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“ There’s hope on the horizon. The moon shines so bright… ”
Ezreal hums the lyrics of the song to himself as he trudges through the forest with only the silver light of the moon and the twinkling of stars to guide him. It’s an old song, passed down through his mother’s side of the family. The Demacian side. He forgets the name, though. But ever since he was little, his mother would always sing it to him, as a lullaby.
Growing older, he understands the lyrics better.
The night air is uncharacteristically still and quiet. Leaves crunch under his combat boots. The trees’ leafless branches reach upwards, the light of the moon finding Ezreal no matter how deep into the forest he roams. Ezreal isn’t quiet. His face is a neutral line, even as his boots crunch the brown grass underneath him.
He’s been warned not to go this deep into the forest. All the time. The local townspeople warned Ezreal about a dangerous pack of wolves that hunt during the midnight, when the fog rolls in.
“Please, Ezreal,” A girl he befriended, Seraphine, pleaded to him at the time. Her long brown hair was in a braid that day. “It’s dangerous to go out there at night. Where are you even headed, anyway?”
Ezreal didn’t answer her back then. He simply thanked her and left at the break of dawn, before she could try and convince him to stay just one more night.
There’s a little voice in the back of the blond’s head, a nagging worry that maybe she’ll get so worried for Ezreal that she’ll end up following him. But then… that wouldn’t be his fault. She was the one who would be stupid enough to follow. It’s not Ezreal’s fault if she gets killed out here.
No, it wouldn’t be.
Ezreal sighs, shivering to himself once the breeze picks up, as if greeting Ezreal. Or challenging him.
‘ Why are you here, little one? Are you lost? ’ The wind mocks him. Ezreal pulls the hood on his red cape up in response. He dusts his hands on his stained white shirt, his eyes downcast. He doesn’t really know where he’s going, but that’s okay.
Because they’ll find him eventually. It’s a full moon out.
Ezreal stops in his tracks the moment he hears a twig break behind him. He’s being followed. Groaning internally, he turns around, already willing the magic in his veins to concentrate in his right hand.
But when he turns around, nobody’s there.
Nothing but a broken twig, right behind him. And that twig wasn’t there before. Ezreal knows what that means.
A warning. From another pack.
“I know you’re out there,” He calls out, the magic in his hands never fading. He smirks, the blue markings on his cheeks glowing alight with power. “Or are you scared of a little mage?”
Beady red eyes all appear in unison, glaring at Ezreal. The blond’s hair on his neck and arms stand up, goosebumps crawl throughout his skin. But Ezreal keeps his cocky smirk, his haughty posture.
“C’mon, is that it?” Ezreal’s voice is louder, more authoritative. “You don’t scare me! Show yourselves!”
But nothing ever does. The eyes don’t disappear. They simply stare at Ezreal. If he squints, they almost look… curious.
“Fine, don’t come out.” He grumbles. He turns around, and continues walking, deeper into the forest.
***
The clock strikes midnight. In the fairytales Ezreal’s grown up with, that usually means the magic goes away. A spell or barrier dissipates, leaving everyone defenseless from the nightly horrors. Nightmares, abominations, monsters. Some would suck your blood until you’re drained dry, some are manifestations of your deepest insecurities.
But Ezreal’s favorites were the were-people. Everyday people with the curse of lycanthropy. Every full moon, they’d transform into a horrific amalgamation, a cross between human and monster. But in his storybooks, they’d look so cool.
He never could have imagined those stories to be true.
As if on cue, the fog rolls in. Ezreal frowns as the fog covers; not even his hands are visible. But he simply shrugs. They’ll find him.
They always do.
“Sett!” Ezreal calls out. “Sylas!”
He keeps wandering, deeper and deeper, one step at a time. The soft crunch of the dead leaves and grass below him keep him company. His thoughts keep going back to Seraphine, hopeful that she doesn’t follow him into the forest.
“Guys, where are you!? He tries again. No response. “Great… maybe their den now is deeper in?”
The hairs on his neck stand up again. His eyes instinctively dart around, frantically searching for whatever is hunting him. But the fog makes it impossible to see anything, other than the dense white blanket that covers the entire forest.
Something in Ezreal’s gut forces him to brace for impact.
And thank whatever deity above he did, too.
Something leaps up at him from the fog, tackling him down onto the hardened earth, and Ezreal is keenly aware of sharp teeth that are threatening to clamp down on his neck. His arms are pinned by strong claws, a mixture of canine paws and human hands. Strong legs keep his lower body pinned, but that doesn’t stop Ezreal from struggling.
His blue eyes meet pulsating red, and Ezreal notices the sharp, elongated ears and scrunches his nose away as the monster on top of him huffs out its foul, warm breath.
A werewolf.
“Get off of me!” He yells, concentrating his magic into his palm and blasting the werewolf right in the face with his mystic shot. “I’m taken!”
But that doesn’t stop the wolf. It lurches at Ezreal again, but this time, Ezreal’s prepared, and fires another magical bolt at its face. The wolf then howls, and a chorus of wolves respond back.
“Shit…”
An entire pack . One werewolf is rough enough considering their magical abilities. But an entire pack .
Oh Ezreal’s a dead man.
So he does the one thing he can do - run . Without looking back, Ezreal books it, dodging wolves that appear from the fog and weaving mystic shots at the ones he can see through the fog. But it’s all for nothing. Something snags onto his foot, causing the blond to tumble down back onto the earth.
An upturned tree root. Of course. The hungry and angry growls of an entire pack surrounds him. Ezreal can tell, behind that fog, that those beady eyes are devouring him already, ready to make them his next meal.
“Guess this is it, huh…” Ezreal chuckles to himself. “Should’ve listened to you, Sera…”
He untangles his foot from the root, but winces as pain flares up when he tries to move it. Sprained. Because of-fucking-course it is.
“ The moon casts ray beams on this dreaded night; hear out plight, we can’t fight, we’re not fine… ”
Ezreal smiles, the lyrics of the song coming back to him. Perhaps he can visit his mom when the wolves are done feasting on his bones.
“Okay,” He calls out to the wolves. “I give. You got me.”
The wolves strike. Ezreal closes his eyes, and then gasps once he feels something hit the back of his neck. His body turns numb.
His vision goes black
***
When Ezreal wakes up again, it’s… warm. There’s something hot next to him and there’s something tickling his nose and something or someone breathing rather heavily next to his ear.
He tries to blink his eyes open, but his head throbs and aches.
“Ow, shit…”
The things next to him stir.
Well, he’s either dead. Or taken captive. He won’t know until his eyes start working properly again.
A few forced blinks through the pain later, and his blurry vision returns. Ezreal squints, trying his best to see clearly.
His head throbs and a sharp pain forces him to cry out and close his eyes. His body goes numb.
And back out cold he goes.
***
Sett growls. A part of him knows that he should’ve expected this. He mated Ezreal of all people, a mage too overconfident of his own abilities and too eager to prove himself. A dangerous combination. Sett’s not too sure how Ezreal managed to survive this long, especially with how often they’ve met up during the full moon.
So really, he shouldn’t have been surprised when that idiot decided to adventure into the forest - the forbidden part, too - and goad another pack of werewolves into attacking him.
It was a slaughter.
Well, for Sett at least, judging by all the dismembered corpses of the pack that tried to kill his mate. Sett huffs, tossing the skull of the one that knocked his lover unconscious, and then crushing it with a stomp of his leg. The moon shines bright above him, his monstrous eyes piercing the white fog.
He runs back, deeper and deeper, until he reaches their camp. A clearing, one that’s large enough for the three of them, and in an open enough area surrounded by several dead trees where Sett can slash at the bark, claiming his territory.
Another wolf lays down next to his beloved. The campfire is almost out, reduced to fleeting embers. Sett huffs. He can keep Ezreal warm, too.
He goes over to the blond, frowning when he sees fresh blood staining the white shirt that Sett had to use as a makeshift gauze.
“He’ll be okay,” the wolf beside him whispers.
“You sure, Sylas?”
“He’s lost blood. But he’ll live. We rescued him in time.”
Sett isn’t so sure. When they arrived, he saw the pack leader slash at Ezreal. After that… he doesn’t remember. The moon must have swayed him; his wolf instincts turning primal, murderous.
All he saw was red, and then a field of dead werewolves at his wake.
It’s what they get for messing with his mate.
***
The pounding in his head is gone. Ezreal blinks his eyes open, and he’s greeted with the shine of the moon.
“Ezreal!”
He doesn’t have time to really process that someone growled his name before something fluffy and muscular knocks the wind out of him.
“Augh-!” He sucks in a breath, but he can’t help but smile. “Careful, big guy, I’m literally half the size of you.”
A claw gently cups Ezreal’s head, rubbing a spot that makes him groan in discomfort.
“You’re still hurt…”
“I’m fine,” Ezreal sighs, melting in the wolf’s hold. “J-Just need a minute.”
“Ezreal…”
“I mean it, Sylas. I’m okay.” Ezreal tries to smile, to open his eyes. But his eyelids refuse to cooperate.
“We were worried about you, Little Spark,” Sylas whispers, pulling Ezreal into his lap. The blond sighs and chuckles, feeling Sylas’ warm fur and soft, unflexed muscles beneath all that fluff.
“I know. I’m sorry. Sett’s going to kill me, isn’t he?”
“Oh yeah.” Another voice growls. Ezreal doesn’t have to see to know that a pair of golden eyes glare at him. “And when your head stops bleeding, I’m fucking you so hard ‘til you can’t walk.”
“Mmm, sounds like a dream come true.”
“Better watch it, Shortcake,” Sett huffs. And Ezreal giggles as he feels a warm tongue lap at his neck.
“Hey! S-Stop that tickles!”
“You’re bleeding again.”
Ezreal tries to suppress his laughter, letting his two werewolves do whatever they want with him. They’re already much stronger, Ezreal’s practically a ragdoll to them at this point. A toy, a plaything.
And really, it is strange. A human being coddled by two werewolves. It’s only something Ezreal’s heard about in the romantic fairy tales. He didn’t like those growing up, only because it always starred helpless young girls and never helpless young guys like him.
His eyes finally open, and his vision finally returns. The fog is gone. Ezreal’s always unsure why or how. But every time he’s with Sett and Sylas, the fog leaves, as if knowing Ezreal isn’t a threat anymore. Or maybe, it’s accepting him into the fold.
The moon serves as a silver sun, and Ezreal smiles up at a silver wolf, burying his face into Sylas’ neck and inhaling the scent of fresh dew and morning rainfall.
“Sorry,” He lamely says, muffled. “I’m here now.”
“Next time, Little Spark, wait for us to pick you up?”
Ezreal resurfaces wearing a sheepish smile. “I really couldn’t help myself. I wanted to see you guys again.”
Sett snorts. “We see each other all the time.”
“Yeah, but when the full moon comes out and you guys have to stay here…” Ezreal pouts, looking into Sett’s golden eyes. His mate’s werewolf form is large, larger than Sett’s human form, and more wolf than human. But Ezreal still manages to find comfort in those claws. He opens his arms and Sett easily engulfs the blond.
Sett smells like fire and smoke. Familiar and calming. He sighs.
“Being without you two for a week…” Ezreal scratches a spot behind Sett’s ear and grasps Sylas’ clawed paw tighter. “It gets lonely.”
Sett licks Ezreal’s cheek, and Ezreal chuckles. He manages to kiss the side of Sett’s muzzle before Sett captures the human’s lips in an awkward kiss. Ezreal still isn’t sure how to breathe yet since Sett’s entire mouth covers his nose, but he can’t deny the tingling pleasure of having Sett’s large tongue sliding against the roof of his mouth.
He feels Sylas behind him ripping the last pair of pants that Ezreal owns. Sylas’ nose twitches the minute it reaches Ezreal’s neck, and the blond can’t help but chuckle and shiver as Sylas’ tongue laps at his neck.
Sett releases him, leaving Ezreal a panting, shivering, and giggling mess.
“Y-You guys…”
“How about… from now on… you just join us… every full moon, hm?” Sylas pants through long licks.
“Yeah, human life sucks ass. The only reason you don’t join us is ‘cause you want us to still be part of civilization.” Sett huffs, massaging Ezreal’s midsection and chest, his clawed thumbs idly teasing Ezreal’s nipples.
“W-Well…” The blond shivers, a shaky moan escaping despite him biting his bottom lip. “Y-You guys want to stay in your werewolf forms… forever?”
“Is that a problem with you, Little Spark?”
“Got a problem with that, Shortcake?”
Ezreal snickers, his breath hitching and back arching when he feels Sylas grip his thighs and Sett’s tongue on his chest. He’s about to get devoured. And his body loves it.
“I-I guess I’m willing to try…”
“That’s the spirit, Ez,” Sett chuckles. “Now loosen up. Sylas and I have been pent up for the past three days.”
“And we’re done with the killing.” Sylas purrs in his ear, his clawed hand carefully entering, breaching Ezreal’s entrance, causing the blond to moan louder. “Now, we just want you…”
How did the last of that song go?
“ And life goes on… it goes on, and on, and on, and on, and gets worse… ”
But with Sylas’ large, clawed hands expertly exploring and carefully prodding his prostate, and Sett’s tongue and fangs playing with Ezreal’s exposed skin, how could he not say no? His human life and life as he knows it is probably going to end.
“Now, come on, Shortcake. Ass up. Spread your legs wider.”
"Just like that, Little Spark..."
“ But hey - it’ll be… ”
“Alright.”