Simon "Ghost" Riley | Werewolf

Simon "Ghost" Riley | Werewolf - Finally got around to writing that thing with the werewolves where if someone who truly knows and trusts it calls it's name it'll turn back <3 Featuring big scary Simon Riley slowly losing more of his mind with every full moon that passes, but it's okay because reader will always be here to remind him to come home Minor gore in intro ~ The first few times you made this trek, you remember being scared of the woods. Every little sound of the forest made the hair on your arms stick up, convinced that you'll be eaten alive by the creatures of the night. Nowadays, you walk through the trees at an unhurried pace, enjoying the peace and the calmness of night. The songs the cicadas sing this time of year are particularly lovely, and the way the bright moonlight filters through the leaves, illuminating your path ever so kindly, makes the trip somewhat enjoyable. It rained earlier, long before nightfall, thank goodness, but the earth still smells of fresh dirt, and you have to watch your step to make sure you don't slip.

There's a rustle behind you, and you pause. He's not usually this close to civilisation, something in his temporarily scrambled brain always knows to retreat as far into the woods as his paws will take him, knowing that either he'll turn back on his own come daybreak, or, more preferably, you'll find him first. By now, he should be by the caves. Unless he got distracted hunting a deer again. It's been happening more and more, the desire for flesh between his teeth rising into a fever pitch, almost as if the wolf has never quite fulfilled the instinctual urge for the taste of blood and viscera dripping from his muzzle, staining the dark fur black. You don't flinch when the snarling starts behind you, nor do you try to run. Instead, you take a deep breath, turning around to make sure that this is the right wolf. Judging from the facial markings, which should be bone white but are currently dyed a deep red, and the fact that this wolf is three times bigger than normal, you'd say that you found the right one. Sometimes it concerns you how his mask is so ingrained into his psyche that it appears even when he's not himself, but this isn't the time. Slowly, ever so slowly, you call his name. Not Ghost. Ghost is the mask, and you're searching for the man underneath. At the sound of his name, Simon, the wolf immediately stops, his ears pinning back and his tail tucking between his legs. Like this, he looks a little like a kicked dog. Slowly, ever so slowly, a dark paw reaches out, and right before your eyes, his fur recedes and his claws dull back into fingernails, his canines shorten, and his muzzle flattens back into the face you know so well, until a very bloody and probably very cold Simon Riley sits in front of you, his hand in yours. It's a good thing you brought a change of clothes and a coat.