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eat-yourheart · 6 hours

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Alpha and Second

This is a repost because I was unhappy with the previous version and had to rewrite it. This is the first fic with my whump OCs that I used to explore their dynamic through a 'day in the life'.

A summary of the overarching plot: Alpha and Second are werewolves in a modern-day world where wolves have just begun to live and mingle with humans within the past 50-60 years. They currently live in a city area in Britain. 'Alpha' is very much against this notion and believes that wolves should still be living in the pack lifestyle out in the wild, as far away from discriminatory and violent humans as possible. She's considered a 'radical' in her ideals, and therefore was rejected from the majority of packs in her area. She formed the beginnings of a pack with her boyfriend, 'Second,' who, with her influence, has long since stopped using his human name. Alpha is a drug dealer in order to save up large sums of money to move them to the USA to run away into one of the national parks. This is highly unrealistic, and it is not feasible to survive out there with their human half's needs. But she is dead-set and convinced, so therefore, Second is too. This is not an A/B/O universe related story, rather, in this world, werewolves of the modern era tend to pack the way that captive wolves do. Rather than the traditional family groups from ye olden days, they are gathered as a group of otherwise strangers or friends under the leadership and care of an 'Alpha' figure.

CW: drugs, opiate use, cocaine use, abusive relationship, female abuser, fantasy discrimination (human's treating werewolves poorly), dehumanization, manipulation

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A door slams, disrupting the quiet haze of the house, and Second startles awake in Alpha's nest. It's very early in the morning, and the spotty sunlight makes him squint. Her footsteps go about halfway down the hall and stop, and Second buries himself in the blankets, pushing fear down his throat with his tongue, resisting the urge to shift into his wolf form in the hopes of his scent calming her. He hears her growling and muttering to herself in the hall and the sound of her throwing her clothes off. His heartbeat thumps within him twice as hard as clammy sweat rolls down his palms, his overgrown nails digging into Alpha's blankets at the thought of her confronting him in her wolf form. It always hurts so much worse.

The door opens, and she is in her human skin, her silver eyes glimmering at him. "Alpha," he whispers, more of an acknowledgment than a question. She isn't listening, and when she moves onto him, it's as swift as any alpha's fighting should be. She swipes him out of the bed, and he topples onto the floor with a yelp, half shifting in his panic, his bones groaning along with him. She draws him up by the throat and slaps him in the face before biting into his shoulder. He screams and presses at her chest as she whips her head around, tearing at his skin. She isn't even growling, just silently ripping at him. His instincts paralyze him as she forces submission through him down to his bones. He can't fight back against her, just laying limp and trying to bear his neck and appeal to her.

She grabs at the hands pressed to her, and her nails rip at them. Her eyes lose the fog over them as they flit over the bare, bleeding skin before her. His neck is fully bared, his eyes closed desperately. It soothes her, and she chuffs then takes a breath, stilling herself. "Second," she mutters, and he looks at her. She leans down and licks at his wounds, apologizing.

"It’s- it's okay, Alpha," he breathes, wiping his tears away as his jaw trembles faintly.

"Humans. Infuriating pieces of shit." Alpha kicks the bedside, her teeth shining in the sunlight.

"I know," Second agrees, nodding his head and shakily sitting up when she allows him. "Just come to the nest, lay down. We can-"

"No!" she growls, and he whines and flinches back from her with wide eyes. "It will only be fixed once we get out of here. I need to get out of here!" She stands suddenly, pacing the territory of her nest and rubbing at her temples, her teeth bared at nothing. She’s growing more and more restless the longer her escape is dangled in front of her on a string.

"Alpha," he says, quiet voice trying to soothe her, looking at the floor, not commanding, just suggesting. "Your selling is going well, and we- We’ll be gone. Gone far away, soon. We're close to it, you said." Truthfully Second doesn’t have any clue what funds they have right now, and she will certainly not clarify.

"Not close enough. I hate dealing to humans," she spits, biting her teeth on the words. "They're worse than wolf druggies, fucking disgusting things."

Second looks at the floor, his knees curled to his chest and hands rubbing at his calves. "Speaking of," he says, clearing his throat and rubbing at his quickly bruising cheek. Her eyes meet his nervous golden ones, and he looks at the floor as he continues. "Did you bring any for me today...?"

Alpha takes another breath and finally fully relaxes, the sight of him cowering comforting her a surprising amount. The rage drips off of her like wax and her face softens to him. "Of course I brought your medicine, sweetie." She steps into the hall and picks up her pants, cursing and rooting through the pockets until she finds a prescription pill bottle labeled 'diazepam' and a small baggie with white oval shaped pills. She steps back into his space and hands the bottle to him. "I even was able to get both this time, pup."

Second's demeanor instantly brightens, and he takes the bottle, immediately taking two of the pills dry. He sighs with relief, carding a hand through his sweaty hair. It's been about a week since he's had anything, and the shaking, puking, and all else has become unbearable. Alpha takes one of the pills in the bag. Her mellow scent of pine and lake water is already constantly poisoned and polluted to mud by the smell of the chemicals in the drugs, and it clouds even more as the pill settles in her stomach. As for Second, his scent is so run through with drugs and chemicals that even Alpha has trouble with recognizing his scent, the smell of blueberries and golden-brown baked goods is all but gone.

Second has leaned back against the wall, rubbing at the scabbing blood of the bite in his shoulder, a bruise forming on the side of his face where he was slapped. He traces his fingers on the bite, almost lovingly, reverently. The pain is never good, but his Alpha left that mark - so it must mean something, it must be a gift from her. It just has to be. His eyes are slowly hazing over, and he breathes out a frightfully exhausted sounding sigh, the chemical kitchen frying his brain.

"Second," he hears her voice call to him, wavering in the air around him, and he turns to see her in their nest, reaching for him, all glowing silver eyes and breathtaking dark hair. Second stands shakily and plants himself into her arms, a soft whine catching in his throat as he tries to not seem needy. He presses his head under her chin, scenting her, and she does the same to him, the mix of chemicals coagulating in the air and in their noses. Alpha breathes it in deep anyway, tasting it as the scent rolls over her tongue.

"Everything will be so much better once we get out of here," she hums, her voice far too calm, somewhere far away from Second, from their bed. "The trees and the dirt and the fresh air; it's where wolves are meant to be. Not anywhere near these fucking poor excuses for animals." Alpha's eyes shut, and the memories of being hit and spat at just for existing in public wash over her, fueling her anger, muted by opiates. A rock is thrown at her face; she bites at it, even though it does not exist here in this time and place.

"It will be better," Second agrees, squeezing her soft naked form in his arms, her skin thin and yet so tough to the world beneath his hold. Once we're out there, you won't have a reason to hit me, he thinks. Once we're there, you won't be angry anymore.

They are resting in a semi-warm silence when there is knocking on the front door. Alpha growls loud and snaps out a short barking sound. She shoves Second off of her and steps into the hall, throwing her clothes back on hastily.

The door opens to one of her fellow dealers in the wolf circles, the irritation in her look falling away slightly. "Oh, Noah,” she blinks at him hazily. She hadn’t expected him to be out of prison yet. Has it really been that long? Is she losing that much time to the stress? “What are you doing here?"

"Hey Irene," he says, his gaze playfully shifting around to see if anyone may be watching. He glimmers at her happily, his brown eyes reflecting the sun at her like he’s the happiest pup in the world. "We just got a shipment in, I was wonderin' if you were low on anything an' needed a fill-up." He has a thick Northern accent, thicker than hers, that rumbles in his chest. He speaks about drugs like it’s dinner table conversation. "Was also wonderin' how the plans are going," he adds, a biting disbelief in his voice.

Alpha sighs, closing her eyes for a moment as her drugged brain fights to keep up with him. "I do need to fill up on some inventory, but not now now. Don't you have an addiction program you should be doing? I t’ought your parole weren't flexible on that end." She itches at her neck and tries not to bare her teeth, not fond of how other Northerners always make her accent rear it’s head even harder.

Noah laughs, his long canines poking from under his lip. "’Parole,’ nah mate, whatever, my pack will lie for me."

"Fresh out and already in another pack?" Alpha says, leaning on the door frame and finding something more interesting to watch, such as the sunlight playing on the patio, or hell, even a gnat flying by if she’s lucky.

"Ah, yeah, you know how scents like mine are irresistible!" Noah's chest puffs out and Alpha rolls her eyes with a small bewildered smile as he lets out a bit of his fresh, natural scent of tree bark and sage. "I'm like a magnet for packs, they all want me in the mix."

"Uh huh, whatever Noah. Was the inventory all you needed to tell me? We have a meeting with everyone in a week so I don't know why you came over."

"Maybe I just missed yer stupid face, Irene, is that too much?"

"I'm kind of distracted as of late, Noah."

Noah chuffs and runs a hand over his blonde-tipped braids. "Well, 'scuse me, I just figured we-"

"We're still friends, yes, obviously. But you know I've got more important goals right now.” She clucks her tongue at him and runs a hand down her yellow-grey face. “I need to go lay down, okay? Had a late night."

Noah deflates on her patio, rubbing the back of his neck. "Just don't get so bloody obsessed over it, s'all, yeah? Take that boyfriend of yours out and have drinks with my pack sometime."

"Maybe," she lies. "Bye now, Noah."

The door closes on his dejected face and she stares at the back of the door with her teeth bared until his scent retreats. She sucks in air sharply, but the tenseness of her shoulders won't leave. She shakes out her hands and growls loudly, pacing, pacing, even if her territory isn’t in danger, she needs out, out, out, she needs-

"Alpha, who was that? Are you okay?" Second is at the corner of the hall that leads into the kitchen, his eyes raking over her nervously.

"Fine," she spits. "Just need to medicate." She stalks past him, her shoulder nearly bumping him as she restrains herself from hitting him just for being near her. "Cook me something," she mutters as she passes.

Second sucks down oxygen finally once she's entered the bedroom, his hackles raised by her strained and angry demeanor. He swallows heavily, his spit thick with hunger and thirst, and shakily stumbles to the fridge. Maybe he should eat. He's still so floaty and far away, but surely he can handle cooking. When he grabs through the air his hands feel far from his body, but he manages to open the small door and glances over the meager amounts of food left for him to use. There's meat, though, pork, and some barbecue sauce. He perks up a bit as the thought of hot food passes by his head like a cartoonish floating pie – as a bonus it will improve Alpha’s mood as well, or so he hopes. He tries to grab the pack of meat and misses, having to shake his head out with a tiny growl and try again.

He manages to set up the crock pot fine and sets the meat cooking in the sauce and some salt and pepper he managed to find in the cabinets. He sits at the table to wait, his head in his arms. Time passes like spoiled milk in texture, slow and thick with a hint of sourness that never leaves him. After several, or maybe just a few, moments, his shoulder burns with pain from the wound and with a breath to steel himself, he goes to the bathroom to at least try and clean it up.

The first aid kit is on its bare bones content wise, but there's antiseptic cream and bandages. His hands are shaking so much, and he keeps slipping as he tries to set the bandages right despite the awkward angle. Shaking out his head again, he tries to ground himself, leaning his hands against the sink, looking down at the porcelain. His foggy gaze traces up to the mirror, beholding himself in all his glory.

It's been hard to recognize that person in the glass lately. He still has golden eyes, at least. But he's so, so thin, and there are dark circles under his eyes even without the bruises. There are a few brown and yellow healing ones on his forehead and arms, making a collage of color with the new bright purple and red one blooming on his cheek and eye. His cheeks are a bit sunken, he notes while his eyes rest there, and he can see the ribs in his chest. His hair is still a bit dyed on the top – the one full piece of ‘himself’ he still insists on clinging to. The blonde is starting to grow out, though. He doesn't know if Alpha will budget in hair dye. With the fiftieth sigh of the day he closes his eyes to the bright lights of the bathroom.

In the yellow tinted light and slight grime of his home, Second goes back to bandaging, looking at himself having grounded him. He's able to wrap it properly this time, ending up having to go around his chest in order to secure it. I really look beaten up now, he chuckles to himself humorlessly, brushing his bangs out of his face.

It took a good hour to clean himself up, apparently, because the egg timer on the stove begins to go off as he stumbles back into the kitchen. The pork is soft and nice, and he smiles as he takes in the good scents, turning them over in his mind, proud of himself. The food smells divine to his hungry self, though it may just be the ever-good scent of barbecue.

"Alpha?" he calls, knocking on and opening the door to the dim bedroom. She's nearly limp on the bed, and her scent reeks. His nose wrinkles up and he clears his throat to hide a cough. "I'm done with the food, if you want me to bring it to you?” He steps into the room and walks over to her. The bedside table has a remnant of white powder and a rolled-up piece of paper, and Second wrings his hands. The cold sweat is clinging to his skin again as he wishes it were fur, out there in the wild like she says.

Alpha's pupils are wide, but she looks at him, smelling the air as though just processing his presence. She's on high alert despite that, and her hand shoots out to grab his arm, too tight, too tight.

"Sec- second," she grumbles. "What're you doing?"

"I cooked? L-like you asked?" He can feel his breath picking up in speed, teeth growing in his mouth as his survival mechanisms kick in and topple him wolfward.

"Cooked.” She blinks at him, slow, as her expression furls as if confused. “What?"

"There was pork, made- made barbecue," he says, resting a hand on her own as he tries to stay calm.

Alpha stands up, not letting go of his arm and pulling him along with her to the kitchen. Second stumbles with her with a soft yelp, heart pounding. Her hand releases him, and Second can feel another bruise forming on top of an old one. She approaches the crock pot, and she smells at it, eyes closed as she opens her mouth to let the scent in.

"Ha. Seems good, pup. Seems-" Alpha leans over suddenly with a groan, supporting herself on the kitchen counter. "Ugh, feel sick, fuck me." With a sudden belting of a laugh, she stands straight. She keeps shaking her hands out, eyes flitting around. "Serve me some," she snaps, stumbling to sit at the table.

Second jumps to action instantly, pulling down a plate with trembling hands, fumbling and cursing at himself.

"Calm down," she laughs.

"Sorry, sorry- Feel anxious, Alpha."

Alpha sighs languidly and, still in her pants from answering the door, she pulls the bag of white pills out. "Here, medicate. My sweet dumb thing."

Second nods and takes a pill from her. "What is it?" he asks only after swallowing it.

"Vicodin," she says. "Serve me, Second."

"Right, yes Alpha." Second prepares her plate and sets it in front of her, the pork being put onto slices of bread for her. Second shifts in place as his nakedness begins to embarrass him, at the dinner table like this. He's used to being naked, but he always feels so awkward whenever she's wearing clothes and he isn't. He hopes that he can put some clothes on before he sits down. “I might- might put some pants on. Can I have some when I’m back?"

Alpha snorts out a laugh, her teeth baring at him, her eyes sizing him up in a nonsensical disbelief. "'Can you have some,' did I tell you to make it for yourself, or me?" Second freezes, silent. "Answer me," she snaps.

"You said- you said to prepare it for you, but I-"

"That's right, dumb bastard, god," she groans heavily and stands, getting in his face. "You are such an entitled dog, Second. What do you think you've even done to earn food tonight?" She's smiling, uncanny and angry.

"I- I don't know? I'm sorry Alpha, I didn’t mean to- to upset you, I’m stupid-“

"Fucking right you are." Her hand grabs at his chin, a movement she makes commonly, and she pulls back his lip to look at his fangs, sizing him up as though he’s challenged her somehow. She's so small for a woman, but so big in Second's mind, and he begins to tremble. She blinks and pauses, before laughing. "What, are you scared? You're scared of me all of a sudden?!"

"No! No, ma'am, promise, I'm sorry, I can-"

"You can what? You can't do anything - I got you your drugs even though it loses me money, I get you everything you need- I give and give and give to you! All you do is take and then try to make me feel bad about it!"

"Alpha, Alpha, you just- j-just need to medicate. It's okay, I-"

"Don't tell me what to do," she growls, beginning to push him backward. His eyes flit to the cold concrete prison of the basement as the door looms behind him, the place he tries to push out of his mind the moment he’s out.

"Alpha," he whines, desperate, "Please, let's just go to our nest. Let's just lay down, and you can medicate again, okay?" he begs, trying to smile at her and calm her down, not crying yet by only a thread.

Alpha growls, deep in her throat, and it makes him silent immediately, baring his neck to her and closing his eyes. She snaps her teeth near his throat, and he whimpers. "No, you don't get the nest tonight, you don't get food, you don't get shite." She swings him to the side by the hold she has on his chin, opens the basement door, and points down the wood stairs. "Get,” she spits, the white of her teeth flashing at him and freezing him to the floor beneath his feet.

"Please, please, can we just go to bed? I want- I just want to go to bed." His mind is fogging over more and more from the newer opioid in his body taking effect, and he touches his face, feeling himself crying at last. Alpha glares at him hard, her teeth gritting as she stares sightlessly at his tears. She reaches up and grabs his hair, and he limply lets his alpha drag him where she wants.

She pushes him, and he falls down the stairs halfway, catching himself with a gasp and stopping his fall. "Please," he cries up to her. "Please, can we just go lay down, Alpha-"

The door slams, and Second hears her turn the lock and then stalk away to their bed. He curls in on himself on the stairs, panting as he silently cries and shivers. He can never do enough. He can never make her happy. He bites his knuckle, breathing heavily. She's right, probably. Alphas are always right. He deserves to be down here, alone and useless as he always proves to be.

It's dark in the basement despite it only being the early evening, as there is only one high window in the back corner. There is, however, a dog bed and a blanket in that corner, placed there for him specifically. Second slumps over, but then his body slumps even further, molding and reshaping his skeleton as he shifts fully into a wolf. His fur shines a deep brown with light patches on his chest and a few scars where fur will not grow. His yellow eyes glimmer forlornly in the darkness, and he puffs out a tired breath, walking to the bed.

Upstairs, Alpha has done another line, maybe two, but she wouldn't admit to using so much of her own supply. About half past ten, she starts to come down, and with that comes the awful feeling of guilt that she's hurt her second.

Alpha gets up and gets dressed, ties up her dark hair to look as put-together as she can to go out. Her face is sallow and exhausted as she tugs at it in the mirror, but she looks at least slightly decent. She hates feeling guilty, so she always goes to get him a treat after hurting him like that. She walks quickly in the dark to the closest petrol station and dings inside the door. The cashier wrinkles their nose at the smell of a wolf - flattened, earthy, and just animal-like with no nuances to humans - not hiding a grossed out "ugh" as she walks to the 'employees only' door to hide as long as possible. Alpha grits her teeth and pulls up the hood of her jacket.

She looks among the shelves and ends up picking out a bag of chicken jerky and a packaged pastry. She's walking up to the counter to wait for the cashier to decide keeping her job is more important than hating wolves when she's stopped by a shelf of trinkets. Neither her nor Second are smokers, but there's a lighter with a gold floral design that flows into the shape of a howling wolf that pauses her, staring at it. It's a useless purchase, but it might make him forgive her so she can stop feeling this disgusting guilt.

She ends up buying it, tensely exchanging pounds with a human that will barely get near her hands, as though she’s a lepper and not just a lycan. It will get better once they're in the woods, once they're living like wolves, like they're meant to. She fiddles with the gift in her hands as she walks home, flipping it and letting the warm fire flicker it’s reflection in her eyes. Things had better get better out there. They just have to.

Second wakes up with the gifts set beside his bed and the basement door unlocked. And he does forgive her, because there isn't any other option. He just... has to.

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