WTNC Mini-Fics
So @galleywinter threw a challenge flag at my head to start writing again. These are dedicated to her (thank you for listening to me scream on discord for a week)
Under the cut because there’s a few of them and it got kinda long.
Butterflies in your stomach and your heart skipping beats- that can’t be safe
Alkar is pouting again.
Wren still finds it adorable, likes to watch from the warmth of Omen’s embrace (be it tail or arms) as the two of them watch their wolf stalk around their home, muttering under his breath as he rearranges things that don’t need to be moved. Sometimes they wake at night, red eyes glaring in the dark even as he burrows deeper in between the two of them.
It’s just feelings, Alkar, they’d tried to tell him, palms pressed against his cheeks. His ears had gone back and he’d scowled.
Doesn’t feel healthy, his grumble hadn’t done anything to hide the blush skating across his cheeks.
Tonight… tonight is different – tonight there’s only two of them. Laid out under the night sky, grass soft beneath them as they trace meaningless patterns between the stars. The earth is cool against their skin, but held by the living furnace that is Alkar Wren barely even notices.
It would be easier, they muse, with Omen there. But he had gone to see Elaine and Armaros, so Wren was on their own to keep Alkar from sulking into the next century.
“Hey,” they say, turning far enough to slide a hand into his hair.
“Hey yourself,” he mumbles, flicking back the ear they had been reaching for.
“You’re pouting again.”
“Am not.”
“Alkar.” Wren sighs. “You can say you miss him. It won’t kill you.”
“I do not miss people,” his voice is just a hair above a growl. Wren ignores the small thrill it sends through them.
“Oh?” Wren puts on a fake pout (they’ve gotten better since practicing their Alkar imitation.) “Not even me? I guess that means I can go away on longer assignments then?”
There’s a moment where they swear they see fear in Alkar’s eyes, and then he’s on top of them, pinning them to the ground while they try to get enough air to laugh under the weight of a six-something Lycan.
“Mean,” Alkar says, nipping at the shell of their ear. “You are mean.”
Wren buries their hands in his hair, holding him close.
“You love it.”
Praying won’t do you much good around here.
She knows there’s something wrong in Lunaris from the moment they arrive. Call it a feeling, superstition, paranoia from years of Hunter training to see threats around every corner.
Night falls in waves in this town: one calm as the sky after rain and one oppressive enough to be felt. There is a night of starry skies and a night cloaked in shadow so dark her bones ache.
The people are terrified to be outside, running for safety as the sun sinks below the horizon. They watch with shuttered, suspicious eyes as she carries out her investigation, wishing for an end to the madness and not sure if they can believe she’ll be the one to deliver it.
Hell, she isn’t even sure she can save them. Lunaris keeps many secrets, and it keeps them well protected. Even those who offer her their assistance, their friendship, look at her with apologies scrawled on their faces. They know things, they don’t tell her these things, and she runs into every problem blind.
Don’t trust anyone.
The sooner she can get this done, free this town from whatever nightmare that holds it this time, the sooner she can get away.
I'm not playing 20 questions with you
Two cards hit the table – a 3 from Omen and a 10 from Poppy.
“Favorite place to be during the day?”
“Down in the markets,” Omen replied dutifully. Poppy began scrawling his answer in their notes as he continued. “There’s a lot of activity so it’s easier to get a read on people.”
Alkar snorted into his tankard in what might have been contempt. Hard to tell with him.
Their table is surprisingly tame for its current occupants. Alkar, it seems, is contenting himself with watching their game while studiously ignoring the looks he’s getting from the other patrons. Alaric, for once, has his “let’s fuck with Alkar” gauge set to low, because he’s been nothing but well-behaved since they sat down.
They had seen Finn and Ezra only briefly, the two had kept their heads down and come and gone in record time. Ezra had looked like hell: Poppy had heard from passersby earlier that afternoon that someone in town had been badly hurt in the woods. Maybe they hadn’t made it.
They flipped another round of cards.
Omen made a small sound of delight and Poppy looked own. Omen’s King outclassed their 8 by a long shot. They raised their glass and took a drink.
Omen grinned, mindful of his tusks. “What is your favorite color?”
“Green,” Poppy replied immediately. “Emerald green, more specifically.”
“Bullshit,” Alkar smacked a hand on the table. “I’ve never seen you wear anything green!”
“You don’t have to wear something for it to be your favorite color,” Omen replied, though he added that fact to the list on his page as well.
“Not that it’s any concern of yours, but I do wear green. Almost every day, in fact.” Poppy looked up at him without raising their head. “Just because it’s somewhere you can’t see it doesn’t mean it isn’t there.”
Alkar sputters and goes red: Alaric raises his glass in toast. Poppy tries very hard to ignore the grin on Omen’s face that had gone from curious to mischievous faster than expected.
“If you have any further questions you are welcome to join the game,” Poppy offers in lieu of addressing it. Alkar’s nose crinkles.
“I’d pay to see that,” Alaric muses. “Where do you live? Fuck off. Why don’t you wear shoes? Fuck shoes. Do you have any other clothes? Fuck clothes.”
Omen has a hand over his mouth to hide his laughter – the shaking of his shoulders would give him away were it not for the fact that Alkar had his wrath focused on the Hunter across from him.
“I know more words than fuck,” Alkar sneers. “And I do own other clothes thank you very much.” He turns his attention to Poppy and Omen. “Don’t write that down it doesn’t count.
They both write it down anyway. He tells them both to go fuck themselves.
Time you enjoyed wasting was not wasted
“Hunter,” there was a warning in August’s voice. “We’re supposed to be working.”
Alaric hummed, contemplative, even as he crowded August back against their desk. “Work will still be here in the morning, General.” Slowly, giving August the chance to back out if they wanted it, he raised his hands to their shoulders, sliding palms down their arms until he could tangle his fingers with theirs. “I seem to remember someone making me a promise to stop sleeping in their office.” August rolled their eyes, but the defensive set of their jaw had softened as soon as his hands were on them.
“It’s hardly late enough for that to be a concern.” They sighed, leaning their forehead against his and closing their eyes. “I’m not going to overdo it.”
“Uh-huh.” Alaric tugged at their joined hands, pulling August’s body forward against his. “Let me take you home, August. The reports can wait.”
“I have to get these done before the gala on Friday,” they warned, even as they let themselves be drawn across the office. “I can’t keep wasting time.”
“Resting is not wasting time.”
August arches an elegant brow at him. “I very much doubt whatever is on your mind could be considered resting, Hunter Fehler.”
Alaric didn’t bother hiding his smirk. “Come now, give your husband some credit. You know I have your best interests at heart.”
“We’ll see.” August took their hands back, nodding towards the door. “Lead the way home then, husband.”
I think it's safe to say that we have a really big problem on our hands.
Piper is laughing at her.
Correction, Piper is laughing at the ground, if only because she is doubled over and cackling hard enough that she can’t stand up straight.
“You could be helping me, you know.” If her voice is sharp it’s deserved. So much for being partners, eh General?
“Right, right,” Piper makes a half-hearted attempt to get herself under control. “Sorry, Lieutenant General.”
Alkar headbutts her again. Piper starts on another round of laughter.
“I hate you both so much right now,” Greer mutters, feeling the beginnings of a blush creeping up her neck. She places her hand in the middle of Alkar’s furred forehead and braces the next time he tries to push forward. “Personal space much?”
For all her years of service, she could firmly say she’d never seen a Lycan under the full moon pout. She wishes that were still true.
“Oh gods now he’s sulky,” Piper manages between gasping breaths for air. “You hurt his feelings Hunter Taggart.”
Greer cuts a glare in her direction. “You can start being useful at any time, Merriman.”
Her attention divided, Alkar takes the opportunity to press his head against her stomach. Again.
“Fucking- Alkar!”
“All right, all right.” Greer watches as Piper bodily pulls herself together. “Let’s see if we can’t get him to Finn. Hopefully that ancient mosquito will know what to do.”
