Request from anon: 20 of the winter prompts with finnzra and (f) reader?
Prompt 20: “I don’t need any presents or a big fancy celebration when I’ve got you.”
It’s still Christmas where I am, sorry for the late upload!! Whether you celebrate it or not, I hope all of you have a great holiday. Some Finnzra x Hunter fluff for all you lovely people :>
Sorry if it’s not explicitly fem reader!! This is also my first time writing a poly relationship so I hope it’s okay uwu
**
Lights of all different hues shone from Ezra’s shop and illuminated the street beyond it, enticing and tempting civilians to peek through the windows to marvel at his decorations. The shop was closed for the day, and the moon hung low in the sky as the last slivers of amber faded within the clouds, coating the buzzing town in darkness. However, spirits were bright in this festive season for all, the usual domestic thrum of the city dampened by bands performing music native to Lunaris and parties that led into the early hours of the morning.
This was no different for Ezra, Finn, and the Hunter. The vampire was nowhere to be seen, but they assumed he had gone to the Catacombs to visit his clan - they may have lived through decades of celebrations, witnessed all kinds of traditions - Finn insisted that he give them well wishes and a good hug.
You knelt on the counter, reaching to the farthest and highest corner of the kitchen to pin up some decorations, sweet little paper figures and animals strung along a glittering ribbon, the other end already pinned to the opposite wall. You felt bad for Ezra when you glanced over to him, such a powerful witch and yet using his magic only to enchant small lanterns which were hung around the shop. Small shimmering flames emerged as he swept his hands over the bulbs, rainbows shifting and reflecting onto his face, painting his russet skin a plethora of beautiful colours and complementing the slight flush on his cheekbones.
His lips pull taut in a dreamy grin when you hop down from the countertop and slide your arms around his waist from behind, resting your chin on his shoulder.
“They look beautiful.” You whisper and plant a kiss on the apple of his cheek. Ezra giggles quietly and turns to face you. “Thank you, love, but you did just as much as me,” he says and gestures to the streamers and strings of decorations fastened to the walls. Your hands bunched up in his sweater, turquoise with lighter accents and the words “Meow-y Christmas” sewn into the front. It was cheesy and punny - exactly what you all loved.
He is about to take a step closer when Coco winds in-between the two of you, mewing and padding at your fuzzy sock-clad feet. She crosses the room and settles underneath the pine tree in the corner; it looks bare compared to the rest of your home. It didn’t matter if you had a religion or even celebrated anything, Ezra begged to have a tree - he just loved having something else to hang colourful ornaments on.
Ezra hauled another worn box of baubles, tinsel, and bulbs onto the table and rummaged through them, handing you some and telling you where to place them. Always the perfectionist; he tutted and rearranged the hand-crafted trinkets until he was satisfied.
You both startled when three distinct knocks came from the hatch in the floorboards. Pulling the carpet aside, Ezra unhooked the latch and you waited for your lover to emerge from the darkness. First you saw his golden eyes, glistening within the shadows, then he pushed the hatch open further to climb up. All sharing grins, he pecked both yours and Ezra’s lips and scrutinised the shop.
“I love you, but you have a tendency to… go a little overboard.” The smile on face as he gazed down at both of you betrays his words, but still, he attempts to sound miffed.
Each grabbing one of his hands, you pulled him into the other room. “We just finished decorating the tree - it looks beautiful, Finnegan, come see…” Without waiting for a response, Ezra tugs him to stand in front of the tree. The tinsel wound through the twigs and baubles hanging from them catch the light of the twinkling bulbs, reflecting in his eyes, a kaleidoscope of colours swirling in his irises.
Only when he turns to you, do you see the sweater that adorns his body. He has the same taste as Ezra - black with the word “Hoe” in bold golden lettering, dotted across his chest. Rolling your eyes, you bite back a smirk and snicker. “Do you both have to wear such tacky sweaters?”
You hear a gasp and turn to see the witch glaring playfully at you.
“Well, excuuuuuuse me.” Although Ezra speaks sternly, he moves towards you to take your hand, dragging you to the sofa with Finn following closely behind.
You’re pushed into the plush cushions and sandwiched between your lovers; the stark contrast of hot and cold, life and death, proves to be oddly comfortable. Finn’s legs swing onto the sofa and cage you in from behind, resting his hands on your stomach and his cheek to your shoulder. His icy breath fans across your neck and you feel his lips curl into a smirk on your skin. Ezra presses his face to your chest, arms around your waist and fingers finding purchase in your clothes. Fangs brush against you when Finn grins, hearing your heartbeat accelerate and feeling warmth crawl from your cheeks to your neck.
Suddenly, Ezra lifts his head and gapes at you, raising his voice. “I almost forgot about presents!”
Exchanging a sharp look with Finn, you then watch as the witch untangles himself from you, the breeze that replaced presence making you shiver. He crouches and peers under the tree, searching for a moment then pulling out two small boxes, neatly-wrapped with patterned paper. You flush as he hands you one of the presents, kneeling beside the sofa, beaming at you.
“I thought we agreed that we wouldn’t do gifts this year?” Finn spoke slowly, accepting the present and sitting up slightly. You tug at Ezra’s sweater and lean down to press your lips to his, smiling against him. “Thank you, either way… But however will we repay you?” You ask, playful, mischievous.
Finn eyes him up. “I think we can find a way…” Although he has lived through hundreds of these traditions, he still looks at you with the same excitement and adoration as if it was his first. He clutches the box to his chest and pulls you close, and you know that parties and gifts can never bring the same joy as spending time with his lovers. It was as if he read your mind, and what he says next makes your heart soar.
“Seriously - next year we can just decorate the house and have a few friends round. I don’t need any presents or a big fancy celebration when I’ve got you.”
Hunter/Alkar Post-Lunar Festival Fluff & Friendship
“A little presumptuous, don’t you think?” Alkar asked, though his physical resistance to Aquila’s hands in his back was token at best. “What will the other patrons say?”
“They’re too drunk to notice and you’re just gonna jump out the window in the morning anyway, aren’t you? So hush up and keep walking.” Once she had him in her room, Aquila elbowed him in the back for good measure. She shut the door, locked it and then picked at the thick, red ribbon woven through the bustle of her dress.
Alkar’s wolf ears were straight up and his cheeks were visibly flush. “Hey! You can’t just take your clothes-”
“Oh, relax. The food’s on the table behind you.” Aquila yanked on the ribbon and her skirts fell away, revealing her leather trousers and two daggers that had been hidden underneath. “When I want to have sex with you, I’ll tell you.”
He choked on the cold meatpie and his ears couldn’t settle on a position, swiveling around as much as his eyes around the room. Alkar scarfed down the rest of the pie before even coughing to clear his throat. Ears still twitching, he sat on Aquila’s desk chair as if it might bite him. “Right. So what was Ezra talking about?”
Aquila hopped on her bed and wrapped herself up in the heavy quilt. The colored fabrics were expertly sewn together with the shape of a big red fox whose head rested on her shoulder when she was cocooned. “The Hunter senses, you know. We get feelings, hints. This time, the spirit talked to me. My guess is that whatever magic was used to disguise the cause of death chained some wisps of his intent to the mortal world.”
“What?! And you just let it? Are you out of your mind?”
“I couldn’t exactly stop it, could I?” Aquila nodded her chin at the desk next to Alkar. “I’ll send that letter to my dad in the morning. He’ll send something.”
Alkar wrinkled his nose at the letter. “He some kind of master Hunter?”
“Witch.” Aquila rubbed her cheek against the fox on her quilt. “He and Papa will make some kind of blocking amulet. Hopefully keep Kazimir’s nose out of my head, too.”
He chuckled. “They can do that?”
“I’d like to see someone stop them.” They shared a smile. Aquila settled back against her pillows and closed her eyes. She shivered a bit, but didn’t seem to mind. “Mum could, of course, but she’ll only do that if tire themselves out. August is lucky she’s not here to give them a talking to about their own habits.”
Alkar dragged his chair next to the bed. “Are you going to tell them about the... spirit?”
“Not if I can help it. Ezra might have already, though.”
“Good. So you’re listening to me about not trusting anyone.”
Aquila snorted. “Yes. Just because you told me.”
With a growl, Alkar threw off his cowl lunged in to touch Aquila’s forehead. “How sick are you? You’ve been shivering all night. It’s a damn furnace in here.”
She stuck out her tongue without opening her eyes. “I’m fine. I just have the Ice Heart curse.” She heard him shuffling around her room, tossing things around, fiddling with her magic lamp.
“I see how it is. Tell me you’re gonna give me food just so you can have a lycan keep you warm at night.”
“I also don’t want you sleeping in the snow, but you can do what you want.”
The bed dipped as Alkar settled next to her, on top of the quilt. “Don’t get any ideas. I just think you’re the best chance Lunaris has of solving-”
“I will tell you when we’re gonna fuck, okay? Relax and get some sleep. Idiot.”
A little NSFW ticket for the OT3: Jude, Dorian (who belongs to @fawnsummer ), and Rendlen (who belongs to @immortallaughter ). They're our hunters for the wonderful game @whenthenightcomesgame !
Pre-Lunaris. Smut smut smut.
--------------------------------
Jude was in a foul mood.
Nothing seemed to be going right for her. She’d made a stupid, stupid mistake on a mission, allowing herself to be completely knocked out from a simple fae nest, and the wound to her pride hurt worse than the small lump on her head.
Rend and Dorian had said nothing, but the humiliation burned all the same. She never wanted either of them to see her as anything but their equal, and stupid mistakes like these set her on edge.
She’d also been chewed out by an Enforcer for riding Fergus a little too fast and almost trampling the local banker. He was a total asshole, even the Enforcer knew, but as he prattled on about decorum Jude was doing everything in her power to not take a dagger to his throat...or something further below the belt.
Finally, she’d come home and went to the pantry, where she’d stored the last apple pastry. She dug the box out and opened it….to find nothing but crumbs. And when she’d sat down to do her paperwork, the ink pot toppled as if by some unknown force and ruined the paper.
She lost it then.
A strained cry came from her as she threw the pot and stomped to the bathroom, where she shucked off her splattered clothes. She drew a bath and slunk in, only her nose and eyes showing, her lids narrowed as she stared angrily off into space.
She vaguely heard the front door open, the vibrations of their footfalls making the water quiver. Laughter came from behind the door and paused before Rend and Dor popped their heads in, brows cocked.
“Jude?” Rend gave a small chuckle. “Care to explain the new paint job on the wall?” She lifted her head out of the water to expose her mouth.
“No.” Her voice was cold and curt.
Dor and Rend looked at each other, sharing a knowing look. With a smirk, Dor stalked over and put his hands on either side of the tub, lowering his face down to her level. Her eyes flashed dangerously. Rend watched, arms crossed as he waited for the exchange to unfold.
“Come on, little Jude, don’t pout.” Her eyes narrowed even further. A wicked grin split Dor’s face, his voice became teasing. “Did those faes hurt your precious blonde head?”
Jude snarled, cupped her hand, and shoved, splashing a wall of water into his face. “I’m not in the mood, loverboy.” Dorian sputtered and stumbled back for a moment, shock coloring his face before a dangerously mischievous look crossed it. Rend roared with laughter behind them.
In a flash, he reached in and grabbed Jude by her waist and hoisted her up over his shoulder. “Come on, Judas, you’ve been in there long enough.” Jude snarled in response, trying to wriggle out of his grasp, before receiving a large smack on the ass.
“Put me down,” she growled. Dorian carried her to the bedroom and unceremoniously dropped her on the bed. She moved to slink away as fast as she could, but Rend came from behind her and wrapped strong arms around her waist, trapping her own arms. He looked up at Dor with a grin. Jude was still trying to escape, her face burning with rage.
Dorian straddled her legs on the bed, taking her chin in his hand, the fingers of his other hand lightly grazing over her breast, the nipple hardening in response to his touch. “You’re so fucking hot when you’re mad.” Jude’s breath hitched, a stuttering gasp.
Rend’s hand trailed down to the crux of her thighs and a moan escaped her, against her will. Dor chuckled darkly and pinched her nipple, a low growl rumbling from his chest as she arched into his touch. Rend peppered her shoulder with kisses, running his mouth and tongue along the length of her scar, making her shiver.
Her cheeks burned with how easily she melted at their touch, how she was so clearly putty in their hands. Dorian cupped her cheek, running his thumb along the swell of her bottom lip. He pressed, and she opened her mouth for him, giving a tiny moan as she tasted him. “Good girl,” he purred. He leaned in close and ran his nose along her jaw, tilting Rend’s head up and kissing him lazily.
Jude’s eyes burned with lust as she watched them, bolts of pleasure arcing through her body as Rend continued his ministrations. Her tongue continued to swirl around Dorian’s thumb, showing him what she could do if she just let her--
Dorian’s face was suddenly before hers, emerald eyes burning with desire. “Tell us, love.” His voice was rough and low. “What do you want from us?” Rend gave the spot behind her ear a small nip in emphasis. He took her hand and placed it in on the front of his trousers, showing her how much he wanted her.
“Just say the word and we’re yours,” he murmured into her skin. A small whimper escaped Jude’s mouth. Her eyes locked with Dor’s and she swallowed thickly.
“Fuck me,” she rasped. “Please, my loves, I need--” She was cut off as Dorian crushed his mouth to hers, teeth nipping at her lip. A primal growl rumbled from both Rend and Dor, their rough hands roaming every curve of her body.
Dor broke the kiss and stepped back, quickly losing his shirt and suspenders, fingers fumbling over the buttons of his trousers. Jude managed to wrench an arm free and pulled him towards her. A devastating smirk, and he reached out and tangled his fingers in her hair, and yanked. Rend let her go and she fell to her knees, biting her lip in anticipation.
Deft fingers opened the front of his trousers with ease and wrenched them down. Dorian's cock sprung free, already hard for her. Her eyes glowed as she looked up at him through dark lashes and took him into her mouth. Dor hissed and his head fell back. “Fuck.”
Jude hummed happily as she teased him, tongue slowly dragging over the head of his length. The smell and taste of him surrounded her and she lost herself in it, happy to stay there and work her raven-haired love into a quivering mess. Soon she picked up a rhythm, bobbing her head in time with smooth strokes of her hand.
Cold metal fingers grazed her scalp as she was gently pulled from Dorian. Rendlen had shed his very unnecessary clothing and joined them. Jude gave a small laugh and began working on him, her free hand continuing to stroke Dor. She bobbed for a moment before taking his whole length in, swallowing around him.
The sounds coming from her men were better than any melody, and she was convinced she’d never heard anything better.
She lost track of time, and too soon she was lifted up and laid back on the bed. Dorian loomed over her, his arms caging her in. His eyes raked over her, and he smiled. “I can see how wet you are from here,” he breathed. He palmed one of her breasts. “How do you want us?”
“I don’t care,” she blurted, all decorum out the window, raw lust coloring her words. Her hands ran down his chest. “I just--please, I need you.” He looked over to Rend, his face hovering above hers. “Both of you.”
The two men glanced at each other, wordlessly communicating, and grinned down at their love. In a flash, Rend was underneath her, pulling her hips down. His cock nestled tightly between her folds and she rolled her hips, both of them moaning at the feeling of each other.
Dorian stood up and came behind Jude, running a finger down her spine. She shivered and arched, looking back at him with hooded eyes. His finger continued down the swell of her ass and he slipped it further, running over her other entrance.
“I want to take you here.” His eyes flicked up to hers and for a brief moment, she thought she was going to combust on the spot. She exhaled slowly and nodded. Rend’s rough hands found her waist and she leaned over him, a hand reaching down to guide her into her slick entrance. She sunk down on him easily, and a gasp escaped her as she stretched for him.
“Tight,” he hissed. He held her close, pressed together, and Dorian kneeled down of his own accord. He ran a flattened tongue over her, and she arched up. He continued to lave over her as he reached to the nightstand to get the little vial of slick. Coating his fingers, he circled the small opening before pushing a digit in. A lewd moan fell from her lips, followed by a gasp as a second finger found its way in. Expertly, he stretched her open, curling and scissoring his fingers. Each sound that came from Jude made the coil at the base of his spine tighten. He brought a hand down and slapped her ass again, smiling at the red handprint that bloomed in its wake.
“Dorian,” she cried, his name a delicious plea. He stood up and aligned himself, sinking in slowly. Tight, velvet heat surrounded him, and the trio all let out small noises as they felt each other within her.
Without words, they all began to move, perfectly synchronized. Jude was reeling from her skin being touched from all sides, the overstimulation making every coherent thought fly from her head. She loved surrendering herself to them like this, loved how they knew to take the stress and pain away, even for a moment.
Dorian gave slow strokes as she adjusted to him, but soon he had his hand in her hair and pulled up so she arched against him. She cried out, riding that blissful line between pleasure and pain. He tilted her head, exposing her neck and bit down. When he was satisfied with his mark he kissed it, before moving up to nibble on her ear.
Rend’s ice blue eyes seemed to glow as he watched the spectacle above him, his hands running wild over her form. He ran thumbs over the stiff peaks of her nipples before swirling one over the tight bundle of nerves at her core. “Gorgeous,” he breathed.
Words were no longer possible for Jude; the feeling of being so full was the only thing she could concentrate on. They fit like a glove, perfect and snug, hitting her pleasure spots with increasing speed. Her skin felt like it was on fire, the words of praise from her men brushing over her and giving her gooseflesh.
“You’re taking me so well, love,” Dorian growled, grabbing a handful her ass as he continued to rut into her. He decorated her back with more love marks, knowing full well they’d be there over a week. “You’re so good, so perfect.”
“You ride me so fucking good,” Rend gasped, reaching up and grabbing Jude’s chin. “Look at me.” Her eyes met his and she groaned. “I can feel you tightening around me. Are you about to come?”
Dorian bit into her shoulder and she cried out. “You’re not allowed to come yet.” The command sent shivers down her spine and she whined. “Only when I tell you to.” He punctuated his words with a hard thrust and she almost fell apart right there. Her arms shook with the effort to keep herself up and she teetered on the precipice of release.
“I’m close,” Rend warned, his hips snapping up to meet Jude’s at a brutal pace. Dorian tightened his grip on her hair.
“Watch him,” he breathed. “Watch him spill inside you.” Jude whimpered in response but nodded, her eyes focused on the gorgeous blush that fell across Rend’s cheeks as he careened off the edge, his eyes screwed shut. His fingers dug into her thighs, and she knew they’d bruise but she didn’t care.
She gasped as he arched up and with a final cry of her name spilled into her, both of them moaning at the feeling of him emptying himself. Dorian followed soon after with a guttural growl which she felt in her chest and they collapsed on to Rend, the two men spent.
Jude reeled from the feeling of being filled, but she was so close to release she couldn’t think straight. Her hips continued to buck on their own and Rend and Dor hissed from the overstimulation. Gently, they pulled out of her and she moaned, feeling their essence slip down her inner thighs.
Quickly, Rend pulled her over him, her wet heat hovering above his lips. His eyes burned into hers as he licked up her thigh, catching his essence on his tongue before gliding through her folds. She swore, hands tangling in his hair, Dorian’s face appearing before her.
“Please,” she begged. “Please, Dorian, let me come, I can’t take it anymore!” Watching Rend’s ministrations had every nerve on fire. A slow smile spread across Dor’s face.
“I’ll count down to one.” Jude gave a loud whine in protest, but he pressed a finger to her lips. “Countdown or no orgasm at all.” She just nodded.
“Ten.” She gasped. There was no way she would last. “Nine.” Rend’s pace was relentless, his tongue sweeping over her most sensitive spot as he laved over her. “Eight.” He was inside her now, a moan of his own sending vibrations over her core and she bit her lip, tears spilling over her eyelids.
“Seven.” She began to buck her hips, griding down onto Rend’s face. “Six.” Her breathing was coming in short pants, embarrassingly shallow. “Five.” Only five? How long had she been doing this? “Four.” Her eyes rolled back as she stood on the knife’s edge, waiting for Dorian’s word before she tumbled. “Three.” Rend licked a broad stripe up her core. “Two.” She couldn’t do this.
Dorian nipped at her jaw and traced the shell of her ear with his tongue. “One. Come for us.” At the same moment, Rend sucked on her oversensitive bundle of nerves and it sent her careening into her pleasure, her hips rolling as she rode out her orgasm.
It crashed into her and she fell back, twitching as the aftershocks hit her. Rend and Dor were at her side in an instant, both sets of arms around her, kissing her softly as she came down from her high.
“You did so well, my love.” Dorian kissed her forehead. “So perfect.”
“You’re incredible, darling.” Rend’s voice washed over her and she smiled.
Under their soft touches, it wasn’t long before Jude let herself be overtaken by sleep.
They/Them pronouns used for the hunter. :^) just getting back into writing again!!! it’s been about a year...
**
The streets are always silent in the early hours of the morning - that is, until Lunaris’ most troublesome pair stumble out of The Wolf’s doors and onto the dampened cobble of the paths beyond. Their gleeful laughs echo and bounce off the houses bordering the road and puddles are splashed and disturbed under their hasty steps, soaking below their ankles. Behind them, another yell rings out - something their inebriated senses can only interpret as “damn hooligans! get back here!”. One could only assume that some shenanigans had occurred shortly before this, the cause likely being the Lycan and the Hunter.
Alkar, although perhaps having consumed a few too many drinks, is still adept at winding through the narrow maze-like alleyways that fit between the tightly-packed buildings. Grasping the Hunter’s damp hand, a clamminess soon building up between their palms and laced fingers, he drags them around a sharp corner and into the shadows of an alley. Keeping his body seamed to theirs, he stills - waiting, listening, until the man who came after them was not to be heard. Perhaps he lost them, or he grew exhausted of matching their pace and returned to The Wolf, but either way they had lost him.
Adrenaline quickly wearing off, but a buzz still in the air, the pair became aware of their still tightly-laced fingers and panting chests that are pressed together in the confines of this alley. Not only that, but a chill ran up the Hunter’s spine and they glanced to the right, to the flooding road, realising that what they previously knew was a shower had turned into heavy buckets of rain pouring from the darkened sky.
Their attention was brought back to the Lycan when he heaved a hearty laugh and bared his sharpened teeth, a grin that the Hunter mirrored themselves. “Fuck’s sake... I think I’m a bad influence on you, love.”
The Hunter’s other palm came up to rest on the heated, exposed flesh of his chest - how did he always manage to stay so warm? - and they exchanged a look with Alkar before leaning in and sharing a short kiss with the man. It didn’t seem like much - the kiss wasn’t steamy, or lengthy, or by any means dainty as their lips clashed while the rain streamed down their faces - but it was enough for both of them.
A few more affections shared, then Alkar was dead set on getting them back to the warmth of his cave.
Post pledge ending, the hunter does not tell anyone when they leave Lunaris.
The hunter's sister (who is a hunter herself) acquires a lingering injury, and decides to take the time off to visit her sibling.
Instead she finds a mystery, and a town full of people who's help she will need to solve it.
categories: angst, hurt / comfort, eventual happy ending, maybe the hunter can have a little redemption arc, as a treat, two hunters, divergence from canon epilogue | pairings: August / F!Hunter, Finnzra, Finnzra / nb!Hunter | fic rating: explicit | content warnings (this chapter): none, but check the rating | word count: 7,735 | read on AO3
Chapter 3/? | just me and the lavender moon
chapter summary- Rowan arrives in Lunaris, Ezra thinks about moving
Rowan arrived in Lunaris just after midnight. Originally, she had planned to camp overnight and ride the last few hours of the trip in the morning, but by evening had found herself deep in the forest surrounding the little town, and thought better of it. Her instincts told her that there was more to the ancient, gnarled trees than met the eye. To say nothing of the relentless sense that she was being watched.
So she had pushed through, and now found herself alone, the steady clop of her horse’s shoes on cobblestone echoing in the narrow streets. With the moon swathed in clouds Lunaris was nearly as shadowed as the surrounding woods. And while it didn’t have the same malevolent air, it seemed still, like the quiet following the upheaval of a storm.
Eventually she found her way to the stables, situated on the edge of town between the forest and an imposing building she assumed was the local enforcer’s headquarters. The stable boy wasn’t pleased to be woken so late, but seemed used to it. She thanked him and left her horse in the safety of the barn. Shouldering her bag and stepping back out into the chill, Rowan found herself almost wishing she could stay in the warm structure, and fall asleep to the familiar scents of leather and sweet hay.
She set off in the direction she’d spotted the inn on the way into town. The echo of hooves was replaced by the increasingly familiar tap of her quarterstaff. It was a simple design, but reinforced and heavier than it looked. If she was going to have to carry around a big stick for a while, she very much preferred one that could be counted on to not break if she tried to hit something unpleasant with it. Not that she expected to be fighting monsters in the middle of a family reunion. Well. Perhaps she wouldn’t be so surprised.
After all, their shared occupation was the very thing that had kept them apart so long. While Rowan very well understood the necessity of sending hunters where they were needed at a moments notice, it was often hard to ignore the sense of isolation that such a lifestyle could result in. Being the perpetual outsider, trying to find your place in groups that had known each other for years, or trying to build relationships when you knew it could all be ripped away at the arrival of a letter, over and over again, was hard. She had seen hunters retreat into themselves, shutter their eyes to protect themselves. Turn cold and dark inside as the things they killed. Fighting darkness with darkness rarely brought light.
Rowan turned another corner in the lamplight and nearly ran into someone headed hastily away from the headquarters. She managed to narrowly avoid losing her balance by catching herself on the staff, but the stranger stumbled back a few steps on long legs before looking up at her ready to snarl something. Instead their expression turned to one of confusion, elegant brows pulled together.
“My apologies” she said, and taking in their purple sash and flickering electric aura, “Enforcer.”
They were dressed in fine, flowing materials all in shades of blue and silver. Long, silky hair a deep near-black purple at the roots, washing out like ink to a silvering heather at the tips, draped over their shoulder in a ponytail, with shorter strands curling about their face. They had striking features with high cheekbones under the piercing, pale blue eyes that flicked over her.
“I don’t recognize you hunter, identify yourself.” they commanded in a cultured, pleasantly rich voice.
She instinctively straightened at the order, matching their intense gaze. “Hunter General Rowan Velle.” and to explain her presence in their town “On temporary leave due to injury.”
A flash of disquiet broke their steely gaze “Maro’s sister then.”
They sighed, suddenly seeming very weary, and in a slightly gentler voice said “I am Lieutenant General Willenheim, did you receive the letter I sent?”
Rowan’s stomach dropped like a sack of bricks, and her expression, she was sure, with it. She knew from Maro’s letters that Willenheim was their enforcer, and there were only so many reasons a hunter’s enforcer might send a letter to their next of kin, none were good.
“No.” she managed to grate out “I did not. Are they…. Is Maro...”
It shouldn’t have been so hard to say, to imagine, they were hunters after all, and death dogged their steps like the tamed wolves so many were fond of keeping.
Willenheim frowned “No, they are..” they paused “They are alive.”
“Turned then.” Rowan took the next logical step in assuming.
“It is somewhat more complicated than that.” they said carefully, glancing around “But this is not a conversation to be had in the street.”
What trouble had Maro gotten themself into? Hells. Their last letter had seemed so... hopeful. She tried to ignore the lump in her throat.
“You said you are injured?” they asked “Does that need to be addressed first? I could show you to our healer and we’d be able to continue this in the morning.”
“It’s been three weeks since my injury, Enforcer, I’ll be fine until morning. I’d rather not wait to hear what’s happened.”
They leaned back on their heels, and gave her an assessing look.
“Fine.” they said, resigned, and apparently satisfied that she at least did not appear to be bleeding out.
They pursed their lips and glanced back towards the headquarters, then seemed to make a decision, and set off in the direction they had originally been walking.
“This way then.” they said over their shoulder.
Rowan followed, feeling ill.
They led her to what she could only assume was their home, a little ways down the street, and unlocked the door, gesturing for her to enter.
The acclaimed General Augustus Willenheim, now Lieutenant General. That must have been a recent appointment, Rowan thought, if word of a change in command had not yet reached her own headquarters by the time she’d left. Maro had called them August in their more recent letters, had spoken warmly and highly of them.
Rowan hoped their opinion of the witch was deserved, as it appeared they were now head of the order she had devoted her life to.
“Please” they said “sit.”
She lowered herself onto a plush couch opposite Willenheim. Their home was certainly lovely. Sparse and elegant, shades of blue, with silver and marble accents. Every item and bit of decor seemed to have been carefully chosen to suit the room. The overall effect might have seemed cold or austere, instead it struck her as a place meant to be a sanctuary, the eye of a storm.
There was a serious and grim look on its occupants' lovely face.
“Firstly, if you did not receive my letter, why are you in Lunaris?” they questioned.
“I’ve been stationed out in Enk, and three weeks ago was stung by a manticore on a hunt.” Their eyebrows scrunch up again at that, but they let her continue. “Enk’s rather a remote little dot on the map, and our only witch is better at combat than healing. Maro had written to me that one of their partners here is a talented healer, and as I’m on leave until healed anyway” She shrugs “I’d hoped I might kill two birds with one stone and surprise my sibling with a visit.”
Willenheim once again subjected her to an assessing gaze, “Manticore venom is not something to play about with, whatever else we discuss, you will have that seen to first thing tomorrow. Understood, General?” their tone brooked no argument.
“Of course, Lieutenant General.” she allowed.
“Good, I will give you directions to Ezra’s before you leave tonight.” They paused, looking distracted, perhaps trying to decide how best to give her whatever bad news about Maro that was so serious as to require a personal conversation with the Lieutenant General Enforcer of Eskria in their home at nearly one in the morning.
She waited. Feeling a bit numb.
Finally, they spoke, “One week ago, Maro resigned their post as a hunter. Five weeks before that they chose to consume an… experimental potion, intended to transform and ultimately strengthen a hunter. They knew at that point, that this had already directly and indirectly resulted in the deaths of several hunters. Maro was urged and advised not to do so by everyone in this town who had come to care about them, and they did so anyway.”
Willenheim took a deep breath.
Rowan opened her mouth, to voice one of the many questions she now had, but they continued before she could.
“Much, in fact most, of what I have just told you, and what I am about to tell you is confidential. But, I believe you deserve the truth about what has happened,” they paused “is happening, to your sibling. Especially if you decide to seek them out, which, I would urge you not to do at this point. Though if you are anything like them, I expect you will ignore my advice on that front.”
Rowan suspected that was so. Whatever Maro had done, they were after all, her sibling, her dearest and oldest friend, and the only person left whom she considered family. She wasn’t going to write them off without a fight.
They told her the rest of the story, starting just before Maro had arrived in Lunaris in the wake of Hunter Lane’s death. And fleshed out the hopeful skeleton tale Maro’s letters had allowed her. A darker mystery than they had implied, with implications both farther reaching and closer to home than she might have imagined.
Maro had indeed finally built themself a home, surrounded themself with people who cared about them, even fallen in love. And Rowan could see, with a sort of horror, as the story unfolded, where exactly it would fall apart for them. What exactly, about the situation the witch described, would have snagged on the well hidden defense mechanisms of their past, and led them to make such a disastrous decision.
“Fucks sake Maro” Rowan groaned, head in her hands when they were done.
She looked up at the enforcer. “I’m going to talk to them.”
It’s was their turn to massage their temples, “For what-”
They huffed out a bitter laugh “You aren’t going to be able to talk them out of an action they’ve already taken.” their tone took on a vehemence that surprised Rowan “They chose this! They decided to side with the man who betrayed us, over people who loved them! They decided that a bit of extra power was worth permanently harming themself!”
“Then why have they resigned?” Rowan wondered. “If they did this for power?”
Willenheim’s eyes narrowed “I would assume they misjudged how quickly the process would affect them.”
Rowan was unsure of what to assume, nothing was safe at this point, she supposed. Her head was still swimming with the revelation of the truth behind the initiation rites, but no time for that now. She needed to focus on Maro.
“I’m going to talk to them.” She repeated.
“I can’t stop you.” Their expression was displeased. “And I expect you will need to see them for yourself to fully accept the truth.”
“Thank you for sharing all this with me, especially at such an hour.” she said. The night was nearly over, and she could see the skin beneath their sharp blue eyes was bruised from what must have been more than one missed night of sleep.
“You are quite welcome. It’s not as though you are responsible for your sibling’s actions. Now, go and get some sleep.”
She stood, leaning heavily on her staff, got directions to Ezra’s shop for the morning, and thanked them, before leaving them to whatever rest they could wring from the remaining night.
By the time she was curled under scratchy sheets in the White Wolf Inn, the sun was already threatening to rise. For once she let sleep take her anyway.
OOO
Ezra woke as the sun rose, none of its light slipping through his boarded windows or spilling over his pillows. But he found its absence a price well worth waking in Finn’s arms.
He was spooned against the vampire’s hairy chest, legs tangled, Finn’s nose in his hair, and arm tucked against his bare chest. He hadn’t opened his eyes yet, trying to delay shaking off the warm muzziness of sleep a bit longer.
“Good morning, angel.” Finn murmured in his ear.
“S’not morning yet.” Ezra stubbornly kept his eyes shut through a yawn and flipped over, flinging an arm over Finn and pulling them snugly chest to chest, re-tangling their legs.
For a moment, he expected Maro to adjust to the movement by curling closer against his back. Then quickly realized they weren’t there, and remembered why not. Despite the short time the three of them had spent together, now they were gone, he kept expecting them to be there. Every time it was like taking a step when you expect an extra stair, a brief moment of unmoored panic. He clung all the tighter to Finnegan for it.
Finn wedged an arm between them to gently tip his chin up, bringing them nose to nose, so he could look into Ezra’s now (unfortunately) open eyes.
“I miss them as well.”
Ezra knew he did. The vampire turned idle and melancholy the moment he thought he wasn't being watched. Raven reported he spent most days in his room. The rest of the time he spent fussing over Ezra.
Ezra tilted his head a fraction and pressed the extra inch forward to kiss him. Finn responded with a gentle ferocity, sliding his hand up from Ezra’s chin to cup his jaw, thumb on his cheek, wiping away a stray tear.
After a few moments he deepened the kiss, cool tongue pressing between Ezra’s lips. He opened for him, pressing back with his own tongue and losing himself in the sensation for a while, letting his free hand roam between Finn’s shoulder blades.
Eventually, Ezra pulled back and re-opened his eyes. Neither were wearing any more than boxers under the covers, and he could feel Finn already hard against his thigh, as he was sure Finn could feel him.
“Finn…”
The vampire turned onto his back to kick the covers off, and canted his hips up to shimmy out of the soft black fabric. Ezra wiggled out of his own before they could be ripped off, he was going to run out soon, again.
He let a mischievous impulse take him, and leaned over to place his index finger on Finn’s already slick lips.
Finn took the bait and sucked the finger in, drawing a small gasp out of Ezra. He curled the finger around one of his fangs, and used it as leverage to pull Finn up.
Finn let out something between a growl and a laugh that somehow managed to convey both amusement and arousal. But he went willingly enough, eyebrow raised. Ezra guided Finn by the wickedly sharp canine, letting a grin take over his face, until he had him where he wanted him, sitting against the headboard, mouth open around his finger.
He slid the digit out along the tip of Finn’s fang, with just enough pressure to draw blood.
Finn growled again, chasing the finger to pull back into his mouth. Then pulled Ezra, laughing, into his lap. The feel Finn’s firm abdomen against his cock, and Finn’s own erection between his legs, cut the sound into a gasp.
Ezra’s face fell into Finn’s neck and he let out a helpless little sound. Finn pressed a kiss to his neck and nibbled his way towards his jaw. He slid a big hand around the back of Ezra’s head and tangled his fingers in the sleep mussed curls. Then pulled his head back to ravage his neck in earnest.
Ezra was taut as a bowstring as Finn slipped his other hand, the one he’d lovingly crafted for the vampire, around both of their cocks.
Finn found a steady, twisting, rhythm, up and down, little movements of his hips pressing his tip up against Ezra’s crown as they were pressed together.
He began kissing his way down Ezra’s neck, licking the dip of his clavicle, sucking a bruise into the soft skin just below his collarbone.
Ezra groaned, breathing ragged as Finn continued the stroke of his hand and wandering of his mouth.
“Finn… Please… I need…” Finn had already released his hair and was reaching for the little jar of slick in the bedside table.
He gasped into a pointed ear as a cool finger circled his rim with tauntingly light pressure. Payback for the earlier teasing Ezra supposed, he ought to do that more often.
They kissed fully as Finn pressed the digit in, immediately finding that spot that sent a current of pleasure through him like a lightning strike.
It didn’t take long before Ezra was a shuddering mess. Moaning into Finn’s mouth, begging for more.
Eventually, Finn slipped his finger out and released their cocks with a final upward slide. He readjusted his position and maneuvered Ezra into place with hands cupping either side of his ass.
Ezra steadied himself on Finn’s shoulders and gazed into gold gone soft with a look of adoration that would have taken his breath away were he not already breathless.
Finn held him in place and arced up off the bed to leisurely press up into him.
Feeling Finn move in him was always beyond satisfying, visceral and intimate. Ezra leaned back to admire the roll of muscle as Finn established a snapping upwards rhythm, knocking the breath out of him with every thrust.
“Touch yourself angel.” Finn groaned up at him.
Ezra happily obliged, timing the pull of his hand to match the rock of Finn’s hips.
Their movements quickly became desperate and stuttering, until Finn came below him with a deep groan, pressing up in a final, deep thrust. Ezra followed, spending onto Finn’s chest and abdomen.
He dismounted and curled into Finn’s side, letting his skin cool him as his breathing slowly steadied.
The world was quiet again for a moment, and Ezra kept his eyes closed, did not look to see Finn’s other arm resting on his own still chest, rather than around familiar shoulders. He did not think about the empty space.
There was a long, pitiful meow muffled by the door. Ezra flung an arm over his eyes.
“Is it morning yet then?” He could hear Finn’s smirk.
Coco meowed again.
Ezra needed a shower.
OOO
It turned into a sleepy sort of morning in the shop, and Ezra found his attention turning to the little collection of plants in the window. A coleus with vibrant pink and green patterning. An overgrown spider plant hanging from the ceiling. A few rarer herbs that did well indoors. And a little pot of succulents, spilling over the patterned sides, they needed repotting.
It was delicate work. Roots grown together needed to be gently separated. Even when great care was taken there was often damage, torn roots, a broken leaf. But plants could be hardy things, and with the extra space of a new pot (and again, with care) usually ended up better off than before.
Ezra thought about moving.
His thoughts were eventually interrupted by the tinkle of the bell above the door. Alkar practically flew up to the counter, wolf ears pinned, tail bristling. He was looking Ezra over like he was concerned something might have happened to him. Omen slipped in behind him and settled onto a stool, seeming less perturbed.
“What’s going on?” Ezra hurried to lock the door, before turning back to the pair.
“We saw Piper in the market this morning-” Omen started.
“Maro’s sister is here!” Alkar blurted.
Oh, Ezra had almost forgotten they had a sister. Maro had mentioned her once, when Finn had asked about the neat pile of letters on their cramped little desk. Her name was Rowan. She was older than them by a few years, a hunter as well. It had sounded like they missed her.
Should he have written her? He supposed Gus must have.
Ezra frowned “Has someone talked to her yet? Is she alright?”
“Ughhh.” Alkar deflated with a pout and sank to the floor.
Omen leaned over to pat him on the head. “Piper said August spoke to her last night. She’s injured? So they told her to come here today.”
Ezra spared Alkar a concerned look before addressing Omen. “She hasn’t made it in yet. Do you know how injured she is? Has anyone checked on her?”
“It sounded like she might have arrived quite late, perhaps-”
“We should be more worried about whether she’s going to follow in Maro’s footsteps!” the lycan cut in again, scowling.
“Is that why you’re so puffed up about it then?” Ezra wondered.
Omen nodded and Alkar somehow managed to deepen his scowl.
“I’m not puffed up... But yes it fucking is. You haven’t even met her yet and you’re already worrying over her. What if-”
Ezra cut him off. “She’s injured and just received bad news about a family member. She’s not responsible for what Maro’s done, and we don’t judge people by their families’ actions, yes?”
Which received an affirming nod from Omen and after a few moments of begrudging consideration, a huff from Alkar as he flopped the rest of the way to the floor.
“Sometimes I hate when you’re right.”
He was startled back up onto his elbow by a knock at the door.
Ezra looked at the clock, “That’ll be Mrs. Ellison here to pick up her sleeping draught.”
He started towards the door to let her in.
“Hey, do you want us to hang around today?” Alkar offered from the floor.
While it would be nice to have company, Ezra knew keeping track of this particular duo while also trying to run a shop was a task that required more eyes than he possessed. As though he needed any additional proof, while Omen had been innocently nodding along with Ezra through Alkar’s fit of surliness, the demon’s tail had been flirting closer and closer to the candy drawer. And as Ezra turned back to answer, it was curled into the handle.
“I appreciate the offer, but I’ll be fine. Would you two mind popping down to let Finn know what’s going on though?”
“We can do that!” Omen hopped up and towards the back curtain, tail chased from the drawer by a stern look from Ezra. Alkar trailed up after him and they disappeared with sounds of playful bickering cut off by the fall of the trapdoor.
Ezra let Mrs. Ellison in and continued his morning.
He was finding it hard to focus. Preparing ingredients for potions, what sort of injury did she have? Would he have what he needed to help her? Small talk with Mr. Barlow from down the street, would it be painful, or a comfort to meet Maro’s family? Was she very like them? Or nothing at all? Which would be worse?
By early afternoon the shop felt dense with anticipation. He decided to take his lunch out onto the front step to get a bit of air. It was a rare sunny day in Lunaris, and the warmth of the sun on his hair was a welcome change.
Ezra was taking the last sips of his tea when he spotted Coco down the street, primly hopping from a porch railing and trotting towards a crouched figure beckoning her over. A long black coat pooled around them, and they leaned heavily on a thin staff. Coco stopped in front of them for a moment, considering, before flopping over, paws tucked up, big eyes wide, no mercy. The stranger was clever enough to ignore the soft belly fur on display and obligingly give her a (much safer) scritch around the cheeks and chin.
Ezra smiled, setting his teacup on the step to stand and walk over. As he approached he heard them talking to Coco in a playful tone “You know some of your cousins are far less sweet little friend?” Their pets were rewarded with a purr, before Coco hopped back up to rub along Ezra’s leg before loping off in the direction of the shop.
The stranger turned at his approach and tucked a fallen brown curl of their curly, chin length mop behind an ear. As they stood, using the staff to take much of their weight, Ezra immediately realized that this was Maro’s sister.
There was something familiar to her. Her face wasn’t as soft as Maro’s, a curious, friendly smile framed by a narrower, sharper jaw and more prominent nose, eyes less wide, but a familiar misty grey. She was tall and willowy, taller than Maro, perhaps even a tad taller than Ezra. Under her long coat she wore a cream, collared shirt buttoned to her neck, tucked loosely into dark, high waisted trousers with a patterned purple sash spilling from one pocket. A silver axe with intricately forged designs hung at her waist.
“Is she yours?” She asked, smiling and nodding in the direction Coco had gone.
“Yeah, that’s Coco.” He offered a smile back “ Spoiled thing. Are you Rowan?”
Her eyes widened minutely, “Yes,” she paused a moment, considering him “You must be Ezra. Maro’s written lovely things about you and that vampire.”
“I am.” Ezra replied, trying very hard not to imagine Maro scratching out sweet things about them in that messy scrawl. “I was told you might need some help with an injury? My shop is just over there if you’d like to come in?”
She sighed, "I'm glad to meet you then, and yes, thank you, I suppose that needs to be dealt with first."
He led her back to his home, and even limping, she walked with the same strange grace and strength that seemed innate in most Hunters. He supposed he now knew the reason for that. She entered ahead of him and as she disappeared into the dimmer light, he was not at all surprised to feel a sense of deja vu.
Post pledge ending, the hunter does not tell anyone when they leave Lunaris.
The hunter's sister (who is a hunter herself) acquires a lingering injury, and decides to take the time off to visit her sibling.
Instead she finds a mystery, and a town full of people who's help she will need to solve it.
categories: angst, hurt / comfort, eventual happy ending, maybe the hunter can have a little redemption arc, as a treat, two hunters, divergence from canon epilogue | pairings: August / F!Hunter, Finnzra, Finnzra / nb!Hunter | fic rating: explicit | content warnings (this chapter): mild body horror | word count: 3,343 | read on AO3
Chapter 2/? | and I come back changed
chapter summary- Rowan leaves for Lunaris, Maro leaves Lunaris
Rowan woke to the sound of rain pattering on a tent, she sat up suddenly and immediately regretted it, a wave of vertigo and nausea overtaking her. Her mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton and there was a persistent, pounding ache in her left leg, she wasn’t sure she could feel her toes.
“Are you up Velle?” Keane’s gruff voice called “Come out here and have some stew!”
She groaned and flipped onto her knees to crawl out of the little tent, and hissed at the sharp pain when she bumped her left foot on the ground. Keane was sitting next to a cheery little fire, stirring a pot of what smelled like rabbit and not much else. He was maintaining a thin magical barrier several meters above the fire, keeping the rain at bay. The smoke twisted into strange shapes against the invisible surface before flowing up and around it.
“How long have I been asleep?” she managed to croak out.
He handed her a skin of water which she graciously gulped down, and replied “Day an’ a half. Lucky your boot leather kept you from takin’ more than a scratch from the thing or you might not be wakin’ up at all.”
She sat on an overturned log next to the fire. “Did you-”
“Aye, I remembered to bring the damn thing, keepin’ it cool but not frozen as you said.”
She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding “Thank you.” he nodded and went back to stirring the stew.
It certainly wasn’t the impetus for the hunt, but she had planned on collecting the manticore’s stinger to use both as a component for antivenom on future hunts, and a way to learn more about the creatures. They were rare in this part of the world, meant for sand dunes and desert nights, and the demonologist in her had relished the idea of learning more. Hells.
Now it seemed she’d be needing it all for antivenin potions if she wanted to keep her leg. Very little was needed for each dose, but she wondered how long her new supply would last. And of course, it could only prevent further damage, it wouldn’t heal what had already been done, or permanently neutralize the venom, which was as magical in nature as the creature that had provided it.
She needed to have it seen by a witch, but Keane was the only game in town on that front, and healing wasn’t his forte. Hadn’t Maro’s letters mentioned-
Keane passed her a tin camp mug full of rabbit stew, breaking her from the spiraling reverie.
“Eat up. Think you can walk on that?” He nodded at her leg.
She grimaced “I don’t think so Enforcer.”
He nodded again and slurped his stew.
Once he’d finished eating he trundled off into the woods to look for “A half decent walkin’ stick” and left her with the crackling fire and her thoughts for company.
OOO
The hike back to town took nearly twice as long as the journey out. And Rowan was relieved when they finally stepped out of the trees and onto the little dirt road. It wound through the farmland that surrounded and supported the remote little village of Enk. Puddles had pooled in the wagon ruts after the recent rains and pale spring grass was coming up on the sides of the road.
Rowan now walked with a sturdy stick taking the weight of every other step, a dull ache remained in her left foot, and while the sharp pain of jostling it had lessened, it was now swollen and stiff. She had managed to ration out the remaining pre-prepared doses for the rest of the trip, and would be able to make more as soon as she had access to the headquarter’s alchemy equipment.
Not that theirs was the best equipped headquarters in Eskria, the village too small to support a large presence from the corp’. It was just herself, Keane, one lower ranking enforcer, and two other hunters. All working out of a sturdy wooden building that was only just as large as it needed to be.
This place had been exactly what she’d needed on her arrival three years ago, drowning in grief. The slower pace and bright, wide open meadows had given her misery space to flow away from her, making it easier to keep her head above water. But recently she had begun to relish the thought of another reassignment, a chance to make more use of everything she’d learned in all the extra time she’d had to study here.
They trudged into the sleepy village center around midday, the tavern owner Rosie was one of the few people around. She looked up from her herb garden to wink at Rowan. She was short and curvy, with unruly golden hair piled in a bun, and pink freckled cheeks. She’d become fast friends with the shrewd and mischievous woman, and had shared a bed with her on occasion. But neither had been interested in more, so it had comfortably been left at that.
Rowan smiled back at her as Keane clapped her on the shoulder.
“Rest up, make your potion, meet me back with your report tomorrow, and we’ll discuss what’s next, eh?”
She nodded and they went their separate ways.
OOO
The next day Rowan stepped out of the crisp morning air into her enforcer’s office, the quarterstaff she’d found to replace the rough walking stick made hollow thunks on the dusty wooden floor as he waved her in. She balanced her report on his overflowing desk and sat.
He leaned back in his chair “Got your potion made?”
“Enough to last several weeks, it takes up more space fully prepared, so I’ve left the remaining venom in an enchanted jar to keep it cool and reasonably compact until I’m ready to make more.”
“Good, now General, you’re officially on leave until that leg is back in workin’ order. I’ve done what I can, but for a manticore sting you need to get yourself to a proper healer, there’s a fellow in Lenfield-”
She cut him off “Enforcer, I was wondering if I might try Lunaris? It’s a week closer than Lenfield and my sibling mentioned in their letters they’ve got a top rate healer there.”
Keane eyed her for a moment from under from under his bushy brows before breaking into the grandfatherly smile he so rarely granted “Oh off you go then, get in a visit with young Maro while you’ve got the chance.”
Rowan let herself smile back, she had only seen Maro once in the nine years since she’d graduated, and despite their frequent correspondence she missed her younger sibling dearly. She had been pleasantly surprised at the contents of the most recent letters, they seemed to be doing well in Lunaris. There hadn’t been a new one waiting when she’d returned from the hunt, but that wasn’t so unusual, and now she’d be able to catch up in person.
“There was one other thing I wanted to discuss ‘fore you head out, I know you’ve been itchin’ to leave this town for months now and-”
She opened her mouth to disagree and he laughed “I’m old, not blind Velle! You’re goin’ stir-crazy out here between hunts and frankly it’s a waste a talent.”
He continued “I was planning to have you reassigned somewhere a bit busier when that new recruit we’re slated for finally shows up, but now you’ve got a week long ride anyways no point making you come all the way back afterwards only to turn on your heel again in another direction. I’ll be in touch with the headquarters in Lunaris and have them pass on your new assignment when you’re all healed up.”
Rowan stood up, leaning heavily on the quarterstaff “It’s been an honor to work with you Enforcer Keane.”
“Likewise.” Keane sighed “I’ll miss you Velle, heal well and good luck.”
A few hours later she’d packed her things, said her goodbyes, and with her horse in high spirits after nearly a month with nothing to do, was on the road to Lunaris.
OOO
Maro paced. And paced. Their room above The Wolf felt smaller and smaller with every pivot. Tightening like their skin. Something was crawling under their skin. Or was that their skin? Doing the crawling? It seemed like things were crawling in the shadows of the once familiar room as well.
There were new shadows in their mind. Shadows that spoke. Not a great sign, that. Plugging their ears didn’t help. With the shadows or with every clink and mutter and laugh and buzzing insect in and around the tavern.
They lurched to a stop as another wave of nausea overcame them. Gripping the bedpost like a lifeline. They could smell everything in the tavern as well. Cooked meat and human sweat and rarely cleaned bathrooms and-
The bedpost gave out and they fell, splintered wood in their hands. Their hands didn’t feel like their hands. Yes, still long-fingered and scarred. But reaching for things Maro did not want. Holding too hard to things that shouldn’t matter. Letting go of things that did. Crawling.
They held a breath in. And released it slowly. As Finn had had them do to quell their panic after that first encounter with the creature. The creature they were going to-
No. Breathe. In, cool hands light on their shoulders, calm voice counting. Out, their face pressed into a warm shoulder that smelled of vanilla. In. Out.
They felt guilty, using those memories to calm themself. Maro had betrayed their partners after all. The word partner implied a sharing of the load, a willingness to help and allow yourself to be helped. And Maro had tried, they had even surprised themself with how much they’d shared so soon. But when it had really mattered, they hadn’t been able to listen, to let go of the weight.
Maybe their hands were their own.
Maro stood on wobbly legs. They’d broken their relationship surely as they’d done the bedpost. They couldn’t fix that, couldn’t undo the damage already done. But maybe now they had a chance to prevent more.
Post pledge ending, the hunter does not tell anyone when they leave Lunaris.
The hunter's sister (who is a hunter herself) acquires a lingering injury, and decides to take the time off to visit her sibling.
Instead she finds a mystery, and a town full of people who's help she will need to solve it.
categories: angst, hurt / comfort, eventual happy ending, maybe the hunter can have a little redemption arc, as a treat, two hunters, divergence from canon epilogue | pairings: August / F!Hunter, Finnzra, Finnzra / nb!Hunter | fic rating: explicit | content warnings (this chapter): canon-typical violence | word count: 1,635 | read on AO3
Chapter 1/? | i'll send a storm
chapter summary- A hunt goes wrong, Finn makes tea badly
...Seven...eight...nine heartbeats and a roll of distant thunder filtered through the trees, closer than she’d prefer. Rowan scanned the forest in front of her, the full, newly risen moon illuminating tall conifers scarred with layers of claw marks. She moved with a renewed confidence in the direction her senses were pulling her.
Keane huffed "That glare might leave demons shakin’ in their boots but it’s not gonna turn the storm." The weatherbeaten old witch was scarred as the trees they were passing through, with glinting eyes under bushy grey brows. "We’re ending this night soaked to the bone no matter how fast we trot."
He kept pace regardless, heavy boots muffled by the thick layer of pine needles and other decaying detritus that made up the forest floor. The air felt just as padded, pregnant with the approaching thunderhead. She ducked under a branch with tufts of cinnabar orange fur stuck in the bark.
"I’d rather finish the job before the clouds steal our moonlight Enforcer. Wasn’t exactly a short hike up here and now we’re in the beast’s territory it’s not likely to give us a night to wait out the weather."
It had, in fact, taken them just over a week to track the creature here from the rustic little town she’d been assigned to the last three years. A harsh winter had drawn it down out of it’s remote stomping grounds and into the range of people. And even with the arrival of spring, now that it knew easier prey was a short flight away, there was no guarantee it wouldn’t come back.
"Eh, least the wind’ll keep it grounded" he growled "An’ how many times have I told you to call me Keane?"
Rowan huffed a laugh in response, letting the discussion rest. For a while the only sounds were increasingly frequent peals of thunder and the susurrus of trees in the storm’s downdraft drowning out their breath and footfalls.
She slowed as they approached a clearing cast in darkening moonlight, and let her hand fall to the handle of her axe as a four-legged figure padded into view. The barbaric semblance of a human face snarled at them out of a thick mane of matted red fur. The over sized body tensed and threw massive leathery wings up into an obvious threat display, while a tail tipped with a chitinous, scorpion-like stinger lashed behind it. The manticore crouched back, sizing the distance and preparing to leap.
Rowan readied her axe, flashing silver in a burst of lightning that briefly threw the clearing into sharp relief. The ground was littered with shredded wood and scattered carcasses in various states of decay, the smell of which failed to entirely drown out the musty scent of the beast itself. Beside her, Keane visibly centered himself and the air took on a biting chill as an icy mist rose in the clearing and his eyes were overtaken by a cold light.
They moved apart swiftly as darting fish, and the creature’s massive bulk landed in the space now between them with an impact she could feel in her teeth. Keane drew its attention with a flashy burst of spiked ice to its face.
"Well this fellow’s scarred as an old tom isn’t he?" the witch laughed as the beast whipped around to face him with a snarl.
He was indeed, the shaggy lion’s pelt marred with dozens of scars, and the heavy wings were ragged at the edges. But Rowan was focused on the tail, which she ducked out of the way to avoid as the creature spun. Segmented red chitin leading to a wickedly curved tip coming down from the bulbous final segment. Both of them had little vials of the anti-venin potion she’d prepared for the trip, but that didn’t guarantee they’d be fast enough to get it down if struck, certainly not without permanent damage. So it remained the manticore’s deadliest feature, and her first task was to remove it.
Keane continued to back away as he threw another volley of ice at the thing. Rowan waited for it to pull back its tail to strike, near parallel with the ground, and brought her axe down between two of the segments as it sprung back up, neatly splitting the top few from the rest and sending them spinning uselessly through the clearing.
The manticore turned back on her with outstretched claws swung wildly in her direction and an earsplitting yowl louder than any cat she’d ever had the misfortune to hear.
She called back to Keane, "About as subtle as a tomcat as well yeah?" It bared leonine teeth at her in an angry hiss, three rows on top and bottom, and prepared for another swing.
Rowan jumped back, rather than to the side, the thick mane would deter a blow to the neck, and its face was the next best option for a clean kill. But rather than the swipe of claws she expected, it took a flying leap over her head, knocking her down with its hind paws, bouncing off the massive pine behind her and flapping some twenty meters up a tree on the other side of the clearing. It clung to the bark with straining claws and the approaching storm whipped its mane around its face as it roared down at them, fully pissed off.
She pulled herself back to her feet, coat flapping around her calves, and unholstered her flintlock pistol, it was out of range no matter how well she aimed.
"Can you do something about that?" she shouted over the wind at Keane.
The witch focused up at the tree and some ways below the yowling beast, a pale mist settled around the bark. After a few moments there was a great cracking sound, loud as a gunshot, and that part of the tree shattered, the top half with the manticore on it tilted towards them, seemingly in slow motion.
"TIMBER!" Keane shouted, darting farther away from the falling tree, Rowan ran backwards in the opposite direction, trying to keep her eyes on the manticore, trapped by the falling branches. Her boot hit something that crunched and she felt a sharp pain in her calf, she looked down horrified to see the manticore’s envenomed stinger at her feet. Fuck.
She needed to take the antivenom now but the tree crashed to the ground between her and Keane, and five hundred kilos of manticore began flailing to try and free itself from the branches pressing it to the ground. There wasn’t time. Rowan leapt forward, running along a thick branch to the trunk where she could get a good look at the beast, it saw her approach and let out a final unnatural yowl that abruptly cut off with the crack of her pistol.
The manticore went limp just as Rowan’s leg gave out, she landed tangled in branches and pulled the little vial from the leather pouch at her waist. She could hear Keane calling for her as she ripped the stopper out with her teeth. She downed the bitter, red liquid in one mouthful, and things started to get a bit blurry as the sky finally opened up, instantly drenching her.
OOO
Far away, moonlight poured through a kitchen window as Finnegan Kazimir struggled to make a cup of tea. Which one was it he’d seen Ezra reach for after a hard day in the shop? The blue and yellow tin that smelt of mint and earth? Finn was unsure, he didn’t often pay attention to such things when Ezra was in the room. The kettle screamed, and decision made he pulled down the tin and yanked the horrible thing off the heat.
Sitting at the little wooden table he watched what should have been the cheery gold of the tea, warp to a sickly yellow in the shadowed light, spreading in tendrils through clear water like poison through-
Finn shut his eyes and thought of the bright life of his love upstairs, warm, safe, close, and too distracted by fresh grief to make himself the cup of tea darting thoughts told Finn he wanted. He settled and let each moment pass as the tea steeped, time would fix this, settle wounds into scars that could be ignored like a scrap of purple fabric in a box.
OOO
Ezra stared up into the rain pounding on the window and felt cold imagining where Maro might be. He wanted to run out into the night and find them, bring them home and find a way to undo the curse they’d drunk down like it was the only option. But there wasn’t a way to undo it, there was nothing he or Finn could do, and their love was going to die alone in the cold after everything they’d fallen in love with had been stripped away. He shivered.
The creak of the bedroom door drew him out of his thoughts and he watched Finn approach the bed with distant golden eyes and a cup of tea steaming in his hands. Ezra found a smile for his love.
"You didn’t have to do that" he said.
The vampire crawled into bed beside him and slid the cup into his hands, wrapping his own tea warmed palms around Ezra’s and holding them against the gentle heat as he leaned in to press a kiss to his forehead in lieu of a response.
They settled against each other and Ezra took a sip of the tea, a lovely calming blend with strong notes of peppermint and chamomile, drowned out by far, far too much honey, even for him, with unstrained leaves swirling about. He tucked a more genuine smile into Finn’s neck "It’s perfect, thank you." They curled closer together and listened to the rain.
