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scentedpepper · 7 months ago

Text

Embered Metamorphisis

JASPER HALE X WEREWOLF!GN READER

● gif by @goodomcns

Summary: The aftermath of transfroming into a giant, raging wolf isn't kind to you --yet, your sworn enemy is.

Content Warnings: Uhhhh, descriptions of bones cracking, hair sprouting and such werewolf things.

Other Pairings: Sam Uley x GN Reader, Wolf Pack mentioned, Carlisle and Edward mentioned.

AUTHOR NOTE(S):

Slowly slipping back into my twilight phase...

We didn't get enough struggles of being a quileute shapeshifter content so heres your stuggles of being a quileute shapeshifter content

Yeah I'm changing up my format but does that mean that I'm going back and re editing all 8 parts of leon kennedy series —lol

I have a marvel fic written and I literally have no excuse as to why its taking me so long to edit but yk

Heres twilight instead?

_________________________________________

You pulled your eyelids closer to your waterline, the splash of water against your searing hot face felt dull compared to the tear shaped lava dripping down the curve of your back, meeting at the waistband of your boxers and leaving a sour, pungent smell within the fabric.

Your body shook with such agony, that had you been the fragile, human-esqu being that you posed as, your bones would have liquified; bones that turned a delicate peach flower shade of cream.

If you looked up into the mirror in front of you, you were sure, at this rate, you'd see steam floating off the very skin that had stretched and molded itself and grew hair the length of a beanstalk all over your body. But this wasn't the pain that tore apart every neuron in your brain, and rendered you to nothing but a shivering, aching mess.

It was something else, and even with your mind so sluggish, so disoriented and tired that you could easily sleep for several days and your stomach, pouring out gurgling noises of bregrudement that you could barely hear over the own ringing in your ears, ached with its hunger.

You seemed to be grunting to yourself, atop the linoleum flooring of your bathroom that you felt as if your feet were burning holes into. You made your own noises out in passing, brief, in and out moments where your ears tuned back to your surroundings. Huffs. Whistling. There was faint cursing.

Stupid. Fuckin stupid. The voice ran through your foggy mind, an echo of rage.

Your entire body shook with such a powerful force, so dolorous in nature, that your eyes held heavy purple bags beneath them. You squinted them ever further closed, yet the light seeped out from the crevices like tears.

You didn't dare look to the light, it'd be like blinding yourself to the sun because everything now was 10 times brighter, clearer, intense. You heard each beat of your pulse right behind your ears, it wasn't as much 'thump, thump, thump' as a constant noise that felt more like you were vibrating.

It was all the more aggravating, all of it.

Your muscles were spasming beneath you and the longer you stood the more you couldn't feel your toes. The longer you locked yourself in your bathroom, huddled into the furthest corner, the closer you felt death crawling along your own skin.

What are you? That question held such power to pull the rug beneath your feet. Objectively, you knew. Sam had crossed borders to ensure you didn't break the treaty anymore than he already was. And your mind held such a haze that not even now you could clearly decipher what exactly had happened.

The haze acted as a wall between your mind and Sam's, even as he commanded you, tumbled with you through the woods, wrestled you to the forest floor, leaves and broken branches caught in your fur as he snapped and snarled above you; he couldn't see clearly what happened. Let alone explain to you the precise point that your wolfy instincts -because apparently that was a thing you held within your very being- reigned.

All you could recall was a few faces.

Jasper's visage, etched with both horror and regret, staring back at you with rubies -as if you were the monster and not him.

At some point, you could faintly remember him speaking to you from below as his hands fiercely held your snout, telling you to transform back into your usual self. But his face...it spoke volumes at how ready he was to run if not needed, to flee. Like in that moment, the only difference between life and death were the few inches separating you both.

Then there was Carlisle. You don't remember what happened in between but you remembered seeing the struggle in his and Edward's faces as they attempted to hold you down without hurting you and having themselves killed in the process.

With Sam, the memories were clearer, sharper. They kept surfacing like bubbles on a swirly tub.

He too spoke but the difference between him and Jasper was that his were demands, not pleas.

Each plea was so faint against his normal voice -shockingly enough- and you could always recollect his words like a chanting, mantra of those just told a horrific, traumatizing tale.

"Concentrate. " Was what he said.

Your name. Sometimes the shortened version with his southern drawl etched in at the edges.

But your bones didn't ease themselves in molding, twisting, grinding back into their shape until Sam got there. More importantly, that uncomfortable heated feeling of hair pushing itself out from your flesh faded to a shiver.

And your faint memories did not aid the man, who you'd previously held an unimaginable grudge against, in easing you into the subject. So, he stuck to what he knew, what he was sure made the most sense to any half-man, half-wolf in your situation.

Quileute blood. This. That.

Each time you gritted your teeth, clacked them, your canines jarring against each other as he droned on about the treaty, about the vampires, about your time around all of them at once probably being the source of your trigger.

The magic in your blood lit ablaze like gasoline poured onto a pile of wood inside of you. And you didn't understand. Wouldn't for a while until you were coherent, not like this. But the idea of you simply being the one to blame had your mouth pursing shut, biting hard enough to draw that salty copper smell across your tongue.

Subjectively, as you stood in your bathroom, eyelids stapled shut, brain still muddled, body hotter than hot itself. Shaking. Teeth, sharper than usual, still dug painfully into the open wound in your mouth, pulling your lips back harshly.

You didn't know what to call yourself.

Werewolf.

Shapeshifter.

Monster.

They all seemed to mean the same thing.

Vampire.

Cold ones.

Blood sucker.

Those all meant the same too.

Enemy.

Your heart stung at that; painful. Sharp. There was something wet coming down your cheeks but you didn't acknowledge it. Barely registered the sound of your bones cracking from inside, the stretch and pull as tendons and ligaments reformed to shape your humanoid form.

Your teeth didn't let go of your lip as your body continued to reform itself in the correct places, your feet dirtied from the bottoms after you stalked through the woods behind your house, naked and scathed from your only 3rd transformation in counting.

You were not yet adjusted, that much was obvious as the rest of the wolves watched you stumble into your home before you were out of sight. Not because they could smell your shame or the pain you were in, not because your face was still smeared with mud and slobber. But because something struck their ears just then, the sound loud enough to echo from miles behind you and they recognized it for what it was.

A whimper. Pain, so visceral and agonizingly immense you almost keeled forward and gasped for air as soon as the shuddery whine passed.

You'd found your bedroom floor before you clung to the bathroom sink as you were now, the bite doing little but help rid the bitterness and tang on your tongue. The pit of your stomach tightened for a moment as your ears began picking up on your mother's soft shuffling noises and you could tell her exact location, how she fidgeted around on the couch.

But you were again drawn back into yourself and the memories seemed to flash once more as your body convulsed and twisted, feverously hot and unbearably sticky. But each pain felt like pure acid seared against a wound.

There were some parts that you noticed as things changed within your entire human psyche. For instance, the room, your room, smelled differently; it tasted differently. Your eyes, what were usually able to scatter quick glances about yourself yet it came off as completely relaxed and indifferent, your pupils darted as if you had a million things to look at.

This time, your lungs felt small, compressed and with that came each bit of scent the bathroom provided. All of it.

The hint of floral perfume that resided with your sister, most likely used the bathroom beforehand.

The watered-down aloe essence of a bottle of SPF that you guessed to be your brothers because it was strong, closer than the rest.

Then the sweetness of your mother's strawberry cream soap she splashed onto her hair in the morning and onto her skin not long before her eyes were drooping.

The musk of cologne, the sweatiness from the summer night. Some aftershave and others, toothpaste. The mint lingering from it assaulted your olfactories like the taste of charcoal briquettes did your dry throat.

It was everything all at once yet, each scent, noise, sight, touch was distinct. Picked out and pinpointed. You could hear your own heartbeat. You could hear how loudly the door caved a centimeter in its frame when the air from the fan swirled into the vent.

And when the sink began to crumble under your grip it was loud, deafening. A tidal wave and snap made entirely of your own anger. You couldn't bear to look in the mirror. You couldn't bear to lift your head and see a monster looking back at you.

You'd been in this state for hours, every minute, every single second, you could feel the warmth of the blood pumping through your veins, moving each muscle slowly, one by one. You knew the bone structure had settled as you curled in on yourself, facing the wall by the sink.

For the first half hour -though to you it felt like two- your mother had banged against the door, concerned by the slight creak and the heat you emitted through it. She cursed, cried. Stomped. After a while it became nothing but background noise to your ears, the vibrations going ignored against the center of your back, directly underneath her hand.

You heard her steps across the floor and the buzz of the phone line and then Sam but the searing hot pain encapsulating your muscles blocked you from hearing what he was saying; the only two words you picked up was 'let' and 'normal'. In short, he was barking reassuring sentences that were more mumbled than articulated in your ears.

More importantly, you could faintly sense just how long Sam had been on the line with your mother. Time kept going and the more it did, the clearer everything was from the white paint chipping off the door frames, to the noises in your own body.

But the heat never ceased, you couldn't find any salve that stenched and wouldn't flare your instincts even further, and any attempt to scratch yourself in frustration and ease the sting left a burning in your arm and no relief.

You were hot.

Hot.

Wet.

Hot and wet and burning.

You were burning, literally burning. Every nerve, every bit of skin was put on a sensitive scale against the brightest scalding iron fire and it fucking hurt. It fucking hurt so much, the longer it went on, and the longer it did go on, the quicker the seconds ticked by and you dripped and dripped in sweat and you couldn't seek any salvation of cold even as you continue to drown your face, your hair, your seething skin in cold water.

Your body reacted in the worst possible ways, taking every inch of your willpower to not lash out at your family members as they fussed over you in complete and utter worry, turning up the AC to arctic like degrees as they all bundled underneath quilts and heavy sweaters as the rain pattered harshly against the metal roofing.

It took an angry snarl, snapping from your teeth clacking together aggressively in the general direction of your family as their constant pacing, their buzzing over your conditions that they had finally settled. Tried to act like you weren't being tortured by your own cells, membranes, nerves and veins.

Your muscles cramped on multiple occasions in their adjustment and every time, Sam would be through the screen door, speaking loudly over the crashing of thunder and lightning, spouting off nonsense to assure you that, 'it gets better with time, it'll pass, focus on what it feels like to transform back faster'.

And you would cry out to him in rage, telling him to leave, go back home, to shut up, that this was his fault, his doing, and, for a moment, you seemed to scare yourself with just how animalistic your words were, sounding more like a literal wolf than actual human speech.

He was wrong.

Wrong.

All wrong.

This shouldn't be happening.

With nothing to help ease the pain, you'd found yourself, wrenching the knob of the faucet off of the handle and it had shattered with a small zap that you felt against your searing hands.

Again, your body convulsed, your muscles twitched and you heard a shriek in your ears at the piercing stab, the fire that licked your insides in a vicious inferno.

You sat against the flooring of the tub, breathing quick and wheezy, knees bent upward as your arms wrapped around yourself.

Hot. Hot. Hot.

It was always hot.

It was so hot.

So fucking hot that you didn't hear the slight creak of the door opening. Or the light footsteps that moved behind you.

Burning, burning, burning.

The freezing water felt like pebbles poking at your flesh until you could feel the fat beneath your skin being boiled.

You swallowed thickly, hard around the growl gathering in your throat.

Though you were drowning in what would normally feel comfortable and ease the fever swelling your skin, leaving it hot to the touch, instead it felt the same; you held no relief.

But this had worked before, or the pain eased enough that you were able to think without feeling your mind split.

On those occasions, you'd have a single moment of coherent thought before your body began trembling from an aching heat that came over you like a summer fog.

Last night had been the worst of it. Unbearable. Intense. It made your stomach do flips, threatening to spill out what little contents there were. Not even two hours ago you retched up a gallon of stomach acid, black tar-like muck. You shook through another shiver.

Ceramic shards clung to your nails like glue.

You had no care for them as you pressed your face into your knees, hoping, yearning that the water from the shower would return you back to how things were. How they should be. Normal.

A body that wasn't sore, seething. Uncomfortable.

Normal skin. That didn't catch every hue of light in the bathroom or smelled like nothing but the strong detergent used to wash away the bloody pieces of bark from the night before.

You remained with your eyes screwed shut, but you felt how quickly they blinked with need for more water. A need for something below freezing.

You waited.

Hoped.

Prayed.

You wished so hard on your breath that what was supposed to be a chilled drip instead fell like globs of goo, coating your head and shoulder blades.

You waited.

Waited.

Each second ticked and like yesterday, everything was loud again.

You heard the shower curtain crinkle slightly under the water falling freely atop you, it also made an abstract splattering sound as it hit the floor tiles but no longer fell in waves of droplets like it did before, no longer providing the soft chill to your inflamed skin.

Waited.

For your body to cooperate.

To fix itself.

You shouldn't have had to focus.

Focus.

That's the one thing that rattled your brain, pulled back and forth between each, as Sam continued with that word; he spat it out to you like it meant everything, like it should have you focusing. Yet.

Nothing.

Your muscles had ceased in the cramping but you assumed that was the first step in returning to normal.

It was still hot.

Furiously hot.

A raging wildfire.

Tears swam down your cheeks, across your lips, dipping in your mouth and clacking against your teeth and you remained as a lump of nothing in the dark room.

Waiting.

It wasn't the water that did it for you.

It was the loud, bitterly cold, small and circular patch of coolness that soon turned to multiples that struck you. You didn't feel it at first, couldn't decipher what it was you felt, but all the same, you tensed up.

Focused.

In annoyance, your muscles rippled and it put a gasp in your chest as the ice chips -or so they felt like- clanked in onto your back.

Ice.

Someone was putting ice on you.

Someone was touching you.

Someone who wasn't Sam.

It wasn't your mom.

And they were speaking.

But you couldn't hear.

Couldn't make your ears focus just on the voice.

Couldn't force your neck to twist and look as the muscles spasmed beneath the movement.

You couldn't find who spoke to you as they ran their fingers softly along your back.

From your neck and spine to the small of your being.

You couldn't make out a simple sentence either.

You couldn't make out what had happened moments before, only that the water was ceasing and your body was scorching again at the lack, only to abruptly lower to a simmer when you felt something enveloping you entirely. Something cold.

Something that must have smelled familiar yet, sickeningly sweet.

Softer than the air moving around, swishing and swaying as the curtain slid back further.

Something soft.

Something familiar but not quite within your reach yet.

You could almost remember it but in doing so your head began to pound.

Everything was loud; if it weren't you were almost certain that it would be deafening.

But then, with the last drag of each blink, you could feel the anger in you being gradually drowned out by something else, something unfamiliar. An intruder. It made your body jerk, jerk away from the cold source of salvation, jerk from the very thing that was keeping you grounded and your memory on track to forming; it made you feel weak in doing so and at the same time, scared, horrified, but calm. It put you at ease.

Almost.

And again you could smell a sweetness that flooded your nostrils and set the hairs inside teetering away from the rot, the decay. Your body jerked again. Instinctively. Out of your control.

But the cold, the cold that you slowly came to recognition with, held you firm. Limbs they were. Your vision was clouded in and out but they were limbs. Chiseled, scarred arms that felt like an ice statue come to life. Pressed so tightly against you that you began to slack. You began to hear.

"There we go... That's it..." A voice cooed softly, a dulcet soothing tone that rocked through the room and filled your ears; smooth, deep and enticing.

You swallowed harshly, a snarl stuck in the pit of your gut that stung and left you winded the moment your eyes were directed upwards. Your sight blurred instantly but the more you blinked they began to regain life. The wolf of you was being pushed further beneath the surface and the whine of protest inside went ignored for a few seconds.

"Breath and just relax. "

It was him.

Jasper.

It was Jasper.

And this time you could get a better look of him.

There were two, thick lines between his eyebrows that pushed and bulged the skin as he stared down at you in concentration, as if he were attempting to figure out the world's greatest puzzle.

His pupils were a hazy gold.

Almost a yellow.

A pale yellow, mixed with orange.

Red orange.

Almost sunset like.

"It's just me. " Jasper spoke quietly. So quiet, so gentle. Unlike his kind. Something stirred and growled inside you but in doing so Jasper's shoulders tensed and his eyes were narrowed just the slightest. "Just me. " His voice came and wafted.

You hadn't the strength to pick your limp body off of him, only to relish in the cool feeling of his skin against you and when he saw the dark pools of your black eyes clear from the threatening growl the lines above his eyebrows disappeared.

Some sort of moment had passed, a moment where he seemed to have returned to a child-like manner and focused in on you to the best of his capabilities.

"You're burning up. " A cold finger against the heat at your forehead and you jerked back but not roughly enough to leave his arms. Though the wince on your face did.

For the first time since your eyes adjusted, you met his gaze.

Slightly crumbled, Jasper's face relaxed as he offered a slow nod. "Healin' nicely. "

That's right, healing. You hadn't noticed that they were sore until he mentioned it. Scars along your face were slowly going away. "It shouldn't leave a mark. "

But what concerned you was how rough your skin felt. There was a sharp stinging as you slowly relaxed against him, and it stung like needles, and prickled like spines and thorns, the feeling was still dulled despite his cold flesh and the layer of cloth between his and your nearly-bursting skin.The white button up shirt was completely drenched, droplets slid off of the stark creams like shimmering diamonds.

"It's hot. " Was all you could get out, voice hoarse, grating against your tender flesh, torn and pulled in dozens of different directions. You wondered if talking was wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Your instincts bubbled to the surface but never quite breached to the point where you snapped and growled.

"I know. " You heard the drop in his throat, the way his breath rolled with his mouth and he bent forward, hand to your forehead, through your hair, pushing the wet strands away from your face.

He watched you intently, gaze scanning for signs that gave hint to your pain.

You closed your eyes tight but his hand slipped lower, down your cheek, and coming to just about your chin. His hand cradled you, making a cold burning under your bones, under your flushed flesh and a wave of want spilled over you that you couldn't wipe away.

"I didn't know it was like this. " It was a whisper.

Your jaw hurt but you tilted to look at him more clearly. It was his touch. His hand.

"This wasn't what I felt from you when you first changed. "

"This is the aftermath. " Another voice. Booming. Louder than his. Slightly indifferent. And both your neck and head pounded painfully as you snapped to see the owner. It was Sam. Standing in the doorway.

Your mind cleared. "You shouldn't be here. " You choked on the second word. Heard a rumble in your head but it subsided when Jasper's large, cold hand pressed firmer to your cheek, bringing you back against him.

He was so soft to you. Too soft.

Sam addressed you. Tone even. "It's forgiven. " His eyes cross Jasper's.

"Just make sure the boys don't find out. " He paused. Thinking. Then. "Be careful. " He repeated. Sam turned to take his leave. His tall frame filled the doorway almost entirely with his size but you thought nothing of him leaving, as there was yet another tremor in your stomach.

Pain, a horrible stabbing type of pain, began shooting from underneath your skin like needles and for a second you forgot of Jasper's existence, forgot of your situation, and curled into yourself in hopes the pain would go away.

It was then you felt his hands encase you, one of your shoulder blades, the other pressing to the small of your back. His fingers dug into the bare flesh and you held onto that as you shook. He felt how the veins rippled the flesh around them and an ache came to him as he reached and tugged you up, the material of his clothes catching against the shower curtain when you finally, after several minutes, allowed Jasper to pick you up, your body pressed entirely to his, and he whispered to you with his usual calmness, brushing away your hair that dripped, and gently told you to breathe.

"In and out. "

If it weren't for the fog swarming your better judgment, you might have found your resolve, snapped and jumped at the sweet gesture. But nothing was going to fight through the high fever, and aching, pungent sting from the very needle pricking every inch of your skin at once.

Jasper tried again.

"Just breathe. "

You sucked air, a short gasp and it was like broken glass sliding down your throat. Painful and nauseating but the moment Jasper's skin dug deeper into your body, holding you tighter than before, easing his embrace by stroking a cold hand along the length of your arm and slipping further downward.

"In and out... Slowly. "

The burn on your skin stopped abruptly and you heard him say "there" but it felt weird.

At ease, the moment you began breathing slowly, his cold digits like magic against your arm, traveling gradually, in circles, all the way up to the bend of your neck and just the very corner of your jaw, and then falling to your thigh and repeating the same motion. It was soothing. Like your muscles didn't know what to do with themselves.

"Are you better? " The voice bounced against his chest and you weren't quite sure how, but you managed to nod, the action causing the world to spin. Jasper nodded back at you, gaze in that constant look of concern, as if he'd never been worried a day in his life. "Do you want to stay here or do you want me to take you somewhere else?"

A low and rather aggressive growl surfaced in the back of your throat and you felt your limbs all come to a standstill and tremble. Jasper's body tensed as he looked to you. All the muscles that were massaging the sting in your body hardened, no longer soft as you wanted.

"Alright, " his eyes didn't waver from you and the golden depths had you staring, he swallowed and sighed out a heavy breath, "it's just me again. Remember that. Okay? Only me. " His voice rumbled his chest and made you feel comfortable again, easy, the boiling in your bones all began to settle.

Still, that anger you felt inside continued with that growl that made him ever so tense, ever so weary. You could feel his body lean back, situating into the curve of the tub. "I'm alone. " Jasper whispered now, lowering his head to yours, cheek to your forehead and your eyelids slid half-way down, pupils dilating just the slightest, "Breathe. " He said. "Deeply. " The tip of his cold nose brushed along the space of your skull and for a moment it appeared as if he contemplated his actions but continued on.

There you could smell the strength of his scent with an underlying sweetness to his dead flesh, the scent of a vampire; still, you didn't jump or shove him off. And he exhaled the biggest breath you had ever seen a vampire take.

He did this several times, took several deep, calming breaths. As if it were to sedate your beast within, that monstrous, ravenous hunger that lay buried beneath the confines of your now flesh and bones, but far beyond control of your own.

Eventually you caught the air without it stabbing into your lungs like those needles and his arm moved to become wrapped, almost entirely, completely around your chest, and pulling you firmer to him, moving from the crook of the bath to the center of the room, sliding in a motion so inhuman and smooth, past the wash rack and the closet, to the wall, leaning your sore back against the plaster. You leaned. Not just leaned, but collapsed against him as your body relaxed.

So strange, so inhumane and entirely disgusting at the fact that a vampire, an immortal, the vilest, putrid stench to nature, could make you feel so comforted, so tranquil, and ease all the pains you had felt.

As if the moon had begun shifting its cycle of phases while in his arms, you found yourself staring into his eyes, watching the shadows of darkness become your savior.

The pressure in your head was gone, the aching and pinching in your bones were coming to a comfortable stand still, leaving you numb in parts, and full of an incredible urge to drift off into the darkness, where you felt more... At ease.

Jasper's gaze swept over your flushed features and he slowly reached to push the loose strands of hair from your face, fingers caressing your cheek bone and over the prickled skin on your neck and slowly, down to your left shoulder.

Your collar bone.

"Is it any better?" A whisper to your ears. Rough, jagged along his cold tongue and you fought the urge to show your teeth back.

"Yeah. " It was the first word that came to you, coherent, but the word itself sent a sharp pain up the muscle and you winced visibly. Jasper's eyes searched your face once more but never directly met yours.

When your heart began spazzing for his affection, you bit your tongue.

"Don't try to talk anymore. Rest. " His voice was soft and the muscles below your flesh rippled as he acted as a crutch on the way to your bedroom. It was at the end of the hall and to the right.

At the door his nose wrinkled, as did the skin along his upper lip, but he said nothing of the burning smell of wet dog.

His steps were swift as he carefully positioned himself through the threshold.

You stumbled to your mattress and fell weakly at the foot of it, Jasper's grip loosening and fingers unfurling from your flesh.

You settled into the cooled sheets and watched him intently as he carefully closed the door behind him. You only lifted your torso and crawled on your knees up to the pillows and got lost in there. They hid your flushed, irritated body against the rough surface.

Jasper stood for what felt like a long time near the door, standing by your closet and watched. You were too exhausted to think, it was nearing the start of daylight outside, and your eyes shut involuntarily, each blink longer than the last.

You were so tired but the anger persisted even when sleep took you. You dreamt not.

Unintentionally, you fell asleep.

For Jasper, however, he stood for several minutes just staring at your still body.

All was quiet and peaceful, the world outside was just wakening with the sounds of the birds, and the leaves were still, unmoving, but the air was dry. Just a couple of hours ago and this same place was like a cave. Smelling of beasts, of fur and musk, the woods themselves had a strong scent in this area, yet it changed suddenly.

To normalcy. And he wasn't quite sure how he felt, what the rest of the family, of his brothers and sisters, his mother and father would say when he returned smelling of dog.

The type of dog that sought to cease their existence.

Their natural doom.

The very dog that'd nearly tore their heads from their bodies days prior.

However, being this close to you and noticing the increase in hormones among all other smells, though, for the most part, the odor was horrendous, more specifically, that you were feeling better, not dying or in any more pain, was enough for Jasper to ignore anything else.

#jasper hale #jasper hale x male reader #jasper hale x gn reader #twilight #twilight saga #sam uley #twilight wolfpack #carlisle cullen #edward cullen #twilight vampires #jasper hale x reader #jasper x you #twilight x you #jasper hale x y/n #twilight x y/n #werewolf reader #twilight wolves #jasper whitlock

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thatmoththoth · 3 months ago

Text

You know what I’m making a catelog of as many mechanism animatics and animations as I can find:

OUTIS

‘Once’

Old King Cole

‘The Twins’

Rose Red

‘Snow’s Flight’

Pump Shanty

‘The Bride’

Cinder’s Song

‘The Resistance Grows’

Our Boy Jack

‘The Aurora Strikes’

Sleeping Beauty

‘Endgame’

No Happy Ending

‘Chapter The Last’

Laid in Blood

UDAD

‘The City’

Broken Horses

‘Olympians’

My Name is No-One

‘Trial by Wits’

Riddle of the Sphinx

‘Ulysses’s Will”

Sirens

‘Trial by Strength’

Favoured Son

‘Loose Threads’

Trial By Song

‘Hades’

Underworld Blues

‘Trial By Love’

Ties That Bind

‘The Daidala’

Torn Suits

‘Sunrise’

Elysian Fields

HNOC

“The Tower”

Gunfight at the Dolorous Guard

“Strength”

Empty Trail

“Death”

The Hanged Man Rusts

“The Hierophant”

Hellfire

“The Lovers”

Blood and Whiskey (unfinished)

“The Fool”

Skin and Bone

“The Hermit”

Holder of the Grail (Partial)

“Judgement”

Peacemaker (partial)//Alt1 (Partial)

“Justice”

Once and Future King

TBI

Black Box

Odin

Cold Case

Loki

Person of Interest

Thor

Conspiracy to Commit Treason

Sigyn

White Noise

Losing Track

Expert Testimony

Red Signal//Alt 1

Ragnarok I: Runaway

Ragnarok II: The Calling

Ragnarok III: Strange Meeting

Ragnarok IV: Jormungandr (unfinished)//Alt 1 (Partial)

Ragnarok V: End of the Line

Terminus

Additional Songs

Tales To Be Told // Alt 1 (partial)

The Ignominious Demise of Dr Pilchard // Alt 1 (partial)

Swan Song

Actaea and Lyssa (partial)

Lucky Sevens (partial)

Lost in the Cosmos (loop)

Cyberian Demons

Fun & Violence

Frankenstein

Death to the Mechanisms//Alt 1 (partial)

MISC

Brass Goggles

Out

High Noon Over Camelot

The Ballad of Jane Doe

Breakcore in a Nutshell But it’s The Mechanisms

This Is How Who Killed Dr Carmilla Went Right?

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Who broke it?

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Gunpowder Tim Cancels Jonny

#more to be added #feel free to send more for me to add #the mechanisms #catelog #the mechs #ouatis #once upon a time (in space)#udad #ulysses dies at dawn #hnoc #high noon over camelot #the mechanisms tbi #the bifrost incident #tales to be told

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hannahhook7744 · 1 month ago

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Vera Rivera Madrigal Headcanons;

Her full name is Vera Coco Rivera Madrigal.

She is 6 years old by d3.

She is the second youngest child of Miguel Rivera and Mirabel Madrigal.

She has the gift of flight.

Her birthday is December 17th, which makes her a Sagittarius.

Vera has Mirabel’s skin tone and Miguel’s big brown eyes with rosie red cheeks, big ears, buck teeth, and long frizzy, wavy, slightly curly golden blonde hair that goes down to her mid-back.

After her gift ceremony, she was gifted angel-like white and gold wings that can be folded out of existence that allow her to steer her flight. If she lost them, she would be able to fly or float still but it would be more difficult without the ability to steer or shield herself from a bad fall.

She adores the colors pink, yellow, purple, white, and red as well as bows, dresses, and skirts (she is very much what one would call a girly girl). It is pretty much all she wears.

Vera has an ungodly amount of energy and could run and play and dance all day without putting a dent into said energy. It’s been like this since she was a baby.

She got glasses when she was four and handled it rather well…unlike Mariana and Mirabel, who were not at all happy to get glasses when they did.

The blonde absolutely adores any winged creature. She does not care what it is, if the thing has wings or can fly, she loves it. Which is unfortunate for Mariana, because that includes bugs which her older sister is absolutely terrified of.

Vera’s favorite season is summer, which is funny because her name means summer in Latin.

Vera loves origami—she mainly makes paper airplanes, origami bugs,and origami birds though.

Some people in the Encanto have a nasty habit of touching her wings without permission when they're out—they do the same with Arlo’s hair. Unlike Arlo, Vera finds it very hard to say no to people/stand up to people when they do this.

Lucky Vera has her family to stand up for her.

She likes when Mirabel brushes her hair, but doesn't like when anyone else (aside from Princesa, Dolores, and Marcelo) does because very few people in their family know how to take care of her hair without brushing against her wings or tugging too quickly/much.

Her and Princesa get along great since they've both inherited the random blonde gene in the family.

She's a daddy’s girl and wants to be a musician when she grows up like her dad.

Unfortunately for her, she absolutely sucks at playing the guitar AND the piano no matter how hard she tries to learn.

She's killer at the harp, ukulele, and violin though and is learning how to play the drummers, so she'll still be able to accomplish her dreams.

Vera goes to the Encanto's only public school and doesn't care whether she goes to Auradon Prep or not. School is school. Whether she likes it or not doesn't change things.

Vera is single and as of right now does not have or show interest in anyone at the moment as more than friends but it's subject to change as she ages.

Vera is very close friends with Lena Cove, Karina Collodi-Rossi-Liddell, Christina Bones,Fabian Collodi-Rossi-Liddell, Blue Veronica Rossí, and Samantha Cove.

The blonde has been described as kind, shy, reserved, gentle, fair, caring, faithful, eager, trusting, and smart as well as quiet, cheerful, clumsy, forgetful, impatient, and imaginative.

Vera is rather smart and even tempered for her age, and is very curious.

She's also daydreaming constantly and loves to play this game where she's the princess of a cloud kingdom called ‘the kingdom of the sky’.

People have said that she looks a lot like Miguel, which she takes pride in. She’s also been told she looks like Princesa and her Abuela Luisa.

Loves playing hide ‘n seek but hates playing with Mariana and Marisol because she can never find either of them (because Mariana is always hiding under the rug and Casita helps her, and Marisol knows where all the secret passages go. Not that she knows that).

Vera fell out of the Tree House Agustín built once when she was three. None of the older kids told anybody and just gave her some of Julieta's cooking after making sure she didn't hurt her head. It's one of her earliest memories.

That's also why she's so good at being sneaky despite being so little.

Vera, like Antonio, hears more than people think and will oftentimes scare the fuck out of people by dropping information she’s not supposed to have into a conversation.

Her favorite aunt is Luisa And her favorite uncle is Bubo.

Her favorite candy is any kind of chocolates—her favorite chocolates are Chocolates Madrigal, though.

Her favorite bedtime story is the book of life. BUT she also has no complaints about having ‘the Skeleton Man’ read to her as a bedtime story.

Her favorite holiday is Halloween. She usually dresses as ‘skeletal cupid’.

Her favorite musician is her dad but she also likes listening to the music that her cousins and her siblings’ music, too.

Her favorite songs are “Remember Me” (which her dad sings to her as a lullaby) and “Charm Me Maybe”.

She has a pet/animal companion named ‘Featherplums’, who is an antbird. Antonio gave him to her.

She likes catching and releasing bugs, and she collects fake/dead ones. She'd likely be a professional bird watcher or Entomologist if she was unable to become a professional musician for some reason.

She does not, however, like horses because they always try to buck her off or run her down whenever they see her. The only exception is Mirabel's horse, Needles. Truth be told, they scare her.

Vera loves flying and wishes her parents would allow her to fly higher but doesn't argue with them too much about it because they did a good job of explaining to her that they were just scared of her getting hurt.

She's woken up herself up more than once after accidentally flying into the wall.

Despite the fact that Vera doesn't always have her wings (since she can retract them), she still has to preen her feathers and she still molts.

The first time she molted after getting her gifts she cried because her wings were so itchy and no one knew what was going on until Antonio got home and got look at them.

She needs help when it comes to preening and cleaning her wings because obviously she can't reach the entire length of them.

She also likes those lollipops with insects in them.

Her favorite animals that are not winged are dogs.

Her favorite flower is the dandelion because she likes blowing them out.

Vera's favorite shows are ‘The Thunderbolt Adventure Hour’, ‘Aurora The Explorer’, and ‘Toddlers without Tiaras’.

Her favorite business to visit outside of the Encanto is The Briar Rose—a restaurant that only sells desserts.

Her paternal family has a picture of her crying on Santa's knee when she was about one or two.

Likes painting wooden carvings and is pretty decent at it.

Vera doesn't like getting her wings wet because she doesn't like how it feels.

She is terrified of needles.

She has flown into a window more than once and refuses to acknowledge that it's ever happened because she's so embarrassed.

Slipped walking into the cafeteria at school on a rainy day and walked right back out without looking at anyone. She was mortified. She only returned because José, Avila, and Dayana promised to beat up anyone who made fun of her. It also probably helped that Amada and Renata held her hands when they walked back in.

She loves playing video games with Marcelo (who usually lets her win though she doesn't know it). Her favorite is ‘Hero Rising’.

Her favorite play is ‘12 Angry Dalmatians’.

She enjoys watching plays more than being in them.

She slept through the night quicker than her other siblings did and she doesn't usually remember her dreams.

Broke her wing once after getting caught in clothes’ lines. Which she is now afraid of.

Her favorite food that Julieta makes is Zesty and Exceptional Fish Ceviche.

Her favorite dessert that Julieta makes is ‘Coconut Fudgies For Pepa’s happiest mood’.

Her favorite drink that Julieta makes is Lulo Juice.

Vera gets along great with her Abuela Julieta and loved being carried around by her as a toddler.

She likes listening to Marisol's stories and has fallen asleep to them on more than one occasion.

Her biggest dream, unrelated to job aspirations, is to meet the Grinch, Rudolph, or the Great Pumpkin.

Vera adores horror movies and horror stories, and tries to sneak watch them whenever she can even though she's technically not allowed to watch them.

Accidentally stole a candy bar once and cried because she felt so bad, and thought she was going to jail.

Told the ‘If I was you I would be really sad’ girl the exact same thing she told Mirabel, only she said it about the girl's job. Mirabel was mortified but not as mortified as said girl who got flashbacks to what she said to Mirabel and couldn't look her in the eye. Yes, that girl had babysat Vera before.

Vera's baby blanket is gold with ladybugs on it and the stuffed animal Mirabel made her as a baby is a dove.

Met her deceased family in a dream once and nobody is sure whether it was real or not.

Vera is a sound sleeper and it takes a lot to get her to stirr. She doesn't move around in her sleep or snore—she just stays in the position she fell asleep in.

She drools in her sleep.

Loves learning new things.

Camilo told her once that the table manners man would come and stare ar her until she behaved, and completely forgot about it. Vera believed in the table manners man for three years whole heartedly

Marcelo is her favorite sibling, hands down.

She nearly floated off after her gift ceremony and now she wears weighted shoes to ensure that she can't ever float too far off uncontrollably ever again.

She can do a handstand and a cartwheel.

Vera loves doing tricks in the air when she flies but has gotten hurt on more than one occasion because she's clumsy.

She once poured water on someone and flew away after she heard them insulting Marcelo. No one ever figured out it was her.

Vera is also friends with the tooth fairy. She also adores her and her army of little baby teeth (aka littler fairies).

She's lactose intolerant.

She likes fidget toys and squishy toys.

She also enjoys coloring and dancing.

Whenever one of the kids in the house breaks something, Vera is the go-to person to hide the original. Leta is usually the one to make a replica of the thing that was broken so that the adults don't notice.

Vera’s door shows the blonde soaring through the clouds with her wings spread out, eyes closed and a small smile on her face.

Vera's room is a little bigger than the nursery with wallpaper that shows birds flying on a sky blue, cloudy background and pink carpet.

She has a big bird cage in the corner of her room that she can enter that her bird rests in occasionally (Vera has accidentally locked herself in it three times since she got her room).

She has a nest made of soft fabric with a circular, thin but comfortable mattress in it. The nest is full of winged stuffed animals, blankets, and pillows.

The main/biggest blanket in the nest is the pink and purple bug and bird patterned, bowed quilt Mirabel made her.

She has a coloring table that has her favorite cartoon character (Thunderbolt) in her room with a winged chair.

She has a dresser for her clothes with knick knacks everywhere on top of it and an angel music box on top of it that plays ‘Remember Me’ whenever wound up.

One corner of her room has a case for her bug collection.

The ceiling in her room shows a colorful pastel rainbow sky that is endless.

Her wall is decorated in magazine cut outs of birds, bugs, and wings, and pictures of family members. There's also a couple of posters from her favorite shows.

She has a secret bookcase in her room that flips around when her parents are in the room. She also has a tv that gets absorbed into the wall when they enter too.

Vera also has a toucan toy chest in one corner of the room and a little area where she can practice her music.

Oh and she has a few skulls in her room. No one is sure where she got them.

She got jump scared one time when she awoke in the middle of the night to find a sleepwalking Renata in her room.

Vera will remind others in the midst of chaos how good they're being.

Before Vera got her gift, she used to be scared of the dark and would run to Marcelo for comfort. She outgrew her fear of the dark not long after getting her gift and still doesn't know that her big brother is terrified of the dark.

Vera does not know that Marcelo was sick and will not know until she's much older.

Her friends and siblings and cousins joked once that if she found a portal to another dimension she would enter it without a second thought to explore. It was funny until Vera agreed.

Marcelo made her promise to at least get him first if she found one.

Vera has a diary and she writes mostly with glitter pens and colored pencils.

Vera is a good singer.

When Vera is in a bad headspace, she'll often wake up to find that she's floated so far up in her room that she can no longer see the floor. Which is probably half of the reason why she's terrified that she'll float away and never be seen again one day if she doesn't learn how to control her powers/ever loses her weighted shoes.

When her gift acts up, she'll unwillingly start floating and her wings will disappear on her—which has caused her to face plate on the rare occasions that it's happened.

Vera has beef with Osvaldo and is very open about it. She has hated that man from birth and no one knows why.

She has a secret social media account: no one knows it exists. She uses it to look at Thunderbolt fanart and literally nothing else. It has not occurred to her to use it for anything else. Casita is pulling the strings to keep her from seeing the more unsavory stuff.

Is very much the kid who will say “I’m six and a half” as if it's that big of a difference.

She's ticklish.

Vera wants to learn archery when she's older.

The day she hears the story of Icarus is the day a brand new fear is unlocked.

Marcelo saved her from a kidnapping attempt once using nothing but a shoe.

Oh and Vera, like Dolores, absolutely hates getting unnecessarily dirty.

#descendants #disney descendants #melissa de la cruz #disney #descendants au #wicked world #disney descendants au #oc descendants #disney descendants oc #descendants oc #descendants original characters #encanto ocs #encanto #encanto next generation #encanto next gen #encanto concept art #mirabel x miguel #crossover ships #etc

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disdoorted-crows · 1 year ago

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i made a list of folk songs the mechs used in their music and now you can have it too

have you ever been listening to a folk playlist and thought, 'hey, i think i've heard this one on a mechs album!'? well, you probably have! the mechs' songs, especially their early stuff like once upon a time in space, often contained tunes from popular folk songs!

disclaimer: i got a lot of this information from either the genius lyrics page for the song or the lyric video from TheVoidSings, who of course has lyric videos for (i believe) all the mechs songs out there. so, shoutout to them for doing the research! i just compiled it. also, this is an incomplete list; it's just all the ones i could find.

the queens court - the deserter

tim goes crazy - battle hymn of the republic

the recruiters song - pack up your troubles in your old kit-bag

gassed last night - bombed last night

the toy soldiers song - over the hills and far away

blood and whiskey - o were I on Parnassus hill

pump shanty - pump shanty

cinders song - haul away joe

rose red - rose red

old king cole - old king cole

laid in blood - fifteen men on a dead man's chest

our boy jack - bella ciao

sleeping beauty - let all mortal flesh keep silence (picardy)

broken horses - skibbereen

sirens - gently johnny

riddle of the sphinx - greensleeves

favoured son - the rocky road to dublin

underworld blues - last kind words blues

ties that bind - blue in green

elysian fields - i am a poor wayfaring stranger

one eyed jacks - the house of the rising sun/when jonny comes marching home

iphis - house carpenter

pellinore and the beast - barbara allen

gunfight at the dolorous guard - my funny valentine

empty trail - when the levee breaks

the hanged man rusts - lannigan's ball

hellfire - dem bones (💀💀💀)

skin and bone - the raggle taggle gypsies

holder of the grail - the rising of the moon

peacemaker - sinnerman

once and future king - the snow it melts the soonest

thor - drowsy maggie

ragnarok I runaway - crazy train

drop dead - matty groves

lost in the cosmos - bonny grovewoodside

chop of their heads - mouse round (mending song)

#the mechanisms #folk music

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gxldencity · 8 months ago

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Also also Dolores's blood magic isn't just.....controlling ppl or using blood in place of mana. She can also control ppl's organs and their hormones and body temperatures. So similar to a heartrender in the grishaverse

Cliff notes back story for revamping Dolores to dragon age

- Dario Alvaros, her human father, is an Antivan merchant, specifically facillitating trade in the coastal cities around the North. Her grandma Isabela Alvaros (Belarra Alvaros in Forgotten Realms alfkksd who clearly needed a name change lmao) is a merchant prince who inherited the title after her husband died. (Word on the streets is she either poisoned him or got the Crows involved)

- Corazon Marasigan, her mom, is the daughter of an elven merchant from Seheron. The Marasigan family are Old and could trace their lineage to before the occupation (and yes they are all elves). Basically, at some point after the war in the Blessed Age, they packed up and left the capital and established their own village on the coast. They get the Qun and the Imperium off their backs through contracts with pirates and mercenaries and the occasional Fog Warrior

- Marasigans specialize in trading rice, bananas and ofc spices. Basically stuff that doesn't exist anywhere in the South. (This is also how the get the Imperium off their backs lmao)

- SO Isabel Alvaros didn't care that Dario got engaged to an elf when he came back from his regular 6 month excursions to bc that elf came with a Huge dowry of spices and trading deals. Like she saw money essentially.

- She's still the eldest daughter of 4. Her father also had arranged for her to marry another merchant prince's son (Lorenzo Salvatore) when they were both Young which fell apart obv when she got thrown into the Circle

- She grew up mainly around Seheron (in her mom's village, Baliwag) but spent summers in Antiva in her grandmother's villa in Treviso. She liked her grandma well enough but also Isabel expected for her grandchildren to look less....elven

- Her magic appeared when she was 9 but it wasn't explosive or anything. With the help of her mom and some local tutors (babaylans) she was able to hide it for about a year until Domenico's powers showed while they were in Treviso. Isabel was pretty pissed and called for the Templars to take them away. Corazon tried to reason with Dario that the kids deserve to stay in Seheron and Dolores has been making progress in hiding her powers.

- Dario wanted to appease his mother so he agreed with sending Dolores and Domenico to the Antivan Circle.

- Her life in the Circle was as typical as it can be for a mage. She kept her head low and never got in trouble with the Templars. She did get fairly acquainted with a Chantry sister (tempted to Make this Georgie lmao) who was her first in everything. One day the Chantry sister never came back from the Circle and Dolores feels some type of guilt that she caused this.

- at some point she got in contact with a spirit of ambition. For many years, she ignored the spirit's calling and then the Circles collapsed then the Breach happened which made Dolores seek out the Spirit for comfort.

- She was 16 when the Circles collapsed and Domenico was 11. A few of the Antivan mages went to join the rebellion. Some loyalists tried to collectively form their own Circle (without a Circle ig). Others just....peaced out and went to the woods. Dolores chose to follow her teacher, Enchanter Valentina bc she's....16 and her brother is practically a kid lmao. Enchanter Valentina was a staunch Isolationist so after breaking their phylacteries they ran off to the woods with the other Isolationists to establish their mage commune.

- mage commune was pretty peaceful but at the same time no one here as any rl experiences lmao. So it was a mess and a half trying to find supplies without alerting anyone but they get there and managed to create a pretty egalitarian commune

- at this point Dolores started experimenting with blood magic at the encouragement of her spirit. Mainly with animal blood though then eventually with her own blood (if necessary).

- domenico's latent dreamer powers awakened a year after the Breach which causes More problems and no body in the magi commue knows how to deal with him so they were subsequently kicked out of the commune.

- Dolores realizes that there's only one place that could help Domenico and that is in Tevinter so she takes him there.

And that's it for now lmao before we get more info on the factions and what not.

#this reminds me...ill probably overwrite how emmrich's necromancer powers work to be more like.........a tlt necro lmao #time to grow Bones #dolores mercar #dante aldwir #uhh half of these dont really make sense anymore but just throwing it to her tat

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arathejedi394 · 5 months ago

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nobody asked for this snippet and nobody deserves it either

The pups start to settle. Steve is distracted by his hunger and weariness and the weight of his season blooming, however. As he's tucking in one of the two-year-olds, a draft comes through the nursery.

Steve looks up and sees the door open.

"Oh, no," he whispers.

He quickly runs outside. He sees small footprints heading towards the center of the village. Steve shuts the door behind him, making sure it latches, and then hastens in the wake of the footprints.

One of the five-year-olds has reached the edge of the party and is trying to sneak food. Steve runs up behind them and snatches them up.

"No!" they wail. "Mama!"

"You're going to get us both in so much trouble!" Steve snaps at the pup, who begins to cry.

Steve tries to get away before the noise attracts attention, but he never has good luck.

"Oh, gods, no," Peggy gasps as she sees them, "Steven! You ungrateful little wench, what do you think you're doing?!"

"I –” Steve tries to begin.

"The dragon is going to see you!" Jasper snaps, hurrying up to usher Steve away. "You'll ruin everything!"

"It's not my fault!" Steve says desperately.

"Liar!" Dolores accuses, snatching the wailing child from his arms. "I'll take the poor thing to their mama."

"They ran out!" Steve insists.

"Get back to the nursery!" Peggy snaps at him.

A shadow falls over Steve and the two irate Omegas. Steve turns slowly towards the fire and his eyes go wide.

The dragon stands before them, his face darkened around the eyes with black paint. He is still shirtless and now Steve can see that he is also barefoot; he wears only a heavy fur tasset and wide belt and braces on his forearms and calves. He stands head and shoulders above the Omegas and Steve barely sees Chief Alpha Garrett and Alpha Rumlow standing behind him, their eyes just barely on level with his shoulders.

Steve just blinks up at the dragon. The top of his head barely matches the dragon’s solar plexus.

"My apologies, good sir," Chief Alpha Garrett says as he hastens to stand between Steve and the dragon. "This child is an orphan, rescued from another pack. He's meant to be resting in our nursery with the other pups."

The dragon pushes Chief Alpha Garrett aside. Garrett stumbles from the force of the dragon's hand. Jasper and Peggy shrink away, their eyes wide. Steve is frozen where he stands, hands gripped close to his chest.

"There you are," the dragon murmurs in a deep, gravely voice. “Finally.”

Steve can only blink and gawk.

"My friend," Garrett starts.

The dragon throws up a hand, immediately causing Garrett to fall silent. The dragon takes another step nearer to Steve, coming so close that there's hardly a finger's length between them and Steve has to crane his neck to look up at him. The dragon stares down at him and somehow, Steve can see the fire reflected in his eyes.

"Do you know how long I've been looking for you, little one?" the dragon says softly.

The dragon touches Steve's face with a gentle hand. Steve sucks in a gasp, his whole body shuddering at once. Not from fear or even arousal, but at the sheer heat emanating from the dragon's hand and how utterly chilled to the bone Steve is. He impulsively grabs the dragon's wrist, clinging to him to hold him in place. His eyes are wide as he looks up at the dragon.

"You can call me Bucky, sweet boy," the dragon says. "What is your name?"

Steve jolts; he starts to stammer, unsure how to respond as his brain starts whizzing with want and need and cold and so hungry just at being called sweet. No one has ever called him something so nice.

"What is his name?" the dragon – Bucky – says to Chief Alpha Garrettt.

"His name is not important," Garrettt says hastily. "Sir, I assure you, this is not the one you are looking for, this child is infertile, defective. He isn't truly an Omega."

"Did I ask what you think of him?" Bucky growls. "I asked what his name is."

"It's Steve," Steve whispers.

Bucky's eyes snap back to his. Steve is frozen in place still, heart hammering in surprise at the sound of his own voice. Bucky smiles, lips curling away from his teeth to show sharp fangs, longer and more pointed than any wolf's.

"What a pretty name for a pretty Omega, Steve," Bucky murmurs.

Bucky takes Steve's hands, then. He lifts them and tucks his nose into Steve's wrists. He inhales deeply and Steve gasps, ears and cheeks flaming hot as his body responds with immediate need in his lower belly.

"It seems I've arrived just in time," Bucky says in nearly a growl. "Don't worry, my pet, it won't take long to reach my mountain. You should pack your things now."

"What?" Alpha Rumlow snaps as Steve’s eyes widen. "Barnes, you can't possibly be serious! Don't you see what he is!"

"I see that he is beautiful," Bucky says in an abrupt snarl as he twists around to look at Rumlow. "I see that he is perfect in every single way the gods could have intended. And I can damn well also see that he's fucking starving! Go fetch him something to eat!"

Rumlow gulps and looks to Garrett. Steve also looks to Garrett, positively mortified. Garrett clears his throat.

"My Lord," Garrett says with great humility, a tone Steve's never heard from him, and Bucky turns to look at him. "Not that I doubt your senses, but perhaps you are tired. You have been traveling a very long time, after all. Possibly the treasure you've been tracking is simply near Steve?"

"It sounds like you doubt my senses," Bucky snaps. "Do you think I would be able to follow a scent trail across ten thousand miles and then not be able to pinpoint it once it is right under my nose?!"

Steve looks hopelessly to Peggy, silently begging her to explain to him what's happening. Peggy doesn't even notice him.

"You're tired," Garrett tries again.

Bucky growls at him. Garrett shuts his mouth with a snap, his face going red. He looks like an Alpha pup that's been snapped at with his sire's Alpha voice. Steve is amazed.

Bucky turns his gaze back on Steve. He tucks both of Steve's hands into one of his, easily covering both with his large palm, and once again brushes a gentle hand against Steve's cheek. Steve gulps.

"I'll have them give you something to tide you over for the flight home," he says. "I can imagine you will have no fond memories of this place, yes?"

"Um," Steve whispers, his voice barely leaving his throat.

"What is it, sweetheart?" Bucky asks.

"I –” Steve begins. "I'm –”

He stops again, just shaking his head. Bucky cups his chin. Steve feels the cold all over the rest of his body and then he feels a strong urge to dive into Bucky's arms. He's sure it will feel like in his dreams. Bucky puts out heat like a fire. And of course, he does. He's a dragon.

"Yes, baby?" Bucky prompts.

Steve shakes his head jerkily. "I don't understand," he croaks out.

"What don't you understand?" Bucky asks calmly.

Steve blinks several times. He glances over at Chief Alpha Garrett, but he's never gotten help from him before and has no idea why he anticipates it now. He looks back to Bucky, who is frowning.

"Do you have a chosen Alpha already?" Bucky asks, his voice nearly begging for Steve to answer no.

"Of course not," Steve blurts. "Why –? Why are you asking that?"

Bucky relaxes into a smile and he chuckles. He steps even nearer and Steve sucks in a breath. Bucky bends low at the waist and tucks his forehead against Steve's. Steve struggles to control his breathing, but now all he can smell is Bucky; a rich, sweet smoke and enticing Alpha musk and sweat. Steve feels lightheaded.

"I would hate for my treasure to be promised to another Alpha," Bucky murmurs to him. "That would be… Unpleasant."

"Treasure?" Steve repeats in a whisper.

"Yes," Bucky answers. "Your pack chief tells me that your people call their treasures their mates instead."

Steve's eyes go very wide.

"No," he whispers. "No, no, I'm dreaming. This is a cruel, awful dream!"

"It's not a dream, honey," Bucky says quickly, his hand now moving around Steve's back, enveloping him in such warmth. "I'm here, I'm really here, baby, I promise."

Steve just shakes his head. Bucky frowns down at him.

"My Lord," Garrett cuts in. "I'm very sorry to tell you this, but Steven – Steven is a runt, he cannot be mated!"

"Did anyone ask you?" Bucky snarls at Garrett, flashing his teeth at him as his eyes glow orange. "Is this how you've treated my treasure all these years? Starving him, insulting him, demeaning him!"

"Certainly not!" Garrett answers with some aggression, though it seems childish in the face of Bucky's. "He is our nursery-maid, we keep him well and we care for him like one of our own!"

Steve feels tears pricking at his eyes. So this is how Garrett will save the pack from losing the opportunity to have dragons born into it. Convincing the dragon that Steve is some abandoned child from far away rather than born in the same village as everyone else.

Bucky whips around, ignoring Garrett, and he lets out a soft coo as he looks into Steve's eyes. Steve sucks in a shaking breath, trying to control himself.

"Don't cry, my sweet, don't cry," Bucky whispers to him. "I'm going to take you away from these horrible people, you'll never hear a harsh word spoken against you ever again."

Steve shakes his head with a jerk. Bucky frowns and he draws Steve in closer, pressing him against his chest with firm hands at the small of his back, and Steve feels so warm.

"Why do you shake your head like that, darling?" Bucky asks, stroking Steve's cheek. "What's wrong? Do you not want to leave?"

"Of course I do," Steve admits in a hoarse voice. "But – But my chief is right! I'm just a runt, I can't be mated!"

"That's a filthy lie," Bucky says, a growl nearing his voice. "I'll take you to my mountain and show you just how easy it will be for me to bond with you. I can prove it tonight."

"You can't!" Steve insists.

"I can," Bucky says, now actually growling. "What other disgusting lies have they been feeding you? Is that all they've been feeding you? Where's that damn brat with your meal?" he adds, turning around.

Rumlow is still standing behind them.

"I told you to get him something to eat," Bucky growls.

Rumlow jerks and hurries off, like a little mouse. Steve shakes his head.

"Please, lord, you must be making a mistake!" Garrett tries again. "Surely there are other, better Omegas –”

"If I hear you say one more word about my treasure I will cook you where you stand," Bucky snarls at Garrett, smoke even trailing from his lips.

Garrett backs off. He looks defeated.

"He's right!" Steve tries desperately. "You – You must be looking for a different Omega! I can't be your mate!"

Bucky fixes him with a gentle look. Steve feels very brittle all over, like the second Bucky puts him down he will simply shatter into a million pieces.

"I have been tracking your scent for three years," Bucky says softly. "I know exactly who my treasure is, and it's you."

Steve shakes his head. Three years, he thinks. He’d only just presented three years ago. How could Bucky have picked up the scent of your first heat. cups his cheek and touches their foreheads together again.

"My sweet boy," Bucky murmurs, "you've been so badly mistreated. I'm so sorry it took me so long to find you, precious."

"I –” Steve whispers uselessly.

"Your scent is like cinnamon and vanilla and allspice," Bucky murmurs to him. "When you're sad or frightened, it turns into a scent like vodka, like it is now. When you're happy, it's rich and spicy. When you're needy, it's so sweet. I know exactly who you are, Stevie."

Steve blinks away tears. Bucky's hands go to Steve's waist and then he's lifting Steve off his feet. Steve's stomach flips upside down and then he's being tucked into Bucky's firm chest, a beautiful heat wrapping around him and settling into his very blood. Steve shivers anyway. His stomach grumbles in hunger.

"Rumlow!" Bucky calls out. "Hurry up!"

Bucky carries Steve in his arms up to the bonfire, to a bench in front of a large, polished table. Rumlow puts a plate of rabbit stew and bread down in front of Bucky and backs off. Steve looks down at it in awe, not even touching it.

Bucky picks up the bread and offers it to him. Steve's hands tremble as he takes it. He hesitates, however. He knows once Bucky leaves, he will be in so much trouble for taking advantage of this situation. He might be denied food for weeks. They might finally banish him.

Steve has a sudden thought. So what if Bucky is confused by who his mate really is? If he can hold up the pretense long enough for Bucky to take him away, perhaps he'll be allowed to serve in Bucky's household once he finds his true mate.

Steve digs into the bread with abandon. It's so delicious he can't help but groan in appreciation. He can feel every eye of his packmates on him, staring with hatred. He doesn't care. He hates them, too.

"There, pet," Bucky says. "You have some supper and then we can collect your things and leave."

"I don't have anything that belongs to me," Steve tells Bucky, his mouth partially full still. "Not even these clothes, really."

"Don't you have a nest?" Bucky asks.

Steve swallows, feeling shame grip his belly.

"Runts don't nest," he tells Bucky.

"Ridiculous," Bucky answers, however. "I can smell it on you, you've been nesting for weeks, your heat is barely a day away."

"Runts don't have heats," Steve insists, mortified.

Bucky suddenly presses his face into Steve's neck, making him drop the bread as he gasps. Bucky growls softly and Steve feels himself shiver internally.

"You're going into heat, sweetling," Bucky says firmly. "Whether these pieces of shit say you can or not."

Steve, trembling, picks up the bread. He resumes eating it, not wanting to really answer Bucky. He quickly finishes it, but his stomach growls still.

"Here," Bucky says, picking up the plate of stew.

Steve looks at it for a moment, surprised.

"What are you waiting for?" Bucky prompts.

Steve goes to take it, but his hands are shaking so badly he nearly spills all of it. He whines and draws back, pressing into a Bucky's chest and hiding his face.

"Aw, baby, it's alright," Bucky murmurs. "Here."

Bucky puts the plate down, but lifts a spoon and tucks it into the rich stew. He raises it and holds it near Steve's face. Steve slowly lifts his head, then glances at Bucky, eyes wide again.

"Go on," Bucky encourages him.

Steve looks back to the spoon, then grasps Bucky's wrist and opens his mouth, leaning in. Bucky tucks the spoon past his lips and Steve closes them, taking the portion of stew from the spoon and beginning to chew. He moans again, his mouth overwhelmed by the rich flavor of it.

"You sure are hungry," Bucky says with a chuckle.

Steve swallows quickly. "I can stop," he whispers.

"No, no, you don't have to," Bucky answers, cupping Steve's chin again. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, I didn't mean like that. I just meant you must like the stew."

Steve glances at Bucky's face, then away and nods. Bucky leans in and rests his forehead against his temple.

“Eat your stew,” Bucky says softly. “Then, you can get anything that is yours and we can go.”

Steve shakes his head. “Nothing is mine,” he repeats.

Bucky casts a glance over at Alpha Garrett, his lips pressed thinly together. “Well,” he says. “You will want for nothing from now on.”

Steve looks down into the bowl, not sure how to answer. He just eats.

When the bowl is empty, Bucky stands up, still holding Steve.

“Bring me a thick cloak,” he tells Garrett. “We will be leaving now.”

“Please, my lord,” Garrett tries one more time, “at least speak with our unmated Omegas one more time, perhaps –”

“I have found my treasure and I will leave with him,” Bucky snaps. “Bring me a cloak.”

Garrett deflates. If Steve weren’t so worried about what will happen to him once Bucky realizes he can’t be his mate, he’d laugh. Garrett waves to someone, who hurries off. They return with a large, thick cloak a moment later, which Bucky takes.

“Wrap in this, my sweet,” he says. “Then I will pick you up and we’ll leave.”

“Shouldn’t we wait for morning?” Steve asks.

“My home isn’t far by wing,” Bucky says with a smile. “Five or six hours. Get some sleep if you’d like.”

Steve’s eyes widen and he quickly dons the cloak. People begin to back up and Bucky moves into a more open space among the tables. He shakes himself, then cracks his neck. Steve watches, his mouth open in awe, as Bucky exhales a heavy plume of smoke from his nose. His body then begins to shift. A wolf shifts in just a tremble of the body, but Bucky shifts with a roar and a quake that shakes everyone from their footing. His body stretches and extends, his limbs become black and scaled, wings unfold behind him, a massive tail whips out and wolves jump out of the way in fright. The dragon lands on his front feet and growls, looking around.

Steve takes in a deep breath as Bucky approaches, his eyes glowing a light blue. He huffs out smoke and bumps his muzzle into Steve’s shoulder.

Steve reaches out and puts a hand on his snout. Heat comes from him, even more than when he wore skin. Bucky’s gaze meets his and Steve feels almost pinned.

“And you said you couldn’t be my treasure,” Bucky says in a deep voice.

It resonates from inside his chest. Steve almost jumps back.

“Only another dragon or my treasure could hear me like this,” Bucky then says. “Put up your hood, then hold still, little one.”

Bucky rears up onto his hind legs again. Steve quickly puts up his hood and closes his cloak, just in time for Bucky to grab Steve with his claws and launch from the ground.

Steve shouts as they cut into the air. He clings to Bucky’s claws, afraid of falling and the cold, but heat still seeps from Bucky’s limb into Steve, and his claws are cinched tight around him.

Below them, the dim ground speeds by. In seconds, Steve sees the lights of the neighboring village pass underneath, and they’re passing it and then another village.

Steve ducks his head against the biting wind, holding onto Bucky’s large claws. His heart is pounding in his ribs, then he laughs, exhilarated.

He feels Bucky rumbling and figures he’s laughing, too.

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #stucky #captain america #winter soldier #pre serum steve #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #my fic #werewolf #shape shifter #alpha/beta/omega verse #snippet #into the dark #the kept boy

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