#like maybe the blood moon and the stress were enough to trigger it but a normal moon 🤷

[useyernamesteven]

It might just be me, but I kinda like the concept of Enid still having trouble "wolfing out" post s1

Don't get me wrong wolf!roommate antics would be great too, but like imagine:

....

Enid goes home and she's over the freakin MOON cuz she's finally a real werewolf now, just like the rest of her pack! She tells her family and obviously her mom is relieved (and yet still critical of Enids other invisible flaws) and her Dads happy she's happy and her brothers are annoying and for some reason her scars aren't healing as quickly as a werewolf should be able to heal but it doesn't matter cuz at least she finally feels normal (even if there is a small monotoned voice that sounds suspiciously like her fav lil psycho somewhere in the back of her mind telling her she was "normal" just being herself)

Then a month goes by and its the night of the full moon and Enid's with her family and pack in the woods and everyone starts wolfing out around her and Enid's so excited to join in. But ten minutes go by, then 30 and Enid's excitement starts to dwindle. At the hour mark she feels like she's panicking bcuz why hasn't she turned yet?? and the other wolves in the pack are starting to get antsy waiting for the hunt. After another twenty minutes still waiting, the pack take off and Enid's left alone at the campsite, still human.

The next morning the pack come back and Enid comes out of her tent, keeping her head down as feelings of shame and embarrassment color her cheeks. Her Dad pats her shoulder, tells her she'll get the next one, but her mother refuses to acknowledge her until they get home, and even then its only to hand her another round of brochures before Enid heads off to go cry herself to sleep.

Fast-forward and Nevermore opens back up and Enid's scrambling to get out of her house bcuz she can't stand it any longer. At least at school she has friends who don't really care if she can't shift. She even gets a three-second hug out of Wednesday when they reunite!

A week later is the full moon and Enid's trying so hard to not let it get to her but it seems Wednesday can see through all her fake smiles and nonchalance cuz she corners Enid the night before the full moon and asks her to either produce an explanation or suffer Wednesdays interrogation methods. And Enid comes clean in a sloppy sobbing mess of "i thought i was normal now!" and "its not fair".

And she feels bad cuz Wednesday is obviously NOT the person you should be dumping your emotional blights upon, but surprisingly her roommate seems solemn (more so than per usual Addams fashion) and it isnt until Wednesdays gingerly patting her head that Enid realizes she's actually attempting to cheer her up. And Enid bursts out laughing bcuz its very sweet and caring and so unlike her dreary bff that it actually does the trick.

Thing puts on Jennifer's Body which is a little on the nose given what happened last semester but its something they can all enjoy and Enid nearly chokes on a mouthful of popcorn when Wednesday admits she finds Megan Fox attractive but only when she's covered in blood and devouring the foolish men who fell victim to her seductions. Then they put on Legally Blonde and Enid chokes on her popcorn again when Wednesday says she's seen it before, and they spend three hours playing and pausing it to argue and critique the plot points and "its a girlpower movie Willa!" and eventually they fall asleep and Enid forgets why she was even upset to begin with.

Well, until the next day when its the full moon and Enid's a lil disappointed but not terribly so bcuz her wolf friends invite her out to lunch for some food and a howl, Ajax and Yoko have been sending her silly memes all day, and Thing gave her a manicure this afternoon, but the cherry on top is Wednesday promising another movie night and she gave Enid full control over what they watch. By the time the moon starts rising Enid feels like she's on cloud 9...

Which is inevitably when everything goes to shit bcuz the pain kicks in mid-way through "Let it Go" and Enid has enough strength in her to at least push past a notably worried roomie and out onto their balcony before her bones start cracking and holy shit she's wolfing out! But shes freakin out and so disoriented, not used to her new body or the flood to her senses that are suddenly on blast, and shes panicking and panicking until she hears someone calling to her, coaxing her, and a scent she knows all too well. It calms her, centers her, and Enid comes back to her senses a little to see Wednesday out on the balcony with her, hand outstretched but not touching. And Enid gives a few cautious sniffs and whines and its then that Wednesday finally brushes her fingers along her snout, up to her ears, and begins to softly, soothingly pet her and its then that Enid finally feels like herself in that moment.

She wakes up the next morning on the floor of their room with a small mountain of blankets, stuffed animals, and pillows around her, and Wednesday on her bed beside her. There are claw marks along the floor and fur shed all over the place, but nothings broken and she doesn't smell blood (beside the usual aroma a la Addams). How her roomie managed to get a full blown werewolf back into their room is beyond her but Wednesday looks too peaceful curled up on her bright colored sheets to wake her and find out just yet.

...

What I'm saying is that Wednesday is Enid's anchor and she'll only wolf out when she's around.

[unholyhelbig]

Ronance angst??

[A/N: Honestly... you asked for it so apologies in advance.]

Summary: The Mind Flayer never took Billy, instead, it had its sights set on Robin Buckley, and Nancy will do anything it takes to get her back.

Warnings: lots of angsty pining, some restraints (?), talks of possession, like exorcist style, horrible grammar, um... fire poker.

Tag list: I haven't been tagging people in these because most of you followed for Marvel content!

Masterlist | Request a Ronance Prompt

Dt to @hellmo😉

We're Going to End You | Nancy Wheeler x Robin Buckley

Nancy Wheeler needed air. Non-tainted, clean-cut air that burned her lungs as she hungrily took it in. Snow had begun to fall, and the night was cold but it was perfect. Anything outside of the cabin was perfect. She had left her jacket draped over the chair in the corner but would rather freeze to the bone before entering again.

Sweat had hardened to her forehead, her lips dry and cracked. Nancy shivered into herself and struggled to will her feet to move. There was nothing she could do inside. That’s how she rationalized it. Nancy knew weakness well and for Robin, she was nothing but a weakness. She wasn’t strong enough for this.

Nancy hadn’t let herself cry yet and she wasn’t going to let herself do so now. The screaming had stopped and all that was left was the crunch of her shoes on fallen snow. The ground was slick, and a full moon lit up the sky. Everything was visible. Still- she pulled her gun when she heard the snap of a twig behind her.

“Whoa, Nance, twice now you’ve almost killed me with that thing.”

Steve had his hands raised in surrender, but he was confident she wouldn't pull the trigger. Nancy wasn’t so sure she had it in her to regulate her actions. It scared her for once, holding the loaded Ruger. She shoved it back into the waistline of her jeans and gave Steve a weary glare. She didn’t have that in her either.

Nancy grits her teeth “If you came out here to tell me that she’s going to be okay, save it.”

“No. No, I don’t think I was going to say that. I don’t know if she’s going to be alright. None of us have ever dealt with” He waves his hands around his head erratically “this before.”

Nancy hadn’t caught the signs. That was perhaps the worst of it. Maybe if she had, things would be easier. She wasn’t sure if it was like cancer. Most of the time if that was found on a set of scans, doctors could treat it with radiology and science. She wondered if this was the same.

Robin had been frail for weeks, her skin pale and cold. She blamed it on the stomach flu, a twenty-four-hour bug that was going around. Nancy accepted that, and she accepted the short responses that her girlfriend would give, figuring the stress of graduating was getting to her. Little things are easy to write off until they add up to big things.

“Here,” Steve produced a crumpled water bottle from his back pocket “You should drink this before going back in.”

Nancy took it tentatively and swallowed the warm sour-tasting water. She didn’t’ want to think about how long it had been there and was just thankful for it in the first place. They both stood in silence, listening to the wind whistle through the trees. Her clothes were soaked throughout.

“I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone stronger,” Steve said.

“You don’t have to say anything.”

“Okay, we can just… be.”

Nancy would like that. Her throat tightened and the warmth of her tears welling overheated her already red cheeks. She couldn’t find the air, no matter how crisp. Her chest felt like it was being pressed upon. Steve took her in his arms. He smelled of sweat and aftershave and the faintest bit of fire from inside.

She should be in there now, back in the heat and the loud and the uncertainty. Instead, she sobbed into the crook of Steve’s neck. Blood was rushing past her ears. This whole time- she hadn’t cried, not consciously. She would wake in the middle of the night, face damp, but when she had control when she was awake, things were fine. She was fine.

“I’m sorry,” Nancy sniffed, pulling away and dragging the base of her hand across the bottom of her nose.

“Don’t apologize, Nance. Someone you love is hurting. You’re allowed to feel.”

She let out a wet chuckle “You love her too.”

“Not like you do.”

Nancy nodded and used the base of her palms to wipe away the rest of the tears. They had to go back in there. Robin needed her, and if she knew Eddie well enough by now, so did he. Air had been good, letting that excess emotion out had been good. Steve had catered to her and squeezed her shoulder one more time before they entered the small cabin.

They had run electrical cords from Steve’s car and into eight space heaters placed strategically around the room. There was a single metal bed frame with an un-sheeted mattress and an iron set fireplace burning feverishly. It was sweltering within, Robin’s hands and legs tied to each post, chest heaving as she pulled in the warm air.

Eddie was crouched behind the only other piece of furniture in the room, a ripped chair. He peeked from behind, hair matted to his forehead and eyes darting around. “She’s mean.”

Steve sighed “She’s possessed, Eddie. I’d be alarmed if she were nice.”

“I’m not possessed. I’m perfectly fine. You’re the ones who ambushed me and made this place a fucking sauna!”

Robin had switched tactics. Before Nancy excused herself it had been name-calling, vile and horrible things that the Mind Flayer had pushed past Robin’s lips. She looked exhausted, layered in a sweatshirt and a flannel on top of that. They figured the Mind Flayer hated the heat, and from the reaction they had drawn so far, Nancy knew they were right.

She had seen, days before, the way Robin’s eyes had switched from their light color to something dark and hard and admittedly terrifying. The way she had shoved a member of the marching band to the ground and needed to be pulled off before she landed another punch. She got a warning due to her spotless behavioral record. These were signs, signs that Nancy hadn’t caught.

“Nance,” Robin practically whined, pulling on the chain with her hand “Is this really necessary?”

Nancy tried to swallow the bitter taste in her mouth, but it lingered on her tongue. Robin looked tired, dark purple circles under her eyes and skin pale in the deep red glow of the heaters. Blood had hardened under her fingernails where she had dug them into Steve’s forearm before they had the sense to restrain her. But still, her shoulders slumped in exhaustion and tears streaked her face.

“Turn up the heaters.” Nancy growled, keeping her gaze with Robin.

They had to get the Mind Flayer out. It had prayed on someone who had taken a chance at being vulnerable with Nancy. Midnight after she had gotten a flat tire and trekked to the nearest payphone. They sat in the artificial glow of the closed convenience store until Nancy’s dad rolled up in the Squire wagon.

Nancy had kissed Robin, breathing every inch of her in. It was rushed and clumsy, but it was perfect. She tasted of spearmint gum and cherry ChapStick and let out an all too startled squeak before melting into the embrace. The action had shocked both of them, but Nancy knew she wanted to do it again, and again.

Now, three months later in the small cabin, dripping sweat she ached for the girl’s safety. There was a frown on Robin’s face when Eddie threw another log onto the fire and Nancy pulled her sweater over her head before draping it over the chair with a collection of jackets, leaving her in a tank top rimmed with dampness enough to sprout mushrooms.

“You can’t stop us.” Robin said, voice dark “You let us in and now you are going to have to let us stay.”

Eddie pointed a slack finger at the scene “Whaaat the hell was that?”

Robin pulled on her hand and the bed frame creaked in response. Steve’s jaw clenched and then unclenched as he stared at his friend. It wasn’t hot enough, wasn’t ever going to be hot enough. The Mind Flayers' aversion to high temperatures was the only way to free Robin, and Nancy- Nancy couldn’t lose her to this thing.

“We’ve been building it. For you. All that work, all that pain. All of it for you.”

“Rob,” Nancy warned

“All that work. All that pain. All of it for you, and now it’s time.”

“Stop,”

“We’re going to end you.” Robin pulled on her chains once more, flashing a devilish smile “

“We’re going to end you. And when you’re gone, we’re going to end your friends. And then we’re going to end everyone.” Her voice lowered to a husky whisper, lines of sweat dripping from her face“just…like…Barb.”

Nancy moved forward and grabbed the iron fire poker from the edge of the hearth. Its tip rests between the charred wood and the hungry flame. It glowed an angry orange, taking over the rusted metal. She only needed two steps before she was at the edge of the bed, one hand on the metal frame, the other steadying the tip of the poker under Robin’s chin, just barely touching skin.

Eddie yelped “Shit, Wheeler!”

Robin drew in a shaky, yet excited breath. “Did I strike a nerve?”

Nancy swallowed again, still tasting sour, rotting meat. She could feel the tears welling in her eyes but refused to let them boil over. That’s what it wanted. Steve’s hand was on her shoulder, it was gentle and barely noticeable, an instant comfort. She refused to move the tip of the poker.

“Nance,” He tried tenderly “It’s not her.”

“I know. We’re getting Robin back.” She gritted, staring into crystal blue eyes that weren’t entirely there “We’re going to end you.”

[amlovelies]

Late but can I have 🍅 for Curtis 🍊 for Romi and 🏀 for Aiden and your sidesteps?

I am answering this very late because my brain has decided to go on vacation. sorry 😔

🍅 How easily is your OC embarassed? What subjects make them flush and why? What event has made your OC the most embarassed they’ve ever been?

he used to be embarrassed more easily. ortega and themmy were both very good at it. he would get flushed and flustered due to ortega's flirting and then themmy's teasing about said flirting. lot harder to pull off now (but if anyone could it's ortega). the most embarrassed he's probably ever been would be when he found that magazine after being recaptured by the farm. it really setting in that he'd been there mooning over ortega, in love with him, and then he just moved on like it was nothing. left him to rot. He won't let his feelings get the better of him like that anymore and vows to always have the upper hand.

🍊 Does your OC have any triggers? Why do these things trigger them? What are they like when triggered and how do they calm down after?

Romi is pretty touch adverse, so someone suddenly touching or grabbing her is a big big trigger for her. when danny picks her up to ask her to help him train she actually panics so hard she faints. medical stuff, surgery, cutting into skin are also major triggers. any sort of situation where she is restrained and powerless. these can all be traced back to her experiences at the farm. she has two methods of working through it. the first one is to get somewhere safe, to lock herself away, get some sweets and try and let it pass. the other is a bit more violent. to put on her armor. to go find someone to fight. to prove she isn't powerless anymore. to move all that frantic energy through her body. to have the tangible proof of an enemies blood on her knuckles, the certainty that she wont let them touch her again.

🏀 Does your OC have any skills that people wouldn’t expect them to have? Do they have a hobby or pass time that others would consider strange or weird? How did they learn this particular skill or pick up this hobby?

Aiden is musical! He can play the platius verions of the guitar (don't know if it would actually be different but yeah) He didn't do it as often as he'd like, there were so many other duties which took precedence but it was a nice form of stress relief. He hasn't played since his exile.

Cyn can sew. it started as a necessity. a need to hem and tailor her clothing to accommodate her petite frame. but it became something she enjoyed a lot. the ability to customize her wardrobe gave her a lot more freedom given the constraints of the tattoos. she had a denim jacket that she'd sewn a lot of patches on and even a little bit of embroidery (it's just a coincidence that heart on her wrist is the same shade of blue as ortega's suit). preheartbreak she was messing around with a lot of different patterns and colors but the stuff she wears now is a lot more subdued. no more floral dresses.

vesper is a bit of a card shark. had a lot to do with cheating and using their telepathy which is why ortega was the only one who could beat them consistently.

Curtis has a good singing voice, and maybe in another life would have had a lot of fun as a band front man.

Romi used to sometimes help tia elena bake, and that is a hobby she would greatly enjoy if she felt confident enough to try it on her own. it feels too connected to that past version of herself now, like it would make her too soft and vulnerable. her main hobbies now are going over security at her base and apartment, gathering intel and checking for any rumors that the farm has found her.

James would enjoy scultping/ceramics if he let himself try it. but it feels stupid to even try and indulge that. instead his main hobby is staring at his stolen artwork and drinking. back in the sidestep days he used to do a lot more people watching, would visit the local musems and galleries as often as he could.

another ask game

[mizutori-heiko]

Mizutori’s bakudeku fanfiction master list [complete works]

Really really good writing by these incredible authors. In no particular order! These are all Top!Bakugou and Bottom!Deku. If A/B/O dynamics then it’s Alpha!Bakugou and Omega!Deku. Yes, I have preferences.

Canon World – until 15k

What The Fuck Did You Just Call Me? by reading_raindrop | 8,303 | Izuku starts calling him Bakugou and it pisses the explosive teen off a lot more than he thought it would.

Oh right, you were a little sh*t by SaysiWrites | 5,653 | When Midoriya Izuku gets hit by an age-reversion Quirk, the last thing anyone expected to find out is that Toddler-Izuku is a little shit. Except for one Bakugou Katsuki, who has seen this phase one too many times already. (Bonus+ the entire Little Sh*t (Kidfic) series)

Do Not Disturb by surveycorpsjean | 10,010 | Apply enough force, and something is bound to break.

And Atlas fell by supercrunch | 15,185 | They move in together, after a while. Katsuki joins Best Jeanist and Izuku trains under Gran Torino. They still take comfort in each other every day, curl up in bed and kiss and talk about how life is going. Their live are tumultuous, after all, what with villains and training and rescuing people every week. It’s nice to have something certain. At the end of a day filled with violence and adrenaline, Izuku knows he can come home to someone concrete. It’s perfect. Being a hero is scary and grueling and uncertain, but this part is just right. And then, one day, a child dies in Izuku’s arms.

be loved by bonnia | 5,403 | The kidnapping incident leaves bakugou traumatised about being touched on the back of his neck, and midoriya decides to take matters into his own hands.

Big Protein by Mysecretfanmoments | 13,683 | Bakugou Katsuki has a thriving hero career, an agent to manage his famous attitude, and absolutely zero romantic interest in anyone. With the exception of his favourite health food joint refusing to expand to his city, his life is pretty damn perfect—so why does a viral video revealing Deku's stash of dirty mags involving him and Deku together turn everything upside-down?

Chocolate cake and resin preserved flowers by Anoksun | 11,396 | Izuku loses his memories. Katsuki struggles not to lose Izuku too.

Twin Stars by theperksofbeinglarissa | 8,435 | When Deku saves a woman's life, her quirk is accidentally activated. Her quirk? She reveals a person's soulmate. A star-shaped mark appears on Midoriya's left arm... and on Bakugou's as well. Kirishima is the only one who knows that Bakugou is Midoriya's soulmate, and Bakugou isn't taking the news very well. Can the twin stars of class 1-A work out their differences and find their happy ending?

Unhealthy Fixations by Thesis | 12,522 | Izuku is an adult who knows better than to crush on his childhood bully. AND YET.

Like the Moon by osakakitty | 14,781 | Katsuki Bakugo is having constant, erotic dreams about Izuku Midoriya. He isn’t sure why, but they won’t go away. In order to make them stop, he needs to figure out what Izuku Midoriya means to him.

Worth a Second Shot by cinnabee | 13,080 | Katsuki and Izuku celebrate registering as a Hero Duo together with a big party. What could go wrong?

Like Something Out of A Shoujo Manga by Merrywetherweather | 2,971 | Deku ends up in a rather interesting quirk accident, one that triggers flag events as if he were the protagonist of an otome game.

Canon World – 15k++

Blood Moon by lalazee | 94,860 | The Thank-Fuck-We-Aren’t-Dead Sex had started then, and had never really stopped. Then came the feelings and the fights. The ego, the pride, the jealousy. And then there was Us.

The Way You Used To Do by edema_ruh | 669,463 | During a battle, Midoriya gets hit by a villain whose quirk detaches his soul from his body. Stuck in a ghost-like state, the boy enters a race against time in order to save himself from permanently dying. Much to his luck - or lack of it -, the only person who can see and talk to him in this state is no one other than Kacchan.

Just Like Breathing by MD_Daydreamer | 35,423 | Izuku got engaged. He didn't mind. If that made Uraraka happy, he could do it. He thought his life wouldn't change much.But then, Kacchan went to live in the USA.

briar roses (and hundred years of sleep) by vannral | 15,951 | In which Izuku is hit by a ‘Sleeping Beauty’ Quirk, Class 3-A tries to find his True Love and get them to kiss him, and Katsuki’s very angry about it all.

"what's your type?" by sapphicflower | 20,192 | In order to increase their popularity rankings as up and coming pro heroes, Izuku and Katsuki participate in the most popular late night talk show for hero duos - ‘Heroes Rising!’. They’re killing it, obviously, because they know each other from inside and out. Until one question stumps the two of them: “What is your hero partner’s type?”

and it was Just Right by cinnabee | 23,759 | Katsuki spends two years post-graduation in a furious one-sided competition with his childhood friend and rival's promotional photos - until they finally run into each other, and, well. You shouldn't believe everything you see in magazines. A love story about size differences.

Notice Me, Nerd by useless_donut | 40,000 | Bakugou is in love with Midoriya. He doesn’t hide it, in fact it’s so painfully obvious that the entire class of 3-A has him figured out in a matter of months (days, in some cases). Too bad Midoriya is the most oblivious motherfucker out there, and Bakugou is too damn stubborn to actually ask him out. A love story as witnessed by the class of 3-A.

in your dreams, nerd! by sapphicflower | 37,639 | In a strange and unexpected set of circumstances, Izuku and Katsuki find themselves sharing their dreams together whenever they happen to fall asleep at the same time. Being hopelessly in love with each other, they don’t mind it all that much. What better way to spend time with your crush than in a stupidly vivid dream?

Hear Me by my_name_is_Levi | 22,419 | It wasn’t as if nightmares were uncommon for the freshman class of Yuuei. They’d seen plenty of things, heard and felt and witnessed enough travesty in their lives to last them a lifetime. But Midoriya Izuku was screaming, and no one, not even Bakugo Katsuki could ignore it.

Bridges by supercrunch | 18,018 | Bakugou is signed up for a Calvin Klein modeling gig. The thing is, they really do need the money. And Katsuki's technically the leader of this bunch of morons, so he finds himself taking the job even though his pride will never recover. And even though nobody thought to tell him that he'd be working with his ex-boyfriend. You know, the cute freckled guy from high school who went and broke his heart. So, yeah. This whole situation kind of sucks.

objective truth by mamalade | 15,390 | Izuku gets hit with a truth quirk, as one does. He seems to be handling it well—until Katsuki shows up.

catharsis by dollcewrites | 15,071 | It's been six years since Izuku graduated.It's been six years since he confessed to his childhood friend; his classmate and his inspiration. It's been six years since he deleted Bakugou's number, asked his friends not to mention the name, spent every last effort of his heart turning off the TV and averting his eyes from the newspapers. It's been six, long, long years since he gave up on Katsuki Bakugou ever loving him back.

Here here, my friends and me (You are my familia) by Jeka | 128,832 | Bakugou Katsuki has made a great job of ignoring the fact that he is tragically in love with Deku, someone who could never love him like that and let's face it, he doesn't deserve. Now that he can't ignore it anymore, he has to find a way to keep his childhood friend and move on for his own sake. Or so he had thought, maybe he can have Deku, after all. Izuku has everything he always wanted in life. But suddenly he has to navigate the most important relationship in his life through different eyes.

Canon World – Jealous! 

Hands Off by SaysiWrites | 7,140 | When a new girl at school starts flirting with Bakugou, his friends quickly become invested in the idea of their friend experiencing love - even if he doesn't seem at all interested in her. What they don't see is Midoriya fuming in the background. But how can he get rid of her when they've spent so long keeping their relationship a secret?

Surfaces by surveycorpsjean | 25,225 | Katsuki has a new girlfriend, but something isn't right. As impossible as it is, Izuku can't help but wonder what it'd be like to be called Katsuki's girl.

Green-Eyed Beast by SecretKiwi | 4,721 | Everyone wants a piece of Katsuki Bakugou, but they should beware of the Green-eyed beast always lurking close behind him.

Green with Envy by Sol_Morales707 | 2,611 | Izuku Midoriya is not as innocent and pure as everyone thinks he is. The truth was he was very jealous and willing to do anything for a certain blonde.

Happy Camper by Arysa | 7,074 | Wanting a break from the stress of dealing with the rookie Pro Hero grind, a handful of students from Class A decide to go on a camping trip. Izuku's excited to relax and catch up with everyone, especially Kacchan. But, well, Kacchan's... Kacchan. And dating Kirishima.

How to stop time: kiss by Teddingtons | 31,693 | Deku finally asks Uraraka out. Everyone's supportive except Bakugou who can't even look him in the eye. Deku seeks him out after and is hit with truth.

What I Deserve by s_the_queen | 16,671 | When Izuku starts dating a student in General Studies, everyone is happy for him. She's super sweet and really caring. But something doesn't sit right with Katsuki.

Deku's Already Fucking Taken by asdfjkl129 | 20,704 | 5 times people don't realize that Deku is already in a very happy relationship and try their hand at asking him out, and then in Bakugou's unique and special style, get very firmly corrected, +1 time where no correction is needed.

His by sister_elric | 6,206 | Izuku would like to consider himself a pretty level headed individual. Sure, he had the occasional tunnel vision, especially when it came to training. And hero work. And Kacchan. But, overall, Midoriya felt as though he typically kept his cool. Well, maybe that was a stretch. But, at the very least he could understand his own emotions. So, it surprised even him when an unfamiliar emotion coursed through him as a first year approached his boyfriend, Katsuki.

Down the Red Line by MinervaHope | 7,804 | Izuku has been able to see the red strings of fate since birth. It's no surprise that his is connected to Katsuki.

Canon World – Fake Relationship Goes Wrong

how he should’ve known (and how it turned out) by vannral | 43,918 | In which Katsuki and Izuku pretend to be a couple to avoid journalists, the plan backfires magnificently because of course it does, and the act goes on. Includes feelings, pining, domestic fluff and jealousy.

Vicious by feelslikefire | 105,173 | Midoriya and Bakugou wind up in the very last position either of them thought they'd be in: Hero Partners. It's not fun, but they learn to cope. Their first big assignment together takes them undercover to infiltrate a cult, but the situation turns out far more sinister than they first thought.

What I can never tell you by Mikacrispy | 27,067 | After living in the US for 5 years, Izuku returns to take care of a concussed Bakugou who believes they're engaged. Now, Izuku has to pretend he's in a relationship with the man he's loved for most of his life, knowing that it's just a matter of time until Katsuki gets better and realizes it's all a lie.

Not-Dating by MiraChaDoodles | 14,290 | Katsuki takes Deku on a not-date to save his career, only to find himself wishing it were real.

we'll do the things that lovers do by ethereals | 29,544 | Izuku gets an invitation to Shouto's wedding and Katsuki is PISSED that he asks Kirishima to be his date (also he wasn't even fucking invited

Canon World – Friends With Benefits (?) 

Four Times Bakugou Katsuki Doesn't Intend to Sleep With Midoriya Izuku (And the One Time that He Does) by fallingraine85 | 17,601 | He hadn’t planned for any of this. He isn’t about to go delving into the ball of yarn that is Midoriya Izuku’s heart; he isn’t equipped to try and untangle and make sense of it all. He isn’t about to try to analyze how he’s feeling about all of this, either.... How many times can you repeat the same mistake?

We Wear Chains on the Weekend by surveycorpsjean | 35,086 | Well, in a day of revelations, it turns out that Izuku isn't as vanilla as Katsuki previously thought. Unfortunately, that fascinating discovery is overshadowed by Izuku's dumbassery, because he has zero concept of aftercare."Don't go to anyone else," Katsuki says, because screw it. He can do a better job anyways. Or; Katsuki finds Izuku on a bad drop.

Just for Now by Shiro_Kabocha | 48,135 | Katsuki's parents are out of town over a school break and to keep him from getting up to any shenanigans, they ask Izuku to house sit with him. What are two teenaged boys to do when left alone to their own devices? (Bonus+ the entire Just for Love series)

safe in the darkness by yoonskisses | 20,855 | Izuku and Katsuki had been meeting up secretly for months, with absolutely no feelings involved. Or so Katsuki thought at least. The dorm gossip about Ochaco and Izuku's new relationship seemed to set a spanner in the works for their arrangement.

Alternative Universe – No Quirks

Bluebird by EtherealBeing | 53,108 | Dialing a wrong number was no unusual occurrence. Everyone did it once in a while, and Katsuki was well aware of that fact. However, possessing this knowledge made it no less aggravating for him to discover — a full two minutes into his rant about his day — that he’d been venting his frustrations to a complete stranger. As if that wasn't enough, said stranger was also inexplicably determined to hear his story to its end.

Someone Borrowed by mynameis152 | 138,996 | It felt like hours that he stared at Izuku, coming to terms with the fact that a man, his childhood best friend, whom he hadn’t seen since their senior year of high school, was there in front of his very eyes. Then his brows furrowed and his jaw clenched before he uttered through gritted teeth the very name Izuku had longed to hear for years. “Deku.”

Dark Side of the Sun by Synnie | 51,598 | Staying up too late playing video games, Kirishima wasn't expecting to get an urgent call begging for help. Next thing he knew, he was letting his classmate Izuku Midoriya take refuge in his apartment - without consulting his always angry roommate.

Manage Me by Justaperson1718 | 10,756 | Izuku becomes Katsuki’s model agent.

Don't Set Your Drink Down by Crandberrycrush | 88,424 | With sudden clarity Izuku realized he had broken the first rule of going out. Never leave your drink unattended.

Livewire by pretty_rekless | 18,160 | Per Ochako's request, Izuku downloads a gay dating app in hopes to finally find a partner. Except every single one of his leads keep ghosting him or standing him up... That is until one hot, fiery blond enters the chat. Grindr/Tinder AU fic.

Drinking Watermelon by warschach | 8,906 | Katsuki works as a camp counselor, and Izuku is a boy made of summer heat and sunlight.

Precious Pet by Mikacrispy | 6,379 | When broke college student Midoriya Izuku found a job that offered lodging, food, and good pay for four hours of work each day, he thought it was too good to be true. But he called anyway. Turns out all he has to do is to be the spoiled little puppy of a rich businessman.

Our Eleven Summers by Dark_Mage_Ayumu | 34,472 | The first time Katsuki met Izuku was when he was eight. For the next eleven years, Izuku changed his life, and no one even knew. Their relationship was something they shared in secret.

sticky note crushes by ladyofsnails | 3,239 | Katsuki hates his roommate. The green-haired, freckled, artsy son of a bitch with his dumb pun t-shirts and paint-stained hands he can’t fucking keep to himself. Katsuki can’t leave a single assignment or paper out in his room because that idiot will just grab anything to draw on it. He’s like a shark that can’t stop swimming else it’ll die – he can’t stop drawing. Ever.

Don't Play Pretend by SweetSide | 10,103 | Actor AU: Deku and Bakugou get the leading roles for an upcoming TV Drama. They weren’t aware that they would be working with each other for who knows how long. It would’ve been completely fine if they weren’t exes.

97.6 FM by jamjars | 32,249 | Izuku can’t stop listening to the radio host with the deep voice who sounds like he’s stuck in 2010. It’s a harmless crush. That is until he starts calling into the show under the pseudonym Deku.

Read {between} Your Lines by greatcloudninja | 52,252 | Midoriya Izuku, up-and-coming actor, has finally hit his big break (...), Bakugou Katsuki, who has been acting for over twenty years.However, Bakugou seems to have it out for Izuku, leading to tension both on and off set. When some incriminating photos surface, the studio suggests (...): having Bakugou and Midoriya fake a relationship to get ahead of the rumors. 

I’m not looking for somebody with some superhuman gifts by PassingShadow | 5,522 | Izuku is a professional cuddler and Katsuki is his new client that’s just a little rough around the edges, and needs a natural healing touch.

Alternative Universe – Quirkless Deku

A Good Old-Fashioned Tattoo AU by lalazee | 14,437 | After their paths had split, Bakugou & Deku meet again as adults. While Bakugou begins to repent for the kid he used to be, he also starts to prove himself as he the man he is now.

Call Me a Safe Bet (I'm Betting I'm Not) by WTTTD | 10,803 | He wished he had some sort of heads up before seeing Deku again for the first time after nearly two years, looking like the essence of a lazy Sunday, smiling and surrounded with brand new, adoring friends. It was a little fitting that Katsuki burned for him so badly. (Support Department Deku)

In Which Kacchan Has a Ruff Time by OneshotPrincess | 14,511 | Bakugou Katsuki gets quirked into a dog, gets adopted by an unknowing Izuku and generally has a very rough few days full of realizations

While You Were Sleeping by Belkacaramelka (annabelleg) | 71,197 | The one where quirkless fanboy Midoriya Izuku rescues Pro Hero Todoroki Shouto, gets mistaken as his fiancé while he is in a coma, and gets caught up in the most unlikely fake engagement... until his childhood enemy and Todoroki's classmate Bakugou Katsuki tries to catch him out, and they both end up discovering a lot more about each other than they'd expected.

Let Me Assist You Personally by Seeress | 32,806 | Izuku is long-suffering Personal Assistant to #1 Pro Hero Dynamight.Dynamight can't keep a PA to save his career. They all quit crying after a few days weeks. Enter, Izuku—with enough money problems to brave the jaws of the cranky beast. Childhood friend turned glorified paid slave. Somehow it all works out. ‘Kill them with kindness’, his mom had told him once. If that were true, Bakugou Katsuki would be stone-cold dead by now.

Smile For The Camera by kurokonekokilled | 19,179 | Midnight has a cam site, home to millions of users, but one catches Katsuki's eye when he goes scrolled through it in search for something to help him release a little stress. A live stream and the best orgasm of his life later, his wallet is lighter, and he might be almost as obsessed with this Deku guy as the cam boy is with him.

Just Like The Comics by brichibi | 24,935 | Where Izuku works at a comic book shop because that’s as close to a hero as he’s gonna get, and Katsuki plays the part of heroic ex-boyfriend who is good at everything except winning Izuku back... maybe

Alternative Universe – Quirks

Get on my Level by Mikacrispy | 92,273 | Bakugou Katsuki is a Pro Hero whose boss demands him to take an intern. Midoriya Izuku is a UA student who needs an internship. When the two of them are put together, they learn about what it truly means to be a Hero and what it means to be in love.

A/B/O – Secret! Baby

Home by Emerald2402 | 87,214 | Midoriya Izuku left Japan in a rush, moving to America without a word to anyone else. But then almost 11 years later he arrives back Home and Bakugou Katsuki's Alpha is furious. Fuck that, Bakugou is furious, because Midoriya Izuku, an omega he tasted one time, has been keeping a very big, very blonde haired, green eyed secret.

Those Under the Same Stars by PerpetuallyPerturbed | 325,553 | When Katsuki Bakugo left Izuku Midoriya five years ago, he thought it was for forever. He put aside dreams and wishes of the omega to focus on his career. He was going to be the best hero, after all. He couldn't have an omega getting in his way. So when he's stopped on the streets one day by a pup begging for help for his mom, he isn't prepared to face what he gave up, and what the consequences of his actions were. (Quirkless Deku)

A/B/O – Quirks

Mark Me. Make Me Yours. by decadentbynature | 10,062 | Midoriya is the only Omega at UA and he's been hiding it well but there's one issue that threatens to expose him: his attraction to an Alpha, Bakugo. After being told to give some paperwork to Bakugo, Midoriya lets him into his dorm room and is immediately overwhelmed by his scent. Unable to help himself, he gives in to his urges, only to be discovered by Bakugo but instead of becoming enraged, Bakugo decides to give Midoriya exactly what he wants

Claim Me by ScientificallySinful (VampireGaaraCheesepuffs) | 114,449 | Being an Alpha has nothing to do with Katsuki's success as a Pro-Hero, the same way Deku's Omega status hasn't kept him from becoming Number Two. Secondary gender doesn't mean anything nowadays and “mating” is an antiquated practice. So when Izuku, his rival, asks Katsuki to Claim him in the middle of the night, there is only one logical thing to say. “What the fuck?”

Change of Plans by Mikacrispy | 185,965 | Alpha Pro Hero Bakugou Katsuki never planned to get married to some random omega but what he wants isn't an option anymore. One for All wielder Midoriya Izuku has suffered injustice too many times and doesn't plan in allowing his secondary gender to dictate how he must live his life. Falling in love was never in the plans.

Going Feral For You by ANGIE_fic | 17,977 | Bakugou has an aggression problem that might have to do with his Alpha. His job is on the line because of it. So what do you do with a pent up Alpha? Yes.Rut. (Quirkless Izuku)

i live for you, i long for you by jeonjeonggukkkkkie | 19,165 | The five times Izuku hinted he wants Katsuki to spend his next heat with him, and the one time Katsuki took the hint.

Baby's First Bloom by ContraryBee | 44,945 | Izuku blooms for Katsuki one warm day in their third year of middle school. What follows is both boys learning about themselves, their bond, and the society they live in.

As Fate Would Have It by ScientificallySinful (VampireGaaraCheesepuffs) | 88,737 | Katsuki Bakugo had plenty of reasons why he wasn't mated yet, not that he was going to explain why to just anyone. But now, Ground Zero was running out of time. If he didn't find someone soon, he'd lose his position as a Pro-Hero and he'd never get to be #1. So, when he finds out there's a male Omega recently arrested for prostitution that's headed to prison if he too doesn't get a mate…well it must be fate. (Quirkless Izuku)

A/B/O – No Quirks

Gravity by warschach | 71,477 | Izuku is back in his hometown and plenty hasn't changed much from the 8 years he was gone. Except, Katsuki Bakugou, the alpha king of their small town. He's hotter- because that's fair, right, God? -, stronger, a now-famous pro fighter, and noticeably nicer this round.Not that he cares, pfft. (Fine, he cares.)

Nine Months by greatcloudninja | 23,303 | Omega Midoriya Izuku connects with Alpha Bakugou Katsuki through an online singles ad. Izuku pays Katsuki to help him with his heat, ending up pregnant in the process. What follows is a pregnancy filled with ups and downs, but whatever hurdles come their way, they can make it through together.

The long dark by Ominous-Anonymous (Ominonymous) | 13,289 | He could have been really dangerous. He could be a fucking murderer for all he knew. But Izuku Midoriya, ever the reckless daredevil, was not thinking of that when he got into a car with a complete stranger. Completely ignoring the part where his mother always taught him to never gets into cars with alphas he didn't know...

[taetaesbaebaepsae]

Lunar Violence (jjk)

Summary: You’re not a big fan of your best friend’s favorite band, Lunar Violence. Their werewolf gimmick makes you roll your eyes, even if the music isn’t too bad. When she drags you to a concert just as the blood moon rises, though, everything changes.

Warnings: werewolf sex, possessive behavior, choking, knotting, marking, heats and ruts so whatever consent issues you feel are within that realm, unrpotected sex, werewolf dick, abo dynamics

Word Count:7445

Rating: Explicit

You're not normally a fan of gimmicks, particularly with your music. So when your best friend begs you for a solid week to go with her to this concert, you're wary when you do a simple Google search.

Lunar Violence might be the dumbest fucking name for a band you've ever heard, but they certainly seem like they're going for a certain vibe. You'd definitely have been into it when you were a teen, the fake fangs, the facial piercings and torn leather pants, the howling they do at the ends of some of their songs.

The music itself isn't bad, the lead singer is stupid hot and has a smooth low tenor and bedroom eyes. 

You flip through only a few of the member pictures before making a decision based on the fact that they're good eye candy, at least.

Your friend Jia jumps up and down excitedly when you tell her and shows you the signs she's made. She's got a thing for the one they call Happy, a lean bassist who has a bright smile and a sexy glare.

"What are with these names? The seven dwarfs? I think they're mixing metaphors."

Jia snorts. "They call the drummer Baby because he's the youngest. It’s not that dumb and the music is really good, you’ll love it, I promise!"

"This is so dumb. You owe me."

"If I get close enough to Happy to make eye contact I'm gonna make him mine and then I'll give you anything you want." Jia says determinedly.

It’s a few weeks before the concert, so you find yourself listening to a few albums and actually getting pretty excited about it. It should be a fun time, get you away from the stress of your every day life, at the least.

You had no way of knowing that the night of the concert would complicate your life tenfold.

“Do we always have to schedule concerts around rutting season?” Namjoon whines after hitting yet another wrong chord on his guitar.

“It’s the best part about this job!” Hoseok grins.

“I can’t fucking concentrate being horny all the time, I agree with Joon,” Yoongi agrees, banging his forehead down on the keyboard.

“Should have called you Horny rather than Lucky,” Seokjin snorts, and Hoseok laughs so hard he nearly knocks over his bass guitar.

Jungkook watches them with a fond smile on his face, his brothers. Not by blood, of course but being the only werewolves in the city made them have an instant connection and camaraderie, and they’d created a pack pretty quickly. The music had come later, they’d all been interested in it, all had some talent and all been blessed with good looks, and after that it was only a matter of who did what and stage names.

Kim Seokjin, with his regal looks and sharp jaw: Prince.

Min Yoongi, with the scar over his left eye he’d gotten scrapping with a grey wolf in the woods behind his house in Daegu as a pup: Lucky.

Jung Hoseok with his easy smile and eager nature: Happy.

Kim Namjoon, always so serious and intelligent: Beethoven. 

Park Jimin, with his pretty face and sneaky smirk: Sly.

Kim Taehyung with his sweet nature and affectionate personality: Honey.

Finally, Jeon Jungkook, because he'd been barely old enough to breed when they'd met: Baby.

"Baby hasn't had his first rut yet, yeah?" It's Jimin, smirking, always giving Jungkook grief about something. 

Jungkook narrows his eyes and chucks a drumstick at him but it's no use, Jimin catching it in one band and twirling it like a goddamn baton. Jungkook would say Jimin was graceful if he hadn't seen him fall off about a dozen barstools and half a dozen stages, sober even for the latter.

“Kinda late, isn’t it?” Seokjin speaks up, and Jungkook knows he’s teasing but it stings a little, nonetheless. 

“He’s only just turned 23. You were two weeks from your 23rd before you ever popped a knot, hyung, or have you forgotten?” Namjoon snarks, and Jungkook snickers as Seokjin makes a face, that vein on his neck pulsing just a bit.

He shouldn’t laugh, they’re just as likely to come to blows during the beginning of a rut and in a full moon cycle, but he can’t help himself

Yoongi, as usual, manages to keep the peace by offering to order pizza and foot the bill, a truly saintlike act since they could go through a pizza each, as hot as their temperature would be running by now.

Jungkook doesn’t say that he’s had a knot for two years now, the very thought of his hyungs knowing that makes him blush so much he hides it by wiping his face with a towel, pretending to have been sweating. 

Truly, he should have had a rut by now, triggered by all the pheromones' from the shows they’d been doing, this tour had been particularly rough due to the upcoming blood moon, at least for all the other boys, and it isn’t as if Jungkook hasn’t mated, of course, but a full rut? Not even the hint of it. It worries him, but Namjoon keeps assuring him that everyone gets there in time, people are just different.

Taehyung had been a late bloomer himself, not starting his first rut until he met and fell in love with his girlfriend, a short feisty redhead he’d met after a hand injury from stringing his bass guitar and slicing his palm open. She’d been a nurse who scolded him for not coming in sooner and it’d been almost instant, her green eyes triggering every wolf thing about him, or at least that’s how he tells it, all wide eyed and dreamy.

She’s a near constant in Taehyung’s hotel rooms now, sometimes riding along on the tour bus, but he doesn’t let her into anymore of the concerts even when she pouts, because human mates around a group of wolves around rutting season can be a dangerous time.

Taehyung is one of the gentlest wolves Jungkook knows, but he’d seen him snarl when Yoongi so much as winked at the redhead near a rut, so it’s probably for the best.

Anyway, Jungkook wasn’t worried (much). He’d find his true mate eventually, but probably not at a concert. Maybe he’d start his rut there, at least, around the full moon. He’d never have imagined that he’d find both.

The crowd is nice enough, although they seem a little feral. Some of these girls have signs that should be x rated, but you're not one to judge, especially since you've never actually….done anything too x-rated. 

You feel a little strange when you enter the concert venue and you can’t quite put your finger on it. You shrug and blame it on the strong drink your friend had made you chug before you entered since she couldn’t finish it all herself.

It’s like there’s something living under your skin, some rush like heat, and it  makes you feel antsy, ready to dance along to the music or at least laugh at your friend losing her mind next to you.

There’s a lot of gimmick to the concert and it’s bright and dark at the same time near the stage. You’d swear you’d seen the guitarist strum with no pick, with a sharp claw instead, but you’re sure it’s makeup, part of the show. They’re wearing contacts, too, you’re pretty sure, and the music is good, your friend isn’t wrong.

The song you’d heard that you’d like is actually their encore song, heavy on the bass and drums, and the lead singer even makes your skin feel hot a little when he makes eye contact and winks at you. The last solo the lights come down on the drummer, he’s on the back stage so all you can see is his long hair bouncing, the flex of his admittedly impressive biceps as he finishes the song.

You’ve been jumping up and down and singing along so much that you’re sweating and feeling a bit dizzy, so you drag your friend out the back alley while she’s still swooning, having gotten a direct smile from her favorite bassist.

“Did you see him? He looked right at me! We’re in love, Y/n. Do you want to be my maid of honor?” She’s babbling when you hear the click of a lighter next to you.

There’s people milling about, it wasn’t exactly a sold out show but there was a decent crowd, and people are now piling into the bar next door.

“Did you like the show?” 

When you turn your head you’re shocked to see that it’s the lead singer, a couple strands of his silver hair falling over his eye as he smiles at you.

“Oh. Oh, yes, I liked it very...very much,” you stammer. He’s even more handsome up close. Those are some really good contacts, you can’t tell they aren’t real at all, even though surely no one’s eyes are a violet color like that.

“Sly!” Your friend screams, and you jolt forward, surprised.

The singer’s hand lights on your shoulder and you look down. You have time to think that they must make great money for these expensive special effects because they sure do look like claws before your friend rushes past you, yelling because Happy had come out the back with the rest of the band.

There’s no mob or anything, maybe a dozen people other than you and Jia, but it makes you a bit anxious nonetheless, especially since you’re still feeling just as antsy, hot and dizzy as you were before.

It might be worse, actually, as you stand outside in the moonlight.

“Sly’s just my stage name.” His voice sounds softer, closer to your ear as he leans in. “You can call me Jimin.”

“O-okay,” you stutter, unused to feeling this way. You’re usually more outgoing, talkative, but it feels so strange. You find yourself looking up at the sky as if looking for the moon.

It’s better, once you’re inside the bar, there’s not as much of a crowd and you’re sitting at a big table with Sly...Jimin, you remind yourself, and Jia and Happy, who seems to fit his name well, laughing open and loud with your best friend as if they’ve known each other forever.

After a few hours and a couple of drinks you’ve lost most of that antsy feeling since being indoors, and you and Jimin vibe well, becoming fast friends. You’re both flirty and talkative after getting to know each other, and your mood is lifted from the concert, the alcohol, and the socialization.

You even laugh about calling their gimmick dumb as they dodge questions about where they get their makeup and accessories. You assume it’s some kind of sponsorship situation or contract, not thinking much of it.

You manage to excuse yourself long enough to look for the bathroom, although Jia abandons you since she’s made her way into Happy’s lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and with a blissful smile you’re not sure you’ve ever seen on her.

There’s someone standing in the hall and it’s a narrow hallway and he’s pretty wide from the back so you stumble a little when you turn, placing a hand on the wall.

“Oh, excuse me!” You say, brightly, but when he turns you gasp, a little surprised by the bright red of his eyes before you realize it’s another member of Lunar Violence.

“Hello,” he says, quietly with a little smile and he has these prominent front teeth that are pretty cute, make him look a lot less intimidating, despite those contacts and an eyebrow piercing and his size.

“Oh, hello! You’re…”

“Baby,” he blurts, and it makes you giggle.

You feel a little tipsier than you’d realized, and you guess it must be since you’ve been sitting down for an hour or so and just gotten up.

He puts a hand over his face, embarrassed. “My name is Jungkook,” he explains. “I’m the drummer?”

It’s cute how his voice pitches up into a question, as if you wouldn’t recognize him. He’s definitely a bit more modest than the other two members you’d met, with Jimin and Happy (who you’d just learned also goes by Hoseoki), bragging about tours and performances. 

“Pretty big for a baby,” you tease, and he makes an embarrassed sound in the back of his throat.

“I keep trying to get them to let me change it,” he mutters.

You introduce yourself and he smiles again, and his eyes aren’t as red as you’d thought at first, anyway, maybe it’s just the light. You brush past him as you continue to the bathroom after excusing yourself, and it’s a little zing through you, like static electricity.

It takes you longer in the bathroom than it usually would, that last drink really must have packed a punch, and when you return to the table Jungkook is sitting there, too, next to your empty chair. Jimin looks a little sullen and pouty, but he smiles at you, those violet eyes crinkling up at the corners, and you give him a bright smile back.

Jungkook, on the other hand, is all energy, jiggling his leg and tapping his fingers on the table and Hoseok seems to be watching him intently.

The atmosphere in general seems to have changed, and after exchanging numbers with everyone with the urging of Jia, you two excuse yourself.

The three men walk you outside and Jimin is close while Jungkook hangs back. You imagine Jimin is so close since you mentioned feeling a bit dizzy and he asks you twice if he can call you a car but you tell him that the fresh air will do you good.

It’s funny, the moonlight seems to energize you a bit. When Jimin leans in to kiss you on the cheek, you jump a little at a sound behind you, something like a bark.

Jimin jolts back a little, eyes widening, and you both laugh at your nerves.

“Stray dog,” you remark, and Jimin snorts.

“Something like that.”

Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose. “So what exactly the fuck happened after I left?”

Jimin is sullen on the couch, arms crossed over his chest with a busted lip and Jungkook is sitting next to Hoseok on the floor on the other side of the hotel room with tissue up his nose, Hoseok tilting his head back.

“Baby is about to go into rut,” Taehyung sings, laughing, his girlfriend draped over him on the bed drowsily, his teeth marks littering her neck and throat.

“Don’t,” Yoongi warns. “Everyone’s just wound up. Full moon is in two days, after all, cut him some slack.”

“Sees one girl he likes and suddenly no one else can talk to her,” Jimin complains, gingerly working his tongue across his lip ring to see if it’s torn.

“You tried to kiss her,” Jungkook growls, and Hoseok pushes on his chest to keep him from getting up.

Jungkook can’t explain why his wolf wanted to rip Jimin’s throat out when he leaned in to kiss you, he’d just met you, didn’t even know your last name, but it was visceral, sudden, something crawling up his throat. He’d almost moved forward to do it before Hoseok said his name, sharply.

“We all get a little possessive about potential mates around the full moon,” Namjoon reasons. “But that’s not the way to handle it, Jungkook.”

Jungkook hangs his head and removes the tissue from his nose with a shake of his head. “I’m sorry, hyung.” He looks over at Jimin but he means it for Namjoon. He’s still bitter, somehow, about Jimin’s hand on your lower back, his lips brushing your cheek. It makes his head feel fuzzy, his guts roll.

Namjoon, on the other hand, had been the one to “discover” Jungkook, back when he had no idea why his eyes were starting to change color with the moon cycles or why his nails grew out like claws. He’d started learning percussion just to get rid of some of the energy he had around those times, and he’d been 17 when Namjoon approached him in a music store when Jungkook was looking into buying cymbals. 

Jungkook had been abandoned when he was a baby, adopted at four years old and he had no idea about his wolf lineage, or even that they existed, until Namjoon explained it to him.

“Jungkook doesn’t know his lineage,” Namjoon reminds them all. “He might just be presenting as an alpha, that’s a lot around the full moon, Jimin, you remember.”

Jimin grumbles something under his breath and Jungkook has to take a deep breath through his nostrils, smelling iron from their scuffle earlier, in order not to lunge across the room and hit him again.

Eventually, Jungkook has to move to his own room despite usually bunking with Jimin, and he finds himself unable to sleep, staring at the ceiling. He keeps seeing your bright smile, your curls bouncing around as you talked and laughed, mostly at Jimin, and it makes him stiffen to think of how Jimin had met you first.

Why did it matter, anyway? You’re just a person, just like he is, just a girl, and he doesn’t have the best track record with talking to girls, anyway. You’d been in the front row, with your friend who Hoseok had gotten so smiley about, he’d seen you just before he started his set, his vision clearer around the full moon.

The others laughed at him for how he talked about “the wolf,” as if it wasn’t a part of him, as if it wasn’t who he was, but that’s how it had always felt. He just hadn’t had a name for it until he’d met Namjoon. It was like this thing, inside him, this beast, something that clawed and scratched to get out.

Seokjin keeps telling him that he’s fighting the wolf, that’s why he hasn’t gone into rut or popped his knot, that’s why he feels so achy and fidgety around the moon cycles, that’s why he hasn’t shifted. Namjoon would always respond there was no way to know that but Seokjin just rolled his eyes.

“Aish, I’m your hyung, listen to me. I fought mine, too, when I was young, and when I shifted I broke a few bones. You should give in, let it ride in the front seat once in a while.”

Jungkook had nodded at the time but now, he doesn’t know how to do that. Drumming helped, it was a lot of work and energy expelled and it felt like he could let him out, the wolf, just a little. It’s why he’d gotten so big, staying active and lifting weights was something the wolf liked.

The wolf came sometimes when he masturbated, too, when he’d feel particularly worked up around the full moon, after a concert, sweaty and rolling his hips into his hand.

When he tries it after meeting you, he can’t even finish, ending up panting and sore, the wolf still snarling over the memory of Jimin’s lips barely brushing across your cheek.

Surprisingly enough, it’s Jungkook who texts you first. Wanna go for a drink?

You’re not sure whether to say yes at first, you’ve been feeling so strange. You can barely sleep, your skin feeling hot, as if you’d burned yourself with a too hot shower. You think about that night at the concert a lot, Jimin’s violet eyes, Jungkook’s almost red ones, how odd you’d felt.

You would have talked to Jia about it but she’s been abducted by the werewolf band, apparently, you’ve barely seen her in a week and when you had she’d been littered with hickeys and with a big goofy smile.

Part of you wonders if this is all some sex ring cult but she seems happy, jubilant even, so you agree, meeting Jungkook at a downtown bar.

He’s there before you arrive, you can see him through the window sitting at a table, looking wide and a bit intimidating until he lifts his head and smiles at you with a little wave.

His eyes are a warm brown now, pretty and wide, you’re able to notice the shape more without the contacts.

Jungkook is still all energy, maybe that’s just how he is, talking to you more and more as the nights go on and you two share a pitcher of beer, scooting his chair closer. You find he flushes a pretty rose when you flirt with him and can’t stop laughing when he nearly falls out of his chair when you prop your legs up in his lap.

By the end of the night he can’t stop smiling at you and you’re intrigued, moreso than you’d imagined you would be when you’d first met him, smiling shyly at you at the bar near the concert. You start to feel funny again, your head fuzzy, probably from the alcohol.

When you tell him, he’s all wide eyed concern.

You giggle. “Now I know why they call you Baby.” 

He huffs a little. 

He walks you outside just as he did before but this time he doesn’t hang back, and when you reach the alleyway, he places a hand on the swell of your hip as you take a few deep breaths of the night air.

You’re surprised, laugh a little until you look up into his eyes. You’d swear they looked red tinged again, but surely it’s just the beer.

“Not a baby,” he murmurs, moving closer, pressing you up against the brick with his body, and you hitch in a breath.

“No?” You ask, boldly trailing your finger along his collarbone through the black tshirt he’s wearing.

He shakes his head, leaned down close enough to your face that his nose brushes yours.

“Prove it,” you tease, and he makes this rumbling sound in the back of his throat that makes goosebumps break out across your flesh.

He leans down further, nips at your lower lip, and you moan, body surging forward toward his as if it was made to fit it. You’re not sure if you kiss him or he kisses you, but his tongue is in your mouth, his hands on either side of your head, caging you in.

You feel hot all over, dizzy in the most pleasant way, at least until he pulls away, gasping.

You whine, a sound you don’t think you’ve ever made before, when he’s not touching you anymore.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps. “I’m sorry. I should go.”

He’s gone before you can even gasp out another whine of his name, and the moonlight on your skin burns instead of cools.

Jungkook tells this story in a burst to his bandmates the next day, hungover with his head pounding.

“You just left her there?” Jimin says, his face shocked, and Jungkook feels the wolf make a growl start at the back of his throat.

Namjoon puts a hand on his shoulder and it turns into a whine instead. 

“I’ve never felt him that close, hyung. Right at the surface. I wanted to…”

Namjoon and Seokjin meet eyes above Jungkook’s lowered head.

Jimin catches it. Jimin catches everything, it’s one of the best and worst things about him.

“What? You think…” Jimin laughs. “No. She can’t be his.... She’s not a wolf, I would’ve smelled it when-”

Jungkook surges out of his seat, a deep growl rumbling from his chest. “When what, Jimin?”

Jimin’s eyes glow a pale violet as he snarls back, uncaring that Jungkook towers over him.

In the end, Namjoon and Seokjin have to separate them physically as they bark and snarl at each other.

Hoseok and Taehyung are missing, having holed up to ride out their ruts with their human mates instead of the house the seven share.

Yoongi huffs out a breath. “He’s definitely presenting as an alpha.”

“No shit,” Namjoon barks, unusually on edge. 

Yoongi, Seokjin, and Taehyung are the betas of the group, and until now there had only been a slight difference among the bandmates despite their different rankings.

Alpha pheromones were stronger and their senses were more heightened around rutting season, particularly for other mates. 

In the end, they have to completely change how they house themselves, with Jimin sharing a room with Yoongi, and Jungkook sharing with Seokjin.

“I’m sorry, hyung,” Jungkook says miserably, his wolf finally calmed as he sits down on the bed.

“It’s not your fault,” Seokjin says, voice much less harsh than Namjoon’s had been earlier when he’d scolded him. “I saw Namjoon during this time, and it wasn’t easy.”

Jungkook looks up at the elder with wide eyes. “Really?”

Seokjin snorts and nods. “Yeah, around the full moon he was unbearable, snarling at everything.”

“I just didn’t want to scare her or...or hurt her...I wanted to put her against the wall and…” Jungkook trails off, embarrassed.

Seokjin only smiles and ruffles Jungkook’s hair. “That’s normal too, Baby. You wouldn’t have hurt her, especially if it’s what we think it is.”

“What...what does that mean?”

Seokjin shakes his head. “Something you gotta work out on your own.”

Jungkook groans and flops down on the bed as Seokjin laughs, heading downstairs to make dinner while things are calm.

He has trouble sleeping again, but this time instead of wondering why, he knew, could almost feel the soft skin of your hip on his palm like it was still there, how you’d moaned into his mouth, whined for him.

Jungkook isn’t sure there’s a cold enough shower to help.

You can’t seem to sit still as the full moon nears, feeling like you might jump out of your skin. You can’t count the number of friends you’d called but no one seems up to going out. You bite your lip while looking at Jungkook’s contact on your phone screen.

If you think about it long enough, you can still feel the way he pressed against you, how the hair on the nape of your neck stood up when he nipped at your lip, how hot you’d felt, how wet…

You sigh and scroll up, seeing Jimin’s name instead. Jimin had been fun to be with the night you’d met, easy to talk to, less….intense. And he didn’t make you feel like you were about to crawl out of your skin, so you ask if he wants to meet up for a drink.

It’s late, by the time you decide, and the moon is out, waxing toward fullness. There’s only a tiny sliver remaining, big in the sky, and you can’t stop looking up at it as you walk to the bar near your house.

You’d chosen it because it’s close and not because it’s where hot drummer Jeon Jungkook, also known as Baby, had pressed you against an alley wall and made you almost…

Jimin jolts you out of your thoughts, calling your name and waving as you approach the door. He’s leaned against the doorjamb, giving you a smirk and you think now you understand why they call him Sly.

It makes you smile and again, you vibe well with him, you get along in the best way, conversation is easy and you don’t feel gooseflesh or your hair stand up when he brushes his fingers against yours.

Jimin knows he’s playing with fire when he replies to your text, but they don’t call him Sly for nothing, and you’re interesting, for a human. He’s only met one other female wolf, a tall and feisty woman with a sharp tongue and the most beautiful brown eyes, but she’d had a mate and well...things hadn’t ended well. 

Jungkook thinks of his wolf as this separate entity but Jimin disagrees, let’s his wolf do what it wants, so that all the bad things he feels have some kind of outlet. This was especially so after he’d lost his brown eyed wolf girl, so he invites you back to the house, knowing that Jungkook will be at the gym all night before the full moon tomorrow.

In fact, all of the others will be out, finding fun of their own, and why shouldn’t Jimin do the same? It isn’t as if Jungkook has marked you, or even can, since you’re human. 

Your eyes aren’t quite the same shade of hers, but he can pretend.

Jungkook works out until his muscles ache but nothing can shake this feeling he has, like something’s wrong. When he leaves the gym even the moon looks off, as if it’s dimmer than it should be, and something’s pulling him home, like this tug in his gut. It feels like it used to as a kid in his first foster home, when he’d get so anxious he’d climb onto the roof and stare up at it.

He’s almost running as he gets closer, feeling his skin prickle as he gets to the house, his wolf so close to the surface he can feel the fur that isn’t there yet standing up on the back of his neck.

He smells Jimin first, wrinkling his nose at the alpha pheromones, and when he walks upstairs it isn’t as if he decides to let the wolf take over, or struggles with it - it’s instant.

You’re standing in the hall, head tilted up, and Jimin is leaning against the wall, smiling down at you, and when you lean up to just softly brush your lips against Jimin’s, Jungkook’s heart nearly leaps out of his chest, and the wolf barks, loud and warning.

You turn, surprised, and Jungkook doesn’t think, doesn’t act, it’s all wolf. He grabs you by your waist, hefts you up over your shoulder, and begins to walk you to his room.

Jimin protests and Jungkook growls over his shoulder, daring him to try something. Later, Jungkook is glad his friend didn’t follow, because he isn’t sure that he could have held the wolf back.

You kick and yell and beat on his back and Jungkook doesn’t realize what he’s done until he’s plopped you down on his bed, crawling toward you.

You kick him in the chest and it barely registers. You stand up and that’s when he snaps back to himself, at least to a degree.

"Don't leave. You can't leave." It's panicked, his voice, higher pitched almost like a whine.

"I can do whatever I want," you snap.

He makes this sound between a whine and a snarl and it's startling, strange, and you stop at the door.

"I know that! I know, but he doesn't!" 

"He..." you turn to look at him and he's trembling, head down, and you step closer, worried. "Baby, what do you mean?"

Jungkook just stands there, still trembling, until you reach out to touch his hair, gently. "He thinks he owns you, that you're his, that no one else can touch you." He explains, almost in a whisper.

"Who is he?" You ask slowly.

He raises his head slow and you gasp when you look into his eyes, instead of a warm brown this burnt amber, red hued.

"The wolf."

You stand there, blinking in surprise, for a long moment before actively telling your feet to move to the door. Unfortunately, your brain seems to have some kind of disconnect to your limbs, because you just step even closer, lean in and inhale along his neck, this scent of sweat and the iron of the weights he’d been lifting washing over you.

Rationally, you know that you should be shocked, horrified, even, that werewolves are real and you’re apparently standing in a house full of them but all you can do is run your tongue along the vein in his throat and Jungkook is trembling all over, whimpering like a puppy.

“Y/n, please, don’t-” he chokes out.

“Why not?” You murmur against his skin, the scent of him making your body react like you’ve never felt before. There’s this ache between your thighs that you’ve only felt a hint of before and you want more, nipping at his skin, unable to think clearly.

“He wants to...wants you,” Jungkook stutters, balling his hands into fists to keep from touching you.

“He does? Or you do?” You ask, lifting your head to pout at him, and Jungkook groans.

“Both,” he whispers hoarsely. 

“Then take me,” you say, and you don’t even know where the words came from. Your head feels light on your shoulders, dizzy with the scent of him, how his skin tastes under your tongue, and you do what he did to you the last night you’d seen him, nipping at his lower lip. Your canine pierces the skin and you taste iron on your tongue

Jungkook growls and lifts you again, this time with his hands under your ass and thighs and your legs wrap around him instantly. He all but throws you down on the bed, this time, and you whimper when he grips one of your thighs with his big hand, squeezing the flesh there.

“Mine,” he snarls, that high pitched whine at the end, and it makes you arch your back, claw your nails across his shoulders.

Jungkook leans down to sniff at your neck and growls again, wrinkling his nose and when you open your eyes he’s staring down at you with those red/amber eyes. 

You look back defiantly but you’re rolling your hips against his, you can feel him hard against your core and even though you’d never gone all the way with anyone before you want him inside you, can’t think of anything else.

“You smell like him,” he accuses, voice hoarse, and his wide eyes fade back to brown, just slightly, the color dilating around his pupils.

“Jungkook,” you whisper, feeling something like guilt, even though nothing had happened, really, and even it if it had…

He rubs his nose against your throat, covers you with his body like he’s replacing any of Jimin’s scent with his own. He licks against your neck, bites down on your skin, making you yelp.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook whines. “I’m sorry, I have to. You’re mine, I have to mark you, have to scent you anywhere he touched you,” he tries to explain, his hands skating down your ample curves.

“It’s okay,” you say, and somehow you mean it, you understand, the very thought of Jungkook smelling like anyone else makes your heart jump into your throat, something primal rise in your gut. “I know, baby.”

“You’re mine?” He says again, voice pitching up into a question just like when he’d introduced himself and it scares you, the way it makes your heart ache.

Instead of speaking you kiss him again, hard, moving your hands to his hair to get him closer. You had worn a skirt and halter out, it’s so warm even though it’s close to winter, your skin feeling so hot under the moonlight that you couldn’t wear much else.

Even as you kiss him he’s tearing at your clothes and you lean up to help him until you’re bare beneath him and panting, this whining noise coming from your throat that you can’t explain.

“God,” Jungkook groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “I don’t know what I’m doing, I-”

“You haven’t...haven’t done this before?” Your eyes widen.

Jungkook realizes what you mean and he blushes a bit. “I’ve...yeah, I’ve done this before but not...not like this. I feel like...the wolf feels like...he’s been crazy. Since the first moment I saw you.”

“Like you’re gonna jump out of your skin? Always feeling...hot?” You ask.

Jungkook nods slowly, eyes widening.

“Me too,” you admit. “I don’t...I don’t know what it means. That’s why I came out with Jimin, I-”

Jungkook cuts you off with a choked whine. “It means you’re supposed to be mine.”

He snuffles against your neck again, hands at your hips, still holding back, trembling. “It means he never should have touched you.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, even though you know you have nothing to apologize for. “I want you. I’ve never...I’ve never done this before but I want you so bad,” you admit, clutching at his tshirt, pulling it up until he gets on his knees and pulls it off, tossing it to the side. You spread your hands across his chest and he lets out a wrecked moan.

“You’re holding back,” you accuse.

He nods. “The wolf, he doesn’t….I don’t want to hurt you. Especially...fuck, no one’s touched you like this before?” His hands slide up and down your thighs as he stares down at your body, your breasts, the cleft of your cunt.

Jungkook knows that shouldn’t make him so hard, shouldn’t make his dick pulse in his sweats, shouldn’t make the wolf keen with pride. Mine mine mine, the first, the only is all his brain is chanting, he feels dizzy like he’s drank too much even though he hasn’t had a drop.

“Please, please, please,” you beg, but he can’t, can’t let the wolf out, he’s afraid he’ll rip you apart. You’re human and a virgin and he can’t risk hurting you.

The wolf won’t even let him say it, so he just shakes his head. 

You huff out a breath, your body aching all over, need making your arousal coat your thighs. You don’t know what you’re going to say until you say it.

“Should I ask Jimin to do it? I bet he can smell me,” you taunt, shocking yourself.

Jungkook freezes, his eyes bleeding to red again and one hand jolting out to wrap around your throat.

“Don’t,” he warns.

You know you should be cautious since you’re about to fuck an actual werewolf, but fuck, you’re so hot, you can’t think, you need something inside you and you drop your feet to the bed, spreading your legs wide.

“Jimin would mark me. He’d fuck me, fill me full like I want.” 

Jungkook feels something in him snap, and his heart hurts and his cock aches and the wolf is keening, clawing inside him and he can’t control it anymore, just like before.

“Never,” he growls, squeezes his fingers around your throat and you gasp, your stomach aching with need.

Finally, finally he slides his fingers along your pussy and you choke out a sob as his thumb slips across your clit but it’s not enough.

“Jungkook,” you whimper. “Make me yours.”

“Already mine,” he murmurs, and finally slides two fingers inside you, making you cry out. “You’re already mine but I’m gonna give you what you want, mark you, fuck you, make sure Park fucking Jimin never so much as sniffs at you again.”

“Yes,” you sigh. “Yes, please, please.”

Jungkook still worries somewhere in the back of his mind that he’ll hurt you, that the wolf will, and by now he understands they’re one and the same but you’re rolling your hips up and his cock feels heavy and full like he’s about to burst, somehow wider at the base and he rips down his sweats, fucking you with three fingers now. 

When his cock bounces against his stomach you gasp, and if you’d been in your right mind you might worry he’s too big but something inside you is crying out in pleasure just at the sight of it. You spread your legs wider and he releases your throat, leaning over to kiss you instead, biting your lip as he slowly works himself inside you.

It’s a tight fit even after three fingers and you’re whining into his mouth, wanting more.

Jungkook isn’t a virgin, far from it although a little less experienced than some of his band members (Hoseok had once bragged about fucking a house of sorority sisters during a rut), but the way you clench around him has his hips twitching, wanting to buck into you even if it would split you open. 

Despite his worry, neither he or the wolf wants to hurt you, though, so he waits for you to adjust even as you beg, waits until you can take all of him.

He’s barely realized that he’s popped his knot until he looks down to see where you’ve joined and he groans. He knows how to do this, has been talked to (endlessly, by Taehyung, about his human girlfriend and how she desperately wants to take his knot and they’re working on it but it will take time and training), knows that you can’t take his knot but the wolf is howling for it, wants to fuck you hard and then pop it inside you, spill a littler into your womb.

You whine and pulse around him, reaching up to tug at his hair. “Kookie,” you pout. “Baby. Want you inside me, fuck me harder, please-”

“I can’t-” he chokes out, but then you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him deeper and the wolf growls, leans down, mine mine mine chanting in his head. My mate.

You felt a tiny pop when Jungkook first entered you, nothing painful and then just need, you want more and more and you don’t even know how to say it. You look up at him, near tears, needing something that you feel he won’t give you.

“I’m not yours yet,” you slur, and he looks pained, his eyes dilating from warm brown to amber red again and again.

He rocks his hips against you slow, and you’ve orgasmed twice already, once from his fingers and one from his cock but it’s not enough and you whine, it comes out almost inhuman, like his.

“Fill me up,” you urge, and Jungkook tries to hold the wolf back, he really does, but he’s too far gone, this close to the full moon and in the start of his first rut. 

Jungkook groans, fucks you harder and faster and when you cry out his name his balls draw up and he thrusts forward harder than he’d meant to, popping his knot inside you.

You make a surprised sound and his eyes pop open, his hands cupping your face even as his hips twitch as he cums, spills inside you.

“Y/n. I’m so sorry,” he mourns. “I’m sorry, I love you, I’m sorry,” he babbles, kissing along your neck and throat, seeing that he’d already marked you twice, once on each side of your throat, and he barely remembers it.

You let out a happy sigh and wrap your arms around his neck, feeling finally sated, at least for the moment. “What are you sorry for, silly baby?”

“Doesn’t it hurt?” He asks, and you look up into his eyes and they’re heterochromatic, now, red hued amber and brown both.

“You’d never hurt me,” you mumble against his throat.

“Never,” he promises. “Never, I love you so much.” 

You’re half asleep, sated with him still inside you, planting soft kisses on your lips and face. You don’t know where you’d learned the word, but it feels right when you say it, right before you drift to sleep.

“I love you too, Alpha.”

It takes a while to understand, especially between Jungkook being barely able to leave his room since he’s in rut and you’re in heat, but eventually, you figure it out.

Your great grandmother had been an omega werewolf, and it’s a recessive gene so you’d been the lucky one to receive it. Since you had never shifted because your gene wasn’t activated by male wolves, you had no smell.

At least, not until the full moon, when you shifted into what Jungkook says is the prettiest wolf he’d ever seen.

After, when you’d near your heat, Jungkook would snap and snarl at the boys so much just for talking to you that it made you roll your eyes, but eventually you got the dates right (for the most part, there’d been one instance in which Jimin had made a snarky comment and Jungkook had lunged at him and they’d gone rolling down the stairs), and you holed up in your apartment, instead.

Jungkook was working with Seokjin to understand that the wolf is him instead of some seperate entity. You tell him you’ve always known that. From what you know now, if the wolf wasn’t, he would have taken you the very first night. True mates are rare, and you’d both known it the whole time, even when you hadn’t.

You and Jia went to every concert, her always telling you her neverending sexcapades with Hoseok to be able to take his knot, front row, waiting for your Alpha’s set. It’s cute, you think, that they call him Baby on stage but he’s your Alpha, especially since he’s both, always, to you.

[ashisstrange]

MASTERLIST

ʷᵒʳᵈˢ: ².²ᵏ

ᵖᵃⁱʳⁱⁿᵍ: ᶜʰⁱˡᵈᵉ ˣ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵗᵃᵍˢ: ʰᵘʳᵗ/ᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗ, ˢˡⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵃⁿᵍˢᵗ, ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ ⁱⁿˢᵉʳᵗ, ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵍⁱᵛᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵏ ᵃˡʳᵉᵃᵈʸ

✥﹤┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈﹥✥

Its late in the night, far too late for your liking. The moon is glistening in the sky with it's stars, providing a small sheen of light in your dark room, passing through the curtains. It's not unusual for Tartaglia to get home late considering his occupation, but you never got used to the worry pooling in ur gut each hour that passes without him by your side.

What if he's gotten incredibly hurt and you're not there to help? What if one day he doesn't return home? Nontheless you always prepare extra dinner and make the bed, even on nights he doesn't return. You never had the idea of coming home to loving arms and warm dinner as a kid, so it felt as if it's your duty to make sure Tartaglia never suffers that feeling.

The feeling of a stab in the chest as you enter the dark house, eerily silent. You'd always pad your way to the kitchen silently and snag a sandwich before going to bed in your room. Your living situation had never been inherently bad, but the people you lived with, the people any other person would've called their parents, seemed to make everything unbearable.

That is why when you turned 18 you moved out to Liyue harbor, and your close friend Zhongli was there every step of the way. You had run into him once during a trip at the age of 16, and you had kept contact through letters ever since.

The man, at the time, told you he was 23, but he never really seemed to age. You brushed it off, probably overthinking it. That is the same person that introduced you to Childe, it was quite a sudden occurence, but you'll be forever grateful.

You needed a place to stay and your friend told you that his friend wouldnt mind a roommate, and that he was rarely found home anyways. You took up the offer, not knowing that your roommate would be one of the fatui harbingers.

You were off to a rocky start, the man refusing to talk to you the very few times he was at the appartment. Later though, he seemed to warm up to you, ever so slowly.

You don't remember how your relationship ever came to be, it's not like you've ever explicitly put a label to it. There was just a moment where you felt as if everything changed. What you had wasn't just merely a romantic relationship, it was more than that. To provide each other comfort and love like no one else had ever done before. Unconditional love that didnt seem to falter, even during the moments where you parted ways.

You smile to yourself, remeniscing the days you barely talked, and the days you spent helping him when he was wounded. There was one particular night he just crashed into your bed in the middle of the night, even though he usually only used the couch.

He had clung to you as if you were his only lifeline, sleeping soundlessly as you laid in shock. The shock died down after a few seconds though, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. Not long after you fell asleep too, and since that night Tartaglia had never slept on the couch ever again.

You check th clock. 4:37 Am, way too late to be up, but it's not like you'd sleep regardless. You'd probably get an ear full from Zhongli during your scheduled lunch the next day, but that, folks, is something for future you to deal with.

Suddenly you heard the turning of keys in a lock, and a door opening and slamming shut. That can only be one person. Then you heard a crash coming from the living room, making you shoot up. You slipped on your slippers as you quickly shuffled your way across the room and out into the living room.

You flicked on the light and were met by Tartaglia, slumped against the back of the couch. His bow was discarded to the side and he was breathing heavily. Sluggishly, his eyes opened to meet yours, his gaze seemed distant, almost empty.

You snapped out of your trance, rushing to pull his arm over your shoulder. You managed to drag him across the living room, over to the bathroom, settling him down on the closed lid of the toilet. You held up your hands, as if to say 'wait here'. You didn't dare break the silence that hung over you, scared that you'd set him off or something.

He didn't seem to protest, so you left to go get the med kit from the kitchen, and a clean rag to clean off the blood splattered across his skin. Was it his? That was a question that, regardless if you could guess the answer, would be left unanswered. As always.

He met your eyes when you returned, seeking for some contact. He knew how much you hated blood. The stickyness, the sickening smell and the thought of what must have happened that involved getting covered in blood. You always helped him regardless, and he thanked you dearly for that. After a long day he simply could not do it himself.

It makes him feel helpless, but you're always right by his side to make him feel better. You wet the rag, cleaning off his calloused hands. His face too had some traces of blood, but those were easily wiped away as well.

After some emergency stitches and a bandage around his bicep you motioned for him to stand up, letting him know that the treatment was done. He was still quite weak, but not as much as before.

"Thanks," he croaked, the first words you shared in 2 days. His voice sounded devoid of any confidence. He seemed very fragile, but you didn't comment it.

"No worries," You send him a reassuring smile, helping him get up and over to the bedroom. You see him visibly relax once he's in bed, snuggling into the sheets. He immediately rolls over towards you when he feels the matress dip, wrapping his arms around your waist.

His face is buried in between your shoulder blades, and it's nearly impossible for you to turn over and look at him. He only does that when he's in a bad mood, and you stop putting in effort to try and face him.

"Bad day?" He hums, the vibrations thrumming against your back. He seems tense, but you're careful not to trigger him too much. The last thing you want is to stress him out even more, knowing he has a lot on his plate already.

After a while, when you've started nodding away assuming he fell asleep you suddenly feel movement behind you. You open your eyes as you hear a small sniffle. It's almost as if you could hear your hart shatter from beneath your ribs. He probably thought you were asleep too.

His arms had relaxed, allowing you to turn around easily. His ocean blue eyes met yours, big with surprise, even though they seemed almost grey-ish in the faint moonlight. All you could do is smile at him as you opened his arms, for him to rely on you.

And that's exactly what he did. qHe fell into your chest, sniffling and crying freely as you drew patterns on his back, your other hand running through his hair. You could almost feel his clogged nose by the way he was having trouble breathing. After a bit his sobbing eased down to mere sniffles as you handed him a handkerchief to blow out his nose.

He used to have a lot of trouble with that, relying on people. Upon meeting him he imediately sparked you as the type of person that didnt bother anyone with his personal feelings, bottling them up for only him to experience. You could see how it physically and mentally ate away at him

That's why one day you faced him, and opened your arms. He had quirked up a brow, confused at what you were insinuating. "Rely on me." You said, and he chuckled, assuming it was a joke.

When you didn't move he realised you weren't kidding. Eventually you wrapped your arms around him, the man tense in your grip. "You don't seem to want to bug anyone else with your problems, so you can rely on me instead,"

You had no idea ho much those words had meant to him, they stuck by him like gum under a shoe. It felt good, he admitted, to have someone to rely on.

"I'm so sorry," He croaks, and he sounds nearly as small as he did in the bathroom half an hour ago, his eyes red with tears. Seeing him like that made your chest clench in pain, knowing the pain the world has caused him.

"There's nothing for you to apologise for," he seems to be taken aback by your comment, maybe even... offended?

"N-no way, i'm clearly a burden to you and a waste of yo-" you shut him up by pressing a kiss to his lips, making his eyes widen.

"You have nothing to apologize for because i am here for you, willingly. I promised to help you with whatever you're going through didn't i," He nods in defeat, leaning back into you. The way he cuddles up to you almost seems domestic, forgetting the fact that he kills people for a living.

"You need to take a break sweetie, otherwise you'll just keep eating yourself up," You stroke a lock of hair out of his face that nearly seemed glued by the stickyness of his tears. He furrows his brows, creating deep creases in between them.

"You know i can't, there's way too much for me to do," He looks up at you, as if he's offended you brought it up in the first place. You press your thumb in between his brows, easing up the crease and stopping him from furrowing.

"We both know it isn't a crime to take a week off, considering you've never used your days off," He tries to butt in, but you shush him before he can start. "And before you start about 'your duties', there's enough harbingers at the fatui, it's not like they can't send Scaramouche to deal with your business for a bit,"

He frowns again, but you resume in stroking his hair. "Besides, if they don't allow you to take off, which i highly doubt, they'll have me to deal with," You smirk. His eyes crinkle up as he musters a small smile. You're not the most intimidating person on the planet, but it's the sentiment that matters.

"What would i even do in that week though," he huffs, fiddling with the back of your shirt as he seems deep in thought.

"Well i had just the idea," you chuckle as he looks at you in disbelief. His eyes are still a bleary red, but you can tell he's a lot less tense than earlier. "And that is..." He continues, his tone ever so curious.

"Say, how long has it been since you've been back home," he visibly tenses up, not meeting your eyes. You know its a sensetive topic, but it'd really do him good to go back home to see his family.

"I dont know, nearly two years," his voice is merely above a whisper, bless the fact that the room is so silent you'd be able to hear a pin drop. You adjust your position so that he's laying against you more comfortably, going back to stroking through his hair.

"Well i thought we could book it to shnezhynaiya for a week or two, spend some time with your family," He lays still against you, as if he'd break if he moved. "After all, they've only heard about me through letters," you chuckle.

You hold him a little tighter, leaning into the warmth. "Wouldn't you like that?" You say in his ear, just above a whisper. That seems to break him, the realisation dawning on him that he'd get to see his family again.  Tears run down his face once again, only this time they're not caused by distress. He nods as he buries his face back into your shoulder.

You stroke his back as you continue talking about your trip, soothing him. Later, when he's stopped crying, he talks along. He tells you about his parents, about how his mother used to be there for him through everything. About how he used to go ice fishing with his father in the winters, and proudly mention he caught a very big fish once.

He also tells you about his siblings, about how he cares for every single one of them very dearly. He also tells you about the spots he wants to visit with you he used to hang out at.

He tells you all about it, and for the first time in a while you see him smile. Really, genuinely smile. The kind of smile where his eyes crinkle up and he bares his teeth. It's an incredibly endearing sight, and u make a mental note to never forget it.

Suddenly he yawns. "You must be exhausted," you chuckle as you both adjust your positions, ready to fall asleep. He only hums as he keeps his eyes shut, pulling up his blanket. His breathing evens out as he falls asleep.

You smile as you look at his resting face, snuggling closer to him as you think; god, how did i get this lucky

[lackingspace]

Null Moon (Marko x Reader)

Rating: SFW

Word Count:5.5k 

Summary: Due to some mad bogus circumstances your hand was forced into relocating to the Santa Carla witch coven. Not exactly where you saw yourself, but beggars cant be choosers or however that saying goes. New coven, new community, no idea how this was going to play out, what could go wrong?

Warnings: Nothing really. Just 80s slang, some suggestive themes, trigger warning for witchcraft I guess, vampire boys doing stalky vampire things, and expanding the magical community at large. Throw in psychic fliting too. The only real warning here is that I wax soliloquy, stopping me is impossible.

So I watched Lost Boys again and Marko just too pretty and wouldn’t stop, so I had to write about it. I’m dedicated to worldbuilding because it pleases me, so no smut yet, but don’t worry, its comin. Enjoy the 80s slang sprinkled everywhere. Out of no where I know, but I hope you all like it ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Part 2: Blood Moon ✧･ﾟ:

Salt was something you’d found yourself trying to quickly get accustomed to. Don’t get it twisted, you weren’t mental and liked it in your food just fine, but it was in everything here. It was bogus, really. None of your new sisters warned you about the mundane annoyances when relocating to their beachfront town.

It was almost insidious how it could worm its way into just about anywhere and everything. Even on days you were a shut-in, your hair still had a salty ocean breeze scent and you swore you’d find grains of sand in the oddest of places. It wasn’t that big of a deal, just another thing out of your control-- one you’d never be able to change. 

The atmosphere answered to no one. Maybe this was the ocean’s way of welcoming you into the fold? Taking it as a sign that the gods were pleased with your departure from the Louisiana coven helped soothe the bitter ache.  

You had other things to occupy your thoughts, anyway. Nothing exciting, just the very normal, very stressful situations that came with moving. Having a not so smooth departure made your integration into this coven rocky. Trying to smooth that out while accommodating for the new energy and dynamic of the community made things difficult. Stressful? Definitely. Normal? Unfortunately. Hectic? Totally, but still necessary to process. 

Getting to know your new coven sisters was also proving tedious, certain views not quite matching up. At least you were kept too busy to really worry over it. Keeping your mind occupied made everything easier. Even if they didn’t know why you’d really been looking to transfer, it was no secret on their end why they’d been so eager to accept you. They’d had a very specific position that none of the current members were willing to entertain. 

A major part of the job was the operation of the coven owned metaphysical shop on the boardwalk, night shift specifically. That had a swirl of mixed emotions bristle your senses- excitement just edging out over apprehension. Your old coven hadn't been open to the human public in any way, shape, or form. The practice was sacred and you were taught to keep it that way.

The only non-paranormal individuals allowed within the walls were partners of the community. A werewolf's mate, for instance, maybe suffering an energetic imbalance would be brought in. So dealing with the stuffy clueless human populace nightly? Well, the idea was less than stellar...but survival required adaptation, and you could be flexible. Still, predicting the havoc it’d play on your nerves was easy. Good thing wine existed because having a glass a day was majorly on the agenda. 

Oh well, every job had to have something and each place had slightly different energetic needs, different spiritual practices, and don’t even get you started on the nuances of rituals- everyone and their mom have their own twist. Baton Rouge had been a prime example of that- a hotbed for the magical community, it was embedded in the culture. Overflowing with a little something for everyone and then some. Different ailments, practices, people, and best of all different magics. 

On the other hand, all that variety came at the cost of a massive headache in interspecies politics. Witches and vampires, weres and goblins, selkies and sirens, demons and wendigos, elementals and everyone, keeping up with who was at who's throat was exhausting. It gave you a gnarly stomach ache frankly, but if that was the price of learning your craft, well, it wasn't that steep.

Headache, stomach pains, whatever- it was a price you'd gladly pay- had paid. Plus, you had loved the community there. Once you got past the politics there was a wealth of knowledge and power just floating around, free for grabs- even when it wasn’t free, there were ways to get what you’d wanted. 

Admitting that your departure had left hella bitter resentment towards your previous sisters was something you actively denied. Your new high priestess hadn’t wanted any hexes sent their way following her acceptance of you. Assuring her it was a mutual departure had been easy, they were extremely desperate and hadn’t really gone through all the hoops to look into it. Besides, it was technically true, there wouldn’t be hexes, just bad blood. There wasn’t really a need to let them know they’d be black listed from the area communals. You’d been to enough of them in the past, they weren’t that special anyway.

Here, alone in the dark with your thoughts, you could sit with the discontent. The choice to leave hadn’t been yours, but you could admit it was for the best. When faced with exile you were willing to sacrifice. Resentment notwithstanding, growth rarely happened if you stayed stagnant for too long. This could actually be a blessing in disguise, even with the perpetual gallons of salt. So here you were; New city, new coven, new people, new rules. 

A sigh escaped you at the thought as you put on a nice balancing act for anyone watching. The rules were certainly different here. 

Less in some ways, more in others- some very curious agreements. Carefully trying, and trying being the keyword, to descend some questionable-looking stairs while carrying delicate cargo. It being pitch black didn't exactly help either, but at twelve am with no flashlight, the darkness was expected. 

Not like you could carry one right now anyway and you’d be caught dead before you put on one of those gaudy forehead lights. A distant bonfire, presumably with partygoers, a few miles off was the only source of light outside of the odd shop still lighting up the boardwalk in the distance. 

Neither were a help to you here, but the darkness didn't bother you much, it was more the feeling of the wood against your feet that had you on edge. Foregoing shoes had seemed like the smarter choice knowing you'd be walking in the loose sugary sand, but with the way it mixed against the rough wood to scratch against the arch of your foot? Regret was front and center which only exacerbating your already agitated mind.

Catching your toe on an uneven patch in the wood had you hissing in pain. Someone was def getting cursed if you got a splinter. Actually, you'd be surprised if you made it out without one. These steps were legit grody, they barely even qualified as stairs honestly. 

Just some half termite eaten planks, driftwood more likely, definitely nothing professional, all nailed together and stuck into the side of a steep sand dune. Falling on your ass at some point was almost guaranteed- You were always a major klutz in these situations.

Shrugging your shoulder and regripping the box, at least the sand would give you a semi-soft landing whenever it happened. 

You should thank whatever beachrat made these stairs though, adjusting your grip on the box again had the jars inside clanking together, water sloshing- good thing you'd tightened the lids before leaving the shop. Thanks to these little stairs you didn’t have to miserably fail at trying your luck in midnight sand surfing. If this was midday you’d have trouble with it still- trying sand surfing now? That'd be so warped. Ugh, just imagine having to make your way back up? Now that'd be a real treat- psych.  

When both feet planted safely, and surprisingly splinter-free, in the soft sand you shook yourself into focus. No more letting your thoughts drive you, way too much negativity to unpack and you didn't need that energy seeping into your work here. Moon-water wasn’t usually the most influenceable, but you could, and with your attitude the way it was? You’d totally choke if you didn’t check yourself. No need to mess up your first job, right?

Breathing deeply you set about focusing your mind; grounding, feeling yourself coming back to a controlled center was the first step of your job here tonight. Tightening your grip and breathing in had the scent of the ocean hit you full force. With practiced ease, focusing inward had your eyes naturally drifting shut and calm settle over you. It was incredible how soothing grounding- ritual in general really, could be. 

Your next inhale highlighted the subtle undertones of the boardwalk overlaid in the breeze, an amalgamation that fused into a scent uniquely Santa Carla. Letting your energy sink deep within you, then lower down still, dropping into the earth, feeling the vibrations of your surroundings- naturally letting it mix with the energies surrounding you. The ocean was a powerful tool, you'd be a ditz to ignore its embrace. There was an unusual magnetic pull in the air, a buzz that licked against your senses.

The full moon was calling, and like the ocean, you were here to answer.  

Centered and ready to work you made your way down to the shore. Funny thing about this new coven, part of the new rules was night rituals were restricted to a single practitioner. That restriction had seemed mental to you, and frankly? You still thought they were a bit out there to bend to such restrictions, but once you learned there was a surprisingly sizable vampire pack in the area it had made more sense. Having just one practitioner was easier for accountability and all that, but like, it was still twisted.

Vampires were picky. They claimed a territory and stuck to it. Any other lucky supernatural creature was subject to their "authority". Barf me out with that attitude. If they weren't solitary, it was usually a duo, anything more than a trio was especially rare. Vampires could be mega volatile in general, but especially towards one another. The fact that there were at least four confirmed vamps in the area? Now, that piqued your interest. Their bonds had to be radically tight to stay together with any type of calm.  

Unfortunately, vampires and witches? Typically not such a hot mix. 

Vampires and magic didn't always mesh well and historically that meant witches and vampires couldn't play nice together. Funnily enough, this coven didn't go against status quo- every sister you'd met so far vehemently detested vamps. Too bad they were smackdab in the middle of fang city. 

The location being legit brill had something to do with how docile the coven acted. It said something when witches were willing to take shit and obey in order to practice. Energetically potent, magically powerful, Santa Carla was a delightful nexus. Not to mention scenic too. 

The coven was desperate for someone to be the designated night ritualist, working the stores night shift was just a caveat. The timing had worked out because you were just as desperate. You thought the whole vampire witch feud thing was lame, but it’d saved you from ex-communication, so you'd keep that tidbit to yourself. 

Vampires didn't bother you really. Well, they could, but not because the vampy bit, just the entitled attitude. Anyone could be a barf bag regardless of what they were. You'd met just as many ditzy witches as narbo vamps. You were more concerned that you'd most definitely have human tourists bombarding you every night. 

What got you though was the craziest part of the deal. When within a 15 mile radius of the boardwalk there was a restriction to strictly restorative work. Even being a nexus, you weren’t sure this place was worth neutering yourself energetically for. Sure, vampire's had their reasons, severe sensitivity to magic yada-yada, not to mention if their bond was as tight as you assumed, they probably felt active magic like nails on a chalkboard, but damn. 

You couldn’t believe the high priestess would agree to it. It really seemed the witches got the short end of the stick here. You weren’t seeing a lot of benefits for yourself. So far your opinion on the coven was….well, at this point you were half-convinced you’d joined a gaggle of ditzes. 

Having taken stock of the ingredients they had on hand a quick glance had made replenishing the monthly moon water a top priority. It was such a simple thing, very useful, super versatile, and no one in the coven had been willing to make a large batch of it. Ugh, imagine letting prejudice get in the way of making such a staple ingredient. There wasn't anything fancy that went into it. A cool head, even temper, patience, and a little prep was all that it needed. 

That’s what you were here for now, though. They could keep their dislike and eat their cake too. Still, you weren’t completely obstinate and took their warning to heart, it wasn't just the vampires that made the area witches refuse the night shift. 

Santa Carla wasn’t exactly Disneyland. Murder was a thing and it happened here daily. Nexus’s tended to have a magnetic draw. Pulling in powerful things, good things, weak things, bad things- the sheer unpredictability wasn’t a friend in this case.  

A random human could decide tonight was beach shanking night and you’d be the lucky victim. You’d like to see them try at least. Maybe one of the vampire pack would break the agreement if they were feeling a bit nippy? Doubtful if they didn’t want a war on their hands, but possible. A stray wendigo attracted to your energy feeling a midnight snack seemed more likely. Could even be a banshee needing a quick meal. Never can tell how things were going to work out. 

Knowing yourself though, you’d probably just trip up those hella grimy stairs and break your neck.

You weren’t too worried about being attacked though, honestly. You had wards in place and if it got past that, well, you'd deal with whatever it was then. No use worrying about it now. You were more than happy to take on the privilege to essentially moon bathe on the beach while funneling the energy to the water. It was good on all levels.

Walking to the area you’d scouted during the day set your mind back into focus. Setting the box down, the jars jostling while you grabbed the blanket hanging off the side of the box. Spreading it out and setting up your area had everything falling in place. The jars spread just along the outside of your circular blanket, with that done you sat yourself down in the center.

Determined to do this right you brought back that focused rooted energy. Using this as an opportunity to release some built-up tension would be a good idea too. Let the ocean wash away your bitterness with the tide and allow the moon to shift you into clarity for whatever was to come. Even if you did think your new sisters were idiots, they were to be your idiots and you had to embrace it.

As you laid there working the energy and letting it shift, you noticed a curious sensation at the edge of your perception. 

A slight tickling at the fringe of your awareness; soft, so extremely soft and subtle that if you’d just gone about your business and hadn’t been so introspective focused you’d totally have passed it over. 

Watched.

The subtle sensation wasn’t threatening as of yet, but you were definitely being watched. By what? You weren’t sure. Getting a firm reading on it was difficult. The more you focused on the energy the further it pulled back. Pursuing it only had whoever it was slyly staying just out of your grasp. 

Definitely not human. Wouldn’t be a witch or a medium either, they’d just answer your psychic questioning. Could be a were, you’d heard they’d been in the area recently. The next brush sent a shiver down your spine and had you crossing weres off. It was definitely too silky to be one, they always felt gruffer to you, wilder. Possibly a demon, they had that shade of sensuality and always liked to follow you around in new territory. A quick flash of tightly-wound sharp control coated in a mischievous air finally spit out the answer; Vampire.

Satisfied, you dropped the pursuit and turned your attention back to the sea. Subtle brushes returning, but this time not trying to hide itself or their interest. So one of the new overlords had decided to drop in on their new subject? That was just fine as long as they stayed watching and didn’t interfere. 

You’d give it to whichever vamp this was. They had wicked nice energy. Like, once you got a read on that was. Playful, cheeky almost to a fae’s degree, brimming with an elusive danger, while still having a quiet peace underneath. That quiet calm resonated inside your own field and was exactly what you needed to settle back into your space. You didn’t hate the idea of their company so much.

You’d expected a run-in at some point, but right away? They were some go-getters to the max.

Nothing came of it though, the watcher had just been that. A watcher. When three am came, went, and passed, you’d decided to pack things up. You felt their vigilant gaze the entire time. Even after you got in your car and motored on home, it was still with you. It was only after you entered your home did their light press on your awareness leave. 

The rest of your week played out much the same. Feeling that attentive gaze in every outside ritual from start to well after the finish. Even while you were working the shop they’d pop in and out of your awareness only to settle when you were locking up for the night.

You’d tried to catch a glimpse of who your designated monitor was, but it proved an impossible task. Stealth was a vampire’s friend and this one was incredibly apt. They stayed just far enough away during ritual and on the boardwalk you were too busy entertaining space cadet humans or dealing with an actual client to seek them out. 

On that note, there was a surprising number of shapeshifters in the area, changelings especially had been a nice treat. They weren’t exactly common in Louisiana and working with them was always interesting. They required a delicate eye and full attention when diagnosing their condition. 

A shapeshifter’s physicality was entirely based on energy manipulation, so one wrong push or pull and you could injure them more than help. Pinpointing where your attentive observer was out in the crowd became annoyingly out of the question. 

They’d turn up eventually. Until then, however, you’d just have to sit tight. Lucky for you changelings had a penchant for gossiping. They’d been kind enough to give you a rundown on the pack and their opinion of them. Changelings weren’t known to have easily won loyalty, so the popular opinion on them being pretty rad, was surprising. 

They were apparently chill on the authority, which was shocking enough, but they said the pack leader, David, could be hella genial. Vampires weren’t usually described that way. Not outside of the anyone they were glamouring anyway. Maybe the coven weren’t such spazes to reside here.

Friday saw your week coming to a close. You’d woken up ready to put your first week behind you and spend the weekend really exploring the area. There was a nice hiking trail not too far away that you’d really wanted to spend some time at. A few brownies had spirited into the shop and mentioned it as a great area for herbs and ritual during conversation. 

Brewing a second cup of tea, calming herbs this time- regular humans really did get on your nerves with their incessant brainless questions and barf bag attitude. There were a few mediums that'd dropped in who you didn't mind, actually really liked, but the rest of the human race made you want to gag. Lumping witches and poor mediums into the same category didn’t seem fair.

The night was steadily cruising along. The humans came in bursts, sporadic, but manageable. Client-wise, nothing too dramatic either, the most interesting case was a few sprites suffering a nasty goblin hex. It was an easy enough fix, orders on how to use the herbs, and a cautionary chastising to leave the gobbies alone unless invited. They giggled their departure as you shook your head, sprites never learned. 

The night's energy had you listless. Only a few hours left before you could close down shop and you were antsy. No pressing ceremonies to perform tonight for the coven either, so heading straight home to open that bottle of wine you'd acquired before your arrival was on the top of the to-do list. 

Curiously, your nightly specter hadn't visited once. It was surprising how fast you'd gotten used to a vampire’s energy body. If you were honest with yourself, you'd even come to look forward to having it- him, the changelings had listed only male vampires, being a steady sensation on the outer edges of your senses. 

The absence of the strange new routine left you with an unsettled itch. Something was off, you could tell, your antsiness screamed of something about to happen, you just weren't sure what. 

The answer came not too long after that. With a lull of what you assumed to be the last customers of the night, you’d busied yourself restocking and starting to close down. High on the shelf ladder reorganizing the herb wall. It got so messy with the daily run-through of customers’ grubby hands all over it. Turning a jar forward as the bell above the door sounded. 

"Welcome! I'll be-" the energy that zapped your senses had you cut off the greeting with a sharp inhale. Thank the gods you hadn't been holding one of the glass jars, it'd be smithereens otherwise. 

The shift had hit you instantly, an electric buzz that lapped against your mental self. Giving you a clear idea of what just walked in. Four of them. They'd all come. Shifting through the sensation, trying to grasp each of their unique patterns had you stopping short when you felt your chaperone's energy reach out to you.

It wasn't just a soft prodding like usual, instead, it was like a full-body caress. More like a lick if you were honest. 

Skin tingling, electric sparks sent down your spine settling somewhere you'd rather not question right now, and if your nipples had tightened from it? Well, that was nobody's business. Beneath the shameless lick was an urge of reassurance. 

The unspoken highly nuanced language assuring you of safety. Thank the goddess you were fluent. It was odd, really, a vampire reassuring a witch of their safety? You weren't prey, not if they wanted the coven to stay placid. Even if they’d decided to attack you weren’t helpless. The kiddie gloves would come off quicker than lightning and then they’d see what was up. 

They’d definitely break you, but you’d do some damage. So there wasn't any rhyme or reason to make you feel safe or calmed. Nothing you could think of except for your own peace of mind. It had a giggle bubbling up, but you clamped down before it could escape. 

You appreciate the sentiment regardless and dragged your energy against his in return, showing your mirth, and if he was apt enough to recognize the instant anxiety their entrance caused, he'd feel the praise underneath.

Taking a deep inhale before steeling yourself. You'd anticipated that it was only a matter of time before a meeting. The high priestess had said it’d come at some point when they felt ready, so you were decidedly not going to freak out and treat them like any other customer. Even if one of them had already made your nipples pebble. 

You were also so ready to end the mystery of what your babysitter looked like. Putting a face to, well not a name, but an energetic signature rather. Stepping down from the ladder you made your way towards the front counter. 

They were milling about between aisle shelving so getting a clear look wasn’t working. You could see bits of hair, flashes of leather, and hear their banter- typical dudes messing with each other. You were right, hearing how affable they were with each other solidified that they def have a legit bond.

Waiting another minute behind that counter still hadn’t made them come to you. Sighing before you decided to speak up, "What can I help you with tonight?" That had the laughter in the back trickle off before a rumbling voice spoke out, "Many things, maybe nothing. Depends on what you're offering." He hadn’t needed to emerge from the aisle for you to feel the leer paired with that statement. Ah, so David was the edgy type. You could work with that. 

What you might stumble over though, was just how pretty they all were.

Don't get it wrong, Vampires were supposed to be attractive, it was part of their thing. A magnetic and alluring shift happened to them all when they were turned, but this? This was on another level. 

The vague memory of lessons from your old covens compendium on vampiric lore came to mind. It’d stated the first vampire came into existence born by way of an incubus mingling in a maenads rites with a medium. Their resulting child the first vampire. 

Who knew how accurate those stories were, the compendium was specific to each coven; an enduring collection of their line of knowledge, but authenticity was always questionable.

Looking at them all as they emerged- really made you believe there was some weighted truth to the legend. Incubus certainly seemed like it was mingled up in them. You’d been gifted by a few incubi once upon a time and the similarities between them and these boys? Striking. Between their movements, their magnetic presences, and the brazen way they gazed at you. 

The vampires in Louisiana were all charming, but it was all a subtle compulsion. It didn’t help that they typically had a bad attitude mixed with antiquated style. They just never appealed to you.

This pack, however, seems like they’d had no problem keeping up with pop culture. Embracing it wholeheartedly, one of them looked like he moonlighted in poison for crying out loud. Maybe they were young, but you got a vibe that hinted otherwise. More like they were adaptable.

Trying to keep a straight face, professionalism and all that, was difficult, but doable. At least you thought it was, but once you locked eyes with a pair of soulful hazel- there was no doubt that they all felt the psychic warble you let slip accidentally. 

He’d been the elusive watcher this week. There wasn’t a question about it, a perfect face to match his auric self. The breath you’d been holding choked out when he broke into an impish grin followed by what was essentially another playful full-body kiss. 

You swore you could hear a purr resound in your mind. The three subordinates chuckled when you drew in a sharp intake. 

“Marko.” David's tenor was soft, but firm. Marko? Cute. Without breaking eye contact, his smile widened mischievously while he raised both hands in surrender. The undivided attention was unsettling in all the right ways. 

Sparking a heat that undulated throughout you. Tabling that information to the back of your mind, you broke the gaze. Needed to if you were going to have any kind of brain function for conversation.

Turning to the de facto leader you sized him up. Or tried to. Definitely threatening, actively making it hard to read him. On the surface he felt like a cold blade; sharp, decisive, piercing. 

Good qualities for a leader you supposed, but like, damn, that didn’t sate your curiosity. If he wasn’t going to work with you then that only left the boring way,  “David, I presume?”

He raised a brow with a pleased look, “Good. The little crone knows who matters around here.” Bo-guuus, edgy with an attitude. Those changelings either lied or were talking about someone different because genial? You weren’t seeing it. Aiming an unimpressed look paired with a, “Mmhmm” brought a chuckle of his own. 

Waiting for him to speak again seemed like the best option, you weren’t very good at small talk, and Marko was still so very distracting. After David’s chiding, he really hadn’t let up much. He might not be doing that lick thing with the delightful heat, but what he was doing wasn’t far off. 

Going out of his way to make sure a large portion of your attention was still focused on him by continually baiting you; almost like energetic petting. If you weren’t trying to have a serious conversation you’d bask in the new attention. You weren’t a cat, but you imagined this is what they must have felt like. Psychic flirting was always fun, but his attention had it quickly becoming your favorite. 

With him doing it in front of his pack though? Any sensible person, witch especially should be uncomfortable. Totally pissed if not outraged- it was definitely a claim, unnervingly possessive, and you shouldn’t like the blatant territorial display, but for some reason, it stroked something deep in your harebrain that majorly worked for you.

Before you could drop down that rabbit hole further David brought you back, “You’ve been a busy little witch this past week.” Annoyance fluttered in, what’d he expect? There hadn’t been a night ritualist for over a year. There was a lot of work to do, some things just couldn’t be done during the day. 

You shrugged “Ha, massive understatement. New coven, new clients, way too many neglected things to catch up on. Seems like you should thank me for taking over.” 

The look he gave you was piercing and indiscernible. You weren’t really sure where you stood with him. You hadn’t done anything to step out of the bounds they’d placed on you, but somehow with the look he was leveling at you begged the question, had you? 

Mentally retracing your week yielded nothing. Hadn’t even tried to hex anyone, even that human who’d cut you off on your drive in Wednesday night, now that’d been difficult. Was this why you’d had such heavy surveillance? Not that you’d minded, but here you thought it was just your shining personality. 

“Keep it up. The community needs a witch with some spine.” Maybe you’d spoke too soon, he might not be so bad. 

“I wasn’t so sure about you. Word on the street and all.” That had you freeze. Not even Marko’s continued attention phased you. There was no way he knew anything. That was impossible. Your new coven didn’t know, your old coven wouldn't dare let anything slip- it wouldn’t just be you who lost face. 

There was no way anyone knew anything about you or why you’d moved. It had to be a bluff, a well aimed taunt. It was common knowledge that witches rarely transferred covens, it happened for a multitude of reasons- good, bad, ugly. He was just being a dickhead, a nosy dickhead. 

Forcing a calm mask even though you were sure they could all hear your rapid heartbeat, trying not to play into his bait, “Oh? Word on the street? I have a rep already? Bitchin’.” 

Anxiety was a mega issue for you, so not having a cow and playing it as chill as you did? A total moment for you. clammy hands, rapid heartbeat, clenched jaw and all. That pulled a laugh out of Marko and the hair band look-alike while David and the clydesdale in the back wore smirks. 

“Word is the new witch isn’t from the clique. Never can tell what you little hags are planning, bringing in new blood?” He leaned forward across the counter catching you with his piercing blues, “That has trouble written all over it.” 

You were slow to process what he’d actually said, too caught up in how the light glinted off his pretty eyes. There was no denying it, so you didn’t try, “For sure,” but on second thought you didn’t want to make it sound like you were here to start shit, “but change isn’t always bad.” 

He tapped the glass of the counter before he pushed off, “We’ll see about that, little hag”. That must have been the signal to leave because he’d started walking towards the door with the silent type in his shadow. 

Marko hadn’t moved, hadn’t dropped his attention and you were nervous to return it. Too likely to get caught up in something now that they were all leaving. You liked it, but it was still like mega nerve-racking. 

Before you could work up the confidence to engage with whatever that was, the taller blonde slapped his shoulder, “I like this chick! She’s got some spunk!” 

He made to push away from the vampire still comfortably leaning against the counter, but something had caught your eye. Without thinking, your hand shot out like a viper to grip his wrist before he could walk any further away, “Wait up!” Marko’s purr, or whatever that buzz he was coating you in suddenly sputtered out.

With everyone’s attention returning, you dropped the skin contact and made your way around the counter. Standing in front of him while quickly giving him a psychic once over. His tallness made it very inconvenient to look for the physical indicator of what you suspected. With a yank to his shoulder you spoke before you really thought how it’d be taken, “Bend down and show me your teeth.”

[ultscribe]

Ashe x reader, with "sweetpea" as the word you use for inspiration, please!

   (Sure!)

  |   Sweetpea is associated with blissful pleasure, departure, and goodbye. |

    It was a truth universally acknowledged that anyone who crossed anyone belonging to Calamity Ashe ought to step off before they got their heads blown off. And you, she stressed to the rival gangs as you prepared to depart on your wayfaring, were absolutely hers.

  Ashe’s Deadlock Gang wasn’t the most welcoming group, but once you came in with the tumbleweeds, stumbling, genuine and immediately forgetting your own troubles in lieu of theirs - when you laid eyes on Zeke trying to staunch the blood from a wound he got talking stupid, aiming stupider - there wasn’t a ruffian among them who wanted to hurt you. Ashe’s first impression was a blend of derision and - strangely - respect. Look at you, complete stranger, jumping in with a simple, “I can help,” and saving B.O.B. the trouble. It was ridiculous, naive, but so unabashedly kind, and Ashe liked that.

  “Well, ain’t you just the most generous, lost little sweetpea to come tripping through these doors?” she’d said to you, watching you settle in with the rest of the ruffians for the night (she did repay her debts, after all, and patching up one of her guys was worth the bed and breakfast). You, for your part, examined her back with such calm in your soft eyes that she raised her eyebrows, impressed. You were naive, but brave.

  “Not lost,” you said with a gentle smile. “Just passing through. Thank you, though.”

  Maybe you meant for the departure to be as quick as it sounded, at first; Ashe had only shrugged, not bothered. If you left, you left; if you stuck around for a day or two, they’d use your medical skills. At the time, neither of you anticipated that “just passing through” would take weeks, long enough for Ashe to grow more and more fond of your subtle wit and tranquil energy. For B.O.B. to seek you out for tea and Zeke to start minding his manners more around you, the way he only did for Ashe, waitresses, grandparents.

  With every wound stitched, every joke told, every musing of wandering, you became more of a fixture in the Deadlock Gang.

  “If you’re gonna be long in these parts, you’re gonna have to know how to shoot,” Ashe decided once; you followed her out at the cant of her head with a curious little smile. Your stance was firm, if unlearned; she corrected you with a rattler’s snap-reflex minus the venom. You could have a little bit of her without the teeth, after all.

  “I like watching you shoot better,” you admitted after a session, handing the Viper(!) back over to her. “You’re dynamic, graceful - I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone handle a gun like you do. I doubt I’ll ever meet anyone like you again.”

  “I’d reckon not, sweetpea,” Ashe quipped, smirking a bit too warmly to be properly snarky. “I’d imagine meeting living legends ain’t much of a common occurrence.”

  Sometimes, she had half a mind to berate you for this, for settling so seamlessly into her life with the express intent of vanishing someday. (Like Jesse, maybe?)

  (But Jesse was never so genuine, so patient; she did not have a deep-seated, trigger-happy bone to pick with you.)

  And when you did go, pack slung on under a full moon, you said your goodbyes, and locked eyes with her.

  “’Til next time, sweetpea,” you said, eyes twinkling slightly.

  She let you go.

  (And months later, an envelope arrived: carefully pressed pink petals dotting delicate stems, a subtle floral scent rising from the postcard. Familiar handwriting. No return address.)

  (For the living legend.)

[slytherinbarnes]

Sub Rosa [43]

xiv. red sky at morning

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 5.6k

Warnings: violence, fighting, death, angst, blood, drugging for safe passage. 

Summary: things don’t go according to plan on Luna’s rig, and everything you’ve been running from finally catches up.

a/n: hello lil moons, good news! I have now written and edited s6, which means we only have s7 left to fix write! also, I have a few things in the works so stay tuned for a few future announcements! okay, ily all and I hope you’re well! the taglist for this series is open! I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

Luna disappears from the top of the rig before any of you can even catch her. 

Instead, you’re all led into the rig and into a large room, where people are sitting around, eating, talking, listening to someone telling a story. One of Luna’s people tells you to wait here, and then they leave you alone, the five of you all staring at each other in confusion, wondering what to do next.

Jasper quickly decides that he no longer cares, and he leans back in his seat, listening to the story being told by the girl at the front of the room. Octavia sits motionless, and you start to worry that she’s in shock, not expecting that the Luna that Lincoln had told her about would turn you all away. You, Clarke, and Bellamy look around the room constantly, head turning towards the door every time you hear it open, searching for the woman who denied you. 

You’re the first to spot her, Bellamy and Clarke looking the other way, and you reach out to touch each of them, getting their attention. “She's here.”

“Maybe she changed her mind,” Bellamy mumbles as he stands, and you and Clarke do the same, following him across the room and stopping in front of Luna.

Clarke opens her mouth to say something, but Luna beats her to the punch. “The boats return at nightfall. Then, you leave.” She pauses, and then adds, “Forever.”

Clarke tries again, “Luna, let us explain.”

“I said no.”

“No, you need to hear this.” Bellamy tries to reach out and grab her to stop her as she tries to walk away, but the man at her side reaches out for him and stops him. Still, she pauses, allowing Bellamy to continue, “There is something out there that is going to destroy us all.”

“Whatever it is, it can't reach us here.”

She brushes right past you, heading over to sit beside Octavia. You all stand there, dumbfounded, sure that you could convince her if you were given a second chance. Jasper gets up and leaves the two women, and you see Luna pass Lincoln's journal to Octavia, before you turn away with a frustrated huff. 

After a brief conversation, Luna stands and leaves Octavia, before walking over to a couch against the wall with the man from earlier. They both lay back onto it, instantly cuddling, and you turn away, feeling like you shouldn't be watching. Bellamy leads you and Clarke back over to his sister, and you all sit around a small fire in silence, much like before. Bellamy and Octavia seem much more resigned to Luna’s denial, while you and Clarke continue to radiate anger and frustration. 

Bellamy breaks the silence first, glancing over at Jasper and then back to your group with a smile. “Jasper's actually smiling.”

None of you say anything, and beside you, Clarke turns to glare at Luna. Bellamy shakes his head and sighs, “Hey, Temper Twins, let it go.”

You look up at him with a glare, and you’re sure Clarke is doing the same. You shake your head at him. “We can't just leave.”

Octavia mumbles, “It's not like we have much of a choice.”

Clarke turns to look at her, backing you up. “Maybe we do.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I'm talking about putting the Flame into her head without asking.”

You turn to Clarke in shock, instantly shaking your head, “Wait, that's not what I meant.”

Octavia gives Clarke a look of indignation before adding, “This isn't like Emerson, he was trying to kill us!”

“You think I don't know that?”

Bellamy gives Clarke a serious look. “Clarke, we don't have to do this. We can fight, we can go back to Arkadia. We can arm up.”

“Fight who? It's an army of our own people. I don't like this any more than you do. But if Raven's right and the code in this thing can stop Alie…” She trails off, and sighs, “Give me a better idea.”

Someone nearby calls Luna, and she exits the room. Clarke’s eyes follow her movements until she’s gone, and then she turns towards you, her eyes pleading. You run through the options in your head. How to stop an army of chipped people who want you dead? Can’t shoot them, because they’re chipped. And they’re your people. Too many chips to fry with EMPs. Plus, no more bracelets. And that leaves…? You sigh, knowing that she’s right, and there’s no other way. You turn to look at Bellamy, and his eyes search your face, trying to decipher what you’ve decided. As soon as he figures out you’re with Clarke, his face morphs into one of resignation, and he turns to your twin. “We'll stay here. It's the only way they'll leave you alone with her.”

Octavia mutters, “Even Alie gives people a choice.”

Bellamy shrugs, “We gave Luna a choice. She said no.”

Clarke nods at you and Bellamy in thanks, before getting up and leaving the room, following Luna’s path out the door. The three of you wait for her to return, your eyes occasionally falling on Jasper, sitting in the corner, talking to the girl that was telling the story. You smile as you watch them, his face split in a grin, the first one you’ve seen on his face in months.

You don’t have enough time to contemplate what that means for him, because Clarke is back almost as quickly as she left, and based on the pissed off energy radiating off of her, she failed. She plops down beside you, and you all turn towards her with expectant looks. She doesn’t offer much in her explanation, just a grumble of, “She took the Flame and said I'd get it back when we leave tonight. So that’s it.”

You and Bellamy exchange a look, before your eyes land on one of the couches along the wall. Realizing there’s nothing to do now except wait, you turn to the others, “If we’re stuck here until nightfall, I’m catching up on some sleep at least.”

You don't wait for them to answer, you just stand and head straight for the comfiest looking one, and stretch out on it. The stress and lack of sleep from the last few days finally catches up with you, and you close your eyes, falling asleep in seconds. 

-

Your mom stands in front of you, a small, clear chip in her outstretched hand. You peer down at the blue logo, the infinity symbol, before looking back up and meeting her gaze. She smiles, tilting her head to the side. “The City of Light is so wonderful, you’re going to love it. All you have to do is take the chip.”

You shake your head, and try to pull away, but realize that you can’t. Panic washes over you as you realize that you’re restrained, chained to the wall behind you. But you don’t want her or Alie to see your fear, so you lift your chin, defiant, and tell her, “I won’t do it. Nothing you say will make me do it.”

She smiles again, and turns to look at an empty space on her left. “I told you she’d resist. Bring him in.”

You feel dread drop in your stomach at the thought of who she’s talking about, but she doesn’t leave you waiting for long. The doors behind her swing open, and Bellamy is dragged in, bloodied and bruised, barely hanging onto consciousness. But he perks up as soon as he sees you, and you both try to run to each other, you pulling on the chains at your back, as he pulls against the guards holding him tight. He is brought to your mother’s side before they push him down to his knees and chain him to the bolts in the floor. Your eyes are locked on each other, and you miss your mother’s movements until she kneels down beside Bellamy, into your line of sight. 

You glance over at her and almost immediately glance away, until an alarm goes off in your brain, triggered by the glint of metal in the light. You swing your eyes back towards her, and you see that she’s holding up a knife, your knife, a serene expression on her face. “Last chance to take the chip before I turn to other methods of persuasion.”

You don’t need to ask what she means, and you turn to Bellamy with a look of panic. He shakes his head, hard. “Don’t do it. No matter what, don’t take the chip.”

Your mother uses the knife to rip open his shirt, and you feel your lip quiver. He gives you a reassuring look. “I’ll be okay. Just promise me you won’t take the chip.”

Your mother lifts the knife to his chest, resting the blade against his skin, and tears spring to your eyes. You shake your head, and Bellamy pleads, “Promise me!”

You whisper, “I promise.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, your mother drags the blade across his skin. You can see him clenching his teeth together, trying to hold back his cry of pain, but it eventually bursts free, tearing right through your heart. You watch a line of blood run down his chest as your mother asks, “Will you comply?”

Your voice shakes, thick with emotion, but you keep your promise. “No.”

She lifts the knife again and drags it across his stomach, as Bellamy screams in pain. A sob breaks free from you, and the tears track down your face. 

“Will you take the chip?”

“No.”

The process repeats: your mother cuts the love of your life and asks you to take the chip, but you keep your promise to Bellamy and deny her, every single time. You don’t know how long she’s been doing this when she drops the knife, the serene expression slipping from her face a fraction of an inch. She turns to the unseen figure, “This isn’t working.”

You ignore her one sided conversation, whispering Bellamy’s name, begging him to look up at you. His head dropped to his chest a few cuts ago, most of his skin stained with blood, nearly every inch of him covered in a cut. He weakly lifts his head and smiles at you, and it feels like a punch to the gut, the way he's still trying to reassure you, despite how weak he is. “Bellamy, you can’t take much more of this.”

He lifts his head, keeping it up. “Yes, I can.”

“If I take the chip, they’ll leave you alone. You’ll be safe.”

“No, I won’t. Because they’ll just use you against me like they did to your mom with Raven. And I’ll break. You’re so much stronger than I am, that’s one of the reasons why I love you.”

The tears rush to your eyes again, a new wave of emotion taking you over. You don’t get the opportunity to say anything else, because your mom is back, along with her calm demeanor. 

And a gun.

You feel your stomach drop as soon as you see it, and you see the flash of fear on Bellamy’s face, one he quickly hides. She lifts the gun to his temple, and turns to you. “Take the chip, or he dies.”

You start to sob, “Mom, please. Stop, just stop! This isn’t you!”

She starts to countdown, “Three seconds.”

“Mom, stop! What would dad say? You can’t do this!”

“Three.”

You turn to look at Bellamy, panicking, but he shakes his head, mouthing, “You promised.”

“Two.”

You watch a single tear run down his face and you start to cry harder, begging. “Leave Bellamy out of this, please don’t do this!”

“One.”

Bellamy looks at you, his eyes full of love, and he mouths, “I love you more than the stars.”

You have a split second to process the words before a shot rings out, too loud in the small space, and Bellamy’s body hits the ground a second later. It takes a moment for you to process, your head stuffed full of cotton, your thoughts slow to connect, but as soon as you do, a gut wrenching scream tears from your chest and you lurch towards him, trying to reach him, despite the fact that you are still chained up. The chains pull at your body uncomfortably hard, but you don’t notice, don't care, as you drop to your knees and sob, staring down at Bellamy’s lifeless eyes.

You start to scream at your mother, yelling anything that comes to mind. “I’ll never forgive you for this, do you hear me? And I'll never give you what you want! We’re gonna shut you down, Alie! Are you listening to me, you evil bitch, you’re done! You’ll never win!”

Your mother turns away from you, still just as calm, waving at the guards by the door. “Get rid of him.”

They nod and start to walk towards him, and as they reach his body, she adds, “Oh. And bring me Clarke.”

You grow still, before the anger rips through you, and you jump towards your mother, filled with white hot rage, the intensity of it-

forcing you awake with a start. 

You sit up with a gasp, looking around you, trying to gather your bearings. You almost cry with relief when you realize you’re still on Luna’s rig, and every part of that hellish nightmare was just a dream. You feel a hand touch yours, and you jump in surprise, turning to your left, and realizing that Bellamy is on the couch beside you. Judging by the sweat marks on his pants, he let you use him as a pillow. “Bad dream?”

You nod, still on edge, and he seems to sense that, because he gives you a soft smile. “You’re safe. I was here the whole time.”

You feel heat rush to your face, now embarrassed that you sweated all over him. And that he witnessed your panic. He reaches up and brushes a finger over your cheek, and the bruise on your face from Emerson, and you close your eyes, leaning into the touch. The first bit of quiet intimacy you’ve shared in a while.

He pulls away abruptly, and you open your eyes quickly, gaze lifting to his face. You can see the guilt written all over it, and it sends a wave of sadness through you. You reach for him, hands caressing each of his cheeks as you force him to meet your eyes. They lock with yours and you whisper, “I need you to love me.”

His eyes widen in surprise, and then switch to confusion before he mumbles, “I do.”

You know he does, but he still doesn’t get it, not yet. He still doesn’t realize that his guilt is holding him back from being with you fully, because he’s gotten in his head and told himself that he’s a monster, and he doesn’t deserve this, or you. But you know that he’s not quite there yet, and that’s okay, so you lean towards him, resting your forehead against his. He closes his eyes, relishing in the nearness of you, and you think of all the love you have for him, and how wonderful you think he is, hoping that he can sense it. 

Someone clears their throat beside you and you pull back and turn to see Clarke, looking guilty for interrupting. “It’s time to go.”

You and Bellamy nod, silently standing and following her. You meet Octavia at the door, who’s already standing and waiting with your Grounder guide. When you reach them, he turns and leads your group outside, taking you through the oil rig and back up to the shipping container you started in. You look up at the sky as you walk, marveling in the brightness of the moon and stars out here over the ocean. 

You're pulled back to the earth by the sound of the container doors being opened. You watch as the man who brought you here steps out, and Luna materializes out of the darkness to tell him, “Sorry, Cap, we gotta take them back.”

Someone hands her a bag, and she tosses it inside of the container before turning to you. “Your gear. You get your weapons once you land.”

You look around, realizing that you’re missing someone. “Where’s Jasper?”

Octavia nods back towards the room you came from. “Saying goodbye to his new friend.” 

Everyone looks that way, exchanging a look, trying to decide who’s gonna go after him. When you realize that no one is moving, you sigh. “Okay, fine, I’ll go get him. But don’t leave without me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

You head back towards the rig as you hear one of the men grunt to the others, “Inside.”

You turn and glance at them, watching as they step inside, before you turn back and start to walk towards the inside of the rig. You head straight for the room you just left, and stand in the doorway, searching every face, looking for Jasper. You roll your eyes when you don’t see him, and turn to the first person you see, a woman, with kind eyes and a warm smile. “Have you seen my friend? He has short hair, kinda tall and lanky?”

The woman gives you a knowing look. “He’s with Shay. They’re down below, with the storage. Taking the long way.”

You’re surprised at the amount of detail, but smile at her in thanks. “Thank you. Mochof.”

She smiles at your use of Trigedasleng, before you turn and jog off again, following her directions. You take the nearest staircase to the next level down, and step inside the room, pausing to listen. You smile when you hear voices, Jasper’s among them, and you start to walk that way. You come around the corner, coming face to face with them, and you yell his name, “Jasper!”

He looks up at you, and then his gaze focuses on something behind you as someone yells, “Shay, run before-”

They’re cut off by the sound of a loud thud, and you quickly turn around and see the man that guards Luna, Derrick, slumped in a Grounder’s arms. You glance at the other Grounder and see Luna thrown over his shoulder, and you start to back up quickly, away from the chipped men, and back towards Jasper and Shay. One of the men looks at you suspiciously, and you turn and run towards them, yelling, “She’s here, Jasper!”

He quickly turns to Shay, frantically pushing her towards the exit. “Go, tell your people to not take the chip.”

She hesitates, and he yells, “Run now! Go!”

You reach him just as she turns to run, but she freezes in place when an arrow lands in her back, and she hits the ground with a scream of pain. Jasper yells out in anger, and you turn to look at the chipped men, realizing that the Captain is lifting his crossbow again, aiming at Jasper. “Jasper, run!”

You dive towards him, pushing him out of the way as the arrow flies towards him, and he hits the ground beside you. A scream tears free from your chest as the arrow sinks into your shoulder from behind, the head of it coming out the other side. You look down at the arrowhead sticking out of you as you drop to your knees, the pain making you dizzy. You hear Jasper jump up and punch the Captain, but he’s unfazed and punches Jasper back, the force of it immediately knocking him unconscious. 

You hear them coming towards you and you fall to your side, eyelids closing, hoping that they’ll fall for your deception. The footsteps come to a stop right beside you, and someone nudges you with their shoe, turning you over to get a good look at you. The movement causes you to roll over onto your shoulder, pushing the arrow deeper into your skin, and you have to work hard to fight back the scream of pain that threatens to tear from you. You keep your face neutral and your breathing even, waiting for a long second until you hear someone say, “We’ll come back for them. We need to get Luna tied up before she wakes.”

You hear the footsteps retreat and you lie there for an agonizingly long minute, waiting until you can no longer hear them before you peek an eye open. You’re relieved to find no one there so you sit up, groaning in pain as you do. You spare a look at your shoulder and the arrow sticking out of it, before you hear a soft gurgle from in front of you. You scramble to your feet, realizing that Shay is still alive, before running over to check on her. You drop to your knees beside her, sinking into a pool of blood, and you have a horrifying realization that the arrow must have hit an artery because she’s bleeding out fast. 

She lets out a whimper of pain, and you look down at her, meeting her eyes. You whisper, “Shhh, it’s gonna be okay, you’re gonna be okay.”

Her hand shakes as she reaches for yours, and as you look into her eyes, you recognize them as the same eyes from the woman who told you where to find her. A pang of sadness pulls at your chest, and she gasps out, “Jasper says you’re from the sky, what’s it like?”

“It’s beautiful.” She coughs, hacking up blood, and you know the end is near. “If you think the stars are incredible from down here, you should see them from the sky. And the Earth? It’s the prettiest thing you've ever seen. So much blue, the ocean, covering the planet, kissing everything it touches.”

She smiles, coughing again, and you can hear the breath rattling in her lungs. She whimpers a little, caught up in the pain, and you try to hide your distress. She looks up at you, her eyes falling on the moon around your neck. “I thought nothing was prettier than the view from space, until I came down here. There’s so much color here. On the Ark, everything is gray, muted. But down here, everything is so bright and colorful. And the sounds, they’re like nothing I could ever imagine. My entire life I heard the quiet hum of the machines that powered the Ark, but on Earth, you can have complete silence or a cacophony of sounds. The sound of water rushing through the rivers, and the birds singing to each other every morning. The laughter and amazement of 100 teenagers and one fake guard stepping foot onto the ground for the first time in a century.”

You trail off, listening as her breathing struggles for a second, and then just stops. You lift a finger to her neck and feel nothing, and you drop your head, mourning for this girl that you barely knew. “Yu gonplei ste odon.”

You start to stand, deciding what to do next, when you hear the sound of footsteps coming back for you. You scramble back towards your earlier position, laying down on your side. Your eyes fall to the arrowhead sticking out of your shoulder, and you get a split second idea, one that you know you won’t like. Still, you grit your teeth and reach up, snapping off the end of the arrow, holding back a cry of pain as you do. You slip the sharp object into your sleeve and close your eyes, right as the footsteps come around the corner. You hear them stop near Shay, checking for any sign of life, and when they realize she’s dead, they come to you. 

They stick their hand under your nose, checking for your steady breathing, before they reach beneath you and lift you, slinging you over their shoulder. They start walking and you open your eyes, watching carefully to see where they take you. They move lower and lower, deeper into the rig, until the sound of machine hum grows louder, reminding you of the Ark. And then they turn down a hallway, taking you to a single door that sits on the end. Beyond it, you can hear Luna pleading for someone to stop, and you know this is the right place. 

You take a deep breath, and slide the arrowhead from your sleeve, gripping it tight in your hand. In one swift movement, you plunge it into the man’s neck. His reaction is immediate, and he drops you before he falls to his knees, dying quickly. Knowing you have no time to waste, you take off running, following the stairs to the top of the rig, and back out into the open air. You head straight for the container, looking around for other people as you do, relieved that no one is here. You unlock it the best you can with one arm, the pain in your shoulder making it impossible to use both. As soon as you swing the door open, Bellamy, Octavia, and Clarke all rush towards you. Clarke spots the arrow in your shoulder first, muttering, “Ohmygod.”

She pulls you towards her so she can get a better look, and you see the worry on Bellamy’s face, but you wave them both off. “I’m fine, but if you want to get to Luna before Alie does, then we need to go.”

You start to run off, but Clarke grabs your arm to stop you. “Wait.”

Before you can ask why, she reaches up and breaks off the end of the arrow, making it shorter. You let out a yelp of pain, and turn to her with a glare. She gives you an apologetic look. “No time to take it out, but at least this way you won’t hit it on anything.”

You shake your head before turning to run off again, this time with the trio on your heels. You run through the rig as fast as you can, practically flying down the stairs to reach P level again. You don’t stop until you reach the door at the end of the hall, past the man you killed earlier, and you rush in without hesitation, despite Bellamy yelling at you to be careful. 

When you come into the room, you’re shocked at the scene in front of you. Jasper is tied up in the corner, and he seems okay, but there’s a girl, a child, crying near him. Luna is on the ground, clutching the dying body of the man she loves. Around her are the other chipped men, all dead and unmoving. You and Bellamy run to check on the child, cowering in the corner, while Octavia goes to Jasper. Clarke moves to Luna and Derrick, reaching them just as he takes his final breath. Luna’s reaction is instant, and she lets out a heartbreaking cry, clutching him close to her, and there’s nothing that any of you can do but watch as she mourns.

-

As soon as Luna realizes the rest of you are there, her tears stop. Just like when Octavia locked her emotions away after Lincoln's death, Luna does the same, putting away her sorrow in favor of anger. She agrees to take the Flame and fight Alie, but only after she gives a funeral for those that were lost.

As Luna informs her people of what happened and what her plans are, Clarke comes up to you with a knife in hand. “They have no medical supplies here, and I left everything I had in the rover. We’ll have to do it the old fashioned way.”

You grimace, but nod. “Great, sounds fun.”

She leads you outside, to where Bellamy is waiting with a torch, eyeing Clarke with suspicion. “Are you sure about this?”

“It's what we did with Lincoln, and he healed fine.” She passes the knife to Bellamy, “Heat the blade in the fire.”

He does as she asks, before looking at you. “I have to pull the arrow out before I can take off your jacket to cauterize the wound. Are you ready?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“No.”

You nod, “Then sure.”

You look at Bellamy, meeting his eyes as Clarke puts one hand on your shoulder, and one on the end of the arrow. With no warning, she pulls it out, and you groan in pain. She helps you out of your jacket, tugging your shirt down at the neckline to inspect the wound. “Okay, it looks good. No signs of poison.”

Bellamy passes her the knife and you give him a wary look. He reaches out for your hand, pulling you closer to him, and you lean against him as Clarke lifts the knife. “One...two…”

You grimace, waiting for three, but it never comes. Instead, you are met with the white hot flash of the knife as it touches your skin and closes your wound. You let out a cry of pain, the sound muffled by Bellamy’s shoulder as you press closer to him. Clarke gives you a second to recover, reheating the blade again, before turning you around to look at the exit wound. After nodding in satisfaction, she holds up the knife again. You turn away, not wanting to watch, and Bellamy holds you close. This time she presses the knife to the wound with no countdown, getting it over as quickly as possible. You let out another cry of pain, along with a string of curses, and Clarke looks over her work before tearing off a strip of her shirt and wrapping your shoulder the best she can. 

She smiles at you, nodding towards the door. “All done. Now let’s go join the others.”

Bellamy puts out the torch and you follow her inside, all three of you handed cups full of an unknown liquid as you join Octavia and Jasper. You all nod in thanks, searching for Luna, watching as she prepares for the ceremony. Your eyes watch the people too, uneasy at the thought that Alie could still be lurking in someone nearby. Bellamy voices the same concern. “Any one of them could be chipped and we'd never know.”

Clarke nods. “If they are, they'll make their move before we put the Flame in Luna. Stay sharp.”

Luna comes from the other side of the room, stopping in front of Clarke. “The ceremony is about to begin.”

She starts to turn away, but Clarke reaches out for her, stopping her. “Luna, wait. I'm so sorry, but now you see that we're facing an enemy that will do anything to win. She won't stop until she has everyone.”

“People I love died today. Needlessly, at my hand.” She lifts her hand, the one not occupied by a cup, revealing the Flame. She looks down at it as she finishes, “I can't let that happen again.”

She turns away, to face the others, lifting the Flame high for them to see. Everyone in the room stands. “As we prepare to give our brothers and sister to the sea, we honor their lives.”

She lowers the Flame and lifts her cup, “Kom woda 'so gyon op, gon woda 'so kom daun.”

As the room repeats the phrase, Octavia translates, “From water we are born, to water we return.”

Everyone lifts their cup and takes a drink, and your group follows suit, honoring their tradition. Luna turns back to you as she finishes, and Clarke steps right into business. “If we're gonna do this, we have to hurry. Alie will send reinforcements, and we have to find someplace private to perform the Ascension.”

“You believe that to defeat an enemy who will stop at nothing, you must stop at nothing. How is that different from 'blood must have blood'?”

You all freeze, realizing that she doesn’t seem to be on the same page with the rest of you. Octavia protests, “Wait a second, Luna. You can't just-”

She cuts herself off when she falls unconscious, sinking to the floor. You turn to Bellamy, worried, just in time to see him sink the ground. Jasper is next, and Clarke turns back to look at you, her cup falling from her hands in shock. You watch the glass fall, and you fall with it, going unconscious before it even hits the ground. 

-

You wake up to the feel of fingers brushing over your face, pushing your hair back. 

You open your eyes and see Bellamy looking down at you, concerned. You sit up, clutching your head, wishing the heavy feeling would dissipate quickly, the thick cloud too difficult to think through. Bellamy continues to watch you and you meet his eye, and smile, trying to reassure him. “That was not how I was expecting that to go.”

You hear a groan from your right, followed by, “Me either.”

You look over and meet Clarke’s eyes, as she sits up, gathering her bearings. She looks down at the container in her hand, sliding the lid back and sighing in relief when the Flame is tucked neatly inside. You find your knife near your boot, and Bellamy and Clarke find their guns beside them. You all stand, just as Octavia rolls over, picking up Lincoln’s notebook and sword. Jasper is the last to pull himself to his feet, following the rest of you as you wander to the shore, staring out at the water. 

The clouds are hanging low today, blocking any view of the ocean beyond, but you already know that even if the sky was clear, you’d never spot the oil rig. As you all look out at the water, contemplating the events of the last 24 hours, Bellamy voices the thought running through all of your minds. “Now what?”

-

next chapter

[inspirationdivine]

Predator and Fae|| Lydia and Kaden

Time: Current Parties: @chasseurdeloup @inspirationdivine Summary: After the basement humans, the full moon, and Regan’s dad, Kaden decides it is time to act.  Warnings: body horror, gun use, domestic abuse mention

Kaden knew he should have had a plan. Ari told him they would make a plan, go in prepared, but he couldn’t wait any longer, not after what Regan had told him, not after what he learned. There was no plan. Nothing but anger. It had simmered low when he was with Regan, but it built up again, boiling and rumbling and spilling over with each step through the woods. Anger that drove him to dig through the back of his closet and pull out the iron, anger that guided his steps towards the town, watching for any sign of her, anger that brought him to follow her as she made her way towards the woods. Good. The woods were practically his home. He grew up learning to fight monsters in the woods. This would be just like any other time. No, that wasn’t true. This time he wasn’t just fighting for himself. Or even humanity. No, this time he was fighting for Regan, Ariana, the countless humans she’d trapped in that basement. If he was supposed to kill the “bad ones,” he had no doubt in his mind now that Lydia was a “bad one.” He kept a good number of paces behind her, picked his way through the woods. He had no plan once they got there, deeper and deeper into the forests. He should go for stealth, keep his advantage. Anger didn’t let him. Anger reached into his holster and pulled out the pistol and shot. He was pretty sure it didn’t hit. It’s not like he aimed. 

 The weight of the last month hung heavy around her chest and rang in her ears - literally. Lydia wanted or needed to let go completely, shed all of that dead weight and surround herself with the only people who could really accept her: other fae, every bit as fae as her. The air tonight contained the last remnants of mushroom spores, calling her home, but Lydia was looking for a different one tonight. Her skin glowed faintly as she hiked out through the trees to find a puddle that might take her to the other side of town, to a kinder, more understanding kind of people while she healed. She was so deep into the forest by now that her wings could hang free too, unrestrained by magic. If there was any warning to hear, Regan’s scream ensured she couldn’t hear it, not until the night air was split open by gun fire. With a shrill yell, Lydia jumped behind a tree, extinguishing her skin and she reached in her purse for her own pistol. What the fuck?

 Looking at her there was no mistaking what she was. She wasn’t like him. She wasn’t even like Regan, fae or not. She was something else entirely, something inhuman. It was funny, in the past it was her appearance that would disgust Kaden the most, how very different and monstrous she appeared. The echoes of Regan’s wings he saw in hers only made his blood boil more. She knew. She knew what Regan was and she forced those wings on her without so much as a warning. She killed her father, would have gladly killed him and tormented so many others and felt no remorse. None. It didn’t matter what she looked like; she was rotten inside. Something truly loathsome and disgusting. Kaden shot again, aiming for a wing, the bit that was peeking out from behind the tree. “Why?” he shouted at her, taking several steps closer, gun raised and ready to fire again, feet positioned to run or duck depending on what came next. “Why did you do it?” His words were laced with venom, he wasn’t even sure what answer he was looking for anymore. The anger coursing through his veins barley let him see straight, let alone think clearly. 

 Kaden. Lydia’s heart jumped into the throat, filling her mouth with toxin heavy saliva. She glamoured her wings out of sight, pressing herself harder against the tree trunk. She wrapped her fingers around the cool brass barrel of her own pistol and whimpered as he fired another pistol. A hunter. Not a warden, maybe, possibly, if only because he wouldn’t be dating Regan- unless that was also a trap. Lydia pressed her fist against her lips and counted to three in her head before pointing her pistol around the tree to the sound of his voice and fired back. She needed to get out of reach, Lydia looked around desperately, squeezing the trigger twice more before bolting out of her hiding spot to a thicker, older tree with lower branches. In the dark, he might not notice the nearby mushroom circles until it was too late. If she could get him there, or sneak behind him and spit, or just run… She could do this, she’d have to. Lydia held her hand against her mouth so he wouldn’t hear her whimper.

 The wings faded away and Kaden cursed under his breath. For a moment, he wondered if she had disappeared entirely, even though he was certain that was not how fae magic worked. He heard the gun before he saw it and threw himself out of the way. Fucking fae with a gun. Didn’t they have enough power, enough enhancements and advantages of their own? Kaden pushed himself off of the ground and listened, trying to place everything around him sonically. He cautiously moved his fingers along the pistol, making sure it was cocked and ready to fire at any second should she dare show her face. No movement. “I just want to talk,” he said, attempting to soften his voice, but it remained raw and ragged with fury. Probably because he wanted to do more than talk. He wanted answers but he wanted to make sure the pain ended here. He inched ahead, taking slow steps as silently as he could. He was pretty sure he heard her pounding heartbeat just ahead and he swung wide, hoping to catch her from the side. 

 Lydia could barely make out what he was saying, but considering the recent gunshots, she really wasn’t sure it was important. Survive, don’t talk. Lydia trembled against the tree, slowly twisting until her front was facing it, not her back. She couldn’t hear him at all, couldn’t see him anywhere, so Lydia had to pray as she opened up her wings again and flew herself up into the branches, landing on the first almost silently before hopping up to the second. She spit into her hand, smearing it on each branch as she went, just in case he did spot her and could somehow give chase. Once she felt high enough, Lydia began to look for a tree to fly to, to get out of his reach. She just had to get back to her car and get the fuck out of here. Lydia squeezed her eyes shut as she trembled, before forcing herself to move again.  

 Kaden saw her and sent shots firing right at her wings as she fluttered up into the trees. Fuck. She kept climbing. Was he really going to climb a fucking tree after a fae? He thought about it for a moment, but what was he even going to do from up there? Aiming would be harder, balance would be out of the question even if he did get in range to use a knife. No, he’d just aim better, concentrate closer. He watched through the trees and unloaded the rest of the round where he saw movement. “You killed Regan’s father,” he said as he tossed the gun back in the holster, bullets unloaded for the moment. “You tried to kill me and Ariana. Why? Did you think you’d get away with it?” he asked as he pulled the crossbow off his back, iron tipped bolts ready and loaded. He crouched down and aimed up at the branches, looking for the movement of her wings, listening, too. Exhaled, he was confident it would hit, and let bolt after bolt fire up through the trees. If he was lucky, one would rip right through her wing. 

 Lydia had leant forward, ready to launch herself in flight into the next tree, when the branch in front of her shattered, throwing splinters all over her. Jerking back, Lydia shrank herself down as much as the bark around her exploded with fire after fire. One whistled past her ear, another hit the branch right under her hand, driving a sharp shard of wood into her palm. Lydia screamed and barely suppressed a sob, but the gunfire stopped. She couldn’t stop, couldn’t let him corner her like she had let the vampire before. This couldn’t be a repeat. Lydia straightened and ran along the branch, throwing open her wings to catch her as she threw herself at the next tree. She didn’t hear whatever hit her, only felt a lightning bolt of heat shred through her left wing. Lydia spun in the air as she lost altitude, misfiring twice before careening to the left and crashing into the ground. Coughing as the impact winded her, Lydia glamoured her wings back out of sight to shrink the target, rolling to look at Kaden who was suddenly far too close. Her mouth wet, she spat right for his face before scrabbling to her feet and collapsing behind a tree, a scream held trapped between her teeth. Already, the stress was beginning to break her glamour, the heat of iron searing through her focus. Any sense of direction was lost, but Lydia breathed in deeply, tasting the spores. She could only follow the call to the circle now, and hope he followed. 

 The sounds above him all but confirmed he hit her somewhere. Then there was the thud of a body hitting the ground. Kaden didn’t waste a second and darted towards the sound, loading another bolt as he went. He knew full well that leanan-sidhe pheromones lived in their saliva, they were dangerous, usually transferred by kiss. There were reports in the hunter journals he’d combed through about spitting fae. He thought they were lying but here she was, proving him otherwise. He sidestepped and the saliva splattered on his shoulder, dripping down his jacket. He snarled in disgust and nearly went to wipe it off with his bare hand. No. Skin contact was all it took. He rolled his shoulders back and carried on. He’d been covered in far worse in his years of hunting. A little spit wasn’t going to slow him down. He ran after her, following the sounds of her breathing, there were barely any of her footsteps. The glamour was fading. Good. It made what he had to do easier. Much. In more ways than one. He was close. She was just within reach. He lunged out for her wing. At first his fingers fumbled, the wings fading away, the glamour making them intangible. He ran faster, pushed himself a pace farther and tried again. This time his bandaged hand wrapped around the wing, what he could get of it, at least, and he yanked down on the piece of her that he had in his grasp.

 Her legs burned with exertion as she ran, kicking up leaves behind her hiking boots as Lydia tried to keep trees between him and her, giving him a harder target. Her lungs had nearly ruptured just days ago, and no amount of supernatural life force would heal her fast enough. The world was muffled - she could almost never hear her own footsteps, but now she could barely hear his. Lydia whipped her head around and grimaced at how close he was, pushing her legs even harder through the burn, the feverish heat in her wings, everything, only to choke as she jerked to a hard stop, her wing joint popping out of place. Lydia cried out as she was yanked back and thrown to the ground, rolling over to point her gun at Kaden’s chest, looking right up at the shining iron bolt in the weapon in his other hand. Lydia didn’t give him a chance to shoot first, pushing herself up with the other arm as she fired. 

 There was a reason why Kaden jogged every morning even though he hated it, why he kept his weapons clean and ready, why he practiced  his aim over and over again in the woods, and why he’d trained for years. It was for moments like this. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him, his lungs heaved but the pain didn’t bother him. All it did was push him forward, force him to find the rhythm of the hunt. It had been a while since he was there in this space. That spot where it was nothing but adrenaline and instinct carrying him and the certainty that he was going to make his mark. He’d got her, but not for long. And when she rolled over, he was keenly aware that he should have considered Walker’s method of wearing kevlar out in the field. Fuck. He let loose the crossbow bolt as soon as he saw the pistol raised towards him, throwing himself forward and to side away from the bullet. He roared with pain as he toppled onto the forest floor against branches and rocks. He pushed himself up and used the pain and adrenaline spilling out from him to throw himself at her, hoping to tackle her to the ground and pin her down. Maybe then he could get some fucking answers. 

 The bolt split through her coat, tearing through the muscle of her arm. The burn spread through her like wildfire, paralysing her torso as the iron burn made it hard to breath. Adrenaline pounded through Lydia as she got her knees under her, only for the air to be knocked out of her as the mass of Kaden sent her sprawling, crushing her under his weight. She couldn’t quite reach his face as she dug her nails into his arms where she could, scratching him where she could. Lydia kicked out underneath her, trying to leverage him off of her with little success. Lydia pulled her glamour in tight even as the iron tore at the shreds of her control. “No, stop, get off-” Lydia hissed, before flashing her skin as bright as she could, turning her whole body into a flickering strobe, her light reflecting off the canopy above them. At once, she pulled hard through her hands at the ley lines of his life force. She couldn’t take much, but Lydia was grasping for everything. 

 Kaden grit his teeth, bit back against the stinging spreading across his forearms. He dug his knee into her side, doing what he could to pin her down as he braced his arm and pushed it down towards her neck even as she fought against him every step of the way. “No,” he said back, voice almost a growl. “Not until you--” Any illusion she was human or close to it faded away as she dropped her glamour. His vitriol would have to wait as he flinched away and shut his eyes, instinctively covering his face with his arm. Fuck, there went his advantage. Before he could reach out and try to pin her down again, she was on him. And he could feel his energy slipping away. His grip was slipping and he could feel his muscles growing weak. No. He wasn’t giving up now. He pushed ahead, forced past the shaking muscles and tried to turn her over, keep her face away from his. The wings would be in the way. That was fine. He’d work around it. “Why? What fucking reason,” he pushed out, ever word a struggle, “could you possibly have for any of this?! Any of it!?” 

 Lydia screamed bloody murder as he forced her onto her belly, blood smearing across his clothes and the forest floor as she flailed and kicked out. He pressed against her bloody wing and the pain slammed into her so hard she saw stars. She tried to twist to spit but couldn’t get any grip. Lydia needed to be smarter than this. “Can’t- Can’t- Barely breathe,” Lydia spluttered, not entirely truthfully, but she needed to get her arms under her. She needed a single mistake to make use of the strength feeding had given her. She squirmed all the same. Lying still would be giving up, would be surrendering herself to whatever wretched torture device he had hidden in her pants. A frantic tear slipped her cheek as she smacked her wings against his body, but those muscles weren’t built for moving tall human men. She flashed her skin harder and faster, digging her fingers into the ground to find some kind of purchase before whipping her head back, grunting as she smacked his face with her head, and used that to attempt to squirm out from underneath him, trying to work out where she’d dropped her gun in all this, if she could even get him off her. She wasn’t going to die to an uncivilised French brute.

 Kaden twisted and pushed down, gripping with every bit of strength he could muster to keep her pinned to the ground. “Barely is still breathing,” he snarled. Her wings spastically twitched and tried to free themselves from under his grip. He took hold of the base of one and yanked it, twisting it to the side. It wasn’t enough to sever the connection, but he knew it had to hurt like hell. The only other set of wings he’d touched even remotely similar were Regan’s. He usually left the more human looking fae to wardens. For a split second the wings weren’t Lydia’s they were Regan’s. He saw his bandaged hands and all he could see was her. Was it a glamour or his imagination? His hold on her loosened ever slightly. But it was enough. “Fuck!” he shouted as her head slammed into his. His nose hurt like hell and he was sure if it wasn’t gushing blood, it should be. He wanted to wipe it away with his forearm but there was no time, she was going to get away. He climbed to his hands and knees before he reached out for a limb, any limb, feet, arms, wings, whatever he could get. He grabbed onto a wrist and wrenched her arm towards him, rotated it and held it taught just long enough to bring his foot around and slam his heel down right on her forearm. The bones cracked and he hoped they shattered to pieces and fragments, one for every fucking life she’d taken. 

 The iron burn in her arm ate into her like necrotic tissue, turning her strength to rot. Random twigs scratching her palms and knees, as she crawled through the mud and the bugs. Her injured wing drooped closer and closer to the ground as the burn there made her feverish, shrinking down the world to an ever-smaller cone of vision. Each breath of air threatened to choke her as Lydia tried to get away from this monster. Lydia felt his fingers on her once and managed to jerk away, but the second time wasn’t so lucky. He pulled at her uninjured arm, and as he did the burned one took all her weight - and failed. Lydia collapsed with a yell, trying to twist and kick at him. He had trained for this, she thought sickly, he had trained for decades at how to dodge kicks and brutalise terrified creatures. His whole life was dedicated to destruction. How there was anything worth loving in him was a goddamn mystery. Lydia twisted and jerked and couldn’t quite work out what he was doing until he brought his foot down on her arm. Lydia flinched away, shutting her eyes as the bone snapped underneath his leg. A scream tore through her throat as she crumpled, tears streaming down her face, smearing through the dirt. “Stop-” Lydia groaned, “Please, stop…” His face was rage incarnate as she looked up at him in the dark, a hellish inferno. All hunters worked for the devil. And yet, the mushroom spores were thick in the air. Lydia kicked at his chest, and crawled the last little stretch, into one of the last mushroom circles. Come get me now, you piece of human shit. 

 Her words didn’t have any effect on him. Kaden wouldn’t let them. They couldn’t be used as a weapon now. Not through binding nor manipulation; magical or otherwise. She could beg or plead all she wanted, but she didn’t deserve his mercy. And he didn’t plan on granting it simply because she fucking asked. “No,” he spat back at her. “Did you ever stop when they a--” The words were kicked out of his chest as she scrambled away. He gasped for air and turned towards her, pulling herself away desperately. Then pausing. Ever slightly. Like she had found safety just a few feet away from him. His eyes darted around looking for a weapon or a tree she could climb up or drop on him, what her advantage might be that imbued her with such confidence. He didn’t see it, but she was getting away, not time to check. He lunged for her, trying to grab her feet once more when he saw what his arm reached out across. A line of foliage. A very distinct line of different colors from the rest of the grass and dirt. Mushrooms. He jerked his arm back towards him, ire shooting from his gaze as he watched her inside what he had to assume was a circle. A fairy ring. Pushing himself up, Kaden took one step forward, toes at the edge of the line of mushrooms. He watched her closely, hoping to see the hope leave her eyes as he stomped down on the fungi, twisting and turning his heel to stomp them out once and for all. He had to wonder how many times she’d seen hope drain from her victim’s faces as she fed from them, tormented them. Even then, he didn’t think she had it in her to feel a fraction of it. That would require having feelings at all. 

 Lydia cradled her arm. Where the bone was shattered it bent at an unnatural angle, and as she tried to push it back into place she could barely suppress her own screams. Her other arm burned with the iron cut, flashing hot and ice cold as she tried to move it anyway. Her skin was slick with sweat and shivered from blood loss and fear as she watched him pause too. Her stomach filled with tar as he looked down, seeing something that even Lydia barely could. He brought his foot down and Lydia sobbed as her confidence was stripped out of her along with the ring’s magic. There was no solace nor joy to be found here, not anymore. Lydia stared up at the hunter, and for a long moment only saw the reaper. He was watching her too, delighting in her terror. As he was with Regan, every single day. It was hard to believe, as Lydia’s strength bled out of her with every rabbit-fast beat of her heart, that he was capable of even the simulation of love. For a second, despair took her; it would be easy to give up. Let Regan’s last scream be her death toll. Lydia’s terrified eyes flicked to an opportunity, and with a cry as she beat her shredding wings just enough to get to her feet, Lydia reached for his holster, his gun. She cried at the jagged pain of jerking her burned arm that fast, as she pointed it right at his face. Regan hadn’t screamed for her, just at her. Lydia’s finger blistered, but she didn’t flinch as she pulled the trigger. 

 Kaden was so sure when he stepped out into the forest, he would be the only one to leave. There wasn’t a single doubt in his mind. If this was going to be his final stand, Regan would know. She would have screamed, she would have told him. He knew that. He had to. So he’d been brandished with confidence up until the very moment she pulled out his own gun from his holster. His eyes went wide and he tried to grab for the gun but it was too late. She had it in her hands. She pulled the trigger. He shut his eyes, braced himself, waited for the end.

 Nothing. There was nothing.

 But he was alive. Still breathing. His eyes flew open and he slammed the gun out of her hand and grabbed her broken wrist to hold her in place. He pulled out his knife with his free hand, pressed the tip of the blade to her chest. Then…

 Nothing.

 He stood there. Watched her writhe in pain and try to get away. He saw the wings flicker in and out of his line of sight, the one bent and broken like her arm. The hardness in his face started to fade, shifted to blank uncertainty. He could ask her why. He could ask her to explain herself. He could ask anything. But his resolve was dissolving. And he wasn’t sure that any answer at all would satisfy him. “Why?” The anger was no longer searing, no longer burning through him as hot as it had been. But he needed something. This had to be worth something.

 Instead of a bang that would have rattled her skull nearly as much as Regan’s scream, the gun just clicked. Lydia looked from his eyes to the barrel, but it wasn’t even smoking. Her brow furrowed in confusion, unable to fully comprehend until Kaden moved in a blur. His hand crushed her bones. It felt like an electric fire where she could feel the shard grinding against him. Lydia’s vision went black, and the blade pressed against her chest like ice. Lydia stared into it. It was all of a sudden like peace. It felt like Deirdre playing with her hair, throwing flour at Remmy as cupcakes baked in the oven, like her brother playing riddle games with her until one ended up promise bound into doing laundry for a year. It was the cold, icy grip of acceptance, in the hands of a hunter with no more cards in her hand. Even her mouth was beginning to dry up.

 Only for Kaden not to cut through her. He gave her a question, and Lydia saw the chance to do what she did best: talk. But the words out her mouth were broken and grating, more like a beggar than a master negotiator, babbling and barely coherent. “The longer I waited before she woke up, the more she would have suffered. I wanted to minimise that! She never should have suffered this much to begin with. That’s why! That’s the only reason!” Lydia sobbed, her knees buckling under the weight of her pain. She couldn’t bite back the scream that ripped through her throat, white stars erupting behind her eyelids. The world spun, the point where Kaden gripped her arm becoming a searing singularity. Her cheeks felt hot where tears stung her scraped up skin. “Please. I’ll leave. I’ll never come back, you’ll never hear from me again. Kaden, please!”

 The anger flared back and Kaden tightened his grip on her broken wrist, his knuckles throbbing under the bandage from putting his fist through the wall the other night. All the pain did was add fuel to the flames. “Then why didn’t you help her?!” he screamed. “You didn’t prepare her! You didn’t warn her! You did nothing.” It was so tempting to push the blade in. That’s all it would take to end this. “You tried to kill Ariana. A teenager. A fucking-- For what?! Pride? Vanity? What?!” A little bit of pressure was all he needed, one good shove of the knife. “Those people. All those people in your fucking basement. How many people have you killed? Tortured?!” Done. It could all be done. But he held his weapon still, clenched his jaw. He should stab her, let her bleed there, crying in pain and regretting any choice she made that led her there. She was fae. Supernatural scum. A “bad one” if he ever saw it. He ought to do what he was meant to do, what he was born to do. His duty. It would be so easy. He should kill her. No, he had to kill her. For everything she did. For everyone she--  

 His hand released like her skin burned him; took a step back like he was startled. The knife nearly dropped but he kept his fingers wrapped around it. Just in case. Just in case he got his courage back. Just in case he found who he was again. But all he could think was he didn’t want to be like her. He couldn’t be that. A monster. A murderer. The body count. The callousness. He couldn’t. He couldn’t do it. 

 He had to. He had to. He leaned forward on his toes, ready to finish this. The anger flowed, coursed through his veins, he was ready to end it. Ready to lunge forward. Nearly did. But instead he screamed; turned to the side, away from her. Fuck. Fuck. Why couldn’t he finish this? What was stopping him? What sort of bleeding fucking heart had he become? “You don’t deserve this,” he grumbled, back to her, knuckles going white around the grip of the knife. “You don’t deserve a single second of mercy.” Every word was dripping with venom and ire. It contained all the rage he wanted to unleash with the knife, bottled up and put into syllables. “But fucking go.” This was stupid. This was too easy. And he had no guarantee she would do as she said. None. Unless... Before she could move, he spun back to face her and reached for her wrist one last time. “Promise me,” he demanded, looking her dead in the eyes. “Promise me that I’ll never see you again. Promise me that Regan and Ariana won’t see or hear from you ever again. Not for as long as you’re breathing.” 

 Had it been like this for her sister? Kneeling in front of a hunter, begging for her life as he held a blade to her chest, his bruising grip making escape impossible. As he hesitated, Lydia should have gotten to her feet, kissed him, spat at him. She didn’t even need to reach his face, his bare hand on her arm should do. In theory Lydia was strong enough to break a man’s skull, neck, or back with her bare hands, even if she didn’t know how.  Lydia had grown up learning to bear the pain of a hundred different promises, but nothing like this. She was beginning to feel cold to the touch, and clammy, the world shrinking until she couldn’t feel the sticks under her legs or the cold air chilling her wet cheeks. There were three things that Lydia felt clearly, and that was only because they seared. There were just three things to keep her grounded.

 He screamed questions that Lydia had no answer for. She had helped, god, she opened her mouth to protest, if that was what he wanted she could list all the ways that she had helped. Instead she only sobbed openly as wave after wave of burning pain pulsed through her. It would be more bearable, Lydia thought, if he had just cut her arm off. But then he wasn’t just talking about Regan, but about something that filled her with ice.

 Kaden let her go. Lydia slumped, barely avoiding falling all the way to the forest floor. She looked up as Kaden set himself up to lunge, weakly raising her arms, her eyes pinching shut. When he screamed, it scared a scream out of Lydia too before she wept, shrinking into herself as she sobbed. “God, please, please make this stop, God, please don’t do this, I don’t-” Lydia choked on her own sobs, but still the knife didn’t come down. She could barely hear Kaden over the ringing in her ears and her own terror, but she heard the ones that mattered. Fucking go. Lydia inhaled shakily, staring up at him in confusion. She could barely make out his face enough to read it, and even then, she wasn’t sure she could recognise that expression. She was too frightened to move, and when he turned back, Lydia thought he had changed his mind. 

 She ought to have negotiated, gotten a promise out of him too. But her tongue was no longer gold but lead. There was every chance she would still die here, slowly trickling out far blood into an equally dead fairy circle. "I promise, I promise!" Lydia coughed and spluttered as the promise began to burn in her, because while he stood there, he was still seeing her. "As soon as I get to my car, I’ll-” Lydia whimpered, flinching away from the ferocity of his gaze, the callous disregard for the burn in her arm as the jagged edges of the shatter bones ground up against each other. Lydia had always known hunters could be cruel, but not like this. “I’ll leave.”

 In most instances, Kaden despised word binding. Fae magic at its finest. All it ever did was hurt people if it had any effect at all. He struggled to find any good in it, few uses. Until now. The guarantee that she would be gone from his life for good, no longer able to hurt Regan or Ariana, gone from White Crest, too, surely; it was worth it. “Fine.” It was all he said. It was all he could say. It felt like a lie searing onto his tongue. This wasn’t fine. Or okay. Or good. It wouldn’t be any of that. Ever again. Thanks to her. The pain and the suffering she caused-- She didn’t even care, did she? Didn’t see it or didn’t want to. The call for violence swelled up in him again but he pushed it back down, buried it. She wasn’t worth it. She wasn’t worth anything. Not his ire, not his time, not his mercy, nothing. She was nothing. And she’d remain that way. She’d promised, after all. As he turned away, guilt swirled in his stomach. What was going to stop her from doing this again? From continuing on and on down the same path? Fear? He doubted that. Guilt was out of the question. He knew she didn’t feel it. He wondered if she was capable of feeling it at all.

 There was no good reason to leave her alive. None for humanity, certainly. Nothing redeemable as far as he was concerned. But he still put his knife back in its sheath, grabbed his gun and crossbow off the forest floor, and began to slowly walk away. There was no good reason to. The only thing he could think, the only thing keeping his feet moving forward, was what he was walking away from. The thought that had bubbled to the surface, something told to him long past. He wanted to avoid one more stain on his soul. Killing her wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. She couldn’t bring back what was lost. But he could walk away, out of the forest, out of the place of nightmares, and return home. 

 The moment the ants stopped crawling under her skin, the moment that he was far enough away that she wasn’t in danger of breaking her oath, Lydia fell entirely to the ground, her vision blacking out. It might have been seconds or hours before she opened her eyes again. The bruising on her arm was starting to fade where Kaden had grabbed her too tight. The burns would take weeks to heal, but she did not have weeks. Her promises were already tugging her to her feet. Lydia looked around in shell shock, at her torn clothes, the blood on the leaves, the crushed fairy ring. He had left the job half done. Another inch, and she would be dead. Lydia hiccupped back a sob as she tried to understand, tried to piece together his final sick play. That she couldn’t fit the pieces together left her untethered. She began to trudge slowly back to her car, murmuring prayers to God wiping away tears that still fell. He had just walked away. Was it for Regan? Or so that someone else could take their turn. The word ‘mercy’ flitted in her mind and was laughed out just as quickly. Another person, in a different time, would have not made this mistake. It was all Lydia could think of, between the searing pain and the path ahead. She turned it over and over, like a leaf in her hand. By the time she reached the car and collapsed against the cool metal, there was only one answer that made sense. The answer tied her back to Earth and gave her a direction. Lydia pulled her now cracked phone out of her pocket and began to make calls. She needed to leave soon. Kaden had made a fatal mistake, and Lydia would not be the one to spare him. She liked to clean up her loose ends, even on her way out of a mess.

 Kaden Langley would not survive the week. 

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 206

206

Keith did not enjoy seeing Lotor again. He didn’t think it possible that the amount of annoyance he felt for the man was actual, until he saw his face again. Hair pulled back. Ridiculous purple and blue suit. Ridiculous blue leather shoes. One look at him and he wanted to kill Lotor. He wanted to kill him, but for a bastard, he was a nimble bastard.

Laying on the floor of the training room, Keith’s chest heaved as he fought to catch his breath. They were “playing” tag. Coran recording each session to monitor Keith’s growth. So far the only thing that had grown with these stupid session was Keith’s bank account. He couldn’t catch Lotor, and he couldn’t turn into a damn werewolf. He could catch up to Lotor, then as if by magic, Lotor would be out of his grasp again. Surely if Keith was meant to learning how to live, move, and think, like a werewolf, a werewolf teacher would have been better? Matt had been in a huff over someone else teaching him, but he didn’t have time between being head over heels for Rieva and working at Hunk’s dad’s garage. Rieva had the time, but didn’t have the right words. She’d tried to talk him through grasping his ego and letting the shift happen. It hadn’t happened.

“Get up. Let’s go again”

Rolling his eyes at Lotor, Lotor could go again. He could go and keep going. Keith might even drag himself up off the floor to get the door for Lotor on the way out

“Fuck off. You stick and you make a lousy partner”

Lance smelled like “good death”. Lotor smelt like fish left in the sun to rot in a plastic bag, then someone had come along and poked a hole in it

“The little werewolf all out of bark. Maybe I’ll take it on myself to show Lance how nice it is to be around a fellow vampire rather than a flea riddled mongrel”

Snarling at Lotor, Keith wished he didn’t bite every time Lotor baited him. The vampire had asked how Lance was, Keith had told promised him that he’d kill him if ever did again. Forcing himself up, the werewolf reminded himself that this was all for Lance and buying Lance the engagement ring of his dreams. The physical exercise bit felt good, his body felt good for now active he’d been, yet Lotor couldn’t let him have that... Noooo. He was “too slow”. He couldn’t go any faster than the limits he’d been hitting. He gladly would if he could. Lotor’s throat would feel so nice between his teeth. He, and his ego, hated Lotor with so much passion that Keith truly expected his inner wolf to break free.

“It’s obvious to anyone who looks at you that you’re nothing more than a rotting sack of meat and bones. We should have killed you when we had the chance”

Lotor laughed, Keith not amused as he’d been deathly serious. His nails long, teeth extended, and he knew he was pulling his “scary face”

“You wound me, Keith. Do you really hate me, or are you simply jealous that I could snatch your life away before you even blinked”

“A piece of shit like you who values nothing could never understand”

“Says the turned runt who can’t lay a finger on me. I must say, you are lacking in every single point in your personality. You must be a hell of a fuck, for I no other reason for Lance to keep his pet dog around”

Lotor could rile him up, but the moment he mentioned Lance, he crossed the damn line. Snarling, he locked his gaze on Lotor, chest heaving as rage threatened to boil his blood

“I’m going kill you. I’m going to sink my teeth into your throat and enjoy the blood running down my throat”

“You have to catch me first”

*

Lance scrubbed his face tiredly as he watched Keith and Lotor on the camera feed. The pair were as bad as each other, and reminded him painfully of his training with Lotor. Lotor was an expert at exploiting a persons weakness

“Have they been like this for the whole week?”

“Indeed they have, my boy. Lotor refuses to rein his ego in, constantly provoking Keith until he loses his cool”

“Keith’s gotta learn how to control himself, I’m getting tired of him coming home in a bad mood”

Keith didn’t know Lance had come to pick him up. The vampire escaping Rieva’s wrath and fussing. Feeling like doing some yoga and light stretching, she’d scared the crap out of him by yelling “boo!”. As a result he’d bitten through his tongue and smacked his face on the coffee table as he lost his balance. The whole reason he’d been practicing so close to the coffee table was so if he lost his balance he had something to grab for. Spending half an hour patching him back, she’d shifted into talking about his birthing plans and lectured him for sleeping too much during the day. He didn’t have birthing plans. He left that for Coran. If he went into labour, he went into labour. Keith would take him to VOLTRON, where Coran would perform the Caesarian. He loved Rieva, but he’d also loved stretching in near privacy because his body felt so stiff from sleeping all sorts of odd hours, not that he could help it. Now he’d not only been interrupted, and felt highly embarrassed being sprung in yoga pants and an ill fitting shirt, but was slightly slurring as his tongue was taking forever to heal its damn self, almost like his stupid arm that’d taken a whole stupid week to fix itself.

“Shall I have a word with Lotor? I’m quite sure he’d stop antagonising Keith if I were to ask”

Allura had the vampire shaking his head

“Nah. This is something they have to work out. Keith’s holding back too much. I can see him thinking. He’s thinking he wants blood, but the good part of him is conflicted about going too far and potentially hurting Lotor”

Crossing her arms, Allura wore a heavy frown that didn’t suit her beautiful face

“I’m more worried about Lotor hurting him. I understand he needs to provoke Keith, yet he is quite disrespectful”

“Keith has to learn how to cope with it. It’s no good if he goes up against a group of vampires and finds himself overwhelmed. I don’t like it, and I’m not fond of Lotor’s methods, but this is for Keith’s sake. I wish I could go down there and tell him to give it his all”

Coran and Allura knew he’d snuck out, Allura giggling as she covered her mouth

“Afraid you’ll be in trouble for running away?”

“Hey, I know I’m going to be in trouble. Keith’s very protective of me and if he knew Rieva upset me, he’d probably try to throw her out the house”

He’d left in tears. Well, he’d held his tears in until he was squashed into his car, then burst into tears over not having a birthing plan

“That’s no good. If he’s not getting along with them, that makes for a stressful situation”

If they talked to Lotor and gave Keith a win, he’d be devastated by the fakeness. Lance naturally wanted Keith to win, but he believed his fiancé and knew Keith would work his arse off harder after each defeat...

“That’s not the problem. He’s cranky over Lotor beating him day after day. We both get on with Matt and Rieva, even if Matt keeps pushing Keith’s buttons. Rieva had to stop them from murdering each other last night. Matt cheated on the game they were playing together and nearly got the controller embedded in his head for it”

Allura’s giggle turned into a proper laugh. She could laugh it up as she hadn’t been there

“Trust me, it’s not that funny. Matt tackled him on the sofa and I swear they nearly broke it. Rieva put Matt in a time out and Keith refused to talk about it when we went to bed”

Coran wiped an imaginary tear from his right eye, gushing as he did

“I think it’s lovely that you young folk get along so well. Perhaps I should give Keith the day off? I don’t want to upset him so much that he doesn’t return to active duty. He’s grown so much. Oh, he’ll make such a wonderful father to the twins...”

Great. His family were weirdos. He didn’t need Coran gushing over Keith, his ego was happy enough to do that about their mate as it was... Keith was strong and brave, that knowledge was what kept him from marching down there and going Lotor for the hurtful things he was saying

“Coran, that has nothing to do with what’s happening now. Isn’t there any way you can get Keith to shift that’s actually helpful? Rieva tried to help and he had no luck there”

“No. I can manipulate his quintessence, but I would prefer not to. Keith needs to focus on finding those feelings that’ll trigger that change in him for himself. How has been after his second moon?”

Lance wasn’t sure there was much of a difference after the second moon seeing Keith had made such a big stride in learning he could be himself around Lance. His fiancé never violent or threatening towards him, just frustrated and cranky to Matt and Rieva... Mostly Matt, and mostly deserved at the time. Matt and Rieva understood it was ego related, and weren’t actually able to help Keith calm it back down

“You’ve seen him more than I have. He’s here from 9am to 4pm every day. All we’ve got time for when he gets home is dinner, snuggles on the sofa, then bed early because he’s worn out. The first thing he does when he gets home is take a shower. He thinks it helps lessens Lotor’s scent, but it doesn’t do much when the scents on his clothes and I’m the one who puts the washing on. I made the mistake of mentioning I could smell Lotor and it really upset his ego”

Coran hummed. Lance mentally agreed. Humming summed things up perfect, as if these sessions didn’t start improving, they’d have to look at other options. Lance knew if Keith could just land that one hit, his confidence would skyrocket and he’d start believing in himself again.

Giving Keith another half an hour, Lance couldn’t let the pair of them go on any longer. Keith kept lashing out, and Lotor’s laughing had gotten on his nerves. Sometimes a vampire had to take matters into his own hands. Pushing his chair, back Lance bit down a groan a he pushed himself up. Coran shifted back, the fae raising an eyebrow at his actions

“Lance?”

“I’m going to go talk with Keith”

“My boy, I hardly think now’s a good time. I think it best we wait until these two tire fire the day”

“That’s why now is the perfect time. I just remembered something that I think is going to help Keith and I want to see if I’m right”

“You should let me go in first...”

Coran worried too much

“Coran, it’ll be fine. If Lotor tries something, Keith will lose it. Lotor will know that the moment he sees me, and this can’t wait”

“Still, it’s better to be safe that sorry”

“I’ll be okay. This is something I have to tell Keith properly and alone. Just keep watching over them”

Waddling his pregnant arse down to the training room, Lance knocked before he opened the door. Lotor casually leaning on one of the training dummies across from Keith. Their egos ridiculously strong, but he wasn’t going to back down now that he’d cured his own stupidness over the situation. Snarling at him, Keith needed a few moments to register him before his body slumped

“Babe?”

“Sorry to interrupt, Keith, I need to borrow you for a moment”

His fiancé sounded frustrated as he muttered

“We’re pretty much fucking done here...”

“Don’t. Just come out here for a moment. Lotor, give us a few minutes then I’ll send Keith back in”

Following him out into the hall, Keith threw himself to lean against the wall as Lance shut the door behind him

“What are you doing here?”

“Escaping Rieva and her birthing plans”

“So I suppose you saw how badly I was doing?”

“It wasn’t that you were doing bad... Look, I’m an idiot. I didn’t think about it, then I remembered something important”

Keith seemed pretty disinterested in this “important something”, gesturing for him to continue

“Well, watching you two, it reminded me what it was like to fight Matt”

Rolling his eyes at him, Keith kept with the muttering

“Matt was a proper wolf, not like me”

“You are a proper wolf. But that’s the thing. You saw how hard it was at first for us to get along comfortably until we had that fight. It made me think about how I felt. Your ego doesn’t respect Lotor because he doesn’t respect you”

“Tell me something I don’t know”

“Well, it’s basically because you’re holding back. I didn’t hold back when I fought Matt, and he didn’t hold back either. You need to stop holding yourself back”

“Thanks, Sherlock. No fucking shit”

Nope. Keith was not going to get under his skin

“When you go back in there, you have to stop seeing Lotor as a person. He’s not. Matt tore me to shreds, but I healed right up. Remember? I know it scared the shit out of you to see what it was like, and I think that’s part of what’s holding you back. You’re scared you’re going to hurt Lotor, even if it’s subconsciously, the thought is still there. You’re thinking too much like a human. Think of him as your pray. The hunter become the hunted. You are nine-hundred-and-fifty-zillion times the man he’ll ever be. You have the skills. You have the training. I know you’re scared of yourself because I have moments when I’m scared of myself”

Keith threw his hands up

“I’m not like you, babe. I don’t know how to cope with this. I’m sorry, but turning me into a wolf was wasted on me. I’m useless”

Lance snapped hard

“Keith Kogane, you are not useless. You’ve had two fucking moons and you’ve already settled into living with a vampire for a lover. God. I want to shake you right now. I felt how badly your egos were clashing in there. You were an absolute fucking bad arse hunter before you turned. You need to have faith in yourself”

“Yeah, and what if I can’t fucking turn back from being a wolf?!”

“You will because I know you will. Matt and I worked things out because our egos accepted each other as pretty much being mutual bad arses. Lotor, is Lotor. Everything he’s riling you up with is shit. You are my fucking mate, and I love you. When you go back in there, remember that you’re top dog. The only vampire who’ll ever now down to you is me. The only way to get Lotor to respect you is to make him bleed. It’s not pleasant but that’s how our stupid egos work. You can do this. You can do this because I know for a fact you can”

“And what if I take it too far?”

“Coran will stop things before that happens. Babe, we can’t help or protect people from the bad things if you can’t get out of your own head. You’re amazing. You’re amazing and I love you. Even if Lotor kicks your arse, we’ll watch it over and over and we’ll figure out where you need to make adjustments. Even if he makes me cry because you’re bleeding, I‘ll be there to patch you up. You’ve got this, and I’ve got you”

Shuffling over to him, Keith wrapped his arms around him

“You’re the amazing one. It’s nothing like how it was when you fought with him”

“That’s because I’m older than you. But you have a secret a weapon that he doesn’t. You have me on your side. Your very pregnant me”

“I feel like I’m back at the beginning again”

“Because you are. That’s not a bad thing. You haven’t picked up a lifetime of bad habits. Your stances are sloppy and your feet are too far apart. Raise your head and be confident. Then, once you’ve won, you can buy me dinner”

“I’m sorry I’m so weak”

“Aw, baby. No. You’re not weak. I was traumatised for a very long time after my turn. But when facing someone like Lotor, you can let that last little bit of fear fuck right off. You’re a werewolf. You’re my werewolf. Remember all that shit he used to go on about, about the “blood of kings”? What’s so good about it? When you fight, you’re fighting to protect families like ours. I’ve got your back”

“You always encourage me... I don’t deserve it”

“You’re always encouraging me too. You encourage me to go to bed. You encourage me to stop scrubbing at the grout in the kitchen...”

Keith snorted at him, the sniffled. His poor fiancé had shocking self esteem since his turn

“I don’t think you’re using that word right. And why do you have a lisp?”

“I bit my tongue. Rieva scared the crap out of me when I was doing my yoga in peace. I don’t know if that was better or worse than her insisting I need a birth plan”

“I thought the plan was that if you went into labour we came here?”

“I know right?! But nooo. Apparently wolves do it different? Anyway, I’m going to go back up there, and I’m going to be cheering you on”

“I don’t...”

“Nope. No. Nooo. No bad mouthing. That’s like insulting my ego and my choice in men. I refuse to be anything but proud of you”

“I’m proud of you too... but please don’t ever go that close to Lotor again. Not when we’re... training”

“For you, I won’t. Now go get him!”

*

Slipping back into the training room, Keith felt his ego flare at the feel of Lotor’s. Lotor was standing there checking his phone, giving Keith a sideways glance as if his presence was worthless. Lance had it all figured out. Turning into a wolf terrified him. He didn’t know if he’d be able to control himself, or how to move his body once he shifted. He didn’t know if he’d lose his mind and go Lotor with dire consequences he’d have to live with. Lance was also right. He couldn’t not draw on his wolf side if it meant protecting people. Him being cowardly could cost Curtis and Shiro their lives.

“Everything okay?”

The way Lotor asked with obvious curiosity instantly got under his skin. Taking a deep breath, Keith nodded. He had Lance on his side. His fiancé hadn’t cared about Lotor. He’d barely glanced his way when he’d opened the door to the training room, and that’d done wonders for Keith’s twinges of jealousy. Out of the two of them, Lance had chosen him all over again. He now got what Lance meant. There’d been a little respect between him and Matt, allowing them to fight as equals. He didn’t see Lotor as his equal so he’d been fighting on his back foot, half a step behind. Wounds would heal. This was training and not real life. He could afford to test his limits because neither he nor Lotor had to currently worry about the consequences of them going all out.

“Fine. Nothing for you to worry about”

And a lot less for him to worry about. Lance was watching over him. He’d stop him before he fucked up beyond repair. Lotor didn’t respect him... it pained Keith to admit he needed to show more respect towards the vampire and treat training much more seriously than he’d let himself previous

“Are you sure? Lance seemed positively ready to burst on the spot”

“What do you except? He’s heavily pregnant with our twins. Are we going to do this or are you too busy playing on your phone?”

Lotor sighed at him

“We’ve spent hours accomplishing nothing. Perhaps it’s time you tucked your tail between you legs and trotted back home? I doubt that wolf inside you is anything more than a yapping puppy”

Keith could feel his wolf... he could feel it and that was the whole problem. Him not being himself. He didn’t want to be that kind of person. He was too scared Lance would reject him for letting his wolf out. But Lance had soothed him, told him to go for it, he hadn’t been very talkative at home thanks to all of this weighing on his mind. He was working through his fears, but needed to grow sure of himself again. It felt like he had to rebuild himself bit by bit ever since he’d woken up. He’d never admit to Lance that he wanted to give up almost every single day, even with all the love and support poured on him.

“You want to see my wolf?”

“Isn’t that the whole reason we’ve been tasked with this ridiculous endeavour?”

“Remember you asked for it”

“I’ll remember that when I’m wiping the floor with this human form of yours”

*

Shuffling back into the monitoring room, Lance let out a sigh of deep relief to be off his feet the moment his butt hit the chair. He could totally go for a nap right now, but had to stay awake. He had to see what Keith could do, and if his words had helped in any way

“Everything okay, my sweet boy?”

“Just had to remind Keith of something. Did I miss anything?”

“Only Keith watching Lotor as he taunts him”

Coran sounded annoyed with Lotor. Lance was as annoyed, but egos were like that. The way the room had felt left him feeling grimy, egos so thick he could taste it on his tongue. Any longer in the space he would have fallen to his knees with his head bowed and in labour. His stomach cramping from the few moments of intense pressure, not that he’d let it show. Not that his ego would let it show. They were a vampire, and Lotor was no otherworldly demon.

Coming up behind him, Allura looped her arms around him

“How do you feel?”

Patting Allura’s arm, Lance rubbed his cheek against hers. He still hadn’t replied to Veronica. He really needed to reply to Veronica

“Good. Allura, I should probably warned you that I told Keith to stop holding himself back... He was thinking too much as a human and not enough as a werewolf”

Allura kissed his cheek. His ego didn’t want to be touched by anyone other than Keith, but he’d never turn Allura away. She knew is as she quickly drew back

“I’m not surprised. Keith has quite a soft heart. I do hope Lotor doesn’t hurt him”

“If Lotor doesn’t hurt him, then he didn’t listen to me. Watching them reminded me of when Matt and I fought to settle our egos. Neither of them want to acknowledge the other out of personal pride. And Keith’s scared of losing himself to his wolf. We should be in for something good... well, not that I want Keith hurt, but you know”

“We do love stubborn men, don’t we? Perhaps we should get some popcorn as we watch them make fools of themselves?”

“Allura, sister from another mister, I couldn’t agree more”

Coran sent himself for snacks, being pregnant had its perks as all he had to do was fake the idea of leaving VOLTRON to retrieve them and Coran was quick on his case about how he’d go while Lance rested. Lance felt a little bad, for a few moments, before he was beaming at the screen in front of him. Carefully Keith had watched Lotor. They’d circled each other, then Keith had torn his shirt off. Damn if his fiancé wasn’t the hottest man on Earth, Allura copping a snarl at her low “oh my”. Rolling his neck, there was bloodlust in Keith’s eyes. His claws extending further, initialling resisting before shifting before their eyes.

Lotor packed himself. Well, Lance liked to think he did as Keith’s huge wolf form lunged for him. God knew Lance swooned on the spot. The power and speed well and truly befitting the man he loved and prided himself on being the mate of

“He’s certainly larger than I believed”

“You should see him in real life. He’s so fluffy and soft...”

“Coran had said he acted rather tame”

“Mhmm. Unless I’m threatened... Those jaws of his are no joke. My arm’s only just regained full function, which was a pain in the arse to hide from him”

“He bit you?”

“Only a little. Pidge was watching movies with me and he got startled by her”

“Shouldn’t you have healed?”

Ugh. Tell him about. Memory loss. Napping all day. His arm and his tongue... his hips... He had the utmost respect for pregnant people who were able to work through everything right until the end of the their pregnancy

“I can only guess everything I’ve got is going to the twins”

“Lance, you can’t be so careless with your body. We would all be devastated should something happen to you”

“I’m fine, Allura. I’ll be fine. It’s only a little longer and they’ll be here”

“Perhaps you should come stay here until you give birth? You could share my space... and we could have movie nights whenever you wished. Do each other’s hair. Paint our nails”

That sounded so damn tempting

“Thanks for the offer, but honestly, being home feels best. And Keith needs the space”

“I just don’t want you to feel like you’re alone...”

“I’m not. Besides, I know I always have you and Coran right here”

“Don’t you ever forget that. You’re like a brother to me...”

“And you’re like a sister to me. I can put up with some discomfort for a little while longer. It’s all going to be worth it when we finally get to meet them”

“I hope you know Allura is a fine name”

Lance chuckled

“I do. I’m sorry to tell you, but out of fairness to all our friends, we’re not going with your names. I love each and every one of you, and could never replace any of you. No. I have one name in mind, but we’ll wait and see”

“Alfor’s also a good name. So is Alfie...”

“And one day, when you have a child of your own, what are you going to do when I’ve stolen your name?”

Allura sighed

“I must admit, I hadn’t thought of that”

“You’ll be a great mum. But even if you don’t have kids, you’ll be a great aunty to the twins...”

“Oh, I’m going to spoil them rotten. We’re all so happy for you and Keith”

“I know... and speaking of Keith, I think he’s got Lotor on the run”

Pulling a well used trick, Lotor had scaled the wall and was now frowning down on Keith who was patiently watching his every move. Lance didn’t know if Keith would remember shifting, but he sure as heck was going to brag about it when they got home. His fiancé was best boy. He just needed to believe in himself the way Lance did.

[melon-wing]

Full Moon

This Story was inspired by @gridoc ‘s fanart found here

Grian laid on the soft grass, looking up at the blue sky. The smell of flowers was all around him and he could hear birds tweeting. He loved this part of being a Hippie. He seriously should have tried something like this way sooner. It was so relaxing after a stressful day of working. And the plus side was, he could always be close to his boyfriend. His eyes landed on Ren sitting on top of his RV, playing a few notes on his guitar and humming no song in particular to himself. This was perfect. Or as Impulse had said, the ‘Disgustingly sweet life of a freshly married couple’. And while they weren’t really married or anything like that, the living together thing, albeit temporary, was something new, that both of them enjoyed a lot.

Grian stretched and stood up as the sun started to get closer to the horizon, walking over to Ren, who stopped playing the instant he noticed him and jumped down from his RV.

“Hey, beautiful!”

Grian smiled, stepped up to his boyfriend and gave him a chaste kiss. “Hello there, Handsome.” He distantly heard a gagging sound from the direction of Impulse’s RV, but chose to ignore it. “So what do you say to a nice dinner? Stress taught me a really nice recipe and I thought I could try it tonight. We could even bust out some candles and make it really romantic.”

Ren’s smile faltered and he shook his head. “Sorry not today. It’s… not good. I need to be alone, you know. There’s a full moon tonight.”

Grian sighed and stepped back, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He hated it when Ren disappeared once a month during the full moon without telling him anything at all. He had tried asking so often now but never gotten a satisfying answer. Depending on Ren’s mood he either got no answer at all, or was distracted with kisses. Only one time he had told Grian that it was dangerous during the full moon, but refused to give any further explanation.

Ren noticed his foul mood – he always did – and soon soft lips covered his. He opened his mouth begrudgingly at first, but soon got to enjoy his apology make out session. When they separated, both a little out of breath his mood had indeed gotten a little better.

“I’ll make it up to you. Let’s take tomorrow off. No building, no digging. We’ll lock the RV and rock the wheels.” Grian grinned at the idea.

There was another annoyed groan coming from Impulse’s RV. “Oh dear god. I’ll take tomorrow off then. Have fun guys! Don’t break the RV.”

They looked at Impulse and then at each other and laughed, everything else forgotten.

Everything was just perfect.

~*~

Grian loved their new world. He really did. But part of him missed the old place. Getting around had been so easy there. He had been able to see Ren every day and they had spend a lot of nights together. Now it took hours upon hours of rowing for one of them. It was their own fault that they had settled so far apart, but there was nothing you could do about that. They were both builders and once a builder fell in love with a spot, nothing could change that.

Grian swore to try and get an Elytra as soon as he was able to. Maybe he could ask his neighbour Scar for some help. But that had to wait for another day. At the moment Grian was busy collecting sand for his little Hobbit Hole. He really couldn’t carry a lot unfortunately and he hated it. He had to take so many trips to gather all the materials.

As he rowed back, the sun was already setting. He didn’t really fear the night, as long as there were no phantoms flying around. Wait… When was the last time he had slept in a bed? Damn, now that he thought about it, there was a high chance of phantoms spawning around him. Maybe it would be better to spend the night somewhere else. Or to find someone with a bed.

Grian took his communicator out and looked at the coordinates, a smile forming on his face. He was really close to Ren’s little island. Maybe he could go there and crash for the night.

<Grian> Hey Ren. I’m out on the ocean. High chance of phantoms. Can I crash at your place?

Grian waited for a few minutes, watching the setting sun and it’s reflection on the water. There was no answer. Their chat wasn’t really busy today at all. Most of them were working hard and not looking at their communicators.

<Grian> I’ll just come by. If you are not there, I’ll just use your bed. Feel free to join me ;)

Grian put his communicator away and got back to rowing. When he reached ‘Loser Island’ the sun’s last rays were already fading over the water. He had made it just in time. He tied his boat to the dock and went over to Pamela, petting the cow on its head and handing her a piece of wheat before continuing on to the hut.

“Ren?!”, he called out as he opened the door.

There was nobody inside.

“Ren you there?”, he called again. He heard a noise from down below were he knew Ren was working on his base and smiled. Without hesitation he jumped down the hole and landed with a splash in the water down below.

“Ren?”, he asked, looking around and getting out of the water. Damn this place had gotten huge since the last time he’d been here.

Before he could look around for his boyfriend his communicator gave of a series of beeps as a number of messages came in. Maybe Ren wasn’t here after all and had messaged him now.

He took out the communicator and looked at it.

<Docm77> Don’t go there, Grian!

<Docm77> Please answer me! Go somewhere else

<Docm77> Grian tell me you didn’t go. It’s dangerous!

Grian looked at the messages in confusion. What the hell was going on with Doc? He never spammed the chat like that. And what was he going on about?

<Grian> I’m already in his base’s lower level. What is going on, Doc?

There was nothing dangerous in Ren’s base. Sure, it was a little dark, but not dark enough for Mob’s to spawn. The torches lit the place up and the full moon was shining through the window. His communicator beeped again.

<Docm77> You idiot! Run! Get out! I’m coming!

Wait… The full moon? Grian raised his head from his communicator to look through the glass front, seeing the moon rise through the ocean water.

Hadn’t Ren told him to never ever visit him during a full moon? Was he up to something dangerous during that time?

There was a rustling sound behind him. Grian’s heart was beating frantically as he turned around. Something was moving slowly by the wall in the shadows.

“Ren? Is that you? This is not funny.”, he called to the shadow. There was a low growling sound and Grian jumped a little. “Ren…?”

The shadow moved a little and finally the torch light revealed it. Grian’s breath hitched, his eyes widened and fear grabbed his heart. The communicator dropped from his hands falling to the floor. At the other side of the room was a giant wolf with sharp teeth and huge claws and it was staring out of glowing red eyes directly at him.

He wanted to scream, but only a silent whimper left his mouth. That was no mob he had ever seen. It was huge, almost double Grian’s size. And he didn’t have his diamond sword with him.

The eyes of the creature were fixed on him. A tongue darted out of its mouth to lick over the glistening teeth, and finally Grian was able to move again. He tried to ignore the pains that came from a whole day of digging sand and sprinted towards the bubble elevator. He needed to get out of here. With its size the creature probably wouldn’t be able to follow him through the tight space.

But just as he had began moving the wolf started to run as well and it was faster than him. He needed to hurry up. He needed to get out of here. He didn’t want to die here.

He was almost there. He would make it. His hand already hit the water as he reached for it, when something hit him in the side, throwing him to the floor. He skidded over the rough stone for a few metres and then came to a halt, panting heavily. He hurt all over from the tackle and from the stone grating away his jumper and into his skin. He stood up on shaking legs, trying to ignore all the scratches. The wolf stood between him and the exit now. There was no way he could get out of here. This was the only exit. He could try to get out of the glass front if he was able to break it, but without any gear on him there was no way he’d be fast enough and the water pressure would be hard to fight any ways.

He tried not to move. Maybe it wouldn’t notice him. Maybe it wouldn’t go after him if he didn’t trigger its instincts.

The wolf kept its eyes on him and Grian’s heart kept beating faster and faster. He was seconds away from having a full on panic attack. His adrenalin was probably the only thing that kept him standing right now and not cowering in fear.

The wolf slowly crept closer and Grian took a few slow steps backwards, looking around for anything he could use as a weapon, but there was nothing. He grabbed one of the torches standing around, holding it out defensively in front of him. Maybe it would be scared of fire. He kept stepping further and further back, the creature following his every move.

And suddenly his back hit the wall. Panic rose inside of him and he hurriedly looked of to the side for a way to get out. That was when the creature jumped. Grian instinctively held the torch in front of his body. There was a howl of pain and the smell of burning hair in the air. The beast held a claw up to its shoulder and stared at Grian. It looked even more enraged than before

And then it pounced again in wild furry. Grian swung the torch in front of him, but one hit from the giant paw sent it flying.

Grian screamed as searing pain shot through his arm. Blood dripped down to the floor from three long gashes the claws had left on his arm. Tears formed in his eyes. He would die here. Doc wouldn’t make it in time. That monster would kill him.

In his panic Grian darted off to the side, stumbling a little. He needed to get away. He didn’t want to die here. And why wasn’t Ren here to help him out? Why was a monster running around in his basement?

Something heavy hit his back and Grian fell, rolling over the stone and coming to a painful halt on his back. If he survived this his whole body would be littered in bruises and scratches.

He hurried to get up, but the giant paws of the beast were suddenly standing on his shoulders. It was lowering its mouth, sharp teeth ready, mouth wide open. Grian raised his arms to push it away, trying to frantically grab anywhere to get it away. It didn’t work. The wolf growled and suddenly Grian’s arm was in its mouth. It was about to bite down and probably take his whole hand off. Then their eyes locked. Grian could see his face reflected in the red eyes. His terrified face full of tears and for a second the red started to flicker, turning into a soft blue. Blue like the sky. Blue like the eyes of…

“Ren…?”

The beast seemed to hesitate and Grian pulled his hand back to safety, away from the sharp teeth.

“Ren is that you?” He felt the pressure fading a little from his shoulders and dared to hope again. He didn’t understand whatever was happening right now, but somehow in some way Ren had turned into this… this wolf monster. And he was coming to his senses. Maybe he was recognizing Grian.

“It’s alright Ren. Everything is okay. Okay? I’m sorry I came over. Don’t do this”, Grian whispered. His words seemed to have an effect on the creature. He just needed to keep talking. Keep it distracted.

“I… I love you, Ren…” One of the giant paws slid off of Grian’s shoulder and he decided to take the opportunity. He hurriedly rolled to the side and got up. That turned out to be a bad idea. The blue eyes instantly turned red again and the beast was growling in anger. Grian wanted to run, but he soon stumbled and then felt sharp claws piercing right through his shoulders. He fell to the ground again, breathing heavily. It was over. He wouldn’t get away this time. He was hurting everywhere. He could feel the warm breath of the wolf right next to his ear as its mouth moved to his neck.

He prepared for the worst, when he heard a loud splash of water.

“Stay down!” A voice shouted. Something flew right over his head and the creature howled in pain.

Grian turned his head to look back. A trident was embedded right in the wolves upper body, blood staining the fur red. It stumbled back a few steps, its eyes flickering between red and blue. The trident ripped itself out of his body again as if by magic and it fell to the ground. It took a few more shaking breaths, trying to get up again, growling dangerously. Again a trident flew, this time hitting its lower abdomen. It struggled to stay upright and took one more shaking step, before it fell down one final time and stopped moving.

“R-Ren…? REN!”

Grian tried to get up, but a warm hand on his back kept him from moving and he looked at Doc who was kneeling next to him, bloody trident in his mechanical arm.

“It’s okay, Grian…”

“Nothing is okay!” There were tears gathering in Grian’s eyes now. He just felt the tension of this whole ordeal all at once becoming too much. “You killed him! That was Ren and you killed him!”

“I know, but…”

“You knew?!” Grian almost shouted, wincing at the pain it caused in his shoulder. “Why? Doc, if you knew that was Ren, why did you do it?”

“You need to calm down, Grian, man…”, he said calmingly, put down the trident after one last look at the wolf and then carefully turned Grian around to get him into a sitting position. “Look.”

Grian followed his instructions and saw the wolf’s fur moving a little as low breaths were still leaving its mouth. “Is he… Will he...?”

“He will be okay. He is one tough guy in that form. And I know how to aim. I just did enough damage to stop him. He will be fully healed once the full moon is gone, don’t worry. He always transforms back without any injuries. No one is dead. And it looks like he didn’t get to bite you. He didn’t right?”

Grian shook his head and Doc let out a sigh of relief. “Good. He would never forgive himself if he turned you as well.”

“What… turned me into what…? Is he a… Werewolf? But they don’t exist. That is just a fairy tale.”

“Well before they multiplied like crazy, people thought phantoms were just a fairy tale and now they are everywhere…” Doc sighed and looked over to where Ren’s body was still lying. “It should be up to him to explain this to you. I told him so many times that you should know what he was. He was so scared you would leave him and look where that got him. He almost bit you. That fool.”

“He is a fool… But I love him even at his worst… He should know that.” Grian smiled sadly and tried to shrug, but the pain in his shoulder almost had him doubling over. Doc’s hand was the only thing that kept him up.

“Can you stand up? Should I call Xisuma to teleport us to a safer place?”

Grian shook his head. He didn’t want to get Xisuma involved. It was his own fault he was in this situation. “I’ll manage…”

Grian managed to slowly get up with Doc’s hand steadying him. Doc was constantly looking him up and down a worried expression on his face. “You don’t really look to good.”

“’m fine…”, Grian mumbled, swaying a little. His face was as white as a sheet of paper. How much blood had he lost? There weren’t too many wounds on his body, but those cuts seemed to be pretty deep. He took a shaking step towards the exit, but stumbled and hadn’t it been for Doc holding him up, he would have fallen to the ground again.

“Stupid stubborn fools, both of you”, he mumbled, his communicator in hand. Grian could distantly hear the sound of typing and beeping, as if he was under water. He couldn’t think clearly. Everything around him started to sway. And then everything around him disappeared and they suddenly stood in a brightly lit room. He was rushed over to a bed. Xisuma was standing there looking at him worriedly. Oh… So they had transported him to Xisuma’s place.

He wanted to say something, but his vision started to fade and he suddenly felt so tired. He couldn’t keep his eyes open and slowly drifted out of consciousness. Maybe he would wake up and realise all this had been just a nightmare.

In his dreams he was haunted by glowing red eyes. The wolf was always right next to him no matter where he went. He was suddenly back in the cave below Ren’s base, the wolf above him. But this time there was no trident flying through the air. No Doc to rescue him. He felt the sharp teeth bite into his neck and screamed.

He screamed and screamed, hands were on him at once and he heard voices talking to him. Slowly but surely he gained a sense of his surroundings. He was in Xisuma’s bed. There was no wolf. It was bright and the sun was shining through the windows and someone was holding his hand.

A little out of breath he looked at Xisuma who was gently holding his hand, his helmet abandoned in a corner of the room.

“’suma…?”

“Yeah. You alright, Grian? You had a nightmare.”

“So it wasn’t real?”, he asked, still a little dazed, but the pity in Xisuma’s eyes made him realise how stupid that question was. Of course it had been real. Why else would he be in Xisuma’s bed of all places? And he still hurt all over. He looked down at his arm. It was tightly wrapped in a bandage. The white fabric was stained dark red in some places.

And suddenly he realised it was morning and Doc’s words came back to him. “Ren! Where is he? Is he alright? I need to...”, he hurriedly tried to get up, but Xisuma gently pushed him back into the mattress.

“Don’t strain yourself”, he mumbled then turned around and stepped away from the bed. “Ren, get over here. You heard him.”

Grian heard some rustling in the corner of the room and finally he saw Ren slowly stepping up to his bed. Why hadn’t he been next to him this whole time?

“Ren…” Ren looked bad. He wouldn’t raise his head to look at Grian. His eyes were red and puffy and there were still tear tracks on his face. His whole posture just screamed Insecurity. “Ren, babe… Look at me, please.”

Finally Ren raised his head and their eyes met. He could see tears shining in Ren’s eyes. “Grian… I am so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. I promise. I just… I can’t control the wolf. I tried to stop it. I really did. I was so scared. I’d understand if you don’t want to be with me any more.”

Grian shock his head and slowly raised his non bandaged arm to rest a hand on Ren’s cheek. “It’s alright. Nothing bad happened. I’m okay. And I still love you.”

Xisuma sighed next to them and put down a few clean bandages onto the bed. “I’ll give you guys a little privacy. Ren, He needs a change of bandages. I trust you to take care of that. Talk it out you two. I’ll be back later.”

Grian noticed that Ren looked a little panicked at Xisuma’s retreating back and he opened his mouth, as if he wanted to say something. Maybe he wanted to stop Xisuma. As the door fell closed, Ren even flinched a little, head hanging low again.

“You don’t want to be alone with me?”, Grian asked sadly, noticing all the signs.

Ren looked finally looked back at him, eyes wide with shock, shaking his head. “I thought you wouldn’t want to be. I thought you might get scared after I attacked you.”

Grian huffed in mild annoyance. “If I didn’t want to be alone with you I would have told Xisuma. We have been alone thousand of times, haven’t we.”

“Yeah but I attacked you…”

“Right. You attacked me. Once. When you weren’t even yourself. We have been together almost every night since the last season. Percentage wise I think I have a good chance to be safe alone with you.” Grian slowly got into a sitting position, wincing a little at the pain, but unlike Xisuma, Ren made no move to stop him. He grabbed Ren and pulled him into a hug. It hurt, sure, it hurt like hell. But seeing Ren like that, seeing him blame himself for everything that happened, that hurt even more.

“It’s okay. We are okay. It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have known I’d be there.” He felt Ren’s hand hesitantly wrapping around him and Grian almost melted into the embrace. “I love you. And I’ll always love you, even if you transform into some monster wolf, I’ll still love you.”

Ren was shaking now and Grian felt something wet on his shoulders. He carefully petted Ren’s back with his unbandaged hand, trying to calm him down. “It’s okay… Everything is fine…”, he continued to whisper words of comfort until he felt Ren calming down. They still stayed there for a while, neither of them ready to let go.

Until Grian moved a little and pain shot through his arm. A pained whine escaped him and Ren let go of him as if he’d burned himself. “I’m sorry. Oh god, Gri, I’m so sorry. Look at me. I’m a mess and you are the one that got hurt. I should be the one to care for you not the other way around.”

“Don’t worry, it’s…”

“No. It’s not okay. Stop saying that. I know you want to reassure me, but I have a right to worry about you. You are hurt.” Ren picked up the clean bandage. “I need to make it up to you, even if you don’t see that. You might be okay, but I… I’m not okay yet.”

Grian didn’t dare to say anything. He wanted to make Ren forget about what happened, but he understood where Ren was coming from. It was probably easier to forgive someone else than to forgive yourself. So he just nodded and held out his wounded arm.

Gently Ren peeled of the bloody bandage. Grian averted his eyes, not ready to see the damage the attack had caused.

“I owe you an explanation, I think”, Ren began and Grian just shrugged. “No, Gri, I really do. I should have told you a long time ago. Doc was always pestering me about it. I guess he was right. If you had known you would have paid more attention to the moon.”

“Tell me then… Whatever you are comfortable with.”

Ren smiled sadly, putting the bloody bandages to the side and taking a washing cloth from the bedside table. He dabbed it gently against the wound. It stung like hell, but Grian tried not to show any discomfort as Ren began explaining.

“I was still young when it happened. It was long before I came to Hermitcraft. I got lost in a forest looking for… I don’t even know what I was looking for any more. It was stupid to go out alone that late. It was a full moon. That huge wolf suddenly appeared in front of me. I tried to run away, but it was just too fast. It bit me. It probably would have killed me. But I was lucky. Someone had noticed my screams and chased the monster off. I thought I was lucky. Until the next full moon came and I transformed. It hurts… It hurts every time. All the bones in your body shifting, your skin stretching out. But the worst thing is not how it feels but the way you lose all control. I was never able to control myself.”

“But you did...”, Grian whispered, thinking back to last night, when his arm had been in the wolf’s mouth, about to be bitten. “Your eyes. They turned blue and you didn’t… you stopped.”

Ren smiled sadly and nodded. “That was the first time I managed to do this. And even though… even when I love you this much I wasn’t able to stay in control. I tried so hard...”

Ren took a shaky breath, quietly put the wash cloth away and started carefully bandaging the arm again. “I’m glad Doc was there. Even if he almost killed me... I once told him if worst comes to worst he has my permission to kill me. I’d rather die then see anything happen to you.”

“Well and I’d rather be bitten than see you die. So I’ll have a talk with Doc about that agreement”, Grian replied with an annoyed huff and while Ren looked like he wanted to argue he held back. He probably knew that Grian wouldn’t change his mind on that matter.

Ren kept bandaging up his arm, then paused and looked straight into Grian’s eyes, gaze full of worry. “Just… Never visit me during the full moon ever again. Promise me that you’ll be careful. If I were to bite you, I’d never forgive myself.”

Grian averted his eyes. Ren wasn’t the only one who felt guilty about this whole ordeal. If he had just paid attention to the moon… If he hadn’t stayed out so late… If he had waited patiently for an answer instead of just barging in… If he had…

“Grian. Stop it.”

“’m not doing anything…”, Grian mumbled quietly, turning his eyes back to Ren.

“You are blaming yourself, when I am the only one to blame. I can see it in your eyes.”

“Well… If I’m not allowed to blame myself, then neither are you!”

Ren shook his head, about to answer again, but Grian wouldn’t let him. “No. You listen to me, Mr. Ren. You had no control. You told me enough times that you can’t see me during a full moon. So what? Yeah, you maybe should have told me you are a werewolf after two years of dating, but whatever.” Grian looked back to Ren again, nothing but love in his eyes. “It will take me a while to get over this, sure. I will feel bad about it and so will you, but we can pull through it. Don’t you ever doubt that.”

Ren lowered his eyes and finished bandaging Grian’s arm. But for the first time since Grian had woken up there was a small smile on his lips. And Grian knew at that moment that they would be alright.

[nelllraiser]

chains and grace | adam & nell

TIMING: october 30th, the full moon, just before sunset. LOCATION: the trees near dark score lake. PARTIES: @walker-journal & @nelllraiser​ SUMMARY: adam and nell prepare themselves for their first full moon as werewolves.  CONTENTS: medical blood (sacrificial fingerstick prick)

Fallen leaves rustled under Adam’s feet, forming a carpet of brilliant oranges and yellows while subtler strings of red and browning rot. The waning afternoon sun forged the forest canopy in halcyon golds. The shadows of the sun-silhouetted branches played across Adam’s face as he affixed more chains to the trunk of the stoutest tree he could find. Adam had no idea how strong he’d be on the first transformation, but he wasn’t taking any chances. 

Kaden may’ve not wanted to kill him, but Adam had more than a few former coworkers with aim that’d put an army Ranger sniper to shame and fewer qualms about pulling the trigger. Thus a remote location and strong bonds were preferable here. 

Adam ‘I love fine ass and incendiary rounds’ Walker realized that there might just be a certain ironic justice in him worrying about trigger happy paramilitary. 

“How’s yours going,” Adam asked his dance partner for this lunar stakeout.

 If Nell hadn’t been treating this evening as a sort of funeral for life as she knew it, the autumnal palette of the trees paired with the steadily setting sun and the company of Adam would have made for a wholly enjoyable setting. As it were, the somber feelings she’d been trying to avoid ever since being bitten by the werewolf were quickly encroaching, refusing to be shoved away in these last moments, effectively ruining any hope for a happy or peaceful outing. 

“I’m going for a nice cat’s cradle look,” Nell answered, still managing to refuse the dread in her stomach access to her sense of sarcasm, even if the joke fell flatter than it normally would have. “I thought it’d be a nice last ‘screw you’ to the wolf part of the situation.” The chains alone were enough to cause her anxiety to prickle uncomfortably, not exactly a fan of imprisonment ever since she’d been trapped beneath the Ring. “What about you?” She looked to Adam as she reversed the question, posing it both as an attempt to get a read on his tree to chain ratio, as well as how he might be handling the situation as a whole.

“Kind of just going for restraint over style here,” Adam noted as he strained his way through some of the last preparations, the muscles of his neck and upper arms wiry the fallen Hunter leveraged one foot against the tree he was trying to bind chains around. “Y’know”, Adam posited, leaning back far enough to look at Nell upside-down he continued to heave at the chain into place around a huge super maple while pushing against the bark with a leg. “I’d hoped when we were going to start tying each other up it’d be…”

This particular train of thought was interrupted by a rasping click as the last chain link slid past the main knot into tautness. Adam stumbled backward, taking off guard by the unexpected success and tripping over a root. 

“Guess what I mean is,” Adam amended, changing his tone and just decided to own the mishap by sitting up with his back against the chained tree. “We still don’t have to do this together if you don't want to,” he prevaricated carefully. “When we first change we’ll have no control, and I honestly dunno if like...we might end up hurting each other with the chains? I dunno.” 

The truth of why he thought Nell might not want him here on the night she lost her magic had little to do with safety, but Adam wanted to give her an easier out here if she wanted it. 

In the end Nell would most likely be banking on the power of her magic when it came to the hardness of her chains. Physical knot tying wasn’t a practical skill she’d been taught when the same end could be achieved with a simple spell. Still- she sat back on her heels to take a look at her handiwork, head tilting to the side to gain a new perspective that didn’t actually provide any other insights. Sparing Adam a flicker of amusement both at his words and momentary fumble, she dusted her hands on the sides of her pants restless now that she didn’t have the chains to preoccupy them. “Never say never. Maybe it could be a treat for making it through the first full moon.”

Maybe Nell had misjudged where that sentiment was going, though. Was Adam having second thoughts? “Why wouldn’t I want to? Do you not want to? Do this together, I mean.” Nell generally gravitated towards having what she perceived as moments of weakness by her lonesome, preferring not to have audiences for the times she felt most vulnerable. But in a break from tradition— she’d been grateful to not have to do this alone. There was nothing more she could do for the chains, and she let her own back slide down the trunk of her tree before settling onto the ground. “I thought werewolves don’t usually go after each other.” Or was there a different reason he might want to change their plan, and go his own way.

Adam sat on leaves at the foot of his chained tree, glancing up at the boughs swaying above him in the canopy overhead before looking back to Penelope. He drew a knee up and laid an arm across it, flexing his fingers and ignoring the whisper of imagination that visualized claws tearing their way out of them. 

“I’m down to do this together,” he assured carefully, pushing images of shredding skin and distending ribs out of his brain. “I just...I dunno.” 

“Feel you are losing a lot more than me here,” the fallen Hunter pointed out softly, “thought you might want me not being here when… y’know.” 

“Oh-” was Nell’s unintentional filibuster of a reply, unsure if she wanted to open the floodgates concerning that particular can of worms. For the most part she’d been avoiding it, preoccupying herself with learning as much as she could get her hands on when it came to Bloody Mary, the mysterious sands, and Adam’s own disappearing abilities. The looming loss of her powers left her feeling as if there were a black hole deep within her stomach, and if the witch so much as stood still for a single moment to spare it a thought— it would pull her in, dragging her under like a similar hole had threatened to do when Bea had been killed. “I just...you know when Bea died?” she began, not entirely certain how to express herself. “And sometime afterwards you let me come over- and it was nice. I don’t know-” she backtracked self-consciously. After all, sharing emotions in person was not one of her stronger suits. “I guess maybe I thought it’d be nice again or something- if you were here.” As for what there was to lose... “Do I? I mean I know your abilities are gone right now, but I’m sure whatever strength and senses that come from being a werewolf won’t be the same as what you had, right? And- well- I can’t imagine it’s all that comforting to become something you were trained to kill.” Dark brown eyes that appeared nearly black in the fading light of the setting sun rose to find Adam’s while she finished.

Adam nodded as Nell alluded to when he’d broke down and they were together. While some fraternity mates had given him knowing nod the morning after the truth was….more vulnerable than that. Adam’d played along with lascivious implication because it was easier to let play it off as just another fuck-romp then admit he’d been falling to pieces. “I’m glad you’re here Nell,” he said with steady directness. “No matter what happens.” 

“I’m more ...worried that I am trained to kill and I kinna get lost in it,” Adam admitted. He was past the point of pretending that he wasn’t an adrenaline junkie who got a rush when his family had warned he should only feel dutiful dispassion when dispatching the enemies of mankind. “Part of me can’t get enough and it made me good at what I do for all the wrong reasons,” confessed one who might’ve become a very different man if he hadn’t been born into a Hunter family that stressed moral utilitarianism and military discipline rather than bloodsport. “I tried not to let that control me but uh…”

“Guess what I’m trying to say is that if I’m this fucked up as a human,” Adam tried again, “what is wolf-me going to be like?”

“I’m glad you’re here, too,” Nell answered with her own unwavering certainty, a gentler smile granting itself to Adam. It was softer- calmer than her usual confident grins and smirks, though just as sincere. “Whatever happens I’m glad we can do it together.”

The mention of her magic had reminded Nell of the flower seeds she’d brought along with her, hoping to create one last thing with her gifts before she had to say goodbye to them. Not yet retrieving them from her pocket, she began to draw a circle in the dirt between their two trees, a single finger paving the way of runes and sigils as it trailed along the forest floor. 

Her spellwork paused as she listened, looking up with a slight frown as he shared. “I don’t think you’re fucked up,” she said reflexively, never enjoying those she cared about speaking of themselves in such a way. “I think we’re just...doing the best with what we’ve got, you know?” But she knew it went beyond that. There was no denying that werewolves had a natural bloodthirst about them the closer it was to the full moon, and it made sense that Adam might dread what result that would garner when paired with a desire that was already present. “Well that’s why we’ve got each other, right?” she asked, referring to the unofficial pact they’d made to check on one another when it came to questionable deeds. “To make sure...we’re still the people we want to be. I won’t let it happen-” Her voice was strong, Nell’s sheer determination peeking through. “If getting lost to that isn’t what you want- if it seems like you’re getting close...we can figure out how to pull you back. And I think at the end of the day the fact that you don’t want to become that says more about you than liking the rush of a kill says. Intentions are more powerful than people give them credit for,” she ended, somewhat aware that her words bordered on lines of witch-hippy speak, but also knowing it to be true after a lifetime of powering her magic with just that.

“Thanks Nell,” Adam managed with a thick swallow, wanting to echo her sentiment but feeling guilt for being the impetitus of this whole situation. Seeing Penelope perform this last swan song of a spell just hit it home that he’d fucked up the life of yet another of his friends. 

Ma’al had suggested another way right? Service to Hell for being a Hunter again? 

But ..Nell was losing her powers for the sake of saving his life. If Adam was really considering taking on the mark and swearing himself to the Hells, shouldn’t it be to restore her powers, not his?

“Nell uh.” Adam swallowed, feeling the horrible tension of this last option in his chest as the sky gained streaks of livid violents and yellows in the countdown till sundown. 

“If I could make a deal to save your powers...even if it might mean doing something morally uh, not so great.” That admittedly was probably an understatement given what Ma’al true form actually was, but Adam didn’t want to foist that on Nell’s conscience. “Would you take it?”

He felt real shitty dropping this on Penelope as they were trying to resign themselves to their fate. But if he could offer her a chance to keep this part of herself...wasn’t even becoming Ma’al’s new pet wolf worth it? 

“I’ll do it if you need me too,” Adam assured, suddenly thankful for the tree’s unyielding support against his back. 

Nell’s face had been turned towards the sun as it continued to sink lower, half-convinced she could see every single millimeter disappear behind the horizon as it went. It felt as if it were some great celestial clock counting down the minutes she had left with her magic, and the moments left until she’d lose a piece of herself that was as much as part of her as an arm or leg. Then as Adam called her attention back, she sat back on her heels next to her tiny circle, satisfied with the work she’d done. “A deal?” she echoed first, not entirely certain what he’d meant by it. Her reflexive gut reaction was a quick reply of “Don’t do that.”

The little indent between her eyes furrowed as Nell tried to truly process what it was Adam was offering, and potentially at the expense of himself. “Listen-” she began carefully, hoping she’d somehow manage to find the right words. “When I came to help you- Sure- I didn’t know that it’d result in losing my magic. But well- the thing is-” She paused on the precipice of her words, still not quite used to bearing herself openly though she was getting used to it with Adam. “I’d still do it knowing what I know now.” Though her magic was the biggest price she could think to pay, there was one thing that she knew would demand an even larger toll, and it was losing someone she cared for as much as she did for the hunter before her. “And if it’s morally questionable- and I just got done telling you I’d help keep you from that…I wanna keep that promise to you.” There was a pause before she continued on. “I don’t know what I am without my magic,” she admitted with a hitch in her voice, “but I know it’s not a person that wants to have a hand in something that might hurt you.” This time she leaned forward to place a tentative hand on top of Adam’s. “But thank you.” She wasn’t sure how else to show that the gravity of his offer hadn’t been lost on her.

She glanced back at her circle, finally taking the daffodil seeds from her pocket. “Do you wanna help me?” she asked with a nod towards the magic runes, deciding that if they were going to have this transformation together- why shouldn’t they do this together as well? 

Adam wasn’t going to force anything on another person, but Nell’s decision still made his teeth grit down. Guilt and the trainwreck he’d brought his friends’ lives seemed to line his gut with lead. 

Morgan had told Adam something about what it was like to wield magic and lose it. Adam couldn’t really relate to be able to feel the universe coursing through him, that meld his pure intent with quantum fields, or beckon beings across universes through sheer desire. In truth, Adam was a pretty physical guy who was content with the simpler animal pleasures of life. 

Sure, he knew a lot more about other dimensions and otherworldly beings than people might expect from his test scores, but Adam's soldiering upbringing had viewed the multiverse as a dark and pitiless infinity full of eldritch predators and malevolent alien gods. 

Not exactly something you want to “embrace.” 

He wanted to be there for Nell, to be a pillar for her while she went through this loss like Morgan's girlfriend had been. But Adam worried that he couldn’t relate enough to how Penelope experienced the world to be who she needed him to be. When Nell had said earlier that intentions were powerful, the cold utilitarianism of ‘threats’, ‘tactical priorities’, and ‘strategic objectives’ that Adam was brought up in almost led him to say something dismissive before he stopped himself. 

It was that impulse Adam feared. Ideological baggage doesn’t just disappear. That bullshit stays with you, lodged deep in your brain stem somewhere, jumping out whenever you were scared or uncomfortable. Like when you were about to literally split out of your own skin and become something hunted by your own people. 

As just a random example. 

Adam got up and dusted off the leaves from his jeans and walked over to Nell. He took a knee by the arcane diagram. “So uh...we need to chant ominously in Latin or…?” 

Despite the heaviness of the air surrounding them, Nell cracked the beginnings of a smile while Adam posed his question, reminded of the time they’d worked on the demon amulet in her greenhouse. “I think I can carry the chanting part and make it just ominous enough.” Tearing open the seed packet with her teeth to sprinkle them over the center of the circle, she felt her the ache of her loss rise to meet her as she reached for her magic for the last time that mattered. “Remember when I said emotions can make magic stronger? Like the wolpertingers at my birthday party?” she asked. “They help fuel it and make it more powerful if you focus on them. And then it’s almost like you can just pour them into the spell. Just letting them leave you to create something new that isn’t exactly them.” Nell couldn’t help but feel that no amount of the dread and premature mourning for her abilities she put into the spell would be enough to chip away at them, but at least she could use them to form something that would live past that loss. “It’s like free magical therapy,” she tried to joke, though her hands wavered as she passed them over the seeds. “So if you just focus on what you’re feeling, and let them go into the spell- you’ll be helping too.” 

Nell reached forwards to lightly clasp Adam’s wrists in her hands, trying to guide his palms to the center of the circle where the seeds lay before resting them atop the soil. Pulling a hidden fingerstick out of a bobby pin from her hair that was kept for situations such as these, she looked at it for a moment too long— realizing there’d be no need for it after tonight. How many more things like this would she find after her magic was gone? Like little knives hiding around her life to slip between her ribs when she least expected it. Shaking the thought away she pricked the tip of Adam’s finger, letting the droplets of blood wet the dirt. Then she did the same to herself before covering the hunter’s hands with her own, the Latin falling from her as the blood mixed. She let every emotion she’d been forcing down for the past month painfully bubble up inside her until it felt like she might burst before letting it spill over into the magic. Slowly but surely, green shoots began to sprout through the cracks of their fingers, the stalks reaching towards the setting sun as new life was born, already desperate to survive. Nell could have gone further- taken the plants to completion and let them bloom. Instead she let the magic end after the daffodils had grown a few inches above the ground, wanting them to find their own way in a new world just as Nell and Adam would have to do in the coming days. 

“Well- that’s it, I guess,” Nell said shakily. It was over. “Chain time now?” she asked as casually as she could, tilting her head back towards their respective trees.

Adam looked up at a sky the color of blue slate, crisscrossed by the lines of cirrus clouds that’d had been lit up in a conflagration of deep carmine by the setting sun. The branches of the forest’s canopy stretched across the sky panoramy like arms through up against the crepular glare, the autumnal reds and oranges of their leaves transmuted into titian gold by the last sunlight passing through them. 

But shadows deepened in this last fading flare, lengthening from the trunks of trees, gnarled masses of roots, and undersides of the softly swaying branches. The leafy carpet of the forest floor darkened until the conjured daffodils seemed defiant against the gloom in their lush newborn yellow, basking in the last dappled rays. 

Adam glanced from the blood lingering on his finger to the daffodils that’d blossomed in the span of seconds. It occurred to him that...in a way...these flowers had come from him and Nell, there was a tiny part of him in those stems and blooms. “Woah Nell, like...that's amazing,” he breathed, not sure why this small last act of fertility should get so much more of a reaction then the crazier stuff he’d seen Nell do on the battlefield. 

Maybe this was part of what Morgan had meant about the universe becoming a part of you?

A cold dismissive part of Adam reminded himself that he wasn’t thoughtful or smart and he shouldn’t be doing galaxy-brain bullshit about some fucking flowers. It was the same remorseless inner voice that’d always reminded Adam that orders were orders, he needed to focus on the mission not the distractions. 

The boyish sense of wonder snapped off like a light switch. Even in his last minutes of humanity, the bone-deep conditioning still put blinders on Adam’s selfhood. 

“Yeah we need to get ready,” Adam rose to his feet again. He hesitated a moment, wondering if he should hug Nell, say something that he more felt for her then knew. 

Adam’s lips parted as he searched for words for a moment, but they closed as he swallowed down his own sense of guilt and failures as a man. He’d tried to meet Nell’s eyes, but quickly averted his own gaze and started busying himself with the chains, affixing heavy iron locks to his wrists. 

Nell mirrored his hesitation after they’d stood, knowing she wanted something in that moment— but uncertain how to act on it. But tonight they didn’t have time to find the words or motions, seemingly already a prisoner to the rising moon and setting sun despite the shift having not yet happened. The last grain of sand had fallen through their hourglass, and now they had to face the inevitable. This wasn’t the end— not really. But no matter how many times Nell tried to tell herself such, she couldn’t get the words to stick. Things were changing after tonight whether she liked it or not, doors closing and opening. Some were clear cut and well-defined like the loss of her magic, others were shrouded in darkness, unable to be found in the gloom of uncertainty that was where they went from here. The rooms the doors were closing on were the ends of many a thing she wasn’t wanting to relinquish, and even if she lived to see the sunrise it wouldn’t be what it was before.

At least Nell wouldn’t have to do it alone. This was the only good she could think of that was coming of tonight as she glanced over to Adam once more, still trying to find what it was she wanted to say. Instead she focused on shackling herself, locking the cold metal around her wrists in a way that was little too reminiscent of her prisoner days in the Ring. Ignoring the shiver that went down her spine, she decided this was her last chance to say something and did her best. “This is gonna sound shitty- and I don’t mean it like that but...if I was gonna get bit I’m glad it’s with you.” It wasn’t perfect, but it’d have to do. 

The last ray of light blinked out of existence in those last moments, and Nell waited- not knowing in the least how to prepare for what was coming, going forth into the darkness with the realization that at least she had one, tiny lantern in the form of the guy who’d stumbled into the Ring looking for a demon amulet all those months ago. She didn’t know how they’d gotten here, but even now she wouldn’t change it, somehow grateful in these last moments for it. Nell waited until the pinks and purples of the sky stopped reflecting against the new glass of the lake, waited for what felt like hours but couldn’t have been more than mere seconds. Waited until she heard the first cricket begin its song, and there wasn’t a scrap of light left in the sky. But there was nothing. Her hands were still her hands, her feet still encased in the sneakers she’d worn, and her magic…

Nell reached for it once again, a half-laugh, half-cry of relief breaking from her lips as she realized that one in a million had come to fruition. The full moon had come, and she was still here, human and magic and everything she’d been before. Instantly she tried to crane her head towards Adam’s direction, struggling to get far enough away from the tree to see him clearly in the new darkness. “Adam?” she asked carefully, unsure whether she’d get words or a wolfish snarl in response. She repeated his name more insistently. “Adam? Are you there?”

Adam felt the moon in his blood. The air felt heavy around him, as the tidal pull of the moon was ripping at his body. Energic pressure seemed to press down on Adam. His heartbeat hammered in his temples. 

Nell said something to him. Where was he?

Red tinged thoughts flooded into Adam’s head, a visceral longing that quickened his breath and brought up goosebumps of frisson along his skin. 

He needed to snap Nell’s neck, to hold her close as she went still and cold. 

It’d make him strong again. Whole again. 

The Hunter’s Moon whispered in Adam’s veins like wine seeping deep into his bloodstream. 

But Adam looked down at his hands and saw only human fingers. 

The fuck? Why’d he feel this way...the moon...what was going on?

“Yeah I’m here.”

Nell muttered a spell to unlock the metal around her wrists, a wave of relief once tumbling through her as Adam voiced his confirmation. “You’re okay? You’re human?” she asked again, as if she could hardly believe it. And why should she? Kaden had said their odds were one in a million and here they were— apparently two in one million. “You’re sure?” Another breathless laugh found her as she marveled at their luck. “We fucking did it,” she said before stepping forwards to unlock Adam’s own shackles, even though they’d had no hand in deciding their fates when it came to turning into werewovles or not. Gone was the hesitation she’d felt before they’d locked themselves to the tree, rushing forwards to throw herself into Adam for a hug as elation made quick work of any previous uncertainties.

Adam looked at the places on his wrist that Nell had unlocked the shackles from. There were no signs of struggle. He hadn’t just wolfed and out blacked out. His clothes weren’t shredded and Nell was elated. 

What happened? Had his mutation differentiated into those of a Beast Hunter after that encounter with the wolves, granting him immunity? But if that was the case how had Nell not contracted it? 

Adam took Nell into his arms, just content with the reassuring presence of it as his brain still tried to go through the stages of shock, acceptance, and relief. He tried to banish that ingrained Hunter paranoia and just enjoy being alive and human with Nell. “Yeah, we made it,” Adam affirmed back to her in a murmur as he held Penelope close. 

The moon burned like molten silver in the sky, seeming to briefly ripple into deep crimson in Adam’s vision like a heat mirage. He could feel Nell’s heartbeat against his chest. Even as he craved Nell’s touch to reassure him that this was real, that they were really going to make it, a small savage thought slithered into Adam’s mind. 

What would it be like to feel that heartbeat stop?

Somehow Adam knew...without knowing how...that it’d make him strong, vital, ecstatically alive.

He pushed the thought away, hoping it was just some lingering trace of lycanthropy in his bloodstream reacting to the full moon.

Yeah, must be. 

His embrace tightened around Penelope, content to just hold her close and just ...be..for a little while, enjoying this unexpected act of mercy from the universe.

[ceescedasticity]

MDZSBURB

I've settled on Classpects and moons and Lands but I've still got two distinct possibilities for timeline. Here's one of them.

It starts sometime in the chaos that should be leading up to the Sunshot Campaign but won't, exactly, in this timeline. It starts slowly, subtly even -- maybe there are meteors and maybe there aren't, but there's no rain of them, and people are already disappearing for months at a time. They could easily just be dead. There's no Game structure to lure them into it -- it just takes them, with little warning, and they have to learn the rules afterwards.

Maybe it's Wen Ruohan triggering it somehow -- he certainly tries to take advantage of it once he understands what's happening (as much as it's possible to understand anyway). He's powerful and cunning and he gets himself and some of his into the Medium, to try to seize the power there, and they do impressively well. For a while. He doesn't really understand how to deal with an environment where he is defined as a superfluous obstacle. Skaia has chosen its protagonists and will not be swayed.

I'm not sure of the full order entry, or the exact circumstances under which they're all taken, but I know a lot of it.

Wen Ning is taken early. He's Page of Life, a Derse dreamer, of the Land of Chains and Flowers. He is probably the Hero Least Traumatizing To Consorts.

Wen Qing follows not long after, and she was one of the very few to actually anticipate it. She's Seer of Doom, after all. --And she even understood it would be wise and safest to take her close kin with her, as little sense as that seemed to make, so she has quite a lot of company in the Land of Silk and Needles. She's a Derse dreamer, too, and wakes up fast to look for her brother.

Nie Huaisang goes pretty early, too, completely unobserved, out of somewhere that was supposed to be safe. He's just missing, no clues. (NMJ is Very Unhappy About This.) In fact, of course, the Bard of Void is sound if not safe in the Land of Wind and Whispers. He's not very happy about it either, but at least the current situation enables more unconventional fighting. Derse, again.

Jiang Cheng is snatched out of the ruins of Lotus Pier (before he can get his core destroyed). It is the opposite of subtle. The good news is that a handful of not-yet-executed disciples were hauled along to the Land of Mist and Causeways, too, and attending Wens helpfully were not. The less good news is he ends up with his mother for a sprite. It's stressful. He's Knight of Rage, and yet another Derse dreamer.

Wei Wuxian has his core intact but still runs afoul of Wen Chao and flunkies and still gets thrown into the Burial Mounds. A rather regrettably large chunk of the Burial Mounds accompanies him to the Land of Chimes and Ashes, leading to his not actually realizing he's in another dimension for about a month until he manages to get out through the borders which are at least not warded. He's still developed demonic cultivation, although in the end he uses Chenqing less for controlling corpses and more for his new powers as Rogue of Time. --The corpses do come up some, though.

I think at this point we finally get a Prospit dreamer with Lan Wanji, Mage of Space. He's not completely alone like some of the others, but he was off roaming. He may end up bringing some random people along to the Land of Rabbits and Frogs, but no one terribly interesting.

I'm not sure if there's any feasible way for Jiang Yanli to figure out where the hell her brothers have disappeared to and how to trigger the thing that will take her after them, but she's Witch of Hope, so maybe. She rounds out the Derse dreamers from the Land of Earth and Sky. Don't have more details here yet.

Next up we have a spectacular exit from Jin Zixuan, accompanied by way too much of Koi Tower, way too many hangers-on, and both his parents. It's frankly a nightmare. He spends as much time as possible out exploring the Land of Twists and Feathers. He's Heir of Light, although he's not particularly good at it. --Both his parents will end up sprites eventually, but he's fortunate enough that his is his mother. Prospit.

Depending on what canon we're going with Mianmian may or may not be in fairly close proximity, but either way she's next. Maid of Breath, and I can't say more about her circumstances of entry but I can say she's the only candidate for a Breath player in this horrifically unfree and entangled group (with the possible exception of WWX but I need him for Time).

I'm not sure what order the next two are in. By this time they definitely know something bizarre and catastrophic is going on at least.

Lan Xichen is Sylph of Heart, Land of Leaves and Hindsight. He probably gets pulled out of the Cloud Recesses survivors' camp; he probably has a lot of company; his sprite is probably either his father or Lan Qiren and I'm honestly not sure which would be worse. Prospit.

Nie Mingjue is Prince of Blood and probably gets yanked off the battlefront somewhere. (He's one of the top candidates for Wen Ruohan to follow into the Medium.) Prospit. He is arriving late if not last and a lot of other people understand the rules here a lot better than he does and he does not enjoy it.

And, finally, Meng Yao. Thief of Mind (I wanted to give him Vriska's Classpect but I was running low on Aspects and I didn't think JZX could carry Mind). I have no idea when and where he is when he falls off the map and into the Land of Mirrors and Stains. Has he become a spy yet? Did he even get a chance to start working for NMJ? Did he meet LXC? Had he fallen down the stairs yet? Which Meng Yao is being asked to become a hero? This is obviously a very important question but I do not know the answer. --But regardless of the answer he ends up with JGS as a sprite, and then probably kills him.

So anyway there's quite a bit of carrying on and fighting and reunions and dealing with Wen Ruohan's doomed but troublesome power grab, and it all ends up… I don't know. Everyone's alive, anyway.

—The other possibility is similar in its mechanics but kicks off right about when WWX absconds with the Wen remnants — they end up in LOCAA instead of the Burial Mounds, or possibly the Burial Mounds immediately followed by LOCAA. And then there's increasing chaos and confusion that's all blamed on the completely unlocatable Yiling Patriach (despite demonic cultivation's lack of association with giant meteors) as everyone else gets grabbed up over the next… while. (Not too long a while, though, because I have limits and I am not throwing JYL into a Game with an infant, let alone pregnant.)

[elecilaombre]

Alone

 This fic was originally wrote in french, and I struggled quite a lot to translate it without spoiling the meaning behind the words. It’s Tim centric and an “Stalker AU” ( I guess) in a no cape AU, idk... anyway, it’s quite long, around 8k words ... Also it is one of my work who are kind of important for me so I hope you will enjoy it ! And a big thanks to @crypterion-moon who kindly corrected it and helped me to translate it in a correct english, you are a blessing ! And to you @nanadrawsrobins who wanted to read it ! Happy reading !

// trigger warning : mention of paranoia, depression, suicide, death, blood and stalker \\ I don’t believe it’s too hardcore but better safe than not....

“ At first it was just an impression,as if I was being followed, or spied on. From time to time, I’d turn and catch a glimpse of a leaking form. But it was alright, my fault, I always blamed my lack of sleep for those apparitions. Or maybe it was only me being too suspicious for no reason. Indeed, at first, it was only feeling, a bad one…

But suddenly it became more, so much more. Now, I saw - no, I felt - a presence always behind me, close to me. I could catch sight of this thing that was always following me, my eyes seeing glimpse of his silhouette. I was starting to be afraid of turning around and see it there right before me. Never would I have believed that it could have got worse, I thought things would improve, it couldn’t be any worse that how it was now. Except that it didn’t. I couldn’t explain exactly how or when, but the presence kept getting closer and closer. I just shouldn’t let it go by, and I learned that the hard way, the day I heard him breathing, from somewhere inside my own bedroom. He was there. In my own house. Stalking me.

I stayed awake until dawn that night, paralysed with fear … I don’t believe I have slept since …That doesn’t matter right now !

My main point is that I am being followed. Spied on. They are here, somewhere, even while I’m talking to you right now.

Even when I walk in the main hall, with their steps echoing with mine.

Even when I hold my breath, will I am lying stiffly in my bed, I can hear them just before they held their own breath, a moment too late.

Sometimes … Sometimes I swear they are whispering things, cold and dead things.

So, please, I am begging you, help me. I am tired, exhausted. I haven’t had a real night of sleep in days, weeks. I live off coffee and caffeine. And I am so terrified. Not just creeped out… It’s a chilling fear that fills my body.

But you, who is always there, present in every corner of this damn apartment. You, you must have seen them. Even if it’s only once. Just tell me where they are ! Who they are !

Oh I’m begging you, you are me, I am you… So why wouldn’t you help me. To save me ? To save us !”

Tim then fell silent and raised his head toward his reflect. He gave him a sad little smile and the other offered him a crazed one. To think he was alone with this fool.

A cold anger had begun to pervade him, will the other face took on an awful look, deformed by hatred. It made Tim gone berserk.

“ And you dare mock me ! Mock everything that happened to me ? They are going to kill me ! Or worst … Abduct me ! And you think it’s funny ? That is fucking unbelievable ! I surely hope from the bottom of my heart they will butcher you too, maybe that will be enough to erase that stupid smile off your face !”

The other was mimicking him, each one of his ticks, like a grotesque mockery of himself. 

And even if Tim heard the door opening, it didn’t stopped his fist to crash against the other face, sending blood everywhere in the process. Cracking the mirror so violently that the glass shattered, sending tiny little pieces everywhere, glasses sinking into Tim’s flesh.

He was done. Already dead. His only hope, himself from the other side, wasn’t there anymore, didn’t wanted to help him.

Tim let himself fall on his knee, surrounded by glass debris, and began to cry. To sob, hysterically, hiccuping and eyes dilated. Smile distorted on his face. However, he still had enough clarity to have heard Stephanie coming in, exclaiming softly, her voice so warm, so reassuring, this was all her. Even her footsteps were soft and calming, as well as her scent or warmth of her skin. 

He let himself go against her, eyes stubbornly closed,crying harder, sinking into her arms, her embrace into her, her, and just her. Tim was now crying because he knew. He knew she wasn’t - and couldn’t - be here. He murmured it again and again, she wasn’t here but Oh how he wished for it.

And when he opened his eyes again, Stephanie was, indeed, not within sight. He was alone and he was hallucinating. Tim was just so tired. He rubbed his eyes,trying to rid them of the burning and got up. He could just go to bed. He could finish taking care of his wound and just go to sleep, to take a well deserved rest. Or he could just finish the bandage, make himself a coffee and finish his paperworks. Yeah, that sounded about right. And when he said it out loud, tasting each word like adrénaline, giving them more strength, more tangibility in his weaken mind … He thought he heard a laugh, someone chuckling quietly. 

But, well, at this point, was it even important ?

*************************

“I feel like I am losing it… Or I might already had lost my mind. I … I saw Bruce. I saw him yesterday, in a coffee shop. I walked right by him and I just… Runaway ! 

You know as well as I do that he died, he died too. I am just so exhausted, I can’t do this anymore. I keep seeing each one of them one by one. All those I lost, my brain keeps making them reappear… Or maybe it’s the caffeine that’s making them seems so real.

I really want to sleep now. I don’t think I can’t keep doing this. Or it might be my body craving another dose of coffee … What do you think ?”

The lightbulb sizzled a little, then shut down. Tim sighed, basking in the dark, water clapping softly with the rhythm of his breath. Actually, Tim was quite relaxed right now, even with the lack of sleep. So relaxed he might even let himself sink into Morpheus arms. Might.

The water from the bath was steaming, the bathroom clammy. Tim felt his head nod, sinking softly little bit by little bit in the water, which kept lapping slower and slower as his breath calmed. His mind got fuzzy, forgetting Bruce his deceased father. Or Stephanie, his rotting best friend. Forgetting about the one from the other side, about this foreign breath getting closer.

Then, the clapping intensified, the water rising suddenly, submerging Tim’s face. Tim’s who was panicking, feeling a hand settle on his upper thigh while someone breathed against him. 

He then tried to straighten, in full panic, spitting water swallowed by error. Tim slipped, water submerging him once again but still found a way to get out, yelling as loud he could, crying, terrorised. He threw himself right to the door, almost ripping of the knob, ejecting himself in the corridor, feeling a hand brushing against his neck.

Naked, Tim ran past the living room, directly in the kitchen, slipping on the wet floor. He ended by collapsing in there, clutching a knife against his body, breath loud… 

And after five minutes of dead calm silence, Tim found the courage to light up the place. 

No one. There was nobody. Not even in the bathroom or in any other rooms. He saw nobody.

He was trembling, fear and adrenaline still pumping through his body. 

Tim cried all that night, sleep seemed impossible. So he just cried until the sun rose, incapable of putting the knife down or to do anything else than to trace over and over the finger shaped bruise on his tight. 

The mark was just confirming his theory, giving a sense of reality to this invisible threat and revealing a new problem : the stalker was done just following. Now they wanted contact and proximity. And so they had ambushed him in the bath.

*******************************

“I am a mess. A living trash. I see things, peoples, events that aren’t real. Yesterday, someone chased me in the street. For something that felt like half and hour. I wouldn’t even had thought I was able to run for so long, not in my state.

And you would never guess who was behind me … Damian. Yes, my deceased brother. Who died with my father. I can’t even empase how terrible it must have felt. And …

I don’t even know why I’m laughing, why it seems so funny to me ! It’s actually kind of depressing, that everyone I had loved had died. That I am so unlucky. It almost sounds like a tragedy. 

But, well, at least, you still here, by my side. Maybe it was meant to end with just us two. Maybe you will be enough to replace all my loved one.

I love you so.”

Tim was whispering his thoughts kindly to his coffee pot, while it prepared him the umpteenth cup of coffee got this morning. He was nursing against him an empty mug.

This morning, while busying himself, he had fallen on a nest of the other. It was mainly built of blankets, foods wraps … And thousands and thousands of pictures of him.

And creepier, the blankets were still warm. The other had just left his nest. But Tim was well aware it implied other’s existence and his apartment was big and messy, so many potential place to hide yourself and never be found in this bazaar.

So, yeah, they had made nest everywhere, on Tim’s own space. And this thought made him wring his hands, twisting them painfully with worry marked all over his face, terror and stress in his eyes.

He poured himself another cup of coffee.

**********************

“ I heard howls all night long. I am sure they hooted until dawn. I could almost swear I even heard their wings flapping inside my own bedroom. But I am a rational man. I know it’s impossible. I mean … No howl could get inside my house - that wouldn’t made sense . And never, never they could survive in a big city like here. Oh Gods how I can be so exhausted. I truly wanted to sleep yesterday, I swear ! But it was just like if the other wanted me awake. At least, it’s what seem the more logical to me… That they want to stop me of resting so I get even more careless and repeat my mistake error back in the bathroom. They want me to let my guard down once again so they could get closer.

But it won’t happen, I am too well organised for it. I have a very strict program to give me some release. First, I go to the office where I gave myself a short nap of 20 minutes. And another one before lunch and after. Last one is just before I get back here. 

But, no need to be worried, I only allow it because I know fairly well they couldn’t dare to do something there, with so many witnesses around. I took those measures after my fourth sleepless night in a row, knowing I can’t skip sleep forever. 

On the other hand, I believe the other is getting reckless, and isn’t as careful anymore. For example, my secretary found one of their hiding spots behind a couch, in a recess of the wall. She notified it to me immediately, worried at the idea of someone living there, under our noses. And I believe I never got so relieved : unwittingly, she just confirmed that this whole situation was real, not my mind playing tricks on me. Confirmed because I obviously doubted myself on this, like if all of it was just a simple delirium from my sick mind. Except that visibly, the other is real, there is truly someone who has been observing me all this time.”

Tim’s lips pulled into a tiny smile, facing the window, a book on his laps. The lights of the city against the night sky calming him, proof of life following his course, even while his own was falling apart. Just like it did when all his friends died in a car accident, Tim losing his childhood friends, his best friends and boyfriend all at once, feeling like his life stopped with them. But it didn’t and kept his own flow, rhythm, still running by, along with time. Just like it did when another car accident took, this time, his family , brother,sister and father, leaving Tim with no reason to live. But he did, because life doesn’t stop for someone’s end. And Tim’s life still kept running without his consent or concern, even with all this pain and sorrow. He shut his eyes tightly, savoring both the burning tears and the dim light. 

He thought he heard a movement, like the flapping of wings, a flow of air coming across his face. He opened his eyes abruptly and, in the same moment, with a swift movement, swung at the bird’s head with his book.

The beast emitted a distressed sound, and flopped a little down, his flight shaky. It disappeared in the corridor, and Tim heard a dull sound, notifying him of his fall. He then rushed there, in the darkness of the corridor, despite his head feeling light and nausea filled him after this too quick movement. He lit up the hall and discovered the bird. The poor beast had broken his skull on a door, misoriented by Tim’s strick.

The man grabbed it by his hook and studied it for a long time, oscillating between terror and dismay … Tim had just killed an owl.

*************************

“ Someone slept in my bed this night. I know it because when I was changing, I noticed my sheet were undone… Also, I could still see the shape of their body they left. And it was still warm.

I know it might sound dumb, but I think… I believe they might have been… I don’t know, less active ? I’m not sure but I feel like recently their presence seemed less and less strong, as if they weren’t there anymore.

At least, the night, I don’t hear them anymore. I don’t see them. I just don’t feel them. Of course, during the day, the situation is worse. They follow me everywhere, it’s usual, but now they are harassing me, calling me at my office, or even sometimes on my phones, both work and personal. Most of the time, they doesn’t talk, just stay on line, breathing heavily. Except on a few occasions were they talked, whispering me all the things they wanted to do to me, horrors and nightmares, explaining the reason of their obsessions. How much they desire to touch me, to smell me, taste me.

Sometimes, I’m the one doing the talking. I beg, I yell and scream, throwing tantrum, or I cry, always asking for the same thing : to stop, whatever this is. I even cursed them once.

And, two days ago, I stopped mid-sentences, having lost my train of thought. A silence had planned on the line, for a few long seconds … Before they whispered “ talk to me”. I hang up. I hang up terrified, sure of having done another fatal error. Never had we tried to discuss together and I was fine with this “way”. It was one listening and the other talking. It was an unspoken rule and they broke it. Since, I make sure to have my secretary answer the phone first.

While I am at this, she seems more and more worried. She won’t stop telling me how I should take better care of myself, especially with my past. The worst is that I don’t even have any idea of what ‘past’ she is referring to… I mean, sure, I had some rough times, lost many, many beloved people… But how is that related to taking care of myself ? 

Anyways, back again about the other, they seems less and less worried of being caught. For example, only this weeks, they came to my office three times. Three times of them announcing themselves as my brother. Them waiting for me in the entrance. Three times of me yelling at my secretary I wouldn’t get out of my office. That my poor brother was dead ! Dead. Dead … And each time I had a mental breakdown right after it. I can’t continue like this anymore. I am too tired, too exhausted, so done.”

Tim kept cutting in rhythm his vegetables, eyes hypnotised by the blade. He was so lost, in his thoughts, in his life, in this life. The bags under his eyes were a darkish shade of purple, like bruises, proof of too many sleepless nights. Tics were movings his eyelids, as well as his mouth,  in random moments.

Tim had always been pale, but at this point, it would have been more correct to say his skin was transparent. Only his eyes stayed the same than before this downfall. They stayed clear, with no redness or blood injected troubling the pure white surrounding a soft sky blue iris and then darkness in there center. 

He finally was done with his vegetables, throwing them in a pan and got back to sitting on the bar, observing his apartment. Most of it was surrounded by the darkness but he was okay with that. There wasn’t a sound. Not even one, as if the other was gone. But Tim knew better : they were somewhere near, scrutinizing him and every movement he dared do. 

His head wouldn’t stop nodding up and down, he was scared and exhausted. Exhausted of living with this terror and stress. Terrified of letting himself relax. Exhausted of having the pictures of his deceased friends always imposed into his memory. 

Tim didn’t want to think of them. It was easier to act as if nothing happened. And truly, in some of his memory it was just like it. After all, he didn’t remember the funeral for any of them, as if just never happend or Tim just wasn’t there. Same for his family.

Tim sighed once more and stretched toward the coffee pot. He wasn’t ready to sleep.

****************************

“ I am scared you know. I mean, I don’t know what to do, how to get out of this situation.

Every body, well, the few people that I see regularly, kept saying how I look so sick, so broken, and I should be more careful because of my accident. I’m not even sure to know what ‘accident’ they are referring too. Also, my secretary kept complaining I drink too much coffee for my own good and how angry would be my doctor, who doesn’t like me taking stimulants, because it stress my organs too much. And there too I don’t get the reference, like if it was some inside joke they all share… Whatever.

All that I know is that she seems more and more weirder these days, suspicious. Like she was stressed, anxious , like if she had some kind of secret concerning me. Or maybe like she had remorse… But I don’t see what she could hide from me.

Except if she was … pairing up with the other? That would be as surprising than horrifying. But I don’t think it’s the case. She just must be worried about her own life, or maybe about me. She is just such a nice girl, she can’t be that bad.

Anyways, I’m happy that I talked to you… You’re always here, such a good listener, I love you so much Cassandra.”

Tim fell silent and listened. Listened to the waiting tone dialling over and over, in the void. The only sound was his breath reverberating through the phone, coming back distorted to his ears. His sister didn’t pick up.

It wasn’t so surprising, he already knew it. After all, she simply couldn’t, being dead for almost 4 years already. Nevermore will she answer and talk with him, calming him, recomforting him… No, nevermore.

Tim put his head in his arms,  face turned toward the bay window. It was late, but the young man hadn’t found enough courage to come home. He might just stay right here until the next morning. The light of the city downward were the only source of luminosity, so small with Tim was so high up here. He liked this idea, that he wasn’t with them, detached of this world he didn’t wanted to belong to. All this activity will he was up there slowly falling asleep, the light lulling him. 

He needed to be detached, away from anyone. He already lost everything, so it could be so easy to die now. That’s why he wanted nobody around him, not wanting anymore string to this world, to get hurt or hurt. And only when he will be fully alone, only then, Tim wouldn’t have to suffer anymore.

The dim light kept him in this state, half asleep, and then, slightly out, fully asleep. The exhaustion and lack of sleep had reason of him.

And, while Tim’s eyes moved erratically under his eyelid, only then, he dared to enter his office. He took cautious step toward the sleeping man and kneeled next to the desk. His gaze fixed on Tim’s inky hair hiding his face away. The man took off the coffee mug sitting next to Tim, throwing it away in the toilet, cleaning it roughly. Then he got back to his previous spot, kneeling next to his protégé. 

He stayed right here, crouched against the desk, caressing Tim’s hair softly, lovingly. The younger man seemed to relax against the touch, falling deeper into sleep. They stayed in this positions for hours, until the first light of dawn appeared. It seemed to motivate him to get up, going to the bathroom to put fresh water in the mug. He then placed it next to a deeply asleep Tim. The young man had finally got his deserved full night of sleep, but his worried and exhausted expression was still present on his features. 

The stranger, the intruder, sighed softly and bent down, kissing kindly Tim’s forehead. And,with his hand still on the younger’s one, he scribbled a little note for him. He then kissed him a last time. And left.

He rushed through the stairs to go meet her, waiting at the escape for her. She arrived late, but she always did. They only briefly spoke, him hurrying her, but still thanking her warmly. He had needed to see Tim. Needed. She proposed that they go for a breakfast, or maybe to meet again for lunch. He declined, but told her how thankful he was. After all, she let him get into the building and covered him. He left quickly, and she got upstairs.

It was her job to be here early, her boss was always one of the first one in the office. She snuck a glance into his office, saw that he was still fully asleep and got back to her desk. Two hours later, she heard a scream, an ugly one, full of panic and fear. It was coming from her boss office, proof he finally awoke. It was quickly followed by the sound of glass shattering, a mug crashing down, swatted to the ground. She sighed. Tim was awake. 

He indeed was up, acting as if the devil was on his heels, tripping on his own feet. He looked terrified, a little bit crazy and so pitiful, with his big blue eyes full of suppressed tears. It saddened her, knowing she was a little guilty of his state.

Tim left sobbing, without a word, shaking.

His secretary looked at him go, worried of feeling no guilt. Ô the things she was able to do for handsome face…

*****************************

“ You were there. You took advantage of my state, of my weakness. Of me falling asleep. You took advantage of it to come once again torment me, haunt me. To touch me… To violate my space, my life. 

I don’t know what you want of me, from me. But I do know you are a monster, a psychopath. A maniac ! You follow me, watch me. You ruin my life. I just want to end it, end everything, end it all. I need to find a way to stop all of it, no matter the consequences. 

And what about this note ! Why would you even left me one ? “ Even if you don’t want to see me, I will always be by your side”. Bullshit ! What does you even wanted by that ? 

It’s terrible. I feel like I am losing myself, reality beginning to mix with nightmares and visions. I’m going crazy. I’m drowning, I can’t breath, live… I’m drowning in fear, panic, lack of sleep, irrationality.

It’s been fifteen days that I hadn’t been back to my office. Not since you … That you… Since…

Fuck ! STOP IT ! RIGHT NOW ! I can’t , I can’t do it anymore. I wanna die ! I’m done with all of this, the people, the worlds, them, you … with myself too. I just cry all day … And that’s it. I do nothing, I can’t anymore. I’m stuck here, and sick of it. I don’t even dare to get out, I’m so scared to see you. To see the dead. To see all of these who will disappear, and those who already had. I’m so sick of not being able to distinguish between lie and reality. I can’t go out anymore.

I’m stuck. I’m stuck in this place and in my head. I’m stuck. With me. With me and you. You.. I… You must leave. You have to stop. I can’t keep doing this for much longer. I have already lost my mind and sanity. Aren’t you satisfied ? When will you stop tormenting me ! To force me to remember. Ignorance is such bliss….”

Tim ended whispering, adrenaline and anger disappearing until all that was left was his loneliness, abandoned. 

He blinked quickly, trying to stop the tears from flowing, even if they already were sliding down his cheeks. And Tim was left alone to weep. Soundlessly. In the dark. Laying on his back, in his bed. Arms hugging himself. He cried.

On his arms, spot color of the sky range. The young man didn’t even remember hurting himself, but those bruises weren’t real for him. They didn’t mattered. He was lost, a lost cause, forsaken. Day and night were becoming one, an indistinct temporal mass. Sometimes he’d find himself in room without any memory of going there, or why. He caught himself multiple time doing round of the rooms, knocking against flat surface, looking under furniture … Searching for someone - or something - hidden away reflex as archaic than childish.

And everytime Tim caught himself doing this, he froze, aware of having close to no control of his own actions. And each time the hours had gone from 2 to 10, without him remembering, losing track of it, it worried him even more. One day, he even found himself covered in spiderwebs and dust, without knowing how or where he got himself this dirty. 

He was unstable, incapable of reconstruct his days. But he still knew the howls were watching him with their fluorescents eyes. He knew he couldn’t go in the bathroom, fearing to catch the reflection of the other in the mirror, behind him. He knew he shouldn’t get to close of the bay glass, the dead waiting for him on the balcony.

So Tim cried even more, almost hoping the other would talk, or even breath, right against him. But there wasn’t any noises. No  movement. No reaction. The other was gone.

Tim’s felt his throat tighten. Abandon. Once again. Poor Timmy, dumb little Timmy would be left alone. He curled on himself and waited, awake, for the morning to happen.

The other breath reappeared close to 6am.

******************************

“ I couldn’t find my way back. Well, not surprising, I didn’t come here that much, sorry. The gardener helped me, he even told me how to get to my family’s tomb next.

I don’t know why I am here. There isn’t really any valid reason for it, I just felt the need to… It never happened before. 

I… Well.. You… Oh gods, I’m blushing now, all of this is absolutely ridiculous. I’m absolutely mortified of never coming to see you by my own will. Of trying to erase you from my life, to forget you for real. You are a whole part of my life. My childhood, my teenage year and the beginning of my adult life.

There is someone, something, who want me to remember you, or at least to think of the dead. For it, they keep me from sleeping, follow me and call for me in the street. Try to usurp the identity of someone they can’t be. Call me to talk about you. Force me to remember.

And the only positive aspect of this whole situation is me finally reconciling myself with my past, and with you all, guys.

I must go, I still have to see my family. I just wanted to say sorry and remember you - and myself - of how much I love you all.

Goodbye.”

Tim felt his voice shaking, tears running down his face, while he disposed flowers in front of the memorial, dedicated to all his friends. To his childhood friends. To his best friend. To his boyfriend. To the dead and the ghost of his childhood.

He stroked the plaque with their name and walked away. He had quite a hard time finding his family’s graves, but maybe he needed this time to prepare himself for it. Because it was going to be ugly and he knew it very well. 

He indeed broke down in tears when he finally got in front of them, ugly sobbing for quite a long time, until it calmed a little. Tim never felt that pathetic, that pitiful, fragile. Then, word began to fall from his mouth, rain of apologies, remorse and regrets, flooding in an impetus flow. Tim didn’t bothered to stop it. And, when he was done, he felt a feeling of relief flood through his mind. He finally talked to the dead.

Tim began to lay a flower for each of them. 

“To Bruce, beloved father and friend. He protected and loved the out cast”. A bouquet of lys.

“To Cassandra, beloved sister and daughter. She lived without regrets or remorse.”. A Camelia’s bouquet.

“To Tim. Son and bother. Other died so he lived”.

He froze. It was wrong. On the third tomb should had been Damian’s name. Not Tim’s. NOT HIS !

In full panic, he threw himself on his knees, finger deciphering the words. It indeed wasn’t his name. Neither it was Damian’s. It was someone else’s, a stranger stele.

Tim straightened and finally saw him. His dead father. He seemed younger. He seemed alive. He seemed surprised of seeing him. And while Bruce took a step toward him, hands stretching to grasp Tim, this one ran.

He didn’t slow down for the two hours ride it took to get back to his apartment, focused on the road. It’s only when his door locked behind him that he collapsed, hands clasped around his heads, screaming behind the closed door.

*****************

“ I shouldn’t have come back. It’s dumb, I didn’t even wanted to. But, well, turns out I am here. And likely you didn’t expected me. You thought I would disappear, or worse, be cast out. You thought I would just be abandoned … And that you would win, and that without me being even aware of us playing against each other.

But, sweetie, you are way too stupid to beat me. I always had been greatest at this kind of game, I’m not a quitter and I have stamina… You are so dumb you didn’t even noticed you were only a mere pawn… Brainless secretary.

Although, I hadn’t been this efficient either. After all, I was dumb enough to trust you and never doubt you… That was as stupid as your action. Anyway, it won’t change the fact they lost. They aren’t aware of it right now, but they have lost. No matter what they are to you. No matter what I might be for them. No matter what they think they are to me. I’m going to end this sick game. And I will make sure you will suffer the consequences. Or just suffer. I will make sure you won’t be able of closing your eyes without doubting of being able to open them once again. I wish, almost wish, you will die, so I won’t have to see your face ever again. But, Jessica, I won’t do it… After all, you are my secretary …

I will be the first suspect of your murder. But I still need you to suffer. To suffer as much I did those 4 last months. I want you to fall on this hellscape like I just did.

But don’t worry, I will catch this son of a bitch and make him regret his fucking fixation. I’m not an object, I’m not breakable. I’m not malleable. And I’m not fucking rational ! NOT ANYMORE !

So now, you will be a good girl and tell me who employed you. Who you helped to play me this ‘trick’. Tell me so I can end it for real with them. SO … WHO. IS. IT. WHO ?”

Jessica began to cry once again in front of Tim. She was unable to articulate two coherent words and it only pissed off the man more. He threw suddenly his coffee mug through the room, sending it to shatter on the opposite wall,  missing Jessica. She curled on herself, yelling even more.

Tim massaged his head, feeling a headache coming. She should shut up soon or he will lose the poor self control he maintain. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. No, Tim won’t hit here. No, he won’t lose control. No, he didn’t tried to aim the mug at her. You must understand Jessica, the poor man is exhausted, so stressed. He just lost a little his calm but he is better now. He just needed to know who left the note signed by his brother. And after, he could rest. After he would be better, calmer, and will finally stop yelling at her. Maybe he wouldn’t even take her to the justice… He just needed a name Jessica, just a name.

But the secretary wouldn’t talk, keeping her mouth sealed, mute if excepted the sob. So Tim sighed. He couldn’t do it, he didn’t know what to do. Maybe he wasn’t awake enough to think straight… Maybe he needed a nap… Or a coffee, yeah, that sounded about right ! After he could handle in a better way this whole situation !

He stopped only when he registered Jessica giggles, horribly distorted and ugly in her rattle voice. She never had a pretty laugh, more a travesty of one, something sounding like a cackling. No, Jessica never had a nice laugh and this one wasn’t an exception. Tim realized she wasn’t even trying to hide the truth now, because she believed she had the upperhand in this. That she was smarter, than him, than them. 

She explained everything, proudly, sure of having outsmarted both of them, tears turning into a smug grin. Yes, she helped them to find Tim. Yes, thanks to her, they got Tim’s address. Yes, she was also the one who helped them to sneak in the office. Yes, yes , yes she was the one who made it all. All of this… And who could blame her ? It wasn’t her fault, oh no no no. It was Tim’s fault. He caused this whole situation all by himself. After all, it was him who drank too much coffee for his own good… Or refused to go see a doctor … Who denied the simple existence of his accidents and their sequelae. It was Tim who had stopped to even try to sleep, live and eat !

And, indeed, she started to do all of this for him. She really wanted to help you, Timmy, you know ? To help you get out of this whole paranoia spiral thing, this psychosis he had. So she called them, revealing him where Tim’s place were.

And, at one point, quite quickly actually, it wasn’t about Tim anymore, but about herself. The other was gorgeous. They were desperate. They were heart broken,weakened by Tim’s rejection. So, yeah, at one point it wasn’t for Tim at all, she switched camps, she was there to help the other. They needed affection so badly, craved it, and Jessica was the solution. Her objective had become to have him for herself, maybe even get rid of Tim, never mind of him. She wanted them in her bed, in her arms.

Today, she reached her goal, almost there. The other would give up soon. And for Tim, given his state, it was only a matter of time before he mess up, make an - another - error, which would either get him to a psychiatrist hospital, or to the tomb.

Jessica almost have her date, almost, she was so close to it. The other promised her a dinner for after he got a chance to talk to Tim. Both of them were so close to their goal.

And that, Tim just realized it. She had almost reached it, at least it’s what the other made her believe. They had baited her with a promise of a pseudo relationship, in exchange for him. His stupid secretary had sold him for a one night hook up. Apparently he wasn’t worth much more.

To be fair, she was just plainly lying to herself, at what point sending a stalker after Tim was for his so called “ well being” ? Did she truly believe they would heal him of his paranoia by spying on him !

She was crazy. Jessica had lost her goddamn mind… She had sent him a stalker … A STALKER ! And she HELPED them !

So Tim did what he did best : he panicked. Once again. She betrayed him, she knew everything about him and she sold him… And what would have happened if Tim hadn’t confrontate her ? Jessica would have let the other go to the end of his fantasy, even if it mean mean Tim’s death ?

Then, Jessica made another error. One of too many. She announced point blank to Tim how she invited the other to catch up with them here. In Tim’s own office, with the whole building being empty… But she reassured him, no need to worry, they just wanted to talk, and once it will be done, she will finally have her date with them. And no, Tim hadn’t a word to say about them coming here, it was already engaged, too late to back up. He was just so lucky to have such a handsome brother.

It finally clicked on Tim’s overwhelmed mind. Of course ! She had believed them ! She fell into their trap like the idiot she has always had been… Jessica believed they were related to Tim, but it couldn’t be possible in anyways. Because Damian and Cass, his only siblings were dead.

He got up quickly, realizing they were going to show up soon. Tim needed to get out of here or he’d be a dead man when they arrived. Jessica reacted quickly, displeasure at Tim’s attempts to ruin her chances of that date clear on her face. Given Tim’s manic and sleep deprived state, it wasn’t hard, catching him by the collar and pulling him back before he could make it to the door.

It might be because she was way taller than Tim, or because the young man was in such a bad state that Jessica believed she could overpower him. She just ignored how much caffeine was currently pumping through Tim’s vein, how much adrenalin fear could release in a body, how much strength this broken Tim had. 

Jessica just had time to pull on his arms that he punched her in the stomach, before knocking her down. His head was full of noise, of fear, he didn’t have time for this, he didn’t have enough time, he couldn’t … He hasn’t… She shouldn’t … She grabbed his legs; pulling hard and he lost it again. He lost his train of thought. He lost control. Tim tried to free his legs, he had to go and when he saw it wasn’t working, he just grabbed a chair next to him and began to hit her repeatedly. He hit her, over and over, until she curled on herself, letting go of his pants. 

Jessica was fine, she was fine, it was mostly bruises, maybe a broken ribs, Tim repeated himself while he hurtled down the stairs. After all she deserved it, she was going to be fine, just fine, he didn’t have enough strength to hurt her too badly. He kept saying it over and over, while sprinting through the darks alleys, alone, odd mirage in the night. He kept himself to think how close he had been to be caught by them until he locked the door behind him.

Less than five minutes after his escape, a silhouette would lean over Jessica, before calling 911.

********************

“ I know you don’t wish to see me or hear from me. But I need to tell you something. You don’t have to answer, or even to believe me… Please, just listen for once. And I want you to know I respected your privacy until now, I never came here because I never thought you needed help that much. But right now you didn’t leave me any choice. I hoped, truly, you would get better without me having to step in the picture, but turns out I had been wrong, the events of this afternoon talk for themselves I think.

This time, I’m not here to tell you how much I miss you, neither of how much I need you in my life, by my side. No, I’m here to help you get a grip on yourself. You can’t keep acting like you do, you are putting yourself in danger. You make yourself sick.

No, please, I hear you moving, don’t go… I’m begging you, just listen to me until the end. And when I’ll be done, you can call the cops on me if you want…

Let’s just go back to the beginning… Six years ago, you and all your friends, your childhood friends, planned a trip to celebrate the end of your classes. And, at the last moment, you call in sick and stayed home, confined to bed. 

The bus they had rented might have been a problem, or maybe something else happened … But what we knew, is that they had an accident. And nobody survived. This day, you lost your boyfriend, your best friend, and all your other friends, all at once. It pushed you into depression, which lasted over more than a year…

And two years after, you were doing better, so much better. We thought you had finally accepted it…

Then, Bruce and Cassandra - your dad and sister - had decided to go to the Opera. You had gone all three of you, your whole family minus Damian, your brother. You had an accident, another accident in your life. It was such a stupid one, a drunk driver who collided with your car. The driver died under the shock of the impact, so did Cassandra. Bruce was declared deceased during the hospital ride. You, fell into a deep coma.

Your family got buried when you were still unconscious, you stayed in this state for at least three months.

And, when you finally woke up, you were alone. All alone. They were dead. Your friends. Your family. Dead… Only you were left… And your brother Damian.

So, you can guess what had been my surprise when Jessica contacted me, making me discover an … Interesting fact. Damian was dead. Well, it’s what you had said to everyone you knew. It’s what you convince yourself of. That Damian had a car accident, with your family, and that he died in his coma.

It’s false. And I believe you aren’t even aware of being wrong. Damian is alive. Your brother is alive.

And, even if unconsciously, you prefer to believe he died, so you could detach yourself definitively of everything you loved, I know it wasn’t deliberate.

I can accept you not wanting to believe I am Damian. After all, I had already accepted to stop contacting you like you begged me last time. But, your current health worried me too much to kept myself from staying away from you. So please, I’m begging you, Tim, open up…”

The other voice was hesitant, pleading. Tim was still curled in a nook of the wall. In a cache. His cache.

On the floor, surrounding him, lied dozen of papers. Birth certificate. Death certificate. Press articles. Hospitals bills. And, in the center, nothing, if it is the lack of one death certificate. Damian’s one.

Tim had indeed come to this conclusion. Damian was alive. Damian hadn’t abandon him. So why ? Why was he dead in his mind ?

And, if the other, this person who had been in his office, who tried to contact him… Was really Damian ? Then, did that mean, that this “other” was never in his apartment ? That all along, it had been … him ? Tim ...

It would explain why Tim found himself so many times in the hidden places, without knowing how he found them. Would it be why he never could prove he wasn’t alone… Why he lost the course of the time … Could he be the other ?

Tim curled even more on himself, and sobbed. The other on the other side of the door began to pound on it, imploring Tim to open it, to let them console him.

Tim was slowly being aware of losing touch. But he didn’t wanted  to, no, he couldn’t lose control once again and being what he feared for so many months. He had to pull himself together. Right now. He began to bang his head against the wall, the pain keeping him aware.

He got up, slowly and began to walk to the kitchen, shaking like a leaf. He had two choices … To pour himself another cup of coffee… Or to go open to the man who identified as his brother. The one who begged him to open.

And … Suddenly. Black.

Tim regain consciousness of the reality shortly after. The pain was trashing up his brain. He still registered the bloody knife and his forearms open and dripping of scarlet.

Tim yelled, screamed, in full panic mode and run straight to the door. His hands were slippery, but he still succeed to open the door. He then came to a stop, astonished by the vision, right in front of him. His surprise was mirrored by a younger Bruce, with a desperate look in his eyes. 

The man then took him in his arms, pulling him close. Tim tried to breath, to stay awake and recognised the smell of the man : Damian. Damian.

“ Oh please, please, Dami… Don’t left me alone. I don’t wanna die ! I don’t want it anymore !”

And, with Tim weeping in his arms, Damian called 911, for the second time in a few hours. He then kept his brother right against him, whispering sweet words and praise. About how much he loved him. About how much he missed him. How he would never again left him alone.

Damian was crying too. His brother was sick. His brother had cut his veins open. His brother was dying once again.

Tim lost consciousness little time before the ambulance arrived.

****************************

While Tim lying unconscious in Damian’s arms, who kept talking to his brother, the dark figure changed of hiding spot, trying to get a little closer to Tim and his brother.

They heard Damian trying to explain to his brother about Jessica and how she would be alright, with no long term complication and with no complaints. That he made sure she wouldn’t approach them anymore. After all, she was crazier than Tim was.

And the third man keep waiting, in the shadow, boiling rage pooling in his stomach. He should be the one touching Tim, he was his protégé… HIS Tim. But he waited, he was patient enough for it. He knew that one way or another, Tim would be his… Soon enough.

So he watched silently Tim go with the paramedics, and with a terrified Damian. And when everybody was gone, when he was sure of it, he got out of his hiding spot.

He stretched, slowly, cat like and find his way to the kitchen. He casually grabbed the knife, and cleaned it, as well as every blood spot. 

Tim had almost caught him, the young man knew he was there. He was aware of Tim being intelligent, but had underestimated him. He sighed of satisfaction : he was truly captivating. Even if Ra's has been stalking him for quite a long time, he never got tired of it. 

How could he got bored of watching the man sink into worse and worse desilusion. His pretty Tim had first developed an addiction to coffee, then a sudden partial amnesia, quite selective actually, and a compulsive need to stay awake. And the big final one : a second personality !

Ra's guessed it was the lack of sleep who created this split : after all, everytime Tim loose control, letting another facet out, he persisted to take pillows and blankets to make nest, like if his only goals was to get ready for sleep.

Ra's smiled, deep in his thoughts, smelling Tim’s clothes, smelling him. Yes, Ra's was quite pleased of the turning of the events. Tim’s other facet would cover him. Nobody would believe someone, a stranger, had lived hidden in the apartment … 

At worst, they would believe Damian’s presence had triggered Tim to believe so. If only Damian hasn’t came here, had let Tim sink just a little bit more, Ra's would finally had the boy for himself. To take him away with him, somewhere nobody could find Tim. 

Sadly, he would have to wait. Damian was the brother, he had more right to have Tim. Ra's was just a stalker, a nobody. 

They were two to lust after Tim … And Damian had currently won him… But it’s alright, Ra’s is patient.

“ I knew I would find you here Ra's. We need to talk.”

Damian deep voice rumbled in his back. Ra's sighed.

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @sdewan6!

Tags: Self-Harm, Angst, Trigger Warning, Guilt, Blood, Gore, Derek needs therapy

*****

Penance to be Made 

  It was two in the morning, Stiles was asleep. Derek was awake, and Stiles did not know what Derek was doing. Stiles couldn't know, couldn't know that Derek wasn't enough for him, wasn't strong enough to tell him about this. Which was the important part of it all, of course. If Stiles knew, if Stiles knew about any of this, he’d be horrified. Shocked. Maybe even angry. He’d stress and worry and freak out about it and never let Derek out of his sight for weeks. He’d tell Scott about it, and Scott couldn’t not tell others about it, so everyone would know. And it would only magnify from there, every time one of them would look at him, it would be all they would see. Broken Derek Hale, breaking himself further. Pity. Which was why Derek would never let him know.He had to protect Stiles from this. Stiles was so anxious, so stressed all the time, he couldn’t add to that. So he slips out of bed, pulling the comforter up so Stiles wouldn’t catch chill while he was gone and wake up. Looking at him there, beautiful and peaceful as he slept, the curves of the muscles he’d grown into shifting just a touch with his slow breaths. Stiles was alive, soft and real and in his bed with him, and he still had to do this. Derek didn’t deserve this, Stiles deserved better than the man he was. Deserved better than someone who would sneak out of bed to do something like this.

It was more than a habit, he knew that. The high it gave him wasn’t something he could give up, the way it cleared his mind was more than could be given with a week of sleep. It was too good, and he couldn’t give it up.

Gauze was a formality, just to make the cleanup easier. Everything else was only what humans would need for it. He stood on the balcony of the loft, cool autumnal air hitting his skin as he looked out at the city. Beacon Hills. At night, when nothing was tearing it apart, it could almost fool him into thinking it wasn’t hell. As if it wasn’t filled with the ghosts of better people he could have been, nor haunted by those he did not save. That the trap hadn’t snapped on him and he was too cowardly to gnaw his way out. He threw a glance back within the loft. The trap, he had to admit, was the greatest good he would ever have in his life. Stiles. He’d gone away and come back a man that he couldn’t resist. And through some miracle, Stiles’ affections as a teenager had not only withstood the test of time, but grew from the mere desire for attention and satisfaction to more. And this more was....it filled him to the spilling point. Derek didn’t deserve anything that Stiles gave him. And Stiles would stay in Beacon Hills. His father was there, the Nemeton was there, his friends and his pack were there. Why would he leave any of them? Derek could never ask that of him. And so the teeth of the trap he was in sunk tighter. He was in it. It was an old ritual now. Started back when he murdered Paige, got worse after he let his family be murdered, became a daily act after Laura. And then there was the deaths of Victoria, Erica, Boyd. How he’d hurt Isaac to the core in a misguided attempt to protect him. That he let Jennifer get so close to everyone, he fell for the same ploy again. Every single disaster he’d done again and again, piling on his shoulders. There was penance to be made, and he would never truly find the forgiveness he needed, but this would be...it would be something. Left arm extended, elbow on the railing, gauze underneath. The tendons of his wrist stark against the thin skin. A single claw unzipped the flesh, the sting of the slice quieting the rush in his mind. The voices of the fallen, of the forgotten, of the wounded in his wake hushed with the rise of pain. Blood trickled down from the cuts as he opened it up down the line, tendons and ligaments and muscle now exposed in an amateur surgery. He could slip a finger under a tendon and pull it to watch a finger close without his voluntary movement. Derek would sometimes do that in his younger days of the exercise, when there was still some mystery to the pain, something novel about the act. By now, there was no longer anything to interest him, merely an exercise to find rest. The gauze beneath his arm on the railing caught the blood before it hit the metal, hit the balcony, or fell to the lot below. Scott would never find the smell, and Stiles of course couldn’t detect it. Derek’s own secret, one of the few things he could keep to himself after every shred of his life was broken and exposed to everyone. This was the one thing he had left that was his own. Something that could be kept from everyone else, kept safe from everyone else. It was funny, he was cut open and exposed, but having this was the one shred of control he felt like had. He couldn’t keep the last pieces of family from flying apart, either his sister down in South America barely texting once a week, or his uncle who was still a complete mess and on his bullshit somewhere. He couldn’t keep his alpha spark, the only piece of his mother that he had. He couldn’t keep his pack, all dead or with Scott now. He couldn’t do anything right. And now, he couldn’t even leave Beacon Hills, the place where it all went wrong, because Stiles’ life was here. Just flaying himself open wasn’t enough now, as the healing process started knitting skin back together, and he slashed deeper in, keeping the wound open. New gauze pad down as the blood burbled from the julienned veins. The cut was better now, it was enough now. He exhaled a breath held too long, getting what he needed at last. Such a mess, this would take a while to heal. Such was the price he would pay. There was a soft sound from back in the apartment, some mumble or a shift in breathing, and he turned quickly to look within. No, Stiles couldn’t wake up, he couldn’t see him like this, couldn’t know, could never know. Stiles would blame himself. He always did, managed to make things his own fault, as if he could fix things. Stiles could do almost anything, but there was nothing that could fix Derek. All he could do was work with what he had. If Stiles knew, it could even break them. And Derek would lose the only good he had. It couldn’t happen. No. Please. But there was no sound of shuffling feet, no voice asking where he was, not even the rustle of sheets of movement. It was quiet again. A raised heart rate, but Stiles dreamed so vividly, that wasn’t too strange. Derek looked back to the wound. The blood barely looked still red in the pinpricks of starlight and the slim Cheshire smile of the moon, it looked almost black, like wolfsbane poisoning. He watched the muscle fibers rework their way together, the veins seal and resettle beneath their covers, to be undisturbed for another day. The skin growing back together, undoing the damage, wiping it away, as if it never happened. No scars, no lasting hurt, nothing to show, no proof. The perfect crime, where the only victim was himself, the only criminal, himself. So, in the end, what was the harm of it all? He threw the gauze away, well packed up so it wouldn’t be found in the dumpster below the balcony. He washed the streaks of red from his arm and under his fingernails so he wouldn’t bring the remains of this sin back into bed with the only angel he had. He picked his way back in, sliding his hands over the body of the man he loved more than anything, and fell asleep, dreams no longer plagued by his failings. It was four fifty-five in the morning, Derek was asleep. Stiles was awake, and he knew what Derek had just done. Derek couldn't know that Stiles knew, but Stiles didn't know why he wasn't enough for Derek, wasn't trusted enough to be told about it.