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navybrat817 · 1 year ago

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A Crown of Flowers

Pairing: Shifter!Bucky Barnes x Shifter!Female Reader Summary: You make Bucky a crown of flowers and he gets a little closer to the shifter quickly stealing his heart. Word Count: Over 2.2k Warnings: Shifters, flirting, slight possessive behavior, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). Previous Part of AU: The Pull of Gravity A/N: More Wolfie and Little Red! I really need to give this AU a name. ❤️ Beta read by @whisperlullaby (thank you!), but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics! ❤️Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky considered himself to be a dangerous predator. A good man by nature, but vicious when the occasion called for it. Sam told him more than once that he didn’t look approachable even when he wasn’t in wolf form. A far cry from his younger years when he charmed most people around him with a smile. Life in the woods and seeing the things in both his human and shifter form changed him. He hoped for the better, even with his sometimes grumpy nature.

He was far from the predator he claimed to think he was thanks to the crown of flowers on his head.

“You look so pretty, Wolfie!” you smiled, reaching over to adjust the crown. Your eyes narrowed at the unmistakable growl that left his lips. “Oh, don’t you dare growl at me. That may work with your pack or family or whatever you call them, but not me.”

His lip lifted in a softer sort of snarl, but you remained unafraid as you tucked a lone flower behind your ear. You somehow convinced him to sit in the garden beside you and it felt nice. When was the last time he took a moment to appreciate the beauty of it? “And what are you gonna do about it? Bite me again?”

“Don’t tempt me,” you smirked, playfully snapping your teeth for good measure. “I don’t know why you have that look on your face. The crown looks nice. Steve’s wearing his with pride.”

“He’s just being nice to you,” he said.

But if we’re comparing crowns, mine is nicer and I refuse to let those words leave my mouth.

“Yeah, he’s a nice guy. That’s why he gave me your shirt,” you said, gesturing to the fabric that covered your skin.

Shifters ran warm, but it was starting to get darker and colder. You hadn’t had a chance to get the red cape of yours that you mentioned. Steve was kind enough to get you a long shirt of Bucky’s to wear, to both his and your disappointment when you covered yourself up. It was also smart on the blonde’s part not to give you one of his own shirts, as if he sensed that Bucky wouldn’t like anyone else’s scent on you.

I’m possessive and I’m fucked.

“We should probably head inside. I’m sure you’re starving,” he said, knowing if he dwelled for too long at the thought of his scent on you that he’d fuck you right there in the dirt.

Only if you wanted that.

“In a minute. I want to enjoy the view a little longer,” you said, leaning back on your hands to look up at the sky. While you took in the sight above you, he kept his eyes on you. “It’s nice here.”

“Yeah, it is,” he agreed, taking a quick look around as he inhaled the comforting smell of his surroundings. Your fragrance in the mix added something he didn’t know was missing or longing for. “It’s home.”

“Home,” you whispered, as if the taste of the word was bittersweet. No doubt a part of your story he knew you wouldn’t tell him today. “How did you two meet? You and Steve. Did you grow up together?”

“We did. He’s been my best friend since he was a runt. We’ve always looked out for each other,” he said, taking another flower to put behind your other ear. Your hand shot out to grip his wrist before he got too close. “You’re quick.”

“And strong, but not quite as strong as you are,” you smiled, releasing his wrist and tilting your head to allow him to continue. He tried his hardest not to smile at the compliment. “Must’ve been nice to grow up with a shifter friend.”

“It was, especially since we’re both wolves. My parents were shifters, too, but not having to keep it a secret from Steve made it a little easier. I don’t know. It’s hard to explain.”

“Because you understood what the other was going through. You had someone to confide in and I’m sure he did the same in return. I’m also guessing you both understood the need to keep it a secret with people outside of your circle, as well as the need to protect each other,” you mused, tilting your head to gaze at him with a wistful stare. “You weren’t alone.”

Shadows clouded your eyes as he inhaled slowly, mentally noting the subtle change in your scent. He caught shifts occasionally with Steve and the others when their moods changed, but this was something different. It was as if he could taste your tears on his tongue, but you weren’t crying on the surface. At that moment, he wanted to crawl inside your mind and heart to soothe whatever pain you tried so hard to hide.

Who hurt you? Tell me so I can deal with them.

“May I ask you a question and you don’t have to answer it?”

“Okay,” you answered.

“Why did you decide to come here?” he asked.

You breathed out when you shrugged. “Besides being wildly attracted to your rugged good looks?”

“Yeah, besides that,” he smirked, taking your hand in his. Yours was soft on the top and rougher on the palm. It suited your form. Playful and endearing, but ready and willing to fight.

His was rough all over.

“I got the sense that you’re not a bad guy. And I know if I would’ve pushed hard enough to make you go your way while I went mine, you would’ve let me,” you told him, gently running your thumb along his palm. You didn’t seem to mind his calloused touch. “My instinct said I could trust you, so I came here.”

Something warm wrapped around his heart at your admission. He wondered how long it had been since you put your trust in someone else. “I’m glad you did,” he said, his voice soft. He was glad you accepted his offer.

You smiled before you dug your nails into his hand. “I don’t trust easily, Wolfie. Don’t make me regret it,” you whispered.

A whispered threat is often more terrifying than a scream.

“I won’t, Little Red,” he promised, his voice at the same level as yours as he leaned in closer. “But while we’re on the subject of things given and earned, don’t break my heart.”

He heard the air leave your lungs as you loosened your grip and laughed, a sweet, beautiful sound. “You can’t give me your heart.”

“Why not?”.

“Because you’ve known me for a day and part of that was spent killing and burying a guy. That’s not romance. That’s a murder. What love story starts with murder?”

Ours.

Bucky tilted his head like he was actually trying to think of another couple. “Technically, it started when you came into my territory. So our story actually began with you trespassing,” he smiled.

“And it continued with you stalking me. Trespassing, stalking, murder. Just a day in the life of a shifter,” you teased before your smile fell. “Even if you’re joking, why would you give your heart to me? I haven’t done anything to earn it.”

“Because I know you don’t trust easily and you still took a chance by coming here,” he replied. You chose to walk beside me. “So if you can give me your trust, why am I not allowed to give you my heart?”

“That is different!” you said, booping his nose with your finger. “I know you’re attracted to me and I suspect you don’t open up to many people either, but wanting me and wanting me are two different things.”

He brought a hand to the nape of your neck as he pressed his forehead against yours. “I can do whatever I want with my heart,” he whispered, closing his eyes when your breath touched his lips. “I just need to hear you say you won’t break it.”

A heartbeat passed before you spoke. “I won’t break your heart, Wolfie.”

Thank you.

Bucky wanted to close the gap and kiss you. It would’ve been easy to lay you down in the dirt and indulge himself in the warm haven between your thighs. But he would let you take the first step. If you were willing to trust him, he could calm his primal urges until you allowed him to unleash them.

“I think I want to play tomorrow,” you said, leaning back slightly and breaking the temporary spell he was under. “What’s there to do around here? Besides each other?”

The deep rumble in his chest only made you smirk. “Why do you keep teasing me?”

“Because it’s fun,” you said with a lift of your shoulder. “I’m not teasing you just to tease you. I very much plan to let you wreck me and I’ll happily welcome you into my mouth and pussy.”

Fuck. She’s trying to kill me.

“I may sit on your face for good measure,” you added, resting back on your hands again. You didn’t quite open your legs, but the stance was wider than before. “You strike me as someone who gets very hungry.”

Bucky ran his teeth along his bottom lip. “And you strike me as the type who’d ride my face to indulge me.”

“Oh, I would. And I’ll make you wear a flower crown while you show me what you can do with your tongue.”

Suddenly flower crowns are my favorite thing.

“I’d say it’s time to eat, but that’s maybe the wrong choice of words!” Steve called out from the other end of the garden.

Fucking punk and his fucking-

“Why are you yelling?!” Bucky shouted back as he threw up his hands. “Why don’t you walk over like a decent human being and tell us?”

“You’re yelling back at me!” Steve pointed out as your shoulders shook with laughter. “And I’m not walking over there when you two are seconds away from going at it.”

“We won’t go at it today, Steve!” you announced, giggling still as you pushed yourself up and dusted the dirt from your legs. “We’ll wait until tomorrow before we cause more havoc. I think we caused enough for today.”

He chuckled after a moment. It had been a day. “We’ll be right there, Steve,” he said, shaking his head as he watched his friend hurry away. “Punk.”

“I like him,” you said, taking his hands to pull him up. “You never answered my question. What’s there to do around here?”

“There’s a pond not too far from here that’s pretty much ours at this point. No one else really goes there,” he said, adjusting the crown so it stayed on his head.

An amused look crossed your face, but you quickly let it fade. “Maybe we can go for a swim,” you suggested before you turned on your heel. “Maybe I’ll even let you chase me.”

“You’ll let me chase you?” he asked, taking in how good you looked in his shirt. It somehow made the curves of your body more tempting than before. “Hunt you down?”

“If you’re good,” you said over your shoulder. “If I do decide you can chase me and you catch me, you can have me then and there. On one condition.”

Bucky had to will his cock not to twitch. How could he make time go faster? “What’s that?”

“Don’t laugh,” you warned as you turned back toward him. Your finger tapped against your thigh before you lifted your chin. “I want a warm blanket when I go to sleep tonight.”

He didn’t laugh at your request. He wouldn’t dream of it. But it did surprise him. It was a simple ask, but maybe it was much more significant in your eyes. “You can have my bed and the blankets on it.”

“You’re giving me your bed?” you asked, your eyes widening as he nodded. “No, I’m not making you sleep somewhere else just because I’m staying the night. We’ll share your bed. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

“Thank you, Wolfie,” you said.

“You’re welcome, Little Red.”

You tapped your thigh again with a small smile. “Can you show me your bed before we eat?”

“Sure,” he smiled, motioning for you to go with him. There was a spring in your step as you walked beside him and he couldn’t wipe the smile from his face when he let you into his small hut. While everyone used the common area for living, they also had their own sanctuary for privacy and sleep. “This isn’t much, but-”

You darted past Bucky and launched yourself onto his bed. With a happy sigh, you rolled back and forth, your body eventually touching every inch of the mattress, blankets, and pillows. He didn’t ask what you were doing or why because he sensed your happiness.

He wasn’t about to interrupt that.

You sat up with a grin once you stopped. “Now that you have my scent all over your bed, we can eat,” you said, skipping over to grab his hand.

You’re possessive of me, too.

“I’ll give you the grand tour of the hut once we’re done,” he joked.

“Looking forward to it,” you said with complete sincerity.

Just like he was looking forward to having you around a little longer.

What do we think? Wolfie hunting Little Red down? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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skyward-floored · 24 days ago

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Whumptober Day 28 - No-holds-barred beatdown, exposure, used as bait

CONTINUATION TO DAY 13 go read that one if you haven’t (or if you need a refresher it’s been so long lol)

Hi I'm still kicking <3 only three left after this, I WILL be finishing these, NO MATTER WHAT RAAAAAH. my goal is to be done before the 15th but we'll see how that goes. I'm going to try 😓

The prompts used aren’t the best, but they were the only ones that even vaguely fit lol. The third one doesn’t even come into effect until the very end. Also this was only going to be one more part. but. they kept talking.

Warnings: violence, injury, a handful of previous warnings from day 13

Day 13

ao3 link

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Sky and Warriors woke up at the same time.

Twilight stirred from his spot on the ground, having let his mind wander as he’d waited. His body still ached a bit, and it wasn't helped by his stint on the cold floor, but he sat up anyway as Warriors’ eyelids fluttered, and a squeaky moan came from Time’s back, Sky’s tail flicking. Twilight looked between the two, then went to Sky first, since strangely enough it seemed like he was waking up faster.

Legend sat next to Warriors, saying something to him as he woke, and Time watched the two with slightly narrowed eyes. He looked at Twilight as he walked up, flicking an ear as Warriors let out a disbelieving noise and Legend squawked angrily.

“Here,” Time said, carefully leaning over and sliding Sky off his back. “I’m going to go make sure Legend doesn’t bite him. And that the captain doesn’t stomp our veteran by accident. Or on purpose.”

Twilight nodded, and sat down next to Sky as his blue eyes flickered open.

“Easy Sky,” Twilight woofed as he moved a little, and Sky twitched his nose.

“Ow...” he groaned, and Twilight gave his ear a gentle lick. “...Oh, hey rancher... why’re you so big?” he asked blearily, squinting as he tried to sit up. His paws slipped out from under him though, and Sky stared at them in bewilderment, the expression honestly adorable on his furry face. He wiggled a few toes, and stared at the fur and claws, blinking in shock.

“Rancher?” Sky repeated in more of an alarmed voice. “What’s going on?”

“Short version? We all got turned into animals,” Twilight admitted, giving Sky a little push with his snout in order to help him sit up when he tried again. “We fell down here and all transformed somehow. You’re one of those cat things on your island, a... was it a remake?”

“A remlit,” Sky corrected, sounding a little calmer, but still disturbed. He studied his paws, and tilted his head back, trying to look at his ears and tail. “Huh. Just like Legend that one time. Those... women did this to us?”

“Yep, the creepy voice ones. Or something down here did, we’re not exactly sure. But it’s their fault somehow,” Twilight confirmed, and watched intently as Sky shakily stood up, paws trembling. “You feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I’m— yeah. This is just... weird,” he admitted. “I... this was dark magic, wasn’t it?”

“We think so, yeah.”

Sky frowned and looked around the dark cave, large ears swiveling, and both he and Twilight jumped as they heard a distressed whinny. Twilight whirled around, and saw Warriors attempting to get to his hooves, his legs wobbling underneath him.

“Easy Captain, don’t move too quickly,” Time warned, and Warriors snorted, tossing his head.

“Don’t ‘easy’ me, I’m not staying like this a moment longer than I have to!” Warriors said, nearly falling over. “Horses are fine, I like horses, but I don’t want to be one!”

“Actually you’re a unicorn,” Legend said helpfully, and Warriors huffed angrily as Time moved to his side, helping to steady him.

“Right. I’m a horse with a big pointy stick on my head. Wonderful.”

“At least you can stab things,” Legend continued, nose twitching in amusement. “You didn’t have a weapon before, and now you do. Besides, I think the horn really compliments your flowing locks.”

“I could almost say the same,” Warriors snorted. “Flowing locks indeed. Finally the mystery of the pink hair is solved. I wouldn’t have guessed a bunny rabbit would be the cause but you—”

“Now see here—”

“All right, that’s enough,” Time said with a sharp look at the both of them. “Captain, are you feeling all right? We all saw how rough that transformation was.”

“I’m fine,” Warriors mumbled, pawing at the floor.

Twilight glanced back at Sky, who was sniffing at the scratches on his side with a wince on his face. He’d managed to stand by himself though, and so Twilight moved over to Warriors, the captain’s legs still wobbling.

“Relax Captain, we’re going to fix this,” Twilight reassured, and Warriors made another annoyed sound, his tail swishing.

“So long as we don’t need opposable thumbs,” he said. Twilight sighed.

“We’ll manage, Captain. I know this isn’t ideal, but we’ll figure it out.”

“Easy for you to say, you’re used to having four legs,” Warriors said in a sharp voice, and Twilight flattened his ears in annoyance.

“I’m stuck like this too, Captain. Just because I’m more used to four legs doesn’t mean I don’t want my regular ones back,” Twilight snapped, his worry and fear at the whole situation abruptly bursting out. “Now if you’re done arguing with Legend we still don’t know where half our group is, so if you’re able to walk without falling over let’s get going.”

Warriors blinked, obviously taken aback, and Twilight turned away from Time’s frown and stuck his nose up in the air to sniff for any more familiar scents.

The faintest hint of one that wasn’t rock or cave smell wafted by his nose, and Twilight turned in a slow circle, trying to pinpoint it. He caught a bigger whiff, and gestured with his head.

“I think I found someone else,” he said, and Time hummed in a growly way.

“Are you guys ready to move?” Legend asked, looking askance at both Sky and Warriors. Sky hesitated, his legs still wobbly, but when he walked around in a small circle he was able to keep his footing. Warriors gave a curt nod, his legs looking steadier, and he didn’t look over at Twilight.

Twilight felt a little sting of shame, but he swallowed it back. He could apologize later.

“This way,” he said, turning into the darkness, and the others followed along behind him, Warriors’ hooves clicking against the stone floor.

They kept the pace slow, in respect for both small and unsteady legs. Twilight felt impatience simmer under his fur, but he knew he couldn’t just run ahead. He was currently one of their few lines of defense, and who knew how many monsters might be around down here?

Sky and Legend walked together beside him, Sky asking questions about being an animal, Legend answering as well as he could. Warriors was obviously listening in as well, and Twilight even noticed Time’s ear swivel back when Legend started in on ways he dealt with fights.

Twilight... probably ought to be giving tips as well, he certainly had plenty of knowledge to draw on. But he was intent on following the scent, keeping a nose out for any others, watching for monsters, and also looking for a way out. Legend could handle the crash course in being an animal.

What a disaster.

Twilight sighed and kept sniffling, trying to identify exactly who’s scent it was he was following. He stepped past a couple large rocks that glowed faintly green, and as the scent grew steadily stronger, Twilight suddenly paused, his stomach sinking. Even with the strange overtone to it, he suddenly knew exactly who’s scent he was following.

He bolted, leaving the others behind, knowing the source of the scent was close. Twilight turned a corner, intently sniffing, and sure enough a few moments later his paw bumped into a small, grey-blue creature.

Twilight froze, and lowered himself to the floor, almost not believing what he was seeing.

“Oh boy... champion?” he asked, nuzzling gently at him. Wild don’t move, unconscious, and Twilight gave his head a small lick. “Hey, wake up for me?”

A chirrupy groan came from Wild’s still form, and his eyelids flickered, blues resting hazily on Twilight’s face.

“Mm... Twi?” he mumbled, ears twitching. “Where... ow... why does my whole body hurt?”

Twilight winced. “Well, it ah... might have to do with the fact that you’re a squirrel.”

Wild blinked slowly, his gaze still bleary. He flicked his ears again, twitched his tail once, then jerked to his feet with a completely flabbergasted expression.

“A WHAT?!” he yelped right as the others all rounded the corner and caught sight of him. Legend took one look at Wild’s bushy tail before his face cracked into a huge grin.

“Champion you’re— you’re a squirrel!” Legend spluttered, then burst into uproarious laughter, looking at Wild with pure glee on his face. “That’s the best thing I’ve seen all day!”

“IT’S NOT FUNNY!” Wild screeched, his fluffy tail sticking straight up. He looked a solid mixture of offended and freaked out. “WHAT’S FUNNY ABOUT TURNING INTO A SQUIRREL?!”

“It’s hilarious, actually,” Legend cackled, wheezing as he fell backwards, nearly tripping Sky. “A squirrel! No wonder you’re such a hoarder!”

Legend burst into another peal of laughter, and Wild stumbled backwards, every bit of him tense. Twilight moved towards him, and Wild let out a panicked little chirp.

“Wild, it’s okay,” Sky said, and Wild twitched his nose as Twilight gently nuzzled his head. He could hear Wild’s tiny heart beating like a drum.

“Are you hurt at all?” Time asked, and Wild shook his head, his tail lowering a little.

“No, I’m fine. I just... no. Don’t like this.”

Wild swiped a paw over his face as his nose twitched again, and Twilight very firmly held back the urge to laugh. Now was not the time, even if Wild being a squirrel was admittedly... rather hilarious. At least on par with Legend being a rabbit.

Maybe Farore has a sense of humor.

“Hey, you’ve just gotta adjust,” Legend said as he gave himself a shake, finally getting ahold of himself. “Just think how it could be worse. You could be a bug or something.”

“But I’m a squirrel!” Wild chittered frantically, his tail whirling all over the place. “I’m tiny! I’m defenseless! I can’t even hold a weapon like this!”

“Wow. What a hardship,” Legend said in a deadpan. “Being a small mostly-defenseless woodland creature.”

Wild opened his mouth to retort, then slowly closed it again, staring at Legend like he hadn’t truly looked at him until now.

“Oh. Uh... you’re... a pink blupee thing?”

“A rabbit. We all got transformed, Wild, calm down. I’m sure we'll be able to fix it,” Twilight reassured, and Wild groaned, pulling his tail over his face.

“I hate this. No thank you. Nope.”

“Join the club,” Warriors sighed, and Twilight sat down beside the little ball that was currently Wild, giving him another lick. Wild uncurled a little, looking at Twilight with thinly-hidden panic in his eyes, and Twilight’s chest tightened. Wild rarely looked so rattled.

“You’re sure you’re not hurt?” he asked quietly, and Wild nodded.

“Just sore,” he said quietly. “That transformation was awful. Is... everyone else okay?”

“We don’t know. We haven’t found everyone yet,” Twilight explained with a sigh. “No sign of Hyrule, Wind, or Four.”

“But I’m sure we’ll find them,” Sky said hopefully, his large ears spread wide. “If nothing else I’ll be able to hear them with these big old things.”

Time chuckled, and Wild’s tail flicked around, the champion obviously still distressed. But he took a deep breath and sat up, determination in his eyes. Sky watched Wild’s tail swish around as he studied everybody’s animal forms, Sky’s pupils going wide, and suddenly shot out a paw to bap at it.

Wild jumped, and Sky immediately drew back, spouting apologies.

“Sorry! Sorry It caught my attention and I was just going to watch it but then I... I don’t know why I did that,” he finished in bewilderment.

Time let out a huff from nearby. “Instincts. Never know when they’re going to kick in. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve eaten rocks without thinking.”

Twilight wasn’t the only one who gave him a strange look at that.

Unfortunately none of them got to press the question, since right as Twilight opened his mouth to ask, a loud rumbling sound came from somewhere in the cave, the ground shaking under their feet.

Warriors stumbled, and Sky and Wild both fell over, the cave shaking so violently Twilight wondered if it was about to fall on their heads. He quickly positioned himself over the smallest members of the group, but the shaking abruptly stilled, and the cave went deathly quiet.

Then Twilight growled as a familiar voice suddenly spoke.

“You have all faced the magic and come out unbroken. You have passed the first stage,” the croaking voice echoed through the cave. “The second stage still remains. Survive and we will collect the chosen downstream at the crystal waters.”

“Good luck! I can’t wait for you to finish,” the other voice said excitedly, and Twilight saw Warriors flinch.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Legend growled, and Twilight saw Sky’s claws slide out.

“Return us to our normal bodies!” Warriors shouted, the whinny echoing off the walls.

“I don’t think she can understand you,” Wild pointed out, then raised himself to his hind legs, showing off the sword-shaped patch of white on his belly. “Here— RETURN US TO OUR NORMAL BODIES YOU CULTY FREAKS!”

There was no reply.

“I doubt she liked being called a freak,” Time said dryly.

“Yeah, probably not. But still. Rude,” Legend sniffed. “Guess we’ll just survive phase two then.”

“We need to find the others,” Twilight spoke up, unable to keep the worry from his voice. “Now.“

“She said we all survived the magic though, doesn’t that mean they’re all okay?” Wild spoke up, and Sky’s tail flicked worriedly.

“She didn’t say anything about other dangers, though.”

As if summoned, a monster’s howl rang through the tunnels, and everyone stiffened, heads turning toward the sound.

“Wild, Legend, on Twilight’s back, Sky, you sit on Time, we’ll save the most time,” Warriors said quickly, and Legend helped Wild scramble up onto Twilight’s back, Sky carefully moving to sit on Time’s. “I’d... take one of you, but I don’t know how steady I can keep myself.”

“I’ve got them,” Twilight reassured, noticing the frustration on Warriors’ face. Warriors met his gaze, and Twilight lowered his head, ears flicking down. An apology for earlier.

Warriors looked at him a moment, then nodded back, apologizing as well.

Twilight breathed out, a little of the nauseating emotions rolling around in him easing a bit. He may be tired, cold, hungry, in pain and worried, but that was no excuse to take it out on Warriors.

They needed to work together to get out of this mess.

They all rushed off, Warriors having trouble going at a pace much faster than a walk, but pushing himself anyway. That had been a victorious sort of monster cry, and they didn’t have time to waste. Even if Warriors kept tripping on his hooves and barely catching himself.

“So,” Wild said after a minute, and Twilight flicked an ear to show he was listening. “How come you and the old man are wolves while the rest of us are... everything else?”

“I was wondering that too,” Legend spoke up. “...I still think it’s beyond unfair.”

“I don’t know why,” Twilight admitted. “Your form says something about your person, they reflect your spirit... or it does in my case. Even though the circumstances are weird, I’m guessing it’s the same for the rest of you. I guess mine and Time’s just happen to be similar.”

“And I’m a squirrel,” Wild grumbled, and Twilight sighed.

“Yeah. Squirrels aren’t so bad though. They’re hardy, smart, good at climbing, jumping... besides, we can’t all be unicorns,” Twilight pointed out as he hopped over a rock, and Wild and Legend both let out small huffs of laughter.

“I guess not. Still pretty strange there’s so much variety,” Wild hummed. “I would’ve guessed we’d all be wolves.”

He was quiet for several seconds, and Twilight turned his attention back to navigating through the dark cave.

“...Wait a second, if our animal forms reflect us, and Legend is a bunny—”

“Don’t you dare finish that thought.”

Wild chittered out a laugh.

His amusement faded when another snarl echoed through the caves though, and Twilight exchanged a glance with Time, trotting even faster. If anyone was hurt because they couldn’t get to them in time, Twilight didn’t know what he would do.

The green rocks increased in frequency around them, the darkness of cave a bit less intense. Twilight could hear water now, and regular grumbles and snorts that sounded like monsters. Time caught Warriors when he tripped again, and they all ran down the sloping passageway.

They turned a corner, and Twilight’s eyes went wide.

An underground stream flowed in front of them, wide, but fast, water a crystalline blue so bright it looked unnatural. More of those green rocks were scattered in and around the water, and though Twilight couldn’t see colors the best as a wolf, he could tell the mix of them was rather pretty.

But more important than the water or rocks was the group of moblins on the other side, one dragging a motionless deer behind it, another trying to bat away something running around by its feet.

“Hey!” Wild shouted, and leapt off of Twilight’s back, rushing over to the stream and attempting to hop across the rocks. His paws skidded on the slippery stone, but he managed to hang on and keep going. Twilight barked for Legend to hold on, and jumped into the water, quickly swimming across.

The water was achingly cold, but Twilight ignored it and Legend’s small squeak of dismay, paddling as fast as he could. The current wasn’t too fast for him, and Twilight leapt onto the shore right as a moblin kicked the small figure at its feet, making it squeal in pain.

Whoever it was went flying, and Twilight lunged for the moblin, teeth bared. Legend clung to his fur as he bowled the moblin over, and Twilight heard Time snarl as well, a different monster screeching in pain.

The disgusting tang of monster blood got in his mouth as he snapped at the moblin, but Twilight didn't let go until it let out a dying gurgle and went limp. He raised his head, watching Time struggle with his own moblin, Sky trying to help where he could, and also saw Warriors hurriedly trying to cross the water beside Wild.

Nobody had reached the moblin dragging the deer by the leg though, and Twilight whirled towards it, leaping at the beast with his fangs bared.

It saw him coming, and dodged his lunge to its neck, Twilight’s teeth closing around its arm instead. It snarled in anger as it dropped the deer, then raised a large club above its head, eyes glinting maliciously. Twilight knew he wouldn’t be able to move in time to avoid it, but then Legend leapt off his back, attaching himself to the moblin’s face and scratching and kicking at it furiously.

It screeched, and Twilight bit it on the wrist, making it drop its weapon. The moblin gave its head a violent shake and Legend went flying, but the opening was what Twilight needed to leap forward and finally bury his teeth in its neck.

He heard a splash behind him, fear ratcheting into his throat, but he couldn’t let go until the moblin fell still and it was stubbornly refusing to do so.

Come on, die already! Twilight thought with a snarl, abruptly twisting his head to the side.

A sickening crack rang out, and the moblin finally fell still, its tongue lolling. Twilight felt a lurch in his stomach at the more violent instinct he’d given into, but he swallowed it back and spat blood from his mouth.

He turned back to the water, and felt a quick flicker of relief as he saw Time standing over Legend's limp form, viciously attacking anything that came nearby. There were only three moblins left now, and Warriors was attempting to handle the other two, Wild goading them on and distracting them while Warriors attacked with his hooves and horn.

Which just left the question of where Sky and the other animal had gone.

Twilight whined anxiously, looking around the bloody shore for any sign of them. There was a lot going on, but he was sure that he would’ve noticed one or the both of them being hurt.

Twilight suddenly saw splashing, and he hurried over to the water, ears pricking as he saw a lithe shape struggling towards the shore, Sky’s large ears visible beside it. Twilight leaned way out, prepared to jump in if necessary, and when both heads dipped below the water, Twilight quickly splashed in and gently snatched them both by the scruff.

He dragged them to shore and set them down, then frantically sniffed the both of them, Sky's scratches reopened, the other animal's tail bleeding.

“Are you two okay?” Twilight barked urgently, and the lithe, creamy colored animal nodded shakily as he scooted closer to Sky.

“I’m good,” Wind’s voice chirped tiredly from it, turning his head so that Twilight got a good look at the swirl of blue on his head and back. “Or good enough. This... is so weird.”

“Yeah,” Twilight agreed, then turned his attention to Sky, the poor remlit panting with exhaustion in a soggy heap on the ground. “You good buddy?”

“Give... me... a sec...” Sky coughed, a shiver running through him.

Twilight nodded, and glanced back at the battle just in time to see a moblin charging for them, eyes crazed.

Wind squealed in alarm and Twilight leapt to intercept the monster, snapping at its neck. Somehow it managed to dodge the attack, and abruptly slammed its club into his side, making Twilight yelp in pain.

He was knocked to the ground, but despite the pain he got back up almost instantly. The moblin was running for Sky, and a feral snarl escaped Twilight as he leapt back at the moblin again. This time he managed to knock it off-balance, and Twilight and the moblin went sprawling to the ground, snarls and the snapping of teeth ringing through the cave as they struggled.

Twilight ignored the sharp ache ringing up his side and focused only on taking down the moblin that had been charging for Wind and Sky. It gave as good as it got, and Twilight was already scratched and kicked and sorely aching when the moblin suddenly raked its claws into his muzzle.

A sharp sting ripped across his face, and Twilight yelped in pain as he reeled back, tears welling in his eyes.

“Twilight!”

Something snapped in Twilight, and despite the sharp pain, he lunged back in again, snapping ferociously at the moblin’s neck. He clawed and tore and shook the monster under him, and it wasn’t until something pressed against his side and shouted his name that Twilight realized the moblin had gone still, and it was silent in the cave once more.

Twilight stumbled back, panting as blood dripped from his face and mouth, staring at the ripped-up moblin below him. It was barely recognizable, and bile rose in his throat, shame and disgust slamming into him. Something suddenly butted gently against his side, and Twilight wearily raised his head, seeing Time looking at him with alarm in his eye.

The older hero was gently supporting him, and Twilight wondered why before he suddenly realized his legs were trembling.

“I’m okay,” Twilight said finally, sitting down with a whine at the pain in his side and face. At Time’s incredulous look, Twilight huffed. “Seriously, I am. Nothing’s broken, just bruised, I can tell.”

“Bruised ribs are no joke,” Warriors said as he walked by, but he didn’t stop to bother Twilight about it further. He was making his way over to the deer, who was still lying ominously still on the ground. Legend at least had stirred nearby, but he looked a little dazed, a paw held close to his chest.

Fear lurched through him and Twilight struggled back to his feet, Time still supporting his side, and he walked slowly over to Legend and the deer.

Time didn’t further question his injuries, but Twilight could feel his gaze on him as they made a brief detour for Twilight to wash some of the blood from his mouth.

I get it old man, you’re worried.

Twilight swallowed, the taste of blood still in his mouth.

I am too.

They made it to where Warriors had gone, and Twilight sat down with a huff, the others all gathered around in a loose circle. Twilight looked around at them all, bloody, disturbed, weary and damp, and lowered his head down to rest on his paws.

Are we anywhere close to getting out of here?

Twilight breathed out slowly, and tilted his head to look at the deer, a light brown and with a few speckles of pale green scattered around on his back and face. Warriors knelt beside him, and gave the deer and Legend both as much of a look-over as he could.

Wind scampered past, his feet making little paps on the floor, and he sniffed at the deer, then looked fearfully at Warriors.

“Is Hyrule okay?” he asked, fur still a little damp.

“Yes, Hyrule is okay,” a voice groaned, and Twilight turned to see the deer raise its head, blinking dizzily. “Ow.”

"Traveler!" Legend and Wind said at the same time, both looking relieved.

“Careful,” Warriors warned, but Hyrule shifted around anyway, moving like he was going to stand up.

He immediately toppled over when he tried, his hooves going everywhere, and Wind let out a sympathetic little noise. Hyrule blinked, attempting to correct himself, and when he failed, stared up at the near zoo standing around him.

“Um. So why do I have four feet and feel like I got doused in dark magic?” Hyrule asked, sounding surprisingly unconcerned. “Also... why’s there a unicorn just standing there?”

“That’s me,” Warriors said grumpily, and Hyrule blinked.

“Oh. Okay.”

“Weird cult ladies, we were dumped in a cave, dark magic stuff,” Legend summarized from where he'd moved to sit beside Sky, and Hyrule nodded, accidentally hitting his antlers on a rock.

“Ow. Yeah... I remember now. I thought I heard Wind when we fell, and I got up to go find him, but then I felt all that dark magic and blacked out,” he reported with a scrunch if his nose. “And now I’m a... deer?"

“Looks like it,” Warriors said, and Twilight heard the grim smile in his voice. “Welcome to the hoof club.” Hyrule looked around, then blinked, staring at the eclectic pile of animals gathered near Sky. "...Is that rabbit wearing a vest?"

Warriors snorted out a laugh, and then attempted to give Hyrule a crash course in who was who, and also how to walk with hooves. While they stumbled around, Twilight took the opportunity to look around at everyone else, making sure they were all still accounted for. Time was beside him still, a few scratches on his leg, some blood staining his muzzle. Legend and Wild were huddled beside Sky, trying to warm him up while Legend nursed his injured paw, and Wind and Warriors were cheering Hyrule on as he tried to raise himself up on wobbly legs.

That meant the only one missing now was Four.

Twilight looked at the stream, remembering the croaky voice’s mention of water. The exit must be somewhere near here if they were going to be... collected, but they couldn’t leave without Four.

Where could he be?

“...okay, so I know Twilight and Time are the wolves,” Wind said, and Twilight looked back to see him moving to sit next to Sky as well. “Wild’s... a thing? Furry thing?”

“A squirrel,” Wild sighed. “And Warriors is the unicorn, Sky is the cat thing I forget the name of, Legend is the rabbit,” he said with a snicker, and Legend glared at him. “And you're a... I actually have no idea what you are.”

“He's an otter,” Legend said grumpily, attempting to tie his vest into a sling with one arm. “They swim around and eat clams.”

“What’s a clam?” Wind asked.

“Shellfish.”

“That’s not very nice of him,” Hyrule said as he wobbled over, and Wild and Wind joined in on his laughter while several of the others rolled their eyes.

“Enough goofing off, we still need to find Four,” Twilight spoke up, and everyone turned to look at him. "And any ideas on how we're going to deal with these witches or whatever they are?"

"We head downstream and see what happens I suppose," Time sighed. "Our smithy must have heard that message too, he’ll know where to go."

"He could be hurt though," Wind chirped worriedly, rubbing a paw over his whiskery cheek.

"And what if he was unconscious somewhere and we missed him?" Legend added.

"Twilight or the old man would've smelled him though, wouldn't they?" Warriors pointed out. "Twilight's been looking for scents this whole time, surely he would've gotten some sign of him."

"Wait, what if he got turned into a fish or something?" Wind suddenly gasped, looking at the water. "What if he's down there and—"

"Quiet!" Sky suddenly shouted in a croaky voice, his wide ears held out.

All of them went silent, and Sky swiveled his ears around, looking ruffled, but a little less like a drowned rat as he carefully sat up. Twilight pricked his ears too, and for a moment, all anyone heard was the noise of the stream rushing by, and blood and water dripping softly from wounds.

Then Twilight heard a pained cry so soft he could barely make it out.

"That was Four," Sky gasped, obviously able to make it out better than him. "He... wait."

He pricked his ears, and then his eyes went wide.

"I can hear those women, they have Four!"

Twilight jumped to his feet, biting back a whine of pain as his side sparked angrily. "Then we need to go help him, come on!"

“We can’t just rush in there without a plan,” Warriors whinnied, stomping a hoof. “Rancher you’re injured, Hyrule can barely walk, Sky practically drowned, we need a plan if we’re going to be able to—”

“Then I’m going by myself!” Twilight snarled, and whirled around and took off, ignoring the others’ shouts and cries to come back.

Twilight’s paws pounded against the stone as the others’ voices faded behind him, every step sending a jolt up along his injured side. Blood was drying on his face, sticky and uncomfortable, but Twilight only ran faster, listening for any more signs of Four.

He knew he would need the others’ help. He knew he wouldn’t be able to take them on by himself, and Twilight especially knew he was being incredibly stupid by running off alone.

But he didn’t care.

Every moment could matter for Four.

#sorry to be continued again #linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu twilight #lu chain #all the links #lu wolfie #whumptober #whumptober 2024 #no.28 #no holds barred beatdown #used as bait #tw injury #tw violence #fic #writing from the floor #ta daaaaaaah #please enjoy this crazy long thing <3 #next part will be either 30 or 31!

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wolfiesmoon · 1 year ago

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I can't sleep

Ran x good girl!reader

Do i want a bad boy (literal criminal) bf? Yea but i would probably cry if he insulted me or got into trouble in any capacity at all

(i am totally not unironically vibing to pretty little psycho while writing this)

edit: i made a part 2!!

"I dare you to kiss Haitani Ran." Your friend nudged you.

You knew you shouldn't have agreed to this stupid game of truth or dare. You knew your friend was going to make you do stupid stuff like this.

"Like... the big scary delinquent guy?" You asked, hoping you heard her wrong.

"Yeah, that Haitani Ran." Your friend smirked mischeviously.

"How about I don't do that?" The last thing you'd want to do is get involved wth any delinquents or gangs. You have no idea how dangerous Ran could be and even if he wasn't you'd still refuse to kiss a good for nothing delinquent.

"Are you trying to get me killed?" you followed up, realising just how bad this dare could end up.

"You do know that refusing this dare means that you have to do anything I say for a week, right?" Your friend had a horribly evil look on her face. You don't even want to know the things she would make you do if you refused this stupid dare.

But is kissing Ran any better? Pick your poison, you suppose.

"Fine, I'll do it." You said behind clenched teeth, not at all happy about this outcome. You've never even kissed before, and now you have to kiss freaking Ran Haitani. You might actually die.

Why did you agree? What is wrong with you?

This might just be the worst day of your life.

You ended up being a little unfocused in class, making your teacher worry.

"Haitani-san." you call out to him, your voice dying off slightly at the end due to nerves. You're the only ones left in the classroom, with your friend watching from behind the door to make sure you actually do it. He looks back at you and you feel a shiver run through you.

Oh my god, you're actually doing this.

He stops, waiting to see what you want with him. You move closer to him, and his eyes narrow slightly, as if he's getting a good look at you.

"Now, what could the class president herself possibly want with me?" his tone was slightly mocking and you would have showed him you're not to be messed with but honestly you'd probably be the one losing in that scenario.

You inhaled sharply, pulling him down by his braids and planting a kiss straight onto his lips. This feels like a bad shojo plot, the "good girl" falls in love with the "bad boy" and kisses him all of a sudden. Except there's no romance involved here. Just a dare.

Is this how you kiss? Why does it feel so strange? That should be enough, right? You can feel your parents shaking their heads dissaprovingly already.

Ok, now you're just kissing him for way too long. It's time to let go. And you try to, you really do. Since when were his arms wrapped around your waist, anyways? And why isn't he letting you go?!

You can feel your friend's evil stare burning into your back. This is not amusing!

He laughed a little into the kiss, pulling you impossibly closer. Oh, so they're both going to enjoy your suffering now, you see how it is.

Still, kissing him isn't half ba-

Ok, you're actually losing it. You need out and fast.

You wriggled out of his grasp, running away as fast as your legs could take you. You heard both Ran and your friend yell something behind you but you honestly don't care.

Why did you ever agree to do this?!

That same thought persisted even as you tossed and turned in bed that night.

"Oh god, he's going to send his goons after me and I'm gonna die... And then I won't ever get to become successful..." you muttered to yourself.

"Or maybe he's gonna come and kill me myself after school tommorow... Ugh..." you can't come to school tired, you won't be able to pay attention in class that way. You can't ruin your perfect record by falling asleep in class.

Who cares about the perfect record?! You should be worried for your life!

"And what is that stupid noise, anyways?" you muttered, grumbling and getting up to inspect the source. Another stone hits the window, making you jump slightly. You walk to the window and open it, narrowly avoiding a stone that was thrown your way.

"Sorry!~"

Wait. You'd recognise that voice anywhere.

It's Ran.

"What are you doing here? How did you even get my adress?" you half yelled, not wanting to wake up your parents.

"You shouldn't sweat the little things. Come downstairs." he was smiling calmly, but you still couldn't tell if he was threatening you. Actually, is that his motorcycle parked next to him?

"You should probably put on a jacket too. It's real cold." he added on, and you nervously closed the window, quietly sneaking downstairs and putting on a jacket. Your pyjamas are not the most presentable, but you really don't want to test his patience right now.

You met him outside. What is he going to do to you now?

"Get on." he pointed to his bike, catching you off guard.

"Not without a helmet, riding a motorcycle without one can be really dangerous and you could lose your life." you couldn't help but bring up safety regulations. It's in your nature.

"I told you, don't sweat the details and just sit down." he completely ignored you, pushing you in the direction of the bike. You complied, sitting down on it awkwardly, not sure what to expect. He doesn't seem violent...

He sat down behind you, revving up the engine and just driving off without a care in the world.

"W-Wait!" you were shocked at the speed, grabbing onto him by instinct and missing the way his lips curved up at that.

"Where are you taking me?! I never consented to this!" you had to yell over the sound of the engine, shutting your eyes. He was right, it really is cold when you're riding on a motorcycle.

"And you know what I didn't consent to? That kiss." he replied and your face scrunched up a little, cringing at the not so distant memory. "But that's fine, because that means you're mine now."

"Huh?!" you finally opened your eyes, looking up at him. His expression was a little hard to make out since the only thing illuminating it was street lights that you were speeding past. Is he even following the speed limit?

"I value my sleep, you see. And that little stunt you pulled made me unable to fall asleep. So I figured I might as well give you a little visit." he placed a hand over you protectively, making you worry about your safety even more.

"Who would have thought the top of the class good girl would fall for me?" he looked down at you.

"I did not fall in love with you! It was a dare!" you shot back.

"Oh well, doesn't matter. You're my girl now. And that's that."

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wolfythewitch · 9 months ago

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Posting these tags separately because I Do think it's really interesting

Fascinating for an entity who cannot die to manifest himself into a creature who can, into his favorite creation. The only way he thought to save his people was to become them and then die in their place. That itself kinda says some stuff about the inherent good in people, I think. One that you are worth saving and the other that your existence isn't a mistake

#God writing the bible: I'm going to give this one animal so much literary weight #wolfy religious tedtalks

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sleepyskeleton-0 · 2 months ago

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A scream ripped through camp. Warriors was up in an instant, heart pounding out of his chest. Everyone was awake now.

Hyrule sat up, sweat beading along his brow and body trembling to no end. He shook so violently that he couldn’t even hold the flask of water Wild had tried to give him (he took it back and thought it best to make tea instead).

Once Wars got to the traveler, the tears started to fall.

“I’m fine” he said softly, and goddess, how heartbreaking it felt for the captain, listening to a voice so calm come from such a frightened teenager.

Legend sat next to the two with a soft blanket and a bucket in his arms. He set the bucket in Hyrule’s lap.

“It’s okay, it’s all gonna be okay” vet mumbled, then turned his head, feeling ill listening to the sounds of throwing up.

Instead, he looked around. Time was walking around making sure everyone else was okay. Twilight had gone to Wind, who looked rattled by the sudden scream, and was now trying to comfort him.

Sky had fallen back asleep not long ago. Figures, Legend thought, he’d had a rough week.

Wild was sat by the fire brewing herbal tea for Hyrule; and Four, who likely wouldn’t be able to fall asleep again without it.

When the sounds of heaving ceased, he turned back. Wars picked up the bucket, “I’m gonna do a quick lap, I’ll be back in half an hour or so,” he collected his sword on his way out of camp.

Four took his place and leaned up against Hyrule. The weight was welcome, it seemed, so Legend did the same.

“ ‘m sorry-”

“Don’t even start. We’ve had this conversation before, ‘Rule. People react and deal with nightmares in different ways. I hyperventilate, Four dissociates for a bit,” (smithy nodded) “and you get ill. It’s not a big deal. I mean, fucking hell, we’re heroes. Don’t you think we’re allowed to feel pain?”

Hyrule sniffled, tears dried up. He has a point, I suppose.

Legend’s words were, in fact, true. Still, he found it hard to internalise those thoughts. As a hero, he felt he constantly had to instill a brave, almost unbreakable facade for everyone else. It seemed surreal, being surrounded by people who knew exactly how he felt, and being encouraged to be himself for once. It felt good, but he often had to remind himself that it was okay to do so.

“Here, made it just the way you like”

Wild passed all three of them mugs of warm tea.

“Made one for you too Lege. Thought you’d also want one.”

“Thanks.”

It was how they liked it. Hyrule with a drop of honey, Four’s had mint leaves, and Legend liked his tea with 6 sugars (ironically).

One by one, over the course of the next hour, all the boys fell back to sleep (except for Wild, who resumed second watch).

Wars had taken longer than expected, he realised, but the perimeter was all clear… and so was the bucket.

When he got back to the others, a wolf lay with a tiny sailor, three empty mugs were set to the side, and any pre-existing tear tracks had long since been wiped away.

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sentientcave · 6 days ago

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Masquerade

You've come to this masquerade ball to finally dispatch the man you've wanted dead for nearly ten years, but he's always ruining your plans, one way or another.

Contains: 2nd POV OC (sorry about all the blushing), werewolf MMC (sadly he doesn't do any fun werewolfy things he's just a guy with sharp teeth here), vague fantasy setting, murder attempts/reminiscence of murder attempts, a long and storied history only alluded to, what do you do when your bitter enemy turns out to be a silly little guy who just wants you to love him?, oral sex (w receiving), P in V sex, this spawned a whole ass novel and it's so so different but this lowkey holds up.

See end for Notes

~10k words - NSFW - 18+ MDNI

“My, don’t you look exquisite,” a voice purrs in your ear.

You freeze in place, glad that the mask hides the colour that springs to your cheeks. You feel like a naughty child caught with your hand in the cookie jar, an unwelcome guest at his masquerade. You thought you could escape notice, slip through the crowd of finely dressed nobles and plunge your knife into his chest at last. But he had managed to find you first. You weren’t ready. You hadn’t been to the garden to pick up your hidden cache of weapons, you had nothing but your silver hair-stick to dispatch him with.

His heavy hands land on your shoulders. “Don’t muss up your pretty hairstyle just yet, darling,” he whispers in your ear, his voice rasping like sandpaper. It’s as if he can read your thoughts. Or perhaps, after all these years, you’re simply predictable. “There will be plenty of time for that later.”

You flinch at the cold press of his mask against your bare shoulder. You shouldn’t have disguised yourself as a guest. You feel defenceless, wrapped in silk and sheer chiffon, a neat little morsel delivered straight into the wolf’s jaws. He could shift in a second and shred you into little pieces, like he had threatened to do so many times before. You try to still your frightened, thumping heart, and pull away, turning to face him at last. “I’m afraid I’m not sure what you mean,” you say, because it’s worth a try at least, but he’s laughing before you can even finish, the smiling mouth of his gold wolf mask mocking you. His yellow eyes glitter from it’s depths, watching you.

“Oh darling, I would recognize you anywhere. I hoped you would be unable to resist my invitation.”

“Your invitation?”

“Yes, dearest. All of this was for you. I knew you could not resist the chance to get so close to me again.”

“To kill you,” you remind him hoarsely.

He chuckles and takes your hand. “Perhaps. For now, a dance, I should think. You haven’t danced all night.”

You dig in your heels, trying to resist his insistent pull, but he simply wraps an arm around your waist and tugs you closer. “I don’t dance,” you tell him sharply. “Let go of me.”

“You’re a liar,” he replies, spinning you into place, one hand on your lower back, pinning you against his chest, and the other still clasped around your wrist, sliding up to engulf your hand. He simply tugs you along with him as he moves, sweeping you along to the music, holding you so unbearably close. He could lift you off your feet with ease, if he chose to, and you don’t have enough power to resist. His scent clouds your mind, cedar soap and clean, animal musk, one of many hints of the wolf that dog him even in his human shape. “You forget, I knew you in your past life. Or have you forgotten that I once sat in your father’s halls? I have seen you dance.”

It was so long ago now, another life, before he was only the wolf to you, and before you were the thorn in his paw, that you almost had forgotten. You had hardly given him a second thought at first, he was just another visiting knight, here one day and gone the next, handsome, but beyond the concerns of the girl you once were. “You failed to make an impression,” you tell him sharply, although it’s not true. You do remember his yellow eyes watching you one night, though he never asked you to to dance. He never spoke to you at all.

Not until after. He saved you, of course, from the bloodbath, because he had claimed you. He hadn’t so much as said a word to you before he burst into your bedchamber, monstrous jaws dripping with your fathers blood, yellow eyes wild. You still remembered beating him back with the fire-place’s iron poker, and jamming the tip into his chest before you ran for your life.

“I knew you were mine from the first,” he continues. He seems frighteningly aware of your thoughts, as if his own version of the memory is playing out behind his own eyes. “My lioness, avenging her wicked father with a poker. I still bear your mark, just above my heart.” He presses your entwined hands to his chest for a moment. “I’m certain you remember that, at least.”

“Unfortunately.”

“The only unfortunate part,” he says patiently. “Is that I did not take you as my mate that night.”

His words lance through you like lightning, burning everything in their path. Your knees nearly buckle, and if he were not holding you so securely, you would sink to the floor in a useless puddle of silk. How dare he make you weak, after everything he’s done to you? But anger gives you strength, reinforces your spine with steel, and you wrench away, glaring at him, wishing you could set him ablaze with your eyes.

The music falters. You look up, at the musicians gallery, then around the room. Everyone watches, pretending not to, jewelled masks concealing furtive eyes and whispered words. Your own mask feels insufficient, lightweight and flimsy under the wolf’s eyes when your eyes return to him. He takes your arm, his grip tight, but not bruising, and guides you out of the ballroom, into the cold night air. The dark gardens are just a little too far for you to jump down from the wide stone balcony, and there are no stairs leading down. If you jump, you’d probably break your leg, and then you’d be helpless.

“What do you think of our home?” he asks. “Have you snooped around yet, my darling? Planned all your exits and hidden away your weapons and armour? I made sure you’d have plenty of opportunity. I know how you love to prepare.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t found them already.”

“I have been busy with other preparations,” he says mildly. “But I thought I smelled something of you in the corridor by the library.”

You flinch, only confirming that you had in fact been there, hiding your leather armour inside a large vase. “Preparations for what?”

“Your homecoming. The king has made it clear that it’s time to reign you in, or he will have someone else deal with you.” He pulls the mask off at last, setting the golden wolf on the balcony. Sweat glimmers at his temples, catching light from the ballroom behind them. He offers you a wry smile, his sharp white teeth flashing. “I’ve been too lenient with you.”

“Lenient?” you ask, incredulous. “I’ve been trying to kill you.”

“Those who attempt such things do not usually live long,” he reminds you. “I don’t often show mercy. I’ve allowed you to live free, in the hopes that you would come to me willingly, in time. Now it seems I can no longer afford to continue our little game. You will stay with me, or someone else will be sent to arrest or kill you.”

You press your palms into the smooth railing, wishing desperately that you could absorb the cool, dependable steadiness of stone through your skin. You look at him for a moment while he stares out over the dark gardens, his yellow eyes tracking movement you can’t see.

He’s always dressed in black, like a man in mourning, his black curls cropped short around his slightly pointed ears, beard neatly trimmed. He wears little jewellery for a man of his station, just the yellow-gold signet ring with it’s heavy, dark blue sapphire on his finger, and the gleam of jet buttons down the front of his tunic. You were more used to seeing him in his armour. The heavy black plate suits his brutality better than black-embroidered silk.

Silk offers no protection, no shield over his wicked black heart.

You pull the hairpin from your own neatly arranged curls and move fast, striking at his chest, but he catches your hand easily, his amber eyes meeting your fury with amusement. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?” he asks. “Stubborn creature.”

He plucks the pin from your hand and spins you around, pushing you into the railing with the oppressive weight of his presence. Your protests are weak and hardly noticed, but you fall silent when you feel the rough pads of his fingertips on the back of your neck. He gathers your hair up and pins it back in place, not as neatly as you had done earlier, but sufficiently.

“What are you doing?” you ask numbly.

He turns you around, still standing far too close. You stare forward, at the point where his skin meets the collar of his tunic, your eyes glued to his pulse. You wish for teeth as sharp as his own, so you could tear out his throat. His fingers curl under your chin, nudging your face up, forcing you to look him in the eye again. “Just returning your pin,” he says, smirking. “Why do you seem so flustered, darling?”

“Why don’t you just kill me?” you ask. Your hand lifts up to knock his away, but you touch him instead, fingertips ghosting over his knuckles. You know he’s capable of crushing you with hardly a thought. You’ve spent the last ten years learning all you could about him, hunting him down again and again and again with a single-minded determination. He likely could have killed you a thousand times over, if you’d been just a little less careful, or he a little less eager to capture you instead. He should have killed you. You don’t know how to stop anymore, you don’t know how to let go of the terrible anger that burns you up every time you think of him. You want him to suffer, to lose everything, to hurt the way he hurt you. “I’ll never stop.”

There is a flicker of sadness in his eyes, and it pings against your heart uncomfortably. “I never could,” he says, all traces of his smirking, superior air gone. His thumb strokes along your jaw. “I begged the king for your life. Your father may have been a traitor, but you were an innocent girl, and I do not enjoy killing innocents.”

“I’m not innocent anymore.”

“No, I suppose not. But you’ve committed no crimes that I cannot forgive.”

“I don’t want your forgiveness.” Your voice is hardly more than a hoarse whisper. You want to shout, but his hand on your skin seems to leech all the power out of you.

“You have it regardless,” he whispers back, low and intimate as a lover. He touches his forehead to your mask, his eyes boring into yours, twin suns scorching everything in their path. “And someday I will earn yours.”

“Never,” you hiss. You return to your senses and push his hands away, shoving hard against his chest. “I hate you. I’ll always hate you.”

He tugs your mask off and tosses it to the side, tired of pretense. “If you hate me so much, why does your heart beat like that?”

“I’m afraid of you,” you snap.

He laughs harshly. “No you’re not. You’ve never been afraid of anything, my darling. It is one of the things I love best about you.” He leans in closer, the tip of his nose just brushing yours. You can feel his breath on your skin, the sharp smells of whiskey and mint setting your nerves on edge. For a moment, you think he’s going to kiss you, and you freeze, heart pounding, face turned towards him, waiting for the axe to fall.

But he withdraws instead, leaving you to face the consequence of unrealized want. His words prick at you like the point of a sword. Love. As if he would know the first thing about it. As if he knew you.

But he does know you, you realize with a start. He made you. His actions had set you on your path, and his choice not to kill you, each time that he should have, had created the determined, single-minded, furious woman that you had become. The carefree girl who you had been was long gone, dead the first time the wolf’s jaws closed around your throat. It burns you to think that he’d shown you mercy all along, that you had escaped capture or death by his leave, rather than by your own cunning and skill.

His eyes remain on your face, reading your thoughts like you’re a book laying open, waiting for him to happen by and discover all your secrets. “You have become worthy of me,” he continues ardently, pressing your hand to his chest again, anchoring it with both of his own. “I would have kept you like a bird in a cage if I’d taken you then. A pretty thing to amuse me and adorn my halls. But you are no trophy, my love. You will not survive in captivity. Even now, with the king’s sword hanging over your head, I will not force you to stay.”

“Is this some sort of trick?”

“I used to wonder the same thing. A cruel trick of fate, that my mate would hate me so fiercely.”

“You killed my father,” you hiss at him. You yank your hand away, desperately stoking the anger that has kept him at bay all these years. Each time he calls you mate and darling and love your resolve quakes, and you have no sword in your hand to make him regret it, like you usually would.

“He was a traitor. I had orders.”

“And what comfort will that be when your orders are to kill me?” you ask, sneering up at him. “What will you do when your orders are explicit and undeniable, and you are to kill me on sight?”

“I’ll never see you again.”

You aren’t sure what you expected, exactly, but it always trips you up when he speaks plainly. “What’s that supposed to mean?” you snap.

“What do you think it means?” He hurls the words back at you, his anger lighting from your own. “It means I would pluck my own eyes out before I’d kill you. If the king ordered me to hunt you down I’d stay one step behind you until we reached the very ends of the earth. If he came outside this very moment and told me to snap your neck—” He shudders, shaking his head like a dog shakes off the rain, and when he looks back at you the anger is gone, hidden away again behind his steely resolve. “Loyalty only goes so far. He knows not to make an order I cannot follow. If he truly wants you dead, he’ll ask another.” He glances over his shoulder, keen yellow eyes fixing on a point somewhere inside. “I hope it does not come to even that.”

“But why?”

He lets go of your shoulders and turns around, stalks a few feet away, and turns again, pushing both of his hands through his hair in frustration. Because I love you!” he snarls. “You had me the first day you tried to run me through. Oh I wanted you from the first moment I laid eyes on you, beautiful thing that you are, but it was the first moment that you tried to cut my heart out that I knew there could be no other. You have no idea what it’s like, to love such a stubborn, foolish, bitch of a woman? Do you understand what it will do to me, when you leave? But I have never been able to keep you by force.”

“But you let me go,” you say numbly. “You said—”

“Let you go?” He laughs, striding back towards you. “Oh my love, you misunderstand. Just because I couldn’t kill you does not mean I didn’t try to keep you. But you have slipped every chain I’ve placed upon you. I’ve never pulled my punches. I would not disrespect you so.”

“You called it a game—”

He inclines his head towards you. “I did. Perhaps I should not have. But it was easier to think of it as a game. A test of my own worthiness. I admit, I have always looked forward to your attempts on my life. It’s good, I think, for a man to be beaten once in a while, to keep him sharp. Otherwise he forgets to be vigilant.” He sighs, touching the edge of an old, silvery scar on your shoulder, brushing a loose strand of your hair out of the way. “Besides. We’ve both made our marks upon the other.”

“I’ve gotten you more times than you have me,” you say, lifting your chin imperiously. “Two or three times I really thought I’d finished you off.”

“Are you so certain of that?”

You think about it. “Yes.”

“Care to make a wager, dearest? If you’ve left more marks on me than I on you, you may ask anything of me.”

You draw in a steady breath. “And if I lose?”

He grins. “Not so confident now, are you? I only want what is freely given, so you needn’t worry. You can name your own penalty.”

“How magnanimous.”

“I can be,” he says. “Now, shall we inspect each other here, or would you prefer somewhere more private?”

The thought of being alone with the wolf makes you shiver, but it’s not revulsion that you feel, it’s something far worse. The dark, cold balcony seems a world away from the golden ballroom with all it’s legions of beautiful, elegant guests, but it’s only panes of glass that separates you from them, hazy from condensation, opaque enough that you doubt anyone can see through them. It makes no material difference, in the end, but it’s winter, and the cold seeps through your dress easily, your skin only warm where he touches you. “Ah, yes,” you say nervously. “Perhaps somewhere more private.”

“And warmer,” he adds. “As stunning as you look, I do not believe you are dressed for the weather.”

As if on cue, a snowflake descends from the dark sky. You reach out your hand, catching it against your palm. A moment later, the sky is thick with snow, fat, fluffy flakes catching the light and turning the world white. You look back at him. He looks softer, somehow, with that little dusting of snow catching in his thick curls, melting flakes glittering like diamonds on his shoulders. For the first time, you’re struck by how young he looks. He was a man grown at your first meeting, and you had always thought of him as much older, but you know now that he couldn’t be ten years your senior. You suspect it’s much less than that.

It changes something in your perception of him. Softens him.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks, stepping in close again. Although you’ve hardly moved an inch since you came out to the balcony, he’s full of restless energy, moving away and back again like he’s tethered to you by some invisible string. He tilts his head to the side, his keen predator eyes practically glowing in the soft light.

You were glad your face was already flushed from the cold. “I was just thinking. You look so…” You trail off, thinking of the best way to phrase it.

“Handsome?” he suggested. “Strong? Irresistible?” He wiggles his thick black eyebrows, grinning wickedly, making you laugh despite yourself.

“I was going to say young, actually,” you say. “I was wondering what sort of boy you were.”

He holds a hand out to you. “I’m sure there’s a portrait somewhere, if you’re curious. Now come along, pet, I don’t want you catching a cold out here. I do have a wager to win.”

You hesitate. All the ancient, bitter anger and sadness wars with something new in your chest. It’s been so long since you wanted anything more than vengeance. Ages since the last time you felt deep, aching want for someone’s hands on you, if you ever even had. The obsession between you, at least, was mutual, and you had traded the excitement of romance for the thrill of the hunt, the clash of your sword against the wolf’s. His taunting sounded better than flowery poetry to your ears, and you could not help but seek him out every time the loneliness of your new life became too much to bear. He had been your focus, your centre, your reason for existing for so long that you can no longer deny what this is.

Love is not always kind. Between the two of you, it’s become a desperate, wretched thing, living on scraps of attention and hungry looks traded in battle.

His fingers close around yours, and you realize that you’ve reached out and taken the offered hand. You look at him, and he’s smiling in a way you haven’t seen before, half-hitched up on one side, almost shy.

He twines his fingers through yours and leads you back through the ballroom, slipping around the edges of the crowd like the wolf he is. No one seems to pay either of you any mind, although you feel curiously bare without your mask, as visible as a hare in a field to the eyes of a hawk. But your hunter is holding your hand, his thumb stroking over yours soothingly, like he can sense your unease.

Despite that small reassurance, you’re grateful when you step into a nearly empty corridor. A few well-dressed servants carrying trays bustle between the ballroom and the kitchens at the far end, but your wolf leads you the other way, through a few hallways littered with decorative items and portraits of long-dead nobles with eyes that seemed to follow you. You had been there only a few days earlier, but it looks different now. Perhaps it’s that you aren’t on constant guard for the wolf. He’s already here, holding your hand, pretending that he’s not watching you, just as you pretend to look at the portraits and statues and expensive looking vases you pass by, stealing glances at him only when you think you can get away with it.

The silence between you is almost comfortable, both of you too caught up in your individual tumble of thoughts to put anything to words. It’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking. You wonder if he feels like he’s won already, but there’s none of his usual taunting or his infuriatingly handsome smirk. He looks serious, black brows lowered in a sort of pensiveness that you’ve never seen from him. Of course, you had only once gone so long in his company without attacking him physically, and you had been tied to a chair, at the time.

“Do you remember, a few years ago, the hunting lodge just above Lake Pym?” he asks.

You laugh. “I was just thinking about it. Why?”

He stops in front of a door and leans against the frame. “Do you think you’ll be able to go as long without trying to stab me this time around?”

“That depends on whether or not you tie me up again,” you quip back.

“Don’t say such things,” he warns you, opening the door and holding it open, letting go of your hand for the first time in ages. Your fingers feel cold without his touch. “You’ll give me ideas.”

“You’ve made far too many confessions tonight for me to believe that you didn’t already have ideas,” you tease. Funny how easily that comes, like you’re old friends and not enemies. A tidy little fire burns in the stone fireplace, with a cozy arrangement of rugs and furs laid out before it. A low table sits ready, carrying wine and glasses and a few plates of the sort of interesting finger-foods that they had been serving in the ballroom. Raising your eyebrows, you look back over your shoulder at him. He hadn’t spoken to anyone on the way in, which meant that it had been all prearranged.

He closes the door behind himself and leans against it, grinning sheepishly. “I live in hope.”

The room - his room- is neat, a big bed with four posts carved like small trees, green-velvet curtains tied back neatly, is the first sign that he might actually like colour. You imagined him always in sombre black and white, dark hair, white teeth, dressed like the reaper and often so employed. But perhaps he isn’t as stark as you’d always thought. His furniture is solid and well-made of warm-toned wood, and the bookshelves that flank the fireplace are stuffed with books, the odd space cleared out for knick-knacks and trophies. You had never considered that he might like to read. It isn’t something that has ever come up before.

The wolf sits down on the furs and nudges a black lump by the fire. The shape uncurls into the biggest, fattest, blackest cat you’ve ever seen and pads over to you, sniffing your skirts suspiciously.

“You have a cat?” you ask, because it seems unlike the picture you’ve built up of him over the years. Another thing you missed. You had been so focused on him as an enemy that you had hardly stopped to consider him as a man. You sit, and the cat drapes itself across your lap, purring already in anticipation of a good scratch.

“I don’t have a cat,” he corrects you loftily. “Smudge is the matriarch of a proud line of excellent mousers, and she is a valued member of the household. One cannot own a cat, I have learned. One co-habituates with cats.” He leans over and gives the cat a little scratch under the chin, his knuckles just barely brushing your knee as he withdraws. “She isn’t usually very friendly, but she must recognize a fellow assassin when she sees one.”

“I’m not much of an assassin, I’m afraid she’d be terribly disappointed in me. I’ve failed to kill my only target, and I have been at it for quite some time.” You give the cat a scratch behind the ears. “I’m sure her record is much more impressive.”

He frowns and looked at you in a funny way. “Have you never taken a life?”

“I’ve tried very hard to avoid it. You’re the only person I ever wanted dead, and I— I wanted to be better than you. I wanted my hands to stay clean, so I could beat you and still keep my sense of…” You look down at the purring black puddle of fur in your lap rather than at the wolf. “Oh I don’t know. Righteousness, I suppose.”

“So sweet that you wanted me to be your first,” he teases.

You know he means first kill, but you turn pink anyway, and there is no cold wind to blame for your rosy cheeks this time. There were many firsts that you had missed out on, in your bid for vengeance. “Perhaps I still do,” you snap, not thinking about the double meaning until after the words have left your mouth. You scramble to clarify. “My first kill— Not— Ugh.” He begins to laugh, and you cover your face with both hands, wishing the floor would open up beneath you and swallow you whole. “Stop laughing!” Your voice is muffled by your hands, but there is no way that his keen wolf’s ears don’t hear you perfectly. “That’s not what I meant!”

He snorts. “I know, pet. It’s a bit late for that, I should think.”

You peek at him between your fingers, and his eyebrows shoot up.

“Darling.” He leans over and gently takes hold of your wrists, prying your hands away. He is mercifully no longer laughing, but the look in his eyes only makes your face burn hotter. “Please don’t tell me that you’ve never taken a lover.”

“There was never a good time,” you manage to squeak out. It was half true. There had been offers, and moments when you’d been sorely tempted to share someone’s bed for the night, but the few fumbling kisses you’d shared with young men had failed to thrill you the way that crossing swords with the wolf did.

He sits back with a groan. “You’re always throwing wrenches into my plans.”

“How on earth could that have anything to do with your plans?” you ask hotly.

“Darling, don’t be so naive. My plans were obviously to seduce you into my bed so I could out-perform every man who had ever touched you, forcing you to admit to yourself that we belong together. But I suppose that would have been too easy.”

“Too easy!”

“I would never imply that you would be easily seduced, my love, only that I am fairly confident that you would have a harder time denying what we are if I were to employ my considerable athletic ability with the task of making you come undone.” He smiles ruefully. “But seduction isn’t fair if you’re a virgin. I’ll have to win your heart the old fashioned way.”

“The old fashioned way?” You stare at him, incredulous. “What, you’re going to court me?”

“I’m certainly going to try,” he says, turning toward the table to pour you a glass of wine. “It’s the long road, but you’ll find I’m usually more than willing to take the scenic route.”

“You’re insane,” you say weakly, accepting the offered glass. “You must be.”

“Must I be? Like you said, I’ve made far too many confessions tonight, you must know that I do not mean this as some passing fancy. I think it would be a waste to continue this bloody crusade of yours. For both of us. I confess my bias in the matter, as I rather enjoy living.” He shrugs, looking at you over the rim of his own glass. “Do you? Has your life been all you wished for, these past ten years? You’ve forgone comfort, education, friends, romance, children— Do you want none of those things?”

“Of course I do—”

“Then take them. Everything you want is yours if you stay.” He takes a sip of wine and winces, face screwing up like a child tasting something bitter. “Ugh, I hate wine.”

“I know. I was wondering if you were going to drink from that glass you’ve been waving around.”

“I just wanted to indicate that it wasn’t poisoned.” He sets the glass to the side, still grimacing. “Just in case you were wondering if I was still trying to trick you.”

“It had crossed my mind.”

“Perish the thought, my love.” He stretches out in front of the fire, propped up on one elbow. “I’ve laid down my arms. If you must end this once and for all to free yourself, so be it. But I do think my alternative is better.”

You set your wine to the side as well and reach back to pull the silver hair-stick from your curls. You consider it, for a moment, pressing the point into your fingertip, not quite hard enough to draw blood. He watches with an inscrutable expression, making no move to disarm you. The cat slips out of your lap and stretches, moving off into the shadows again, either unaware or uncaring of the danger to her house mate. Or perhaps she’s simply more aware than you that there is no longer any danger.

You reach out and place the make-shift weapon on the rug in front of him.

The crackle of the fire is the only sound for a long moment. The wolf was rarely rendered speechless— getting him to shut up was usually the more difficult task. But he simply looks at you, like you’ve performed a miracle in front of his very eyes.

You slide one of the plates of food off the table and set it on the floor between you, something to hopefully distract his attention a little. You pick up one of the little triangle pastries and take a bite, catching crumbs with your other hand. You eat two more, realizing that you haven’t eaten in hours, and wait for him to break the silence.

He sighs and rolls onto his back, tucking both hands under his head. Firelight dances over his skin, burnishing his features like well-polished bronze. Although you have known him a long time, you’ve never studied him like this, while his eyes are closed and his usual grin is smoothed out into a peaceful smile. He looks noble, like a hero from the epics you used to read as a girl, more like you remembered from the days before everything changed.

“You’re staring,” he says without cracking an eye.

“How would you know? You haven’t opened your eyes in ages.”

“And how would you know that, if you haven’t been staring?”

He has you there. “Alright, fine. I suppose I was. I was just thinking about… about before.”

He opens his eyes. “How long? We do have a rather storied history, don’t we, love? I myself have been thinking of Lake Pym.”

You smirk. “I bet you have. I had a feeling you were rather enjoying yourself.”

“I was. It would have been more fun if you were a more willing guest, or if I at least didn’t have to keep you tied to a chair the whole time.”

“You wouldn’t even let me feed myself,” you lament, though you can’t help the traitorous note of amusement in your voice. “It was terribly humiliating.”

“Revisionist drivel!” he snarls playfully. “I did untie you so you could feed yourself, and you tried to stab me. You forced my hand.”

You blink. “I suppose I did.”

He leans closer. “I suspected you just wanted me to take care of you. You were too proud to ask me for what you wanted, so you forced the situation. And snapped at my fingers the whole time like an absolute menace.” He holds up his right hand and displays a white mark around the first knuckle of his thumb. “That’s one, by the way.”

“I only bit you because you stuck your finger in my mouth,” you reminded him.

“Ah, I suppose I did get a bit carried away, didn’t I? There was just this moment when I touched your lip…” He reaches out as if he wants to repeat the remembered gesture, perhaps hoping for a better outcome, but he hesitates, dropping his hand. You almost wish he hadn’t. “Are you still too proud, my love?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

He senses your weakness. The way the answer drips with doubt like blood from a wound. “Will you let me kiss you?” He moves closer, anticipating your answer before it leaves your lips.

Your breath catches in your throat. “Yes.”

At long last, he closes the distance between you, hands cradling each side of your face. He just barely brushes his lips against yours, and holds you back when you try to chase him, his familiar wolfish smile lighting up his face. “Not so fast, my darling. You’ll have to ask nicely, if you want a proper kiss.” He unbuttons the cuff of his black shirt only a moment later, his eyes dropping away from yours for a moment, and then rolls up his sleeves. “Two and three, respectively,” he says, pointing out two more scars along his forearms. They were both from similar situations. Two times that you had disarmed him and made him bleed for it. You reach out and touch the silvery marks, feeling the smooth gap in his arm hair and the fully repaired muscle underneath the flawed skin. “You’re a better swordsman than I,” he says, reaching up to unlace the top of his tunic. “I might have had the edge of experience, at the beginning, but you quickly caught up to me, didn’t you? It was a good thing you were so scrupled about killing people other than me, or I’d have lost far too many good men to your blade.”

“You’re just trying to flatter me.”

“Is it working?” He pulls the tunic and shirt off in one go, baring his chest. There are a few scars there that you could not claim, and two that you can, although your eyes are drawn to one in particular. The ugly, uneven star right next to his heart, where you had run him through with the iron poker on the night of the wolf. “This one is my favourite,” he tells you, pressing one of your hands to the scar. “The first time you tried to kill me. Jon had to half-heal me himself, or I wouldn’t have made it to a proper healer in time. It’s partially why there’s such a scar. He’s always been terrible at the more subtle magics, but if you want something blown up, Jon’s your man.”

You laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Make sure you also note, in that treacherous little mind of yours, that he will not employ his considerable magical gift with the task of making me explode. He is still rather fond of me, even after all these years.”

“It is good, I think, to have a king that is so well-versed in the art of restraint,” you say mildly.

“Oh yes, I imagine it is.”

“So is it really just the five scars?” you ask. “That’s all?” Despite the truce the two of you had settled into, you felt strangely disappointed that your obsession with killing him over the last decade had resulted in only a handful of scars. It all felt like a waste. You try to console yourself with the knowledge that he heals more rapidly than most men. The scars you have left are despite that.

“There’s one more, on my thigh, but I imagine you probably don’t want me to take my pants off.”

You do want him to take his pants off. “Yes, that’s very thoughtful of you,” you say instead. “I suppose you’ve won, anyway. I have a lot more than six scars from you.” You had expected that his life as a warrior would have marked him more significantly. You’re covered in scars, faded and fresh alike, and there is no getting around the fact that you feel like you’ve stitched yourself up so often that you look as worn down as your oldest, ugliest shirt.

The disappointment in his eyes is gone so quickly that you aren’t entirely sure you hadn’t imagined it. “Well, I suppose I’ll have to take your word for it, won’t I?”

“You’re just trying to get me out of my dress,” you say hotly.

“Obviously. You look very lovely in it, of course, but I have been hoping for the chance to peel it off of you.”

You shake your head. “I think you’ll be a bit disappointed.”

“Never. What would possibly deter me at this point, darling? If stabbing me through the heart didn’t erode my affections, what could?”

“Oh I don’t know,” you say thoughtfully. “I could have scales, or a tail—”

“I have a tail,” he reminds you. “And I’m quite positive that you’re human, so I’m not worried about scales. Or strange birth-marks or stretch-marks or scars, either, by the way.”

You take a deep breath and stand up, turning your back to him. “It would help if you could undo all these buttons for me,” you say, sweeping your hair in front of your shoulder. “There are so many of them.”

He jumps to his feet and scrambles to help. A few buttons plink to the floor, torn free in his haste. “I’ll have it fixed,” he says hastily. “And I’ll buy you new gowns. As many as you can stand.”

You glance over your shoulder, nervous laughter stilling on your tongue when you see the look in his eyes. You turn forward again, sliding your arms through the sleeves and shimmying the gown to he floor. He gives you a hand to steady yourself as you step free. “I— I don’t want— I won’t stay.”

He hums in response, gathering up the gown and laying it over the back of a chair.

“I won’t,” you repeat yourself, as if the words will sound convincing the second time. They don’t.

“I already told you, darling, I won’t make you stay. It’s up to you.”

He draws you back to your seats in front of the fire, and you offer him your arms. You’re riddled with fine scars, most of them faint, little nicks from his blade. His hands slide up to your shoulder and gently tug the capped sleeve of your chemise to the side, baring the imprint of his jaws. His thumb runs across the marks, his other hand landing on your knee.

“I wondered if I’d bitten you that night.” He moves closer, his tongue moving over his sharp canines as he sighs. His fingers trail down your arm as his touch drops away. “You never turned, so I wasn’t sure.”

“It doesn’t always take,” you say, using his shoulder to help you back up to your feet. “I think it depends on the moon. New moon, that night. If you were any other wolf you never would have shifted.”

“I suppose that makes sense.” He settles back on his heels, looking up at you. “I can’t say I’ve thought about why some bites take and some don’t. I’m not as observant as you, my love.”

Laughable, when his senses are many times greater than your own. It’s not his observations that are the problem, it’s the connecting cause and effect, thinking about consequence for more than a moment. He’s faced so few consequences in his life that it doesn’t come naturally to him. You, on the other hand, are a mess of consequence, action and reaction measured and weighed, failures poured over until you can see every mistake you’ve made, follow the tracks to how things could have been, if you’d done it all just a little differently.

You pull your skirt up so you can untie the ribbon that holds up your stocking, and he slides it down to your ankle. “This one’s only indirectly your fault,” you say, angling your leg so he can see the trail of pocked scars that wrap around your knee and up your thigh. “When I jumped down that ravine. Scraped myself up on the rocks.”

He tuts, hands reaching for these scars too. It’s just an excuse to touch you, certainly, but you make no move to stop him. You just hold your skirt up, giving him unfettered access to your skin. His amber eyes flick up to your face, and he leans forward, pressing his lips to your knee.

There’s no halting the soft “Oh” that falls from your lips, but he would have heard even the softest catch of breath. There’s no hiding from him, and it terrifies you, leaves you so unsteady.

His eyes flutter shut for a moment, his exhale warm against your skin. “You shouldn’t show me any more,” he tells you. “I find myself wanting to kiss every inch of skin you show me, and I worry that you won’t stop me if I try.”

You sink back to his level and pull your stocking back up, tying the ribbon around your thigh again. “Would that be so bad?”

He groans and lays back on the furs, hands neatly folded on his stomach. “I am trying to be a good man for you, darling. You deserve more than I can give in one night. I need at least a few weeks to make you fall hopelessly in love with me before I can do anything that would tempt me to take you to bed.”

You run your palm over his stomach, feeling the soft pelt of hair over his warm skin, letting your curiosity guide your fingertips. You feel the expansion and contraction of muscle as he breathes in and out, tucking one hand under his head so he can watch you more easily, his eyes barely open.

You have to admit, he is handsome, especially relaxed like this. Only a few short hours ago you would have found the idea of him kissing any part of you abhorrent, but now you find yourself similarly compelled. You take his hand and kiss his knuckles, the tips of his fingers, the palm of his hand.

“Come here, you little minx,” he growls, trying to pull you down on top of him. You pull back, and he lets go, still worried about pushing you when you’ve made so many overtures in such a short time.

You had expected him to hold on tightly, however, and overbalance, tipping over the other way with an inelegant little squeak. He laughs as he sits up, and you do too as he helps you back upright. He lays back again, and there’s no resistance when he takes you with him this time. He tucks you into his side, and you look down at him, chin propped on your hand.

“I rescind my earlier statement,” he says.

“Which one?”

“You don’t have to ask nicely for a kiss, darling. I worry that you’re too prideful to admit that you might like one, but if you can steal one whenever the mood strikes you, I might be lucky enough to receive a few impulsive ones that your good sense isn’t fast enough to stop.”

You huff. “Is this your way of asking for another?”

“It’s my way of asking for as many as you might want to give me,” he says. “There is, of course, a standing offer of anything you might like that is within my power to supply. I think it prudent to remind you.”

He’s a ridiculous kind of man. You’d always thought his tendency toward verbosity was just him grandstanding, but now you see it for what it really is. He wants to be understood by you so desperately that each sentence becomes overwrought, less clear for his efforts to imbue each word with meaning. Your own tendency toward blunt, inelegant language is an almost laughable counter. You say little, and hide everything you can, and he reads you plainly. He speaks like a poet, puts everything out in the open, and you misunderstand him on purpose.

Perhaps that’s why you didn’t see this for what it is a long time ago. If you were not so determined to make an enemy of him, perhaps you would have noticed the softness in his eyes, the way he looks at you as though you’re the sunrise and set, like you’re the moon and all the stars in the sky.

You kiss him, before he can open his mouth to speak again. There’s nothing lacklustre about the way your lips slide over his, the way your breath mingles, the way he makes little noises of satisfaction, unable to be quiet even with his tongue flicking over your top lip, encouraging you to open up for him. Angling your head to keep your noses from smushing together, you oblige, letting him lick into your mouth, his arms circling you, holding you tight against his body.

You can't put a name to the feeling that sparks between you, but it's the thing that's been missing from every kiss you've had before.

The heat, the need of it all burns away all that remains of your carefully maintained resolve. He loves you, fool that he is, and you're not sure you could survive without him now. Is that what love is? To mourn even the thought of their absence from you, to cling tightly and never let go? To sink into each other until you're one, two halves of the same whole?

He kisses you until you're breathless, lips swollen from the tug of his sharp teeth, jaw curiously sore from moving in a new way. You pull back first, braced on one arm as you look down on him. He's beautiful, more than human, wild-eyed and fey, but solid and warm beneath you in a way only a man could be. His imperfections make him dearer to you, not just the marks you've drawn on his skin, but the gap between his two front teeth, the way one brow arches a little more than the other, giving him that permanently skeptical look that had always made you feel he was making fun of you. The crooked smile, the notch in one ear.

You know his face more intimately than your own, but you still want to look at him, especially through this new lens.

“I don’t think I want to wait,” you admit. You’ve waited long enough, haven’t you?

“Are you certain?” he asks.

“I don’t see what difference it makes, really.”

“It makes a great deal of difference. I’ve taken enough from you, I don’t want you to regret it.” He gazes up at you, tracing along your jaw with careful touch.

Your heart races rabbit-quick in your chest, and although you're the one looking down at him, you feel pinned in place by the wolf's eyes alone. "Then make sure I don't," you say softly. "I can even promise not to make another attempt on your life until the morning."

"Darling…"

"Please. I don't know how I'll feel tomorrow, but tonight I think I want your hands on me."

"You think?" His fingers catch around the back of your neck, as though he's waiting for some cue before he pulls you back into his arms.

“I know.”

He pulls you down for another kiss, rolling the two of you so his big body stretches over yours, your underskirts bunching up as he slots his thick thigh between yours, pressing against your core. He holds most of his weight off of you, but you’re still trapped beneath him. For the first time in a long while, there is no panic, no desire to fight furiously for freedom. You feel quite content where you are, especially when his thigh flexes, rubbing against you firmly, sending a shower of sparks through your belly. You gasp against his mouth, your hands skimming down his sides gingerly. When he does it again, you dig your fingers into the muscle of his back reflexively, murmuring apologies as his lips leave yours and slide down your bared throat.

“Don’t,” he growls against your pulse, dragging his tongue roughly over your skin. “Don’t apologize. You won’t hurt me.”

His teeth graze the slope of your shoulder, finding the older scar from his lupine jaws. You let out a shuddering gasp when he bites down lightly, not even hard enough to leave a mark. There’s a part of you that wants him to leave a mark, a bruise if not something more permanent, but you’re not sure you’ll be able to convince him out of gentleness tonight.

He kisses down your chest, grinning up at you when he reaches the top edge of your corset. “You are still wearing far too much clothing, my love. Come here.” He stands in a smooth movement, and you’re untethered without the weight of his body against yours, but only for a moment. He helps you to your feet and leads you to the bed, taking a seat on the edge and pulling you between his knees, turning you so he can loosen the laces of your corset.

You shed the garment as soon as you’re able, as well as the extra petticoats. Your chemise is thin, loose material, obscuring little, but you leave it on while you sit beside the wolf, toeing your heeled slippers off and nudging them under the bed and out of the way. Hands folded, you wait, heart beating like a drum. You feel so strange, almost outside your own body, watching him unlace his boots and tug them off impatiently.

He stands to strip off his trousers, and you quickly avert your gaze, looking down at your hands rather than see him in his fully undressed state. You have a rough idea of what you’d find, you’ve been in the public baths more than a few times, and even doing your best to be respectful, it’s hard not to see something. But seeing something in a setting where everyone is minding their own business is a lot different than seeing something up close, especially when you might be expected to do more than just look.

“We don’t have to do this, love,” he says, kneeling in front of you, clasping his hands around yours. Your eyes fly back up, landing on his face. His chuckle makes your cheeks burn. “If you’re nervous—”

“No,” you say quickly. “I want to. I’m just— I hate not knowing what I’m supposed to do.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that darling. It’s your first time, I should think the responsibility rests on my shoulders. All you have to do is tell me when you like something and when you don’t.” He leans forward, forcing your thighs apart to accommodate the bulk of him, and kisses you, all sweetness. “And if you want to stop, we stop. Anything more than that can wait at least until the second or third time.”

It sounds so simple, put like that.

“Besides,” he adds, giving you a wicked grin as his hands move to your hips, the movement rucking your chemise up further on your thighs. “You’ve always been a quick study.”

Well, he’s right about that. His lips find your throat again, pressing languid kisses down your chest until he reaches the edge of your chemise. His eyes flick upwards, seeking permission before he goes further. You untie the simple knot with one hand, the other petting through his soft curls.

He noses aside the thin fabric to find your nipple, latching on with a contented hum. The act sends tremors down into your core, intensifying as his tongue flicks across. You pull in a shuddering breath, and your exhale becomes a whimper when his teeth nip at you, his other hand coming up to grope at your other breast, his touch warm and appreciative before his grip slides down to your hips and he tugs you to the edge of the mattress.

He pulls away from your breast and kisses you properly again. “Do you want more?” he asks. “Can I taste your pretty cunt, darling?”

The desire in his words sends a shiver down your spine. You nod, and he sits back on his heels and kisses all the way up your thigh, although he pauses and pulls back to your other knee, kissing his way up again, this time sinking his teeth into your inner thigh, not hard enough to really hurt, just enough to make you jolt, your pearl begging for any kind of friction. When he passes over your cunt to mouth at your other thigh, you whine, shifting even closer to the edge of the bed. You can feel your cunt dripping, the air strangely cool on your wet skin.

A pair of mischievous eyes glance up at you. He’s doing this on purpose. He started all of this, and now he has the gall to tease you. Glaring in response, you grip him by the hair and pull him in, determined to put his clever mouth to better use than smirking and biting you when you need him elsewhere.

To his credit, he makes no complaint and does what he’s directed, slipping his tongue between your folds, lapping up the slick arousal. His big hands push your thighs up so he can get a better angle, and he kisses your cunt with as much passion as he did your lips, if not more.

The feeling is electric. His mouth scorches, sets you alight in ways you’d never imagined, the occasional scrape of his too sharp teeth against you thrilling. It’s too good, has you fighting his grip even as your fingers are still tightly wound into his hair, holding him close. It’s too much, but if he stopped it would be so much worse.

If he minds your writhing, he doesn’t show it. You can’t help the sounds he pulls from you, but he’s louder, as though this is more for himself than for you. He groans when your hips buck against his mouth, pants when he lifts himself away enough to breathe, his amber eyes gleaming, fixed on your face, except the few times they flutter closed, just for a moment, savouring your taste.

His nose nudges your pearl as his tongue presses inside you. You grip him so tightly to your core, your hips shaking so hard that you’re surprised you don’t break his nose. The hot, molten cataclysm that’s been pooling somewhere behind your belly button overtakes you, sweeping you away, limbs seized, unable to out-swim the current. You can’t see past the stars in your eyes even after your legs relax and you force your hand to unclasp his hair, finger by finger, so you can lay back on the mattress, breathing hard.

He crawls up onto the bed and pulls you toward the centre, a self-satisfied grin on his face. His cock presses into your thigh, insistent for attention, the tip peeking out and leaking against your thigh. He ruts against you when he kisses you again, his close-cropped beard soaked with your arousal. You can taste yourself on his tongue, tangy and bitter-sweet.

You lay twined together, forehead pressed against his as you both catch your breath. One hand gently brushes up and down your spine, the other pulling your leg up over his hip. “How was that?” he asked.

There may not be words for what you feel. Maybe there are, but they’re beyond you right now, washed away with all the resistance in your body. You settle on nice, which makes him laugh.

“Only nice, hm? I suppose I’ll have to work harder.”

“Better than nice,” you assure him. “I— I liked it a lot.” It’s still insufficient, so you kiss him again, hoping he won’t ask any more questions.

He does, after a long moment. “Are you ready for more?”

“There’s more?” you ask. “Or— for you? Do you want me to—”

“No, there’s no need for you to do a thing, love. The next part is for both of us.” He rolls onto his back, taking you with him effortlessly. He reaches past you with one hand while he kisses you sweetly, tongue pushing into your mouth at the same moment you feel his cock slot against your entrance. He pushes in gently, halting when he meets resistance, fucking shallowly into you until you relax enough to let him bury himself deeper into your body.

You tuck your face down against his chest, focusing on the feeling of his cock stretching your cunt, so deep inside you that his presses against your womb. He tries to keep himself still, but his hips buck slightly, tearing a groan from your chest. There’s no stopping the way your cunt squeezes down on him in response, nor the way your hips grind against him. He makes a choked sound, breathing out shakily when you push yourself up to look at him.

The angle change nearly has you collapsing back down, but he takes pity on you and flips you both so he can take the lead. “Hello, pretty thing,” he says, giving you another kiss and a firm grind into you before he starts moving his hips, slowly working himself in and out of your cunt, lips settling against your ear so he could tell you how well you’re taking him, how good you feel around his cock.

Any ability to respond is quickly fucked out of you, your breath punched out with every deep thrust, your world shrinking down to a handful of sensations: his lips on your ear, the weight of his body and the delicious drag of his cock against your inner walls.

He works his hand between you to rub at your pearl, the heel of his hand pressing down on your lower belly. The thought that he can feel himself inside you with your hand is one of the last fully formed ones that cross your mind, because he growls and picks up the pace, unrelenting until you’re shaking and babbling and clinging so tightly to him that you’re certain you’ll leave permanent marks.

He drags you up another precipice and throws you over, his forehead pressed to yours, watching your face as you shake and cry out. He ruts into you, and you can feel him fill your cunt, his cock twitching, rooted firmly inside you. He doesn’t pull away, just throws himself onto his back, holding you tight to his chest.

His heart beats like a drum under your ear, slowing gradually as he catches his breath. His cock slips free, and you stiffen slightly as his spend leaks from your swollen cunt, spilling onto his belly. He pops his head up as soon as you tense, and huffs out a laugh, kissing the tip of your nose.

“Sex can be a bit messy. Come on, love. Let’s get cleaned up.”

Your legs wobble when you try to stand, but he happily slides a supportive arm around your waist, leading you into the adjoining tap room. Once you’re both cleaned up, he coaxes you out of your sweat-soaked chemise and wraps you in one of his shirts and you both sit back down in front of the fire.

You pick up your abandoned wine glass, holding it with both hands as you eye the wolf. He looks content, satiated, like he’s had his fill of you. There’s a little tremor of unease that settles in your belly. Now that the chase is over, will he still want you? Do you still want him to want you? At the beginning of the evening you had been determined to kill him, and now…

He looks back at you through half-closed eyes, and unfurls his arm. “You’re too far away,” he tells you, voice a warm purr. “And you’re thinking too much.”

It’s still unfair, how easily he reads you. An open book, pages left open for him to flip through at his leisure. Despite your trepidation, you walk forward on your knees and sit against him, knees tucked under his arm. His fingertips trail up your thigh, over your knee, down your calf, and back, over and over, as he waits for you to speak.

“What happens now?” you ask at last. “Do we go our separate ways?”

Hurt flashes across his face before he can hide it behind a neutral mask. “If that’s what you want.” His fingers continue retreading their path while silence builds between the two of you. At last, he pulls in a fortifying breath. “Is that what you want?”

There’s raw desire in his eyes, not tempered in the least by your coupling. He offers you everything so easily that it feels like it must be a trick, but he wouldn’t work so hard to hide his feelings if he didn’t care for you, if this were a trap. If you stay, it has to be your choice, not made because of his own want for you to remain by his side.

The anger that kept you warm in all your years out in the cold is gone. Killing him won’t bring your family back from the grave, it would just place another soul in one. The desire for revenge truly burned out a long while ago, and you couldn’t admit that only embers remained. It was why you were so desperate to end it tonight, to close the chapter and look forward to something new.

It’s so like your wolf to ruin your plans. This time, you’re not sure you mind.

“I’d like to stay,” you say at last.

He’s on you so fast that you drop your wine glass, spilling red over the furs. It’s hard to stop laughing enough to kiss him back, trying to point out the mess to him. He growls something about not giving a damn as he gives up trying to kiss you through your smile, and presses his lips to your pulse instead.

In the end, with all the history between the two of you, what’s one more mess?

It's been almost five years since I started writing this short story, and I had fully expected not to finish it. I was caught up in the story in the peripherals, the potential history between Cat and Valter. This scene no longer fits in the overall narrative, even if there are still threads of it that remain unchanged, so I feel like it's safe to share. I'm working on the third draft of The Night of the Wolf, sorting out the mess of my second draft (so many changes it might as well be a second first draft) and I think there's a very real possibility that I can actually finish it, and that's in no small way thanks to all of you. I have been writing for a long time, but it's only been in the past year that I've shared my work with anyone, and it's been a really lovely experience. Thank you for reading my silly fanfictions, thank you for reading this, and I hope to share more bits of original work going forward, if there's any interest. (But don't worry, I'm still gonna finish the fanfictions. I show no signs of stopping yet)

C. T. Cutter

(Also, special thanks to my best human person @dragonnarrative-writes for making me finish this and being so so kind to me about my work and encouraging me always. I am bad at accepting compliments but I appreciate them all the same)

Image Credits: 1 - 2 ~ Dividers by @/cafekitsune

#Cave Writing #original works #enemies to lovers but in a you can't hate someone without also loving them way #in a “I keep my nemesis' picture in a locket around my neck” way #Night of the Wolf #OC: Cat #OC: Valter #This is the sort of work that can happen when you dare to ask the question “What if Rahul Kohli was a hot werewolf?”#This is pretty much my one year writing and posting fanfiction-aversary! How time flies #I've written more this year than the previous 4 combined and it's been so much fun #And I've learned a lot #especially about putting myself out there #Writing other works definitely stretches a different muscle but fanfiction helps with dialogue and characters and writing sex lmao #I have sooooo many stories that stop right before a sex scene because I used to be so bad at writing it #But now? I'm all over it #Anyway these tags are not helpful to anyone I am just dithering to delay posting at this point #It's written in second POV because I was in the monster romance circles before the COD circles and it's popular there too #but I was never brave enough to post anything anyway lmao #Thanks for helping me be brave!#monster romance #but only kind of because when werewolves aren't actively shifted they're just some guy #He spends a lot more time being wolfy in the actual novel

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