scrolling on your phones, watching TV, or engaging in conversation.

“What’d you find?” Chris mindlessly caressed the skin of your outer thigh, squeezing the flesh here and there whenever he felt like it.

A few days ago, you had offered to help organise the finances of the pack, and today Chris was finally able to send you all the documents he could find related to everyone’s income and expenses. He’d been taking care of it on his own, but he found the task to be incredibly annoying and sometimes even confusing, so he’d be the first to admit he wasn’t doing as well as he could’ve with it… Especially with his own finances.

“Well, the kids seem to be taking care of their expenses well enough… They could probably cut down on some extras if they want to have some extra money…” Chris was trying his best to listen, he really was, but he started to zone out almost immediately, distracted by the warmth of your thighs around his head.

He squeezed your thigh, inhaling sharply, getting almost overwhelmed by your scent. “But you…” His ears perked up, focusing on what you were telling him. “Do you even know you are being billed for all these things? What do you even need a scooter insurance for?”

“I’m still paying for that insurance?!”

“Mhm, look”, you handed him your phone. Chris looked at the numbers on the screen, incredulous, and slightly annoyed with himself for forgetting about these things. “Do you even have a scooter?”

“Sold it ages ago, before I even got the car”, he scoffed, handing you your phone back. “Guess it just… Slipped my mind to cancel that thing”.

“There are more like these, y’know?” You chuckled, gently tugging on his hair. “You reckless wolf, what am I gonna do with you?”

Chris simply chuckled in response, turning his head a bit to place a kiss on your inner thigh as you continued to list things he had completely forgotten about. It took you both a while to go through everything, by the time you were done, he had pulled himself from between your legs, deciding to instead sit with his back against the backrest, spreading his legs as much as he wanted, with your legs laying over his.

There was some film playing on the TV. Chris tried to keep his eyes glued to it, but in all honesty, he wasn’t watching any of it, he didn’t even know which film it was.

The way you were laying on the sofa with your legs on his lap made it so the t-shirt you were wearing rode up almost completely, leaving your thighs on full display for Chris to touch and stare at. It was nothing unusual or particularly revealing, but he’d spent the past hour just squeezing and massaging your thighs, and the motions were getting him really worked up. Maybe embarrassingly so.

Even if he’d fucked you silly and seen you naked a thousand times already, he was somehow especially affected today. Maybe it was the fact that you hadn’t had sex in a few days–which was fine, contrary to what the rest teased Chris for, you two didn’t fuck every single day. Several times a week? Yes. But not every day. Mostly because either one of you would be too exhausted due to your jobs or your studies or whatever situation you both were going through that week.

Chris had caught himself thinking about your thighs a lot lately. Whenever you sat on his lap, or when you draped your legs over him when you slept, he just couldn’t help but look at them, to touch them. It had gotten to the point where, whenever your schedules got busy and you couldn’t get intimate for one reason or the other, he’d found himself wanking one off thinking maybe bit too much about your thighs. Touching them, kissing them, sucking on them, fucking them…

“Baby…” He squeezed your thigh lightly, keeping his eyes focused on the way the skin dipped under his hold. “If I tell you something… Something slightly embarrassing… Would you judge me?”

You turned away from your phone to look at him. “Never, babe. What’s bothering you?”

Chris swallowed the saliva he hadn’t even realised had pooled in his mouth, massaging your thighs a bit more firmly. “I… Really, really like your thighs…”

“I can tell”, you tucked your phone under the cushion you were using to prop yourself up, giving him your full attention. “That’s not embarrassing, though?”

“That’s not the embarrassing part…” Taking a deep breath, Chris licked his lips. He’d had a chub for a long while now, he’d been trying to ignore it, but the more he touched your bare skin, the more he just enjoyed the feeling of your soft flesh under his fingertips, he just couldn’t ignore it any longer. “I… Think about them often. Maybe too often. About how soft and squishy and big they are…”

“You do?” There was a bit of a teasing tone in your voice, but the way your heartbeat suddenly quickened was enough for Chris to know you weren’t teasing him because you found it particularly amusing, but just to get him even more worked up, to get him to react, and honestly he willingly fell for it, just like he did every single time.

“Mhm…” It wasn’t anything particularly new, not to him. The thighs… They’ve always been a part of a person’s body he’d tended to focus on, and the only time he tried to openly discuss it with someone in depth they looked at him like he was crazy, so he was embarrassed, and maybe a little apprehensive. But right now, he was just horny and in love and your thighs were just so soft, he just couldn’t contain the words from leaving his mouth. “Fuck, pretty, wanna fuck them so bad right now. Just… Really wanna come all over them…”

Chris had only ever fucked your thighs during his rut, he’d never brought that up into your day to day sexual activities. He was just convinced it wasn’t exactly common to have such cravings, considering he’d had partners tell him that before. Sure, you’d let him do it already when he was going through his rut, but there were a lot of pheromones and hormonal rushes involved back then, this was different. This was his completely coherent human self wanting to fuck a part of your body that wasn’t exactly common to want to fuck.

Licking your lips, and with a shaky intake of breath, you brought your hand to his, placing it there to bring his attention to your eyes. “Wanna do it now?”

There was no hint of judgement in your eyes, if anything Chris could see your pupils dilate, he could hear your heart beating faster in your chest, so he gave you an almost shy nod. “Do you, though?”

Your hold on his hand tightened a bit. “These are yours, Chris. I’m all yours”, your low tone, the desire coating your words, had him biting his lower lip and inhaling deeply, getting a whiff of your floral scent slightly tinted with lust, and it was honestly starting to cloud his mind a bit. “I don’t think it’s anything to be embarrassed about, baby. I actually think it’s quite hot… Makes me feel… Wanted. Is that how it is? Do you want me?”

“‘Course I do. Never not want you, pretty”, sneaking his hand between your thighs, Chris squeezed the tender flesh at the highest point, right where it met your core, making you almost squeal.

You stared back at him, in that way that almost made his alpha instincts kick in, in that way that made him want to make you submit to him in any way he could, but before Chris could say anything–or do anything–you spoke again. “Well… There’s massage oil in the coffee table…”

Of course there was massage oil in one of the drawers of the coffee table. You and Chris kept it there since before you got together, for times where the other felt their shoulders particularly stiff or for when any of the kids came over with the same problem. He’d lie if he said he never thought about… Using it in more inappropriate ways before, but it had been so long since you’d used it he had honestly forgotten about it.

With a chuckle, Chris shuffled a bit, careful not to let your legs fall out of his lap as he leaned forward to open the drawer and take out the bottle. Settling back on the sofa, as comfortable as he could, he instructed you, “scoot your legs back a bit, love. Need to take my shorts off”.

So you did, and once he found himself bare, he guided you towards him just as he slouched further into the sofa, bringing your legs back to his lap. Taking the bottle of oil, Chris took his time lathering your inner thighs with it, lightly massaging your flesh as he went, relishing the way your breathing was starting to get a bit more laboured with each drag of his hands on your skin, until finally, he soaked his cock, giving himself a couple of languid pumps.

Once Chris was content with how soaked you both were, he gave you the bottle so you could place it on the floor, just as he guided your legs to close around his length, and the sigh of relief that left his lips was honestly almost pathetic to his ears–not like he could care much about it when the most delicious thighs he’d ever seen were practically suffocating his cock.

“So good, fuck…” It wasn’t a particularly easy angle to do this in, but he was too far gone to care, so Chris simply angled his body towards you enough for both of you to be comfortable. Slowly, he started to thrust, his eyes focused on the sight of his tip popping out from between your legs, almost rubbing your core with each motion, feeling himself leak and almost drool as tiny sparks of pleasure started to travel down his spine. 

There was a voice at the back of his head telling him that he wasn’t taking care of your pleasure, that he was being too selfish by rutting himself between your thighs like this, but before he could even feel bad about it, Chris heard you whimper, and when his eyes snapped from the sight of his cock between your legs to your face, he couldn’t help but swallow. Your face was flushed, your lower lip trapped between your teeth, and your brows furrowed as you looked back at him.

“Is this how you wanted me, darling?” When the words left your mouth, almost breathless, Chris swallowed again, slowly nodding. Somehow, you looked like you were enjoying it as much as he did, and that realisation had him growing impossibly hard.

“Just like this, pretty… Seriously, these thighs of yours… They’re gonna be the death of me. So full and soft… So delicious…” Sliding one of his hands under your shirt, he found one of your breasts, kneading it and squeezing it for a bit only to finally pinch your nipple between his fingers in tandem with his cock pumping itself between your legs, relishing the soft moan that left your mouth when he did.

“Babe, I want you to… To enjoy yourself”, there was a pout on your lips, but Chris could feel your thighs twitch every time he rolled your nipple between his fingers, and he couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Oh, I am”, letting his head fall onto the backrest, Chris just looked at your face, at the way it scrunched up in pleasure and the way your eyelids fluttered shut with every movement of his, just as one of his hands kept working you up and the other held onto your thigh to keep you in place while he fucked himself between them. “You’re so fucking perfect, baby… Most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen…”

Chris had this habit of rambling and running his mouth when he was horny or when he was feeling vulnerable. He’d told you this before, so he was sure you weren’t surprised by the things that came out of his mouth when you had sex by now, but everything he said was something he truly believed, it wasn’t all just horny talk. His last statement was no exception. You were, truly, the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, and he’d believed that since the very first day he saw you.

You just whimpered in response, clenching your thighs harder, making him groan with the motion. Pulling your tee further up your torso, you brought your hand to your other breast, kneading it and playing with your nipple as Chris kept stimulating the other, as he kept fucking your thighs, and honestly he didn’t know where to look–to your gorgeous, blissed out face, to your hand and his working your chest, or to where his cock popped out from between your legs… It was all so much, and so, so good, and he truly was almost drooling with the intensity of it all.

It went on like this for a while, until Chris felt his orgasm grow closer. He hazily reached a compromise with himself, to let himself come first, something he didn’t do often. He usually preferred to have you reach your climax and fuck your brains out while you were all sensitive and drenched and squirming, but he needed this, and boy if he was ready to make it up to you after.

With a few more thrusts, giving you a quick warning, and a garnish of your name coupled with a colourful assortment of swear words, Chris finally came. His cum quickly pooled on the valley created by your thighs and your core, soaking your underwear, a bit even landed on your lower belly, and truly, you were always beautiful, every day, in every way, but especially so when you were covered in his cum.

“Shit, look at that, huh…” Chris felt lightheaded, but that didn’t stop him from reaching out to your lower belly, spreading his cum around with two of his fingers, only to finally bring them to your mouth, and, just like you always did, your lips wrapped around his digits, licking them clean with a satisfied moan. “Like eating my cum, pretty baby? Looks like you do, you’re sucking so eagerly, hm?”

You nodded, finally opening your eyes and letting his fingers pop out of your mouth. “Love it. How could I not? When you always have so much for me?”

Chris couldn’t help but chuckle, ignoring the heat he felt spread on his face. “All for you, love… All of it. All of me”.

You chuckled, regarding him with a smile. “How’re we gonna get out of this one without staining the sofa?”

“Take off that t-shirt, let’s use that”.

After wiping you off with his tee, Chris pulled you into his lap, bringing you close to him with one hand caressing your thigh and the other cradling the back of your head, just as you settled your legs at either side of him and your hands on his chest. You kissed like this for a bit, until your lips wandered off, pressing a trail of kisses from his mouth to his neck.

When you pulled back from his neck, you looked at him with such adoring eyes Chris thought he was going to melt right then and there. “You really like my thighs, huh?” You looked down, to where he was tightly holding onto the supple flesh of your thigh, and Chris really couldn’t help the bashful smile that came to his face when you called him out on it.

“Just fucked them and came all over them, baby. Can’t hide it, I’m fucking obsessed with them”.

You just chuckled, pressing your bare chest as much as you could against his to hug him close, just as you placed a brief kiss to his lips. “I meant it earlier, babe. You can fuck them whenever you want. I like it when you do. It’s really hot”.

“Oh, pretty, love… I fucking will. Shit, how couldn’t I…” Inhaling deeply, Chris kissed you, maybe a bit too hard, a bit too eager, but he still revelled in your soft moans as he did.

Linking his arms under your ass to keep you secure in place, he stood up from the sofa, earning a surprised squeal from your lips that got lost in his mouth. He simply laid down on the sofa with you on top of him, giving you a tight squeeze on one of your buttcheeks. 

“Now, pretty baby…” He spoke between kisses, just as his hands roamed your body, squishing and kneading your soft flesh all over. “I need you to sit on my face. Want to make you feel good”.

You simply giggled in response, giving him one quick, loud kiss. “Someone’s hungry today”.

“For you? Always”, Chris chuckled. “Then, if you can still walk after, we can go stargazing tonight”, he added with a smile and a playful smack on your ass.

Chris was determined to show you just how hungry for you he was time and time again if necessary. How could he not be hungry for you? He’d realised that, for him, you embodied the very essentials of his pack. You embodied those things he so desperately wanted to have in his pack since he had decided to start one. Care, love, support, acceptance… 

Whether it be his and his friends’ lycanthropy or his kinks or his odd spending habits, you seemed to accept it all as part of him. He shouldn’t be surprised, really. He shouldn’t doubt it. After all, you were made for him, all for him, perfect just for him, and he was ready to enjoy it, to enjoy you and your company for as long as you’d let him.

Author’s Note x2: while i was writing this, i took some time to re-read It’s Cold Out again after a long time and holy shit. i hadn’t fully realised how much my writing has changed since then. to the point where to me it doesn’t feel like ICO was written by me anymore. it’s crazy lol. i’m happy i’ve gotten to expand on this AU, and i’m even happier that i get to share it with you all. if you’re reading this, thank you, you’re awesome

Tagging: @raspbinniecreme @staaa96 @oiminho @dundullresident @honey-lemon-goose @straylightdream @carefully325 @lavenderxkies @starshine-moon @biribarabiribbaem @meowmeowhoon @100layersofdaddyissues @dearalice @alexis-reads-fics @xcookiemonsteer @knowleeknow @chanlovesme @liminaldaydream @sstarryreads @svngiem @notastraykid @princelingperfect

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Constructive feedback (or even keysmashes, really) is always welcome :) feel free to leave your comments in the caption/tags when you reblog, or by sending me an ask !

Chris’ WereRoomies Instalments: It’s Cold Out · Rut · Alpha Dog · It’s Warm In · Love is Easy · Afraid to Lose You. For extra drabbles, check out the series masterlist.

[bookmin]

Do you do fantasy romance prompts?

Hi! I can do them of course! ^^

Tell me if you need others or want more details about it!

Prompts:

1 - A & B talk through a book that they each other like, they don’t reveal their identity until the end

2 - a black cat always follows B, they’re not concerned, on the contrary they love the fact that they a cat that is basically theirs now, until one day, B founds out that the cat is their best friend that they thought they went missing.

3 - A & B are old now, they always like to watch the photos they took when they were younger.

4 - A & C find this comfy-looking coffee and they enter, the bartender gives them a strange drink, they really don’t care enough to know what’s inside, they drink it and they end up in a parallel universe where their friend B isn’t dead anymore, A & C fell in love in this universe with B and want to stay with them forever.

5 - A writes love letters to B, B thinks the one that is writing them is C, B falls for C and A really hates it, A asks help to D, in the meanwhile they fall in love together.

6 - B can read A mind, A can see B emotions in form of colors.

7 - A & B are two magicians, they’re ready to do their usual performance until C use a real strong power to ruin their performance, in all secrecy A & B have to not reveal their true powers and have to stop C from ruining everything they worked hard on.

8 - Your usual soulmates fic, but this time it’s between a god and a vampire, two immortal beings, they never find out who was their soulmates until a strange encounter they will have.

9 - “do you want to play *new videogame that came out* with me?”

“I would play every videogame with you B”.

10 - B time travel to when A & B were little, B has to stop an important event to happen, C & D seems to have time travelled too, they will help B with their plan to save their friend.

11 - “Stop it with this love potion C, it will not work! Plus i don’t want to use cheats in real life!”

“Come on B, don’t you want A crushing on you?”

“Yes, but i want it in a legit way!”

12 - A is an author that really loves their protagonist, a day their own protagonist take life and became a real person, A is in totally love with B, meanwhile B wants to only explore this new world.

Hope you like them!

ps. I just realized that i misread your prompt requests, so there are some normal romance prompt and some of them are fantasy, if you want more of the fantasy ones don’t worry and request me again! ^^’

[cheynovak]

Help a girl out

Update.... It's done. I couldnt wait.

Y'all find it: Here

------

Hi everyone!

My ex-punk teenage self is trying to convince me to write a fanfic on Priestly, I seem to read a lot of SPN/the boys stories ( And I love them, don't get me wrong. 🥰 )

But I want to read more Boaz fanfiction since he was one of my first crushes. (I didn't even knew who Jensen was back then.)

So my questions for you:

Would you like those stories, or is he just a character we like but don't love enough to read about?

AND what kind of story do you like to read?

Oh!! And one other thing! If you have a Boaz Priestly story written... Feel free to tag me. ❤️

[woniebunny]

ENHYPEN AS TEEN WOLF CHARACTERS || PT.1 HYUNG LINE

GENRE: TEEN WOLF!AU KINDA

WARNINGS: SLIGHT CURSING

A/N: Hii my loves!!! It’s been a long time since I’ve posted anything but being that next month is pretty much my fave month of the year and I suddenly have maximum creative juices pumping through me right now I’m gonna try and write up and post as much as I can for the next couple of weeks. Starting off with something kinda light I decided to do an Enhypen as Teen Wolf (still one of my fave shows) characters based on my opinion. This is all for fun so please take it with a grain of salt lol. I’m also gonna do a part two with the Maknae line so keep an eye out for that as well. P.S I have a Jaeyun hocus pocus idea in the works rn and I can hint that it’s going to be the longest piece I’ve ever written but I don’t wanna spoil it too much sooooo I’ll stop at that 🤭. As always hope you guys enjoy and reblogs and feedback are always appreciated!!💕

**********************************************************

LEE HEESEUNG (이희승)

•SCOTT MCCALL

• HAS LEADERSHIP SKILLS DESPITE NOT BEING THE ALPHA/LEADER

• WOULD THINK EVERYONE WAS WORTH SAVING NO MATTER WHO THEY ARE OR WHAT THEY’VE DONE

• WOULD ALSO GIVE PETER A MILLION CHANCES

• HAS A VERY STRONG YET KIND OF DORKY AND ENDEARING PERSONALITY. IS SUPER SWEET AND SILLY AND WOULD ALSO 100% BE JUST AS CLUELESS AS SCOTT ON THE SUPERNATURAL AND HAS AN INNOCENCE/NAIVETY TO HIM

• DEFINITELY IS ADOPTING STRAYS AND BRINGING THEM INTO THE PACK (I.E. ISAAC, BOYD, LIAM, THEO, AND CO)

• ALWAYS WILLING TO HELP EVERYONE

PARK JONGSEONG (박종성)

• DEREK HALE

• SOUR WOLF/ SOUR PUSS

• COMES OFF AS COLD AND EVERYONES SCARED OR INTIMIDATED BY HIM BUT HE LOVES HARD AND IS EXTREMELY LOYAL

• ONCE HE CARES ABOUT YOU YOURE PART OF HIS PACK AND HE WOULD LITERALLY GIVE HIS LIFE FOR YOU

• VERY BIG AND TRAINING AND TEACH YOU EVERYTHING THERE IS TO KNOW AND IS VERY KNOWLEDGEABLE THANKS TO HIS PARENTS (LIKE DEREK WITH TALIA)

• HAS TO SAVE HEESEUNGS ASS ALL THE TIME CAUSE HES PRETTY CLUMSY DESPITE BEING A WOLF

• STRONGLY FIGHTS FOR WHAT HE BELIEVES IN AND WOULD NEVER GIVE UP OR RUNAWAY. CONSTANTLY EVOLVING AND IS THE MOST MATURE ALONGSIDE DEATON.

SIM JAEYUN (심재윤)

•STILES STILINSKI

• LITERAL GENIUS (EXPECT HIGHLY INTELLECTUAL RAMBLES (love me a nerdy but sexy man))

• PUPPY LIKE, CLUMSY, KINDA SPASTIC, ADORABLE NERD

•SARCASM KING

• CONSTANTLY BEING UNDERESTIMATED BUT IS THE STRONGEST MEMBER DESPITE BEING HUMAN AND COULD LITERALLY TAKE DOWN THE WHOLE PACK BY HIMSELF.

• IS THE SOLE REASON EVERYONE IS ALIVE

• WOULD BE THE PERFECT VOID WHEN GETTING POSSESSED BY THE NOGITSUNE

• GREAT AT LACROSSE AND IS DEF ON 1ST LINE!

PARK SUNGHOON (박성훈)

• ISAAC LAHEY

• USUALLY THE MORE QUITE MEMBER WHO KINDA KEEPS TO HIMSELF AND ISNT THE BEST AT SOCIALIZING (was locked in a freezer for most of his life he’s learning okay? Precious baby) BUT IS ALWAYS THE FIRST ONE READY FOR A FIGHT OR PUTTING SOMEONE IN THEIR PLACE

• IS THE ONLY MEMBER I CAN THINK OF BESIDES BOYD WHO WOULD ABSOLUTELY LOVE THE COLD AND GOING TO THE ICE RINK

• GETS UNDERESTIMATED BECAUSE OF HIS QUIETER MORE NONCHALANT DEMEANOR BUT IS A COMPLETE BADASS AND WOULD BE ONE OF THE FEW MEMBERS WHO CAN ACTUALLY PUT UP A REALLY GOOD FIGHT

• LEATHER JACKETS

• SARCASM PRINCE

• HAS TOM AND JERRY DYNAMIC WITH DEREK BUT SECRETLY DEREKS FAVORITE (Jayhoon bickering is one of my fave things)

• 100% RESPECTS HEESEUNG MOST LIKELY EVEN MORE THAN JAY AND FOLLOWS HIM AROUND LIKE A PUPPY

• THINKS DEATON AND STILES ARE THE SMARTEST AND ALWAYS COUNTS ON THEM FOR A PLAN

• WOULD LEARN CONTROL THE QUICKEST AND USE SOMETHING KIND OF TWISTED AS HIS ANCHOR

• WOULD 100% LEARN HUNTING 101 FROM ARGENT AND BECOME AN EXPERT

[chimcess]

→ Chapter Three: Harboring a Fugitive Pairing: Jimin x Reader Other tags: Werewolf!Jimin, Witch!Reader, Shifter!Reader, Shifter!Jimin, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha!Jimin Genre: Supernatural!AU, Werewolf!AU, Angst, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Smut, Word Count: 10.3k+ Synopsis: Within the four realms of Lustra lay the Bangtan forest home to the Foxglove pack of the south and known as the “land of magic.” It is also home to the Bridd, a powerful witch from a cursed bloodline who is one of the sacred guardians of the forest. Y/N is the newest Bridd, a young girl who was given her position too early. Now a woman, Y/N is revered amongst the wolves as the most powerful witch they have ever known, but hiding under the surface is a woman who has to battle between her duty and her heart. Warnings: Long haired Jimin, Strong language, blood, main character injured, main character beaten (not explicit), fighting, argument, near death experience, angst, fluff, backstory time, flashbacks, I’m putting PTSD on all of these because poor reader is suffering, I love Taehyung so much, I forgot how much I missed his playful attitude, brooding Jimin as always, crying, hurt/comfort, I hate Ahn, let me know if I missed anything A/N: This rewriting has been more fun than I thought it would be. I think the next chapter will have the most changes thus far, but I am still trying to keep everything as close as possible. Thanks for reading!

prev. || masterlist || next

I was jolted awake by a frantic pounding on the front door. My eyes cracked open, and the sting of exhaustion made them burn like hot coals. As I surveyed the room, I realized I’d been changed and cleaned, but Yoongi’s presence was conspicuously absent. Jimin, too, seemed to have vanished, though I couldn’t recall when Yoongi had arrived. Sleep was already slipping through my fingers, the relentless knocking dragging me back to wakefulness.

With a groan of protest from every muscle, I limped to the living room. Shiloh’s gentle breathing from her nest was the only sound beside the incessant banging. It struck me that she must have been utterly spent to have slept through it all. At last, I reached the door and threw it open, only to be greeted by one of the most heart-wrenching sights I’d seen in ages.

Kim Taehyung stood there, a broken mess. His hair was a tangle of knots and his body was a bruised and battered mosaic of purples and blues. I forced myself to straighten up, though my exhaustion made it a struggle. As I guided him inside, my heart shattered at the sound of his sobs.

Ahn had clearly done a number on him, and the rage that simmered beneath my surface was nearly overwhelming. But Taehyung was in no state to handle my fury. His suffering was both physical and emotional, and I needed to tend to him first. As he choked out the details of his ordeal, I listened with clenched teeth.

After we left, Ahn had dragged Taehyung into a secluded room at the palace, where the beating began. It was as if the old man believed he could pummel the boy into submission. The thought nearly made me scream. Soon, three others from the council joined in, and though some had protested, none had the courage to stand against it. Sol had been taken from him, her screams echoing in his ears.

“I’ve got your face,” I muttered, dipping back into a jar of salve. I’d already applied two jars to his face and neck. “Strip down. I need to check for infections.”

Taehyung nodded through his tears. I didn’t let myself stare too long, though it was impossible not to see the condition of his battered body. I focused on his stomach, my hands working with a rough, frustrated rhythm.

“I can’t believe this,” I grunted. “Why did you let them do this to you?”

Taehyung winced as I pressed too hard on a tender spot. “I didn’t want to fight,” he said. “I don’t want to rule with violence. Fighting and shouting… it’s uncivilized.”

I laughed, though it was devoid of humor. “So, you let them do whatever they want with you? You’d let them kill you?”

He was silent, unable to answer. 

“If you want to be taken seriously,” I said, opening another jar of salve and rubbing it into his chest, “you have to stand up for yourself. Your idea of civility doesn’t align with the old guard.”

Taehyung’s expression darkened, and he looked genuinely troubled. His naivety struck me hard, and I felt a surge of anger. If Ahn were here, I’d deal with him myself. How dare he orchestrate such cruelty? The thought of him parading around while a child suffered made my blood boil.

While I agreed with Taehyung’s ideals, the others would never accept them easily. He needed to fight if he wanted respect. Chief Ahn would never allow a different kind of leadership. My anger flared again—Kim Taehyung was far more worthy of leadership than that miserable excuse for a man. An epiphany hit me: no one else was as suited to rule Foxglove as Taehyung, with his diplomacy and kindness.

“I understand,” I said, wincing as Taehyung flinched away from my touch. “But you can’t let them push you around. Their views of manhood are archaic, and though your village knows it, fear makes people cling to the familiar. Ahn exploits that fear to boost his own ego.”

Taehyung’s gaze was inscrutable, his eyes following my every movement but revealing nothing. He seemed to be weighing my words carefully.

“I wanted to fight,” he confessed, his voice a whisper of shame. “I wanted to kill them all, but then they’d win. I’d become the man they wanted me to be, but the village would fear and resent me like they fear Ahn.”

His introspection was unexpected but not unwelcome. I’d never heard him speak with such depth before. His voice, deep and smooth like molasses, carried a melancholy tune. It was a stark contrast to his youthful charm, making me remember he’d only turned eighteen a month ago.

“Isn’t running away also letting them win?” I asked gently.

Taehyung sighed. “I had no choice. Ahn was trying to stir up enough trouble to force someone to challenge me for Sol. No one took the bait, so I managed to slip away. Jong-gyu helped me get out, and Eun-jin told our mother I was leaving.”

Taehyung’s siblings always seemed to feature in his stories, and their importance to him was clear. Jong-gyu, only eleven, and Eun-jin, just six, were his little anchors. The thought of them plotting an escape for their eldest brother was heartbreaking.

I wiped my hands on my nightgown and stood up. Taehyung was smeared in salve, and the bruises were already fading. His ribs would need more time, so I headed to the kitchen, searching for a healing potion. I didn’t have the energy to make one from scratch at this hour.

“Why did you come here?” I asked softly.

Taehyung sighed. “Because I knew you’d help me.”

The pity I felt for him returned with a vengeance. Imagining him hurt and abandoned, unable to trust anyone else, made my heart ache. I found an old potion in the back of a cupboard, checked its scent, and decided it was still good.

“You can stay as long as you need,” I said, handing him the potion. “Sol is my friend, and I’ll do my best to keep you safe.”

Taehyung seemed relieved. He drank the potion, curled up on the couch, and was asleep almost immediately. The sight of him, so utterly exhausted, made me stifle a laugh. I began extinguishing the candles and tidying up the used salves. I’d need to prepare more soon.

Exhausted and still recovering from the ceremony, I dragged myself back to bed. Shiloh was waiting for me, her feathers ruffled in disapproval.

“How many times do I have to tell you to take your bedrest seriously?” she chided.

I groaned and collapsed into my bed. It was warm and inviting. Shiloh flapped to her nest, feathers drifting onto my sheets, but I ignored them. I was used to the constant cleaning by now.

“It was Taehyung,” I protested weakly.

“I don’t care if it was Fenrir himself at the door, you need to stay in bed—”

“Shiloh,” I warned, “Swîgian âstillian.”

The owl grumbled, but I was too far gone to listen.

The pounding at my front door was relentless, dragging me from a restless sleep. Groggy and stiff, I rolled over with a groan, my body protesting every move. Outside, a cacophony of angry voices pierced the morning quiet, and among them, someone was calling for Taehyung. That was the spark that ignited my fury. Furious and aching, I summoned my magic to lift myself out of bed and threw on my robe.

Taehyung was curled up in a tight ball in front of the sofa, barely stirring as I stormed past him to the door. Shiloh’s frantic screeches filled the air, demanding I retreat back to bed and let the wolves handle their own mess. But when their politics come knocking at my door, I had every right to give them a piece of my mind.

With a deep breath to steady my rage, I squared my shoulders and thrust my arms forward. The front door exploded off its hinges and crashed into whoever was standing behind it. Namjoon barely flinched as he shoved the door aside with a practiced swipe, his eyes wide with shock. But I wasn’t finished. I began to sing, a storm of objects swirling around the room in a chaotic dance. Namjoon staggered back, but this only fueled my anger further. Shiloh’s voice cut through the chaos as a fierce blue flame erupted from my palm and hurtled towards the wolf.

“Hwæt−hwugu ðrîstian êow?” I roared, the magic dissipating as my singing ceased. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

Hoseok and Jimin flanked their brother, their expressions a mix of concern and annoyance. I knew I’d regret attacking them eventually, probably the moment they left, but in this moment, I couldn’t bring myself to back down. No one was going to come here and intimidate me. The rational part of my brain screamed for me to stop, breathe, and listen, but the louder, angrier voice wanted to shatter them all. Taehyung had been battered and bleeding last night, and yet none of these so-called protectors had lifted a finger to help.

“Bridd—” Hoseok began.

I cut him off, my gaze locked on Namjoon. He stared at the ashen spot where the flames had struck, his face a mask of conflicted emotions. My anger burned hotter, and I felt a fresh wave of pain in my back—clearly, I had overextended myself with the magic. My body was struggling to heal, blood seeping from old wounds.

“Sê ðafian êower m¯ægð teohhian êower weorðfulnes?” I roared, my eyes blazing. “Sol chose him. The Gods chose him! Do you think you’re somehow superior to them now? Are you so blinded by your precious Chief’s biases that you’d let this happen?”

Namjoon swallowed hard, his eyes finally meeting mine. “Of course not. I—”

“You listen to me,” I sneered, cutting him off. “If you ever have the audacity to come banging on my door again, I swear, I will not show you the same mercy.”

Namjoon stammered, unable to form a coherent response. I could feel my strength waning, the red haze in my vision receding. Shiloh’s persistent shouts to come inside and let Taehyung handle things himself were drowned out by my determination. No one else was here to protect him if things turned violent, and I’d never forgive myself for leaving him exposed. I stood tall, though my stance was more relaxed now, my anger still simmering beneath the surface.

“We’re here to speak with Taehyung,” Hoseok pleaded. “We have no intention of fighting with you or him. Namjoon needs to deliver a message.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but Taehyung’s voice cut through the din. 

“I’m fine, Bridd,” he said, his tone calm but wary. He stayed behind me, peering cautiously at the intruders. “What’s the word?”

“Don’t be angry with me, cousin,” Namjoon began, stepping forward.

I instinctively moved to defend Taehyung, taking up a protective stance. Namjoon halted, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender while Hoseok stood beside him, and Jimin remained still, his gaze fixed on me with an unreadable expression. If I was thinking clearly, I might understand his wary posture, but in my agitated state, it only stung.

“I have challenged you,” Namjoon said, and all thoughts of Jimin vanished.

“Quare?” Taehyung’s voice was thick with disbelief and hurt. “What have I ever done to you?”

Namjoon’s expression softened, but I readied myself to protect Taehyung at all costs. No one was going to harm him—not while I had breath in my body. Sol was my friend, and I wouldn’t let anyone, especially not someone like Ahn, destroy their lives. I knew Namjoon well enough to anticipate his attempts to play both sides for peace, a trait I despised.

“So no one else would,” Namjoon said, trying to convince Taehyung. “We’re trying to buy time to come up with a plan. I swear, I have no intention of fighting you.”

“Putasne me stultum esse?” Taehyung hissed, his body radiating heat. “You’re trying to take Sol from me!”

Namjoon’s face went pale. I felt a surge of pride for Taehyung, agreeing with his rage. Namjoon’s arrogance, coupled with his obsession with Sol, made it hard to believe that the challenge was solely for Taehyung’s benefit. The other two wolves’ skeptical expressions confirmed my doubts.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Taehyung,” Namjoon pleaded, his agitation growing. “I mean what I say, even if you’re too dense to understand it.”

Taehyung growled, and I had to steady my racing heart. I needed to shield him inside. Namjoon could leave, and I would be exposed to the sun if he chose to exploit that. Still, I held my defensive posture. Taehyung was done talking, and both Hoseok and Namjoon waited for his next move.

Suddenly, Shiloh burst out of the house with a loud screech. The chaos unfolded in a flash. Shiloh lunged at Namjoon, who transformed into a wolf mid-air. Taehyung’s massive frame surged forward, and before I could react, I was thrust into the sunlight. My face slammed against the front steps, and the sun’s rays seared my back. Pain shot through my ankle as metal cut into my skin.

My skin felt like it was on fire. Screams erupted uncontrollably from my throat as I struggled to focus on Shiloh. I saw her turning towards me just as a large, russet wolf nudged her aside. Hands grabbed me, pulling me back inside. My body trembled with pain, my vision filled with white as I screamed. All around me, voices clashed, but the pain consumed me.

“Quid irrumabo facimus?” Hoseok shouted.

“Nescio,” Taehyung’s voice sounded choked with tears.

My eyes rolled back, the agony overwhelming my senses. The ceiling came into view as I raised a trembling hand. Black feathers had pierced through my skin, and I cried out in fresh distress.

“Recedite ab ea!” someone screamed, but the words were indistinguishable.

“Licuitne futura est?”

Something was happening nearby, but all I could focus on was the searing fire inside me. I knew the pain would eventually subside, but I needed something to help ease it. My mouth opened to speak, but only screams escaped.

“It burns,” I managed to grunt through the convulsions.

Hands touched me, but my vision blurred. Sleep was impossible, and my body was in its worst state yet. Between the ceremony, the magic use, and the sun exposure, I’d be out of commission for a week—or more.

“Move,” Shiloh’s voice cut through the chaos.

Through my half-opened eyes, I saw not an owl but a radiant woman standing before me. Her fiery hair shimmered like it was underwater, and her skin glowed with a diamond-like brilliance. She looked like an ethereal vision, and I reached out to her. Her tears sparkled as she gently touched my hand.

“Slêpte,” she whispered, her fingers brushing my arm.

A wave of relief washed over me, and I sighed deeply. I closed my eyes, curling up next to Shiloh. Exhaustion hit me all at once, and I could hear growls and frantic voices, but they were far away. Someone was crying, but I was too tired to identify who it was.

“I’m going to put you to bed,” the woman whispered softly. “Where you belong.”

When I finally dragged myself back to consciousness, the smell of cooking food was like a beacon in a fog of confusion. I was back in my bed, with memories of the night before slipping through my fingers like sand. Shiloh had been there in her spirit form—so ethereal, so beautiful I imagined her future self would be just as mesmerizing. With a groan, I forced myself upright, my body protesting with every movement. No one would harm Taehyung while I still drew breath, and I clung to the hope that he was safe and sound somewhere in my house.

Stumbling into the kitchen, I grabbed the door frame for support. The stove was ablaze, a pot bubbling away on top, filling the room with the rich, smoky aroma of applewood. The kitchen sparkled, cleaner than it had ever been, as if someone had swept away not just dirt but the very chaos of my life. The scent of lemon mingled with the sharp tang of onions, a strange comfort in the midst of this turmoil.

“You should be in bed.”

The voice, coming out of nowhere, made me jump. I whipped around to find Jimin sprawled in my recliner, looking unusually somber. Taehyung stood by the fireplace, his gaze fixed on me with a mix of concern and something else I couldn’t quite place. Hoseok and Namjoon were absent, and my heart sank at the lack of familiar presence.

“Where’s Shiloh?” I demanded, stumbling forward and clutching the kitchen island.

Taehyung was at my side in an instant, his touch gentle but insistent. “Please, don’t push yourself, Bridd,” he said softly, guiding me to the small loveseat.

Jimin, ever the thoughtful one, draped a blanket over me as if I were a child. He must have been busy while I slept, rummaging through my things. Glancing at my hands, I saw the feathers had been replaced by jagged scars, a cruel reminder of the price I’d paid. My heart sank at the sight, a pang of sorrow tightening in my chest. Jimin’s hand covered mine, offering a silent comfort.

“She stepped out for a while,” Jimin said, his voice rough, like he’d been yelling. 

I remembered my anger towards him and Namjoon, but now it seemed distant, irrelevant. Seeing Jimin’s weary face, I knew he’d been affected deeply by the events. He was no longer the faceless alpha from my anger-fueled memories but someone I felt genuine empathy for. Taehyung’s presence, however, still rankled. Namjoon’s arrogance had hurt him deeply, and no matter his intentions, the challenge he issued had only made things worse.

“Is everyone alright?” I asked, trying to focus on the present.

Jimin shrugged, “Everyone but you. Namjoon and I had a disagreement before he left, but he’ll be fine.”

I scowled at Jimin. “I don’t like the idea of you fighting.”

Jimin’s grin was faint but reassuring. “Don’t worry, amica. I won.”

“Doesn’t change my feelings.” I grumbled, turning to look at Taehyung. His face was a mask of confusion, his eyes betraying an inner turmoil. The fleeting glances he shot between Jimin and me hinted at a struggle to make sense of it all. He winked at me, and I looked away, wondering if he’d caught onto my feelings.

Was it possible he had seen more than I intended? I knew Taehyung was perceptive, his mischievous nature hiding a sharp awareness. But right now, I was too exhausted to dwell on it. Jimin’s presence was a balm to my troubled mind.

“If it’s alright with you, I’d like to stay here until Taehyung decides what to do,” Jimin said, surprising me.

“What for?�� I asked.

“I’m sorry for pushing you,” Taehyung interjected. “I didn’t realize you were so close, and I was overwhelmed.”

I shook my head, dismissing his apology. “It’s not your fault, Taehyung.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung scoffed. “You’re covered in scars because of my actions, and now my cousin is angry with all of us because of the fight. Hoseok said it’s best if we stay away from the village for a while. We can’t go back home.”

This news didn’t surprise me. I had no intention of letting Taehyung leave my cottage anytime soon, but Jimin’s exile was either a self-imposed punishment or Hoseok’s attempt to cool Namjoon’s temper. It made sense—challenging Taehyung was hardly a diplomatic move. 

Jimin suddenly produced a letter from his pocket, catching me off guard. “I found the letter your friend sent you.”

A spark of recognition flickered. “Wendy!” I exclaimed.

Jimin looked almost bashful, his discomfort evident. I tugged my arm free and hurried to my coat rack, desperate to retrieve the letter. But before I could make it, Taehyung’s arms encircled me.

“Taehyung, let me go,” I demanded, struggling against his hold.

“Sit. You’re hurt,” he pleaded, guiding me back to the sofa.

Frustrated, I bit his arm, causing him to yelp and release me. I landed on the floor with a thud, glaring up at him.

“This is ridiculous,” I complained. “You come into my home, rifle through my belongings, and now you won’t let me read my own letter? She’s my friend! If it’s important, I need to know.”

Jimin sighed, frustration etched into his features. “If you’d had a bit more patience, I could have handed it to you. It’s in my pocket.”

“If you’d just said that instead of staring at me like I’m an idiot—” I retorted, hobbling back to the sofa and grabbing the letter from his hands. “—I wouldn’t have gotten up.”

Jimin’s glare was sharp but silent. I settled into my spot, Taehyung’s weary gaze fixed on me. The need to apologize for my earlier actions was there, but I fought it. He had overstepped, and I had reacted. Still, the urge to make amends lingered.

The letter from Wendy was a balm to my troubled thoughts. Her words painted a picture of her own struggles, and as I read, my heart sank. She was thinking about not coming back hom after her sister’s wedding. She didn’t think Jin would take her back and that she had ruined his and Yoongi’s friendship. Shiloh must have gone to find her after reading the letter. I mentally thanked her and began to draft a reply.

Wendy, darling,

I’m relieved to hear from you. The events here in Bangtan have been tumultuous, and I’ve hardly had a moment to breathe. The ceremony has left me weary, and I hope you can help me unwind once you return. 

Forget the fools who have caused you distress. Remember the things that truly matter: your mother, the sisterhood, the coven, and the forest. No one else can tame a magindara or purify the sea like you. Don’t let trivial matters deter you from enjoying life. I’m thrilled about Nixie’s engagement and wish I could be there with her.

But life has charted a different course for both of us. I’m scared, Wendy—every day brings new fears—but I embrace it all, the sunshine, the flowers, the wind. As Aldara said, “Fear reminds us that we’re alive.” So, don’t give up just yet. Keep swimming and return home. Talk to Seokjin; he will understand. Yoongi holds no ill will. Release your fantasies and root yourself in reality.

We’ve all made mistakes, but we can mend our friendships if nothing else. If you truly wish to be with Jin, then go for it. He has long pursued you while you focused elsewhere. I want our circle whole again, with everyone finding their happiness. So go ahead. Even if I’m afraid, you need not be.

Missing you dearly,

B

I watched as the letter dried, my body easing into a more bearable state. With renewed energy, I rummaged for an envelope. Shiloh would usually handle sending things, but I was alone in this. Grabbing my ceremonial bag, I sifted through it until I found my meteor powder. Taking a deep breath, I began sketching Wendy’s face. My hand moved with practiced ease, though my heart pounded with anxiety. 

With a final incantation, I threw the powder onto the parchment. The paper vanished in an instant. I mumbled a hope that it reached her safely.

“That was so cool!” Taehyung’s voice broke my reverie.

I chuckled. “Not as cool as my own magic, but it will have to do. I can hardly feel anything in my body.”

Returning to the couch, I curled up beside Jimin. He looked worried, a sentiment I hadn’t expected from him. I had probably done more harm than good with my earlier actions, but for now, I would let it be. 

“She seemed upset,” Jimin said, his voice laced with concern. “I hadn’t realized your friends were involved in this way.”

I was taken aback by his empathy. “It’s been a thing since we were children. Don’t worry too much; she’ll come back, and they’ll figure it out.”

“Why aren’t they together now?” Taehyung asked.

“Because,” I sighed, “they don’t truly know what they want.”

Jimin served us a bowl of cabbage stew, plain but comforting. As I ate, I drifted into a restless sleep on the small couch, the unsettling dream I woke from fading as Jimin gently returned me to bed. I didn’t wake again until after sunset, finding solace in the quiet as the world outside continued its chaotic spin.

Taehyung was a surprising guest. He took care of the space, cleaned up after himself, and was generally a delight to have around. He was like a new breed of house guest, one who didn’t leave a trail of destruction in his wake. The supplies I had been sending to Foxglove had stopped—something Taehyung and Jimin didn't quite agree with, but that was their problem. They didn’t deserve my help if they were going to squander it. No one had come for anything lately, leading me to believe they were either boycotting my services or simply too intimidated by the presence of the wolves to make an appearance.

Wendy’s letter arrived the next morning, confirming she was on her way back. She’d even written to Jin, though I could only guess what she had said. Seokjin was notorious for spilling secrets, so I expected to hear all about it sooner or later.

I took a deep breath, opening my eyes to the sight of my altar. My magic had returned a few days ago, but I’d let it rest. Today was the first time I’d performed a ritual spell in days. I glanced over my shoulder, offering a soft smile to Jimin, who was napping on my sofa.

Our conversations since that night had been sparse, but Jimin was doing his best to help Taehyung devise a plan to win over the town. I thought it was a foolish endeavor, but I supported it nonetheless. Jimin’s reputation in the community was invaluable, and having him on Taehyung’s side significantly boosted his chances. I knew the pack missed both of them, and I hoped Namjoon would make an appearance soon. We had much to discuss, and I wanted to apologize for my loud outburst. No matter what anyone else said, I took much of the blame for that disastrous encounter.

“What’s a cah-dee-jo?” Taehyung’s voice cut through my thoughts, loud and inquisitive.

“A cadejo,” I corrected, rolling my eyes, “are spirits that guide worthy travelers.”

Taehyung raised an eyebrow. “And if they’re not worthy?”

“They’ll eat them,” I replied with an ease that bordered on nonchalance.

Taehyung had taken a keen interest in my books after discovering something I’d written about the magindara as a child. He devoured them so quickly that I found myself fetching more from the cellar just to keep up. Despite his naivety, Taehyung was a bright young man with an insatiable curiosity. He never settled for a single answer and listened with rapt attention.

“Why?” he asked.

“Why not?”

Taehyung fell silent, returning to his reading. I found myself growing fond of him, wishing he could go back home. The way his eyes lit up when he spoke of his siblings tugged at my heart. His parents must be in a constant state of worry.

After spending most of the morning sitting, I decided to make lunch. Shiloh was due back later that day. Wendy had mentioned that my familiar had arrived at her inn just before sending the letter, so I knew Shiloh was safe. Thinking about her stirred a mix of emotions in me. Exposing her spirit form was a dangerous risk, one I’d never have asked of her, but she had done it anyway.

I approached the kitchen window, whistling loudly as I began pulling out a pot and pan. Tomato soup seemed like the perfect choice, and I could whip up a quick loaf of bread to go with it. Moments later, Delinah appeared at my window. I glanced up from dicing onions, smiling at the deer.

“Morning, Dee,” I greeted.

She dipped her head. “Glad to see you up and about. You gave us all quite a scare.”

I hummed in response, tossing the onions into the pot along with three heads of garlic, some fresh herbs, and a splash of oil. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jimin stirring on the sofa.

“I’m as good as new,” I joked, using a spell to light the stove. “Would you mind fetching some tomatoes from Seokjin’s garden? I’d ask Shiloh, but she’s out of the forest for the day.”

“Where did she go?” Delinah asked, tugging the cloth tote from the windowsill with her mouth.

“Northorn,” I replied.

“Northorn? What’s so important in that dreadful place?”

I laughed, helping her secure the tote around her neck. Delinah nuzzled my hands, and I promised her carrots upon her return.

“To answer your question,” I said, returning to the counter, “Wendy’s trying to run away, so Shiloh’s bringing her back.”

Delinah laughed, “Oh, that Wendy Byrd. She’s a wild card, that one.”

“But we love her.”

Jimin got up as soon as Delinah left, and Taehyung remained engrossed in my book about magical beasts. I took over the task of roasting onions and garlic, letting them caramelize over the open flame. The tomatoes would soon follow. I could hear the two men conversing quietly, but I chose to ignore them. Privacy in this house was a rare luxury.

Delinah returned swiftly, and I sent her off with a bundle of carrots. After roasting the tomatoes, I used my pestle and mortar to blend everything into a smooth puree before adding it to the pot.

“Bridd,” Taehyung called out. “Can I get your opinion on something?”

I nodded. “Ask away.”

“I want to write a letter to Namjoon, but I’m unsure how he’d take it.”

I paused, contemplating. A letter might not help much. Ahn and his tricks made it unlikely that any letter would reach Namjoon. With people actively looking for him, showing his face might only stir up more trouble. Namjoon’s challenge was official, and only revoking it would end the conflict. I had faith in Taehyung’s ability to defend himself if necessary, though his reluctance to fight was apparent. Namjoon’s determination was formidable, but I doubted it would come to a lethal confrontation.

“I don’t think it would help much,” I said. “You know Ahn’s methods. A letter might not even get through.”

Taehyung sighed in defeat, and I felt a pang of sympathy. I understood his predicament all too well. I remembered Aldara’s lessons in defensive magic, though I had never been able to strike her. It wasn’t until that fateful night that I realized my potential for harm. I shuddered at the thought, wishing no one, especially Taehyung, had to face such a fate.

“I’m sorry it has to be this way,” I said, mixing the soup.

“Me too,” Taehyung replied.

We ate lunch in silence. Jimin was unusually quiet, his mind clearly occupied. Being away from his pack for three days must have been weighing on him. Wolves were creatures of family, and the silence must have been particularly hard for him.

Taehyung didn’t ask anything more after that. He spent the rest of the day sprawled on the floor by the fireplace, devouring book after book, while Jimin gazed out of the windows and scribbled in a journal. They stayed inside, avoiding the outdoors. I managed to complete a few chores, practice some new spells, and jot down notes in my grimoire. The atmosphere was stifling, and it wasn’t until Shiloh returned at sunset that the house stirred with activity.

In a flurry of feathers and screeches, the barn owl flew through my bedroom window, her voice echoing off the walls. I hastily threw my pen onto my grimoire, the black ink smearing across the pages in a ruinous streak. I didn’t care; Shiloh was back, and that was enough.

“Between those wolves and you witches,” she complained, “I’ll never catch a break.”

“Oh, Shiloh,” I cooed, opening my arms to her.

My familiar dove into my embrace, letting herself be fussed over. I petted her head, smoothing down her feathers. She leaned into my touches, and I couldn’t recall the last time I had smiled so broadly.

“You’re so strong and mighty, little one. I missed you dearly.”

She laughed, “I’m glad to see you up and moving again.”

“Where’s Wendy?” I asked, releasing her from my hug.

Shiloh flew into the kitchen, and I followed. She pecked at the leftover bread from lunch and took note of the wolves still lounging in the living room. She seemed pleased they were still there and gave a nod of approval to Taehyung. I chuckled at her antics.

“She’ll be back after her sister’s wedding.”

“Oh, wonderful!” I clapped my hands together in delight.

“Another pain in my ass,” Shiloh muttered.

And I laughed. I laughed and laughed and laughed.

Transformation was always an adjustment. Even now, after all this time, I still felt disoriented by the process. On Taehyung’s first night here, he nearly broke down my bedroom door in his panic to check on me. If Jimin hadn’t reassured him, I was sure Taehyung would have been deeply traumatized. Tonight was the fourth night, and Taehyung slept soundly through my night terrors. Shiloh had gone to bed early, leaving Jimin as the only one awake when I flew in through the kitchen window.

He wore the same clothes he had for days—something I had hand-washed twice but he refused to part with. I had made clothes for Taehyung, but Jimin’s

 rejection of them stung. I never brought it up again, simply washing and magically drying them. Tonight, Jimin had removed his usual long cape, his socks and shoes were missing, and his belt was nowhere to be seen. His hair fell loose, cascading to his waist, and a simple headband kept his bangs out of his eyes. He sat at the kitchen island, engrossed in whatever he was writing.

“Hello,” he greeted, offering a tired smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

He looked worn out, more so than usual, and Taehyung snored loudly on the floor, rolling over without a care. Jimin continued to scribble on the papers, unperturbed. I hopped closer and peered at the writing, recognizing the familiar scrawl.

It was the paper I had used during my visit a few weeks ago. Seeing it brought a wave of emotions, my heart swelling with affection. The fact that he had kept it, carried it around, left me breathless.

I’m feeling better.

Not if it’s something you like.

I love blueberries.

You did nothing wrong, Alpha. I promise.

“It brings me comfort,” Jimin whispered, his voice trembling in the dim moonlight. “Knowing that you’re out there.”

I turned toward him and saw the tears streaming down his face, illuminated by the pale, ethereal glow of the moon. For the first time since I’d known him, there was a clarity in my own heart. I fluttered my wings and landed softly in his lap, pressing my face against his stomach. The warmth within me radiated, and I could feel the tension in his body slowly dissolve.

He clutched me tightly, his sobs coming in ragged gasps. What sorrow gnawed at him, I wasn’t entirely sure, but it was clear it had something to do with the turmoil around us. I melted into his embrace, his openness a balm to my weary spirit. I found myself yearning for him to hold me as a lover would, but I pushed the thought aside. Greed felt like a bitter pill to swallow, especially when it came to the emotional exchange I saw before me.

“I don’t know what to do,” he whimpered, his voice breaking. “I understand them both, know that neither of them are happy with the way they left things, but I can’t do anything about it. I don’t want to leave Taehyung, but I don’t want to watch my friends tear each other apart over a misunderstanding.”

And oh, how angry I was with Namjoon, how much I wanted to slam him against a wall and scream until my lungs bled. But the truth was, I didn’t wish him dead. We were friends, after all, even if it was a strained, bloody friendship. The alpha allowed himself only two minutes of tears before he wiped his face and set me gently back on the island. He apologized profusely, his voice hoarse and filled with regret before he left the cottage, seeking the solace of the night.

I wanted to follow him, but I knew he needed his space. I glanced at the letter at my feet, feeling a shift in my resolve. What if a letter was considered offensive? They had beaten Taehyung senseless, exiled him, and made his family think he needed to be challenged to keep the pack in line. If a simple letter was the spark that ignited their fury, then I was ready to be the villain. I knew the chances of someone else intercepting Namjoon’s letter were high, but I had to try. I couldn’t bear to see Jimin’s tears again. 

Resolute, I gathered paper and ink, and began to write.

“Y/N,” Auntie whispered, her fingers tangling gently in my hair.

The sun was just a whisper on the horizon, the sky still a deep shade of purple. I struggled to pry my eyes open, moaning as I rubbed my face. Another yawn escaped me, my eyes fluttering shut once more.

Aldara chuckled softly, “Wake up, sleepyhead. Let’s make breakfast together.”

I shook my head, flipping over the pancake on the stove. In the dining room, Taehyung, Jimin, and the witches discussed the best fishing spots in Bangtan. Seokjin and Yoongi had dropped by unannounced, and while I was puzzled by their sudden visit, I assumed it had something to do with Wendy. Jin looked surprised by the presence of the wolves and asked to speak with me privately once breakfast was over. I heard Taehyung questioning whether vegan pancakes could taste good, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

I had adopted a vegetarian diet after Aldara passed. With the inability to leave my home, meat became a distant memory. Four years ago, after growing closer with the critters around me, I’d eliminated animal products entirely. It felt wrong to consume a creature I could have known.

“They’re not that different from ‘normal’ ones,” I explained, plating the fresh pancake. “I just use oat flour, bananas, and flaxseeds mixed with water. Everything else is the same.”

I could imagine Taehyung’s disgusted face, though it was hidden from view. His expressions of confusion, disgust, and anger were all shades of the same emotion. Yoongi laughed, and it brought a smile to my face. Yoongi and I shared similar lifestyle choices, though he indulged in fish with Seokjin from time to time.

“Why mix flaxseeds and water?” Taehyung asked, his bewilderment dripping from every word.

I handed him a plate, “It replaces the egg. You mix it with the banana and let it sit to thicken. A boy named Enver taught me. He lives in Moland and doesn’t have regular market access.”

Jimin’s curiosity perked up, “How do you get your supplies?”

“I go often,” Seokjin answered. “I always pick up things for Yoongi and Y/N when I go. Yoongi does the same.”

I nodded, “I have great friends.”

After breakfast, Yoongi invited Taehyung and Jimin for a walk in the forest. Taehyung’s newfound fascination with the local beings had piqued Yoongi’s interest, and he offered to show him a jackalope borough nearby. Jimin chose to join them to keep an eye on Taehyung. I could tell he was giving Seokjin and me the space to talk. As they left, I began clearing the dishes with Jin’s help.

We worked in silence, the rhythm of our tasks speaking volumes. Jin’s hesitation was palpable, a strange thing for someone so usually forthright. His mouth opened and closed as if he was trying to find the right words, but I remained patient. Wendy had a knack for throwing him off balance, and it was evident in his struggle to articulate his thoughts. 

Once the dishes were done, I wiped down the table and put away the toppings. Jin lingered, focusing on the dishes while I finished. Finally, he spoke, breaking the silence.

“Wendy wrote to me,” he said quietly.

I hummed, not quite ready to delve into the contents of her letter. Privacy was paramount, and I kept many things to myself. We were all too intertwined, and Wendy’s tendency to overshare made things complicated. Seokjin’s habit of spilling secrets didn’t help either. 

“She said she wants to be with me,” he continued.

I sighed, “How do you feel about that?”

He ran a hand through his hair, looking lost. “It’s… complicated.”

I perched on the kitchen island, nodding, “I’m sure I can keep up.”

“For as long as I’ve known her, I’ve liked her in some way,” Jin said, his voice tinged with regret. “She’s never really felt the same about me, at least not as much as I liked her.”

Wendy had always looked away, said one thing and done another, never fully opening her heart to Jin. She admitted liking him, but her gaze often wandered to Yoongi. Initially, I thought Seokjin was reading too much into it, but the pattern was clear. Wendy’s infatuation with Yoongi had always overshadowed her relationships with others, including Jin. 

“I knew she meant it when she said she liked me,” he said. “But how can I be sure she’s serious this time? She’s been away, hasn’t seen anyone in months, and now she says she’s in love with me. What happens when she sees Yoongi again? Will her feelings still hold?”

I felt a pang of sympathy for Seokjin. His heart was true, but his seclusion had left him vulnerable. The world outside Bangtan was vast and filled with possibilities. Telling him there were other options wouldn’t help, though. 

“I don’t want to get hurt again,” he whispered.

“I know,” I replied, holding him gently. “I wouldn’t want that either.”

“How can I trust her words?”

I shook my head, “I’ve always seen you two as stubborn. You care deeply, but the toxicity is unbearable. If you want to try, see what happens. Maybe her time away or seeing her sister’s wedding changed her. Think about what she said and how it resonates with your own feelings.”

“She said she loves me,” he murmured, a hint of relief in his voice. “She said that after talking to you, she felt more confident to speak to me. It was the first time I felt her apology was genuine.”

Silence enveloped us as Seokjin looked down, deep in thought. After a moment, he asked to borrow paper and a pen. I obliged, hoping for a resolution that would bring him some peace. 

He sent off his letter soon after. I resumed sweeping and planning the day, knowing I had to address the supply chain blockage to the sea coven. With Shiloh still recovering from her trip, I would need to wake her for the delivery. Seokjin agreed to write to Cordelia to see if anyone could pick up the supplies. 

In the rare moment of quiet, I could sense Seokjin’s anxiety. I feared the worst but gave him the space he needed. When he finally spoke, his voice cracked.

“I rejected her,” he said.

“Oh, Jinnie,” I cooed, embracing him. “That was a hard choice, but I’m proud of you. You did what was right for yourself.”

“I can’t do it again,” he sobbed. “I just can’t.”

I understood his pain. Wendy’s emotions would simmer, and I’d deal with her later. Seokjin had alluded to remaining friends, but I knew it was a fragile hope. The past had carved deep scars, and I wasn’t naïve enough to believe things could return to how they once were. Still, I hoped for growth and reconciliation, even if it seemed unlikely. 

“I know. I know,” I whispered, soothing him. “We’ll get through this.”

Seokjin clung to me, crying as if his heart would break.

For the next three days, Jimin and Taehyung began to drift further from the confines of the house, venturing into the outside world with an almost frantic urgency. I hadn't heard a word from Wendy or Seokjin, but Yoongi made sure to check in daily. He was obsessed with the idea that I might be facing another unexpected encounter with the wolves, a notion I couldn't entirely dismiss but was resolutely prepared for. It felt as if Hoseok was staying clear to maintain some uneasy peace, though Jimin hinted that he was trying to sway Namjoon. So far, that attempt had fizzled, with Namjoon remaining as grumpy and resentful as ever. Taehyung, on the other hand, was steeling himself for a potential clash, spending his evenings in intense sparring sessions with Jimin.

Shiloh's waking hours had been creeping earlier each day. It wasn't the ungodly hours I was accustomed to, but noon was a far cry from eleven at night. Taehyung and Jimin were still grappling with my late risings. My magic, potent yet taxing, was stretching my limits, and I could sense my body struggling to keep up. My childhood had taught me that magic was a draining force, especially defensive spells. The incident with Namjoon had thrown me off balance, making it difficult to regain my footing.

Aldara used to fret over my fainting spells after our lessons. She said it was unnatural for a witch to be so overwhelmed by their own power, but over the years, I’d come to understand that my magic was an endless well, ever-flowing and never entirely under my control. Unlike other witches, who could regulate their magic output, I was left perpetually vulnerable and weakened. The constant possession and lack of control were the harsh trade-offs of my power. Still, a small outburst no longer left me as depleted as it once did. The last time I’d fainted from magic was the night I discovered the cottage on fire.

As I thumbed through my grimoire, searching for the potion I’d made to reduce anxiety, frustration gnawed at me. Wendy was due back tomorrow, and Cordelia had asked if I could send some to Syrena. I’d only brewed this particular potion twice, and it was still too fresh in my memory for me to recall the exact details. Wendy’s luck would have it that I’d send a shifting potion instead of a mood stabilizer, but I trusted Griselda’s recipe.

My worry for Wendy was growing. Though it was normal to go weeks without communication, I feared she might be upset over the situation with Jin. She must have suspected we’d talked and perhaps thought I’d instructed him on what to do. Or worse, she might have convinced herself that Yoongi had something to do with it. Wendy had a tendency to skew reality, and while I empathized with her, I refused to choose sides between my friends. I loved and respected them both and wished desperately to extricate myself from this web of conflict. After all, Wendy was the one who’d divulged our conversation to Jin in the first place.

My search for the potion left me exasperated. The cluttered chaos of my notes and haphazard scrawl made me wish for a clean slate. Whoever would inherit this mess of a grimoire would need a Rosetta Stone just to decipher half of it. In frustration, I slammed the book shut and decided to write to Enver. He was the only witch I knew who might have such a potion on hand. Rolling the paper carefully, I chanted a spell I’d learned from Pippa’s grimoire and watched as the paper turned to ash and vanished.

Pippa was a true oddball, her methods unorthodox to the point of absurdity. Her spellbooks, filled with incomprehensible diagrams and bizarre ingredients, were a testament to her brilliance. Aldara had always teased me about my fascination with Pippa, calling me the next “nutcase” and mocking my own disorganized grimoire. Still, no one could deny Pippa’s talent. The spell I’d used was a favorite of mine—simple, minimal energy expenditure, and highly effective. I was grateful to be done with meteor powder, even if I had invented that one myself.

The front door slammed open, jolting me upright and sending my heart into a racing frenzy. For a split second, my vision swam in black and white, but I quickly regained my composure. I shot a venomous glare at Taehyung as he swaggered into the cottage, followed closely by Jimin, who offered a sheepish bow before entering.

“It’s such a beautiful day!” Taehyung announced, flopping onto the couch with a dramatic flourish.

My eye twitched.

“Try that again,” I said with icy detachment.

Taehyung’s confusion was palpable. Jimin stood in the doorway, an amused smirk playing on his lips. He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe, his gaze lingering on me. I struggled to keep my eyes from lingering on his toned back and refocused on Taehyung.

“Try what again?” Taehyung asked, genuinely bewildered.

“Walking into my house like a civilized person,” I retorted. “You act as if you’ve never been taught manners. First, you put your filthy, muddy boots on my counter, and now this? Thin ice, Tae. Thin ice.”

Taehyung scratched his head sheepishly and made the necessary adjustments, gently opening and closing the door. Satisfied, I hummed and returned to my grimoire, mentally cursing the disorganized mess it had become. I longed to slap the younger version of myself who had thought this system would work. Groaning, I stood up and decided to relocate my work to the cellar.

“What are you looking for?” Taehyung asked, his face lighting up with curiosity.

The wolf enjoyed accompanying me and peering over my shoulder, even if he barely understood the Latin script. Jimin hadn’t asked to join but I suspected his silence was his way of being considerate. I wished he would just speak up.

“I need to find a spell for a friend,” I said. “One I wrote when I was twelve. It’s hardly legible now, a testament to my childish carelessness.”

Taehyung laughed and followed me without hesitation. His curiosity was endearing, a stark contrast to Jimin’s restrained demeanor. I wondered about their own childhoods—Jimin had been brave and reserved when we first met, his innocence a distant memory now. Seeing him again, after all these years, was like rediscovering a forgotten chapter of my own life.

“May I join you?”

I paused and looked up at Jimin, who had already begun descending the stairs behind Taehyung. I nodded. The connection we had shared the other night was still fresh, unspoken but undeniable. Jimin’s presence felt like a gentle thawing of the ice that had previously encased him.

After lighting the sconces in the cellar, I found Taehyung curled up in a corner, absorbed in one of Aldara’s monster books. She had been a legend in her own right— the first to defeat a Quietus, the monster slayer of yore. Her stories had become folklore, tales of bravery and struggle. The book Taehyung was engrossed in was one of her own, a collection of short stories about her adventures.

“It’s bigger than I thought,” Jimin whispered.

“It grows whenever we need a new bookcase,” I replied.

Jimin didn’t press for more details, his restraint a byproduct of the alpha etiquette he’d been taught. Taehyung, however, was a novice in those lessons, having barely started them before his exile. I sighed, thinking of Namjoon and my unanswered letter.

“Who was the first Bridd?” Jimin asked.

I smiled as I recalled the tale. “Her name was Rosette.”

“How did this family tradition even start?” Taehyung asked, his voice tinged with genuine curiosity.

Settling into my small desk, I gestured for them to sit. I remembered Aldara’s stories vividly, her hands large and comforting as she spoke of Rosette, the legendary Bridd. Rosette was a figure of beauty and resilience, her story a foundation for our lineage.

“Rosette came from the Foxglove Village, a place once teeming with shifters. She was the daughter of a merchant, loved and admired by all. Life was harsh in Bangtan, but relatively peaceful until the Quietus stories began spreading south.”

Quietus, those ancient air elementals, were the first settlers of Lustra, driven out by the Sarkans over a millennium ago. The attack on Bangtan was retribution for not aiding them, though they had soon reclaimed their territory.

“After the Century War with Etelin, the Quietus were reduced to living in swamps, their numbers dwindling. The few that ventured into the forest were either vengeful survivors or driven mad by starvation.”

Jimin’s expression showed recognition, while Taehyung remained enraptured. I continued, my voice carrying the weight of history.

“These creatures were unknown to the shifters, whose people had only arrived in Lustra after their island was destroyed. Their treaties were new, their numbers sparse. They had no knowledge of the siege until their village was ablaze.”

“The Quietus queen, Nerezza, had lost her youngest child to the Sarkan invasion. Her grief drove her to attack, wrongly believing the Reikans were complicit. In truth, the Reikans were skittish, lacking the courage for true conflict.”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” Taehyung interrupted, defensive of his ancestors.

“Yes,” I said, “your ancestors were strong, surviving the loss of their homeland and finding refuge here. But the Reikans were different, their settlers blending into your cultures, while the Quietus were formidable. Only one emerged as significant.”

“Rosette,” Jimin murmured.

“Yes, Rosette. A beautiful girl, her blonde hair and green eyes striking. She was a bird shifter in love with a fox. At just sixteen, she and a few others escaped the village’s destruction. Rosette, familiar with military strategies, directed them to safety.”

“She found herself in this very clearing, calling to the gods for aid. Despite the blizzard, she was enveloped in warmth. The gods offered her help in exchange for a solemn promise. She vowed to protect her sister’s life and, in return, her bloodline would become guardians of the forest.”

“And that’s when we lost our freedom,” I continued. “She woke up in this cottage, chained and imbued with new magic. After a century of solitude, she was given Jordana. We’re assigned a pupil and have sixteen years to train them before our transition to the spirit world.”

“Why can’t you shift freely, then?” Taehyung asked, curiosity piqued. Jimin smacked his arm, but I waved off the gesture.

No harm in asking.

“Our transformations are tied to the cycles of the sun and moon. The gods have a special fondness for watching us dance across the skies, like wayward comets caught in their eternal dance. We’re fortunate we managed to keep that part of ourselves as part of the bargain. Magic and shifting? They’re practically myths beyond these woods.”

Taehyung’s eyes glinted with curiosity. “Is it the same for real werewolves? The sun and moon stuff?”

I let out a laugh, sharp and dismissive. “No, silly. Werewolves are shackled to the full moon. Their first transformation turns them into mindless beasts. They’re as good as dead within three months. Nothing like what you and I are.”

Taehyung seemed mollified by this explanation. He often referred to himself as a werewolf, much to Jimin’s annoyance. I understood why Jimin would bristle at that. Real werewolves were born into their condition, their bloodlines ancient and unbroken. Werewolves, on the other hand, were made, not born, and their kind was dwindling in the Ozryn Mountains, starved out and hunted down. The last outbreak had been decades ago, swiftly contained by the dwarves of Idris.

When the story ended, Taehyung returned to his reverie with Aldara’s book, and I resumed my fruitless search for that infuriating potion. I hadn’t heard back from Enver; his response times were always abysmal.

Jimin wandered the cellar, tracing the spines of the books. The sheer volume was staggering. Aldara had penned over forty grimoires in her lifetime, each a testament to her expertise in defensive magic. Rosette had authored 120, Jordana had 205, and Griselda held the record with 223. I could hardly fathom such productivity. I’d managed only three grimoires so far, and was plodding along on a fourth. My youthful exuberance for magic seemed a distant memory now, replaced by a more somber approach. Overwhelmed by self-doubt, I decided to take a break.

“Your aunt was pretty amazing,” Taehyung remarked.

“Yeah, she was,” I replied, the word "was" hanging in the air like a specter.

As the evening darkened, we had spent hours in the cellar. Jimin skimmed through books with the quiet diligence of a scholar, while Taehyung absorbed stories from Aldara’s collection. I flipped through Pippa’s spell books, making small talk with Taehyung. His constant chatter was a refreshing distraction from the oppressive silence of the house.

Taehyung had gone up for a nap over an hour ago, leaving Jimin and me alone. He was huddled over a book, his brow furrowed in concentration, his tongue sticking out slightly. I couldn’t help but steal glances at him, though he remained silent about my furtive glances. It was a rare sight to see him so relaxed, so unguarded. Shiloh had mentioned she was visiting Morla to update her on Wendy’s situation. Mumbling to myself, I let the pen and ink I’d brought down write in my spell book. Sometimes it was easier to let magic handle the tedious parts.

Amid the grimoires and dusty tomes, I made notes of potential experiments. They might not be as thrilling as Pippa’s wild concoctions or as direct as Griselda’s precise spells, but they were my own. I was rediscovering the joy of magic, a pleasure Aldara would have appreciated.

“Bridd?” Jimin’s voice broke the silence, soft and inviting.

I looked up, noticing how his hair caught the candlelight, turning dark gray with stray wisps floating around. I wanted to smooth them down, but restrained myself. Jimin’s expression was a carefully maintained mask, a necessity for someone in his position. Yet, I glimpsed a fleeting smile, a rare crack in his stoic facade.

“Why don’t you have anything here?” he asked.

“Everything I own is upstairs,” I answered. “It’s too much trouble to haul it all down here every time I need to work.”

He chuckled. “So, you do have a diary?”

I flushed. “All of us do. It’s the best way to keep track for our successors.”

I wouldn’t let him read mine. It was filled with thoughts I’d long preferred to forget. During my more turbulent years, I’d penned five separate volumes of angst and sorrow. The idea of anyone reading them—especially Jimin—was mortifying. They were raw, unfiltered, a record of my darkest fears and desires. Thankfully, they had gone unnoticed until now.

“Yours must be very interesting,” Jimin mused.

I shook my head. “Not really. Mostly just teenage angst. Nothing worth reading.”

I tried to sound convincing, but Jimin’s probing gaze made me uneasy. I began tidying up, stacking grimoires, knowing it was nearing sunset. I needed to get back to my room soon.

As I turned, Jimin’s arms encircled my waist, surprising me. My heart leaped into my throat. He was so close I could count the freckles on his nose, see the length of his eyelashes, feel his warm, heavy scent envelop me. His proximity was overwhelming. I gripped the desk, struggling to speak.

“Jimin?” I managed, my voice trembling.

“Can I tell you something?” he whispered, his breath warm against my ear.

Our bodies pressed together, his hands behind my back, though his grip remained on the table. I glanced at his hands, one resting on the other. Shaking with nervous energy, I forced myself to meet his gaze.

“Can I?” His eyes were as dark and intense as a stormy night.

A shiver crawled up my spine. I nodded, breath catching in my throat. Jimin’s smile was tender, almost ethereal.

“I enjoy your company.”

I could only manage another nod, my heart pounding, my throat dry. Jimin’s face inched closer to mine. I held my breath, searching for meaning in his eyes. This was not the man who had been absorbed in reading moments before. This was something different, something potent and unsettling.

“I like being close to you. Is that alright?”

“Yes,” I whispered, barely audible.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, his breath barely brushing my lips.

I knew I should have resisted, should have acknowledged the impossibility of our situation. Our lives were too tangled, our paths too divergent. He had a mate somewhere, and he’d forget me soon. Yet, despite all that, I shook my head.

“No.”

The kiss was unlike anything I’d ever known. Jimin’s lips were warm and insistent, igniting a fire within me. The heat was searing, electrifying, igniting every nerve ending. I clung to him, his embrace all-consuming. Everything I had feared, everything I had regretted, melted away. It didn’t matter anymore. Jimin was here, and he was mine.

When he finally pulled away, his gaze was soft, full of warmth and care. He nuzzled into my hairline, his touch a balm against the chaos. 

“Thank you,” he whispered.

I was dazed but managed to nod. As if drawn by an invisible force, I sought his lips again. Jimin’s hands cradled my face, pulling me closer. Any gentleness evaporated when my tongue brushed his bottom lip. A low growl rumbled from him as he hungrily explored my mouth. His grip tightened, his leg gently prying mine apart, lifting me onto the desk. My fingers dug into his shirt.

A sudden chill shot through me, yanking me out of the haze of passion. I pulled away, and Jimin stepped back, understanding dawning in his eyes. I choked out a “go” and stood up from the desk. The first feather burst through my skin as Jimin fled the cellar, leaving me alone with my searing heart and the cold void of my own fear.

Translations:

Swîgian âstillian. - Be quiet.

Hwæt−hwugu ðrîstian êow? - How dare you?

Sê ðafian êower m¯ægð teohhian êower weorðfulnes? - Who do you people think you are?

Yfel am sorig. - I am so sorry.

Thither is êower hygd? - Where is your mind?

Belāda mē - Sorry.

Quare? - Why?

Putasne me stultum esse? - Do you think I'm stupid?

Sol a me auferre conaris! - You are trying to take Sol from me!

Quid irrumabo facimus? - What the fuck do we do?

Nescio. - I don’t know.

Recedite ab ea! - Get away from her!

Licuitne futura est? - Is she going to be alright?

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