Halloween Special (2025)
a/n: it's been a whole year since i've been writing oneshots now, the first one was the halloween one i did last year :)
The forest had been whispering all day.
You could feel it long before the sun dropped. That restless hum beneath the leaves, that pulse in the soil that told you something was wrong. Witches like you didn't need omens or smoke or tarot bones to know when something old was stirring. The air itself told you. It carried a scent. It was a strong iron burnt pine scent.
You had been grinding herbs in your mortar when it hit, a sharp twist in your chest like a warning. You left your cottage door half-open which is something you never really do even when in a hurry. The lantern was swinging on its hook and followed the pull into the woods.
Branches clawed at your cloak and mist gathered low over the ground. The moon hadn't yet risen, but the night was silver-edged. You could feel it. You could feel that strange, in-between light when everything feels half-alive.
And then, there was a growl. You froze.
It wasn't just any beast's sound. It was too deliberate, a voice through teeth. The kind that made the hair on your arms lift.
You turned slowly. Behind the veil of mist, eyes glowed amber red, hot as coals. A shape stepped forward. It was large, tense, and breathing hard. The fur shimmered golden blonde where the light caught it, and its gaze found yours with something too human to be just hunger.
You knew the smell of iron was blood. Your eyes darted everywhere on his body, trying to find the open wound.
"Easy," you whispered. "You're hurt."
The wolf bared its teeth, but you raised your hand, the faint blue of your magic circling your fingertips. "If you wanted me dead, you would've lunged already."
For a moment, he stood there, chest heaving. Then he stumbled, collapsing to its side with a low, rough sound.
You sighed. "Of course you're stubborn." All wolves were stubborn, but this one in particular didn't go back on all bark, no bite. This one was all bark, all bite.
You knelt, murmuring a spell. Your power glowed faintly, mending the torn flesh along his flank. The closer you got, the more the scent of rain and ash hit you— strange, intoxicating. The wolf shuddered under your touch, muscles twitching.
Before your eyes, his body began to shift. You've never seen a wolf shapeshifter before. You've seen wolves, but you have never seen the wolf change it' form. The bones cracked softly. The fur receded. Claws became fingers. When it was over, a man lay where the wolf had been— bloodied, shirt ripped open, breathing ragged. The wound looked worse on him than on the wolf form he was taking.
You fell back, heart hammering. "Holy—"
His eyes snapped open. Still red and wild. "Don't," he growled.
"Don't what? Heal you?" you shot back, pulse racing. "You'd rather die?"
He sat up, wincing. "Wouldn't be the first time someone tried to kill me while deceiving me."
You hesitated, reading the exhaustion in his expression. He was dangerous— you could feel it. But something about the way he looked at you, lost and desperate, made it hard to walk away.
"...You should come with me," you said finally. "If you pass out here, the crows will have you by morning."
He smirked faintly. "And the witch will just take in any beast that bleeds on her doorstep?"
"Only on holidays," you said. "Lucky for you, it's Samhain."
ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖𓉸ִֶָྀི ִֶָ🕷🕸་༘☾࿐༄
Your cottage wasn't far, but the silence between you felt heavier than the woods themselves. He walked behind you, barefoot, with his breath uneven. The moonlight turned his hair to molten silver. That's how light his blonde was to her.
Once inside, the firelight painted his skin in shades of gold and shadow. You motioned for him to sit. He didn't— just stood there, eyes scanning the shelves of herbs, the jars of dried petals, the hanging crystals.
"Never seen a witch's den before?" you asked.
"I've seen worse," he said. "Didn't think witches still lived this far out."
"Didn't think wolves still wandered this close to town," you countered.
He gave you a look. "You're not scared."
"Should I be?"
He tilted his head. "Yeah."
There was something oddly sad about it— not a threat, but a confession. You set a bowl of water on the table and reached for clean cloths.
"What's your name?" you asked as you dabbed the wound.
He flinched slightly at the touch. "Bakugou."
"You talk like you've bitten through a few too many fences."
He snorted. "Better than being hunted."
You paused. "Is that what you were running from?"
His eyes flicked toward the window, toward the forest. "Not tonight," he muttered. "Just... people who don't get what I am."
You knew the tone. You'd heard it before—from witches, outcasts, anyone born on the wrong side of fear. You didn't press further though. Instead, you murmured another healing spell, watching as the gash sealed into faint scar tissue.
He stared at your hands. "Does it hurt you? Using that?"
"Only when I'm healing someone who won't sit still."
A flicker of a smile crossed his face. It was small and almost reluctant.
ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖𓉸ִֶָྀི ִֶָ🕷🕸་༘☾࿐༄
Hours slipped by. The storm outside thickened; rain lashed the windows. You made tea from yarrow and honey, and the wolf-man watched you with wary curiosity, as though human gestures were foreign to him.
"So," you said, pouring into two cups, "what's a wolf like you doing out in my forest?"
He took the mug, staring into the steam. "Looking for quiet."
"That's not something wolves are known for."
He looked up at you then, eyes softer. "You'd be surprised."
The room filled with the hum of rain. For a moment, it felt almost peaceful. It was like you'd both stumbled into a place that didn't belong to the world outside.
When you finally spoke again, your voice was low. "You could stay here till dawn. Just till you can move without bleeding again."
He blinked, caught off guard. "...You trust easy."
You smiled faintly. "No. I just know when something doesn't want to be hunted anymore."
He stared at you for a long moment, and in that silence, something flickered— a kind of recognition. Like he saw through the careful calm you always wore, straight into the loneliness beneath it.
It was quiet again for a very long time. You worked around your place and he stared at the fireplace in your home, but also turned around and looked at the walls. Until he fell asleep.
The fire burned low, and he fell asleep in your chair, head tilted back, the faintest snarl softening into breath. You watched him, the way the wolf lingered just beneath the surface, the way even rest looked like battle.
You thought about what it meant to be feared. To be misunderstood. To carry power that others called cursed.
You thought you'd gotten used to it. Until now.
A knock of thunder rolled through the night, and his eyes opened, meeting yours.
"...Still here?" he asked.
"Yeah, well it's my home," you said softly.
He gave a slow nod, like he wanted to say something more but didn't trust the words. Then, quieter: "If I leave by dawn, will you remember me?"
You hesitated. "Probably."
He smirked. "Probably?"
"Depends how good you are at staying out of trouble."
That earned a quiet chuckle. It was rough, but pretty real. "Guess I'll have to come back and find out."
You looked at him for a long time. The rain eased. The first hint of dawn began to pale the horizon.
When he finally rose, the wolf shimmered through him again— fur rippling, eyes glowing faintly. He glanced at you over his shoulder, something unspoken in his gaze.
"Next Samhain," he said. "If you're still here."
You smiled faintly. "I will be, until I grow old and wrinkly. Every year."
Then he was gone, melting into the mist, leaving only the scent of storm and pine behind.
The forest quieted. The world exhaled. You stood at the doorway, lantern light brushing the edge of the trees, wondering if you'd dreamed him. But on the table, beside the teacup he never finished, lay a single wolf's fang— clean, sharp, and warm to the touch.
You smiled to yourself.
"Until next time, then."
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