Kim had slowly gotten the message that you didn’t want to talk about Jared anymore, so she stopped mentioning him around you. She realized that your annoyance with him was more concentrated than usual. What you didn’t tell her was why.
You’d tolerated Jared just fine. Even though he and his friends were usually obnoxious and cocky, you’d endured him because for some reason, his face made Kim happy.
Until the diner incident.
Damn, why did that boy get to you? You hadn’t ever cared about him — or wanted to — but ever since he’d stormed out of that restaurant, his expression of pain and hurt stayed solidified in your memory like a bad dream you couldn’t shake off. Though, that couldn’t have been because of you. He surely couldn’t have heard how badly you’d insulted him. No one could have heard. You’d been quiet about it.
So him being angry and frustrated every time you saw him outside of school had nothing to do with you. Maybe something had happened with Paul and Embry. Maybe they’d gotten into a fight. Maybe they’d made fun of him one too many times — like you had.
Friday after school, you hurried to your car, eager to turn on the heating and warm yourself up. Kim had coaxed you into coming down to the res and sleeping over at her house, and though you weren’t a big fan of the sickly girly things she had planned, you desperately wanted to something to pull your thoughts away from Jared.
You’d promised to drive over to her place as soon as you grabbed a few things from home, which you assured her wouldn’t take too long. You quickly rushed up the front steps of your house and sprinted up to your bedroom, tossing your backpack in a corner and shoving essentials in an overnight bag.
As you walked out of your house, you stopped short in front of your car.
Jared Cameron was leaning against the driver’s side.
His arms were folded over his bare chest, eyes narrowed in the same frustration you’d witnessed at the diner. You almost wanted to turn back around and lock yourself in your house, but decided against it. If he’d managed to find out where you lived — although that wasn’t really very weird in a small town like Forks — then what he had to say must have held some degree of importance.
“What do you want?” you demanded. “I don’t have all day.”
Jared scoffed. “Why are you always pissed at me?” he asked. “Jeez, you’re always glaring and talking shit behind my back to Kim. Ease up, will you?”
It took you a little by surprise that he was so upfront about it. He wasn’t wrong, really, but he certainly hadn’t wasted time getting to the point.
“Yeah, well, I’m doing it for Kim’s sake,” you said.
“‘Cause she likes me?” Jared shook his head, almost remorsefully. “I thought by ignoring her, I was letting her down easy.”
You really weren’t all that surprised. He treated Kim like she was invisible. You just hadn’t expected him to be so aware. Most guys generally weren’t when it came to things like romance.
“You should have told her,” you said. “She thinks the two of you will get married one day.”
“You think she’ll appreciate you telling me that?” Jared laughed. “Some friend you are.”
You gritted your teeth. “If you’ve come here to berate me, you can leave.”
Jared smiled. Shit, he really does have nice lips, you thought. A nice everything.
“I need to show you something,” he said. “Can you drive?”
“What the hell are you playing at?” you fumed, furrowing your eyebrows.
“Absolutely nothing. I just need to show you something,” he repeated.
Though you wanted to refuse and tell him to get lost and never set foot on your property again, you were curious to find out more about the mystery that was Jared Cameron. So, you jerked your chin towards your car.
“You sure you’re not going to murder me?” you teased.
Jared scoffed from in front of you, and though you couldn’t see his expression, you were sure he’d rolled his eyes. “Really,” he said, “is that how low you think of me?”
“Well, you’re in a gang,” you defended. “People talk. Everyone thinks you guys are in some sort of cult. How do I know you’re not getting ready to sacrifice me to some hippie god?”
His shoulders tensed, but his tone was forcedly light. “Don’t worry, I’d never do anything to hurt you.” It was such an odd statement, especially since you didn’t really know Jared Cameron all too well. But somehow, there was a heavy note behind his promise, as if he’d meant it from the bottom of his heart.
The two of you had been walking in the woods outside of La Push for a while and your legs were getting tired. You were supposed to have been at Kim’s house half-an-hour ago but Jared’s company was somewhat addicting. Though you knew it probably wasn’t smart to entrust yourself to him, especially considering the fact that you’d always adamantly claimed he was bad news, you couldn’t help it. There was something about him you couldn’t shake off.
You reached an opening in the trees, which gave way to a small clearing. Tall grass swayed softly in the breeze with a grace that made the movement look like a foreign dance. A crisp winter air scraped through your lungs sharply, but the pain felt oddly comforting to you.
“It’s beautiful here,” you marvelled. “Is this what you wanted to show me?”
Jared glanced at you and the corners of his mouth tugged upwards into a crooked smile. “You think I brought you out here to show you some grass?”
It was your turn to roll your eyes. “Very funny. Get on with it.”
His demeanour changed in an instant, face hardening gravely. It reminded you of the diner incident when you’d insulted him — though you still thought it was impossible for him to have heard you.
“(Y/N), please don’t freak out, okay? The last thing I want is for you to be afraid of me.”
You crossed your arms. “Why does it matter if I’m afraid of you?”
“Because believe it or not, what you think of me is important.” He grimaced.
“But then again, I already know what you think of me. What was I — the offspring of a toilet and a garbage can, with the personality of both?”
You changed colour. The nagging voice in the back of your mind telling you that he’d heard you at the diner had been right all along. “It was a joke. I didn’t mean it.” And looking at him, you really hadn’t. He wasn’t as bad as everyone else had made him out to be.
“Yeah, sure.” Jared sighed and then unbuttoned his shorts.
“Woah!” you exclaimed, shielding your eyes. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Showing you what I am.”
You cringed. “What you are? Jared, if you brought me out here to see you naked, what you are is a pervert.”
“You’re such a child,” he groaned. “Turn around if you’re so bothered.”
Reluctantly, you turned around and lowered your hands. Your face was burning at the thought of Jared without any clothes on. Though you were utterly confused as to why there was a need for him to take his clothes off in the first place, you couldn’t lie and say that you weren’t curious about what he’d look like naked. Imagining it made you warm all over, partly with excitement and partly with shame.
And then something wet nuzzled your palm. You wheeled back — and your heart almost stopped in shock.
Where Jared had once stood was a massive wolf, and massive was an understatement. On all fours, it was taller than you, with short and thick chestnut hair and black around its eyes. Your breath lodged itself in your throat, burying every scream with it. You paled and felt the earth beneath your feet sway, falling to your knees painfully.
Slowly, the wolf poked its nuzzle into your hand again and then lowered its gaze submissively. There was nothing threatening about it, despite its size. The fear you had initially felt was replaced by a numbing calmness.
“Jared?” you whispered.
The wolf nodded.
“So,” you began, “you’re not in a gang. You’re in a pack. And Sam Uley’s the Alpha?”
Jared nodded, eyes fixated on the road ahead.
“And you’re the Beta.”
“Why did you tell me out of all people? If it’s such a guarded secret, why let me in on it?”
He sighed, keeping one hand on the steering wheel of your car while rubbing his forehead with the other. “I wasn’t supposed to let anyone else know,” he started. “Sam’s orders have to be obeyed whether we want them to or not. But he said the only exception was if we imprinted.”
“What does that mean?”
Jared glanced at you out of the corners of his eyes. “Imprinting is when you find your soulmate. The person you’re supposed to be with. The one that was made just for you.”
You stared at him — at his unrecognizable expression — and breathed in shakily. “And I’m your imprint.”
He nodded again.
“Well, that makes me feel like a total idiot,” you moaned. “And Kim’s going to hate me so much.”
“(Y/N), even if I hadn’t imprinted on you, the chances of me getting with Kim would have still been slim to none.” Jared grinned. “You were more my type anyway.”
“That’s a shitty way to ask me out.”
“Oh, so now you want me to ask you out?” Jared teased. “You’re right, though. If we’re soulmates, we might as well get started on the whole mating thing — ow, jeez, don’t hit!“
Warnings: Violence, mentions of blood, very subtle smut.
Summary: You’ve hunted werewolves all your life, so when you come across a lone wolf in the woods, you never expected him to become the other half of your moon.
Requested by Anon! Now taking Halloween/Fall themed scenario requests!
Leaves crunched under your feet as you moved slowly through
the barren forest; the dead, spiny branches raking across a clear night sky.
The air was crisply cold, stinging your cheeks and making your eyes water, but
you pressed on, hand against your holster.
It was foolish to hunt alone, you knew that, but you’d
gotten a tip about a lone wolf out in the trees. It should be simple to take
just one down, especially with your years of experience and acquired hunting
skills. You’d been hunting werewolves all your life, so this wasn’t anything
you couldn’t handle.
Although, you hadn’t killed many lately. Something had
happened, something that complicated your entire life as you knew it. You fell
It was as if he were drifting in
oblivion, lost in the tangled mess of his own mind. He was weightless, drifting
like a leaf caught by the tide of the creek. He had no control; he couldn’t
move his arms, he couldn’t move his mouth, he could only watch—helpless—as someone
else, something else, controlled his
“Help,” he whispered into the
void, his voice strained to a weak whimper; he knew no-one else could hear him.
He closed his eyes and when he
opened them again, he found himself standing in the foyer of the dark ruins of
the Hale house.
He wasn’t awake, he knew that
He stayed still, his ears
screaming from the silence as the roaring tide of sounds – whistles, screams
and gushing air – deafened him. He watched as the ruins of the Hale house rose
around him as if time was reversing; the charred, black wood rising weightlessly
into the air and rebuilding the magnificent structure.
“This can’t be real,” he gasped.
“I’ve got to be dreaming.”
The house was restored to its
youth; the rich grains of the wooden beams holding their bright beige colour,
the bitter scent of ash and smoke replaced by the sweet scent of the beams and
the pines and birch trees which surrounded the house, the halls filled with the
whispers of parents and the laughter of children.
“Wake up,” Stiles told himself. “Wake
He listened as the sounds died
away, focusing on the huffing breaths outside the house. He stepped forward,
gently pulling the door open and stepping out on the balcony.
He stared down the large wolf,
his black fur lit by the moonlight.
Stiles cautiously stepped
forward, his bare feet shuffling through the blanket of dead leaves that
covered the front yard, hand outstretched towards the magnificent beast.
His tender fingers brushed
against the wolf’s forehead.
It stepped forward, nuzzling its
face into the palm of his hand.
Stiles let out a soft sigh and smiled,
gently patting the wolf’s head.
“Derek?” Stiles whispered,
looking down at the wolf. “It’s you, right? It has to be you…”
The wolf nuzzled his face into
Stiles’ hand, slowly morphing into something else, a human form.
Stiles felt the warm skin of the
man’s cheek brush against his palm, the soft whiskers prickling his skin as
Derek slowly lifted his bright aventurine eyes and looked up at Stiles.
Stiles wanted to sigh, he wanted
to cry with relief, but he felt something tighten on him, squeezing the air out
of his lungs. He winced and looked up at Derek, panicked.
First fic I’m posting. It’s from mobile so I can’t exactly add a “read more” so um… sorry.
Hanzo is an anxious new dad but Werecree is there to calm him down.
The dragon lay in his nest, which was built on top of their large bed surrounded by pillows and many blankets, something he himself had to fluff up and put together when he felt their little one coming. It was what kept him in his dragon body until now, not wanting to lay such a thing in his smaller, human-like form. It ended up being a good idea, seeing as the egg he was currently cradling was about the size of his torso, maybe even bigger.
Hanzo rubbed his scruffy cheek against the smooth outer shell of his egg, enjoying the how nice it felt against his skin. This wasn’t his first egg, no. He’s laid ova before, mostly in small clutches. But this is his first fertilized egg, his first baby. And he didn’t regret it; he loved his mate, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be as anxious as he is right now.
“Come now, Hanners. At least lemme touch ‘em.” Came his mate’s voice from his place just a few feet away.
Hanzo turned his head to hiss at him, causing the werewolf to whine and tuck his ears down flat. “Not with those claws of yours. And they are still fresh,” he grumbled, referring to his egg, “probably fragile. I am not taking any risks.”
Jesse pouted, scooting a bit closer to his mate and their egg. Hanzo’s eyes narrowed at him, but he stayed still, cautious. “Sweetheart, yer a big, strong dragon. I’m sure yer egg is just as tough as you are.” He said, his tail smacking against the blankets once. Hanzo frowned, seeming to think over the pros and cons of letting his mate pet their egg.
He grumbled quietly to himself and shuffled a bit, still holding onto his baby, “Alright, fine-” Jesse’s ears perked up and his tail smacked against the blankets again. “-but under one condition.”
Jesse was honestly surprised that Hanzo was considering letting him touch it. His dragon was stubborn, usually able to stand his ground for a while before softening up. It has only been a couple hours. “Sure, buttercup, anything! What is it?” His tail was wagging obnoxiously behind him by now, making it hard to hide his excitement.
Hanzo’s sharp ears gave a twitch, his lips pursed as he came up with the words. “You must wear oven mitts. I do not want you to scratch our egg.” He said sternly, fixing Jesse with a hard gaze. This was not up for discussion.
Jesse cocked an eyebrow and looked down at his paws, clenching and unclenching his fists. He kept his nails trimmed for reasons kept between him and his mate, so he figured that wasn’t the real problem Hanzo had with him touching their egg. The werewolf pouted at him but sighed when he saw Hanzo wasn’t in the mood to argue. “Alright, fine, I’ll wear some mitts. But it’s a promise!” he announced as he stood up, carefully stepping out of the dragon’s nest, “Imma touch our little angel ‘cuz guess what? That’s my pup, too!” Jesse sang on his way out of their room. Hanzo rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop his lips from curving up into a small smile.
He watched his wolf exit the room before looking back down at his egg. He ran his hand along the smooth surface, thumb rubbing over the freckles that decorated the shell.
Of course Hanzo would be anxious. He was already extremely protective whenever he laid his unfertilized batches of eggs, only letting Jesse help him with the laying process, maybe even allowing him to hold the smaller eggs in his paws sometimes. It depended on how he felt that day. Now was different. Now they had a responsibility to keep this egg safe and warm. It was their pup, after all. Hanzo was just afraid of the egg cracking or becoming too cold or maybe it wasn’t even Jess- no, it was definitely Jesse’s. Now the dragon was over thinking, his tail flicking in irritation.
The dragon takes in a deep breath, repeating the lines in his head-
The egg won’t crack if they’re careful.
The egg won’t become too cold if he continues to hug it.
The egg is 100% Jesse’s.
-He exhales and feels his nerves finally relax, his cheeks flushing a light pink in embarrassment. It’s ridiculous how he keeps having to tell himself these things, reassure himself that everything’s going to be okay. In reality, he’s just terrified of screwing this up. He trusts his mate, loves him very much, but he just doesn’t trust himself.
Hanzo jumps when Jesse appears at their door, a big smile on his face with equally huge oven mitts covering his paws. “Found ‘em!” He called out as he walked back over to their nest. Hanzo naturally hugged the egg closer, but he couldn’t help the way his cold heart fluttered at how thoughtful and caring his mate has been. Most of his demons seem to fade away as he watches Jesse position himself near him, mittened paws out and ready.
The dragon let out a small, impressed huff and slowly pulled away from the egg. “I’m surprised you really went in search for some mitts. I figured you would have started to whine.” Hanzo teased, reaching forward to scratch right underneath the werewolf’s scruffy chin. Jesse’s tail wagged at the attention, pounding heavily against their sheets.
“Well, I know better than to argue with ya when yer actin’ all momma bear with yer babies.” He crooned, nuzzling the palm of Hanzo’s hand when it was offered to him.
Hanzo let out a snort, “I am nothing like a mother bear.”
“Oh, I beg to differ.” The wolf teased, grabbing hold of Hanzo’s wrist with his ridiculous mitt-covered paw to press small kisses to his fingertips, “Ya get all protective and stubborn and ya always look like yer goin’ ta bite me…” Hanzo blushed as he continued to plant kisses up his arm, “But then you turn around and take such good care of yer eggs. It’s damn cute, darlin’.” Jesse’s unoccupied hand had wandered over towards the egg, making sure it was in line of sight of Hanzo. He didn’t want to piss off his dragon, afterall.
He looked up at Hanzo, his gloved hand hovering over the top of their egg. A silent question.
Hanzo bit his lip and hesitated for a moment before nodding his head. Jesse’s tail flopped heavily and his ears perked up, finally dropping his hand to pet the egg his mate refused to abandon. He whined happily, feeling something almost big and natural blossom in his chest. He felt the need to protect it, and Jesse figured this was what Hanzo must be feeling.
Jesse dropped Hanzo’s wrist in favor to carefully wrap his arm around his waist, pulling them close together. His dragon didn’t seem to mind. In fact, Hanzo hummed and rested his head against his shoulder, letting his eyes flutter shut.
The wolf nuzzled against Hanzo’s hair, mindful of the horns jutting out from his forehead. He breathed in the scent of him and pulled him closer, carefully rubbing the egg between them. Everything was pleasant. Jesse was with his soulmate, with his pup, and all he wanted to do was to protect them both. It was his natural instinct to do so, despite knowing Hanzo could take care of himself. But he knew Hanzo wouldn’t mind the extra attention.
He looked down at him and found him completely relaxed, eyes closed and probably drifting off to sleep against his shoulder. The wolf was a natural heater, and Hanzo, being the cold-blooded dragon he was, tended to use him for his body heat. Not that Jesse minded.
The werewolf looked back at the gloved paw resting on his egg and he hesitated for a moment before slowly attempting to wiggle his hand free while the other stayed comfortably on Hanzo’s hip. Suddenly, the dragon grabbed his wrist and growled, without opening his eyes,
“If you touch our pup with your damned claws I will have your arm ripped off and tossed into a meat grinder.”
Jesse gulped and whined, ears falling flat. But Hanzo continued, leaning up to press a kiss to his snout,
“I am kidding, I love you. But I swear to God, Jesse. If you so much as think of pulling those oven mitts off, you are sleeping on the couch for a month.” His eyes fluttered open just to frown at him.
Jesse was both terrified and impressed by how quickly Hanzo could change from loving to intimidating. He only smiled wide, pressing their foreheads together, “You’ve got it, sugar plum. Ain’t no way I’m sleepin’ on the couch. It’s too darn comfy here.”
Hanzo scoffed and kissed his snout again before laying his head back against Jesse’s shoulder, releasing his wrist to instead rest his hand on Jesse’s atop their pup.
request: y/n shifts for the first time, surprising paul, and freaks out so paul calms her down and gets her to shift back to human form. warnings: none (swearing) word count: 577
been a while since the two of them had a fight like this. Though Paul could
easily push her buttons, (y/n) had never felt this much rage in her entire
life. The girl couldn’t even remember what the fight was about, all she felt
was her anger building up to a level she hadn’t experience yet.
had taken a step back when he saw her face, frowning.
Peter ran through the trees, four paws hitting the ground evenly as he weaved between trucks. The birds sang above him, the squirrels and rabbits scurrying from his path. He barked, eyes bright, and leapt onto the rocks marking the beginning of a steep descent. The air here was thicker than the rest of the forest, but the magic welcomed him. The mark on his throat warmed, a reminder of his claim, and Peter ascended quickly.
The Fae called Stiles was at the top, watching the sunset. He turned to the wolf as he neared, reaching out to him and brushing his fur when he stepped beside him.
“How was your run, my wolf?” Stiles asked, nuzzling him just behind his ear.
Peter shifted, the process smooth and without pain. It was more than he could’ve ever imagined and he smiled when he looked at the Fae.
“Perfect,” he murmured, watching those devilish lips quirk into a grin.
Stiles reached up to comb his fingers through his hair, holding him steady and leaning closer. “Mmhmm?” he hummed, nose tracing up Peter’s bared throat before his lips kissed his claim.
“It’s always perfect,” Peter added, eyes closed and body relaxed in trust and acceptance. The Fae was gentle, mouthing up his throat before kissing him. Peter moaned, tongue hesitantly skimming sharp teeth before Stiles pulled away with a delighted grin.
“Good. I’m glad you’re happy,” he spoke, and his voice was like bells, melodious and charming. Peter could listen to him for hours.
Peter lied down comfortably, head resting in the Fae’s lap, and they watched the sunset together. Peter was at peace for the first time since the fire. He felt at home.
bc i’m the worst and keep missing birthdays– happy belated birthday sara 💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕
arya saw them through the window and sat up a little straighter in her chair. she cast a glance around the room. septa mordane was bending over jeyne poole and murmuring something about her needlework.
“septa,” arya said, trying to make her voice sound as small as possible. “my stomach is hurting. may i…” sansa always let the sentence trail away rather than say she needed to find a chamber pot, and the septa always let her go.
septa mordane didn’t even look at her, but waved her hand, and arya put her embroidery hoop down on her chair and hurried from the room, breaking out into a run the moment she was in the hallway.
she reached the lichyard at the same time that bran was dismounting from his pony. there was something in his arms.
“how was it?” arya asked him as she approached but stopped short. the thing in his arm was a pup of some sort, with soft fur and great yellow eyes and–“is that a wolf?”
“we found them!” bran said breathlessly. “their mother was dead, and there were six of them. enough for each of us.”
for each of us? arya’s eyes went wide and she looked around.
“shouldn’t you be in your lessons, little sister?” jon asked as he approached. he had two wolves in his arms–a white one with red eyes who was gnawing at the leather laces of jon’s vest and a silver one that was looking around eagerly.
“is that one mine?” arya asked excitedly, holding out her hands.
jon grinned at her. “of course she is.” he tiped the wolf pup into her arms and…
the pup was warm and her paws scrabbled against arya’s arms for just a moment. “i’ve got you,” arya whispered to her. her fur was so soft and arya could feel her little heart racing against her hands as she held her to her chest.
“mine’s called ghost,” jon said grinning. “looks like one, doesn’t he?”
“what’s yours called?” arya asked bran.
“not sure yet,” bran said, frowning.
“mine’s named grey wind,” robb said. he’d come over too and held three pups in his arms. “here, take this one, will you?” he handed jon a black one with dark green eyes whose colored contrasted sharply with the color of jon’s own pup. “that’ll probably be rickon’s. sansa will want the gentle one.”
“rickon’s a baby. he should have a gentle one,” arya said.
“rickon will be frightened of them no matter what. he’s only three,” bran said. he looked between the wolves in jon’s and robb’s arms. “i think he’ll like the black one more. once he’s used to it. he likes running around and this one will need to run i think.” arya chewed her lip. it was a good point.
she let out a yelp that turned into a giggle. the wolf–her wolf–was sniffing at her neck with a cool nose and a moment later she was licking arya the way the hounds sometimes did when she played with them. she likes me! arya thought excitedly. she likes me! and so quickly too.
“pick wisely,” theon said as he came over. “names are powerful things and you wouldn’t want to pick the wrong one.”
arya’s mind was spinning hard. ghost, grey wind… both of them seemed like unearthly names. but there was something so wonderfully earthly about the wolf which was still nuzzling her neck. she wished bran had picked a name. then she’d have a better idea.
the problem was the only names she could think of were names. family names, stark names, and it felt wrong, somehow, to name a wolf after someone in her family. she’d name her after some hero in the songs, but most of the girls in songs were there for the men to love, and her wolf wasn’t there for men to love.
“no name for the baby hell bitch?” theon asked. jon elbowed him and arya glared. “what–that’s what she’ll be. wolves make fearsome bitches, everyone knows that. and that’s a direwolf. a queen bitch.”
that made arya smile. she looked at the pup in her arms again and as she turned her head the pup turned hers as well and began licking arya’s face. she giggled again. “nymeria,” she said happily. “a queen of wolves.”
Their parents don’t like it when they show affection.
“Honey, only couples can do that,” Jungkook’s mother explains for the thousandth time, dipping a plate into a bath of bubbly water. Jimin’s mother had caught them in their sleeping bag, nuzzling each other’s necks and ears, and had yanked them both out of their ‘nest.’ “Friends don’t show affection like that.”
“Why not?” Jungkook whines. It feels so nice when Jimin touches his ears! He doesn’t understand why their parents always yell at them when they do it. Don’t they realize that they’re half wolf? Nuzzling Jimin’s neck is part of his instincts. It always tells him that it’s okay to show his hyung affection.
“It’s not something you’d do with a friend!”
“Well, that’s dumb!” Growling, Jungkook leaves the kitchen and heads outside. With the fresh air blowing through his hair and ears, he can relax and think.
Really, there’s nothing wrong with what they’re doing! His mother’s just crazy.
At least Jimin doesn’t lick his ears. Well, most of the time. Taehyung does that, he does it to both of them, and it feels nice. However, Jimin’s ear touches and neck nuzzles are better than any of Taehyung’s ear licks.
Before Jungkook knows it he’s crossing the street and heading around the familiar house. Jimin’s window is close to the ground, giving him easy access to sneak in and out. Last night he’d snuck in and nuzzled Jimin to sleep. He wasn’t planning on taking that trip, but his instincts kept telling him to see Jimin and make sure he slept well, so he did.
Tapping on the glass with alert ears, Jungkook’s tail wags when Jimin appears and cracks open the window with a smile. “Hi.”
“Hi!” Jimin jumps in excitement, eyes bright. “Come in quick, they might see you!”
Grabbing Jungkook’s waist, Jimin heaves him in and they end up crashing onto the ground, a mess of limbs and furry tails. Jimin’s neck is unprotected, pale flesh begging Jungkook to mark it, and Jungkook nuzzles his nose into the skin. Something in his body relaxes when he smells his own scent on Jimin.
“Guk,” Jimin mumbles, craning his neck to give his friend better access. Their tails curl together, ears flicking against one another’s faces. “Let me.”
Then Jimin’s prodding at Jungkook’s throat, asking to mark. Jungkook yelps when he nips at his neck, soothing the area with a nuzzle. For a long time he nuzzles his neck and ears, masking Jungkook’s scent with cherries.
“Hey,” Jungkook mumbles after a few minutes, neck sore from the marking, “I gotta leave now. My mom’s gonna be mad.”
“I don’t want you to go!” Jimin pouts, nipping Jungkook’s ear. “I want you to stay.”
“You always want me to stay! I’m always in trouble.”
“Visit me later,” Jimin touches their noses together, then flicks his ear against the side of his face. “Promise?”
When Y/N was 3, her mother and her sat in the pack house waiting for the rest of the pack to return. The waiting was filled with the laughter of the small girl and her imaginative brain thinking of ways to entertain her mother. She sat upon the couch staring at her mother making multiple funny faces. Her mother all the while laughing at the little girl’s antics.
The pack however were on their way back from a successful hunting trip. Minseok especially happy to be bringing home a large buck for his family. Kris, pack leader was in front carrying his own back for his mate who waited for him. Not yet going through the process of marking and unable to turn into a wolf yet meant she stayed at home with Minseok’s family.
Upstairs Kris’s mate slept in her shared bed, locked doors preventing any unwanted visitors.
While the pack was on their way home, Minseok’s wife held their daughter strolling around the house humming along to a song she heard on the radio a few days prior. The soft melody slowly put the child wrapped up in her arms to sleep. The child’s eyes slowly slipping closed and going limp in her mother’s arms.
The Crown Prince of Erebor would never imagine seeing those eyes again. The same eyes that brought immense joy and perilous pain to his heart and soul; the eyes that vividly remind him of the love that was found, the love that was lost in that fateful but cursed battle.
And the love that will forever break his very being, but will continue to mend it back for him to keep on living.