Author's Note
alright, so i have no idea what i'm doing but i hope it goes well! XD
just to clear some things up, all the characters in this story are humanized, meaning they have natural skin colors. i know how harsh this fandom can be with hate, so let me clarify that this is my interpretation of Flash, Twi, Flutters and Discord.
there will be chapter titles and personalized line breaks so just watch out for those XD i'm going to have a lot of profanity here, just because they're adults and i feel like they would swear, since it's also not for a younger audience. i'm not going to have a lot lot of swearing here, just as much as i think should be. and no, this isn't for the FlashLight week like it originally was since i wanted to mature BNC by a bit. so, a heads up, expect werewolves, death, shipping, crushing stereotypes and other crazy shit. if you don't enjoy Flash as a character in EqG, perhaps this story might change your mind? idk đ
thanks for picking this story and i hope you enjoy it!! 
(also forgive me for any mistakes!!)
00 | prologue
00 | prologue
three years earlier
FLASH SENTRYâS CONTACTS ACTED UP. They never sat right with his eyes, like they didnât want to protect everyone from him. The urge to exit the school after last period and go to the glasses store surged up to his head but he shook it off. Prices didnât matter, the consequences did.
Being on the top floor meant the cold slithered in easier, despite the windows tightly shut and the radiator on almost-full. Snow fell quicker than anyone expected, the cool breeze chilled everyone way before November swooped in. The heavy fall in Equestria was one of the peopleâs favorite times of the year, whether it be Hearthâs Warming or the fact the holidays were inches away.
Before anyone could call after him, he set off, leaving the Music room in the dust. It was like he had black lines scribbled over his eyes by the way he stormed off â no one in Canterlot High School picked up on context clues, he didnât know what to feel about that. He wanted to ditch communication with everyone in that class, the ones who looked at him after they got their assessments back.
He wasnât fond of their eager behavior to know what he got.
Straight up, after a test, they would peer over on his results when he wasnât looking, and their expressions would scan around jealous or utterly surprised, though the latter might be there to cover the former.
How could he sense jealousy? What if it was his arrogance?
It was a strong green emotion, a spark circled around their irises, even if they gave him a smile and a congratulations. He grew into the habit of recognizing the difference between façade and honesty.
He wasnât human, made it easier to tell what they felt. Though, the reasoning stayed under cloaks, stabbing him in the back.
People could manipulate emotions easily, overshadow jealousy with friendship as if they were the same thing. They were terrible at hiding it anyway, their whispers managed to flow into his ears faster than humans could do. He could simply picture the image of his left ear twitching after he smiled at his grade.
He heard so much gossip with his ears, some that he didnât want to hear in the first place. That was the struggle of having better hearing than humans.
They caught onto his face when he saw his paper, and their whispers revolved around:
âHey, what dâya think he got?â
âFuck, I got a sixty-five â knowing Sentry, he probably got above ninety or something.â
âGo on, ask him what he got.â
âDude, he wouldnât. The rich boy is too decent to share his results with anyone but his friends and his Dad.â
âGirl, come on, if he got the better score than everybody else then heâs definitely going to have other students come at him like vultures asking him for help. Better be the first ones, you donât want to fail Music.â
âIâm glad heâs not a smart-ass in other Academic subjects. If so, then who knows how many jealous students will try to come after him? CHS is filled with jealous hoes.â
Wrong. Canterlot High School was filled with gossipers.
The aura stung his chest, that only happened when the emotion overloaded his senses. He trusted them too easily, he believed they didnât feel any sort of negative emotions towards him â Celestia, was he wrong. It happened to Inferno, with Ciel, now he was the target. Once he left for College, they would aim at his little brother.
His ears itched to come out of his hair, replacing the human ones around his jaw. The gossip was too much to handle and he wanted his hands to cover them.
It was expected of teenagers to stay out of unnecessary drama petty students brought up, right? Any normal teenager would do that, any teenager without a petty head.
Apparently, he wasnât normal. From the day his Dad put Sentry after Flash to his eyes opening for the first time. Normal was nonexistent.
Contacts heated, releasing a stinging pressure against his eyes. The flood pulled against strings in his head, closing his eyes would only increase the burns. His walking pace slowed down, the edge of his palm reaching to his eye socket to cease the irritation. Brows narrowed in, the growl sizzled in his throat, begging to come out. As if letting out bark would somehow relax the strains.
These contacts were a punishment he didnât deserve.
With his head turned down to his feet, the remembrance of Flash Sentry trying to escape his dreaded classmates banged against his head. The echo of their voices calling his name was the next step.
His irises tingled, fighting against the contacts. If he didnât stop his emotions from fizzing, the scary light shade of blue would pierce the contacts to nothing. And who knew what trouble he could get into with his Dad.
Glasses wouldâve been so much better.
His hand dug into his pockets, his fingertips brushing against the case of his AirPods. Without a second thought, he plugged them in his human ears, connected them to and played a random song, building up the excuse as to why he didnât hear them.
Deep breaths never worked for him, calming down was almost the hardest thing to do. It was funny how people think they actually knew how to cool him down when really, they only knew a third of the story. Honestly, the result of how much people cared was shocking. Theyâd say theyâll be there for you, that you could always talk to them. Reality always struck, people were selfish to the core.
Humans were monsters.
Still, Flash wasnât trying to be a hypocrite.
It should be in big letters; Flash fucking Sentry was a bloody monster. Have you ever heard of the monster that was hot as fuck? If people knew, they would call him that. Or probably something more horrible. Whatever came first.
The thought of glasses flashed through his vision â the pun wasnât intended â and the image of him with dark blue gradient glasses came after. It was the twenty-first century, the probably should have glasses that alerted people about shit with digital⌠ness(?).
Perhaps he should ask Zecora for something like that. She was part robot anyway.
One sense of the school bell ringing slipped past one earbud, and he raised his head. The library was to his right and it was a free period. As far as he was aware, the students in his class also did History, so he ran off lucky fuel in this case.
Glasses or contacts? Which one had cons that outweighed the pros?
If Canterlot High standards mattered, then glasses would mean his rank would wither between smart-arses and popular kids. If it was his choice to decide, he wanted to be neither. Outcast for the win, truth be told. With restrictions like his, outcasting him would make his life a hell lot easier.
Still, Canterlot High simply couldnât do that to a fucking Sentry.
There was no one or the other, Sentrys always had to be in the middle and do both, as if they were Celestia or Sombra and managed to juggle both reputations.
Glasses meant smart-arses and abs meant popular kid. That was how his world worked if put simply. Though, no one actually said that; they felt off when a well-known student of CHS walked around the school with glasses. It wasnât because they didnât like it, oh fuck no. People were jealous, they werenât dumb.
Being popular and smart? Any teenager would want that â well, unless they were Discord Draconequus, then they would rather be emo than anything.
Flash didnât like hiding, he was more of a confront or camouflage person, hence the earphones. It was a rule for most teenagers that they shouldnât interrupt people when they clearly donât want to talk to them â also known as wearing earbuds, a heavy hint. Worked perfectly in his favor.
His knuckles cracked under the beat of the music, his eyes scaled over the books on the upper floor. The radiators appeared to be on as the library was a lot warmer than usual, a faint sense of smoke puffed out of the doors as they popped open, the corridor was nowhere near as heated.
He zeroed in on the ground floor, skimming through some of his decent classmates doing their own business with the laptops. He didnât know why he looked there, she wouldnât come into this place to use the laptops like typical teenagers would do.
Nah, she would be up there, struggling to hold a pile of books while reading the blurb of another.
He handed the librarian a wave and a smile before heading upstairs, finally able to see the shit the students were actually doing on their laptops. Of course, some did their actual classwork/homework, but they always sneaked in something of their own. It was a stupid thing adolescents would do, they wanted to try out the new stuff and take a laptop just to have it to themselves for the time they had.
He didnât do that, so he never understood the logic behind that.
Windows didnât do winter justice; the snow didnât have the glow that it normally would in person. All he saw was white with sprinkles of gray here and there. Other than that, the clouds and snow meshed into one. Snow clogged together near the edges of the window sill, while the rest slid across the diagonal shape of the windows.
The color didnât want to adjust to his eyes anymore, they had already seen enough snow, more so blood soaked snow.
A thud boomed into his direction, coming from the way he supposedly was going to go through. The carpet trail led to the legs of a table, then to the white table base, decorated with school stationery and books. Many, many piles of books. A few steps closer cleaned the spines of the book in his vision. Shivers swooped under his leather jacket as soon as he caught the waft of a familiar flavored coffee.
She took a sip of her coffee, soon letting the mug plop next to the second one. Other than the smell, the colors of the mugs attracted his attention, even though they were from similar families. The patterns of light cornflower wolf paws scattered around the words wolves are not dogs, in the same color, in a messy but aesthetically pleasing manner.
She knew how much he loved coffee. And that specific mug.
The book apparently didnât have her attention gripped as she looked up from it. With her actions after locking eyes with him, the biting pencil expression turned into that sweet smile that always melted him.
Letâs face it; Flash Sentry was ice, Twilight Sparkle was steel.
âHey, Flash!â
He gulped down a whimper, his teeth clenched to keep his heartbeat steady. The pressure against his eyes calmed down when her voice circled through his ears. The contacts were a replica of his natural just blue irises so they didnât allow humans to see the terror of his danger eyes â still, the pain pinpricking his eyes calmed down like a scale going from a hundred to zero. From the top to the bottom of his eyes.
Her voice.
âCome on, we got to do our project! I want to get it out of the way before our homework loaded.â
He shook his head, coughing to clear his throat and, hopefully, to shut down the heavy beating of his heart.
Keep those walls of steel up.
âYou got us coffee?â He managed to pull out, his tone a strange but appealing(?) mixture of regular and husky.
The one trait a stereotypical popular boy would have was a deep, luscious voice. Welp, he didnât have that. It was developed, sure, but it didnât fit into the equation of the perfect man everybody was talking about.
Though, she liked it â said it made his singing voice sound a lot more âattractiveâ. Plus she blushed when she told him that.
She gave him the satisfaction of building his ego, though it wasnât as big as hers when she wins a game. Holy fuck, Cocky Twilight Sparkle. He never thought heâd see that until Junior Year.
âYep! Your favorite too!â She shoved the container in his direction, her finger tapping on the lid.
âDamn. You canât stop me from paying you back.â
âNah, I think I can. Letâs say, Iâm making a resolution for New Yearâs that I wasnât going to accept any Sentry money.â
He raised a brow, âya know, we have a month left until 31st December so...â His hand crept up to the pocket inside his jacket, the bumps of the coins already under his touch.
She held her hand out in a stop motion.âNope, keep your money to yourself, Sentry boy.â It was a habit of hers to giggle whenever she tried to say her nicknames for him with a straight face.
His hands collapsed to his sides as he walked around to the chair to her left. He blinked to keep the eye-rolling attitude to himself, âlisten, short dork, you need to come up with better pet names for me if youâre gonna say them with a laid-back voice.â
âOh?â She rested her head on her hand. âLike you, Casanova?â
Casanova? That was the best she could do?
âBitch, Iâm not that self-centered.â
If it was someone else, the term bitch wouldâve annoyed them â they wouldnât be able to tell if he was insulting them or joking around, which was why he only swore in front of Twilight since she always studied the tone and character of him and how he used the term.
âWell, dickhead, are you saying Iâm self-centered?â Her eyebrows were furrowed as she leaned close, her lips played a smirk.
âWhat do you think, Twinkle Sprinkle?â
That earned a slap on the arm.
âOkay, too far, pretty boy, too far.â Her finger pressed against his lips. Her position wasnât flirty, more stern but playful. Her right leg crossed over her left, her top half curved over her thigh to be closer to him.
If she was going to play the mischievous card, might as well pull his one. And as far as he could tell with his tongue, his fangs werenât bared.
He aimed for her finger, however, she pulled back before he could bite it. Her eyes narrowed at him. His card hadnât expired so he brought the baby face out.
It only took his small pout for her to push his face to the right teasingly with her fingers. From the time he had, he sensed a bit of red forming upon her sun-kissed skin.
âWhat?â He wiggled his left brow.
âNothing...â her chin tucked against her neck, âjust that your innocent face always gets me. You know I like cute things!â Her hand clamped over her mouth when that came out.
âHold up.â
She hummed her response under her muffled mouth.
âDid you just call me cute?â
âShut up, jerk!â
He blocked his laughs out when she groaned and cried softly, her punch in the arm was a lot harsher than normal.
He swore they were just friends.
Chemistry wasnât one of his most desired subjects, the teacher would normally go through all the necessary details in the blink of an eye and then point on people to answer her questions as if they knew the answers. He only enjoyed the lesson because Twilight sat next to him and they could do basically whatever shit they want after they whizzed through some questions.
He was good at the subject, there was no lie there, but he wasnât great at it either. If any help was needed, she was always there, no matter how far behind she sometimes got.
Looking over the textbook was another thing, the answers would be right in front of him but it took him almost five minutes to understand it, mostly by just reading it over and over before his brain grew exhausted.
This wasnât much of a project, as Twilight said, more of a research the answer to this question and write it in your own words kind of thing. And as much of an over-writer he was, most of the shit he wrote was repetitive. He would get her to read it through and basically be his editor â she still wouldnât let him pay her.
May that be a running gag throughout the rest of their lives.
Their table wasnât as isolated as he wanted it to. It was in the far corner, yeah, but many students with free periods also wanted to join them. Cons of being popular, right?
âYou finished?â The whisper jolted the AirPod he had in his fingers out and onto the table, fortunately. He arched his body to the left, just in case she was leaning in. His vision fell to his exercise book, his lip curled at the question he was on.
His music bounced around the loose earplug, circling around the space between them. He shook his head and let out another groan, one that didnât disturb the other students around them.
âWhat do you need help on?â This time she leaned in, over his work instead of towards him. Besides the strange mix of neat and messy handwriting, she eyed as the third question and the blankness surrounding it. âQuestion 3âs a hard one to understand â you might want to ask her for help?â
His shoulders dropped, âyou know me, itâs weird asking for a teacherâs help. Can you, I donât know, explain it? With you, Iâm sure that Iâll at least get two out of the three marks.â His voice dripped to more of a pleading tone, which he didnât want.
When he looked at her again, he followed her gaze to the book a few inches away from her. The blue marble patterned bookmark stood out like a sore thumb, placed a quarter near the end. For the hardcover, it was a dark blue, letting the white silhouette of something come out more. The position he sat from didnât give him any allowance to see the title, so what he captured was a word but squished up.
âYou want to continue that book, donât you?â
She tore her gaze off the book and her sentences fell into stammers, âw-well, I-I⌠it-itâs not w-whatââ
âWhatâs it about?â
His chin rested on the table, tilting slightly and examining the book up close. He turned over, his cheek pressing against the cold table when Twilight picked it up and flipped it to the page she was at previously.
Her lips moved but nothing came out. She bit her bottom lip, her eyes skimming through something on the page. He peered over her shoulder, his hair meeting her neck which caused her to laugh gently and her hand to find its way to the back of his head. While humming lightly, her fingers move around in his hair.
He scanned over the words of a random paragraph, the words rang in his head somewhere but the memory of it kept drifting away. The premise of that one box of words managed to flawlessly grip his attention to it, yet he lost track of where he was when something knocked the book out of Twilightâs hands.
As the book tumbled onto the ground, the dust jacket unfolded and creased under the law of gravity. His brow shot up and he gazed over at the shadows darkening their exercise and textbooks.
Shit, CHSâs frat boys; the recent ones that managed to get into a house in a random College.
What the actual fuck were they doing in a library?
His mouth strained from endless wishes to swear at their faces. He spied Twilight pushing her chair out of her way after letting out a deep breath. From what he could tell, her eyes shadowed, and her mouth twisted into a pissed frown.
Welp, those dicks were dead.
For her sake, he bent down for the book, to check its pieces were okay after that harsh collide and the boys not bothering to apologize. Twilight normally wouldnât be peeved at someone disturbing her reading chances â it all depended on what kind of person they were to her. If anything, manual karma was a common phrase in her dictionary.
The dust jacket had a diagonal wrinkle through the front, unfortunately differing from the side that wrapped around the hardcover. He knew that it would eventually fade away if fixed correctly but the appearance of it remained unpleasant to his eye for now.
The question rebounded to different areas of his head â what story was she reading? He took a glimpse at the blurb, it was a collection of fairytales. It didnât specify what type of tales they were since recently, mature fables were in season. The bookmark didnât slip out of its place, so he popped back to those double pages. Formatting on the page numbers and in the top left/right corners intrigued his interest, they were gray fading paw prints, specifically wolf prints.
Carefully going back, collecting the bunch of pages so he didnât have to flip tediously through the book, he sought for the title sheet of this tale.
Black marks met his eye at the edge of the paper, causing him to stop there. His lips parted at the sight of the bold calligraphy of the long, mortifying tale.
That was where he remembered the paragraph from.
The Lunaire Werewolf.
