#which is of course werewolf in a parking garage

[libraryleopard]

Looking at reviews for My Animal I see that a lot of people expected it to be more of a horror movie and yeah the werewolf elements are actually kind of light so if you were expecting gnarly transformations and blood you’d be disappointed but as an allegory for small-town lesbian isolation I personally really liked it.

Butch lesbian werewolfism…figure skater/hockey player romance…very neon and synthy…in some ways it’s Love Lies Bleeding’s lycanthropic sister…

[fangirlingfromdownunder]

Finding Comfort in Trust

Summary - Part 55 in the Comfort series

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Reader, Reader x Sam (platonic), Reader x Bobby (father-figure), Andre (OG Character) x Reader (best friends), Garth x Bess, Sam x Eileen

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

A/N: Hey guys, Late again and no chapter last week…Sorry. Been a bit going on, but I’m trying to get back into the swing of things. I hope you enjoy this week’s chapter anyway. I love you guys. 

You park in the Bunker’s garage and shut off the engine. You look over your shoulder at Dean and Destiny and smile. 

“You okay?” you mouth to your husband. He nods. “Take her to our room. I’ll chat to Sam and then give Bobby a call.”

You get out and then open the back door for Dean. He carefully gets out, trying his best not to disturb the little girl drifting off in his arms. You peck his cheek and hers as he passes you. You close and lock the car and garage before following him out into the Bunker. You watch Dean disappear into your shared room as you turn to go into the library. Sam’s eyes widen as he sees you standing in the doorway with your arms crossed over your chest. 

He looks between you and the lady sitting across from him, who you assume must be Eileen, before finally gesturing for you to come in. “Eileen, this is my brother’s wife, Y/N,” he says being careful to enunciate every word for her to read his lips fully. 

You smile and nod at her. “Nice to meet you. I’m so sorry, I promised I wouldn’t disturb your night, but I need to steal Sam away for just a second.”

Sam shakes his head without moving to stand up. “What’s going on?”

You smile at Eileen as she bows her head and focuses on the book in front of her. “We think there may be other hunters in town. I’m not sure what they’re hunting if they are, but we may have accidentally put a target on Destiny. She made a friend at the park, but I think she may have been a hunter’s daughter. Which seemed great at first, until we remembered that to many our little girl is a monster.”

“Did she tell you her parents are hunters?”

“Not exactly. It’s just a gut feeling Dean has. She said they travel a lot because of her parents’ work and are often left home alone. Would you have been able to sniff out a werewolf at five or six?”

“I was eight when Dean finally told me the truth about our lives. So, not at six. But Dean’s life was different, I think he might’ve. So it depends what this girl’s life is like.”

“She said she has an older sister. So, we’re, I’m hoping she’s more like you. Innocent and oblivious for now. I love Destiny, Sam. I promised I’d keep her safe. And Dean and I bought a house. We’re getting out. But…”

“Bobby knows way more hunters than we do, especially the family types.”

“Yeah, he’s my next call.”

“Where’s Dean? He’s not out hunting hunters is he?”

“No, he’s got a more important job right now. He’s confined to the bedroom, 'cause I know he’ll go all papa bear out there if I let him. But I just need to be sure first. I think we’ve managed to keep it all pretty quiet so far but if gets out there that we’re protecting a werewolf…”

Out of instinct, Eileen looks up briefly just catching the last word on your lips. “Werewolf? Where?” she asks.

You look at Sam pleadingly.

“You trust me? I want to let you in on this, but I have to know I can trust you and you’ll trust me. This isn’t a hunt.”

“What’s going on, Sam?” She asks.

He looks up at you for permission. You look at Eileen sceptically and shake your head.

Sam nods and then looks at Eileen and reaches across the table for her hand. “I’m sorry, Eileen. This is a family issue.”

“I understand.”

You look at Eileen and sigh. “You’re like us, right? You don’t have any family left? But if you did you would protect them with everything you have, right?”

She nods. “Of course.”

“Dean and I, our daughter is a werewolf.”

“She got turned? I’m so sorry.”

You decide not to correct her yet. “She’s still our daughter and we have to protect her. She’s not a monster. She’s raised on animal hearts from the butcher. In every other way, she’s a normal little girl. She’s our little girl and we have to protect her. I’m trusting you to keep this to yourself. This information doesn’t leave the Bunker. But if you know of any other hunters in town right now who may be trying to hunt her I need you to tell me.”

“I hunt alone. Or I did before I met Sam. I’m sorry, I don’t know. I didn’t know there was anything to hunt here.”

“Thanks. I hope Dean’s wrong and we’re panicking for nothing. Can you guys please just check and keep me posted?”

Sam and Eileen both nod. “Of course.”

You nod. “I’m gonna call Bobby.”

You walk into the kitchen and pull out your phone as you lean against the cold metal counter. You dial Bobby’s number and hold your phone up to your ear as you listen to the dial tones.

“Hey Kiddo, what’s going on?”

“Do you know of any hunters in Lebanon?”

“Besides you guys?”

“Obviously.”

“Everyone hunter worth their salt knows the Winchesters own Lebanon. They wouldn’t dare take on a hunt there unless they had a death wish. You obviously think there are other hunters there though.”

“Dean does. He’s got me paranoid.”

“How did I get from transferring half my savings across for you to buy a house to searching for other hunters in your area?”

“It all started the same…Protecting your granddaughter.”

“Y/N…Alright. I’ll make some calls.”

“Be subtle. If she doesn’t have a target on her already, don’t you dare go lining up the crosshairs.”

“Have a little faith, would you? I’ll talk to you later.”

“Thanks, Bobby.”

After hanging up you make two PB&Js and take them along with a glass of water into your bedroom. You find Dean flicking through the channels with Destiny snuggled into his side fast asleep. You smile and he mutes the TV. You take a seat on the bed beside them.

“So?”

“Eileen seems nice. I had a chat with her and Sam about it. They said they’ll do some research and Bobby said he’ll look into it. But so far, I think we might be wrong and overreacting.”

“I hope so.”

“You were brought up a hunter…would you have known at her age?”

“Probably not. It was too brief. Even I wasn’t that good at that age.”

“Sam said the same thing. Even I was older when I started hunting, but the signs aren’t obvious and she hides it well.”

“Yeah…But I still think we hold off on moving out for a little while. Just until we’re sure.”

“Yep…”

“I’m sorry, Sweetheart. I should’ve…”

“Don’t go there. None of this is your fault. You were finally getting wrapped up in being a dad. You never have to apologise for loving that little girl and being happy. That’s exactly what I want.”

He gives you a small lopsided smile and nods, showing he accepts your words but is still blaming himself, but before you can say anything else he changes the subject. “That dinner?” he asks nodding at the plate on your lap.

“Yeah, sorry it’s not much. I don’t have much of an appetite and I didn’t feel like cooking.”

“You make it?” he asks and you nod. “Then it’s perfect.” He gently lifts Destiny so she’s lying flat on the bed between you and then sits up. You hand him one of the sandwiches.

Before you take a bite you watch him and smile softly. “I love you, Dean.”

He lifts an eyebrow at you, but once he finishes chewing he says, “I love you too.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Tag list: (Leave a like or comment on this post or let me know below if you want to be added to the tag list for this series)

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[neonravengames]

Do you have any physical descriptions of the ROs?

Yes! Thank you for reminding me. I might try to make a height chart later. I don't really do face claims or things like that, but I can try to find something if folks prefer them. If you have any questions, please let me know!

For Lunarflatts we have:

Clare

Clare stands out with her vibrant neon pink hair. She’s mixed while D’Nato is not, and has warm brown skin without any major scars. In her human form, Clare is short (I havent settled on a firm height, probably 5’3” or less, maybe 5 even), often looking up at the others around her, but in her hybrid werewolf form, she towers over humans. She embraces a punk style, complete with leather jackets, ripped jeans, and combat boots, effortlessly blending attitude with power. Her hybrid form is a towering, two-legged wolf with inhumanly long limbs with wicked claws and digitigrade legs. In this form her face, hands, and feet are comparatively hairless next to the thick brown fur (with pink tips, of course) that grows everywhere else.

Lex

Tall and thin but well-muscled, Lex cuts an imposing figure with her blonde hair and tanned skin from her work as a Park Ranger. Her body tells a story of survival, with numerous scars marking her from past battles and lessons. Lex’s features are sharp, and her blue eyes are always calculating, scanning her surroundings for the next threat. In her wolf form, she is lean with long legs, a slightly longer muzzle than the rest of the pack, and a red coat. She’s one of the largest wolves in the pack, second only to Dante, with an air of command and control that keeps the pack feeling secure.

D’Nato

Standing over six feet tall , D'Nato is broad and muscular, matching Lex in height (He’s just a hair shorter than Lex and it drives him mad) but built with a bulkier frame. His short black hair is often messy from long hours in the garage, and his striking green eyes seem to always be glaring at whatever he looks at. He has many small scars that crisscross along his pale, calloused hands. There’s a quiet intensity about him that comes from years of harboring resentment, and his presence often feels heavier because of it. While he doesn’t have a wolf form like the rest of the pack, his powerful build and enhanced physical strength make him stand out amongst regular humans.

Citran

Citran is physically imposing, with a large frame that stands out even among the pack. Despite their size, they move carefully, constantly trying to make themselves seem smaller. They tend to shrink away, preferring to observe rather than engage. Citran has soft, soulful green eyes often hidden behind their shaggy ash-blonde hair. In wolf form, Citran is similarly large, with a dusty grey coat and red eyes that mark them as a Speeker.

Naomi

Naomi is a delicate figure, with brown hair (which has grown out into a short bob since her arrival) and gentle brown eyes that seem to always carry a trace of worry. Her frame is slender and wispy, and she carries herself with a certain softness, though the freckles that dust her face give her an air of understated charm. Her pregnancy, hidden for months due to her thin frame now shows clearly in her later term, adding a new vulnerability to her appearance. In wolf form, Naomi’s size surprises—she’s the third largest in the pack, with deep brown fur and huge golden eyes along with a thick frame that belies the softness she projects in her human form. Human sightings of her wolf form often mistake her for a bear.

Lake

Lake is pale, with delicate, almost frail features that suggest they don’t quite belong in the rugged wilderness of Lunarflatts. Their skin has a porcelain-like quality, and they appear slim with an elegance to their movements. They often keep their pale hair tied back and out of the way. Despite their slight frame, Lake’s gentle presence and calm demeanor make them seem approachable, though there’s something about their amber eyes that puts people on edge.

[memelover1024]

The Original Hunter Part 1

Supernatural/TVD/TO

Mini Series

Sam WinchesterxMikaelson!Reader

Elijah MikaelsonxReader

1500 Words

AN- this is a sort of AU where the originals never left New Orleans and Klaus and Elijah are the official kings of the vampire species, they are only in Mystic Falls for Elena and the hybrid curse. Klaus only has Finn daggered at the time this series is taking place. Also in this Katherine and Elijah were a couple in the 1500s not Katherine and Klaus.

I pulled my cruiser into the garage of the Bunker, and parked it next to the Impala. I grabbed my backpack and made sure the cooler at the bottom was closed and hidden, and walked inside. When I walked into the library and saw my boyfriend Sam at the table looking for a case. When he heard me walking in he looked up at me and smiled.

“Hey babe,”  he said before turning his attention back to whatever was on his laptop.

“Hey, i'm just gonna put this stuff in my office then i'll come help you,” i said to him and then turned down halfway to my office. When I reached the door I pulled out my key and unlocked the door. I walked in and locked it again behind me. When I first moved into the bunker the first thing I did was get a room all to myself that the boys wouldn't go in. At first they were suspicious as to what I had in there, but over time they ceased to care. They have grown to learn that I like my privacy. Privacy isn't a problem for me though, it was that I didn't want them to know what I am. After I locked the door I went and put my keys and backpack on my desk and dug the cooler out from the bottom. I looked behind me at the door to double check it was locked before I opened it. I grabbed a blood bag and drank it.  I was so hungry. I had ran out of blood bags 3 days ago and I hadn't had any time to visit my dealer in town to get more since we were on a hunt. A vampire, how ironic. It was a different type of vampire of course but still similar. The vampire the boys and I hunt are a larger and more cruel species of vampire. Notice, I didn't say dangerous. My species is a thousand times more powerful than them but we have humanity ––most of the time–– they do not. They were created by Eve to be a better version of us, but they are only  feral weak leeches. My species was created by my ex mother-in-law Ester. Yes, I said mother in law. I used to be married to Elijah, one of the kings of our species. I always loved Elijah, I probably always will but it took him a while to learn to love me. We were an arranged marriage, me as the richest young unmarried lady in the village and him as the best fighter in the village, other than his father, and the son of a powerful witch. I was ecstatic about the match, but he was too busy with my younger sister Tatia to notice me.i was pretty, i'll admit that. But tatia was the most beautiful in the village, every man wanted her, even before her husband died. Elijah and his brother always fought over her, while I was there just waiting for him to notice me. He was furious at first about the marriage, he didn't want to marry anyone but Tatia. On our wedding night was the first time he even gave me a second glance. I never cared though, I always saw him and I always loved him. After Tatia died and we were turned into vampires he began to love me. Life on the run will do that to you. We were happy for 500 years and I thought that it would last forever. It didn't. All because of Tatia, or her doppelganger. They’re the same to me, they had the same face, they both took him from me. I was pulled out of my thoughts by a knock on the door. I jumped to hide the blood  bag but then remembered the locked door.

“What?” i asked.

“Come on, Sams found us a case,” Dean called through the door and then his footsteps faded down the hall. I zipped up the cooler with the rest of the blood bag and put them in the mini-fridge which was locked with an electric lock. I grabbed my keys from the desk and made my way to the library. Dean was standing over Sam's shoulder looking at the computer.

“What did we get?” I asked, sitting on Sam's lap and looking at the computer. I read the headline of the newspaper clipping and my heart stopped.

I took a deep breath and regained my composure.

“Looks like a werewolf, only one. So?” I asked, trying to steer them away.

“So?” Dean said confused, “what do you mean so?”

“There are only two victims in a place with many wild animals, there's no evidence, and it's five states away. It says the marks match a mountain lion, this is most likely nothing guys, and it's far away, there's probably another hunter already on it.” I told them my tone was calm, but my soul was desperate.

“I hear you babe and your probably right but i have a feeling about this one, i don't know, but i think we have to go,”

Sam said. I nodded, I couldn't fight anymore without raising suspicion.

“We leave in an hour,” Dean said, making his way back to his room.

I watched from the back of the impala as the Welcome to Mystic Falls sign whizzed passed me as we drove down the road towards my old home. I was so engrossed in the memories of my past that I didn't notice Sam looking back at me.

“You know this place don't you. Y/N?” Sam asked me, a concerned visage. I looked back up at him and sighed.

“Yeah, um, I used to live here,” I whispered silently, still staring out the window. Sam looked  back ahead at the road, knowling i didn't wish to speak about it. The clocktower in the center of the small town came into view, slowly growing larger and larger, as if to taunt me and my fear to face my torments.

We pulled up in front of the mystic grill and Sam Dean and I got out of the impala. We walked in and I looked around. No familiar faces, that's good. I'd heard Niklaus had come home in order to break his curse. I was happy for him, but that didn't mean I had any interest in seeing him any time soon. We walked up the bar and I ordered a whiskey and the boys ordered beer. We sat there for a bit and chatted about the case when I heard a voice from behind me and a smile grew on my face.

“Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in, finally decided to come home?” I turned and threw myself into Kols arms. Klaus had daggered him several years before I left, he'd told us that he'd never wake him. I thought I'd never see my brother again, thank god i was wrong.

“I never thought I'd see you again,”  I told him, still clutching to his jacket.

“Sorry to disappoint,” he laughed back. We stood there for a few moments before we heard someone clear their throat behind us. I slightly let go of Kol and turned to find Sam and Dean looking inquisitively at me.

“Come to dinner tonight at the house, we can catch up, all of us together.” Kol told me.

“I don't know, i dont want your cook making a whole feast just for  my return and I don't want to intrude.” i told him

“Nonsense, this dinners been planned for a while, and i'm setting a place for you so you best come,”

“Alright i'll come, but nothing extravagant for my sake okay, i pointed a finger at him.

“No promises,” he laughed. I rolled my eyes at him. He kissed me on the cheek and made his way out of the restaurant. I smiled after him, so happy to see him again. Maybe this visit would be so bad after all. I mean anything was possible with Kol.

“Who was that?” Sam asked me, jealousy obvious in his voice. I laughed at his protectiveness.

“That was my brother,” I told them, still smiling widely. They gave me a shocked look. I had never told them about my past or my family. I guess they just assumed that my family was dead and that it was too painful. They never knew I had a brother. And they were probably wondering what else I was hiding.

[acearchivist359]

Castiel Winchester

I couldn’t get the idea of Cas being asked what his last name was and not having an answer and Dean supplying that his last name is Winchester out of my head so I wrote it. This is entirely gratuitous and self serving but hey why not?

I also posted it on ao3 with a more dramatic title: human and home

     Dean and Cas were in the kitchen when Dean got the call. The radio was playing and Dean was making dinner. Though Castiel didn't enjoy food anymore since his grace returned, he loved watching the care with which Dean prepared it, even though he appeared to spend a lot of time distracted by his music. Sometimes Cas would eat the food anyway just to see the proud smile on Dean's face when he assured him that it was good, though Castiel was mostly guessing. The call was from another hunter, someone from one of Sam and Dean's old hunts, inviting them to a different old hunters funeral. Dean, of course, agreed. He felt obligated, having hunted with the deceased a few times back in the day, at least that's what he told Castiel. Besides, he was offered beer, burgers and pie. Castiel had quickly learned that was a surefire way to get Dean to agree to anything. Dean went back to cooking, telling Cas some old hunting stories since they were on his mind. Occasionally Dean would pause to sing along to a few lines of the song before picking back up where he left off. When Sam joined them in the kitchen, he echoed Dean's sentiment of obligation and agreed that they should go. The drive would take around 24 hours, but Dean had never protested an excuse to take his "baby" out for a long drive. Castiel sat with the boys through their dinner, accepting the food and beer Dean offered him without protest. They talked about who they thought would go to the funeral, and filled Cas in on more stories. Castiel wondered what he would do in the Winchester's absence, assuming the invitation extended to the brothers only.

  Cas had long since grown used to spending his time with Sam and Dean. He no longer felt the need to spend any time in heaven, especially with it being in disarray, and he hadn't for a long time. Any time Castiel was alone was usually off searching for some thing to stop yet another apocalypse or to help the Winchesters. It was strange for Castiel to be alone in the bunker. The Winchester's presence was a sentient thing. The sound of the boys bickering over lore books, or Dean’s laugh from the kitchen, or the music he played in his room, filled the halls of the old bunker with life. Castiel could feel their presence whenever he was there. The bunker felt hollow when the brothers were gone and all Castiel was left with were the old ghosts of the Men of Letters.

  The boy's went off to pack, knowing they'd be staying at least one night in a "crap motel" as Dean called it, and Castiel wandered off in to the library. He scanned through the shelves of books, looking for something to occupy himself with while the boys were gone. He debated picking up an angel book, often finding himself amused by pointing out the inaccuracies. He placed the book back down though when he realized that was only fun when Dean was there to laugh while writing in Castiel's revisions with his messy handwriting. Castiel decided on a book about wendigos, remembering a story Dean told him once where they worked a wendigo case. Castiel settled down at the table to read and wait for the Winchesters to return.

  “Dude what are you doing?” Dean asked, peeking his head in through the library door. Castiel had been mentally debating if he thought the wendigo book would last him the whole time the boys were gone or if he should choose another. Maybe he'd watch a show Dean recommended on the Netflix.

  “I’m going to read, Dean,” Cas said, opening his book, “I thought you were leaving.”

  “Yeah, we're waiting on you,” Dean said, “Let’s go.” He nodded towards the garage, smiling at Cas.

  “I wasn’t aware I was invited.” Castiel didn’t look up from his book.

  “Dude of course you're invited,” Dean chuckled, coming into the library “Me and Sammy aren’t gonna leave you here by yourself.” He walked over to stand in front of Castiel. “You can be my plus one.” Dean patted Cas’ arm, smiling at him. Castiel, disarmed by Dean's smile, barely noticed Dean taking the book from his hands until he was halfway to the library door.

  “Dean,” Cas sighed, “I was reading that.” He was already halfway out of his seat.

  “Read it in the car!” Dean called back to him from the hallway, laughing. Castiel sighed, exasperatedly, but followed Dean anyway.

  Castiel was glad for the invitation in the end. Sitting in the back seat, listening to the Winchester brothers bicker over the radio was much better than being in the bunker alone. Castiel knew in the back of his mind that his home had never been heaven or the bunker, his home was this. These two boys arguing and laughing, whether in their car or the bunker or some crap motel.

  Eventually Sam decided he wanted to sleep, so Castiel traded places with him to sit in the front with Dean. Cas watched Dean out of the corner of his eye while he sang along quietly along with his radio. Every so often Dean would make a comment about one of the songs to Cas, telling him about which band was playing, the songs Mary had loved or John had played often. Castiel listened intently to both Dean and the music, taking in all the details. He enjoyed hearing Dean’s stories, the way his face softened when he spoke of his early childhood. Dean was softer in the car at night than he'd been while cooking dinner. He'd pulled a sweater on over his flannel at some point while driving, he'd left it unzipped but pulled the sleeves down to his hands. Sometimes Dean would look over at Cas and smile softly at him in the glow of the streetlights. Castiel couldn't figure out exactly what that meant.

  Cas watched the relaxed way Dean drove in the early golden light of the sunrise. His elbow propped up on the window, the way his body angled slightly towards the inside of the car. He was resting his head on his left hand. He looked tired but content. Sam woke up when the sun had fully risen and their moment was over, but Castiel was quite at piece with listening to the boys bicker again. Every hour or so, Dean would send Cas an amused glance, raising his eyebrows, before he saying something to purposefully rile Sam up again. Castiel would shake his head at him, but it only made Dean more amused.

  When they finally arrived at the other hunters house, Dean parked the car and they walked up to the house. There were cars parked in various spots up and down the street, most of them old, some looking rather beat up. Clearly none of them were as well loved as Dean's. Castiel lingered behind Sam and Dean as the hunter opened the door. Castiel could clearly see he was a hunter, given he was wearing the lumberjack style clothes Castiel had come to understand was not just particular to Sam and Dean but all hunters. As Sam greeted the man, Dean glanced back at Cas and saw him standing there with his hands by his sides, looking out of place. Dean rolled his eyes and pulled Cas through the door with him.

  "Cas, this is Daniel.” Dean patted Daniel on the shoulder before turning to put his jacket down. “Me and Sam helped him out with a werewolf case… what was it? 6 years ago?”

  “Sounds about right?” Daniel said, shrugging. Dean, having put his coat down, did the winking finger gun thing he always did. Cas noticed he did that a lot.

  "This is Castiel, our resident angel," Dean gestured to Cas, "the real deal, you know, wings… harp." Castiel glared at Dean but returned Daniel's handshake when he stuck his hand out. Castiel had been around since the beginning of that gesture, but he never did understand what the purpose of it was, only that it was polite. 

  Sam and Dean, despite their preference for being around only people they considered family, seemed to be largely enjoying the gathering. Castiel hung behind, standing off against the wall behind where Dean was sitting. He felt entirely out of place among all these hunters, despite having been on a great number of hunts with the Winchester brothers over the years. He could tell countless hunting tales but that would never make him one of them. Dean, however, told lots of stories. Sometimes Sam chimed in to correct him when Dean was making himself seem cooler. Dean was laughing merrily and drinking his beer. Every so often he’d prompt Cas for his input on a story, which Castiel would gladly supply him with. Dean would chuckle at Cas' monotone comments and Cas would smile a little.

  At one point Dean made another comment about Cas having a harp, which made Cas sigh. “Dean,” he deadpanned, but that only made Dean laugh harder. Castiel sighed again and went off into the kitchen to get himself another beer. Dean's was nearly empty, so it only made sense to get another for him as well. It didn’t do much for him in the way of intoxication as it did for the hunters, but it helped him feel more like he fit in. In the kitchen, there was a woman Cas had yet to meet.

  “Hello,” Cas said, clearing his throat. He’d learning in his early days with the Winchesters that people didn’t like being startled when he appeared. The woman turned around to look at him and Cas waved awkwardly.

  “Hi,” the woman smiled, “Did you need another beer?” she asked, noticing the bottle in Cas’ hand.

  “Uh, yes,” Cas responded before adding, “Please. And one for my friend.”

  She handed Cas the two bottles, opening one which Cas assumed was meant for him, but made no move to exit the kitchen so Castiel stayed, leaning against the counter behind him. It was something he'd seen Dean do in the kitchen of the bunker. “You’re new here,” The woman commented, studying Cas with her arms crossed, "I've never seen you before."

  Cas nodded, awkwardly. He knew hunters tended to be wary of people that they didn’t know so he supplied, “I'm Castiel.” He took an awkward sip from his bottle, for something to do.

  “Sarah,” she returned, "Daniel’s wife." Sarah stuck her hand out to shake, like her husband did. Castiel returned the favour. "Did you know Aiden well?"

  Castiel assumed Aiden was the first name of the hunter who had died, Dean had referred to him as something else, so he shook his head, "No." This only made Sarah look at him oddly so he continued with, "My friends spoke of him very highly though. He seemed like an excellent hunter."

  “Sorry you said it was Castiel? Just the one name?” Cas nodded, "So do you just like the one name thing? Like Beyoncé?" Castiel didn't think she was insulting him, but he thought there was something off about the way she laughed. He realized belatedly that she must have assumed he was some sort of undercover monster.

  "I don't have one, you see-" Castiel started at the same time a voice chimed in with, “It’s Winchester.”

  Cas turned to see Dean standing behind him, he hadn't heard him come through the doorway. "Castiel Winchester." He pointed at Cas as he repeated the name. Castiel blinked at him in confusion. Dean walked over and leaned on the counter next to Cas. He looked at Cas and gestured to the unopened bottle in his hand, "That for me?" Castiel held the bottle out to him. Dean caught his eye and smiled, opening his beer. He clinked his bottle against the one in Castiel’s hand before taking a sip. Castiel smiled down at his bottle as Sarah looked back and forth between the two of them. Dean started to make small talk with her.

  There was something about the feeling of being included so naturally as part of Sam and Dean's family, that made Castiel feel very warm and content. He liked the proud way Dean had added his last name to Castiel's singular one. He had had one singular name for centuries, in all his time of being an angel he had only ever been Castiel. Then he had met Dean Winchester. When Dean nicknamed him Cas, it was the closest Castiel had ever come to being human. After all that time, the wars he'd fought and won for heaven, all his angelic triumphs, being called a Winchester by the righteous man was the highest honour Castiel had ever received. He very much enjoyed being Castiel Winchester. It made him feel human and home all at once.

  “C’mon Cas,” Dean chuckled softly, wrapping an arm around Castiel's shoulder and bringing him with him, “or I’m gonna convince everyone you really have a harp.”

  “Dean,” Cas sighed, but it didn't have any irritation to it. Dean laughed loudly as Castiel walked with him out of the kitchen, still smiling to himself.

[d3-iseefire]

Nevermore Chapter Seven

Arkenstone boasted a monster sized parking garage set behind the main complex, and that fact alone nearly had Bilba turning around and going home right then and there. She hated parking garages, and an isolated parking garage late at night was nothing short of a nightmare. 

It was only when she recalled the image of an injured werewolf prince facing off against a creep to protect her that she gritted her teeth, steeled herself, and drove in.

Drove in down a steep ramp, which meant the first level was underground.

Of course it was.  

She spotted an entrance to the mall, marked with white lettering and signs, and parked as close to it as she could get. This late at night, there was only a smattering of cars and her footsteps seemed to echo like rifle shots as she hurried toward the metal door. 

The ground floor where she entered, was the mall itself, wide corridors lined with shops of all kinds on both sides. Quite a few were shuttered but with Arkenstone being a 24 hour venue just as many were still open. Down the center of the tiled corridor were still more booths, boasting everything from jewelry to candy to exotic foods and more. 

As she passed a storefront featuring cinnamon rolls, Bilba was surprised to hear her stomach rumble. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d looked at something fun like that and actually felt hungry. She ate because she had to, not usually because she wanted to. 

She spotted a large map of the mall on a nearby wall and headed toward it to make sure she knew where she was going. The lounge/restaurant/thingy for which the entire complex was named was on the top floor. According to the map, she needed a bank of elevators on the exact opposite side of the mall from where she’d entered. 

Figured.

She walked quickly toward that end, eyes fixed on the floor in front of her and arms wrapped tightly around her torso. There weren’t very many people out this late, not on this floor anyway, but it still made her uncomfortable. She didn’t like being in public. It was too easy for Lotho, or one of his lackeys, to hide in a crowd and watch her without her knowing. She could walk back out to her car and find them waiting, or get dragged into a dark corner the second she let her guard down. 

The elevators came into view and she rushed to push the button to summon the car. When it opened the entire inside appeared to be polished quartz panels with gold trim and a marble floor. Bilba stepped in hesitantly, and the doors slid shut soundlessly behind her. 

She hit the button that had an ornate A under it, and pressed back into a corner of the car. She felt the drop in her stomach signaling the car had started to move and tried to force herself to relax. 

She didn’t do well in enclosed spaces anymore. Things like elevators, public restrooms, anywhere with only one way in or out. Places where she lost the ability to control when, how, or if, she exited. 

The button she’d pushed went dark and, with a quiet ding, the door slid smoothly open onto the most opulent, and extravagant lounge Bilba had ever seen. The far side featured massive panes of window glass stretching from the floor to the ceiling. She’d never noticed windows from the front of the building, which meant they must boast a spectacular view of the hills and far off mountains that lay behind the complex. 

During the day at least. Currently, they were simply black rectangles, and served to remind her of the risk she was taking being out this late. Her eyes caught on doors at the bottom of several panes and, for a brief second, she let herself imagine sitting at a table out there, sipping on a drink and reading a book. Nothing but a beautiful landscape, and the rustle of leaves on nearby trees. 

It must be peaceful. 

She pulled her mind from that particular fantasy, and focused on the rest of the room. It was massive, and just...overwhelming to be perfectly honest. Chandeliers and marble and quartz sparkled from seemingly every corner. The place seemed to be a hybrid more than a true lounge, complete with a small dance floor and what looked like a full service kitchen. There were areas with couches and televisions, other spaces with expensive, leather covered booths, and still more sections that looked designed to just let people sit and talk. 

A massive, winding staircase led up to a balcony style second level while, on the main level, she could see several raised portions that appeared to be private seating. There was quiet music playing over the entire room, almost drowning out the quiet clink of silverware, soft noise from a few television sets and the low drone of chattering voices. 

Wringing the hem of her shirt in her hands, Bilba stepped hesitantly out of the elevator. It was fine. She’d just...go in and...do..something. She didn’t expect to see the prince himself but maybe she could...talk to someone or...or maybe…

Her thoughts trailed off as her eyes, moving over the room, landed on a small, sectioned off part of the floor elevated about ten or so feet above the main floor. It was in the back, and shadowed, consisting of a single table with a group of people seated at it. 

The one that drew her attention was a young woman with a veritable mane of flaming, scarlet hair but, next to her, was a young, dark haired man, sitting in profile so all she could see was the side of his face 

Bilba fumbled out her phone and quickly recalled the search she’d done that had given her the prince’s name. The picture popped up and she studied it before looking up again to try and compare it to the young man at the table. 

When she did, she nearly dropped her phone because the young man in question was definitely the prince, and he was currently staring directly at her. 

The entire table was, in fact, and not just them. She could still hear the music, and the televisions, but the chatter had died down entirely. Everywhere she looked she saw eyes, all staring directly at her. 

This had been a mistake. Such a massive mistake. Bilba shuffled backward, her hands dragging on her shirt hem. What had she been thinking? She didn’t belong here. She had to leave. Just leave. 

She whirled around, and bit back a shriek as she nearly ran into a massive man suddenly standing directly behind her. He was like one of those guys she saw sometimes in weight lifting competitions. He was bald on the top of his head, but instead of trying to hide it he’d chosen to simply tattoo his scalp. 

“Can I help you?” his voice was gravely, almost a growl that sent a chill up her spine. He crossed his arms over his chest, causing his muscles to bulge in a way that probably led to a lot of burst seams in his suit jackets and dress shirts. 

Bilba shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “I thought this area was public access.”

“It is,” he said flatly. “Can I help you?”

Bilba hesitated. She forced herself to let go of her shirt before she put a hole in it, and turned to glance back toward the table on that small, raised level. 

It was empty. 

Empty, and everyone else in the room was still staring at her. 

“Um--” Bilba turned back toward the enormous man, half turned again to the now empty table and came to the unescapable realization that she’d made a horrific mistake. Again. “I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I made a mistake. I need to go.”

She edged slowly around the man, toward the elevator. He turned, following her movements but, to her surprise, didn’t attempt to stop her. 

Bilba got on the elevator and fumbled for the buttons, finally finding the one for the bottom floor and rapidly pushed it. The door slid closed, and she collapsed against the wall. She felt like she’d run a marathon and slowly allowed herself to slide down the wall into a crouch. 

What had she been thinking? He was a prince. Of course she couldn’t just march over and talk to him. The fact he’d even been there to begin with had been a massive shock. 

She shoved a hand through her hair, and flinched as it caught on a few knots and pulled painfully. . 

“Now what?” she whispered. She still had a mostly unconscious werewolf prince in her bed, and was no closer to finding him help. Maybe the pain medication would somehow get him to wake up enough to give her a phone number? 

She let out a groan, wrapped her arms around her legs and dropped her head on her knees. This was exhausting...she was exhausted. She had work in the morning and then she’d need to ready the house for when, not if, Lotho showed up and then a million other things that she did to keep herself from having to stop and think too much. 

She didn’t have time for any of this. 

Guilt hit her. Fili had been there for her when she’d needed him, and here she was begrudging the fact that he needed her to return the favor?

She really was just a terrible person, wasn’t she?

The elevator slowed to a stop on the ground floor and she pushed to her feet as the door dinged and slid open, to an almost entirely empty level. 

Bilba hesitated. There had been people earlier, hadn’t there? Not many, but some.

She stepped out slowly, almost peeking out before taking the risk of fully committing to leaving the elevator car. Maybe it was just this area that was empty and, as soon as she got off, she’d see --

Emptiness.

The whole floor, in both directions, and there was no distant sound to suggest anyone was out of eyesight either. Bilba suppressed a chill. Just relax. She was making a mountain out of a molehill. It was late, and there hadn’t been a lot of people to begin with. A movie had probably just started, or perhaps something in the underground entertainment complex had just opened. This was probably perfectly normal, she just didn’t know because she’d never come before. 

She began walking, probably faster than absolutely necessary...except for the fact that it certainly felt absolutely necessary. 

She passed by an open storefront and glanced inside, only for it to appear as empty as the rest of the floor. It was a clothing store, she chided herself, and it was late. There was probably only one person working and they were just in the back. Same with the next store...and the next...and the one after that. 

By the fourth seemingly empty store, Bilba’s walk was just under a jog. She kept her eyes fixed on her feet, and tried her best to listen for any sort of sound over the quiet music blaring over the loudspeakers. 

It couldn’t be Lotho. He didn’t have the kind of...whatever it was that would be needed to empty out the floor, especially of employees who were paid to be there. 

She wanted to go back to the house. She never should have come here. It had been a mistake, one in a long list of mistakes she seemed to forever be making throughout the course of her life. 

The door to the parking garage beckoned and she hurried toward it, feeling only a light modicum of relief as she pushed out into the darkened complex. 

It was eerily quiet. No sounds of other cars, or people coming or going, not even the noise of traffic outside. She headed toward her car, mind instinctively going to every horror movie she’d ever seen that involved a woman walking alone at night. 

She was both surprised and relieved to make it to her car, and even more so when she looked in and saw the backseat was empty. For a brief moment in time, it felt like the universe was giving her a break. A second of fortune in a flood of misfortune. She felt almost normal, for a second.

And then she slid her key into the ignition, turned it...and the engine refused to turn over. 

Bilba’s heart jolted and she tensed. She turned the key again, and mentally prayed as the engine tried, and failed, to turn over. 

“Oh, you have to be kidding me,” she breathed. She turned the key again, and again after that, only to hear the same sounds of a motor struggling, and failing, to catch. She released the key, and sank back in the seat, silence draping over her like a shroud. 

Bilba closed her eyes, and let out a breath. Okay, she told herself. It was going to be fine. Just let it be for a minute, then turn the key again and --

Someone knocked on the window next to her. 

Bilba shrieked and jumped so hard she hit her head against the roof of her car. 

Outside the car, the man who’d startled her gave her a guilty look. He was probably a decade or two older than her, tall and fit with shoulder length, ash-blonde hair and a close shaven beard. He gave her a friendly grin, which did nothing at all to ease Bilba’s anxiety. She forced a smile and gave what she hoped passed for a friendly wave, hoping he’d get the message and leave. 

Instead, he leaned in closer, hands shoved in the pockets of the leather jacket he wore. “Car trouble?” 

His voice was muffled by the glass and, with a sense of dread, Bilba turned the ignition key just enough to allow her to roll the window down part way. “A little. I’m sure it’s fine though, sometimes it just takes a minute or two to warm up.”

“Why don’t  you pop the hood and I’ll take a look?”

Bilba bit back the desire to ask him if he was a mechanic and would therefore have any clue as to what he was doing.. “I’m sure it’s fine. I can just call a tow truck.”

“Not from in here you can’t.” He pointed at the thick concrete over their head. “Come on, I can at least walk you inside if you’re looking for cell service.”

And then what, Bilba thought. He could be just genuinely trying to help, or he could be one of those types that helped with the expectation of being repaid somehow. Usually, they expected a date or something along those lines, and then proceeded to get aggressive or angry when, instead, they simply received gratitude. 

The man clearly had no intention of leaving, which left her with few options. She could stay in her car and risk him getting angry, or she could get out to try and find cell service and hope he’d leave her alone once they were back inside and surrounded by people. 

The image of the empty floor came to mind and the sense of dread increased. This entire endeavor had been a terrible idea. If only she could rewind time until she was back in the rental house. She’d still have a sick werewolf prince to deal with, but at least she wouldn’t be stuck in her current situation. 

She opened the door. The man moved back a few steps and Bilba carefully got out. She pulled her purse strap over her head to wear it crossbody and clutched it as if it were a lifeline. 

The man grinned broadly. “Great, let’s go.”

He made no attempt to introduce himself, and Bilba didn’t want to create a false sense of intimacy by asking. Instead she hunched her shoulders and walked quickly back toward the mall entrance. She tried to outpace him, but his size advantage allowed him to keep up with her easily. 

She reached the door, grabbed the handle, and pulled. 

It didn’t budge. 

“Damn,” the man’s voice came from directly behind her. “I didn’t realize how late it was. They must have closed already.”

“Closed?” Bilba turned, only to realize she was now caught between the man in front of her and the door behind her. “I thought it was a 24 hour venue.”

“It is,” the man agreed. “But the mall still locks down at a certain point. If you’re already in Arkenstone, or down in Ered Luin you’re fine but, if you leave, you can’t come back until the mall reopens and if you’re outside when the mall closes--” His words trailed off, and he shrugged. 

“Oh.” Bilba gripped her purse strap with both hands again and tugged on it anxiously. Now what? “I -- um --” she turned away from him, and spotted the sloped pavement she’d driven down to enter the garage. “I’ll need to go outside, I guess, to get a signal.”

She gave him a hesitant smile, and started toward the exit. Behind her, his footsteps followed and Bilba quickened her pace in response. It was just as dark outside as it was in, but at least it’d be more open, right? More people around, hopefully. He wasn’t Lotho, so no one else should be in danger. 

About a dozen feet ahead of her, a shadow shifted and Bilba bit back a gasp as a stranger stepped into view from behind a pillar. As he took several steps closer, the shadows fell away to reveal the tattooed man from the lounge. He stopped several feet away from her, crossed his arms and then just...stood there. 

Movement came from her other side and a second man stepped into view and took up a matching position. This man was older with a strong build and salt and pepper hair. A thick scar ran from the center of his forehead down through his right eye, leaving it a milky, dull white. 

A low, guttural growl echoed through the garage and Bilba’s blood froze in her veins. 

At the top of the ramp leading out of the garage, an enormous, coal black wolf appeared. It was smaller than Fili with a slimmer build but was no less massive. 

It lowered its head and let out another growl, lips curling back to reveal vicious looking, curved fangs. 

Bilba bit back a whimper as a vivid image of those teeth ripping into her flashed through her mind. The wolf took a step forward, and she instinctively backed up, only to run into someone who lightly grabbed her upper arms to steady her.  

She’d completely forgotten about the man who’d originally spoken to her at her car. He was looking past her at the wolf with a flat expression. 

 It, meanwhile, was still approaching. Bilba tried to move, unsure of where she was going to go but just wanting to go somewhere else, only to have the man behind her tighten his grip to hold her in place. 

The wolf moved into a darker section of the garage where the lights set in the ceiling didn’t reach. The shadows themselves seemed to shift and, when they released him, it was a man who strode out instead of a wolf. 

And not just any man bit the dark haired prince whose picture had come up when she’d searched the name Kili online. In those images the man had been smiling and carefree. He was anything but now. His body was wound as tight as a bow string, and the look in his eyes was hard enough to strike her dead on the spot if they held the power. 

He strode right up to her, towering over her and, when he spoke, it was as if he’d carried the wolf over into his voice. “You have ten seconds to tell me where the hell my brother is, and why you’re soaked in his blood. Start talking.”

Continue Reading on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27298015/chapters/66695635

[drumboydowoon]

Woof Woof | Stray Kids Au

Chapter One / Misunderstandings in Kinkshaming

Werewolf!Chan au

Warnings / swearing, kink and sex mention, this isn’t smut I promise, mature themes

Words / 4k+

---------

Working at the convenience corner store wasn’t the most ideal place to be, but what else is a broke college student to do? So the only thing you can do is suck it up and deal with another unpleasant night of boredom. 

Nothing exciting happened, only what you would expect to happen in an almost unknown store. The customers would avoid any kind of small talk, so they could get out of there and on with their lives. 

There were a few exceptions, however. Every once in a while, some drunk or other douche waltzed into the store for more booze and a phone number from the very unlucky cashier, which happened to be you. Of course, you’ve had to tell them off and from time to time, threatened to call management if they continued to harass you. Adventures in working the evening to night shift were always a joy. 

The only highlight of your night was when two of your favorite idiots walked in. Suddenly the room lit up and it became a party. A very sad pity party of three. 

Once they’ve come through the sliding doors, the sensors ring throughout the building. You greet them with a small smile and wave of your hand. Jisung was the first to wave back happily (and a little too enthusiastically). Minho stuck with something more simple and opted for a quick glance and smile of his own. 

Usually they only come in for snacks and other “boy’s night in” necessities. But every once in a while, they come for some things that are very… odd. At least for college boys that never go out and do anything. It seemed normal at first, but the more it happened, the more you began to question it.

Each month, the two of them would stride in and grab one of the carrying baskets. Completely normal. Watching them head straight for the freezer section and then proceed to struggle to pack their basket full of meat was a little weird, though. Afterwards, Minho strayed away from Jisung to come back with some cheap doggy bowls, which you didn’t even know you had in stock. And to bring their shopping trip to a conclusion, they both came to the cash register by slamming two cases of water bottles onto the counter, along with their basket that’s nearly overfilled.

“Doing weird shit again tonight, boys?” you ask as you begin the long process of scanning their seemingly endless items. 

Jisung chuckles and scratches the nape of his neck, “Well, you know how grandma is… She just always craves a good steak and gallons of water to wash it down,” he answers with his smart ass attitude. 

“Alright, little red riding hood. Make sure you tell ‘grandma’ hello for me, or should I say the big bad wolf?,” there’s a sarcastic tone in your voice, but you end with a small laugh anyways. 

Every time you dared to ask what they were doing with these things, they managed to come up with some ridiculous answer (or excuse) that somehow amused you. Of course it would only increase your curiosity about what they were actually up to every one day in the month, though. You can only wait for the day that they finally tell you what they're doing. 

Jisung momentarily chokes, “I-I’m sorry wolf--?”

Minho elbows the side of his friend and clears his own throat, “That’s just some silly fairy tale,” he rolls his eyes, “Jisung just has some really weird relatives,” he jokes. His voice is a little darker than before, “Trust me, you don’t want to meet them.” A shudder is sent down your spine. Sure his words seem lighthearted, but something in his tone makes you believe that he really means it. 

Jisung nods and agrees, “Yeah, my family’s just-- Hey, wait!”, he cuts himself off as he realizes he’s being insulted. Laughing at the both of them, you finish scanning the rest of their things and ring up their total.

Minho glares at Jisung, then looks back to you. Minho pulls out his wallet and hands over the amount that was due while his murderous intent was still focused on his poor Jisung. You wondered what he could’ve done wrong to earn the wrath of the older boy, but it’s best you don’t interfere. After that, he quickly gathers the heavy plastic bags and makes Jisung carry the water cases. 

“We have to get going now,” he announces just when he’s about to start walking away. But Minho pauses for a moment in thought. He takes a few steps back and glances at you with a coy smile, “Hey, do you maybe want to hang out sometime soon?” he asks.

The request catches you off guard at first. Mr. brooding and quiet, actually asking you to hang out? Unheard of. “Uhm… sure,” you respond a little awkwardly and unsure. It’s not like you didn’t want to, you’re just surprised is all. Not only that, it was also strange since you’re literally going to see him and everyone else later tonight. 

Jisung snorts loudly as Minho shyly averts his gaze (most likely internalizing the cringe). “Okay, nice… ” Minho blurted out before rushing out with a laughing Jisung in tow, who was sure to face the death penalty as soon as they were out of eyesight. Poor poor Jisung. 

“See you later!” you call out to them, but the sliding glass door already slid closed by the time you were able to fully get your words out. Sighing deeply, you shrug your shoulders in indifference. They’ll see you later at the house. Then maybe you can ask about their activities and what was up with the weird farewell. 

For now, all you can do is wait for the time to pass by and pray you don’t lose your mind. 

--------

By the time your shift ended, the sun was already going down. Letting out a long tired breath of air, you look at the time and wonder if you should really stop by Felix’s, or if you should go back to the dorms and give him the notes he missed in the morning. 

You silently debated in your head as you grabbed your backpack from the break room and proceeded to head out to the back of the building, where your bike was locked up. One thought, two thoughts, three thoughts...

It’s decided a moment later that you would ride over to Felix’s place. It’s not like you had anything better to do on a Friday night, anyways. It wasn’t ideal to pedal all the way to the house considering that he and his friend’s live quite a distance away. But if you’re lucky (and if he values your friendship) he’ll let you stay the night. And in the morning, perhaps he can convince his oldest roommate to drive you home. 

After unlocking your bike, you begin riding off towards Felix’s house. Before you took off, you texted him, telling him that you were on your way, but he never responded. Maybe he was doing something at the time, which isn't a big deal. He knows that you’re coming over anyways. 

Even if he doesn’t answer, one of his roommates is bound to be home. He lives with three other guys that hardly ever go out. Jisung and Minho moved into the almost mansion sized house at the beginning of the year. One day, out of the blue, they decided not to live in the student housing anymore. Instead, they wanted to live with Felix and their sugar daddy, Chan, who lets them stay by barely paying for anything. 

Chan is the oldest roommate, who you’re the least close with and hardly know whatsoever. He’s also the owner of the house they all live in. He’s nice enough, but you’ve only spoken with him a handful of times. Sometimes it feels like he avoids you, but you try not to let it bother you too much. You have the other three boys to keep you company when you’re over.

You didn’t even realize that you were lost in your thoughts at first. It’s just that the bike ride was taking so long, that you had nothing better to do. Pedaling for over an hour was exhausting, but since you’ve done it nearly everyday, you were used to it by now.

Before long, you could see the gates that lead to the property the house is on. Each time you saw the fenced off private property, you couldn’t help but be in awe of it. In short, the area is huge. So huge that you can’t even see the house yet because you still have to go through their forested front yard that was a mile long, before you actually reached the house. How anyone could afford such a massive place that was also gorgeous, was beyond you. 

It took a couple of minutes until you finally made it to the house’s driveway. The first thing you can recognize is Chan’s beat up car sadly parked in front of the garage. Then your gaze drifts to the unidentified motorcycle sitting next to the van. As you can recall, no one here owned a two wheel vehicle, except for Felix’s red bicycle that’s been thrown haphazardly thrown into the bushes. 

After walking up to the door, you knock, then wait… then wait… and wait some more.  You knock again, this time louder.... There’s still no response. It’s a little strange. Clearly someone’s in the house. Everyone looks like their home and there’s lights on.

Sighing, you tap your foot impatiently. Finally you decide to look in the flower pot that sat alone next to the door. There the spare house key was found, that was supposed to be used in emergencies. This isn’t necessarily an emergency, but if no one’s home and Felix made you ride your bike all the way to Nowhereville, then you’re going to be seriously pissed off. In that case, you’re leaving a very harshly worded note. 

As you unlock the door and enter the house, you notice that it’s eerily dark in the front room, which is unusual since the boys are almost always still awake lazing around on the couches. You quietly click the door shut and slowly move through the unlit room and towards the stairs where the lit up bedrooms were.

About to walk up the stairs, you’re stopped in your tracks as you begin to hear a strange noise. At first, you think you hear someone, who sounds almost exactly like Minho, telling someone, who also sounds almost exactly like Jisung, to shut up very loudly.

Following shortly after, there’s something that sounds somewhat like a rumbling, or perhaps it’s a growl. You’re pretty sure the boys don’t own any pets. It must be the darkness and the quiet messing with your mind. Maybe it’s the boys and they’re playing video games or something. 

It sounds like the voices are coming from the basement, so you step down from the stairs you were previously about to walk up, and head to the basement door by the kitchen. Once the door opens, you take one step down and call out, “Hello? Anyone home?” Then you take another step down and the staircase creaks along with it. 

It must have caught someone’s attention because in an instant there’s shoes thudding hastily towards you. Soon the familiar head of lightly dyed orange hair belonging to none other than Han Jisung, rounds the corner of the staircase. As soon as his eyes lock on you from below, he’s jumping in surprise. His face is pale and his forehead is covered in sweat, so his hair looks messily matted. Your heart beats a little faster at the sight. Him looking scared for some unknown reason, was making your own anxiety peek around the corner.

Jisung’s sudden appearance makes you pause and stare at him. Before you could even say a word or take another step forward, Jisung rushes up to you, making you flinch back at the unexpected movement. His arms spread out to either side of the walls to completely block you off. 

Out of breath, he chuckles nervously, “H-hey there, Y/n! When did you get here??” his voice is jittery. It’s suspicious. 

You furrow your brows at his behavior. “Hey..? Just got here… Is everything okay down there?” you ask, trying to find a way past him. There’s worry lacing itself into your words. Something doesn’t seem right. 

Jisung’s voice cracks, “Yeah, everything’s fine here! Why wouldn’t it be?” He’s too quick to answer. His gaze keeps wandering from you and hastily down the stairs, even though you can’t see anything from here.

“Jisung...” you warn in a stern voice. It’s clear that he’s hiding something from you. He’s not exactly the best at lying, unfortunately for him. 

“Y/n…” he says back in a mocking tone that makes you frown at him.

Then another odd sound resounds in the room and up the stairs. Even when listening closely, it’s difficult to precisely make out what it is. It almost sounds like a person, but it almost doesn’t at the same time. The noise is deep and rumbling, like before when you first heard it in the front room. 

The gutturaling shoots a strange sense throughout your body. Suddenly your chest pounds more than when you first entered. There’s unease going through your mind. You wonder if it’s actually a good idea to go downstairs. But then there’s a throaty whimper that follows shortly after, which affirms your determination to see what it is making the noise. 

“Alright let me through,” you demand, trying to push past Jisung, however each time you try to advance, he moves to block you from going any further. You scoff at his childish behavior, “It sounds like someone is hurt. Get out of my way.” 

“I can’t let you do that,” he struggles to say as he tries to fight against you. 

“Get out of the way,” you repeat, attempting to pull his arms down and out of the way. 

“No!”

Finally, you overpower him and push his arms out of your way. Roughly, you shove past him. You descend down the steps quickly before Jisung can make another effort to stop you. 

Jisung hurriedly follows after you. Alas, his attempts proved fruitless when he realized that you already reached the bottom of the stairs before he could get to you. Though he couldn’t stop you from getting past him, he could try to save your innocent eyes before it was too late as a last effort. 

Seconds before you can even glimpse at the scene, Jisung hurries to cover your vision with his hands. Like when he tried to stop you from going downstairs, he failed to keep your eyes covered for long. Immediately you shrug his hold off of you and give him a disappointing frown.

Once you’re able to see what’s in front of you, it takes you a couple of moments to fully process it. After blinking once, then twice, you almost wished that Jisung still was protecting your vision. This was just flat out disturbing. 

First there’s Felix to the left, then Chan to the right. A little further away, sat a long dark haired boy that you couldn’t identify yet. Metal chains wrapped around their wrists and connected to the concrete wall behind them. With each pull from one of the boys, the chains rattled and clicked against each other. They pulled against the chains as if they were trying to escape, but it was impossible. 

Each one of them looked utterly exhausted as sweat dripped off of them and onto the cold grey floor. Dark bags were formed under their eyes as far as you could tell. You were mostly basing this off of seeing Chan’s face and part of Felix’s downturned gaze. The third member was unreadable since his head hung low and his hair covered most of his expression. But overall, they look like shit. 

Their eyes… looking closely you slowly begin to realize that they don’t look normal. Chan’s usual dark brown eyes were no longer there, and were instead replaced with a shade that surely wasn’t normal. They were the brightest yellow you’ve ever seen before. It’s almost like they were glowing in the barely lit room. The little golden glow reminded you of the stars, and nearly captivated you. 

What snaps you out of your trance is steel smacking down onto the ground. When you search for the source, you see Minho standing in the corner of the room. Had he always been standing there, or were you too busy trying to process what was in front of you to realize that he was there? 

Looking down, you notice one of the doggy bowls he purchased earlier. The contents spill out of the bowl while the bowl continues to settle down. The meat flops onto the floor and stains the concrete beneath it. It smells raw and appears raw. 

Looking back to Minho now, you see his expression. He looks like he’s just seen a ghost, and that ghost happens to be you. His jaw drops as he stammers to say something, anything. It must’ve been an illusion right? Minho was sure that he was just imagining you and that you’re not actually here right now. There’s no way that you’re currently witnessing the secret that they’ve all been trying to keep from you and the rest of the world, right? Nope, no way. Impossible.

He blinks once more. You’re still standing there. He’s freaking out, Jisung’s freaking out, and you’re about to start freaking out yourself. Everyone’s freaking out. So before you can fully freak out, Minho hurryingly marches up to you, “Y/n, it… it’s not what it looks like. I can explain. I-”

“You guys are into some freaky shit…” you breathe out in a barely audible whisper. You continue to stare on at the scene. It hardly registers in your mind the chained up boys are snarling and staring right back at you now. 

Minho keeps rambling excuses, but he pauses once he hears you. He backtracks, “I’m sorry, what?” He glances at Jisung momentarily. In return, the younger boy just shrugs tensely. 

This time you stare at Minho with a blank expression, “I said you guys are into some freaky shit… If this is some sex dungeon, it’s really fucked up…” you inform him. You swallow anxiously. 

Both Minho and Jisung look at each other, then back to you. Standing directly in front of you now, Minho blocks your view from the three chained up boys. He places his hands on your shoulders tightly. He’s ready to explain a few things then make you go back upstairs until they can get everything sorted out. 

You had different plans, however. Instead of listening to what he had to say, you pushed Minho’s arms off of you. It was your god given right to blow up over what’s in front of you. Sweat drips down your forehead and each breath comes out uneven. Your heart accelerates in, not only fear, but pure, untampered rage as well. 

“What the hell is all of this?!” you screech in his face unintentionally, which immediately panics both parties standing around you. You were so calm before, so your sudden explosion took them by surprise. 

Jisung is quick to hush, “Y/n, be quiet, please…!” he raspingly mumbles. He continues to eye both you and the three boys warily. The rattling metal from the wall becomes slightly more frequent and louder. 

You being in such a frenzied state, did not listen of course.

Instead your voice is louder than before, “What is this?!” you repeat, “Is this really some weird freaky sex dungeon?!” you question angrily, confused, and among other things. 

You glance to wearily three behind Minho. It was hard to believe what you were seeing. You kept praying that you somehow got hit by a car on your way over, and now you’re having some weird coma dream that you would wake up from soon. The nerves and adrenaline felt too real to be a dream, though. 

“Like who’s into chaining people to the wall and making them eat raw meat from a doggy bowl?!” you throw your hands up as you gesture to the knocked over bowl on the ground, “ A goddamn doggy bowl!” you throw your hands up as you gesture towards the spilled over bowl on the ground. 

A low growl interrupts your interrogation. It come from Chan, who, might you add, didn’t look right in the mind at all. Before, you never noticed it, but now that you were eyes were jumping around the room, you finally see it. There’s a pill bottle sitting on a table over on the other side of the room. 

Your eyes widen as you suddenly come to a conclusion, “Oh my god…” you gasp in shock, then look between Minho and Jisung, “Did you drug them?” it comes out as more of a shocked whisper than your previous shouts. 

Did you just walk right into the middle of a crime? Two of your closest friends, drugging people are dragging them to the basement for whatever weird sick purposes… was unbelievable. But you couldn’t deny the sight in front of you.

There’s a much longer rant lingering at the back of your throat, but Minho places a hand over your mouth before a peep gets out. A harsh glare is etched on his face as he tells you to shut up. Your immediate reaction is to shove his hand off of you, but the look he is giving you tells you that it’s best not to. 

He lifts a finger up to his lips and wordlessly quiets you. After a moment, Minho cautiously removes his hand off your lips and sighs. “Listen, I know this looks really bad, but I can explain everything. I just need you to calm down,” he tells you “And, as for you,” he pointedly says as he gives Jisung a harsh glare, “I can’t believe you just let her come down here!”

“Hey, it’s not my fault that Y/n showed up out of the blue! She’s the one who almost pushed me down the stairs to get here!” Jisung defends himself. 

“You could’ve at least tried a little harder! I mean how hard is it to--”

A loud metal snap from behind Minho is what interrupts him next. Suddenly, the room becomes completely silent with the exception of the low growling that is heard throughout the room. Immediately, your gaze fixes itself on the source of the noise and what, or rather who, it was coming from. 

You nervously look and see exactly who it’s coming from, and it didn’t even really look like him anymore. There, Felix stands, with the chains that were previously secured on his wrists, now broken off in half. How is that possible? That’s what you want to know.

Many times, you’ve seen Felix when he was in a bad mood. He didn’t look nice then, and he certainly doesn’t look any nicer now. The only difference between then and now is the fact that your best friend looks absolutely terrifying. The cold sweat runs down your back as he breathes in and out heavily. The atmosphere becomes thick and heavy. It’s getting harder to breathe properly. 

There’s a hunger in his unnaturally golden glowing eyes, one that you’ve never seen before in another person. It’s nearly animalistic how ready he looks to pounce on one of you. This isn’t the Felix you know. This isn’t your Felix, your goofy friend, who makes you laugh at the dumbest things. This is some kind of beast standing before you.

Besides you, Jisung is tense and shaking so much that you can almost hear his teeth clattering. In front of you, Minho is frozen solid. It takes him a moment to build up the courage to look behind him. He slowly cranes his neck in Felix's direction, who stands not too far behind him. He gulps anxiously. Then he turns back to you with his grip much tighter than before. 

“Don’t. Move…” he mouths to both of you shakily. Everything is silent. The only sound is the rugged breathing that hangs in the air.

[katehuntington]

Title: Black Dog - part two Word count: ±2250 words Episode summary: When Sam gets an anonymous phone call with information about his father, Dean receives a text message with coordinates to different location. The brothers clash and split up, one following orders, the other   trusting his instincts. Meanwhile, in the wilderness of Cascade Range, Washington State, Zoë loses grip on a personal case and is forced to confront her demons. Without back up, this might very well turn out to be her final hunt. Part two summary: After successfully wrapping up a werewolf case in Waco, Texas, the boys are on their way again. However, an unexpected phone call might just result in a change of course. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and  medical procedures. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of demon possession. Swearing, smoking, weaponry. Descriptions of  torture and murder. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Descriptions of suicidal thoughts and tendencies, depression, panic attacks, hallucinations. Author’s note: Beta’d by @winchest09​​ & @deanwanddamons​​​. Thanks, girls!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist

S1E03 “Black Dog” Masterlist

     Waco, Texas      November 30th, 2005 - Present Day

     “Get your motor runnin’. Head out on the highway! Lookin’ for adventure, and whatever comes our way.”

     It’s early morning in sunny Texas as the black Chevrolet Impala shoots down Interstate 35, just outside the city of Waco. The temperatures are still cool at this hour, but the orange sun that’s rising in the East will change that within hours. It is exceptionally warm for this time of the year, even for this far south. 

     Dean has his window rolled down and joins Steppenwolf’s lead singer John Kay on the vocals. The hunt was pretty straight forward; after a day of traveling and three more to track the creature, the hunters were able to make the kill. He feels ten times better than he did five days ago, the night he got pulled out of the water without a pulse. But the rest, time and a high dose of antibiotics did him good. Deep breaths aren’t much trouble anymore and the cough is as good as gone. Even the sprint to tackle the werewolf didn’t set his lungs on fire. He’s off pain medication, slept horizontally for the first time in days, and is behind the wheel of his Baby; Dean feels good as new. His way of celebrating is by belting out every word of the legendary rock classic Born To Be Wild.

     “Yeah, Darlin’, go and make it happen. Take the world in a love embrace. Fire all of your guns at once and explode into space.”

     His brother, who is huddled in the corner of the door and the front seat, opens his eyes slightly and glares at his sibling through the drowsiness. He’s not sure what’s more surprising, Dean’s unbelievably good mood or the fact that he’s able to hit the notes.

     “Like a true nature’s child, we were born, born to be wild. We can climb so high, I never wanna die!” Dean sings as he drums on the wheel.  

     “Dude, I’m trying to sleep,” Sam complains. “Turn that shit down, will you?”      Dean looks aside, as if his brother just said something vile. Did he just call Steppenwolf shit? The oldest of the two shakes his head; I tried so hard to raise him right. 

     Instead of honoring Sam’s request, Dean lets go of the steering wheel and plays the solo on his air guitar. Startled, the passenger reaches to take control in order to keep the car steady, after which he eyes his brother. As he does, Dean turns the volume button clockwise and sings along again.      “Born to be wi-i-ild!” he cries out.      “Seriously?” The youngest of the two shoots a look of annoyance at the driver.      “Ah, c’mon, Sammy. Why can’t a guy have a little fun?” Dean replies.      “It’s Sam,” his brother reminds him. “And for one, because I barely slept last night, and secondly, because it’s seven thirty in the morning.”      “So? You’re usually the one who’s all chirpy at the crack of dawn. This way we have the whole day ahead, y’know. Make some use of it,” Dean quips.

     Sam lifts one eyebrow and observes the driver for a few seconds. Is this truly coming from his brother, who is anything but a morning person? Bullshit, he thinks to himself.      “That’s the best you could come up with?” he confronts.      Right at that moment, AC/DC’s Stiff Upper Lip starts playing on the radio channel and Dean can’t help but to shout out when he recognizes the introduction.      “Man, I love this song!”      Sam shakes his head. All that his brother is doing is avoiding the topic of conversation. “And Erin didn’t mind you leaving before the alarm?” 

     Dean looks aside, thinking of the gorgeous brunette he picked up at a bar last night during their celebratory drink. “Not sure, she was still asleep when I left,” he admits.      The younger Winchester scoffs. “That’s just mean.”      “It ain’t my style to hang around too long, you know that,” Dean reminds his brother, defending his actions.      “Why the hell are you in such a hurry? We don’t have a lead on Dad, we don’t have a lead on any case at all. Yet you dragged me out of the motel room at 6 AM to hit the road,” Sam questions.

     His brother shrugs and fails to answer the question. Instead, he mouths the lyrics of the song while cheerily banging his head to the beat.      “Dean!” Sam shouts, trying to get his brother to focus.      “What?!” Dean bounces back, getting somewhat annoyed with his brother’s persistence. “I just wanna get to Hillsboro to pick up that lock so I can finally fix the trunk, that’s all.”

     The passenger rolls his eyes at the lame excuse. “That’s not the reason, Dean. And you know it.”      Dean lays his hand on top of the wheel and shakes his head. “You’re seeing things that ain’t there, know that?”      “Funny, though, apparently you know that I’m talking about Zoë, without me even mentioning her,” the youngest returns with an attitude. “And do you honestly think I didn’t notice that you’re driving north?”      “We’re in Texas, Sam. I can’t exactly go South without crossing any fucking borders,” Dean argues. “Not to mention that ‘north’ is a lot of square miles in this country. How the hell would we possibly be able to find her?”      “I don’t know, man…” Sam stares up the road ahead, but then looks aside. “But you did think of it then.”

     Dean sighs, realizing his slip of the tongue. Okay, so maybe he did, but he isn’t going to admit that. “You are the one who keeps calling her every day. You’re full on stalking her, no wonder she doesn’t pick up.”      “I hope to God that’s the reason,” Sam responds, worried.      “She’s probably just neck deep in a case,” the driver brings to mind. “Zoë’s a good hunter, she knows her shit. Why would you think she’s in trouble?”      “I don’t know, just the way she took off. Like she wasn’t expecting to see us again,” Sam recalls.      “You mean that she was nice?” the oldest rephrases. “Look, if she’s in trouble or not, we’d be searching for a needle in a very big haystack. For now -” He turns on his blinker and exits the highway, “- I’m gonna patch up my Baby.”

     Ten minutes later, they pull over on 526 West Elm Street in Hillsboro. It’s a quiet lane on the outer side of the city, on which a little auto shop called Ronny’s Garage and Wrecker Services is situated. It’s not a big place, just a shed, from which the Stars and Stripes flag flutter playfully. A big Chevrolet truck is parked in front of the lawn, and several wreckages fill the large yard behind the house. On the other side of the sober home next to the shed, there’s a small gas station. 

     Dean cuts the engine and gets out of the car. A largely built man with big sideburns and a slight limp in his walk shows up from under the garage door and moves into the sun. Whipping his hands clean with a dirty cloth, he smiles at the sight of the ‘67 Impala. The oldest of the two Winchester brothers walks up the driveway.      “Ronny Davis!” Dean grins as he approaches him. “Man, it’s good to see ya.”      “Long time, no see, Winchester,” the big man says, embracing the hunter.

     Dean pats him on the back and restores the space between them. It has been a while. Last time he saw the brawny guy was at a shady diner in Tampa, where he and John helped Ron out on a Djinn case. It must have been four years ago, at least. Sam just left for college around that time.      “How’s your old man?” he wonders.      “He’s alright,” Dean says, keeping up appearances. “Workin’ another case.”

     It’s not a lie. Well, technically it’s not. He will leave out the part where his father is missing, though. Not telling the truth to the old friend is not something he’s comfortable with, but he will do anything to make sure his father’s work isn’t jeopardized. Sam was eager to reach out to other hunters in order to find him and although Dean wants to track him down just as well, he prefers to keep this in the family, letting sleeping dogs lie. Who knows who, or what, might be listening in. They will find Dad, when he wants to be found. 

     The two men enter the garage, where a 62’ Lincoln Continental lays on the operating table with a bared engine bay. While Dean nods at the car with appreciating eyes, Ronny turns around to  observe the youngest Winchester for a moment, who gets out of the car.      “I see Sam is back in action.”      “Yeah, dragged his ass back into the game,” Dean replies with a trace of regret in his voice.      “He’s an excellent hunter. We can use a few good men like him,” Ronny says. “Especially now that one of the very best was sent on early retirement.”      Dean chuckles at his comment and glances down. “How are you, by the way?”      Ron pulls up the pant leg of his overhaul, revealing the bionic prosthetic.      “It doesn’t even hurt a bit,” he jokes. “Ruguru took it right off, knee and all.”      “I’m sorry, man,” Dean sighs, his sympathetic eyes meeting Ronny’s.      “It’s quite alright, actually,” he assures, smiling at the ground. “I mean, I still have holy water on my nightstand and a sixgun by the door, but instead of killing monsters I fix cars now. Life could be worse.”

     Dean can’t help but to agree on that. A small prick of jealousy pierces his heart, because deep down, he wouldn’t mind living the ordinary life. Sure, he has embraced hunting, or at least acts like he has. He finds fulfillment in the job, saving people who are in need and ridding the world of evil, but it comes with great sacrifice. Who knows, maybe when they finally find the son of a bitch that killed his mother, he can lay down his weapons. Some day.

     The former hunter has walked to his workbench on which a dissected transmission box lays bare. “So, what brings you here?”      “Passing through, just wrapped up a case in Waco,” Dean tells him. “Some scumbag tried to break into the trunk, though. The lock is busted, couldn’t fix it. And since you have six and a half a Chevy in your backyard, I figured you’d be the guy who could help me out.”      “I actually dismantled a 69’ Caprice last week, same lock as the ‘67.” He moves a few boxes around, snuffling through the thousands of parts. In this organized chaos Ron is able to find what he’s looking for and pulls the lock plus keys from a drawer.      “Let’s get to work,” Dean suggests, contented.

     As the mechanics take a look at the Impala, Sam wanders off. Not going anywhere in particular, the youngest Winchester strolls down the crooked sidewalk, taking in his surroundings. None of the lawns in the neighborhood are taken care of, no one made the effort to water the grass. The houses seem neglected, paint is coming off the wooden frames and weeds growing through the tiles. 

     With a sigh he takes out his phone. Scrolling through the list of last outgoing calls, Zoë shows on the display over and over again. Dean’s right; he is stalking her. Despite that thought, he presses the green button and puts his new Blackberry against his ear, since the last one perished in the lake in Paragould.

     “This is the voicemail of Zoë Sullivan. You can leave a message after the--”

     Annoyed, Sam hangs up and walks on. As he enters the small shop by the gas station, a bell rings. A middle aged woman behind the counter looks up and greets him politely. He gives her a nod and takes a few candy bars from the selves, since there is no healthy alternative in stock to choose from. So much for breakfast, but at least this will save them from starvation.      “That will be $ 3,60, sir,” the lady informs while she puts the bars in a plastic bag.      He passes her a five dollar bill and takes the bag and his change. As she wishes him a nice day, he leaves. The sun almost blinds him, still hanging low, but shining brightly already. Sam narrows his eyes and starts to make his way back to the garage, when his phone rings. A bit startled, he hastily takes out his phone, hoping it’s Zoë, but the caller ID isn’t identified on the display. While wondering who it could be, he answers.      “This is Sam.”      “Sam Winchester?”

     A bit stunned, the young hunter looks back at his display to make sure the woman on the other end of the line isn’t Zoë. The voice coming through is different, softer, with a slightly dissimilar accent. Sam digs deep down his memory, but he doesn’t recognize the person on the phone.      “Who is this?” he asks, still cautious.      “I have some information for you.”      Whoever she is, she got his attention. Sam tries to not sound too curious as he responds. “What kind of information?”       A short silence follows before the girl answers, but when she does, her words bring his heart and mind to a full stop.

      “I know where your father is.”

There you have it, the first chapter of the new episode “Black Dog”. I hope I got your attention! Thank you so much for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you  do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or  buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page)

Read part three here

[nachohypno]

Nate and Dave Ch. 13

Didn’t take long for us to leave the shopping street. We did take a few pictures together, mostly for storing. Dave is pretty photogenic and looks great in all of them (He even wanted to take his tank top off for a few! But I assumed that would attract unwanted stares. Silly old Dave...)

We left our bags at the back seat and drove off towards Dave’s house. Something I always liked about living in a town: Everything is close, and yet, a car never seems a bad idea. Maybe my ass is just lazy, but I enjoy relaxing next to Dave as my werewolf boyfriend just drives us safely towards our destination.

“I forgot to ask… Are your parents home?” I like Mr. and Ms. Walker! I really do! But there’s so many things you can do when a couple of werewolves with heightened senses are in the house with you. I have a feeling that they can hear every single sound in the house.

And that’s not really fun. I don’t think it’s intentional though, but it’s pretty hard to have a heart-to-heart moment when you think everyone is listening to you.

“Nuh-uh.” Dave mumbled, as he parked outside his garage. “Pop’s working during the evening, comes back by the time we’d be out of school, so we have quite a few hours before our private time is over. Mom’s out with some of her friends I guess, she doesn’t like spending much time ‘locked away’.”

“So, you really want to have a pool day? We’re a month or so away from Winter, big guy.” Not intending to sound like a party pooper. The day was nice and you can survive without a jacket, but I don’t think I’ll be going into the pool. Catching a cold isn’t something I look forward to.

“I’m always up for some swimmin’, but get what ya mean, bruh.” He turned off the engine and looked at me. “You can relax by the pool, and if things get really cold we can just go to my room and warm ya up!”

We entered the house. I couldn’t hear a single sound inside, which was a comforting thing.

“Lose the clothes! Lose the clothes! Lose the clothes!” Dave started chanting, as he stripped in front of me as fast as he could, soon standing naked in the middle of the living room.

I always liked how easily he loses his clothes at every chance he gets. Maybe he likes having his built body at full display for others to admire? I mean, who wouldn’t admire him?

The meaty pecs are not too big, but not exactly small either. His 6-pack abs are perfectly aligned and seem ready to take a few punches, breaking your hand in the process.

His cock was hard, of course. His cock was always hard when he’s naked, like an automatic thing. 

He seems like a 15 years old with those levels of horniness, and yet he makes such a great job holding himself back instead of suggesting to have sex everyday. I don’t know if he jerks off though, maybe he’s just happy to see me.

“I… prefer to stay clothed?” Such a party pooper, I know, but I’d rather not worry my mom with getting sick because I want to seem cool for my boyfriend. I’ll get naked in the bedroom, but the pool seems out of the question right now.

Dave frowned. “Still worrying about gettin’ cold? Wait here and strip, I’ll get ya a solution, bruh.” He raced upstairs, our bags in hand. I loved how the locket dangled in between his pecs, such a cool detail.

I did as told though, not because he told me to but because I was curious. And a little part of me didn’t want to be lame. That train is gone now, though, right?

I waited for my puppy boy, as I started feeling the cold getting to me. It wasn’t bad, but not exactly the most pleasant thing in the world. I stayed in my boxers, because I wasn’t looking forward to the air invading my ass.

A minute later or so, the jock dashed down the stairs with his varsity jacket on one arm, and a pair of towels on the other. He was already wearing his speedo, but it failed to hide anything due to his hard on.

“Uhm… Could you go soft like… down there?” I asked, trying to sound as nice as possible. Perks of having a werewolf soulmate, apparently everything you say sounds always as nice as possible, Dave is just happy to comply with everything that I may want or need.

Including controlling his body functions, like how his dick just got soft all of a sudden and the speedo looked a bit less revealing. Still, it fitted him quite well.

“Not gonna swim, right?” Dave asked, giving me a finger gun. I shook my head, before laying a towel on the ground and just laying down. “A’ight, watch these moves then, bruh!”

He jumped in the pool with a cannonball, making a big splash, before giving me a thumbs up and smiling. I clapped a lot, to show him some enthusiasm before he sank back down and started doing laps. I rolled my eyes, and started scrolling through my phone.

--------

Dave pulled himself out of the pool after finishing another set of laps, and started drying himself off like a dog: Shaking it off.

I covered myself with his jacket, and I heard him chuckle. “Water’s so nice today, bruh. You should give it a try!”

“Are you really not cold? It’s okay if you are… We can do something else instead.” I knew he wasn’t but I was worried about him.

“Chill out, my body’s as warm as a lighted chimney.” He finished drying himself off with a towel and sat beside me on the stone floor. “Us werewolves can take some really cold temperatures, especially while wearing our fur, babe.”

Huh, that awakened my curiosity!

“So… everyone in your family is a werewolf?” I asked, reaching out for my phone. I had to write this down or otherwise I would forget about it! I had made a special text file for my research on Dave’s… wolfiness.

As soon as I get some juicy new information, I write it down to satisfy my inner nerd. Never thought I would be so invested in investigating a supernatural creature, but yet again, I never thought I’d have a werewolf as my soulmate!

“Uh… not quite?. Like, I think there’s a fifty percent chance if one of the two is a normal person, but we don’t really care about that. It’s not like it’s a super important thing to have a werewolf son.” He tried to explain, putting on his sunglasses again and sitting beside me. “It is pretty important for my pops but between you and me, he’s just kinda racist.”

My fingers tapped the screen as I heard everything Dave had to say. I mean, not the part about his dad, but the werewolves’ children having a fifty percent chance to inherit lycanthropy.

“But,” He resumed his explanation. “Most of my family is a werewolf, maybe there’s just one or two not werewolves out there? There are a lot of Walkers, that’s for sure. Not sayin’ we mate like bunnies but… I do have a lot o’ cousins.”

“Any siblings?” I asked, but he shook his head in denial.

“Nope. I’m an only son, bruh. I always thought it was because I’m an alpha, and dad says I got the jackpot with that rank. Heheh.” A smug look on his face, he flexed his arms while pointing to himself with his head high. The guy was trying to seem narcissistic or he was really proud of himself.

He looked cute anyway. The speedo was holding his now-soft cock perfectly, and you could see his shape through it. Muscles in all the right places… the guy looked like a really little hulk. Just… human-like, and not green.

I took my eyes off him for a few seconds to finish writing this line at my notepad. ‘Werewolves seem to mate and reproduce themselves quite frequently, but it varies on a subject vasis.’

“Hey nerd, drop the phone.” Dave said, in a commanding tone. I definitely wasn’t expecting it, but I looked at him again and he seemed a bit annoyed. Maybe because I wasn’t giving him much attention? He wasn’t flexing anymore, then he started walking closer.

I tapped my way to the ‘Save’ button before leaving my phone next to me. “Uh… sure thing? What’s with the attitude?”

The puppy boy didn’t stop to answer, but instead got next to me and grabbed my hips in a swift move. Supernatural speed or reflexes, whatever you want to call it, I loved it. “Just enjoy it, babe…” He mumbled, before leaning in for a kiss. I closed my eyes as I kissed him back, and could feel my body being lifted from the nice towel on the grass.

His warm skin against my naked chest, only protected by his varsity jacket. A few seconds afterward, the varsity jacket was off. The locket necklace was cold, but I didn’t mind. I just enjoyed the moment, just like he said.

Dave was walking, but the kiss distracted me. My mistake was closing my eyes, because I didn’t see his prank coming. 

“One… two…” He started to swing me towards the pool. I opened my eyes as soon as he started counting, but I only managed to say a surprised “Dave-!” before he interrupted me.

“Three!” SPLASH. I fell in the water. The cold water, but my body was quickly getting used to it. I stayed underwater for a few more seconds to fully embrace the cold temperature, I knew that I would shiver a bit less if I did that.

I had my eyes closed once again, because I never got used to my eyes touching water, but I did feel the water movement as Dave jumped right after me.

I swam back to the surface. I’m not a good swimmer, but this area of the pool wasn’t that deep so I could touch the bottom with my feet and keep myself up with small jumps.

“Hey, hey. I got’cha now…” Dave mumbled, catching me in his arms and keeping me from jumping. I hugged him as tightly as I could. His body was still warm, so it felt really good. Like some kind of underwater stove.

“T-Thanks, big guy…” I managed to say. I would have loved to avoid seeming a weakling, but even with Dave’s hot body, I still felt myself getting colder the longer I was in the pool.

Pulling me closer, he leaned in for a good make out session which I really appreciated. I wrapped my legs around his waist and we stayed like that for a good while.

...Until the coldness was too much for me, that is. There’s a little line between ‘being a party-pooper’ and ‘my body can’t hold this temperature anymore’. The wind wasn’t making it any easier, making me feel colder at every part that stood out of the water.

“D-D-Dave… Let’s head... back in, okay?” I managed to say, holding him close. The jock nodded, and swam over to the edge of the pool, making sure to keep me as close as possible.

Once we were out, I reached out for the towel I was laying on a while before. Dave was shaking the water off him like a puppy boy would do, so he was okay in that part. Then, I noticed him getting zoned out again as the fur on his body started to grow. 

‘Oh, geez, I love this part!’ I thought, noticing a tail appearing behind him and his muscles growing with the yellow-ish/brown fur on his skin.

His human head morphed into a humanoid wolf one, two little fangs sticking out of his dog snout with a little black spot appearing where his nose was. His hands grew paw pads and claws, before finishing the transformation with a howl after going out of his self-induced trance.

I kept drying myself with the towel, hoping to get warmer with that, but then the puppy boy tackled me. I managed to grab my phone from the ground as he said “Don’t ya worry, my love. Gonna take good care of you…” before picking me up and dashing inside. He was already warm before, but his fur was really comfortable and helping out with the cold.

A few minutes later, the big guy entered his room with me on his arms. I felt like those couples on tv, being carried by my big and strong boyfriend towards his bed. Dave gently left me on top of it and then laid down next to me. A tight hug afterwards, I could feel the coldness fading away as a very comfortable warm invaded my body.

-------

Dave’s POV

Nate fell asleep in my arms. His shivering stopped, and he was warm again. 

I sighed, such a dumb move I’ve made. But hey, gettin’ to werewolf form to warm him up was pretty smart, right?

Reluctantly, I pulled away from him and tried to get up from my bed. Any other day I would love to do this, he’s my soulmate! Weeks after noticing him, I still couldn’t believe it. I’m supposed to make him happy and safe, fuck.

I grabbed the bedsheets and made sure Nate was well-covered in them. ‘Only the best for my boyfriend’ I thought. I shivered the bit at the thought of having a ‘boyfriend’, but that’s what he is. A guy. THE guy, the one I love the most in the world.

Magic can be quite funny, huh. How a soulmate can turn my whole world upside down. I would be beatin’ the heck outta this guy if he ever implied that we’re meant to each other. And now I fell in love with a guy. Karma’s a bitch, some say.

The sight of Nate being so comfortable in his sleep, not shivering anymore, just happily dozed off, it pushed all the buttons for me. He had to be happy, I had to make sure of that. I want to be a good soulmate for the guy I love.

Looked down at my hands, I noticed I was still in werewolf form. Mom hates when we go werewolf while we’re at the house, because the fur gets all over the floor sometimes. She’s not home though, so I can do whatever I want.

Nate’s phone was firmly held by his owner. He had all that investigation thing in there, so I guess that’s why. I knew he wanted to know more about me and my lycanthropy, and I was honored to help him! He wanted to try and understand me more? He’s the best!

I rubbed my hairy wolf head, what to do now? Should I wait for him to wake up?

I mean, I’d love to spend time just cuddling with him, but I kinda feel guilty for pulling him into the pool like that. Gonna start listening to him if I want to stop fucking up.

Nate’s really nice to me, and never tells me I fuck up, but there’s always that little possibility I actually fuck up our dates quite often and he just never tells me, and I love him too much to hurt him in any way.

That’s also why I’ve been trying to control my strength, too! Our first days together, I almost crushed the guy down with my weight, but after some practice I managed to keep myself at bay to make sure he’s comfortable with me around!

I clenched my fist and threw a punch to the air. A little unfamiliar ‘cling cling’ sounded as I did so, the locket. Watching it filled me with joy and a warm feeling. It’s like I carry a little reminder that I’m Nate’s soulmate. 

A puppy boy, always ready to please my owner in any way possible.

My own words, the ones I wrote on the little note inside the locket, resonated through my mind. “My heart, body and mind belongs to my lovely soulmate Nate Hall.” Followed by my signature. It was cheesy, and maybe a try hard-ish thing for my taste, but it was the truth. Nate was my owner and I was his puppy boy.

I held the metal thing tightly in my hand, before letting it go and turning around, heading out of my room. Empty house, still plenty of time to have fun.

I had to walk in tiptoes, because my heavy footsteps may wake up my boyfriend. I could just change back into human form, but I felt stronger and faster while in werewolf form. Any excuse I have to use it will be great.

Out on the corridor, I looked for the attic trapdoor’s handle on the ceiling. The attic is a pretty dirty and dark place, we just use it as storage. So, I assumed mom and pops would store their family treasures or memories. Boxes filled with old books, photo albums, letters and other trash. 

Somewhere in those boxes had to be my old copy of the ‘Being a werewolf: How to keep the secret safe and live among the human society.’ book. (Sounds lame, but I ain’t making that up!).

So, time for a good search. I can’t search it by smell, because I would only smell dust and humidity.

My claws made it a bit more harder to search through the boxes without breaking stuff, but I managed to search through quite a few of them pretty quickly. No luck so far.

A box next to a small window had a little ‘Old stuff from Dave’ tag on it. Mom liked to organize stuff, I don’t know why I didn't look for this one to begin with.

I opened the top of the box and began searching through full notebooks filled with gibberish writing from when I didn’t know how to read or write. I was quite the slow learner, according to a few old teachers. Then, there it was.

A brown book, with a wolf doing a thumbs up to me, with silver letters that read ‘Being a werewolf: How to keep the secret safe and live among the human society.’ And a little seal of quality on the bottom of it that said ‘Approved by the supernatural council’. This would make a perfect gift for my nerdy boyfriend.

I decided to look a bit more around that box and other ones, just in case I found more stuff for him, but I’ve been up in the attic for quite some time, apparently.

“Uh… Dave?” A dazed Nate asked, still in my room. I could hear him perfectly, great part of the heightened hearing.

“Comin’ up!” I answered, trying to sound loud enough for him to hear me. Searching for treasures would have to wait, my soulmate needed me.

I left the attic and closed the trapdoor, before running into my room. Another rule, my mom doesn’t like us running in the house because we could break the furniture, but pops always gives me a free pass on that one.

“Need anythin’? I’m so sorry for pushing you in down there, bro…” I tried to apologize, but Nate didn’t seem mad at all. Nor disappointed, he just seemed… comfortable. “If you want me to do something to make it up for you, just say it and I’ll do it. Anything. Oh, wait, got you this book for your investigation...”

I sometimes think I can exaggerate when around Nate, but there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him. And that’s not poetry, I mean it quite literally.

There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him.

I gave him the book and Nate examined it carefully. “Being a werewolf… Is there actually a whole guidebook about being a werewolf?” He asked, before leaving it on my night table. I nodded, wondering if he liked it or not.

“Thanks so much! And about before, don’t worry about it.” Nate said, breaking the few seconds of silence. “I mean, I’m not dead so… it was just a fun prank!” Huh, I thought he would actually be mad at me after that. “Hey, c’mere.”

I did as told, while he reached out for my wolf head. I started giving light kicks to the floor as he scratched the back of my ear. There’s no way I can describe the pleasure this gives me. It’s just… the best thing in the world, next to him.

“‘sides, you also brought me up here and warmed me up. I can’t be mad at you for being such a good puppy boy! Who’s a good puppy boy? Huh? Who’s a good puppy boy?”

An urge to answer overwhelmed me. “I am!” I said. “I am a good puppy boy! Woof!”

“Yes, you are! You’re the best puppy boy ever, aren’t you?” He continued, now scratching my neck. My kicks came out a bit stronger now, as the pleasure went up. My cock was already rock hard, this was amazing!

“Yeah! I am your puppy boy, bruh! Woof, woof!” My urge to bark wasn’t a new thing, either. It was like my animal instinct and my human mind were at a bit of a struggle right now. I didn’t care though, Nate’s happiness was the thing that mattered the most to me right now.

“Come up on the bed, we’re gonna have some puppy fun, right puppy boy?”

I nodded excitedly, before climbing my bed. I loved how small Nate looked when on my bed. Probably because I’m way bigger than him, and the bed was actually made to fit my werewolf form on it.

“Also… could you just… zone out for a bit? You know, like we’ve practiced, puppy boy.”

No time to think, though. Had to obey.

If Nate was the center of my world before, then he just became the center of my universe as my mind emptied from every thought that didn’t involve obeying him.

Nate was my soulmate, my owner, the most important person in my life without a doubt. And I was just a simple puppy boy jock.

“My heart, body and mind belongs to my lovely soulmate Nate Hall.” Those words resonated again in my mind, this time stronger, as Nate pulled his wet underwear off. “Take off your speedo, puppy boy.” He ordered.

I was smiling, and my tongue was lolling out. I obeyed his order without a single doubt in my mind. Pure bliss by just obeying my soulmate was a great thing. Nate moved me like a ragdoll, having one of my hands wrapped around his cock and the other around mine. “Now, start jerking us off.”

It was an honor for me. My owner wanted me to jerk him off! I couldn’t disappoint him!

I did my best, trying to control my strength well enough so he could enjoy it without pain. I replicated my own moves on my cock, pleasuring myself as well. Nate was just laying there, eyes closed and arms behind his back. He moaned from time to time.

While we already went through the ‘fucking’ stage, I never knew if Nate enjoyed it as much as I did. We never did it again, so it’s hard to know.

But hey, any moment with my soulmate is an amazing one! 

I kept stroking him for quite a while, not minding anything but focusing on bringing him pleasure. My own pleasure was another thing, but he included it in his order so I had to pleasure myself too!

Then, he pushed my hand off and grabbed me by the locket. “That’s enough for now, let’s just cuddle together, all right?”

My answer was a bit of panting, as I did as he suggested and wrapped him in my arms. I hoped my fur warmed him a lot more, after the shitty move I pulled before.

“I love you, puppy boy. You’re the best and only puppy boy in the world for me...” A little yawn as he laid on my pecs.

I smiled, feeling myself blush a bit but it would have been not distinguishable at all due to the fur in my face. This was one of the few times that I had to fight against the influence of being ‘zoned out’, not for a bad reason, but because I wanted to answer him.

“I… love you… too, my love…” I managed to say, quite happy but still a bit unemotional. Eh, did my best there, and Nate seemed happier, since he hugged me tighter.

“Let’s just nap for a while… Okay?” I don’t know if that was an order, but I almost immediately dozed off.

-------

Chapter 14 is already available in my Patreon!  And by pledging you also get access to other stories before they go public!

[kpophours]

One Love || part III

➵ SF9: Youngbin x fem. reader / series, werewolf AU / fluff

➵ warnings: slight cursing, mentions of alcohol, sexual suggestiveness 

➵ word count: 5.1k

previous. | next.

​On Tuesday evening, you left work with only a few minutes to spare until your appointment with Youngbin, so you had to hurry to make it on time. This time, the front entrance was illuminated when you arrived and you saw Youngbin shuffling through some papers, broad back turned to you. You quickly parked your car, got out of it and made your way towards the office. It was icily cold this night and you sighed contently when you opened the entrance door and were greeted by a welcoming gush of warm air. Youngbin whirled around upon hearing you enter, immediately beginning to smile, which you softly returned.

"Hi, Youngbin - sorry I'm late.", you greeted him, rubbing your frozen hands together - your gloves hadn't been in any of the last unpacked boxes and you hadn't come around to purchase new ones yet.

Youngbin looked at the clock and then back at you. "It's 7pm sharp.", he said and raised one eyebrow, "So you're actually perfectly punctual."

"Oh. I thought... Well, I've probably made good time driving here, then." You grinned and handed him your car keys, "Sooo, should I just leave and come back later or...?"

"You can wait in here, if you want to - but you can also come with me and learn a few things about your car, if you’d like." At the prospect of spending time with you, Youngbin’s heart began to pound fast against his ribcage and he quickly tried to hide his shaking hands by crossing his arms in front of his chest, unintentionally displaying his well-toned muscles in the process.

Your gaze quickly fluttered from his face to his arms and back again. "I- uh, sure, learning new stuff is always a good idea.", you murmured and blushed, clearing your throat in an attempt at trying not to seem too affected by Youngbin’s body proportions. He in turn tried his best to hide the smirk creeping on his face and gestured towards the door, following you out of the front office and to your car.

"So, this is it.", you said, pointing at the black VW golf.

"It?", Youngbin sounded almost offended, "This is an old lady, not an it!" You laughed, "Oh no, I'm sorry. I haven't had time to come up with a name yet. I will give it one very soon, I promise!"

Youngbin seemed pleased by that. "Good."

You smiled and slid into the passenger's seat while he took the place behind the steering wheel.

"I'm sure Jaeyoon could help you come up with a name. He names almost everything - especially his plants and Rowoon’s endless cooking utensils.", Youngbin told you while starting the motor and driving the old lady into one of the open garages.

"He does? Oh, that’s kinda adorable though! I think I met him just yesterday - handsome with dimples and quite cheeky, right?", you asked without thinking, blushing at Youngbin’s almost scandalized expression. "Cheeky and dimples, yes. But handsome?", he countered, getting out of the car and lifted it up with the help of a hydraulic ramp.

"Well, he is - just not as handsome as you, I guess.", you replied teasingly, basking in his surprised yet pleased expression.

If only you knew how much you had just managed to surprise him with your flirty statement… He actually didn't know how to reply, so he just smirked at you and, after putting on some work gloves, finally had a look at your car.

"Mhm yes, Hwi was right - the steering mechanism isn’t fully working thanks to a rusty wire. But it's nothing major, so no need to worry.", he explained, "See that?"

You quickly joined him under the car, ducking your head out of reflex - even though that wasn't really necessary as even Youngbin could stand at his normal height.

"I just see... wires and stuff.", you confessed, scratching your head and squinted to try and see what he was seeing. Youngbin laughed at your expression. "Well, I guess that's what it looks like for an untrained eye. But see here, there's a loose and rusty wire, right?" You took another step towards the handsome man to get a better look at the underside of your car and his breath caught when he noticed your sudden proximity. "Ahhh yes. Even without glasses I can see that wire!", you finally exclaimed proudly, grinning up at Youngbin. When you realized how close you stood as well, your eyes got even bigger and you hastily took a step back.

"Even without glasses, I'm impressed. Maybe I should hire you as our new helping hand, what do you think?", Youngbin said, trying to lighten the tense atmosphere. You laughed. "I could never do that to Inseong, I'm sure he would be heartbroken if I’d just leave him like that."

Youngbin nodded thoughtfully. "Fair enough."

You took another step back, emerging from underneath the car again. "I think I'll better let you work in peace now.", you said, looking around the garage, "Or can I do anything to help?"

"Not really, but thanks. You can go to the office if you want to - it's a lot warmer inside.", Youngbin suggested, making you pout. "And here I was thinking you liked my company.", you sighed deeply. Youngbin seemed to miss the irony in your voice, as he quickly emerged from under the car as well, looking a bit taken-aback. "Of course I like your company! I just don't want you to get bored or cold." You giggled at his apologetic expression. "I was just joking. But good to hear you like my company." With that, you winked at him and he rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips. "And I thought our chaos line was cheeky...", he muttered, disappearing under the car again.

"I heard that!", you said.

"Good." But his voice was laced with humor and you found yourself smiling again - something you seemed to be doing 24/7 in Youngbin’s presence. If you were being honest... you liked him, even though you had only met him twice so far. But his steady, courteous manner, laced with that quiet, slightly sarcastic and teasing humor was just so attractive in your eyes! It also helped that he was more than easy on the eyes of course - you really wanted to touch his jet black hair, just to find out if it truly felt as soft as it looked. It probably smelled amazing too.

"Okay, keep it easy.", you reminded yourself quietly, but Youngbin seemed to be blessed with perfect hearing: "Keep what easy?"

Your eyes widened and you were scrambling for an explanation. "Uhhh nothing. I was just talking to myself."

"You're rather talking to yourself even though I'm here too?"

There it was again, that humor you already liked so well. "I just don't want to interrupt your quality time with my old lady here.", you replied, crossing your arms in front of the chest and smiling slightly. Youngbin chuckled. "I can divide my attention and time between the two of you." At this, you gasped theatrically. "So you're cheating on me with her? Or on her with me?"

This time, he really laughed. "Friends share, don't they?"

"Pff, not my boyfriend though."

"Ohh, so I'm your boyfriend now?"

Your cheeks were flaming red by now, you were sure of it. "No, you're the old lady one's."

"Oh, really? And here I was, thinking we two could have a future together.", Youngbin continued to tease, making you chuckle.

"Well, who knows how long the old lady's still alive, right?", you say, tone of voice cheeky.

"Oh NO!" Youngbin suddenly shouted, running out from underneath said lady, looking quite shocked. "What, what is going on?!", you asked in a panicked voice, quickly looking towards your car, pretty much expecting it to go up in flames or explode any second now.

"I think that's it... the old lady... she is gone. I can't do anything for her anymore. We should just bury her and continue to live our lives like she surely would have wanted us to - together." He looked, expression serious and grave, only the tiniest glint of mischief in his eyes betrayed his acting.

"Youngbin!" You shoved him playfully, giggling, "You really scared me!"

He laughed as well and shrugged, winking at you. "Sorry, I couldn't help it. But what do you think... Would you like to get dinner with me sometime? I promise, I won't tell the old lady." He held his breath, almost fearfully awaiting your response. A soft smile lit up your face and you immediately nodded in agreement. "I would like that, yes. But only if the old lady approves." Youngbin grinned, turning around to your car. "You're okay with that, right? I mean, I just fixed you, so you kind of owe me something..." He fell silent, pretending to listen to something. When he looked at you again, he nodded. "She's okay with it."

You giggled again - an absolutely endearing sound in Youngbin’s opinion - and nodded too. "Great. So... how about this Saturday?"

He smiled. "I'll pick you up at around 7pm?"

"Well, that just seems to be our time."

He laughed again and nodded. "Apparently. Your old lady is finished, by the way - she's as good as new. Or as new as an old car like her can be." At this, you looked surprised. "Oh wow, that was fast!"

"What can I say? I am very fast.", Youngbin said proudly and you grinned.

"Well, I certainly hope not in every aspect." You wiggled both eyebrows at him and he let out a snort, not having expected your innuendo. "I haven't had any complaints yet.", he replied cheekily and you raised an eyebrow. "That doesn't really have to mean anything."

"Fair enough. I guess you'll just have to find out for yourself, if you want to know the truth."

Your eyes glinted mischievously. "Maybe I will."

Youngbin gulped, trying to ignore the shiver that ran down his spine. Here he was, flirting like crazy with his mate and he was enjoying every second of it. And now he actually had a date with you - only a few days away.

He could hardly wait.

You were invited for dinner at the pack's house for Thursday evening that week - and everyone was highly anticipating to finally meet you. So far, Inseong, Youngbin, Hwiyoung, Rowoon and Jaeyoon had gotten to meet you, and the rest felt slightly left out. Youngbin still hadn't told anyone that you were his mate - it just never seemed to be the right time, and he wanted his pack to meet you without any bias for the first time. He also wanted to see how your date on Saturday would go.

… All in all, he always found different excuses not to tell his brothers. Inseong was also always gushing about you, telling the others what a great mind you possessed and how your many ideas had already improved his own work greatly. Youngbin would never admit it, but this made him incredibly jealous - that the other man could see you, his mate, every day at work. He knew he was being stupid and unreasonable, but he just couldn't help it.

"You do realize that she might not like Korean food at all, right?", Dawon said to Rowoon on Thursday evening, about an hour before you were supposed to arrive, observing the slightly younger man handling several different pans at the same time and looking a bit stressed out. "You do know that a frying pan is an amazing weapon against annoying brothers, right?", Rowoon replied, not even bothering to look at the other man. Dawon pouted. "Hey, I was just trying to help!"

"With what? Unnecessary commentary? I'm sure Y/N will like the food - and now it's too late to make something else anyway. So be quiet and leave me alone." With that, he simply ignored Dawon, even though the slightly older man continued to whine.

"Dawon - out, now.", Inseong immediately ordered the younger man when he entered the kitchen.

"Why?! I didn't do anything!" Dawon pouted even more and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

Inseong just sighed in exasperation. "I know exactly what you did, so don't argue and just go. You and your brothers can set the dinner table."

Mumbling something unintelligible, Dawon finally left the kitchen. "Thanks.", Rowoon said, shooting Inseong a quick look and smile. "No problem - I'm the one who has to thank you for cooking. If I would have had to cook tonight, I probably would have poisoned everyone on accident or something like that." The taller man just snorted while continuing to stir the noodles. "Still, can I help you with anything?", Inseong offered, gazing around at the many pots and pans.

"Nope, I'm almost finished. Y/N said she'll bring dessert, right?", Rowoon answered, tasting some of the soup.

"Yes - cake, I think."

"Good, because I really don’t have the time to prepare something right now."

The older man just nodded and slowly backed out of the kitchen. Better to leave Rowoon alone, he always liked the solidarity while cooking - except for when his mate, Tori, was there. She was always allowed to help and taste everything - but that was the thing about being mates: different rules applied.

You were balancing two giant containers with cake as well as your bag towards the car, desperately trying not to trip over anything. That would be truly fatal as the two cakes you had made earlier this day would probably end up on the ground. You somehow managed to open your passenger's door, softly placing both cakes and your bag onto the seat. Then, you walked around the car, slid into the driver's seat and started your motor without any problems. You tried to follow the directions Inseong had given you earlier that day, but after some time you were pretty sure you were lost. It was already dark and everything looked pretty much the same to you - you had long left the city district, driving on small forest roads as Inseong’s house was located somewhere around here. "Damn it. Where the hell is this stupid road he was talking about?!", you whispered to yourself, tuning down the music a notch. After unsuccessfully driving around for some more minutes, you finally sighed and called your boss/friend. "Y/N? Is everything alright?", Inseong said after picking up the phone. His brothers immediately fell silent when they heard him say your name, all attention on him and the phone call.

"Yep. Or well... not completely. I think I'm lost?", you said, voice a bit wobbly.  

Inseong snorted and ruffled his hair in an exasperated manner. "How the hell did you get lost? I gave you the directions!"

"And I tried to follow them! But everything looks the same - there are trees everywhere and small roads and... Well, I have no clue where I am to be honest. Why didn’t you just text me the address, then I could have used my navigation system?!"

"I can do that now.", he proposed, but you just sighed: "My internet connection isn't working that far out into the forest, so my navigation system won't work."

"Well... What am I supposed to do now?"

"I don't know! But I do not want to die so young in the middle of some forest, just because my boss didn't text me his address like every other normal human being living in the 21st century would have done!"

Jaeyoon and Dawon had by now begun to giggle uncontrollably - everyone could hear your words thanks to their wolf hearing, and most had smiles on their faces.

"Okay, okay. We'll figure it out. Do you see anything... I don't know, like a landmark around you?", Inseong asked, beginning to walk up and down the living room and gnawing on his lower lip.

"There are literally only trees around me, Inseong."

"So no landmark."

"I’m going to kill you if I make it out alive."  

Chani sniggered. "I already like her very much.", he said quietly to Hwiyoung, who grinned as well. "Oh yeah, same, bro."

Youngbin raised an eyebrow, trying to control his jealousy - they were his brothers and didn't even know you were his mate, but still, he didn't like them talking about you like that. You were his.

… Even though you were really funny.

"Can you send me your location?"

"Do you have Alzheimer’s?! I have already told you, I have no internet connection out here! How the hell am I supposed to send you my location, Mr. Smartass?"

"Fair enough. I think I'll just rally some of the boys to look for you. Just... Don't move? Park the car on the side of the road and wait. We'll come and get you."

"Park the car in the middle of a dark forest, great. That's the perfect setting for a horror movie. If I die, I'll come back as a ghost and haunt you for the rest of your miserable life." And with that, you simply hung up, leaving Inseong to silently gape at his phone, a slightly incredulous smile curving his lip upwards. "Sooo... who wants to go look for her?", he finally said, turning around to his pack.

"I'll go.", Youngbin immediately offered, earning himself some curious glances from his brothers. "Me too.", Rowoon stepped in, Hwiyoung following immediately.

"Good, I'll go, too. The rest of you - stay here and don't do anything stupid. Jaeyoon, Dawon, keep an eye on them, will you?", Inseong pleaded, looking at the chaos line, now the eldest staying behind. Both smiled and nodded while the others protested, persisting they didn’t need any supervision. Inseong just ignored them, shrugging on his winter coat and boots while grabbing his car keys to finally follow the others out of the house and towards the parked cars.

Meanwhile, you sat inside your cozily warm car, playing soft music and cursing your terrible sense of direction yet again. To be honest, you should have just asked Inseong to text you the address - but you’d been so busy with work today that you had simply forgotten to ask him. So now you were waiting in a dark, misty forest, hoping for one of the guys to find you. You closed your eyes, leaning your head back against the seat and quietly began to hum along to the music. You just hoped you didn't have to wait too long - it was definitely a bit scary being alone in an unknown, dark forest.

Youngbin drove his jeep through the dark forest, not worried in the slightest - he knew he would be able to find his mate quickly. That was one of the many benefits of your bond: he knew your scent and always felt some kind of connection, no matter the distance between you two. His brothers wouldn't even have had to come with him - but as they didn't know about you being his mate yet, he hadn't been able to say anything against it. Youngbin turned on some music, feeling for the connection inside him. You weren’t too far away from him, he noticed - you had probably just made one wrong turn, resulting in you getting lost. It only took him a few minutes to pull up beside your car. You were deeply huddled into your padded leather jacket, both eyes were closed and you were singing along to some music, when he hopped out of his jeep and knocked on your window. 

You jumped, eyes widening in shock before you recognized him. You immediately opened the car door, almost falling over your own feet in the process of quickly getting out of the driver's seat. "Youngbin! Thank God.", you said, throwing your arms around the taller man without really thinking about it. He stiffened for a second before sliding his arms around your back, hugging you close and chuckling slightly.

"Hey there. You're alright?", he said softly, his brown eyes gazing down at you with slight mischief in them. You quickly freed yourself again and smiled, a tad embarrassed. "Yes, I'm okay. I'm sorry to have driven you out here in the cold, but I really have no clue where I am at the moment."

Youngbin grinned. "You're actually pretty close to our home - I guess you just missed the road and drove onwards. Just follow me with your car, we'll be there in no time."

You nodded, thankful, and slipped back into the driver's seat, starting the motor. Youngbin did so too and soon, you were driving towards the big farmhouse where the pack lived while their alpha quickly informed his brothers that they could abandon their search and come home too.

Everyone was already waiting for you and Youngbin when you opened the front door, the latter balancing both cakes in his arms. "You're alive!", Inseong said sarcastically, enclosing you in his arms and hugging you softly.

"Yeah, no thanks to you though. I would've probably died out there in the cold if Youngbin hadn't showed up and rescued me.", your voice sounded muffled from being pressed against his chest and your boss just chuckled, letting you go and taking you coat. “Yeah, sorry about that. I'll never let you drive anywhere alone ever again."

You rolled your eyes at him before looking at the other men assembled in front of you, beginning to smile a bit shyly. "Uh, hi. I'm sure I've just made an amazing first impression on you guys. I'm Y/N - Inseong’s new scientific assistant. Very competent in our field of research, not so much with directions unfortunately.", you introduced yourself, earning yourself some chuckles and laughter from everyone. Youngbin gazed at you with admiration in his eyes - he simply loved your laid-back sense of humor. Inseong noticed his gaze, raising one eyebrow but refraining from commenting on it - yet.

"Well, if no one wants to go first... I'm Dawon." With that, Dawon stepped forward, shaking your hand and smiling warmly at you. After that, everyone else came forward as well - first Taeyang, then Zuho and lastly Chani. Hwiyoung, Rowoon and Jaeyoon already knew you, so they just smiled, or, in Rowoon’s case, hugged you.

"It's really nice to meet you all. Thanks for inviting me tonight - your house looks amazing, by the way. Very cozy.", you said and smiled at everyone before Inseong shoved everyone into the shared living and dining room while Youngbin quickly followed Rowoon into the kitchen to bring in the food.

When both men entered the dinner room, everyone was talking animatedly - Youngbin took the chance to watch you for a few seconds. You were deep in conversation with Zuho, Jaeyoon and Dawon were screaming and laughing at each other, while the youngest of the pack, Taeyang, Hwiyoung and Chani were getting on Inseong’s nerves, talking about some upcoming university projects they had to do and didn't want to: "But having you, a professor, at our university, as a part of our family, should have some benefits!", Chani complained and pouted, while the other two nodded vigorously. 

"Nope. Not happening. It's not even my faculty! And I'm sure as hell not going to ask some colleague to postpone your project, just because you're lazy.", Inseong said strictly, taking a sip of his beer. "Unfair.", Taeyang commented and Hwiyoung looked around until his eyes settled on you, who was just laughing at something Zuho had just said.

"Y/N!", Hwiyoung yelled, making you jumped. You turned around, looking somewhat alarmed.

"Can you put in a good word for us, so our professor gives us more time for our research project?" Hwiyoung looked at you with what he probably thought were cute puppy eyes. You just raised both eyebrows. "Oh, so you guys suck at time management?", you answered, looking slightly amused. Chani pouted even harder: "Not true! We just had a lot to do these past weeks..."

"Really? Tell me about it, come on - entertain me.", you demanded, propping you chin up on one hand and smirking slightly. "Well...", Chani thought hard, gazing helplessly at his brothers, "We... Had to... Do stuff..."  

"Well then - learning by burning." And with that, you turned around again and continued your conversation with Zuho, who looked rather amused by your words to the youngest ones.

"She's really perfect for you.", Chani said to Inseong, crossing his arms in front of his chest and looking slightly put-off. "Yep, we sure make a great team.", the oldest man just grinned and toasted towards you, who just smiled at him.

Youngbin watched all this with an uneasy feeling. He knew that Inseong wasn't interested in you - well, at least not in the way he himself was, but it still unsettled him to hear about them being "a great team". He wanted to be a great team with you! You were his mate! The wolf in him wanted to mark you as his and his alone and a snarl was etching its way out of his throat - but he forcefully suppressed it.

"Food!", Rowoon finally yelled over the noise, bringing in the big pot full of Bulgogi, and Youngbin quickly following with bowls of rice. Your eyes glinted at all the delicious looking food. "Wow, that looks and smells amazing, Rowoon!", you complimented the chef, who immediately began to smile, somewhat embarrassed. "As long as it also tastes good...", Dawon murmured, earning himself a smack against the back of his head from the cook. "Rowoon’s food always tastes good.", Taeyang protested, earning himself a smile. Youngbin helped to fill the plates of everyone before sitting down on the only empty chair left - between Dawon and Hwiyoung and directly opposite you.

How was he supposed to concentrate on eating when he just wanted to stare at you all evening?

He sighed inwardly, looking down at the delicious smelling food on his plate. He really had to calm down if he didn't want the others to immediately notice that you were his mate.

He tried hard not to gaze at you all through dinner, beginning to talk to Hwiyoung about some repairs he had to do this week at the shop. He still noticed the stolen glances you threw his way ever so often, and felt the wolf inside him purr at your attention. After the main course had been demolished, you brought in your cakes - they smelled of chocolate, red wine, cinnamon and other spices, and everyone rushed to get the biggest slice.

"Oh God, this is the best cake I've ever had!", Dawon exclaimed happily, speaking around his full mouth. You snorted, chewing silently and smiling while you were gazing around at them all. You truly liked every single one of them already - you couldn’t explain it, but you had a feeling of just... fitting in with them, feeling truly at home and ease. You had also managed to talk with every single one of them so far - well, except for Youngbin who seemed to ignore you, not even looking at you once.

What was going on with him? You’ve had so much fun talking to each other yesterday and he had seemed to be interested in you - or had you read the signs... wrong? You sighed and took a sip of red wine - you only allowed yourself one glass tonight as you still had to drive home later.

You were just laughing at something Jaeyoon was telling you, when you finally felt Youngbin’s gaze on you - you quickly looked up and were proven right, his dark eyes seemed to burn into yours and you swallowed hard, breath hitching. Inseong beside you looked at you in a funny way, so you quickly averted you eyes again, trying to continue to listen to Jaeyoon’s story - even though you still felt the burning gaze of Youngbin on yourself. You could hardly wait for your date this Saturday.

The evening passed way too quickly for everyone's liking and soon, it was time for you to leave - all of you had to work or go to university tomorrow and as it was already way past midnight, you thought it was best to leave.

"You can stay the night!", Dawon whined when he saw you grab your coat, "We have a ton of rooms we don't use! We can stay up for a bit and watch a movie together! Pleeease?" He made huge puppy eyes at you and pouted, making you laugh while you finished wrapping the scarf around your neck. "Another time, I promise. But I'm tired and still have to try to find my way back home - tomorrow's a work day too. Buut... I'm free tomorrow night, if you're up for it?" You raised one eyebrow in a questioning manner.

"YES!"

You giggled at Dawon’s loud yell. "Great. We'll text about the exact time and movies, okay?"

"Perfect - who else wants to join us? I'll make a group chat!", the cheerful man offered enthusiastically, phone already in his hand. Jaeyoon, Rowoon and Zuho immediately agreed to join while the others excused themselves, all having dates with their girlfriends/mates. Inseong and Taeyang had already agreed to go out with some other friends that evening - so only Youngbin was left without any excuse. He quickly agreed to think about it, even though he already knew he was definitely going to join the movie night, just to be around you some more. He just didn't want to seem too eager in front of his pack.

After the plan for tomorrow was finally settled, you were allowed to leave. You smiled one last time at them all, waved and left, the door closing behind you with a loud thump. A few seconds later, the pack heard you start the car and drive off. Inseong turned around to look at his pack. "So?"

"I LOVE HER!", Dawon immediately yelled, Jaeyoon beside him nodding vigorously.

"She's really nice.", Taeyang commented.

"I think it's mean she didn't want to help us with our project.", Chani intercepted, earning himself some glares from his older pack members, "I'm just joking! I like her too."

"Good - I also think she fits right in with us.", Inseong said, smiling in a slightly relieved matter. Youngbin didn't say anything, even though he felt the other man look at him while he said that. He just turned around and excused himself, saying he was tired. He took a quick shower, and, when he entered his room again, heard his phone vibrate on his nightstand. 

Yawning and ruffling his wet hair, Youngbin looked at the screen:

Youngbin just grinned at the exchange - he was really looking forward to your movie night.

[next chapter] | [all chapters]

[zmediaoutlet]

Ohh, what an excellent answer re: Deanna! But what about John/Deanna? Would Dean being a woman have a difference there? she would probably remind him of Mary; would he treat her more kindly than Sam, in some cases, on the basis of that? (of course, that would also make it oh so wrong on so many levels - on top of the wrongness it already is when we're talking about John/Dean...)

(read on AO3)

She didn’t look the same.

There were similarities, of course. The tip and tilt of the eyes, andsomething about the strong turn of her jaw. Mary’s jaw had been strong, and setmore often than not into something stubborn. She looked at him square-on, hisgirl, right in the eye, telling him what she thought and what they should do.It wasn’t defiance, because Mary hadn’t ever thought he was in charge. Theywere equals, through and through, and if they fixed to do something or if theyfought it out or even if they just disagreed, it was done with them bothstanding tall. That jaw, flexed, and her chin high.

Deanna’s not that way. She’s stubborn, sure, and she’s tough. John’s seen tothat. She’ll look a man in the eye, and punch him in the eye too if it comes tothat, a sure right hook that she’ll follow up with whatever dirty trick she hasto. She can strip a gun as fast as John and she’s probably a better shot,though he wouldn’t tell her that. He keeps her on her toes, keeps her sharp. Heneeds her focused, and she is. Probably the best hunter he knows of, man orwoman, and he thinks—he hopes—Mary would be proud, even if he’s sure Marywouldn’t want what’s become of their family with her gone.

But she’s not—she looks at John square, her eyes huge and green (not blue),her long hair swinging over her shoulder (lightest brown, not blonde), but herlips are movie-star full and there are freckles over her nose and when Johnsays sweetheart, she doesn’t smile at him all confident or roll her eyesand push away saying there are dishes to do, or weeds to pull, but instead justflushes up like a rose, her ears going pink and her cheeks red and her chinducking, her shoulders curving, and John can’t forget, ever, that this is hisdaughter, not his wife.

It’s awful. For a hundred reasons, for more than, but that’s what keeps Johnup at night. It’s part of why Sam hates him, he’s pretty sure, even if he knowsSam’s not aware of the full extent of it. John’s mortally certain that, if Samfound out, he’d either disappear on the first bus out of Dodge never to be seenagain, or there’d come some morning when Sam would sneak in while Johnstruggled through whatever passed for sleep that he got now and would slit histhroat, age thirteen or not, and if there is an afterlife, John doesn’t thinkthat even in hell he could blame him for it. John’s done some good, he doesn’tpretend otherwise, but he’s done a lot of bad, too, and this is—the worst, he’ssure, and he doesn’t have an excuse.

If he were better, he thinks sometimes, he’d leave. He could get into thetruck and say he was taking care of some hunt, somewhere, and it was toodangerous to bring the two of them along, and Deanna would frown but shewouldn’t argue, and she’d wave from the door of whatever motel or apartmenthe’d gotten for them, and he’d hold that image of her behind his eyes forwhatever years left that would follow. He can picture it, perfectly. Her hairpulled up into a ponytail, her eyes squinting against the morning. Coffee cupin hand, resting lax against her thigh. She’s kept the family going, and she’ddo fine, better, without him.

But there’s always something. A‌ shadow in the corner of John’s eye; aghoul, pinned under his gun, smiling about the devils lurking in every detail.A‌ demon, in Wichita, with its mouth curving bloody even as John’s got itpinned to a chair, saying and where are those pretty kids of yours, John?,so all he can do is race home, heart in his throat, the truck giving its utmostunder the thinnest carved slice of inconstant moonlight—to get back to a cabin,alone among bare trees, to find the Impala parked safe and quiet, and the lighton in the window, and his girl appearing after a moment behind the glass,rolling her eyes at her little brother, safe. His heart hardly slows, and hesits there in the dark, engine off, watching. He can’t. He can’t, because evenif he brings danger they’re in more danger without him. Even with what he is.Even with what he’s done.

It’s awful, and he has no excuse. There was a fight, he and Mary had—Deannanearly two years old and asleep upstairs, bills coming due, life chafing theway that life did—and he remembers it in weird, sunlit clarity. Mary’s hair hadbeen half-up, in that way she ruefully called messy and that he loved, andshe’d been in bare feet in a thin dress that clung to her, and she’d been tiredbut snapping mad all the same. There’d been a bruise on her arm, which hehadn’t put there; her jaw had been square as a boxer’s. She’d said, excusesare just the thing you say to justify what you did.‌ She was right, andhe’d gone away madder for it. By the time she died he still hadn’t come up withthe right response. Maybe there wasn’t one. He sits in the dark cab of his darktruck, and runs his hand over his face, and feels the week’s worth of notshaving on his jaw, and thinks sweetheart, grieving like he usuallydoesn’t, in no more detail than that.

After a while, the light in the cabin windows dims. Midnight, when he checkshis watch—the kids adhering to their curfew, even if he’s gone. Well, Deannais. Sam’s probably going to read with his flashlight under the blanket untildawn comes or he passes out, whichever’s first, back in the little closet he’sturned into a bedroom. John should go inside. He didn’t bring food, too lit-upby the demon’s hint—that they were too close, that he’d pictured—that he’dthought—and they’ll have to get some cash, in the next few days. Things to do.He doesn’t want to do them.

The door to the cabin opens, and Deanna steps out onto the sagging porch.She’s bare-legged, in the moonlight, though he sees after a second that she’swearing shorts at least, one of his cast-off coats tugged over her shoulders.She looks right at him, even if it’s got to be hard to see. He takes a deepbreath, and doesn’t think about it more. He opens the truck door, and gets out intothe cool autumn night, the wet mulchy ground sinking under his boots. “Heythere, sweetheart,” he says, and it’s quiet but it carries across the clearing,and there’s no way to see it in the moonlight but he knows she’s pinking up,and he watches her chin duck and the little smile tuck into her cheek the wayit always does, and he hates it, hates it, and holds out his hand for her totake.

Her boots are just tugged on, unlaced, silent on the leaf-strewn ground. Herlegs long and white, and the shorts with the frayed hems from where she’ddestroyed some jeans in a werewolf hunt a year or two back, and a baseballshirt with a half-washed-off logo for some band he doesn’t know, and his bigcanvas coat over her shoulders, and her hand with bandaids over three of theknuckles when she slips it into his, and her face still ducked down, and hervoice steady but soft when she says, “Hey, Dad.”

It aches. He tucks her hair behind her ear and feels the heat under herskin. “You good?”‌ he says, and he means all of it but she leans in, looks upat him, licks her lips. He’s seen her play whorish for boys, and for men, andhe’s seen her shift gears into charmingly cute for old guys who want a littleshine of pretty, and he’s seen her, even, with a guy her own age she actuallyliked, grinning and flirty, confident. Never, anywhere else, is she like this.Her lips shine, and her white teeth tug into the bottom one, nervous, and heruns his thumb over her bandaged-up knuckles and says, “Sweetheart,” low andhelpless, except he’s not helpless, except he is.

The truck-bed, folded down for her to sit, and his case of weapons shovedaside. He can’t see the color of her eyes in this light. The metal’s cold andhe shrugs out of his own coat, lays it down, and peels his other coat off hershoulders and chafes her forearms when they appear. “What happened?” he says,quiet, because there’s a bruise on her arm too—memory, jostled—and theknuckles, and now that he’s close a scrape on her jaw, and she shrugs it off,away, says, “Fight at school.” She’ll tell him the truth, later, or Sam will ifhe thinks it’ll get her in trouble—Sam’s in that phase—but all John says fornow is, “Good reason?”

She scoffs, but her teeth catch in her lip again and she only nods,eyelashes cast down, and he thumbs over her jaw, careful of the scrape. Hetouches her knee and it bumps up into the shape of his palm. Eagerness orsurprise, he can’t tell. She isn’t wearing a bra, nipples pebbled hard in thecool air. His hands feel very rough when he’s near her. The callus on his thumbslides over her skin, marbled in the light but so, so warm, and he steps closeand her knees part automatic around his hips. His balls ache. With Marysometimes it was like a fight, push and pull, her giving as good as she got. Hehad to hide marks, sometimes, at the garage. With Deanna—he slips his thumbover her bottom lip and her mouth parts instantly, hot breath rushing over hisskin. Her hands fist in his canvas shirt, her chest rising. He pushes his thumbin, just a little, just enough to catch the soft wet of her tongue, and then hecups her jaw and leans down and kisses her, finally, and groans hard not at thetaste but at how her whole body curves up into his.

A fumble, a rush. Like being a teenager himself again. A‌ week since he washere last, and a week before that when nothing happened—and he doesn’t muchlook to other women, and knows in his gut how sick that is. He slides his handsup her cold thighs, over her hips and up her sides under the shirt, her skinblazing hot there against his cold fingers, and she gasps, clutches at hischest, her knees around his hips. She’s sitting too far back but it gives himroom—he slips a hand over her ribs, up the soft swell of her tit, her nipple sohard against his fingertips the skin feels rough, and just brushing it makesher chest heave, her breath coming gaspy and stuttered against his lips.They’ve got practice being quiet but maybe it’s been too long because she says oh,a complete syllable, and his dick strains against his zipper to hear it.

Jesus, the need in her. How easy it is, to bring it up to the surface. Heskims his hand down her belly and goes right for gold, curving his hand downover her worn-thin shorts, the seam slipping against his palm. She flinches,grips his shoulders. “Dad,”‌ she says, breathless, and it’s like there’sa roaring in his ears, a forest fire burning through the trees on all sides. Hecan’t feel the wet yet but he knows if he had the patience—but just rolling hisfingers has her gulping, flattening her weight against his hand, her hipssquirming, and he—yes, god—yes—“Come on,” he says and he knows it sounds rough,but she understands and nods frantic, pushing back and sliding on her ass upthe truck bed, bringing his coat with her—and he climbs up, standing for asecond above her, seeing her spread out, still clothed but—her eyes are on him,then, her mouth open, and he gets down on his knees and goes for the button onher shorts, gets it open and helps her wriggle them down over her hips,bringing her undies down too—purple cotton, printed with turtles—and he pullsthem down, off along with one boot, and her knees spread and he leans down withhis body covering hers from the light and rubs his fingers in her short-trimmedhair and finds the wet seam of her and slips, and then pushes in, just one, andshe’s so hot and tight and clinging that he bites her shoulder through hershirt, even as she grabs his wrist and lifts into it.

God, god. “Fuck,”‌ she breathes, and he gets one knee between hers and pullsout and pushes back in with two, with an audibly wet squishing noise which hasgot to be setting her face on fire—she gets so wet so fast and doesn’tunderstand that it’s the hottest thing in this universe—and he sets his thumbover her clit and works steady, firm, not that it’ll take much. Her thighsspasm and he can’t feel her skin through his jeans but god, if only—and shekeeps her hold on his wrist but doesn’t try to guide him, which is just as wellbecause it’s not as though he needs it, because he knows this body, knows whatit wants, and he knows she’s had boyfriends—has at least gone home with boys,and when very drunk he’s wondered, vicious with himself, if she compares whatshe gets from them to this—if it’s better, two kids fumbling stupid, awkward—ifshe doesn’t get there, if she lays in the dark after the kid’s emptied intosome Planned Parenthood free condom and passed out and she’s throbbing, unsatisfied—ifshe remembers—and he’s kissing her then, soft, pushing his tongue against hersand letting their mouths brush together, her hand clutched into his shirt, andshe comes rippling, her hips curling into his hand, her muscles seizing hardaround his fingers and her nails in his wrist for just the most intense handfulof throbbing seconds before she lets go, her breath sobbing in her chest, herinsides spasming still around the fingers he hasn’t moved.

He lays his cheek against her hair, rubs his thumb over her pubic mound. Twoyears since the first time and still, even with all he thinks about himself,the first thing he feels is this overwhelming sense of protectiveness. Shepants, clutches her thighs around his hand and his leg, muscles twitching, and hekisses her forehead, her cheek. He shifts his wrist and his fingers glide likethrough silk, his knuckles slipping together, and—sometimes he’d slip down,shoulder her legs apart and do his best, and there’ve been times that was it,that he’d brought her there shuddering three times, five, and then pushed offand said—wash up, honey, and taken himself away before he could do moredamage.

Tonight, though—with it cold, and her hand still locked into his shirt. Hepulls his fingers out and drags them flat over the whole messy swale betweenher legs, from her so-sensitive clit to her vagina and past, sliding smooth,until his fingertip curls against the rim of her asshole. He looks her full inthe face and she blinks at him in a wave of clear moonlight, lips bitten andwet, and he thinks, he could. He could, and she wouldn’t stop him, and she’dlike it after a while—and maybe want it, too, and tip her ass up for it thesame way she’ll spread and offer her pussy, bright red and eager to please, andhe groans and says, entirely without input from his brain, “You’re killing me,”and her face does something he doesn’t understand but it’s—he has to be in her,he has to, and he kneels up between her legs and undoes his belt, his button,his zip, and she scoots up, seeing, spreads wider, lifts on an elbow andreaches down, and his dick practically leaps straight out when he shoves hisjeans down his hips, his ass bare to the night sky, but—god—her hand, knowing,and he picks up her thigh and leans in, lets her guide because he always has,always, even that first time when they really were both drunk and frightenedand she’d shushed him saying dad, come on—it’s okay—and thistime’s just like that time in how she presses him up in the wrong place atfirst, too high, and drags his cockhead down between the lips to home and holdshim there for an unbearable second before she presses, in, and he takesover and pushes, steady, hilting up inside with her making that same breathlesshigh noise in her chest, her thigh clutching over his hip, the heatunimaginable, fuck, fuck, Mary.

No—

“Oh, fuck,” she says again, and he’s reoriented, and fucks in quick andsharp without fully meaning to. She groans then, deep, deeper, and he slides ahand under her shirt to tweak her nipple, gripping her tit in a rough palm,fucking forward, bringing her hips with his. The truck rocks, counter to theirrhythm, and she gets a hand in his hair, grips, says, “D—” but he fucks intoher again before she can say it and she gasps instead, and then he’s fuckingher easy, slipping through her wet and letting her clutch all around him,knowing that he’s making it good, that he’s getting her there, and the worldfading past his back—just the pound of her heart in her throat where he’sburied his face, and the press of her skin, and below where his balls slapagainst her ass and he grinds in deep, forces his pelvis against hers and feelsher thighs start to shake, her hands gripping. She goes off again, his easygirl, and he wants to yank out of her, to shove her on her belly and push inagain—to take her ass—to get her on his lap and play with her clit until she’swrung out and desperate, wanting only to sleep—to get her to say, at last—no,Dad, no—stop—but she doesn’t, and he doesn’t, and he lifts up and drags hischeek against hers and gets a hand under her ass to tilt her into just theposition he wants and drills her hard, not trying to get her off but justwanting to empty himself out—to be done—but she does come again, shocked andsuddenly-loud, clutching around his dick, and he unloads in her only then,stomach coiled and gritting whatever noise he might’ve made into silencebetween his teeth, his hips slamming in two, three more times, his fingersgripped so tight into the meat of her ass that his knuckles hurt, and ache morewhen he finally lets go.

She’s quiet, after. Always is. Their breath slows down only slowly, anddespite the cool air John’s sweating like a pig but she doesn’t push him off,or complain. Her fingers are soft against his neck, light on his side. Hekisses her jaw, obscure apology, and she makes a very soft sound for that, andnone at all when he pulls out, wet following. She’s been on the pill since shewas fifteen but he has a moment, every time, where he thinks—good—andthen the sickness washes in to cover it, and he has to turn his face away. Heturns away now, kneeling up, tugging his jeans into place. She’s a mess belowhim, breathing quietly at the night sky. He glances around, habit, but ofcourse there’s nothing to see. Just the woods, and the dark cabin, and hisgirl.

Her jean-shorts fell down to ground, and both boots too. She’s left in hersocks, bunched around her ankles. He climbs down and says, “C’mere,” and hesees her chest expand on a big breath before she sits up. She wrinkles hernose, slipping a hand between her legs, and his stomach flips, knowing thatit’s him she’s feeling. She just scoots forward, though, and he holds up theshorts and she blinks at him, but presents one foot and then the other, lettinghim slide them up her legs. She missed a little patch in her shaving, on theside of one knee, and he holds his palm over that and leans down and kisses hersoft, her mouth opening plush and giving. Endlessly giving.

“Go on,” he says, when he pulls away. He puts a little smile in it, so asnot to seem cruel. It’d be too cruel, to be cruel now. He picks her up by thehips—he can still pick her up, even with her grown—and she slides her shorts upthe rest of the way, and drops onto her bare feet on the soft wet ground. Hepicks up her boots and hands them to her. “I’ll get this squared away,” hesays. “You go and clean up.”

She’ll need it—wet as they were—and she’ll need to pee, to wash up. Deannanods, and fishes a hairtie out of her pocket, and in an instant her hair’s in amessy bun, heavy at the back of her head. She picks up her boots again, buthesitates, and then leans into his side, not exactly a hug. “Glad you’re home,Dad,” she says, quiet, eyes flashing up, and then walks barefooted across thebig clearing, up the steps. Into the cabin, without looking back.

John drags a hand over his face. There’s spunk on his coat. Where arethose pretty kids of yours, he hears, like it’s echoing across theclearing, and he looks behind himself like a fool, and then up at the moon.“Yeah,” he says, chest sore. When he looks down he sees her panties, floateddown among the leaves. He stoops and picks them up, stuffs them into hispocket, and gets to work. He’s got to clean this up and square it away, andthen get into the house where the broken-spring old couch is waiting to be hisbed, and then—the morning, and Sam wanting to join some club or other, andDeanna making breakfast in the lit-up kitchen, and looking in the paper forsome kind of dark, something that’ll take him away from here again. “Excuses,”he says, to no one, and bites the inside of his cheek. Then he grabs up thecoats, and puts up the tailgate, and heads over to the water pump, to wash.

[graciebirdie]

The Sun The Moon and The Stars Chapter 7

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6

me showing up with a new chapter of a fic i haven’t updated in like 10 months: i made this.

you guys: *reads it*

Wednesday morning was relatively quiet after the FBI had left. Deputies doing paper work for the most part. Peter was certainly glad he’d never felt the need to join law enforcement if this was what they spent the majority of their time doing.

He sat outside the station going back through the box of his favorite books on magic, both the theory and practice, to make a reading list for Stiles.

He could feel a migraine building above his nose and blamed the perfume someone had sprayed in the car. It was fading but still too strong for werewolf senses.

He’d been able to ignore it relatively easily the day before but even with all the windows rolled down it was starting to grate on his nerves. He missed his own car. It was an odd feeling to have considering he’d had so many different ones over the years. He enjoyed driving as many different kinds as he could, forever looking for the perfect one.

Out of all the cars he could have been thinking of, for some reason the car that came to mind was Talia’s boring and dependable four door soccer mom van. Every time he’d been forced to pick up her kids that was the car he had driven. He could still remember the distinctive scent of it. Pack-food-dirt-cigarettes. Laura’s bad attempt at teenage rebellion.

A creaking sound snapped him out of his thoughts and he realized he was holding onto the steering wheel tight enough his knuckles were white. If he held on for much longer he could easily break it.

He took a long deep breath and forced himself to let go. He was sick and tired of sitting around doing nothing and was still smarting over Stiles inadvertently humiliating him.

Obviously it was time for a bit of a change of pace. The Sheriff would be safe in the station for a few hours while the hunter’s were all being distracted by dealing with the FBI.

Peter drove the borrowed car back to it’s garage, strangely pleased he wouldn’t be needing it anymore but also a touch annoyed he hadn’t thought to do this before.

Peter ran across town to one of Beacon Hills’ self storage lots, the slightly more seedy one. He walked to the front gate, hoping his password still worked. After all, he hadn’t been inside in almost seven years.

He had had automatic payments set up through his personal bank account, the one the pack had known about. Even after almost seven years and being his Power of Attorney Laura haven’t touched it. No doubt she thought it was full of blood money instead of everything he’d made through legitimate work. It was even the account he paid his taxes out of.

The unit he went to wasn’t his only one and of course he had more than one bank account, more than one identity. He liked to be prepared for all different contingencies.

His password to the front gate did work and he ducked through the opening gate, easily avoiding the camera on his way in.

He walked down the road between units until he came to his. He didn’t have his key but he did have a lock picking set in his pocket for just such occasions. He pulled the set out and quickly popped open the lock and slid the garage door up enough to duck under before pulling it closed behind him.

The unit was stuffed full of moving boxes and right in the middle of the organized mess was Peter’s newest car. The one he’d bought just a few months before the fire.

He’d put the car and the boxes in storage only two weeks before the fire. Talia had finally pushed Peter over the edge and he’d been all set to move out of the pack house and into an apartment full time.

He’d had a small one bedroom he rented for when he couldn’t stand to be around the pack, usually only spending a night there every few weeks, but Talia had started to push Peter harder and harder to fully conform to her ideals.

He and Talia had always butted head, fighting over everything from the colors of the living room walls to how to dispose of threats to the pack. They had usually been able to come up with some sort of compromise.

The move had been a compromise. Peter would still have been at Talia’s beck and call but he’d at least have a sense of freedom.

Now he had all the freedom he had ever wanted.

He crouched down to inspect the preservation runes drawn on the floor.

The runes were supposed to keep the unit in exactly the same state it had been the day he’d drawn them. The crystal that was the power source for the runes was still glowing very faintly so he knew so long as the runes were intact everything inside would been as good as new even after years of sitting untouched.

The little tiger’s eye next to the crystal was also glowing softly and Peter smirked, pleased that the witch he had bought them from hadn’t been lying when she’d told him they could last for years.

While the crystal was the power source the tiger’s eye was there to keep the mice out of Peter’s clothes, with the added bonus of keeping other people out too. Even if the payments had somehow stopped no one would have been able to get inside the unit and there were a few other runes beside the preservation one to make sure that no one would have noticed the lack of payments if it had come to that.

He flicked the tarp that was covering the car off to admire it full and  lightly ran his fingers over the sparkling green paint of his 1969 Gran Torino. It wasn’t exactly his type or color but he’d seen it at a vintage car show and had been mesmerized by the way it sparkled in the sunlight. He’d had to have.

He wandered around the car, wondering what had happened to his other cars. He’d had three in the garage at the house. He’d grudgingly allowed other pack members to borrow them, in exchange for favors. Usually just picking the kids up from school so he wouldn’t have to, sometimes taking his turn to make dinner when he was too busy with work.

He shock his head, dispelling such maudlin thoughts. The pack had been dead for years now. It was time to move on, on to something better. Stiles’ was going to be more than the pack had ever been and that was really all Peter needed now.

He looked over the boxes and wondered if there was anything in that he would need. Stiles had taken Peter’s jacket, there should be another one somewhere.

He moves the boxes around until he found one labeled winter clothes and smirked at it. He remembered one of the jackets in it vividly. It would be perfect. And if he ran into Derek while wearing it it would make an amusing declaration. His finger’s brushed supple leather and he pulled it out of it’s box. He held the jacket up and grinned at it. “Perfect.”

***

He drove his own car back to the station, smirking the whole time over how well the runes had kept the car and the gas in it in perfect condition.

He settled in to keep watch, in a considerable better mood than he had been since the need to keep watch had started. He’d even found some more books on magic that he’d recently bought. Or rather, bought just before the fire had happened, making it so that he hadn’t had the change to read them yet.

He half read his books and half watched FBI agents slowly bring in hunter after hunter through out the day.

After hours upon hours of waiting he finally heard the Sheriff say something relevant to him. “Well I’m off. I think I’m going to have dinner with my kid.” his tone suggested he was attempting to drop a subtle hint to someone. Peter suspected it was McCall the taller.

As Peter had thought McCall spoke next, sounding patronizing. “How nice for you that your schedule allows that.”

The Sheriff didn’t miss a beat replying “You’re right, it is nice.”

He didn’t wait for answer, instead calling out last minute reminders that the over-time budge was still maxed and to make sure that the FBI had all the assistance that they needed while he was gone.

Peter didn’t hesitate to tail the Sheriff back to his home and settle back down the street. There was a broken street lamp within his hearing range and he was fully intending to nap in the shadows while the Stilinski’s had their dinner and a quiet night in. But of course within minutes the Sheriff was deciding to have dinner out.

And Peter found out Stiles was grounded for some reason. It was incredibly amusing to think that it was because the Sheriff had found out about Stiles mixing with dangerous creatures of the night. It sounded like something his parents would have done to him, only in reverse. Peter had gotten in trouble more than once for attempting to corrupt poor innocent humans. He smirked as he remembered he hadn’t really changed much.

The Stilinki’s went to a tiny diner that was supposed to look like something from the 50s but just ended up looking kitsch and slightly rundown. Certainly, no place Peter was interested in going to. Although he was tempted to go in, just to see how Stiles would react. And the Sheriff too, for that matter. Peter thought the man had probably figured out about him at this point, and if not, it would be at least fun to watch the Sheriff’s face when he did work it out.

Maybe Stiles had even told him a bit about what had been going on, although Peter wasn’t sure when they would have had the time, he’d been watching the Sheriff like a hawk after all. He winced when he remembered he had been asleep at one point. Deeply enough asleep that Stiles had almost snuck up on him.

He pushed the thought away and saw to his delight that the little bakery next door to the diner was still open despite the slightly late hour. He parked and walked up to the bakery’s door to look at the times listed on it and blinked in confusion. The bakery didn’t even open until five in the afternoon and didn’t close until three in the morning. Which were, even for Peter, odd hours to keep.

Maybe the bakery was owned by an independently wealthy elderly person who liked working the night shift. He had certainly seen weirder establishments in his life. Although admittedly not in small town Beacon Hills. Either way, there were only two people inside and Peter was feeling a little hunger.

With a book under his arm he wandered in and ordered a sandwich and black coffee from the stoned looking college student sitting behind the counter. Her eyes were so red she could have passed for an alpha to an equally stoned werewolf.

He took his sandwich, coffee, and book and settled down at a little table in one of the front windows.

The only other costumer in the bakery was a man that had had either much more coffee than was advisable or was planing on robbing the place. He was practically jittering out of his seat and the stench of his anxiety was almost enough to make Peter leave. The tastiness of the sandwich was enough to make him stay.

Eventually the man left and Peter let himself actually pay attention to his book for a while. That was, until he caught the sound of the Sheriff’s voice outside. The tiny hint of concern in it was enough for Peter to jump out of his seat and out of the building, just in time to hear a gun shot.

He saw red and didn’t even try to stop himself from racing towards the sound of Stiles’ frantic screaming. He rounded the corner into an alleyway and there in front of him was gun powerder-blood-fear-Stiles’ fear.

Without hesitation he slammed into the man holding a gun. A gun pointed right at a very terrified and frozen Stiles who was still screaming.

He curled his hands around the man’s neck and wrenched. The man was dead so quickly he didn’t even get a final death rattle in. Peter was actually impressed that he’d managed to have enough restraint to just crush the would-be assassin’s neck and not completely decapitate him. Or tear his insides out.

He took several long deep breaths as he listened to the frantic but steady heartbeats of both the Stilinski’s in the ringing silence left behind once Stiles finally, finally quieted down.

Almost like a switch had been thrown Stiles’ heartbeat slowed and the fear scent was replaced by a numb calmness.

He was still visibly shaking, something that was only made more obvious when he pulled out his phone for it’s flashlight and tired to hold it steady while taking off his, Peter’s, jacket.

Almost on instinct Peter stepped closer, surprise that he was already standing. He didn’t remember standing up but he must have at some point.

Shrugging it off he took the phone from Stiles’ trebling and blood stained hand, holding it steady on where the Sheriff was taking off his own coat to study the long bloody gash on the back of his arm.

The Sheriff would probably be fine. The amount of blood told Peter that the bullet hadn’t hit any major arteries or entered his body. The fact he could move his arm at all was a good sign.

Stiles covered the Sheriff’s arm with Peter’s jacket, no doubt completely ruining the lining with blood. Blood that was filling the air and making Peter feel nauseous because, fuck, he’d almost let the Sheriff get killed, he’d almost lost every change he had at Stiles and it hadn’t even been a week.

“Peter.”

He felt his breath hitch and his spine straighten at how calm and commanding Stiles sounded. His voice didn’t tremble in the least as he asked Peter to call the police and get rid of the body. He didn’t even sound overly concerned that Peter had killed another person in front of him.

Stiles’ calm seemed to flow into Peter and he breathed easier. Stiles wasn’t mad that Peter had let the Sheriff get shot. Peter suspected Stiles didn’t even know about keeping his eye out for them.

The Sheriff, on the other hand, was looking at Peter with calculating and narrowed eyes but his protest against Peter taking the body was weak.

Dead body over his shoulder and an ambulance on it’s way Peter set off to make sure that if Peter got distracted again there wasn’t going to be any hunter’s around to take advantage of it.

***

Peter pulled up in front of the wear house the hunter’s had been using as a second base. He listened for a few minutes, a slow almost feral grin spreading over his face as the five remaining hunters fanatically tried to make contingency plans for in case their attempt on the Sheriff’s life didn’t pan out.

Peter had no idea why they thought killing the Sheriff would help their case when the FBI was in town but he wasn’t about to look the gift horse of panicked and disorganized hunter’s in the mouth. They were making sloppy mistakes and that would just make it easier for Peter to take care of them in one fell swoop.

He got out of his car and pulled the dead hunter of the trunk and over his shoulder again.

Without hesitation he walked right up to the side door of the wear house and knocked it down with one sharp kick.

The metal door made an ear splitting crash as it hit the concrete but Peter didn’t even blink. He throw the body down and smirked at the stunned hunters. “I think this belongs to you.”

The hunters all stared at him for a few more seconds, enough time for Peter to pick up the fallen door and use it as a shield against the hail of bullets that flew at him.

He rolled his eyes at how predictable hunter’s were, quickly sliding down the wall to the little office in the corner. The lack of plies of weapons inside the main part of the wear house told Peter that they were no doubt being kept there.

The door knob turned easily in his hand and he slipped in, crouching so the hunter’s wouldn’t be able to see him through the windows in the office that faced the main wear house.

He glanced around and grinned hugely at the box clearly labeled grenades. He pulled the top off the box and lovingly picked one of the grenades. “Hello lovely.” he cooed.

He propped the metal door against the wall to use as a makeshift barrier, pulled the pin out of the grenade, and thew it out the window towards the shouting hunters.

He curled up and pressed his hands tightly over his ears just before the explosion hit.

Unfortunately he underestimated how much damage a grenade could due and ended up with a thick wooden beam falling right on his head.

***

He woke up to a headache and the familiar feeling of being tied to a chair, his burning writs telling him the ropes had wolfsbane in them.

He sighed deeply.

“Oh? Are you finally awake?” Gerard Argent asked, voice full of grandfatherly interest.

Peter thought the it sounded disgusting, especially with the way it was making his head ache even worse.

He rolled his head up to squint at Gerard. “I so appreciate you waiting to kill me until I was wake enough to enjoy it.”

Gerard smiled at Peter and gave his knee a patronizing pat.

“Allison my dear,” Gerard called, beckoning the girl over from where she was leaning up against a charred wall.

Peter snarled as he finally realized where they were. Fury welled up inside, burning hotter and brighter and more painful than the fires that had taken his life away.

How dare they, how dare they, bring him back here.

He heard Allison gulp loudly, saw her start to visibly tremble, could smell her terror over the stench of smoke.

He snapped jaws that felt too big at her.

She stumbled away from him, loaded crossbow up but shaking too hard to be able to hit him if she let the arrow loose.

Gerard tutted at her and picked up the bright red gas can at his feet. It was the kind that didn’t come with a nozzle and he had to step closer to reach Peter with it. He uncapped it and plashed the disgusting liquid in Peter’s face. It splashed into his mouth and he gagged harshly.

Gerard stopped and grabbed a handful of Peter’s hair, tipping his head back. They stared at each other for a moment before Peter grinned at him and spit the mouthful of gasoline in Gerard’s face. He kicked out and knocked the can out of Gerard’s hand. It splashed over both their legs and the floor around them.

Gerard hummed thoughtfully and wiped his face off with a handkerchief.

Gerard’s hand shot out and caught Peter’s check but the slap didn’t even sting. Peter raised his eyebrow. “Is it your age or the cancer that’s taken all your strength?”

Gerard smiled and pulled a knife out of his pocket. He dragged the tip down Peter’s check and that actually did hurt because the gasoline dripped into the cut before it could heal.

Peter didn’t even blink.

Gerard smiled wider. “Allison sweetheart please bring me another can from the car.”

Allison didn’t move.

“If you were looking for another Kate I don’t think you found her.” Peter said, smiling at Allison.

Her hands trembled even harder.

Gerard sighed and sent her a sad look. “He’s right dear, your aunt would be so disappointed in you.”

Allison dropped the cross bow and doubled over, retching all over it and her shoes.

“Oh how the Argent’s have fallen.” Peter said mockingly.

Gerard sighed again before walking out of the run, presumably going to get more gasoline.

“Does your daddy know where you are?” Peter asked Allison conversationally.

She didn’t even look at him, too busy sniffling into her hands.

“After he forfeited his life just so you don’t have to go to jail this is how you’re going to repay him?”

That got Allison’s attention. “What the hell does that mean?” she asked, voice wrecked from tears and vomit.

“Oh come on Allison I thought you were smarting than that.”

She glared at him, trying to threatening but missing by a mile.

“Don’t you know what happens to hunter’s who betray their own?”

She slowly shook her head.

“They die, Allison.”

She let out a retched sob.

There was a creak of floorboards as Gerard stepped back into the room. He gave her a pitying smile and said “He’s always been too weak for our way of life sweetheart.”

She shook her head vehemently, looking at Gerard with pleading eyes.

He patted her on the head as he walked past her.

Gerard opened the second can and walked around the chair so Peter wouldn’t be able to kick him again.

He pored the gasoline over Peter’s head again and said conversationally “You know, it’s poetic really.”

Peter had no desire to listen to whatever gloating bullshit Gerard had to say. He tipped the chair back, he and Gerard going down with a crash. The chair was rickety and seemed to have barely survived the fire because it and the floor boards all collapsed under the impact.

Peter rolled to his feet to look down the hole where Gerard was laying in a heap of charred wood and spilled gasoline.

“You’re right.” Peter said quietly, pulling a lighter out of pocket. “It is poetic.”

He flicked the lighter open and watched the flame jump up his arm before he dropped the lighter down onto Gerard.

***

Peter laid on the grass next to the lake, staring up at the stars and trying to ignore the tight familiar feeling of healing burns.

Allison was sitting next to him and crying softly.

He was tempted to kill her just to shut her up but she had sprayed him down with a fire extinguisher when he’d been foolish enough to open a lighter with accelerate on his hands. Gerard might had been dumb enough to try and kill Peter with fire but he hadn’t been so dumb he’d forget the fire extinguisher.

Not that it helped him at all in the end.

But it had earned Allison a free pass to cry too loudly next to Peter.

There was the crunch of tires on gravel and a car pulled slowly up to the smouldering house.

“Allison?” Chris Argent called, voice sounding tremulous and stuffy, like he’d been crying too.

Peter rolled his eyes while Allison shot to her feet and ran to her father.

Peter carefully pulled himself up and brushed himself off, winching at the dull pain of the burn scars. They were healing more slowly than he would have liked but he supposed he should just be grateful that they were healing at all.

Argent was standing next to his car and holding onto Allison like he was afraid she was going to disappear like smoke while Allison held on to him just as tightly.

Allison was sobbing into his chest, repeating over and over how sorry she was while Argent shushed her and gently petted her hair.

Peter walked a bit closer, close enough Argent could see the sad state he was in and maybe take pity on him.

Argent stared him down and Peter gave a helpless shrug, winching exaggeratedly at the pull the move made on his scars.

“What happened?” Argent asked quietly.

Allison babbled out a story about Gerard taking her from their hotel room and telling her the only way he would forgive her and her father for giving statements against him was if she helped him kill the rest of the werewolves in Beacon Hills. But when they had gotten to the wear house base and found it mostly rubble with a few dead bodies and a very much unconscious Peter Gerard had been unable to resist. He’d taken both Allison and Peter to the Hale house, stopping along the way for gasoline, and Peter tuned out the rest of her story, he’d been there for that part after all.

“Dad?” Allison asked, obviously about to start crying again. “Is what Peter said true?”

Argent winced and gave Allison an awkward pat on the back. “Usually…the head of the family would say whether another member of the family should be killed.” he paused and gave her a slightly watery smile. “But considering we’re the only two…left maybe it would be for the best if we…”

He trailed off but Allison didn’t hesitate to finish the sentience for him. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

Argent nodded and ushered her into the car. He stared at Peter for a moment before sighing and gesturing vaguely towards the car with his hand.

“Oh are you offering me a ride?” Peter asked, pressing his hands to chest and making a face of exaggerated shock.

Argent glared at him before saying “No.” and getting into the car.

They drove off and Peter fraught the urge to yell that he hadn’t wanted a ride anyway, just to get the last word in. It wouldn’t do him any good to try when Argent wouldn’t even be able to hear him.

Peter sighed and resigned himself to a long and uncomfortable walk back to his car. He just hopped it hadn’t gotten impounded while he was gone.

***

Not only had Peter’s car not been impounded no one had even called in the half caved in wear house. He shook his head in mock disappointment over how uninterested the residents of Beacon Hills had gotten.

He slipped into the driver’s seat and groaned loudly over the eventful night he’d had.

Peter glanced over to his old/new leather jacket sitting innocently on the set next to him and suddenly had a vivid sense memory of Stiles on his knees in front of him, bright red blood smeared on his face and shining in the half light. He grinned at the jacket and decided that just because he was fairly sure he’d solved the last of Beacon Hill’s hunter problem didn’t mean he couldn’t drop in on Stiles and his father and make sure they were alright.

***

He leaned up against the side of the house and listened to sound of the shower running and Stiles very softly, almost silently crying.

Fuck, but Peter had had enough of crying for one day. He was about to climb up to Stiles’ window when he heard the soft whoosh of it sliding open and looked up to see Stiles leaning out.

“Peter?” he called softly, his voice breaking in the middle of the word.

And, well, Peter wasn’t about to turn down an invitation like that.

***

Poor Stiles was stressed out, over tired, and under feed and if Peter didn’t like the Sheriff so much he might be tempted to kill him.

The Sheriff closed the door to Stiles’ bedroom the moment Stiles was gone. He turned to Peter and carfully crossed his arms over his chest, leaned his back against the door and raised an eyebrow. “What did you mean by that? He doesn’t have to worry about someone taking a shot at me?”

Peter smiled and it was all teeth. “Just that there wasn’t anyone else to take the shot.”

The Sheriff manged to look even more disgruntled. “And why is that?”

“They were, unfortunately, all of them victims of their own hubris.”

The Sheriff didn’t so much as blink.

“If you want a detailed description of what happened I suggest you ask Allison Argent.” Peter said with a smile.

That, the Sheriff did twitch at. He rubbed his hands over his face and groaned deeply.

“If it makes you feel any better you won’t have to take Gerard Argent to court now.”

The Sheriff groaned again, even louder, and swore under his breath for almost a solid minute. Peter was quietly impressed.

“Let me see if I understand this correctly,” the Sheriff started, staring Peter down almost threateningly. “You killed several hunters tonight and now you’re trying pin it on Allison Argent because you know she’s going to skip town without talking to me.”

Peter grinned. “You know, you’re a very clever man Sheriff Stilinski.”

The Sheriff just glared harder. “There are three reasons I’m not going to arrest you.” he paused for a moment before adding thoughtfully, “Or take the law into my own hands.”

Peter leaned forward eagerly.

“One, you’ve saved Stiles’ life twice now. Two, you’re a werewolf and Stiles says you could very easily escape from prison. And three, for some reason I don’t understand Stiles trusts you enough to leave me in a room with you alone.”

“Sheriff, I wouldn’t have gone through all the trouble I went through to keep you alive if I wanted to just kill you.”

He didn’t look impressed. “So you are my new stalker.”

Peter gave him an innocent smile, not trying to deny it nor surprised the Sheriff had noticed Peter following him around.

“I don’t…like this.” the Sheriff said haltingly. “I don’t…I don’t like any of this. But I know my son, and I know there is absolutely nothing I can do to keep him away from this. So. If you’re going to be hanging around Stiles you’re going to be stuck hanging around me too.”

John gave a decisive node and Peter gave him a huge Cheshire cat grin.

[kiwi-cake]

Mated Part 3

Werewolf!Luke

A/N: Halloween is over but werewolf Luke can hang around a bit longer since he’s so dear to our hearts -megan

Masterlist

Michael walks in to Y/N hanging upside down from her bed. They were supposed to have a movie night, but she had forgotten. There was a lot on her mind lately, which seemed to push out things like movie night, or really anything that didn’t have anything to do with Luke. It was weird how much she popped into her head lately. It started about a week after she went to his house a second time. Of course, she had been thinking about him beforehand, but more in a ‘woah this dude and his friends are werewolves’ sense. Now it was just stupid stuff like how it felt when he was holding waist her to keep her calm. It was manageable at first, but once another week had gone by, she was miserable. It felt like she constantly had an itch, but like in one of those places you can’t reach yourself, like the middle of your back.

“What are you doing?” Michael says, dropping a grocery bag undoubtedly filled with junk food for their movie.

“I’m trying to get the blood to rush to my brain,” she said, sitting up.

“Uh….. why?”

“No reason,” she shrugged. She couldn’t tell Michael, he was infamous for being incapable of keeping a secret.

“Alright, who’s this mystery guy that you’ve been seeing?” he plopped down on the bed next to her.

“Um, what? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she was infamous for being a terrible liar.

“Likely story. You came back from your ‘run’ wearing clothes twice your size and smelling like some bloke’s cologne. I was going to let it go, let you have your one night stand and be done with it, but you’re clearly not over it.”

“I told you, it was laundry day and Rebecca’s boyfriend left his clothes at our flat, so I wore that rather than my dirty clothes.”

“That’s bullshit. We both know Rebecca’s boyfriend reeks of axe. You didn’t smell like axe, it was something nicer.”

“Fine! I had a one night stand. Happy?” she surrendered, hoping he would leave it at that.

“Who was it? Must have been something special to have you this worked up over him. I’ve never seen you act like this over a guy. Always staring off into space dreamily and shit.”

“I don’t stare off into space dreamily!” she screeched, “whatever, I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Let’s watch a movie.”

Seasonal allergies are the worst. It’s like, you’re just trying to enjoy the pretty leaves and pumpkin flavoured things, then BAM you wake up feeling like a scarecrow shoved it’s hay fingers down your nose and throat. And it’s not like it’s a real illness, so there’s no excuse to not go about your day. That was how Y/N woke up. She had been feeling a little queasy earlier in the week, but now she definitely had a fever and a scratchy throat. But she told herself that she just had to get through her lecture at noon then she could mope around at home. So she bundled up in her warmest pajamas, stocked her backpack with tissues, and headed out the door. It’s ironic to be sitting in a lecture about human consciousness when you’re feeling like someone let a tank of hot air out in her head. Her professor was very strict about attendance, so even when the kid next to her offered to take notes for her if she went home, she refused and waited for roll to be called. She would probably have to get notes from him anyway because for some reason she was seeing double anytime she focused on the board.

“Y/N, you don’t look so good,” said the other kid next to her. She had absolutely no idea what his name was. Y/N had only passed out twice in her life, once during the dissection of a fetal pig (she’s not squeamish, formaldehyde just smells terrible) and again when she forgot to take advil on the first day of her period. It’s hard to miss the signs of fainting. The first sign of dizziness can escalate quickly into blurred vision, ringing ears, and dissociation. It was good that Y/N knew these things because she was able to ball up her blanket as a barrier so her head didn’t hit the hard desk. She didn’t need a concussion on top of all this.

“Young lady in the front, this is not nap time,” said her teacher. It was the last thing she heard before it all went dark and she inevitably conked out on the table. She supposed the teacher felt like shit saying that right before she passed out. She couldn’t remember what happened in the next few minutes, but she was glad her university had a nurses office so they had somewhere to dump her. The nurse was an older lady wearing a fluffy cardigan. She stuck a thermometer in Y/N’s mouth and made a disapproving ‘tsk’ noise when she read the temperature.

“Your fever is much too high for you to be out and about today dear,” she said as she helped Y/N up from her chair, “A good rest and some fluids will fix you right up though. On your way.” The nurse helped her walk to the exit with shaking legs and promptly shut the door as soon as she passed the threshold.  

She hobbled down the steps of the main building. The news must have travelled fast since every student she passed veered a good five feet from her. It seemed nice and all that the school insisted she go home to rest, but since they didn’t offer her any other transportation except for walking back herself, she assumed that they just didn’t want a lawsuit on their hands if she passed out in another class. She cupped her hands above her eyes, trying to see where she was going in the bright afternoon sun. To her surprise, there was a familiar jeep parked in front of the school with an even more familiar man leaning up against it.

“Luke?” she approached the car, “what are you doing here?”

“I’m picking you up, god you look terrible,” he stepped closer and put a hand on her forehead, “you have a fever! Why did you even get out of bed today?” He didn’t look so good himself. His usually glowing skin was now rather pallor, accompanied by dark circles around his eyes. He even ditched his typical attire of skinny jeans and expensive boots for joggers and trainers.

“I can’t afford to miss class,” she rasped. He seemed very concerned over the state she was in, and maybe it was her weird sick-brain, but the worried crease in between his eyebrows made tears well up in her eyes.

“Hey, none of that,” his large hands moved to cup her flushed cheeks and wipe at the tears now pouring down her face, “I’m going to take you home and get you feeling better.” This somehow makes her crying even worse, the overwhelming emotions were buzzing through her veins. She sobbed and pressed her face into his chest to hide her crying. Y/N didn’t need a mirror to know that she looked dreadful. This wasn’t the cute sniffling cries you see in the movies. No, she had somehow landed herself in a full on meltdown. Her sinuses that had been congested for days decided this was the perfect moment to let her nose be snotty. She was hiccuping and the lack of oxygen was definitely causing her face to become blotchy. Luke didn’t seem to care though. He pressed his hand against her head and softly stroked her hair. They stood in front of her university for a few minutes, definitely getting weird looks from any passing students. His cologne smelled very nice to her, almost seeming to have a calming effect. She would have to ask him if it had lavender or some other aromatherapy in it.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to her. She almost detected guilt in his voice, although she didn’t know why. It’s not like he gave her seasonal allergies.

“Let’s get you home,” he pulled her away from him to wipe at her damp cheeks once more, then opened the passenger door for her.

“How did you know what happened?” she asked once she was buckled and the engine was on.

“Wolves have kind of a sixth sense of their surroundings, we can hear anything happening within a 20 mile radius if we concentrate. It’s like positioning an antenna on one of those old fashioned TV’s to focus on a certain channel.”

“So you just happened to be listening to my channel?” she asked. It sounded unlikely, but then again so do humans that can turn into wolves whenever they please.

“No, uh, I’ve been especially sensitive to your ‘channel’ so to speak lately. I think it’s because of your sudden proximity to our pack,” he didn’t turn his eyes from the road, but even if he were looking at her his probably face wouldn’t give away anything. He was very good at keeping a blank face, which frustrated her because she liked to be able to read people. They swiftly passed the entrance to where her dorm was, which surprised her because she thought he would know where it was since he said he took her sleep-walking ass home a few times.

“Oh, uh you passed the entrance,” she pointed out.

“I know, I’m taking you to my place. I’ve seen the chaos you call your room, and there’s no way your immune system can handle one more night in that environment.”

“Hey!” she hit his arm lightly, “I’ll have you know that just last week I made my bed.”

When they pulled through the gates of the property, she was shocked to not see any wolves roaming the grounds like last time.

“Where is everyone?” she asked, taking a moment to wipe her still-runny nose on her sleeve.

“Probably inside,” he shrugged as he parked in the massive garage, “did you think I lived in this huge house alone and made them all stay outside in their wolf forms?”

“Uh, no, of course not….” she laughed nervously as he led her inside. The kitchen was empty and he instructed her to wait there while he got some cold medicine for her. He was only gone a minute before she heard a door in a nearby hallway open and at least ten people filed into the kitchen. All of them were imposingly tall, even the women. They looked to be around the same age as Luke, if not younger, which makes her wonder what happened to the older generations. Were werewolf lifespans short like dogs?

“Hey Y/N! It’s been awhile, glad you’re back,” said a curly haired guy towards the front.

“Sorry, do I know you?” she peered over the group and can’t recall meeting any of them during either of her visits.

“Oh, right, you don’t know our human forms,” the guy laughed, “I’m Ashton, and that’s Calum.” He gestured over to the guy next to him. Now that she thinks about it, their hair color does exactly match the wolves she met. Calum gives her a shy wave while Ashton lists off the names of everyone else. She tried her best to be polite even though all she wanted to do was eat some chicken noodle soup and sleep for 48 hours.

“Guys, really?” the chatter stopped the moment Luke stepped back into the room, “I said not to bother Y/N. She’s sick and she doesn’t need you lot pestering her with questions.”

“It’s okay Luke,” she put a hand on his arm and his gaze softened a little, “they were just saying hi.”

“C’mon, you need to rest,” he put a hand on the small of her back to lead her upstairs, and threw a warning glance back at his pack. When they arrived in his room, she was overwhelmed with the scent of him. It made her eyes heavy and she practically floated over to the big bed. He handed her a measurement of cold medicine and she was so stuffed up that she didn’t even have to plug her nose when swallowing it. She got cozy under the puffy comforter and looked up at him drowsily.

“Need anything else?” he asked. She shook her head and he started turning to leave before she grabbed his hand.

“Don’t go. I don’t like to wake up in unfamiliar places alone,” she whined. She knew she was being childish and he definitely had better things to do than play nurse for her, but her sick brain was inherently selfish and she couldn’t help it.

“You’ve slept here twice already, it’s not unfamiliar,” he said, but he didn’t seem as firm in his resolve as he usually was about things.

“Please?” she gave him her wide pleading eyes and she knew she had persuaded him. He sighed and crawled onto the other side of the bed, sitting up on top of the covers.

“Happy?” he asked as she frantically turned to face him.

“Yes,” she said contently, shuffling a little closer to him, “You look tired, you should stop giving your bed to strange people.”

“It’s alright, I just want you to get better.”

“You can rest your eyes if you’d like. I won’t tell anyone you took a nap, it’ll be our little secret,” she said, patting his arm reassuringly. He nodded at her with the same sleepy look she probably had and a lazy smile. Feeling she had accomplished her mission, she closed her eyes and quickly drifted off, feeling like she had finally scratched that itch that had been nagging her for weeks.

Waking up in someone’s arms was not a common occurrence for her. Lately her romantic life has consisted of quick hookups at parties, and her last boyfriend, Brad, always said cuddling is for ninnies in romantic comedies. Their relationship obviously didn’t last long. She wasn’t angry that she opened her eyes and had two arms around her and a steady heartbeat resting against her ear. It was a nice change to waking up alone in the twin-size bed in her dorm. She shifted her head up slightly, expecting to see his intense blue eyes looking down at her, but instead saw that they were closed. It was weird to see him sleep. He had always seemed so alert and guarded around her that she was almost surprised he sleeps at all. Since she was feeling worlds better after her nap, she gave herself clearance to take in his features in a way she would be too intimidated to do if he were awake. She sat there for god knows how long, eyes tracing over the freckles she didn’t realize he had and the soft curve of his nose and the way his eyelashes rested on his cheeks and how his mouth was slightly open to let out quiet snores. The sun was setting through the blinds, but she was in no rush to go home. It was only the rumble of her stomach that stirred him from sleep and forced her to think about the reality of the situation. He seemed to do the same for a moment once he opened his eyes, looked at how she was tucked securely into his large frame. Who initiated the cuddle, she didn’t know, but she hoped Luke didn’t have the same negative stance as Brad if she were the one who subconsciously started it. She watched a smile twitch onto his lips and was relieved that she wouldn’t have to move from his warm embrace.

“Hungry?” he asked after a few minutes when her stomach growled angrily again. He had started lightly combing through her hair like he had when she was crying, but this time it seemed to be for his own enjoyment rather than her comfort. She internally scolded her stomach for not shutting up so she could stay like this. It was weird how normal it felt to be so close to a dude she met three weeks ago. Somehow, it was like they already knew each other on a molecular level, like every fiber of her being was trying to be close to his. She knew virtually nothing about him besides what he is, but the way he held her you would think they had been best friends since childhood. It was kind of dizzying to think about because she never felt this way for any guy so quickly, but something about him was the exception to everything she had previously known.

“Don’t want to move,” her voice was muffled by his shirt, and she thought she heard his heartbeat flutter at that.

“C’mon, I can hear your stomach growling. What will the police say if a girl dies of starvation in a house full of food?” his voice was light and carefree like she had never heard it before. He finally got her out of the bed when he mentioned that the others had ordered pizza. She relished in how he looked as they walked downstairs, his clothes rumpled and his hair messy. The kitchen was chaos. There was at least one large box of pizza for each member of the house. Everyone had a slice of pizza in one hand and a beer in the other except for a few guys who (she hoped) were brawling for fun. It was exactly like any college party she had been to if frat houses were unisex and had expensive furniture and appliances.

“Heyyyy feeling better Lukey? Did you get your fix?” one of the guys whose name she didn’t remember shouted from across the kitchen. Luke only gave him a dangerous glance before handing her a plate.

“You can have whatever you like, I think we bought up the entire town’s supply of pizza,” he joked, but he still seemed more guarded now that they weren’t alone, like he was afraid one thing would send her running. She filled her plate with sausage pizza and moaned at the taste. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was. Someone came and whispered something to Luke and his face changed to completely serious. He told her he had to go take care of a few things, but that he would be right back, leaving her alone in the routy kitchen. She was starting to feel a bit out of place until a girl with pretty braids in her long hair approached her with a smile.

“Hi, Y/N, I’m Claire. I’ll show you somewhere less turbulent to eat,” she pulled her out of the way before the wrestling dudes knocked over the entire kitchen table. She followed Claire down the hall to a living room sort of area with lots of couches. This environment was much more relaxed, she recognized Ashton and a few others who seemed to be a few years older than the less mature wolves fighting in the kitchen. Ashton gave her an encouraging smile and patted the seat beside him for her to sit. Claire sat next to her.

“It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it?” Ashton asked. She nodded.

“This place is great, but it’s a little…” she trailed off, not knowing how to get her point across without offending them.

“Reminiscent of a frat house? I know, that’s the disadvantage to being older. All work and no play. Although most of that falls on Luke, poor bloke,” one of them interjected.

“What happened to everyone else? I mean, isn’t there anyone else who could be in charge besides Luke? He’s so young…” her curiosity bubbled up all at once and she couldn’t help asking. A somber pause fell over the group and she realized she had said something wrong.

“A pack is like a family. The wolf gene is hereditary, so we stick together and live as a community. Most packs are much bigger, with hundreds of wolves at one time. But… a few years ago, our enemy pack that lives south of us attacked us in the middle of the night, breaking a centuries’ long truce. They killed everyone they could find, our parents and grandparents. Only 23 of us survived because we hadn’t gone through the change yet and wolf law prohibits any wolf from killing a human. Luke was only 14, but since he had the alpha gene his change came early when our old alpha was killed,” Claire finally explained. Tears welled up in Y/N’s eyes imagining the story unfold.

“He went through the change all by himself, then helped the rest of us through it when we changed. He’s never been able to lean on someone for support, always has to shoulder the entire burden himself. I think that’s why he’s had trouble accepting the situation between you two. But every time he sees you, he’s a little closer to being how he was before the tragedy and---”

“Wait, what situation between us?” she interrupted Ashton. They all turned to her with shocked looks.

“You… you don’t know? He hasn’t told you?” asked one guy, she thinks his name might be Glen.

“Gale, leave it, it’s not our place,” Ashton warned the other guy.

“Ash, we both know he’ll never get around to telling her anytime soon with how cautious he is, and she deserves to know,” Claire added.

“Know what?” Y/N demanded. The suspense of three weeks of confusion was finally building up to something, and they couldn’t leave her hanging now.

“You’re his mate Y/N….” Ashton lowly, as if the words themselves might set off an alarm if said too loudly.

“What? Like his friend or…?”

“No, like a soulmate, a life partner. That’s why you trailed after him like a lost puppy when you were sleepwalking. And why you got sick after not seeing him, and magically got better after a few hours with him. It’s your subconscious reacting to what you didn’t know yet in your logical brain,” Glen explained. She sat stunned for a moment, just trying to process the information. It made sense, in hindsight. Thinking about him nonstop, and being so dependent on his touch when she finally saw him.

“But then why---” her question was interrupted by heavy footsteps coming into the room. Luke was back in his skinny jeans and boots, and the uninterested expression had resumed its hold over his face. The people around her stiffened.

“Ashton, go talk to Kevin and Jenna, they’ll fill you in on the situation. Y/N, I’m taking you home,” Luke said in a stern voice. She noticed the keys in his hand and said a quiet goodbye to everyone before following his imposing figure to the garage.

The car ride back reminded her of the first time he ever took her back to campus. It was silent and his hands were tight on the steering wheel. When they were rounding the corner to her dorm, she finally gathered the courage to speak.

“You really have nothing to say? I know you heard what they told me,” she said.

“It doesn’t matter,” he replied quietly as they pulled in front of her dorm.

“What do you mean it doesn’t matter?”

“I mean we’re not going to be together, we can’t,” it was the first time he had ever raised his voice at her, “A girl died in the woods last night, that’s what happens when someone like you is around someone like me. I’m sorry you got mixed up in all of this, but I’m going to fix this and it’ll be like we never even met.” A cold chill ran through her body at his words and what they suggested. She didn’t know what ‘fix’ meant, but she assumed it involved breaking the tie between them.

“Has it occured to you that I might like some say in something that so heavily involves me? I’m not some ragdoll you can toss around whenever you like. You could have at least told me what was going on so I didn’t think I was going insane,” she opened the car door roughly and stepped out, “If this is going to affect my health and god knows what else, I should have just as much say in it as you. Keep that in mind next time you want to keep a secret from me. But since my human-ness is such a bloody nuisance to you, then I’ll leave you to your miserable self from now on.” She slammed the door and stomped into her dorm, not daring to look back at his reaction.

Request for part 4 :)

[anefan]

bittersweet between my teeth

Rating: T

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: None!

~

It was quiet when Stiles snuck back to the Hale house, the clearing hushed like even nocturnal birds and animals were respecting the crime scene. He wasn’t sure why Derek would still be here, but he had a hunch. The hunch was: Derek had nowhere else to go. Even after all the terrible things that had happened in this half-acre patch of burnt woods, Derek still thought of it as home. Maybe the fresh coat of tragedy and gunpowder would be enough to make the idea of sleeping here less appealing than hunting for an apartment—if Derek stayed in Beacon Hills at all. That thought had hit him like a ball of ice, had burned through his exhaustion and driven him back here, to the most recent setting of his future nightmares.

The creak of the porch steps made him freeze, skin taut over racing blood, even as he reminded himself that Derek would have heard him coming a mile away. He took another step, then two, past the gaping front door ragged with bullet holes.

Stiles cleared his throat, as if that could keep his voice from cracking. “Derek?”

Silence was his only answer, but it was a particular quality of silence, one that Stiles had become pretty well acquainted with. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the dark.

“Hey,” Stiles said to the stiff shadow above the stairs. The dull gleam of unearthly red slowly expanded from slits as the new alpha’s eyes opened just enough to glare at him.

“Go home,” Derek said.

“I went,” Stiles said. He’d changed, showered, picked up the spare key for the jeep, and made Jackson ferry him back to the parking garage where Peter had threatened and abandoned him, a lifetime ago. Jackson had been white-knuckled and silent the entire way; small mercies. That wouldn’t last. “Now, I’m back.”

The red eyes vanished, and Stiles heard a soft thump as Derek dropped his head back against the wall. “Why.”

“Um.” Stiles kind of wanted to step further in and close the door behind him, but he wasn’t sure normal house etiquette applied to half-torched, bloodstained, bullet-riddled husks. He shuffled in place. “So. You’re the alpha.”

Silence.

“How’s that… going,” he tried.

The silence somehow gave him the impression that if he had werewolf powers, he’d hear Derek grinding his teeth.

“I just ask because… well. The last guy who was the alpha, he was… how do I say this? Nuts. Totally nuts.”

“Stiles.”

“He was so nuts that the drive to make a pack had him immediately deciding that his number one priority was to bite literally the first asshole he ran into, which was Scott. And you saw how that turned out for him. Not to mention, the whole string of murders afterwards was murder on—on my dad.”

Silence.

“So you see where I’m going with this.”

The red eyes flared again, brighter. The upper floor creaked dangerously as Derek leaned forward. “Are you asking?”

“I—.” Despite the open door at his back and that half the house was ripped open to the woods, Stiles felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. He took a few deep breaths. Licked his lips. “What?”

“Are. You. Asking.”

“For—am I asking for the bite?”

“Yes, Stiles. Are you asking for the bite.”

“No!”

“Then why are you here?” The eyes rose gracefully as Derek stood up to loom harder, brightening as they caught more light, or Stiles’s eyes adjusted. Or maybe the glow burned hotter as Derek got pissed.

“I just came to check on you! God! I don’t want you to bite me, but I—”

“That’s a lie.”

Stiles felt his heart leap into his throat, shook his head against the memory of Peters teeth against his wrist. “You can listen to my heartbeat from all the way up there? That’s—ha. Freaky alpha hearing.” The sudden sweat on the back of his neck was clammy as he wiped it away.

“Stiles,” Derek snapped, and whatever it was that always drew Stiles’s attention no matter how scattered, like a magnet, like a lightning bolt, it was stronger now. It rang inside him, echoing, reverberating, so that one word had him reeling like a struck tuning fork, answering before he could catch his breath.

“I’m not—it’s not a lie. I mean, who doesn’t want superpowers, right? But I—You said it could kill me.” And so had Peter. “I can’t do that to my dad, Derek. I can’t leave him alone.”

The palpable cloud of menace slowly receded. The red vanished. “Okay,” Derek said, strangely subdued.

Stiles gaped into the darkness, thrown by the simple acceptance. But. Derek knew something about being left.

So Stiles barreled on, rather than let either of them dwell on it. “That’s a yes on the instincts, I guess. If you’re just handing out wolf bites to whoever drops by.”

“Laura fought it for years,” Derek said, and even from the upper story, it felt close. Confessional. “I’ll—I can control it.” From how he was struggling to even say it, Stiles was skeptical.

“She had a pack,” Stiles pointed out. “She had you.”

Silence.

Stiles licked his lips again, heart pounding. Closed his eyes. “I know you can have humans in a pack. I know—your family had humans. And I’ve been in Scott’s pack. Since. So far.” Derek made a dark, derisive noise, and Stiles hurried to finish before he got angry again, or laughed. “If it’s okay that I’m human—that I stay human, I could—I would—"

He barely registered the shriek of the bannister as Derek leapt over, or the displaced rush of air. The solid landing, on the weakened floorboards right in front of him, almost brought Stiles to his knees. “Whoa, hey—"

“Don’t joke about this,” Derek said, eyes like a banked fire, too close to look away from, close enough that Stiles could feel the raw heat of him, breathed in the animal musk and ash and—pond scum, weirdly, like he’d jumped in a lake. His palm was hot through Stiles’s thin t-shirt, shoving him back against the wall, splayed fingers digging in like he could pick Stiles up like a basketball, like he could tear out his heart, and maybe he could. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it,” he said, but it sounded like he was the one torn open, bleeding out. This close, the darkness weak between them, Stiles could see the wildness, the fear, that his whole façade was made up of cracks, barely strung together. Stiles realized with a jolt that if he pushed him just right, dug his fingers into the sensitive places, he could make Derek shatter.

Somehow, that made it easier to rest his hand over Derek’s, to lightly press that trembling power even closer to his heart. “I mean it,” Stiles said, meeting his eyes, steady, strong. “I want to be in your pack.”

Derek’s fingers spasmed hard enough that Stiles was pretty sure he’d have bruises in the morning, and the air between them was full again of that pressure Derek had reeled in earlier, the weight of his power. The scarce inches separating them were charged with a turbulent potential that Stiles could almost feel like static on his skin. Slowly, carefully, eyes burning, Derek leaned closer.  Stiles had to bite his lip and try not to hyperventilate, couldn’t help but glance down at his mouth as it opened, and he couldn’t keep in a gasp when the edge of Derek’s teeth shone in reflected starlight. The fangs. The fangs. His heart kicked into higher gear and he struggled, on instinct, lashing out, but of course he was stuck, trapped, pinned like a bug, like an idiot—

“Ssh,” Derek murmured, gentle, around his huge fucking fangs. “You have to submit.”

Stiles threw his head back with a high, sharp laugh, because what did that even mean? and then his whole body was shuddering, beyond his control, because Derek’s fangs were on him, on his neck, the barest pressure around his pounding jugular. “Ssh,” Derek said again, and the soft brush of his lips sparked a different kind of shudder entirely, the adrenaline and the heat and the way his skin always leapt to Derek’s touch crashing against each other in a way that was consuming, and mortifying, and entirely not his fault.

“Okay,” Stiles said, sucking in a deep breath, willing it to be true. “Okay, we’re doing this now. This is happening.” He squeezed his eyes shut, unclenched his abused muscles one by one until he could slump against the wall, let Derek take his weight as his warm breath dampened Stiles’s neck. Derek, the bastard, only hummed, giving him yet another sensation to try not to react to. “Ugh.” Not sure what to do with his arms, he tried awkwardly setting one on Derek’s gently heaving shoulder, wrapping the other around in an uncomfortable kind of hug.

Eventually, teeth that had gone human-blunt pulled back entirely, and Derek kind of stiffened. Stiles magnanimously decided to ignore Derek’s embarrassment as he came back to himself.

“You are rank, dude. Did you go run through a swamp?” he said instead, and the tension in his shoulders slowly deflated.

“Lake,” Derek admitted. “Shut up.” He nuzzled into the curve of Stiles’s shoulder a little, like he could do it stealthily. “Pack members should respect the alpha.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Oh, yeah? Well, you’ve met me, so if that was a requirement, you shouldn’t have said yes.” He risked a condescending pat on the head, Derek’s hair thick under his fingers. “I don’t think I could respect anyone who smells this fucking terrible.” He ignored Derek’s grumble. “If we’re going to get anyone else to join this pack, you’ll have to shower. Like, regularly.”

The scrape of Derek’s stubble on the delicate skin of his neck sent shivers all the way to his toes, and he felt Derek’s toothy grin in response.

This was either the best or the worst idea he’d ever had.

[thisdiscontentedwinter]

Stella and the Wolf - Chapter 8

You can read it here on AO3, or find the Tumblr Chapter Index here. 

There are patterns, Dad has always told Stiles. Once is an incident, twice is a coincidence, and three times is a pattern. Stiles has four murder victims courtesy of the Alpha, but it’s just not right. The two guys who were drinking out in the woods—Reddick and Unger—were petty criminals mostly, both of them with criminal history dating back to their teens. Theft and assault, domestic violence in Unger’s case, minor drug possession—major in Reddick’s case—and arson. When Unger was nineteen he torched a car he stole. When Reddick was twenty-three he set a fire in a storage garage to get rid of a drug lab, and burned down two neighbouring warehouses. There’s no indication either of them was a fire bug—by which Stiles means they had some deep-seated psychological compulsion to set fires—but it’s not hard to imagine that either of these guys, or both of them, might have been involved in the Hale house fire for the right amount of cash.  

And it all comes back to the fire, right?

Garrison Myers drove the school bus, but once upon a time he was also a fire scene investigator working with the BHFD. His report was the main reason that the Hale fire was ruled as non-suspicious, and written off as probably an electrical fault.

Three men with possible connections to the Hale fire, and all three of them ripped apart by the Alpha.

It’s a pattern.

Except then there’s Laura Hale.

If someone is wanting revenge on the people who killed the Hales, then why kill Laura?

Laura Hale is the pebble in Stiles’s shoe. She’s the one part that doesn’t make sense, unless she was somehow complicit in the fire as well…and Stiles isn’t ready to voice that theory aloud to Derek. Or to anyone.

The only way Stiles can make Laura fit is if the Alpha is an Argent, because if the Argents set the fire—and Derek says they did—then wouldn’t it make sense for them to try to cover their tracks by killing their co-conspirators? And also killing Laura too, because they hate the Hales so much?

Maybe the Alpha isn’t after revenge at all.

Maybe the Alpha is someone taking care of loose ends.

Except is there is an Argent werewolf running around out there somewhere, that makes even less sense, doesn’t it? Because Stiles doesn’t think the Argents are the sort of people who would relax their anti-werewolf stance just because one of their own sprouted fur and fangs, right?

Stiles has no idea anymore, to be honest.

All he knows is that everything is a lot more complicated than it appears.

***

Stiles wanders through the next few days paying absolutely no attention at all to his surroundings. Which is par for the course, really, and nobody seems to notice anything out of the usual. Stiles’s brain is often doing something totally different while his body goes through the motions. His brain is free-ranging, and all the Adderall in the world can’t keep in on a short leash for very long.

Stiles even completely manages to forget about the upcoming winter formal until Scott is complaining about it at lunch, and how he’s not supposed to be going because his grades at so bad, and he got in that fight with Jackson at practise, but…

“What?” Stiles asks suddenly, his brain clicking back into place. “You’re not actually thinking about still going, are you?”

Scott gets that dopey smile on his face. “Allison is going to be there.”

Stiles gestures around the cafeteria. “So? So is that kid who flushed our heads in the toilet on the first day of high school, but we both see him enough every day anyway, right?”

Scott’s brow wrinkles. “What?”

“Scotty, you see her every day,” Stiles says. “You’re not suffering Allison withdrawal. It’s impossible.”

Scott smiles and shakes his head. “You don’t understand, Stiles. It’d be different, at the dance.”

Stiles considers that for a moment. He imagines himself dancing with Lydia—it’s an old fantasy—and how magical it would be, but somehow it’s just not pulling him in the way it usually does. And then, like the needle on his brain has skipped a track on the record, he’s suddenly picturing what Derek Hale looks like in a tux.

“I get it,” he concedes at last. “Also, if we survive this whole thing, remind me to tell you about the staggering personal revelation I’ve recently been coming to terms with. Meanwhile though, Allison’s family are hunters. I love you like a brother, Scotty, and I’d hate to imagine you stuffed and mounted above the Argents’ fireplace.”

“That’s fair,” Scott says, but he doesn’t agree to stop seeing Allison.

He’s never going to agree to that, is he?

“Listen,” Stiles says, “when you met Allison’s family, did any of them seem a little bit wolfy to you?”

“What? No.” Scott snorts at the idea. “They’re hunters. You just said that. Why would you even ask something like that?”

Stiles stabs his tater tots. “Just a crazy thought.”

Just trying to see the pattern, and circling back again to the one piece that doesn’t fit: Laura Hale.  

Scott watches him worriedly.

“You’ve got Derek’s number, right?” Stiles asks him. “Can I have it?”

Scott shrugs and hands his phone over.

***

Stiles sends Derek a text in Chemistry: This is Stiles. If the Alpha is some kind of werewolf vigilante killing people for revenge, why would he kill Laura?

He doesn’t get an answer.

He doesn’t really expect one.

***

Stiles isn’t gonna lie. He misses Matilda. He and Stella have been reading other stuff at bedtime now, because she saves Matilda for her coma patient. And Stiles is not going to be jealous of some poor guy who can’t even wipe his own ass, but he misses Matilda. He’s thinking about stealing it while Stella’s asleep just to find out how it ends.

Stella shoves carrot sticks in her face while Stiles drives her to the hospital after school. “And then after we finish,” she says through a mouthful, “I’m going to read him The Witches.”

“Wait… how long does this program go for?” Stiles asks, resiting the urge to flip the bird at the old lady in the Honda who just pulled out in front of them.

“Just until Friday,” Stella tells him. “But Mrs. McCall says I can come back if I want. I like her a lot more than Peter’s nurse.”

“Peter?” Stiles asks, distracted again as the old lady suddenly slams on the brakes for no discernable reason.

“The man I read to,” Stella tells him around a carrot stick. “Mrs. McCall isn’t his nurse all the time, but I don’t like his regular nurse. She has red hair.”

“Correlation doesn’t equal causation,” Stiles tells her, finally getting around the Honda as the old lady pulls into the parking lot of the CVS.

“What?”

“Red hair doesn’t make someone unlikable.”

“I never said it did,” Stella points out.

“Fair. So why don’t you like his nurse?”

“She’s mean,” Stella says. “She said I was getting in her way.”

“And were you?”

“No!” Stella’s eyes are big and wide, and Stiles doesn’t believe her wounded innocence shtick for a second. He knows that look. He invented that look. “I wasn’t even doing anything except reading.”

“Well make sure you don’t,” Stiles tells her.

She rolls her eyes at him, and shoves another carrot stick in her mouth.

***

Stiles walks Stella into the hospital foyer, and then goes back and sits in the Jeep. He cracks open a can of Coke—bubbles and sugar are research fuel—and then leans between the front seats to haul his old gym bag free. He sets it on the passenger seat, unzips it, and starts reading through Garrison Myers’ file.  

The guy was the arson investigator for the Hale fire.

That has to be the pattern.

Except for Laura…

Sighing, Stiles shoves Myers’ file back in the bag and pulls out the Laura’s file. There’s nothing here that he hasn’t already read. He puts it back down, and starts to flick through the Hale fire file instead, hoping that a mention of Laura will jump out at him. Except she’s barely even a witness. She wasn’t there when the fire happened, and said she didn’t see anything, and that she didn’t know anything. She’s a next of kin, that’s all. Most of the mentions of Laura are as the person who identified the bodies.

Stiles closes his eyes for a moment, swallowing, and battling down the sudden visceral wave of nausea that hits him. She was eighteen, and she had to identify all those people.

He concentrates on breathing for a moment, and then opens his eyes when his phone buzzes in his pocket.

He checks the screen. Sourwolf.

He takes the call. “Hey, Derek.”

“Laura didn’t have anything to do with the fire.”

“Oh.” Stiles kicks himself mentally. Of course Derek took his text in the worst possible way. It’s Derek. It’s what he does. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that she did. Just that the pattern doesn’t fit, you know? If the Alpha is all about getting revenge on hunters for killing werewolves, then why kill Laura?”

Derek is silent for so long that Stiles actually has to check if the call is still connected. Then, at last, he says softly: “I don’t know.”

“And like, dude, if that’s the motive, then you’d be suspect number one, right?” Stiles asks. “Not Laura, again, but the fire. I mean, your whole family…”

He stares down at the paperwork spread over the front seat.

Derek’s whole family.

Except.

Except…

He just read the list of bodies that Laura identified, and…

His blood runs cold.

“Stiles?” Derek asks. “Are you still there?”

“There’s no…” Stiles shuffles frantically through the papers, adrenaline spiking and making his fingers tremble. “I thought I copied every page, but there’s not autopsy report for Peter Hale in here.”

“Peter’s not dead,” Derek says. “He’s in a coma.”

Peter’s not…

Stiles’s entire world flips.

An ambulance screeches past, the siren wailing.

“Stiles?” Derek sounds urgent now. “Where are you?”

“The hospital.” Stiles stares at the building through the windshield, his heart racing. “I’m at the hospital.”

“Get out of there, Stiles,” Derek tells him, and Stiles thinks that maybe Derek’s entire world has just flipped too, and it’s left them both standing in the same place. Staring wide-eyed at the same conclusion. “It’s Peter!”

Stiles’s hand shakes as he opens the door of the Jeep.

“Stiles?” Derek asks. “Stiles!”

“Stella’s in there,” Stiles says, his voice trembling. “Stella’s in there with the Alpha.”

“Stiles!”

Stiles barely hears him. He shoves his phone in his pocket and begins to run toward the hospital.

[marshmallow-phd]

Fighting Instinct

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Supernatural, Wolf Au

Pairing: Jongdae x Reader

Summary: He went out of his way to ignore you. You saw his kindness towards everyone else, but he showed you only irritation. And you couldn’t blame him, considering your first meeting. However, little do you know that he’s hiding a dark world, one that you’re pulled into against your will….

Warning: none

A/N: This part is much longer than the others just because I couldn’t really find a good place to break it up. Enjoy!

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I 14 I 15 I Final

**

Jongdae was already waiting for you in the front lawn, leaning against a very nice compact car. The door to the detached garage was open and you tried not to think about how he could already have had the car outside. Still not saying a word to you, he got into the driver’s seat and put the car in drive. 

It was a quiet drive during the nearly one hour trip just to get to the outskirts of the city. You squished yourself up against the window, trying to put as much space between the two of you as possible in the confined area.

It wasn’t easy. Every minute or so your eyes flickered to Jongdae’s hand that was clutching the gear shift with a strong grip, even though the car was an automatic. Your fingers were begging you to just let them reach out and force themselves between his skin and the leather shift, intertwining with his own strong phalanges. Squeezing your eyes shut, you just concentrated on the cold glass pressed against your forehead.

The car came to a stop and you opened your eyes. Jongdae had parked just outside your apartment. At first you were confused to how he knew where you lived, but then it became obvious. They weren’t outside that convenience store by accident that night. With a sigh, you unbuckle your seatbelt and got out of the car. Jongdae did the same, following you up the stairs to the building and then up the elevator to your door.

Though you rarely had visitors, you were secretly grateful that you had a tendency to stress clean. No embarrassing laundry left out or dishes in the sink with three day old grease caked on.

Jongdae shut the door behind him. You flicked on the lights which in turn started up the ceiling fan. As the air circulated around the room, Jongdae took a deep breath and an angry roar ripped out of his chest making you jump, your back slamming into the wall of the hallway. A continuous growl vibrated from his chest as he stalked past you, entering your bedroom and bathroom without your permission.

“Do you mind explaining to me what the hell that was all about?” you asked once he rejoined you in the hallway.

“Your place smells like her,” he hissed.

“Her?” you blinked. Oh, right. “Eun Na? Of course my apartment smells like her. She practically lived here most days.” Thinking about it hurt now. Back then, you just thought she enjoyed your company, your wine and movies nights, and girl time. Now you understood she was just keeping an eye on you. How did she really feel about you? Did she find you annoying? Obnoxious? Probably. She probably couldn’t wait to be rid of you.

He growled again. “Let’s get your stuff and leave.”

Rolling your eyes, you shuffled to your bedroom, pulling a suitcase out of the closet and throwing it on the bed. The werewolf stood in the in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest and leaning against the frame. It was hard to ignore him as you started taking sweaters off their hangers and folding them to take with you. The weather was getting colder so you tried to focus on that aspect and packed accordingly instead of wondering what it would be like to run up to him and throw your arms around his waist.

This was driving you insane. Wanting to hate him, but being unable to due to your feelings that you just couldn’t shove away. The only thing that kept you from going completely crazy was finally having an answer, finally understanding that this pull towards him was simply because you were his mate - his unwanted mate.

Your hands froze just as you put a book on top of the pile of jeans in the suitcase. Thinking back to the novels you read in high school when the supernatural ruled the market, you’d never come across the situation where the two fated characters didn’t want to be together. Or even where one of them wanted out. Granted, that was fiction, but it was all you had to go on.

Why couldn’t he have just accepted the fact that the two of you were mates? Were you really that bad? Would he have been more accepting if you hadn’t thrown up on him in your first meeting? Were you just that unattractive? Okay, you weren’t a supermodel, but you didn’t think  you were grotesque in anyway.

Despite how he’s treated you, you were willing to go along with this. You knew you wouldn’t just get over him. He never acted malicious towards you, never bullied you. He simply ignored you, sent a not-so-nice look every now and again. Nothing too terrible to make you run away. Although part of you wished he had, just so you could have an excuse.  

You hadn’t realized that you hadn’t moved for a substantial amount of time until Jongdae pushed off the doorframe and stood beside you.

“Is everything okay?” he asked. His voice was soft for the first time since you woke up, like he was genuinely concerned. It sped up your heartbeat, along with his close proximity. You didn’t want to think about whether or not he could hear it. That just messed your head up even more.

Nodding but not looking at him, you went back to packing, going through a list in your head to take your thoughts elsewhere. You ignored him as you walked to your bathroom, throwing necessary toiletries into a travel bag. Once you’d stuffed your suitcase with everything you thought you’d need, you zipped it up. Before you could grab the handle and drag it off your bed, however, Jongdae reached out and took it from you, his hand making just the briefest of contact with your skin.

The heat generated from that millisecond touch sent a shock wave through your body. Jongdae must have felt it too as he clenched his jaw and stalked out of the room, dragging your suitcase behind him. You ran after him, worried that he might actually leave you behind without thinking about it.

It was silence once again on the drive home. The tension was thick in the car, suffocating you. Jongdae never released his muscles and refused to look at you, going as far as to not check the right lane before crossing over the dotted line.

Parking in the gravel driveway off to the side of the house, he jumped out and went straight to the trunk to get your suitcase. You wanted nothing more than to just run inside and find solace with one of the other wolf boys, whether it be Junmyeon or Kyungsoo, but you didn’t want to be rude or cowardly. He wasn’t your servant.

So, instead, you trudged behind him, not asking anything as he headed towards the now empty kitchen and went up the narrow staircase that you hadn’t detected before. He stopped near the end of the hallway of the second floor and pointed towards a door.

“You’ll stay here,” he informed you, still not looking at you. “My room is right over there,” he pointed to the door directly across from you, “if you need anything.”

You nodded your understanding, scratching behind your ear. Watching him turn on his heels and leave was painful. With a sigh, you opened the door and dragged your suitcase inside, closing yourself off from the rest of the house just for a little bit.

The room was pretty bare, just a full sized bed off to the right, along with a dresser and desk on the opposite end. There was no bathroom, meaning you would have to share with the boys. Jongdae never told you where said bathroom was and you didn’t want to start randomly opening doors. You made a mental note to ask someone since you really wanted to take a shower. Your hair still smelled like smoke which was starting to make your stomach sick.

Unpacking made your temporary displacement feel more permanent, but you hoped it would also make the room feel more like home. No longer able to take the smell of last night’s event clinging to you, you grabbed your travel bag and left the room.

Jongdae hadn’t gone to his room when he left so you bypassed it in favor of finding someone downstairs. Loud chattering and yells bounced off the walls and you followed it to the living room.

The TV was on, but hardly anyone was paying attention to it. Wolf boys were spread out everywhere, some lounging on the couch while others were sprawled out on the floor. Junmyeon was sitting in a chair a little off to the side, just watching the shenanigans with a smile. Jongdae was not among the crowd, but there was another girl there sitting in the lap of one of the boys who was on the floor.

All at once the chattering stopped when you entered, making you clutch the bag to your chest as some sort of protection.

“Did you get everything you needed from your house?” Junmyeon asked.

You nodded. “Yeah, I did. But, um,” you chewed on the inside of your cheek. “I don’t know where the bathroom is and I still kind of smell like a sweaty bonfire, so I was wondering….”

“You can use my bathroom.” Junmyeon volunteered, standing up from his seat. “It’s more private.”

You could feel the warmth radiating from your cheeks. “Thank you.”

He nodded, motioning for you to follow him back up the stairs. The master bedroom was at the end of the hallway near your assigned space. He opened his door and led you inside.

His room was twice the size of your own along with a walk-in closet. The bathroom was grand but still homey in a country kind of feel. The shower was separate from the large tub, just adding to its luxury. Brown fluffy towels hung from the railing next to sliding glass door.

“Hides the dirt,” Junmyeon teased as tugged on one of the towels.

You laughed along with him and a proud smile stretched across his face.

“Take your time. Whenever you’re ready, come back downstairs. Hae In wants to meet you.”

Hae In? That must have been the girl.

You nodded and he left you alone. Locking the door, you stripped out of your old clothes, letting the water warm up as it sprayed from the nozzle. Immediately, you felt refreshed, letting the water soak your hair and wash the bad night away. It was still permanently etched into your brain, but at least the physical evidence was going down the drain.

Not wanting to make everyone downstairs wait too long for you, you kept your shower short, simply washing your hair and scrubbing your skin. The bathroom was full of steam and the mirror was completely fogged up when you stepped out of the shower. Using the towel Junmyeon had pointed out, you dried yourself off and brushed your hair, getting any tangles out. Then the horror hit you.

While you’d remembered everything you needed to wash up, you forgot about a fresh set of clothes to change into. Groaning, you geared yourself up, making sure the towel was securely wrapped around you before you gathered up your things and crept out of the bathroom. Peaking your head out of Junmyeon’s bedroom, you scanned the hallway. After deciding the coast was clear, you tiptoed to your own room. Unfortunately, you made it about two steps and had turned to shut the door when Jongdae emerged out of his room.

You froze, unable to believe that you’d been spotted by the person you would have posted last on your list to see you this way. It felt like a western movie standoff with neither of you moving.

Or maybe more like a deer spotting a hunter was a more accurate description. You certainly felt like a defenseless fawn, unable to make any sudden movements. The look on Jongdae’s face was frightening. His nostrils flared, taking a deep breath while his eyebrows were pulled together so tight a deep harsh line was etched in between them. Just barely you were able to see his arms shaking with his hands balled up into fists. Then, he turned around and went back into his room, slamming the door shut with a loud bang.

The noise broke you out of your trance. You sprinted to your room, heart racing in your chest. What could you have possibly done to make him so angry? Was showering so wrong?

Going back to the square breathing, you were able to calm yourself again to be able to get dressed. You’d noticed the house was a bit chilly, so you went ahead and slipped on an oversized sweater and a pair of jeans. Ruffling your hair one more time, you talked yourself into going back downstairs. Then a knock came from your door.

Jongdae stood in the hall, a small pile of folded gray towels in his hands.

“Here.” He held them out for you to take. You did, careful to avoid any skin-to-skin contact. “Use these instead. Please.”

That last word took you by surprise. All you could do was nod.

“Are you going downstairs?” he asked. Again, you just nodded. He motioned with his head to the stairs. “Let’s go. Or else a search party will come for you.”

Placing the towels on the bed to put away later, you followed Jongdae down the stairs, your eyes trained on his right hand. You just wanted to reach out and grab it, let it be your anchor before entering the crowded living room. His fingers were just a few inches from yours, easily within grabbing distance.

You hated this feeling. This constant nagging to touch him, to hold him close. How did the others handle this aching pain? Did Jongdae feel this too? If he did, you admired his self-control, no matter how angry you were with his rejection. That certainly still hurt. Deep down, you were a bit of a romantic and had always believed in the idea of soulmates. You were never prepared for the notion that your other half could actually dislike the idea of being with you.

Once again you were hit with the high volume of multiple voices speaking to and over each other. Three more girls had joined the group since you left earlier. Too many people crammed into the social area was making you uneasy. Instinctually, you hid behind Jongdae.

With a shake of his head, he side-stepped, leaving you exposed. Everyone was friendly, letting the talking die down naturally this time, instead of cutting it off like ripping out a headphone jack.

“Feel better, (y/n)?” Junmyeon asked.

You nodded. “Yes, thank you.”

Jongdae scowled, but made no comment. You still weren’t sure as to why he was so upset about you using Junmyeon’s bathroom. It’s not like you used his body wash and now smelled like him.

You nearly smacked yourself in face. No, you didn’t use his soap, but you did use his towel which, to a being with heightened senses, probably reeked of the alpha. Why would he care if you smelled a bit like Junmyeon? Why should he care at all?

The thought made your eyebrows pulled together and your mouth form a frown.

Chanyeol patted the empty space next to him after gaining your attention. “(y/n). You can sit over here.”

You took one step towards him before Jongdae stopped you with a hand around your wrist. Too surprised to say anything, you just let him pull you across the room. Jongdae took the seat beside Chanyeol instead leaving only the end open for you. Though he didn’t force you down next to him, he did keep a grip on you until you sat down, your knee resting against his. Even through the two layers of jeans, you could feel a heat where your bodies met. He released your wrist and leaned back, resting on his palms, one placed strategically behind your own back.

The dots were connecting in your brain at a slow pace, but you worked out that Jongdae’s behavior was possessive. All it did was confuse you more.

“So, (y/n).”Junmyeon pulled you out of your thoughts. “I think it’s best to introduce you to everyone. Although, you already know a few: Chanyeol, Kyungsoo, Sehun.” He pointed to one of the wolves that sat on the couch who was giving you a gummy-filled smile. “That’s Minseok. He’s actually our oldest pack member.”

You were finding that piece of information hard to believe, but shook it off, giving him a small wave instead.

“Next to him is his mate, Ji Yeon.”

Envy hit you like a freight train. A beautiful, black haired girl with lithe limbs gave you a warm smile. But her looks weren’t what was making you jealous. It was how comfortable she looked leaning her head against Minseok’s shoulder while he held her hand. The content and love between them was obvious. They were a couple that took the whole mate thing and didn’t just run with it, but embraced it with open arms. They were happy. It was a happiness that everyone strived for, fated or not.

Junmyeon went on with the introductions and you tried to keep up. Baekhyun, a puppy-like individual, was sitting on the floor. Hae In turned out to be his mate, who was sitting comfortably in his lap. Nosy boy was actually named Jongin and was much less cold towards you now. Although you weren’t sure if it was because he was no longer trying to convince you to get new friends or because of the curly-haired Kimberly who sat beside him. The last person for you to be introduced to was Yixing. He shyly gave you a dimpled smile as he was introduced. Ming, an equally shy girl, was his mate and they complimented each other perfectly.

“So, now that we have that out of the way,” Sehun butted in, “can we finally discuss this witch business?”

“I’m not sure there’s too much to discuss,” Junmyeon shrugged.

“What do you mean?” Chanyeol whined, straightening up. “They tried to kill (y/n) so they could then kill us. We don’t even know why they suddenly hate us again.”

“My money’s on Eun Na,” Baekhyun quipped. “She’s definitely their leader. I wouldn’t be surprised if she had some twisted reason for getting all of them on board with this.”

At the mention of your former best friend, you shrank back. Your mind was still fighting with itself, trying to figure out how the girl you used to laugh in face masks with was the same person who tied you to a stake to be burned. Unsure if it was involuntary or not, you still felt a little better when you saw Jongdae lean in a little closer to you in response to your discomfort of the change of conversation.

“(y/n).”

Your head snapped up at the mention of your name. Yixing was the one who’d spoken.

“Can you think of anything that Eun Na might have said in regards to not liking us?”

You shook your head. “No, I’m sorry. I can’t think of any time where she mentioned something along the lines of the supernatural or not liking certain people.”

Well, besides an ex-boyfriend.

“Too bad,” Baekhyun pouted, earning an elbow to the stomach from Hae In. “Ow.”

“It is unfortunate,” Junmyeon agreed. “For now, we lay low. (y/n) is staying with us for protection. She’ll only leave the house if at least one of us is with her. We’ll take shifts guarding the house while the rest of try to go about as normal, see if we can catch anything regarding the witches.” He turned his head to glance out the window. “Sun’s going down. Time for our run. Sehun and Kyungsoo will keep to the perimeter this time. Let’s go.”

Sehun didn’t look very enthused at not being able to run with the rest of the pack, but Kyungsoo gave you a reassuring smile. The atmosphere became a little uncomfortable when the mates were saying their goodbyes. Some kept it chaste with a kiss on the cheek or a quick one on the lips. Baekhyun tried to take things a little further, but Chanyeol slapped him upside the head. Jongdae, on the other hand, gave you no sort of goodbye as he jumped up and headed towards the kitchen. Minseok gave you a sympathetic look before he followed suit.

Then, it was just the girls. The awkward of that came with meeting new people always made you uncomfortable and the current circumstances made this time no easier. Kimberly was the first one to make a move, standing up and walking over before sitting back down next to you in Jongdae’s spot.

“You okay?” she inquired.

You nodded unconvincingly. Wrapping your arms around your knees, you stared down at the carpet.

Someone huffed. A pair of legs entered your vision before a sideways face appeared.

“Why don’t we get you some food?” Hae In suggested.

You weren’t really given a choice as she grabbed you hand and pulled you to your feet and the girls herded you into the kitchen.

Ming frowned. “I don’t really feel like cleaning up a big mess.”

Ji Yeon laughed as she opened the freezer. “Good thing we’re currently in a bachelor pad then, huh?” She pulled out a frozen pizza, earning a high-five from Kimberly before she turned the oven on to preheat.

Everyone settled in the breakfast booth, still eyeing you cautiously.

“So,” Hae In sighed. “He hasn’t been too much of a jerk to you, has he?”

You shrugged. Your first reaction was to not say anything since you didn’t really know these girls and – while he hasn’t exactly been a gentleman – you didn’t want to bad mouth Jongdae. At the same time, they’ve gone through a somewhat similar situation, if receiving a better outcome in a shorter amount of time.

“He’s just…,” you took a deep breath. “I don’t know.”

“He’s an asshole, that’s what he is,” Hae In huffed. You were thankful that she was brave enough to voice your own thoughts.

“Hae In,” Ming chastised before looking at Ji Yeon for help.

However, she had a similar view. “She’s kind of right. Minseok’s been keeping me updated and even he’s never seen Jongdae treat somebody this way.” Ji Yeon turned to you. “They’re the closest with each other. But lately he’s hardly opened up to Minseok. That’s not like him at all.”

“I don’t get why he’s fighting this,” Kimberly added. She reached across the table, placing one of her hands over yours. “You are gorgeous. He should count himself lucky.”

You gave her a half-hearted smile. “Thanks.”

“Sooner or later, the pull will be too much and he’ll give in.”

That wiped the smile clean off your face. “I don’t want him to just give in because he’s being force to by some natural instinct.” Sighing, you crossed your arms on the table in front of you, laying your head down for comfort. You sniffed, horrified that tears were actually starting to form.

A hand gently rubbed circles on your back. Ji Yeon leaned over to look at you while Kimberly jumped up to put the pizza in the oven after it’d let off a high pitched beep.

“You like him already, don’t you?” Ji Yeon guessed.

You nodded, not bothering to lie. “He was nice to me at the party. When I saw him again in class this semester, I was embarrassed and he seemed to hate me. But I couldn’t help watching him. He was just so… nice to everyone. Helpful. And he was always smiling. I just wanted him to smile like that at me. I wanted to make him laugh. Happy. But I guess the only way to make him happy would be if I disappeared.”

“Don’t you dare say that, (y/n),” Ji Yeon snapped, making you jump back up.

“I am so going to kick his ass,” Kimberly grumbled. “He has absolutely no idea what he has in front of him.”

“Trust me, (y/n),” Ming spoke up. “You going away would only drive him insane. Being apart from their mate can cause them pain. He’ll realize what he needs in time. Especially with you in constant danger. It could be very romantic.”

A small laugh escaped. Oh, yes, you could picture Jongdae being your knight-in-shining-armor. Or your wolf in glossy fur.

Out of nowhere, an earsplitting howl pierced through the air making all of you jump.

“Jongin,” Kimberly whimpered.

You looked at her, feeling her concern, but still confused. “How do you know?”

“Mate thing,” Hae In explained. “Soon, you’ll be able to recognize Jongdae’s.”

“Was it a bad howl?” you asked cautiously.

“It definitely wasn’t good,” Ji Yeon answered. “That wasn’t the usual, happy-to-be-running howl. Not to mention, Jongin is typically the more laid back kind. He doesn’t like to raise an alarm unless the threat is real.”

With a sound like thunder rumbling through the house, the back door flew open, revealing four panicking and very naked boys trying to fit through the doorway at the same time.

“What is going on?” Ji Yeon demanded. Her authoritative voice made you flinch and you wondered how she wasn’t Junmyeon’s mate instead as she gave off an alpha-type aura.

“Jongin smelled the witches,” Minseok explained. “We had to make sure you were okay.”

Ji Yeon glanced down at you as you had hidden your face in your hands, the only safe haven from the nude bodies now standing in the kitchen. Your face was running hot and you didn’t need a mirror to know you were blushing violently.

“As you can see we’re perfectly fine,” Ji Yeon informed them, obviously holding back a laugh at your innocent state. “Now, either go put clothes on or go back out running, you’re giving the poor thing a heart attack.”

“Oh, sorry, (y/n),” you heard Yixing say.

“Let’s go back,” Jongin suggested. “We’ll keep close to the house, let Sehun run wild instead.”

At the sound of their retreating steps, you peaked out from behind your fingers. Standing there just outside the door was Jongdae, who you hadn’t noticed earlier. He made brief eye contact with you before shaking his head and running after the others.

Hae In snorted. “This is going to be very interesting.”