#and on the rare occasion that there *is* a woman werewolf shes always either over masculine or “weaker” than the “stronger alpha male” were

[kindheartedgummybears]

you wanna know what??

I am

TIRED

of overmasculinized werewolves!!!!

I WANNA SEE A

WEREWOLF

WALKING AROUND IN A CVNTY LITTLE OUTFIT!!! WALKING THE STREETS!!!! DISEMBOWELING CREATURES!!!!

I WANNA SEE WEREWOLVES COVERED IN BLOOD AND GORE WHILE WEARING A SHORT SKIRT AND CROPTOP WITH HELLO KITTY ON IT!!!!

I WANNA SEE A WEREWOLF WALKING AROUND IN COTTAGE AND FAIRY AND PRINCESS CORE OUTFITS!!!!!! WITH A DEAD MANGLED RABBIT IN ITS MOUTH!!!!

AND MAKE THE WEREWOLF

D I S G U S T I N G ! ! !

[wintaejk]

Jungkook’s FIC REC | OS 2

I had too many links on the other post. Here is the second part of my Jungkook’s fic rec but with others themes.

Again, all those fictions belong to the amazing authors who wrote them, not me. I want to thank them once more. 

(f) = fluff

(a) = angst

(m) = mature

magical au

— Trick or Treat: Howling for You (F) (M) — by @fortunexkookie​

The way your Little Red Riding Hood costume lured over a fuckboy in a half-assed werewolf costume was a little cliche, but god damn was he beautiful. He promised he had plenty of big things to show you, and you took him up on the offer, not realizing that you might’ve bitten off more than you could chew.

werewolf au | established relationship | +14k

— rottenfolk (M) — by @junqkook​

a look was as hazardous as chemicals, a kiss as perilous as poison; his eyes and lips felt akin to a cure, but he was purely venom.

faerie au | royalty au | +13k

Commentary - If there’s only one one-shot I could recommend you to read of all tumblr, it would probably be this one. For me, it is rare to acheive such a level of mastery in fantasy fictions. Writing is already complicated, but when you have to place the readers in an unknown universe, it is even harder.                         However, the real brilliance of this story is the end. Because the end is supposed to satiate the reader in a way or another, it is supposed to offer what all the reader craved: a sort of closure. But here we all are, waiting for a sequel, because this story will make you want a next episode. And that is the brilliance, because you will surely never forget a story with that kind of power.                         So those are some of the reasons why this fiction is for me a mix of art, smartness and excellence ; and also why you would be missing something huge by not reading it.

— overdrive (M) — by @junqkook​

you thought meeting jungkook was just a coincidence, but the universe didn’t deal in coincidences.

vampire au | soulmate au | enemies to lovers | +13k

— Crescent Bound - Jungkook (F) (M) — by @parkhabits​

A pact bound by the moon. A secret kept only amongst themselves. Each of them experiencing their own cycles of heat.

werewolf au | friends to lovers | +12k

— Room 109 (M) — by @lavishedinjimin​

Having Jungkook as your apartment buddy was a lot to get used to. But with one early day, your heat comes up much stronger than usual, and you were desperate for an alpha’s touch.

werewolf au | roommate au | alpha!jungkook | +6k

— after dark (M) — by @seokoloqy​

Jungkook has served the royal family for generations, seen them live and die countless times. When it comes to you, he can’t watch you wither away too, but your lust for one another makes it harder and harder to stay apart.

vampire au | royalty au | knight!jungkook | +8k

— Life’s Blood (F) (A) (M) — by @littlenoona​

You produce blood cells at an increased rate when blood is lost, effectively, you cannot bleed out. This ability has served you well so far, even gaining you a rare friend, and you’ve made it your source of income, but it also has its downsides, one of which you’ve managed to avoid successfully, until now.

vampire au | +13k

— you come in waves (A) (M) — by @angelguk​

if jeongguk had a choice, he would destroy the sun. it’s not like he needed it for warmth due to his werewolf abilities making him a scorching radiator. it would also help his heart. because you look delectable in that stupid bikini.

werewolf au | friends to lovers au | 4k

— tell me your secrets (i’m all ears) (F) — by @jinpire​

You’re not afraid of Jeon Jeongguk. Even if he’s probably some kind of bear or giant cat shifter, and just a hint of his irritation had your instincts vibrating beneath your skin like a live wire. Your thumb brushed over the plastic dome of mini-Levi’s head, taking comfort in the cartoon scowl and dead eyes, the tiny grey sticks of his 3DM gear. Small could be pretty fucking powerful too.

shifter au | college au | bunny!kook | +6k

drabbles: nooks and naps - foxie moxie (don’t pull my tail) - look before you leap  - fluffles and kerfuffles

— Pomegranate Seeds (M) — by @taetaebaepsae​

Jungkook thinks he’s found the perfect new roommate, but little doesn’t he know you’re just aching to corrupt him.

demon au | roommate au | virgin!jungkook | +4k

other themes

— Every Kind of Way (F) (M) — by @taehyungforreal​

{Three little vignettes, three completely different experiences, same perfectly wonderful boyfriend JK.}

strangers to lovers  | established relationship  | +14k

Commentary - I remember when this fiction was posted. I read the teaser a few days before, and I was waiting for it. I remember the exact date of the release of this story, and let me tell you it never happens to me. But this is how much I liked this story. This masterpiece.                         This fiction is 95% made of smut. This is a warning if you don’t like that. However, what I like about Ashley’s works is that smut is not only smut (okay, sometimes it’s just pure filth but whatever). It’s not the first time I’ve read a piece of work of her and that I’ve been so thankful of reading her. Because the stories she writes are realistic. Sex is not always perfect. Sex is not always like in porn. Sex can be embarrassing. And this is why I love what Ashley writes, because she always have that realistic point of view on life. And sometimes it’s also nice to not turn everything into porn.                          What is very likeable - I said likeable? I meant loveable, sorry - about that story is also the three different stages of the relation of Jk and reader. This is also something I like about her writings. Life evolves, relationships evolve, and so does sex. So in this story, you will experience three different Jungkook. And it’s three reasons why you should read this fiction, three reasons why you will probably love it.                          One thing is sure, this chef-d’oeuvre will leave you wondering if your eyes have been burnt by the smuttiness or blessed by all the talent of this writer.

— tattooed two (ft. kth) (F) (M) — by @httpjeon​

your boyfriend’s best friend joins you for a night you’ll never forget.

tattoo artist au | established relationship  | poly au  | +8k

— Inkling (A) (M) — by @gguksgalaxy​

Jungkook is your brother’s boyfriend’s co-worker, they own a tattoo and piercing parlour. In other words, he’s tall, gorgeous, has his passion literally etched into his skin, looks incredibly good in a man-bun, and is semi-unattainable for you. Why? Well…you’re not entirely sure but him ditching right after a very heated make-out session sure isn’t a good sign. His extremely poor mood the next week sure isn’t either, but the only way to fix it is to face the beast head-on. Right?

tattoo artist au  | +17k

— Freak-quency (M) — by @taehyungforreal​

His eyes sparkle and he fights back a smile when he asks you why. “Is it because I didn’t give you something else to swallow like I said I would,” he questions, halfway through a much less subtle adjustment of his growing erection. Yoongi was right, he wants to be in trouble.

rockstar au  | established relationship  | +8k

— Boots (M) —

3000+ words of Ashley kinking on Jungkook’s boot. That’s it.

rockstar au  | established relationship  | part of Freak-quency  | +3k

— Heartbreaker with a Heart of Gold (A) (M) — by @filmflowersbangtan​

It was around this time almost three years ago when Jungkook moved to LA after his band got signed to a famous record label. He told you that he’d keep in contact with you. That he’d visit as much as he could. That he loved you. But about a month after leaving, he stopped texting and calling as much. And then a mere week after the band’s first EP dropped, Burning Rabbit was a sensation.

rocksatr au | ex lovers  | +3k

— Brother’s best friend (M) — by @lavishedinjimin​

In which Y/n owns a smut blog dedicated to her crush and brother’s best friend, jungkook. it was all fun and games until he finds out about it and acts it out with you.

brother’s best friend!jungkook  | +5k

— Sugarplum Elegy (F) (A) (M) — by @bymoonchild​

You know no bounds nor depth with Jungkook. While your fuck buddy loves sleeping in your bed and doing laundry for you with his favourite fabric softener, you are in love with a mysterious honeyed, velvety voice on Soundcloud. All’s fine, until you find out that the voice that metaphors your heart to a sweet sugarplum melody actually belongs to the boy who has been taking up a special spot in your bed and in your heart, strumming at your heartstrings all this while.

friends with benefits  | college au  | idiots to lovers | +17k

— The Kids Aren’t Alright (F) (A) (M) — by @sketchguk​

Sneaking around with Jeongguk during your Christian retreat is complicated when you’re both dedicated to your jobs as co-youth group counselors at your father’s ministry.

friends with benefits  | pastor’s kid!reader  | +10k

— Gym (F) (M) — by @hobiwonder​

Jungkook has a crush on you and has been watching you work out at his gym. One day you finally confront his obvious crush.

business woman!reader  | fratboy!jungkook  | older reader | +8k

— Gravity Check (M) — by @gimmesumsuga​

The one where Jungkook is your oh-so-handsome climbing instructor.

climbing instructors!jungkook  | strangers to lovers  | 14k

— The Monogamy Monologues (F) (M) — by @kpopfanfictrash​

The year? Some point after college. The occasion? Namjoon is getting married and the Rich Man’s Crochet Club has convened once again. Somewhere between the drinks and the laughter, everyone has the same realization: Jungkook has never been in a serious relationship. In the name of all that is holy (Overwatch and booze), the club’s mission is revived. Now though, their goal is much more perilous. Now, they aim to find Jeon Jungkook a girlfriend. (Part of The Rich Man’s Crochet Club series)

fuckboy!jungkook  | wedding planner!reader  | strangers to lovers  | +42k

— The Virgin Volume (F) (A) (M) —

This fic exists in the RMCC universe. It takes place before RMCC and is the story of how Jungkook lost his virginity. To quote Seokjin/Namjoon: “What Jungkook doesn’t know won’t hurt him and – let’s be honest – his story is hilarious. One pump,” Seokjin laughs, sounding like a hyena. “One pump and he’s done.” // Ducking his head, Namjoon tries not to smile. “It was a rookie mistake,” he protests, defending their friend. “Jungkook was overexcited and couldn’t control himself. He got better.”

college au  | friends to lovers  | prequel to TMM  | +6k

— everlasting (A — by @kimvvantae​

being able to love the same person forever is a blessing given from the heavens. to you, however, eternity has become a curse.

reincarnation au  | 18k

— Performances (M) — by @littlenoona​

The same handsome guy has been appearing at your performances and you become more and more interested in who he is - now you’re dancing only for him, despite a hall full of people.

strangers to lovers  | professional dancer!reader  | +6k

— Matching Hearts (F) (A) — by @gukwluv​

a drunk call to your ex boyfriend leads to a night of fun adventures that make you wonder why you even split in the first place.

exes au | +3k

— locker room talk (M) — by @minnpd​

You end up having a rather heated talk with Jeon Jungkook in the locker room when he announces he has been chosen for the audition you both participated to.

dancer au | enemies to lovers | fuckboy!jungkook | +5k

— not quite lovers (M) — by @junqkook​

hiring jeon jungkook as your personal assistant happens to have more than one perk.

workplace au | friends with benefits | ceo!reader | +15k

— By Its Cover (M) — by @gimmesumsuga​

The one where Jungkook makes a very bad first impression.

workplace au | enemies to lovers | 21k

— Mind in the Gutter (F) (M) — by @kpopfanfictrash​

Starting over is never fun. Especially not when you decide to take the phrase fully to heart; new job, new city, new coworkers and new relationships. When you are dragged to a happy hour by your new co-worker, Taehyung, you end up sitting beside a (very) cute, (very) shy IT worker named Jungkook. Several drinks later, he mentions he is in a professional bowling league with his friends and you rather enthusiastically invite yourself along. As time passes and you begin to grow closer, you still find it impossible to read Jungkook. Working in the same company and seeing each other so often, it is only so long before one of you snaps. But who?

workplace au | bowling au | strangers to friends to lovers | +18k

[fallen029]

Within: Part I

Part I of a request from hey-youu-pssss for some werewolf Laxus action. I split this because I got a bit carried away with it, haha, but more soon, promise. 

.

Things had been in a stead standstill for the Strauss family for the better part of a decade. The untimely deaths of both the patriarch and matriarch would come to pale to the near total inhalation of the clan faced during the great plague. It had irradiated much of the country, changing both the physical and ownership landscape involved. While the other great families dealt in their own ways, the eldest child of Elvin and Miren Strauss eventually found herself next in line of ascension all at the tender age of ten.  

It was rather unorthodox and would have been vetoed during normal means. Not only due to the age, but most importantly due to her gender. Women were very rarely considered the head of families in those times, were not thought to own land or command houses. And yet, as the plague ravished the land and the end-times felt rather imminent, it was hardly of consequence and no claim was fully realized in place of her own.

Mirajane Strauss, with very little guidance or help, found the weight of the world placed upon her shoulders at an unimaginable time in an unfathomable way. There was hardly any time to mourn her parents, her family, her friends, as she was tasked with keeping the family affairs in order.

A distant dream, it felt like now, and when she thought of those early days, she had to smile a bit wryly. Swallow a bit of air, clear her throat, blink back any wetness that might have found its way into her eyes, and continue on.

She couldn’t quite claim that she’d been all alone, during the thick of it. She had a both a younger brother and sister who, honestly, she imagined she was lucky just didn’t possess any desire for power themselves. It would have been rather easy, in those tumultuous periods, for either to have killed her off or, in her brother’s case, honestly just stake a claim. As the male heir, he probably had more of it and if he’d been interested in pursuing that, could have found himself the head rather easily.

But neither were quite interested in all of that. Elfman Strauss, while a rather broad shouldered and striking young man, was also a bit of a, well, a mama’s boy. But when she was taken from him at such a young age, he clung instead to his older sister who he’d never think of undermining. In fact, he’d get quite agitated at any sort of suggestion, even to that day.

He saw his older sister as the only reason the Strauss name held any value currently and credited her with saving not only his namesake, but even his own life.

Elfman would never allow anything to befall his beloved older sister. Not without putting up a fight.

Lisanna Strauss, however, would never have had a claim to the estate and lands, were either sibling alive, and perhaps that was why she was so insistent that they take care, in the later stages of the plague, when socializing was becoming commonplace once more. There was nothing more frighting to the youngest Strauss as the idea of ever holding power.

The small amount she had now, only in riches and the prospect of marriage, frightened her greatly.

Being from a noble family was the pits and she spent every day from childhood to the tentative adulthood she was now reaching rejecting what it meant. She hoped to never find herself in control of anything, really, and balked even at the idea of marrying into it. As the youngest sibling, a daughter of one of the head families, she was meant to be married off young and into more nobility. Perhaps even far from home.

Were her parents still alive, some of her older relatives, this probably would have happened around her sixteenth birthday. Which in itself was devastating to think about for the young woman, only just now surpassing her eighteenth. Instead, it was still her older sister that most men were interested in courting and she watched those many awkward dances from the distance, instead spending her days balancing between doing the bare minimum Mirajane required of her and goofing off out in the surrounding woods with her best friend Natsu, the orphaned servant employed at the manner.

It was a rather precarious situation that Mirajane found herself in, those days. While surely leading the family out of the plague would go down as her crowing achievement, her putting off marriage and the inevitable power transfer that would involve, was surely a feat in itself.

She was meant to marry someone of equal or lesser power than her. Or at least both she and her small group of close associates thought so. It would help her to consolidate power. When she married, she could either assist the family in absorbing more land or join them to one of the neighboring families. Either wasn’t exactly favorable for her siblings, who didn’t rightly wish to see her leave their estate and, at least in name, leave Elfman as the head of the household and Lisanna, unfortunately back in the spotlight once more for suitors.

But it didn’t seem as if their older sister seemed to keen on any of the interested men anyhow. Not truly. She spent balls and social occasions fielding interests and gaining the reputation of a bit of a prude. Not that it mattered. Many attributes had been shackled to the woman in the past and she wore them all far better than most. Mirajane knew what she wanted and, though she didn’t share it with many people, she was confident that, eventually, she would get it.

Laxus Dreyar was from the Dreyar clan, a revered and respected family who’d managed to survive the plague with very little harm. Their position in the country, surrounded by jagged cliffs and backed into the rougher side of the sea, had allowed them to quarantine far better and shield themselves from much of the damage. Makarov Dreyar, their aging (and to some decrepit, even) patriarch still resided over the family. The next in line was his cantankerous son and, finally, his brash and bold grandson Laxus. The three made up the main family and were well regarded in the land as being a bit...eccentric and surely not the best family to align yourself with.

They would be of no use to the Strauss family. Too distant and too chaotic. Mirajane was meant to marry into true stability to the house once more. It was hardly meant to be between she and Makarov’s grandson and ye, following a chance encounter, the woman found herself rather smitten with him.

It was strange, clandestine almost, or so she told herself, the way that the pair of them happened upon one another. He’d been once more, as frequently was the occurrence, had a falling out with both his grandfather and father and had been banished from both the Dreyar estate and the home his father kept on the opposite end of their hold.

Not that this was a much of a problem. From the time he was a teen, he frequently was sent away to different dignitaries and even, once, the Kingdom’s capital. Now a man in his twenties and with enough inheritance and gold to his name to inspire much work ethic, he found himself a bit of a nomad, staying around with friends of the family when they would have him and sleeping around with women when they wouldn’t.

The Justine’s were a lesser family that was a ward of his own, but Laxus had always been friends with the heir apparent. Freed was a quiet man, reserved, and functioned well as a cohort for Laxus in that he balanced the other man out. Dreyars were naturally ferocious and it had been many a fight that Freed had to lead the other man away from- And some that he wasn’t so capable.

Freed, who was sent by his father on business to meet with the Strauss family in regards to a few trade agreements, invited Laxus when to accompany him with little care. He didn’t know the Strausses, neither of the men did, and it would be nice to have company on the rather lengthy journey.

They weren’t even meant to meet with her. Mistress Mirajane. It was one of the lesser lords in her hold that Freed was to trade a few person documents with. But this sounded dreadfully boring to Laxus and, though he’d accompanied the man most of the way, he begged out of going to the stuffy environment that would be a lesser lord’s house. No. Sounded like a shitty time, honestly.

It was midday when Laxus found himself roaming around an unfamiliar city, more or less scoping out what possible night life it might offer. Not much, honestly. But it was as he was roaming about, hands shoved down in his pockets and his standard fluffy coat floating from his shoulders that he saw her.

She was seated at a patio cafe, looking over a small book of some sort as a much older man sat before her, speaking rather animatedly though the woman didn’t seem quite as interested.

He knew who she was immediately. Or at least had a good idea. It was the true Strausses, of the old blood, that possessed the snow white hair and bright blue eyes. He’d seen old photos and such of the family, anyways, growing up in the privilege of tutors and thorough education. His grandfather used to sit in on his lessons sometimes, giving him a cookie when he was able to name all of the major houses and holds; maybe something better if he could name all of their lesser houses and the neighboring.

The Strausses were remarkable, when he was growing up, for their resilence and young leader. He used to dream of one day being able to do the same as her. Once the old geezer and his father were out of the way. He imagined, when he was a boy, that he’d be awfully good at leading his hold. But now, distanced and miserable in most aspects, he looked on disdain at most everything.

But not that woman that day, as his chest ached a bit, when she lifted her eyes at just the right moment to meet his and he was hardly ever so smitten with someone. A woman. He got them quite easily with his status and money. They usually threw themselves at him and were hardly a concern. Something other than gold to burn through.

Something harsh raged through him then though and he didn’t think he could ever break her gaze, that he would ever break that gaze, even if it were only a few seconds, perhaps less, as it felt eternal. Honestly, the only thing that caused him to finally look away from the woman and she him was the loud sound of a carriage horse in distress and some yelling from the street.

It had reared up on its back legs, the creature had, fighting against two men who were trying to calm it and most everyone walking about stopped to stare in surprise.

“Oh, Uncle, go help them,” Mirajane said quickly to the man sitting beside her as both she and him stared with concern at the scene that was quickly arising. “You’re so good with them. Horses and things. I… Please, Uncle, go help.”

“O-Of course!” The stout man rose to his feet quickly and rushed right from the table he was sharing with his liege, rushing across the street to where, honestly, the horse was being subdued and comforted.

As he left though, Mirajane found herself standing as well while Laxus, after a weary glance over at the horse, found his feet bringing him over, instead, to the patio cafe. At his approach, he noted two heavy set men seated nearby tense and advert their gaze from the horse scene and instead on the new, strange man.

“Lady Strauss,” Laxus spoke loudly as he approached, keeping gaze with her while the woman, in turn, only shut her little book and looked the man over.

“I prefer Mistress,” she remarked simply and he almost bit his tongue as yes, Freed had mentioned that to him, on the off chance they happen upon her. But perhaps it would have been for the better, should he have bitten the appendage, as at least drawing a bit of blood from it would distract it from the growing ache in his chest when she smiled at him all the same. “But I am sorry, I do not believe we’ve been acquainted before. Are you a member of my uncle’s house?”

She knew this couldn’t be, how could it? The way he carried himself and his clothing gave off significant standing and birthright, but still, she knew most everyone that would qualify those standard in the immediate area.

“No.” As he came to a stop in front of the table, he said quite loudly, “I am Laxus Dreyar. Grandson of Makarov Dreyar.” And his words alone were enough to put the two burly men at ease. To her only now, he said much softer, “Here on business.”

“Business?” She scrunched her nose in such a precious way as her blue eyes seemed clouded momentarily. “Were we meant to meet, Lord Dreyar?”

“Laxus.” He took a hand from his pocket, but rather than reach out to take hers, he instead bent low, at the waist, in a way he wasn’t fully accustomed any longer. As he rose, he assured her, “I prefer Laxus.”

Rising herself, Mirajane took his hand however, once he’d righted himself, and she shook it with a heaviness no woman he knew possessed, but made the pang in his chest only grow.

“Mirajane,” she told him as a soft grin fell over her face, when she released his hand. “I want you to call me Mira.”

“Who is this then?”

And her uncle was back then, stuffy and put out as he eyed the strange man with clear disdain, but it didn’t matter. It was too late. Everything was too late, fates already sealed.

He wouldn’t be going back with Freed, no matter how much Justine insisted that he not do as he was thinking, to rethink all of his thoughts, least he wind up in a far worse situation with his grandfather than he already was, but nothing could dissuade a man in love.

“You’ve met many Ladies before,” Freed argued with a heavy frown that final time he tried to get through to his longest friend. “Your feelings always pass.”

But his words meant nothing and when Freed returned to his father, it was with a sigh and lie over the Dreyar grandson finding other business in the hold to attend to.

Given his rather high status, it was easy enough for Mirajane to write off giving him a room on the estate property, a guest cottage not far from the main house, and things moved so fast from there.

It was a cool autumn night, the first one that Laxus spent on the property. He’d spent the past few at an inn near her uncle’s house, where she was staying for a few herself, and they’d had dinner a few times. Spoken. A lot, honestly, for the short amount of time they’d been allotted. Neither was too sure who’d suggested him following her all the way back home, but when he boarded her carriage with her, it was to the disdain of her uncle and maybe some whispers of others, but Mirajane assured everyone who questioned her that it was purely business.

And yet, it was anything but.

She’d had many men in her life attempt to get fresh with her before and even reciprocated at times, but things felt much different with Dreyar. He sat beside her, in the carriage, wrapping his coat tightly around her shoulders as he spoke, at her request, of his home. Back on the cliff. Of their customs she’d forgotten or perhaps not even been taught, given how ravished their lands were during the time period this was mostly be passed on to her. She asked, also, what he knew of the Strauss hold, of their lands, and Laxus more honest than he’d ever been in his life, whenever he spoke to the woman.

“This feels,” she whispered softly in his ear after their first true embrace, when she welcomed him to the guest cottage his first evening on the estate, “so improper.”

“I’m sorry,” he replied as he ran a knuckle over the soft, pale flesh of her cheek. “We can move slower.”

But they couldn’t.

They never would have been able to.

Elfman and Lisanna were, quite quickly, suspicious of her sister and, more over, distrustful of the new man she’d brought back to their property.

“We don’t know what you’re doing here,” Elfman grumbled softly to him that first night, over dinner, when Mirajane was distracted and he was able to lean over towards the other man, “but watch yourself.”

And he, quite clearly, would be a problem.

The other one, the younger one...not so much.

“I,” she complained to him with a frown that evening as he was headed down the path back towards his temporary resting place, “use that guest house during the winter time for very important activities. So you better not plan on staying around for long, Mr. Dreyar.”

“Lord,” he corrected her simply, “Dreyar. And it’s not proper, you following me around you know. People we get the wrong idea.”

“You got the wrong idea,” was all Lisanna insisted to him as, at the tree line, where he’d have to follow the path further, to arrive at her apparently prized location, she stopped to glare at his back, “if you think you’re sticking around.”

But oh, he was.

And Lisanna wouldn’t be the Strauss most making that short trek to the guest house that autumn.

It wasn’t hard to spot the Mistress in those days, previously very tied up in her travel and work, now taking long strolls along the property with Lord Dreyar. All over the property. Even down to the cottage, citing a desire to glance over the changing of leaves and the season.

“I’m meant to marry soon,” she told Laxus, one day, when upon their walks they both nosed instead through the cracked door of the cottage and lost themselves in his disheveled sheets for what was, honestly, not nearly long enough.

It was against her neck as she clawed at his back and the man squeezed his eyes shut that he assured her soft, flushed flesh, “You will. You will, I promise you will.”

The fall gave way to winter and, though his placement on the estate was rather obvious to most, it was around that time that the news had made it back around to the Dreyar’s hold.

And there was a lot of discontentment over Laxus’ recent behavior.

He received a letter from his grandfather, urging him back home at once while the Strauss estate, instead, were not long after bombarded with letterhead from the residence of Ivan Dreyar, requesting the hand of the Mistress immediately.

“He’s doing it to fuck with me,” Laxus remarked dryly to Freed who, at Laxus’ urging over letter, arrived at the Strauss estate soon enough to discuss his next movements. “My father.”

“Forget your father, Laxus,” his friend retorted. “Your grandfather-”

“Gramps, that old geezer, he’s been trying to get me marry into another kingdom’s family. Out of Fiore.” He spit, Laxus did, on the ground, at the thought. “Fuck that. I’m not leaving Fiore. And I’m not leaving Mirajane.”

So it was decided, against the counsel of his friend and the chagrin of his family that the young Dreyar found himself officially beginning an engagement to the eldest Strauss.

“I’ll never take your land from you,” he promised her softly as they lay together one night in his cottage, which he’d stocked with champagne, roses, and the most important thing the woman was looking for; himself. “Your people. I don’t want any of that. I’ll even put it in writing. I...gave up on ruling people a long time ago. I just want you. In a way I’ve never wanted anyone in my entire life. If you will be my wife, I’ll take on whatever title you wish. But you will always be Mistress Strauss and I would never wish to remove that from you. I just want to be included in your life, not change it.”

And she smiled at him, sweetly, as she shifted to rest her forehead against his, gazing longingly into the man’s eyes as she assured him, “I just want to be in your life too, Laxus.”

There would be fallout for this, of course. A lot of scorned suitors now felt bamboozled as the woman didn’t even pick for the intended pool, but rather bypassed it entirely. The Dreyars, in particular Makarov, wrote that he would be arriving soon to meet his prospected new granddaughter-in-law, and the letter detailing this felt rather cross.

Ivan, for his part, merely sent once last request for his son’s betrothed’s hand.

Still, an engagement party date was put in place and Mirajane found that, eventually, a certain stillness began to fall over her regarding the entire thing. Being with Laxus had felt exhilarating for many reasons, but also the potential pain in him eventually being taken from her, choosing to leave her, hung over her head frequently and made him cling all the tighter to him. The resolution to this being found, the woman couldn’t help the obvious contentment that washed over her, even in the hectic days of wedding planning and house joining that would follow.

“Now that the chase is done,” Freed questioned his dear friend quite bluntly when he arrived for the engagement party, “you have not lost interest, Laxus, have you?”

“Of course not,” he replied as if this were a ridiculous question, but that was hardly the case. While it might seem as if the man was getting everything he wanted, Freed knew him well enough to know that   this was hardly what the man wanted.

Not at all.

Laxus liked for things to be hard. For them to be difficult. To anger his family and draw the ire of those around him. But as people only naturally warmed to this venture, it made sense that he’d fall out of interest with it, to fall into another ill conceived ploy for attention.

But when he looked his best friend in the eyes that evening, Laxus merely vowed to him, “I’m not a boy anymore. I’m a man. And I’m ready to move into that phase of my life. This is where I want to be.”

Forever.

The night of the engagement party was wild. It was a massive function with many neighboring Lords and Ladies. Even those from the further reaches of the Kingdom. The King himself sent word of his approval only days before and while Mirajane had smiled down at the letter, it was that night, when all her friends, family, and even those distanced to her gathered, just that once, before the eventual wedding, that her grin was at its widest.

He met so many people that day, Laxus did. Had to introduce Mirajane to so many people. Dodge a lot more people. Makarov had arrived earlier in the day, to much fanfare from the Strauss estate and though his grandfather originally wore his sternest of gazes, it only took one look into the bright eyes of his grandson (and perhaps the bosom of his bride-to-be) to understand the union.

“Will you get that short, Laxus?” Lisanna questioned him with wicked laughter that night when she passed him. “Like your grandfather.”

“Lord,” he retorted to her, “Dreyar. And Master Dreyar. Respectfully.”

But the little shit was anything but respectful.

For all the tough talk that Elfman had long given Laxus, he was a bucket of tears that night, falling all over his sister whenever he saw her and even into the arms of her affianced.

“I always wanted,” he sobbed into the shoulder of the ill-at-ease Laxus, “a brother.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t got one now,” the man grumbled, but Mirajane only giggled at the sight from where she stood nearby, with all her female friends, and for as suffocating as he always imagined be betrothed was, Laxus honestly was finally at peace as well.

He had much to drink that night, as did most people, but as the party raged on, he thought to head back to his cottage when the evening air grew colder, for his coat. It was as he stumbled down the path that he thought he knew so well, however, that it happened.

When he heard the rustling in the bushes, he thought that it might be some other guests, having snuck away with a beloved of their own, and Laxus imagined when he wouldn’t have to do such things with the Mistress. Finding a place, a proper place, in her estate. And while he’d like to give them their space, he had, unfortunately, found out what Lisanna (and her servant boy that she kept around, Natsu) had secretly been using his cottage for previously. What with how close to the cottage it was, Laxus imagined it was them, as he’d found them not long ago, together on the back property, hidden and yet now known to him, and he thought to break them up. Once more. If someone else stumbled upon them, it would be pure pandemonium and he hardly wished to deal with that.

But as he approached the bushed area in question, he sensed something else. A strong foreboding. The man hardly had time, however, to back away before it happened. A deep growl and then a vicious attack, his yells of pain being drowned out by the party not too far away, back on the estate and he was left eventually, mauled and beaten, forced to hobble and crawl the rest of his way to the cottage.

It had been a...wolf of some sort, he thought, hiding in the bushes and had sprang out at him. Powerful, sharp jaws had wrapped around his arm and ripped into the flesh, perhaps to the bone, and he thought he’d die, when he fell into his bed alone. Imagined he had that night, maybe, as he had the most vibrant and terrifying dreams.

Yet, he couldn't recall a single one, that next morning when Mirajane found him there.

Her shrill call of his name had sent most everyone running and, given all the blood in the cottage and the pathway leading up to it, the prognosis didn’t seem to bright. But most everyone was thankful (if not a bit confused) to find him blearily arise and brandish on the strangest of fang markings on his forearm and a deep scratch along his right eye.

“That wasn’t from the beast,” he muttered as he sat in one of the palours of the estate, his fiance and grandfather flanking him while the local proctor looked him over. “The arm...that was. But the eye was from some rock or something. It scrapped me on the way down.”

“Lucky you still have your eye,” the man told him bluntly. “Or your arm for that matter.”

“All that blood from those little puncture wounds?” Mirajane questioned as she rested a hand on Laxus’ shoulder. “That can’t be right.”

“Maybe the blood of that damn beast,” Makarov muttered gravely as he shook his head. “Hell hound, it sounds like. You get it good, boy?”

“I...I don’t remember,” Laxus whispered and he felt nothing like himself, nothing at all. “I don’t remember anything.”

“We’ll hunt it down,” Elfman vowed as he wiped at his eyes. “Hunt the whole damn property. Some of the men already are. If you didn’t kill it, big brother, we will!”

“Don’t call me-”

“Yes, big brother,” Lisanna agreed, noting with glee that Elfman, unknowingly, had stumbled upon something new to get under the man’s skin. “We’ll hunt it down!”

But they wouldn’t.

Not for lack of trying though.

For all the men that searched the forest and neighboring areas, no such animal could be found. Some wolves were slaughter, but none with the same, dark, piercing eyes that Laxus recalled.

“I thought,” Mirajane would remark a lot, when he’d mention the red lit, haunting eyes that he could still see, if he just closed his eyes, “that you couldn’t remember anything?”

“I can’t,” he assured her. “W-Well, I mean, I thought I couldn’t….but...”

Though the next few days were difficult, if not downright unpleasant, Laxus did eventually leave the room in the estate he was given to stay in. It wasn’t proper, after all, Mirajane had sadly remarked as she and her brother, as well as a bodyguard, walked with him that first time, back to the cottage, Dreyar trying very hard not to flinch when they passed the exact spot he’d been attacked.

But soon enough, Mirajane was able to add then and it helped anyways, when she smiled at him so sweetly.

Eventually, things fell back into their uneasy peace and Makarov returned home, with a promise to visit  before the wedding, signifying his blessing was more than bestowed. Freed too returned home unfortunately, but Laxus found that he was becoming rather accustomed to his regular day-to-day life in on the Strauss estate.

His woman seemed keen to continue on alone in most work and, considering he had little else to do, Laxus did as he’d done all fall, hanging around her siblings or other friendly workers he stumbled across. Winter now, there was snow for Lisanna to frolic through and toss at him though, oddly enough, the man specified that under no circumstance were she ever to build a snowman around him.

“I,” he told her plainly, “hate them.”

Which meant that Lisanna, who rightly didn’t care for them either way, was now determined to build as many as possible.

Still, life on the estate was nice..until about a month or so later.

Laxus grew tired early the night, retiring not soon after dinner and whispering in his beloved’s ear before he departed that no, he doubted he’d be up for a midnight stroll that night. She was disappointed, as the moon was meant to be gorgeous that evening, but relented with a nod.

When he fell into bed, it seemed almost instantaneous that Laxus found himself asleep. But, unfortunately, it was a rather fitful one. Filled with glowing red eyes and sharp pains as well as, in certain portions, an intense pleasure.

He didn’t know what to think, when he awoke the next morning to labored breathing and a few rather strange bruises along his arms.

“Even scratched myself, somehow, in my sleep,” he was grumbling to Mirajane over breakfast in the main dining hall when Elfman, who usually didn’t join them, came rushing in with one of the men from village.

“Elf,” Mira remarked as she rose to her feet immediately. “What-”

“One of the women was attacked last night,” he remarked gravely as the man beside him, the father of a young woman, looked equally distraught as he did murderous. But Elfman only looked to Laxus as he insisted, “By the same beast you were!”

[hereliesbitches--me]

Dating Rosie :

Pros: 

You got yourself an actual Neko Waifu 

She is rich so shes basically your sugar mama too thatll take care of you because she can. Make you dress nice, probably fix a lot of broken shit in your house, buy you groceries. All that jazz. She likes to help.

She is a Milf thatll never age on you

Shes also hispanic therefore can cook you a bombass dinner no matter what. She also keeps the house clean 

Dating an actual celestial goddess who is dominion of the night and the keepers of souls. You got yourself a cryptid wife 

Wanna be a werewolf? Vampire? Something supernatural of the night? Moon mom is able to grant those abilities and take them away whenever you want. 

Once you have her in love, shes undyingly devoted and loyal to a fault. To a level you can do some bad shit and she would still defend you because of blind love. All she'll want is your approval and love.

Would make you a music box to show her love

If you want to be a family, shes on board. All shes ever wanted was to feel normal with a family. She has kids and she would love for them to have 2 parents instead of just her.

Will tear the world apart to protect you. #FuckThePolice Very little she wouldnt do to make you happy, she will throw hands with anyone for your sake. Will wrap up in her wings and curl her tail around you whenever she can bcuz she loves you and needs you to know. 

Would kill for you or help you hide a body. She has experience

Fully capable of altering your traumatic memories and erasing them for you if you wanted to really make that pain go away.

Sex wise, once shes got you, it’ll be hard to get her off you. She needs the physical intimacy to solidy and verbalize her feelings, and let her know that you still find her desirable. So her libido tends to shoot through the roof once shes settled in, helps her think better. Will literally have a deep conversation with u while at it cuz it helps the thought process. 

She has heats every 4 months for about 10 days, hope ya up for that.

She cares more about your orgasm than her own. Its mental satisfaction for her to make her partner feel good and in turn it satisfies her. 

When it comes to orgasms, this woman is skilled. She will suck the the soul out of your body, or eat you out to another plain of existence. Those powers of her are more than just for battle, it makes for one hell of an outer body experience as she works at your soul just as much as your body. Who needs a masseuse when you can kill 2 birds with one stone for the ultimate high and relaxing experience. You'll come back like it's a drug fix 

Would def be willing to experiment in the bedroom, also willing to have sex in risky public places for the thrill of it .

Will love you until the end of time , worship you like her savior, until you don't want her anymore. Will probably try to find a way to keep your soul with her even in death 

Would probably stay with you, even if you treat her like shit, because shes in love. 

Loves chocolate milk , puns, cuddles, and kisses. Would probably kiss you on national television.

Cons: 

Shes mentally unstable. Has undiagnosed bipolar disorder. She suffered severe PTSD from a history of physical, sexual, and emotional abuse on multitude of occasions, and much of her pros and search for love stems from these things. She loves passionately, but she is nonetheless a sick person that struggles with herself more than anything. Almost always paranoid and distrusting of any situation she doenst have control over. 

She has a form of DID that has toned down a lot, but shows itself under extreme stress. Might catch glimpses of these alters by sudden change in her personality and how they adapt to situations. She can be childlike, she can be cold, she can be inconsolable and hollowed out depressed, she can be angry and violent. Though rare, it can happen.

Emotionally dependent on her partner for stability. She has lost many people who come in and out of her life, shes always felt alone and to have someone means she clings on desperately for one good thing in a mess of tragedy. She Carries the world on her shoulders so she looks to her partner for understanding to help her not fall apart.

Needs consistent confirmation that she is cared for and loved. Even if it's a subtle way.she just needs a sign at least once a day 

It's difficult to make her truly fall in love and open herself entirely. She keeps many secrets and you just need to accept that until shes ready. She is heavily guarded and may reject multiple times 

It may take a while before she is comfortable in letting you touch her. Much of the time she guided and in control of it, has a particular discomfort with any hand between her legs until she totally trusts someone.

You will have to accept that she is a killer, and will always be a killer when its needed. It's a bad habit she cant break like an addiction, but she has curbed it to only out of necessity. Or in times of severe emotional distress 

If she ever does open up, you have to accept her dirty past as a part of who she was to who she Is now.

Shes a workaholic. She manages the Angels and their missions, the legal stuff of managing the Angels, her family, and herself. She works long hours and splits herself up to give time to everyone, and it's not uncommon that she stays up late into the night researching and filling reports. 

Suffers nightmares that may make her talk or thrash in her sleep. Sleeps with a knife or gun always in reach 

If you dont like kids, you aren't shit to her. Her family will always come before any lover. 

Ya gotta be accepted by her family and her familiars, otherwise you cant be part of it and she would never go against her family's feelings.

Your life will always be in peril because of the nature of her work, and you are a exploitable weakness. She has many enemies

Gotta deal with many oddities of the connection she has. Including dead people that regularly go through the mirror to hang out in her house, who she says are friends. Also a demon shes owned by

Rest in fucking peace if you have a cat hair allergy because she sheds like a bitch, even if she regularly brushes and trims her tail.

  Break her heart and she will either be self destructive or wipe your existence to get you out of her head (aka, she'll kill you and make it look like an accident, or no one would find the body)

If you cheat on her, she'd kill your lover and probably castrate/mutilate you in her devastation and disgust. Could absolutely eat your heart out 

Tagged by: @maxskulline​ Thank you for exposing my gril

Tagging: @thewhitepoison​ @draconicmatriarch​ @trickshxt​ @visiblekindness​ @burmecias-protector​ @blucspidcr​ @starkarmored​ and anyone else who wants to take a crack at it!! :)))

[infernusvacua]

&&. ( belen maev ) was just spotted in amsterdam. rumor has it ( he/they ) is a ( 812 / physically 35 ) year old ( angel of light ) who resembles ( lee pace ). ( he ) has been said to be ( loyal & ambitious ) but also quite ( conceited & vicious ).with all the chaos surrounding the magical underworld, ( he ) has chosen to align with ( the angels of light / the russian bratva ). ( he ) is currently serving as ( bodyguard / guardian angel of tatiana valentina ). hopefully the city doesn’t devour him whole.

( belen ) would describe ( themself ) as a ( winter ) person and would identify as a ( istj-a). ( their ) birthday is ( january 6th, 1208 ), making ( their ) star sign ( capricorn ) and ( their ) celtic animal sign the ( stag ). ( their ) biggest pet peeve is ( failure ), and ( their ) theme song is ( from eden by hozier ). finally, ( their ) primary goal is to ( save tatiana and continue to protect her for the rest of her life ).

Hollaaaaaa! Bree again with bby #5, Belen. TWs for mild violence and kidnapping.

Character File

Muse Page (for tags)

SUMMARY

Belen comes from a long line of warrior angels dedicated to serving heaven and protecting mortals. His father Karael has trained generations of warriors to serve The Almighty, while his mother Suriel is a noted healer who dutifully tends to those who return from battle against hell. It is a proud lineage that Belen was always more than happy to continue. He served on the front lines against hell and all its unholy minions for decades uncounted, scoring victory after victory for heaven against their enemies. He never doubted his calling to the warrior’s life, for it ran in his blood as surely as it did in his father.

A few centuries ago, Belen was given new orders: to leave the front lines and guard over a human on earth. Although he’d never trained to be a guardian angel before, he knew that the Almighty must believe he was the only one suited for the job. So he accepted willingly, and buried his thoughts that a few decades of following a human around would be boring compared to smiting demons. But Belen ended up growing extremely attached to the mortal. They were a brave warrior whose loyalty and dedication the angel could easily identify with. Under Belen’s guidance and stewardship, the human grew to be a celebrated hero and a beloved leader to their community. Belen remained at their side until the moment they passed—their death was the only time in his life that Belen has shed a tear.

With his ward gone, Belen went back to the battlefield, slaying demons and beating back the fallen angels who stood against him. But the decades spent guarding his human had changed him, making him a more cautious fighter and a better warrior. The fight never filled him with the same sense of purpose that it once had, and sometimes he wished that he would be assigned to another mortal. But he'd never been guardian material. He was a warrior to the core, blunt and straightforward in his problem solving, never relying on emotions to guide his actions. Guardians were meant to be loving, caring forces of good for their wards. He'd had a good experience, but it was time to move on.

Twenty years ago, Belen was tasked yet again with guardianship over a mortal, and he leapt at the chance. This mortal was a baby girl born into a family of werewolves. Not just any family either: the Valentina crime family, renowned in Russia as the Bratva to be feared above all others. Given that her family were criminals and murderers, he found this confusing, but refused to question the assignment. He’d been hoping for another ward, and no matter the circumstances, he was going to watch over little Tatiana more effectively than any human or werewolf bodyguard ever could.

Of course, a crime family like the Valentinas weren't just going to let a stranger walk in off the street and guard their princess. Belen had to prove himself to these mortals to gain an in with them, and Tatiana's father tasked this newcomer with a daunting task: killing a family rival, a notorious murderer who had wronged the Valentinas in many ways and was finally becoming too dangerous to ignore. Being an angel of the light, it was against Belen's nature and duty to harm a human, but he was able to find a moral loophole which made the task quite easy. The target’s soul couldn’t be saved at this point, and given what he’d done to other members of the Bratva, he was liable to be a very real threat to Tatiana at some point. Feeling safe and justified in his actions, Belen smote the sinner with ease and returned to the Valentinas with his head. The quick and casual manner of his return awed them, and Belen was immediately welcomed into the family with open arms.

From that moment onward, Belen was family. He protected Tatiana with a ferocity and diligence that bordered on obsession, though anyone who has ever met a guardian angel would understand his devotion to her well-being. He became like a brother or uncle to her, and he treated her as his own flesh and blood. He had to hide his true nature from both his ward and her family, of course, but they were always relatively accepting of his quirks. It was with the Valentinas that Belen discovered there was now more acceptance and terminology for genders outside of male and female on earth. When he expressed that he was neither a man nor a woman, the werewolves immediately began including gender neutral language for him in their daily life. This pleased and amused Belen greatly, since the concept of being gendered had never felt applicable to him anyway, and has continued to accept both "he" and "they" pronouns ever since.

On rare occasions, the former Pakhan, Tatia's father, would task Belen with special missions for the Bratva that no one else was available to do, or even could, like taking out particular targets that were deemed a threat. The bodyguard’s effective and often brutal methods earned them such nicknames as "the Avenging Angel" and "the Silver Lion". So long as they could find a loophole that meant the mission directly protected their ward (and they always did), they were unstoppable. There was nothing they would not do for her.

So one can imagine Belen's wrath when Tatiana was stolen away to be trafficked in Amsterdam. Under normal circumstances, such a thing would never have been possible. To this day, Belen curses themself for letting their beloved ward be stolen. But to their credit, it was not entirely their fault. Tatiana had left school early without telling anyone, meaning Belen was not on hand to pick her up and escort her home as usual. Only after they'd arrived at the end of the day to collect her did they find that she wasn't waiting for them as usual. They alerted the family at once, hoping that someone else had simply picked her up first.

From there, the worst nightmare of Belen's long life spiraled out of control. The angel scoured every inch of Russia, terrorizing the criminal underworld and depleting the inmate populations of several gulags to get every scrap of information they could. One tip they uncovered directed the Bratva to Amsterdam, where many human traffickers had found a new market. Tatia's brother Viktor, the new Pakhan, headed there at once while Belen stayed in Russian to continue looking for clues. All they wanted was to find Tatiana, make sure she was safe, and then smite every last foul worm who had a hand in her disappearance. But all they were able to do in the meantime was take their frustrations out on the scum of Russia's underbelly. Until Viktor sent word that Tatia was, indeed, in Amsterdam... and a prisoner of the fallen angels who had so recently declared war. The angel has now arrived in the city alongside the middle Valentina child Dimitri, determined to save their ward and punish whoever thought it wise to take her from them, no matter the cost.

Hmu for plots and such!

[unholyhelbig]

werewolf prompt: Chloe had a nightmare and decides to spend the rest of the night to cuddle with beca

Oo Chloe has a dark past. This is just a drabble. 

CHECK OUT MORE WERECHLOE HERE

The scream tore at her throat, harsh and unforgiving. It felt like a thin blade slowly being eased into her windpipe, the cold of the room instantly washing over her. The nightmare was always the same; playing like a cassette that was never flipped. It would reach the end of the programmed tape and flicker, skipping until the stereo burst into flames.

She was back in the school. The hallways would stretch, posters for chess club and homecoming were tacked up to cover the puke colored paint slathered across brick in the early 60’s. None of the doors would open, none of the lockers either. She had enough control to try them all. Only one classroom was accessible- the metal door handle melting into her touch.

The woman would stand in the window, staring at the wrecked blinds like she had x-ray vision. Chloe could see the red morning air peeking through the corners of the cover. She would rock back and forth on her feet. Never speaking but always looming, beckoning her to make the choice that would set the course for the rest of her natural born life.

That’s when the pain would start; the undulling agony of a first turn. Her bones would snap, and her skin would stretch, and her mind would beg for the mercy of death. But it would never come, and she would jolt awake before she lost herself completely.

This time, she had screamed into a pillow, her teeth ripping into the fabric easily to quell the noise as if not to wake up anyone else in the house. That was the last thing she wanted, the Bella’s like a family to her, but ever so nosey. Instead, she padded into the bathroom, dipping her hands into cool water to quell her sweat-stained skin.

She blinked back at the mirror, the golden glow of her eyes dulling with each deep breath she took. Chloe like looking human, she liked feeling human even more. Crazy nightmares aside, that aspect of her would never get back to sleep if she was alone. She knew that from past nights of staying up and reading through every one of the Harry Potter books that she could muster.

Chloe rolled her shoulders back, peering down the quiet hallway on either side. She could hear the heartbeats of the house, all flickering in sleep. Jessica had kept her bedroom light on, and Stacie was asleep on the couch with the television airing whatever sitcom came on at this time. The laugh track tickling against Chloe’s ears as she stalked towards the second set of stairs the Bella house had to offer- making a point to flick off the lamp without disturbing the sleeping couple in the room at the end of the hall.

She had been holding her breath, hoping to god that Amy wasn’t actually home. It was a rare occasion for the blonde to show her face around here unless Chloe had cooked up a meal or ordered the rare get together. She was relieved to find the right bed empty, a short breath escaping her lips.

Chloe was no stranger to human touch, but she hesitated as she pulled the covers back, Beca laying on her back as her fingers twitched at the burst of cold. She looked so peaceful sleeping, so warm and inviting. With little regret, Chloe slid into the bed, her cold fingers instinctively dancing across Beca’s midsection under her shirt.

“Mm’ Chlo?” Beca sleepily mumbled.

“Yeah, it’s just me.”

Her voice was a shock to her own ears. It was wavering, and hot. Almost sticky. She felt Beca pull her closer instinctively, her head buried into the woman’s chest as she breathed in the musky scent that she had to offer. Her nose pressed close to the nave of the woman’s neck, draping her legs over Beca’s as they pulled each other close.

“Did you have another nightmare?”

“Mmhm,”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Chloe hugged Beca tighter if that was even possible. She had flashes every now and again. It wasn’t like they came in waves, just a quick glimpse at what it had been like. Things had never been normal, not since that day. But the mentality of being in a pack, of being in a family had driven her to terrible things that wracked her with a cold sweat and a past that she couldn’t’ avoid.

“Hey,” Beca soothed, edging her touch under Chloe’s chin. Even in the dark, the woman could see the pained expression in her midnight eyes. “Whatever it is, whatever you’re seeing, or remembering. It can’t hurt you now. You’re safe with me.”

Chloe nodded hastily. If anything, Beca was the one in danger around her, but she saved that malicious thought for another day. Another night when she wasn’t teetering on the insecure and didn’t feel such warmth in a human’s embrace. Because this was Beca. Her Beca. “I know,”

And she did know. For right now, no one had found her. And even if they had, Chloe had someone other than herself to protect.    

[artistic-writer]

Alii Dimidium Lunam (The Other Half of the Moon) - CS Werewolf AU - Ch 11

Title: Alii Dimidium Lunam (The Other Half of the Moon) by @artistic-writer   artwork by @cocohook38 & @artistic-writer

Rating: E (overall rating) for explicit sexual content, language and themes throughout. Trigger warnings will follow and be added as they are needed to avoid spoilers.

Art by @cocohook38 - Poster - Emma - David - Killian - James - Walsh - Graham

Chapter Art by @cocohook38 - Ch1 - Ch2 - Ch3 - Ch4 (NSFW)

Art by @artistic-writer - 1 - 2 - 3 -

Also on: AO3 - FF

A/N: Here is ch 11!  I know you all have waited for patiently for a resolution to how I left ch 10, so here is a whopper off a chapter to help explain things, and tie together a few loose ends.  This is a RedHunter (Ruby/Graham) backstory chapter set in the past, but you can’t skip it because we meet another character! lol  Also, HOW GOOD IS THE ART BY @cocohook38 ??!?! Seriously never been as attracted to Graham as I am right now lol Massive thanks to my wonderful betas, @hookedonapirate who is one of the best beta’s this fandom has to offer - I seriously love her guys, and she deserves all the good things <3 <3 and @kmomof4 to whom this fic is also gifted for her upcoming birthday, and creating the @cssns  Thank you to my crew, @hollyethecurious  @resident-of-storybrooke @courtorderedcake @doodlelolly0910 and special thanks to @killian-whump @killianmesmalls and @sherlockianwhovian for how they helped later on. And to @flipperbrainwho drew THIS piece of art for this fic in December, before it was even written!

Taglist: @cssns @resident-of-storybrooke @hollyethecurious @kmomof4 @hookedonapirate @winterbaby89 @courtorderedcake @initiala @cocohook38 @branlovesouat @teamhook @snidgetsafan@sherlockianwhovian @shireness-says @wingedlioness @lenfaz @therooksshiningknight @ilovemesomekillianjones @bmbbcs4evr @blowmiakisscolin @deathbycaptainswan @onceuponaprincessworld @chinawoodfan  @seriouslyhooked @snowbellewells @wordsmith-storyweaver   @jennjenn615 @delightfully-difficult-pirate @doodlelolly0910 @tiganasummertree @hookedmom @thejollyroger-writer @rachie1940 @unworried-corsair 

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Three years ago

Many people in the world would enjoy their free time with some socialization, or some other kind of fun. Werewolves were different, creatures that wanted nothing but the feel of soft, freshly churned earth beneath their paws and the smell of the night in their nostrils. Graham was no different. He had been the Misthaven beta for as long as he could fight, standing shoulder to shoulder with David and making sure the entire pack was safe.

Tonight, however, was a rare occasion when David had suggested he go and right what ailed him, as he was no good to him as a beta when he was so clearly distracted. Graham had become irritated recently, in need of something to help him relax, and David all but forced him to take a leave of absence to right the worries in his head. Graham wasn’t sure he could relax and stay away from his pack for so long, but he was also loyal to his alpha. If David insisted, he would go.

Graham wasn’t sure what he was in need of. He had reached a certain age, thirty-four in human years, and if he were a human, he could have said he was heading into a mid-life crisis. He craved what he couldn’t have, plagued by a yearning he couldn’t place and it was made all the more poignant when he was around David and Snow. He was coming up to a milestone in werewolf culture and he should have been so many things by now.

He had no reason to begrudge the Nolans for anything. They had taken him in when he was lost, raised him as their own when they really didn’t have to and gave him a place to call home. Misthaven was his home. It was where he belonged, with the strongest pack of them all, and yet, he couldn’t help but wonder if there was something else that could fulfill his aching heart.

Graham Humbert was lonely. He was a wolf with everything and yet had nothing that made him feel whole.

There were plenty of potential mates, and as the beta, he could have the pick of any she-wolf he desired, but apart from a little bit of harmless fun, Graham had no connection to anyone in his pack. He had tried reaching outside of the community, dipping his toes into the pool of loner she-wolves, but again, nothing struck him. No one knew him, no one gave him the life that included a love connection he so wished for, and he had all but given up on finding it.

Like many wolves, Graham ran to wind down, to release some of the pent-up tension acquired in human form, and at this particular time in his life, Graham ran to feel. Running was a high. His skin buzzed beneath his pelt as his muscles shifted over his bones with every stride, his huge paws pounding the compact forest floor, the only sound for miles his low, grumbling pants as his breath left his lungs. If he couldn’t feel love, he could at least still feel the freedom of cantering through the forest.

The forest seemed to disappear, only the wind against his face, pinning his ears to the flat broadness of his skull as he galloped. His fur snagged nearby bushes but went unnoticed to him at the speed he was hitting. Graham was a light coated wolf, the silver guard hairs of his outer layer more visible in the darkness than some of his other pack members, and his light, fair tanned face soft and welcoming. He was deceivingly meek looking, having inherited the faded agouti shades from his mother, and if it were not for his imposing size, he could have been mistaken for her at quick glance.

Wolves were discouraged from running alone, but Graham loved it. It was freeing to run alone, if not more so than with others, and there were often times he and Emma would tell David they were running together but went their separate ways. They were so similar, like true siblings, and they both understood the need for space, despite what they had been taught. They had been raised with the understanding that there was strength in numbers, that they were at their most vulnerable whilst alone, and it was always the last thing on Graham’s mind when he was running solo.

And maybe that was why, as he broke through the edge of the trees, and the ground turned to asphalt under his paws, he was blinded by the brightness of headlights and overcome with searing pain in his foreleg before his world faded from view and he passed out with a weak growl.

When Graham tried to open his eyes, they seemed to be stuck shut. His eyelids were heavier than usual, his breathing shallow and calm, even though he should have been more alert. He was in wolf form, he could tell that much, but as he struggled to find his surroundings, nose twitching at the end of his muzzle, all he could do was sigh.

His whole body was weighed down by an invisible force and despite the fact his brain was telling his limbs to move, they denied his request. He was laying on what felt like grass, or straw and he could smell the faintest whiff of other animals. The scents were aged, maybe months old, and all he could hear as his funnel like ears swiveled on his head, was the creak of wood.

He inhaled a little more deeply, and his senses picked up the tiniest traces of fresh paint and the lingering tang of a diesel engine. Together with the straw bed, he was sure he had ended up in some kind of shed or outhouse, but the last thing he remembered was being hit by the car and luckily for him, he had kept the good fortune to stay in wolf form. He recalled the sound of his foreleg snapping but there was no pain right now, his entire body floating.

The sound of rattling tools and the scrape of the wooden door in the dirt set his fur standing on end and his toes dug into the straw bed in anticipation. Before he had time to send out a warning growl, a floral scent filled his nostrils and the soft shuffling of shoes on the barn floor had him intrigued more than scared. Jasmine calmed him instantly, his breathing leveling out from his panicked state as he inhaled the sweet flowery smell, and he finally managed to peel an eye open to see a blurry figure approaching.

It was a woman, he could tell, and the way the sunlight flooded into the barn from behind her made her seem like an angel, the orange glow of the morning sun surrounding her like a halo. Graham could tell it was the start of the day because there was only a slight amount of warmth and the morning sunlight was busy evaporating the nightly mist that still lingered in the barn doorway.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the woman reach for something above his head and he followed her movements with a weary but blurry gaze. Something must have been making him so slow, the haze around her arm never clearing, no matter how many times he tried to blink away the fog, and for a second, he focused enough to see the saline bag hanging on the wooden post beside the stall from a bent, rusty nail.

He groaned, half in protest and half in submission. He was hurt, there was no denying he’d heard his leg break, but he felt no fear from the woman’s presence. She didn’t seem to be scared of him either, crouching down beside him after she had fiddled with his painkiller-filled drip and resting her elbows on her knees. Graham focused a little, the scent of her perfume wafting into his nostrils tenfold and he let out a long, sorrowful sigh.

“Hey there, boy,” she said softly, her voice nothing but calm.

Graham felt himself relax even more into the straw bed he was laying on but his flight instinct was still bubbling just under the surface of his skin. With the least amount of energy he had left, he let out a menacing growl he was unable to fight through instinct and the woman shuffled back from him. The distance was welcoming, but as Graham’s eyes fluttered closed one more time, he heard her voice as clear as day.

“I’ll come check on you tomorrow.”

Almost no time had passed before Graham heard the scrape of the door again and peeled his eyes open. They were more responsive this time and he managed to lift his head, watching the particles of dust dancing in the new morning sunlight as it flooded in behind the angelic woman. Graham was more focused now, his vision giving him a clear view of the woman who approached him with a cautious smile.

“Hey boy,” she soothed, keeping her distance whilst checking on the hanging bag. The plastic had completely drained and as she fiddled with replacing it, Graham followed the clear, plastic tube that lead directly into his foreleg. The soft, downy cream fluff on his leg had been shaved short, the regrowth beginning to itch underneath the bright blue vet wrap bandage that held the cannula against his limb. “You feeling better today?” The woman asked, the voice like music to his ears and grabbing his attention.

Every wolf instinct inside of him told him to run. Humans were not to be trusted, especially in the wolf form he was trapped in whilst his body recovered, and it took everything Graham had to stay still. He was fighting his response to flee, the fur on the back on his neck standing on end for no other reason than the woman in front of him was simply, the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.

Her hair was long, a very dark brown and contrasted against her pale skin and rouged lips. She smelled of jasmine again and already Graham felt like he might be addicted to the scent of her. She gave him a smile, her perfectly shaped lips spreading across her features and Graham wished he could cradle her face between his hands and kiss her. The warmth behind her green eyes made him relax just so he was shocked to feel the pinch on his toes. He yelped, pulled his leg and awkwardly scurried back in his straw bedding stall as far as the cast on his foreleg would allow.

“I’m sorry, boy,” the woman pouted sympathetically, crouching down at the entrance to the stall to seem less imposing. “But look at it this way, you can still feel your toes, which is good,” she beamed, standing to her feet and brushing the dust off of her dark blue, skin tight pants.

Graham watched her with a scowl, his ears twitching on his head as she moved around outside of the stall. He was curious about her, but more than just as a werewolf play thing, and he felt himself leaning forward to watch her move around the barn. She collected up a saddle in her arms, the deceivingly thin limbs more than capable of carrying the heavy leather piece, and then grabbed for a bridle hanging above his stall.

“I’m going for a ride,” she told him as if he would reply with more than a puzzled canine glance. “You rest now. I’ll check back on you tomorrow.”

Tomorrow came and went. In fact, Graham counted no less than thirteen sunrises that introduced the arrival of his guardian angel. In the accident, Graham had broken his leg, shattered it in a few places, the dark haired angel had told him on one of the days, but he was on the mend. He was becoming stronger, having initially dropped a few pounds after being so high on pain medication, but with his recovery came his strength and it wasn’t long before he was eagerly awaiting the arrival of his raven haired caretaker on his feet with a wagging tail.

“Hey, my sweet boy,” the woman said eagerly, the barn door not even open before she had called out to him. Graham’s tail brushed against his hocks as she approached, his cannula and drip now removed but his cast still covering his foreleg. It had been wrapped in a dark blue bandage but that had become dirty and worn, especially where Graham had nibbled at the top part to try and relieve some of the itching underneath. “Are you ready?”

Graham gave her a wolfish grin, his ears flattening on top of his broad skull, and a puppy like whine too high pitched for an animal of his size escaping his maw. He licked his lips excitedly as she approached. Today was the day she had promised him for over a week - the cast was coming off and he would finally be able to lick at the agonizingly irritating niggling itch underneath.

She approached him still with a hint of caution, he was a wolf after all, but she had become more confident. He had let her remove his cannula without incident and when she had asked if he would be a good boy on the removal of his cast, he had just given her a soppy puppy dog stare and a sideways tilt of his head. If Graham didn’t know better, he would say she had domesticated him.

And he loved it.

“Are you going to behave?” She asked him again with a raised eyebrow, all too aware that in a crouching position with a cast saw in hand she may very well be trampled by a panicking wolf. Graham grumbled low in his throat and gave her the same head tilt, his ears flopping sideways. “Okay then,” she said on an inhaled breath, inching closer to him and powering on the handheld saw.

Graham flinched a little, unsure of the noise more than anything as it invaded his ear canal with a terrifyingly high pitched squeal, but he sat and let the dark haired woman lift his leg onto her knee as she cut into the cast. Graham knew a cast saw would never cut skin so he kept still, watching the concentration of her delightful face as she went to work, her tongue poking out the side of her mouth and her brow furrowed with effort. Graham was pretty sure, at that moment, his life had just become a whole lot more complicated as his heart skipped a beat and he flexed his claws against her knee as if attempting to hold onto her.

“There,” she announced triumphantly when the two sides of the cast fell away. “All done!” Graham leaped back, a playful growl coming from his lips as he sniffed at his leg and paraded back and forth around the barn. He had been largely confined to the stall, the straw now reeking of his dirty, oily wolf pelt, and it felt good to stretch all of his legs. There was a little pain at the site of the break, no more than an ache now, and Graham’s tail began another rhythmic wag in an arch over his back.

Forgetting himself for a second, Graham bolted for the door, stopping when she called out to him. “Woah, boy!” she called and he stopped dead, looking at her with wide, expectant eyes and a playful pant. He wanted to stay, he wanted it more than anything he had ever wanted in his life, but if he didn’t head back to Misthaven soon, David would surely send a search party after his beta. That would spell bad news for his new companion, and he wished her no harm, especially the fate that would befall a human who had, in their eyes, held a werewolf captive.

“I mean,” she corrected herself quickly, twisting her body in the dusty barn floor and sinking forward onto her knees. “You can go if you want to. You are not a prisoner here, you never were,” she smiled softly, looking down at her hands that were flattened over her thighs as she let out a short chuckle. “Look at me talking to a wolf,” she chastised herself with a shake of her head. “God, Ruby, you're so lonely.”

And there it was - the moment Graham learned her name and wished more than anything he could transform back into human form and tell her everything. She wasn’t lonely, she never would be and he would do anything to repay her for her kindness. If that meant spending the rest of his life with her, it was a burden he was willing to bear. But he couldn’t tell her. Werewolves who had sustained a traumatic event or injury were trapped in their wolf form until they had healed sufficiently to survive the shift back to human form, and Graham knew his body would heal much faster in his current form.

All he could do to reassure her was take the tentative steps towards her and sniff at her hands, like a pet dog comforting their master. He nudged her long, nimble fingers with his cold wet nose. Ruby looked up at him, a mixture of shock and fear on her face, the sound of her blood throbbing in her veins and the smell of her sudden panicked flush making him retract his actions. He stepped back, lowering his head in a type of submissive apology and getting lost in her sea green eyes.

“It’s okay,” Ruby whispered half to herself and half to the huge wolf in front of her, holding out her hand to him once more, her voice laced with a shaky anticipation he had not noticed from her before. She was scared, and rightly so, but Graham would never hurt her, and he met her outstretched hand with a sniff and a lick. Ruby gasped, her fingers trembling at the end of her arm and she swallowed audibly. “Good boy,” she breathed, her lips twitching into a smile.

Graham let her move her hand a little more until it was threaded in the deep pile around his neck, her fingers feeling like a welcome fire to his skin. It was incredible. Graham had never been petted before, a practice so frowned upon because of its connotations with domestic canines. Werewolves were not, and never would be, pets by the Chronicle's ruling, but Graham would gladly let her pet him all day long if she wanted to just to see the happiness in her eyes. His expression softened, his breathing slowing as she toyed with his pelt, her own amazement etched across her face and her breath caught in her throat.

“I’m touching a wolf,” she whispered to herself, her breathing resuming once more. Graham stepped away suddenly, shaking and ridding his skin of the tingling sensation. He had to go back to Misthaven, regardless of how much his heart was crying out for more of her touch. He skipped to the open barn doors once more, the faded, curled red paint falling from the wood as he neared it, and he stopped to give her one last glance as the sunlight warmed his face.

“Will I see you again?” She asked gently, a weak smile pulling at her lips. Graham sighed, the breath leaving his lungs and evaporating in the morning sunlight as he lingered near the doorway a tad longer, looking back and locking eyes with the woman he owed everything to. He would see her again, without a doubt, and when he took off through the open doors and headed back to Misthaven, he was sure he heard a soft sob echoing in the barn.

--

Graham had done some truly stupid things in his life, what short years there were of it, but maybe the most idiotic was what he was doing right now. He was standing in the waiting room of a veterinary clinic with a tiny bundle under his arms awaiting the sound of his name. It wasn’t ideal, he admitted that and he had absolutely no intention of ever owning a pet, let alone a puppy, but here he was.

And for what? Why would a werewolf want to own a pet? And a dog of all things? The answer was simple and over the last few months, he had fought with himself over and over in case he was wrong. His heart yearned, and in wolf form, he pined for the feel of her fingers through his fur once more. To hear her voice just one more time as she walked towards him with nothing but compassion in her eyes and a smile on her face.

But it was wrong. It was strictly forbidden. Graham had killed wolves for less, and yet here he was, standing in some nowhere town with an Irish Wolfhound puppy desperately trying to wiggle out of his grasp, all so that he could maybe catch a glimpse of his savior.

He had done some research. Her name was Ruby Lucas and she was a veterinarian two states over from Misthaven. She had a small holding with a few horses that she rode daily, and big unused barn where she rehabilitated wildlife in from time to time and no boyfriend or husband. She had no family to speak of, and her only friends seemed to be the animals she worked with and a few old classmates who still lived in their hometown.

Graham had obsessed over her for months after he had returned, never quite feeling as complete as he had that day she touched his muzzle, unafraid and with a smile that set her green eyes aglow. He would shift and run to her farm, watching her from the edges of the woodland adjacent, careful not to spook her horses with his scent. She was a goddess, the more he looked at her he got pulled in by her beauty, and on more than one occasion he chastised himself for his akin to stalking behaviour.

But there was no use. Ruby had beguiled him and soon Graham found himself sneaking from Misthaven more regularly in search of even the slightest glimpse of her. Some days she would go to the local bar and dance, unwinding after a long stressful day. She always went alone but the way she moved like nobody was watching made him want her even more, and he wished he had the courage to approach her as a man.

Other days she would simply sit at home, feet up on the battered arm of her couch, a bowl of popcorn on her lap and tears streaming from her face as she watched yet another romantic comedy. Sometimes Graham felt like he was living one, the man in pursuit of the woman who didn't even see him, and yet, it was for the exact opposite reason Graham did devote so much of his time to Ruby. She had seen him, even as a wolf, she was not afraid and there was something connecting them that he knew she felt as strongly as he did.

Graham Humbert, werewolf and Misthaven beta, was in love with Ruby Lucas, a human.

“Mr. Humbert?” A voice shook him from his anxious daydream and his head snapped up to meet the green orbs of the raven haired vet. Ruby was every bit as beautiful as he had remembered from last time he had seen her, only at eye level she was much taller than he had first thought. She was almost the same height as him, her long legs disappearing into her very business-like skirt and her dainty, milky white ankles gently wrapped in the strap of some black, flat shoes.

“Would you like to come in?” She beamed, motioning through the door behind her and like an obedient hound, Graham trotted after her. “I’m Ruby,” she introduced herself casually, extending her hand out to him.

“Hi,” he smiled back, taking her hand awkwardly as the grey scruffy puppy in his arms struggled to be free once again. His tail beat a steady rhythm against Graham’s jacket, a dull thud echoing between them and his tongue flicked out in an attempt to lick at the new person in his proximity. Graham nearly touched her, but before he had a chance to take her hand in his, the puppy in his arms overstretched and almost slipped from his grasp. Graham grabbed him quickly, scooping him back into his arms and looking back to the giggling vet with a blush.

“And who is this?” Ruby cooed, reaching for the puppy and relieving Graham of his charge.

“Hunter,” Graham said quickly, his Irish lilt rolling the word on his tongue. He shuffled awkwardly on his feet, crossing and then uncrossing his arms nervously.

“And you are?” Ruby prompted with a smirk, placing Hunter down on top of the rubber matted table between them and ruffling her fingers through his wiry hair. Graham looked up at her, and the corner of his mouth twitched into a shy smirk.

“I’m Graham,” he said softly, finally settling on putting his hands into the pocket of his jeans and inhaling hard through his smile. Her scent invaded him, coating his tongue and hitting the back of his throat like a fresh flower. She still smelled of jasmine, the familiar scent making him feel the warmth in the pit of his stomach that he had craved.

“Well, Graham,” Ruby accented his name, testing it on her tongue with a small, twitchy smile that she tried to hide. “What can we do for Hunter today?”

She looked up once more, her hair tumbling over her shoulders with a flick of her head and her full, rouged lips spreading into a smile. Graham blushed instantly, a new human reaction for him, and he balled his fists in his jeans as he tensed. There was nothing wrong with the puppy, he knew that, and when she raised her eyebrow at his lack of an answer, somehow he knew she knew that too.

“Maybe he needs his shots?” Ruby suggested and Graham nodded shyly.

“Yeah, I think that’s it,” Graham nodded, pulling his hands from his jeans and stepping closer to the table again. As he did, Hunter spun on his little fluffy back legs and tumbled towards his owner, licking furiously at the air in front of his muzzle submissively.

“You think?” Ruby teased, stopping the puppy from launching himself from the table top at the same time Graham reached for the wolfhound youngling, their hands brushing and sending a wave of warmth through his body. After a heartbeat, Graham cleared his throat and swallowed a dry lump that had formed there. “How long have you been a dog owner?”

Graham blew out an exaggerated breath, trying to act as human as possible. “A few days,” he said honestly with a shrug.

Ruby quirked her eyebrow again, the perfectly shaped, almost black line of hair dancing up on her forehead. “I can tell,” she said with a smile.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Graham asked playfully, his eyes narrowing as he relaxed a little. It was clear she was more comfortable than he was right now, but as she looked up to meet his gaze again, she lost her smile and a blush stained her ashen cheeks with a pink tint.

“I’m sorry,” she apologised quickly. “I didn’t mean to offend,” she offered professionally and then promptly spun around until she was facing the small computer screen behind her. She idly clicked at the buttons on the mouse, but there was no reason for the number of clicks she was administering and Graham suspected she was just trying to avoid him.

“It’s okay,” Graham murmured, the only other sound between them being the dull scratching of Hunter’s razor sharp puppy claws on the rubber lined table. She turned, looking over her shoulder first before her entire body followed and she was facing him once more, albeit a little redder in the cheeks than before. Graham could smell her nervousness.

“It was unprofessional,” Ruby quipped curtly, her flattened palms on the table between them another distraction for the puppy who tried to claw his way towards her.

“It’s okay, really,” Graham assured her, struggling to comprehend how something so small could elude his grip so efficiently when Hunter slipped from his fingers and jumped up to lick Ruby’s face. “I didn’t mean…”

“Hey there, boy,” Ruby soothed the puppy, her smile returning the instant she sank her fingers into his rough coat and pulled him to her. She inhaled his scent, the musk of puppy breath and slightly coarse fur making her eyes flutter closed and her face to light up with what Graham could tell was the memory of his wolf form. Her words were the same, the dulcet tones identical to when she had greeted him, and Hunter relaxed into her embrace as if he had just lost all of his energy reserves.

Graham remembered the effect of her smooth voice on his canine form, so wasn’t surprised when Hunter surrendered to her siren’s call in the same way.

“I think he likes you,” Graham smiled at her, pointing to the yawning puppy.

Ruby ruffled the hair between Hunter’s ears and poked at his nose playfully. “That’s because I haven’t stuck him yet,” she cooed into the puppy’s face and Graham stifled a laugh. She was adorable.

“I’m sure he won’t even feel it,” Graham smirked, watching her stroke the puppy in her arms with a pang of jealousy. He hadn’t felt the sting of a needle when Ruby had looked after him, but what he wouldn’t give to feel her fingers on his body again. “And don’t worry about what you said, it wasn’t unprofessional at all.”

Ruby looked up at him and her smile faded a little, only matching his again when she really looked into his eyes. They were deeper than they looked, blue pools of ocean deep echoes that pulled her into a swarm of emotions she never wanted to escape. She felt like she had seen them before, but couldn’t quite place the easy feeling that accompanied his stare.

“If you want to hear something unprofessional, I could ask you out on a date,” Graham teased, sucking in a breath through his teeth and cocking his head to one side dramatically. It made Ruby laugh, her hair falling over her face when she dipped her head forward.

“You could,” Ruby nodded, unable to hide the wide grin on her face.

“Would you say yes?” Graham arched a brow, squinting through one open eye as if he

were scared of her rejection.

“Maybe,” Ruby taunted, biting the tip of her tongue.

Graham sighed an exaggerated grunt of frustration and shuffled his feet from side to side. He planted his hand on his hips and dramatically rubbed a hand over the stubble on his jaw. “Well, now I’m afraid to ask you.”

“Will Hunter be there?” Ruby asked quickly and Graham frowned.

“On a date?” he laughed.

“Why not?” Ruby asked incredulously. “I thought he was your wingman.”

“What gave you that idea?” Graham chuckled, licking his lips nervously.

“Well,” Ruby began, handing him back the now sleeping puppy and letting her fingers linger on his a little longer than necessary. “You are a new dog owner but have yet to ask a single question, so I can only assume he is not actually yours, in which case you stole a puppy…”

“I would never,” Graham laughed harder, pulling Hunter to his chest and tucking him inside of his jacket possessively.

“Or,” she continued, pointing a finger at him playfully. “You have owned dogs before, and have another reason for walking into my office today.” She folded her arms over her chest and took a long, triumphant breath, leaving the ball in his court with a raised eyebrow.

“You got me,” Graham admitted. “I did come here to ask you a very important question.”

“Go on,” Ruby prompted, hiding her excitement that Graham could smell all over her. He had smelled it before when she had first touched him, the exhilaration thrumming from her skin both then and now.

“Have you ever been to Tony’s?” Graham grinned.

--

Two and a half years Later

Since their first date, Graham had taken Ruby to dinner at Tony’s Italian restaurant every Friday without fail. Even when Misthaven demanded his attention, he was able to sneak away and travel over two states to where Ruby lived with little fuss, and if David ever suspected anything, he had never mentioned it. Graham almost gave his relationship away once, whilst talking to Mary Margaret, but luckily for him, she wasn’t in a very inquisitive mood that day and was satisfied with a simple, evasive answer.

It was easy for Graham to spend time away from Misthaven because David always had an errand for him to run. Luckily for him, the James’ Neverland pack was situated close to where Ruby lived, so he was always nearby for reconnaissance. As long as he relayed the information that David had asked for back to him, he was in the clear. After six months it had become clear that his feelings for Ruby were never going to wane, in fact, they had only grown stronger.

He ached when they were apart, as did she. Ruby had told him on many occasions she couldn’t stand it when he was gone, and Graham had died a little inside each time he told her he was away for work. To make it a little more bearable, Graham had suggested Hunter live with her so she could snuggle with the growing hound each time she was lonely, a suggestion she accepted gladly. He wasn’t exactly lying, but he felt dishonest all the same, his heart cracking a little each time he told her and she accepted his reason with a smile and without argument. She was kind and good and Graham often laid awake at night trying to find a solution to his heartache.

Being caught between his love for Ruby and his loyalty to Misthaven was tearing him apart.

The restaurant was as it usually was every Friday night - half packed with the same patrons he had come to recognise week after week and who he now realised posed no threat. He could sense both human and Were diners, their scents mingling together on his tongue, but the entire time Graham had been coming here, no one had ever mentioned anything about werewolves. Tony’s was known for its acceptance of all, including Were, and he was just another fan of pasta along with every other beast in the place.

As if on cue, Tony greeted them at the door and shooed away the teenage usher with a scowl, stating they were important guests. Ruby met his enthusiastic kiss with a peck to his stubbled, jowly cheek and Graham shook his hand with a broad smile.

“Mr. Jones has beat you here this week,” he declared happily, his Italian accent almost forced for comedy effect. He nodded over to their usual table, and Ruby and Graham followed his gaze and the point of his hairy knuckled finger.

The man he was pointing to was a regular patron of the restaurant and an old friend of Ruby’s that she had introduced to Graham early on in their relationship. As if he sensed he was being talked about, the man looked over at them and gave them a smile, the blue of his eyes glinting in the light above the table as he waved them over.

Graham had found out early on that the man was Were, and he assumed he had known he was too, but neither of them had spoken about it at great length. One time, when Ruby excused herself to the bathroom, Graham had asked Jones how a Werewolf had become such good friends with a human woman and he was told they were just old friends. Sensing his pang of jealousy, Jones had assured Graham there was nothing more to him and Ruby than that and he simply loved her like a sister.

Graham hadn’t missed the warning growl in his words that was more protective than possessive either.

“Liam!” Ruby squealed, rushing to her friend and embracing him in a tight hug just as he had got to his feet. Graham caught up just as they were moving apart and shook Liam’s hand eagerly.

“Hey, how was England?” Graham enquired, business like.

“Oh, you know,” Liam shrugged, letting out a breath. “Raining.”

Graham laughed, slapping a flat palm to Liam’s shoulder. “Could be worse,” he teased. “You could be Irish.”

“Graham says it always rains more in Ireland,” Ruby interjected their exchange sweetly, shrugging the coat off of her shoulders and thanking Tony as he whisked it away with a wink.

“It does,” Liam agreed and motioned for them to sit in the booth opposite him. “And despite my name and heritage, I have no inclination to visit any time soon.” Liam gave Graham a cheeky glare and reached for a glass of sparkling water in front of him, the bubbles drifting to the surface when he moved the glass.

“Remind me never to visit either of your countries,” Ruby scoffed, her nose wrinkling a little as she flipped her hair over her shoulder and rolled her eyes.

“Don’t be like that,” Graham teased, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her to him. “You’d love it.”

“Yeah, you’d fit right in, Red,” Liam smirked, stifling a laugh and hiding behind his menu.

“Shut up, Jones. Shut up right now,” Ruby warned and Graham looked between them confused.

“What am I missing?” Graham asked, his own smirk matching Liam’s as Ruby buried her face in her hands.

“Don’t you have to go away again soon?” Ruby asked quickly, trying to change the subject. “Another business trip we could talk about, maybe? Please?”

“Yes, I do but that is not what we want to talk about,” Liam winked at her, turning to face Graham. “The gorgeous brunette you see beside you was not always so raven haired,” Liam chuckled. Graham watched as Ruby’s cheeks turned a shade of pink he had never seen before. “Ruby here, got her name when she was born and her parents instantly loved her red hair.”

Ruby groaned at Liam’s tale of her childhood hair colour and she cringed as she lifted her head to find Graham looking at her in awe. “What?” She asked defensively but he was stunned to silence, simply shaking his head with a slack jaw as he tried to imagine the most gorgeous woman he had ever met as a redhead.

“I have photos,” Liam said through his laugh and Ruby glared at him with a clenched jaw.

“Burn them,” she commanded darkly, pointing at him with a threatening finger. “Tonight.”

“Woah, let’s not be too hasty,” Graham interrupted their stare down and excitedly turned his entire body until he was facing Ruby, his eyes darkening with the lust he could never control around her. She met his gaze and smiled, their eyes having a brief conversation without their lips even saying a word. “Could you have a little Irish in you?” He raised a brow, his voice gruff and his eyes flicking over her lips.

“Maybe if you play your cards right,” Ruby smiled coyly, biting her bottom lip. Unable to resist her any longer, Graham lunged forward and captured her lips in a fiery kiss that told her just how much he wanted what she was insinuating.

“I’m right here, guys,” Liam huffed drolly, not looking up from the menu. They pulled apart quickly and gave him sheepish looks. “Why do you guys even invite me if all you do is make out?” he sighed.

“You’re our friend?” Ruby offered.

“We pay?” Graham suggested immediately afterward.

“Excellent!” Liam declared and motioned Tony back to their table to order. The overweight owner arrived with his dog-eared notepad and half-chewed pencil poised. “The house special,” he beamed. It was the most expensive item on the menu and Tony scribbled it down quickly with a wide eyed smile.

Eventually, when Graham had asked enough questions about the colour of Ruby’s childhood hair, they had talked a little more about Liam’s work trip. He traveled a lot, mainly between his home country and America, and part of the reason why they met up at Tony’s was that Ruby felt like she never saw him anymore. They had been friends their whole life, their families living right next door to each other, and as an only child, Ruby had always been thankful for his friendship.

Graham had come to accept that his love was best friends with a man, even if he did get jealous. With both of them being Were, the feelings ran more rampant and sometimes Graham suspected that Liam knew and played up his harmless flirting to annoy him. But when Ruby assured him Liam was only trying to test him, to make sure he was good enough for her, he let it all slide. No one had ever managed to calm him like Ruby did, and all she had to do was smile at him for him to know she would always be his and all his jealousy would evaporate instantly.

“Move in with me,” Ruby said casually as they strolled down the dirt track up to her farm. She had asked before and Graham was running out of excuses. He clenched her hand tighter at his side and watched his feet as he walked.

“We’ve been through this,” he said softly, no anger in his words. Graham was so placated around her that it would be hard for anyone to believe he was the werewolf feared by so many.

“I know,” Ruby cut him off and squeezed his hand back. “But if you could. Would you?”

Graham stopped their walking, halfway to the house, the sound of crickets in the nearby grass pricking in his ears as he pulled her to him. He let her fall against his chest and brushed a few strands of hair from her forehead, wrapping his arms around her lovingly. “You know I would,” he said with an apologetic tone. “If things…”

“If things were different, I know,” Ruby finished for him, looking down at her hand that lay flat over his heart. A silence fell between them, like many times before, and Graham wished with everything he had that he could change who he was so that they could live as humanly as possible. “What if they already are?” Her voice was small, almost shaky, and she fisted the material of his shirt nervously.

“If they already are?” Graham cocked his head to the side and looked down at her quizzically. When she didn't look up at him, Graham hooked a crooked finger under her chin and tilted her head back until he could see the beauty in her eyes again. He smiled at her, but when she didn’t return it, he started to panic. “What do you mean, if they already are?”

“Things are different,” Ruby told him nervously, her bottom lip worried by her teeth. Graham searched her face, staring deep into her eyes for any indication of what she meant and it didn’t register what she was trying to tell him until she took his hand and placed it over her flat stomach.

Graham was hit with an emotion he had never experienced before. He was scared. Petrified. His first wave of joy was quickly overtaken by the harsh reality of what happens when a human becomes pregnant with a werewolf child. His relationship with Ruby was forbidden and so far he had managed to keep it a secret, but this was so much more than he could ever contain.

What would happen to Ruby when the child came up to its wolf day? Graham had heard of so many horror stories with mongrel cubs tearing their human parents apart in anger, murdering them in cold blood when they failed to understand the change. The Chronicle was clear and Graham knew it wouldn’t be long before he would be discovered and brought before the Werewolf Council. People talked, but werewolves were gossips, and Ruby was in danger of death if anyone found out about her. He couldn’t let that happen to the woman he loved, even if it meant he had to give up the thing he had wanted with her most of all.

“Ruby, I…” He stammered, fingers flexing over her even stomach as he fought to ignore the swell of pride in his chest.

“Of course, we’ll have to move away, so the council doesn’t find us,” she shrugged and his head snapped up to meet hers, wide eyed and shocked.

“The council?” he asked innocently, a blush spreading over the tips of his ears.

“The werewolf council,” Ruby told him matter of factly.

“How do you know about the council?” he spluttered, his brows knitting together in confusion.

“Come on,” Ruby smiled, rolling her eyes and reaching up to run her fingers through the lightly curled hair on top of his head. Graham’s confusion ebbed away at her touch, and his eyes rolled closed. “My good boy,” she soothed gently, as if he were in wolf form.

“I don’t understand,” Graham whispered, her fingers like magic on his scalp, fading away as she slid her hands to his cheeks. He peeled his eyes open once again, and she was looking up at him knowingly.

“Humbert, don’t be a fool,” she teased, lightly scratching the stubble on his cheeks. “I grew up with Liam, who I am sure you know by now is Were, so you can stop pretending you are any more human than he is.”

Graham didn’t know what to say and simply stared at her. She was sassy, it was one of the things he loved about her, but she was also passionate and playful and he loved her even more for those things than he could ever show. “How long have you known?” Graham asked softly, a weight lifting from his shoulders.

Ruby made a face, looking up to the sky in mock thought. “Remember that time I hit you with my truck?”

Graham laughed weakly and clutched her hands harder to his face, turning to place a kiss to her palm. “You did not know then,” he accused.

“Okay, not then,” Ruby conceded, enjoying the prickle of warmth that travelled from his lips and covered her entire body. “But I suspected I had hit a Werewolf because of how big you were. I might be just a small town vet, but even I know wolves don’t get that big.”

“So when then?” Graham prodded, his hands sliding to her forearms and his thumb brushing over the skin of her wrist.

“The day you brought Hunter in.” She laughed at the memory briefly, loving how awkwardly nervous he had been in her presence. “I just knew I had met you before. I could see it in your eyes.”

Graham smiled at her sadly. “And you’ve known all this time? Why didn’t you say anything?”

Without warning Ruby slapped him on the back of the head lightly, glaring at him. “Did you want the entire Werewolf council coming down on your ass?” She chastised, and when he didn’t answer, she continued. “No, neither did I. If it meant I only saw you a few times a week, I was willing to take that over never seeing you again.”

“Oh, Ruby,” Graham sighed sympathetically, pulling her into his strong arms and holding her tight. “I’m so sorry.”

“So you should be!” Ruby’s voice was muffled by his shirt and he loosened his grip on her so she could pull away from him. She flipped her hair back over her shoulder and he brushed a stray strand back behind her ear, giving her an amused look. “You knocked me up, Humbert. Now, what are we going to do?”

Graham could tell she was trying to make light of the situation, and it pained him to have to even consider the possibilities of their future. If they could even have one.

“I know what I have to do,” Graham said solemnly, running his hands down her arms and grabbing onto her fingers. “I just want to protect you.”

“I know that means you have to leave,” Ruby swallowed hard, the tears pricking at her eyelids. She could blame the pregnancy hormones if she really wanted to, but her tears were welling up at the thought of losing the man that she loved. “Just give me tonight,” she babbled, her breath hitching in her throat. “And be gone when-”

Graham dropping to one knee in front of her stopped her words and Ruby gasped audibly. He looked up at her with watery blue eyes of his own, his cheeks red and his hands shaking as they gripped hers for dear life.

“Graham, what are you-”

“Ruby Lucas, will you marry me?” Graham rasped in a shaky voice. “I don’t know how, but we have to make this work. We have to be together. For Hunter,” he joked and Ruby matched his laugh with her own.

“He would miss you terribly,” she agreed in a soft voice.

“Oh, and the baby,” Graham added, in case she was ever in any doubt of his intentions. Ruby rolled her eyes and gave him a playful tap on the cheek. “And I love you. With everything I have and everything I ever will have. I can’t promise it will be easy-”

“What, you mean a human and a werewolf? Pfft. It’s always been so easy for those sort of couples before,” Ruby teased, the truth in her words hitting them both hard. There would only be so long they could joke about this until they had to come up with a viable solution. “On second thought,” Ruby said suddenly, her smile fading.

Graham jumped to his feet and his panicked gaze flitted over her features. He saw her pain, he smelled her fear and there was nothing he could do to take it away. “Ruby, If you say no, I’ll still fight tooth and nail to protect you with everything I have,” Graham told her earnestly, cupping her face in his hands. He pressed his mouth to hers, his bottom lip shaking a little against hers. “I will give up everything I’ve ever known to protect you and our child.”

“Really?” Ruby breathed, looking up at him through her eyelashes.

“Really,” Graham nodded, resting his forehead against hers. “I’ll even move in,” he laughed weakly. A single tear rolled down his cheek when he pinched his eyes closed and the lump in his throat made it hard to breathe.

“Okay, ask me again,” Ruby whispered, her hands clutching the fabric of his shirt and holding him to her. Graham’s eyes opened to meet hers and she gave him a small smile.

“Ruby Lucas, Will you-”

“Yes,” she grinned as she cut him off, pulling his shirt hard until their lips met again.

Alii dimidium Lunam - flails/questions/comments this way!

[reivenesque]

Written for @liveandletrain for the @teenwolfexchange who wanted something about Melissa McCall and the baby betas. I don’t know if this is what you had in mind, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

The McCall Home for Wayward Youngsters (and other Supernatural Creatures)

Stiles was the first.

It wasn’t something that happened overnight, it was more of a gradual progression that she came to notice. The longer periods his mom spent in the hospital the more frequently she’d find him and Scott in a tangle of limbs, snoring, drooling slightly in their sleep sprawled one on top of the other in Scott’s bed. Eventually it became almost a habit to put out two plates instead of one before she left for work. On the rare occasions that Stiles ended up not sleeping over, she’d pack up the uneaten food for Scott to take to him to school or occasionally to the hospital where he’d be spending his nights instead.

Sometimes the food would go untouched; when Stiles could barely tear his eyes away from the wall he’d been staring blankly at for hours. When that happened, Melissa would send Scott out of the room to get Stiles something to drink from the vending machine; she knew he never got further than out the door, instead, slumping against the wall soundlessly, leaving her and Stiles to their privacy. In those moments, Melissa would reach an arm across Stiles’s shoulders, gently rubbing her hand up and down the length of his arm before pulling him close to her, letting him sob out his fear and his sorrow into her chest.

He hid his grief and his mourning well behind humour and jokes, but Melissa could always see straight through it.

The first set of their house keys he had she’d made for him herself and quietly slipped into his pocket when she hugged him before he left.  

Often, on the days when she’d be home late from work after working a triple shift just so she’d be able to put food on the table and keep the roof over their heads, she could hear the sound of shuffling in the lawn outside Scott’s window and the less than discrete muttered cursing of someone scaling up the side of their wall. It would usually end with the sound of a body crashing to the floor upstairs and Scott’s fervent hushing and the eventual sound of muffled laughter that would float down like a birdsong to Melissa’s ears.

She didn’t give Stiles a copy of their house keys expecting him to actually use it. She gave it to him so that he’d know that he was welcome in their house always.

Allison was the second.

Melissa had a fondness for Allison from the first moment she met her. She was kind and respectful and smart and she also gorgeous. Scott really struck gold with that one, Melissa thought often.

But Melissa was a realist. After everything she’d been through in her life, she had to be. So she knew that if something seemed too good to be true, it probably was. And the fact had never been proven more right than in the case of the Argents.

Her son was a werewolf.

Just thinking the words drove home what an utterly bizarre turn her life had ended up taking; even taking into account her summer off during her third year of college that she spent hitchhiking across the country and ended up having an incredible one night stand with the single cutest guy she’d ever seen in her life. Once again, everything that seemed too good to be true always ended up being just that. The guy turned out to be some weirdo travelling with his father and younger brother in a badass looking car that had an arsenal in the trunk.

Melissa couldn’t have packed up her bags and skedaddled out of town faster if she tried.

Her werewolf son’s girlfriend turned out to be a werewolf hunter. Not only that, but she also came from a long line of werewolf hunters, and if that wasn’t karma at work being an utter bitch, then Melissa was actually living in an alternate universe where zombies had taken over the world.

She gladly became the source of comfort for Allison when her mom died. Melissa had no lost love for the woman after everything she did to Scott and everything she almost did to her family. But she was still Allison’s mother, and Melissa wouldn’t even try to imagine a world in which it was Scott suffering through the same kind of loss, being offered empty words and useless reassurance when the only thing they truly needed was the feel of a mother’s comforting arms holding them close and wiping away their tears.

But through it all, their relationship – then friendship persevered and stayed strong – until it didn’t.

When Allison died, Melissa realized just how real the situation was, and how serious. It was easy to get caught up in the moment; to hear the words werewolf and kitsune and supernatural and just be like ‘Sure’.

But when Scott walked in through the door that night, his hands and clothes saturated with blood and the look of absolute devastation on his face, Melissa just knew. She didn’t say anything, she just gathered her son up in her arms and let him cry into her chest.

That was the first time she realized that this really was the end of their innocence. She knew it was coming as it inevitably came for everyone eventually. It came for her late, not until she realized that the prince charming she married wasn’t much of a prince and he ended up not being all that charming either. But she had wanted to protect Scott from experiencing that for as long as she could.

That night she realized that for the first time in her life, she failed as a parent.

Isaac was the third.

Melissa was used to seeing a lot of things, a lot of terrible things and terrible situations passing through the hospital doors daily.

The moment she laid eyes on Isaac she knew; the way he’d flinch back whenever she was too quick in reaching for something in his vicinity. The way his eyes would shift to the floor almost in submission and the way his back would hunch down trying to make himself appear as small as he could whenever she was too angry and too vicious yelling into the phone receiver at the dumbass on the other end of the line.

The way he slept curled up on the floor instead of the bed during his first few nights there.

She never mentioned it and she never called attention to it. She let him do what he needed to do to feel comfortable; she just made sure to vacuum and mop the floor as clean as she could make it. She couldn’t stop him from sleeping there, but she could at least make sure that the surface he was sleeping on was clean enough to eat off of.

A week to the day he moved in, Melissa found him sprawled out on the mattress, his long limbs hanging off the sides and his head half hidden under the pillow instead of on it. She quietly tiptoed in and tucked the spare wool blanket around him and walked out, careful not to wake him out of his slumber.

Melissa lost three things the day Allison died.

She lost Allison. She lost Scott’s innocence, and she lost Isaac.

But she powered through regardless. She had to. She didn’t just have herself to carry forward and support, she still had her son; she had Stiles and their friends and Chris who was inconsolable over the death of both his wife and daughter. She had the sheriff who needed her to be strong for him to be strong, because the kids may have had the pack, but Melissa, Chris and Noah really only had each other; the only people who truly understood what each other were going through and the pain that came along with raising a child in such a terrible, cruel world.

Liam was the fourth.

Scott has had many betas through the years, at least she saw all of them as such and it was obvious that was the way they saw themselves as well.

But Liam was his first.

Melissa knew from the moment he came to her, his eyes red rimmed and damp, his body language almost drenched in guilt – that he didn’t have a choice. He didn’t have to say as much because she knew her son. She knew the trouble he went through when he was turned and she knew how difficult it was for him to accept what had happened; to accept what he was. She knew how afraid he was that she wouldn’t accept him, that she would stop loving him and it was that fear that she could still sometimes see in his eyes, hovering just in the background of his gaze.

She knew he would never wish that feeling on anyone else.

But it happened, Scott did to Liam what had been done to him and no matter the reason, Melissa knew he would never truly absolve himself of the guilt.

She could tell right off the bat that his bond and his relationship with Liam was different than the one he had with the others. There was an aura around them, a feeling that was projected that was akin to the bond between a father and son, but one that wasn’t forged by blood or by relation, but instead was bound by something greater than that.

If anything were to ever happen to Liam, Melissa knew that Scott would never recover from it.

Liam came into their home and not unlike the way Stiles had made himself completely comfortable; from the moment he stepped through the door, his presence in the house just felt absolutely right.

Theo was the fifth.

Melissa had strong mixed feelings about Theo from the very beginning; from the first moment she laid eyes on him after Liam pulled him out of hell.

He killed her son. He almost tore their pack to pieces and he wreaked havoc at every corner from the moment he stepped back into town.

But at the same time, Melissa couldn’t stop seeing a much younger face staring back at her when she turned to look at him. She remembered him as a young boy when he lived in Beacon Hills all those years ago. She remembered his frequent trips to the ER because of his asthma. The memory stood out to her because she used to reflect on how much he reminded her of Scott.

But where Scott had her at his side whenever an asthma attack was particularly vicious, Theo only had his sister who would stay by his side through the treatment, and a father who would stomp in, disgruntled and complaining, to sign the release forms only because he had to.

Even when Melissa was at her angriest, the sight of her son’s bloodied body lying limp in her arms still so fresh in her memory, she still couldn’t find it in her to turn him away and throw him out.

Instead she’d sit him down opposite her at the dinner table and make him hot chocolate.

The utterly baffled look on his face was rewarding enough to her.

Melissa didn’t fail to notice the way Liam would come by more often since Theo started staying with them, and the way they would both suspiciously disappear together once the attention of the room was no longer focused on them. But that was a story for another time.

It was hard sometimes, watching these kids that she’d grown to care about come and go – and die, which sadly happened more times than she wanted. She remembered comforting one of the twin alphas after the death of his brother and Melissa didn’t think she’d ever seen grief as potent as she did in that moment.

It was hard sometimes, but it was rewarding most of the time.

Theo was the latest, but Melissa knew that he wouldn’t be the last, and she knew that she would gladly accept every single one of them with open arms, over and over again.

The end.

This is sort of an extension of the plotline and characterization I already have for Melissa in Heart of the Heartless. The fic title is also actually the title of chapter 9, I just elaborated more on it. Also I hope you caught the small cameo I secretly inserted :)

[unclehades]

Tell me all about that steampunk game! I love that style :)

nice!! i used to be big into steampunk but i never cosplayed in the style or did much other than watch steam boy (great movie) and listen to dr. steel, abney park and steam-powered giraffe

(putting this under a read more because holy fuck it’s long)

note: if you want to learn more, you can send specific asks about specific characters and i’ll try to answer them as best as i can

characters

1. Victor Porter, 21, cishet male | An airship soldier who has a prosthetic arm; is considered to be a hero by some, a heartthrob by others, but who believes that humans are top race and everyone else is beneath him. Says quite a few degrading/racist things about other races, which is including but not limited to xenophobia and microaggressions. He lost his arm at the age of 8 when a group of soldiers from another country came and murdered his parents, then targeted him and his sister. He was already bleeding heavily but he saw them about to hurt his sister so, with a punch of adrenaline, he lunged between the blade and his sister and thus had his arm cut off completely. He felt no pain due to the adrenaline, but then spent a week or two in the hospital recovering. He screamed quite a bit when he realized what had happened. He was later given a weak prosthetic arm with working fingers to be able to work in the city but was fired because the hand couldn’t properly grip things, so he spent most of his time reading about airships and piloting them. At the age of 16, he was given a golden prosthetic arm with working parts that made the fingers move so well and fluidly that it was a blessing; he put the arm to good use and cleaned it every night to keep it in good shape. He experienced ghost pains in his arm for the longest time which he thought were fixed with a few sips of alcohol in a secret carafe, and later he joins the army to protect his friends and family from outside forces.

2. Amelia Porter, 16, cishet female | Sister to Victor, Amelia is a young woman who loves fashion and sewing and creates her own clothes by thrifting old clothes. She works primarily with a large fashion company and models their clothes, most notably corsets and stockings. She rarely show much skin other than her arms, chest (cleavage) and legs (no higher than mid-thigh), and she is very child-friendly and polite to everyone she meets. While her brother is the dark, brooding type, she sees the good in everyone and everything and is very fascinated by the different races and cultures that mix in her home city. She is very small and petite, and although she remembers vividly her brother protecting her from soldiers, she refuses to let him keep a close eye on her, reassuring him that she’s a grown woman who doesn’t need a man to tell her what to do. She’s very independent and mature for her age, but prefers to act like a Disney princess. Like her brother, she can say some sort of racist things without realizing it but apologizes for being insensitive and wants to better herself and respect those she’s wronged. She really enjoys pastel and pink and “girly” things and is most always wearing a large skirt with a high bustle and corset with her hair in pigtails, braids or a bun.

3. Kit and Kat Enrora, 18, cishet male/female | Twin siblings who hail from a foreign land that moved to the main city in the sky to open a bakery under their family’s name of Enrora. They traveled by airship to arrive in the city only to face poverty at the prospect of being in a new land, and soon worked their way up to be able to open a bakery and sell their sweets. They are elves with long ears and markings to signify which lands they come from, and hold fast to the lore and legends of their hometown. They are skilled with herbs and incorporate them into their sweets to bring blessings upon those who purchase them. The female elf - Kit - embraces her elf heritage and dresses in garb from her hometown - primarily sheer skirts, soft-colored tops and gold jewelry to compliment her tanned skin and emerald green eyes. Her brother, Kat, has decided to build a new life for himself in the city and wears the garb of those that live there, which consists of slacks, spats and button-down shirts with vests. Despite their success so far in the city, they are looked down upon by most humans for being a different race and people believe they have an ulterior motive because of the way their menu is written in their native language and the language of the humans (similar to how white people are immediately suspicious of people wearing hijabs). The airship soldier, Victor, walks in one day and quickly falls for Kit based on her looks but is rude to her because of her elf heritage. Kit soon realizes he’s a dick and stands up for herself and her brother by kicking him out, and when he returns to apologize, she refuses to let him get away with a simple “I’m sorry” and gets him to face the truth that he’s an asshole.

4. Enoch Davies, 18, demisexual man| Enoch is a man of very few words, but very high intelligence. Born and raised on the city in the sky and living his life as a human, he is still underestimated due to his dark skin and stagnant silence. Enoch has had high marks in all his academic courses since elementary school, and yet people view him as little more than a “steam cleaner” because he repairs airships for the military and little else. He can be seen hanging around the bakery very often as he has a weak spot for the sweets sold their, and if properly asked, he will admit that he has a secret love of poetry; on rare occasions one can see shelves and shelves of journals in his office that he’s filled up over the course of a few months. He has dreads that reach the center of his back when let down, and wears them up in a bun while he’s working to keep them out of his face. Although his work for the army is a greatly appreciated task, he is still disregarded as a mere worker. However, when the army needs him most, he can easily calculate strategies and analyze data at lightning-fast speeds. When he speaks, his voice is gentle and soft and highly inquisitive.

5. Ewan Gilian, 20, poly agender person | A werewolf who’s spent most of his life collecting peculiar items, Ewan is a travelling merchant who brings his wares to far-off countries for a great price - and perhaps some juicy gossip as well. For the right price, Ewan will tell you how the people far away dance till the sun comes up, or how Miss Augustine down the road frequents the bar a little too often before she has to teach classes. Ewan also has a way with words, which has gotten him out of a few situations regarding the police, capitalism and the royal guard. Every so often, however, Ewan’s signature merchant’s carpet won’t be found at the marketplace, and by that logic, it is safe to assume that he’s either sick as a dog (*cough cough*) or just simply out having a nice date night with his partner(s).

*this is only a very short list of who i have set up. there’s also faun people and fairies and much much more in terms of npcs and characters.

i also have a concept for a religious faction to divide the town - those who believe in the Goddess of Steam and those who believe in the Goddess of Science.

[cajunquandary]

To the Sound of Thunder (Baby’s Big 50 Writing Challenge)

Characters: Dean x Impala, and his family, past and present.

Word Count: 5200

Warnings: FLUFF. Bittersweet kill-me-now fluff. As always, canon level violence and mentions of smut.

Summary: While hunting “Bigfoot” on Flagstaff Mountain, Colorado, Dean realizes that it’s the Impala’s fiftieth birthday and decides to take her out for a scenic drive and share a cold one with the one thing that’s remained steady in his life—his home, his pride, his Baby.

A/N: This is for Baby’s Big 50 Writing Challenge; my prompt was “Night Moves” by Bob Seger. I know I joined it a little late, but I couldn’t resist! Thank you for the opportunity @butiaintgonnaloveem. The amount of daydreaming this fic inspired through the writing process was ridiculous in the most incredible ways. I hope my descriptions do the imagery even so much as a half justice. I may have laughed through tears through this experience more often than I’d like to admit.

Another note: I chose this location over all others for Jensen Ackles, who said in a recent con that he would love to see the boys go to the Grand Canyon if he could choose anywhere in the US for them to go. Thank you for the long ride here, “Dean;” I hope we have many more miles to go.

“Bigfoot, seriously?”

“Yeah, Dean. The surviving victim swears it was Bigfoot, and that it had bright yellow eyes and claws. The park rangers claim it was a bear attack. The guy was lucky to make it. He said that it ran away after the sun started to come out.”

“Okay, so what are we thinking? Shapeshifter? Werewolf? Rugaru?”

“Well, it was a full moon, and the other victims’ time of death was estimated to all be within the last three days.”

“Well, it could be our thing. If it is, that only gives us one more night to find this sucker and gank it. Where is it again?”

“Flagstaff Mountain in Boulder, Colorado.”

Dean finally looked up from his copy of Busty Asian Beauties that he attempted to hide behind yesterday’s paper. Sam always knew though, especially when the paper (or research book or map, depending on the day) was upside down. Sam just smiled at his older brother. He’s always looked up to him and knew him better than anyone else ever had. Dean could never really hide anything from him, but Sam let him have his private pleasures without ever saying a word, even pretending on more than a few occasions that he didn’t see the those pleasures carelessly laid about when Dean thought he was alone. Instead, he would casually continue conversation, turn his back and pretend to be preoccupied with something in his hands while Dean slowly slid the items out of view.

What Sam didn’t know was that Dean knew why he turned his back. It was a game they’d played since Sammy was a little kid. Dean knew he didn’t mind but loved that he played along. It was something that reminded Dean that his baby brother loved and respected him. That’s why on days that Dean felt like giving up, losing hope, he would leave an open magazine or empty condom wrapper on Sam’s bed and initiate the game. It was never dirty, never a used condom, and always made him feel better, feel loved. After all, Dean doesn’t do chick flick moments.

“Oh really?” Dean failed to conceal his excitement as a huge, toothy grin rolled slowly across his face and his eyes grew big and sparkled. “We leave in ten!” Completely unable to hold himself together anymore, he leapt from the table and sprinted off to his room.

Sam laughed and shook his head, long hair falling slightly in his face. It wasn’t often that he got to see Dean acting like a little kid, excluding hexes and angelic manipulation (yes, we’re looking at you, Zachariah and Gabriel.) Dean’s elation was infectious, and soon Sam was bounding off to throw his bag together as well. It was a good thing that Dean had spent a few hours this morning detailing Baby. While he packed, he shot a quick call to Mary, who was hunting another werewolf with Castiel in Alliance, Nebraska.  

A loud “Whoohoooo!!” echoed through the bunker.

“I take it Dean’s excited,” Mary let out a soft, breathy laugh on the other end of the line.

“Yeah, he’s always wanted to have an excuse to see the Grand Canyon, and now he has one.”

“Alright, well you boys be careful. We are finishing up here and will meet you there.”

“We will, love you Mom.”

“I love you, too, Sam.” She ended the call first, as usual.

“You ready to go, little brother?” Dean popped into Sam’s room, a hand on either side of the door frame as he leaned off balance, the biggest goofiest smile plastered on his face.

“Dude, what are you wearing?” Sam started cracking up at the sight before him. Oversized dark aviators rested on pink, freckled cheeks, a woman’s straw hat the size of Texas haphazardly set on his brother’s head, a backpack with water pouch Sam had never seen before strung over Dean’s left shoulder, the typical duffle bag slung over his right. A disposable camera hung loosely from a lanyard around his neck.

“What are you… not wearing?” Dean pursed his lips in feigned annoyance as he struggled with a comeback. He had never been particularly witty with those.

Before long, the boys were loaded and ready to go, Baby’s tires leaving white smoke and black treads as she screamed forth from the garage.

The intro to “Night Moves” strummed lightly through the cab. “Alriiight! Umph!” Dean readjusted in his seat, swerving slightly, biting his lip and turning up the volume until it was nearly as loud as it could go. He drove with his knee as fisted hands danced through the air in an awful imitation of air guitar, then to the drums. Dean began to sing at the top of his lungs, Sam rolling his eyes, one arm slung over the seat, tapping lightly along behind his brother’s back, his other arm resting on the window pane. As he stared out the window, heart light in his chest for the first time in months, he flashed back to all the other times that Dean danced and sang. Every time it had been in this car.

For some reason, Dean had always felt safe in Baby. She was his, and he was hers. Sam chuckled to himself and sang along, remembering how Dean would spend hours working on her after a hunt, even if he was still bleeding and sore. She always had a full gas tank and new parts and oil, before anything wore out, even if it meant Dean went without a meal or two. Dean always put everything before himself, especially his family, and this car? This car was not a car at all. She was as much family as Sam or Mary or Castiel, as much family as anyone Dean had ever loved.

In return, Baby took care of him, of both of them. She took almost all terrain they’d trekked over like a champ, rain or shine. She protected them from demon-possessed truckers, gave Sam the strength to hold Lucifer back from killing Dean, served as a refuge from attacking demons who flipped her (on more than one occasion), even standing strong when she faced the Darkness. Both times. Sure, she’d been possessed once or twice, and even Sam had become a part of her once thanks to Gabriel. She always stood strong, a warm dry place for the boys to rest their heads when there was nowhere else to go. The Winchester Motel… if she were sentient, she’d like that. She would take pride in it. She was a Winchester.

Even when Dean beat her with a tire iron seventeen times, she didn’t flinch. She was always there for her boys. She’d known them since before they were born. She was there when both were conceived, their first heartbeats had started in her very cab. She was there when Mary’s water broke, and whisked her to the hospital both times. Dean, though, never quite made it to the hospital bed. Instead, he was born right there in the Emergency Entrance drive on the soft old leather of her front seat. His first breath was one full of her scent—the gasoline, oil, metal and leather. It was a scent that he would carry as his own for the rest of his life.

The miles raced passed, the sun setting through her front windshield. The music had since been lowered, and Sam was drifting to sleep. Dean looked over at his brother whose head was lolling towards him. Dean smiled sadly as he remembered the day he practically threw Sam in the Impala and drug him away from Stanford to work cases and look for Dad. He remembered all those pranks they’d play on each other. In fact, it was in this very position that Dean loved to put things like spoons and napkins and ketchup packets in his brother’s slack lips, only to turn the music bag up or swerve hard enough to wake him up. Sam would always sit up wide eyed and confused, usually throwing the items from his mouth back at Dean, or dish out a few solid punches to the arm. Dean would never admit it, but he wore those bruises proudly. His baby bro had grown up so strong, he couldn’t be prouder.

This time though, he let Sam rest, tapping along to the radio, sighing when commercials would interrupt. He flipped down the visor when the sun grew to vibrant in its last rays, lighting up the hood as Baby purred along. Sam sat up in his sleep, then leaned his head against the window, smacking his lips lightly and mumbling something about purple pancakes.

Dean loved it when Sam spoke in his sleep. It rarely made sense, and sometimes he could hold a conversation. Dean reached over and flipped down the other visor, Sam’s face softening in relief.

When night fell, they were nearly there. Dean looked down at the gauges again. It was a habit so ingrained in him, watching and listening to everything the Impala did to make sure she was okay. In fact, he watched her gauges more than his speed, nearly costing him a ticket a few times. Dean smiled as stars reflected off of her hood, slowly sliding across. As a child, he would stand up gripping the dashboard, small fingers holding onto it through the air conditioning outlets that seldom worked when she was John’s. He would watch with bright eyes open wide as the stars and moon passed over her black silhouette and imagine that he was in the fastest space ship. In this fantasy, he was the hero and his dad would ask him for help to defeat the aliens. He would flop back into his seat and point little finger guns out the window and say “Pew pew pew!” while shooting at invisible starships as the dark ground flew by. John always thought Dean was practicing hunting. If he had known the truth, he may not have pushed Dean so hard. You see, in John’s mind, he thought that Dean wanted to be a soldier, even though the poor kid a tender heart and hated practicing on robins. He would cry every time he killed one. Perplexed, John would always yell at him until the tears stopped coming, telling him that a soldier never cries, and if Dean wanted to be a soldier, he had to be tough, and death was just part of the job. Eventually, Dean stopped seeing the what if’s and grand imaginary scenes. He knew there were real monsters, and it was his job to beat them. But, every once and a while, Dean would fall asleep watching the night sky reflected on Baby’s polished hood, and dream of things bigger than this world he carried on his small shoulders.

Baby was more than a car back then, more than a place to sleep when John couldn’t score a motel—she was his spaceship, his escape and his redemption…

But always, she has been his trusty stead on his quest.

Sammy never felt like he had a quest or purpose. Sure, he had imagination longer than Dean, including a friend named Sully. Sully loved Baby, too. Sam would lay down on the backseat floor, his little feet touching the driver’s side door while Sully measured his height. There were tiny notches underneath the front seat, Sam adding a new one every year. He wanted so badly to be as big as his brother and father. They were giants to him, as big as the legends Sully told him about, but not bigger than the Impala. Sam wanted to be bigger than her. The notches are still there. Dean has always known about them, and made sure to keep them every time he had to rebuild her, along with her other details, like the green army man, the blocks, the boys’ initials carved into her floor.

Baby was Sam’s happy place, too. When John would come home drunk and begin to take it out on Dean, it only took one hit to send little Sammy flying into her side when he tried to intervene. It was always an accident, John only ever meant to hit Dean, but it seemed to make John calm down faster and leave them alone, so it was always worth it. Sam would pull Dean up from the ground and push him into the Impala, closing the door behind them. John would be passed out by this point and wouldn’t even notice. Sam would lock the doors anyway as Dean curled into a ball on the seat. His brother never cried in front of him, just stared up at the roof, memorizing her every curve, her silence and protection soothing him slowly to sleep. Sam would sit in the driver’s seat, both hands on the wheel. He couldn’t even see over the dash, but he imagined driving her far away, his brother by his side.

The Impala gracefully turned into the woods, gliding over every bump gently. The movement woke Sam up though, and he rubbed at his eyes, lifting the visor so he could see better. Mary and Castiel were already waiting, silver weapons ready for the werewolf. Mary had made great time and gotten a lead on it from a park ranger. Baby rolled to a stop, her rolling idle silenced as Dean turned the key and got out. The hinges on her doors squeaked a little bit as the pair shut them. Dean could easily fix it, but never would, claiming that it “gave her more character,” as if she really needed any. She had always been a beast of her own, standing out from all the rest, even covered in dust, mud, and monster blood. Dean unlocked her trunk, pulling their weapons out, double checking the magazine on his handgun and the silver bullets that it contained. His hand lingered over the rocket launcher and Sam cleared his throat. Dean rolled his eyes and shut the trunk roughly. Feeling a little bad about handling her like that, he patted her reassuringly before he joined the others and stalked off into the forest to kill the monster, his arm slung over Castiel’s shoulder and the angel walking stiffly by his side.

Baby sat there, nearly invisible in the darkness, only bits of her lit by the moonlight filtering down through the tall trees. A raccoon ambled forth from the bushes, climbing up to her hood, taking pleasure in the smooth warmth. It scampered to the windshield, picking at the wipers curiously before getting bored and going back to sprawl out stomach down over the engine. The radiating warmth of her brought the attention of an owl, a fox, and a few squirrels. The owl perched on the roof, enjoying the vantage point, mesmerized by its reflection. The fox crept up silently and slipped underneath her, snuggling up to the inside of the tire. The squirrel popped up onto the hood searching for the source of the heat, but chattered at the raccoon for startling it. The raccoon angrily chased the squirrel round and round until it expertly dodged into the tire well and into the engine bay. The fox flicked its ears and listened to the rodent as it scritched and scratched.

When morning broke and the first light touched the chrome bumper, the tired hunters emerged from the woods, Mary limping a little as Sam supported her weight. Dean found some little reserve of energy and ran over to baby, shouting about all the tiny animal prints all over her. He ranted and ranted until the energy he’d discovered extinguished. Castiel drove Mary and her car back to the nearest motel, Dean and Sam and Baby in the lead.

After a long nap and a good lunch, everyone sat around the diner table, planning their next move. Well, everyone except Sam, who almost always had his nose stuck in some article or book.

“Well, you guys can go home, I’m going to see the Grand Canyon.” Dean crossed his arms and puffed out his lips, his dimples more prominent now.

“Why do you want to see it so badly? I know John worked a case out here in Boulder once with you, it’s in his journal.” Mary wondered aloud. She and John had seen it a few times before the boys were born. It was one of his favorite places.

Dean kicked his feet under the table, eyes cast down. Castiel shifted uncomfortably in his seat, already knowing the answer.

“He said we had more important things to do.” The truth was that John had lashed out at Dean when he’d asked, yelling that the Grand Canyon had nothing grand about it and that he would never ever go there again. Dean wasn’t missing anything. When Dean had tried to ask why, he only received a black eye and bruised rib. He never brought it up again, and was so glad that Sammy had left for college already. After all these years though, he finally knew why. Mary. It had always been Mary.

Mary just shrugged in her innocence, dropping it.

Sam looked up from his paper. “Hey Dean, did you know that it’s the Impala’s 50th birthday?”

Dean snatched the paper from him, quickly locating the small paragraph dedicated to it on the bottom of the page. He grinned widely, already mentally planning out where to get some beer or booze on his way to Canyon to celebrate. And pie. There had to be celebratory pie involved. Maybe apple. Or cherry. Hmm.

Mary sighed and shook her head, still trying to grasp at the thirty years she’d lost. Castiel put a hand on Dean’s shoulder, giving him a knowing look. “Be careful.” It’s almost as if the angel could read his mind as this happened all the time.

Sam put his arms down on the table. “Alright, I’m going back home with Mom and Cas. If you get too drunk and fall into the Canyon, don’t call me,” he joked.

A few hugs and goodbyes later, Sam had pulled his bag from the back of the Impala and waved his brother off, belly laughing that Dean was wearing that silly hat, sunglasses, and camera again. He rolled her windows down, turned the music up as loud as he could and peeled out of the parking lot, turning the eye of every person and animal within hearing distance. Baby had that effect on people, even without Dean’s coaxing.

He parked her about ten feet from the edge of the Canyon, pausing for a moment after turning the key, taking in the view through the windshield. He felt so small there in his car, but so alive and powerful, like if he could, he could make his own canyon just by driving the Impala. He reached into the cooler in the back seat, withdrawing two beers. Closing the door, he was happy that he was wearing such ridiculous garb, as it blocked some of the sunlight beating down on him. His singers never left Baby, instead tracing gently along her lines as he walked to the front.  Taking his eyes from the view for a moment, he turned and looked at her, patting her hood lovingly.

“Happy birthday, old girl. You’ll always be my Baby.”

He eased himself down, her grill temporarily holding his weight as he used her for support. He spread his bowlegs, enjoying the hard earth beneath him, somehow cool even in the heat. Dean popped the caps on both bottles as he leaned back onto her chrome, tapping the tops together lightly, then tapping one to her grill and setting it under her. He drained his slowly, savoring the wind and the beauty before him, “Night Moves” still stuck in his head from the day before.

He began to sing it. He actually sang very well, and discovered this behind the wheel of Baby when John started letting him take her out alone more. He wouldn’t ever sing like this in front of anyone, he was too shy for that. He’d rather look like an idiot than admit he was good at something artsy.

“I was a little too tall Could've used a few pounds Tight pants points hardly reknown She was a black-haired beauty with big dark eyes And points all her own sitting way up high Way up firm and high”

He gazed lazily into the Canyon, watching a small canoe drift slowly down the channel. He remembered being a lanky teen, smaller than the other boys his age, but taller. He laughed, remembering the time he was trying to impress a girl by climbing a bridge, and ended up ripping his pants in the process, so embarrassed that he’d run back to the cover of Baby and drove away, never looking back at the girl who was mocking him. He’d always felt so big when he was in Baby, especially behind the wheel. She might have a low profile, but she may as well sit higher than any truck out there.

“Out past the cornfields where the woods got heavy Out in the back seat of my '60 Chevy Workin' on mysteries without any clues Workin' on our night moves Tryin' to make some front page drive-in news Workin' on our night moves In the summertime In the sweet summertime”

It came to him in flashes as he recalled picking up girls from bars when he’d get bored or frustrated during a case, taking them to dark, quiet places and giving them a thorough tour of the backseat. Summer was his favorite—something about the sweat and heat made the leather scent stronger, the shocks weren’t as squeaky, and cool night air drifted in through open windows as moans and whispers of sweet nothings wafted out. Summer nights seemed thicker, a warm blanket shrouding him as he found his release.

“We weren't in love, oh no, far from it We weren't searchin' for some pie in the sky summit We were just young and restless and bored Livin' by the sword And we'd steal away every chance we could To the backroom, to the alley or the trusty woods”

He chuckled, remembering the few times he’d caught Sam in the backseat. Always the embarrassing big brother, he’d make sure to lean into the window, knock loudly and give a huge open smile and two thumbs up next to his face then run away. Sam hated when he did that. The Impala was the perfect size for Dean. He and his lady would always fit perfectly together, neither falling off. It was just the right height for him to grip her with one hand, and the roof with the other. He even had the perfect rhythm down, to where the bouncing of the car countered his thrusts perfectly in time, so he only had to do half the work. He cringed and tried not to think of his mom and dad enjoying the same thing.

“I used her, she used me But neither one cared We were gettin' our share Workin' on our night moves Tryin' to lose the awkward teenage blues Workin' on our night moves And it was summertime Sweet summertime summertime”

The few times John had let him take Baby out when he was a young man, Dean made sure to practice truly driving her. He imagined being chased, doing the chasing, NASCAR and jumping things like he’d see in movies. He would see how fast she could take a turn, see how many donuts she could do in twenty seconds, and see how fast she could go on straightaways, always pushing her to the limit. Sure there were plenty of close calls, but Baby was reliable and Dean treated her with care and love. When he was behind her wheel, all his worries faded. She gave him a sense of freedom and breathed the life back into his tired bones. He’d scream as her tires did, sway with her down curvy roads. She was his outlet, and he took extra care and pride in her for it. He’d always dig a little deeper than John did when he washed her, notice more while digging in her engine to replace a part. He never could replace just one at a time—if anything was even close to wearing out, he fixed it. John always scoffed about how wasteful it was, but secretly was proud that his son took such great care of something.

“And oh the wonder We felt the lightning And we waited on the thunder Waited on the thunder”

The sun was beginning to set, and Dean huffed at the irony of the dark clouds rolling in. Slowly, he stood up, soaking in even more of the deep Canyon before him. He walked to the edge, peering down. At one time, this would have scared him shitless, but he’s faced everything the universe has had to throw at him and come out (mostly) alive. He sucked in his breath and stopped singing for a moment, a chill crawling down his spine and seeping through his veins. Soft echoes of thunder rolled in the distance and he lifted his gaze. The sunset was peeking out from under the storm clouds, lighting the undersides in a soft red glow as lightning gently webbed across the top. It was amazing how he could see the storm so clearly from so far away over the Canyon.

He stepped away from the edge and walked past Baby, lifting the disposable camera that his large hands seemed to swallow. He looked through the tiny glass, capturing Baby, the Grand Canyon, the storm, and sunset all in on frame. Damn, she was beautiful sitting there, almost like she belonged. Then he turned his back and focused the camera in the same spot, this time with his face in the frame. He wore a soft, thin smile and the camera reflected in his glasses. He snapped the photo just before his hat flew off in a suddenly cool gust of wind. He stepped back to the edge, watching as it rode the wind. It floated on for some time before settling on a rock by the river. It was so far at this point, Dean had to squint. It really was a long, long way down. Dean took off his glasses and reached in the back for another beer. This time, he drained it quickly.

He began to sing again as he walked back to the edge.

“I awoke last night to the sound of thunder How far off I sat and wondered Started humming a song from 1962”

Dean lifted his arms out and spread his legs slightly, making his toes flush with end of the cliff. He closed his eyes, breathing in deeply, voice louder yet softer at the same time, smoother, lined with more emotion:

“Ain't it funny how the night moves When you just don't seem to have as much to lose”

His voice cracked on the last line, but he continued, reveling in the knowledge that one gust could take him over the edge, even after all that he’d been through, all that he’d faced, wind could end him.

“Strange how the night moves With autumn closing in”

When he finished the song, he crouched down, allowing his legs to dangle freely as the sun disappeared and the stars fought the progressing clouds. He laid down, hands folding across his chest. There were more stars than he’d ever seen in his life. He wondered how many Castiel had seen up close. When the storm finally shrouded his view of the sky, and rain poured from the angry heavens in torrents, he ran to roll up Baby’s windows. Already drenched and without a soul in sight, he decided to strip down to his boxers and enjoy the feel of the rain on his skin. He leaned against the Impala. Large droplets thunked off of her metal frame and Dean listened closer. Baby was producing a symphony all her own, without her engine even purring. Everywhere a drop hit sounded different. It was magnificent. Maybe it was her who taught him how to sing—she was a force all her own, and he knew even his voice could never carry so much grace and power as that car. Even silent and still she filled the air with her voice, her music.

Now, Dean wasn’t a praying man, but in that moment, he sent a quick one to Chuck above, wherever his holy ass was, and he thanked him for Baby, and prayed for another fifty years with her. He knew Chuck could hear him, and still chose to stay quiet, as with the rest of humanity. Lightning flashed before him, raising the temperature about ten degrees, as the large bolt struck the bottom of the Canyon, thunder booming all around. In the typical Winchester way, Dean would never admit it, but he saw that as a sign and he smiled. He tugged and pulled at his wet clothes the best he could then climbed back in the Impala. She roared to life when he turned the key, pulsing beneath him. Dean revved her a few times, yelling with every raise of RPMs as she growled with the thunder. He zipped away from the Canyon, splashing through a few puddles along the way for fun, taking simple pleasure in the way the water trundled off of her windshield before it was flicked away by the wipers. Dean would definitely be back, maybe he’d make it a tradition, and drag Sam and Cas with him next year. Yeah, that would be nice.

The open beer still sat untouched at the edge of the Canyon. In fact, it remained there for a few years, the silent statue a memorial of Baby’s birthday and all the memories made in her, Dean’s freedom, and Chuck’s answer. It was there through rain and sun, summer and winter, until a lonely child wandered from his bickering family, picked it up and wondered at the empty brown glass, then found peace when he chunked it into the valley below, feeling relief as it kept fading from sight.

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All about that Dean:

@akshi8278​