Thank you so much for the part 2 of the shapeshifter AU! 🙏 The atmosphere is so singularly spooky and sultry. Keep up the great work!
on it boss!!
70 / 1.6k / part 3 of shapeshifter familiars!141 tormenting witch!reader
...
You wait until the early evening. It's the earliest you can run. Your so-called familiars won't come out while the sky is still bright. Even so, the moon’s faint sliver stands faintly visible against the sky. You pack your things and fetch your traveling cloak. Vital components. Your dagger. Scrying parchment. You've survived on less.
Something catches your eye as you open the door. The setting sun gleams off the little glass vial on your hearth. You grab it. It's the thing Soap left—what he was teasing you about; the "little treat" he brought back. You see now what it is: black henbane. Your heart beats faster. Out of anger or anticipation—you're not sure which wins out. You'll certainly make use of this. But it will be despite your demons. Not because of them.
As you set off to leave, though, you find yourself face-to-face with a different threat altogether: townsfolk with torches and pitchforks.
The mob's torches flicker, casting jagged shadows across their grim faces. Their leader, a broad-shouldered blacksmith with soot-stained hands, steps forward. The pitchfork trembles in his harsh grip. "Off to consort with devils, witch?"
Behind him, a farmer's wife spits at your feet. "My boy hasn't slept since your cursed raven perched on our roof! You sent those monsters to torment us!"
A ripple of agreement surges through the crowd. You catch the glint of silver amulets around their throats—crude charms of rowan berries and iron nails. Your designs.
"I don't want any trouble," you tell them. You already intend to leave this place forever; all you need to do is convince them to let you go in peace. "I swear it. I condemn the demons that plague the village just as you do."
The blacksmith's shout cracks like a whip. "Liar!" He thrusts his pitchfork toward your cottage and the crow feathers littering the threshold. "Found your nest o' nightmares. Bones under the floorboards. Charms written in your hand guidin' those beasts!"
A teenage boy hurls a rock. It grazes your temple with a thump that rings in your skull. "She fed my sister to the black dog! Saw its yellow eyes in her window the night she vanished!"
Then a torch arcs through the dusk. It crashes against your doorframe, tallow and embers cascading onto dry thatch. The farmer's wife screams, "Burn the hellspawn out!"
Other voices roar in agreement. The mob surges forward as one. Their amulets glow faintly as they near your wards, rowan countering rowan.
You slam the door shut, scattering glowing red hay, and bolt for the back door instead. You flee toward the forest. Warm blood slides down your face and trickles into your collar. You crash through the tree line. Brambles tear your cloak. Torchlight dances between birches behind you. They’re gaining.
"Kill her before she calls the beasts!" one voice shrieks.
Another voice, a child’s, cries, “There! By the elder tree!”
Your boot catches on its massive roots. You hit the forest floor hard. Pine needles stick to your bleeding palms as you scramble up—and freeze.
Yellow eyes blink open in the shadows ahead. A wolf.
The blacksmith’s heavy gait clatters to a halt. “Christ preserve us.”
The hound steps into the fading daylight, scars rippling across its muscular flank. Ghost. He bares teeth longer than your fingers.
You back away only for another shadow to fall from the trees above and land next to you soundlessly. The shape is feline—Gaz—but he's no longer the size of a housecat. He's as massive as a tiger. A growl thunders through him. He levels his gaze past you. At the villagers. They don't stand a chance.
You whirl back on the villagers with wild eyes. "Get out of here!" you cry at the mob.
The blacksmith shoves a trembling boy behind him. "Back! Back to the—"
Ghost lunges. Not at the villagers. At you.
His jaws snap inches from your thigh, herding you backward into Gaz's flank. Gaz pins you with one paw on your chest. He keeps his claws sheathed, but the pressure is enough to bruise. His rumbling purr vibrates through your ribs as he licks blood from your temple wound.
"Demons!" A villager hurls a torch. It bounces off Ghost's shoulder. Embers catch in his fur. He doesn't flinch.
Soap's cawing laughter rings from the treetops. He drops down as a raven, shifting mid-fall into human form. He lands in a crouch. "Och, look at these brave lads! Come to play with the big bad devils."
The blacksmith thrusts the pitchfork at him. "Back!"
Soap catches the shaft and yanks the smith forward. "Careful now. You'll poke someone's—" He drives the smith’s own weapon through his boot, impaling foot to soil. "—eyes out."
Screams erupt. The mob fractures. Some flee. Others stand frozen.
"No, don't hurt them!" you gasp out. You try to push out from under Gaz's paw, but it does you no good. "Leave them alone!"
Gaz's purr deepens into a predatory rumble as he drags his rough tongue up the side of your neck to taste your sweat. His hot breath stirs your hair when he growls, "Too late for mercy, love. Smell the fear on 'em? Ripe as summer fruit."
Soap wrenches the pitchfork free from the smith’s screaming form, flicking gore off the tines. "Aye, let's make it a proper feast! Been ages since we had fresh meat that fought back."
"Enough."
Price's voice cracks through the woods like thunder. He stands under the pines’ shadow as if waiting for the last motes of sunset to vanish before he ventures out.
"You lot should've heeded the warnings. Salt your thresholds. Avoid the woods after dark." His gazes pauses over a young child frozen in fear, no parents in sight. He tuts. "But you meddled. Stole from my witch. Harmed her."
The blacksmith finds his voice. "W-We didn't—"
Price steps forward. His boot crushes the smith’s bloodied foot into the ground. Bones pop. "See, that's the trouble with mortals." He crouches to stare into the terrified villager’s face. "You don’t admit you’re wrong."
"Price, please, just take me instead," you plead. "I'm what you came for, aren't I?"
Price's gaze snaps to you. He rises slowly. The flicker of your burning cottage on the horizon behind you reflects in his eyes and makes them glow. His expression tells you how little choice you have in that particular matter. Where you go, they go.
Then he looks past you. “Gaz."
Gaz’s hand slides up your inner thigh. "Already on it."
"No. Save the foreplay. We've got a village to raze." He grabs the bloodied collar of your cloak and hauls you to your feet. "You'll watch. Then we'll discuss your ungrateful actions." His gaze flicks away. "Ghost. Gaz. Clean up."
You can only watch Ghost and Gaz bound into the screaming mob. Your body feels lighter than the air. Then you remember the weight of the henbane in your cloak pocket. The next moment, it's in your hand. You crush the glass, ignoring the stab of pain. You send it sailing through the air, and it lands right on its mark—the roaring torch discarded in the leaf litter.
The henbane catches and wafts up into the air as smoke. It curls upward in thick, narcotic tendrils. The smell is heady, its effect potent and immediate. Soap snarls as the first plume hits his nostrils. He staggers back and clutches his head. Gaz convulses mid-pounce, collapsing into ferns as his tiger-like form shrinks to housecat size. Ghost whines low in his throat and shakes his massive skull like a dog with water in its ears.
Chaos erupts. Villagers seize the chance to bolt. The blacksmith drags his wailing son toward the tree line.
Price grips your arm hard enough to leave talon marks. His other hand clamps over his nose, veins bulging in his temple. You cough into your sleeve. Your vision swims. Henbane's poison works both ways, after all. It’s powerful for those who know how to use it for their own ends. Black henbane is what you used to summon your familiars and what bound them to you. But its hallucinatory effects are more pronounced on those who have surrendered the greater part of their souls to magic—or for those whose bodies are already flush with it. Price, Gaz, Ghost, and Soap don’t stand a chance. Even your soul is so considerably marked by witchcraft that you quickly fold to its effects. But you, at least, can twist it and warp it to weave a spell that might protect you.
Cloaked in smoke, you transform.
The shift hits you like a lightning strike—bones crackling, muscles twisting, vision narrowing into a something wide and preylike. The forest tilts, and suddenly Price's grip is gone. He holds your sleeve, but not you. You slip away, tumble through your limp clothes, and hit the forest floor on four paws. The world sharpens into smells of damp moss and wolf musk. Your rabbit heart hammers against ribs as thin as wishbones.
You dart left--straight into Gaz's waiting claws. The tomcat pins you with a paw, purring as his claws prick your scruff. Then he sneezes, henbane pollen glinting in his whiskers. You writhe free.
You race deeper into the forest with the wind at your back. The woods close in, but thorns no longer claw your clothes; roots no longer trip you. You are no longer an intruder. The forest itself turns toward you, opens to you. Thorns tug pleasurably against your fur as you bound past. Old magic stirs beneath your rabbit feet.
"Clever girl. Find her." Price's voice slithers through the trees far behind you, syllables slurred but venom intact. "And keep her whole enough to scream."
...
← part 2 / [part 3] / part 4 ➡
more Price / more Ghost / more Soap / more Gaz / masterlist
One Piece Zosan Soulmate AU, where at 18, you get the ability to summon a familiar. An animal of any kind, natural or mythical. The familiar is there to keep you company and help you get through your life. On a rare occasion, you bond with your familiar so much that it becomes your soulmate and turns human - but that’s not the norm because you have to love your familiar with every fiber of your being, and it has to return this feeling. It’s hard work, and most people don't even bother because you don't have the desire to only live with your soulmate until your familiar turns into it.
Judge always told Sanji that he couldn't summon a familiar because he had modified him, so he didn't have one or couldn't reach his. In his eyes, he’s too weak to deserve one with all his emotions.
On the quadruplets' 18th birthday, Judge, in his generosity, gave Ichiji, Niji, Yonji, and Reiju permission to finally summon their familiars because he knew they would use them like weapons. Sanji is left outside of the ceremony because he doesn't have a familiar and thus doesn't need to know how to summon one. He really wanted to watch but couldn't sneak past the guards in front of the throne room.
So he watched as his siblings all walk out of the ceremony with big animals as familiars. Ichiji got a lion with wings that’s taller than him. Niji had an eagle with an iron beak and claws that could carry him on his back. Yonji’s familiar turned out to be a huge silverback gorilla with stone fists that could fight with brutal force like crazy. And Reiju got a big snake that could spit venom over fifty feet wide and had a blade as it’s tail tip. The deadly Germa soldiers just got deadlier.
But it wasn't easy for the four siblings. Their familiars couldn't bond with them due to the fact that they weren't able to form an emotional bond. They had to punish them often for destroying property of the kingdom and not listening to orders. In the end, the four animals turned out to be scared, violent creatures who learned to listen because of pain and punishment.
Seeing this, Sanji was actually happy he couldn't summon one. He wouldn't be able to stand the sight of his familiar being punished because it would please his father. Because - let’s be for real - Sanji was the punching back of the family, his familiar certainly would be, too.
One day, after his brothers had beaten him up badly and chased him through the woods with their familiars, Sanji sat under a big tree crying his eyes out. Suddenly, his name echoed through his mind as if something or someone was calling him. He thought he was finally going crazy because the calling didn't stop even after hours.
He was still sitting under the tree when a different name appeared in his mind. And in the beginning, he was irritated. He didn't know anyone by that name. But when the name was said time and time again, Sanji felt the need to say it out loud. He bit his tongue because why would he say a random name he never heard before? After some time, the voice disappeared, and Sanji sighed, relieved.
But it wouldn't stop there. In the course of the next months, it happened again and again! At random times and in random situations - but often when he was beaten up or experimented on. Months turned into a year and the name always came back.
After a particularly hard beating from his brothers - which left him bleeding in the woods again - the name came back to him. The need to say it got stronger with every moment. He was weak, on the brink of passing out and he didn't care about being weird. With blood dripping from his mouth, he sat up on his knees and breathed out the name.
“Zoro…”
Nothing happened and he wanted to scream. Because why was the name torturing him for months and when he finally gave in, nothing happened?! He raised his head to the sky, hands clawed in his hair and opened his mouth in a silent scream.
But then a warm wind blew over his body. There was a presence right in front of him. Lowering his head, his breath caught in his throat.
“What took you so long?” A voice rumbled through his mind - the voice that had kept calling his name for the past year. “Why are you bloody? Who did this to you?”
The voice was concerned but also filled with contained anger.
“Zoro?”
“Yes…”
“Zoro.”
“Sanji?”
Something clicked in Sanji’s mind. He wasn't going mad…it was him calling his name. He was…but how?
“Zo…ro…”
Sanji felt tears spilling down his cheeks while his senses began to dull. The blackness of losing consciousness pulled him in. He swayed and fell forward. But he didn't hit the ground. He fell against a big, soft snout. Green hair tickled his face.
“I’m dreaming…” he mumbled against the fur, combing a bloody hand through it.
“No, but you should rest for now. We talk when you wake up.”
The dark, rumbly voice kept talking until Sanji was sleeping against the side of the massive, green Tiger - which would make sure no one was laying a hand on his human ever again, not under his watch!
thinking about lohen in some au context where he's a familiar-esque creature
absolutely REFUSES to obey/take to a master. he hates being controlled as much as he hates being helpless so he steers clear of people to avoid such a horrid fate even to his own detriment
whoever wants him as a familiar has to respect his independence and autonomy it is required if they can't do even that there's no way lohen would ever acknowledge them regardless of raw strength or leadership
lohen has no use for others' strength or leadership unless it benefits his own, after all. and he won't benefit from something that imposes its will upon him
