#Howl like a wolf (Prologue) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

drakorn · 7 months ago

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Rewriting Veilguard Part 2 - The Shadow Dragons

Rewriting Veilguard Part 1 - The World State

Disclaimer: I don't hate the game, I actually think it's quite great given the development hell Bioware went through in those 10 years. This is more of a hypothetical universe where there was less of that behind the scenes drama. Just a fun writing exercise.

Writing an Origin Story Mission for the Shadow Dragons

Now that we have dealt with our World State, it’s time to pick Rook’s background. When I first learned that there would be six factions to choose from, I was honestly very ecstatic. You’re telling me we’re getting six different origin stories for Rook? Did BioWare finally listen to the fans’ wish to get one more game with DAO-style prologue missions before the big main plot begins? Then I learned that six of the companions you meet would represent one of those respective factions, and I was like “Amazing, so you will definitely have one party member with whom you can at least align interests and goals from the start.”

What we ended up getting was…sort of something in the middle. Your backstory is brought up and you get quite a lot of unique dialogue regarding your faction. If you’re a Shadow Dragon, there’s a lot of Minrathous dialogue tailored to you specifically. If you’re a Grey Warden, you’re having an absolute field day whenever the Blight is involved, which is…a huge chunk of the game.

But there was…something missing for me. You see, when we start the game, we’re immediately thrown into this epic mission where Rook, Varric, and Harding find Neve and race to stop Solas. It feels very much like we’re starting somewhere in the middle rather than at the beginning. And that, in my humble opinion, is due to the lack of a unique origin story that you can actually play through. So, here’s what the next few parts of this hypothetical rewrite of Veilguard will focus on: creating six unique playable origin stories that would very much be doable without the vampiric leech known as “development hell” hovering over you. This post will focus solely on the Shadow Dragon origin story, so stay tuned for the others. I’m aware of how long it might take between posts, but I want to make sure I do this the right way.

Creating Rook

We start the game, which immediately kicks off Varric’s opening narration. But instead of Varric talking about Solas immediately, we’re gonna set the stage for the general state of Northern Thedas: with the South experiencing a few years of relative peace, the North is a wholly different story: Tevinter and the Qunari have engaged in a bloody and brutal all-out war, the Grey Wardens are growing more reclusive, strange reality warping occurs in Arlathan Forest, a part of the Antaam broke off and is now occupying Antiva and Rivain, strange whispers arise from the Grand Necropolis, basically, everything is in chaos. But Varric is certain that one person is the key to all this. Cue the distant howling of a wolf and six red eyes. Cut to black.

Now we get to customise Rook and choose our faction. As the title of this post suggests, we’re taking the Shadow Dragon route. The backstory text, however, is going to be different to the one we get in DAV. You see, when reading through those backstories, I got the feeling that all of them sounded like outlines for what could have been the origin story quest. I am actually 100% confident that BioWare planned on including prologue missions at one point but had to scrap them due to development hell reasons. And all of the six summaries essentially boil down to “you upset some higher authority and now your faction wants you out of the spotlight.” All the choices regarding Rook’s personality have already been made for us. Playing this actual backstory allows us to roleplay in a roleplaying game, which…shocking, I know, but here me out. Instead, the origin text we get when we click on the Shadow Dragons is simply going to be:

“You are a Shadow Dragon. This underground resistance opposes corrupt rulers and slavery in Tevinter. Coming from all walks of life, they are determined to bring justice to the people. As a member of House Mercar, a renowned Soporati family renowned on the battlefield against the Antaam, you have much influence to bring, and much to lose.”

That’s just the small little snippet we see when hovering over the option. But that’s all we’re gonna get for now. There is no mention yet of Rook’s personality as we’ll get to shape it ourselves a little bit. So, we customise our Rook, finalise our massive World State, and click on the play button at last.

Varric’s narration continues, just like in DAV, but this time, he’s going to give us our chosen faction’s backstory. We get a recap on how Dorian and Maevaris founded the Lucerni shortly after the war with Corypheus and how much of a ray of hope this group was in the twisted and corrupt society of the Tevinter Imperium. But then, some of the more powerful magisters began to heavily push against them, eventually leading to Maevaris being framed for treason and losing her seat in the Magisterium. She took all the blame on herself so that Dorian would be able to retain a spotless reputation and continue their work on the great political stage. Maevaris took the remaining Lucerni underground and formed the Shadow Dragons, continuing their work under a different name. Now unbound by political restrictions, the Shadow Dragons are free to take more radical measures in their fight against oppression and slavery. And Varric is confident that the perfect candidate to go against the bigger threat can be found in this group.

The Shadow Lair

Our story begins in Minrathous, in the underground base of the Shadow Dragons. And right off the bat, we’re making a change regarding said base’s location. In DAV, it stands in a random building somewhere in Dock Town that pretty much anyone could access. I get that they were probably going for the “hide in plain sight” approach, but let’s actually have some fun here.

In this rewrite, the Shadow Dragons are literally operating from the underground. Now, Minrathous’ underground system has two things that are very beneficial for a secretive rebellious organisation:

Vast catacombs. The catacombs of Minrathous are so massive that they can store food to survive years of siege. Minrathous, like so many cities and settlements in Tevinter, is built on the bones of Elvhenan. You can easily get lost in those catacombs.

Gigantic sewers. The sewers are arguably even more treacherous than the catacombs, because we have seen in Tevinter Nights what can lurk there. Imagine the sewers of the greatest city in the world, the greatest magical city in the world. Surely it comes with its own set of urban legends akin to the sewer gator. But in a city like Minrathous, those legends are probably true. Failed magical experiments, lyrium-infused mutations, abominations of former mages who failed some twisted blood magic experiment, possessed objects; all this can be found in Minrathous’ sewers. Dangerous for everyone, and therefore perfect for the Shadow Dragons.

The Shadow Dragons operate from a place called "The Shadow Lair”, a section of an underground district known simply as “The Undercity”. That’s where all the poor and forgotten retreat if they wish to disappear from the world, or criminals who flee the Imperium’s justice system. A dangerous but also perfect place.

NOTE: For the duration of the prologue, Rook will be referred to by the name of Mercar, as “Rook” is the name they give themselves after disappearing from the scene.

Depending on what race Mercar is, the stakes vary:

If Mercar is a human, they are the direct heir of House Mercar, destined to take over the family name one day. If Mercar is a human mage, they are currently in the process of getting their family appointed to Laetan status, which will give them more political power and influence.

If Mercar is a dwarf, they are an adopted scion of House Mercar.

If Mercar is an elf or a qunari, they are an official slave of House Mercar, but it’s made pretty clear in the beginning that House Mercar’s slaves are slaves in name only, while actually being more akin to paid servants. House Mercar simply refers to them as slaves to stay under the Magisterium’s radar and actually uses them to pass on information to the Shadow Dragons.

I was personally disappointed that DAV didn’t really touch on Tevinter’s slavery system. It felt a bit like I was treated with kid gloves and not given the trust to being able to handle dark topics. But Tevinter, as has been established in all DA media before DAV, is a pretty dark place for anyone who isn’t a human mage. And it’s important to depict that as it shows the stakes and just how rotten of a society the Imperium is. We need to see what the Shadow Dragons are actually fighting for. It’s not enough to just tell us how much a freedom fighter group we are, no, we need to see it.

Meeting the Leaders of the Shadow Dragons

For the sake of this playthrough, our Mercar is going to be a human mage, and thus not only the direct heir to the house but also one who can elevate it to Laetan status. We have a lot to lose, so we must be extra careful in this precarious situation.

So Mercar meets with the leaders of the Shadow Dragons, namely Maevaris and the Viper. From this conversation, we get the general gist of what’s about to happen and why we are here: House Mercar decided to get a bit more involved with the Shadow Dragons after both parties discovered a massive plot for something big involving Minrathous’ vast slave population. Whatever it is, it’s happening somewhere in Dock Town, and we are to rendezvous with Neve Gallus, a local and renowned detective, to get to the bottom of this.

Exploring the Shadow Lair

After the conversation, we get to have a quick look around the Shadow Lair, where we can instigate a small series of encounters:

We can talk to Maevaris some more and learn about her past and her motivation behind what used to be the Lucerni.

We can talk to the Viper and learn more about him, how he’s usually running operations and that he’s from an Altus house. But that’s about everything you can learn about him at this point in time.

We can meet Lorelei and learn about her being one of the city elves Loghain sold to Tevinter all the way back in DAO. She will give a few remarks on how the Hero of Ferelden dealt with the Alienage and how she and Alistair made it a more just place.

NOTE: For this rewrite’s hypothetical playthrough, the Hero of Ferelden is a Human Noble who romanced Alistair and became Queen of Ferelden. She is now searching for a cure for the Calling.

We can have a bit of a look at the Undercity and just see how much of a poor and dark place it is. This is the gutter, no, this is below the gutter. The people here wish to disappear. They are miserable, most of them have given up hope. The Shadow Dragons are the only ones who actually care about them.

Since the Undercity is below modern Minrathous, we can see traces of ancient elven architecture on display, including mosaics and frescoes.

An Old Friend

Just as we’re about to leave for Dock Town, a familiar face strides into the Shadow Lair: Varric Tethras. Yes, we actually get to see Rook’s first meeting with Varric here! Maevaris greets and introduces him to us (and we actually get to know that Varric and Maevaris are family, which DAV kind of glossed over, thank you very much). Mercar gets to have a first chat with Varric, where he assess our personality. This vibe check is what allows us to determine Rook’s general personality: are we diplomatic, humorous, or aggressive? I fully get that Varric wouldn’t pick an evil person to fight against Solas, but we should still have some kind of roleplay room regarding Rook’s way of thinking and speaking.

Varric’s purpose in these prologues is very similar to Duncan’s in DAO. He’s the one who recruits you into the larger fight and acts as a mentor figure for a while. I was actually fully expecting that to be the case in the actual game when we were told that Varric recruits Rook into the fight against Solas. Well, he did, but I would have liked to see it! Alas, we shall do so here!

Varric stays behind in the Shadow Lair while we go off and do our thing.

Entering Dock Town

Dock Town is pretty much right above the Undercity, the gutter above the actual gutter. The entrance to the Shadow Lair is quite hidden with enchantments, known only to Shadow Dragons and their associates.

Dock Town is going to stay pretty much exactly as we see it in the game. If there is one place in Minrathous where everyone could mingle without being necessarily immediately prosecuted, it’s that place (which is probably why that’s the only part of Minrathous we see in the game, but I digress). However, there will be one major change: slavery is still a thing.

Dock Town is…well…a place where ships dock. That includes ships of slave traders and prisoners of war. In this rewrite, Tevinter is still locked into a war with the Qunari, so there will be a lot of that reflected in the environment. As we walk through Dock Town, we see guards on high alert, slaves and prisoners being led away in chains. We’re doing some important environmental storytelling here that lets us know exactly why Tevinter is a place that needs to be liberated and changed so desperately.

Meeting Neve Gallus

We find Neve Gallus at the Cobbled Swan. Depending on dialogue choices, we might or might not have heard of her up to this point. I think it would be fun if Mercar could geek out about her because he read some sensationalist tabloid about one of her cases.

So Neve tells us that a huge part of Dock Town was closed off for a great event, a former small coliseum that hasn’t been used in decades. Coincidentally, several unpurchased slaves and prisoners of war are being dragged into that area.

Neve has a good lead to assume that the Venatori are somehow behind this because of course they are. Neve gives us a recap on what the Venatori are and how she had multiple run-ins with them already. She is to be absolutely certain that Mercar can be trusted as they will need to work together on this. In response, Mercar shares his side of the information, that his father, Charon Mercar, who is also a respected Legatus in this rewrite, oversaw a strange pattern in how many prisoners of war and masterless slaves, primarily from places like Ventus and Carastes, Qunari-conquered cities, have simply disappeared, and how surprisingly many military vessels have been transferred to Minrathous. Since Neve is a detective, it’s fun to make this part of the journey feel a bit like a crime mystery.

Once all information has been shared, Neve declares that it’s time to go.

Approaching the Coliseum

Neve takes us across Dock Town’s roofs towards the closed-off area of the coliseum. There, we see just how massively guarded it is. The official excuse for all this is a military training exercise. Horrifyingly, this is much closer to the truth than we realise. There are Imperial Templars and Legionnaires patrolling the outskirts, so we have to find our way in.

Neve directs us to a secret hiding spot, where we meet Tarquin, who is, as we know, an Imperial Templar working for the Shadow Dragons. Not even he knows exactly what’s happening, but something definitely big is going on.

There are two options before us: do we sneak in from above and observe from the shadows, or do we disguise ourselves as templars and participate in a more open manner? This right here gives us another choice regarding Mercar’s way of doing things. Are we feeling confident enough to just walk in and hide in plain sight? Or do we take the stealthy approach? While Neve is all for stealth, Tarquin prefers the closer look. So a first major choice presents itself:

Follow Neve and observe the proceedings from above, quietly gathering the information you need.

Follow Tarquin and disguise yourself as an attendant, getting a much closer look at the proceedings.

So I’m feeling a little brave right now. I think my Mercar would try to do the bold approach to get better results, even if it means a higher risk. For this playthrough, I’m choosing to follow Tarquin and let myself be disguised. Neve begrudgingly follows along.

Entering the Coliseum

A few minutes later, Mercar, Neve, and Tarquin approach the Coliseum gates in disguise. Tarquin wears his Templar armour, while Mercar and Neve are dressed as mages of the Legion.

Once we enter the arena, we have the chance to explore it for a little while. Doing so allows us to encounter the following:

We can have an early chat with Magister Zara Renata, who will, of course, be very relevant later, along with her lackeys Felicia and Calivan, all of whom are prominent members of the Venatori. Neve is able to make that connection due to Felicia’s brother Livius having so notoriously attempted to corrupt the Wardens at Adamant Fortress in DAI.

We may encounter Magister Bataris, alongside his son Albin and get early hints of just how far the Venatori corruption runs.

If we make a good enough persuasion attempt at the Templar Captain guarding the entrance to a basement, we shall enter it and discover the prisoners and slaves intended for some heinous affair. Here, and only here, if we perform this correct dialogue choice, and being a human mage, unfortunately, certainly helps here, we get to see that our father, Charon Mercar, is among the imprisoned. And the worst of it all? He doesn’t even recognise you. Actually none of the slaves and prisoners react in any way, as all of them seem to be under some sort of spell. As we look closer, we can see that all of them have strange spiked collars around their necks, filled with blood. This is blood magic that keeps them entranced. If we want to risk it, we have time to break our father’s collar and ensure that perhaps, he can escape. So we do just that.

The Imperator

Following our exploration of the Coliseum, we get streamed into a crowd of onlookers as the Imperator of Tevinter’s legions, the Supreme Legatus himself, Magister Aemilianus Laskaris, enters the centre of the arena.

We know from DAV that Tevinter has an Imperator, and the Imperator is not the same as the Archon in this context. While the Archon is the overall ruler, the Imperator is the highest military commander. Think of this guy as Tevinter’s version of Loghain. Laskaris also happens to be one of the loudest voices responsible for forcing the Lucerni out of the Magisterium.

Laskaris delivers a speech in which he proclaims just how bad Tevinter is faring against the Antaam. Here we get some early insight into the fact that a large chunk of the Qunari army broke off and is now bearing down on Antiva and Rivain. However, a large part of it remained and is following the Arishok into battle against the Imperium. And even against this broken Antaam, the Legions are starting to fail.

Laskaris cites lost cities such as Ventus, Carastes, and Neromenian as evidence for the desperate situation Tevinter is now facing. Therefore, something must be done. Something drastic. He presents, to the gathered onlookers, the Salvatio Initiative. Basically, all unpurchased slaves and prisoners of war are to be given to Tevinter’s legions, where Laskaris and the Legates serving under him will perform blood magic rituals to turn them into mindless but ravaging soldiers against the Antaam. Dangerous cannon fodder essentially. He will use tonight’s demonstration to convince the gathered members of the Magisterium to pass a law that will officially permit Tevinter’s legions to use blood magic. Well, we know, Tevinter has always used blood magic behind closed doors, but this will mean that all safety measures are off, all precautions, all careful attempts at hiding it. And the worst part is: since slaves are considered nothing but tools, it won’t even be seen as unethical by the large portion of conservative Senate members. And prisoners of war? Qunari? Who cares about them anyway, right? This is the darkness and true corruption permeating Tevinter. This is exactly why the Shadow Dragons exist to bring back the light.

Several doors open and Laskaris directs all slaves and prisoners to be brought forth. They are all wearing the blood collars. Upon the Imperator’s command, him and several blood mages under his leadership, activate the blood collars and turn the slaves and prisoners into an absolute frenzy. A battle erupts in which the sheer destructive power of the now-mindless fighters is demonstrated.

Mercar now has a choice to make, and it is the biggest one there is in the prologue:

Do we stealthily fight the blood mages and try to rescue the innocent mind-controlled people without blowing our cover? You do, however, risk your father dying.

Do we rush in headfirst and fight Laskaris head-on, saving your father but maybe dooming more innocents and risking exposure?

Do we put our personal emotional interest above the greater good or vice versa? Well, because we broke our father’s collar earlier, we can at least assume that he’s going to be able to fight for himself with a clear head, so let’s focus on the blood mages in a stealthy manner.

Neve and Tarquin quickly take us behind the scenes as the crowd watchers in apt interest. There are five blood mages, including Laskaris, who need to be dealt with. Neve takes one half, Tarquin the other, while you have a go at Laskaris himself. You are masked so he won’t know it’s you.

While Neve and Tarquin successfully dismantle two blood mages each, we sneak right up to Laskaris and try to either knock him out or backstab him altogether. This results in the same outcome but tells a lot about Mercar’s personality. Do we kill this guy and end it now? Or do we try and incapacitate him so that he can still be of use for the future?

Regardless, Laskaris sees it coming and engages in a boss battle against us. It’s a tough battle, one that we are logically meant to lose. If we get Laskaris down to 0HP, miraculously so unless we play on Storyteller mode, the cutscene will slightly change but the outcome remains largely the same.

Laskaris lashes out and wounds us, causing us to fall down, bleeding, losing our mask, exposing ourselves to Laskaris, while the slaves and prisoners stage a mad revolt around us, forcing the gathered magisters to flee the scene. But because we freed our father from his collar, he comes rushing in to save us, engaging Laskaris in a one-on-one duel. Despite “only” being Soporati, he puts up quite a fight with his huge two-hander. We want to help him, desperately so, but we are just too weak. Laskaris is impressed by Charon’s strength, but ultimately, deals him a mortal wound. Just before Laskaris turns to finish us off, he is struck in the shoulder by…Bianca!

Varric steps into the fray and fires off a row of bolts against the Imperator, allowing Neve and Tarquin to take us away as we pass out. As they do so, the Viper appears and casts a spell that shrouds the whole arena in fog.

Back at the Shadow Lair

We awaken in the Shadow Lair and are greeted by Varric. It turns out that he was using this whole mission to assess us from the background, to determine if we are the one he’s looking for. And he decides that, yes, we are. Laskaris, the Venatori, all of this is just one puzzle piece of something much greater. We can press Varric on what this could possibly be, but he won't tell us just yet. Instead, he tells us that we should disappear. And he might just be able to help with that. We can be incredibly outrageous about this. I just discovered the biggest plot to endanger slaves ever since the Magister Sidereal tore open the Veil to reach the Golden City! I can’t just leave right now to pursue something I don't even know about!

At this point, Maevaris joins us and agrees that Mercar has to disappear for a while, now that Laskaris knows who we are. We can’t be seen with the Shadow Dragons for the time being. Doing so would just endanger the whole cause.

Reluctantly or readily, that depends on our personality, we concede that there is sense in Varric’s words. Varric advises us to adopt a codename as well, like so many agents of the Inquisition did back in the day. Mercar thinks for a moment, reflects on the most recent events, and decides on “Rook”. Varric approves. “The strongest piece on the chessboard, I like it.”

Afterwards we get a final chance to talk to the members of the Shadow Dragons before we depart, and get a last look at the Undercity. Neve returns to Dock Town to keep an eye on Laskaris and the slave rings, as well as search for any Venatori ties.

What follows is a cutscene where Rook and Varric depart the Shadow Lair and leave Minrathous altogether. One last time, Rook looks at the city he swore to fight for, then turns around and follows Varric into the unknown.

And that’s as far as we’ll go today! I hope you enjoyed my little hypothetical take on a potential Shadow Dragon origin mission. Of course, not everything is refined and perfect, but I hope you still got the overall gist of what I was going for! Next time, we shall focus on a potential prologue for the Grey Wardens! Stay tuned!

Rewriting Veilguard Part 3 - The Grey Wardens

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twistedteatime · 2 months ago

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Howling Witch Information

Howling Witch Masterlist🔹Prologue Part 1 <-First Part

POV: Written in 3rd person POV with a named OC. This is how I normally write right and am most comfortable writing.

Available/Current Total Word Count: 35K/131K

Pairing(s): 1940s!Bucky x 1940sOFC, Bucky x OFC

World: Alternate MCU universe merged with a version of one of my original universes that involves Wolves/Lycans (shapeshifting wolf people that you may or may not see shift right away), blood magic (Witches. Typically very bloody but may or may not be with this one), pocket planes (think Ta Lo/the place Shang Chi went), and some things out of the comics (vampires exist and Blade is present, maybe not canon and OOC, but he's here. We're gonna pretend that Marvel wasn't split between several studios).

Premise: What if Bucky Barnes had a girl in the 40s? What if she decided she needed to get back at the people that took him from her? What if she was captured initially by a different splinter group of HYDRA or the SS and they turned her into something different? What if doing that turned her into something they couldn't control? What if she finds out Bucky's still alive, brainwashed, and spends the next 70 years being HYDRA's nightmare trying to get him back until luck delivers her the perfect star spangled bait? What's gonna happen if you put two PTSD suffering ex-HYDRA experiments with a past loving relationship together?

Thought Process That Birthed This: "Bucky is called White Wolf in Wakanda...what if his lady was a Wolf...what if she was made into one by HYDRA...what if it was knock-off-HYDRA that did it...how do I do this in a way that makes sense...let's find out."

Summary Blurb: To the intelligence community the Winter Soldier is a ghost, but to HYDRA the Howling Witch is a harbinger of doom that will stop at nothing to get at their prized asset. She is the biggest mistake they ever made.

Movie Timelines: Captain America 1 & 2 in the first part. Not in order, it will flip back and forth with flashbacks. Starts in Cap 2 with references to events in Cap 1 and after. Continues on post Cap 2 period and on into an extremely altered MCU timeline.

Warnings: Flashbacks, canon appropriate violence (and by canon appropriate I mean Marvel + Blade so expect blood and gore), angst, fluff, psychological trauma, mental trauma, explosions, blood/gore, experimentation, war, PTSD, hallucinations, LANGUAGE, sexual content in the form of innuendos, allusions, spice (maybe, idk, what happens happens), and several others I will update as chapters happen that I don't want to do here and give too much away...it's gonna be a ride.

Other Notes: This is somewhat self-indulgent in that I'm just writing what I want to write. Trying to. As it grows in length I feel myself entering the same mindset that usually stops me from finishing what I write: The fear that I'm building too much of a world, that it's wandering, that no one will like it, etc. Well...I've also entered the realm of: I don't care I'm doing it anyway and it's in a world of comic book logic where these things exist in some capacity anyway so it doesn't have to make logical sense but it does need to be explained in some fashion so the world exists. Take it as it is. I also find updating this post periodically keeps me motivated. I finished the first draft. I'm happy. It might not be the most popular thing I post. I may only get one actual comment per chapter. I finished it. That makes this story my baby right now. I wrote what I wanted. I indulged my want to write what I wanted and I'm putting it out for people to see. The chapters are long, which is probably what works against it, but if I do short chapters there will be like 100 chapters by the finish of this.

*Contents subject to revision and change as I go along.

Status: Ongoing.

Howling Witch Masterlist🔹Chapter 4:Mine <- Latest Chapter

#bucky barnes x oc #james bucky buchanan barnes #the winter soldier x ofc #40s bucky x ofc #bucky barns au #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel au #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #bucky barns fanfic #bucky barnes romance #marvel rewrite #bucky barnes what if #been nervous to post this but screw it it's happening

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moonynaturesethetic · 9 months ago

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Quiet...But Loyal(Teen Wolf X Mute!Reader)- Prologue

(This is chapter one, but I also have the links to Wattpad, Neobook, and Quotev on my series masterlist! I'm also new to do series' on Tumblr, so I might be a little rusty at first)

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

(This story is inclusive, to all my girlies (and whoever else is reading)!!! To all body types, skin colors, and more!! If I say anything to offend, upset, or exclude you, please notify me!! Hope you enjoy the story!!!)

July 19th, 2001 Michigan Adoption Center

The Yukimura's sat quietly in the waiting room, waiting for someone to come up and tell them that they could finally choose someone to adopt. Noshiko Yukimura and her daughter, Kira Yukimura were sitting in a chair, a young 5 year old Kira sitting quietly in her mothers lap with her toy. Kira's father, Ken Yukimura, was standing next to the front desk.

They were waiting to be called so they could see the kids, and chose one to come home with them. The two Yukimura adults have been wanting to adopt for quite some time, and Kira was ecstatic to have a sibling, whether they were younger or older. Noshiko was no longer allowed to have children, due to some medical problems when having Kira. The Yukimura family felt like something was missing, and Noshiko had the bright idea of adopting, and Kira squealed in delight at that, clueless about adoption but brightened up when it meant she could have a sibling.

When they were called in they started looking around, looking at different kids and Kira interacted with most of them, but they still couldn't seem to find the right one. No one felt right. Finally afterwards they were lead to the back by one of the assistants, which is where they saw a shy, frail girl.

They noticed that when Kira went to say hi to her, she didn't speak, she only waved...and that was something that intrigued the Yukimura's.

"That's Y/n, she's four and she is mute. She doesn't really like being around others, they always pick on her. She usually sticks to herself, but she really enjoys listening to music, and she likes to read and paint." the assistant said, talking to the two Yukimura parents, while Kira was talking to Y/n.

"If it's not too personal, why is she mute?" Noshiko asked.

"About 6 months ago, she got in a really bad car crash. She wasn't injured that much, but she does have a few scars. That's when she unfortunately ended up losing her parents, and she had 2 older brothers but they were never found, and were declared missing." The assistant told them, looking at Y/n with slightly pity.

"Oh God." Noshiko said in Japanese, covering her mouth, while Ken held a shocked face.

"I know...it's terrible, and Y/n has refused to speak ever since, and now she is mute. She is also still learning sign language, but hopefully over the years she will get very good at it."

Noshiko and Ken shared a look. "Mind if we try and talk to her?" Noshiko asked.

"Of course, you are always allowed to speak to any of the children, go right ahead."

Noshiko and Ken made their way over to where Y/n and Kira are. Kira was happily blabbering away, while Y/n was listening with an adorable smile on her face. Noshiko knelt down to Y/n's level, with a soft smile on her face.

"Hey there, I was told your name is Y/n, mine is Noshiko, and this is my husband Ken, along with our daughter Kira."

Y/n looked at her, her head tilting in curiosity, while she held a blank expression on her face. Noshiko looked around and noticed that there was a painting behind Y/n. It was a beautiful moon, with a wolf howling. It had many different colors, with shading and dark purples, blues, and pinks. It was quite impressive for a four year old.

"Is this yours?" Ken asked, while Noshiko observed the painting, and Kira's mouth widened in shock. Y/n nodded, with a bright smile on her face, as she got up and walked over to the painting, happy to show someone her painting.

"That is so cool!" Kira said, walking over to the painting.

"It is very beautiful, Y/n." Noshiko said.

Right when the family of 3 was about to say something, the assistant came back.

"Sorry to bother you, but your time is up, it's time to make your decision." the assistant said.

Noshiko and Ken held hands, while Kira trailed behind them, but she was waving to Y/n and Y/n waved back. They were taken back up to the front office, where the front desk lady and the assistant were waiting.

"Have you decided on which child you would like to take home?" the front desk lady asked.

Noshiko and Ken looked at each other, while Kira was tugging on both of their pant legs, saying Y/n's name, it seemed like Kira had already become quite fond of Y/n already.

"We'll be taking the lovely Y/n, please." Ken said, Kira jumping up and down in happiness.

"That sounds great, we will go get her stuff, and all you have to do is sign some legal documents, and ASL lesson plans, then you can take her back to your house. There might be some CPS officers at your door in a couple months, but that's only to check and see how Y/n is doing with you guys." The assistant gave Noshiko and Ken some papers.

Y/n was back painting in the back of the playroom when one of the assistants came up to her, telling her she should get her stuff together, and that she was being adopted. As Y/n was packing up, along with the help from some others, the smile never left her face, she had an idea who was adopting her, and she had no problem with that at all.

Y/n walked down the stairs while an assistant was carrying her bags behind her. Y/n didn't pack much, just all her favorite books, all her painting supplies, all of her favorite paintings, clothes, and other necessities. When she walked down the stairs she saw the Yukimura family waiting for her, and Kira came up and hugged her.

"You get to be my new sissy now!" Kira said happily, smiling while clinging to Y/n. Y/n smiled and hugged back, she was ready to go home with the Yukimura's. Part of her was scared, because back in her mind she didn't know what it was going to be like without her birth family, but she knew they were up in Heaven, hopefully happy.

The Yukimura's took her back to their motel, they informed Y/n that they were only staying in Michigan for a little while, because they were only there because they were looking for adoption centers, and that their real home was back in Japan. Kira had been talking to Y/n the whole time, telling her about their home in Japan, and about all the cool places there. Y/n sat there and listened, her eyes seeking interest in Kira's words, as she would also stare outside the window from time to time. Y/n's eyes would wander to the steering wheel every once in a while, but her mind had blocked out the night of the incident. Her own subconscious was simply trying to protect her.

Noshiko and Ken were simply smiling, knowing that this was a great decision they just made.

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mediocrecowboyhat · 1 month ago

Text

Bullets & Claws - Chapter 1

Prologue - Next chapter

Word count: 3.8k

Tags: graphic depictions of violence, she/her pronouns, animal death, shape-shifter!reader, alcohol consumption

-Your POV-

A strong wind is howling outside, rattling at the old wooden planks of the flimsy cabin, you all are huddled together in. At least the snow isn't making it inside, except through the front door that is occasionally opened whenever someone enters or leaves. The floor there is covered in that white powder and you pull your coat tighter around your body.

Even with the lit fireplace, the cold cuts through each layer of your fabric and right into your skin. At this point it has nestled itself within your bones and you don't believe that even the hottest bath could drive it away. Everyone is trembling, their teeth clattering, you included although not as much. This is one of the moments where you're thankful for being a shape-shifter.

Your body temperature runs warmer than of an average human, but the fur of your wolf form would do a much better job at keeping you cozy. Though it's not like you can shift now infront of everybody. It's still a secret that you keep close, only rarely allowing yourself to change forms. Back when you joined the gang and they all wondered what had happened to you that horrible night, you lied.

You told them that you angered the wrong crowd and almost had to pay with your life for it. If it hadn't been for Javier, who stumbled upon your bleeding and beaten form in the woods, you definitely would have met your end. Either from the injuries of the arrow and the fall or from being captured by those godforsaken hunters. They haven't tracked you down since then and you're left hoping that they might have given up.

Joining Dutch's side has kept you safe from old dangers, but it's also coming with new ones. Having escaped the hunters, you're now being chased down by the law, the Pinkertons. You weren't there during the job on the boat, being busy guarding the camp outside Blackwater, but you've heard from the others that it must have been botched. Apparently the law showed up surprisingly fast, surrounding the gang from all sides.

That's how you ended up stuck on this damned mountain, waiting for the weather to warm up a little bit to get going again. It's been two days now, two days of nothing but sitting and trying not to freeze your ass off. Most of the gang is in here, aside from the people standing guard, Pearson and Charles who prefers to busy himself with the horses than to shiver inside one of the cabins. You can't blame him.

Dutch and Molly aren't here either, most likely keeping themselves warm in their own house Grimshaw had assigned them. Heavy footsteps are to be heard from outside, coming closer until the front door is being swung open. Arthur's broad frame enters and he's rubbing his gloved hands together as he steps closer to the flames. The others didn't hear his approach, but they also don't have your senses.

Something stirs in the corner of your eyes and you watch Abigail join the outlaw's side. Judging by the worried crease on her forehead, you can already guess what she wants from him. Dutch has sent John ahead to scout the area and he hasn't returned yet. For days he has been missing and it's driving Abigail pretty nuts, although she attempts to hide it under a tirade of curses directed at the man.

'Idiot' she would call him or 'fool' and she's not wrong with that.

"How you doin', Arthur?", she asks, breaking the tense silence and he shoots her a quick glance.

By the look of his expression, he seems to know as well what's about to come. Though it also worries you that Marston has been gone for so long and it's strange that Dutch hasn't ordered anyone to go look for him. Chances are slim that he's going to hold on for long in this cold, but maybe he was smart enough to camp somewhere dry and somewhat warm.

In that storm out there, it's nearly impossible to set one foot infront of the other. Then Hosea steps forward, ripping you out of your thoughts and you realize that you didn't pay attention to the rest of the conversation.

"We're all worried about him, Arthur.", the older man says and you watch the outlaw's resistance come crumbling down like a house of cards. He has always had difficulties denying Hosea. "Why don't you and Javier go out looking for him?"

Javier, who's sitting on a bench infront of a window, looks up with widened eyes. A lit cigarette is tugged between his fingers and he pulls his dark eyebrows together in skepticism. Of course he's not too fond to go out. No one would.

"Me?", he repeats as he tosses the cigarette bud aside.

"You two are the best fit men we got for this."

Arthur's face is a frozen mask, his lips tightly pressed together to a thin line, but then he stirs again when Javier hands him a sawed off shotgun.

"I know you'd do the same for me.", he tells him, which deals the last blow to the outlaw's unwillingness to leave.

With a sigh he takes the gun and they both make their way outside. Clearing your throat, you jump up from your own seat and follow them out of the cabin. They're just about to mount their horses when you arrive next to Boaz and place a hand on the saddle. Javier meets your gaze and you raise your chin.

"Take me with you.", you say, voice filled with resolve.

The man has saved your life, so you owe him and you've decided to pay back his unexpected generosity with loyalty. It's not something you have ever voiced out loud to him, but he sees it in your actions and words each time. You've become good friends over time, occasional drinking buddies, but mostly just having each other's backs when it gets serious.

"We got it covered.", he reassures you and you pull your hand away to pinch the bridge of your nose.

"You know that I'm an ace at tracking things down.", you insist, locking eyes with him once again.

"I can read tracks too, you know?"

"I do know.", you argue, growing slightly frustrated with his refusal to budge. "But it will be harder to see them in this weather."

It's still snowing like crazy, has been ever since you set up camp here. Javier opens his mouth to say something, most likely another argument against you joining them, but Arthur beats him to it.

"Enough chattin'. We ain't got the time for that now.", he drawls, deep voice rumbling in your ears.

Knowing that you won't be able to change either of their minds, your shoulders slump down and you watch in defeat as they ride off. The falling snow quickly swallows their silhouettes and you ball your hands into fists. Damn these two fools for believing they could push through this cold and damn this Marston for getting lost in it in the first place.

A short glance around tells you that no one is looking and so you sneak to the edge of the abandoned settlement. Lenny is standing guard with his back turned to you and you vanish further into the woods. With every building being occupied, you can't use any of them to do your thing. But there is a tree with a rather large and hollow tree trunk.

Your entire body trembles and shivers the more clothes you unshed, but if you transform while wearing them, you would tear most of it. You're not too keen on shredding your only pair of gloves to pieces with your claws. So you quickly and clumsily fold them before shoving them inside the tree hole. That way they will stay dry.

Closing your eyes, you focus and reach deep inside yourself. What follows isn't anything new to you. Popping of bones, a pull in your muscles. Whenever you try to put it into words it sounds awful, sounds like it should hurt, but the most you feel from it is mild discomfort. It's like the day after you did heavy manual labour, leaving all your limbs sore.

That sensation stays for another minute or two when you take on your new form and so you stretch a bit to get used to it. Now with your senses sharpened and a newfound strength coursing through your veins, you lift your head to sniff the air. Pretty much all the gang members' scent are familiar to you, allowing you to find their location with ease.

You follow Javier and Arthur at a safe distance, not wanting to draw any attention. If they so much as even hear you, they could end up on high alert and you wouldn't be surprised if they'd grab their weapons. Much to contrary beliefs, shape-shifters like you don't have any special healing abilities. You hurt, suffer and bleed like any other normal human and animal.

So a bullet between your eyes will most definitely kill you. To your surprise, John actually has left prints and tracks in the snow. The one's around the makeshift camp seem fresh too and you watch as they take the two men up a mountain. With there not being too many hiding options, you're forced to fall back some more, but now you can trust that they will find him.

Content with that information, you're ready to turn back and snuggle up into a blanket at the fire. If it weren't for that other scent, not from a person you know, not even human. An animal for sure, but which one? Wait, it isn't even one, but a whole bunch of them. Involuntarily, you feel a low growl build up in your throat and you bare your teeth.

Wolves. A whole pack.

-Javier's POV-

The whisky burns while it runs down his throat, but at least it's providing him with a little warmth. A flash of blue appears in the corner of his eyes and he looks over at Arthur, who's rubbing his own arms. The skin on his nose and cheeks is reddened and judging be his expression, he's ready to turn around any moment.

"How you feeling?", Javier asks, voice raised over the howling wind.

"I'm miserable.", the other man grumbles into his beard, almost too quiet for him to hear.

"Take this."

With those two words, he throws the bottle in his direction and Arthur skillfully catches it with one hand before greedily taking a sip. Javier clenches his own hands into fists every now and then to get his blood flowing. His fingers have become awfully stiff ever since they stepped foot onto this mountain.

Although John's tracks have vanished in the heavy snowfall, he's convinced that he must be somewhere up here. The state they have found his horse in, worries him though. It didn't look like it had collapsed by itself and then been ravished by vultures or anything of that sort. A shiver runs down his spine when he tries to imagine what wild animal could have left such a carnage.

Better not to dwell on it, but leave it as a problem for later if it even will be a problem. They find themselves out in the open again and they yell his name from the top of their lungs. No response. So he fishes his revolver out of the holster and points it up at the sky. Firing a shot will give away their position to anyone and anything that might linger out here, but he has no other choice.

Javier pulls the trigger and waits. One second, then another and there it is. A voice of a man, a voice that he easily recognizes.

"Over here!", someone, most definitely John, faintly shouts.

"Goddammit.", Arthur murmurs while stomping through the knee high snow. "We're comin!"

They both keep on yelling his name and run towards the direction where his voice is coming from. The closer they get, the better he can make out a ledge and they come to a sliding halt right at the edge. As expected or more so hoped, John Marston is looking up at them, face torn open and bleeding.

"That's quite a scratch you got there.", Arthur comments and Javier nods along.

Quite a scratch indeed.

"I didn't think I'd ever say this, but I'm glad to see ya, Morgan.", John replies with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

Well, he's surely in no condition to walk, perhaps even stand. With some grunting and combined forces, the two men manage to hoist John up and Arthur lifts him to carry him over his shoulder.

"Come on, compadre."

Javier takes in that sight and glances back to where they've originally came from. There have been quite a few spots where they had to climb up and down and he can't imagine that will be possible now. As strong as Arthur is, that is going to be a challenge even for him.

"We can't go back from where we came from.", he tells them and begins to walk a path that at least looks like it goes around the mountain. "Hopefully this will lead us out."

Behind him, the two other men are bickering with each other, but it's difficult to understand a single word over this wind. What he does manage to make out is a sudden pained groan.

"You alright?", Javier then asks, the question sounding ridiculous in his own ears.

Of course he's not alright. Shaking his head, mostly at himself, he continues to push on and in the distance he spots their two horses. Just as he begins to think that it's their lucky day, the air around him shifts in a strange way. It's like an intuition that one gets when things are about to become real ugly.

Though he isn't being given the time to contemplate it, because a howl cuts through the air. With the hair on the back of his neck standing straight up, he exchanges wary looks with Arthur. The outlaw hands John over to him, but Javier knows better than to attempt carrying him the same way. He watches Arthur fish out the shotgun he has given him back in Colter, before they took off to find John.

"You get to the horses. I'll take care of John's friends."

A nod is all he gets for an answer and Javier hurries towards the horses, his injured friend clinging onto him by his side. The snow is already making it difficult to move forward, but John is also dragging his feet, unable to take proper steps. Shots are being fired behind him, but he doesn't dare look back. Arthur is more than capable of handling those wolves. It's only three of them after all.

Just as he reaches Boaz and goes to help John onto horseback, a growl fills his ears. It's coming from his right and without hesitation, Javier fidgets with the revolver at his belt. The wolf is sprinting straight at him and it's only a matter of moments until he will get mauled by the animal. Without a weapon like Arthur's, he needs to make this shot count.

Though it doesn't seem like he needs to concern himself with that. Yet another wolf appears, but instead of going for his throat as well, it collides with the first one mid-air. They wrestle on the ground for a while, growling and tearing into each other's flesh. Unable to look away, he just stands there and stares at them with wide eyes.

Then the first wolf goes limb after weakly kicking around and the second one turns it's head in his direction. The fur looks different from the others, unlike any he has seen on these mountains. What draws him in the most are the eyes, those strange eyes that seem to not only look at him, but actually see him. Not just as a threat or as a meal, but as a person.

Immediately, Javier banishes the thought and breaks free from his daze to mount Boaz. Clearly this weird wolf won't harm them, but there is no guarantee that it won't change it's mind. Something flashes in the corner of his vision and he sees that Arthur is pointing the barrel of his shotgun at it. Not knowing what's possessing him, Javier extends his arm to block the line of fire, before he can shoot.

"It won't hurt us.", he tells the outlaw and as if it understood him, the wolf disappears into the distance.

"Well, now I've seen everythin'.", the other man remarks before climbing into his own saddle.

-Your POV-

The image of Arthur aiming at you with his gun won't leave your mind, as you run back to the hollow tree. Javier had saved you once again, because you don't doubt for a second that the outlaw would have shot you right then and there. It's not like you can blame him though. After getting attacked by a pack like that, you too would most likely shoot at everything that enters your line of sight.

Your initial plan was to take those wolves down before they could even reach the men, but they had found John earlier than expected. Arthur had taken care of them just fine, getting scratched only once, but there was that fourth wolf they had missed. Maybe Javier could have landed a good shot and killed it, but you didn't want to risk it.

That intense stare he had pierced you with had you freeze on the spot. It almost seemed like he had recognized you, but you don't believe that was the case. How would he? Panting and chest heaving, you finally reach the hollow tree and transform back into a human. With how cold it is, you don't take the moment to stretch and get used to the body.

Instead you throw on your, thankfully still dry, clothes and jog back to the camp. That's also when the three men make it back and you fix your appearance in the reflection of a window. You don't want anyone to question what you were doing, just because you look like you had run a marathon. In a way you kind of did do that.

It has gotten darker now, but there's still enough daytime to see. Once they reach the middle of the settlement, Abigail storms out from one of the cabins, her entire face beaming. More people join her side and they all work together to get John off the horse.

"Ay, careful idiotas! It's his leg!", Javier scolds them harshly, as the man grunts from the not so careful treatment.

While they bring him inside, Hosea and Strauss show up to thank them for bringing him back. Javier waves it off and looks like he's going to retreat into the cabin that was assigned to him and some of the other men, but then he catches you staring. He takes in your appearance and you fear that you didn't do a good enough job to conceal your messy state.

Then his dark eyes fall on something on your face and he motions with his chin towards your forehead.

"What happened?", he asks and you reach up with your hand.

That's when you notice that you have forgotten your gloves inside the tree and you curse yourself out internally. The tips of your bare fingers touch something wet and warm and upon closer inspection, you recognize that it's blood. Seems like you scratched or cut yourself out in the woods and didn't see it in the window. Your reflection had been quite blurry after all.

"I was out, stretching my legs a bit.", you lie and shrug to seem unbothered. "Think a branch hit me or something."

"Sure?", he questions and furrows his eyebrows in disbelief. "That looks pretty deep for a branch."

Quickly you wave it off and open your mouth to protest, but then he signals for you to follow him inside one of the cabins. Silently you walk with him and let him sit you down on a chair. Next thing you know, a clean cloth is being pressed against the skin over your eyebrow and he pulls away when you go to hold it in place by yourself.

There is something flickering behind his eyes as he watches you, but you can't pinpoint what it is. Clearly he doesn't quite believe your story with the branch, but he's also not asking you about it further. Maybe he thinks that you fell and that you're either too proud or embarrassed to admit it. Wouldn't be the first time that you're playing down an injury.

Then his gaze falls on your naked and trembling hands and he gestures towards them.

"Where are your gloves?"

"Must have lost them when I was on that walk.", you lie again, knowing they're still in that tree.

That or they had fallen out when you grabbed your clothes. Either way, they must still be at least around that spot and you will go look for them first thing in the morning. It's almost nighttime and even with your incredible vision, you don't want to go stumbling outside by yourself. Suddenly Javier begins to take off his own gloves and your free hand shoots forward to stop him.

"What are you doing?", you yell and clear your throat to get your voice under control again.

"You can't just be without gloves.", he argues in a matter of fact way, but you harshly shake your head.

Granted, it will be a pain in the ass, but the cold still affects you way less than him. If anyone would suffer from this than it's him.

"I'm fine! I'll go look for them tomorrow.", you insist, your tone not leaving any room for protest and he sighs.

While shaking his head, he mumbles on Spanish about how stubborn you are, but thankfully drops the topic. You notice the dark rings under his eyes and so you usher him to leave and go get some well deserved rest. After climbing that mountain to get John and barely surviving a wolf attack, it's a miracle that he hasn't fallen over yet.

Once he's gone, you move to sit closer to the fire and smile when Tilly beckons you to lean on her. The wound has stopped bleeding by now and she says that it doesn't look like it needs any stitching. With all the adrenaline from running through the woods as a wolf, you hadn't noticed it one bit. Though now the dull pain is pulsating in your head in uncomfortable waves.

You're tempted to request something for it from Strauss, but then decide against it. Depending how long you all will be stuck up here, someone else might need it more than you. John for example. Sighing, your eyes flutter shut and you relax against your friend's shoulder.

Taglist: @zizizi-blogs

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 javier escuella #javier escuella #javier escuella x reader #rdr2 javier escuella x reader #bullets & claws

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sweet-writings9 · 1 year ago

Text

Only For Them | Prologue

Summary: A lone omega was on the run from a ruthless alpha. Running was all she knew until she bumped to two certain alphas that would change her life forever. Crazy things happen to her once she realizes that they are her mate. Two mates. How will she able to cope?

Characters: Omega!Fem!reader , Alpha!Steve Rogers, Alpha!Bucky Barnes (James Barnes)

genre: omegaverse au, alternative au, love, humor, angst, comfort, yandere

notes: hello everyone ! my old account got hacked so I had to make a new one sadly *cries* anyway, I hope you guys like this! i had to edit it and make some changes. if you are interested and wanna get tagged just comment below or send me a DM. Feedback is appreciated. Hope you guys enjoy this little peek lol

Footsteps echoed through the dark city as rain poured even harder. Slight winds getting bolder as they came stronger by the second. A soft thud echoed in a dark alley as heavy breaths were heard. [Y/N] tried to catch her breath as she was on her knees in a puddle. She had been running for the past hour from him. He had finally found her. After so long trying to get away from him, he found her once again.

In the back of her mind, there was this small little voice that kept nagging at her that he would always find her no matter what. Her whole body shivered as she managed to get up.

Chills ran thru her whole body as she walked deeper into the dark alley.

"I need to keep moving.." She mumbled to herself as she kept her feet going.

If she stopped then he will catch her again. She couldn't let that happened. She already caused a lot of trouble for everyone.

Especially two men that hold her heart so deeply.

Steve and James.

Tears rolled down her face at the thoughts and memories of them. She was only with them for a couple of months and it had been the best time she's ever had. She wouldn't let him hurt them. She would never forget herself if they are hurt because of her.

Even her wolf is hurting. Clawing and howling at her to get back to her mates.

Well, now her ex-mates.

Her heart was tearing so much at the last moments she was with them. How she had to hurt them to get away.

She couldn't move anymore as she leaned against the wall, sobbing her heart out.

"Stupid [Y/N]…I'm sorry Steve…James. So sorry." She mumbles as she slides down to the ground, exhaustion winning the game. "I'm so pathetic..such a pathetic omega."

Her vision was slowly getting worse as she was seeing double now. As she sat there, memories of her time with them flashed in her mind once more. Her lips curved into a smile at all the love and care they gave her. Even the rest of their so-called family. They welcomed her with open arms which she wasn't used to. She felt like crying even more from losing them to him. Fear of him hurting her new family. She would rather give herself to him than have him hurt her family.

Her mates.

The thought of her mates was killing her even more. She gasped for air as it felt like someone had punched her so hard that she couldn't breathe.

She wrapped her arms around herself as if she could just turn invisible. She wished all this ended. All the pain. All the running.

Just everything to stop.

She sniffed as she tried wiping her tears or so called rain. She knew that she had to keep moving. She couldn't stay here. She slowly managed to get up on her feet as she was about to be on the move until something stopped her.

More like someone did.

"Doll…?"

Her eyes widen at the soft, broken tone that she's very familiar with. Her body froze for a slight second before she kept moving.

"Take one more step and you'll get it."

Another familiar voice that she knew.

She shook her head as she kept her legs moving.

"Leave…me..alone." She says out loud, trying to sound confident yet it sounded like a cry for help.

"Like hell! Doll stop this!"

His yell made her shake in fear at his alpha tone as she gripped on her head, trying to forget all about him.

"Please…just stop…" She mumbled to herself but loud enough for them to hear her.

"We will never stop."

That voice sounded closer which caught her off guard. She cursed under her breath as she was about to make a run for it until she bumped into a hard body. A warmth that she knew very well.

She gasped as she backed away and looked up to see blue eyes looking at her.

It was Steve. He looked so broken and hurt.

"It's all your fault that he's like that." A small voice echoed in her mind.

She shook her head as she backed away from him, hoping that she can outrun him but as soon as she turned around, she noticed someone in front of her. Someone she knew very well.

"Doll…please stop this. Just come home with us."

It was Bucky. James as he would always tell her to call him.

He was the most emotional one of the two and she could easily tell that this was hurting them two. Not just her.

She shook her head as she backed away from both of them. If she ever got too close to them both then she'll give in to them. She couldn't do that. She had to leave and fast.

"I…I can't go home. He'll…find me. He'll kill you to get…to me."

Steve and Bucky looked at each other before looking at her, getting closer to her.

But the closer they tried to close the distance, the more she'll open it.

"We can protect you, love. You know that we can protect you. You're save with us." Steve tried to reason with her.

She shook her head.

"No, if he hurts you then…I..don't.." She couldn't even finish the sentence.

She kept looking away as she tried to find a way to escape them.

But there was no way.

She was weak and tired. Also an omega. Unlike them that are alphas.

She didn't know how long the silence was but it suddenly stopped once she felt rough hands cupping her face as he made her look at him.

"Bu..Bucky…"

Rough lips smashed against her as she couldn't help but moan at how bad she had missed him. It had only been a week since the last time she saw them. Now, they were here in front of her and Bucky was kissing her with so much passion. She could feel the burning sensation thru his body pressed against hers.

"Don't you dare leave us again, Doll. I don't care about him. I only care about you." He mumbles against her lips before kissing them again harder. "It's been only a week and I'm this crazy looking for you. I'm not letting you handle this alone that's why we are here. That's why we are your mates. We are in this together."

[Y/N] gasped as she looked up at him, staring into his beautiful, brown eyes that she grew to love, but that quickly changed as she felt another pair of arms around her waist. A different type of warmth behind her. She glanced back to his blue eyes staring at her with so much love in them.

"S-Steve…"

"Love, we've told you before. Whatever happened in the past with you, don't worry. Me and Buck will protect you. No matter what. It doesn't matter whom or what. We will always protect you." He said with a stern look on his face while he leaned down and gave her a passionate kiss.

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marlenesgirl · 5 months ago

Text

“ Prologue

Every story starts with a little magic. There’s an idea - and with a little imagination - life. There’s twists and turns unknown to its creator as a flurry of pure thought overtakes all rationality. This story, however, has real magic. A force that’s so powerful, Remus can feel it. The gentle rock in his chest after a spell is performed - its scent that’s unique to each user. Warm, simmering apples for James, blooming daffodils for Peter, and the serene morning of the first winter snow for Sirius. He can taste it; feel it course through his veins and invade his lungs. Not all are sweet, but none are ever bitter. Magic is like that. Forever enticing despite its abilities to deconstruct as quickly as it creates. Remus would know. He wears an ugly scar to prove it, streaked with silver and jagged punctures. A werewolf bite, to put it simply. Given to him when he was only five as a repercussion of his fathers work. Lycanthrope Relief or something or the other. He didn’t know the politics of werewolves, but hell, did he know the pain.

When he was little, hardly beyond nappies, he heard whispers of wolves. Often accompanied by a little girl in a red cape, his mother read to him routinely. He associated full moons with monsters and pulling bed sheets over his head. Naive; sheltered. The truth, he soon discovered, was that they elicit torment. Deep, neverending torment that took that little boy and forced him into what he once only knew as fiction. That’s the curse of being a werewolf. You lose yourself first then everyone around you.

Even though Remus’ life was now mapped out by moon cycles, Hope and Lyall Lupin tried their damndest to shield him from it. His first few years after the attack were unforgettable bliss. Chocolate candies in bed, new figurines any time they went by the shops, listening to whatever Remus pleased on the radio. They coddled him until he was old enough to better understand sorry’s. Like clockwork, they’d block out the one night a month where he was chained to the basement floor, howling in pain. No amount of silencing charms could keep the wolf at bay. Oftentimes, the chains didn’t even hold, and Remus would find himself adorned with gaping wounds, strewn helpless.

That was the only time Hope cried; when she saw glimpses of a weathered man in her son.

This push and pull of guilt and overcompensation, however, ended with Lyall’s life. He died on a cool April morning. Simple, and just like that. It was an accident at the Ministry; an uproar of protests gone wrong. Remus was seven. The only thing he really remembered that day was Hope making pancakes and putting so much syrup on top, Remus was the happiest boy in the world. Then came the knocks on the door and the screams and the cries. The rest was a blur.

Soon after, they moved. Their two bedroom home in London became the countryside of Oxfordshire. With it, a small manor that had been passed through Hope’s family for centuries. It was a bit of a fixer-upper, but it did the job. It was, afterall, where most of Remus’ memories blossomed. The home was big enough for three bedrooms and a kitchen, living room, and most importantly, a playroom. There was no one for miles and it soon became their own slice of paradise. Most days began with collapsing in kelly-green grass so picturesque, Remus remembered it fondly from gardening magazines his father read.

Together, he and Hope soaked up every ray the God Almighty sun had to offer. They’d garden in their pajamas and made friends with the songbirds and stray cats. And, conveniently, it had a basement; hidden and only accessible from the kitchen. Hope said something about it once being used for food storage, but Remus knew it had a bigger secret now.

But life could never be so simple. Remus was getting older, afterall, and with age came the revelation of Remus’ likely future. Hogwarts.

Hope did her best to explain what she knew of Lyall’s world. Spells and legends, magical creatures and ancient history. But her stories always had holes. Little bits of information not quite understood or ready for the ears of a young boy. What she did know was that when Remus turned eleven, he might receive a letter summoning him to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She always emphasized the maybe’s and if’s, but Remus knew. He knew magic lived inside of him, itching to break free like a wolf of its own.

And it did.

#remus lupin #hope lupin #lyall lupin #marauder fanfiction #marauders #marauders era #ao3 fanfic #marauder fandom #archive of our own #harry potter #dead gay wizards #female writers #wolfstar

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writingforsimps · 2 years ago

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Midnight Fangs - Poly BTS X Reader (Prologue)

Summary: The werewolves thought they found all their mates. They never imaged they’d met another, let alone that she’d be a vampire.

Warning: Blood, Alcohol, Sex, Breeding, Mate Au Supernatural AU, Poly Au, Unrequited Love, Rejection, Hurt/Comfort, Other… (Specific Warnings not mentioned will be made in each chapter.)

[Series Masterlist] [Your Here] - [Next] <-

You fled from your Nest.

You fled from your Nest, from the people who turned you almost 200 years ago, from the people who taught you everything you know now about yourself. Vampires have very strong bonds, they live with their Nest forever. The people who turn them and the people who are also turned. The two only reason why a vampires nest would be small is because of Hunters. You ran away from your Nest: your home, your family, your providers. Your an idiot. A lone vampire wouldn’t make it without their family.

You’ve heard phrased, phrases like “lone wolf,” and “free spirit,” everyone’s heard those phrases and in those phrases… Lone Vampire, didn’t exist. Every Vampire always said that their was a reason for that.

As the moon rises in the sky, you look at it from under a tree. Glad the sun would finally be gone from irritating your skin more. You hated swearing layers and hats, you sometimes missed the sun on your skin.

Most supernatural creatures were… sociable, but perhaps that isn’t the right word for all of them, it was more… kept to groups. There was a reason for that.

It meant you wouldn’t survive on your own.

Sociable was, however, the right word for werewolves. Wolves love the night, especially full moons. Werewolves were rowdy, social, and loud. You could tell from the howls you’d hear two miles away and from the many paw prints left behind in the mud after a full moon.

They loved many things.

In that love, what they loved and put above all else: their Pack. Werewolves, they had a more… engraved structure to their packs. For a vampire, the oldest is the leader. For a wolf, the most qualified Alpha is.

It’s a common… rumor that vampires and werewolves don’t get along. Cats and dogs as people would say. Wether that rumor is true or not, is up to a case to case Basis. Cats and dogs can co-exist in certain homes, when conditions are met.

Why was he even thinking of vampires? There would be no reason to think more of this subject. Cats and dogs, they would have no effect on his life with his pack. Jin sighs and shakes his head as he looks at his pack, his mates, trying to get rid of the thoughts.

Why would he even want to co-exist with a vampire? Most of them were too… cold, it was like they were searching for weaknesses to exploit. Always turning their noses in disgust, “You smell- horrible- too strong- like dog.” They’d say, while they smell like nothing but blood and death.

“Hey, Jin you okay?” Hoseok asks leaning his head against the omegas shoulder. The beta leaned onto the omegas scent gland, trying to soothe the Omega. He could smell a bit of his confusion and disappointment, even if it was the slightest, most minuscule change.

“Yeah, just thinking.”

“Joon and Jumin are in the garden.” The beta causally mentioned. As the two of them looked out at them in the over grown, neglect garden. Jimin trips over a bed of something the pack doesn’t care to identify. Junjook stumbled after him and trips into the plants.

“I think the garden has seen better days anyway.” Yoongi shrugged scratching his messy hair as he walked in to the kitchen. A empty cup of coffee in hand, the alpha sighed as he glanced out the window at what was suppose to be a garden.

It was a large fences off area near the back of the cabin. The pack had picked the cabin up once upon a time, it was run down and old but now it was new again, everything was working the way it was suppose to and now it was… perfect. It felt like every room was brimming with love. The garden however, no one ever got around too. The forgotten space in the back of the house. During a full moon a while back Junkook had dug the remaining dead plants up leaving behind a pile of dirt. The pile of dirt was left, the causal “I’ll get around to it” was thrown here and there. Sure, but they all knew no one would end up taking responsibility for the garden.

If they wanted to be in touch with nature they’d go on a walk in the woods. It’s in their nature, Not planting. Digging? Maybe, yeah sure. But if they wanted berries they’d go find them in the forest. It was a waste growing them when they can just go to the store anyway?

At least. Those were the justifications. Truthfully, they didn’t know why they left it untouched for so long. It was a nagging ache in their chest… as if something wasn’t right and it just… needed to be left alone.

______

Note: Hey, so… I made this because, Bts fanfiction is really easy to find and I’ve been reading it because- hey, I want to read a specific type of fic? Bts fandom has 20 of them at least! So I thought, I’d give back…? I mean the authors are all sooo good, I just hope to live up to them. But… I don’t really know a lot about the boys? I’ve watched interviews and tried my best! But if something’s off, tell me pls!

Enjoy the series! Any questions, thoughts or concerns pls don’t hesitate! And uh… bye!

#abo au #bts #bts x reader #poly bts #poly bts x reader #vampire reader #light angst #bts fanfic #bts x you #bts x fem!reader #werewolf! bts #yoongi #jimin #junkook #hoseok #taehyung #namjoon #seokjin

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my-dear-anonym · 7 months ago

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Warping the Veil: A Sovellan and Rookanis Story

When the Dread Wolf attempts to sunders the veil, it all goes horribly wrong. He should have listened to her. The world burned. Everything. The Humans, the Elves, the Spirits. And the Evanuris delighted in their massacre. Lavellan offers the chance of a hail Andraste, one last attempt to save the world. And it may very well cost her life. Together, a spell is crafted and they send her spiraling through time to try and prevent it all. If only it hadn't gone so dreadfully wrong. Lavellan wakes up confused and disoriented to an angry seeker. There's much more wrong here than there should be. With spirits whisper to her and memories not her own warn her of the future, she must muddle through this dangerous landscape. Memory can only help so much. Nightmare is waiting. The Dread Wolf howls. And Lavellan stands in the center of it all. In another world, broken and torn by catastrophe, a sacrifice is made to give this world a second chance. This story deals with the plotline of Veilgaurd, including a Lucanis and Rook romance. Beware of spoilers. The Lore surrounding what happened to Lavellan expands with every new face that appears as the story marches on.

I began this story in 2021, long before the events of Veilguard. Now that the game has released (2024), I'm excited to include a lore that fits so closely with this fic I designed. I rewrote vast swaths of this story, but the parts that were published previously have largely remained. I hope you all enjoy the Revamp of Warping the Veil. I am posting this first chapter for all of you to get introduced to the story. It's the Prequel Chapter and largely follows the events of the Prologue of Dragon Age: Inquisition. After this, the chapters will start to see more content straying from the original plot as the struggle against the future develops.

Full Chapter Available on Ao3: Prelude: Shattered

Prelude: Shattered:

Lavellan

Pain. Lancing up her arm in a sluggish, dream-like state is what finally pulls her back to the surface of consciousness. Her head pounds and her body aches. The stone is cold beneath her legs, but it helps anchor her back into the world rather than her dreams. A cold draft raises goosebumps along her skin. Didn’t they get that fixed forever ago? There shouldn’t be any cracks in the formidable walls. Though, the latest siege surely left more repairs wanting.

"Dorian—” she gasps out weakly, the skin of her head dragging against the stones as she pulls herself to her knees. Metal shackles announce themselves with a tale tell rattle with each shift, loud in the silent room. Finally, her eyes open, clearing away bits of blurriness with each blink. Thankfully, it’s a dark room. Lavellan doesn’t think her splitting headache could handle any level of brightness.

Everything shatters apart and scatters about her like puzzle pieces when a sharp, blinding pain spikes up her arm. It’s too sudden to scream. It’s too much to cry. She can only gasp in shock. Familiar and foreign. This pain is not natural. This pain shouldn’t exist. It’s not a phantom pain of a lost limb. It’s real.

Lost limb? She’d never lost a limb. Where had that thought come from? An echoing lance of pain stabs her mind and she groans until both the oddly green mark on her hand and the ache in her skull pound to the same rhythm of misery. Why isn’t she panicking? Anyone else would be panicking to find some mark upon their hand, causing enough pain to long for unconsciousness again. In fact, it’s almost comforting to find it there. Why?

Fragments of answers shaped like memories or dreams swirl around her, and she tries desperately to reach for them. Before any progress can be made, she’s disrupted by a door banging open and two figures joining her in the damp cell. Soldiers standing guard around her all sheathe their swords. Had they been there the whole time? Why did they need to keep their swords drawn? Her manacles clink. Had they been afraid of her? By the Dread Wolf, Shems really would use any excuse, wouldn’t they?

But they’re not important. The two that had entered are. Lavellan squints through the darkness, stuffing the glowing mark between her legs to dampen the glare of its light. Immediately, the name of one the women jumps to her tongue, even if she does not say it. The other floats near the surface of the murky lake of her mind but quickly submerges again before she can grasp it.

Cassandra, dressed in the familiar armor of a Seeker, stands tall and proud despite the heaviness of catastrophe. Stomach full of mantra, she burns like a beacon. “Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now?” Cassandra asks. “The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead. Except for you.”

Lavellan shakes her head, trying to clear it as flashing images surface and submerge again, too rapidly for her to comprehend. Screaming. Nothing tells her anything of where she is or what’s going on. She should know. No matter how hard she claws for them, they do not return. Even if her memory refuses to comply, everything here is far too familiar. Can’t they see something is horribly wrong?

Cassandra reaches down, grabbing Lavellan’s wrist in a near fracturing hold and forces the mark onto display. “Explain this.” The Anchor flares slightly for dramatic effect, as if it knew people were talking about it. The sickly green light casts the room and her mind in shadows, illuminating only the sharpest angles of Cassandra’s face and reflecting off her armor.

Words whisper around them, words that only Lavellan hear. Incomprehensible riddles and phrases, lost before they’re found. Why is the air so loud?

“I—can’t.” Lavellan’s eyes are glued to her hand. To the anchor. Its light dances between them. The only thing keeping her alive and the very thing damning her to death.

“What do you mean you can’t?”

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Lavellan insists. Finally, her gaze pulls free and snaps to the face of the Seeker. She can see it now, where she couldn’t before. Anger, yes. Anger risen out of fear. Terror. The world has come crashing down and there’s nowhere to go. Nothing to defeat. Only a hole in the sky and endless, devastating death. Wait. Hole in the sky? Her head is jumbled again, tripping over itself. What’s real? What’s delusional? That’s a matter of debate.

“You’re lying!” Cassandra insists, gripping Lavellan roughly by the collar. An act of desperation made by a terrified woman, grasping for answers in a world gone mad. The sudden wrench of her muscles sets her whole body into dull aches, as if she’d tripped and tumbled down a steep hill.

“We need her, Cassandra,” the other woman intervenes. The Left Hand. Left. Reaching. The Left Hand remembers a knife slipped to her in darkness and wonders why the flower blooms.

“It blooms because even in the darkest of night, there will always be dawn,” Lavellan mumbles, dizzy and aching.

The Left Hand freezes. “What did you say?”

Lavellan shakes her head, forcing her eyes to focus on the familiar face. “Did…” It takes her a moment more to pull back together. “Did you say people died?

The Left Hand frowns. “Do you remember what happened? How this began?”

“I remember…so much screaming.” Her eyebrows knit together in thought. Cassandra paces. There’s a steady drip of water somewhere distant in the cell. Several sets of lungs breathe, in and out. “running,” she finally says. “Things were chasing me. And then…a woman?” It’s starting to come back to her. Her clan. Her mission. The Conclave.

“A woman?”

“I don’t know,” Lavellan says, looking up at them. “I can’t remember.”

Cassandra studies her for a minute. Her steely eyes against vivid green. Lavellan can see the moment she makes up her mind. “Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take her to the rift.”

Full Chapter Available on Ao3

Tagging those that expressed interest earlier this week ^-^

@junewhenitrains

@manuveninvhenan

@bi-panic-in-my-closet

#dragon age #datv #dav #dragon age fandom #dragon age inquisition #dragon age veilguard #dai #sovellan #rookanis #dragon age 2 #dragon age origins #dragon age fic #dragon age the veilguard #dragon age spoilers #da4 #veilguard #dragon age fanfiction #warping the veil

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lanietadelatierrawriter · 5 days ago

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The Song of the Ravens: Blood and Steel PROLOGUE

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death

Fandom: Game of Thrones (TV)

Additional Tags: Angst, Dark Fantasy, Wolves, Survival, Survival Horror, Gore, Death, Blood, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Explicit Language, Violence, Game of Thrones References, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Original Character(s), Winter Setting, Character Death, Game of Thrones-Typical Violence

Words: 408

Summary: On a winter's night, a mother and her child face the unforgiving wilderness in search of safety. But the forest holds dangers far greater than the cold. Blood will stain the snow, and ravens will sing their song.

This story was originally posted on my Tumblr, which got deactivated, back when I was a huge Game of Thrones fan, especially obsessed with Ned Stark. I’ve decided to dust it off and share it with you all here and on AO3. I hope you like it. Hugs and kisses. — Evelyn

The Song of the Ravens: Blood and Steel PROLOGUE

Night was falling. The sky was turning dark purple, becoming as black as the final days of a bruise. The full moon and stars were already visible high above. Their light illuminated the coniferous forest, whose branches and leaves were covered by a thick layer of snow, just like the grass underfoot. The icy wind roamed aimlessly, a wandering gust with no direction. Winter had arrived in those lands.

The castle walls stood tall against the trees, with some branches tangled in their rocky surfaces. The forest stretched several kilometers to the south, ending in a village.

“We’re almost there, Mother,” said the six-year-old boy, walking quickly beside his pregnant mother, who was in pain and too weak to continue.

Many tried to cross the forest to reach the castle in search of work and a better life, but few managed to make it to the great walled gates of the fortress.

The young mother felt a strong contraction, forcing her to stop and lean against the trunk of a sentinel tree.

“We must keep going, Mother,” said the boy, worried to see her in that state.

The young woman lifted the hem of her linen dress under her sheepskin cloak and placed her hand on her private area. Her skin turned the scarlet color of her blood, as did the snow beneath her, which seemed to shine under the light of the moon and stars.

Somewhere in the forest, a wolf howled. The sound alerted them. The young woman looked at her bloodstained hands and, frightened, collapsed onto the snow, her back resting against the sentinel trunk. Exhausted, she sobbed in pain, her legs trembling from cold and fear. Her son approached her. Over his shoulder, she saw a gray wolf standing meters away, staring at them intently with its mouth open, baring needle-sharp fangs. Then another wolf appeared, and another. The young woman’s face turned to terror.

“Don’t turn around,” she ordered with a dying voice, holding him back with her trembling hand.

The boy was scared and confused by his mother’s words. The wolves’ panting became audible, and without turning, the boy understood what was happening behind him.

The wolves pounced on them, giving no time to escape. Their sharp teeth tore through flesh as if it were silk.

The hunt was over. The mutilated bodies lay scattered on the snow, attracting ravens that descended to feast as soon as the wolves abandoned the area.

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holylulusworld · 11 months ago

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Kinktober vs Flufftober 2024

Like in 2019, 2020, 2021, 2022, and 2023, I will post a kinky, fluffy, angsty or scary one-shot from October 1st till October 31st, 2024.

Please consider none of the stories are available until the set release date. Titles may change (all titles are working titles until the release date.). The release date may change at any time.

ANGST/SMUT/FLUFF

October 1st: Forbidden Lust (3) sequel to Forbidden Lust & Forbidden Lust (2)

Pairing: CEO!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Kink: Homewrecker kink

October 2nd: How deep is your love? sequel to Deepest love

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Trope: Friends to lovers

Idea by: @elle14-blog1

October 3rd: Extreme tight places sequel to Cramped & Tight places & Very tight places

Pairing: Soulless!Sam x fem!Reader

Kink: Anal sex

October 4th: Colorful leaves sequel to Falling leaves

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Trope: Sunny vs grumpy

October 5th: Serve your Soldier (2) sequel to Serve your Soldier

Pairing: Soldier Boy x fem!Reader

Kink: Collars

October 6th: Snuggle and cuddle sequel to Snuggle time

Pairing: Lee Bodecker x Plussized!Reader

Trope: Huddling for warmth

October 7th: Good girls punch hard (1)

Pairing: Raymond Smith x fem!Reader

Kink: Lust at first sight

October 8th: A new life sequel to One autumn night

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Omega!Reader

Trope: Nesting (a/b/o)

October 9th: The peach (2) sequel to The Peach

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x Girlfriend!Reader

Kink: Spanking

October 10th: My car again? sequel to Not in my car

Pairing: Sam Winchester x fem!Reader

Trope: Cuddling & Snuggling

Requested by: @dawn-petrichor-world

October 11th: Breathlessness sequel to Breathless & Take My Breath Away

Pairing: CEO!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Kink: Boss kink

October 12th: Death or date?

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x fem!Reader

Trope/Kink: Enemies to lovers

October 13th: Pour me some love (1)

Pairing: Biker!Dean Winchester x Plussized!Reader

Trope: Love at first sight

Idea by: @elle14-blog1

October 14th: Ashtray (2) sequel to Ashtray

Pairing: Jax Teller x fem!Reader

Kink: angry sex

October 15th: My lawn, my rules sequel to Get off my lawn

Pairing: Alpha (Teacher) Bucky Barnes x Omega (Teacher) Reader

Trope: Mating

October 16th: Howl like a wolf (Prologue)

Pairing: Alpha!Anders Lassen x Omega!Reader

Kink: a/b/o

October 17th: Bucky & Ducky (1)

Pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Side-pairing: Bucky x Ducky the duck

Trope: Best buddies

Idea by: @buckys-wintersoldier

October 18th: Pipsqueak & Grumpy (2) sequel to Pipsqueak & Grumpy

Pairing: Wolverine/Logan Howlett x Chubby(Short)!Reader

Trope: TBA

October 19th: Torn in two

Pairing: Mobster!Steve Rogers x fem!Reader

Trope: Unrequited Love

October 20th: Sweater weather sequel to Christmas Sweater

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x fem!Reader

Trope: Sweater weather

October 21st: The cabin in the woods (2) sequel to The cabin in the woods

Pairing: Winter Soldier x fem!Reader

Trope: Captivity

October 22nd: Lunchtime Delight

Pairing: Beau Arlen x Girlfriend!Reader

Kink: Edging

Idea: by @elle14-blog1

October 23rd: My annoying sexy neighbor (2) sequel to My annoying sexy neighbor

Pairing: Neighbor!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Kink: Semi-public sex

October 24th: Parallel Worlds (1)

Pairing: Negan Smith (TWD) x fem!Reader x John Winchester (SPN)

Trope: Daddy kink

October 25th: Unwanted mate (2) Bucky's version sequel to Unwanted Mate (Bucky's version)

Pairing: Alpha!Stucky x Omega!Reader

Trope: Triade

October 26th: Up his sleeve

Pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Kink: Hand kink

Idea by: @buckys-wintersoldier

October 27th: Breakfast for...

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x Wife!Reader

Kink: TBA

October 28th: Their bride (Snippet 1) sequel to Best bridesmaid ever

Pairing: fem!Reader x Nick Fowler, Ari Levinson, Lloyd Hansen, Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

Trope: Post-Coitus moment

October 29th: His Bride (Prologue)

Pairing: Vampire!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Trope: Vampire AU

October 30th: Bound Tight

Pairing: Gus March-Philipps x fem!Reader x Anders Lassen

Kink: Ropes

Halloween Specials: ANGST/SMUT/HORROR

October 31st: His little red riding hood sequel to Little Red Riding hood lost in the woods

Pairing: (Alpha) Werewolf!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader (LittleRedRidingHood)

Trope: Monster-fucking

Find all other Bingos and Special Events here: Special Events

#kinktober 2024 #flufftober 2024 #kinktober vs flufftober 2024 #dean winchester #bucky barnes #wolverine #sam winchester #lee bodecker #anders lassen #gus march phillips #smut

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xxfaithlynxx · 4 months ago

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Something To Believe In

Temptations Edge

Prologue ~ Ch. 1 ~ Ch. 2 ~ Ch. 3 ~ Ch. 4 ~ Ch. 5 ~

Word Count: 4k (4478)-- a little shorter than the last! Sorry. (I'll make up for it!😘 )

NOT PROOFREAD!

Song(s): Personal- PLAZA

Please DO NOT steal or plagiarize my work. Much appreciated! As always.

Ω ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ Ω

Chapter 5:

Why does it feel like my bones ache…

Walking through the gloom of this dire forest, the high bows of the poplars. The swaying, sharp green fingers of spruce, reaching for invisible webs. The reflection of spearmint in the air as the pine needles drifted to the undergrowth below.

Where my feet moved, there was silence. Nothing but the baying of distant wolves, and a midnight owl. Looming overhead with its round eyes of golden wisdom.

‘How did I get here?’ I had to ask myself, looking around, but seeing only darkness. Feeling, only emptiness. ‘Something is wrong. Why do I not feel anything? Something should be here.’ I reached up to press a hand to my breastbone… ‘Ori… where is my Ori?’

‘Where is she? Where has she gone!’ As a wave of grief clawed its way into my beating heart. I looked down at my paws.

They were colossal, with great curled talons at each end. Soft, deep onyx fur covered each digit and extended up each arm. Reaching up, I ran those paws over my face, feeling the elongated snout, the moist, rough-skinned nose, and sharp teeth. ‘Should I not have a human form while on two legs?’

I felt the whine begin in my chest as I began swinging this new formed head from side to side, searching. ‘Reflection… I need a mirror. Water, where is water!’

At the base of a massive aspen, and an assortment of smaller, younger poplars, circled by there flowing, thick roots that had emerged from beneath the crust of the earth was a small crystalline pool.

Nearly tripping over my own paws, I rushed toward that basin at the base of that tree. As I approached, I knelt in the moss that grew like a pillow around the roots. Tiny white flowers bloomed, the opening of their petals like the opening of eyes as they watched me.

Resting my claws against the lip of the basin, I peered over its edge into the water below.

A pure onyx furred she-wolf looked back. Eyes like oceans and stars. Alone, with no one to call my own. Rearing back on my haunches, I felt my throat open as I howled to the abyss, calling for my Orien.

Ω ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ Ω

I felt groggy in what I could only assume was the next morning. My head hurt, and it felt like I’d eaten, swallowed, and scraped my tongue with a metric ton of course grained sand. Peeling my eyes open, the first thing I saw was the ceiling of the cave, the crust around my eyelids making it hard to see beyond the trapped hairs of my lashes. Slowly, I reached up and scrubbed the lengths of thumbs over my eyes. Groaning my discontent with feeling like death warmed over. When I was satisfied with the new lack of stickiness around my eyes, I blinked and began moving my eyes to my surroundings.

The room seemed empty. I went to push myself up on to my elbows, but a heavy weight pressed against my right shoulder, holding me down against the straw mattress. All thoughts of my achy dream state were forgotten as I turned my head, and came face to face with Sylus, on his side, one arm bent under his head, his hair falling across his forehead, thick dark lashes brushing his high cheeks as the movement of his eyes beneath told me he was still sound asleep. His plush lips slightly parted as he breathed. His bare chest rising and falling slowly, with his other arm lazily hung between my shoulder and his pec. Oh, fucking Hell. My eyes, still slightly blurred from just waking up and from rubbing them, momentarily thought that seeing him sleeping soundly at my side was some form of a mirage.

But the weight and the heat of him beside me told me it wasn’t.

As slow as I could, in hopes of not waking him, I tried to inch myself away from his imposing warmth. Not that I was complaining. But, after remembering how close he’d gotten as he told me in a not-so-subtle fashion—that he thought I was gorgeous—not just beautiful, I felt that burn of embarrassment flood my cheeks.

A low, sleep filled baritone groan made my ears twitch before I froze in place as he suddenly slid the arm between us around my middle, pulling me back up against his solid, warm—oh so warm—chest, in this process he’d somehow rolled me so that I was facing him. I felt all breath leave my lungs as his scent assaulted my nose. Something seemed different though… before, I only ever smelled the scent of leather and his natural musk, which made sense considering his choice of attire when we’d first met, so why was I getting notes of patchouli, oud, a soft undertone of cardamom, and fresh rain. I found myself leaning into instead of away from him. The bulk of his arm tightening around my waist, as something inside me melted.

What was I doing? Why does it feel natural?

Without really putting much thought into what my body was doing, or how normal it seemed. I felt my head lift and tilt in a such a way that allowed me to brush my nose along the column of his neck. A quiet inhale through that nose filled my lungs with nothing but the smell of him. Making my mind buzz with something unfamiliar, but altogether pleasant.

The sudden urge to nuzzle him overtook the sane part of my mind and I found my mouth brushing over where my nose had just been. In hushed tones, small sounds escaped between my lips as I dragged them over his skin. My tongue darting out to taste him. Humans don’t do this. Came the one thought from the shrinking corner of sanity inside me. I was losing the battle, and knew if I didn’t retreat now, my body was going to act on something instinctual and not at all thought through.

The battle I was raging inside of myself came to abrupt halt as I felt him shift. A sound vibrated within his chest, the reverb of it slithered down my spine, making my eyes flutter. I had no comparison to what the sound he’d made was, something akin to a purr and a growl, but it turned me into a molten pile of quivering mush. The arm he had around my middle flexed, and I could feel the drastic definition of his bicep and forearm pressing into my shoulder blade, causing my already spiked heart rate to shift into a sprint. Should I say something? I shouldn’t let this continue… I attempted a calming breath in and was only met with the alarmingly addictive scent of him—but he smells SO good. With a sigh, I leaned into him, pressing my mouth to a spot on his neck that had his muscles jumping, as my tongue pushed through my lips to run a hot line over his now blood warmed skin. He tastes good… like spiced wine, vanilla, and pepper.

In the position he’d maneuvered me into when he’d wrapped his arm around me, I now had full access to his broad chest, and wide shoulders with hands that were beginning to wander on their own. He was like a furnace, smoldering under my fingertips. His breathing picking up even in slumber, in part making my own breathing increase its pace.

Some rational part of me, deep inside somewhere was clambering for a needle of sanity, trying to bring awareness to what I was doing, what this could mean. But the dominating part of my brain was quick to try and ignore that nagging pit at the back of my equilibrium. Something inside me had changed, I could feel it, and it felt good. When it had changed, I had no idea—but I was reveling in the new feelings, these new fleeting influences that burned under my skin, just as something was burning beneath his. A quintessential attraction I hadn’t been fully aware of before this morning. In the way of a man and a woman, I’d felt it… but this was altogether a different kind of attraction, of need.

A breathy sigh came from the man under my roaming hands, and my body followed the sound, pressing further against him. As I moved my mouth up the corded column of his neck and then along the chiseled edge of his straight jaw—through heavy lidded eyes I saw his slide open just as my teeth grazed over his chin, dark garnets moving heavily around the room before the Sandman’s hold depleted from his eyes and he focused, lowering to meet mine. “Ori… what are you doing?” came the gravelly husk of his sleep warmed voice. His breathing sharpened as he felt my body pressed up against his, and I saw his pupils blow wide, encapsulating the ruby of his iris’ as he took a deep breath in. “Ori, how—what—fuck.”

Something seemed to fracture in him as the hand he’d had lazing over my back pressed insistently against the center of my back, crushing my chest flush with his. I moved my head to the side, as his hair brushed over my cheek as he tipped his down, so his mouth met my neck, he lathed his hot tongue over a particularly sensitive spot of my neck and I found myself gasping pathetically, for air or him—I wasn’t sure. “Sy...” I heard myself whisper against his collarbone, my tongue darting out between my lips again to brush over his skin, the motion pulling a sharp guttural groan from his throat.

I heard it and watched as his adams apple bob as he swallowed thickly. “Ori, we can’t….” His voice sounded strained as his hot breath brushed the fabric of the torn shirt to the side, revealing more of my shoulder, and skin. I moved back just a fraction, meeting his glazed over eyes with my own.

An odd sense of rejection flowed into my mind like a vapor, making my once pliant form go rigid against him. He saw it, and swallowed again as I asked quietly, “You don’t want to?”

Releasing his hold around my waist and shoulders, urging my body back by pressing his palm flat over my sternum, not enough to shove me off the bed, but enough to give him some breathing room, he panted as his eyes blinked at me a few times. “Don’t do that, I want to, Goddess… I want to, but—we should talk—something isn’t right.”

I grumbled, jutting out my lower lip in a pout as I wriggled behind the press of his hand. “I don’t want to talk….” My body moved on its own again as my hands came up to wrap around his wrist, lifting it and his hand up to my mouth where I sunk one of his long slender fingers into my mouth, wrapping tongue and lips around the digit, sucking on it hard. Relishing in the taste of the salty flavor of his sweat. I watched his mouth fall open and his back arch, moving the flushed and swollen muscle of his pecs towards me. “I just… want.” I moaned as I released his index finger from my mouth with a lewd pop.

As clouded in lust as my brain was, clearly he had more brain cells working for him as he moved quickly. Rolling me on to my back. The weight of him made a near delirious, needy moan escape me. He pressed that same hand against my sternum again, the other wrapping easily around both of my wrists and pinning my arms above my head, his weight pressing me back against the burlap of the hay filled mattress, and just as I was about to swing my legs to wrap around his waist, he moved first. Straddling me tight around my thighs. I groaned as the burn beneath my skin made my shoulders writhe over the rough fabric beneath me.

“Ori. I need you to think for me,” He rasped, trying to gather his own mind, blinking while his jaw hung partially open as he watched me below him, “What are you… feeling right now?”

I didn’t want to talk, I wanted to feel, touch, taste. I shook my head, more whines moving up my throat. My hips managed to lift under him, and he hissed in a breath, his eyes darting down before snapping back up to mine. I could feel the alarming heat throbbing between my legs, and the saturated fabric of the crotch of my shorts pressing almost perfectly at the juncture between my legs.

As he held me down, that sensual heat that had pooled low in my gut, swirled outward. Flowing like fire through my limbs. I rolled my head against the sweat coated skin of my raised arm, feeling my face scrunch in pain. A coherent thought finally made an appearance through the blood thirsty arousal. What’s happening? And then another. Why does it hurt? And finally. Make it stop! The haze over my eyes cleared as I saw him above me. I felt like my mind was trying to tear itself in half.

A part of me wanted him to do something, touch me, taste me. The other part wanted to run, douse the invisible flames licking at my skin. A broken sob escaped me as I felt the stinging tears break the dam at each corner of my eyes. “Sylus… it hurts—please make it stop hurting.” I felt my back arch off the bed.

“Fuck…-- how the fuck is this happening.” He quickly glanced around the two of us, his eyes landing on the burlap blanket before grabbing it and wrapping my wrists with it, attaching the loose end to the one of the posts at the head of the bed. The man barely had to stretch to reach that post, but it still brought him in closer proximity, and all rational thought died as his scent overwhelmed me once again, making me stretch my neck to gain purchase on his skin with my mouth.

I heard him hiss as my tongue graced one of his nipples, and the goosebumps that erupted over his skin made me smile. “Damnit, Ori.” He whispered hoarsely, sitting up straight again once he’s made sure the knot on the blanket would hold my wrists.

When he swung his legs off of me, the lack of warmth left me bereft, and letting out long drawn keening noises, with my wrists tied, his hands made quick grabs of both my ankles. Using drawstring from something to secure those to a post at the foot of the bed. I whined louder, begging him with my eyes for him to release me. “Sy…”

He stood next to the bed for a second, regaining his composure and steadying his breathing while he stared down at me, eyes wide, pupils blown wide as his nostrils flared with every one of my movements. “Ori… you need to get a grip, sweetheart.” He almost chuckled while he said it, but when his eyes fell to the split down the middle t-shirt I still wore move to reveal the swell of one of my breasts, I watched him inhale through his nose, hard. “I won’t do anything to you, Ori. Not like this.” He shook his head before turning away from me, I could see the tension in his shoulder from the sheer will he needed to do so. “I don’t fucking get it… you don’t have a wolf, how are you experiencing a heat of all things.”

I heard his words, but they didn’t register. Another wave of flames bit at my skin, making my eyes squeeze shut as I cried out. “Sy… help me, please.”

When my eyes slid open again, I saw he’d turned halfway to face me; a pained expression evident on his face. “I—Ori, you… fuck.” His arms lifted to tug his fingers through his hair in frustration. I could see it, he didn’t know what to do.

“So… hot.” The words came out of my mouth without any inclination, but it got his head snapping up, his hands freezing on the crown of his head.

“Hold on, sweetie.” I closed my eyes as the lancing heat seemed to tear through my nerves. I felt like I was being torn apart at the seems. Muscle, bone, and sinew going up in flames, something pierced through the pain, Sylus’ voice—low, forceful in my ear. Commanding me. “Sleep. You’ll feel better when you wake up.” And as the world tilted on its axis, warmth and acceptance flooded through me. The single thought of ‘How?’ went through my mind before everything had fuzzed at its edges, those ruby red iris’ the last thing I saw before his command took hold.

Ω ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ Ω

SYLUS

Ω ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ Ω

Well, that could’ve gone smoother…. He thought to himself as he paced from one end of the room to the other. His hands working through his hair repeatedly. What the fuck happened! He shook his head and glanced over at the now unconscious girl tied to the wooden frame of the bed in the corner.

“Stayrus…. Please tell me you know what’s going on.” Sylus had never felt so helpless, not since….

‘She’s presenting, can you not smell that?’ The words were clipped, but clear; and Sylus felt his arms sag at his sides. He’d thought as such, when he’d fully woken up—only to find her touching, grinding, and scenting him—something a wolf-less wouldn’t be able to do, he’d thought he was dreaming, until reality clued in.

“For the sake of my sanity, tell me what to do.” He was close to laughing in hysterics come this point. He could feel the pull to her, as a new very unclaimed Omega—and him as an Alpha—that pull was cosmic. He’d been glad she hadn’t called him by his rank and title while she’d been conscious. He knew how instinct would’ve taken over and it all would’ve fallen apart.

‘Could mate with her. Claim her.’ Sylus belted out an incredulous laugh, before looking over at her again. Damnit… His wolf did have a point. Ugh! He breeched his hair with his fingers for the nth time.

“I can’t do that to her, not when she doesn’t even know what’s happening to her, you saw her eyes… she was terrified.” He heard his wolf grumble disapprovingly in his head, “Look, she’s been starved of society, she’s never seen a wolf—if seeing you yesterday was any indication at all. Does this pack even have Omegas? I’ve seen more males than females….” He recalled how the one bastard who’d come with Caleb the night before had mentioned something about breeding stock, and his blood ran cold.

Stayrus growled at the route Sylus’ thoughts had gone. Having solely been focused on Ori when that particular bit of information had been brought up.

‘Flee with her.’ The idea of running had Stayrus’ teeth clicking, but Sylus had to agree with the sentiment. She’d be safer, right? As a newly presented Omega, she would be hunted, sought after by any Alpha, Beta, Deltas, and even other Omegas—especially if she stayed here.

“Where would we go?” Sylus tried to recall how far Ephraim’s territory stretched, but he didn’t think it mattered. He’d been traveling toward Ashmourn territory, and got caught up in Sable territory instead, figuring out after he’d met Ori that the Ashmourn area had been taken over by Ephraim Sable years prior..

‘Does it matter?’ Sylus sighed, staring at the little female. Would it? ‘Prepare… leave when the moon is high.’ Nodding, the white-haired man slowly approached the edge of where she lay. Looking so serene while she slept. She’d fallen unconscious easily after his command, he’d thought something went wrong, but after doing some checks—he’d felt relieved when he found her deeply asleep.

Sylus furrowed his brows as he watched her, watched her breathing. Now, even while earlier she’d looked like she was about to explode. Granted, he’d wanted on some primal, instinctual level to do exactly what she wanted. Ease the ache with his hands, his mouth—

Shaking his head quickly, he needed to stay composed. He could still smell her. Smell the slick that had formed and pooled between her legs. Could smell the sweet inviting scent of her sweat, and a scent that was still, even in her sleep, trying to override his senses—as an Alpha, these scents clung to him like the vapor on the surface of a glass. As much as he agreed with Stayrus, that he needed to evacuate her from this place before they found out she’d presented—only seventeen years late—as an Omega, he also didn’t like the idea of forcing her into the nomadic lifestyle.

‘Haven’t been with a female in….’ Sylus inhaled slowly through his nose, clenching his teeth as he forced himself to stand and turn away from her. Stayrus was right, the last female he’d bedded was…. “Don’t finish that thought, dog.” Stayrus grumbled disapprovingly at the nickname but then made a lighthearted sound that almost mimicked a chuckle. Sylus didn’t want to think about that anymore. He was already having a challenging time keeping his hands to himself from just being in the same proximity with Ori, he didn’t need to recall the embarrassing finer details of his….

“Fuck.”

Looking around the room, Sylus spotted the duffle he’d snagged back from the guards on his third outing to acquire more food. He rushed toward the bag and unzipped it, tossing the minimalist articles of clothing he kept. At the bottom of the bag, was a solid, but false bottom. Thank Goddess they’re stupid. He thought to himself as he pulled at the small inconspicuous thread at the edge, he’d canted his head forward, tipping an ear closer to listen for the telltale click of the lock.

What the hidden compartment hid, were the usual—money, ID’s—just in case, and the things he was looking for. He palmed two devices. One, a personal phone used for, well, personal things, and the other, a burner. Which he’d never had to use before, so it the battery probably wasn’t even good after the years it’s been locked away in that bag. He nodded when he’d pressed the power button on the little flip phone, that he always felt like he’d break with it being almost half the size of his palm. The screen flickered before a red empty battery icon floated on to the screen before it died again.

“Figures.” He grumbled before checking his personal cell. The much bigger phone’s screen lit up, revealing it only had less than thirty percent battery life remaining. He let out a half-satisfied sigh, of all things he’d found odd about this room, the one thing he’d half expected to see were power outlets, especially with the lighting and the plumbing so readily available. Alas, none could be found.

He thumbed over the numbers and unlocked the machine, the background making his eyes widen a fraction. Haven’t spoke to them in a while. Wonder if I could take her there…. The image of him and three other smiling men stared back up at him from the screen. They were members of his old pack before he’d deserted and chose to go rogue… would they allow him back? Would they reject him? Even with an unclaimed Omega on his arm? Would they understand?

He directed the phone to the contacts list, and only his four old friends appeared on the screen. His thumb hovered over the Delta he’d left in charge. Zayne. He’d chosen the man to take over as the pack’s stand-in Alpha, even though he wasn’t one—he’d been the only man Sylus trusted to keep a level head while dealing with some of the younger more belligerent members of his old pack. Being a Delta was actually better, all the same qualities of a regular Alpha, but without the hotheaded bullshit that went with that particular hormone driven territory. Even though, from what Sylus could remember, Zayne did have a bit of a seedy choice in lifestyle.

He glanced to the new omega and huffed through his nose. She’s in for a surprise if we see Zayne first… better start small. His thumb drifted up to Rafayel’s name, and within a couple screen taps—he lifted the phone to his ear just in time to hear the shrill ring of the call trying to connect. Rafayel was a Beta, and a connoisseur when it came to creativity, and a jack of all trades. The last time Sylus had seen him, he’d been dabbling in the tattoo trade, but he hadn’t decided whether it was something he’d like to advance in or not. So, if he did—Sylus wouldn’t be surprised. The man ate, breathed, and slept anything art.

“As I live, and fucking breathe! Eight hundred years later! Jellyfish are walkin’ naked, sea turtles are climbin’ fuckin’ trees, and sharks are eatin’ grass! ‘Bout time you came out of the woodwork, fucker.” Came the sudden, annoyed but slightly bemused voice from the other end of the receiver. Sylus found himself smiling, his eyes drifting to the ground.

“Long time indeed, Raf.” He paused, waiting for more berating from his old friend, when none came—he breathed a heavy sigh from his nose before he spoke again, reaching up to clip two fingers on either side of the bridge of his nose. “Something… happened.”

Ω ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ Ω

#love and deepspace #lads #lads sylus #love and deepspace sylus #love and deep space #sylus #sylus love and deepspace #sylus qin #l&ds sylus #prose #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o fic #zayne mentioned #lads rafayel

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twistedteatime · 25 days ago

Text

Howling Witch, Chapter 1: The Hunt

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Original Female Character

POV: 3rd Person

Summary: To the intelligence community the Winter Soldier is a ghost, but to HYDRA the Howling Witch is a harbinger of doom that will stop at nothing to get at their prized asset. A phantom that leaves swathes of destruction in her wake. She is the biggest mistake they ever made.

Chapter Summary: The Howling Witch is on the Hunt once again. This time she's not alone and must juggle old acquaintences and new. All while they try to figure out what exactly her agenda is.

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: Language, Canon Typical Violence, Canon Divergence, Gun Violence, Shifting Character POVs, Frustrated and Aggravated Superheroes, HYDRA (HYDRA is a legitimate warning on its own), Light Angst, Self-Loathing, Vampires (the bad kind. Steve is aware they are real as in the comics Cap fought vamps during the war), Wolf shifters (good though you wont see them shift for a while), if I missed something let me know.

A/N: This is it. The first official chapter of the first long fic I've ever actually managed to write start to finish. I said I wanted to get this out by the end of May for Mental Health Awareness month and I did (there will be a lot more about mental health in later chapters). I'm proud of myself. It has the first teaser included, and updated, in it and beyond.

NOTE: The Female Main Character DOES have a name. It's just not revealed until later for plot reasons. I DO NOT CONSENT TO MY WORK BEING COPIED OR PUT INTO ANY FORM OF AI. (Also if there are typos it's likely my keyboard. I will fix as I find them, because no matter how many times I proofread there's always at least one).

Masterlists: Howling Witch🔹MASTER Masterlist

Previous Part: Prologue: Part 2

Ao3 Link: Chapter 1: The Hunt (Registered users only)

Next Part: Chapter 2: Bait

Cedar. No, not quite. The conifers of the Timber were far too tall to be cedar, but their scent was closer to it than the massive redwood trees they resembled. At least at the bottom. Their tufts at the top more closely resembled the dense firs of what she had once called home, but their scent was still closest to cedar.

They cast a comfortable shade over the forest floor covered in a thick carpet of moss and fern. Their limbs and branches blocked out the sun enough she didn’t need the sunglasses perched on top of her head pulled down over her eyes, but not so much that the ferns couldn’t grow. Just enough.

Birds nested and flittered about in the branches overhead. Their songs distant due to the height they resided in. Deer meandered through the ferns, looking at her warily as they chewed vegetation. They knew she was a predator, but they also knew she wasn’t hunting them.

She wasn’t there for that.

She wasn’t there to hunt or to chase. She never was with this patch of Timber. Others, yes, but this one…no. This one was special.

The atmosphere weighed differently. It had a comfortable heaviness to it. The same kind an understanding mother’s hug had when it came close to crushing with care, warmth, and safety. Knowing it was needed.

It made the memories rattle against their bars in her mind. She was tempted to let them out. Yet the crunching of footsteps far too heavy to be a deer and the scent of another predator approaching stopped her.

“What is it Tanis?” she asked, looking over her shoulder at the tall, well-built, and muscular male that stood before her.

He was calm yet tense. At the ready. Bright amber eyes serious instead of playful as was their usual.

“We just got word. They’re bringing him out.”

“Where?”

“The States. DC.”

“When?”

“Twenty-four hours.”

“Where’s Ruun?” she asked, locking the cages tighter when blue eyes opened behind them.

“He’s in a conference call with Leadership. Your presence is requested. They’re expecting potential problems.” He answered and continued, “Maggie says she’s got something in The Eye about Insight, too. This could be it.”

“Rogers?”

“He’s the expected problem.”

She nodded and turned to start walking out, “Tell Ruun to triple my fees then get packed. Full. Tac, two suits, whole kit.”

“Alright. Other orders?” he asked and she nodded.

“I may regret it but tell Maggie to do the same. Ruun will stay in my stead.” She added and he nodded with a shrug of his brows.

“I really hope you don’t mean to put me at the mercy of Maggie flying something.” He said and she looked at him.

“I don’t mean to, but we’ll need her.”

“Anyone else?”

“Light detail, just you two with me. Heavier detail in reserve. We’ll need it for the aftermath…however it goes.” She answered and he nodded, listening as she detailed what to expect as they left the calm comfort of the Timber, lowering her sunglasses onto her face to block out the stinging of the sun.

It was time for her to hunt.

“I know who killed Fury.”

That one sentence had stopped Steve long enough to listen. The Winter Soldier. An assassin with over two dozen credited hits over the past 50 years. A ghost story, yet what she said next made something in him squirm.

More than he already was with the memory of the man he encountered playing on repeat in his mind. The one with the metal arm.

The Winter Soldier. There was something haunting about the man. More than his metal arm there was something in his eyes that pulled and gnawed at the edges of Steve’s soul. That was enough to put him on edge let alone what Natasha had next to say.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned from trying to track him down…it’s that whenever he appears…she follows soon after.” Natasha said and Steve looked at her, eyes narrowed in confusion, a twisting knot forming in his chest at the thought of more like the Soldier out there.

“She?”

“Like I said…he’s a ghost story, but her…she’s something different. Something the intelligence community doesn’t want to acknowledge. Him? Most don’t believe he exists. Her? They don’t want to.” Natasha continued, glancing out the door before she continued, “They call her The Howling Witch. She’s not human, Steve…not anymore. Rumors are that she used to be but she isn’t now. Some say she’s been active longer than he has, that her focus was on wiping out entire facilities but that it all changed around the same time he started cropping up. Some intelligence exists about her…but when I found it…it was wiped before I could even get through most of it and what I could get through was redacted.”

“That sounds like she’s important.” Steve said and Natasha nodded, “Does she show up to finish what he starts or to stop it?”

“Bit of both from what I saw…but if you ask me…I think she’s hunting him.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. All I got to see on those files was her codename, hit count, a huge block of black in the abilities and powers section, and a lot of fill in the blank descriptions of her encounters with him.” Natasha answered as she looked at Steve while he glanced out the door and window next to them, making sure they were still in the clear, “She’s definitely got sniper training…but as good of a shot as they say she is…she’s never shot at him to take him out. The reports always said she shot down those he was with…and they said she always shows up when he does…and she’s always gone when he is.”

“I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not but maybe we can get some answers by finding out what The Winter Soldier wants.”

Finding out what the Soldier wanted was a far more difficult task than either of them had bargained for. Especially considering they knew it’d be difficult to begin with. SHIELD was coming for them. Whatever it was that The Winter Soldier wanted, SHIELD wanted it to remain hidden.

The search for their answers led to one uncomfortable situation after the next until it led somewhere even worse. One filled with ghosts and more questions without answers. At least at first.

Natasha didn’t know the place but he did.

“File came from these coordinates.”

“So did I.” Steve said as he looked at the sign on the fence.

Camp Lehigh.

It was filled with memories. Memories that were cut short when he pulled his thoughts from them to focus on the task at hand. Focus he needed when he came face to screen with Arnim Zola once again.

The images shown to him were horrifying. The Soldier was present in some yet there were a few images of a female he deduced to be The Howling Witch. Ones of her surrounded by bodies, eyes glinting at the camera with preternatural light.

It was nothing more than a distraction. All of it.

“We are both of us, out of time.” Zola’s voice taunted and the room erupted in flames.

At least one shield was good for something.

They were alive, barely, but they were alive. The other SHEILD, the one HYDRA had stolen the face of, wanted to make sure they weren’t. Steve could hear them coming. His hearing allowed him that, but Natasha was unconscious.

They had to hide. Fast.

Carrying her, Steve looked around for an escape route as he ducked down behind a thick chunk of toppled wall, hiding from the scans overhead. The sound of rubble crumbling to his side drew his attention to a path. Hidden, straight, and open.

Steve didn’t trust it but he didn’t have any other options as he heard the search team closing in behind him. Holding Natasha tight he ran for it. As he neared the last sheltering overhang someone dropped down blocking his path and he slid to a halt.

Panic shot down his spine and coursed into his stomach for a second at the thought that they had been caught. Then panic shifted into gut-wrenching realization when he understood who it was when flashing silver eyes locked on his blue ones.

That only made the jolt of worry and adrenaline coursing through him feel even worse.

Female in form and perfectly camouflaged in a light grey tac suit that blended in with the concrete slabs surrounding them. Looking at it he saw the fabric shifted and shimmered in color as the flames nearby cast dancing shadows against the shattered rubble. The hood over her head was the same, so was the cowl covering the bottom half of her face.

It was her.

“The Howling Witch.” He said and she nodded silently, silver eyes observing him with a predatory glint that put him on edge, that they seemed familiar just as much as they felt unnatural only nudged him closer to flight, “Who are you?”

“I am the ghost of someone made into a monster that, unlike another, broke free of the chains and made herself into a plague.” She answered quietly, softly enough he could make the words out yet still couldn’t fully distinguish the voice despite how familiar it sounded, “Come. I will lead you out before HYDRA slinks its tentacles around you. He isn’t here. Not yet. They’re trying to avoid sending him back out.”

“The Winter Soldier?” Steve asked and she nodded and gestured down a clear path, “How can I trust you? Why should I?”

“Easy. If they catch you…it doesn’t help my hunt. They only let him out on special occasions…and you. Oh they’ll unleash him for you especially. So get moving, soldier.” She answered and he scowled yet followed her as she led him through the wreckage.

“Who are you? Who is he? Why are you doing this?” he asked as he followed her cautiously and she just chuckled.

“I answered already for me. For him…he’s another ghost…one I would like freed…and you’ll help me do it. Whether you want to or not.” She answered and looked at him as she pulled a pistol out, putting him even more on edge as she loaded a clip into it, “Calm down, Rogers. I’m not going to shoot you…that wouldn’t help me.”

“So who are you going to shoot?” Steve asked as they walked out past a wrecked wall and he froze as he saw an agent running up, gun in hand and trained on him.

“You found them! You…are definitely worth every penny they spent on you.” The agent said, smiling while lowering the weapon and she nodded.

“I definitely am worth every last cent that went into me.” She answered, “You aren’t.”

“W-” the agent started but never finished as she fired a round straight to his head causing him to drop the gun and then to the ground, yet he never made it as he disintegrated on the way down.

Steve jolted then stared in shock as the memory of similar events filtered through his mind, “How’d you know he was a vampire?”

“Smell.”

“So they’re with HYDRA…again?” he asked and she took a deep breath in before answering.

“Not all. Some. Small covens out for profit. Big ones are too busy arguing over whether or not Eric is a problem.” She answered as she continued leading them away from the base and the scanning lights blanketing the ruins behind them.

Her suit shifted in color as they moved. Like a cuttlefish. Far beyond what he was used to and the name was unfamiliar.

“Eric?”

“He’s a hunter. A close friend of mine. Got me out when I needed to get out and hid me when I was a fugitive myself. Do you have anyone that can help you like that? You best get going to them.” she said and looked at him, “Well? Shoo. Get. Go. I’ll be in touch.”

“How?” Steve asked as he looked into the woods ahead of them seeing nothing but darkness and trees…and silence.

She didn’t answer and when he looked back she was already gone.

“Shit.”

“Bad…word…Steve.” Natasha groaned as she came around.

It was the only place he could think of to go. The only person he hoped would help them. One unconnected to what was happening.

“Wait…so…vampires…exist?” Sam asked as he served breakfast and Steve nodded.

“Yeah…it’s…uh…it’s a lot to take in all at once, I know…” he answered absently, trying to engage his memory so he could place who the Howling Witch was, “She said she was a ghost…and a monster…then a plague. She sounded so familiar, like someone I knew but…different.”

“Vampires are working with HYDRA?” Sam asked, trying to engage Steve’s focus on the present but Steve only nodded absently again.

“And they hired her to do something…” he said, still trying to place her voice.

It was maddening. Like it was almost there but still so far out of his grasp. Her accent was part of it. It was…odd. Like it wasn’t what it should have been.

Steve knew that was what was throwing him off, yet he still couldn’t place her. If only he could place her voice with the right accent. He knew he knew her somehow and he knew that was the key.

Her voice not her eyes. Bright silver that felt wrong with how they caught the light and glowed. Unnatural, yet familiar, but they weren’t the key. Her voice was…not her eyes.

His eyes flashed in Steve’s memory. Blue, haunted, and painfully hollow. Tortured.

The Soldier. He was her prey. Natasha was right. The Witch was hunting The Soldier. Steve knew that was her target. She’d said as much so he knew it was true.

Then again…did he really know anything? He thought he knew who he was fighting for and working for. Now? He wasn’t so sure.

“We need to focus, Steve.” Natasha reminded him and he nodded, “She’s here. We know she’s here for him.”

“So why is he here?” Sam asked and Steve answered.

“He’s here because HYDRA is.”

Their discussion then turned to what HYDRA was really planning. Then it shifted to Pierce. He’d have answers. All of them no doubt, but he was unreachable. However, one person that came to mind wasn’t.

Jasper Sitwell.

He was touchable and Sam quickly offered to help get their hands on him. Yet there were still plenty of complications with that offer. So was the knock at the door.

“Wait here.” Sam said as he looked at the doorway before going to check it carefully.

He opened it slightly to look at the business suit-wearing, dark-haired, and incredibly tall man standing there. Yet what caught him even more off guard were the piercing amber-colored eyes looking at him over a pair of dark black sunglasses. It was broad daylight so he knew this person wasn’t a vampire, but that didn’t calm him much.

“Can I help you?” he asked and the man nodded, sniffing a bit.

“I could really use some breakfast. Smells good. My boss said you were a good friend and that she sent some people to talk to you about a house for sale nearby that she’s trying to sell.” He said, and Sam caught a glimpse of sharp, larger than they should be, canine teeth in his mouth; they came into view more as his lips curved upwards in a light and playful smirk, “I’m not going to recite a nursery rhyme about three pigs even if my boss is fond of a good howl. I’m just askin’ for some bacon while we sit and talk about the house and what kind of offer is on the table.”

“Sure…” Sam said and moved to the side, confused, worried, and on edge.

He shut the door after admitting his new visitor entered and removed his sunglasses, folding them and tucking them into his pocket. He just smiled at Sam and waited, patiently. Amber eyes locked on the veteran, a predator’s sharpness hidden behind a sheer curtain of good-natured warmth that unsettled Sam in a deeply primal way.

He knew he was standing with something not quite as human as it appeared in his house. It smiled at him and waited patiently. Sam calmed his nerves and led him to where Steve and Natasha were sitting, not seeing any other course of action.

“I…uh…didn’t catch your name…though I figured you work for The Howling Witch…not HYDRA or SHIELD.”

“My name is, for the time being, unimportant and for all intents and purposes classified. Instead you can call me Gamma. I don’t ‘work for The Howling Witch’, I follow the Alpha. I was sent here to answer a few questions and provide you a bit of aid.”

“How’d you find us?” Natasha asked and he chuckled as he looked at her.

“Smell.” He answered with a smirk, “You smell particularly good. Easy to track.”

“Why are you here?” Steve asked with a glare, and Gamma just smiled as he sat down.

He was clearly unthreatened.

“You don’t listen well. I’m here to answer questions and give aid.” He repeated himself.

“Who is The Howling Witch?” Natasha asked, “Why is she hunting the Winter Soldier? Why is she here? Why contract with HYDRA but help us? What does HYDRA want? What is it planning?”

“My my my…aren’t you the curious one?” He replied smoothly, his tone light, teasing, a vastly charming smile on his face before it shifted into one far more serious, “Those that follow her do not call her The Howling Witch as it was a name given to her by those that sought to collar her. To us she is the Alpha and we follow her and her alone. She’s already told you that she’s a ghost no doubt. One that operates on secrecy, spite, and vengeance. That’s all you need to really know right now. Who she is would be nothing more than a distraction and you cannot afford to be distracted. Her reasons for her hunt are her own and they are respected reasons that I am not at liberty to divulge at present.”

“Why?” Steve asked, glaring still, his head spinning with an ever-increasing frustrated curiosity.

Their visitor answered without missing a beat, “As I said already: she does not want them divulged because she knows it would be a distraction, and as I said…you cannot afford to be distracted. She is here…because he is and because you are. They contracted her to help deal with you. It’s not the first time she’s contracted with HYDRA for the money under an assumed identity. She’s done it before many times through the decades.”

“Why?” Steve asked with a scowl and Gamma smiled as he sat back in his seat.

“She said you’d be difficult.”

“He’s been given 10 hours to make sure everything goes smoothly. Rogers is still at large. Rumlow and the STRIKE team found evidence he and Romanoff survived. I sanctioned the Asset’s continued presence to ensure they don’t interfere any further. If the Asset fails, make sure it’s the last time.” Pierce said as he walked through the tunnels next to the black tac suited and masked female; she simply glanced at him.

The way her blue eyes glinted in the light was unnerving, even for him. It spiked through his scent despite his calm façade. She made sure it did.

She could have hidden the flash with different contacts, but she chose not to. It put him on edge around her more. It filled him with an unsettling fear that permeated his scent. Fear and irritation…but she knew why he was irritated.

“You’re expensive, you’re effective at handling difficult jobs which is why your fees were paid, but I have to ask. What about this one made you triple your asking price? Nervous?” he asked; Alexander Pierce was fishing.

“No, but you should be.” She answered and he looked at her with a deep and sharp frown, “Ten hours…is…even for his reputation and abilities…no easy task. You are underestimating your targets. Romanoff is Red Room after all. Then there’s Rogers. Captain America. Mm…your underestimating of him…that is why I tripled my fees once you told me what the job was. Rogers is unpredictable, a loose cannon, prone to rash decisions, doing what he pleases, and much more resourceful than you think. This isn’t the first time that I’ve told you that you’re underestimating him. I told you that when I arrived and I’ll say it again and again as many times as I must. Rogers is far more dangerous than you imagine he is on his own let alone with others. You’re underestimating him…and you are far from the first one to do it.”

“That’s what the Asset is for. Make sure the Asset takes care of our problem…and if he doesn’t…you’re sanctioned to take the Asset out. We have no use for failure. Not now.” Pierce said and she held back any other response besides a disappointed sigh and head shake.

“You’re still underestimating your opponents, Pierce. It is a mistake. One you may pay for more than once…and possibly in blood the second time. Especially if you send in that extra team when I work.” She said and he scowled as he walked before turning back towards her only to find her gone.

Gamma had given them a rendezvous point with her. Somewhere specific at a specific time. They kept that time even after getting what Sam needed.

She was a piece of a puzzle. One that was driving Steve mad as they waited in the shadows, not where they were told, but nearby to watch. Somewhere out of sight.

They had arrived and checked the area. Steve insisted. Natasha had agreed. The area was completely clear. No one else around. None for miles if the sound of the forested area could be trusted.

It couldn’t.

A loud, crisp, crunch echoed from behind them up high in the branches above them.

Whipping around they were greeted by the sight of The Howling Witch, or Alpha as Gamma had called her. She was in the tree. Face obscured by the shadows of the thick branch above the one she was sitting on, back against the trunk. Her tac suit a perfect mix of mottled browns, greens, and shadows matching the ones she hid in obscuring her from their view.

They could see enough that she was wearing blacked out goggles, that her hood was still up, and that the cowl was down, but that was it. Nothing more and that wasn’t what caught their attention at first, nor was it the large sniper rifle dangling below her. What drew their attention was what she was holding.

An absolutely massive sandwich on a long roll loaded with chips and deli meat that she had just taken a bite of.

“Pardon me while I eat.” She said after a moment, “Don’t want me getting Hungry on you. I get a little…testy….when I’m Hungry.”

“Gamma said you’d help.” Natasha said as she looked up at the female sitting there above them.

Since Natasha had been unconscious during their first meeting she took the opportunity to study and observe their new ally. Study and compare what was before her to what she had remembered from what little she had found.

The female was exactly as the intel described in appearance. Yet it missed the mark on how quiet she was. It made no mention of the cloaking technology of her suit, either. Then again, that could have been in the redacted sections.

It likely was.

“Gamma…says a lot of things. To you, I offer my sincere apologies for his mouth. He’s far too aware of how handsome he is and has far too large of an appetite for beautiful women. Usually blondes, but he has a thing for red heads, too. Still, he’s good at his job or it wouldn’t be tolerated.” She said and Natasha shrugged it off.

“Nothing I haven’t heard before…except being told I smell good. Like that at least. What do we call you? Your files…were…almost completely redacted except for your code name he said that they gave you.”

“My name would be a distraction right now and you cannot afford to be distracted. You may call me Alpha for the time being.” She answered and Steve scowled as he looked up at her, still trying to place how he knew her.

It was almost there. Scratching at the edges of his memory every time she spoke. Closer and closer yet it was still off in a way he couldn’t quite place. It was absolutely maddening.

“Alpha. Right. Why would your name be a distraction?” he asked and she chuckled as Sam spoke while she took another large bite of her sandwich in the shadows.

“You just proved her point asking that.” he said and Natasha nodded.

“Exactly, and she’s right. We can’t afford to be distracted. We need to find Sitwell.”

“That is where I come in.” Alpha said after chewing her food, “I know where he is, what he’s doing, and how you can get a hold of him. I’ll even help you do it.”

“What’s the catch?” Natasha asked and narrowed her eyes suspiciously, “Gamma said you took contracts with HYDRA for money under assumed aliases. How? Why?”

She checked a watch on her wrist. She was unconcerned with the tone of Natasha’s questions and more concerned with the time. It was a delicate timetable. One she had been planning since word had gone out that they’d taken him off the ice again and she learned why he had been taken off the ice.

This time she’d get him. This time the hunt would be successful…as long as they didn’t fuck it up. As long as he took the bait. As long as they all did.

“Information, money, spite…it varies depending on what I need. HYDRA…cut one head, two shall takes its place. They do love that saying of theirs. It speaks of their regenerative powers, but for all the love that red faced piece of shit had of mythology he never really studied its lessons adequately. None of them did. They only looked in at what could give them power, not where the power came from, what the power caused, or if that power was even enough.” She said as she looked at the sandwich, forcing the contents of her stomach back down when it churned its bile upwards, “They could have cauterized the stumps back during the war, but they didn’t. Instead they let it bleed its poisonous blood and breath into the world. Tainting it.”

She looked down at Steve as he scowled up at her, the bars her memories lived behind rattling and shaking at the sight of him, “When you went into the ice…that was it. As far as they were all concerned that was it. Job done. HYDRA’s over...but you don’t end a hydra with ice. You end it with fire. HYDRA loves ice. Ice, electricity, and control. They fear failure and lack of control, so much so that it only seems as if they hate it. Hate and fear go hand in hand and HYDRA hates what it fears. Yet, what they really fear isn’t discovery it’s lack of control. They hate that so much and whenever something moves beyond their control…they pretend it never existed and they get rid of it. Or at least they try. If they succeeded at it…I wouldn’t be sitting here on a tree branch talking what seems a bunch of nonsense to you.”

She took another bite of the sandwich, chewing, chewing, swallowing, and felt it hit her stomach like a thick and heavy weighted lump. Then another as she bit down again. Two weights, then three, four, and done with the fifth as they looked up at her.

Steve’s eyes were narrowed, calculating, and mulling her words over. She knew recollection was tugging there at the synapses of his brain. She could see the twitch, the struggle, and the way his nose flared with the subtle pull of his muscles at his lips. Like he was scratching the tip of his tongue on his teeth from how badly the phantom whisper of her name itched on it.

She didn’t blame him for not knowing her. She had never been his priority and quite honestly she didn’t care. She didn’t care whether Steve Rogers remembered her right at that instant or ever. She only needed him to remember her.

If he could.

Disobedience was one thing. Remembering and breaking free was another.

Even if he didn’t remember her she wouldn’t blame him.

She still barely recognized herself whenever she caught her own reflection.

No. It was not time to dwell on that. It was no time at all to let her focus be pulled into the dark recesses where her memories clawed at their cages. Where they clanged and rattled the bars while reaching out at her until she pushed them all back down and locked their cells tighter. Yet one slipped out past the bars despite her best efforts. When she glanced down at the gun dangling from the branch next to her the memory slid out of its cage.

Just one. Short but enough to twist her stomach and fill her heart with the dull, deep, burn of rage twisted mournful hate. Slipping her fingers under the strap of the rifle to lift it from the branch it hung from, she let the escaped memory play out.

“Remember, you don’t want to pull. You need to squeeze. Got it?” his voice; Bucky’s voice, calm, patient, and steady.

“Yeah.”

“Repeat what I said.”

“Squeeze, don’t pull…” She whispered, shouldering the rifle while pulling her cowl back up as she stood and looked down at her star-spangled bait, “Time’s up. You want to watch an animal at your leisure, go to a zoo when this is over. We have places to be.”

A/N: The fact that I have a finished draft sitting in my folders is still quite mentally overwhelming. It's honestly quite emotional for me on top of everything going on right now in my offline life. I have started countless wips. One-shots, sure, stand-alone series, sure...but a finished long fic? No. Over twenty years of writing things and I finally managed to fully write out a story start to finish. It's far from over, as I still have to edit and post it, but I did it like I said I was. I'd like to thank everyone that reblogged and liked it, but particularly @societyfolklore for the comments because that was really the thing that actually made me push to finish it and keep going.

I appreciate every like, kudos, bookmark, and view, I sincerely do, but if you really want to motivate me to get it all done and out: comment, reblog to share my work, send asks, tell me.

Masterlists: Howling Witch🔹MASTER Masterlist

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Ao3 Link: Chapter 1: The Hunt (Registered users only)

Next Part: Chapter 2: Bait

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zoeysdamn · 2 years ago

Text

Bark, Bite & Break Bones - Tyler Galpin x Van Helsing!reader | Part.10 [FINALE]

Summary: Deep into a rescue mission, you’re about to face some childhood traumas along with distressed werewolves. But if you’re here rescuing kids, who’s handling Tyler’s safety out there? Was it a mistake to choose to leave him in this tense atmosphere where everyone’s looking for a culprit? You just hope you won’t be too late to see the mystery of this curse unfold.

Warnings: graphic gore depiction (be careful), swearing, angst, mention of blood, mention of arson, mention of child neglect (minor), mention of slapping a partner [THIS IS A PIECE OF FICTION, THIS IS NEVER OKAY IN REAL LIFE] Also, my sincere apologizes for the badly written fight scenes and even shittier plot lmao

A/N: oh my gOD the last chapter is finally out!! (who would have thought). Really not my best chapter, but honsetly I had 0 plot for this one lmao I’m still pleased of how it turned out. Read the warnings carefully, and enjoy!

[Main Masterlist] [Wednesday Masterlist] [Prologue] [Part.1] [Part.2] [Part.3] [Part.4] [Part.5] [Part.6] [Part.7] [Part.8] [Part.9]

The heat was almost unbearable and hitched your skin. Ashes and the heavy dust from burning wood were veiling your eyes too, making them water in a pitiful attempt to clear your vision, but by now you weren’t really paying any attention to it anymore. A burning ache seemed to grow in your lungs every passing second, and you knew it was a matter of a few minutes before breathing would really become painful.

Nothing looked like the dorms anymore. No matter how well you thought you knew the grounds, every corner was metamorphosed into unrecognizable burning piles. Time was of the essence yet you lost yourself so many times trying to scramble your way through the blazing building.

Despite the burning in your throat, you tried to call out, “Hello?! Anyone here?”

Nobody answered the raspy question. So you carried on your search under the unbearable warmth of the fire around you. Sweat beads dripped down your forehead and a cough tore from your aching throat. Then, very faintly, a whimper echoed somewhere behind a crumbled part of a wall. Through your coughs, you tried to call out again.

“Hello? Are you in there?”

Another long whine answered you and after pushing some rubble you could outline a shivering form through the thick smoke. Two students were curled up on the ground, trembling with fear and halfway through their wolf transformation. Unruly fur poked from under their skin at odd places, yet couldn’t hide the pure look of distress on the children’s faces. As soon as they noticed you through the thick smoke, a growl emanated from one of them; surely more instinct than real disdain. Despite the urgency of the situation and the burning flames all around, you carefully knelt in front of the shivering students.

“It’s okay,” you tried to reassure them as best as you could, “I’m gonna get you out of here, okay?”

Carefully reaching out with your palm, you let the two children crinkle their snouts at your scent. Whether they knew who you were or not didn’t seem to change the fact they immediately winced and backed down even further against the wall, trying to growl in an intimidating manner. But the low whine that escaped instead didn’t fool you. The fire alone was a traumatizing experience, but an early, forced wolf-out was even worse. Memories of written testimonies of previous hunters flashed in your mind, their tales of great pain and tortured howls from werewolves who had been forced to transform too soon. Those kids right here were in more dreadful pain than anyone could imagine.

Slowly unsheathing your dagger, you kept your eyes focused on the younger students. At the sight of the silver blade, one of the students let out a terrified cry.

Immediately flicking the dagger so that the blade rested in your palm instead of facing them, you held out your other hand in a somewhat reassuring gesture. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” you shushed, trying the best to ignore the blazing warmth of the fire around you. “I’m not gonna hurt you. See?”

As to prove your words, the blade sank into your skin, drawing blood onto your palm. The strong copper smell of blood immediately made the students’ eyes widen and their half-transformed snout crinkle despite the bitter taste of ashes and flames all around. You knew that a werewolf transformation, particularly an early one, sharpened the senses and the smell ; thus, the strong smell of blood and silver should be upsetting enough for the human part of those students, and hopefully help them turn back. You simply hoped that the human part of them would take over quickly, it was becoming really hard to ignore the blazing fire around you.

Fortunately, after what felt like the longest seconds of your life, the harsh features of half-turned students started to fade into softer, human ones. With heavy whimpers tainted in pain, the two children started to turn back in their usual normal selves and soon tears-stained cheeks replaced their furry ones. When they lifted up glassy eyes to you, it was the only sign you needed and you grabbed the arm of the closest student.

“Come on,” you urged them, “we need to get out quickly.”

If either of them wanted to speak, the protest died quickly. Sooner than later the two young students ended up clinging to your side, never letting go of each other as the three of you hurried through the burning corridors.

The smoke made your eyes and throat burn, and despite trying to keep a clear mind you couldn’t help but an all-too familiar memory to overcome your senses. Flashes of another place, burning to the ground just like this one, and the dreadful feeling of panic overflowing your entire being, those were painfully familiar to you. For a moment you were this terrified little girl again, trapped inside your grandparents house while the fire destroyed everything and no one around to help you. But the iron-grip of the petrified children on your sleeve reminded you that no matter how the dread of memories tried to drown you, you had a responsibility. Those kids needed you, and you’d be damned if you couldn’t save those terrified children from this blaze just like you had been all those years ago. This time no child would feel as helpless and trapped within the flames, that you promised to yourself.

A loud crack erupted just before a beam collapsed in front of you, making you jump backward with a curse. A tiny whimper escaped one of the students and you squeezed their shoulder in reassurance, looking around to find another way out.

“Come on, stay close to me,” you coughed as you hurried to a window nearby. Getting out of the building was becoming more than urgent, or neither of you three would last long.

Suddenly a gush of fresh air kissed your face and made your eyes widened. The exit was close, there was still a chance for you and the kids to get out in one piece. Following the feeling of night breeze, you clumsily reached the window you had previously noticed among the rumbles. Shouts of people outside became louder and clearer, a nice indication that the nightmare might be over soon. When you reached the window, you peeked outside to see the surroundings: first floor, some bushes at the foot of the outside wall, just before one of the paths leading to the outer courtyard where everyone gathered. Perfect.

“Hey!” you shouted, and some other students a few meters away whipped their heads in your direction. “Over here! Come help me, there’s kids in here!”

While a bunch of people hurried in your direction, you helped the two younger students climbing on the window ledge. When they noticed the height, they gave you frightened looks.

“I can’t do this,” whined one of them, almost pleading. But you would have none of that, and grounded a hand on their shoulder.

“Yes you can,” you said with a firm yet reassuring tone. “You’ve been very brave already, I know you can do it.”

Some older students below started to organize themselves by climbing on each other’s shoulders to be able to catch the younger kids. At the sign they were ready, you hoisted the first kid on the ledge.

“I’m right behind you,” you promised them when they gave you one last frightened look. “Trust me.”

And so they did. Holding their hands to lower them until your arms couldn’t take it anymore, you let go of them only for a second before they were caught safely on the ground by the group of students down below. Seeing how well their friend’s rescuing went, the second kid let you guide them without a word, trusting you to get them out safely. Once the two rescued kids were back on the ground and outside of the flaming building, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. That’s it, they’re safe. But a loud crack behind you brutally reminded you that you weren’t out of trouble yet yourself, and out of reflex you jumped from the window ledge before the flames could reach you.

The sudden nature of the jump hadn’t allowed you to properly prepare yourself so you ended up half-landing, half-crashing on the ground rather unceremoniously. A grunt left your lips at a sharp sting on your ankle ; surely you had landed on it, spraining it in the process.

Unknown hands came to help you up and you gratefully took them – although you may have recognized Ajax among them, you weren’t so sure. Dozens of questions were thrown at you but you barely heard them. The adrenaline rush had died down, letting the pain and exhaustion crash into you like a wall of bricks.

It was a familiar voice that dragged you out of the numbing limbo of thought.

“Holy fuck Y/N, are you alright??”

Lifting your head up, you were met with a pair of cerulean blue eyes ; to say that you were surprised by the fact they weren’t throwing daggers at you as per usual would be the understatement of the fucking century.

Despite the soreness of your throat and the ache of your limbs, you couldn’t help but grin. “Awww,” you cooed with a raspy voice, “you actually care. Took you,” you coughed roughly, “a god damn fire to soften on me.”

Bianca scoffed at your antics, “Don’t flatter yourself Van Helsing.”

“Aaand here she is. But I’ll be okay, thanks.”

Even with all the sarcasm and usual bitterness, you could see that for once, the siren truly was worried. It was hard to believe that she would at some point, after having tried to drown you barely a few months ago.

A chuckle just next to you made you realize that you were literally leaning against someone who helped you walk away from the building – probably one who had helped you get up. Turning your head, you realized it was indeed a familiar gorgon student.

“Through a fire and still being sarcastic,” he joked. “Is there anything that can actually kill you?”

You snorted, wincing in pain in the process. “Wouldn’t anyone like to know, uh?”

“Y/N!!” shrieked a voice.

The three of you turned just in time to catch a glimpse of a blonde and pink tornado rushing at your side. You hadn’t time to catch your breath that she was already crushing you into a hug.

“Thank you!” Enid cried. “Thank you thank you thank you! You saved those pups, I can’t thank you enough!!”

From above her shoulder, you caught sight of the two young werewolves students you rescued, surrounded by teachers and being taken care of. A sigh of relief got past your lips. Everybody was okay, that’s all that mattered. Wait. Everyone?

“Where’s Tyler?” you asked abruptly, suddenly very aware of your surroundings.

Enid parted from the hug, looking confused. Bianca, Ajax, and Wednesday – surely arrived shortly after Enid – looked at each other, shrugging.

“Nobody knows where he is?” you asked frantically. At the shake of their heads, a new feeling of dread sank into you. Suddenly, you could sense that something was very, very wrong.

WIthout really thinking, you pushed yourself off Ajax and started to search frantically around you for a familiar freckled boy. But Tyler was nowhere to be found. Ignoring the calls of Enid, Wednesday and Ajax, you hobbled the best you could through the courtyard. Still no chance.

As you started to fear that he might have disappeared, your gaze focused on the forest. The pit of dread growing in your stomach only worsened, and you realized that something much more dangerous was most likely to occur. The fire, the sudden panic, with all this pressure and stressful situation, Tyler could lose control over the Hyde at any moment. And you hadn’t been here to contain him and keep him grounded like you had promised him to.

Limping toward the woods the fastest you could, you truly hoped that you were wrong, and that there was no Hyde running wild out there.

The chilly air of the night did nothing to calm your nerves as you rushed through the woods. Even with your limping leg, you searched frantically for Tyler but he was nowhere to be found. Calling him would be useless, it would only frighten him more, should he not recognize your voice from afar.

Mentally, you couldn’t help but scold yourself a little. None of that would have happened if you hadn’t agreed to follow Xavier, Wednesday and Bianca in the first place. Sure, the fire would have happened anyway, but at least you would have remained on Tyler’s side all along. Maybe those two kids were safe thanks to you, but if anything happened to Tyler you would never forgive yourself.

A faint crack made you whip your head around; only to find a dark silhouette clutching its head a few meters away. Carefully approaching the groaning form, you knew who it was before even seeing their face. No matter how gray his skin was starting to turn, how his bones seemed to want to pop out in sharp edges or how fucked up the situation was, you could recognize your boyfriend anywhere.

“Tyler?...” you called him, voice barely above a whisper.

A grunt answered just as he whipped around to face you. Halfway through his own transformation, surely fighting against the Hyde within his own body and mind, Tyler stared at you without really looking at you. With ragged breaths, he found himself standing still and you used it to slowly approach him, a hand halfway held in his direction.

“Hey there big boy,” you said softly, careful to not upset him more. His lack of reaction made you optimistic, and for the briefest moment you thought it could go easily. Boy, you were wrong.

In a blink of an eye you ended up thrown against the nearest tree, back hitting the trunk forcefully as a clawed hand squeezed around your throat. The force of the impact against the tree was so strong, your head bumped harshly and made you dizzy for a handful of seconds. When your eyes refocused, there was nothing left of Tyler in front of you; the full-grown Hyde’s face breathed heavily inches from yours, sharp teeth and furious eyes threatening to tear off your head any moment. His transformation had been so fast you hadn’t even been able to see it.

Another growl, more impatient this time, escaped him and the Hyde’s claws squeezed harder around your throat.

Breath getting short, you yet couldn’t help but to let slip a snarky comment. “Jokes on you, I’m into that,” you rasped with a smirk.

That definitely didn’t ease the creature and he slammed you once more against the tree, tearing off a pained grunt out of you. Internally you cursed your natural sarcasm and some more rational survival reflexes finally sprung out. Your right hand came to cling on the monster’s wrist, like it would do anything to make him drop you - just like the pathetic attempt of kicking your tired legs. The more seconds passed, the more tired you grew ; you knew there wasn’t much you could physically do in this state. Your right ankle throbbed in pain, and the previous walk-through in the fire had drained you from all energy. But you had to fight to stay alive, or else there would soon be nothing left of Y/N Van Helsing.

So instead of fighting, barking and biting with all your might, you forced yourself to relax as much as you could, gulping slowly and easing your muscles. The sudden stop of resistance seemed to surprise the Hyde, for his growls ceased for a moment – but not the iron grip around your throat though. Trying to push a smile on your tense face, you put on the most soft expression you could pull.

“It’s me,” you whispered softly, voice rough and cracking. “It’s me Tyler…Look at me babe, please look at me…”

The creature cocked his head at the sound of your voice. The calmer tone, although it had still some panicked edge, seemed to ground him. Sensing this as a progress, you pushed your luck a bit further, your left hand slowly raising to reach his distorted face. He flinched a little under your touch, but except for a light grunt of surprise, let you cradle his cheek.

Thumb grazing the rough surface of his bony cheek, you tried to keep a soft smile despite the pain. “I’m not gonna hurt you Tyler,” you promised in a soothing tone, “I can’t, you know that.”

The creature grunted again, like fighting with himself. You truly hoped that you could get a hold on the human part of Tyler and help him come back. The more he felt the caress of your hand on his face, the more it seemed to help him turn back into his human form.

Inhaling sharply, you decided to take your chance.

“Tyler,” you called him slowly, “I’m gonna need you to let me go. Can you do that?”

He struggled so hard, you could practically see the raging internal battle between the Hyde and Tyler.

“Let me go,” you whispered, eyes pleading this time, practically on the verge of tears. “Please…”

Slowly, very slowly, the clutch around your neck eased a little. The newfound arrival of air made you gasp but you had to refrain yourself from making any loud noise to not frighten the Hyde. Instead, your left hand still cradled his cheek, as a sign of encouragement. The creature lowered you gradually, and when your tiptoes finally touched the ground again you choked on a sob.

“Thanks Tyler,” you whispered, careful as his claws were still wrapped loosely around your throat, “you’re doing great.”

A spark of consciousness flashed in his globulous eyes, like his human self resurfaced for the briefest moment.

But then something seemed to make him snap, a gurgling roar tearing from the monster’s throat in fury. What was a hopeful moment a second ago turned into unbridled rage ; the other clawed hand of the Hyde rose high in the air and before you could even register what was happening, dove right onto your face. Everything went very quickly, one second the glint of sharp nails urged your survival instincts to try to cover your face with your left hand ; then a slice and a faint moment of blackout. A second later, the pain exploded.

A wail left your lips but you didn’t even hear yourself scream, nor did you feel your body drop on the forest floor. The pressure around your throat was gone, but the pain erupting through your left hand numbed everything else. Vision got blurry as you stared at the teared open flesh and puddle of blood that was once your left hand: a large gash opened your palm from forefinger to the wrist, as three half sliced fingers dandled, barely holding from their base by a thin tendril of flesh. The cover of your face from the Hyde’s claws had cost your hand. Taken aback in surprise - maybe by your scream, maybe just because of the blood - the creature had dropped you on the spot, jumping away from you – but right now you couldn’t care less, too busy clutching your butchered hand, curled on the ground. While you whimpered, spiraling down this overwhelming pain, the Hyde groaned, barking erratically like fighting some invisible demons. His very own body seemed to struggle with itself, so much that after long seconds he started to turn back, his bones replacing themselves, the gray skin fading to be replaced with his human, freckled one.

The loud thump of Tyler’s body falling on the ground suddenly reminded you of where you were, taking your mind away from the pain for a second. And no matter the throbbing of your hand, or the fact a monster was squeezing your throat to death only a few minutes ago,the sight of Tyler laying on the forest ground, shivering and whimpering made your heart clench so hard it was almost as painful as the rest of your body.

Clutching your injured hand close to your chest, you tried to crawl closer to Tyler, calling him with a pathetic whimper. HIs head rolled slowly, glossy unfocused eyes searching for the source of your voice. It wasn’t until you finally reached him and reached for his hand that he seemed to fully regain consciousness.

“Y/N…?” he rasped with a sore throat.

Hearing him again almost made you cry, so relieved that he was safe. “Yeah,” you choked on a sob, “it’s me, babe. You’re back, it’s going to be okay.”

Tyler tried to push himself up, but his attempt ended in failing miserably and he slumped on the ground once again, grunting. “I can’t move,” he moaned. Surely his transformation had left him more groggy and drained than any previous one. “Where are we?”

Another groan of pain tried to get past your lips but you swallowed it. “Somewhere in Nevermore’s forest, not sure how far…do you remember anything?”

“I…not really…the fire, the screams it- it became too much for me. And- and I started to feel dizzy so I walked away to calm down but…I don’t remember anything else…”

You nodded, hissing at the odd sensation of your three fingers dandling from your hand in an awfully gory way. Tyler heard and tried to get a better look of you. His eyes widened at the sight of your butchered limb and the bruises around your neck.

He paled, holding out trembling fingers. “Did I…did I do this to you?...”

The brush of his fingers on your cheek should have comforted you ; but despite your better judgment, you flinched at their contact. Tyler felt his heart break; oh my god, he did that to you.

Just as the grueling panic and shame slated to overflow him, you immediately gripped one of his hands with your good one.

“Hey, hey,” you said softly, “look at me Ty. Look at me,” at your insistence, he finally lifted his watery eyes to meet yours. Despite the pain and the tiredness plaguing both your mind and body, you tried to hold a steady and convinced gaze.

“It’s gonna be alright, okay? Shit like that happens during hunts, I’m used to it and you weren’t yourself.”

“But–”

“Shh,” you interrupted him. “Keep your strength. I’m going to get us out of here, we’re gonna be alright.”

“How touching to see you this optimistic,” quipped a voice behind you.

Startled in surprise, you whirled around, leveling yourself in a seating position thanks to the adrenaline rush this sudden appearance gave you. Standing a few feet away, a man stood with a heavy coat, blonde hair and a satisfied smile. It took you a handful of seconds to pinpoint exactly where you had seen this prick’s face before. Yet last you remembered, members of the school board didn’t usually carry guns with them.

Staring warily at the medium, you snarled at him. “What are you doing here in your cheap typical villain outfit? Here to peek at naked and injured students like a creep or to finish the job?”

His smile didn’t falter. “As a matter of fact, it is indeed why I’m here, Miss Van Helsing.”

You squint your eyes at him, careful to ot let panic rise too high. “So are we expecting some classical villain speech where you unfold the whole plan or is your boss gonna do it himself?”

The medium cocked his head to the side in amusement. “I’m afraid I don’t get what you’re implying. I work alone.”

Slowly, the pieces started to add up in your head. Everything was aligning and went clear. “You’re the one who put the nithing curse on the school,” you realized. “You did this.”

“That I did,” he agreed, loading his gun meticulously. “I had to make enough diversion to trigger the Hyde without too much suspicion. I must admit, the fire wasn’t what I expected but my, it did work splendidly.”

On the ground, Tyler whimpered, mind trying to get a grasp on reality through the haze. “I know…this voice…” he slurred.

The look of disdain on the psychic’s face wasn’t even hidden by the night. “You gave me more struggle than I thought, I give you that. For some pathetic creature, you sure were hard to convince to unleash once your precious bodyguard was gone, earlier.”

The thought of that arrogant fucker messing with Tyler’s mind just to make him lose control made you blood boil. “You’re a fucking psycho,” you seethed.

The board member only shrugged. “You left me no choice. If you had died in that coffee shop like you were supposed to, none of this would have happened to Nevermore, my dear.”

To the boiling anger added disgust and you snickered bitterly, “Of course you were the one who hired the mercenaries,” you spat, rolling your eyes. “Couldn’t do anything by yourself, uh? Why even doing all of this when you could have just refused Tyler’s application to the school, uh?”

This time, the medium knelt in front of you, taking in your injured self, pathetic and tired – the laying form of Tyler didn’t even seem to have his attention.

“Because it would have been much more beneficial for me to have the nuisance of Y/N Van Helsing being removed at the same occasion,” he said with a sick smile. “Do you even know how much is the bait placed on your head by some vampire covens, little hunter?”

You scoffed, “I don’t know, do enlighten me then old fart.”

Admittedly not your better insult, but the flaring of his nostrils was enough proof it was pissing the medium off. Good.

“Way too many numbers for you to count.”

“Nice,” you grinned in a provocative way, which seemed to anger him even more. Without hesitation, he pressed the barrel of his gun against your forehead.

“It would have been so much easier to have the Hyde kill you,” he seethed, clearly starting to lose patience. “He would have been put back in jail, and you would be six feet underground. Everyone would have been happier like this.”

The realization of his sick plan made you growl. “You expected Tyler to kill me by putting him in stressful situations. Too much of a coward to pull the trigger yourself?”

As the only response you heard the click of the gun being loaded. The previous calm and composed attitude of the psychic was gone, long replaced by irritation and febrile movements thanks to your insolent attitude. What could you say, without any weapon or functional body, it was all you were left with to fight. So if you had to walk away from life with bites and sarcasm, this asshole better be prepared ‘cause you fucking would.

“Shut your bloody mouth,” he spat on the verge of patience. “Do you know how hard it is to earn your place as a psychic? When you don’t have a name like mighty Vincent Thorpe?”

“Boo-hoo, poor little you,” you pouted.

“I had to crawl my way up to where I am now,” he continued, ignoring your remark. “The things I’ll do when the higher families of vampires will thank me for bringing them your head, I’ve earned them.”

“By putting some kids’ lives in danger, your fucking psychopath,” you spat at him. “You’re delusional as fuck if you think they’ll treat you as an equal.”

An amused smile stretched his lips and his finger pressed on the trigger. “I’m willing to try.”

For a second, your breath stopped and you thought that you really were about to die here. You didn’t shut your eyes but squeezed Tyler’s hand on the ground beside you, not knowing if he really felt it or if he had passed out. You just wanted to let him know that you were by his side until the end.

Then something jumped on the psychic, tackling him to the ground with force; the shot went off somewhere else behind your shoulder but you actually felt the heat of the bullet brazing your skin.

The psychic screamed, fighting the giant beast that had attacked him under your wide eyes. Between fits and bites you caught sight of blonde fur with pink tufts somewhere. Even in the dark you understood who it was. Enid’s werewolf form. It didn’t take more than a couple of seconds to hear shouts from behind you, adding to the wolf’s grunt and the wails of the man crawling for his life under her. You started to feel dizzy, eyelids heavy and head spinning just as quick as the adrenaline dropped from your body. When you picked up familiar voices such as Ajax, Wednesday or even Weems’ voices, your body allowed itself to let go. From what you remembered, it might have been Bianca or Xavier that caught you before you crashed unconscious face first on the ground, with the screams of terror of the psychic being torn apart in the distance.

You had woken up a day later in Nevermore’s infirmary, splint around your right ankle and head feeling like lost in the fog. Groggily, you had taken notice of your surroundings, mostly beds occupied by students who needed medical support after the fire. The more your senses came back, the more you had become aware of the throbbing of your left hand. Glancing down at it, you had been met with a heavily bandaged limb, specks of blood soaking through the cotton. Angry red lines crossed by stitches peaked from under the bandages; it wasn’t pretty, but at least you had all your fingers. Whoever operated you must have been able to stitch back the three of them that had threatened to get lost before it was too late.

Ultimately, you had lifted your head to see Tyler at the door of the infirmary, looking at you with wide eyes. You had smiled at him; then he did too. For your first reawakening after the long night the previous day had been, it was all you could ask for.

Two weeks later, and you found yourself sitting in the corridor of Weems’ office, waiting to be called in by the headmistress.

In the past weeks, things had been kind of hectic. First there was of course the betrayal of the board member who had deliberately put students’ lives in danger – multiple times – and whose betrayal couldn’t be ignored, no matter if he was going to spend the next few months in a hospital bed thanks to Enid. Then the fire that had destroyed a good half of the dormitories ; aside from the trauma it inflicted on all of the students, it took some organization to find arrangements to keep a roof above everyone’s head.

On a personal level you had to deal with physical recovery, which was slow but not doing so bad after all. People at school did not look at you with utter disdain anymore – the two students you rescued even hugged you. Hell, even Bianca Barclay definitely buried the war hatchet. But the problem lies elsewhere.

Tyler hadn’t been the same after that fateful night. Of course, when you two reunited in the infirmary, he had brought you in a bone-crushing hug for long minutes, not caring if anyone saw his tears of relief. Then he had kissed you senseless, drunk in joy of holding you alive and well in his arms again. But the overwhelming joy of reuniting had been short-lived.

If he refused to leave your side – as if you would ever leave him either – he always stood a little setback. Like putting a safe distance between the two of you, not too important to mean a break up, but enough to miss him; to miss the old him, to miss how you were together. The first days he didn’t even dare to touch you, it was always you who initiated the physical contacts, reassuring him this was more than alright. Now he didn’t hesitate anymore but you still sensed him stiff in some of your embraces. More held back.

Fidgeting with the bandages on your left hand, you felt your heart squeeze at the thought. With everything going on in the aftermath of the whole story, you didn't really have time to speak about it yet. Maybe today was the right moment.

The sound of the door opening made your head lift up. Exiting the principal’s office, Tyler had his shoulders slouched despite the encouraging smile of Weems behind him. When he saw you, your boyfriend gave you a sincere, soft smile. But it didn’t last long and only a few seconds after he looked away, almost ashamed and scurried to the end of the corridor without another word.

Mouth agape, you watched him practically running away from you without any explanation. The headmistress calling your name tore you out of your deception surprise and you turned to her.

“I’ll be with you in a couple of minutes, Miss Van Helsing. Do you mind waiting a little more?”

Still taken aback by your boyfriend’s odd behavior, you only nod your head to the Headmistress, who gave you a small smile before shutting her office’s door. Sighing, you slumped in your chair feeling a bit lost.

“How are you holding up?”

The sound of her voice made you realize that Dr.Fern had taken the seat next to yours. The fae therapist was looking at you with kind, concerned eyes. Although she knew you weren’t going to pour all your emotions on the spot, the aura of wariness and sadness you carried around kind of worried her.

Despite her original thought, you shrugged. “I’ve been better. I’ve been worse too, so I guess not so bad in the end.”

That made the fae smile sadly. Surely you hadn’t the best coping mechanism, but in all honesty after everything you went through, she thought that you were, indeed, not doing so bad. As to prove that, you dodged the subject.

“Why are you here?” you genuinely asked. “I thought that Weems only wanted to hear the testimonies of people who had been here?”

“She wanted my insight on the self-defense aspect of Tyler’s transformation,” she said. “Although it was more for a legal aspect, I’m pretty sure she had been convinced of it before I even stepped in the room. I wouldn’t worry about him being framed again.”

You nodded, grateful to hear that. Still, the pained look in your eyes didn’t fade away; this wasn’t what was truly bothering you. Sighing deeply again, you slumped, looking at the wall in front of you.

“How long before he gets eaten up by guilt?” you asked in a tired tone.

Dr.Fern’s eyebrows rose up a little, but frankly she was only half surprised. You didn’t seem like the kind of person to trust a therapist’s opinion, but this wasn’t the monster hunter who asked it. This was the young adult worried for her boyfriend, and afraid of how drifting apart you two were.

“He’s already plagued with guilt,” she answered after a silence. “I’m not sure it will leave so soon.”

You shook your head, more for yourself than for her. “No one’s expecting it to. Everyday I tell him he doesn’t have to feel guilty, that I don’t hold any grudge against him, I just…”

“Yes?”

You hesitated, then turned to face the therapist. The tears on the corner of your eyes stunned her.

“I don’t want to lose him,” you muttered, throat tight. “Not like that. Not when I can feel him drifting away a little more everyday, watching him destroy himself with guilt and not being able to do anything. And if he leaves I… I’m not even sure what I would do.”

The way your voice broke a little at the end of your sentence truly made her sympathetic of you. For a moment, you almost felt relieved to have been able to put words on what you felt, and to share it with someone you could trust. But just as quick, your protective self came back and you wiped the tears that were threatening to fall. The therapist respectfully looked away, knowing that showing yourself being vulnerable had been quite a progress for you already. She didn’t make any comment either when you awkwardly adjusted your posture on the chair, like nothing happened.

“You know,” she said after a silence, “I always wondered how you managed to get Tyler to let you help him.”

Frowning, you looked at her, “What do you mean?”

“Well he was always willing to take therapy sessions with me, but I’m his assigned therapist, it makes sense. However he was never too keen on letting strangers get close, did he?”

You thought about it. “I suppose?...”

“So he would never have let anyone he didn’t know help him, let alone inspiring respect right?” she continued. “Yet you managed to make him do both, I wonder how.”

Remembering the rocky beginnings of your relationship, you snorted softly, “I was a bitch to him, that’s how I did that.”

That made her smile too, “Then maybe two times’ the charm.”

The door of Weems’ office opened, the headmistress expecting you in and that put an end to your conversation. Dr.Fern gave you one last polite smile before taking her leave too, leaving you quite perplexed by the chat you two had.

But after all, maybe she was right. You didn’t want Tyler to leave because of some stupid guilt – then maybe it was time to bitch him into his way out of it. The old fashioned Y/N-Van-Helsing-way.

Twenty minutes later, after a very short and for once not unpleasant meeting with Weems, you made your way confidently to your dormitory. This part of the building had thankfully been relatively untouched by the fire, so you still had most of your belongings here. And so did Tyler. That’s why you were pretty sure you’d found him in your room, packing his things in a hurry before you came back. And that’s exactly how you found him when you bursted in the room unannounced.

A shirt in hand and the other opening a backpack, Tyler jumped in surprise, staring at you. He stood here with eyes wide as saucers, like a deer caught in headlights. You gave him a half-soft, half-snarky smile.

“Oh, you’re packing? Don’t forget your visa, you’ll need it to get to the checks-in of Dumb Man Land.”

“I– “

“Take some sweaters too,” you said casually, neatly folding one of said pieces of clothes like everything was normal, “I’m not sure that thick skull of yours would be enough to keep you warm.”

Tyler dropped his bag, approaching you slowly. “Babe I–”

“I assume you know my address to keep me updated,” you cut him, packing a pair of jeans too, “surely you already have it and planned to leave a note to me when you would have left without a word, right?”

“Hey,” he said, gripping your hand to make you face him. “Look at me.”

The two of you stared at each other for long seconds. Him with pained, guilty eyes, you with a mix of sarcasm and hurt. And just like that, he knew how pained you were, fully aware of what he had planned, no matter how much casualness and sarcasm you put into your action to stay strong. His heart broke at the sight.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, “I have to leave.”

“Like hell you do,” you scoffed.

The tone you used was softer than he would have thought.

“I can’t stay here with you,” he pressed, voice wavering. “I can’t be around after everything I did.”

“Says who?” you countered daringly.

At first the bold attitude had surprised, then puzzled him, but now it almost irritated him. How could you not understand?

“I do,” insisted Tyler frantically. “Don’t you see? I’m a fucking danger Y/N!”

You shrugged, “Not that I’m aware of. Well, except in bed but that’s not something I would complain about, tiger.”

The wink at the end of your sentence almost made him lose it and he gripped your shoulders frantically. Even through your clothes, you could feel his hands shake and his eyes were full of tears.

“Why don’t you get it!” he cried, on the verge of maniac tears. “None of this should have happened! I’m a fucking monster Y/N, just– look at you!” he pleaded, letting go of your shoulder to hold up your left hand – very carefully – between his larger ones. “Look at what I did to you!!”

The slap echoed before it stung. Cheek red, Tyler didn’t move his head under the sheer shock of your action. You however, stood very calm with your hand mid hair. Slowly recomposing his spirits, he turned to gaped at you.

“Did- did you just…”

“Slapped you? Hell yeah I did,” you huffed in a firm voice. “And if you’re pulling out the “You’ll be safer without me” bullshit, I swear to God I’ll fucking do it again.”

“You would be safer away from–”

Another slap landed on his other cheek, this time with your bandaged hand. The shot made the pain rise up again and you cursed at it. That made Tyler glance at you with worry. Instead, you gave him a smug smirk – or at least the best you could pull through the wince of pain.

“See? I can still slap some sense into you with my frankenstein’s hand. Seems good enough for me so drop the bullshit.”

Equally stunned by your words and your actions, Tyler could only stare at you. To be honest, he had expected every kind of reaction from you; cries, rage, maybe even begging.

But he would have never thought that you would literally punch some sense into him; it felt like the first time you had pinned him on the ground when he had tried to attack you on his first day here. Even with a half healed hand and a splintered ankle, you stood here tall and proud before him, not taking any of his shit.

As the realization sinked in him your eyes softened and you took his face in both of your hands.

“I’m fine, Tyler,” you said softly. “Doctors patched me up, I’m in one piece, the rest will heal with time. I’m fine,” you repeated, gently forcing him to look at you. “You have no reason to feel guilty about anything.”

“I attacked you,” he muttered in a broken voice. “I hurt you,” he continued, fingers grazing your bandaged hand, “how can you not be angry at me?”

A sad smile made its way to your face. “You weren’t yourself,” you reminded him, “there’s nothing to be mad about.”

Tyler could feel the sincerity of your words, he truly did. Still the guilt wasn’t so easy to brush away. So you continued.

“Do you know what hurt me the most?” you asked softly, and his eyes widened in fear. Dozens of answers swirled in his mind.

Noticing it, you caressed his cheekbone with your thumb to ground him before carrying on, “That you thought leaving me would actually help me. Or you.”

He stuttered a bit. “I…I didn’t think you would ever want to see me again,” he confessed. “Or being with me.”

You cocked your head to the side, “What did I do to make you think that? Did I act any differently with you since that night?”

“...no,” he admitted.

That, at least, made you smile sincerely. “I’m tough Tyler,” you promised. “But not tough enough to see you walk away to punish yourself and hurt the both of us in the process.”

He bore his deep brown eyes into yours, and with that you were unable to stop the tears from falling.

“I love you,” you choked on with a sob, “so I’m asking you this with everything I have: please, please, don’t leave me alone. I can’t do it anymore, not when I still get the chance to hold you in my arms, Tyler. Do you want me?”

“Always,” he answered feverishly without a doubt.

“Then let me be with you,” you smiled through tears, “I don’t want to fight alone, never again. I found a home with you Tyler Galpin, please don’t shut yourself from me again. Don’t let me shut myself to you again, or else I don’t know what kind of atrocity I would become without you.”

A beat passed. Then you were enveloped in a tight, bone-crushing hug, pressed against Tyler’s chest. The moment you felt his arms around you, you didn’t bother anymore to hold back tears and let yourself sob against his shoulder. Tyler’s face was buried in your neck, and although he didn’t make any sounds, you could feel him shake with his own sobs. You held each other tightly, painfully aware of how close you had been to losing each other just moments ago.

At some point, you didn’t really know when, you had ended up laying on the bed, still entrapped in each other’s embrace. Carefully lifting his head from your neck, Tyler pressed a long kiss against your forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I love you.”

“I know,” you sniffled, curling yourself to tug your head against his collarbone.

“I’m an idiot.”

“I know,” you repeated with a chuckle, then lifting your face to meet him. “But you’re my idiot.”

Tyler smiled warmly and pressed his lips against yours, making you sigh through the kiss. it felt like it was the first time you kissed him since that night. It felt like finally, he was back.

“Promise me you won’t abandon me,” you pleaded softly between kisses.

Looking at you lovingly, Tyler caressed your face. “I won’t,” he promised before diving on your lips again.

This time you moaned, and you slid one hand to his cheek, keeping him close to you. But then you felt him taking your hand gently in his and you broke the kiss, looking at him intensely. The freckled boy looked at your bandaged hand with sad eyes, before dropping soft kisses on each of your knuckles.

“I’m truly sorry about your hand.”

“It’ll heal,” you reassured him. “Plus, you won’t be the only one with badass scars to show off now,” you winked.

He chuckled and the sound made your heart flutter. “Or I’ll have to find how to make it up to you for the rest of my life.”

It was your turn to grin. “I’m sure you’ll find something to work with,” you teased as your other hand slid under his shirt.

Almost two months later, all of the students and professors of Nevermore academy stood in the courtyard. In front of a newly reconstructed building, Principal Weems proudly stood on a stage, delivering diplomas to last year students with large smiles.

The day was promising for everyone, for it held a symbol of accomplishment for some, of vacations for others, and for most the end of a complicated year. For Tyler and you, it was a little bit of the three.

You both stood in the courtyard among graduating students, your diploma in your right hand. Next to you, Tyler was holding your left one lovingly. His own diploma was secured in his pocket; the proof that he had made it through the year and that he was, as the agreement with the judge had specified, now a free man. He glanced at you, a soft smile on his lips. You too were free now; he couldn’t help but wonder what the two of you could do now.

As Principal Weems was making one last speech, you felt Tyler’s gaze on you and turned to him with a smile.

“What is it?”

The only sight of your smiling face brushed the lingering doubts away from Tyler’s mind. Maybe he had an idea of what you could do after all.

Raising your hand with his, he pressed a kiss on the back of it. His lips left your skin, but he still brushed one of the scars around your fingers with his thumb. All of that under your loving gaze.

“You know,” he whispered to you, “I have thought of how you could cover those scars.”

Slightly surprised, you cocked your head, “Oh yeah? How?”

Looking up at your face, Tyler gave you the soft smirk you had fallen in love with.

“By putting a ring on those fingers.”

Around you, the crowd cheered and applauded the last speech. At first you didn’t react; but then the biggest grin grew on your face. Just as if they were coming home, your lips naturally found their way to graze Tyler’s.

“Sounds like a plan, pretty boy.”

A/N: Annnnd that’s a wrap!! Again, I’m so so very sorry for the long period of time it took to write the last three chapters, and for the shitty plot of the last one QwQ Life had been complicated and hectic for the past 4 months, writting had been incredibly hard. Still, I’m satisfied with this fic and wanted to thank everyone for your patience and your kind words! Take care of yoursleves ♥♥

-Zoey

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@igotanidea @officerrrfriendly @beggingforxavierthorpe @aliciahlewis @stresseyzesty @katiemrty @leightonsteele @black-swan-blog27 @mooniesthings @nightfurya @steadypoetrydinosaur @hellokittysblog0 @thecraftoflove @yasmine302 @huang-the-geek @sahvlren

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@spiceyhotsherbet

#tyler galpin #tyler galpin imagine #tyler galpin x you #tyler galpin fanfic #tyler galpin x reader #tyler galpin x y/n #tyler galpin angst #Wednesday #wednesday series #wednesday netflix #Van Helsing! Reader #no beta we die like men

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bilehwit · 9 months ago

Text

Prologue

I will be leaving the Prologue for this AU on this account, if anyone would like to read the full story as I write and post it, I'd love to know! My ask box is always open, and so are my DMs! This is 4.5k words of pure prologue baby.

Prologue

Cold nipped at the heels of spring, a fearsome wolf in white that had yet to let go of Silk Cradle. Mud was soft with the rain and clung to the legs of those trying to cross the domain. Many of the residents took to swinging from trees to ensure they avoided the muck and mire, but two forms struggled as silently as possible below.

Hoods were drawn tight over heads, sawn off horns rubbing against sack-cloth and mulberry-dyed fur steadily getting dirtier. Heavy panting came from one figure, leaning heavily on the other with drawn face. They were walking as best they could, though the panting figure was clearly in no state to continue much further, a sort of harried step to the two that drew little more than idle curiosity.

Further, further, further still, until the couple finally found themselves in an abandoned cave, far from any other breathing creature, and hung cloaks at the entrance to hide themselves away. In this facsimile of safety, they finally drew back hoods to reveal two soft black faces, haloed in dark wool. One scrunched her face in gentle agony, a moan of pain slipping from her throat as she sank against the wall, sighing as she finally was off her hooves.

The other breathed a sigh through his nose, brushing her cheek gently and settling in next to her. There was no sound beside the wind outside the cave and their body heat soon warmed their little sanctuary. Eventually, the peace ended, as all things seemed to end for them at the moment. The woman gasped sharply, throwing her head back as pain wracked her, arms coming to scrabble for his as she keened.

“Mine dearest one, I know, I know it hurts,” he soothed, stroking her knuckles as a sob fell from her lips. Her eyes sparkled with tears, and he was once again captured by how she was all he had. “You look as though your eyes hold starlight, dear.”

“We cannot- nay, I cannot do this,” she heaved, her fingers wrapping in his cloak. “What do we do of it?”

She cried out again, and shifted, hunched over, palms pressed to the wall as she sat on her haunches. He stood beside her, uncertain of what to do, before a howl ripped out from her and he set about unpacking their small bags to find blankets and water-skeins. He set up a fire as she muttered and spat curses, fingers finding handholds on the cave.

What should have been a moment surrounded by her elders, her mother, her sister, and her husband was spent biting down screams and getting cave mould over her fingers. What would have resulted in a party that would go on for days while she was treated as a queen instead resulted in her bleeding over their last clean blankets. What could have been a beautiful birth instead was filthy, hidden and utterly ruining.

He tried whispering words of comfort, but there was nothing he could do, no leaves to soothe her pain, no way he could deliver with his shaking hands. He stood to the side silently after a while, stirring thin soup with the last of their parsnips and potatoes, waiting for it to be over.

Her muffled scream settled down to a low moan, he glanced over, and she shook over a reddened lump of wool. She had a knife in hand and was sawing at the umbilical cord with a hardened stare. She picked up the soaked wool lump and lay it over her knee. He looked on in confusion – wasn’t a babe supposed to cry? She raised a hand, he moved to stop her, to ask what in the name of the Bishops she thought she was doing-?

A sharp smack cleared through the cave, and the babe coughed up some slime, and a wail pierced the air as it inhaled its first breath. She smiled then – the adoring smile of a mother to her newborn, and he saw her happy for the first time in months.

“Hello,” she cooed, and its sobs died away, staring up with big dark eyes. She picked a clean corner of cloth, and started wiping away muck, before thinking better of it and putting it down. She stood, leaving behind a wet fleshy lump he didn’t want to look at. “Let’s wash you, baby.”

“There was a river only a few moments to our left,” he said, quickly standing. She nodded, not looking from the babe. They went, and he grew frustrated. No cloak had been adorned as she left the cave, and she walked bare and unafraid through Silk Cradle to the river. There was blood staining her thighs and calves.

The river was slow moving, and frigid to the touch, but it didn’t seem to bother her as she stepped in it to waist level, letting the bright and clear water wash over her. Dye and blood mixed in the waters and was swept away downstream. He followed in hesitantly, standing beside her as she breathed in frigid air.

“Hold,” she said simply, and held out their babe as if it were the most precious of silks. Awkwardly, he folded his arms and let her place the babe down, and she stepped to the side to finish her own bathing. He watched her splash water on her face and scrub away blackness from her fingers, slowly becoming as black as the bearded irises bowing their reverent heads on the riverbanks.

He looked down uncertainly at the babe, who now seemed content to not cry. Instead, it gazed at him and was silent. What did one do with a babe? He knew what they were really here for, but it seemed she was content with washing herself first. He already felt relief as mud came away from his legs as well.

“Bathe, I’ll take the babe,” she murmured to his left, and he looked up surprised as she appeared next to him. He nodded, and made quick work of it to the side. “What name do we bestow?”

“How about ‘Burden’,” he said drily, washing an ear, glancing back. Her stare froze him far more than snow ever did. “I- apologies, dear.”

“If we are to bless the babe, the babe shall need a name,” she continued frostily. He nodded quickly. “I always liked Aethelbald, but I don’t think that suits.”

“How about Purlamb?” Offered he, and she nodded uncertainly. “Well, maybe the name will come once washed and clean.”

She nodded, and they moved to stand facing each other.

“In birthing, you are a symbol,” he began, holding out his hands, cupped with water.

“In birth, you are loved,” she continued, holding the babe out.

“In living you are one,”

“In life you are all,”

“In dying, you are alone,”

“In death, you are with us.”

They poured the water over the lamb, and both then lowered it to the river to wash clean. It did not cry at the cold, and it did not bleat at their speech.

The lamb was not the same as them, they could tell. Its face was not black, and its hooves were a strange yellowed white. A darker blonde batch covered its face, creating two bows that framed its dear face. Matching patches were on its ears, and they turned it gently to look for the smallest spot of black. Not one resided on its body – it was cream and soft all over. After a moment, he gasped in joy.

“Oh, we are blessed,” he murmured, and she turned, blinking gently. “My mother’s, mother’s, mother’s father looked like this. It is a blessing of the highest order – for a lamb born of black sheep that is gold as dawn will live a cherished life.”

“We can hope,” she murmured, closing her eyes in reverence and dropping a gentle kiss on the lamb’s forehead. The last dregs washed away, and their lamb was as clean as the sky on a bright spring day. Adoring eyes looked at the newborn lamb, and a name crossed their minds at once. They raised the lamb from the river, and pressed kisses to its cheeks as they completed the ritual.

“Blessed be, Bilehwit.”

~~*~~

Bilehwit crouched in the earth, poking at a worm with the intensity only a four-year-old could muster. The worm sluggishly squirmed, and Bilehwit poked it again. They sat up sharply as a twig cracked in the distance, and stood, drawing their cloak tighter around themself, and silently bounded off into the forest’s edge. They hopped and scurried up to a tall tree and looked side to side before jumping up as high as they could, grasping onto the branch and hauling their body up after.

They scrambled up higher until the branches thinned, then turned their back to the sky, drawing their brown cloak around themself, drawing all of their body away. Tucked out of sight, they listened for footsteps below, or worshippers chatting in their odd tongues. Wind whistled. A crow cawed in the distance. It was a small sound, but they did exactly that which they had been taught.

“Bilehwit, you may come down now,” came the call of their father’s voice. They peered from the branch, seeing the familiar hoods of his parents, each painted with a red eye on top. Carefully they hopped down from the tree, and came to a stop in front of their parents. “There’s my lamb.”

“Fæder,” Bilehwit smiled, and received a ruffle on the head. “Didya see me climbin’?”

“No, Bilehwit, good job,” Mother crooned. Father picked them up and tucked them under an arm, and the three of them continued through the Darkwood. Birds chirruped, and occasionally they stopped to pick berries from the bushes. Most worshippers were at the temple today, so they had a bit more freedom. Bilehwit’s hood fell back, and they relished the wind on their ears. All seemed well and quiet, and the day passed in a golden blur.

~~*~~

“What have we told you?” Snapped Father as he dragged Bilehwit by the arm. His grip was tight, his face was tighter, and Mother was hurrying along, making aborted bleats and trying to calm him down. “You are an idiot, you are a selfish idiot-!”

“Don’t call my lamb that!” Mother gasped, scowling at Father. He scowled back, entering their current camp in Anura, tucked into a dome grown of mushrooms. “Don’t you ever call my lamb that, it isn’t like it was meant.”

“Your lamb?” Father laughed hollowly. He stared down angrily at Bilehwit, who whimpered at the tight grip on their bicep. “Is this not even our lamb? We were with that herd for a few weeks, you were gravid shortly after. Is that what you mean to say?”

“You are being cruel for cruelty’s sake,” Mother tried to pry his hands off of Bilehwit, but Father just flung them back. They hit the wall of the cave and tears started falling, but no sound came from their mouth as Father stormed to them, towering over them, a black thunder cloud of rage. “They are six! Don’t you touch them, you’re being a brute-!”

“Shut up,” he roared at her, and turned back to Bilehwit. “Thanks to you, lamb, we have to leave Anura. You fool, you have doomed us from this place, and for what? To talk to a dirty culler’s son?”

“I just- I wanted to play,” Bilehwit said, blinking away tears. “The-they said that we could play knucklebones.”

Father went silent and stared down at them. His mouth became a hard line. Mother went still as he turned and threw his things into his pack. He stormed out, and she was quick to pack both of their bags and run after him, carrying Bilehwit even though they were getting too old for that now.

“Shh, it’s alright love,” she murmured as they followed Father from a distance. “He just wants us to be safe.”

“My arm hurts,” came the petulant response. Mother glanced away, wiping her eyes where she thought Bilehwit wouldn’t see.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

~~*~~

Bilehwit watched the sun rise that morning. It had made the sky looks like a rippling fire. They were nine now, and it seemed like the last three years, Father had started to dislike them more. He loved them, that couldn’t be denied, but he no longer had time to tell stories or sit with their family. Mother still loved them, but she was getting more and more tired as the days went by.

She wasn’t waking up again.

Father had gone to collect water and berries, smiling one of his brief smiles, and even ruffling Bilehwit between the ears, something that hadn’t happened in a good long while. They were alone in camp, packed up for a new day of travel, out of Waterdeep’s cove.

There was a dripping from the leaves after last night’s rainfall, and a spider skimmed its crystalline web, dancing a ballet as it pushed the drops away. There was sand everywhere, damp enough to stay stuck to verdant green grass, and lumps of white chalk littered the area.

Bilehwit picked up a lump thoughtfully, and went to a tree, drawing a line, then another, and a curve. The smiled at the drawn face, and quickly rubbed it away when they heard approaching hooves, turning to greet Father.

It was not Father.

A pig girl, in a red wrapped dress, dropped her basket of apples. She looked left and saw Mother, her eyes growing wider. Before Bilehwit could speak, she had turned, running and shouting, and the answering cries resounded, as well as a now familiar horn note.

Cull horns.

Made from ram’s horns, they blew a clear, low note, and three high ones. It echoed over the forest, and Bilehwit wasted no time. They threw on their pack and shook Mother roughly – she needed to be awake. Her eyes opened, and she caught the end of the horns. Her eyes became clear, and she snapped upright, grabbing Father’s pack and her own.

They ran.

Hearts pumping, lungs burning, they did not stop, soon catching sight of Father as he bounded over a fallen tree to meet them and swing his own pack over his shoulders. He did not question it, but kept running with them as the horns sounded, and dog-folk started barking and howling.

The ground was soft, but not mud – perfect for a trio of springy lambs to run over, but awful for trails. They left hoof-prints behind, too fast to sweep them away like normal.

They ran.

The wind whipped their faces, stinging their eyes with sea salt and sand, and trees snagged on cloaks. The pounding of their hearts filled their ears – or was that the pounding of following feet? Blood rushed and legs pumped to get them away as fast as possible.

They ran.

They came to a sheer cliff – blocked off by sea, their pursuers behind. Bilehwit bleated in fear – and Mother looked up resolutely. She readjusted her pack, and threw her long wool behind her head. Two steps back. Crouching on her legs. Breath in. Out.

She ran. She leapt. She flew.

Mother landed on the cliff face and gripped on tight. Her hooves found the crags easily, and she began to climb. Her dark gold eyes looked back, and her face twisted in a scowl.

“Move!” Father nodded, and pulled Bilehwit into his arms.

“I’ll get us up there, but you have to climb,” he said seriously. Cullers were now visible, speeding up with whooping and hollering, teemed along the beach. His father held him tightly, and Bilehwit felt his muscles tense under thinning wool. One step, two, three… there. They were off, running hard, and Bilehwit hid their eyes in the father’s wool. The steps kept going, and then there was a dip before-

Weightless.

They opened their eyes.

The sea was endless. The sky was endless. The sand was as gold as the sun.

The two hit the wall, and Bilehwit was turned to face unforgiving stone. Their hooves scrabbled and found purchase. They climbed like they hadn’t before, unseeing of the top of the cliff as their breath burned their throat.

By the time strong arms were pulling them up, they could taste blood coating the back of their teeth. No time to rest – they had to run. There was an entrance to Darkwood a mile or two, a small fold in reality between the realms that Mother and Father knew how to harness. They would teach Bilehwit this trick, eventually.

The world blurred into a mess of spinning green. All they felt was their legs hitting the ground, all they heard was their breath, and they tasted was blood and sweat. They skid to a stop just as Mother lifted the veil, and Father ushered the trio through. It closed after them and they hurried down the dark, leafy tunnel, and out into Darkwood.

This corner of the real was unused to travellers, overgrown bushes that the family often camped in, surrounded by thorny brush and nettles. Mother breathed heavily for a few moments, sitting down and opening her arms like clouds parting in a storm.

Bilehwit collapsed into her embrace and started to cry. Father stepped behind the two of them, looming, before he too knelt, gathering both into his arms. Tears dribbled down his bearded face and onto Bilehwit’s nose.

It was a quiet week.

~~*~~

Fifteen years on the run did things to a young lamb. Bilehwit was thin, ropey with forced muscle, and their wool was cropped closely. Mother was much the same, though her wool grew out on her head, held back in two thick, heavy braids woven with faded and stained ribbons. Father had sawn his horns off long before Bilehwit was born, but his shaggy beard, broad shoulders and strong legs allowed him to tower and defend. In his beard was woven a matching ribbon with mother’s.

They were both still black, though grey was starting to claim his mother’s hair and his father’s beard. Bilehwit wondered what it felt like to live so long your wool went grey.

They were having a lesson today, up a tree in Anura, over a camp of Mushroomos. They were an odd bunch, but had no intention of messing with the Bishops, so the lambs were free to stay so long as they remained hidden. Father was laughing below, a sound unheard in years, as a Mushroomo told jokes in their odd babbling language. Mother was smiling and looked younger than normal. A few weeks of rest had made it easy to talk and smile again.

“Fæder is laughing,” Bilehwit said joyfully, and Mother laughed like bells made from crystals. Father sounded like the giant brass bells in the temples, and her chimes flitted between the deep notes.

“I fell in love with that laugh,” Mother said with a smile, before crossing her legs. “No, what was I telling you?”

“We finished the birth ritual, the naming ritual, the ritual of the bells, birthday rituals, wedding rituals, funeral rituals and, um, the other ones like feasting and stuff,” Bilehwit rambled off, and Mother’s smile grew.

“We did, didn’t we?” she said, and tilted her head, a finger to her chin. “Well, I think then that we come to the very last lamb ritual, my love.”

“Yes please!” Their eagerness made her grin wider. “Modor, I love learning about the lambs!”

“Well, this ritual is the most special of all,” she said softly, and drew from her cloak a small, tattered book, which she gave to Bilehwit. “Your reading is beautiful, love. I am only sorry we have yet to teach you to write. In that book is not only in-depth explanations of every ritual, but of the one we have yet to tell you. It is the one of the deepest binding. Tell me, what makes Lambs special?”

“Uh… Oh! We as a species represent youth, innocence, purity, and… um…” Their face scrunched in thought. “We… throw good parties?”

Mother laughed again and nodded with mirth in her smile.

“That we do. No, what makes Lambs special is the fact we are so close to Divinity,” Mother explained gently. “We lambs used to be known as pious, as people you go to for help, as gentle lovers of the world. We used to run messages for the Bishops, we used to heal and nurture, we used to be beloved.”

“So… why are we no longer that?” Bilehwit asked, and Mother’s face fell slightly.

“Times change,” she eventually said. “The Bishop’s… well, Bishop Shamura, one day had a vision. A lamb would bring about the end of the world through its connection to divinity. People became scared, I know I certainly was. At the beginning, some lambs even went willingly to put their heads to the blade – for those, they had sharp axes that cut in one sweep and were given burials and mourned. As for those like us…”

“I don’t want to die,” murmured Bilehwit. Mother nodded. “Modor, I don’t blame any of the lambs for running. I think the ones who died were happy to die, but the others didn’t even have a choice.”

Mother nodded, and in the quiet, the two settled on this information. A fire crackled, with meat being cooked dripping fat. A lute was being strummed. Grass stirred in the wind. The sky dimmed with sunset.

The tree shook for a moment or two, before Father’s face popped besides them. He was grinning.

“Come on, come down!” He said, and Mother rolled her eyes, nodding. Bilehwit followed them down as more instruments were tuned. The fire cast long shadows, and already people were beginning to dance.

Mother clapped in delight, and Bilehwit joined her, smiling broadly as they kept the beat. The Mushroomos were happily twirling and dancing around the flames, and Father crouched by the musicians, grinning. Subtly the music started to shift, and it took a single note for Mother to stop clapping, her eyes filling with tears as a hand went to her mouth.

Father landed in front of her, landing on one knee, and held out a hand.

She took his hand.

They looked into each other’s eyes, falling back into true love as easily as water floods to the sea.

Father stood, and with clasped hands, they swept around the flames in barrelling, spinning movements. Mushroomos clapped and cheered as they leapt and sprung around each other, laughing and looking into each other’s eyes like tomorrow was never going to arrive.

The tempo picked up, and soon they were dancing with all their might, singing a song that only the two seemed to know, bowing and kicking to the beat of the music. Mother reached up and loosened her wool, pulling away her ribbons to let it bounce around her body. She wound the bright red satin around her wrist, leaving a long trail for father to catch.

Father grinned, and grabbed her as the music swelled, winding the ribbon around his wrist with one sharp move, pulling her to him and dipping her.

Silhouetted against the fire, they were alight. Bilehwit watched as they captured each other in a passionate kiss, and something clicked in their chest. Like a key opens a padlock, a deep pit of yearning suddenly swallowed their lungs.

They wanted that.

Mother and Father eventually collapsed to the side, laughing and giggling, stealing sweet kisses. They beckoned over Bilehwit, and tucked their lamb between their bodies, smothering them with kisses and hugs.

“Oh, but I am proud of you,” Father roared happily, his eyes flickering with flame and pride. “You’ve done well, Billy. You’ll do well as long as I see it!”

“You read that book, Bilehwit,” Mother sang, retying her braids and smacking away Father’s wandering hands. “Oh, stop that! Let me at least finish my braiding, you handsy thing!”

“Can a man not love his wife?” Father asked, kissing her above Bilehwit’s head.

Bilehwit smiled.

“I love you, Modor, Fæder,” they said, and their parents looked at them with adoration.

“We love you too,” came their overlapping voices.

~~*~~

The day Father died, Mother wasn’t waking up again. They were in the Silk Cradle, in a tiny cave. They had been doing well the night before, Bilehwit managing to open a veil themselves for the first time.

The cave had seemed familiar to their parents, who each smiled to themselves and set up camp. They remarked the river was close by, and Father went to clean himself. Mother laid down to rest, and Bilehwit had been reading.

The book had so much on the culture of the lambs, on the rituals and the way they lived. Bilehwit drank it all in, reading the tatty thing front to back, back again. They eventually looked up, noticing that the outside had gotten darker.

Father hadn’t returned.

Mother coughed.

She didn’t wake even as Bilehwit shook her, so with steely resolve, they donned their Mother’s cloak, and stepped out. It was unseasonably cold for spring. They skidded through the slick mud, creeping along. They could hear the river, but there was no sound of Father bathing. There was just quiet.

It burned into their eyes.

The river rushed by without a care, washing blood from the slit in his throat. Glassy eyes stared at the empty night sky. Black wool sagged down with water twisted in the current. There was some kind of blood on his chest, but it was no longer bleeding. After all, the empty chest had no heart to beat.

“F-Fæder?” Bilehwit whimpered. No response came. They picked their way down to him, gentlystepping on thick stones and pausing where he lay. He kept staring at the sky. “Fæder?”

They sunk to their knees, soaking the cloak in an instant as they reached for his face. They closed his hanging jaw. His skin was so cold, only the very last dregs of life fading away. He had died recently.

What were they saying? Why weren’t they crying?

Bilehwit curled next to him, watching as Father’s fist bobbed in the water. Clutched in it was a red ribbon – not faded and stained like Mother’s and his own, but new, freshly washed.

That was for them.

It was their birthday tomorrow.

At some point, they dragged his corpse ashore. They washed him, they said the rites, they redid his braids and closed his eyes. Lambs left their dead to rot and go back to the earth underground – so Bilehwit dug. He finished the deep grave before turning and shambling back to camp.

Mother was still asleep.

Somehow, they woke her. Somehow, they told her. Somehow, through grief, they managed to bury Father with the few things he had to take to the afterlife. Somehow they didn’t die themselves, though their wailing sobs should have alerted every culler in the area.

Somehow, two months later, Bilehwit did the same for their mother, next to their father, as she passed with a sigh in her rest.

Somehow, Bilehwit walked away, a red ribbon curled in their fist, with a pack filled with black wool, a heavy cloak made for a lamb far bigger, and trinkets made by relatives they would never know for two people they couldn’t know any more.

They slipped through the veil to Darkwood.

The Last Lamb had now been made.

#bilehwit au #cotl au #cotl lamb #cult of the lamb #lambsona #the lamb cotl #narilamb #cotl leshy #cotl heket #cotl shamura #cotl kallamar

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