This is my FIRST time of ever drawing a Predator fanart piece and this is specifically for @crowchronicles book Predator: Unbroken characters Mercy and R'khan which you can read on A03. The story alone is something I genuinely think could work as either a film or anthology series IT IS THAT GOOD.
Need someone to chase me through the woods then pin me in the dirt and fuck the daylights out of me in an adrenaline fueled, violent yet romantic, haze of passion
Alright so I ended up starting Feral and reader’s story. It’s been a hot second since I’ve written so be gentle with me 😮💨
This will probably end up being three parts and part two has already been started.
Title: Prairie Song
Word Count: 4.6k
Rating: E
CW: period typical behavior, misogyny, violence, gore, character death, animal death, explicit sexual scenes
Summary: Your father has once again forbade you from leaving the ranch to go on the months long cattle drive your whole family used to take part in; it’s been that way since your mother died…So like every year since, you find yourself alone on the ranch to tend to the cattle that didn’t go to auction and the rest of the farm animals. But something isn’t quite right amongst the trees on the far side of your grazing lands, and the animals are growing wary.
Notes: Kulning is a herding call seen in Northern Europe and Scandinavia, I’d def look it up if you have the chance it’s so pretty!
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10
-Great Plains 1851-
It had been nearly a month since your father and younger brother left on the cattle drive with the Olsens and Thompsons all the way down in the Texas panhandle, and it would be another three before they got back.
Your ma used to make the trip with pa back when they barely had fifteen head of cattle and you were just out of swaddling clothes; you had basically been raised on horseback beneath the expanse of the great plains sky in the company of cattle and cowpokes. Your brother got the same treatment after he was born and you two became bonafide little cattle folk on the trail making the trip every year; your family’s herd growing to over one-hundred by the time your twelfth birthday came.
…That year everything changed, and things were never the same; not for you or the rest of your family…
-14 years earlier, Great Plains 1837-
While passing through Comanche territory the horses spooked one night, your mother had gone to calm them and in the waning light of the campfire light hadn’t seen the coiled rattler. It got in a full bite before rancher Thompson had been able to pull his pistol from his holster and shoot it.
Everything had changed in a matter of seconds, one minute you, your kin and travel companions were hunkered down beneath the endless sky, the weather balmy, bellies full and eyes sleepy; the next…Doc Morrison was desperately trying to tourniquet your ma’s leg and drain the venom.
The closest town was over a full day away and the closest city over three. You and your brother had cried and pleaded with your father that you could go with him but even at that age you knew that it would slow him down taking two inconsolable children on horseback over forty miles.
You had cried more than you had ever cried in your twelve years as your mother smoothed your hair down with trembling hands and kissed your forehead telling you to be good, doing the same to your brother.
You had watched as your pa and ma rode off into the night and felt rancher Thompson calloused palm gently grip your shoulder. You realized then, that was the only thing keeping you from running off into the night after your parents.
When the drive rolled into town two days later, that was the day your whole world came crashing down. Ma had passed during the night, the venom and fever taking her.
That was the last time your father ever let you go on a cattle drive with him …
-Great Plains 1851-
He just couldn’t bear the thought of his girl somehow suffering the same fate as her ma, he always said every year you tried to convince him to let you come with him and your brother William on the drive.
”You an’ Willie have the same chance as me bein’ bite.” You’d argue and every time the response was the same.
”It just ain’t the same.”
So once again here you sat on the ranch taking care of the chickens, the horses and girls with their calves that didn’t go to auction. You had promised your father that you would have the Thompson twins, the youngest of the Thompson boys that weren’t allowed on the drive would come and help you around the farm. But after a little over a week of cajoling you finally managed to shoo them off with the two dollars your pa had left for you to give them at the end of the drive.
You still had to worry about Jack Olsen coming round every so often, (he had fallen from the hayloft a week before the drive and had broken his arm and was put on rest until he healed up) Jack was a good enough man, a few years younger than you, but your pa seemed hellbent in getting you two to court which in turn quickly led to your defiance on the matter. Luckily Jack seemed to pick up on your disinterest and didn't press, but you could tell he was looking for a glimmer of hope each time he came by to check on you the past few weeks.
You grab the last handful of grain and toss for the hens and rooster to peck at. Making sure to do a second count of all ladies and their one ornery stud that they all just seemed to tolerate before you close up the coop for the night.
The setting sun burnished the grasslands out before you, the fallow grounds looking as though they were dipped in molten gold. In the distance you could hear the rattle of cow bells as the girls continued to graze and meander far off near the treeline. It was moments like these that made you stop and appreciate the world around you, your foul mood, melting away and scattering into the soft breeze that brushed across the plains.
You sigh, feeling more at peace than you had in awhile and place the empty grain bucket down. Walking over to the cattle posts you lean on one, plucking at the metal wire nailed to it while you continue to take in the world around you.
The sun sinks deeper along the horizon and the sound of crickets soon reaches your ears and you know it's time to stop puttering about. The coyotes had been out something fierce recently with the weather starting to get warmer, and you needed the girls and their babes to return to the paddock area for the night.
Straightening up you cleared your throat and cupped your hands around your mouth.
You let out a high trailing call, a melody almost eerie in its inflection.
Kulning your mother had called it.
Her family had come from Northern Europe and it was something her mother had taught her; something from the old country. A herding call, a song with no real lyrics that seemed to echo farther than your eye could see. Your ma had taught you and your brother, though he was never very good at it.
The cows look up from their grazing, bells tinkling as some moo softly and begin to lazily walk forward.You let out another call and the herd picks up speed, moving towards you and the paddock in a happy trot.
Your father said that you sounded just like your mother when you did this, but you always disagreed; her voice had carried an ethereal quality that you doubted you could ever quite mimic. You would never sound just like her, but you would honor her, continuing her tradition.
The cows enter the paddock area after another few minutes, some reaching over the wire fence line to lick and nibble at your fingers which you offered with a smile. Petting the heads of your growing crowd you snuck under the wire and gently pushed past the large beasts, patting and scratching their flanks as you went to the paddock gate to close them in for the night. A few of the calves trotted after you, pulling at you skirts and blouse and you shoo them away before they had the chance to slip around you and sneak out of the paddock.
With the girls and their babes all closed up for the night you make your way to the barn to brush down the horses and give them a scoop of grain, before snuffing out the lanterns and returning indoors for the night.
The night is quiet as you prepare and eat dinner, everything just seems too stagnant with your pa and Willie gone. You wonder if you could convince your pa to let you get a pup from the Welles farm this spring when their cattle dogs started whelping. At least then you have some company (not that the horses, cows and chickens were bad company) but a dog would be nice and maybe pa would feel a bit better about your safety.
The quiet is suddenly broken by panicked stomping and angry snorts coming from outside, stressed cow calls followed by more commotion.
You stand, nearly knocking your chair over with the sudden movement as you strain to hear more. You hear more distressed movement from the cattle followed by the distinct yipping and howling, the sound almost mimicking a baby's cry…coyotes.
You push away from the the table, marching through the kitchen to the foyer grabbing your coat from the rack and throwing it on, quickly checking your right pocket for the extra bullets you store there before grabbing your Colt rifle and swinging open the door
The cows distress is more clear outside and you can see dust rising from the paddock, small quick shadows darting around the herd's legs. The cattle stomp and press their young to the center of the herd, away from gnashing teeth.
“Git! Go on you little bastards!” You shout at the coyotes as you stomp towards the fence line, gun across your front, finger resting on the trigger.
A few of the smaller ones startle at your approach, tails tucking between their legs as they run off towards the treeline.
“That's right, git to the forest!” There are still a handful lingering, bodies bristling, trying to decide if they should watch you, scatter or continue their assault on the cows.
You aim your rifle up and off towards the trees and let out a warning shot. More scatter leaving just two that have now turned their attention towards you.
“I said git.” You growl through gritted teeth.
The smaller one at the front growls, baring its teeth at you before charging forward.
You curse under your breath, getting your rifle into position, your pa had taught you how to shoot and you were a good shot but the darkness of the night was not helping as you take aim.
The first shot lands just behind them, tail fur blowing off as the coyote side steps in surprise but quickly regains momentum.
“Bastard.” You hiss more at yourself as you aim again.
This time you make contact, the bullet cutting through the coyote's chest, the predator making a horrible pained yelp before collapsing on the ground.
You don't have time to catch your breath…
In putting all your focus into the first one you failed to notice the second larger one on the heels of the first.
“Oh shit!” You quickly bring the Colt back up, the second jumping over its fallen kin and charging at you with impressive speed.
You line up your shot, the coyote getting dangerously close at this point but its movements are jerky and unpredictable, almost like it knew you were tracking it with your rifle.
You are out of time, you let out a breath and fire.
It yelps sharply flipping over its front legs, the moment of its movement causing it to tumble across the ground, landing only feet from your position.
After what feels like hours watching the downed animal remain unmoving, you let out a shuddering breath. Your grip knuckle white and shaking on your rifle finally loosening as you let the gun swing by your side, one round left in the chamber.
You wipe the back of your hand against your forehead having broken out in a cold sweat from the adrenaline pumping through your veins. Slowly you walk towards the deceased coyote and carefully prod it with the muzzle of your rifle, noting a clean shot slightly off center in its skull.
You let out another breath, coming back to yourself as you hear one of the cows grunt and another paw at the earth.
“Gettin’ bolder every season.” You say looking between the two bodies.
You'd have to move them away from the house, closer to the edge of the paddock towards the treeline until you could deal with them in the morning.
You quickly return to the house moving to the living space to grab the thick cowhide gloves your father used to throw logs into the fire. There was no telling what those coyots had come in contact with out on the plains and you'd rather be safe than sorry.
Trudging back outside, everything has remained as you left it and you walk over to the larger of the predators and grab it by one of its hind legs.
It was heavier than you expected as you started to drag it, stopping to grab the other by its hind leg as well with your free hand making your way to the far end of the paddock.
The cows watch you nervously, still crowded around their young.
“It's okay girls, y’all can rest easy now.” You say as you walk along the fence line.
You get to where the gate connects to the grazing area dropping the bodies in a heap with a huff; you can feel the exhaustion setting in as you catch your breath.
Behind you you hear the cows shuffling and pawing and you train to see they are still clumped together, ears pointed sharply forward, eyes set on the grassland beyond the gate and the tree line beyond that. Your eyes narrow and you look back out into the night, eyes staining to see anything in the dark, ears perked, waiting for sound.
All you hear is the rustle of the grass and soft creaking of tree limbs in the wind, no coyotes, no people, nothing.
As you turn back to the cattle that are still staring out, it's then you realize the crickets aren't chirping anymore. Your head whips back around and you stare even harder into the distance, daring, willing something to make its presence known.
You aren't sure how long you stare out into the night, cows softly grunting and quietly moving about but slowly you hear the crickets begin to chip again and the cattle begin to move around more freely behind you.
You give one last hard look to the trees before letting out a breath and turning on your heel.
“Hope that's all the excitement we’ll have for one night girls.” You say, patting one of the heifers on her spotted shoulder as you check in on them, she grunts and another bobs it head at you almost as if it's agreeing. “You ladies did a good job protecting your calves.”
You glance back over your shoulder before giving girls one last check over and returning to the house.
Your body feels like it's made of jelly as you throw the hide gloves on the floors, closing the door and leaning against it after locking it for the night.
You'll bury the coyots further out in the property in the morning after skinning them, for now you need to wash up and get ready for bed, you are absolutely exhausted.
—
You wake up to the sound of the rooster announcing the morning, feeling no more rested than when you went to sleep.
Dragging yourself out of bed, you go to the wash room to ready yourself, you'd take care of the dead coyotes first before the sun got too high.
You dress and go to the kitchen, pumping a glass of water for yourself from the well before donning your shoes and grabbing the hide gloves again.
You stop at the barn, gathering the supplies you'd need to skin the two animals, checking in on the horses briefly before trudging out towards the paddock. The cows shuffle sleepily and relaxed as you pass them by and you take it as a good sign things are as they should be.
When you make it to the fence line by the gate, you pause, frowning before placing your supplies down. You were certain that you left the coyotes right here, hell you had followed the draglines you had made last night and on the ground before you was a large drying puddle of dark, blood that should have been from bodies….but the bodies were gone.
You look up and down the fence line wondering if a larger animal had attempted to move them in the night, but there was neither hide nor hair of them. And you quickly realize that if another animal had come to try and take them away there would have been drag marks or some sort of evidence they had been moved. There aren’t any remains either so you doubted something came by and ate them without leaving a mess behind.
You shift looking out across the grazing land to the trees beyond, looking for something, listening for anything. But all you see is the rustling leaves in the morning breeze and hear the sound of the birds chirping in the branches.
You work your jaw, sucking on your teeth as you gather the tanning supplies at your feet. You don't like this, something isn't right but you just don't know what.
The cows remain nonplussed as you pass them by on the way to the barn. After you take care of the animals you're going to ride into town and get another carton or two of bullets, and maybe if you see the Welles while you picked up supplies you'll talk to them about a dog.
—
By the time you ride into town the sun is almost at mid point and the streets are bustling. You dismount in front of the Jameson general store, roping Penny your palomino by the watering trough, gently cooing at her and giving her a few pats and scratch behind the ears before heading inside.
You honestly didn't plan on spending much time in the store but you got distracted by some of the newest items that had just arrived from out east. Unfortunately your dallying causes you to run into Jack Olsen while at the counter paying for your bullets and items which leads you down a rabbit hole.
“Y/N, fancy meetin’ you in town.” Jack says, tipping his hat as he saunters up to the register. You're unable to hide the bullets in your bags quickly enough and he catches sight of them, brows furrowing. “Everything alright there, miss Y/N?”
You quickly school your face as you turn and give him a tight smile.
“Coyots are out somethin’ fierce this season. Had some bothering the girls last night and needed to do a little scarin’ off.” that all was true and you hope that answer is good enough for him to drop it.
You hear a shuffling behind you.
“Some are sayin’ they're getting spooked by somethin’ out in the forest an’ they're havin’ to try their luck preying from the local folks' livestock.” Dansen the town deputy comes around one of the stocked shelves, tin of coffee in his hand. “You best be careful little lady, when them animals are scared and desperate they are real nasty.” He places the money on the counter before tipping his hat to you and Mrs.Jameson, striding out the door, the shop bell jingling at his departure.
“Well shoot I don't mind comin’ out some evenings and patrolling the property for ya.” Jack's attention is now fully on you, looking more concerned than before.
“Don't worry yourself, Jack.” You say deciding that now that you're stuck here you might as well look at a new pair of boots; yours were getting worn out anyway. “‘Sides I can't have you ridin’ around on horseback after dark with your arm in a sling, if you fell your ma would never let me hear the end of it.”
“Ma’s gettin’ tired of me hanging around the house anyway, I really don't mind, and I don't like thinkin’ that you're out there all by your lonesome with a bunch of wild animals botherin’ ya.” Jack is sweet but you're just not interested and you know even though he does care about your wellbeing this is also a way that he might spend more time with you.
“Don't worry about lil’ ol me.” you wave your hand at him as you eye a smart pair of dark leather mid calf lace up boots. “‘Sides I was gonna stop in at the tavern and see if Mr. Welles was playin’ cards, see if I can’t talk him into giving me a good price for a pup when his dog whelps this spring.”
You decide to buy the boots and walk back up to the register, Jack on your heels like the dog you plan on talking to Mr. Welles about.
“Well that won't be until the spring and that'll just be a pup Y/N, can't do much good till it's grown.” He says leaning against the counter.
You sigh, handing Mrs. Jameson the dollar and seventy-five for the boots.
“Jack, I'll be fine; been fine since I was a little girl.” You reply, you're drawing your line in the sand.
“I know you can take care of yourself, really I do Y/N, I just…I just worry, and Sheriff Nelson' s been talkin’ bout recent bandit sightin’s.”
You did hear about that, apparently the town further down river had some homes broken into and a few people roughed up and robbed after leaving the tavern after closing.
“Well I doubt they'll come to visit me in the middle of nowhere, far more valuables in town anyway than on my ranch, unless they're cattle thieves.”
“I heard they ran off with some horses so you never know.” Mrs Jameson pipes up after she could no longer just be an eavesdropper.
“See, even Mrs Jameson agrees.” Jack presses but you shake your head at him.
“I'll be fine, I ain't havin’ you bumblin’ around on horseback with a broken arm in the dark and that's final.” You say, you watch as he goes to say something more but you pin him with a hard stare and he finally backs down.
“Alright miss Y/N I'll let ya get back to your day.” He says with a tip of his hat and then gives a nod to Mrs Jameson before walking out of the store.
You watch him go and sigh.
“He's a good lad and you two would make such a sweet couple Y/N.” Mrs Jameson says from behind the counter, you do your best to not roll your eyes and school your expression as you turn to her.
“Ya think? I don't think I've met the one for me yet.” And that wasn't a lie, it was true, you weren't interested in any of the men in town nor the local ranchers. “Maybe I'll run away with one of the plains folk. Live a life of freedom under the stars, every night by campfire light.” Now that you could get behind, you had had that little fantasy for a while now.
Mrs Jameson lets out a disgruntled sound and the bell to the shop's door chimes.
“What would your father say! If you're not careful miss Y/N you'll end up a spinster.” she says and walks off to greet the new customers.
At this you do roll your eyes, maybe you'll become a spinster just to spite them.
You do manage to find Mr. Welles over at the Tavern, whiskey already in hand and readying for a round of cards.
It takes you a good amount of back and forth and humoring him and his companions with a game of Poker which then turns into several, but you get a good price on a pup and a promise you’ll have first pick from the litter. Luckily your Poker games were mostly all just to poke fun at you as it was well known you were not good at the game, so they graciously didn't take you for house and home.
The sun is starting to dip in the sky by the time you get back to Penny, who seems to be enjoying herself at the trough and has a few new friendly additions next to her. But you still feel awful and promise her a good brushing and an extra scoop of grain tonight when you get back.
You pick up the pace a bit getting home, already running behind schedule and you hate getting the cows in when it is dark. You'll probably just end up eating some of the dried meat in the pantry and the bread you had made the previous day for dinner to save time.
You put Penny up in the stable next to Marshall the old plow horse, again promising her unimaginable riches for having to put up with you. She looks at you with intelligent eyes and you know that if she could speak she'd be saying “You better be.”
The three other horses whicker at you as you walk by and you realize that everyone is probably going to end up getting an extra scoop of grain by the end of the night.
Trudging up the front porch, ready to just throw your bags inside and get to work, you pause, something catching your eye.
Perched perfectly in the center of the porch a few feet from the door are two coyote skulls. You feel the hair on the back of your neck bristle, their hollow eyes staring blankly back at you. You drop your bags and take a step back, one of them has a distinct hole through its skull, slightly off center.
Your head whips around, you are starting to panic as your eyes dart across your property, but nothing seems out of place, other than the skulls. The cows and their babes are off grazing, the chickens still milling about looking for grubs, you hear the rustle of the wind and a prairie grouse…everything is…as it should be?
You look back at the skulls, bone white like they've already been bleached by the sun. You carefully take a step forward, and then another and then another until you're standing in front of them on the porch. Slowly you crouch down, eyeing them cautiously as if they might suddenly be taken by some other worldly force and bite. But they, as they should, remain still and after a few moments you gingerly pick up the larger skull.
Turning it in your hands you take in its details, the row of weathered teeth, the curve of its brow bone and its wide empty eyes. Your gaze falls on the bullet hole…the one you made and you gently brush your fingers against it feeling the forever wound left in bone.
It's oddly beautiful you decide, and you place it down to give the same attention to the other skull, noting the differences between them.
You place that one down after a moment as well and think. At first the sight of them neatly placed on your property felt like an omen, a warning…but now… you almost feel as if they are a gift, …an offering.
You pull them both into your arms, gently cradling them as you stand back up; you'll place them on the mantel of the living room fireplace. They could live next to all the other oddities you and your brother had collected over the years; snakes skin, deer antlers, arrowheads.
You give one last look out across your property, eyes falling along the far fence line against the trees, and then you walk inside.
Thinking about the difference between being called bunny and rabbit by price
Bunny is a soft, helpless domestic little thing. Bred for his amusement (in more ways than one). Gets laid belly up, vulnerable and unaware, for Price to enjoy. Gets hand fed and carefully groomed. Bunny jumps in his lap the minute he sits down when he gets home.
Rabbit is a wide eyed, shaking prey animal that can recognize him for the predator that he is. Can see the glint of his sharp teeth. Gets chased down. Takes food in quick bursts, avoiding grabbing hands. Kicks their legs when finally caught. Needs to be held down firm with their face to the dirt, ass up, pussy presented while they get filled with his kits, teeth buried in their neck.
Kwei was literally Dek’s dad though. It’s very heavily implied that he was parentified at a young age bc Dek was ignored in his favour, but ironically, I think that parentification actually saved their relationship. Kwei and Dek are as close as they are bc Kwei took on the brunt of raising his baby brother, training him, teaching him everything, and Dek was receptive, following his brother’s lead. Hell, Kwei went as far as to try and forbid Dek from going to Genna, despite not technically having that authority. Who knows how their dynamic would turn out if Kwei didn’t feel like it was his responsibility to look out for Dek…
What do you do when your blood makes you prey and your heart makes you a target?
A dark YA werewolf romance where wolves aren't fluffy and h
🌕 Dead End & Everything
an excerpt from my WIP:
✦••┈┈ 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙙𝙠𝙞𝙣 : 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙡𝙙𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙤𝙨 ┈┈••✦
His pupils were still blown wide, swallowing nearly all the amber. Only the thinnest rim of gold clung to the edges, like the sun during an eclipse. His jaw was clenched so tight a muscle ticked in sharp, irregular spasms.
His eyes weren't on my face. They were fixed on my hand, on the scraped skin and the thin line of drying blood.
Instinctively, I moved to cover it.
I knew I'd made a mistake the moment my other hand touched my sleeve.
A visible shudder ran through him, sharp and involuntary, like I'd yanked on some invisible rope wrapped around his torso.
"Don't do that," he said, voice low and ragged. It wasn't a threat, but a plea and a warning in one. "Leave it."
I slowly lowered my hand, exposing the cut again.
His breath hitched. He took half a step forward, the smallest of movements, yet the entire corridor seemed to compress around us.
"Ethan," I whispered, my pulse hammering, "what is happening to you?"
He shut his eyes. That frightened me more than anything else, because it looked like surrender. Like holding them open required effort he no longer had.
His voice scraped out, raw. "Stop it. Fear. Just… stop."
I shivered. It wasn't comfort. It was a warning.
"I… I can't help it. You're scaring me!" My voice came out higher than I expected.
The muscle in his jaw trembled. For a second he looked like he was going to be sick. "I know. Just… ride it out."
I wasn't sure if he was talking to me or himself.
.......
I stayed perfectly still. I knew I shouldn't look at him, and yet... I couldn't look away.
Minutes passed, stretching into eternity.
His breathing slowly evened out. His shoulders eased, just a fraction. When he opened his eyes, the amber ring was thicker. His pupils, still huge, were no longer devouring everything.
He leaned back from me slowly, inch by inch.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. For the first time, it sounded like actual Ethan, not whatever it was he'd been holding back. He diverted his gaze, looking genuinely stricken for a moment. "I know I scare you. I don't mean to. I didn't choose this." He took in a labored breath. "If it's any consolation, this is so much worse for me."
"What are you talking about?" I exclaimed, then, when his eyes snapped back to me, I lowered my voice. "Ethan…" I whispered. "What the hell just happened?"
He swallowed hard and shook his head. "It's my fault. I underestimated them. Let it build up." His jaw tightened. When his gaze lifted to mine, something in it pinned me in place. "It won't happen again."
"That's not an answer," I said. "Why did it happen at all?"
A sad, pained smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Because of you."
He said it like it was the most natural thing in the world. It didn't land as a surprise, but it left me desperate to understand why. Why me?
