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"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger."

Raising your teenage brother and grappling with a proper work-life balance is far from easy. But after a freak car accident, strange things start happening to both of you, and your oddly distant girlfriend is extremely interested in it.

WORD COUNT: 18.354

CONTAINS: Fem!Reader. Hair and skin color are not described, though the reader's hair is mentioned to get longer/thicker over the course of the fic. Some ABO kind of. Standard horror themes and descriptions - murder, death, blood, and gore. The brother in this fic is intended to be Ekko, but it can be read as an adoptive relationship! Smut! Some blood kink/play? Idk, they're werewolves. Penetrative Sex (Reader receiving). Rough sex.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This fic is basically a reboot of the movie 'Cursed' by Wes Craven from 2005. Is it good after a complete deviation from the original script and 4 reshoots? No. Do I care? Also, no. It's one of my favorite werewolf flicks, primarily because we have none, especially ones with a romantic element. Seriously, who do vampires always get the girl at the end? We need a werewolf romance renaissance STAT. A lot of inspiration came from the soundtrack piece love theme, which is just so romantic and haunting, ugh. Also, my longest fic to date! Yippee! Happy Halloween I love y'all <3

Ever since your parents took you to the county carnival on a brisk night when you were 13, you knew it in your soul that you had a connection to the moon.

You were suspicious of the lone fortune teller when you saw her, wild blonde hair framing her face in a way that made her look more like a lost nomad than a carnival seer. But she had called you over, and wanting to get the most out of this rare outing where it was just you and your parents, you indulged her to your parents’ amusement.

You had expected her to give you a fortune like she did your parents, how you’d find success like your father, or how she could predict sunshine would bring you luck like rain would bring your mother misery.

Instead, when you placed your palm in the stranger's, her face went cold, her grip pressing harder before she hurried to flip over her cards. You didn't understand what gibberish she was mumbling to herself under her breath, and you could feel the worry emanating from your mother and father behind you.

Almost like a light switch, the seer regained her composure. She gently held both your hands together and whispered,

“The night will bring you many things. Some beautiful, some tragic, others confusing. But you must continue to put your faith in the moon and its light. Do you understand?”

Her voice took on an almost worried tone, and before you could finish nodding, your father dropped a bill on the table as your mother grabbed your shoulder and pulled you away.

You thought of that fortune often after that night. When only a year later you had your first kiss with a girl at a mutual friend's sleepover, how you won your first regional debate match during an event strangely held deep into the night, every little twist and turn of fate that happened while that beautiful white rock shone in the sky.

Then you were 21, watching over your 14-year-old brother on an abnormally stormy night when a phone call told you that your parents were gone, that it was just the two of you now.

You swiftly forgot about that ‘fortune’, and whenever your brother would beg to go back to the county fair, you'd always make up an excuse. He learned not to get too upset at it over the years, but you knew he'd be upset at you tonight.

Your job had you running extremely late, stuck in a brief over the last-minute demands of your firm's new, stuck-up celebrity client that would take weeks to finalize, and then you were tasked with checking in with each team lead of the current project to inform them about the changes. Annoyed grumbles and misplaced anger you could deal with, but then, of course, she had to distract you, just like she had been for the past few months.

And she was none other than Vi Vanderson. Esteemed stunt artist, her prestige in her craft is only rivaled by her reputation for wooing the lonely lesbians in every corner of Los Angeles.

Obviously, you’d heard about her reputation; you wouldn’t be anyone in this town without having done so. She was a pro at her work, and even more proficient at being one of the worst playgirls you’d had the displeasure of knowing and hearing about. She had a certain way with women, stringing them along with her pretty face and prettier words before chewing them up and spitting them out right back to whatever bar she picked them up from. It seemed every other month, you’d pass by a teary-eyed girl in your coworker's favorite hangout downtown, her friends consoling her as she wept about how she truly had felt special with that woman.

It only made sense that when your boss told you she was hired onto your current client's project, you avoided her like the plague. For a while, it was easy, movie sets were bustling, and there wasn’t much time for making acquaintances among the staff during early and mid production, but it seemed like in no time she managed to sniff you out, cold blue eyes meeting yours across one of the break rooms while you fetched a much-needed cup of coffee.

Like you had a gravitational pull, she dismissed her fellow stunt actor and strided to you, long legs bringing her across the room a lot quicker than you anticipated, and way quicker than you could muster up an escape plan. She doesn’t speak as soon as she’s in front of you, taking a few seconds to let her eyes take the chance to flicker over your face before introducing herself.

(You’d never admit it, not until you’d hit the six-month mark in your relationship, but you had taken the few seconds to admire her back. You’d also never admit you were slightly hoping the whispers of her beauty were faked as a part of a sort of post-breakup self-soothing method, maybe even that she wouldn’t be your type. But no, she was gorgeous, and exactly your type.)

“Hi.” God, even her voice was attractive, smooth but rough at the same time.

“Hi.”

You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t immediately silently gawk at how gorgeous she was. Before her face, your gaze spanned out to take in her figure, broad shoulders prominent through her short-sleeved tank that was doing nothing to hide the muscles of her torso. Her facial features were nothing short of striking, with jet black hair standing out against her pale skin and paler gray-blue eyes, eyes which were currently similarly observing every square inch of your face.

You were starting to see why girls got weak in the knees and fell into her web so easily. A few years ago, you might’ve thrown yourself at her too, forgoing any sense of self-preservation in favor of a few days of hot, casual sex ending in a heartless goodbye before never seeing each other again.

But now you were…you. You, who had become an orphan and was entrusted with the care of your teenage brother. Who had slowly become disconnected from your friends that made you laugh until you cried, the hobbies that brought you a sense of joy you had yet to replicate. That girl didn’t have the time to even go on dates with recommended friends of friends, let alone become broken-hearted over some attractive woman you had met at your job.

So you did the only thing that seemed reasonable to you.

You walked away.

Was it rude? Yes. Unprofessional? Incredibly so. But at the time, it seemed perfectly reasonable. She’d probably be dejected for only a minute before moving on, leaving you to continue with the enjoyable mundanity of your job without worrying about workplace romances.

But Vi wasn't dejected; she was determined.

It started the next day: a steaming cup of coffee, your exact order, waiting for you at your usual spot in the breakroom. You figured it was a gesture by your work friend until she denied it, teasing you about a secret work crush you hadn't told her about.

That was easy to deny. Until the sticky notes started. Every day, like clockwork, you were met with the sight of the aggravating adhesives stuck to the edge of your temporary desktop at the work site, always an electric shade of blue or red to make sure you couldn't miss them even if you tried.

‘Your outfit was cute yesterday.’

‘I like seeing your handwriting on your department's notes.’

‘Maybe I'm going crazy, but I could've sworn I saw a smile on your face the other day. Maybe I was dreaming of you. Again.’

Eventually, you had had enough, were fed up, and completely annoyed after the last message. You stormed out of your workspace at the end of the day, your body like a homing missile that led directly to her, catching her as she was leaving the building after a day spent doing whatever crazy stunts she loved to do.

“Do we have a problem here?” You harshly tapped on her shoulder, crossing your arms once she turned to look at you, and only answered you with silence and a stunned look.

“Hey, hi, I mean - What? What problem?” She stuttered, caught off guard by your harsh confrontation.

“I'm talking about these.” Your hand dug inside your purse until you found the paper-clipped stack of notes, holding them up to her face to make sure she got a good look. “They look familiar to you?”

She nodded, lips pressed together. “Look, I can explain-”

“No, you look. And I'm only gonna say this once. I care about my job. And I'm not going to do anything to jeopardize it, especially by sleeping around with the hired talent.”

“You think I'm talented?”

You groaned, closing your eyes and huffing out air through your nose as you tried to regain your composure. God, she was a piece of work. You didn't know how she ever managed to seduce so many women if this was the kind of shit she was pulling.

“Hey, c'mon, don't get upset, alright?” Vi whispered, hesitantly resting a hand on your shoulder and slightly shaking you until you relented and looked at her again. It unnerved you for a moment how calm it made you to look at her, to feel the simple weight of her palm pressing into your skin. You attributed it to not getting laid in months. Definitely nothing else.

“I wasn't trying to jeopardize our jobs, okay? I'm not doing this just for a quick fuck, either. I just wanted-”

Her voice trailed off, a flash of varying emotions crossing her face. You spotted the hesitancy, that familar draw between her brows that signified she's worried about something, but there were traces of something else there that you couldn't quite name - deeper and darker than you could anticipate.

“You just what, Vi?”

“I want to get to know you. Actually. Like on a date. Think I'd like to know more than just what kind of coffee you like to drink.” She laughed, her voice more hopeful than you think you've heard it before.

“I don't do dates, Vi.”

“Neither do I, really.”

You scoffed under your breath, “Yeah, I've heard.”

She laughed again, more dejected this time. “I know my reputation isn't the best, but I really do mean it. I like you. I've liked you since I first saw you.”

Your heart begrudgingly skipped a beat at her confession, your cheeks running hot, and your teeth aching to gnaw at your lip. You reflected on how embarrassing it was for something so simple to get to you so heavily, how what was likely just a simple statement of attraction can make you feel so desired, so seen.

Anxiously, you mulled over the choice in your head. At the time, you hadn't been laid in months, only a real date for even longer. You couldn't even remember the last time someone had flirted with you genuinely, let alone well enough to have you flushing like a damn teenager. You, of course, had your job to think about, and how unstable contracts and agreements could become when people on projects began workplace relationships. You had worked for too long and too hard for this company, and while you doubted that they'd toss you to the side so quickly, you could never be too sure, especially when you had your brother and home to think about.

But then, in the middle of your miniature mental crisis, Vi dropped her hand from your shoulder and gently reached for your hand, the rough palm caused by her stunts brushing over your stiffened fingers from constant writing until her fingers delicately toyed with yours. Your brain stopped for a second, watching how her face was focused on the objectively small amount of contact, as if it were the highlight of her day.

“We can…probably get a coffee sometime. I know a place downtown.”

You'd seen Vi smile before that, cheeky grins shared with her stunt team and polite upturns when meeting with the upper heads of the divisions. But you had yet to see her smile the way she did then, bright and beaming like you had just told her the best news of her life.

You didn't know it then, but in a way you had.

To your surprise, Vi was the perfect girlfriend - caring, chivalrous, humorous. Always the first to text you good morning and constantly eager to stay up with you on the phone into the late hours of the night. She took you out to the best places in the city, small holes in the walls that only someone like her could know about, before insisting that she hadn't shown them to anyone but you before.

You had doubted it at first, figuring that you would just be a quick fling with her before she moved on to bigger and better pastures. But with every knowing glance, with every gentle prod at what you were thinking and to let her into your head, you found a gentleness in Vi that only made your fondness for her grow. You could see why so many women fell for her charms, able to make random women’s knees weak with just a polite and enchanting smile as you walked together on the street. But each time it happened, she seemed to barely recognize it, always diverting her attention back to you.

And God, did you fall for her. As silly as it made you feel, you couldn't help but be smitten. When the pressure of your grief and your daily stresses became too much to bear, she was there, quick to come over to be a shoulder to cry on or an ear to listen to you rant about any of your problems. You had told her about losing your parents only years before, and she had shared that she had gone through the same, mentioning the death of her birth parents and the disappearance of her adoptive father only a few short years ago. You could tell it took a great effort from her to share that trauma with you, and you assured her you didn't take it lightly.

(And although it wasn't the most important thing, the sex between the two of you was as amazing as the stories you’ve heard. At first, you were on edge to sleep with her, shaking with nerves the first time you entered her apartment as you thought about your recent inexperience, combined with all of the women she had led down the very same path to her bed. But Vi could already detect your worries before you even had to voice them, assuring you that the only thing on her mind at the moment was making sure you were comfortable and cared for, and that she wouldn’t do anything to make you feel pressured to have sex with her. When you finally did have sex, it was slow and passionate, making you so emotional that you had silently cried in her arms.)

But lately, it had started to seem that the brief few months of bliss had turned sour in a way you hadn't expected. For the past few weeks, it felt like Vi was becoming increasingly distant, missing your calls and texts when she was away, and constantly drifting off into her own head and avoiding questions when she was near. The previous contract between your companies had ended, sending you back to your regular office while Vi had started on a new project, which left her busy for most of the week.

At first, you attributed her avoidance to stress, likely a result of the pressures of overseeing one of her company's biggest projects yet, that no amount of assurance of he talent could waver, but her mood had taken a downturn that you couldn't help but notice. Normally, despite the stress, she was constantly beaming, always quick to reply with a joke or assurance that she was fine and just feeling a little worn from her work. However, lately, it felt as though there was something angrier and more worried resting inside her. She was constantly checking her breathing, looking in a nearby mirror to check for whatever it was she was looking for in her face, almost waiting for something to change.

That only led you to earlier tonight, where you had decided to visit her quickly at TINSEL, the new nightlife club mixed with a movie and horror museum that was to open on the strip in only a few days. At first, you were confused about why Vi was picked to be in charge of the opening, until you learned that her boss had recommended her for the role after learning about her adept horror and bar knowledge. You were ecstatic when you first heard the news and were eager to see her progress since then. And at first, she had been happy to show you around, keen to show off the progress on the hall of mirrors and some of the technical effects of the iconic monsters exhibit.

“Now, over here, we have the ‘Classics’ section. Probably my favorite, you know how much I love these things.” Vi’s hand was glued to your back as she led you around the space, directing your eyes to the replicas of horror movie classics - Dracula, the Mummy, and the Wolfman. It delighted you to see the way her eyes lit up as she showed off the hard work of her team, already so excited to see how the crowds would react to this.

“What about that thing?” You question, pointing to a special-looking prop in the middle of the exhibit. Her eyes light up when she sees it, dragging you over and smoothing her hand over the metal of the cane.

“It’s the actual silver can from the Wolf-Man. We had to go through so many people to get it, but it was worth it. Check it out.” She hands the prop to you, and you admire it in your hands. It’s heavy in your ways, all the detailing signature to the golden age of Hollywood that you can't help but admire. The most significant part is the head of the cane, made up of a silver replica of a snarling wolf's head.

“Is this real silver? At least if a real werewolf shows up, you’ll have some protection.” You point the cane at her, pretending to tap her in the heart when she ducks out of the way.

“Whoa now, I can’t have you dropping that and costing me a fortune.”

You sheepishly hand the cane back to her, watching as she delicately places it back atop the display. She’s gentle with it, and you can’t help but admire how her large hands wrap around the black metal. Safe to say you were a little pent up.

“Look, I was thinking since you’re gonna be at the opening, and since I’m gonna be at the opening, maybe we can be here together.” You sidle up in front of her, wrapping your arms around your neck and clasping your hands together to keep her close to you. It was an uncharacteristic show of PDA, but safe to say you were getting a little desperate after going without her touch for two weeks.

You swore you could see it working, notice the way her eyes dipped below your top and how her hands came to rest on your sides, before grasping at the fabric of your shirt. But just as soon as the telltale signs of desire appeared, they vanished, Vi gently pushing you off of her until you could feel your cheeks heat up with rejection.

“I think I’m just gonna skip the opening, y’know? Just feel like lying in bed for a few days.”

“Well, I could always join you there, too.”

You wait for her answer, and it doesn’t come, only getting a sigh in response. You blink in frustration, fixing up your shirt and pants before looking around to make sure no one was watching as you were so clearly rejected.

“Y/N, I-”

“Y’know what, it’s fine. I have to go pick up E, anyway. I’ll call you later, alright?”

You don't wait for her answer, quickly making your way to the exit to hurry and pick up your brother before he has to wait any longer. You can feel your girlfriend's eyes on your back as you leave, and you fight the urge to turn around the entire time you walk out.

The roads of the LA mountains are dark, the only source of light on Mulholland Drive being the moon in the sky and the dim illumination of your headlights. Both of your hands stick to the wheel, your white-knuckled grip steady as you keep your eyes on the road to ignore the tense air in the car. Your brother similarly stares outside the side window, brows drawn and lips pursed as he tries his best to ignore you. You know he’s upset after you left him alone on the boulevard for an hour, but you are thankful he’s giving you the silent treatment for the moment. The last thing you needed was another stressful encounter tonight.

“I was waiting for over an hour.”

Welp, never mind.

“I’m sorry, E. I had a lot to finish up at work, and I had to go and see Vi-”

“The same Vi who’s ignoring you?” HE whispers under his breath, loud enough where he wants you to hear it, but low enough that he thinks he can get away with it. God, teenagers.

“Excuse me?”

“…Sorry. I heard you on the phone the other night.”

You sigh, looking ahead at the road and trying to steady your breathing as you navigate the winding roads. You always had a bout of anxiety taking these roads at night, mental images flashing of the night your parents had passed, navigating streets just like these.

“I said I was sorry, okay? I don’t know what more you want from me. Why didn’t you ask one of your friends to take you home?”

“I don’t exactly have many of those anymore.”

“Look, I know that we’ve been going through a lot, but I’m trying my best here. I don’t know what else you want from me.”

“I don’t want anything from you, I just want - watch it!”

His shout bleeds through your ears only seconds too late, the sight of a large animal in the road causing you to gasp and turn the wheel seconds too late as it lands right in the trajectory of your car. But instead of staying still and getting hit, it leaps, jumping off the front windshield until you’re too disoriented and blinded by the splintering cracks in the glass that, in the middle of trying to right the way of the vehicle, you crash into another, listening to the thundering booms as the car rolls off the road and into the trees.

Your body immediately goes on autopilot, checking over your brother's body for injuries before moving to your own, noting the slight disorientation and blood dripping from your head before you leap out of the car. You barely register the fact that your own car is completely totaled, only the large gap in the road barrier leading down a small trench, a billow of smoke wafting into the air. Walking up to the edge and looking down, your heart drops at the sight of the other vehicle, bent and busted as it lies upside down in the brush.

Struggling down the side of the trench in your heels, you assess the damage before dropping to your knees, breathing out a sigh of relief when you see that the driver is alive and breathing, stuck upside down in the driver's seat as she starts to hyperventilate.

You try your best to assure her that everything will be alright, that you told your brother to dial 911 before you came down the hill, and that you’ll try your best to get her out of the ruined vehicle. She tells you that there’s a jack in the trunk, and after trying and failing to retrieve it, you come back to see your brother halfway in the car as he tries his best to break open her seat.

“Oh, thank god, thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“It’s alright, you’re gonna be alright, okay?”

You can hear their brief conversation after she’s freed from the seat, but your attention is immediately grabbed by a sound to your right, just beyond the tree line. You stand up to attention, squinting towards the dark bushes and trees to try and see what could have made the noise. You figure it’s nothing until it happens again to your left, the hairs on your arms standing to attention.

“Guys, I think you should hurry up, alright,” You warn, urging your brother to get a move on.

“What the hell even happened?”

“Oh, we hit an animal, but it’s gone, don’t worry.”

“It wasn't a dog, was it-”

A loud shatter and shrill scream pierce your brain, your knees instantly giving out to see what's happened, only to see your brother slowly being dragged further into the car. Without thinking, you grab onto his legs, feeling the dirt and twigs on the ground dig into your stomach as you’re pulled along with him. You can't focus on anything but your fear and the screams of the woman and your brother ahead of you, trying to lift your head and get a glimpse of what’s happening, but all you can see is an animal, an animal you can’t even name, dragging along the stranger with its teeth bitten into the woman’s neck. You grip harder onto your brother's ankles, trying your best to yank him away from the danger before you feel a deep pain rush through your forearm. Eventually, your body stops moving in the dirt, your brother falls into your arms, and the woman from the wreck is gone without a trace.

Without a word, you both scramble back to the car and out of the other side, panting and trembling as you check over each other to see if you were injured. A large gash tears through the fabric of your brother's shirt, a bloody claw mark clear on his skin, and he gently raises your arm to show a similar wound on your forearm. You hear the blaring of police sirens coming closer, and you tug him with your good arm up to the road.

Only a few minutes later, you are bandaged and shaken in the back of an ambulance, one of the sheriffs at the scene insisting that this was all just a freak accident and a bear or mountain lion must have just gone crazy and attacked. You don’t respond to the statement, and you don’t respond when your brother presses that the animal wasn't some bear or cat but a wolf.

“Kid, no one’s seen a wolf in California in 70 years. It’s just not possible.”

“No, I know what I saw. What we saw. Y/N?”

They both look at you, waiting for your response. But what could you say? The only thing you could focus on at the time was your brother and making sure that whatever it was didn’t tear your brother to pieces.

You don’t know what you saw, but you know that it was big. You know that it scared you. You know that all you want is to go home and pretend that this night never happened

All you do is nod, ignoring your brother's confused look before accepting the ride one of the deputies offers you both home, further ignoring your brother's questions once you step inside your home, before heading upstairs and dropping onto the chilled sheets of your bed with a withered noise echoing from your throat.

Because as much as it hurt you to ignore your brother after such a traumatic experience, what was there really to say? A woman died in front of you, screaming and in agony as she was ripped to shreds, while you couldn’t do anything to stop it. A scathing little voice in the back of your mind repeated how strangely familiar this felt, reminding you of the constant mental images that would run through your mind after your parents’ deaths - their terrified shouts as they lost control of the car, the loss of gravity as the car flipped and turned until it became as mangled as it was in the accident photos, how their bodies were so horribly damaged that every cop and medical professional demanded on a closed casket funeral.

And how through it all, you had the ever-present thought that maybe if you had tried harder, done more, been more, you could have stopped it from ever happening. The thought forces tears to form in your eyes, only made worse by the framed photo of your once-happy family staring at you from atop your dresser.

But like you’d learned years ago, tears are never a permanent solution to your troubles. After a quick few minutes of letting your sorrows drain out, you quickly compose yourself, lifting yourself from your bed and preparing to try and physically wash the memory of the day from your skin. As the steam from your shower fills the bathroom and your skin starts to turn red from your harsh scrubbing, just as you feel close to your goal, you’re stopped when you hear a distinctive thud from downstairs. At first, you chalk it up to your brother getting a late-night snack, likely dealing with his familiar coping mechanism of eating everything in your fridge, but when it happens again, you feel an irregular turn in your stomach.

Could this night possibly get any worse?

Slowly, you creep down the stairs and check over the locks on the front door, close an open window in the living room, and embarrassingly get startled by an antique cuckoo clock your father had bought on a whim years ago. The memory is the only thing preventing you from feeling completely unnerved as you turn the corner, only to see that the front door you had just locked is open, rotting and falling autumn leaves sneaking inside with the gusty winds.

You try to find an explanation, any tiny bit of reason that could explain how a door you had just locked three times over could be blown wide open without you hearing it, when you stumble back into a tall body and flail your arms out of fright, only to see -

“Vi!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you.” Vi scrambles to apologize, her voice shaky as she tries to calm you after your shock.

“What are you doing here? You scared me half to death.”

“I know, I know. I just…” She pauses, eyes glancing upstairs and back out into the street from the view of the still open front door. You're reminded to keep your voice and temper down, lest you wake up your brother and make him even more worried than he already is. “I needed to talk to you.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure you couldn't have just talked to me when I was free earlier, right?” You snapped, voice harsher than you realized. Vi’s eyes widen in shock, and you’d feel worse about it if you weren't still mad at her and on edge about everything that had happened in the past two hours alone.

“Something’s different. You’re upset.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve had a really shitty day today, okay? So I don’t need you sneaking in here and freaking me out even more.”

“I didn’t sneak in. Key under the flower pot, remember?”

You shake your head, bringing your hand up to rub at your temples. “What are you doing here, Vi?”

“I’m…I’m scared, Y/N.”

Your fingers stop their soothing movements, head rising until your eyes meet hers, big and vulnerable like you’ve only seen a few times before.

“I never thought that I’d find someone like you, y’know? You’re so…different, in the best way, and I feel like I’m going to ruin this no matter how hard I try.”

“Vi, I understand, okay? You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in such a long time, and I’m terrified that I’m so… so broken, that I’m just pushing you away from me-”

”Hey, hey, hey,” she coos, resting her large palms on your arms and stepping closer until she’s so close you can feel the heat radiating off of her, until you can breathe in and smell her familiar scent of cedar and something earthy that always makes you feel safe. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? I promise.”

When you glance down at her lips and see her doing the same to yours, you feel a warmth quickly bloom inside your stomach, overwhelming you as she steps forward even nearer and leans in, silently checking in with you before you reach up and connect your lips with her own. Her lips are soft, tasting like her regular cherry chapstick, while the kiss rapidly grows passionate as Vi groans into your mouth before trailing her lips down your chin and to your neck, biting and nibbling at the sensitive skin while your eyes roll back in pleasure.

Yet you can feel something growing inside - that same warmth quickly traveling up from your stomach into your throat until it’s practically burning you with the pressure and absolute need. You don't have half the mind to question it, letting the rising desire pull your head back in bliss while she continues to mark your neck, her right hand digging into your hair as she pulls you closer by the waist with the left.

But before you can control the urge, before you can even detect the thought rushing to your brain to stop yourself, your teeth are bared and needle sharp, and you’re biting down into the skin of her pale neck. Hard enough to draw blood. Hard enough to eat.

The piercing sounds of her screams are the backdrop to a painful flash of images that cross your vision - elongated and dripping teeth, the muscles and bones cracking inside of a body transforming, the nails of your hands sharpening into claws and tearing down the recognizable sight of your lover's back, leaving jagged and bloodied trails in their wake.

As soon as you’re able to detect the bitter taste of her blood filling her mouth, you’re suddenly sitting upright in your bed, your heart pounding wildly, and your skin soaked in a cold sweat while you look around your room in disorientation. When you finally manage to control you’re breathing and realize that you were only in the middle of a wretched nightmare, you find that it’s still late in the night, the illuminating light of the moon peaking through your windows and shining its light across you.

The sight of it sends a rush of calm through your body, and the sense of it only confuses you further.

The next morning is the official start of a series of stranger and stranger events. While in the middle of making a steaming cup of coffee and watching the morning news report of last night's crash, your brother bounds downstairs, darting to the fridge to retrieve some leftovers, when he sits down with you at the kitchen table, stating casually that not only did he wake up naked in the bushes, but that the appalling attack you had witnessed last night was the result of a literal werewolf. Trying your hardest to remember that trauma had varying effects on different people, you had assured him it couldn't be the case, stealing a piece of his breakfast before sending him off to school, to his annoyance.

“I got bitten by a werewolf last night. How is that not enough for a sick day? I could be cursed.” He whined.

“Everybody's cursed, Ez. It’s called life.” You chide, grabbing another bite of his meal before walking away to start getting ready for your day. It’s only after a few steps that you notice the earthy taste of the meat as you continue to chew it, pulling out a piece from your mouth to observe what could make the taste so altered, only to do nothing but stare when you realize that both of you were casually chewing on raw meat.

Surely this could be rationalized. But you’d have to do that later.

Only an hour later, you headed into work, repeating words of affirmation to yourself and lightly scratching at the gauze still covering your wound as you stepped into your office. You noticed people watching, figuring they were wondering about the noticeable bandage on your arm when you were normally such a careful person. But you still didn’t think that would be enough for a man to turn his head around the corner to watch you leave the elevator. Jesus, you really needed to stop by HR.

Though you couldn't lie and say that some of the sudden attention didn’t make you downright blush. A particular female security guard caught your eye while she was making her rounds, dark eyes trailing up and down your body, and throwing a playful wink your way. You caught your heart stuttering over the interaction, quickly shaking the thought of her out of your head and reminding yourself of your girlfriend. Your girlfriend, who was currently barely speaking to you, and when she did talk to you, loved to dodge the topic about what was wrong with her, and hadn’t even called you after your sudden departure last night.

You were reminded again of your dream just last night, questioning the meaning of it as you sat at your desk and set down your bag. You could still feel every part of the dream like it really happened - the brush of Vi’s lips against yours, her large hands gripping onto your body, the give of her throat under your teeth. For a flash of a second, you wish to feel it again, chalking the disturbing thought up to exhaustion and the lingering shock from the previous night.

Besides the usual annoying encounter with your coworker, Madison, a high-strung and bossy woman around your age, who you tried to avoid whenever possible, reminding you about the company party later on that night and who, for some reason, decided to question your relationship with Vi, mentioning that it was ‘only a matter of time until she got to you’, the start of your day was going well.

But when your friendly coworker Kyle came in to give you some pleasant reassurance about ignoring Madison, you suddenly paused at your desk, standing up and peeking past your door as something, some smell, grabs and immediately commands your attention. You question Kyle about what could smell so good that you could notice it all the way from in here, overlooking his confused reaction, and leave to find the source of the aroma. You don’t register how your senses are tracked on this one scent; you don’t even question how you start sniffing at the air, to the startled eyes of two passersby.

All you can concentrate on is how your search led you to the breakroom, greeted with the sight of a woman standing at the edge of the sink. Slowly, you step closer, curious about what food she could have brought that was able to call to you so seamlessly, only for her to turn around and reveal that she has no meal with her. She’s only clutching a heavily bloodied tissue to her nose, waving it off as a frequent thing because of the heat. You can’t help but stare, your own blood running hot as you continue to gape at the stained fabric resting in her hand. She asks if the blood is freaking you out, and you can’t come up with the words to answer.

Only twelve hours later, you’re finally arriving at the company’s rooftop party, making your way past the multitude of creative seasonal costumes and dancing strangers to find your way over to Madison, who gives you a look at your noticeable lack of costume before leaving you at the bar to retrieve one of the clients you had to speak to.

You heave out a sigh, starting to turn and order yourself a hard drink to attempt and use some liquid courage to make this night just the smallest bit easier for you, when you feel a familiar presence coming up from behind you, a shiver running down your spine, before your ear pricks up at the sound of the charming voice in your ear that you know all too well.

“Now don’t you look fantastic. I’d say you don’t even need a costume, babe. Wouldn’t wanna cover up your natural good looks.” Vi flirted, dressed in a simple but attractive suit, the white button-down underneath the jacket only buttoned halfway to show off the smooth skin of her chest. You try not to pay much attention to it, but it doesn’t help that it’s pretty much in your direct line of sight. For a brief second, you’re reminded of the last time you saw her in this shirt, when she had taken you out on an intimate dinner downtown and bought you a bouquet of your favorite flowers. The night was romantic and personal, and you feel your face warm when you remember that it ended with the two of you tangled in the back of her car, your lips trailing down the exposed skin of her chest while she moaned out your name.

The rest of her doesn’t help keep up your annoyed mood either, because as much as you were pissed at your girlfriend, there was no way you would be able to admit how hot she was. You really needed a drink now.

“What are you doing here, Vi?” You asked, brows scrunching in confusion and fingers darting to fix a loose piece of your hair.

“I needed to see you.”

“Oh, really?” You scoff. “What about the opening? How you wanted to ‘disappear for a few days.’ Don't look very ‘disappeared’ to me.”

Vi sighs, looking down at her hands that are fidgeting with each other. “I’m guessing that didn’t go over so well, huh?”

You roll your eyes, already exasperated from the conversation. “Y’know what? I understand. We’ve only been seeing each other for what, a couple of months? If you need some space, you could just tell me that. It’s fine.” The bartender taps you on the shoulder, finally handing you your drink before you take a long and needed sip.

It wasn’t like you were exaggerating or completely trying to cower into yourself to save yourself from further rejection. It was only late October, and you’d only started officially seeing Vi in late July. You knew most lesbians would have called the U-Haul and taken the next steps by now, but you had asked for her understanding at the start of the relationship for some time and space to get acquainted with having a new person in your life, which she understood wholeheartedly. You just didn’t think she’d want this much space.

You can’t exactly complain about something you asked for, can you?

“Don’t do that, baby. Don’t try to make this fine when it’s not.” Vi gently grabs your arm, starting to speak some more when she notices how the bar is getting steadily more crowded. She pulls you away from the crowded bar until you’re both standing in an isolated corner of the rooftop, the music dulling to a soothing bass mixed with the sounds of the LA traffic down below you.

“I won’t lie to you, alright? You’re right. For a long time, that’s all I did, sleep and date around, and then leave when things got too serious. I can’t… exactly tell you all the reasons why, but long story short, I was scared.”

You tilt your head, eyes racking her face for any amount of dishonesty that you felt you could detect on her face after months of knowing each other. But you see no pinch between her brows, can’t see her eyes darting to the sides because they never look away from yours for even a second, sending a pang of fondness through your body.

“This thing between us is special, Y/N, and I don’t wanna lose you. I don’t think I can. Please, just give me a little longer to sort things out, and this will all make sense.”

You sigh, thinking over your options. You could down your drink, send her off with a snarky comment, and go about your night as normally as possible. But just the thought of doing so sends a pang through your body. More than ever, you feel a desire to be close to her, to have her whisper in your ear that everything will be fine and that she won’t leave your side. All anger bubbling in your spirit dies as she continues to stare and wait for your answer, her big blue eyes tracking your every movement.

“Maybe… maybe once I’m done here, we can go somewhere and talk.” You suggest deciding that giving her a chance to explain herself couldn’t hurt. Vi smiles, that cute, goofy grin that she only shows around you, and wordlessly nods her head. It’s enough to make you feel better already, hopeful that by the end of the night, every unspoken thing between the two of you will be settled, and you can finally move forward from this strange period in your relationship.

And also from the strange things going on with you otherwise, but you’d handle that after. Hopefully.

And before you can ever truly get your hopes up, a woman, an admittedly pretty woman dressed in a very revealing cheetah costume, cuts in front of you without even acknowledging your presence, instantly souring your mood.

“Vi! Don’t you remember me?” She bats her lashes, resting her hand on Vi’s chest while the sight makes your ears ring. “I’m Jackie’s friend Jenna, remember?”

“Uh, yeah, yeah, hey. How are you?” Vi greets, eyes darting between you and the woman currently pressing herself closer and closer to your girlfriend.

But for some reason, you barely recognize her silent plea for understanding, only able to focus on the girl pestering Vi about how her friend was waiting for her call, about how if she had moved on, she’d be happy to have her info instead. You bite your tongue in your mouth, hard enough until you feel the pricks of iron blood rush through your mouth.

God, what was going on with you? You’d been jealous before, of course, but never anything that felt like this. That made you feel so violent. You take another sip of your drink, ignoring how the alcohol burns your injured muscle before rushing down your throat.

Madison quickly comes over to save you, a sentence you never thought you’d say, taking care to mention the intensity of the awkward moment before pulling you away to meet with the celebrity client. As you walk away, you feel the brush of Vi’s hand over your waist, and despite every sense in you telling you to turn back, you bury the thought and continue on your way.

You’ve never wished for a party to end quickly as much as you did tonight, done with the frequent squealing made by people getting way too drunk already, and your client only heightens that wish.

You thought it was going normally, sitting down with a polite greeting and quickly getting into the details of his set, to some annoyance when he found out his spot on the show had been bumped down a spot. You tried your best to appease him, sighing when he muttered in annoyance and looking around for a brief moment of peace. You look up at the sky, admiring the shadowed divots in the moon above. Instantly, you’re filled with a bout of confidence, returning to the conversation and suggesting a compromise that would hopefully make the client happy.

Maybe you were a little too confident because he then takes that as a pass to make a move on you, rubbing his rough hand up your thigh.

Yet again, you feel that rage surfacing in your chest, swallowing the anger down as you brush his hand away before giving him a curt goodbye, downing your drink, and making your way towards the exit.

More than ready to head home and down a glass of whiskey in your parents’ secret stash, you start to rush towards the exit, ignoring Madison’s insistent questions about what happened with the client as you head to the elevator. As soon as you press the down button, though, you hear Vi calling your name as she rushes up behind you, turning you around by the shoulder to ask you what’s wrong.

Just as you’re about to say anything, to ask her to come with you, to ask her to leave you alone, even to ask her to keep looking at you for a few seconds longer, that same cheetah from earlier comes up behind Vi’s back and looks at you from over her shoulders.

“Be careful, this one’s trouble.”

That’s enough for you to make your decision, ignoring Vi’s weary look as you step into the elevator.

Your mind is racing as you speed-walk to your car in the dim and empty parking lot, slamming your car door before settling into the leather of your car seat.

Completely exhausted, you prepare to give yourself a few seconds to comprehend yet another horrible night when you feel a shiver rush across your body, your eyes immediately darting up to look around outside of your car, searching for the hidden threat that you could feel in your bones was hiding somewhere. But after a minute of tense searching to no result, you relax back into your seat, rolling your eyes at yourself for seemingly internalizing your brother's crazy theories before turning the key in the ignition and pulling out of the lot.

You don’t question it when you arrive home, only to see your brother continuing to do his werewolf research in the living room. He goes on and on about the facts he’s learned, about how the curse of lycanthropy gives those affected a multitude of benefits and downsides. Your brow slightly quirks at some of them - intense mood swings, superhuman strength, heightened senses, and even an unnatural sexual allure.

“E, what the hell are you going to do with that?”

“Well, probably nothing, but I could always use the strength thing to get ahead in sports.”

“Yeah, I think people are gonna start asking questions when you start lifting weights out of nowhere.”

You’re ready to shake this off as just a new special interest of his, walking out to the kitchen to get yourself a much-needed snack, before he corners you against the fridge, forcing you to set down your lunch meats as he shoves his book of proof in your face.

“Look, it says here that people with the curse bear this mark, right? The five-pointed star.” He points out, and your eyes are observing the drawing with annoyance, before he hands his palm up, showing that he bears the same pattern on his right palm.

“That’s… probably just an infection, maybe there was some poison ivy in the woods last night-”

“Oh yeah?” He grunts, setting down the book before yanking your right arm up as well. “Then what’s this?”

And you’re about to yank your hand back, ready to tell him to put this silly infatuation to bed and beg him to cope with this normally when you see it.

Your right palm. 5 points. In the same pattern as his.

“I also touch poison ivy. What’s your point?”

He groans, moving on to his next point - silver. Even you know this one, that the shiny metal burns any werewolf that touches it.

And to finally soothe his worry, you guide him to the framed photo of your family resting in the entryway of your home, telling him that you bought the silver ornament for a hefty price, picking it up and holding it in your hands to prove that his theory is wrong. You swear you see him visibly deflating, shoulders slumping as he hesitantly nods before heading upstairs without a word.

When you hear his door click shut, you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding in, taking one last glance at the permanent image of your happy family before heading upstairs yourself.

As you let the steam of the hot shower envelop you, you ponder your choices. Because while that frame was expensive, and truly was a gift to your parents for their wedding anniversary, it wasn't silver at all. You know, because there was a stupid tag on the back reading ‘STERLING STEEL’ that you had removed with a grumble after you bought it.

You swore you wouldn’t lie to your brother, but this time you felt like you had no choice. You couldn’t hear him like a sister while protecting him like a mother.

Your dreams that night aren’t violent or frightening, and instead are exhilarating. You’re running through a forest, twigs and branches scratching at your skin as you jet through the trees, and the sounds of birds and other woodland animals envelop you. You don’t think you’ve ever felt so free as you do as you let yourself focus only on your next step, on where you’re going, on what you’re searching for.

You feel an abnormal burst of confidence when you wake in the morning, taking extra care to ready yourself for the workday. Offhandedly, you notice you look subtly different; your eyes more alert, your skin brighter, even your hair seems longer. Your brother comes in in the middle of you fluffing up your hair, messing with his own as he makes a sly comment under his breath.

“What, is your girlfriend making an appearance today?”

“At least I have one.”

He gapes, poking you in the neck. “You're cruel, y'know that?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. You're the one always complaining about that cute girl in your class who won't acknowledge you. Maybe you can use your newfound ‘allure’ to win her over, huh?”

“So you admit it then? That we're… different?”

“I'm admitting that you have as much confidence as you think you have. So get the girl and stop whining.”

“Whatever. Hey, do you think my hair is getting longer? My roots are growing out already.”

“Hmm, a little. Think mine's a little longer too.”

He stares at you in the mirror for a few seconds, eyebrows raised with a silent suggestion.

“Raoid hair growth isn't just the result of being a werewolf, y'know that, right?”

“Yeah, but-”

“Hurry up before you're late!”

An hour later, you're strutting into work, noticing the number of people yet again staring at your form as you walk by and into the office. You can't deny how odd this is, because while you had decided on a dresser too and even shorter skirt than yesterday, you didnt think it was anything to write home about. Maybe your perfume was just more noticeable, radiating with the rapid heat influx you notice in your body. Though it did feel nice to have people commenting that you looked ‘pretty’ instead of ‘proper’.

Kyle sides up to you as soon as you're in his sight, informing you about the fact that Vi had apparently been calling for you all morning, resulting in your mood already souring before you could even truly get started. A strange voice in the back of your mind urges you to rush to your desk and listen to what she said, stomping it down with confusion at the sight of the random, strangely dressed women sitting in the show office's lobby. Kyle chuckles, informing you that the women are a group of fortune tellers, apparently guests for auditions for one of your hosted magic segments. You plan on ignoring it, making way to your office until one of them stops you, her hand grasping around your shoulder and looking at you with intense worry.

“You're in danger.” “Excuse me?” You squint, confused by her statement and by the fact that she looked so familiar, a sense of deja vu running through your brain. She quickly looks to the side, making sure the coast is clear, before pushing you back into your office and lowering her voice.

“It will come for you. Don't let this… get up fool you, I truly have the gift. Got it from mom. Tends to be genetic.” She removes her hat, shaking out her wild blonde hair before looking at you earnestly. It's only then that you recognize her as the same seer you had met all those years ago, the same who had foretold you about your connection to the moon, the same who had made the strange connection between storms and your mother. She was a little older, a little wiser, and it seemed a lot more haunted by the fortunes she had read since then. You feel bile rising in your throat when she grabs your wrist, looking at the strange marks on your palm.

“Would you - it's just poison ivy, Jesus -”

“You bear the mark of the beast.” She states, staring in sympathy when you yank your hand back like her touch had burned. “I don't mean to scare you, but you've been infected. You're cursed.”

Hearing the slight commotion, Kyle comes in quickly, ushering the fortune teller out as she raves on about how you have to ‘sever the line of the beast to break the curse’, to remember that ‘the creature that did this to you is human as well’.

You can't help but stare at the doorway after she's gone, thoroughly shaken by the memory of the first time you met her, about how her being here makes all of what's happening to you feel way too real.

Because as often as you put up a front of complete composure, dismissing the mystical forces of magic and nature as children's stories and nonsense, you had never forgotten the fortune that woman had told you as a child. You had turned it over in your head night after night after, and all these years later, you still thought about it before you fell asleep, always taking one last look at the full moon before you shut your eyes.

It had been there when your parents’ car had crashed, and it was there when you had watched a monster tear a woman apart only two days ago.

You think about it over and over during the course of the day, because while you had been trying your hardest to stay composed for your brother, to deny that anything strange or unnatural was happening to you, to keep your own sanity, you couldn't lie and say that what was happening to you wasn't strange. That there were too many coincidences for this to just be a string of normally abnormal events.

But even if you did admit it, what could you possibly do afterward? Once you say that the cause of everything that was taking place was supernatural, how could you move forward with your life? It wasn't like you'd ever seen a movie where a werewolf was particularly happy to be one; they normally suffered through a painful transformation, social ostracization, and an agonizing death at the end of the movie. Was that truly the life that you wanted for yourself? For your brother?

The thought can only force itself deeper into your brain by the end of the day, ringing like a tornado siren when you continue to inexplicably exhibit strange behaviors.

The only brief respite you receive is when you finally listen to the voicemails left on your phone, having been ignoring the calls left over the past day. It's all standard at first - the car repair shop reminding you of your bill from the accident, one of your old friends checking in after she had apparently seen you at the party the night before but hadn't gotten the chance to say hello, your brother from only the same day telling you of his win at… wrestling? Before you finally reach the end of the messages, borderline sitting on the edge of your seat as you listen to Vi's voice echo through the small space of your office, holding the device up to your ear as if you press hard enough, you'll travel through time and space to be next to her.

“Hey, it's me, uh, Vi. Well, you're getting this on your phone, which will tell you who I am, so I don't really need to, but, yknow. Just to let you know. Call me.”

“Hey. Just wanted to say good morning. I know you hate them, but i hope this one is a little better than the day before.”

“Hey, E called me earlier about what happened. He seems really shaken up about what you're going through. Please know you can talk to me about it. I'm always here for you.”

You shake your head to forcefully rid yourself of the tears building in the corner of your eyes, setting your phone down with a harsh slam on your desk. Damn this, and damn her for still being so damn sweet. Always telling you pretty words to make you bend for her, but still skirting around the subject. How were you supposed to trust her with your problems when she could barely do the same for you?

Everything only culminates when, a few hours later, one of the late show hosts pricks his finger before heading out on stage, and without a napkin in sight, you decide to get rid of the dripping blood yourself, sticking the digit in your mouth and sucking before letting him go with a smile, ignoring his bewildered expression.

And you can feel it again just like you felt it in the breakroom, just like you felt in your dream with Vi, that scratching pressure building in your stomach and clawing it's way up your throat as you wordlessly escape the stage building and make your way to one of the regular employees bathrooms, taking a minute to splash some water on your face and calm yourself down. You push the damp hair back from your face and look at yourself in the mirror, panting and wide-eyed from the building stress in your stomach. You can steadily feel the ache growing and pulsing until it's pounding at the back of your eyes, your teeth gritting in pain as an indescribable anger continues to form inside of you.

You're briefly startled out of your stupor when the bathroom door creeks open, the same woman from the break room the other day looking at your surely disheveled state in worry before you hurry into one of the stalls, mindlessly forgetting to lock it behind you.

She tries to tell you some comforting words, thinking that you're just freaking out about period cramps or the stress of work problems, but all it does is make the grating pain in your mind even worse, your hands coming up to the sides of your head to try and sate the pain in any way possible. You don't hear the poor woman stepping closer and closer to your stall, only able to focus on the way it feels like your skull is straining against your skin and like you'll pass out at any given moment. Her hand starts to slowly push open the door, your own hand jutting out to the edge of the metal to prevent her from getting any closer.

What would happen if you were seen like this? If someone witnessed how broken you truly were?

The thought scrapes at your brain as you feel the splintering pain radiating up from your fingers to your wrist, the longer you press against the door, pulling back at her soft gasp to see your fingers covered in a thin layer of your own blood.

This can't be happening, I have to keep it together, but god, I'm so angry, I’m sorry hungry.

It's only the rage and the hunger you can blame when you scream at the woman to get out of the bathroom, your voice unrecognizable to yourself, and looking at her in a way that sends a visible wave of fright over her body before she scurried out as quickly as she could, leaving you yet again to your lonesome.

As you step forward in a daze to return to the sink, you look at yourself in the mirror as you think: This was it, you couldn't deny what was happening to you anymore. The unnatural reactions to blood, the odd ways people had started to react simply to your presence, the bubbling rage that lingered in your stomach for all hours of the day.

You were turning into a monster, and if the movies you had seen on the silver screens were right, you didn’t have much longer until your transformation would be complete and your life would be changed for good.

By the time you could get out of work, the sky was dark, the moon high in the sky and taunting you as you speed walked through the abandoned halls of the office, stopping only to see the eerie light from a left on TV detailing the news of a grisly murder the night before. You plan to ignore it, already feeling beaten by the horrible events already happening in your life before you hear the name.

Jenna Murphy.

Your head perks up, eyes trained on the television as you see the picture of the woman you had seen just the night before grace the screen. She's smiling, just as beautiful as you remembered her being, as the tagline below her details that she had been ripped apart.

No, no, not again.

But it's true. Only seconds later, another picture is shown, the girl smiling on the TV as the news caster links the two deaths together, speculating over the cause.

Jackie Roberts.

Jackie and Jenna. Jenna, who had approached your girlfriend just the night before. The same Jenna who had mentioned that your girlfriend had ghosted a girl named Jackie. The same Jackie who had been dragged from your car wreck like game.

Horrified, you hurry to the parking lot to start your car to try and rush as fast as you can to your house. Before you could press your foot to the gas, however, you're letting out a scream caused by a bang! on your car window, feeling a rush of adrenaline coursing through your body as you prepare to defend yourself against-

Vi?

“Vi, what the hell are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to you, please. I don't think it can wait any longer.”

Jesus, was she actually serious? You notice how disheveled she looks just through the window, hair mussed and clothes askew, looking like she borderline ran to get here. You feel like a bug under a microscope as she looks at you, eyes tracking your movement.

“Vi, this is the worst timing ever. I have to get home to E to -”

“To protect him. I know. But I need to protect you.”

Her voice is rushed, a panicked edge to it that you don’t think you've ever heard her use before, only putting you more on edge. When you look at her through the glass, she's panting, her hand resting on the window and-

Her hand.

The five dots.

You can feel every hair on your body stand on end at once, your mouth drying out as you can't help but stare at the sight of her palm in front of you.

Her eyebrows scrunch in confusion before she follows your gaze, blue eyes piercing as she catches your horrified gaze.

“I can explain. Please, please let me explain. I'm not going to hurt you.”

Damn right she's not. You don't give her the chance to explain herself, foot stepping on the gas with a quickness as you pull out of the parking lot, tuning out her pleas with your focus on getting to your brother before it's too late.

You dial your brother’s cell, muttering curses under your breath as you speed around cars driving too slow on the lit-up roads of the city. As the streets blend into each other, and as you avoid the strangers honking at your erratic driving, you can’t help but play a mental rerun of every moment shared between you, every little oddity that you passed off as just a quirk about being without another damaged person who was truly opening up for the first time.

Her constant worry about her temper getting out of control, citing the fact that she used to get ‘outbursts’ when she was younger.

The way she always seemed to be able to spot a threat before it even became one, sporting innate reflex that she always brushed off as a learned carefulness.

Even the way she simply touched you, delicate like she was afraid your would break if she pressed and prodded too hard. You could still remember the way she felt you late into the night, irritated that she treated you like a piece of glass before she kissed you and dismissed it with a whisper.

“Just don't wanna push you too hard, baby.”

Tears forming in your eyes, you jerk the steering wheel to avoid a collision as you try and shake the thoughts running through your mind.

Was all of it just a lie? Was she warming me up to be her next victim? Her next meal?

You still can't figure out the reason for the odd distance over the past few weeks, your brain is trying to rush and out the pieces together before you try and decide how to act next. And you feel so annoyed at yourself, because when you even try to say to yourself that it was all just a ploy, a trap to make you want her more so she could reel you in for the kill, a sharp pang burns in your chest until you're gritting your teeth in pain.

Even still, your phone finally picks up, your voice breaking off into a hopeful little gasp as you finally form a line of connection with your brother.

“E! Oh, thank God, why haven't you been answering!?”

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Something attacked us at the house, and Ezreal gave me a ride to TINSEL-”

“Wait, you're at TINSEL?” You interjected, completely ignoring the fact that your brother had apparently become buddy-buddy with the guy who was bothering him at school. Weirder things had happened.

“Yeah, we were gonna ask you and Vi for help-”

“No!” You shot, hand gripping the steering wheel. “E, Vi's the wolf, she's…she's the killer, you stay away from her, okay?”

“Wait, what? Are you sure?”

“Yes! She had the mark on her hand. She knew those girls, the one in the wreck. If you see her, stay away from her, alright? Promise me.”

“Alright, alright, I promise.” He says, voice muted over the sound of the lively party music in the background.

After making sure he had heeded your warning and reluctantly hanging up, you finally park in the packed parking lot next to the club's building, pushing your way past the crowds as you try to observe every face you pass to find your brother. Finding no luck at the entrance, the bar, or the dance floor, you reluctantly enter the Maze of Mirrors, faintly hearing his voice echoing through the reflected attraction.

You call out his name, hands grasping at the walls as you try to find your way through the mirrored walls. You can hear him calling out back to you, and you can't help but let out a relieved smile at the sound.

But he's not the only one looking for you.

Your heart starts to pump wildly when you realize you can hear her voice, husky and taut as she calls out your name to get your attention.

“Y/N. Please, baby, don’t be afraid.”

“Stay away from me, Vi.” You growl, your head whipping around in every direction as you try to use your senses to find her location. She's close enough that you swear you can feel her on your skin, the hairs on your arms yet again standing on edge.

“But it wasn’t me, I swear-”

“Bullshit! I saw your hands.” You shout, quickly growing agitated. You were sick of her honeyed nicknames, her unexplained excuses, the memory of how she looked at you with such care while lying to you so deeply.

“There’s another one like me. I don’t know who or where it is, but that’s who killed those girls. I think… I think it’s trying to get to me. ” Her words echo and reverberate around you, bouncing around in your head and making you all the more panicked. You bump into something behind you and startle, only to see that it's just a wall.

You couldn't stand feeling like this, feeling so helpless, like everything was just happening to you with no interference. Already, you can feel that buried anger rising again in your chest, ready to defend yourself and your brother no matter the cost.

Even if the thought of hurting Vi is already tearing you apart.

“I… I don’t know what to believe, Vi. I don’t think I can trust you.”

Even from this presumed distance, you can feel the deep sigh she lets out, and it stimulates a strange, deep need to listen to her, to see her for what she truly is once and for all.

“I was born with this curse. So were my parents, so was my sister. I’ve learned how to control it. I’ve learned to live with something terrible. Just like you. We’re not that different, and when I realized that, it’s part of why I hid away from you.”

“Why didn’t you just…”

“What, tell you? Didn’t think you’d take ‘Hey, I’ve been ignoring you because I’m a werewolf who has an insatiable craving for meat and sometimes I can turn into a dog,’ very well.”

You scoff, the noise tapering off into a laugh at the end. This whole scenario was pure insanity.

“I don’t know what to do, Vi. I feel so angry, and sad, and…and scared.”

“I know, I know, baby. But I’m here for you and E. We can do this together.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because, Y/N,” Her voice is even closer than before, and it feels like you can tell where her warmth is, can feel her heartbeat in sync with yours, because when you turn around, she’s already there, not a warped reflection but flesh and blood. “I love you.”

Your face flushes with heat the closer she gets to you, leaning your head into her palm when she cups your cheek with her large and scarred hand. Every doubt leaves your mind when she touches you, every nervous voice silenced when she looks at you the way she’s doing now.

“I love you, Y/N. I care about you so much it terrifies me, but I don't want to stop. I don’t think I can.” She laughs, eyes becoming glossy as she looks at you like you put the moon in the sky.

You don’t think you could ever explain why her proclamation of love wrecks you so completely. Maybe someday you’d realize how many times you had dreamt of her saying it, whispering it to you while in bed, while you were both sweaty and panting, or in the middle of a romantic dinner where any stranger could hear her dedicate herself to you. Each time you did, you quickly squashed the thought, reminding yourself of your conviction to not fall for her too deeply, to never let yourself become too vulnerable for a heartbreak you knew you wouldn’t be able to bear.

And yet none of it helped. Yet again, you find yourself replaying every little moment between the two of you, now with the context of what she has been hiding from you from the start, now knowing, somehow truly knowing, that she had loved you all along.

As much as you wanted to fight the urge, to reject the feelings that you had known were in your heart for so long, you knew you could no longer hide them. After days of your brain turning itself inside out with your emotions, after trying to put the pieces of your life and relationship together, after a powerful change that you were just now coming to terms with. After just spending the last half hour believing that she could be a murderer, all you can feel is an impossible pull of your body to hers. It feels like fate. It feels like…

“I love you, too, Vi.”

And then it feels like a weight is lifted off your chest. Vi smiles, bigger and brighter than you’ve ever seen, and so whole that you can actively feel it fix a snapped part of you deep inside. She leans down to kiss you, still smiling into the kiss, which only makes you giggle in return. Her lips are soft and insistent once she focuses on actually kissing you, her hands resting on the back of your head and wrapping around your back to pull you closer, easily swallowing the gasp that slips out of you.

You pull away when you can feel that desire to make this more heated rise in your stomach, biting your lip when you notice the sheen of your spit still covering her bottom lip. Her eyes are dark as they watch you, almost like she could tell what you were thinking before you even had to say it.

“C’mon, we’ll find your brother, go home, and I’ll explain everything, yeah?” She asks, holding out her hand for you to take.

And without even thinking about it, you do, feeling the electricity when you brush your fingers against hers, when a loud shatter right to your left stops you, the mirror on the wall smashing with the force of something breaking through it. It pushes you back with the strength of it, only able to see it push Vi so harshly that she falls through another mirror, the broken glass and fog blocking your view of her.

“Vi!” You call out to her, your worry growing for every millisecond that she doesn’t respond. But when you glance back, you see it, the towering creature that makes your blood run cold at the sight of it. It’s worse than you could have imagined, hulking and beastly in a way that makes it seem like it came straight out of a book of horrors.

Its claws are sharp, its teeth prominent, and its cruel, yellowed gaze is locked on you.

Your instincts were right, Vi wasn’t the killer werewolf. But now it was here, growling at you like you were its next meal.

You let your intuition guide you again, ducking back into the inner walls of the attraction as the beast claws and slashes at the thick material shielding you. You bite your lip to silence yourself when one of its claws pierces through, inches thick and only centimeters away from your face. Looking for a quick diversion, you throw a piece of debris at a collection of pipes, the animal falling for the bait and puncturing the steel until a steady flow of scalding air hits it in the face.

Dodging and weaving your way out of the cramped space, you finally find an exit and rush out back to the entrance of the maze, alerting passerby of he danger that lurks inside. Of course, no one believes you, a concerned security guard approaching to ask you what’s wrong, before the wolf bursts out of the walls yet again and throws him into the air, slashing at any person who gets too close.

You become lost in the sea of people screaming and rushing toward the exit, finding Kyle standing at the exit and asking him about your brother.

He tells you that he’s still inside, and without hesitating, you roll back under the shutting metal gate, barely prepared to face the beast that awaits you inside.

Silently, you walk forward, eyes and ears alert for any semblance of a threat. Your eyes search the shadows, trying to catch even a glimpse of fur-

When a hand covers your mouth and yanks you behind an attraction, your hands ready to claw and fight your way out of the hold, only to see your brother, his lips pressed together and his eyes just as wide as yours surely are.

“It’s fine, it’s just me.”

You pull his hand away, checking him over for injuries before he shakes his head, assuring you that he’s fine.

“Did you see it?”

He nods, visibly tense. You feel your heart start to crack at the sight, not having seen him this shaken up since the wreck a few days ago, and your parents’ accident.

You slowly start to lead him along through the exhibit, passing by the Hollywood section, complete with famous memorabilia and mannequins of the stars.

“We’re gonna get out of here, okay? There’s a staff entrance in the back. I’ll make sure you’re safe and then I’ll come back for Vi-”

“Wait, what? Didn’t you say this was her?”

“No, I was wrong, it’s someone else. I think it wants to hurt Vi, so I have to-”

“Wait a minute,” He stops in his tracks, staring ahead at the mannequins of the stage, a classy blonde to the right and a glam brunette to the left. “Weren’t there three?”

“Three? Three what?”

“Yeah, there was a redhead here-”

His sentence is cut off when a bare leg shoots out from behind the curtain and kicks him hard in the chest, his body flying back and landing into yours. The force of it causes your head to smack on the ground, your sight going blurry as you try to compose yourself, looking up to see-

“Madi?”

“Showtime. Isn't that what they say?”

She’s smirking as she effortlessly jumps off the platform, docked in a velvet purple nightgown, likely stolen from the mannequin your brother was talking about, that only adds to the unsettling vibe she’s currently giving you.

“Just for the record, I didn’t ask for this, okay?” She states, pacing back and forth as she begins to explain the origins of her condition to you. “It was supposed to be just a hot night with the girl that everyone else wanted. Guess I should’ve been more careful. Then again, there isn’t exactly such a thing as safe sex with a werewolf, huh?”

She holds up her hand for you to see, greeted yet again with the five-pointed star.

“That Vi, she sure is a catch, huh?”

You shake your head, agitation rapidly growing inside of you. You always thought her attitude towards you was just a character flaw, not that she was a bloodthirsty ex-girlfriend of your girlfriend.

“But, alas. She didn’t want me. And if I can't have her…well, you know how it goes.”

Your brother, trying his best to do something, grabs onto her ankle and tries to pull her down to the floor, only for her to kick him hard enough for him to wheeze.

Without thinking, you retaliate, rising and grabbing onto her shoulders to try and pull her down, just for you to now be on the brunt end of her strength. And Jesus, is she strong.

She keeps shit talking while you and your brother take weary turns trying to fend her off, remarking how she never even saw you as a serious romantic threat, wondering why women always go for the damaged ones. Eventually, you and your brother manage to create some distance, grabbing the can of pepper spray from the hip of the deceased security guard, taking care to empty every last drop right into her eyes.

You both stay hidden when she searches for you, pushing down your rage when Vi, limping and weary, halts her in her steps, telling Madi that she won't let her hurt the two of you, right before Madison harshly throws her into the security gate, your lover's head going limp with unconsciousness. Afterward, you get a view of the truly freakish transformation of her turning from human into werewolf - hearing her bones crack, seeing how her limbs elongate into paws and her nails shift into those same claws that nearly ended you earlier.

She stalks around, eventually using her heightened sense to find your hiding spot, and the two of you use everything in your power to fight her off when you finally hear the police arrive and try to force their way into the building. Right before the authorities break through the security gate, she has you pinned, her snarling maw right above your face as your hand scrambles for something, anything to get her off of you.

And you find it - the silver wolf’s head from the antique cane, the metal burning the skin of your head before you shove it straight down her throat, the creature screaming in agony before escaping up into the rafters of the club.

The cops come in with their guns at the ready, a dozen of them flooding the room and looking for the animal.

“God, what the hell is it anyway?” One of them murmurs to his partner.

“It’s a werewolf, that’s what.”

Three of the cops turn, brows drawn at your brother's statement. You look at him with wide eyes, trying to give him a hint before you think it over. Yeah, you could work with this.

“Yeah, yes. She might have turned back into her human form. Her name is Madison.”

The cops are… surprisingly receptive to the fact. “Well, what did she look like?”

“What, about 5’3?” Your brother mutters, looking to you for help.

“She…she’s got dry skin, and this grating accent, and a fucked up haircut-”

“LIAR!”

Madison, still in werewolf form, bursts through the wooden rafters of the upper floor of the club, clawing and growling at you from above before the cops around you open fire, the sounds of dozens of shots making your ears ring as you hold your brother close to you.

Once the sounds die out, you look to the ground, witnessing the corpse of the monster, of the woman, who had made your past two days a living hell. It’s odd to see a grotesque sight that brings you nothing but contentment as you watch the plethora of bullet holes leak the dark blood onto the club floor.

Is it over?” Your brother whispers, his nails digging into your arm as he grasps onto you.

“Yeah, yeah, it's over.”

A pang in your side jolts you back to attention, your mind remembering the fact that your girlfriend is feet away and likely still in pain, checking in with your brother before he runs back into the maze, your own body carrying you over to the security gate where a puzzled paramedic is fussing over Vi.

“I promise you I’m fine, it’s just a scratch-”

“Your shirt is covered in blood, you were just passed out a second ago…”

“I have a thick skull, alright?”

When she sees you rushing over, she pushes him away, groaning when she stands up before you throw yourself into her body, a whine escaping her when you press into her side, and yet she’s only hugging you closer to her in return.

“Vi!” You shout, pulling back a bit and trying to get a good look at her wound. “Oh my god, what did she-”

“Guess I don't have the best relationship with most of my exes, huh?”

“Not the time, Vi.”

She grimaces, observing the deep scratches visible through the torn material of her shirt. “Thought I'd try and lighten the mood. Don't worry, I'll be fine. She was just strong. Crazy strong.”

“I think it's warranted, you drive me crazy all the time.”

Her bloodied hand meets your wrist when you reach for the wound, your eyes tracked on the dark liquid, before her other hand guides your chin up, meeting your eyes with her own.

“I know. But I swear from now on I'll tell you everything. No secrets.”

“No secrets.”

With all the grace of a woman carrying her bleeding lover out of a club, you join E and his new friend in your cars and head back to your home, ready to help Vi rest while you talk about what all of this means for your family.

Able to sense the incoming intimate conversation, E leaves you at the door to your home, a nice-looking girl with dyed purple hair waiting on your doorstep before greeting your brother with a tight hug. You and Vi share a look, sending him off with a smile as the three of them walk off into the moonlit streets of the city.

After some pampering and fussing over Vi, including getting her a glass of water, feeling her temperature, and even fetching her a mostly meat sandwich to get back her energy, you stop once she waves off your worrying with a laugh and raises her shirt only to see that her wound has nearly already healed by this point, you sit down with her on your couch.

“You’re good at the ‘nesting’ thing already, that’s for sure.”

“’ M not nesting, I was just worried. I could have lost you, Vi.” You sigh, already reminded of the pit of dread that formed in your stomach when you saw Vi lying on the floor after she was kicked, her body eerily still.

“I know, but you won't, okay? I’m right here.” Her hand gently takes your wrist, guiding your palm to rest over her chest, right over her heart. It’s still pumping, almost in tune with yours.

“You’ve been like this forever? The whole time?”

“Yeah, since I was born. It was mostly a problem when I was younger; after my parents died, I just wanted to fight and hurt everyone, and to protect my sister no matter what. After that, my mom’s friend took us in, but he…”

Her voice trails off, and you’re close to telling her that it’s fine, that she’s told you enough for you to figure out, and to not tire herself out after such an exhausting night.

But she takes a deep breath, closes her eyes for a few seconds, and keeps going.

“He turned too, we think my sister scratched him when she turned one night. He handled it well for a while, but one night everything went bad and… I didn’t see him again. Or my sister.”

You nod, scooting closer and throwing an arm around her shoulders to try and provide some comfort.

“For years, I just kept it a secret - used my abilities for my job, picked on animals in the desert, didn’t let anyone in too close. I slept around a lot, just to try and feel close to someone, even for just a few minutes. But I always felt so guilty afterward. I knew I couldn’t let them see what I was.”

“And me?”

She sighs, tilting her head to rest it in the crook of your neck, grabbing one of your legs, and throwing it over her lap to try and get even closer than you already are.

“From the moment I saw you, it just felt different. I couldn’t explain it, and I still can’t, but it’s like I knew you were supposed to be in my life, like you were meant to be mine.”

“Is that why you left those corny and creepy notes before you started talking to me?”

“They weren't creepy!” She chuckles, pinching the fat of your thigh over your jeans. “If it is, then you’re equally creepy, you kept them in your purse.”

Maybe later you’d tell her that they were still in your purse, stuck in a tiny Ziploc bag, so they wouldn’t be ruined by time. Maybe.

“Think I knew I was supposed to be yours, too.”

She looks up at you, her eyes pretty and big as she smiles up at you.

“Really?”

“Really.”

And then you kiss her, sighing in relief and desperation into her mouth before she attaches both of her rough hands to your hips and yanks you on top of her, wrapping her arms around your waist. It just feels right as you pull and tug at each other, love and desperation and lust evident in every motion of your hips, in every nick of her teeth at your lips.

Her tongue swirls in your mouth with a fervor, pulling away from your lips, laughing darkly at your whine before she moves her motions downwards - nipping at your chin, kissing at your cheeks, before licking a long stripe down your neck with her wet mouth.

Your hips involuntarily start to move against hers, grinding and rocking as you try to get any bit of stimulation you can from her. Your head tips back in bliss when she starts to kiss and suck at your chest, biting marks that you don't even care about covering up later when you arch your back into her mouth.

Your hands are twitching when they rush down to the hem of her shirt, muttering out a string of curses when you struggle to lift it off and over her head, ignoring how she chuckles at your eagerness.

Your eyes are once again caught by the injury on her side, the claw marks nearly fully healed at this point, the once evidence of her previous state the faint streaks of blood still staining her skin. She notices where your gaze lies, a darkness forming in her pale blue eyes.

“You want some?”

Your breath hitches, taken aback by her ability to read you, by how casually she says the sentence. “What?”

“It's alright. Guess you still haven't had a good meal yet.” She explained removing one of the hands still stuck to your hips to the sticky patch on her torso. “I don’t mind indulging you a bit.”

“Vi, you don't have to -” You don’t get the chance to deny her suggestion, her stained fingers quickly rising up to stick them into your mouth. As soon as you register the taste on her blood on your tongue, your eyes become hooded, and you start to suck, not willing to let a single drop go to waste.

Vi watches you the entire time, finding herself clenching around nothing and her briefs growing damp as she looks at you, becoming increasingly more feral as you suck her blood off of her fingers. She groans when she feels you nip at the tips of her digits, bucking her hips into yours when she feels you start to grind down on her once again.

“You want this, baby?” She questioned, voice hoarse with desire and need.

You nod, her fingers falling out of your mouth and traveling to your chest, squeezing at the fat of your breast.

“Want it, Vi. I want it hard.”

“Yeah? You think you can take it?”

The question is framed as teasingbbut you can sense the hesitancy lying underneath. For all of your previous sexual encounters, Vi had been soft, taking the utmost care to show you the gentleness she knew you deserved. She never got rough with you, even going as far as to avoid kissing you too hard. Now you knew the reason why; she was afraid of actually hurting you with her strength.

But now you were just as strong as she was, and you could take whatever she gave to you.

To prove it, you kiss her again, forceful enough that your teeth briefly knock together as you swallow her gasp. You bring your hands up to her shoulders, rubbing over her muscles before digging your nails in deep, tearing down until pricks of blood pool on the skin.

And Vi growls, something entirely inhuman that rattles you when you hear it, taking your act of pain as a confirmation of what's about to happen, standing up in a flash and tossing you over her shoulder, your euphoric laughter echoing throughout the empty house as she rushes up the stairs like she can’t get her hands on you fast enough.

In only a minute, she's slamming you onto your bed and ripping off your clothes, ignoring your small whines about how you actually liked that top before she's touching you all over, calloused hands pinching and grabbing at any piece of your skin she can see. She bites at your stomach, pinches at your nipples, all the while neglecting the part of you that needs her the most.

“Stop teasing me, I need you.” You beg, batting your lashes when she comes back up to face you, her large body hovering over yours, only making you dizzy with want.

“M not teasing, just enjoying,” She replies, kissing your lips while her hand maneuvers its way down to your center, the pads of her fingers rubbing over your clit until you start to moan into her mouth.

You wrap your arms around her back and pull her even closer to you, groaning and whining into her ear as she starts to use your wetness to thrust in and out of your cunt, the stretch of her thick fingers hitting a deep spot inside of you that sends a jolt of heat straight up your back.

Your legs widen until they ache, too overcome with the need to reach deeper, for her to go harder.

“More, Vi, fuck - need more.” You whine, mouthing at her neck and biting at the skin.

“Yeah? You feelin’ needy, baby?”

Her voice is smug, eager to see just how far she can push you, to finally see just how much you can take. She decides to test it when you nod, stuffing another finger into your pussy until your eyes nearly cross at the painful pleasure.

“Yes, Vi, yes, yes, yes-”

You become so consumed with her and the pleasure she's giving you that it feels almost scary, a blissful haze taking over your body until all you can focus on is the woman above you and her fingers inside of you. You only register the hushed words she whispers into your ear, doing nothing to stave off your impending orgasm.

“God, I dreamed about this, y'know? Used to hump my damn pillows and wish they were you.”

“Fuck, look at how you're taking it, baby. Can't wait until I've fully stretched you out.”

“Just wait until I split you open on my strap, gonna have you fucking screaming.”

Each word leaves you with a mental image of the scenarios, your body flushed as you imagine her doing everything she says she wants to do to you.

She sinks her teeth into your neck and you come with a shout, legs twitching and lungs grasping for air as she continues to pound her fingers in and out of your pussy as you steadily soak the sheets below.

Your orgasm is long, much longer than you're used to, but instead of scaring you, it just feels right. Like this is how it feels when you finally connect with the person who you were made for.

With her lips pressing soft kisses to your lips and neck, you come down from your high, panting and almost laughing in bliss as you come back to reality. Vi plops down on the bed next to you, resting on her side so that she can keep admiring you, idly playing with a loose lock of your hair.

“When is it going to happen?” You ask, voice soft and quiet as you attempt to not ruin the peaceful air of the moment.

Vi scoots in ever closer, almost on top of you again. “I don't know for sure. Maybe tonight. Maybe next month. Gets harder to control during the full moon.”

And looking out the view of your windows you see it - a full white rock in the middle of the sky.

“Will it hurt?”

“Yeah, it will.”

“Will I come back?”

“Eventually.”

“Will you stay with me?”

You try to hide the shake in your voice but fail, lip wobbling as you think about what this means about what's going to happen now that this is what you are. You're shaken out of your fright when Vi cups your cheek and angles it to her, looking into your eyes. She's just as scared as you are, but also so full of love.

“Always.”

And for you, that was enough.

After a year of confusing reports on news stations, conspiracy theories on popular city forums, and quite a few downright absurd explanations you had heard passing people in the grocery store, the city of Los Angeles was finally settling back into its peaceful chaos, and the biggest indicator was the city fair coming back in full force.

The scents of overpriced candy, greasy foods, and some rather unfortunate smells made by attendees who had just gotten off of exhilarating rides flooded your nose, fully immersing you in the energy of the carnival. You yourself had some greasy food in your hand, chowing down on a hot dog covered in toppings while your other hand was occupied with holding on to Vi and making sure she and your brother didn't run off out of your sight.

The past year had been challenging, to say the least. Your first transformation had occurred deep in the middle of Angeles National Forest, a favorite spot of Vi's during her own transformations when she didn't have the patience to drive further into the desert. She had stayed by your side as your bones cracked and your body changed in ways you couldn't fathom. But when it was done, you felt a euphoria you couldn't have expected, running through the dense trees of the forest without a care or doubt in your mind.

It came with a list of things you now had to adapt to - your heightened senses made everything unbearable for the days after your first shift, able to hear people from rooms away, to smell everything in a space before you even walked inside, and you had to adapt to the different tastes of every food you had grown accustomed to. Your hair was constantly growing, and with many YouTube videos’ worth of help, you quickly learned how to cut your and your brother's hair. Then, of course, there was your strength, something you constantly had to keep a check on lest you break things in public. You definitely had to replace a few annoying household appliances.

But over the months, you had learned to see the beauty in your new condition. A deep bond had grown between you and Vi, yes, but the same could be said about you and your brother. Now that you no longer had to worry about his safety, you were able to settle back into the normal sibling relationship you had missed so deeply. It also warmed your heart to see him and Vi growing closer over time, your girlfriend a trusted voice in his corner whenever he needed another person to give him advice.

That advice wasn't working now, however, as both of you tried and failed to convince him not to use his advanced strength to obliterate the High Striker, carrying a heap of prizes in his arms already.

“He is so going to get us caught.” You laugh, noticing the number of people passing him by and staring at the sheer amount of plushies and snacks he’s carrying.

“Eh, let him have his fun. He deserves it.”

Vi starts to swing your hands, smiling a dopey grin when you let her have her public display of affection. You’ve grown increasingly accustomed to them over the past year, and even found yourself eager many times to show the world the proof of how much you loved this woman. You could only blame your new instincts at the end of the day, no matter how much she tried to tease that the transformation only brought out the true cuddle bug that was hidden deep inside.

“Fine, then you’re gonna be the one to deal with his big head when he challenges you at one of the games.”

“What, you don’t think I can beat him?”

“I think when it comes to him, you turn into a softie.”

She scoffs, tugging you by the arm until you’re tucked comfortably under her arm. “Just so you know, I’m a softie for you, too. I don’t play favorites that much.”

“Mm, I’d beg to differ.”

You continue to tease each other as you walk through the crowded pathways of the fair, in the middle of laughing at one of her corny jokes, when you see something in the corner of your eye that catches your gaze.

The blonde fortune teller - the one who had read your fortune as a teen, the one who had told you about your curse only a year ago - is now staring at you from her booth near the pier, her eyes wide as she watches you.

You watch her back, waiting for her next move, prepared for her to scream bloody murder or alert someone of the danger of three werewolves in the middle of a crowded event.

But all she does is let her gaze drift. She sees the happy look on your face, the comfort of your body as you lean into your girlfriends, the way your younger brother calls from in front of you to hurry and ride with him on one of the crazy roller coasters. And she smiles. Confused, truly bewildered, but a smile nonetheless.

“Hey,” Vi grabs your attention, noticing the weary look in your eye as you have a staring match with the woman who had foretold your fate. “Is everything alright?”

And you glance back at her, the pure concern built from love in her eyes as she looks at you, before taking a brief glimpse at the moon above you. Just like the year before, it's full, big, and visible in the cloudless sky. Instead of the uncertainty it used to invoke in you, you can only feel happiness when you look at it now.

“Yeah, everything's perfect.”

After Note: I definitely did not write about 14k of this in the span of the last week and a half, despite it being planned since January!!!! It's not perfect, of course, but who cares! I love werewolves, I love Vi, and I love lesbians! Also, yes, the jealous, murderous ex is supposed to be Maddie. At first, I was thinking of making it Cait, but no matter how much I have beef with S2 Caitlyn, it just felt so...petty? So I went with the munchkin. No real hate I just needed someone lol.

TAGS: @machetegirl109

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