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Concept: Werewolf by Night fic where reader is a newly turned werewolf and stumbles up to Jack after being hurt during the full moon. Just like “hey I heard you could help me?” And then we get poor sweet jack all tired and bruised up himself running to the aid of some fellow monster he has never met.

Would anyone read that???

What Happened Last Night Pt.1 - Jack Russell x Reader

Summary: You wake up in an unfamiliar campsite with your leg caught in a bear trap. What the fuck happened last night?

Warnings: female reader, being nakey lol, bit of blood, broken bones, Jack being the fluffiest person ever, slow burn bc reader is going to have to deal with some shit 

Word Count: ~1.5k

A/N: Ok so this is really only the first part of this story, but I wanted to get it out there and get some feedback before I get into a more plot driven second part. Depending on demand this might turn into a little series idk.

Also we only got 50 mins with Jack so be gentle if my characterizations a little wonky. Also Also for reference this does NOT take place right after the events of WBN. More like a random amount of time after that and there will be very little connection to the events of WBN.

Cross-posted on AO3 as always

Part 2 now posted!

Part 1-

You woke up groggy, disorientated, naked, and in more pain than you’ve ever felt in your life. All things considered, you had a pretty mild reaction to the elephant-tree-swamp-man… thing gingerly making coffee in a french press.

You screamed, scrambling to get up, then immediately collapsing in pain. The thing huffed as if he was frustrated with you for your reaction. Someone more human sounding groaned behind you, but barely heard them over the ringing in your ears. There was an honest-to-god old timey steel bear trap clamped around your very swollen, very broken ankle.

Shaking, you surveyed the rest of your body, finding various bruises and gashes littering your body. Your left ear felt hot and sticky, and when you brought your hand up to touch it, you found that the top third or so of your ear was only still attached to your head by a dangling bit of skin. You thought you were going to throw up. The irony smell of your own blood was almost all-consuming.

“Ted?”

The monster grumbled in acknowledgement, and you quickly shuffled to face your… captors? Rescuers? You made eye contact with an incredibly disheveled man wrapped in a quilt. His eyes widened, quickly scanning over your unclothed body and his entire face reddened. He swiveled clumsily to face away from you as you did your best to cover yourself with your arms. The man took a deep breath.

“Ted,” he said slowly, “who’s this?” 

The monster grunts a response.

“What do you mean you found her like that?”

Another long series of grumbles.

“Like me? Like me… before?” The monster nodded, “Oh.” The man glanced back at you again, but very briefly. As soon as his eyes met yours he jolted a little and turned back to the monster, seemingly having forgotten your unfortunate lack of clothes. 

“And you couldn’t have… given her something to cover up with?” 

The monster responded in an indignant monster-tone. 

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. You did good buddy. Really,” the man said, patting the man-thing’s large hand as it huffed, apparently happy its efforts had been acknowledged.

The man cleared his throat, and hobbled over to one of the many suitcases surrounding the three of you. He made a point to keep his back to you and your nakedness. 

You took the opportunity to look around at where the fuck you were. You were in a small campsite, complete with a firepit, a tee-pee made of sticks that the man had emerged from, and various pieces of luggage and other trinkets strewn about. 

The man had grabbed some plaid pajama pants and a white t-shirt and disappeared behind the monster’s back, groaning anytime he had to bend over. When he shuffled back into view, he was approaching you with the quilt, but once again keeping his head obviously turned to the side, not looking at you at all. You snatched the quilt from him and wrapped yourself up with it. When you stopped shifting around, the man finally looked at you, and smiled.

“Apologies. Coffee?” he asked, gesturing to the cup the monster was currently pouring the contents of the french press into. You shook your head. You didn’t trust yourself to open your mouth without throwing up everywhere, as the reality and enormity of the situation hit you. You were severely injured and trapped in the forest with a monster and a random man. 

The man nodded, and stumbled closer to you. You shifted away from him the best you could, given your mangled leg and ever-churning stomach. He held his hands up in a placating gesture, and slowly knelt down next to you. He examined your wounds carefully.

“Ted, can you get the first aid kit?”

The monster obliged, gently handing a box to the man. The man smiled again at you, before digging through the contents. 

You were at a complete loss for words. This random-ass woodsman and his pet monster– who apparently had the same name as your racist uncle– had barely addressed you, after presumably kidnapping you to their camp. You couldn’t remember most of the night before, but you knew you did not start out the night in the middle of the woods. Despite all that, you didn’t have much of an alternative to letting the man treat your wounds, so you didn’t put up much of a fight as he bandaged any gashes that weren’t covered by the blanket. It wasn’t until he was trying to tape your ear back together that he spoke.

“So, how long?” You furrowed your eyebrows and shot him a sideways glance, not wanting to mess up whatever he was doing to your ear. He met your eye and continued talking.

“Because for me, I’ve always been like this. It’s been in my family for generations. But judging by what you did to yourself in one night, I’m guessing you’re new to all this.” He sat back on his feet, still kneeling, and gave you a sympathetic yet expectant smile. He had shared so now it was your turn. 

“I’m sorry. I have no idea what you’re talking about. I don’t know where I am or who you are or what he is,” you gestured at Ted. “I just woke up in the woods all… beat up. With you guys. I don’t know what you want or who you think I am, but I’m not her.” You finished your rant with a shaky deep breath, willing yourself not to break down crying.

The man’s eyes searched your face, his expression now one of deep sympathy.

“How about we get you all patched up and then we’ll talk. Hmm? Is that okay, cariño?” You nodded, and he smiled once again. “My name is Jack, that’s Ted. He’s a friend of mine. He won’t hurt you.”

“Uh, okay. I’m y/n.”

Jack smiled widely. “Nice to meet you, y/n,” he said, dipping his head as he said your name. As he focused his attention on your leg, his smile faded into something more serious.

“I need to get this off of you. This is probably going to hurt. But I have to. I need to make sure these cuts don’t get infected and that your bone heals properly. You ready?” You gave him a curt nod and Jack took a deep breath and began to work.

You felt like your ankle collapsed when he wrestled the jaws of the trap open. You felt woozy watching fresh blood pour out of the many jagged marks on your skin where the trap’s teeth had dug into your flesh. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, hoping you wouldn’t pass out. You winced at every gentle touch of your ankle, from the stinging of the alcohol to clean your cuts to the bandaids laid delicately upon them. A constant stream of apologies came from Jack with his every movement.

“Ok. Now the worst part. Then it’ll be over,” he mumbled, applying more pressure to your ankle as he felt for the snapped bone. You involuntarily whined in pain.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. So sorry. Almost done.” 

Jack’s hands halted their necessary assault on your ankle, then he firmly grabbed it, coaxing your bone into the proper spot. Even with closed eyes your vision became spotty and your head spun with pain. You felt Jack place a splint on your foot, and as soon as it was tightened and stabilized, your ankle felt much better. It still hurt like a bitch, but at least it was hurting in a proper, reinforced position.

When you finally opened your eyes, Jack was sitting down beside you, looking about as exhausted as you felt. His eyes fluttered sleepily and he had a dumb satisfied smirk on his face. He rubbed his eyes with one hand and reached an arm out to Ted with the other. Ted handed him a coffee cup. He took a large swig of it and offered it to you. You obliged now that you no longer had steel encasing an appendage. 

“Thank you. For all of this,” you said, but Jack just took the coffee cup back from you, shaking his head and waving your gratitude away. The two of you sat quietly together, passing the mug back and forth. You felt oddly safe here. 

At some point, Ted made a noise that made Jack snort and chuckle hardily. You looked between the two of them, smirking along despite not understanding Ted. They were… kind of sweet in the way they interacted. They truly were friends, despite the obvious species difference. Or maybe the post-panic wave of exhaustion that had hit you was so intense you were delirious. Either way, you leaned back, lying down and allowed the quiet conversation and crackling of the fire to lull you to sleep.

.

.

.

Will reader be as comfortable around Jack and Ted when she’s not exhausted and coming off of an adrenaline rush? How is Jack going to explain lycanthropy without sounding insane?? Will Jack melt my heart with his cuteness??? All this and more in the next part!

Feedback, criticism, comments, reblogs, and likes are all always appreciated. Keeps me motivated!

Tagging everyone who commented on my concept post. If you don’t want to be tagged in the next part just let me know! Literally no pressure I just wanted to make sure the people who encouraged by idea got to read it.

Let me know if you would liked to be tagged in the future!

Tags: @starfirette, @nicolewithanee, @fangurldayandnight, @zakizigekwe, @for-bebbanburg, @missdragon-1, @howlingco, @arvalee-knight

What Happened Last Night Pt.2 - Jack Russell x Reader

Summary: You wake up feeling less content than you had falling asleep. Then Jack drops the bombshell of a lifetime on you. You don't take it well.

Warnings: fluff (savior it, this chapter is rough), learning you're a werewolf, mentions of an animal attack, a bit more info on reader, no ted :(, and hmm what am I forgetting? oh yeah. Angst. Like a lot. I’m so sorry for all of you that were just here for the fluff. I promise there will be more in the future.

Word Count: ~1.5k

A/N: I was trying to get this out by Halloween, then by Día de Muertos, but this chapter took about two hours longer than the last one because I needed it to be juuuust right. I hope I did it justice.

Cross-posted on AO3 as always

Part 1, Part 3

Part 2-

When you woke up, Jack had fallen asleep beside you. He sat crisscrossed, his head propped up on his hands, his elbows resting on his knees. He swayed a little, his unconscious body trying to maintain balance. It made you smile.

Ted was nowhere to be found, although you did find some clothes laid neatly beside you. Nothing fancy, simply some old, baggy t-shirt and some sweatpants, but it was definitely better than staying naked in the forest. You threw the shirt over your head and, with some difficulty, managed to shimmy the sweatpants on without agitating your broken ankle too much. You leaned back with a huff, which apparently was enough to wake Jack.

He startled slightly, his head slipping from his hands. As soon as he got his bearings, his focus snapped to you. He grinned widely.

“You’re awake!” You nodded, a little taken aback by his enthusiasm. “How’re you doing?”

“I’m alright,” you said slowly, still groggy and a little weirded out by how much attention was focused on you. When you were actively bleeding, that was one thing, but this man was looking at you like he had to commit every detail he saw to memory, as if you were going to suddenly disappear before him.

His smile fell slightly and he focused his gaze on the ground, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry I fell asleep. I wanted to watch over you and make sure you were alright but… I didn’t get much sleep last night.” Ok, so when you weren’t delirious with pain, this guy was super weird.

“That’s okay. I didn’t expect you to stay by my side at all times,” you shrugged. 

Jack murmured his assent.

“Where’s Ted?” you asked, more to make conversation than anything else.

“He’s probably just going for a walk. Or gathering firewood. Or doing something stupid that’ll mean I have to rescue him again.” Jack’s tone was light as he spoke of his friend.

“You,” you said, eyeing Jack up and down, “rescue Ted?”

Jack gave a single nod with a smirk.

“What’s brave enough to go after Ted?” you said, puffing out a snort of incredulity.

“Monster hunters,” Jack said frankly.

“Monster… hunters? As in multiple. Multiple monsters and multiple hunters?”

Jack nodded again. “Is that so crazy to believe? I mean how many times have aliens and superhumans and sentient robots destroyed New York City? Nowadays, fantasy turns into reality all the time.”

He had a point. But everyone knew about the aliens. You’d never heard or seen a credible source of monsters running around. Until Ted, that is. You were questioning this possible new development when Jack cleared his throat. 

He muttered “no hay razón de andarse por las ramas,” to himself, then turned to face you more squarely, his posture straighter than it had been in the meager time you had spent together.

“Speaking of monsters and hunters, what do you remember about last night?”

You really had no idea what had happened. You went to bed in your little one-story house, and woke up in the woods with half an ear and your ankle in pieces. You told Jack as much.

“Well, based on what Ted told me, you… transformed last night,” Jack said, never once breaking eye contact.

“What the fuck does that mean. Are you saying I, like, hulked out and what? Tore myself apart?” Jack’s serious expression broke into a little smile.

“‘Hulked out’ isn’t the terminology I would use, but more or less, yes. Y/n, I think- no I know- that last night, the moon came up and you-”

“I’m sorry are you trying to insinuate that I turned into a fucking werewolf? Seriously, Jack? Do you really think I’m going to believe that I went to bed as me, saw the moon, and turned into some… some beast? Do I look like fucking Lon Chaney to you?” Admittedly, you had begun to yell a little bit, but Jack seemed to have been expecting this. With a stupid smirk on his face he replied quietly, “Well, I mean you did get caught in a bear trap so The Wolf Man is probably the most apt analogy…”

You glared at him and he chuckled, albeit a bit nervously. You glared harder.

“But yes, y/n, I was trying to tell you that Ted didn’t bring you into our camp this morning. Ted brought a werewolf. When the sun came up, you turned back into you.”

He had to be messing with you. This was all some fucked up joke. He probably was some deranged lunatic who kidnapped you and hurt you to fit whatever fantasy you were fulfilling.

“But, don’t freak out, okay? It’s not so bad. I manage pretty well most months,” Jack was obviously trying to comfort you, but the more he talked the worse you felt.

“Oh, so you’re a werewolf now too?” you said tacking a humorless laugh on the end of your statement.

“Well, I’m me. But, yes, a part of me is a wolf,” Jack said, his tone a little less sure as he spoke of the difference between himself and the wolf.

“You're insane.”

“Y/n, I know you can feel it. You feel the ache in your bones from twisting into something else last night. Everything is brighter and louder. You can hear my heartbeat if you listen for it. No normal human can do that,” he was pleading with you to understand now.

And you knew he was right. From the moment you woke up this morning, you’ve been disoriented. Not just because of the unfamiliar location, but the intensity of it all. The way the smell of your own blood had threatened to drown you, the noise of the fire, hell, even the coffee tasted richer. Everything is so much more than it used to be. And it was freaking you out.

Not to mention the fact that you had gotten attacked by… that thing in the woods a month ago. You had been biking home from a later shift at the pub you worked at. It wasn’t too far of a trip from the little secluded cottage you called your own. But it was dark and it was raining, so you didn’t even notice the creature growling by the trees until it pounced on you, knocking you off your bike. It hadn’t had time to do much damage before grizzled old Mr. Kessler had intervened. His truck’s horn and lights had scared it off, and he gave you a ride back to your house. You had been fine to go to work the next day, simply wrapping up the bite mark on your arm.

Honestly, you hadn’t thought much of it. You lived in a farming town, and wildlife was not unfamiliar to you. You had just started carrying bear mace and continued with life as usual. The wound didn’t even get infected. It just went away on its own after a week or two.

“I’m so sorry, y/n. I know this is confusing and it’s going to make everything more complicated. But I can help you. Ted and I can stick around for a while, we can figure out what this means for you together,” Jack reached to put a comforting hand on your arm. The arm that had been bitten. The arm that he had probably bitten.

You yanked your arm away from him. You didn’t care how hurt he looked. You were angry. And scared. And you let that cloud your judgment. You let that anger and fear lead you to conclusions you had no basis for, let it push you to lash out like the cornered animal you now were.

“Don’t fucking touch me. I don’t want someone like you even near me. You may have turned me into this, but I won’t be like you. I won’t be some sick freak that kidnaps girls to patch them up after you maul them. I won’t be like you,” you snarled, ignoring the way Jack’s eyes widened, the desperate devastation dawning on his face as you spoke.

“Y/n, no. I didn’t-” you ignored his pleas, instead resolving yourself to getting the fuck away from him. You awkwardly clambered to your feet, the rage you felt numbing you to the pain of your ankle.

“No, no, no, no, no. Y/n, you shouldn’t be walking on that, you’re going to hurt yourself. Just, let me help you-”

“No! Jack, you are not some type of good samaritan savior. You don’t get to help me, or anyone. You’re just some… beast. A fucking animal. A monster,” you spat. You began to walk away, and you knew Jack was about to call out to you. Maybe you heard his mouth open with your newly heightened hearing. Maybe you just needed to get one last dig in. So as you walked away from Jack Russell, you snarled your last words to the man.

“And you deserve to be hunted like one.”

.

.

.

I'm sorry. But I needed some drama. And I mean are you seriously going to tell me you wouldn't be a little bit weirded out by Jack? He's very intense and then he just gives you some life altering news and insists on being apart of this transition. We, as viewers and readers who know Jack, know he means well, but our poor reader character does not have that same context.

Also I've set up a dangerous prescient of having at least one werewolf movie reference in these parts and idk if I can keep that up. Brownie points to you if you can sus out my obscure werewolf homages.

Feedback, criticism, comments, reblogs, and likes are all always appreciated. Please tell me what you think! I really gave this one my all and I hope you guys enjoy it. <3

Let me know if you would liked to be tagged in the future!

Tags: @starfirette, @nicolewithanee, @fangurldayandnight, @zakizigekwe, @for-bebbanburg, @missdragon-1, @howlingco, @arvalee-knight, @emiemiemiii, @spicydonut25, @sparkythefallen1, @girlymusiclover09, @pxl8ed, @littlenosoul, @lemmons1998

What Happened Last Night Pt.3 - Jack Russell x Reader

Summary: Lycanthropy, much like periods, turn out to be a multi-day monthly annoyance.

Warnings: Some injury, being grumpy, retail jobs (the horror!), and only a little bit of Jack. :( Sorry. You both need space after you called him a monster. You did, not me, don’t blame me.

Word Count: ~1.7k

A/N: lol hi. its been months and idk if anyone cares about this anymore other than the sweet souls who pushed me to publish another chapter. I would like to write more. I’m fairly certain this is going to be less than ten parts total, and that seems like something I can finish.

In other news im fucking obsessed with Red Dead Redemption II so lowkey might write something for that once this is over.

Oh also I changed my url from @ / ABitGryffindorky to @galactigoos. I wanted to make my AO3 and tumblr match, make them different than my other socials so fanfic doesn’t come up when a job searches me, and JKRowling is a terf bitch. Oh and I had a stalker so thats really what prompted the change lol.

Cross-posted on AO3, as always.

Part 1, Part 2

Perhaps you hadn’t really thought through this whole running away thing. It only took about two minutes for your broken ankle to really catch up to you. Pain radiated through your ankle, spiking with every step, no matter how light it was.

But you wouldn’t go back. Not to him. So you soldiered on, picking up a large stick to serve as a cane along the way. By sheer luck, you successfully wandered back to your house.

Your poor house. The one-story little shack had its back door ripped off the hinges. A few of your dining chairs had given their lives in service of your moon-induced freakout last night. Your bedroom door had slammed against the wall so forcefully the knob was stuck in the drywall.

Leaving most of the carnage for a better day, you placed the back door into its rightful place so no animals would get in. Well, no other animal besides yourself. The thought brought a humorless laugh forward. The absurdity of the situation, the sheer isolation you now faced, piled onto you, forcing you to the floor in a fit of delirious laughter.

You kept laughing. Past when your lungs tired, past when your laugh became more of a shaking wheeze, past the tears that had accompanied your anguish. You couldn’t stop. You laughed until your tired, broken body could no longer handle the strain, and you succumbed to the gentle relief of unconsciousness.

…

At least this time when you woke up naked in the forest, you weren’t caught in any traps. You were alone and relatively unharmed aside from a long gash ripping up your torso.

You groaned as you hauled yourself to your feet. When you stood, your ankle made its presence known. But it was not the scream for attention you faced yesterday, but more of a soft yell. It felt much, much better, but still carried enough pain to force you to limp.

Was this going to happen every fucking night?

… 

After calling into work and once again resetting your back door (thankfully your only damage this time), you decided you needed a plan. If this was going to keep happening, you could not keep running into the woods stark naked. You were out of sick days at work and were already well past your skill level in home repairs. 

So you spent the day modifying the leaky, cold cellar beneath your house. It couldn’t be called a basement. The cottage you had inherited was old. Like so old, the best way to deal with flooding was to build a cobblestone wall under your house with a space for water to run through. The cellar had now been reinforced with concrete, but the drain structure remained the same. The space was unused by you, given the room was designed to flood. So you didn’t have to clear anything out; what you did have to do was secure it. 

The cellar was entered through a door in your kitchen. Down a short flight of stairs, there was another door, this one metal, to keep out a draft. You dug through junk drawers and your shed to find every lock you could, and set to work securing them all to the door from the stairs. You even hauled your mattress to be propped up against the door for some added weight. After triple checking the locks, you grabbed a bottle of NyQuil and went outside.

There, you were able to remove the mesh that normally protected your cellar from debris, and squeezed yourself through the drain opening. Thank god the old motherfuckers that built this shack left a big enough hole. 

By now, it was the middle of the afternoon. You did everything you could to stay awake, despite the exhaustion of the previous two days threatening to pull you under. You talked to yourself, you sang, you worked out. Anything.

And when it started to get darker, you paced anxiously. You removed your clothes (no point in destroying another outfit) and prayed that the werewolf would not be able to fit through the gap to the outside world. At the last second you could bear to wait, you chugged the NyQuil. Hopefully, a tired werewolf was a less destructive one. And hopefully you didn’t just overdose on NyQuil.

…

You’ve never been so happy to wake up on a cold slab of concrete. Apparently, a tired werewolf was unable to claw through your defenses. There were scratches along the cellar walls and the doorknob had been bitten into a shape resembling a crumbled wad of paper, but you were still in your house. You redressed and crawled out of your night’s sanctuary.

You had sustained a rather ugly cut across your face, going over the bridge of your nose, narrowly missing your eyes. You pictured the wolf trying to rub the sleep from its tired, drugged eyes, which was… slightly endearing? As you were otherwise unharmed, you went about your normal morning routine, with about ten times your regularly required caffeine.

It wasn’t until you were stumbling off your bike in the parking lot of the tavern that you realized your ankle didn’t hurt. You were limping still, but there was no pain. And addressing the rest of your body quickly, you noticed that most of your wounds had healed. The gash on your stomach was still tender, but even your ear had repaired itself, leaving just an angry scar and a knick on the outside edge of your cartilage where you must’ve taken a chunk clean off. All things considered, you weren’t doing too bad.

Your boss ignored your haggard state, not that you had expected him to give a shit. Mr. Glendon was always too caught up in tending to the lush garden beside the pub to notice much about his employees. As long as you did your job well enough that he didn’t have to do his, he was happy.

In a zombified state you went through the motions of customer service, serving coffee, pancakes, and toast with a smile. Internally, you were cursing this stupid fucking establishment for being open from 6AM-2AM and requiring you to drag yourself to a goddamn pub for a breakfast shift. You were so tired you hadn’t read the name on the DoorDash order you packaged. You could not as easily ignore the man who walked in to pick it up.

When the bell above the door rang, you smiled and automatically started a welcoming comment, but froze mid-sentence when your eyes met Jack’s. He froze too, halfway through the door, glancing behind him like he was ready to forget the mediocre waffles sitting behind the counter. 

“Come on,” you grumbled, gesturing him inside.

“Lo siento. I was just grabbing us breakfast before we leave town. You won’t have to see me again. I had no clue you work-”

“Waffles, Jack,” you said, cutting him off and shoving the bag at him.

“Right, waffles,” he replied, grabbing the bag and getting out his wallet, and shoving five dollars into the tip jar before you could stop him. “Okay. I’m sorry. Goodbye, y/n.”

He spun to leave. You wanted to let him. He was dangerous and had likely gotten you into this mess. But at the same time, he was the only one who could help you through it. So you had to stop him. He was almost out the door when you called his name. Well, more accurately you whispered it, as part of you was hoping he wouldn’t hear you and you wouldn’t have to keep him in your life. His werewolf senses threw a wrench in your plan, and he spun on his heel and came back to you. He didn’t say anything, just looked at you. His eyebrows were knit with worry, and he tilted his head slightly like the stupid fucking dog he was.

“How much longer? I can’t keep,” you looked around and lowered your voice, “transforming every night.”

Jack let out a breath he was holding, apparently relieved you weren’t about to continue your name-calling of your previous encounter.

“You’re done for this month, cariño. Three days a month. It’s manageable,” he said with a reassuring smile. He looked tired, even more so than you did. You wondered what he had been doing while you were having a meltdown and playing Doomsday Preppers: Werewolf Edition. 

You nodded, relieved in the knowledge that you would have a reprieve now.

Jack cleared his throat. “I know you do not want me around, but perhaps I could put you in contact with some others like us? It’s tough to figure out all on your own.”

“You want me to tell more people? Absolutely not!”

He held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Alright, I wanted to offer. Best of luck, y/n. I won’t bother you again. If you need anything,”  he said, ripping the receipt from his bag and snatching a pen from a cup on the hostess station, “Here’s my number.”

You stared at the scrap of paper offered to you, and hesitated before taking it.

“I’m not trying to impose on your life. I just want you to have help if you need it. No strings attached,” Jack said, filling the silence. You took the paper and shoved it into your back pocket. Jack gave you a tight smile and a nod, and left.

You weren’t given much time to ponder the interaction as the demands of your job quickly stole your focus away from Jack.

…

After work, after your commute home, and after your door fell out of its frame when you tried to enter your own home (you had forgotten it was no longer on its hinges), you were staring dumbly at your mattress-less bed frame. It took you a full minute to remember that your mattress was shoved against your basement door. You huffed, making your way to your couch, as there was no way you were going to bother with lugging your mattress up a flight of stairs after an 8 hour shift.

This was unsustainable. Your house was in shambles, your body scarred, and you were alone and ill equipped to handle any of this. You texted Jack before you could think better of it.

.

.

.

*Cue werewolf training montage*

Also cue Jack jumping up in down at excitement at getting a text.

“See, Ted? I knew she would text! I’m glad we stayed an extra night :D”

Feedback, criticism, comments, reblogs, and likes are all always appreciated. Please tell me what you think! I apparently forget about fics unless you guys hound (pun intended) me about them.

Tags: @starfirette, @nicolewithanee, @fangurldayandnight, @zakizigekwe, @for-bebbanburg, @missdragon-1, @howlingco, @arvalee-knight, @emiemiemiii, @spicydonut25, @sparkythefallen1, @girlymusiclover09, @pxl8ed, @littlenosoul, @lemmons1998, @may4ri, @i-am-iron-man-3000, @maxppt

If anyone wants to be added or removed from the taglist lmk!