#I had a really. What. Quiet?? Vampire/werewolf phase

[twilightarcade]

do you ever think about how funny it would be if my blog got deleted and not only would I be erased but any traces of my existence would lack the full context due to how much crap is left in the tags

[c0ld0utside]

Platonic Yandere Werewolf Dad or Platonic Yandere Vampire Dad!?!

Assuming you’re asking for more of Werewolf Dad or Massimo. We’re going with Werewolf Dad and I’ve decided that his name is Lucian. 

Warnings: Mentions of disease and insects, Home intruders, Kidnapping, Violence/Gore, Panic attacks (Reader)

It’s been five months since your Dad’s little…transformation, and the two of you have made some discoveries. For one, each moon cycle has a certain “pull” on your Dad. On New Moon phases your Dad can’t shift at all (something he’s been working on controlling) and on Full Moons he has to.   The two of you had yet to see what effects Harvest, Blue, Blood, and Eclipse moons had on him, and the ideas you made weren’t pleasant. Crescent moons had the weakest “pull.” His urgest weren’t that strong on those days either. Quarters weren’t that bad either. Waning moons is where it got tricky.

Like today, for example. 

You had been helping your Dad in the kitchen, seasoning the steaks when he started to shift again, groaning and gripping the kitchen island tightly. “Dad-?” You started. “I-it’s alright, pup…it’s just really loud today.” He reassured, taking deep, shallow breaths. “Can you reign it in?” You asked, setting the seasoning down. This could go two ways. Either he bolts out the door, or he snatches you up, drags you into your room, and makes you stay in there while he goes out to hunt. Literally. The amount of deer corpses you’ve had to clean up was getting ridiculous. 

“Trying,” your Dad huffs. He lets out another groan. “You might h-have to go t-to your room.” With an irritated sigh, you head into your room and flop down on your bed. You try not to cringe as you hear your Dad give in, groaning and whining as the transformation takes hold. A few moments later, you hear claws scraping against the wooden floor of your home and a low, growling noise. You can hear your dad shuffling around and struggling to get up, yipping quietly as if he was trying to call out to you. “I’m in here,” you say aloud, leaving your bed and opening your door. 

Immediately your father stands to full height and looks over at you. He’s taller in his wolf form, lean and utterly terrifying. Wood-brown fur and red-brown eyes stare at you from down the hall, mouth slightly open and teeth on display. With another growl, he charges at you-

-and then wraps one arm around your back and the other under your thighs, scooping you up and carrying you into your room. He sets you down on the bed and grumbles at you as if he were complaining. A type of grumble you’ve come to learn is: Stay put, I’m going hunting. “No- no, you don’t need to do that,” You say urgently, rolling out of your bed. Your father growls at you but you ignore him. Instead, you head back into the kitchen, the weredad chasing after you and snarling. There’s no real heat behind it. You know that now after the first few weeks of him doing that. “Look, we were making dinner!” 

His angry gaze shifts from you to the half-seasoned steaks on the kitchen island, which were sitting on a large cutting board. He lets out a dissatisfied growl. Not good enough. “No, it’s fine,” You say firmly.  He growls again. There’s heat behind that one. “Oh come on! Dad, I can’t eat the deer you drag into the house! They probably have that wasting disease or ticks! Remember what happened last time? It got infested with maggots!” Another growl. “Dad. Please.” Deadpanning, your Dad picks you up again, carries you into your room, and tucks you into your bed. He points at you with a firm expression before leaving and shutting the door behind him. “Are you serious-” You start, earning a muffled warning bark in return. That makes you go quiet. 

With no other options, you lie in bed and wait, watching the digital clock on your bedside table. Boredom sets in quickly. In werewolf mode your Dad will definitely throw a fit at any signs of you leaving the bed, but you’d take an angry werewolf over dying of boredom any day. So you read a short book. Two. Then you scroll on your phone. You check your clock. Two hours have passed. You hear the door open.

Your heart drops at the sound of multiple footsteps. Heavy boots against the wooden floor. The shifting of fabric and objects. The click of a gun.

Quickly- and with not many options- you hide under your bed. Someone enters your room, walking around before heading over to your closet and slamming it open. They dig through it, tossing your clothes and other things you stored inside onto your rugged floor. There’s a pause. A beat. Two. Then the stranger is making their way over to your bed, ripping the covers off. You finally realize that you stopped breathing when they kneel down to look under the bed, dark eyes looking into your frightened ones. 

-

Lucian’s mind is running at a mile a minute. Hungry Pup is hungry I’m hungry Need food Food at home isn’t enough Need more Need more Pup deserves more Is pup safe Pup should be safe… 

His paws? Hands? Pound against the forest floor, sending leaves and fallen twigs everywhere and bugs scurrying. Above an owl hoots. Farther ahead a mouse squeals. Scents fill his nose. Avian, rodent, pine, earth, water, flowers, leaves, deer…

Deer. Perfect for his pup. Enough to share. Enough to fill them up and make his Pup big and strong. Maybe he’ll find some berries? Preferably blueberries. They can’t always rely on deer and rabbits. Lucian pauses, taking a moment to lock on to the scent. A doe. A fawn. Oh, man…his heart aches a bit at the thought. But pup needs food, his mind says. And food his pup shall have. Lucian takes off into a sprint, pace speeding up when he finds tracks.

He’s close to his target when a  nagging feeling tugs at Lucian and his thoughts get worse. Something’s wrong Is pup safe Pup should be safe So why do I feel this way Go back Need to check on pup Pup needs help… A scream rips through the air, coming from the direction of his home. Pup.

Abandoning his mission, Lucian whirls around and bounds back home, breath coming out in huffs of air. Strange scents fill his nose. Unfamiliar ones. Tobacco. Metal. Gunpowder. Leather. Oil. Older humans and his pup. He bursts into his home and finds it a mess. Everything he sees screams signs of a struggle- chairs knocked over, broken glasses, dirty footprints on the wooden floor. Whimpering, Lucian rushes into his pup’s room.

They’re gone, covers thrown off the bed and clothes littering the floor. Where where where where where why why why why why who would do this who would dare- his mind rambles, panic turning into rage. Whoever took his pup would regret the day they were born. He’d make sure of it. 

The scent trail is easy to follow. Foolish, his mind growls. Foolish Stupid Going to get them Going to kill them Going to make them pay Where is my pup I want my pup back Stupid Stupid Stupid… The thoughts swirl around in his head like a hurricane. It hurts and it’s overwhelming and worsens his already-soured mood. That’s an understatement. His mood is the most bitter, sour, foul tasting thing anyone could ever taste if it were possible. It would be pure poison. Maybe even acid. Melting through flesh and bone and mixing with blood. Each step has a purpose, stamping out the footprints the humans left. Metal…gunpowder…hunters? That’s interesting. 

Lucian had tried to find the werewolf who made him what he is now, but all of the scents had gone stale and he came up with nothing. It had been frustrating and still was. It would’ve been nice to know that yes, werewolf hunters do exist. …Though he should’ve known that himself. If there were werewolves running around then that meant the hunters were just as real and still in business. The scent is getting stronger now and the trees are thinning out. He smells metal. Silver, probably? Was he now weak to silver? He had sold his ring after his wife left and he couldn't be bothered to test it with his wood tools. 

He hears voices. His pup’s voice and others he’s never heard before. Gruff. Hostile. Cruel. He’s mindful about where he steps as he sneaks up on the fools. 

-

“Is this really necessary?” One of your kidnappers grumble. Two men are fussing over your bindings, tying you up against a tree. “I don’t see why we had to use the kid as bait. It would’ve been better to catch the damn thing by surprise.” The other nudges him harshly. “I believe in the new boss. Sure, he’s…rough and isn’t as good as his old man, but he’ll learn. He has us to help him out for a reso-” He rambles, only to get cut off by jaws snapping around his head, crushing his skull. Blood sprays into the air and splatters onto the floor. Both you and the remaining man scream in pure terror as you watch your father pull the poor guy’s head off of his body. He lets it drop from his mouth and turns to the other, who cowers away. 

“No- wait- I didn’t even want to!” He pleads, falling on his ass to the floor. A deep growl comes from your dad- one you have never heard before. You can’t hear the clicking of a gun over the commotion, but the werewolf in front of you does. Your father abruptly ducks to the ground and a bullet whizzes over his head. Then he lunges, leaping into the air and slamming into the hunter who shot at him. The guy who fell messily gets back up and runs in the direction of your house, ignoring his coworker’s screams for help. You force yourself not to look. You try not to look. 

Your brain overpowers your body and you take a peek. Nausea churns in your stomach at the sight; your father- the werewolf- ripping into the man’s stomach and feeding on his entrails while he wailed and begged for mercy. Holding him in place with his claws. Nails digging into his weeping flesh. You feel hot and your face feels wet, an ache blooming in your head. Your chest grows tight and for some reason it’s getting harder and harder to breathe. Maybe it’s the ropes. It’s definitely the ropes, right? Yeah…the ropes. The wailing dies down into quiet sobs, which dissolves into silence. Licking its maw, the werewolf rises and looks over at you. 

“Please,” you choke out, heart pounding a mile a minute. “Please don’t- Dad, please.” The beast stared at you for a moment before walking over, placing a hand on your shoulder and keeping it there as he walked behind you like you were a horse. He fumbled with the knot in the ropes, the bindings getting loose and eventually going slack. They fell around you and into your lap, the werewolf tugging them off of you. He moved back in front of you and sat down. He licked the blood and gore from his lips before lowering himself, slowly reaching for your hand and grabbing hold of it. 

You flinch, wanting to pull away, and the werewolf whimpers. He presses your hand against his forehead, grip light and thumb rubbing your wrist soothingly. It takes you a moment to understand what he wants. Cautiously, your hand moves down to rub the back of his neck, the feeling of his fur grounding you. Your Dad shuffles closer, sitting up to pull you into an embrace. His hands press against your back, pushing you into him and forcing you to take deep breaths. The smell of iron fills your nose and blood gets on your clothes. It’s still warm and it makes your panic worse, which in turn makes your Dad hold you closer. 

He scoops you up, holding you tightly against his chest. Your Dad breathes in deeply and exhales slowly, making you unconsciously follow along with it. In and out, in and out, like wind through the leaves.. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6…1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10. The two of you do this for a while, your Dad rocking back and forth slightly. After you calm down, your dad lifts his head up and sniffs the air. A low growl rumbles through him and he sets you down behind him. As he goes on ahead, you realize you’re shaking, panic still not completely soothed. Okay…okay, you’ll just have to do it yourself. Picking up where the two of you had let off, you breathe in and out, listening to the forest around you and squeezing your arms when you breathe in. 

You catch a glimpse of the corpses. Reds, whites, yellows, pinks. You nearly throw up from the sight and have to start all over again. 

-

Something clicks in Luican’s head as he tracks down the runaway. The leader wasn’t with them when he was attacked. Did they run off? Most likely. And that would explain why he sees two pairs of footprints instead of one. He reaches his backyard and walks up the wooden steps to the back patio at the top of the small hill. He remembers building this; his pup watching with curious eyes and offering to help. Lucian’s heart warms at the memories. The faint sound of crying catches his attention. 

For a moment fear starts to pool in his belly- until he realizes that the voice sounds different than his pup’s. Grunting, Lucian makes his way around the side of the house, through the thrown open fence gate. He walks down the beaten path that leads from his home to the street and finds the runaway sobbing on the asphalt. The sight of tire tracks tells the whole story. Their leader fled. …Which is far from good. Grabbing the runaway by his shoulder and yanking him back, Lucian clams his jaws around the man’s head and twists, the hunter’s neck twisting too far and letting out a sickening crack. 

That was the easy part. Now to track down the coward who left his men to die and make sure he doesn’t come back. Lucian takes off down the road, following the smell of burning rubber and gas. 

-

Every step you take back home fills you with dread. You hope this is the way back home; eyes glued to the floor and following the wolf-like paw prints in the earth, mixing with bootprints. You’ve never been afraid like this. …Then again, you never went out walking late at night or went too far from the house. Up ahead, you see the lights from your back patio. Instead of relief you are filled with apprehension. The wooden steps creak under your weight and the grass bends beneath your feet. It’s like your brain has switched to autopilot. Your head is just piloting your body around, carrying you into the bathroom. 

You need to rinse the filth off of you. Instead you burst into tears and sink to the floor. Why did this have to happen? Why was it you and your father that had to be stuck in this situation?  You wish you could go back in time and beg him not to go to work that day. Then you wouldn’t have seen him as a monster when he saved you. Then he wouldn’t have killed those men. But they deserved it, your mind says. You wish you didn’t agree. You cry until you can’t cry anymore. You cry until you’re too exhausted to move. You cry until the exhaustion settles in and brings you under, forcing you to sleep.

When you wake up you’re not in your room. You hear the bath running and your father steps out. “Bubba? Are you up?” He asks softly, walking over to your side of the bed and patting your shoulder. “...Yeah, you’re up. I can tell. Come on, pup, I got the bath ready for you. You can use my bathroom this time. I know you prefer it.” It’s true. You did prefer your dad’s bathroom because it had an actual bath tub. “I set out a change of clothes for you. Just remember to wash your hair in the shower afterwards, okay? Don’t worry about last night...”

“...I’ll take care of it.”

---

WHOOOO I DID IT!!! WE DID IT!!!!

Man I really need to make headers. Again some of my asks had disappeared so sorry about that. I'll update the masterlist at some point. Reminder that you're all beautiful and remember to drink water. I've been thinking of doing COD characters...how do we feel about that?

[specialagentlokitty]

Cullens x teen!reader - strange family

A Cullen family x teen reader where they adopt an orphan human or wolf shape-shifter? Please - Anon💜

Sitting on the grass outside the school, you sighed to yourself as you looked at the books in your lap.

You didn’t really have an interest in going into the school, not today at least, so you spent the day sat outside working on your homework and studying.

It was nice, peaceful.

At least until a familiar scent hit your nose.

“I’m not causing you any trouble so leave me alone.” You grumbled.

“I just saw you outside is all, do you mind if I have a seat?” The woman asked.

You flicked your gaze up to her, and then shrugged before going back to your studies.

You didn’t have to follow the treaty, since you didn’t belong to the pack, and you weren’t actually from forks itself both the pack on the reserve and the Cullens decided you could stay.

Esme sat down in front of you, and she watched you for a moment.

“Can I ask why you’re not inside? It’s career day, wouldn’t you like to take part?” She asked you.

“I’m fine out here.”

Esme sighed a little bit.

“Won’t your parents be looking for you?”

You shook your head.

“If they’re looking for me I’ll be a bit concerned considering the fact I buried them halfway across the state.”

Esme went quiet and you gathered up your books.

“I just want to be left alone.”

With that you wondered away and left the school, going into the forest to find a different place where you could study.

The Cullens had made an attempt to speak to you, at least Alice, Carlisle, Emmett and Esme had.

The others weren’t too keen on the idea of a rouge werewolf running about the area, but didn’t have much say in it.

You didn’t want anything to do with them or whatever it was that was going on with Bella and other vampires.

You simply just wanted to be left alone.

You spent a few hours away from everyone until you heard someone toss something just in front of you.

“You need to stop running away.”

“I don’t want to stay in that home sir.”

You looked up at the man, and he sighed a little bit as he walked over to you, sitting on the fallen tree.

“Well they’re moving you to a new home today anyway, your current careers have to leave the state.”

You looked at Charlie and frowned a little.

“They’re alright people, I’m sure you’ve heard of the Cullens, you go to school with their kids.”

“Oh hell no.”

“You don’t get a choice in this (Y/N).”

You looked at him and went back to putting your things away.

You didn’t want to argue with him, he had been kind enough to look out for you since you were based here a few years ago.

“Fine.”

Charlie smiled at you.

“Thank you, come on then, I’ve already taken your bags.”

You rolled your eyes at him but followed him back to his car, and you tossed yourself into the back seat and laid across it.

Charlie looked at you but said nothing.

You didn’t want to stay with the vampires, so despite their efforts to get you to talk to them you wouldn’t do it.

You spent months confined to the room they offered you, or laying around in the forest as your wolf form.

Today was one of those days, and you turned around as you heard one of the Cullens approaching you.

“Come on, don’t do that.” Emmett laughed.

He walked around you and dropped himself in front of you and you huffed, baring your teeth at him in warning.

“Don’t be so stubborn.”

You made a grumbling noise and flicked your eyes to him, and phased back.

“What do you want?”

“Everyone is busy, and Rosalie went hunting with Esme and Alice..” Emmett grumbled.

You laughed a little.

“So you’re just lonely?”

“Not since I’ve come to annoy you.” He grinned.

You rolled your eyes and laid back on the grass, and Emmett tossed a bag at you.

“You’ve been out here for hours, it’s something to eat and drink.”

You nodded and you looked at him.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” You replied.

Emmett laid down next to you and looked up at the trees.

“Do you feel out of place here?”

You thought for a moment.

“Sometimes I guess yeah. But it’s nice knowing you guys aren’t human you know? It makes it easier I guess.”

“Why not live on the reserve?”

“And obey their stupid pack rules? Yeah no.”

Emmett chuckled and he looked at you.

“You’re not so bad. Want to go rock climbing?”

You shrugged and got up.

You began to spend more time with Emmett, he was like you, a little reckless and completely care free, and you got along well.

And you began to spend more time with the Cullens, you began to realise they weren’t so bad.

You got along with them they were good people to you, Carlisle and Esme cooked for you, Alice and Jasper helped you with school work, Emmett and you played game, and Rosalie and you just sat and read in peace.

It was a nice life compared to what you were used too.

You were part of the family, though you didn’t get along with Edward or Bella, or their obsession with one another.

Sitting at the table, you were eating your dinner waiting for the family to come home.

“We’ve got something for you.” Carlisle smiled.

You looked up at him and he set some papers down in front of you.

Looking down you carefully read them.

“You want to adopt me…?” You asked quietly.

“You’re already part of the family.” Esme smiled.

You looked at the two adults and they smiled softly at you.

“We asked everybody else to stay away so we could do this quietly.” Esme said gently.

You looked at them both.

“We know it may be strange, vampires adopting a werewolf, but we already love you like our own.” Carlisle said.

You stood up and looked at the papers.

“I..”

You looked at them.

It had been years since you had a family, a place to call your own.

You lost your family years ago and had been on your own ever since.

Esme placed her hand on your shoulder and you looked up at her with tears in your eyes.

“We just want to hear what you think.” She whispered.

“I.. I would like that…”

You set the papers down, hugging her tightly and she laughed, hugging you back and Carlisle walked over to start signing the papers.

You were going to be an official member of their little strange family, and how stranger could it be to add a werewolf to the mix

[wingsofkpop]

Hiraeth - I.IX: Bloodborne

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

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

warnings: Mature language, mentions of death and murder, violence, explicit descriptions of fighting, blood and gore, some satanic themes, mentions of trauma, etc. 

word count: 6,5k

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

chapter directory

“—so once Youngjae channels enough power from the blood moon tonight, he’ll be able to lower the veil between the Other Side and the physical plane long enough to resurrect your spirit into a mortal body.” You explain, glancing over your notes at the unusually quiet figure sitting on your bed. Something about his expression seems distant—almost sorrowful. 

After your return from the hospital, and after the long chat with your roommate convincing her that your absence all night was due to a last minute work emergency, a certain ghost phased into your bedroom. You wouldn’t allow yourself to be this concerned, but during his visits, Jackson usually never shuts up. If you were all alone with no one to talk to, you probably wouldn’t either. 

You lower your notebook and shake your head, “You haven’t said one word since you showed up. What’s wrong?”

Jackson purses his lips, as if nervous to relay the thoughts swirling through his mind. Another brief moment of silence passes before he finally murmurs, “It’s the witches. They’re starting to get suspicious again… I don’t know how long I have before they figure out I’ve been crossing over to this plane.”  

“Then we’ll just have to bring you back before they find out.” You grab your phone from your desk, checking through your notifications to see if a certain siphoner has yet responded to your dozens of texts and calls. No dice. 

You haven’t been able to reach Youngjae since yesterday morning, which is odd considering the guy is the type to respond within three seconds of receiving a message. It would be one thing if he let you know that he’s busy, but it’s complete radio silence. It’s not like Youngjae at all. 

“You’re worried about something.” 

Your eyes dartup at Jackson’s observation, discovering his concerned gaze focused on you. 

“It’s Youngjae.” You sigh, “I haven’t heard from him, but I’m sure he’s just busy brewing potions or something.” You expect to earn at least a chuckle from the ghost, but his silence remains along with the blank expression along his face. His same distant demeanor also lingers, and this time, your concern grows to panic. “What is it, Jackson? What’s going on?” 

“I didn’t want to say anything cause I was sure it was all in my head, but I feel that something is… weird.” 

“Weird?” 

“It’s hard to explain.” He continues, “But as a ghost, I can feel things around me… like right now, the universe just seems off—” His voice cuts out as he frantically shakes his head, “Anyway, I just want you to be careful. Mark used to tell me that disrupting the balance of nature is like opening Pandora’s box.” 

“Yeah. We will be doing none of that.” You set your phone down before crossing the room to kneel in front of Jackson. A grin lifts to your lips as you hum to the ghost, “So what do you feel when you’re around me?...” 

Jackson raises an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?” 

“You said you feel things around you… Do you feel anything special when you’re with me?” 

You’re surprised at the eagerness that swells in your chest as he takes his time to think over your question. The inquiry was supposed to be a joke to lighten the mood, but you’re actually curious about your companion’s ghastly perceptions. After maybe a minute or two, Jackson sends you a small smile: 

“I feel… light.” 

“Light? What is that supposed to mean?” 

“You have this aura around you.” Jackson affirms, mindlessly reaching forward thumb at your cheek. You obviously can’t feel his touch, but something in your gut tells you that if you could, you would feel nothing but warmth. “I feel powerful when I’m with you…” 

“Is that a good thing?”  

He grins, “I think so.” 

You continue to stare at one another for a moment, almost attempting to read the depths in each other’s eyes. It’s not until a harsh knock resonates from the front door do you finally break the gaze, offering Jackson a final hum, “I’ll bring you back as soon as I can. I promise.” 

Jackson nods, “I know you will. But like I said, please be careful.” 

“I will. See you soon.” You wait for Jackson to disappear completely before exiting your bedroom, cursing Sana for leaving you to deal with whoever is incessantly banging on your door. It’s probably the old lady from across the hall wanting to borrow another cup of sugar. You roll your eyes at the thought and open the door, ready to politely decline your neighbor’s request.

Your words die on your tongue—definitely not the old lady from across the hall.  

“Mark? What are you—?” 

“What? Not expecting to see me?” Mark’s hostile growl takes you by surprise, as does the furious expression etched along his features. “That’s not surprising since you’ve been ignoring me.” 

“I’ve been busy.” 

“Oh. I’m sure.” 

You cross your arms over your chest. “What the hell is your problem?” 

“You wanna know what my problem is?” Mark takes a step closer to you before pointing a finger in your direction, “The fact that you not only lie to me, but you go behind my back and then deliberately avoid me for days on end.” 

“What are you even talking about, Mark?” 

“I’m talking about you and Youngjae playing God and resurrecting Jackson.” 

Your muscles instantly freeze, as if Mark had taken a tub of ice water and thrown it over your head. The annoyance inside your chest shifts to guilt, and your once cold features cannot help but soften. 

You shake your head, “Mark, I—” 

“Do you know how dangerous it is to bring someone back from the dead, (Y/N)?” Mark lowers his voice, but his tone remains as frigid as his gaze. “Do you know the consequences that happen when you fuck with the balance of nature?” 

“I get that, but—it’s complicated, Mark… There’s things you don’t understand—” 

“I don’t understand!?” He scoffs, “Last I checked, I’m the goddamn witch here, (Y/N)! You know nothing about magic and its sacrifice!” 

“Maybe not, but I do know that there is a chance I could bring Jackson back!” You shake your head again, “Please, just give me a chance to explain—” 

“No. Because it’s not fucking happening.” Mark interrupts, furiously shaking his own head. “I forbid you to do this.” 

It’s like a switch goes off in your mind. Your guilt immediately transforms, but this time, it configures into rage: 

“You forbid me!? Who the flying fuck do you think you are!?”

“I won’t sit back and allow you to get yourself killed—!” 

“And last I checked, you don’t have the right to control what I do and the decisions I make!” You seethe, stepping further back into your apartment. “This is my choice. I’m resurrecting Jackson whether you like it or not.” 

“Fine! Get yourself fucking killed for all I care!” The witch raises his hands in mock surrender. “At least then I won’t have to deal with your reckless, moronic ass!”

“Fuck you, Mark.” You don’t allow the witch to say anything further and slam the door in his face. Your chest remains unbearably heavy, both physically and mentally, but you ignore the sweltering emotions and begin to traverse around the apartment, gathering your bag and other assorted belongings. 

A confused and rather concerned Sana emerges from her bedroom a few seconds later. “Are you okay? What was with all that yelling?” 

“Don’t worry about it,” You huff, shoving your arms through the sleeves of your jacket. “Just Mark being a douchebag, as per usual.” 

“Where are you going?” 

“To find Youngjae.”

“Isn’t it kind of late?” 

“I’m an adult, Sana.” You snap before throwing your bag over your shoulder. “Don’t wait up for me.” 

Similar to Mark, you don’t allow Sana the chance to question you further and sprint out the front door, praying that Youngjae will be up to bringing Jackson back in the next few hours. 

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Mark has never exercised the greatest control over his emotions. It first began when he was twelve, after his dad walked out on his mom. He found himself sobbing his eyes out some days, and beating the shit out of other kids on others. His mood ranged from intense rage to extreme depression. There was no in between. 

In an effort to help, his mom enrolled him in a program designed to teach teens how to handle their emotions. But to no one’s surprise, the therapy didn’t do shit and Mark continued to initiate fights and cry himself to sleep most nights. He never understood why he felt this way—he still doesn’t, to be honest. His dad and him were never close, nor did he ever really care about his sudden departure. Maybe he was just an angry kid with depression. Maybe it was something else. 

It wasn’t until his mom was killed did Mark begin to pull his life together, which also happened to be around the same time he met the too-friendly, homeschooled kid with an ego the size of Jupiter, Jackson Wang. Sure, the two of them butted heads every so often, but with Jackson being a werewolf, Mark learned the importance of managing the chaos within. ‘Emotion is like a loaded gun,’ he remembers Jackson once said, ‘If you let yourself pull the trigger without first aiming down sights, then you risk sinking a bullet into someone you love.’ Those words remain with him—remind him what means to stay in control. 

But when it involves the people he loves, Mark can’t always regulate the ticking bomb counting down in his soul. 

An ache settles in his chest as he recalls the passionate fire in your gaze. There’s always been some parts of you that reminds Mark of his past friend, specifically your stubbornness and inability to think before you act. He’s never found himself hating those parts of you until now—and he shouldn’t, Mark knows that, but he’s so fucking angry and so fucking scared of losing yet another one of the most important people in his life.

He’s experienced his fair share of loss, but losing you… It would break him. Completely. 

Mark tries to push the intrusive thoughts from the forefront of his mind and focus on navigating his way through the dark maze of headstones and crumbling tombs. Right after you slammed your front door in his face, he received a text from Youngjae summoning him, Jisung and Lia to an emergency meeting at the edge of the cemetery. He’s still mad at the siphoner for assisting with your reckless scheme, but he won’t allow his pettiness to interfere with the safety of the coven. 

A sigh falls from his lips—he does regret ever saying those ending words to you though… because what if they’re the last ones you hear from him. 

‘I’m so sorry, Jackson…’ 

Mark’s misery is forgotten when he notices a group of people up ahead. He recognizes Lia, Jisung and Youngjae flocked together inside a chalk-white circle surrounded by lit torches. For a moment, Mark wonders if they’re in the middle of performing some type of seance, but his curiosity dwindles into confusion when he grows aware of the panic present in each set of their features. 

He breaks into a sprint to cover more distance, approaching the strangely placed trio in no time. At the sight of him, Lia immediately bursts into tears, furthering the anxiety bubbling at the back of his throat. 

“What the hell is going on!?” 

“Hyung! You have to get out of here right now!” Mark notices the swollen, angry flesh of Youngjae’s bottom lip as he speaks, along with the ugly bruise underneath his left eye. 

“What happened?” He ignores the siphoner’s warnings, attempting to reach inside the circle and grab Lia’s arm. However, his hand is met with resistance—a boundary spell. “Who did this to you?” 

Lia sobs, “Just go, Mark! Before he hurts you!” 

“Before who hurts me!? What are you—” His demands die in his throat as another figure appears from behind a large, marble gravestone. He immediately recognizes the newcomer, which sends even more confusion through his veins. “Seo Changbin? What the hell is this?” 

“It’s an emergency meeting, hyung.” Mark feels his entire body freeze when the familiar, conniving voice enters his ears. “You had me a little worried… I almost thought you wouldn’t show up.” 

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” Mark whirls around to face a smirking Minho cockily leaning against the wall of an empty tomb. “What kind of game do you think you’re playing, Minho?”

The younger witch shrugs before pushing off the wall to pace around the area. As he draws closer and closer, Mark can spy an ancient, navy blue ring sitting heavily on his forefinger. He’s never seen any piece of jewelry like it before, but something in his gut told him it wasn’t just a simple ring—and that he’s definitely in some kind of trouble. 

“Mind explaining to me what we’re doing here? Or are you just going to continue pacing around the place like a cocky bastard?” 

“Tonight is a special night, hyung… You wanna know why?” He watches Minho point to the night sky, “In just a few minutes, the moon will drift into the Earth’s shadow and the light of the sun will reflect across the moon’s surface, thus causing a blood moon… It’s actually pretty cool—” 

“For Christsake, Minho—get to the goddamn point.”

“You know, for years I had to deal with all your bullshit excuses and justifications of putting our coven in danger—it was only a matter of time until one of us ended up dead, don’t you think?” 

A bitter memory of Nayeon’s corpse resurfaces, but Mark remains silent. 

“Everyone was too fucking blind, but I saw right through you.” Mark doesn’t move a muscle when Minho suddenly approaches, crowding his space until his nose is mere inches from brushing his own. The younger witch’s harsh glare bleeds into his soul as he continues, “You’re a poor fucking excuse for a leader, hyung—a leader who can’t even protect his own people.” 

“And you think you can do better, huh?” Mark growls, glaring his own daggers into Minho’s gaze. “You have no fucking clue what it takes to run this coven… Admit it, you’re just pissed they chose me over you.” 

“And look where that got them.” 

“You need to cut out whatever petty bullshit this is and let Youngjae, Jisung and Lia go.” Mark murmurs, “Whatever problems you have are with me, so let’s just talk it out, okay?” 

“Oh, Mark-hyung…” Minho’s gaze is unwavering from his own as he lifts a hand to rest on Mark’s shoulder. It’s a second too late that Mark realizes it is the same hand in which holds the mysterious ring: 

“I’m over talking it out.” 

Youngjae’s screams and Lia’s sobs echo in his ears along with the words that spill from Minho’s lips—they’re foreign, but Mark recognizes the spell right away. He tries to squirm and fight against the perpetrator’s grip, but another pair of hands keep his body in place—Changbin. 

Bit by bit, Mark feels the buzz of his magic lift from his veins like a flock of doves. His limbs grow weak and his head fuzzy. Soon enough, his own knees no longer bear the strength to hold his weight. Once both Minho and Changbin release him, Mark collapses to the ground—empty and unable to rise. 

“What did you do to him!?” Mark hears Jisung’s voice for the first time, although his brain is not fully able to comprehend the inquiry. 

“I took his magic. He won’t be needing it anymore.” 

Mark manages to find enough strength to reposition his body in a way that allows him to watch both Minho and Changbin approach a makeshift altar composed of an old, concrete coffin. Through the blur of his vision, he catches the witch stirring some kind of crimson mixture—likely blood. Minho looks to the moon, which is slowly brightening to a shade of maroon, before resting his gaze on his companion: 

“It’s time.” He offers the mixture to Changbin, “Once you drink this, I can begin the transformation.” 

“And you’re sure this spell will give me everything I need to take down the Primes?” 

“One hundred percent.” 

Take down the Primes?… Fucking hell. 

“Minho! Don’t do this!” Mark can’t make out his own voice between the ringing of his ears and the beating of his heart, but he can only hope they’re audible enough for his audience. “The transformation—it won’t work!” 

Youngjae shakes his head. “I don’t understand… What are you talking about, hyung?” 

“He’s going to try to recreate the spell I used on Jackson on Changbin.” With a huff and a puff, Mark pushes himself to his hands and knees. He attempts to crawl forward, but the spinning of his head sends his body sprawling along the ground once again. He abandons any more thoughts of movement and speaks to Minho directly, “It will kill him—do you understand me!? You can’t—” 

“You failed because you couldn’t draw enough power to complete the transformation.” Minho doesn’t even bother to look in his direction, “It will work—I know it will.”

Understanding there’s no possible way to convince the witch, Mark looks to the werewolf instead, “I’m warning you, Changbin! If you go through with this, you will die!” 

“Don’t listen to him. Just drink the blood.” 

“No! For fucksake, this is suicide!” 

“Think of Jackson.” Minho murmurs to a torn Changbin, reaching across the altar to place a supportive hand on his shoulder. “Do it for him.” 

“Changbin, don’t—!” 

Mark watches in horror as Changbin throws back the mixture and downs its entirety in two gulps. His heart shatters like the glass vial the werewolf launches to the ground. He peers to his left, discovering the same shocked expressions across Youngjae, Jisung and Lia’s faces, and shakes his head in defeat as Lia begins to sob again. 

“Filia maximo… Filia maximo… Morsus, morsus—” The wind begins to screech as Minho chants, tearing at Mark’s hair and nudging at his clothes, as if pleading for him to stop the spell. But there’s nothing he can do. For once, Mark is powerless. “—morsus… Advenio donec duo est revertus mors…” With a loud scream, Changbin collapses to the earth. He squirms and writhes in pain underneath the flaming light of the moon—and Mark can’t help but attempt to block out the snaps of his cracking bones. 

The scene seems to last for hours until Changbin eventually grows silent. Mark takes the time to catch his breath, unable to control his lungs over the anxiety, fear and nausea lurking through his veins. He wants to look away from the still werewolf, but his gaze is as frozen as the rest of his body. 

His eyes burn with tears of rage—Changbin is dead. Another person died because of his own fucking stupidity. Mark should have known this would happen again. He should have stopped it. He should have—

His thoughts disappear as Changbin suddenly gasps for air. For a moment, he claws at the earth as if attempting to ground himself, before he finally, albeit shakily, climbs to his feet. Minho cautiously approaches the wolf, peering down at the shorter male with a gaze full of concern. 

“How do you feel?...” 

“I feel…” Changbin flexes his fingers again, before closing them into tight fists. The moonlight illuminates the crimson glow of his irises and the sharpness of his long, black fangs as he faces the witch—a malicious smirk spreading along his lips as he chuckles, “I feel like kicking some ancient Prime ass.” 

Mark can’t find the strength to watch anymore and allows his head to lower to the earth. Just before his eyes flutter shut, he swears he spots the movement of shadows from behind a nearby headstone. But before he can confirm his suspicions, his head takes one final spin and the world grows dark. 

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

June 13th, 1769 — As much as I enjoy the atmosphere of Paris, I believe it is time to progress onto another part of the world. Some of the townsfolk are beginning to grow suspicious, considering I appear twenty years younger than my supposed age. Nevertheless, I will not mind a new start elsewhere. Jaebeom, on the other hand, will be a terror to convince. As he claimed last time I brought the idea to light, ‘There will never be a place more beautiful than Paris.’

But I know he is not through playing with his newest toy—Tzuyu. 

I set sail for the newlands tomorrow at sunrise. Whether my brother decides to accompany me or not is solely his preference. It would be pleasant to spend some time apart—to spend some time in peace—but I know, with many complaints and reluctance, Jaebeom will board the ship tomorrow. Wherever I traverse, he follows, and vice versa. We are family, after all. 

I will miss Notre Dame the most. I have grown used to visiting the Cathedral and repenting my wrongdoings to the high priest. Of course, I am forced to erase his memory of our talks each time, but it is nice to confess. It lifts a weight off of the shoulders, takes away a small portion of the guilt. If there is a god, he would never allow a creature like me to walk amongst his heavens—but at least I can salvage the lingering hope left inside of my soul. Speaking of hope, I thought I saw a woman that resembled Irene during my daily visit to the church. I find it amusing that after all these years, my heart continues to yearn for her presence. She was truly special—I wonder if she ever thought the same of me. 

I’ve heard some of the sailors refer to a shore in the newland that has yet to be claimed. It may be the perfect location for Jaebeom and I to start anew.  I can only hope it is as beautiful as people say. Maybe I will construct a place of worship as stunning as the Cathedral. 

Isn’t that ironic?... A vampire who believes in faith. 

Jinyoung finishes the entry with a sigh, welcoming the nostalgia that spreads through his thoughts like an old friend. It seems just yesterday that he recorded his first thoughts about the land that would become Moon Dye Bay. He shakes his head, carefully setting the old journal back on the bookshelf. 

He never did build that church. 

“Reminiscing again, brother?” The moment is ruined when a certain hybrid’s snicker reaches his ears. Jinyoung rolls his eyes as Jaebeom takes residence beside him, dragging his fingers along the spines of Jinyoung’s other diaries. “We did have some great times back in the 18th century… Remember our battles during the French Revolution? I rather enjoyed King Louis and Marie Antoinette’s executions.” 

“You enjoy anything that involves bloodshed.” 

“Don’t be so resentful, Jinyoungie. It’s not my fault that the queen had you in her interests.” 

Jinyoung shakes his head before retreating to his desk to fix himself a drink. “The woman was as shallow as a poor soul’s ego. She was taken with any man who’d pay her the time of day. It was a miracle her death came as quickly as it did.” 

“Careful there. You sound like me.” 

Jinyoung deliberately chooses not to respond to Jaebeom’s comment and proceeds to pour two glasses of bourbon. He ignores his companion’s wide smirk as he hands him one of the drinks. Both the vampire and the hybrid simultaneously take a sip, peering at one another over the rims of their cups. Jaebeom is the first to break the silence with a pleased inhale and a hum: 

“You returned pretty late last night. I hope you used protection during your time with (Y/N).” 

“Mind your tongue, hyung.” Jinyoung warns, “I brought (Y/N) to the hospital after the attack—I trust you took care of Tzuyu?” 

Jaebeom smirks. “Of course. She won’t be alive long enough to target your newest Maria Antonia again.” 

About to inhale another sip of his bourbon, Jinyoung pauses to mull over the answer. He lowers his glass to his side before delivering Jaebeom a confused expression and a murmured inquiry, “What do you mean she won’t be alive?” 

“Tzuyu and I got into an argument and, well, she pissed me off.” Jinyoung watches Jaebeom down the rest of his drink. 

“Please tell me you didn’t bite her, Jaebeom-hyung.” He curses at the widening of Jaebeom’s smirk, slamming his glass back down on his desk with enough force to crack its exterior. “When I told you to deal with her, I didn’t mean condemn her to a fate of pain. If you wished to kill her, you could have at least been merciful and done it quick.” 

“Last I checked, you said it yourself not to be kind.” Jinyoung follows Jaebeom as he pours himself another drink and collapses onto a brown, leather sofa. He tips his glass toward him with a smile before continuing, “I thought the punishment fit the crime, and we wouldn’t want to put helpless, human (Y/N) in danger again, would we?” 

“You turned it off, didn’t you?” Jinyoung realizes, “Does holding onto your humanity wound you that badly, hyung? That you have no choice but to wish it away?” 

“If I remember correctly, I’m not the only one that can’t hold onto their humanity… How many people did you kill in the ‘20s alone? One thousand? Maybe two?” 

Jinyoung shakes his head, “I’m not that person anymore.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” In the blink of an eye, Jaebeom is in front of Jinyoung—his glass in pieces on the floor beside him. He leans in until Jinyoung can taste the alcohol of his breath on his tongue, then whispers darkly, “You can lie to yourself all you fucking want, Jinyoung. But deep down, you’ll always know what you are… let’s just hope (Y/N) never finds out, hm?” 

At the mention of your name, Jinyoung’s anger expands. He suppresses the urge to take the table beside him and smash it over the hybrid’s head, and instead inhales a deep breath. Jaebeom is only trying to provoke him—and he refuses to be a pawn in his foolish games. 

“You will remember what it was like to feel human again.” Jinyoung sighs, “For your sake, I hope your remembrance comes sooner rather than later.” 

Jaebeom tsks, “Being human is overrated.” 

“He said the same thing about fate.” Both Jinyoung and Jaebeom whirl around at the appearance of a third voice. Jinyoung feels his blood begin to boil at the sight of the familiar vampire in the doorway, once again, suppressing his desire to launch a piece of furniture in her direction. “Ironically, fate and humanity are a package deal.” 

Jaebeom growls, “What the fuck are you doing here, Tzuyu?” 

“I came to try and convince you to give me your blood.” Tzuyu coughs, and Jinyoung swears he can hear the rattle of her bones. “But judging by your attitude, that’s obviously going to be harder than I thought.” 

“You have courage for showing your face again.” Jinyoung crosses his arms with a dark hum, “Especially so soon after you nearly killed (Y/N).”

“It wasn’t my intention to kill her. I just wanted to send a message.” 

“Is that so?” With a malicious glare, Jinyoung steps forward and tilts his head toward the vampire, “And what kind of message was that?” 

“For (Y/N) to stay away from Jaebeom.” Another violent cough wracks through Tzuyu’s thin form, causing a light stream of blood to splatter from her lips. She wipes her mouth with a ragged breath before continuing, “Look, I did it for her own good. We all know his track record at keeping humans alive.” 

“You did it to protect her!?” Jaebeom cackles, “Wow! That’s fucking priceless!” 

“Say what you will, you both know I’m right.” Tzuyu says, propping herself up against a nearby bookshelf. “It’s either she ends up dead or is turned into a vampire—then again, there’s not much of a difference between the two, is there?” 

“I would die before I allow (Y/N) to come to any harm.” 

“The only issue with that is you can’t die, Jinyoung.” Jinyoung doesn’t take his eyes off Tzuyu as she grabs a bottle of brandy from the top shelf. It takes her literal seconds to unscrew the cap and down a good portion of the container. She licks her lips and says, “I’m sorry I attacked (Y/N), okay? I went too far. I won’t do it again.” 

“You think an apology is enough to save your life?” Jaebeom snickers before snatching the alcohol from the vampire, “Think again, sweetheart.” 

“What do you want from me, Jaebeom? Does seeing me die a slow, painful death bring you joy?” 

He shrugs, “No one mourns for the wicked.” 

“Is he always this much of an asshole?” 

Jinyoung chuckles, “Pretty much.” 

“Great.” The vampire breathes out a sigh and cards her fingers through her hair. After a brief moment of silence, she directs her attention back to Jaebeom and pleads—her voice packed with desperation and fear, “What can I do to convince you to let me live? Please, Jaebeom… I don’t want to die.” 

“You should have thought about that before you touched what I told you not to.” Jinyoung remains quiet as Jaebeom lifts a hand to grasp Tzuyu’s jaw. The dying visitor remains unphased, proceeding to glare at the hybrid with hateful, yet oddly sorrowful eyes. “I suggest you show yourself out before I end your life sooner.” 

“You’re going to lose everything one of these days, Jaebeom.” Tzuyu shakes her head sadly, wiping away a layer of cold sweat from her forehead. “You’re going to lose everyone, even your brother, and you’re going to be alone. For an eternity.” 

“Save the monologue.” Jaebeom waves dismissively, taking a sip of the brandy before returning it back to its shelf. “Petty isn’t a good look for you, baby.” 

“Fuck you, Jaebeom.” Tzuyu goes to stomp out the door, but something—someone blocks her path. The atmosphere changes when Jinyoung notices your panicked form, practically gasping for air and cross-eyed, standing in the doorway. He immediately speeds to your side without hesitation, grasping your hands in hopes to ground you. 

He stares into your eyes, “What is it, (Y/N)? What’s wrong?” 

“You and Jaebeom have to get the hell out of here! Right now!” 

Jaebeom shakes his head in confusion, “What the hell are you talking about?” 

“I don’t know what exactly happened but Minho turned Changbin into this dark werewolf creature or-or something… I do know, however, that Changbin is on his way right now to kill you both.” Jinyoung steps back at the intensity of your explanation, unable to think of a response over the roar of his thoughts. Through his peripheral vision, he can spot the same type of speechlessness across Jaebeom’s face. 

Not again… 

“That’s stupid… You realize nothing can kill them, right?” Tzuyu scoffs. 

“This is different.” You urge, “I saw Changbin—he wasn’t like anything I’ve ever seen before… The spell that Minho used, it was-was—” 

“Dark magic.” Jinyoung finishes blankly, “The spell was dark magic.” 

“Yes… which means you and Jaebeom need to leave town as fast as you possibly can before—” 

“I don’t think anyone is going anywhere, (Y/N).” Jinyoung’s entire body grows stiff as a new voice echoes throughout the study. He cautiously turns his head, discovering none other than the young werewolf in question resting among the shadows. His eye also catches the open window a few inches away, and he curses himself for ever wanting to feel the nightly draft. 

Changbin’s smirk is as dark as his eyes. 

“What?... Not going to offer me a drink?” 

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“(Y/N)! Get out of here! Now!” Jaebeom hears Jinyoung scream as the werewolf suddenly launches forward, knocking his brother into the bookshelf behind him. The wood completely splinters beneath the impact, raining down an array of books and planks on Jinyoung’s body. Changbin turns to Jaebeom next, but the hybrid is ready—and pissed off. 

Jaebeom speeds toward the intruder and delivers a swift kick to the gut. Changbin flies back at the force, crashing back through the window with a loud growl. Sensing the urgency in time, Jaebeom quickly throws Jinyoung’s immobile body over his shoulder and urges both you and Tzuyu out the study door. 

“Come on! We gotta go!” 

“Jaebeom! What the hell is happening!?” He ignores Tzuyu’s fearful ask and proceeds to lug Jinyoung through the maze of hallways and down the staircase, you and the female vampire hot on his heels. He doesn’t know exactly where he’s going, but he makes his way to the parlor where he props Jinyoung up against a nearby chair before turning to you: 

“You need to leave. I will deal with this.” 

“No way. I’m not going anywhere.” Jaebeom curses your stubbornness inside his head, sending a stern glare in your direction. Your expression remains fixated, and he can’t help but wish your presence in any other situation but now. 

“I can’t protect you right now—” 

“And I can’t sit back and watch you get yourselves killed!” You shake your head indignantly, “I’m staying!” 

“Fucking hell, (Y/N)! Get your ass out that door before I throw you out myself!” 

“Jaebeom, watch out!” At Tzuyu’s cue, a wooden branch comes soaring in through the window. Jaebeom immediately throws himself against you, effectively forcing your body to the ground to dodge the projectile. He can feel your fear through the trembling of your limbs and hurried breaths, but it only brings him more determination to tear apart his attacker. 

He shakes his head in surrender, “You stay on the fucking ground, understand? Don’t you fucking dare move a muscle.” He doesn’t bother to wait for a response and pushes himself back to his feet. 

Tzuyu is huddled in a corner, and Jinyoung has yet to awaken from his crash landing back in the study. Jaebeom tries to focus his senses on detecting the werewolf, but he can’t seem to hear anything past the beating of his own heart. He carefully makes his way over to the incapacitated vampire, attempting to force him back to consciousness. 

“Now is really not the time for a fucking nap, Jinyoung.” He hisses, “I swear to god, if I have to save your ass one more time—” Another wave of tree branches come crashing through the windows. Unfortunately, Jaebeom is not as quick and one catches his shoulder at just the right angle. He feels the wood sink into his flesh, painfully carving into his bones. With a low groan, Jaebeom manages to grab the makeshift stake and remove it in one hefty pull. 

He tosses it away with a yell, “You gonna hide like a little bitch!? Or are you gonna come out and fight like a man!?” 

“Be careful what you wish for, asshole!” Jaebeom turns just in time to discover the werewolf emerging from a shattered window. His blood boils when he notices the sadistic grin along the young kid’s face—he wonders how those teeth will look strewn across the parlor floor. 

Changbin comes at him fast, much faster than Jaebeom could have predicted. He manages to dodge a set of jabs, but he’s not so lucky when Changbin lands a heavy hit against the side of his face. Pain erupts through his jaw as he collapses to the floor, but Jaebeom doesn’t have the chance to dwell over it and rolls out of the way just as the werewolf attempts to stomp his nose. 

Jaebeom tries to speed away again, but like before, his counterpart is faster. Changbin manages to force him to the floor for a second time, pinning his body down with his own. Horrified, the hybrid watches as the werewolf’s eyes glow blood red and large, pitch black fangs emerge past his parted lips. Once again, he attempts to break free, but it’s no use—Changbin is too strong. 

Just when he believes the wolf’s fangs are going to sink into his neck, another form knocks Changbin away. Jaebeom hurriedly props himself on his arms in time to watch Tzuyu deliver a series of hits and kicks to the perpetrator, eventually slamming his head into a nearby armoire. Taking advantage of the moment, she turns from Changbin to Jaebeom instead: 

“Grab Jinyoung and (Y/N) and run!” She screams, “Get the hell of here!” 

Unable to move, Jaebeom remains as Tzuyu attempts to fight off the wolf. But with the combination of his ultimate strength and her weakness from Jaebeom’s venom, her defeat is inevitable. He watches in terror as Changbin sinks his teeth into the vampire’s arm before yanking her head forward and effectively snapping her neck. Jaebeom feels his insides practically soar with rage when the attacker tosses a comatose Tzuyu across the room like a useless toy. 

“I’ll kill you…” He sneers, allowing his own supernatural features to overtake his face. “I’ll fucking kill you…” 

Changbin shakes his head with a smirk, “I’d like to see you try.” 

Using the little agility he has left, Jaebeom grabs one of the branches and speeds toward the wolf. Due to Changbin’s movements, he misses his chest, but manages to stab the weapon in his stomach. Changbin releases a pained groan, allowing Jaebeom to take advantage of his surprise and land another array of uppercuts to his face. Just when he finally thinks he has the upper hand, his opponent blocks one of his hits and pins him against a wall with a hand around his throat. 

“Any last words, Prime?”

“You really think you can kill me?” Jaebeom growls, squirming against Changbin’s hold. 

“I know I can… Have fun rotting in Hell—fuck!” 

Shock spills through Jaebeom’s veins as the point of branch suddenly appears through the center of the wolf’s chest, splattering red across both of their bodies. Changbin’s grip releases, allowing the hybrid to quickly speed out of his reach. Once he’s a safe distances away, Jaebeom looks to his savior, discovering the one person he never expected to see—

You stand over Changbin’s body—chest heaving and bloodied hands trembling. Your eyes are glassy when Jaebeom meets your gaze, and for some reason, he feels the urge to go and pull your form into a tight embrace. Your voice, however, returns his mind to reality: 

“Did I… Did I kill him?” 

“I don’t think so.” Jaebeom answers, nursing his wound with his own shaky fingers. “We need to get out of here—get somewhere safe.” 

“Good idea.” You trudge over to where Jinyoung is still unconsciously laid across the chair. Jaebeom follows your lead and hurries over to a lifeless Tzuyu. “I know somewhere we can go… but I don’t think you’re going to like it.” 

“(Y/N)... There is an immortal, unkillable super wolf out to kill me and my brother currently in my living room…”  He snorts, maneuvering Tzuyu’s body into one arm and assisting you and Jinyoung with the other. 

“Trust me, anywhere is a hell of a lot better than here…”

[boykisserbuckley]

let the wolves come crashing through

this was gonna be a joke but i wrote 2k by accident. oops. anyway this is the werepire fic based off of that anon i got a while ago

“Buck,” Eddie says, “Halloween isn’t until next month.”

“Eddie,” Buck parrots, “I’m aware of that fact, thanks.”

They're at the station, settling down after a call. The crew is spread over the couches, taking whatever rest they can before the alarm rings again; and, as usual, that means they devolve into ribbing and jokes at the other's expense. Buck had just finished laughing uproariously at Hen's last quip when Eddie had cut in, and honestly, he's not entirely sure whether or not this is the lead up to a joke.

"Right," Eddie says. He lifts an eyebrow. "So what's with the teeth?" 

Buck blinks at him. "...the teeth?" 

"Yeah," Eddie insists, narrowing his eyes. "It looks like you're wearing fake fangs, or something."

Buck just looks even more confused. He opens his mouth to respond, and Eddie catches another flash of those sharp canines—unnaturally sharp. Like he's wearing some knock-off party store vampire teeth.

Buck gapes for a second, and then intelligently says, "Huh?"

"The teeth, man," Eddie repeats. "Why are they so sharp? What the hell are you wearing them for?" 

Eddie glances at Hen and Chim, and they're both just staring at him. Did they not see it? Why aren't they saying anything? 

"Eddie," Buck says slowly. He still looks so openly, adorably baffled. "...these are just my teeth." 

Eddie stares at him. He stares back. Neither of them blink. 

"I'm so confused," Eddie says finally. "Is this a prank or something?" 

Buck shares a look with Hen and Chim, tilts his head. Eddie looks back and forth between them. And then, suddenly, Buck sits up.

"Oh," he says, like he's just had a realization. "Oh my god, did I not tell you?" 

"Tell me what?" 

Hen snorts, and Buck shoots her a glare. Eddie has no idea what's happening.

"I thought you knew," Buck groans. "This is going to take so much explaining—" 

He cuts himself off and pinches the bridge of his nose. He looks up helplessly at Chim, then at Hen, but they both shrug. 

"You're on your own for this one, Buckaroo," Chim says. Buck sighs.

"Okay, okay," Buck says, and hops to his feet. "Come on."

He grabs Eddie by the wrist and practically drags him from the room, heading for the stairs. Hen and Chimney's laughter follows them from the loft, all the way to the bay doors, and Eddie is still hopelessly lost.

~~~

"Let me get this straight," Eddie says twenty minutes later, leaning back against his seat. "You're...a what?"

They're holed up in the back of the firetruck, for privacy, which is really mostly for Eddie's benefit—Buck knows most people don't react well when informed that their best friend is a so-called "creature of the night" and they didn't notice. It had taken a little demonstration to get Eddie to believe him, believe he wasn't just pranking, and now the poor guy is looking a little shell-shocked. 

"Werewolf-vampire hybrid," Buck explains again, smiling hesitantly. "Uh, the scientific classification is homo lycanthropus vampiris. Or something. Technically." 

"And you've always been that," Eddie says. 

"Yeah," Buck agrees. 

"And you're not just fucking with me," Eddie says again. He still looks unsure of the whole thing. 

"Definitely not just fucking with you," Buck agrees again. 

"Show me again," Eddie demands. Buck does. 

"Okay," Eddie says. He's still staring at Buck like it hasn't quite clicked, like he doesn't understand, but he's nodding. "Okay. I'm, uh—I'm gonna need a minute, I think." 

"Right, yeah," Buck says. "You want me to just…?" 

He gestures at the half-open door of the truck, already climbing out of his seat to head for it before Eddie can even agree. He hops out and shoots a look at Hen and Chimney, who are peeking over the railing of the loft to look down at him. Hen raises an eyebrow, and Buck just shrugs. He glanced back at Eddie, who's staring at his hands with a confused furrow to his brow, then backs away. The guy needs a minute. That's understandable. He needs to process.

And then the alarm rings. 

Buck hoists himself back into the truck on instinct, sliding in next to Eddie like usual. He cringes at the look on Eddie's face and offers, "Sorry." 

Then the others climb in across from them and they're off. They still have jobs to do—processing will have to wait. 

~~~

A few tense calls later, the crew piles back into the station for the end of their shift. Eddie had been quiet since his talk with Buck, and the others had let him be for a time—but now, as they're stripping their gear in the locker room and packing up to head home, he's looking at Buck like he wants to start asking questions.

"So you're like, half vampire, half werewolf, right?" Eddie asks, as the locker room empties out. Buck straightens up with his duffel bag slung over his shoulder. 

"I guess?" Buck shrugs. He's not usually comfortable with all the questions, so he's a little on edge. But this is Eddie, so he'll deal. 

"Does that mean your dad was a werewolf, your mom was a vampire, or something?" 

"Other way around, but yeah." 

"So you were like...a werewolf vampire baby." 

"Yeah?" Eddie zips up his own bag and slings it over his shoulder, heading for the door. Buck follows. 

"I bet you had a crazy biting phase as a kid," Eddie says, flashing a grin. Buck lets out a startled laugh, because that's definitely not the direction he thought this was going to go. 

"Wait, is Maddie—" Eddie starts, and his eyes go wide again. 

"Yes," Buck says before he can finish, "We both are. Did you seriously just not notice?" 

"I'm not exactly the most observant," Eddie grumbles. He unlocks his truck and grabs Buck's bag from him, slinging it into the back seat alongside his own. 

Buck hops into the passenger seat, and it's quiet for another moment as they pull out of the parking lot and onto the road. He fiddles with the radio for a moment, trying to find a good station, but he can see Eddie fidgeting out of the corner of his eye, so he gives up and flips it off again.

"Alright, spit 'em out," Buck sighs, shooting Eddie an unimpressed look. "I know you've got more questions, and your fidgeting is annoying. What do you want to know?" 

"Uh, well," Eddie pauses, then starts again, "They're probably stupid." 

"They usually are," Buck deadpans. Eddie glares at him. "Ask them anyway."

"Fine, but if you laugh at me, you're walking the rest of the way." 

"No I'm not," Buck says, grinning when Eddie lifts a disparaging eyebrow at him, "but continue." 

"Okay, first of all, do you drink blood?" Eddie asks. Buck fights back a smile at the earnest and mildly concerned curiosity in his voice. 

"Sometimes," he answers honestly. "Not always. Bobby's cooking tastes better anyway." 

"Can you turn into a wolf?" Eddie asks, and it seems that now he's started, he can't stop—the questions keep coming. "If you can turn into a wolf, are you like, a vampire wolf? Do you drink wolf blood? Or do you still drink human blood as a wolf? Is it like a video game buff, where you stop being a vampire when you're a wolf? Or are they stackable, so you're both at once? Or—"

"Oh my god, Eddie," Buck cuts him off, unable to stifle his laugh this time. "Did you just compare my life to a video game?"

He was expecting shock, disbelief, maybe even anger, because those would be logical reactions to discovering the supernatural. But really, this response is just so Eddie. 

"Hey! I told you not to laugh," Eddie gripes half-heartedly. "Don't make me stop this car." 

"I'm sorry," Buck gasps out between bouts of laughter. "That's just—you're so ridiculous, I'm sorry—"

He dissolves into laughter again, and Eddie just makes a grumbled noise of indignation. They drive for another block before Buck gets a handle on himself again, enough to actually answer Eddie's questions.

"Okay, okay, I'm good, I'm done," Buck says, shifting in his seat and trying to compose himself. He sits up and holds his hand up, counting on his fingers as he answers. 

"Yes, I can turn into a wolf. No, I don't drink wolf blood. I mean, I guess I could? But I don't have to. I don't even know how that would work," he pauses and considers for a second, before shaking his head and continuing, "anyway, no, I don't drink human blood as a wolf either, but I guess I could do that too. If I wanted. And no, it's not like a video game buff, that's so—"

He snorts again, quickly covering his mouth to stifle another chuckle. "Sorry, sorry, I'm not gonna laugh again, I swear." 

"You can turn into a wolf," Eddie repeats. He's still looking at the road, but his voice is awestruck. 

"Yeah, it's pretty cool," Buck admits, "I'll show you sometime, maybe." 

Eddie goes quiet for a moment, and they're just pulling into his driveway when Buck speaks again. 

"And I'm not 'both at once' or whatever," he explains, "I'm a hybrid. It's like, a third option. An entirely seperate thing." 

"So you're..." Eddie thinks for a moment, "...a vampwolf."

Buck stares at him, face twisted into a mildly offended grimace. "Absolutely not." 

"A vampirewolf," Eddie says, turning to climb out of the truck. 

"No," Buck says. He follows him out, grabbing their bags from the back on his way. 

"Werevampire?" Eddie tries. He pays his pockets for his house key. Buck raises an unimpressed eyebrow at him.

"No," Buck says, pulling the key out of Eddie's back pocket and handing it to him. Eddie smiles gratefully at him and moves to unlock the door.

"Wampire," Eddie says, and Buck just looks vaguely disgusted.

"What are you doing?" 

"Well I can't just call you a hybrid," Eddie tells him, "that sounds too clinical. It's weird. What am I supposed to call you?" 

"Just call me Buck, man." 

"Terrible idea. How about a...vaere-volf," Eddie puts on an over-the-top fake accent, sounding like a character out of an old Dracula movie.

"I hate you," Buck says, and steps inside. "Can we order a pizza?" 

"Yeah, I was thinking of trying that new sauce," Eddie agrees, "with the garlic and chicken? It looked good." 

"Sounds alright," Buck says. "You know I'll eat pretty much anything."

He flops onto the couch and grabs Eddie's laptop, pulling it towards him and flipping it open to make the order. He's just clicking onto the pizza place's website when Eddie suddenly looks up and says, "Hold on." 

"What?" Buck looks up at him. 

"Can you even eat garlic?" Eddie asks. He looks worried, suddenly. "I thought vampires couldn't have garlic? Dogs can't have garlic. Does that apply to werewolves too? Was I about to feed you something you're allergic to?" 

"Slow down, dude," Buck says, trying not to laugh again. "The garlic thing, about vampires, is a myth. I love garlic. I want so much garlic on this pizza. It's fine." 

The honest concern on Eddie's face is a little endearing, if Buck is being honest. He knows Eddie is just asking all the questions so that he can understand, and that's fine. It's nice, even.

"Okay, okay. As long as we're not ordering anything potentially dangerous for…" Eddie pauses, thinking, and then grins cheekily at Buck. "...a were-pire."

Buck just groans. "No."

~~~

Later, as they're finishing up the last slices of pizza and watching the end credits of a Marvel movie scroll across the screen, Eddie turns to look at Buck again.

"Just one more time," he says, "remind me this is really happening." 

"Definitely happening," Buck says.

"Remind me you're not just fucking with me," Eddie says.

"Definitely not just fucking with you," Buck assures him again.

"Okay," Eddie says, and seems to finally settle into the idea. "Can I see the teeth again?" 

AO3 | Ko-Fi

[jenonctcity]

Charia Kingdom - Masterlist

An NCT Dream Fantasy Series.

Charia Kingdom - A place that has equal amounts of sunshine and rain, hot and cold, rich and poor, and, humans and creatures that couldn’t be identified as that of human status. Ruled by the Lee family with a king whose cutthroat and unforgiving nature is feared by many. The poor not cared for by people who have everything, where disease takes the lives of those unfortunate enough to not have the funds to purchase medicine. A place where humans live among  creatures many would find terrifying. It’s no secret that Vampires, Werewolves, Wizards, etc live amongst them like normal people. Unless you murder someone, you’re considered normal. Everyone lives their own lives, whether it be a happy life, or a sorrowful life...

Mark Lee - Born into a family of renowned witches and wizards, there came a time for Mark to fly the nest. The nest being their comfortable home in the middle of the bustling kingdom. After the death of the castle’s witch, 17 year old Mark was brought in to take her place. He lives up to his family’s name and has impressed the royal family with his natural talents. Now 20 years old with the trust of the royal family and kingdom, shy, quiet Mark is given a new obstacle when a new maid is brought to work alongside him in the castle. Granted she’s mostly there to clean up his mess, but he finds she plays a much bigger role in his life than just that. With the new light in his life, Mark faces a new task at hand. Keeping her safe from the horrors of the castle. 

Perils Brewing - [S], [A], [F]

Huang Renjun - Being chased from the royal family’s castle at the age of 16 was never something Renjun hoped for when he was growing up. Having lived in the castle since his birth, his mother, the castles witch, raised him alone. After finding out a huge secret and confronting the king, the king has Renjun’s mother killed, leading Renjun to use the dark powers he never knew he had to curse the Prince of the kingdom. After a bounty is put on his head for his crimes, he lives his life on the run, burrowing away in a cabin far out in the depths of the dangerous forest. A place where many lethal creatures live. Now 19, Renjun has lived in solitude for 3 years, and never expected a girl to break into his home in the dead of night. The girl he encounters is on the run herself, but refuses to tell him why. The stubborn, mentally strong, and brave girl persaudes him to let her stay with him. Can he live alongside another being when he’s still got dark magic flowing through his veins and a huge secret heavy in his heart?

Running From The Dark - [S], [A], [F]

Lee Jeno - Being the crown prince of Charia Kingdom was never something that worried Jeno. He was raised by his mother to smile when talked to, and to have a kind heart so that he would rule the kingdom differently to how his father had. At 16, he’s unexpectedly hit by a powerful curse after hearing a ruckus going on in the echoing halls of the castle. It flips his life around, his new status as a werewolf being a challenge he hates with all his heart. It turned the kingdoms sweetheart into an angry, brooding boy. Now 19, Jeno has learned how to control when he phases with the help of the remedies Mark brews for him. The only thing he can’t control is bursting into a gigantic wolf every time a negative emotion takes over his mind. No one apart from the workers of the castle know that he’s a wolf, it being kept a secret from the public. He runs in the forest in his wolf form calm him down, until he comes face to face with a rogue wolf who threatens his life with her piercing glare. After imprinting on each other, Jeno has to learn how to balance his new love, his duties as prince, his burning rage, and a secret that is revealed to him that changes his life once again. 

Stepping Into The Moonlight - [S], [A], [F]

Lee Donghyuck - Donghyuck the cheeky, charismatic boy who wasn't born a demon. As a human Donghyuck was known for his greed and crimes. So when he died at the age of 19, Satan offered him an eternal life in exchange for completing tasks. At the age of 79 he was banished from hell for failing to take the life of someone he decided upon himself didn't deserve to die. For his sin, as punishment he was sent to live on earth forever. Being immortal and watching people you make connections with die from illness, old age, or suicide was a far bigger punishment than dying. Currently 128 years old, he’s seen many of his peers around him die in many ways, and every time it happens it chips away at his sanity and positive attitude. He swore never to fall in love, but upon meeting the princess of Charia, he can’t keep away from her. After falling in love with her, it’s becoming more likely that she will be ripped away from him sooner rather than later. With his emotions flipping completely, can he manage to stop himself from sinning to save the woman he loves?

Coming Soon...

Na Jaemin - At the age of 19, Jaemin was brutally beaten by a knight of the royal family and left for dead. He was found by a creature of the night and turned into a blood craving vampire. Many years later, he’s now 210 years old and lives life one day at a time. He’s rather peaceful for a murderous creature, only being considered dangerous when he’s starved of the only thing he needs; blood. Before his death, he was an orphan, abandoned with only a pile of letters telling him of his true heritage. Something that’s always planted in the back of his mind. After hunting one night, he hears screams coming from the kingdoms small hospital. There he finds a nurse being attacked by a patient. After defusing the attack, he has no other choice but to help the wounded nurse, not being able to leave her there half dead as he was once before. The addicting scent of her makes him keep her around despite the danger that he poses to her by having her in his home. He finds himself doing something he never would have dreamed of doing to keep her around. After finding out about his true heritage, she changes, for the good or bad? Will this be a love story, or a tragedy?

Coming Soon...

Zhong Chenle - Born as an angel in heaven, Chenle had always been obsessed over how humans lived on earth. But forbidden to step foot on earth he had to always watch from above. Turning 18 he decided to take a risk. A risk that lead him to be ripped from his family, forced to live his life on earth like a mortal human. He has his halo taken from him, but is plagued by the wings that have a heavier feeling on his back than what they used to in heaven. Living the life he always wanted, he’s a happy soul, rarely being sad even if he can’t leave the house as much as he would like. His wings are hard to conceal, and with fallen angel’s being a more than rare thing, he’s scared he will be killed for his wings. You’d think if he was killed he would go to back heaven right? Wrong. After being thrown to earth, he had no means of survival other than stealing to stay alive. One night he meets the hyperactive, bubbly girl who works in the local bookstore. A friendship immediately occurs between the two. He soon finds himself falling for the girl and has hopes of living the normal life he always wanted. As he gets used to living as a human does, will life pan out the way sweet Chenle wants?

Coming Soon...

Park Jisung - In human form, Jisung looks like the worlds softest boy. His shy, slightly awkward persona often tricks people into thinking that he couldn’t even fight off a new-born baby. So why has the royal family put this lanky, slender 17 year old boy in front of the castles main gate as its protector when the rumours are that a terrifying dragon is the guarder of the castle. Well, something not many people know about the boy is that he’s a dragon hybrid. And can turn into an overwhelmingly huge dragon that has even the bravest of knights quivering in their chain mail. So far no one has ever gotten past the boy, and he intends on keeping it that way. So when a girl who looks around the same age as him slips past him and is found stealing from the castle, he’s not too impressed. She’s locked away in the dungeon, and the curious boy has to meet the only person to ever get past him. She’s sentenced to death but after pleading with his friend Prince Jeno, her crimes are pardoned, but only if Jisung keeps her with him as his assistant. He encourages her to change her thieving ways, but will he ever be able to change the hard-headed girl he argues with daily? What if you add strange feelings of love into the mix and a promise that one of them doesn't intend on keeping?

Coming Soon...

(A/N: Hi! I’m so excited to for this series I hope you enjoyed the teasers! whose are you most looking forward to? I worked really, really hard on these so please let me know your thoughts and give it loads of love! Also as all of this series hasn't been written yet, things may change in the plots and summaries but it shouldn't be anything too drastic. Also this series will contain smut, angst and fluff. Obviously no smut for Chenle and Jisung, and each story will get warnings and categories marked on them when they’re published.)

[raven-mcbain-monkeymouse]

“People die, it’s the one thing we’re universally good at as a species.”

“Some days you just have to say...”

“say what?”

“I have no flippin clue!”

“Just because you love someone and they love you doesn’t mean they aren’t dangerous for you. It certainly doesn’t mean that they can’t hurt you. In fact it usually makes it much more likely.”

“But you forgot how stubborn I can be.”

“I was actually going to use another word but it starts with the same three letters.”

“Hope is a rare thing these days and unfortunately regret isn’t.”

“It started, as many things do with a broken chair that had simply had enough.”

“We don’t cry that our time is cut short, we bless all the time we had because tomorrow is a gift not a promise.”

“Time travel stole my butt!”

“I’m too tired. You know the kind of tired you get when you’ve seen too much unseeable, known too much unknowable and tried too hard for too long to change the unchangeable.”

“You’re just embarrassed that you were rescued by the girl that used to wipe your nose.”

“I retired because the world is far too good at getting into trouble and far too bad at showing any gratitude.”

“You know it’s very rude to ask a lady her age.”

“I know that but i didn’t ask a lady I asked you.”

“I’m trying to explain that the world is in grave danger.”

“Oh I got that part. What I fail to understand is why that’s in any way my responsibility to fix.”

“Why is my cabin on fire!”

“I’ve lived too long to believe in sanitized fairy tales but I know the bloody originals are usually true.”

“Please don’t trust any information you get from drunk skeletons.”

“We keep living because they can’t anymore.”

“That was rude.”

“Well I’m very old, I’m entitled.”

“You would never accept one of us giving in like this. So why are you so different? Why do you get to give up?”

“This isn’t giving up. This is me accepting that this is the end for me. After everything I’ve done and been through this is my final call and that isn’t a bad thing. Everything ends and sometimes it’s just time to go.”

“Does saving the world mean I have to put on shoes?”

“Oh I care. My life would be so much easier if I didn’t but I do. I care so much, far too much.”

“It’s days like this that really make me wish I could get drunk!”

“Unfortunately it’s all too common that what people don’t understand they want to set on fire.”

“I’m several hundred years old and my closest friends are a werewolf, a vampire and a living skeleton, nothing you are could surprise me.”

“Since life is hell than I guess the dead are the lucky ones.”

“I figured the best person to look after you would be your younger self.”

“That’s a terrible idea! I’ve been out to get myself for the past several hundred years!”

“I’ve forgotten more life than you have lived.”

“Of course there’s a bomb! There’s always a bomb!”

“If all of life is a show than I’d like to fire the director.”

“I’d say there is a glitch in the matrix but given our luck that’s too likely to be real.”

“Please can I have just one day when no one dies.”

“Why should I believe a word that comes out of your mouth?”

“Usually you shouldn’t but today I’m in a bit of a rush.”

“There is no such thing as heroes or villains. There’s just people. People who try to do the right thing, people who make mistakes, just people. That’s what makes it so hard.”

“Who drinks mouthwash?!”

“Don’t judge me!”

“Unfortunately the people who will hurt us rarely wear neon signs proclaiming that they will do wrong.”

“I’m not going to die today because I’m not giving you that satisfaction.”

“Oh I’m so glad that you made me leave my quiet cabin in the middle of nowhere for this!”

“Admit it you missed the action.”

“Even if I did do you really think I would tell you that?”

“Why does no one just call me up for a nice game of ultimate frisbee?”

“The smaller something is the more likely that it wants to kill you.”

“If you don’t come back with every single one of them in one piece I will make you fill out so much paperwork!”

“I would have looked out for them without the threat you know!”

“Just shake the flippin teddy bear’s paw!”

“I’m not ready for you to go!”

“We rarely feel we are. However you may not feel prepared to let go but you are ready to stand on your own.”

“See, back in civilization 5 minutes and already things are in the mud.”

“How do you keep going on?”

“Spite and a cursed pendant.”

“Please be serious.”

“Oh but I am, without those two things I would have died long ago.”

“Fine! Forget it! I’m sorry I asked!”

“Because the world doesn’t stop turning just because you want it to.”

“What?”

“I keep going on because as much as it hurts the world is still going on. The sun still rises and falls. The dishes still need to be washed and the trash needs to be taken out. People still get in and out of trouble. I still have responsibilities and there are still things I need to do.”

“So you just keep going despite the hurt?”

“Yes and eventually as you keep going on, you find the hurt to be more bearable and life is eventually liveable again instead of survivable.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Oh how I wish!”

“Sometimes the only way to survive this world is to be as cold and unforgiving as it is.”

“You’re our best hope.”

“And you don’t find that incredibly depressing?!”

“The key is not to try and change the whole world but to just change one world.”

“Aren’t people supposed to get more mature as they get older?”

“Yes but eventually you reach a point where you start going backwards.”

“You do know that having children as a backup in the event you screw up is really messed up!”

“Sometimes all you can do is save one starfish.”

“Sorry, the earth only swallows you up when it’s completely inconvenient.”

“Don’t worry you will eventually find someone who will cover you with a umbrella rather than watch you stand in the rain.”

“We Just traveled over a hundred years into the past in order to stop a plot to completely change the world as we know it and you aren’t even the least bit phased!?”

“Quite frankly this isn’t even the weirdest thing to happen to me today.”

“Sometimes people surprise you. It’s rare but it does happen.“

“Why are you soaking wet?”

“I fell out of a submarine.”

“How... never mind I don’t want to know.”

“It’s not my responsibility to make you comfortable with what I am.”

“I so regret teaching you to talk.”

“You didn’t teach me to talk.”

“Well then I regret that I wasn’t there to prevent it.”

“See all those little lies you tell to get you through they all start to pile up and eventually they completely smother the truth and you look in the mirror and don’t know the person looking back.”

“Whoever has been spreading these nasty rumours that I’m a good person really needs to stop.”

“You have to forgive yourself for surviving.”

“Have you?”

“That’s different.”

“So how was it growing up with dinosaurs?”

“It was great! Had a pet triceratops named Trixie!”

“You know the joke is no fun if you go along with it.”

“Who was joking?!”

“Living isn’t always easy. Sometimes it’s all difficult choices and burying people you care about.”

“You’re really not good at this encouraging thing you know.”

“Yeah but it’s the hard days that make the good ones special. Like walking out of here and going home to the people waiting for us.”

“Don’t play cards with him he cheats.”

“So do you!”

“How do you think I know that you cheat!”

“Do you trust me?”

“Can you give me any reasons that I should?”

“Not really. Except that I will do everything in my power to make sure you get through this at least partially intact.”

[fight-surrender]

Howlin’ Forever Chapter 3: Into the Woods

Rating: Teen and Up

Word count: 2583

Read on AO3

Summary: “Dog-Simon must catch my scent because he’s instantly awake and on his feet. His head is down, hackles are up and the snarl that ensues from his mouth is most certainly lupine. His eyes are Simon’s blue, but there is no humanity or recognition in them. Only malice.”

Time for Baz to find a werewolf. 

(I did put a readmore cut in here on my desktop, I’m terribly sorry to clog your feed if it doesn’t transfer to mobile.) Thanks as always to my amazing friends, @carryonsimoncarryonbaz​, @vkelleyart​ @penpanoply​ for their unwavering support and encouragement and beta reading and omg @penpanoply​ made me this cover art which is fucking gorgeous and brilliant and perfect. <3 <3

        _________________________________________________

                                       Ch 3: Into the Woods

                                   You and me have a disease,                                   You affect me, you infect me,                                   I'm afflicted, you're addicted,                                      You and me, you and me

                                  - “Infected” by Bad Religion

 Baz:

Panting, I scramble to the window. The night seems to be holding its breath, silently waiting as a quiet splash draws my eyes to the moat. The merwolves are eerily calm, almost reverent, as they bear witness to the hulking bronze figure that cuts through the water. The creature emerges from the moat, shaking off moonlit water droplets. He howls again, sending my heart into a renewed frenzy. The wolf then turns and runs into the forest.

I wipe my hands across my face, then rake them through my hair.

What should I do? What should I do?

Should I go after him? Leave him be? Where is he going? Does he even know?

The drawbridge is closed. I’m too frazzled to manage a spell to get around it. Sleep isn’t an option tonight. My eye catches on the pile of books Malfoy sent over. At least Hogwarts still has a fully stocked library, not the Children’s Garden of Verses we have here at Watford. I take a copy of “Magical Beasts and Where to Find Them,” a bag of salt and vinegar crisps and settle onto my bed to try and focus on the pages.

***

  Sunrise turns the room pink as I realize I’ve been reading the same paragraph for half an hour. I have no idea what it says. The only information I’ve retained from this exercise is that the full moon phase can last up to about four days. The transformation seems to last longer in the newly Turned. Also, there is a potion called Wolfsbane that helps lessen the effects of the Lycanthropy.

A heavy thunk, followed by the clatter of gears indicates the drawbridge is coming down.

I snap the book shut with one hand and stand up.

Time to find a werewolf.

 ***

 It’s a good thing it’s the weekend. I certainly wouldn’t miss class to hike through the woods after this imbecile. Branches slap my face as I stomp along, following Snow’s tracks. He’s left an obvious trail of broken limbs, scratched soil and huge footprints. My vampire senses come in handy as well. His scent is different in this form. He still smells like smoke, but now there’s a wildness, a smell of petrichor and moss with hints of musk.

My mind is a swirl of thoughts, but I can’t settle on any single one. Simon, the Chosen One, Watford’s golden boy is now a monster. Technically, he’s not allowed to exist. Neither am I, for that matter, I’m well versed in keeping my secret. The question is what’s Simon going to do with this information? He’s so damned good, he could very well just turn himself in to the mage as soon as he resumes his human form. I’ll be damned to hell twice over before I let him throw his life away like that. I will stop him, even if I have to put a collar on him and chain him to the bed. (That actually sounds appealing, regardless of his reaction to his new condition.)

Simon’s scent gets stronger as I approach a dried creek bed. I slow down, treading lightly across scattered stones and debris, trying not to make a sound. An angry squirrel chitters at me from a branch above my head. If I had the time or inclination, I’d drain him out of spite. At least squirrel blood tastes better than rat.

I stop short as I come around a boulder, on the other side is the hulking form of Simon Snow. Rather, the were version of him. His breath is till heaving, but he seems to be asleep. During the frenzied events of last night, I hadn’t a chance to really get a look at him.  He’s huge, probably the size of a Shetland pony. He doesn’t exactly look wolfish, his muzzle is not so pointed, his ears flop down. He looks like, well he looks like an overgrown, shaggy, bronze-furred Golden Retriever. For snakes sake, of course Simon Snow would turn into a Golden; cheerful, loyal, lovely dogs that they are. He’s too good to even be a proper monster. Crowley. I roll my eyes and shake my head in wonder.

Dog-Simon must catch my scent because he’s instantly awake and on his feet. His head is down, hackles are up and the snarl that ensues from his mouth is most certainly lupine. His eyes are Simon’s blue, but there is no humanity or recognition in them. Only malice. Not quite so Golden-esque then.

Before I can pull my wand from my sleeve, he lunges at me, but immediately falls to the ground. He growls again and turns to bite at something behind him. I step back to a safer distance and see that the beast’s foot is caught in some kind of debris. Snow flails and thrashes, but eventually collapses, exhausted, panting.

I try to approach him, now that he’s tired, and am met once again with that malevolent, dead stare and a mouth full of giant teeth. And, I might add, horrific dog breath.  I back away into the forest to think. That thing, it is Simon. I can’t exactly leave him out here for the next three days, but how can I spell him free and somewhere safe until he goes back to human form? There are dog training spells, but what would “atta boy” do to the human part of his brain? I suppose I could spell him to sleep, but how do I get him back to our room? I don’t have the magic to transport him.

What if I could get him to trust me? Physically, he’s a giant pet dog. What’s the best way to train a dog? Positive reinforcement: Food. What’s the way to Simon Snow’s heart? Food.  

I turn and run back to Watford. It’s time to call in a favor with Cook Pritchard.

 ***

 Thank magic no one is around when I haul the giant wicker picnic basket Cook Pritchard loaded up for me across the great lawn. She gave me enough food for an army. The woman was well chuffed that I was having a picnic with “friends.” She acted as if I hadn’t any friends.  “Well that’s lovely, Basilton, so nice to see you coming out of your shell.” Cook even tucked a small bottle of dandelion wine into the basket, “to help break the ice.” She actually winked at me. I wanted to implode.

I have friends. Sure, half of them are family, but still. You only need one or two friends, anything more isn’t worth the effort.

I carry the basket through the wood. I feel like I’m on my way to a goth Victorian picnic. I stop periodically to drain a few squirrels, just for spite.  The resident dryad side eyes me as I pass her thicket. I ignore her.

“What do you seek, blood eater?” She hisses. Twirling her ridiculous umbrella. Butterflies swirl lazily around her mossy hair.

“None of your business.” I reply.

“Your pistil is a wolf.” She remarks.

“He’s not my anything.” I snarl, “And he’s not a wolf, he’s a Golden Retriever.”

“The Chosen One is an abomination,” she presses. “The children of the moon must die.”

I light a fire in my palm. “Is that so?” I drop my voice to a menace, “maybe I should take out this whole forest in the process.”

“Do what you must. The forest will regrow. He cannot live.” She calls my bluff.

“You know what? You can fuck off.” I say, frustrated.

She opens her mouth to speak, but I raise my hand. “Enough. We’re done here.” I sling the giant basket over my shoulder and stomp away.

I’ll be staked before I take advice from a woodland creature holding a parasol. Snow has as much of a right to live as I do. More so, he’s not dead. Fuck the dryad.

I finally make it back to the creek bed. Dog-Simon looks vaguely defeated, laying on his side, his back leg stretched behind him. I can see a length of rusty wire wrapped around his foot. He’s awake, wary eyes never leaving mine, a low growl rumbles in his chest.

I settle myself on the ground a safe distance away. I’m wearing my school-issue green Watford football trackie bottoms and sweatshirt. Coach Mac will probably not appreciate werewolf damage to the practice uniform. My trainers are caked with mud. I sigh. The things I do for love.

The basket creaks as I open it. The sound makes Snow get up and retreat as far as the wire around his leg will let him. His tail is down, ears back; he’s panting lightly.

I pull out the bottle of dandelion wine and take a swig, to calm my nerves. It’s bitter, with a faint floral overtone, and just enough bite to warm my chest. I take a deep breath and survey the contents of my picnic. The basket is overflowing with roast beef sandwiches, sour cherry scones, roast chicken, bacon butties, jellies, and inexplicably a layered trifle. She must have magicked it all in there.

It’s just me and the dog, and I missed breakfast, so I help myself to a roast beef sandwich. Snow’s ears tip forward and he sits down. Sniffing the air.

I toss a bit of my sandwich at him, he scrambles away with a surprised bark. Almost immediately, he cautiously noses forward, sniffing at the roast beef. He sits down again, without eating it and resumes watching me, panting. His teeth are huge.

“For fucks sake, Simon, it’s not like it’s poisoned.”

The dog’s ears perk up and he cocks his head at me. His mouth is closed, brows almost furrowed in concentration.

“Go on then lad,” I press, “roast beef is your favorite.” I remind myself to breathe.

Snow resumes panting, but lowers his nose again at the food. He nudges it, then takes an experimental bite. Apparently satisfied that the offering wasn’t going to kill him, the great dog swallows the rest. Licking his lips, he retreats to his original position, as far away from Baz as he can get.

I toss half a sandwich into his orbit.

“There you go Snow, I know you can’t walk away from half a sandwich.”

Once again Dog-Simon sits, cocks his head and looks at me. I’m probably imagining it, but his eyelids almost seem to squeeze a bit, in concentration. He cautiously walks my way, never taking his eyes off me, and eats the sandwich half in one bite. This time he doesn’t shy away, he sits, panting again and watches me.

I toss him the other half of the sandwich, which he catches in the air and eats with more gusto. He’s watching me again, this time I get a weak tail wag.

I unwrap the roast chicken and throw the whole thing at him. It lands with an unceremonious plop, a leg breaking free. Simon stands and practically inhales the whole thing. His tail is wagging faster now.

We go on like this for the duration of the afternoon. I’m slowly inching closer, I can almost touch his muzzle now. He seems more relaxed, the panting has stopped. His ears are forward, tail wagging freely. His eyes have gone softer, from ice to sky.

I reach into the basket for a sour cherry scone, I’ve been saving these for this moment. I scoot even closer, holding it in my hand this time. He’s so close, he could easily rip my throat out. It’s not often I have to worry about someone ripping out my throat. It’s refreshing, really. I suppose there are worse ways to die.

“Simon, we’re going to have to work together to figure this mess out. If there is any part of you that can hear me, let me help you. I mean, I know you don’t have any reason to trust me, but…” My voice tapers off. Why would he trust me? Crowley, I’ve done nothing but torment him for the last 6 years.

A gentle breeze ruffles the golden leaves above me. “We be of one blood, ye and I.” I murmur. A warm rush of surprise washes over me. Where the fuck did that even come from? Kipling was a powerful magician, but is that even a spell? Leave it to me to channel my favorite childhood book in times of duress.

I take a breath and hold out the scone. Simon noses forward, sniffs, and carefully takes the scone from my hand. He doesn’t move away. I keep my eyes on him as I slowly reach for the basket and remove another scone. I hold it in my hand, when he takes it, I reach out with my other hand and run it behind his ear, rubbing along his jaw. He stiffens, but continues to eat the scone. “These are your favourite,” I whisper, scratching behind his ear, rubbing slowly along his neck and shoulder. Eventually, I find myself out of scones and scratching his stomach, while his tongue lolls and he scratches his back leg lazily.

I take a break because my hands are cramping from all the petting. I really hope he doesn’t remember any of this. I shake my hands and look at the grime under my nails. I’m going to need a manicure.

Simon stands and gives a mighty shake from his nose to his feathered, rudder-like tail. He utters a sharp bark, like he’s decided something, then proceeds to try and climb into my lap, his huge pink tongue lapping my face.

“Merlin and Morgana, you giant thumping git, get off. I push him away, but not too far. He knocks me to the ground and licks my whole face. For snakes sake, you’re disgusting, I get to my feet wiping saliva off my chin and trying not to smile. Simon’s tail is wagging so hard his whole body is wiggling and he’s rubbing along my side, trying to get me to scratch his back. I oblige for a moment.

“Snow, stop, let’s get your leg untangled.”  He stands so quietly as I extricate his leg from the wire, that I can’t help but wonder if he understood me.

Once freed, Simon plants his giant paws on my shoulders and smears the side of my face with his tongue once more. “Blimey, Snow.” I step back and the great dog’s feet once more hit the ground. He zooms away, coming to a skidding stop, returns to my side and bows his front legs down, rear up, tail wagging madly.

I lean down and take his huge face in my hands, scratching gently below his jaw. “Come along, you delightful moron, let’s go home.”

I turn and make my way through the forest. The late afternoon sun dappling the trail with rich golden light. Dust motes dancing in the beams. Simon scampers ahead, darting back every few minutes to make sure I’m still following.

I breathe in the rich loamy scent of these ancient woods and let it out slowly. For once, my mind is quiet. Simon is back at my side, nosing at my hand. I absentmindedly rub his velvet ear. I stop and let this foreign emotion wash over me. I let myself relax, for just this moment, I am content.

[thefantasygirl3]

Sleep Deprived Regrets. Chapter 2: Trevor

genre/warnings: Hurt/comfort, Healing.

Words: 2 927

Summary: Once more, Habit is out and about in the habitat, this time after having sleep-walked. This time he finds himself having to cheer up a sad little werewolf.

Notes: Second chapter out. Not sure when I’ll be putting up another one. But I will try my best to make it, as this one proved to be a little bit of a challenge.  

The dentist gave away a big, relaxed sigh as he opened his eyes and let them meet with the sight of a clear blue sky. A sky that had a beautiful sun shining down onto him as he was laying down on something rather soft and comfy. Confusion finally washed Habit’s mind as he tried to recall when he had gone outside. Wondering where he even was, the man sat up from the ground and let his gaze move downward. He saw… a field? He was sitting in rather tall grass, tickling up against his own green fingers as he ran them across the gentle thin blades. Now even more befuddled than before, his tired confusion turned into a slight panic as he started darting his head around, trying to figure out where exactly he had ended up. Doing so, Boris could see… all of his Habiticians. They were all there too! They were sitting in the grass in small groups and were smiling and talking to each other, enjoying themselves in this beautiful sunny field. They were all looking so happy, handing out flower crowns to each other and trying them on rather gleefully. 

Habit was staring in shock at this sight, not able to believe what was happening. But his amazement was cut very short as he heard the grass beside him starting to rustle. Glancing to the side, he saw his ex-assistant walking over towards him with a wide smile on his face, casually settling himself down beside the taller green man. “Hey! Boris! I’m so glad to see you here! We were missing another person!” Kamal greeted his old boss as he gave him a welcoming smile, shifting giddily in the grass beside him while gripping another flower crown in his hands. Habit stared quietly at his old friend as he was so warmly spoken to, finding it rather confusing considering how they left of in a rather… unfriendly way. But despite that, he felt his cheeks starting to redden and a small smile growing on his face.  “Thank u, Kamal. Im verie habby to “be” hear with you! What hav u got der?” he giggled cheerily as he looked down curiously at the little thing the shorter man got in his little mitts. Giggling right back at him, Kamal reacher up and placed the pretty flower crown on the top of his head. Habit gasped and smiled brightly, laughing along with his friend as he took it off so he could take a whiff of that sweet flora smell.

Taking a deep breath in, he felt himself starting to cough gently. It didn’t smell sweet at all! It almost had a kind of heavy metallic smell. Continuing to cough harder, he threw the flowers away and tried to get a word out to the chuckling black haired man. As soon as his coughing fit was over, he opened his eyes and saw the flowers were now withering while producing some sort of gas out of them. Looking over to Kamal instead for help, Boris suddenly yelped and pulled himself away from the man who now had a toothbrush for a head, still laughing like a mad man.

Scrambling to get back up on his feet, he could now see that the air around him was full of that same gas. A gas he could easily recognize from his profession. And through the clouds he could see all the other Habiticians with their heads looking like various other objects, laughing just like Kamal was and starting to approach the scared man who was backing away from them in his pyjamas, which he didn't remember wearing earlier. Continuing to back away from them, he was suddenly met with a concrete wall and was now forced to meet with all the laughing object heads that were coming closer and closer. “No! Please don’t! Stay back! PLEASE! I'M SORRY! I'M SO SORRY!” he yelled at them all as he closed his eyes tightly in fear.

Habit’s eyes suddenly shot open as he stumbled backwards and landed on his butt, sitting suddenly in somewhat more familiar grass. Shaking off the shock, he took a moment to take in the surroundings of the carnival he now was in. “What the heck? Why am I down here again?” he asked himself perplexed as he remembered how he had left his room last night when he was unable to sleep. All he could do was assume that he had sleep walked down there again after having gone to bed. Yeah. That made sense to him. As he started to rise to his feet, his thoughts started swirling with the dream he had while wandering through the facility in his slumber. 

Wow that was weird! It all started off so great and happy! But… why would it turn so sinister and scary even though everyone were still enjoying themselves? "W-well it was just a dremm! Dreabs are silly and make kno sense!" Habit tried to tell himself nervously, not really sure how to handle the kind of emotions that dream stirred up in him. It made him feel a little bit unsettled and he just wanted to stop thinking about it. That's when an idea hit him. Last time he went out wandering like this, he found someone else awake and talked to them for a bit. Nat seemed to really appreciate that! Maybe, if he went out again around the apartments, he could do the same that night. 

Yeah. Yeah! That sounded fantastic! The perfect distraction! Feeling satisfied with his great idea, the brunette hurriedly rushed over to the gates of the carnival and made a sharp turn towards the staircase, almost losing his balance as he was running up into the apartments.

Finally he reached the top of the stairs and took a short moment to catch his breath. Maybe he was a little too excited to be talking to someone. He didn't do that a lot on the daily, so it was kind of understandable. But thinking to himself that he needs to calm down, the green man took another deep huff and started looking around the hallway with numbered doors. First thing coming to mind was Nat, since he had talked to her the night prior. Maybe she, just like him, was awake this night too! Reaching her door, he took a moment to hold his ear to the door to make sure she was awake, so he wouldn’t be waking her by knocking or something.

…

Nope. Nothing. Complete silence.

Letting out a disappointed sigh, Habit just turned away and headed down the turn leading towards the rest of the rooms he hadn’t passed. While he was passing a few more rooms, something finally caught his attention. He swore that he could hear the sound of a dog whining, which shouldn’t be the case. “A… dog???” Boris questioned to himself as he moved his ear around from door to door, trying to determine where exactly the pitiful cries were coming from. And soon enough, he could tell precisely where it was coming from and who was making that sound.

“Ah… Trevor Garbo, huh?” he muttered softly to himself as he thought over this current situation. “So, I’m outside the room of a whining teen who thinks he’s a werewolf. At night. After sleepwalking my way here… yeah, that’s about as normal as my usual life” the dentist concluded to himself as he kept hearing the young boy quietly howling inside his room in despair. Deciding this was now his problem, Habit reached out and gently gave his door a knock, trying to not chicken out and run back downstairs. He got a scared yip in response and heard the sound of a small thud. Oopsie doopsie!

He waited patiently for the boy inside to come and open the door for him, which happened after about a minute of shuffling around. Trevor looked up at the person that stood outside his room. He looked absolutely horrified at first, hiding behind the door as he muttered something panicked to himself about “Vampires” and “Smiling dead”. Habit peeked inside concerned as the boy kept mumbling about whatever it was that worried him. As his eyes shifted to the side to meet with the taller one’s, his fear seemed to turn more into sorrow as he became more quiet. After a few seconds of staring, he finally mumbled “... or it’s just Dr. Habit… Checking in on me or something”. He walked back inside his room, tiredly hanging and dragging himself towards the bed as he sat himself back on it. 

Right… Habit almost forgot that he’s not exactly a fan favorite in the habitat. Not sure what else he expected. “Why are you here?” The wolf boy asked the man who slowly entered the room cautiously while he wrapped his arms around his own legs, burying his face between his knees. The smile doctor froze for a moment, feeling unsure over how to respond to that question without sounding weird. 

“Well… I seem to be unable to sleep… and found myself wandering around the habitat. But I thought I heard you crying or something and I got worried. Is… Everything ok with you, Trevor?” he asked him nervously while continuing over to the boy and taking a seat on the bed beside him, looking genuinely concerned for him. 

Looking up at Habit slightly, he gave him this sad pout and just turned towards the window, staring up at the moon. “... no. It’s not! It’s not ok! Because apparently I’m not a real werewolf! I’m just “acting out” and “going through a phase”! Well then I guess all my other factual theories are all false too and EVERYTHING I’VE COME UP WITH IS ALL STUPID NOTHING AND A WASTE!” Trevor started rambling loudly, releasing his legs so that he could angrily shake his hand in front of his face. Now really worried because of the yelling, the older man waved his hands worriedly and stuttered something incoherent in an attempt to calm the boy.

Holy moley! Habit had at least expected him to be somewhat stand-offish or just say "fine" without any elaboration. He wasn't ready for an emotional explosion! It really stunned him, he had no idea what to say at all! He just kept sputtering random “W-well now-” and “No! No! Not at all!”, trying to make Trevor stop whining and growling loudly. The boy, after rambling in a small temper tantrum, finally let out an elongated whine while curled up into a ball on the bed, laying on his side. “Everyone is so ignorant. I am a werewolf. I just… can’t seem to transform, no matter how hard I try or how mad I get. Ugh! And they doubt my theories too! It’s like they believe I’m lying or that I’m delusional! I’m NOT! I’m… I’m…” Trevor started whimpering as his voice trailed off, looking more and more sad as his eyes drifted over towards the window to gaze up at the moon. He then continued on as he regained his voice again before the other guy could think up something to say. “... Maybe… maybe I am wrong. All my theories aren’t… factual”.

Boris gasped and covered his mouth in shock, not able to believe that he had just heard that coming from TREVOR, the biggest conspiracy theorist he had ever met! He would never expect the wolf boy to be completely dismissing all of his theories that he had come up with. It didn’t sound like him at all. Geez. He felt so bad for the poor sad boy, he wished that he could figure out a way to cheer him up. Inconsiderate people, talking down on his interests and ruining his fun! 

“... Wait… hmm…” thinking about it a few seconds, something actually hit him. Maybe, just maybe, if Habit could appeal to his special interests, he could encourage the boy to not give up on himself. Clearing his throat, he tried his best to think up his next response. “Ah… That doesn’t sound like you at all! You… Y-you would never give up on a lead! You’d find a way to work around it and figure out the real truth!” he started with as he reached a hand out and placed it on the boy’s back. Trevor just slapped it away and sat up on the bed, turning towards Boris to give him a glare. “Well I am! I’m giving up and waiting till this “phase” is over!” he barked at the tall green man and just sat angrily beside him, glaring him down with tearful eyes.

Darn! That didn’t seem to work very well! He was still acting all off! “Wait! He’s acting off!” Habit thought to himself as he now was struck with exactly what he should say! 

“You would never say that! Which means… something is… w-wrong! I think… you are b-being… uuuh… ma-manipulated!” he tried to sound confident while telling this to the now confused looking boy, obviously looking unsure over how he would receive the claim. He continued anyways, he had already committed. “I-I mean! Listen! You are a very good theorist and you… come up with such amazing ideas! And I remember the one you were talking to me about! About the… vampires and whatnot! So I think you are being made to doubt yourself by… the vampires?” Habit stumbles his way through the conversation, trying to convince the boy that there might be something more at play. 

Obviously it wasn’t true. But it seemed to at least get Trevor thinking a bit. “Hm… i must have… gotten too close to the truth… so that gartner orchestrated this whole charade to make me doubt myself!” he said as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully, earning a relieved sigh from the doctor beside him. But the boys mood was quickly ruined again as he looked out at the moon again. “But still… I’m not able to turn into a werewolf. There is no way the vampire could have caused that”.

Again, Habit started stuttering nervously as he tried to come up with yet another theory to cheer the wolf boy up again. How could he explain that?! He wasn’t a werewolf expert! But he had to say something! Come on, Boris! Just Bullcrap something up! “Um! Uh! W-well maybe it wasn't a vampire! I mean- Maybe there are more people at play here than Trencil!” he chuckled nervously as his brain started going into overdrive, thinking of several things at once to come up with his theory. 

Trevor looked up at Dr. Habit and tilted his head, looking both curious and unsure as he seemed to be all ears at this point. “What do you mean? Are you saying the vampire… has an accomplice?” he asked as he moved on the bed to sit on his knees, facing the other man. Ha! It’s working! He’s intrigued again! “Well… considering that the moon is the source of a werewolves transformation, I think, and vampires aren't able to survive in space… I think that the accomplice is… AN ALIEN!” the big green man exclaimed confidently as he raised his hand and pointed it at the moon, grinning assuredly. 

Trevor gasped and put his hands to his cheeks staring up at the moon too as he was now fully aboard this theory. “OF COURSE! Aliens would have all sorts of technology! Who’s to say they wouldn’t have a machine to disable the moons werewolf properties! I even bet that my self doubt was because of some sort of mind-altering rays!” the wolf boy started rambling as he was waving his arms up and down excitedly in front of him, having stars in his eyes as he did so.

Habit grinned as he saw Trevor getting so excited about this new theory of his. He wanted to keep this hype train going! “Yeah! That would make sense! Maybe those rays might have side effects! I woke up after having sleep-walked just before! I don’t usually do that, so maybe that is proof of your theory!” he continued adding on as he was also starting to move around his hands in enjoyment of the others joy. 

“Oh my god! Yes! That is definite proof of the rays! Now we have to find some way to protect ourselves against the mind control! I’ve heard things made of gold will reflect rays of all sorts!” the werewolf boy said confidently. Habit wasn’t sure where he had heard that, but it seemed to make him happy, so he just smiled and nodded. Then he looked out the window and realized the sky was starting to brighten up slightly, making him realize how long he had been there with Trevor. 

“Oh dear! I need to go back to bed! And so do you! I’m sorry I kept you up for so long!” he laughed softly and stood up off the bed quickly. “Aw… do you need to?” Trevor asked sadly as he sat up on the bed and pouted at him. “Yeah. Sorry… but hey” the man said softly, earning a curious head tilt. “... I’ll be sure to bring you something out of gold… for protection” he said with a small grin before heading over to the door, opening it and taking a pause in the doorway to look back at the boy. 

“Thank you, Dr. Habit. Goodnight” Trevor said softly as he waved a little at him. Habit smiled and waved back, saying “Goodnight” before closing the door behind him.

[eeveevie]

dragonborn challenge [11/30]

day eleven - the werewolves of jorrvaskr

Did they join the Companions?:

Kind of? There’s a lot of game-canon-divergence that happens in relation to the Companions Questline.

Fiona encounters the Companions outside of Whiterun (Aela and company) and is intrigued. After meeting with Jarl Balgruuf about the dragon attack in Helgen and defeating the dragon at the Wester Watchtower (and learning she has been summoned to High Hrothgar), Fiona first goes to Jorrvaskr to learn about the Companions.

She meets with Kodlak and Vilkas and runs a few errands for them within the city and goes to Dustman’s Cairn with Farkas. She agrees to become a member of the Companions upon returning to Whiterun but shortly thereafter (pretty much after they ask her to be a werewolf) leaves to journey to High Hrothgar.

Fiona does not return to the Companions for a long time, while she is in Whiterun here and there (running jobs for the Thieves Guild, mostly). She eventually does return, wanting to tie up lose ends with the first group that took her in, and after a run-in with Aela and Vilkas in Riften leaves her feeling rather guilty (as she had become good friends with them).

How did they react to learning they were all werewolves?:

When Farkas transformed before her in Dustman’s Cairn, Fiona’s first reaction was not fear (though she was a little shocked)—considering what she had been through in recent weeks (a near execution, a dragon attack, “hey, you’re Dragonborn!”). Up to that point, Farkas’ personality seemed harmless enough that even with a werewolf lurking beneath the surface, she was not worried in the slightest, knowing he was able to discern friend from foe.

Learning that there’s an entire “inner circle”? That gave Fiona cult vibes. Especially when Skjor calls it a blessing (Vilkas calling it a curse worries her even more). They are such fierce and noble warriors, out to good work for Skyrim—and seem to be true neutrals, like Fiona is, but with this information, she is heavily torn on if she wants to remain. However, after speaking with Kodlak and learning that he is actively looking for a cure, she decides she will become a member of the Companions but would not accept the “gift” of becoming a werewolf.

How did they react to becoming a werewolf themselves?:

This is where the canon-divergence comes in. When Fiona returns to the Companions to tie up lose ends, she agrees to help them hunt down and defeat the Silver Hand but on the contingency that she not become a werewolf. (I mean, if she can turn down becoming a vampire, why isn’t turning down becoming a werewolf an option?).

This is simply just not something Fiona wants—she already has to deal with her body being a vessel for Akatosh—being Dragonborn is enough power for her. Her time with the Companions does give her a new appreciation for the “tame” werewolves, however.

How do they feel about werewolves?:

Fiona’s opinion on werewolves was pretty much the same as Dragons when she first arrived in Skyrim—wait, what? There are werewolves? It’s not a myth? After the initial shock subsides (and considering she encounters dragons—plural! —first), she’s conflicted between the more rabid werewolves that have lost their minds like the storybooks depict and the ones she has found in Jorrvaskr.

After working with the Companions, she is more inclined to believe that there is likely far more people out there than she realizes that are keeping a werewolf identify hidden beneath the surface—Aela explains that many are able to live their lives normally, keeping their bloodlust in check as long as they find the appropriate line of work, like the Companions do. While its not the choice for Fiona, she ultimately respects the Companions that chose to stay werewolves.

Fighting for honor’s a good living. Do they agree?:

Yes. Fiona was a traveling mercenary (okay and somewhat of a thief but the Companions don’t need to know that) for years before coming to Skyrim and slowly became enamored with the work—she developed a sense of pride with helping those in need and even when there was little to no coin to be had, she would still accept the job just to say she completed the work. With the Companions, she finds they are far nobler (I mean, they aren’t thieves—no stealing!), but encourage Fiona’s fighting style despite the fact its not as one-on-one combat as the others use.

Will they lead the Companions to glory as Harbinger?:

No. Fiona finds the role of Harbinger ironic, as the Companions go on and on about not having a leader, and yet, seemed to really put Kodlak as that. And she has enough responsibilities by this point (Guildmaster, Dragonborn, etc), and has no intention of leading another group of followers. Upon their instance, she hands off leadership to Aela and Vilkas, and vows to check up on them when she is in the area. The Companions agree to do the same with her when they are in Riften.

How do they feel about the Companions?:

Fiona truly respects the Companions. She finds that she is most morally aligned with them (regardless of what natural talents she has a thief)—a neutral mercenary that finds honor and pride in doing work for the commonwealth of Skyrim, preferring to stay out of politics and wars. As individuals, she also gets along with the Companions.

She’s an excellent hunter and bonds well with Aela, especially when it comes to hunting down bandits around Whiterun hold in the dark of night. Those bandits never see the two women coming. They are fierce women in a “man’s world”, and for that the two spend many long nights discussing their lives and what brought them to where they are now. They will also sit and spend time at the Skyforge, making their own arrows, Fiona sharing her blend of poison to tip the arrowheads.

Fiona has fun with Farkas and the “footpads” (Guild term, she knows, but she can’t shake the term of endearment). Drinking, sparing, friendly brawls with gold on the table—drunken bard lessons with horrible lyrics about the “dragonborn” where she insists he make new ones up for her instead. She’ll train with all the others and entertains Farkas’ request to lift his Warhammer over her head (hey, she’s stronger than she looks!).  

Fiona has a more traditional friendship with Vilkas; while she thinks he’s too studious for her personality, she realizes he’s just a walled-off person until he gets to know somebody—just like her. So they get along just fine after the initial awkward “get-to-know-you” phase. They bond over a love of books and knowledge—Nordic lore and history, and spend quiet mornings meditating as the sun rises across the Whiterun fields. I’ve mentioned this before, but I’d like to think that there’s somewhat of an unrequited fancy-ing (Vilkas to Fiona), that fades away when Fiona disappears from Jorrvaskr and Whiterun, first to see the Greybeards before running off to Riften. (No hard feelings though—and I still love Fiona’s first in-game husbando).

previous |  ask about fiona

[thegirlwholied]

@conniecorleone​  1, 5, and 22, for the writing meme if you please 😊

22. talk about a writing experience that has pleasantly surprised you. or talk about several. seriously, writing is cool. you’re making up whole stories out of your brain, revel in that shit.

So, I wrote some kids’ books about a year ago. It was a job that worked on the basis of ‘here are some titles that by their nature necessitate some of the plot, the books need to be exactly this long and written for this reading level, and the characters should have these names and be this old’, partly hence the pen name... but when it comes down to it, I was really darn pleased and amused myself with what popped out of my head when working on deadline. (”Being grabbed and carried by a vampire who could run really, really fast wasn’t good for a stomach full of pizza” - and yes, it was garlic pizza). And the ghost book of the four isn’t out yet, but I have a chapter called Something Strange in the Grocery Store, which I particularly remember having an absolute riot writing and culminates with the line: ‘usually, there’s one thing ghosts really want. To be alive again’. The whole project was one of the most flowed-right-out-of-me experiences writing I’d had in years.

I got the chance to write four more (shorter, not connected) stories for the same publisher in June, but it meant I had to come up with four titles (and with the titles, the plots!) during my vacation. So I was both trying to enjoy a tour through Stonehenge and the Cotswolds and racking my brain for four complete short plots that fit the topic of mythical creatures and/or fairy tale twists. And when I sent: OK, Cinderella but the stepsisters are werewolves... they already had a Cinderella story and a werewolf story, so sorry, that won’t work! Okay, 12 Dancing Princesses, but mermaids, and they leave wet footprints on their floor instead of ruined shoes?? ‘You’re not going to believe this, but’... already had a 12 Dancing Princesses story and a mermaid story...  Anyway, it took some spitballing, but I came up with, and then once I was home, wrote, 4 stories they didn’t have anything like (I’ll probably shout about them on Tumblr whenever they’re available). Despite the craziness at the time, I felt really good about my own creativity after that day. Like:

There’s plot turns I didn’t expect stories to take until they did, or sentences where I sometimes reread and go ‘I wrote that??’ in the positive sense, but I think it’s those under pressure ones that have been the biggest surprise for me. I scramble, and I’m up later and my brain goes places I don’t expect, and I have a really hard time recreating those conditions for myself on just a regular daily writing basis! I think I come back to fan fiction sometimes because there’s a sense of a waiting audience. It drives me that extra step, to the finish. It’s like with running -- running a race, with people watching, there’s no way I’m stopping barring injury; but if I’m running by myself, and I’m tired, yeah, maybe I’ll just walk for a while. My one friend reading my novel and going “wait, what do you mean the ending’s not in this document?? where’s the next chapter??” was HUGE to me finally finishing a complete draft.  

And sometimes... things are BETTER on paper than they were in your head. That’s when I love writing the most! When I finally got down the chapter of my fan fic Wheezy I’ve had in my head for SIX YEARS, when I was trying to stretch writing muscles and make a dent in finishing my unfinished stories back in... June?? It was already as far back as June I wrote that, uh, wow --

A lot that appeared in my page hadn’t been in my head. It just hadn’t. I had the 10-year anniversary at Hogwarts scene, with George stopping by the remaining tribute bit of Portable Swamp, but I didn’t have the two bits that I think *make* that scene: Victoire being with him, and Peeves.

The small patch of Portable Swamp remained right where Flitwick had left it, all these years later. It remained as damp and smelly as they left it, and George, eyeing it, thought it looked like some unfortunate student had tripped in it recently.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the miniature firework he'd brought with him.

"Can I light it?" Victoire asked, with unnerving confidence, and George decided it was high time to reclaim his wand from her. He did not think Bill and Fleur's trust in him went so far as to let their newly-eight-year old play with explosives.

"This one's my job," George said, and lit the firework. A small, stationary Catherine wheel flickered into bright orange-red life just above the swamp piece. It'd last all night. Maybe all month. Weasley's Wizard Wheezes did tend to outlast their promised expiration.

The halls were quiet at this hour, but some students in so-familiar robes paused on the stairs, watching him. They remained in place, solemnly, respectfully, and one of them started spontaneously clapping before her friends stopped her, hissing embarrassment.

"Let's go see the greenhouses," George said, reaching for Victoire's hand, and feeling a moment of absolute panic when she wasn't at his side.

He wheeled around and found her right behind him, staring up at a floating figure.

Peeves.

Peeves' wicked eyes looked watery, though it might have been a trick of the hallway light.

George's throat was suddenly thick. At a loss for words, remembering a much more glorious sunset, he lifted his hand up and saluted Peeves.

Peeves saluted him back, then floated himself downward, cross-legged, until he was face-to-face with wide-eyed Victoire.

He reached a hand out—and grabbed her nose. She shrieked in surprise, though George thought it a very gentle grab, for Peeves.

"Got your conk!" Peeves hollered, and zipped down the hallway air, cackling.

Victoire stared after him. "Rude," she pronounced, decidedly.

George smiled, surprised he was able to do so, today. He wiped at his own eyes and held out his hand again to Victoire. Neville, or rather, Professor Longbottom, had set up a little tea party in the greenhouses for her birthday, just for their closest friends and family, because today was a celebration, too.

They'd lost, but they'd won.

...SIX years it was just in my head as basically a drawing of George standing by the swamp bit, and some students around, and then when I tried to type it up, finally, it just sort of suddenly became... that. Which is a much better image and one I will let myself revel in.

I’m at the phase with my own original novel-sized writing where I’ve been feeling a little more bang-head-against-the-wall-and-repeat frustrated than reveling... I’ve been focusing on the “if you build it, it’ll come” idea of getting my words out into the world for so long, and am now kind of facing the ‘well, you built it, but if no one comes...?’ fear /potential reality... so this was absolutely great to answer. I feel much better (and more Han Solo about it all!) after answering.

...And now, I’m afraid, to do the actual work for my sadly-non-writing-related day job which I meant to do while thinking about this response instead!

[yourewelcomeforbeingmyfriend]

Dear Friend - Part 6

Dean x Reader

Summary: Dean meets a girl on a new hunter website and begins an online romance. The only problem is, they don’t know who the other person is. Could their love for one another last only in the confines of the computer screen or will their desire for something more lead them to finally meet?

Warnings: Some swear words. A little less of a slow burn this time. That’s progress, right?

A/N: This is the second to last part of this little series. I’m loving your kind words about it so much. Thank you to everyone who’s taken the time to leave me feedback on it. Once again, a huge thank you to @hannahindie​ for betaing this series for me. I really appreciate all your notes and suggestions. As I’ve said before, I hope you ll have as much fun reading this story as I’ve had writing it. 

Series Masterlist

Dear friend,

I can’t tell you what happened to me last night, but I beg you from the bottom of my heart to forgive me for what happened. I feel terrible that you found yourself in a situation that caused you additional pain. But I’m absolutely sure that whatever you said last night was provoked, even deserved. And everyone says things they regret when they’re worried or stressed. You were expecting to see someone you trusted but met the enemy instead. It’s my fault.

Someday I’ll explain everything. Meanwhile, I’m still here. Talk to me.

“So?” Christina barely waited for Y/N to open the front door before she spoke. She had been dying to find out how her friend’s meet up went.

Y/N simply sighed as she stepped back to let Christina inside her house. She shut the door behind her and turned back around. “He didn’t show,” she huffed as she ran a hand across her face.

“No!” Christina followed Y/N as she walked into the kitchen. She sat at the table as Y/N poured them cups of coffee. “He stood you up?”

Y/N joined Christina at the table, setting down both mugs, “Something must have kept him from showing.” She mindlessly stirred her cream and sugar into her coffee and clinked her spoon dry on the rim of her mug. “Maybe he got there, took one look at me and left,” she frowned.

“Not possible,” Christina assured.

“Maybe there was a hunt that ran long.”

“Absolutely.”

“A wendigo in the mountains…”

“And no service…”

“Or what if there was a car crash?” Y/N’s eyes went wide.

“The roads are slippery this time of year…”

“And he’s in the hospital… his arms in a cast, unable to move…”

“He couldn’t type. Had to find someone to type for him,” Christina continued her friend’s theory.

The little television on the counter interrupted their thoughts with a breaking news jingle. “This just in,” the anchor began, “Oklahoma’s Solstice Strangler has finally been caught. State authorities say they apprehended the suspect last night after a lengthy investigation.”

Christina turned to Y/N with eyes as big as saucers.

“What?” Y/N asked. “Are you suggesting that –?”

“It could be.”

Y/N sat there in silence.

“He was arrested last night. And Oklahoma is in the area you said he was from.”

They both looked back to the television in time to see a man in handcuffs with his head covered by a jacket being led inside what was likely to be a police building.

“That explains it!” Christina exclaimed as she slapped her hand down on the table.

“He was in jail…” Y/N said breathlessly.

“And there was a phone…”

“But he could only use it to call his lawyer…”

“You’re so lucky,” Christina shook her head solemnly. “You could be dead.”

Y/N thought on the idea for a moment before pulling herself back to reality, “Are you crazy? He couldn’t possibly be the Solstice Strangler.”

Christina held up her hands in surrender. She set them back on the table and leaned over them, “How long did you wait there all alone?” Her face had a little too much pity on it for Y/N’s liking.

“Not long,” Y/N leaned back in her chair. “Dean Winchester came in…” she tried to sound nonchalant about it.

“Dean Winchester?!” Christina said a little too loudly for the quiet kitchen.

“I don’t want to talk about it. Now what’s this case you need me to work on?”

Christina begrudgingly allowed her friend to change the subject and told her about the strange deaths that had been happening in a small town in Kansas. It sounded like werewolf trouble, but she was on her way to meet up with some other hunters to take out a vampire nest so she couldn’t go help. She knew Y/N would be a great substitute.  

“There needs to be three FBI agents on this case?” the local sheriff asked as Y/N flashed her credentials.

She looked at the officer with a mix of shock and confusion, “There are other FBI agents here already?”

“They’re inside having a look at the body right now,” he nodded in the direction of the crime scene.

Nervously, Y/N dipped under the police tape and made her way inside. Coming across real agents always stressed her out. What if her cover was blown? It always took too much time and effort to backtrack over her story. As she turned the corner into the living room, however, she was met with two tall and familiar looking men.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she sighed.

Sam and Dean turned from their crouched positions over the body and looked up at her.

“Y/N?” Dean tried not to sound too bright and excited. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here helping a friend. What are you doing here?”

“Well, now you’re the one invading our territory, sweetheart,” he gave a playful wink.

Y/N just stood there tongue-tied, unable to come up with a witty remark or even another question. He was right – technically she was in their territory. She should’ve known better.

Sam stood there looking between the two of them. Everything in him wanted to yell “It’s him, Y/N! Dean is the one you’ve been writing!” but he bit his tongue. “I’m gonna go have a look around,” he vaguely gestured to another part of the house and took his leave.

Dean watched his brother depart while silently begging him to stay. He didn’t know what to say to this woman. This woman who clearly hated him but he secretly loved. He felt small as she looked at him with contempt.

“So what do we have?” Y/N decided it was best just to get on with the case. The sooner it was solved, the sooner she could be rid of Dean Winchester.

Dean studied her face for a moment, noticing the lines that formed on her forehead as she gave him a  quizzical look and the way the right side of her mouth tipped ever so slightly up into a half smile. It was a delicate corner, one that begged to be kissed. He mentally slapped himself back into focus. “Beverly Williams,” he said, turning back to the body that lay on the floor near them. “Housewife. Her heart’s missing. Just like the other two.”

“Sounds like a werewolf,” Y/N crouched down to have a closer look. “Shouldn’t be too difficult.”

After a look around and talking with the neighbors, the three headed to the local diner for lunch and to go over the details of the case.

“So get this, according to the victims’ Facebook pages, they’re all members of the same graduating class in high school,” Sam informed Y/N and Dean. “It looks like their reunion is coming up.”

“What do you want to bet there’s some former Goth kid that never quite grew out of their phase?” Dean turned to look at Y/N with his usual lopsided smile only to be met with an unimpressed stare.

The three victims were part of the same AV club according to the school’s records. There were only two surviving members, Abigail Maples and Jefferson Levi. The hunters decided to split up and go talk to them. Dean and Y/N went to talk to Abigail at the bookstore she worked at, “Shop Around the Corner”.

“So do you know why anyone would want to hurt you guys?” Y/N asked over an open notepad.

“No, I have no idea why anyone would do such a thing,” Abigail continued to shelf books as she talked to them.

“Well, if you can think of anything else, please give us a call.” Dean handed her a business card.

“Thank you for your time,” Y/N held out her hand.

Abigail took it in hers and hissed quietly in pain. She caught Y/N’s eyes and regained her composure, “Goodbye, Detectives.”

“It’s her,” Y/N said under her breath as they exited the store.

Dean stopped in his tracks. “How do you know?”

She held up her right hand and wiggled her fingers, “Silver ring. She winced in pain and tried to play it off. We have a bigger problem, though. I think she might have made us.”

“Great. Just great.” He fished his phone out of his pocket and dialed Sam to tell him the news.

They spent the rest of the day keeping an eye on Abigail. For someone so vengeful, she sure was boring. Apparently keeping her job was still important to her. They watched her close up the shop and head back home. Halfway there she took an unexpected turn in the wrong direction.

“That’s the direction of Jefferson Levi’s house,” Sam said.

“Looks like revenge is on the agenda for the evening,” Dean quietly quipped. He turned the Impala down the street she had turned onto and continued to follow her. They pulled up to Jefferson’s house a little bit after she arrived. Quietly they got out of the car and made their way up, guns drawn.

The door was ajar when they got to it. Sam gave the other two a silent confirmation before heading in gun first. The house was still as they scanned the entrance. They heard clamoring and a yell coming from the back of the house and moved towards the noise. The turned into the den to find Abigail attacking Jefferson. He was struggling but effectively holding her off. He grunted and strained under her as he held her wrists to keep the claws at bay.

“Hey!” Dean yelled.

Abigail turned around at his voice and he shot her right in the heart. She stumbled backwards into a bookshelf and collapsed on the floor.

Y/N went to assist Jefferson as the boys made sure Abigail was, in fact, dead. “Are you okay?” she asked gently and she hoisted him easily to his feet.

He wiped his hands on his pants and looked down at his slashed up arms with a wince, “What just happened?”

She gave a weak chuckle, “I was hoping you’d kind of tell us that. Why would she come after your group?”

Jefferson looked sheepish, “We bullied her back in high school. She was weird and different. You know how high school can be.” He added the last bit quickly in his defense.

“Yeah, well look where it got you now.” Dean walked over to him, “You should get to the hospital.” He looked Jefferson straight in the eyes, “An animal attacked you. You didn’t see what kind, though. We’ll take care of the rest.”

Jefferson nodded slowly in understanding and made his way towards the door, leaving the three hunters with Abigail’s body.

With another successful hunt behind them, they agreed a drink was in order. The three of them walked up to the local dive bar side by side.

“You know what?” Sam stopped a little way off from the door. “I think I’m actually gonna skip out on drinks and head back to the motel.” He looked directly at Dean and attempted to silently communicate his true motives to him, then gave a quick look to Y/N, “I’m just feeling really tired.” He gave her an apologetic look.

Y/N was a little surprised and disappointed at the loss of a buffer between her and Dean. “Oh… okay.” She tried to save face for the sake of politeness, “Have a good night then.”

Sam gave a wave to the two of them and headed back in the direction of the motel. Dean watched him walk away once again and silently begged for him to come back. What was he going to do now?

He gave an awkward laugh as he opened the door for Y/N and followed her into the bar.

“I wouldn’t want to cramp your style,” she said as she took a seat a little while later with their beers. Dean took the seat opposite her. “I’m sure there’s a helpless woman here tonight and you’re going to go in for the kill. I bet her name is Monica and has aspirations of being a flight attendant. You’d just love her and leave her before the sun rises.” Her words registered in her brain after they were spoken and she clapped her hand over her mouth, “Oh…”

Dean only gave a slow nod.

She winced, “I don’t mean to say things like that. No matter what you’ve done to me, you don’t deserve me saying things like that. But it’s just that every time I see you –” She gestured grandly with her hands.

“Things like that just fly out of your mouth.”

“Yes! And I regret it. My friend said I’d regret saying things like that, and he’s right.”

“Your friend?” Dean asked.

“Yeah. He was actually who I was waiting for that night we met in the café. The night I was so…”

“Charming,” he finished her sentence for her.

She shook her head, “I was not charming.”

“Well, you looked charming.”

“I was upset and horrible.”

“I was the horrible one.” He took a sip of his beer.

“Well, that’s true, but I have no excuse.” She took a sip of her own.

Dean swallowed and nodded, setting his bottle back on the table, “Oh, I see what you’re saying. That’s interesting. I am a horrible person, so I have no choice but to be horrible. That’s what you’re saying.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed and she covered her mouth again in embarrassment.

“But that’s all right,” he continued, “I was rude to you and can be a bit of a pill. You hate me.”

She sighed, “I don’t hate you.”

“But you’ll never forgive me,” he took another sip of his beer. “Just like Elizabeth,” he said as he swallowed.

“Who?”

“Elizabeth Bennett – in Pride and Prejudice. She was too proud.”

“I thought you hated Pride and Prejudice.”

“Or was she too prejudiced and Mr. Darcy was too proud?” Dean kept on. “I can’t remember.”  

Dean looked at Y/N as she took a sip of her beer. There was a slight smile on her lips. The same corner that begged to be kissed turned up once again. He couldn’t help but smile.

Y/N couldn’t help but notice. She set down her drink and nervously ran a hand through her hair, “Why is it that we’re here again?”

He picked at the label on his bottle as he leaned back in his seat and continued to study her. “‘Cause I wanted to be your friend,” he shrugged.

“Oh,” she said quietly.

He splayed his fingers out in front of him, “I know that’s impossible.” He leaned forward again, “But sometimes you gotta try to do the impossible.”

A faint smile flashed across her lips.

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment. Finally, Dean broke it. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Mmhmm,” she hummed.

“What happened with that guy in the café?”

Y/N sighed again as she moved her beer bottle ever so slightly to the left, “Nothing.”

“But you’re crazy about him?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Well, what are you waiting for? Why don’t you run off with him?”

She placed her elbows on the table as she leaned in. Her face scrunched up in embarrassment. “I don’t actually know him,” she groaned as she dropped her head into her hands.

“Really?” Dean said curiously. “What, did you meet him online?”

Y/N shifted her head to look up at him through her fingers. “Yes.” She was surprised he guessed correctly.

“May I offer you some advice?” He reached up to gently set her hands down, “I think you should meet this person.” He paused for a moment, “No, wait, wait… I take that back. Why would anyone want to meet someone they met on the internet?”

“Hey,” she frowned. “I don’t think I need to be taking advice from someone who –”

Dean gently put his fingers to her mouth to quiet her. “Now, now,” he said softly. “I can see that I bring out the worst in you, but let me just help you make sure you don’t say something you’ll just torture yourself over for years to come.”

In that moment, Dean was closer to her than he had ever been, and for the first time, she noticed how green his eyes were. A mossy green with flecks of brown speckled over them. They were very beautiful. And his hands, though rough and calloused from years of working with them, ghosted her lips ever so gently. It was the softest gesture from such a strong man.

Dean was caught up in the moment, too, lingering a bit too long over the lips that took up most of his free thoughts. He realized a second too late what he was doing and pulled his hand away. He took a final long pull of his beer and retrieved his wallet from his back pocket, “I think I’m going to head back to the motel.” He fished out enough bills to cover the tab and set them on the table.

Y/N’s mouth remained open from her previous attempt at speaking as she watched his actions. The whole situation left her flustered and confused much like any other interaction with Dean Winchester, but this time it was different.

“Good night,” he said as he got up and left.

All Y/N could do was watch him leave as she traced her lips with her own fingertips. Her mouth still remembering the pressure of his fingers on it.

Like what you read? Want to read more of my stuff? Check out my Masterlist!

Tags: @pinknerdpanda @hannahindie @wheresthekillswitch @emilywritesaboutdean @trexrambling @narisjournal-blog @jensen-jarpad @notnaturalanahi @simplydaisys @keepcalmandcarryondean @mrswhozeewhatsis @katymacsupernatural @boxywrites @ellen-reincarnated1967 @ravengirl94 @amanda-teaches @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @masksandtruths @just-another-busy-fangirl @sis-tafics @eyes-of-a-disney-princess @not-so-natural-spn @feelmyroarrrr @sherlock44 @jobean12-blog @diariesofthebeautyobsessed @akshi8278 @wonderstruckbyfandoms @wildfirewinchester @mogaruke @whimsicalrobots @winchesternco @clockworkmorningglory @sammiesamness @dancingalone21 @shutupiminlooove @cfh21 @aubreystilinski @bands-and-shietz @shayrey @faithfullpanicmoon @caitthejourno @wingedcatninja @lastactiontricia @jadepc @rach5ive

[cavendish-dakota-central]

In the spirit of Halloween, I wrote a thing based off the amazing ideas of @cutiepie-tro about Cavendish being a Vampire and Dakota a Werewolf. The fic is completely based on their first few ideas. I just really liked the idea and decided to take a stab at it.

It’s a little long but it kinda got away from me.

Warning for mentions of blood.

~

When you’ve lived as long as Cavendish, it’s easy to let time blend together until your own life and everyone else’s became two separate entities all on their own. Cavendish lived in a rather large house that had been passed down through his family to him when he moved to America. He was hesitant to call it an estate, for it was on a populated street, yet that was essencialy what it was. It had been the Cavendishs’ personal vacation property long ago occasionally rented out to those wealthy enough to afford the stay- but hadn’t seen guests for many years now. No one appart from it’s current, lone owner and occupant- dared to even step a foot onto the beautiful lawn.

The house was of a beautiful victorian style with a tall and deep inteior. It’s deep purple hue of slightly worn paint was only now starting to show any age. It also provided an interesting contrast to the overhanging trees and lawn before it, tamed only by cityworkers with nary a clue as to why they were hired to do such basic tasks. In the fall weather, the grass was drying out and the trees were only barely beginning to turn anything other than a bright green while inside a lone being stirred. Balthazar Cavendish was a simple creature who- in all honesty- had long since accepted that he would have to lead a simple lifestyle; seeing as the world wasn’t exactly prone to accepting his kind. You see, he was a vampire- and he had been for so many long years that he had all but forgot the world he was living in.

Before he was turned, he’d often dreamed of doing something better than what he saw before him. It was a cliche idea, but he was well aged. Back in the 1870s he’d wanted to make a difference, he wanted to change the world! He’d studied everything he could and had dreamed of building a new future! But that all changed when he was initiated into a group he had never before even recognized. As a vampire, every rumor- every /incident/- sent people after him, ready to hunt him down and kill him. He’d learned early on that if he wanted to do something big, he had to educate himself first.

And so he did. He spent his days locked away from those who misunderstood him and sterotyped him and especially away from the sun. He found ways to get the food and supplies required to live a normal life and with the invention of the internet came a new style of simply ordering whatever he wished for. Soon, the only things he left home for were a nightly change of scenery and a new source of blood. Sometimes he found online work or education, but for the most part he could easily live off of his inheritance- as long as he was practical with his purchases.

After long enough, his detachment from reality lead him to lose faith in his dreams and plans. In fact, he all but forgot them. He had to be careful simply leaving his house or even opening a window- why did he think he should bother make an impact on a world that seemed happy enough moving on without him?

He became used to his lifestyle. He’d sleep most of the day and then get up to dress in his same usual attire. After all his time, he’d never since seen any use in changing his style. Without a mirror or partner to help him, he’d never seen much hope in changing the only thing left he could recognize. He would then spend some time reading or doing something of the sort until nightfall when he was free to explore the city.

The world around him seemed to change every day. There were new buildings, people in new clothes, new vehicles, and new music. It was all a lot for him so he enjoyed heading to the nearby park and inspecting things from there. The cool night breases were his only friends as he walked alone along the paths near a small lake. He’d often grab some thing- and by that he meant some /one/- to drink on his way. He often left them healthy enough as to not arrouse suspicion so it took at least a few people to satisfy his tastes.

On one specific night, the dark world was busy with excitement of Halloween. It had evolved much since Cavendish’s day- but his predicament remained the same. It was too busy to find a drink without anyone noticing. With the park crowded, he didn’t even bother heading that direction. Instead, he traveled from his house -near the edge of town- to a large area of nearly untouched land not far away. There, he could feast on those dumb enough to dare each other to travel through the riveness and tall trees alone.

He easily found a group of victums and considered it a treat to taste that they had been drinking. Not only was the blood all that much sweeter, but it provided him with an easy excuse to simply leave them unconcious in the woods.

He made it back to his home with plenty of time to spare before sunrise, and settled down with a book he had been reading. It was about a monster competition; in the spirit of Halloween.

He was settled under a blanket in his chair near the fireplace, nearly asleep in his favorite chair, when there was a knock at the door.

He heard the confident raps from the other side of the door- but easily elected to ignore them. Every so often there would be one kid dumb enough to accept the dare to knock on his door. If the kid had half a brain, he’d quickly run away and Cavendish could return to his peace and quiet, never knowing a single detail about the prankster. Unfortunately for them, this wasn’t the case.

Another pair of wraps against the solid oak door.

Cavendish nearly scoffed to himself. Never had there been anyone as bold as to knock twice in a row- let alone with such confidence! He returned to his book.

Three knocks this time. He was nearly impressed. Someone had not only dared to step onto his property, but stand at his very door for nearly half a minute now.

It was still plenty dark outside, so Cavendish decided he might as well humor himself a bit. He wanted to scare this intruder so good that they would never again dare disturb him! Cavendish got up and headed over to the door.

He swung it open in a single strong motion that any human would have trouble duplicating.

“Foolish mortal!” Cavendish hissed, his British accent thick as he eyed over the man who now stood before him. The newcomer was shorter than the vampire. He had an abundance of dark-brown wavy hair and wore large orange-rimmed sunglasses that matched his 1970’s style orange tracksuit with its flattering red and yellow details. The being was fuller in shape than the boney brit but Cavendish barely noticed much about the stranger appart from the fact that he was intruding. Cavendish nearly hissed his words at his uninvited guest.

“You don’t know what misfortune you’ve wandered into-” He began to threaten. But the shorter man didn’t even seem to register it.

“Sure sure, but while you say all that could you get me a bandaid?”

This phased Cavendish for a moment. It could simply be the fact that it had been near a decade since his last personal conversation with another being- but he assumed it more likely that his confusion originated from the /way/ in which this man spoke.

He was calm and casual with a heavy Boston accent- if he was placing it correctly. But the thing that intrigued him most was the blood dripping through the man’s fingers. Cavendish couldn’t yet identify the origin of the wound, but if this man was willingly going to throw himself at a vampire feet… well Cavendish could live off his blood for quite a while with no one the wiser.

“Pardon me, please do come in.” Cavendish bowed slightly before moving out of the way. He closed the door behind his latest victum as he walked inside.

“Nice place.” The man said.

“Thank you.” Cavendish said proudly. He’d kept it nice and tidy all these years yet somehow forgot how good it feels to be complimented on all his hard work. Although it was rediculous, he was speaking to a simple human after all.

“So? Could I get somethin’ for this? I think I’m bleeding all over your carpet.”

The newcomer was correct, he was; however, Cavendish was only further distracted by this fact. There was so, much, red. What beautiful crimson color. His movement into the dwelling must have cause the sudden surplus.

“It’s a little hard to tell though…. I’m kind of dissy….”

He took a few steps towards one of the chairs before stumbling down to the floor.

“I’m Vinnie Dakota by the way.” He grinned as he slid down to sit on the floor at the base of a chair. His free arm soon lost all strength, leading him to fall flat onto his back on the livingroom rug.

Cavendish grinned somewhat fiendishly before hurrying over to the man. He pressed a hand against the wound between the right side of the man’s neck and collarbone before licking the blood from his own hand.

Cavendish immediately rubbed his tongue back onto the sleeve of his own jacket.

Werewolf blood??!

He sighed. Of course it was too good to be true. The man was no longer human at all! The tint of werewolf had already spread distinctively through the blood.

Now what was he to do?

Cavendish looked around and assessed his options carefully and systomatically. He /could/ simply hope the creature before him would bleed out before his healing took over, but then he’d have to dispose of the body without any other werewolf sniffing it out. The lone vampire wouldn’t be able to handle himself in any kind of fight- especially the kind of battle that could arrise if a pack assumed a vampire had killed one of their own.

Cavendish /could also/ simply toss the man outside and hope for the best, but it was nearly sunlight and someone besides his pack could find him and blow the cover of there not really being any supernatural creatures. Vampires and werewolves alike would be in trouble then.

Cavendish took an annoyed breath. He was going to have to take care of an idiot who chose to ask for help at the doorstep of the scariest house in town. Yeah, this should end well.

~

[Notes: Thanks for reading! I set it up so I can easily write more of this story if anyone wants but if not that’s fine. Sorry about gramatical/spelling errors btw but I was really tierd and I didn’t edit it as much as I probably should have lol. Anyways, sorry for rambling. I hope you liked it! :]

[nerdykeithy]

My Oc part 1

So I guess I am messed up. I mean I guess you have to be to live in my world. Being a Vampire/werewolf crossbreed was bad enough without inheriting my families’ gifts. I am Carlie, Charlotte Black, the daughter of Renesmee and Jacob. So I guess I have no choice, I mean I love who I am (I guess) and I love the family I was born into, but sometimes I wished I was more normal. I never had a great start and no one knew of my powers until I was 8, I tried to hide them as I thought I was going mad. But they found out eventually and it was okay….ish.. So yes I am a Vampire/werewolf crossbreed and yes I can hear any thought anyone has ever had, sounds weird right but that is not all I can also talk into their mind and I am a shield (Thanks Grandma) so at least my mind is protected from Edward. 😅 I phased for the first time when I was 10. Wasn’t a shock really the amount of time I spend around Vamps. But it still took some getting used to and controlling. My fur is a weird colour it’s BRIGHT orange and not disguised at all. Great for camouflage!! I am part of Dad’s pack as Sam’s is really big. It’s not as bad as you might think as I’m used to hearing everyone’s mind and I can turn mine off so they can’t hear mine. Bonus!! We haven’t had a too bad live to begin with but of course life only goes right sometimes….. Sometime after my 14th I meet Seth for the first time; on a patrol shift. We had never seen each before that even though we are part of the same pack and to begin with I didn’t think about it any different. I’m used to going on patrol now and Seth is hardly a stranger. So I went out at the usual time to go meet him at the changing tree (sounds corny but that is where we change shifts) when I got there he was just kicking dirt under the tree waiting for me. Then he looked up, looked right in to my eyes and froze. Like literally froze. He just stopped and stared at me right into me like he was looking into my soul. I tried to read him but his thoughts were moving so fast it was impossible to make anything out of it. When his brain finally went quiet he took a sharp intake of air and gasped in shock. When he finally recovered he still didn’t say a word to me. It wasn’t until Paul and Embry came to swap shifts. He said a peep. “Hey guys.”- Embry “Hi Em.” - Me “SETH…”- Paul “What” - Seth “Is he okay.” - Paul “Not sure, won’t say anything to me”-Me “I AM FINE” Seth screams at Paul and Embry who jump back in fright. “Whoa… It’s okay Seth” I say as he starts to breakdown. “No it can’t be.” He sobs at me “What do you mean” I whisper. But then I see it in his head as clear as day. He has imprinted. He has imprinted on me. “Seth you are fine.” I tell him “This is normal.” He stop crying and looks up at me. I wipe the tears from his eyes and he smiles at me. Then he gets up and says “Charlotte, I love you so much.” to which I reply “Me too.” He then gets up and grabs me and picks me up bridal style as we leave the tree to go out on patrol.

[fanficimagery]

Imagine being Niklaus’ best friend. He’s under the impression you have no idea who/what he truly is, but after an accident that leaves you hopped up on the good drugs.. everything just comes tumbling out (Part 1 of 3).

Klaus X Reader

Klaus is enjoying some much needed quiet time, painting in his studio and sipping on some bourbon. New Orleans has been calm for quite some time now and the Mikaelson family has finally found the peace they fought for, for so long.

His cell rings and after carefully setting down his paintbrush, he digs out the offending noise maker and answers it without so much as glancing at the caller ID. "This better be important."

"Um," the voice wavers. "May I speak to a Mr. Niklaus Mikaelson, please?"

He sighs. "Speaking."

"M-Mr. Mikaelson, hi. This is Charlene from the Tulane University Medical Center. Earlier today we received a patient by the name of Y/N Y/L/N-" His annoyance instantly vanishes and his attention is solely on the call in hand, "but we only just figured out her identity and you were listed as her emergency contact."

"Is she okay?" He asks, throat on the verge of closing. If anything happened-

"She's stable," Charlene tells him. "She was banged up pretty bad when she first came in, but we fixed what was broken and gave her some medicine for the pain."

Closing his eyes, Klaus pinches the bridge of his nose. "What happened?"

"Car accident, I'm afraid. Y/N was not at fault, so she unfortunately sustained the more serious injuries. Her left ulna was broken, as well as her left femur and a few ribs. She also received a nasty gash near her temple and smaller cuts due to glass shards spraying her."

"Bloody fool," he nearly snarls. 

"She's in and out of consciousness as of right now, but I'm sure she'd love a familiar face when she fully wakens."

"I'll be there as soon as I can." Klaus ends the call, shoving his phone back in his pocket. As he whirls around, he finds Elijah leaning against the door jamb. His brother opens his mouth, a smile playing around his lips, but Klaus cuts him off. "Not a word, brother."

But Elijah being Elijah, he just has to know. "A human, Niklaus? Since when do you care about one so much that she has you an emergency contact?"

Klaus growls. "That's none of your business." Elijah merely stands his ground and Klaus knows his brother well enough to know he won't let this go. "Fine. Follow me. I'll explain on the way."

Fuck distracted drivers is the first thing you think of as you wake once more. Everything feels achy and it feels like it takes you several long seconds just to blink your eyes open. Like slow motion.

"Y/N? Are you with me?" You feel pressure on your hand and you turn your hand to the voice, grinning dopily as you recognize your best friend. "Nicky."

He rolls his eyes even as his lips twitch. "Do you know where you are, love? You gave me quite the scare."

You nod and then wrinkle your nose and pain throbs behind your eyes. "Hell. I'm in hell."

There's a snort from the foot of you bed and you look there, eyes widening. "Nik. Nik!" You whisper shout. "Is that- is that the infamous, stick stuck up his arse brother you're always complaining about?"

Elijah suddenly scowls and Klaus looks like you’ve just betrayed him. "I see you're keeping your friend well informed, Niklaus."

You giggle. "He sounds so.. sophisticated. Even when he's on the verge of tearing you a new one."

"Shush, imbecile," Klaus growls before turning his attention to his brother and pasting on a friendly grin. "That insult was from before, brother. I can't help what Y/N chooses to remember you by. If anyone should be deserving of your annoyance, it's the brat laid up in bed."

"Dick," you mumble. Klaus smirks at you as you glare him, you then shifting uncomfortably in bed. Knowing you're hooked up to various wires, one supplying you with painkillers, you immediately search out the button that will give you more. Spotting a small remote just out of reach, you reach for it only for Klaus to snatch it from the bed. "Help me, I'm poor," you whine.

"Poor has nothing to with needing morphine, love. You're not scheduled for another dose this soon."

"Yeah? And how would you know, you curly-haired fuck. Give. Me. The. Juice."

Elijah snorts again, clearing his throat a second later to disguise his laughter and Klaus narrows his eyes at you. "Insult me all you want, sweetheart, but just know I will remember this even when you don't and will gladly make you pay for it when you're healed."

"Ooh. The big bad wolf is finally coming out to play now, huh?" His expression immediately hardens and Elijah stills, and you glance between then with a frown. "What? Was it something I said?"

"Brother?" Elijah says. "I thought you said she didn't know."

"She doesn't."

"She is right here," you scoff. "And know what? That you two go bump in the night? Pfft. Everyone knows." Elijah stands a little straighter, alarmed and his gaze darts to his brother. And Klaus, Klaus is staring at you as if he doesn't even know who you are. "Relax," you say, heaving a sigh. "I've known for while. You Mikaelson's are a bunch of drama queens and people in the Quarter talk."

The room goes eerily quiet, despite the beeping of the machines surrounding your bed.

Then eventually, Klaus schools his expression into something unreadable. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Hmm?" You hum and then realize what he's asking. "Oh. I don't know. The secret came out after a couple of weeks and sure I freaked, but you never attempted to kill me, so I didn’t care. You never said anything and I didn’t want to make things uncomfortable between us."

"And you're.. okay with this?" Elijah wonders.

You look at him and shrug. "Sure. I mean, Nik's not the first vampire I've met."

"What? Who.. and when?" Your best friend demands.

You coo at Klaus. "Aw, you still care." 

"I do not."

"You do, too," you say, reaching to poke his cheek. He moves out of reach. 

“Party pooper."

"Focus, Y/N. Who was the first vampire?"

"Oh," you chuckle. "Um. His name was Jerry. I dated him."

"What?!"

"Oh, don't get so judgy," you glower at Klaus. "It was a long time ago. Like.. high school long ago," you mumble. "I had a vampire phase at the time and so badly wanted to be one before I even know they existed. Probably had a death wish back then, too," you say, drifting off into your memories. "But then stuff happened and I met this other vampire- a girl vampire named Lexi. She opened my eyes to the abusive relationship I was in and helped me get out."

"And is this Jerry still alive?" Klaus seethes.

You shrug. "Who knows."

Klaus looks to be pondering something, so you look to Elijah- Elijah who's staring at you with his head cocked to the side. "Is that why you continue this friendship with my brother? In hopes that one day that he will turn you?"

"No way," you tell him. "Nicky's great company, despite the horror stories I've heard.. and he takes me to museums. I'm over that whole vampire phase. I just- I just want my friend. I could care less that he sprouts fangs and fur, and has a horrible temper. It's never directed at me, so I don't care. Much."

“You don't care..?" Klaus carefully asks.

You snort. "Nope. Nicky, please tell me that you had an inkling I knew? For fuck's sake, second hottest Mikaelson, I marathoned vampire and werewolf movies all the time!"

"Second hottest?" Elijah muses. "Pray tell who's the first."

"Your sister Freya," you say without missing a beat, then looking at Klaus who's lips are pursed in thought. "You're getting it now, aren't you?" You goofily smirk.

"I believe I am," he scowls and then sighs. "What am I going to do with you, Y/N? You're unbelievable."

"Lies. I know that you know that I know you think I'm adorable. I'm your favorite sista from another mista."

Klaus rolls his eyes, smirk forming as he looks up at you. "You've been misled." As you open your mouth to retort, he picks up the morphine remote you had forgotten about. "Oh, would you look at that. It's time for another dose." He presses the button and your body completely relaxes. 

As you start dozing off again, you hear Elijah sigh irritably. "Was that really necessary?"

"Definitely," Klaus chuckles. "When she gets going, she really gets going."

"And yet you keep her around."

"Damn straight," you slur, your eyes closing.

"Indeed, brother," Klaus muses. "But now that she knows, it takes a load off my shoulders. I would have told her sooner or later, but now I need not."

"She really is your best friend," Elijah realizes. 

And Klaus nods, staring at you as you drift off again. "She is."

[poklina]

jimon + "what do you want me to say- sorry??" "no I want you to say it won't happen again. sorry means nothing" "I can't do that" make of that what you will, thank you!!!! hope this is a good prompt

hope this is a good prompt???? u just gave me the Most angst and i love u so much i’ve been writing too much soft lately i needed some of that good Pain and Suffering tm anyways Than k U for the prompt i hope u like what i wrote :)

torn apart - 2.5k

Simon has never been a reckless person. Ever.

Being the oldest sibling, he was constantly under his mom’s thumb, making sure he didn’t do anything completely stupid and ruin his life forever. He never wanted to, anyways, because he loved his mom and smoking pot just sounded boring. Sure, he’s gone on a couple roller coasters and drank some wine with Clary after sophomore homecoming, but that’s pretty much the extent of his rebellious phase.

Needless to say, Clary is pretty shocked when he tells her that he’s dating Jace, the absolute definition of bad decision made without any further consideration. If Simon had a dime for every time he thought that Jace was either going to come home missing a limb or dead, he’d be able to pay for the stress medication he should be taking whenever Jace goes out on a hunt. Shadowhunting isn’t a fun business, and it’s definitely not an easy job, but it always seems like when the Lightwood siblings come back from a hunt, Jace is always the one that looks like he’s been put through a meat grinder three or four times.

The first couple weeks they were together, Simon just chalked Jace’s injuries to the fact that he had to kill actual demons for a living. It wasn’t like he was killing a spider, Simon reasoned, so of course he’s going to come home with a different black eye every other week. It wasn’t like Alec and Izzy were coming back scratch free, either.

But they weren’t coming back with broken finger or ankles every other time.

After those first couple weeks, Simon knew that something else was going on. Jace always had the worse injuries, always had to be half dragged into the Institute after a hunt just because of how badly he was hurt. Every time he saw him on his way to the infirmary, head lolling back and forth like a puppet whose strings had been cut, it broke Simon’s heart.

Finally, after the 3rd broken leg in a month. Simon had had enough. He practically begged Alec to let him come on one of their missions, after swearing seven ways to Sunday that he was just going to watch, and that he wouldn’t interfere at all, and that if he did Alec had every right to kill the demon and then Simon.

They left right as the sun started going down, just Alec, Jace, and him. It was supposedly a relatively easy job; a newly turned werewolf had been roughing up some Mundanes pretty badly, and they were just supposed to go and retrieve them so Luke could come and pick them up. “Nothing we haven’t done a hundred times before.” Alec assured him, as his eyes stayed trained on the bow that he was runing up. Simon could sense Jace behind him, heart beating faster than usual, but not as fast as to be nervous.

Simon was too busy wrapped up in his own head to notice Jace approaching him from behind, causing him to jump slightly when two arms wrapped around his waist and a soft kiss was pressed to the crook of his neck. He turned his head slightly to see Jace’s hair falling over his face, and he gently reached up a hand to brush it away so he could see his eyes. Simon looked at Jace for a moment, trying to decide if he was nervous for himself or Simon, before Jace lifted his head and looked straight at him, eyes soft and kind, just like always.

“Don’t worry babe. You’re going to be fine.” Jace said with a low voice, a tiny smile stretching over his lips in reassurance before leaning in to kiss Simon’s cheek. Simon could feel a blush starting in his cheeks, but it did nothing to ease the apprehension that was twisting in stomach.

“It’s not me that I’m worried about.” Simon murmured, leaning back into Jace to feel his arms tighten slightly around his waist to keep him steady.

“Simon, don’t be worried about me. I am the greatest Shadowhunter ever.” Jace said back, smile breaking wide over his face, and even Simon couldn’t resist doing the same. They were snapped out of their little moment by Alec clearing his throat loudly. They both jumped apart quickly, embarrassment crawling up Simon’s neck and mixing with the fear that was growing even larger, for some reason.

“Come on. We’ve gotta get going.” Alec said before turning around and striding towards the large double doors of the Institute, looking every bit the leader that he was. Jace followed right after, only pausing briefly to look back at Simon and jerk his head to follow. Simon started and caught up to him, slipping his hand in Jace’s before they pushed open the doors and headed out into the world.

--

Finding the werewolf had been easy enough. All they had to do was follow the trail of Mundanes lying on their backs, groaning in pain resulting from the claw marks on their shoulder. Luckily enough, it was relatively simple to convince them that it wasn’t a wolf that had attacked them, just a particularly nasty dog. They followed the trail until it lead them into an alley between an office building and a tiny Italian restaurant. It smelled like printer ink and rotten tomatoes, and at the end of the alley, hunched in the corner, was a large brown wolf.

Simon looked at Alec only to find him gesturing towards a dumpster, one that would allow him cover while still being able to see what was going on in front of him. Slowly, he crept over and knelt down behind it, holding his breath until he was behind it before realizing that he didn’t need to breathe (that was one vampire trait that he was still getting used too).

He looked behind him to see Alec and Jace advancing on the wolf slowly, Alec’s bow hanging loosely by his side with an arrow already nocked, and Jace with his seraph blade raised slightly. They moved quietly, making sure not to startle the wolf in case he decided to fight back, and before long they were at the end of the alley. Simon leaned out behind his dumpster a little bit more, just so he could see what was happening.

Alec reached the wolf first, speaking so quietly that Simon could only make out a couple words here and there, “okay” and “safe” and “home.” Jace stood back a foot, blade raised warily and shoulders tensed in a fighting stance. At first, it seemed like the wolf was actually going to cooperate, as they raised their head and stared at Alec with big, doleful eyes.

But of course, nothing ever goes well with these three.

The wolf was up and snarling in an instant, and even though Simon was far enough back where he couldn’t get hurt, a spike of fear lanced up his spine all the same. Alec’s bow came up, string taut and ready to fire, but he never got a chance to use it.

As soon as the wolf started to growl, Jace launched in front of Alec and pushed him backwards, blades drawn and out in front of him. From where he was, Simon could only see Jace’s back, but he could hear him crystal clear.

“Come on, wolfie. Come and take a bite outta me.”

Snarling, the wolf leaped towards him, teeth bared and claws outstretched. Simon wanted to run up and push Jace out of the way, but he was stuck in his hiding place, partly out of fear, and partly out of anger.

Because even as the wolf landed on Jace and tore it’s claws down his shoulder, Jace made no movement whatsoever to try and escape.

He just stood there, like a statue, seraph blades raised high and feet squared in attack position. Everything about him seemed to scream fighter, but he did nothing. Simply stood there and let the wolf rake its claws down his front.

Simon didn’t know what he was feeling. As he stood there and watched his boyfriend get mauled by a werewolf, he could only feel a cold sense of dread rising up in his stomach and choking him out.

Alec stepped in after a moment, landing a solid kick onto the wolf’s side that sent it flying into the wall. Jace fell to his knees, hand coming up to clutch the scratches running up and down his front and shoulders. The wolf hit the wall and slid down to the floor with a pained noise. From where he was, Simon could see past Jace as the wolf turned back into a human. A girl, no older than 16.

Simon watched from behind his dumpster as Alec pulled out his phone and called someone, muttering “Yeah, we got her. Alley between an Italian place and an insurance company. We’re on 51st. Cool, thanks Luke. Yeah, see you later.”

With that, he shoved his phone in his pocket and walked towards where Simon was crouched, extending his hand to help him up. Simon took it shakily and pulled himself to his feet, shooting a concerned glance down the alley to where Jace was kneeling. Alec followed his gaze and let out a sigh.

“How many times? Does he do that?” Simon asked quietly, watching as Jace pulled up his sleeve shakily to draw an iratze under his wounds. Three claw marks extended from his shoulder blades to right underneath his collar bone, blood dripping out slowly.

“Every time. You should count yourself lucky. Usually it's much worse than this.” Alex replied in the same quiet tone, sorrow weaving in between the words all the while.

They stood in silence, watching Jace as he drew iratze after iratze over his assorted wounds, shimmering slightly and weaving the muscles back together every time. Eventually, he stood back up, stretching his arms out with a grimace and walked towards them.

Silently, the three of them turned around and headed out of the alleyway, and back towards the Institute.

--

The walk back to the Institute was silent, only punctuated by quiet birdsong and the occasional siren of an ambulance. When they got back to the church, Alec was the first one through the doors, leaving Jace and Simon standing out on the steps, looking at the setting sun with a detached interest. Neither of them really wanted to go inside, both being content to just stand with each other. Simon, however, was less that pleased with everything that he’d seen that day.

As he stood on the steps of the Institute, the quiet anger that had been burning in him ever since the alley bubbled over. Vaguely, he felt his hands shaking slightly with anger, but he had much bigger things to worry about.

“What the fuck, Jace?” He asked quietly, eyes glued to the stone beneath him. He could sense as Jace turned his head to look at him, but Simon was afraid of what he might say if he did the same.

“What are you talking about, Simon?” Jace replied, mild confusion leaking its way into his voice.“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” Simon snapped back, hands curling into fists at his side. His vision had started to haze red with anger, brain whirling and trying to rationalize what the fuck Jace had been thinking. “Back in the alley. You - you let that wolf attack you. You didn’t even try to stop her, Jace. It’s - it’s like you wanted it to hurt you.”

Jace didn’t reply for a long moment. The only thing Simon could hear was the wind rustling through the trees, and the steady thudding of Jace’s pulse. A moment passed. Then two. Still no response. After the silence almost becoming unbearable, Simon opened his mouth to say something, before he was cut off by Jace.

“I just - I - I don’t know.”

“You’re going to have to do better than I don’t know, Jace.” Simon seethed, fingernails digging into the palms of his hands. How could he not know? That’s not something you just don’t know.

“Jesus, Simon, what do you want me to say? Sorry?” Jace bit back, venom dripping from every word and then Simon had had more than enough. His head jerked up and eyes landed right on Jace’s, which were burning with anger and frustration.

“Sorry? Sorry?” Simon replied, voice growing louder and louder because what was going ON, “You think that sorry’s going to make this better? I watched you practically get torn apart back there, Jace! Sorry doesn’t mean anything!” He was yelling at this point, and he could feel angry tears welling up in his eyes at the thought. How could he think like this? Why was he doing this?

“Then tell me what to say, Simon.” Jace yelled back, taking a step towards him at the same time, fists balled in anger like Simon’s.

“I want you to tell me why you let that wolf practically maul you without fucking fighting back! I want you to say you won’t do that again, you fucking asshole!” Simon screamed, voice breaking as the tears started to flow over his cheeks, hand coming up to hit Jace hard in the sternum. But then, there was just silence.

Simon looked at Jace expectantly, trying to see if there was an answer hidden in his eyes. But there was just anger, and frustration, and just the tiniest bit of regret. Simon pushed off Jace’s chest and stepped back again, hands returning to fists at his side. Jace looked down at the ground, throat working as he tried to come up with a reasonable response.

“I can’t do that.” he whispered to the ground, and Simon felt his heart fall through his stomach and shatter on the steps below him.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I can’t tell you that I won’t do it again. Simon, you don’t understand, I -”Jace replied, desperation saturating his voice as his hands fell limp at his sides and all of the anger drained out of his shoulders. Simon watched Jace cave in on himself, and it felt like he was watching him die.

“No, I think I do, Jace,” he interrupted coolly, anger evaporating into a detached sense of calm and regret churning in his stomach, “I think that I understand perfectly well.”

“Simon, please, just let me explain -”

“When you’re ready to tell me the truth, Jace, I’ll listen. But I can’t stand here and listen to you tell me that you wanted that wolf to hurt you like she did -”

“That’s exactly what I wanted, Simon. Please, just let me -” Jace said, reaching out to try and grab Simon’s wrist, trying to make him stay and understand, but he wouldn’t. Simon ripped his hand away right as he grabbed it, and he used the momentum to push himself towards the doors. He could dimly hear Jace calling after him, but his head was too filled with questions and doubt and fear at what Jace had just told him. He kept walking into the Institute, and as he pushed open the wide oak doors, he didn’t look back.