#supernatural romance | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thedramaticwriter1 · 5 months

Text

Bubbles

(Dean x Reader)

Summary: Dean walks in on you taking a bath.

Character count: 2.9K+

Warnings: a tad of self deprecating dean.

A/N: a little bit of angst, a little bit of fluff, a little bit of bad writing, what more could you ask for?

—————————————————————————————————

The warm water feels heavenly as you slowly lower you and your aching muscles into the tub. This last week might have been one of the most difficult hunts you’ve ever had in your life, with taking down what you initially thought was a singular vampire, and ended up being an entire nest. Luckily, this hunt Sam and Dean had both accompanied you, even though you had fought with them to stay home. “I can handle a vampire on my own” you had told them over and over again the days before you left. Dean had argued that he’s not saying you couldn’t, but he had had a bad feeling about this one and insisted both brothers tag along. Knowing there was nothing you could do to change his mind, you caved and let them join. Thank Chuck you did, or you definitely would’ve turned into a vamp yourself, or at the very least, the meal for one.

The vampires of the nest you were unaware of had kidnapped you while you were out on a supply run, the brothers waiting for you back at the motel you were staying at. Two days you were missing, until, finally, Sam and Dean were able to tract you down, half dead in an abandoned building that was the nest for over a dozen vampires. The boys were able to finish the rest of the vampires and drag your blood-drained body out of the nest, scared to death that you were gone. You were unconscious for 36 hours after that and finally woke up in the bunker, not knowing what had happened.

Dean had been the one to explain everything, and you knew true terror had plagued him those hours you were out, noting the lack of sleep under his eyes and the stubble he had neglected to shave off. You tried your best to reassure him that you were okay, that you always were okay in the end. But even you were still reeling by the events that had happened. You were always the one that saved people, never had you been the one that needed to be saved.

Today was the first day that you were able to actually get out of bed with no help. Arms and legs still shaking with weakness and disuse, you walked with the assistance of walls and furniture to the bathroom. Once you stood in the mirrors reflection, you began to take stock of yourself.

Your skin was pale, bags were prevalent under your eyes, and you had definitely dropped some weight during your recovery, noting that Deans’ t-shirt that you used as pajamas hung around your frame more loosely than it had before. Shaking you head, you looked away from the mirror and your gazed landed on the bath tub. You knew you were to unsteady for a shower, but you needed to clean yourself up, and a bath would probably require just enough energy you would be able to muster up right now. Slowly, you made your way over to the bathtub and sat on the edge, already lightheaded from all the movement. You plugged the drain before turning on the warm water and adding deans soap to the water, not caring about your retinue of bath related items under the sink. “This isn’t a relaxing bath” you told yourself, “this is a glad to be alive bath. You don’t need epson salt and a bath bomb”.

Moving slowly, you removed your t-shirt and underwear, all the while staying sat at the edge of the tub. “The last thing you need is to fall and smack your head. You don’t have enough blood right now to lose it through a head wound” your inner dialogue rambled.

The tub filled up fast and you turned off the faucet and shakily sunk into the water, waiting until you were completely submerged to finally relax. The warm water sunk into your worn out muscles and began to draw out some of the exhaustion that had plagued you these last couple of days.

You don’t know how long you sat there, not even bothering to scrub your skin or wash your hair, when you heard the door to your bedroom open and close. Dean must had noticed the light on in the bathroom because a few seconds later there was a small knock on the door and it opened slowly. He peeked his head in and once he saw you in the bathtub, he slipped into the room fully.

He walked over to the rim of the tub and lowered himself on the rug that laid on the floor, sitting adjacent to you, stretching one leg out and bending the other one at the knee, where he rested his arm. The other hand he stretched out, moving a piece of hair off of your brow.

“Sweetheart, you should have told me you wanted to take a bath. I would have helped you” he said as his brows furrowed but continued stroking your forehead.

“I didn’t want to bother you, and as you can see, I made it here all by myself” you replied, lifting your hands out of the bubble-filled water in a ta-da gesture.

He huffed his air out.“Yeah, and how many times did you almost faint trying to get in here?” He questioned, while starring at you with those green eyes of his. The same ones you could never lie to no matter how hard you tried.

“Well I think the more important thing to note is that, regardless, I made it and I did it all by myself” you replied, completely dogging his question, casting your eyes down to the bubbles that swirled around.

“Y/N…… how many times?” He lowered his hand to your chin and forced you to look back at him.

“Only like twice, which honestly is like none at all, so no big deal”. You smirked up at him with fake amusement. You knew he would be highly concerned if you told him how it actually felt to get up and walk in here, like death itself. But you didn’t want to add on to the burden you knew he already felt. He had already told you once when you woke up that he knew he was to blame for the kidnapping. That he should have gone with you on that supply run and if he had, none of this would have happened. You had reassured him multiple times that you didn’t blame him, or Sam, and that it was absolutely not his fault. But it didn’t matter. The guilt was there. You could feel it radiating off of him in waves, and at this point, there was very little that could be said or done to change his mind.

He shook his head and he redrew his hand from you, using it to start drawing shapes in the now dissipating bubbles that floated around. He stayed quiet for some time, but you knew he was building up to say something, and you were gonna give him the time he needed to collect his thoughts.

“I’m sorry”. Was all he said, with no explanation after. You waited for him to continue, but he didn’t.

“Dean, we’ve been over this. Nothing that happened was your fault. I’m not going to accept an apology from you when you have no reason to give one to me.” You tried to move up off the back of the porcelain tub so you could reassure him, but you forgot for a second how weak you were, and you couldn’t move as fast as you normally could. Your vision went hazy and your limbs failed you, your arms plopping pathetically back into the water.

“Look, you can barely move, that’s all my fault!” He gestured with his hands, shaking his head in frustration. Not at you, but at himself. That never ending self deprecation of his showing its ugly face. You and him have been together for two years, and though he has gotten better at not beating himself up for everything he thinks he fails at, he hasn’t gotten rid of the habit completely. And every now and then, the negative thoughts towards himself about not being good enough and deserving punishment for actions out of his control always pops up. This is definitely one of those times.

Again, you try to slide up the tub, this time more slowly and deliberately, giving your arms time to catch up. Once you’ve pulled yourself higher out of the water, you’re able to turn and face him some what directly.

“Look at me”. You say as you reach to grab his arm, but he moves out of my reach, your hand falling onto the edge of the tub.

“No Y/N, I know what you're gonna say” he says as he moves away from you and stands up. “You’re going to say that it wasn’t my fault, that we couldn’t have known what was going to happen. That not every situation needs someone to blame, cause sometimes the universe just happens, but you know what? Thats a load of bullshit and you know it. I knew what could happen the second you walked out that door and yet I still let you go alone. I knew better, my gut knew better, and still I did nothing about it. That is the very definition of a ‘its completely your fault’ fuck up”.

“Dean……” you start to say as you try to reason with him.

“No, no. Stop trying to make me feel better, because honestly, I don’t fucking deserve it. It took me two days to find you. TWO. DAYS. I’ve told you our whole relationship that no matter what I would protect you and when it came down to it, I failed. Miserably. I’m not worthy of you. I don’t deserve you, and had you not survived Y/N, I definitely would have found a way to make me pay for it”.

You sit there in complete disbelief, mouth hanging wide open. You knew to some extent what he was feeling about this whole situation, but you didn’t fully comprehend how guilty he thought he was. You’re shocked to say the least, but more so than that, you’re pissed.

Seconds go by as he stands there, breathing in and out trying to calm himself down and that’s all it takes for your resolve to harden.

“Come sit down” you say, as you level your voice and point back to the rug he had previously occupied. “Now”.

He knows the tone in your voice and he knows that arguing is only going to piss you off further. Accepting the tiny defeat, he sits back down on the rug, close enough that your hands are able to find the sides of his face.

“I don’t ever, EVER, want to hear you talking about yourself like this, especially implying that you would somehow find a way to hurt yourself. I don’t care what has happened, I don’t care who was at fault. I love you, and that means that there is nothing you could do that would require forgiveness from me because I’ve already forgiven you for anything and everything you could ever do. But for this…” I shake my hands a little so he fully understand what I’m saying, “This does not need forgiveness, because this was not your fault. If anything, I should be saying sorry to you. For not being the hunter I needed to be. For not being the hunter that should have noticed something was off before they took me. I put us in this situation.”

He pushes to protest, but you move a hand to cover his mouth.

“No Dean, I don’t want to hear it. I have the right to take the blame for this as much as you do. You know why? Because you were the one who got me out, Dean. You could have been hurt or killed, and yet you and Sam still risked everything to save me.”

His eyes begin to water as he places a hand on top of yours that still rests on his cheek. “Of course I had to rescue you, Sweetheart. I love you. Don’t know what I would without you.”

You breathe a sigh of relief, “Then please stop beating yourself up over this. It’s unbearable to see you feel so guilty for something you had no control over.”

He nods his head as he closes his eyes, those built up tears finally spilling down his cheeks as he rests his forehead against yours. You know this isn’t the end of this. He’s not done hating himself. He’ll carry this around for awhile, and he’ll try to do it quietly and by himself.

He’s crazy if he thinks you’ll let him go through that alone.

Both of you stay like this for a few minutes, soaking each other up. But the water has grown tepid and the bubbles had disappeared during your talk and you start to shiver in the cold air of the bathroom. He notices right away.

“You cold? You wanna get out?” He questions as he wipes his eyes with the sleeve of the flannel he’s wearing.

“Yes, please” is your response as he quickly stands up to grab a towel that’s located under the sink. “I’m gonna need some help” you sheepishly say while ducking your head. Admitting you needed help had never been your strong suit, even when you’re not recovering from a vampire attack.

“It’s okay baby, that what I’m here for” he whispers as he grips both of his arms under your shoulders and lifts you out of the tub in one soothe movement. You arms wrap around his shoulders on instinct.“Do you think you're able to stand here for a second?” He questions you as he takes the full weight of your body.

“Yeah, just give me minute” you say, as you close your eyes and will away the dizziness that threatens to take over. He stands there with you, your head on his chest, your hair soaking into his shirt as he waits for you to stand on your own. Slowly, your legs straighten out and are able to bear the brunt of your weight. He feels the shift in you and moves one hand out from under you and places it on your back. “You good, baby?” He asks as he starts rubbing soothing circles there.

“Yeah, I’m good” you respond as he slowly moves you away from him to stand up straight. He reaches to grab the towel he placed on the counter while also keeping one hand on your arm, steading you and ready to catch you if necessary. He uses it quickly to dry you off. Wrapping the towel around you when he’s done, he unplugs the drain and places one arm under your knees and the other on your back and around your shoulder. One smooth movement, and he’s carrying you out of the bathroom back to your bedroom.

Normally opposed to looking so weak, you let him help you as much as possible, knowing that being in control is how he copes with these situations. And with the energy spent to just get in the bathtub, you doubt you could walk back to your bed, even with his help.

With steady steps he takes you back into your room and to your bed. He places you gently on top and tells you not to go anywhere. “Don’t think I could even if I wanted to” was your snarky reply as you sat there in your towel. He huffs as he walks over to your dresser and rummages around until he pulls out one of his t-shirts.

“I don’t remember letting you borrow this one” he says as he lifts up his favorite Led Zeppelin shirt.

You silently curse yourself, totally forgetting that you had snuck that out of his room the week before you left for this hunt. “No, you definitely gave me that one, don’t you remember?” You say and you can’t even get it out with a straight face, letting a giggle slip past your lips.

“Mmmmmhhhmmm” he says with a slight smirk as he walks back over to stand in front of you. “Normally, I would get mad cause I really love this shirt, but I think you’ve won yourself a free pass this week, don’t you sweetheart?” You smile at him sadly as he sighs and unwraps the towel off of you and places the shirt over you head. Arm by arm he situates the shirt until its resting comfortably on your form.

“You hungry?” He asks as he rubs your shoulders in an attempt to warm you up faster.

“Not really. But I could absolutely take a killer nap right now” you smile at him as he gives your shoulders a loving squeeze.

“Then let’s get you to bed” he says and he starts to lay you back on the bed and under the covers.

“Will you stay with me?” You look up into his green eyes. He leans down and places a kiss in the middle of your forehead.

“Sweetheart, there is no where else I would rather be.”

#dean winchester #dean x reader #dean x you #supernatural x reader #supernatural dean #dean x y/n #supernatural romance #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fandom #supernatural prompts #supernatural edit #spnfandom #supernatural imagine #oneshot

156 notes · View notes

eeveseeve · 6 months

Text

me: i don't have a type

Sarcastic dark haired man that is funny and sassy and overconfident but is deep down a sweetheart and needs love *exists*

me: FUCK

#romance club #romance game #supernatural romance #rc #rc hunger #kali call of darkness #kali flame of samsara #heaven's secret 2 #w: time catcher #rc onyx #rc ram #rc livius #romance club livius

167 notes · View notes

ystrike1 · 7 months

Text

The Blood Moon - By Ruru (8.5/10)

There's a bloodthirsty cult in the north! All of the wives that get sent up end up dissappearing. Our protagonist is their ideal prey. She's the gorgeous but unwanted daughter of a merchant. She gets sold for a price, never to return. Luckily for her one of the monsters hasn't been initiated yet, and he's willing to betray his family for her.

Linnea is kinda weak. She's the weakest part of this story. Just being honest.

She starts out tough and willing to do what is needed to survive, but then she cries, and then she continues to cry. She cries alot.

Linnea must wed the northern Count Mattei. He's on the old side, but he's a perfect gentleman. She thinks she'll be ok. She's never had a real family. The merchant who took her in was just a distant relative who always planned to marry her off for cash. She's a practical lady. Her husband is an aristocrat. She thinks she's lucky.

Count Mattei introduces Aleksis as his son. There's a pregnant moment at the altar. Aleksis and Linnea both feel attraction right away. Aleksis more than her. He is conflicted about the marriage, and he's too afraid to name his feelings.

Aleksis is kind of a coward for a while, which makes him interesting.

Things get bad for Linnea....slowly.

She wants to hang on. She wants to be a Countess, but he's crazy religious. Count Mattei doesn't want a wife. He seems to want a nun. He won't sleep with her, visit her or touch her. He spends all day in a mysterious temple, conducting sermons on religion that Linnea doesn't really understand.

He even whips her, when her soul isn't deemed pure enough.

Strange stories run through the manor. The Mattei family gets special privileges, because the first head of their family helped establish the country. The legends say the first Mattei was a monster. A man shaped thing that ate blood and killed with his bare hands. He made a deal with the first king. The monster offered the king the throne, in exchange for sanity. The ability to live without constantly lusting for gore. The king agreed, and the king created rituals and objects to seal the monster. The monster retained only a fraction of his power, but he was capable of living without killing. His children are the Mattei family. Basically, all of the Mattei's can become real vampires. They have to use The Blood Seed Ritual to remain reasonably sane and human. Becoming a True Vampire is Not A Good Idea. It's torture. Being a vampire for real is too much power, and you're basically nuts forever.

Linnea is one of many wives. She is a sacrifice. Only "pure" women can be used as Blood Seed Sacrifices. It only takes one. The Mattei family is pretty big. They must sacrifice one woman for every vampire of age, or that child will become a real vampire and commit endless killings.

It's a necessary sacrifice, oh...and most of the Mattei family still enjoys torture and blood. They just don't have the insane thirst. Don't feel bad for them. They're assholes.

Linnea isn't actually a "wife" at all. Aleksis doesn't know that, so he tries to defend her when the maids treat her like trash.

Aleksis doesn't know much, but he was also in denial. He never questioned what happened to the wives until he fell in love with one.

Linnea is his Blood Seed.

He doesn't accept it.

He drinks her blood and he saves her instead.

Aleksis transforms and he kills one of his relatives. The story is not yet complete. A promo was released that reveals alot of spoilers. It is what confirms the yandere element of the story. Aleksis starts out more mousy. Struggling with the idea of stealing his fathers bride.

In the promotional spoilers he is much crueler, and he's constantly desperate for her blood. I'm going to assume she has the role of Blood Seed, but she's alive so he must drink from her or face life as a complete monster. The promo chapters also indicate their relationship is incredibly twisted.

After Aleksis transforms Linnea is his excuse. Every bad thing he does is for her. He loves her. He wants her. He wishes nobody else would look at her. He can no longer rely on his family. He's stronger than them. They're idiots willing to harm Linnea, to keep the status quo.

To be clear the cursed members of the Mattei family are powerful. They are still a threat to him, and especially Linnea, but he has a strength boost due to transforming into a true vampire.

He's a mess. He feels guilty because the Mattei line has killed many women to create Blood Seeds. He is clinging to his love for Linnea. He needs it to feel like a good person.

The promo is incredibly interesting. It implies that Aleksis killed Count Mattei, and he is covering up the murder with Linnea as an accomplice. Linnea is attending balls as the Countess, but Aleksis (her stepson) is the one escorting her. The other nobles are not stupid. They behave like a married couple. There's alot of tension. It's great. Most ballroom scenes are boring, but our protagonists really feel morally grey.

The situation is hard.

The Mattei family has produced alot of the countries strongest Knights. The vampire thing makes them dangerous, but it's likely that the government sees them as a necessary evil. Prominent figures immediately notice the discord in the Mattei family, and the fact that Aleksis has white hair. His hair was originally black.

....the original Mattei founder had white hair...

Uh oh.

Linnea dances with a mysterious blond man who hasn't been introduced properly yet. He's someone who knows most of the vampire secrets. He wants to free Linnea fron the cursed north and all of its vampire drama.

There's also some lines that imply Count Mattei might not actually be dead. He could just be incapacitated in his own home. Aleksis and Linnea could be keeping him alive. We don't know, but Count Mattei is most definitely an enemy. He's a hyper religious maniac who enjoys the Blood Seed tradition.

Linnea cries in the middle of the ballroom, because she wants to be free. The blond man offers her freedom, and she wants it, despite her feelings for Aleksis. Linnea cries wayyyy too much, but I respect her desire to survive. It's clear that she doesn't want to live near the Mattei family.

Aleksis promised to protect her.

What if that means he has to let her go?

She is a commoner woman, after all. Not a noble with a stake in the future of the country. She suffers horribly in the Mattei house, despite Aleksis. He is never strong enough to protect her, no matter what he sacrifices.

Their relationship appears twisted beyond repair, despite their feelings.

It's great, but Linnea has to quit it with the water works. I'd rate this a 9 otherwise, but her character needs to be expanded upon. Aleksis gets lots of development and vampire powers. Linnea feels a little too boring in comparison.

#The Blood Moon #yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #recommendations #recs #rec #recommended #monster boy #monsters #supernatural #supernatural romance

154 notes · View notes

sidhewrites · 3 months

Text

Hey Tumblr! Do you like lesbians? Do you like ghosts? Do you like ghost lesbians who love cats? Then you'll like my project, I MET A GIRL IN THE GRAVEYARD, which is going to be available to read for FREE on AO3!

I Met a Girl in the Graveyard

Kaz Pine has spent three years as a groundskeeper in a historical graveyard, and she's never once seen a ghost. Still hurting from her recent breakup, she impulsively decides to sabotage an investigation led by famous ghost hunters, where she meets the enigmatic Lucy, who's just as excited to get in on the trouble. Their fun is cut short when Kaz's cat Renfield escapes, upending the hunters' ouija board and ruining their night -- as well as her standing at work. Over the next few weeks, she does her best to keep her head down while spending her nights with Lucy. But as time passes, Renfield's behavior changes for the worse, and she can't keep excusing Lucy's odd behavior forever. Try as she might to pass off everything with rational explanations and leaps in logic, Kaz won't be able to cling to her skepticism for much longer -- both for her own sake, and for the people she loves.

Genre: Comedy, Supernatural, WLW Romance, Sight Horror.

Themes and Tropes: Friends to lovers, personal growth, dumb lesbians, gay and bisexual main characters. An old cat as a major supporting character. Ghost hunters. Jock MC. Halloween/Autumn vibes.

Read for free here >>

71 notes · View notes

all-about-books-baby · 4 months

Text

Self care

#books #book #book blog #bookaddict #reading #bibliophile #bookblr #read #reading addict #ilona andrews #burn for me #romance novels #supernatural romance

50 notes · View notes

borchkinati · 6 months

Text

happy halloween 🦇🩸

i wanted to try and make one of those cheesy supernatural romance covers from the 80s, but with lauki🤭

78 notes · View notes

maypearlss · 8 months

Text

𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐧 & 𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥! (𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐩 𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐜)

this wip isn't developed enough for me to write a full intro, so here's a mini intro to the very basics and the main characters, sutton quinn and rockwell detroit! i love them lots <3

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 ⋆｡°✩

⋆ supernatural romance

⋆ takes place on the sunset strip in 1983

⋆ i'm undecided on the length, but it's probably gonna be on the shorter side, maybe a novella or novelette

⋆ centers around an obsessive, codependent vampire romance and the effects of loneliness on immortal minds

⋆ inspired by the creatures of the night album by kiss (and to be honest, kiss's music in general) and a little bit by the lost boys (1987)

⋆ has one of my favorite wip playlists to date like i'm not kidding it fucks so hard

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 : 𝐬𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐧 ⋆｡°✩

⋆ she/her, bisexual ⋆ the feral one ⋆ vampire groupie who gets blood from the musicians she hunts sleeps with ⋆ rose from an unmarked grave and has no memory of her life ⋆ extreme hedonist ⋆ mini playlist: "secretly cruel" by kiss | "looks that kill" by mötley crüe | "sex action" by l.a. guns

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 : 𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐢𝐭 ⋆｡°✩

⋆ he/him, bisexual ⋆ the sad one ⋆ vampire rockstar, lead singer of a rock band called bad dogs ⋆ was turned into a vampire when he was still alive ⋆ wants to have a famous and successful band, but is forced to stay on the relative down-low so his identity as a vampire isn't discovered ⋆ mini playlist: "keep me comin'" by kiss | "love bites" by def leppard | "five years dead" by mötley crüe

81 notes · View notes

paradoxicaldickery · 18 days

Text

Happy eclipse day! Hey wow would you look at that, it's also the day my Victorian vampire romance comic launches! 👀

Cecelia Edwards is a lady out for revenge against a mysterious monstrous attacker, and who better to ask for help than other monsters?

Concerning Matters of Blood

The entire first chapter is already up for reading, and updates will be every Monday (and sometimes other days!) Please check it out!

(As the front page notes, this comic is very Adult, so please read with caution if your interests don't swing that way)

#webcomics #vampires #victorian romance #supernatural romance #webcomic romance

18 notes · View notes

the-reverse-mermaid · 1 year

Text

Please read The Push and Pull by @eggmuffinwaffles ! !!! !1 1

#seriously such a good supernatural Romeo and Juliet AU probably the best out there my dudes #vat7k #varigo #varian and the seven kingdoms #tts varian #vat7k hugo #varian #vat7k varigo #hugo the human #hugo vat7k #tangled the series #my Art #donella vat7k #tw:blood #tw: blood #vampire #werewolf #supernatural romance

187 notes · View notes

rainobrienn · 1 year

Text

headache - Sam Winchester (prt 1)

Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

Synopsis; the Winchester boys never new of Bobby Singers daughter, and definitely didn’t know about her abilities

Warnings; blood and gore, thats really it, tell me if I missed anything <3

words; 4K

Your heart was racing as you stepped around the corner, hoping to not find another dead body.

As you tightly gripped onto the pistol in your hand, and stepped down the dark hallway. Hearing noises just around the corner, "fuck," you groaned as you heard two male voices, 'please don't be the cops' you thought to yourself as you saw flashlights.

You hid behind a post so the two guys wouldn't see you as they walked past, unless they were to turn down that hallway. Which you were really hoping they didn't.

"Seriously Dean," one of the guys groaned, "What?" Another voice scoffed, "stop touching me, seriously," he said with a huff, "I'm not," the other boy said with a confused tone. For a second you heard silence and then a gunshot, and a thud.

You peaked around the corner to see two very handsome looking faces on the ground, and one very angry spirit about to attack them, and both of their guns being across the floor.

You quickly walked out from where you were standing and shot at the spirit, it instantly disappearing. You looked down at the boys who were just getting up, brushing off the dust they had collected.

"Thanks," the taller one said, while the other one grunted in a thank you, both of there faces a little shocked. "yeah," you said nodding with a huffed tone. "I'm assuming you guys are hunters?" You said as you picked up one of the guns and handed it too the blonde guy.

"Yeah," The taller one said with a smile, "I'm Sam," the brunette one then said, "Dean," the shorter one added, giving you a "seductive" smirk, that you were not interested in in the slightest bit.

"Y/n," you smiled at them, "What's a pretty girl like you doing hunting by herself," Dean asked stepping closer, "uhm, I prefer working alone," you said, furrowed eyebrows, a small disgusted look on your face.

"Sorry," Sam said pushing Dean back, Dean grunting at his brother, "Uh, do you know anything about this Gerard guy yet?" Sam asked intrigued, "A little, why?" You said, "Well, we just got here and all we really know is the name, mind informing us?" He asked nicely, you immediately started to like the taller one better as he wasn't a dick.

"Well, I know he was an ex army man, his wife died back in 1986 and a year later the guy's son died of cancer, so then Gerard blew his own head off," you said, "I don't think Gerard is the one we have to worry about though, it's Mary, the wife, she was the murdered one, at first I thought they were just protecting their home, but it looks like Mary is some how, keeping Gerard from crossing over because she doesn't want to," you then said, a but more than a little information, you knew they were going to ask how you picked that up, and so you tried to figure out a story to tell them instead of saying you can talk to the ghosts straight up.

"How do you know this?" Dean stepped forwards asking, "I just do," you then said, you didn't have to explain yourself to them, "you just do? How are we supposed to believe that?" Dean asked, "You don't have to, I'm just telling you what he told me," you accidentally said. Furrowing your eyebrows in a disappointed look as you said that.

"Who?" Sam asked, "nothing, anyways, good luck boys," you said smiling at the two of them. Not wanting to be there much longer, trusting in them to get the case done by themselves, they seemed to be trained enough, and if they didn't by tomorrow you would handle it another time.

You didn't stay in a motel that night, you decided to drive back to South Dakota wanting to see your dad since you were so close to the area.

As you parked in the drive way, looking at your old home. Smiling at the few happy memories you had there, you stepped up knocking on the door, excited to see your dad Bobby for the first time in a few months.

You heard the door unlock, and then a smile on the old man's face when he saw you. "Y/n/n," he smiled, "hey dad," you smiled back giving him a big hug, feeling his embrace again was something you needed.

"What are you doing here?" He asked as he brought a cup of your favourite tea to you, "I was in the area, and I wanted to see my old man," you smiled, "I'm not that old," he groaned sitting down in his chair.

"You called the other day and you were in Utah?" He asked in a question tone, "Yeah, well this Gerard guy was calling to me in Nebraska, "human?" You dad questioned and you shook your head, "no, I feel bad for the guy, some hunter guys got in my way when I was doing the job, and you know me when I'm interrupted," you sighed, "I'm just hoping they help him," you sighed.

That night you had a really good sleep in your old bedroom, that your dad had never changed. Your old teenage band posters on the walls, your favourite little trinkets from a few of your first hunts around. It was nostalgic and calming, you loved the feeling of being home.

You walked downstairs that morning, your pjs hung low with a tight top on. You hair a little messy from sleeping, and craving a coffee.

"Y/n," you heard you dad called, "hmm," you hummed out loud from the kitchen, "come here," he said, you stopped making the coffee you wanted so badly and walked into the main living area.

Seeing your dad with a happy look on his face, and "Sam? Dean?" You questioned seeing the two tall boys from the other night standing there, a little beat up.

"You know them?" You dad questioned, "no, I mean they were hunters from the other night," you said shaking your head, "you know them?" I asked.

"There John's kids sweetie," he said, "Winchester?" I questioned, shocked at how much they had grown up. "Your kidding," you then laugh; a faint memory of when you were five, seeing the Sam boy and older Dean kid in a small hotel room with there father.

"Your Bobby's daughter?" Dean asked, "No I'm his mother," you said sarcastically, "you ran off last night?" Sam questioned, "I figured you guys could do it on your own," you said. "Y/n doesn't like being interrupted," Bobby said crossing his arms at you.

You watched as both the brothers were checking you out, enjoying the look from the taller one and not from the shorter one. You shook your head ignoring it, "Did you finish it?" You then asked, "Yeah, we ended up finding Mary's bones and she's gone," Dean said, and as he said that, the talking started.

But it was louder than usual, and more in a panic. You squinted your eyes, in pain from how loud it was getting. A young male voice, screeching for help, loud clanking in the back ground, you felt your knees hit the ground, and your nose start to bleed.

"Shit," Bobby said, he wasn't exactly use to these. You learned to control the pain over the years but they were normally quiet whispers and not this loud.

You felt yourself wake up, and you weren't home. In fact you were back in that sketchy old house in Nebraska, you felt scared. You hadn't heard a POV vision in years, or at-least you hoped it was a POV vision. You heard echoey crying coming from down the hall, and dark laughter from the same side.

"PLEASE STOP, PLEASE NO!" Screamed a young male voice, you slowly walked down the hallway. Seeing a room with the door slightly open and light leaking out, where the screaming was coming from.

You stepped in front of the door as it slowly opened, seeing the Gerard kids son chained against the wall, all bloody and hurt. "HELP ME!" the boy screamed when he saw you, you watched a guy turn around and it was Gerard, he was torturing his own son?

You then heard Gerard scream and come towards you, and that's when you came flying up. A breath of air escaping in a panic, you felt sweaty and gross.

"Hey hey hey," you heard your dads voice from beside you, handing you a glass of water. "you okay?" He asked, your breath started to slow down a bit, as you took the water and felt it run down your throat.

"How long was I out?" You asked, "only two hours this time," he said. The last time you had an episode like this you were out for two whole days, "I need to go back," you then said ripping the blanket off you, "back where?" Bobby then asked holding your shoulder so you wouldn't stand up, you looked to the door seeing the two brothers walk in concerned.

"Nebraska," you said, looking at the two boys. "It's not just Mary," you said, "Gerard, he, he was torturing his son, he's keeping his son there, Mary wasn't the problem she was warning us, she was protecting us," you said, "what?" Dean asked stepping forward, "did you not just hear what I said?" I asked annoyed at him already.

"No I'm hearing you, I just wanna know how you know that," he said, you looked to your father and then back to the boys.

"I can speak to spirits, from states away, they call to me," you said, "it's something my mother had, and now I have, but, I haven't passed out like that, or heard anything that bad in years," you said, still feeling the headache.

"Which means this is a very powerful spirit, when the son was calling to me, I think Gerard was blocking it by this clanking and screeching noise, it was horrible," I say, "You ok?" Your dad asked again, "yeah, i need to help him," you then said standing up, "Woah woah, your not dealing with something like that alone, you've already been hurt by the damn thing," you dad stated, "I'll be okay dad," you said.

"Sam and Dean are going with you," he said, "We are?" Dean asked, "We are," Sam said straight after in a 'I'm not asking you' tone.

"No your not, I don't work with other people," you said, "Y/n/n, these boys can handle themselves," he said, "I don't want their blood on my hands dad, I'm not going through that again," you said, looking back on your best friend, who died in action trying to save you.

"Y/n we can handle this," Sam said from behind you, "Dad," you said in a pleading tone, "Their going with you, or their gonna go alone," he said, you felt fear fill you, not wanting another hunters death to be on your hands.

"You annoy the crap out of me sometimes dad," you said before getting up to get changed, feeling the two boys eyes on you as you walked out of the small room.

As you drove, you couldn't stop thinking, about the boy, what was his name? Why was Gerard doing that to his own son.

Your thoughts were then interrupted by your radio freaking out, there it was. The clanking, and the calling for help, you kept hearing it get louder and louder, Dean and Sam driving behind you watched as you pulled your car over, stepping out and falling to the ground.

You felt your head splitting, "what do you want?" You asked, "help me!" You heard again, before it went completely silent.

"Y/n?" Dean called running up to you, Sam by his side as they helped you up. "I'm fine," you said pushing off the blonde boy, you looked at the boys who were looking at you like you were a ghost or something.

"Y/n," Sam said, "what?" You asked, watching as they pointed behind you, as you turned around you saw him, the boy. He was bloody and beaten, he disappeared and then re appeared in front of you, "Darren," he then said before disappearing.

"Darren?" Dean questioned, "You saw that?" You asked them, "Yeah," Sam sighed, "I don't think you should drive anymore," Dean said, "Don't be ridiculous," you said, "He's right

y/n," Sam then said, you looked at the both of them, concern in their eyes.

"What ever, who's driving my car?" I asked, Dean gave Sam a look before Sam sat in the front seat of your car. "Don't have to much fun," Dean said with a smile, i scoffed at him sitting next to Sam, rubbing the sides of my temples to try and get rid of this headache.

"You need anything?" Sam asked, you could tell he was the more thoughtful one, you could see Dean cared just, didn't show it, Sam showed it. "I'm good," you said breathing in, taking a sip of your water.

"I can't believe your Bobby's daughter, he never told us he had a daughter," he said, "he doesn't like me being near other hunters, but I guess the winchester family was different," you said shaking your head, "He kept you hidden well," Sam said, "I kept myself hidden well, I wasn't too fond of hunting when I was little and I hated other hunters, I use to tell my dad to not tell anyone about me, and he never did, besides John of course," you said.

"I'm sorry about him by the way, I know he wasn't father of the year but, I'm still sorry," you said, "so Bobby does tell you everything," he laughed, "well when I'm on my hunting trips he does," you smiled, you definitely felt a weird sort of connection with Sam, you felt safe around him, at ease, like you could let your guard down around him and he'd be there.

"You know it really does make sense now," you said to Sam, "Mary didn't mean to kill those people, she was trying to protect them, she was trying to protect her son from Gerard," you stated, "God how can a father do that to his own son," you groaned.

"It's horrible," Sam said, "I know,".

When you arrive back at the place, you immediately felt that the energy was different. It was darker, sadder, more disturbing.

"Is it just me or has this place gotten creepier," Dean says looking up at the building, "Well, Mary isn't here to protect it anymore, so Gerard turned it," Sam said, you sighed as the three of you walked in.

You did some research on the way here after Sam took over, Gerard was cremated, which means something of his is around here somewhere, and the reason Darren was still here is because Gerard attached himself to the poor kid, he won't be able to cross over until Gerard does.

"Right you two stay here I'll go upstairs," Dean says, "It'll be easier if we all split," you suggest, "Yeah and what's gonna happen if you have another vision thing?" Dean asks, you roll your eyes at him, you weren't mad about going with Sam but, you hated being treated like a child.

"So, if you don't mind me asking, what happened with you, other partner?" Sam asked as you both walked through the building, "What?" You asked, "You don't have to talk about it," he says, "no, it's ok, I just," you sighed, "My best friend, or my boyfriend, whatever you wanna call it, we were on this case together, and he saved my life but, when he saved my life he ended his own," you said trying to swallow back the tears from the horrible memory.

You sam walked around for a few minutes longer, he told you about his girlfriend Jess, and how he got her killed, even though it really didn't sound like his fault, you understood what he meant.

When you went to say something, you felt something grab your leg. "Sam," you said, looking to him, he was standing right next to you, he stopped and looked at you, you looked down to see a faint hand around your ankle, and then felt yourself being pulled, falling to the ground and dragged away, you screamed as you watched Sam chase after you, but you were pulled around a corner and smacked your head way to hard knocking yourself out.

You didn't know how long it had been, but you slowly started to open your eyes, head thumping as usual, and body in pain. "Sam?" You called out immediately, "oh nobody's going to hear you beautiful," you heard a disgusting old male voice, you started to cry as you turned your head to see Gerard, old and gross.

"What do you want?" You asked, trying to compose yourself. "Company," he said, "Let me go," you said trying to wriggle out of the chains you were in.

He darkly chuckled at your comment, "your funny sweetheart," he said, walking over to you. God it smelt horrible, "Your mine now," he smiled at you, teeth rotted and gross, eyes white yet dark.

"Sam!" "Dean!" You called out at the top of your lungs, "nobody's gonna hear you," he said, "we are to far down," he said, "What are you doing?" You asked as he took a knife, dragging it over your face, "I want to see you bleed," he smiles, you felt sick to your stomach, as a sharp paint spread across your arm, watching as he cut a line down your right forearm.

What felt like hours later, you were week. Gerard had cut your arms and you were most likely bleeding out, your arms looked like they were turned inside out, as you started to loose hope one last idea popped into your mind.

Sams pov

"Where is she?" I asked worried, I was so scared. "For fuck sake!" I yelled kicking in a wall, Dean trying to comfort me but it wasn't going to work.

"We'll find her," Dean said as we walked down the halls, trying to find anything. As I turned a corner, a piercing headache came to me. "Sam," I heard from behind me, but I couldn't hear him after a few seconds.

It was like a scratching noise, like nails on a chalk board. Then it went silent, I looked up and I saw y/n. "y/n," I ran up to her, she looked horrible, she looked so tired, but there wasn't a single drop of blood on her.

"Sam, basement," she said, "Down, underneath," she spoke, "I'm underneath," she says then looking up, I look up to see a familiar symbol, "help me," she then says before I feel myself came back to it.

"Sam," I hear deans voice, "I know where she is," I said before jumping up, she was at Gerard's grave, he was buried in the local cemetery, and his headstone had that same symbol, that symbol was also on a building we drove past in town.

Readers POV

Sam and Dean immediately broke into the building, not caring to be caught by anyone unless they were cops.

“Y/n!” Dean called out, bad idea. Because he was thrown against the wall, Gerard appeared in front of them, immediately attacking them.

You slowly came back to consciousness, you looked down to your arms and they were completely normal, he must’ve done a mind trick because you almost immediately started to feel stronger.

You looked around in a panic not seeing him, you struggled but you managed to wriggle out of the chains he had put you in, you felt weak but strong enough to get the holy hell out of there, but before you could you looked around for Darren.

“Darren,” you called out in your mind, and you felt him call you, down the dark hall you walked in when you first saw him.

Except this time he wasn’t screaming, you ran down and saw the boy chained up, he wasn’t alive but he was still in pain, “Help me,” he whimpered, you knew getting him out the chains wouldn’t do anything, Gerard was attached to me.

“Darren, I need you to help me,” you said, he looked at you, tears in his eyes, he looked so tired, “Is there anything of Gerard’s, anything of his former body that he keeps?” You asked, he whined shaking his head, “Darren I need you to think, it’s the only way I can help you,” you said, trying to ignore the headache that was pulsing throughout your head.

“Down the hall, in a green box, he keeps his hand, he got it cut off so he could have a knife hand,” he said in parts, struggling to get the words out, “That’s fucked up,” you said, “I’m gonna get you out, I promise,” you say before running out of there, to the only room down the end of the hall.

You rushed in there, the stench was eye watering, you felt like you could pass out. You felt for the lighter in your pocket as you noticed the green box he was talking about, you took it, opening it, seeing a rotten hand, maggots eating at it,”.

You brought the lighter to the hand, “bye sucker,” you said as you watched the hand burn, and you felt your headache start to lift.

You put the hand in the bin letting it burn, as you turned around you saw Darren. “Thank you,” he said before disappearing. You smiled to yourself, feeling proud.

You still felt a little dizzy, but you began to find your way out of there. As you climbed up a ladder, you looked around to see a very trashed building, you looked to see Sam and Dean standing up, groaning.

“Y/n,” Sam said with a smile, “That’s the second time I saved your life,” you said with a smile, walking up to the two boys. You watched Sam walk up to you giving you a hug, you smiled as you hugged the tall guy back. Feeling that connection with him.

“I’m glad your ok,” he said nodding, he looked down on you like he wanted to kiss you, and you knew he was thinking it, “your welcome,” you said noticing there wasn’t a thank you yet, he went to go say thank you but you kissed him before he could, “your welcome,” you said in a less sarcastic tone, “Do I get one now?” Dean interrupts the kiss.

“Dick,” Sam says, you smile at him. Before walking out with the two boys, “Where are you heading now?” Sam asked you as you stood by your car, “South Dakota, probably stay with my dad for a week before heading off somewhere,” you said with a smile, “you give us a call if you ever need anything,” Sam says handing you his number, “Got it,” you smiled, handing him a note with yours, “you give me a call when you need me to save your ass again,” you smiled.

He laughed, before leaning down giving you another kiss. This time more passionate, a little more adoring and needy. “I’ll see you Sam,” you smiled, “see you,” he said as you got into your car; and drove off.

That whole car ride Sam was the only person on your mind, in-fact for the next month Sam was intoxicating your mind, like a virus that wouldn’t go away, you couldn’t tell if you just really liked him, or if something was up, but the second you left him, you had already planned that you were going to see him again, thought about what you were going to say, and fantasised what you would do with him.

#fanfic #fem!reader #fluff #y/n #cute fluff #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x y/n #bobby singer #dean winchester #supernatural #supernatural romance #sam winchester smut #x reader

186 notes · View notes

vladiator · 1 year

Text

Lone: a werewolf love story

I'd heard the rumours about Silverwind Manor, but I’d never believed them. Everyone said that it was beset on all sides by wolves, which was impossible. There were no wolves in Windsor.

Plot: A young woman gets a job as a servant in an old manor, but hears rumours that there is more to her new master than meets the eye. Setting: Victorian-era England Genre/Themes: Gothic romance, mystery, supernatural, dark romance Pairing: Female main character / male werewolf Length: 13240 words

You can also read this story on wattpad.

I'd heard the rumours about Silverwind Manor, but I’d never believed them. Everyone said that it was beset on all sides by wolves, which was impossible. There were no wolves in Windsor.

Lady Clara's hands shook as she handed me the keys. "The house, the stables, the workshop..." she listed. "There's only one horse to feed, but he's a rather large beast, and unruly. We’ll send a man twice a month to take care of any of the horse’s needs that you cannot."

I nodded, looking up at the manor that was to be my new home.

"You know, we've never had a servant last more than a fortnight here. If you wish to go back on our agreement, I'll understand. I'll tell Lord Grey that you fell ill."

"I'll be fine, ma'am," I insisted.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, ma'am."

The old woman looked at me as if she pitied me. "I'll show you to your room."

She opened the door to the manor, and I tried to hold in a gasp. I'd worked in many houses before, but none were this grand. It was the type of manor one would see in the countryside, with three floors and many large windows. The light that came in from the open door and the windows illuminated the dust that floated in the air. That was the most remarkable thing about it, how dead it seemed. It was as if no one had walked through these doors in a century. The house looked incredibly old, but I'd heard from everyone at the train station that it was actually built only about fifty years ago. There was a slightly unease in the pit of my stomach, but I brushed my nerves aside.

The front room was dark and featured a gorgeous grand piano. A large staircase led to the next floor, and not too far from that staircase was the one to the top floor. I could see what appeared to be a large mirror hanging on the wall in the parlour, but it was covered by a thick blanket.

I wondered to myself how on earth I was to keep this place by myself. I was the only servant, but, of course, I had only one lord to serve.

"You can go everywhere in the house or on the property but the top floor. That is where the Lord of the house resides. He will come down when he needs something," explained Lady Clara, as she shut the heavy door behind us. "You likely won't see very much of him."

Lady Clara led me to my room, which was on the ground floor, just beyond the staircase. She opened the wooden door, revealing a small room with a bed, a little desk, and a little dresser. The room was in disarray: the bedsheets were thrown across the floor, one of the drawers of the dresser had been pulled out, and there was a small pamphlet under the desk.

"Oh," said Lady Clara quietly. She began to put things back in order, handing me the pamphlet. "The last servant we had left us rather suddenly. She had a family emergency. But there are your instructions, in this book. You are to serve Lord Grey breakfast, lunch, and dinner every day. Place his meal in the dining room when it is time and then go back to cleaning the house. He prefers to eat alone."

I nodded to show I was listening, but my mind was on the little manual, which had only ten or so pages and was all in handwriting that I recognized as Lady Clara's.

"My son is a very solitary man, hence the need for only one servant," said Lady Clara, as she began to exit the room. "If you need anything, I live down the road at Marbleton House. If you need to go to town, I'll have my driver take you in my carriage."

With that, Lady Clara left me to my room. I sat on the bed and studied the book of instructions, which included a rather detailed schedule for each day of the week. I wondered, What kind of a man needs his elderly mother to hire servants for him? Lord Grey's late father had been well-respected, and had owned many businesses and factories that were now owned by Lord Grey and managed by Lady Clara.

No one had actually seen the younger Grey since the elder’s unexpected death. That was when the rumours started, of wolves and bizarre creatures taking over the woods that surrounded Silverwind. But I was not the kind of girl to believe such things.

My first night was uneventful. The next morning, I went out to the stables to feed the horse and let him out into the pasture. The old building had fallen into disrepair, and the door squeaked when I opened it.

The stables could have held a dozen horses, and probably once did, but now there was just one black stallion. The door to his stablebox had a name painted across it: Onyx. A beautiful stone, and a beautiful horse. But as soon as he saw me, Onyx reared up and whinnied.

"It's all right, I'm just bringing you hay," I said, my voice trembling slightly. This horse was a sight to behold: black as night and with a wavy mane.

I threw his food into his pen and watched him devour it almost instantly. When he seemed to be done, I pulled his rein off a shelf and unlocked his door. My intention was to lead him to the pasture, as my instructions stated, but Onyx had another idea. He burst through the open door and ran out, knocking me over in the process. I saw him gallop toward the pasture as I pulled myself out of the dirt.

I sighed, and set about the rest of my morning tasks.

The rest of my first day at Silverwind Manor flew by. I spent the majority of my day exploring the property and cleaning as I went. By the time I prepared dinner, I realised that what Lady Clara had said was true: I was unlikely to see the Lord whose house I lived and worked in. I set each meal out as stated in the manual, and less than an hour later I would find that it had been eaten. I never heard a footstep nor a breath, and the house stayed eerily quiet except for my own humming.

As I finished making dinner, I looked through the window facing the pasture, and saw Onyx taking himself back to the stables. I thought it rather odd, so I exited through the back door and headed that way. The autumn evening was chilly, and as I opened the stable door I heard the sound of a door slamming. I rushed inside, but just found Onyx in his box where he belonged.

I gave Onyx more hay, then left him where he was. I decided to walk around the front of the manor and check the postbox. When I made it to the front of the house, I saw two little boys standing at the end of the cobblestone road that led to Silverwind Manor.

“Hello, there,” I called to them, wondering if they were relatives of the Grey family. They were too far away for me to get a good look at their clothing.

The smaller boy looked at the bigger one, who shook his head.

I walked toward them, and saw that they were not dressed as if they were part of nobility. “Can I help you?”

The smaller boy ran up to me, and the bigger one chased after him. When the little boy reached me, he whispered, “Don’t you know that house is haunted?”

“Phillip,” the older boy scolded. "You'll get in trouble with Mother.”

“It’s all right,” I chuckled. "What makes you say it’s haunted?”

Little Phillip replied, “There’s monsters in there. I know it. I saw it in the window one time.”

“We have to get home,” said the older brother, tugging at Phillip’s shirt collar.

Phillip finally gave in, and the two headed off in the direction of Lady Clara’s Manor. I watched them for a moment, then headed to the postbox to check for mail. Haunted, I thought. How silly.

Two weeks came and went, and I had still not yet seen my boss. I was almost beginning to dislike him for it – I cooked all of his meals and kept his house in order, but I was clearly unworthy of his company, even if for a moment. I had worked for some rather rude people before, but at least I could see them. The little boy’s words echoed in my mind, about the house being haunted. Was I serving dinner to a ghost?

No, no, I thought, shaking the thought out of my head. You’re being preposterous. But I couldn't stop wondering. Why was Lord Grey so reclusive? Why would the Greys hire a maid to live in Silverwind Manor if nobody ever came here? What was on the top floor?

As I lay down to sleep on my fourteenth night there, I felt as if I was bursting at the seams with questions. Nothing made any sense. I could hear an odd scratching sound from above me, which made me slightly uneasy but I decided to assume it was just mice.

Something was going on in this house.

The next morning, I set Lord Grey’s breakfast down on the table only a few minutes before I expected him. Of course, I never witnessed him eat, or even come down the stairs, but I could tell that he was a very punctual man. Breakfast was at eight o’clock, and by a quarter past eight I would find the dining room empty and the food gone.

I scurried back to my room and waited. At five minutes past, I left, candlestick in hand. I climbed the stairs to the next floor, and stood for a moment at the base of the stairs that went up to the top floor. I inched my way up these stairs, as if the floor would give way at any moment, sending me tumbling to my death.

The top floor looked similar to the second. There was a long corridor with a few rooms off of it, and I hastily entered the first room I saw. It was a study, and it was like any other study except for the fact that the windows were boarded up and painted over. No light could get into the room other than from the door and the candles, which were all out. I did see a few vials scattered around on the floor, the type one would see in a laboratory.

I shut the door and moved to the next room, which I found to be a bathroom. It lacked a window, and also lacked a mirror. I could tell that there once was a mirror above the sink, but it had since been removed.

I checked the next door down the hall and found it to be empty. The windows were also boarded up. I wondered, Are they trying to keep something out, or something in?

Before I could adventure on to the next room, I heard a thump from downstairs. I immediately started running back to my room, the whole time imagining a furious Lord Grey chasing after me. Not that I knew what he looked like, of course. In my mind I pictured the painting of Lord Grey's father that hung in the sitting room.

When I reached the ground floor I realised the thump I had heard was the door knocker. I went to answer the door and found one of Lady Clara's coachmen standing there.

"Lady Clara Grey requests your presence for tea this evening," stated the coachman. "I will be here at half past three. Please be ready and presentable."

I nodded, and the man turned on his heels and left. I shut the door and, almost absent-mindedly, went into the dining room, where I found that Lord Grey's breakfast had been eaten. I had likely only narrowly missed him.

"Ah, Bridget, come in, have a seat," said Lady Clara, as she gestured for me to sit in the chair opposite her. I had not been in her parlour since she'd interviewed me for my job at Silverwind Manor, and it was honestly rather nice to be back. Her home had more colour, more life, than the one I was currently residing in.

I sat down, and Lady Clara continued, "You have somehow managed what all of our previous servants could not."

"What's that, my lady?"

"You've stayed two weeks." Lady Clara poured me a cup of tea. "I'm glad you're as strong as you seem.”

"Thank you, ma'am."

"I don't know what happened to all the other girls, truthfully. I think being alone in that house all day leads to a stressed mind.”

I nodded. "It doesn't bother me too much. But I do find it a bit bizarre that I have yet to meet Lord Grey."

"He is a solitary creature, as I've mentioned before.”

"In my previous jobs, ma'am, it often felt like I couldn't get away from the Lord or Lady I served. It does make me wonder–”

"It's not your place to wonder," Lady Clara cut me off.

"I'm sorry, ma'am."

Lady Clara paused for a moment, then sighed. "My son has the same affliction that killed his father four years ago. It leads him to be rather... antisocial."

"Affliction?" I asked. "I thought your husband died in a hunting accident."

"Hm? Oh, yes." Lady Clara took a large sip from her teacup.

"At least that's what the townspeople say."

"Yes, yes. That's what we… yes." Lady Clara quickly changed the subject. "Where did you say you were from?"

"The south of Ayrshire."

"You don't sound like you're from Ayrshire."

"I've been working around here for a few years now, ma'am. Since I was eighteen."

"And how old are you now?"

"Twenty-three."

"Ah, yes. You’re almost a decade younger than my son…" Lady Clara trailed off, and handed me a plate of crumpets. “I almost feel guilty making someone as young as you spend all your time in that lonely old house. Feel free to visit me any time.”

I softly laughed off her remarks. Before I could say anything, I was interrupted by the sound of a child squealing. I turned around in my seat and saw two young boys playing in the corridor. I recognized them as being Phillip and his brother, the boys I’d seen walking, who’d told me there were monsters at Silverwind Manor. Soon, a young woman came to them and ushered them away.

Lady Clara chuckled.”That was Phillip and Baxter, the sons of my servant Elizabeth. They're sweet boys, if not a bit rowdy. Just like how my son was.”

“I believe I’ve met them before.”

“Yes, they enjoy taking walks down the road. If they wander too close to Silverwind, just send them home.”

I almost told her that there was no worry of that happening, as the boys looked terrified of the house, but I held my tongue.

Everything was the same for another week. I remained in the house, Lord Grey remained a mystery, and Onyx the horse put himself back in his pen every evening, requiring only basic care. Being in that gloomy mansion was starting to bore me: all of the lords and ladies I'd previously worked for never seemed to run out of tasks for me. Clean the windows, dust the library, wash the rugs, do the laundry. I did have a schedule at Silverwind Manor, but for the most part I was left to my own devices, free to roam wherever I pleased. Except to the top floor, of course.

I hummed to myself as I scrubbed Lord Grey's laundry. I was starting to form an image of him in my mind, based on his clothing. He seemed to wear nice coats around the house, despite never having guests. Perhaps he was trying to retain some feeling of normalcy while being trapped inside due to his "affliction."

I wrung out his coat and prepared to hang it on the line. I looked up to the house, up to the top floor, and it did seem as if every window was blocked off. I thought back to the little boy, little Phillip, who said he saw monsters in the window.

I looked over toward the meadow where Onyx was running. He galloped as if he had somewhere to be, as if he wouldn't eventually come to a fence. Still watching Onyx, I reached over to pull a shirt out of the basket, but felt something odd.

The shirt was covered in dried blood. The blood was caked into the buttons and covering the sleeves. I had no idea if it was from a human or an animal. I looked back up to the top floor windows, and I swear one of them looked darker than before. My mind is playing tricks on me, I thought.

I went back to washing the clothes, but it took me quite a while to make the stained shirt look even somewhat close to how it probably looked before. This blood had to belong to Lord Grey; after all, he never left the house, and no one ever visited. Unless, of course, there was a secret entrance I was unaware of. A part of me wanted to run away, but another part of me wanted to understand what was happening here. All of my answers were on the top floor with the lord of the house.

The next morning, I did what I'd done the week before. Eight o'clock, breakfast on the table. Five minutes later, I was staring at the stairs that went to the top floor. Just moments before, I'd been confident with my little investigation, but now I was questioning myself. I was so very curious, but was my curiosity worth losing my job over?

I stepped away from that set of stairs, turning my back to them. I put my hands on the bannister and looked down on the front room. I absent-mindedly ran my hands along the wooden bannister until I felt something odd, something I'd never noticed before. There was a slight crack in the wood, as if something had been forcefully pushed against it. The light from the windows was dim, but just enough for me to be able to trace the break in the wood with my fingers.

"You must be Miss Bridget," said a voice from behind me.

Startled, I turned around as quickly as possible. At the top of the stairs stood a man in a dark coat. He was tall, and his position a flight of stairs above me made him seem larger than life.

"You must be Lord Grey," I replied.

"That I am," he said with a chuckle. His voice was incredibly low, with a bit of a roughness to it. He began to step down the stairs. "I'm sorry I startled you."

"It's all right," I said, but my voice was barely above a whisper.

"I'm not too late for breakfast, am I?"

"No, my lord," I said. "I've just set it out."

"Good. You're the best cook this house has seen in a while." Lord Grey was now standing right in front of me, yet still towering above me. The house was dark, but I could now see him clearer than before. His hair was light brown and slightly unkempt. He had hazel eyes, and what little light came in from the windows at the front of the house made those hazel eyes shimmer gold. He was oddly muscular for a lord, especially for one who didn't seem to leave his house.

But Lord Grey’s most astounding feature, which I could barely see in the dim light, was the set of three scars deeply embedded in his face.

"Thank you, my lord."

Lord Grey chuckled softly, but at what I do not know. He continued walking down the stairs, and I watched him disappear into the dining room.

When he was gone, I let out a sigh of relief.

What just happened? I wondered. Did he know I was trying to go to the top floor? What were those scars from? I looked down at my hands, and tried to picture them slashing at a man's face. No, Lord Grey's scars were too large, too deep, to be made by a person. Perhaps whatever animal killed his father also wounded him. But what kind of animal? A bear?

I felt a strange twinge of fear in my chest. Something was telling me to run. A feeling of uneasiness swept over me. What caused those scars?

I did not encounter Lord Grey again that day, and I was secretly thankful. There was something so strange about him, something I couldn't quite put into words.

I woke up the next morning to find scratches on the stairs. It seemed as if some sort of creature had scurried down the staircase, leaving a trail of indentions in its wake. The marks were not perfect, so I could make no guesses as to what left them.

I shrugged it off, and continued to head up the stairs to the place Lord Grey always left his laundry. When I picked the basket up, I noticed an odd smell. The wicker basket that held the lord's clothing reeked of iron, oak, and sweat.

When I set it down next to the washing bucket outside, I could see the source of the iron scent – blood. Just like the week before, Lord Grey's clothes were caked with a layer of dried blood. One of the shirts was also torn in a few places, mostly near the seams.

I couldn't wash the shirt or hang it to dry if it was torn, lest I rip it further. I took it back inside, and straight to my room. I pulled out my small sewing kit and set to work.

If I ever see Lord Grey again, I thought, I must ask him about this.

The last time I found blood on his clothes, I had decided to assume he'd cut himself while shaving. But that was improbable, and the amount of blood on this shirt was enough to turn my stomach, so whatever it came from must have suffered greatly. Perhaps a creature found its way into the manor, and Lord Grey killed it, but not before it left those marks on the stairs. But wouldn't that have woken me up?

I didn’t know whether I should be concerned, whether I should bring it up to Lady Clara. The lady had not visited Silverwind Manor since she first hired me, but she sent notes to me in the mail. More often than not, her note was the only thing in the postbox, which I was required to check each day. The day before, I had received a note saying that she would come by Silverwind Manor in her carriage and take me to the shops so that I could buy whatever I needed. I expected her later that day.

I finished up the shirt and headed back outside.

Lady Clara’s carriage arrived right after lunchtime. “Good afternoon,” she said, as I climbed inside.

“Hello, ma’am,” I replied. I sat next to her, and the carriage immediately started down the road.

“How has everything been this week, dear?”

“It’s been all right, I suppose. I finally got to meet Lord Grey.”

“Oh, that’s good.”

“I only spoke with him for a short moment, but it was nice to finally put a face to a name.”

Lady Clara nodded. “He reminds me so much of his father. I miss Rupert every day, sometimes it’s hard for me to look at my son…” She trailed off for a moment, her eyes fixed on Silverwind Manor as it grew smaller in the distance. ”That’s partly why I built a house for myself after my husband died. I couldn't stand being at Silverwind any longer.”

I desperately wanted for her to tell me everything I wanted to know, but I couldn't put any of my questions into words. Before I could say anything, Lady Clara snapped out of her little retrospective trance and handed me a coin purse, which I could tell was full of money. ”This should be enough money for all of your groceries,” she said. “Buy enough for two weeks.”

“Yes, ma’am. May I purchase some thread as well?”

“Of course. What do you need thread for?”

“This morning I had to repair one of Lord Grey’s shirts, as it was torn. I ran out of thread when I finished.”

“His shirt was torn? Why? How?”

“I don’t know, ma’am.”

“Was there anything else odd with the shirt?”

How did she know? I wondered. I knew I had to be honest, so I replied, “There was some blood on the shirt.”

Lady Clara gasped, but somehow didn’t seem surprised, just irritated. She looked away from me, and said nothing until the carriage arrived at the marketplace. As the carriage stopped, Lady Clara gestured for me to get out, and said, “I will be back in fifteen minutes.”

"I thought you were going to come to the market with me,” I said.

“I have something to attend to,” the Lady replied. She shooed me toward the carriage door, and I got out. As my feet hit the cobblestone street, I heard Lady Clara call to her driver, “Back to Silverwind at once.”

I closed the door and the carriage sped off. I sighed. Whatever was going on at Silverwind Manor, Lady Clara knew about it, but she clearly didn’t want me knowing about it. I turned to the marketplace, my little basket in hand, and began to shop.

As I passed by a stall selling apples, I heard a woman whisper, “Was that Lady Clara Grey?”

The woman’s husband whispered back, “No, no, couldn’t be. Lady Clara can’t keep a servant.”

I shuffled past them, toward a farmer selling potatoes. The marketplace was rather busy, and the butcher shop across the street was even busier, but that was really where I needed to go. As I approached the potatoes, the seller smiled slightly and said, "You’re new around here.”

“That I am,” I admitted. “I've been working at Silverwind Manor for a little over a month now."

“Old Silverwind?” asked the man. “Not a very nice place for a young lady like you, is it?”

”It’s fine, just a bit quiet.”

“You’ve heard all the rumours about that place, haven't you? About the wolves in the forest, the monster behind the curtains?”

“I’ve heard a lot of things, none of which seem to be true,” I replied, but I could hear the lack of confidence in my own voice. Maybe all the things I’d been told were true. But the rumours didn’t explain much; in fact, they only complicated the mystery. “How much for ten small potatoes?”

“Take them,” said the farmer. He had the same look of pity that Lady Clara had had when she hired me. "They’re free for you.”

My eyebrows shot up, but I thanked him, took the potatoes and left.

The couple I'd passed by earlier was still gossiping about the Greys. As I headed toward the butcher, I heard the woman say, "Nobody ever did find the last servant, did they?"

Her husband replied, "No, her family's still looking for her."

Lady Clara had told me their last servant left suddenly, due to a family emergency. I ignored the conversation I was overhearing and continued toward the butcher shop.

The next morning, I woke to find Lord Grey sitting in the parlour, reading a book.

I felt a bit awkward. I was very used to being the only one awake at this hour, so to see him there, fully dressed, made me feel uncharacteristically shy. The candelabra next to the armchair was lit, giving me a better look at the man I'd been living with for three weeks. He was large, muscular, and there was something rather unsettling about him, something I couldn’t name.

As silent as I thought I was being, Lord Grey looked up at me as if he'd heard me walk in. "Good morning," he said, rather casually for our second meeting.

"Good morning, my lord," I replied. "I'll have breakfast ready in a few minutes."

"I'm in no rush," Lord Grey said with a wave of his gloved hand.

"Have you any plans for the day, sir?"

"No," he said. He set his book on the side table. "My mother informed me that I need to be more social, and that I can't just hide away upstairs all the time.”

“Oh?”

“She visited while you were at the marketplace. She spoke highly of you. She said there weren't many girls like you, and that I shouldn’t scare you off like I did the last few servants. But, of course, it was my being ‘social’ that scared them away.”

“I like to think I don’t scare easily, my lord.”

Lord Grey chuckled softly. “Good.”

I awkwardly nodded, then curtsied, and scurried off to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. When I shut the kitchen door behind me, I felt oddly safe, as if Lord Grey’s mere presence had been a threat to me. I shook the nervous thoughts out of my head. He’s just a man, I thought. You’re letting the rumours get to you.

I did not see Lord Grey again that day, and I guessed that he'd gone back to his ghostly ways, despite his mother's demands. The next morning, when I went out to feed Onyx, I noticed that the stallion was in need of a grooming. He had leaves, twigs, and dirt in his mane. I grabbed the brush off the shelf, but Onyx immediately whinnied and reared up.

"I just need to brush out your hair," I whispered, almost begging. But the horse would not stand still.

“Let me,” said a gruff voice from behind me. I turned to see Lord Grey standing there. His unexpected presence startled me, but I was able to stifle my surprise.

Lord Grey reached out his gloved hand, and Onyx calmed immediately. Grey petted the horse's face softly, with a gentleness I did not expect from such an intimidating man.

I accidentally let out a small gasp. "I’ve never seen him this calm,” I admitted. "He seems to have a mind of his own.”

“Most creatures do,” said Lord Grey. "But most people are so hellbent on taming them that they miss the personality.”

"You're fond of animals, my lord?"

"Perhaps, I don't know. I empathise with them. I understand their need to run free."

With Onyx calmed, I was able to brush the leaves out of his mane, as well as brush his black coat. He was a gorgeous horse, something I had not realised until now, because I had only ever seen him in movement. He was staring right at Lord Grey. I looked at the lord too, and in the daylight I could see how green his eyes really were. Even though Lord Grey wasn't looking at me, I felt mesmerised by those hazel eyes. After a moment, I began to look at other parts of his face: the light freckles across his nose, how soft his lips looked.

For the first time, I did not see his scars. I saw the man, the man who stood taller than the large stallion I was grooming. He wore a bespoke suit just as he did the other two times I'd seen him.

I felt a strange burst of confidence and I asked, "Lord Grey, may I ask you something?"

His eyes flicked over to me. "Yes, anything."

"Your clothes – your laundry, I mean. It seems that every week at least one shirt is ripped, or covered in…" I trailed off, realising that I was not going to like whatever answer he gave me.

Lord Grey looked down, almost as if he was ashamed. "Yes, my mother told me you were concerned about that," he said. "The top floor is unfinished, so often when I wander around in the dark I bump into things and tear my clothes and skin. I am sorry I did not explain this to you earlier."

Unfinished? I thought. On my secret excursion to the top floor, nothing seemed to be under construction. And Lord Grey moved with confidence, as if he was entirely sure of himself. It was hard to believe that this man could stumble around in the dark. The look on his face that I mistook for shame was actually him coming up with a lie – or remembering the lie his mother told him to tell.

I simply nodded in response.

When I was done brushing Onyx, Lord Grey and I led Onyx to the pasture. The horse walked alongside his owner, and seemed almost hesitant when Grey opened the gate for him. But after a moment, Onyx burst into a full run, galloping as fast as his powerful legs could move.

I watched Onyx for a minute, then looked to Lord Grey, only to find that he was already looking at me. I smiled sheepishly, and the lord and I silently walked back to the manor.

The next morning, Lord Grey was reading in his chair again.

“Good morning, my Lord,” I said to him. I almost found it annoying to see that he was awake before I was, as if he didn’t even sleep. I silently decided to try to wake up earlier.

“Good morning,” he said. He put his book down and looked up at me. “Anything interesting planned today?”

I shook my head. “Just my regular chores, sir. I don’t really do much. Have you anything planned?”

“No, I don’t.”

“But you’re always dressed so nicely, like you’re going out.”

“You think I look nice?” he asked with a smirk. “I very rarely leave this house anymore. I wear this suit so that I can at least pretend that somebody is expecting me somewhere.”

“Perhaps we could take a trip into town, or to your mother’s house for tea.”

“Hmm,” said Lord Grey. It already seemed apparent that Grey was the most honest man I’d ever worked for, which was remarkable because he always seemed to be holding something back, while speaking openly at the same time. “Whenever I leave the house during the day, people stare at me as if I’m a monster. And my mother is really no better.”

"Oh," I said quietly.

I wondered if Lord Grey knew what people said about him, or that little Phillip, his mother’s servant’s son, believed this manor contained a monster on the top floor. Surely he must know: I’d never seen such a large, brawny man seem so shy. It seemed as if he was desperate for me to feel comfortable around him, because his previous servants did not. But he had spent so much time on his own that he wasn’t sure how to make me feel at ease.

Grey shifted awkwardly in his seat, then attempted to change the topic. “How have you been enjoying your time here so far?”

“It’s a lovely manor,” I replied. "I've never seen one as grand as this."

"It gets stifling after a while, trust me."

I didn't know what to say, so I simply nodded, then headed toward the kitchen.

"Miss Bridget," Lord Grey called after me. I stopped walking. "Make enough breakfast for yourself as well. We can eat together and I can get to know you better."

I nodded again, then resumed walking away. That's odd, I thought, I've never had a lord or lady want to get to know me. Most want to pretend I don't exist. In my short time knowing him so far, Lord Grey did seem more humble than most, but also more lonely than most.

After breakfast was ready, I brought it to the dining room, where Grey was already waiting for me. We sat and ate together, and despite my reservations about him, had a lovely conversation, in which I learnt very little but said very much. He asked me about where I grew up and my childhood, which I happily recounted for him. I found him surprisingly easy to talk to, and I almost didn't want breakfast to end.

When I laid down to sleep that night, I couldn't help but wonder if Lord Grey truly was a mystery that needed to be solved. Perhaps the rumours were just rumours, and he was just a man.

Suddenly, I heard a long and lonesome howl come from outside. It sent a shiver down my spine. It's just a dog, I told myself. There are no wolves in Windsor.

Just as I was placing his breakfast on the table the next morning, Lord Grey entered the dining room. "It seems I am running a bit late today," he joked as he sat down.

"Or I am running a bit early," I replied.

Grey smiled at me with a rather lopsided grin. I smiled back, but then noticed he had a small cut on his lip, as well as a bigger one above his eyebrow.

"Are you all right, my lord?" I asked. "You seem to be bleeding."

Lord Grey brought his hand to his face and felt his injuries. When he saw the drops of blood on his white glove, he replied, "It seems that I am."

"Let me take care of it," I said, as I pulled a handkerchief from my apron pocket. Grey tried to wave me off but almost immediately acquiesced, and he allowed me to press the handkerchief to his bleeding forehead as he sat at the table. As soon as I touched him, I could see and feel his muscles relaxing. It was as if he had not been touched kindly in a long time, as if he had never expected it again.

After I was sure the bleeding had stopped, I stepped away from Lord Grey. I joked, "Whatever it is you do up there, you really should be careful."

"I know, I don't need any more scars."

"Oh, that's not what I–"

Lord Grey chuckled. "It's all right. I know I am not as pretty a sight as you are."

My heart fluttered a bit.

"I got these scars on the day my father died. He was attacked by a large beast, so I suppose I am lucky to be alive." Lord Grey sighed, and lowered his voice. "Sometimes I wonder if my mother would rather I hadn't been lucky."

"Your mother cares for you deeply," I insisted. "She just misses your father. She told me you are too much like him."

"I hope so. My father was a good man, and the town loved him."

"The town could love you too."

"They wouldn't," said Lord Grey, his voice sombre yet stern.

I did not know how to respond, so I changed the subject. "Would you like me to wash your gloves? They have blood from where you touched your forehead – I can take them right now, if you wish."

"I don't want to trouble you–"

"I have to do laundry today anyway, my lord. It really is no trouble."

Lord Grey looked hesitant for a moment, then slowly took off his gloves and handed them to me. I could now see why he wore them all the time: his fingers were cut up and bruised as if he'd been in a fight the night before.

I took the gloves and curtsied, before running off to the kitchen.

As I washed the laundry later that day, I found myself looking up at the top floor. My curiosity was weighing on me. Lord Grey said the top floor was still under construction, still unfinished, but that made little sense. The house was older than him and therefore much older than me, so why would it not be finished after all these years? And why would anyone live up there, when the house had so many other rooms?

I looked down at the clothes I was washing, and found small rips. Nothing makes any sense, I thought. I couldn't stand being lied to. But I'd worked in many houses before and I knew my place, and I knew that there were some things a servant did not need to know.

But the claw marks on the stairs. The missing servant. The broken bannister. The various rumours.

I was confused by Lord Grey, but I also could not deny to myself that I felt oddly drawn to him. Perhaps my curious nature was getting away from me. Perhaps it was his green eyes that looked as if they'd seen a lot of sorrow.

"Good morning, Miss Bridget," said Lord Grey as I came out of my room to start the day.

"Good morning, Lord Grey."

I began to make my way toward the kitchen, but I stopped when I heard Lord Grey quietly correct me. He said, "Arthur."

I turned around. "Excuse me, my lord?"

"My name is Arthur. There's only the two of us in this house, you might as well call me Arthur."

I smiled and nodded. "It's a nice name."

Lord Grey— Arthur — smiled a lopsided grin, and I continued to the kitchen. He was beginning to trust me, in his own strange way.

As I walked through the house I was briefly startled by my own reflection - the blanket that had previously covered the mirror in the parlour had been removed. I thought this must be a good sign, a sign that he was trusting me, and himself. He was finally feeling comfortable enough to spend more time downstairs, instead of locked away. Perhaps he was growing used to his own face, just as I was.

After breakfast, I went out to the stables to take care of Onyx. When I went into the stables, I was surprised to see that he was completely calm, and looking past me. I turned around and almost jumped out of my skin when I saw Lord Grey standing behind me, towering over me. I gasped loudly, causing Grey to frown.

"I'm sorry I startled you," he said. "It was not my intention to scare you."

"I'm all right," I said, despite how hard my heart was beating in my chest.

"I just wanted to see if you needed any help with the horse again."

"I'll take any help I can get," I said with a laugh. "Onyx is a handful."

"He's always been that way." Arthur smiled. "Even as a foal, he was unruly."

"He seems to like you, though."

Arthur shrugged. "I've just known him his whole life, but my mother always said I had a way with animals." He paused to open the door to Onyx's stable box and let me in before him. As soon as Onyx saw Arthur, he stood still. After a moment, Arthur asked, "Would you like to go for a ride?"

"A ride?" I asked. "On Onyx?"

"We have reins and a saddle in the storage room. We could take a lap around the grounds–"

"Yes," I said. I wasn't sure what had come over me. If I were to be honest with myself, I was starting to feel stifled in that old house, just as Arthur had said. Arthur was the only person I’d spoken to since I went to the market, and despite how large the manor was I still could not shake the feeling of confinement, nor the feeling that there was something lurking around every corner, and that I was just barely escaping it.

Arthur smiled. “I’ll get the saddle,” he said.

He was gone and back rather quickly, with what almost seemed like excitement in his step. At that point, I realised Arthur was as grateful for our blooming friendship as I was. I couldn’t imagine spending a life alone in that house.��

Once Onyx was saddled up, Arthur turned to me and asked, “Are you ready?”

I nodded hesitantly.

Without saying anything else, Arthur grabbed me by my waist and lifted me up and onto the large horse. My heart skipped a beat at his every touch. I had not ridden a horse in quite a while, but I still automatically knew how to position myself on Onyx. Arthur took the reins and led the stallion through the empty stables and outside, where we began walking around the manor.

After walking a bit, Arthur dropped the reins and let Onyx walk freely. He walked toward the front of the house, near the road. A carriage passed by us, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Arthur wave hesitantly at it. But Onyx kept trotting along, his speed gradually increasing.

Soon we were at a gallop, with Arthur chasing along, almost matching Onyx’s pace. The smile on his scarred face distracted me from wondering how a man could run as fast as a horse. The wind through my hair made me feel as if I was flying, and I almost didn't want to stop, but Onyx eventually began to slow down, and Arthur took hold of his reins once again.

We returned to the stables, and Arthur extended his gloved hand to me in order to help me off the horse. As I began to climb down, Onyx shifted himself, making me lose my footing in the stirrup and slip. Arthur grabbed me before I could properly fall, and he held me for a brief moment, his arms around me and our chests nearly touching. I was surprised at how comfortable I felt in the arms of the man who used to terrify me. He was not a monster, but a mystery. We both laughed awkwardly, but when Arthur turned to take the reins off of Onyx, I saw a smile on his face.

Arthur went to put the reins and saddle away, and I gave Onyx some extra hay as thanks. When I first met him I thought he was unrideable, but there was something about Arthur that made Onyx serene, as if they were kindred spirits. I was now realising that things are not always what they seem, whether for better or for worse.

The next morning, I made my way down the hall toward the great room, but stopped when I heard a familiar voice.

"What did you think you were doing, Arthur? You can't gallivant all over Windsor," cried Lady Clara, her voice an angry whisper.

"We never left the grounds."

"I could see you from the road. If I could see you, anyone could have."

"Then let them see me!"

At first I thought Lady Clara was offended that Arthur had let me ride Onyx, then I realised that that wasn't the issue. "The safest place for you is inside. The town has not forgotten the last servant."

The last servant? I thought. Lady Clara had told me she left town in a hurry, but I'd overheard people at the market saying her family did not know where she was.

"What happened to her was an accident, you know that. She fell."

"And what was she running from when she fell? You, Arthur! You and your sickness!"

The cracks in the bannister. The girl must have run into the bannister, breaking the top of it and falling over the balcony, down to the ground floor. But why would she be running from Arthur? What was this sickness?

I could hear Arthur sigh. "There is still no harm in letting someone ride the horse."

"I gave up the idea of a normal life years ago. As soon as your father died I knew there was no hope for you to be normal, to exist amongst everyone else, to wed. The least you could do is to not let anyone see how much of an embarrassment my only son is."

I heard the front door close. I had never expected Lady Clara to be so cruel, but clearly she knew something I did not. But I couldn't fathom her acting this way toward her son.

I waited a moment, then walked into the great room, unsure what to expect. Arthur was sitting in his favourite chair, reading a book, just as he often did.

"Good morning, Bridget," he said, as if the conversation I'd just eavesdropped on had never taken place.

"Good morning, Arthur," I replied. I saw him crack a small smile when I said his name.

"Do we have any plans for the day?"

"No, my lord, I don't believe we do."

"Then let's make some," Arthur said, as he stood up.

I was shocked, but tried to hide it. "Where do you wish to go?"

"I don't know, I just need to get out of this house."

"Well, perhaps you can decide on a place while I make breakfast," I replied with a smile, as I started toward the kitchen.

Arthur stepped in front of me, blocking my path. "Or, we could have breakfast together," he said. "There's an inn not too far from here."

"But how will we get there?"

"There's an old carriage out back, we can strap it to Onyx and go to town."

"Are you sure?"

"Why not?" Arthur's grin was wide, devilish, and irresistible. "Go put on your nicest hat, or whatever it is ladies wear to breakfast. Meet me at the stables in a few minutes."

I realised that I couldn't really protest without giving away that I'd heard his conversation with his mother, so I complied. I went back to my room and changed clothes as quickly as I could. All of my clothes were simple and modest; after all, no servant ever expects to dine with their master. But I put on the dress I wore the least, and brushed my hair thoroughly. I couldn't deny that I was excited.

By the time I arrived at the stables, Onyx and the carriage were ready to go, and Arthur was waiting patiently for me, with a pleased look on his face. Without saying a word, he extended his hand, which I gladly took, and he helped me onto the front of the carriage, then climbed on himself. For a fleeting moment, I felt like I was not his servant, but perhaps his wife. I pushed the silly thought out of my head.

Arthur took the reins and we started down the road. It somehow felt both strange and magical to be next to him, to feel his warmth.

When we arrived at the inn, we immediately headed inside, only to find ourselves greeted by cold stares. I whispered, "Are you sure this was a good idea?"

Arthur didn't respond, but gently rubbed my back to calm me, which only made my heart flutter more.

We sat down at a table. I felt terribly awkward, knowing that an inn full of people were looking at me, but I tried to stay focused on Arthur. The entire inn was silent, except for the faint sound of someone furiously cooking in the kitchen.

After a moment, the innkeeper came up to us holding two plates of food. Before we could say anything, she set the plates on the table and said to Arthur, "This was your father's favourite, my lord. And for your lady, we've prepared your mother’s favourite."

Arthur thanked the innkeeper, and she nervously scurried back to the kitchen.

"How strange," I said.

"Which part is strange – the fact that everyone is acting afraid of me, or that we were served the food my parents used to order."

I quietly replied, "To be honest, my lord, the fact that your mother ever went to an inn is what surprises me the most."

Arthur laughed. "My father was always more humble than her. He loved this town, but she was perfectly content to rot away in an old manor for forever, rather than mingle with peasants, as she called them." He picked up one of the many sausages on his plate and took a large bite.

"I've only ever heard good things about your father, I don't understand why people don't love you the same way."

"We're two different people," Arthur said with a shrug. "My father was a kind man, but also very logical, he liked to stop and think about things. I'm a bit more… impulsive. Or at least I was, before he died."

I saw a chance and I gingerly took it, lowering my voice and asking, "What happened to your father?"

Arthur sighed. "We were… hunting. And a beast killed him."

"What kind of beast? A bear?"

"A wolf."

"I always thought there were no wolves around here."

"There used to be some. At least two. But now just one."

“Just one?”

“One lone wolf," Arthur said, his eyes cast down. "I killed the other.”

Arthur’s tone was not particularly rude, but I could tell that it was better if I stopped asking questions. I decided to awkwardly change the subject, casually saying, "You know, I don't know Windsor very well."

Arthur immediately picked up on what I was asking, and a smile grew on his face. "Would you like me to show you around?"

"If you would like to."

"I would." He reached across the table and took my hand. "I know a place I think you'll like."

My heart almost skipped a beat. I felt multiple conflicting feelings at once: I knew that having breakfast with my boss was inappropriate, and that Lady Clara would not be happy if she found out, but I also felt almost addicted to Arthur's company. All the times I was uneasy and fearful around him now seemed nonsensical to me.

We finished our meal, and as we got up to leave, we discovered that the inn was now empty. We laughed about how odd it was that we didn't notice anyone leaving, and then we boarded the carriage again.

"So, where are we going?" I asked.

Arthur smiled as Onyx started to pull the carriage along. "You'll see."

We drove along the winding roads of Windsor for a while, through a small glade, eventually reaching a secluded meadow. "Here we are," said Arthur. "This is where I used to play as a child."

I joked, "All that room in the manor, and you played here?"

"Yes. My father would take me here and we would run around in the grass. Come on." Arthur got out of the carriage and extended his gloved hand. I took it, and stepped down to the ground. He did not let go of my hand, as one might expect, but instead guided me toward the sea of wildflowers before us.

"It's much nicer here in the summer," said Arthur. He sat down on the ground, and I sat next to him. The autumn wind was chilly, but somehow I did not mind it at all.

"We should come here more often," I said. "You've mentioned feeling stifled in the manor. Maybe you just need to come here and run around freely, like you did as a child."

Arthur chuckled. "That is a good idea."

"Maybe we can plan to do this once a week?" I asked. I was slightly surprised by how open and bold I was being. Whenever I was with Arthur, he didn't feel like my boss, nor did he ever act like it.

"I think the more time I spend outside, the more likely I am to get into trouble. But, of course, I do get into trouble in the manor, but that's easier to deal with," joked Arthur.

"I really can't imagine you getting into trouble!"

"When I was younger, I was constantly running off, getting into brawls on the streets."

"Oh, I don't believe it," I teased, but it was indeed easy to believe, with how muscular Arthur was.

Arthur smiled his lopsided grin and inched closer to me. "You know, Miss Bridget, you certainly are a stubborn one."

"How so?"

"The fact that you're here shows that you're stubborn. No other servant has stayed more than two weeks, yet here you are."

"Your mother told me about that," I laughed. "She acted as if I was the toughest woman she'd ever met."

"Oh, but that's exactly what I need," said Arthur. He then dropped his tone and corrected himself, "That's what Silverwind needs."

"Well, then, I'm glad your mother hired me."

"I'm glad, too," replied Arthur. Then, without another word, he leaned closer to me, and the moment I did not know I had been waiting for finally arrived. He brought his lips to mine, gently at first, then it was as if his more animalistic side took over him and he began to kiss me harder. Without even thinking I raised my hands to grab the collar of his coat and pulled him in closer.

I could have lived in that moment for a lifetime, never letting go of him, his warmth and smell enveloping me. But eventually Arthur broke away from me, raising his head up. He was now above me, practically on top of me, blocking out what little sun shone through the clouds.

"Bridget," Arthur said hesitantly. "Please forgive me if I have mistaken anything, but–”

“You haven’t mistaken anything.”

He chuckled. “I’ve never enjoyed anyone’s company as much as I enjoy yours.”

“I must admit, I have grown rather fond of you as well.”

“I never thought I’d ever hear someone say that to me, much less a girl as beautiful and clever as you.”

“You flatter me.”

“I adore you.”

We spent the rest of the morning there, in the meadow, eventually having to return to Silverwind Manor when it began to rain. But as we rode the carriage back to the Manor, I thought to myself, I don’t mind the storm, as long as I have Arthur next to me.

The next two weeks were oddly blissful. Arthur began to spend his time in the main part of the manor, instead of squirrelling himself away on the top floor. Somehow the dusty old house didn't seem so depressing and lonesome anymore. In fact, joy filled the halls.

We spent those days taking long walks around the manor property, and sneaking kisses every time he walked past me as I did my daily chores. We ate breakfast, lunch, and dinner together, but retired to our separate beds at the end of the day.

Every kiss and every glance was, in a way, an act of rebellion, but against what I did not know. Some evenings I would sit next to him on the settee in the parlour and we would talk for hours. I was beginning to live for those moments: his arm around my waist, my head on his chest, only ever going just slightly beyond what was proper for an unmarried couple. But of course, we were not even a couple, and we could only truly be as proper as a servant and her master could be.

One night, I rolled around in my bed for hours, trying desperately to get to sleep. Lately I had been struggling to sleep, as my heart would not calm, beating within my chest like a horse at full gallop.

Arthur made me feel a way I'd never felt before, so happy yet so frustrated. He and I fit together perfectly, but I was just his servant, and there was no hope of changing that. I had never been one to daydream, but there I was, tossing and turning, imagining what it would be like to wed him, my Arthur.

Then I heard a howl.

All the happy thoughts fled my mind. Now all I could think of when Arthur told me there was only one wolf left in Windsor. His gruff voice echoed in my head. An uneasy feeling crept over me as the howling continued, louder than ever before.

I got out of bed and lit a candle. I moved almost entirely on instinct, leaving my room and walking to the front room. There I found that the front door was ajar. Without even thinking I went up both sets of stairs to the top floor.

It was dead silent as I entered the furthermost room, the only one I did not go in during my first expedition to this floor. This one had more furniture in it, but none that went together. It looked as if the room, which was in disarray, was once an office of sorts, but an old mattress rested on the floor in the corner, with many blankets crudely thrown on top of it. This must be where Arthur sleeps, I thought. But where was he?

I saw glass vials, a microscope, and journals upon journals. One journal, which sat on a desk, was open, and I wandered over to it to look at its contents. I held my candle up to read it, but was even more confused by what I found. The journal listed various plants and herbs, such as wolfsbane and foxglove. On the margins I saw what looked to be chemical equations. I couldn’t make any sense of it; it seemed like someone had been doing experiments of some sort.

Suddenly, I heard a faint noise from downstairs. It was the front door shutting. I was breaking the one rule of living here, and I had no idea how Arthur would react.

I rushed through the door and down the stairs, only to run into Arthur on the middle floor. He was dishevelled, and his clothes were ripped and bloodied. He also had what seemed to be blood dripping from his mouth.

"Bridget?"

"Are you all right?"

"Please don't tell me you went to the top floor, please don't."

I didn't respond, knowing that he already knew the answer.

"I trusted you," Arthur said, his voice full of despair. Then, to my utter shock, I saw his eyes turn gold.

"I'm sorry–"

"Run, Bridget!" growled Arthur. "You must run! The beast–" He was cut off abruptly, his voice shifted to more of a yowl.

This man who already towered over me somehow seemed to grow larger, his already ripped clothes tearing and falling off of him. His eyes shone gold and his hair seemed to darken, until it was entirely black. A groan escaped Arthur as his face changed from that of a handsome man to that of a wolf, and the rest of his body followed suit. The only thing that remained of him was the three scars across his face. I let out a scream as his front paws hit the floor in front of me.

Arthur was no longer the man whose arms I had spent hours in, nor was he a man at all. He stood before me as a large black wolf, growling at me with bloody fangs.

I let out a scream and ran down the stairs to the ground floor. The wolf followed me, but not at the same pace: he moved down the stairs slowly, as if he was entirely confident that he would capture his prey. His gold eyes stared me down as I tried desperately to unlock the front door.

Finally the door opened and I burst through it. I began to run across the yard toward the road. I could feel the cold breeze moving my nightgown, but I kept running, and the wolf kept chasing.

I dashed down the road toward Marbleton House, hoping Lady Clara would let me in. My feet hurt every time they hit the road.

When I made it to Lady Clara's manor I began to scream wildly, hoping to wake up whoever I could. I banged on the front door with my fists. I could hear the wolf growling behind me.

Suddenly, the door opened and I fell inside, then it shut behind me. I looked up but did not see the mother of the beast that was chasing me, but instead a servant woman.

"I'm Elizabeth," said the woman. "Are you hurt?"

"I don't think so," I said, moving myself to a sitting position on the floor.

Elizabeth knelt next to me. "You can sleep here tonight. Tomorrow morning I will help you gather your things before Lord Grey wakes up."

"Gather my things?"

"You should leave while you still can. You're lucky you made it out alive. The last girl– well, I shouldn't talk about that."

"What happened to her?" I pleaded as she helped me stand up.

Elizabeth sighed. "She encountered Lord Grey during one of his transformations, and she ran away from him and fell off the balcony in Silverwind."

"How do you know this?"

"Because I had to help clean up."

A shiver ran down my spine as I pictured a woman my age falling to her death in the manor. Elizabeth was right, I was lucky. I said nothing and followed Elizabeth to an extra bedroom in the servants' quarters.

"I'm just down the hallway, if you need anything," said Elizabeth. As she left the room, I saw on her face that same pitying look I'd seen before on Lady Clara's.

I woke to a light rain and a knock on the door. Elizabeth opened it and whispered, "He is here for you."

I shot up in bed. My first thought was to be excited to see Arthur, but then I remembered the events of the night before. I slowly got out of bed and followed Elizabeth down the hall, to the foyer where I first met her, where she had rescued me from the man I loved.

Dawn was just beginning to break, and Arthur stood in the doorway, his hair and clothes wet and clinging to him.

"Bridget," he said softly.

Elizabeth fled the room, clearly frightened. I replied, my voice cracking slightly, "Arthur."

Arthur stepped closer to me, but I flinched, and he backed off. "I apologise for last night. Sometimes, when I feel very strongly, the beast takes over me and I can no longer control myself."

"What are you?"

"I don't know. At night, I am a monster. But during the day, I am just a man. A man who is desperate for your acceptance, your forgiveness, your love."

The word love made my heart skip a beat, but I did not respond.

“Bridget, please come home with me.”

“It is your home, not mine,” I replied without thinking.

“It could be yours, too.”

“Your mother would never allow it. The beast would never allow it.” I let out a deep breath. “You stand here speaking of love but you nearly killed me last night.”

“I never would have hurt you!”

“If you have no control over yourself, then who knows what you would do?”

“Everything I've said to you is still true. You’re still the only person I’ve ever felt connected to, the only person I’ve ever felt comfortable with.” Arthur walked towards me again, and this time, despite my better judgement, I let him. He brushed a stray hair out of my face, and I noticed that this time he wore no gloves. His knuckles were bruised and cut, and part of me wanted to take his hands in mine and kiss every single injury. He leaned in towards me, and yet again against my better judgement, I let him kiss me.

But the moment did not last long: Lady Clara came down the stairs behind me, and I could sense her anger. Yet, somehow she remained her composure, which was perhaps even more frightening to me. “What is going on here?”

Arthur and I broke away from each other, but he kept an arm around me as we both faced Lady Clara. “She knows my secret,” Arthur stated. “She knows what I am– who I am, and she still loves me.”

“Neither of you know anything about love. You are more monster than man.”

“How can you say that, when my father had the same affliction?”

“I loved your father, Arthur, but he was still a monster. I lived in constant danger for years."

"And he never hurt you!"

I was in shock, not just from the events of the night before but to see them bicker so openly, so loudly. With every word Arthur said, the house shook, as if his booming voice was causing a small earthquake. The fact that I was still in my nightgown only made me more upset.

"Arthur, do you really think she loves you? Or does she love your money? Do you really think she could look past those scars your father gave you?"

I wanted to interject, but when I looked at Arthur I saw his eyes turning gold. I immediately took a step away from him.

Lady Clara continued, "You bring shame to this family, to your father's name. Even I can't find it in myself to love you."

With those final words, Arthur grew fangs and his hair turned black again. The beast was taking over, but Lady Clara only realised it when it was already too late. He lunged at her, fully in his wolf form, and she let out a terrified scream and ran up the stairs. He chased her.

For a moment I was frozen in fear, but I quickly came to my senses and rushed to the back of the house, to the servants’ quarters, where I found Elizabeth and her two sons.

"What's going on?" asked Elizabeth. There was no doubt she'd heard Lady's Clara's shriek.

"The beast— we have to run!"

"Follow me, we can hide in the basement." Elizabeth picked up her smaller son and began to dash away. Fearing that Baxter, her older boy, still wouldn't be able to keep up, I picked him up and tossed him over my shoulders. I was in pure panic, with no idea what was going on on the floor above us.

I followed Elizabeth around a corner, through a door and down a narrow staircase. But as we reached the bottom, I put Baxter down and headed back up to the main floor.

"Where are you going?" asked Elizabeth, her voice full of fear.

"I have to find Arthur!"

As the words left my mouth, I realised they sounded ridiculous. I knew where Arthur was, he was upstairs, likely ripping his mother to shreds. But I needed to find Arthur, reach him deep in his soul, in a way that only I could, or at least so I hoped.

Once I was on the main floor I dashed up the stairs to the top and I went through the first open door I saw, which turned out to be a bedroom. There I found them.

Lady Clara's transformation from when I first met her was somehow more shocking than Arthur's transformation into a wolf. When she hired me I thought she was kind, but gradually her disdain for her son had grown more apparent, and I had missed it entirely. The kind woman I'd first met was now a terrified screaming mess, her back against the wall, cornered by the wolf that was her son.

The beast was growling at the Lady as she slid down the wall, landing on the floor, looking more like a scared child than an elegant aristocrat. I was frightened too, but my love for Arthur took over me just as the beast had taken over him.

“Arthur!” I cried out. The black beast turned and looked at me.

I walked toward him, and the beast growled at me, signalling for me to not come any closer. I disobeyed, and positioned myself in between him and Lady Clara, who looked up at me like I was the worst imbecile she’d ever seen. I knelt down, putting myself at eye level with the wolf.

“Arthur, please, please come back to me,” I begged.

The beast’s growl rattled me in my soul.

“Come back to me,” I pleaded. “I love you.”

The growl suddenly stopped.

I watched in utter surprise as I saw the wolf’s golden eyes turn back to Arthur’s green, and the rest of him faded back into his normal self. Arthur lay on the ground, completely nude, as his clothes had ripped off of him in his transformation. Instinctively I pulled his head into my lap, and he looked up at me groggily. I couldn’t believe it: I had pulled him back from killing his mother, from orphaning himself. I had previously denied myself the joy of believing it, but maybe he truly did love me.

“Bridget,” he said, his gruff voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m here, Arthur,” I said.

Our moment was yet again ruined by Lady Clara, who stood up and shrieked, “I wish you had never been born.”

“I had always wished the same thing, until I met Bridget,” mumbled Arthur. He began to stand up, and Lady Clara leapt backward, as if in anticipation that he’d become the wolf again. When she backed up she hit the glass door that I could see led to the balcony.

“I should have let him kill you, I really should have,” muttered Lady Clara.

“Mother–”

“Do not come any closer!” bellowed the old woman. She opened the balcony door, and backed out of it.

Arthur took one step closer, his muscular arms outstretched as if in apology. Lady Clara shrieked and continued backing away from him, across the balcony. Outside the soft rain had begun to pour harder, and the floor was slick with water. I stood up next to Arthur, and saw that Lady Clara’s eyes were focused solely on her son’s face, and not on where she was stepping.

I wanted to cry out for her to be careful, but before I could, a loud crack of lightning erupted across the morning sky, startling Lady Clara, who then backed up so far that she hit the balcony railing. Forgetting that he was unclothed, Arthur rushed to her to stop her from falling, but it was already too late: she tumbled backward over the side, and down onto the lawn below.

I followed Arthur to look over the railing, and there she was, sprawled out in a most peculiar and unnatural way, blood seeping into the grass next to her. I looked at Arthur, whose green eyes were full of sorrow, and he let out the smallest sigh. After a moment, he looked at me, and I reached out my hand to hold his.

“We should probably get you some clothes,” I said, trying desperately to bring a little levity to the moment.

“My mother still has my father’s old clothes,” he responded. “I’ll go find them.”

“I need to find your mother’s servant, she’s hiding in the basement.”

Arthur nodded and we both went inside. I felt as if there was a hole in my chest, a void growing larger with every beat of my heart, but I also couldn’t help but feel as if his mother’s death was a weight lifted off of him, off of us.

I found Elizabeth, Phillip, and Baxter still in the basement, and told them half-heartedly that everything was going to be all right. I explained to Elizabeth what had happened, and she nodded sagely, as if she had expected this for years.

“I’ve never understood the way Lady Clara treated her son,” said Elizabeth. “I can’t imagine treating my boys like that.”

As we all climbed up the stairs to the main floor, I heard little Phillip say to his mother, “Mummy, did the monster kill the Lady?”

By the time we made it to the foyer, Arthur was descending the stairs from the top floor, wearing his father’s clothes. His hair was still wet from the rain outside, but his father's black coat fit him well. Our eyes met, and the anxious void in my heart began to close up, and I began to feel whole again. He came up to me and wrapped me in his arms, and I revelled in his natural warmth.

"We should leave," he whispered into my hair.

I looked up at him. "Yes, I do need fresh clothes."

"No, we should leave Windsor. We can get a house in the countryside and get married."

I couldn't help but smile at that, despite the circumstances. "You want to marry me?"

"More than anything," Arthur replied before grinning and kissing me.

After a moment, I turned my head around and saw that Elizabeth and her sons had left, likely to go back to their quarters. I looked back at Arthur and said, "We don’t have to leave. We can't leave Elizabeth and her boys here, we can't abandon them."

Arthur let out a small sigh. "You're right. We can hire Elizabeth to work at Silverwind."

I buried my face in his chest. There was something special about him, about hearing his heart beat so powerfully. I had never truly been in love before, but I knew that this must be it.

As if he read my mind, Arthur said, “I love you, my Bridget.”

“I love you, my Arthur.”

“And you’ll be my wife?”

“Of course.”

“Being with you makes everything much easier.” He ran his large hand up and down my back, and I could hear his breath hitch. He was thinking of his mother and the previous servant.

I looked up at him, staring him in the face. “It wasn’t your fault. Their deaths weren’t your fault.”

“My father’s death was.”

I shook my head in confusion, Lady Clara’s words from earlier ringing in my mind. “Arthur… what did your mother mean when she said she should have let him kill you?”

Arthur let out a sigh. “My father loved me but he was deeply ashamed of the monsters we became under the moon. He spent hours upon hours trying to create a medication that could stop it. We fought about it constantly, because I didn’t want to change. One day, the day before he died, he made a concoction that he said would either cure us or kill us, and he wanted me to drink it.”

“But your mother stopped him?”

“As much as she hated the beasts we were, she didn’t want him to kill me. He insisted, we fought and transformed and…” I could see Arthur was holding back tears as he thought back to his father’s death. “And I killed him. Not before he nearly tore my face off, of course.” He gestured to the scars on his face, the scars that had once frightened me, but I had grown to love.

I reached up, and for the first time, gently touched the scars that he believed made him hideous, tracing them with my thumb. “You never have to worry about anything like that ever again. Now you’re only in the company of someone who adores you.”

“I don’t understand how someone like you could love someone like me,” he admitted, a small smile crossing his lips.

“Because you said it yourself: I'm exactly what you need.”

#werewolf #werewolves #monster boyfriend #monster bf #monsterfucker #monsterlover #monster fucker #monster lover #gothic romance #romance #supernatural romance #moodboard #aesthetic #werewolf aesthetic #supernatural aesthetic #cryptid #me #my writing #my mb

93 notes · View notes