Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Steve was nearly at the cabin, anticipation swelling within him. The wilderness beckoned, a sanctuary where he could finally breathe, far removed from the confines of civilization. He craved the open air, the feeling of freedom that came with nature’s embrace. Packed securely in the truck were his supplies: food and water, hunting and emergency supplies from the store, along with essential gear for survival.

As he drove, the headlights cut through the thick darkness, illuminating the winding road ahead. With each mile, the weight of his everyday life began to lift, replaced by the promise of solitude and adventure. The further he ventured, the more he felt at home in the wild, ready to reclaim the peace he so desperately sought.

The only light came from the full moon, casting an ethereal glow over the winding road as Steve drove deeper into the wilderness. The headlights sliced through the darkness, illuminating the path ahead until, in a split second, something emerged in the middle of the road. It was a creature—either a dog or a wolf—frozen in place as Steve raced toward it.

Instinct kicked in; he gasped, slamming his foot down on the brake. The tires screeched against the asphalt as he jerked the steering wheel, desperately trying to swerve. Just as the truck came to a jarring halt, a heavy impact reverberated through the vehicle, as if something had collided with it, forcing the truck to a standstill.

Heart racing, Steve yanked the key from the ignition, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. The silence was quickly replaced by a low, menacing growl that rumbled from outside the vehicle. He felt the tension in the air, his body tense with a mix of fear and adrenaline as he strained to see what awaited him in the darkness beyond the windshield. 

He yanked the door open, and the growls outside surged in intensity, sending a shiver down Steve's spine. Every instinct screamed at him to retreat, but he forced himself to step out of the truck, moving cautiously into the night. It could be a wolf or a dog—either way, he felt a surge of compassion. Perhaps he could help the creature and see if it had been injured in the collision.

As he stepped onto the gravel, the animal came into view. It was massive—larger than any wolf he had ever seen. Its golden eyes locked onto his, unblinking and fierce, while its ears lay flat against its head, a sign of intimidation. The thick fur bristled along its spine, a testament to its raw power. 

Steve felt a mix of fear and empathy as he regarded the creature. Despite its intimidating presence, he couldn’t help but smile gently, hoping to convey his intentions. “It’s okay, buddy”, he murmured, taking a slow step closer. The pitiful creature seemed caught between fight and flight, and Steve’s heart ached at the sight of its trembling form. He wanted to reassure it, to show that he meant no harm.

The animal continued to growl, its body tense as Steve took slow, careful steps toward it. “It’s okay, buddy. I’m not going to hurt you,” he said softly, trying to soothe the creature with his calm demeanor. He kept his movements deliberate, hoping to convey trust. The golden eyes remained fixed on him, wary yet searching for reassurance. Steve could see the fear beneath its bravado, and he felt a deep empathy for this powerful yet vulnerable being. He caught a glimpse of the animal’s left forearm, shimmering in the moonlight and the glow of the truck’s headlights. As he approached, hoping to offer a gentle gesture of trust, the creature suddenly snapped its powerful jaws at him. Startled, Steve yelped and fell to the ground, instinctively cradling his hand. Relief flooded through him as he felt no injury from the close call. In an instant, the wolf vanished into the dark embrace of the forest, leaving only silence behind. “Wait! Come back!” he shouted, desperation creeping into his voice as he watched the shadows swallow the creature whole. 

“Shit!” he hissed, frustration boiling over. He quickly stood up, reaching into the back of the truck to grab a flashlight and his shotgun. Flicking the flashlight on, the beam sliced through the darkness, revealing a stark red stain on the pavement where the wolf had stood. 

Following the trail of blood from the light, Steve’s heart sank as it led into the woods, the creature's desperate escape apparent. The wolf was injured, and a surge of determination washed over him. He couldn’t let it suffer alone in the shadows, bleeding until it could go no further. He steeled himself, knowing he had to help, driven by a mix of fear and compassion for the wounded animal.

Oh, fuck, I'm going to regret doing this shit. 

He took a deep breath, steeling himself as he approached the darkness of the woods. Turning back to his truck for a moment, he gathered his resolve. He had to help that wolf.

With the flashlight cutting through the thick shadows, he began to trek deeper into the forest, each step echoing with urgency. He held his shotgun firmly, ready for anything that might lurk in the shadows. The beam illuminated the path ahead, guiding him through the tangled underbrush as he pushed forward, determined to find the wounded creature before it was too late.

~~~~~

Steve grunted as he pushed through the underbrush, following the blood trail. Suddenly, he tripped over a log, stumbling to the ground. Gritting his teeth, he quickly regained his footing and pressed on, determined to find the injured wolf. The creature had been fast, leaving a long crimson path, but Steve felt an undeniable pull to continue, to help.

With the shotgun gripped firmly in one hand and the flashlight illuminating his way in the other, he moved cautiously, each step deliberate as he navigated the tangled foliage. The forest seemed alive around him, the rustling of leaves underfoot mingling with the distant echoes of the wolf's pain. Then, without warning, a haunting howl sliced through the night, reverberating with desperation. It sent a chill down his spine. 

Steve took off, adrenaline surging as he followed the trail more urgently now, the beam of light cutting through the darkness. But then, another sound stopped him cold: deep, raspy growls that morphed into pained whimpers, accompanied by the rustling of leaves. The growls grew louder, more frantic.

Heart racing, he took slow, cautious steps, his breath held tight in his chest. Just ahead, a flicker of movement caught his eye. He froze, nearly dropping the flashlight and gun as he witnessed a surreal transformation. The wolf, caught in its agony, began to shift before him, bones cracking and fur receding, revealing to be a…human figure now writhing in pain. 

Steve stood paralyzed, a mix of shock and disbelief washing over him as he processed the inexplicable sight unfolding in the darkness. 

The figure before him was now a man, stark naked and trembling. His skin was smeared with dirt and speckled with blood, evidence of his recent struggle. He sobbed softly, cradling his side where blood seeped through his fingers, each ragged breath betraying his pain as he was leaning against the tree next to him and pressing the bizarre sparkling hand on the ground as he trembled. 

Steve slowly stepped out and walked to him. “Uh…hello…sir?” 

He gasped as the man gasped, their eyes locking—his blue against the other’s striking gold. The wounded figure, his hair matted and messy, obscured part of his face, adding to his wild appearance. As he snarled, Steve felt a chill run down his spine, freezing him in place.

Slowly, he raised the flashlight, keeping the gun firmly in his grasp. “Hey, hey,...calm down. I’m…not going to hurt you,” he said cautiously, his voice steady despite the fear gnawing at him. The man’s golden eyes burned into him, a mix of defiance and desperation. “Easy…there…it's okay…I'm not going to hurt you”

The man continued to growl, a deep, guttural sound reminiscent of a rabid dog, his lip curling back to reveal sharp, gleaming teeth. “It’s alright…I’m not going to hurt you. I promise, you’re safe now,” Steve said, forcing a gentle smile despite the tension in the air. His gaze fell to the man’s side, where blood still poured through his fingers. “You’re hurt. Let me help you”

But the man remained in a feral state, snarling fiercely as he shifted onto all fours, embodying more beast than human. The sight sent a jolt of fear through Steve, freezing him in place. Memories of the wolf's transformation played in his mind, and he felt a mix of compassion and trepidation.

“Hey, there’s nothing to be afraid of, alright? I promise I won’t hurt you. Let me help,” Steve said softly, inching closer to the snarling man. As he approached, he reached out and placed a gentle hand on the man’s shoulder. The instant contact triggered a response; the man’s gaze flicked to the gun in Steve’s hand. In a sudden, explosive movement, he emitted a primal roar and lashed out at Steve with an unusual appendage, leaving a deep scratch that ran from his ear down to his cheek. Steve stumbled backward, hitting the forest floor hard, a pained groan escaping his lips as he pressed a hand to his bleeding wound.

Both men panted heavily, eyes locked in an intense stare—one filled with desperation, the other with a wild, untamed fear.

Ignoring the searing pain of his wound, Steve remained fixated on the feral man, who panted heavily, snarling as he pressed a hand against his injury. Their eyes locked, a silent standoff brimming with tension. Despite the agony etched on his face, a small smile played on Steve's lips.

He carefully set the gun down, a deliberate act of surrender, then rose slowly onto all fours. Like a wolf inching closer, he crawled toward the wild man, maintaining that unwavering gaze. Oh, damn. I'm making a damn fool of myself.

The feral man, naked and caked in blood and grime, continued to growl low in his throat as Steve edged closer. “Please, you’re hurt. Let me help you. I want to help. You’re safe now,” he urged, his voice softening as he pointed to the wound. 

The wild man’s snarls diminished to a low rumble, though his eyes remained fixed on Steve, a mixture of wariness and challenge. Sensing the shift, Steve slowly began to remove his jacket, but the feral man’s growls surged back, sharp and fierce. Halting his movements, Steve watched as the man pressed himself against the tree, cradling his injury.

Steve’s heart raced as he took in the gleam of metal where the man’s arm had been somehow replaced, sharp talons glinting menacingly. The memory of the cruel slash on his own face lingered, a critical reminder of the danger that loomed so close.

“Here,” Steve said softly. “You look cold. This will keep you warm” He leaned forward gradually, his movements deliberate and calm. The feral man’s gaze followed him warily, his body tensing against the rough bark of the tree.

Fear flickered in the man’s eyes as he pressed himself harder into the tree. With a whimper of dread, he turned away, clenching his eyes and teeth as if bracing for an impending strike. His matted brunette hair fell over his face, as he continued whimpering.

Steve froze, his instincts urging him to stop as his heart ached at the sight of the man pressing himself desperately against the gnarled bark. It was a picture of fear that evoked the image of a helpless, abused puppy. The whimpers reached Steve’s ears and heart, hearing each jagged breath, while seeing his eyes tightly shut and teeth clenched in fear anguish.

Taking a cautious step forward, Steve felt a surge of compassion. With deliberate slowness, he draped his jacket over the feral man, allowing the soft fabric to envelop him like a protective cocoon. The moment the cloth brushed against the man’s skin, he emitted a whine and flinched, tension radiating through his body as he instinctively recoiled from the unexpected gesture of kindness. The feral man slowly peeled his eyes open, gaze landing on the jacket draped over him before shifting to the blonde who offered a gentle smile. Despite the kindness in Steve’s expression, the man’s eyes darkened as they lingered on the spot where he had attacked, a mix of confusion and wariness swirling within him. 

Who was this human? Why isn’t he hurting him? Why is he speaking those gentle words? Why the smile and acts of kindness? Who is this human? Is he trying to deceive him? Luring him into a trap to take him back? Perhaps. Perhaps maybe he should kill him. That is better. He killed some when he tried to escape. But there was something disarming about him—so different from the ones who had tormented him. The kindness in his eyes felt almost foreign, a bizarre contrast to the cruelty he had endured. Why was he smiling? Who was this man, really? The questions swirled in his mind, a mix of suspicion, fear and a flicker of hope.

“Come on. You look like crap”, Steve grinned gently at him and he moved closer to help him up, but he froze when he heard the familiar sound of growling. “I promise. I'm not going to hurt you. You can trust me”, he said firmly, pressing his hand against his chest.

The feral man lowered his snarls once more, fixating his gaze ahead at the human. This man was trying to deceive him. Weak and drained, having lost so much blood, he felt the weight of his situation pressing down on him. He couldn't go back—never back to that place! The thought was unbearable for his instincts yelling at him to make a run for it. He mustn’t let this human force him into a corner. He needed to escape, to run now before it was too late!

Steve screamed as the feral man lunged, his cold, metallic grip tightening around Steve’s throat. Panic surged through him as he struggled against the unyielding hold, gasping for breath. The sound of snarling filled the air, a low growl that sent shivers down Steve's spine. Time seemed to slow as he fought to free himself, heart racing, each desperate attempt only tightening the grip of dread. Steve gasped, choking as the feral man slowly rose to his feet, lifting him off the ground. He coughed and wheezed, struggling against the grip before being flung down hard. The man then took off on all fours, but before he could disappear, he suddenly collapsed, unconscious. He lay there, his wound still bleeding and showing signs of festering.

Steve wheezed and coughed, gasping for air as he rubbed his bruised neck, each touch a reminder of the feral man's grip. Panic surged through him as he quickly reached for the shotgun, his hands trembling as he aimed it at the unconscious figure before him. Memories of the wolf flooded his mind, echoing with the growls that still reverberated in his ears. The burning pain from his own wound flared, intensifying as he gripped the weapon tightly, his other hand gently caressing his bruised neck, caught between fear and a desperate need to defend himself.

He stepped closer, tapping the feral man gently with the gun. A pained whimper escaped the man, drawing Steve's gaze to the wound and the blood seeping from it. He looked down at the unconscious figure, torn between conflicting choices.

Should he abandon him to his fate, prioritizing his own safety? Or should he take the risk to help the wounded man, despite the danger he posed? The weight of the decision pressed heavily on him, uncertainty swirling in his mind.

Steve picked up his jacket from the ground, letting out a weary sigh as he did so.

~~~~~

Man, he's heavy!

With the jacket wrapped around the feral man, Steve carefully lifted him and made his way to the truck. Once there, he opened the passenger door, gingerly placing the injured man inside, mindful of his wound. Climbing into the driver’s seat, he stole a glance at the unconscious figure, anxiety churning in his gut. Taking a deep breath, he started the engine and drove off, the weight of his decision heavy in the air.

The ride felt endless, Steve’s eyes flickering between the road and the unconscious feral man beside him. Finally, they reached the cabin, and he let out a deep sigh of relief. He parked the truck close to the front and opened the passenger door, lifting the man with care.

Unlocking the door, he stepped inside and flicked on the light, then gently laid the feral man on the soft couch. He heard a pained moan escape the man’s lips, his teeth clenching against the agony as he instinctively pressed his metal hand against the wound. Steve frowned, concern etched on his face. “Hang in there, buddy. You’re going to be okay,” he reassured him softly.

Steve made his way to the kitchen, rummaged through the cabinet, and retrieved a bowl. After filling it with water, he hurried back to the living room, setting the bowl on the table. He dashed to the bathroom, gathering several rags, towels, a bottle of alcohol, and a medical kit. Arranging the supplies neatly beside the table, he prepared to tend to the injured man.

Dipping a rag into the cool water, Steve placed it gently on the man's forehead, wincing at the soft whine that escaped his lips. Concern etched on his face, he took in the sight before him: the man’s body was completely covered in dirt and wounds. His gaze lingered on the metal arm, a stark contrast to the rest of his battered form.

Steve gazed at the unconscious man, his heart racing as he cautiously reached out to touch the metal limb. Suddenly, he gasped in pain as the metallic hand clamped around his arm in a flash. Steve swallowed hard, staring at the tin-like appendage. 

He heard a low growl and slowly lifted his gaze, meeting the man’s eyes. Though awake, he appeared frail and continued to snarl weakly. Steve softened his expression, offering a reassuring smile. The feral man’s growls diminished, though his intense glare remained fixed on Steve.

“Hello there…uh…sir”, Steve smirked with a nervous smile.

The man continued softly snarling and glaring at him. 

“Calm down. I’m not going to hurt you. You’re injured, and if you don’t let me help, you could die. You’re already sick, and it’s getting worse. But you can get better if you trust me. I promise, I won’t harm you,” Steve said firmly, his expression steady despite the painful memories and the ache of his own wounds.

The man fixed his gaze on Steve, absorbing his words while scanning the cabin's rustic interior. He noted the weathered chairs, the old TV, and the fireplace with neatly stacked wood beside it. A chandelier hung above them, casting soft light, while the closed window was obscured by curtains. His eyes flicked to the kitchen before returning to Steve. 

This environment felt foreign and unsettling compared to the tormenting labs he had escaped. He remembered being strapped to a cold table, scientists looming over him with cruel smiles. Everything here was different— the surroundings and the man before him. And this couch felt far more comfortable and inviting than the cold, hard table he had endured.

His golden eyes locked onto Steve’s blue ones as he gradually released his grip. A small smile appeared on Steve’s face, but the feral man remained tense, ready to defend himself if needed. 

Steve gently rinsed the rag again and approached, focusing on the wound. He confirmed his fears: the man had been shot. With care, he pressed the cloth against the injury, and the man responded with a pained growl that quickly shifted to a whimper. 

“Easy there, pal. I know it hurts, but I need to take care of this,” Steve murmured soothingly. He continued bathing the blood and he saw how deep the bullet was as he continued cleaning it. “Damn. It's really deep”, he spoke with concern, then hurried to the kitchen, grabbing a small knife. Taking a deep breath to steady his trembling hands, he rinsed the blade under cool water before returning to the man. 

The feral man’s eyes were locked onto the knife, and he snarled loudly. Steve raised his hands in a calming gesture. “I need to get that out of you. You have to trust me. Please, let me help you”

The man’s snarls faded; he lacked the strength to harm Steve or escape. With a low growl of surrender, he turned away from both Steve and the knife, inhaling deeply. Steve smiled reassuringly and carefully positioned the knife over the bullet wound. “This is going to hurt,” he said softly.

Steve carefully inserted the small knife into the wound, searching for the bullet. The man gasped, clenching his teeth as pain coursed through him, a low growl escaping his lips. He buried his face into the pillow, refusing to look at the knife pressing into him, while Steve focused intently on extracting the bullet. He whined. 

“I know, I know, I'm doing my best, but…the damn thing is really in there”, Steve struggled. “Whoever shot you…they really did a good job. The bastards”

He continued to whimper, pressing his face harder into the pillow. Steve remained focused, searching for the bullet until he finally exclaimed, “Got it!” With relief, he extracted the bullet from the wound, blood coating the knife and his fingers. As he examined the bullet, he noted it was pure silver, warm to the touch and emitting faint wisps of smoke. “Jesus. It's like the damn thing was burning you from the inside”, Steve murmured, staring at how the bullet was streaming. Steve placed the bullet on the table and turned his attention back to the man, who was now watching him with a blank expression. He offered a reassuring smile. “Now, let’s get that closed up, huh?” The man continued to observe Steve intently, scrutinizing his every move. As Steve tended to the wound, he focused on the sting of the cool rag against the injury, trying to ignore the searing discomfort while keeping his gaze fixed on the blonde human caring for him.

Once the bleeding finally subsided for a while, Steve glanced at the bloodied rag before meeting the man’s unwavering gaze. “Now, do you trust me to help you clean up?” he asked gently. The man continued to watch him, displaying no signs of fear or hesitation. 

With a smile, Steve carefully helped him up from the couch and guided him to the bathroom. He flicked on the light, illuminating the sink and tub, then walked over to the tub and turned on the faucet. As the water began to run, he turned back to the filthy, nude man, who remained focused on both him and the tub. “Now I'm going need you to get in the tub and help you clean up, okay?” Steve asked then froze when the man backed away from him and the room as he locked his eyes on the tub. 

Steve moved closer, his voice soft and reassuring. “I promise, there’s nothing to fear. You’re safe here. No one can hurt you. I need you to trust me so I can help you.”

The man hesitated briefly, then stepped into the room and lowered himself into the tub, trembling as he felt the refreshing water. Steve observed him closely, noting that his shivers were not from the temperature but from fear as he watched the clean water swirl with brown and red, tainted by blood and dirt.

Steve reached for a bar of soap, but the man’s eyes widened in alarm. With a fearful snarl, he pressed himself against the wall of the tub, his golden gaze fixed on Steve, ready to lash out. Steve held his ground, forcing a calm smile. “It’s okay. This is just soap to wash away the blood and grime. To clean you up. It won’t hurt you, and I won’t hurt you, I promise”

Gradually, the man’s snarling subsided. Steve moved slowly, gently lathering the soap as he carefully bathed him, mindful of the injury that was still oozing slightly, determined not to frighten him or cause further pain. The whole time, he and his eyes didn't leave each other. 

The man growled, his impatience palpable as he waited to escape the tub. Steve, still bathing him, offered a reassuring smile. At last, Steve finished, placing the soapy bar into the murky water, its surface marred by dirt and blood. “There you are, all clean now,” he said softly. The feral being continued to stare, eyes sharp and assessing, searching for something deeper in Steve’s gaze. 

Steve gasped as the man surged up from the water, dripping wet from head to toe. Just as he seemed ready to bolt, exhaustion overtook him. He let out a deep, weary growl, his eyes fluttering shut as he slumped forward. If Steve hadn’t acted quickly, he would have collapsed onto the floor. Instead, Steve caught him, and they both tumbled to the ground. “Shit! Damn it, take it easy, buddy! Easy!”

The man let out weary, soft, raspy breaths, his brunette hair obscuring his face as he panted. Slowly, he lifted his gaze to meet Steve's. “Easy there, you’re safe, okay?” Steve said gently, his eyes locked on the man. He gasped when the once feral figure, who had snarled, scratched and nearly choked him, now nuzzled against his chest, emitting a soft purr like a contented cat. 

“Uhh...okay...uh...” Steve stammered, feeling both confused and awkward. He hesitantly stroked the man’s back, which only prompted him to nuzzle deeper, inhaling closely. “Uh…okay…uh…um”

Eventually, Steve gently pushed him back and helped him sit on the toilet to dry off. Once he finished, he assisted him up, and they walked to a nearby room. Steve carefully laid him on the bed before rushing to the dresser to grab some shorts and a shirt. He gently dressed the man up while he remained calm and obedient to him.

Steve smiled, but his expression quickly shifted when he noticed the wound seeping faint traces of red. Realizing it could worsen, he rushed to the living room and grabbed the first aid kit along with a bottle of alcohol. 

He gently lowered the man onto the bed, their eyes locking as he did so. Pouring the alcohol onto a fresh rag, Steve carefully pressed it against the wound. The man let out a pained whimper, and Steve frowned at the sound, troubled by the sight of him reacting to the burning sensation. He continued to tend to the wound until the bleeding finally subsided. With a sigh of relief, Steve opened the kit, gently patting the area with a clean cloth before placing it on the injury. He then pulled out a large roll of gauze, unrolling it methodically as he wrapped it around the man's waist and other injuries, feeling the piercing yellow eyes fixed on him the entire time. Exhausted yet satisfied, Steve grinned at his handiwork, his gaze lingering on the man as he took in the progress they had managed to succeed together. The man blinked wearily at him, his expression enigmatic and difficult to read.

“There. That feels good, doesn't it?” Steve asked in a soothing voice, staring at him as he continued fighting.

He was losing the battle. Every muscle in his body felt drained of strength, a deep weariness settling into the bones of each of his muscles. The pull of sleep was overwhelming, and the warmth of the bath, combined with the softness of the bed, beckoned him to surrender. 

Steve heard him let out a soft, exhausted sigh before he succumbed to sleep, drifting into slumber within seconds.

Steve stared at the mysterious man, memories of the wolf flooding his mind—the beast that had shifted into human form. He recalled the savage nature in its eyes and felt a shiver. His gaze fell on the man's dazzling chrome arm, stirring memories of his own injuries. The bruises on his neck throbbed, a reminder of their brutal encounter. Wincing, Steve grunted in pain as the burn on his face flared up. Without another word, he left the man alone and made his way to the bathroom. Facing the mirror, he took a deep breath, preparing to tend to his wounds before he had a long drink and to bed. 

~~~~~

He gasped sharply, jolting upright, only to freeze as searing pain shot through his side. With a groan, he slammed back onto the bed, the burning sensation overpowering his movement. Anger surged through him, and he growled, clenching his eyes shut before forcing them open again. The rustic room came into focus, its warm, muted colors a stark contrast to the sterile coldness of the lab he remembered. Gone were the eerie white coats, the gloves, the masks, and the cruel smiles of the scientists. He blinked, adjusting to the soft cotton of the sheets beneath him. The room smelled rustic, unfamiliar but strangely comforting. Slowly, he began to lift himself, teeth gritted as the pain clawed at him, urging him to stop. But he pushed through, stubbornly rising despite the agony. Just then, the door creaked open, and he snarled, eyes locking onto the figure he recognized—the same human he'd encountered before.

Steve held a small tray with food and a water bottle, his body stiffening the moment he saw the man across from him, growling as if on the verge of an attack. “Whoa, whoa...easy there” Steve stammered, his voice trembling, forcing a nervous smile. “It's me, remember? From last night?” The man's snarls softened, though they didn't disappear, a low rumble still lingering in his throat. His eyes remained fixed on Steve, glowing an eerie yellow, radiating barely contained aggression.

The brunette with the platinum limb fixed his piercing gaze on Steve, a low snarl escaping his lips as Steve cautiously approached the nightstand beside the bed. Striving to maintain his composure, Steve set the tray down, his smile wavering under the weight of the man’s threatening growls and bared teeth. He glanced at the gauze covering the man’s wound, noting a small, dark stain of red seeping through. “How are you feeling, buddy?” The man's snarls stopped completely from his words and only once again staring at him. “I hope it will stop. I did my best”, Steve said. 

The man’s expression remained unchanging as he fixed his gaze on Steve, his eyes devoid of emotion. The tension in the air was palpable, and Steve, desperate to break the silence, cleared his throat loudly, hoping to coax a response. 

(If he can really talk)

The man, his arm gleaming with metallic silver, continued to study Steve intently, as if weighing his every thought. Feeling the weight of the moment, Steve reached for a bottle of water, unscrewing the cap with trembling fingers. He extended the bottle toward the man, his heart racing, silently urging him to take it. “Uh, here. I thought you might be thirsty and hungry so…I decided make you something to eat”

He continued staring at him, not paying any attention to the bottled water.

“Uh, it's water. It's good and cold from the fridge. Thought you might be thirsty. Here you go”, Steve smiled a nervous smile.

The man’s gaze shifted from Steve to the bottle, eyes narrowing as he watched the condensation drip down its sides, betraying the coolness within. He could almost feel the crisp, refreshing liquid quenching his dry throat, but his stare returned to the blonde human, as if gauging permission or intent.

Without warning, Steve barely had time to react before the man’s metallic arm moved in a blur, snatching the bottle from his hands with a swift, mechanical precision. In one motion, he ripped the cap off, sending it skittering across the floor, and brought the bottle to his lips. 

Steve stood frozen as the man greedily gulped down the water, his chest rising and falling with rapid, heavy breaths, eyes shut tight as he savored the cold rush flooding his throat. Water spilled from the corners of his mouth, trickling down his chin and soaking his chest, but he didn’t care. His deep, satisfied growl reverberated in the silence, his lips still wet and gleaming. 

In an instant, the bottle was empty. He clenched the plastic tight and tossed it carelessly to the ground, the hollow clatter breaking the tense silence. His golden eyes snapped back to Steve, piercing and intense, as if the brief moment of satisfaction had only sharpened his focus as he let out a loud burp. 

“Uh…was it good?” Steve nervously asked. 

The man remained eerily silent, his sharp gaze never leaving Steve, who swallowed hard under the weight of it. Then, his nostrils flared as he caught the scent of the food. Without warning, like a starved animal, he lunged for the tray, nearly tipping it over as his powerful hands gripped it. With little care, he dropped it onto his lap and attacked the plate.

His eating itself was feral—each bite accompanied by low growls and rough, guttural moans. He tore into the food with frantic hunger, shoveling it into his mouth as if it might be taken away at any moment. His breaths came in short, rapid bursts, the sound of his panting mixing with the gnashing of teeth. 

Steve could only watch, stunned by the primal display, the man’s wild, ravenous movements contrasting sharply with the stillness in the room. Bits of food tumbled from his lips, but he didn’t slow down, completely absorbed in his feast, as if driven by instinct alone. 

In the blink of an eye, the food was gone, consumed as if it had never existed. The man, now visibly more energized, tossed the crumb-covered tray to the floor with a loud clatter. His golden eyes immediately locked onto Steve, who was shifting nervously in place. 

Steve flinched as the man tilted his head in a curious, almost predatory manner. Despite the injury on his side, he slowly rose from the bed, his movements deliberate, never breaking eye contact. Steve’s breath quickened, and before he could think, he started backing away, his heart pounding. But the man, driven by some dark curiosity, followed him with a steady, unsettling determination.

Steve’s pulse raced as he pressed himself against the wall, nowhere left to go. The feral being closed the distance with slow, measured steps, matching Steve’s futile attempts to evade him. Each footfall seemed to echo in the room, heightening the sense of impending danger. The air between them felt charged, the man’s eyes never wavering, as if savoring every second of Steve’s helplessness.

Steve gulped a deep gulp as he glared into the golden eyes. “Uh…can you back up a little bit? Please?” 

The man’s snarl deepened, reverberating through the room like a warning growl. Steve’s heart pounded so hard it felt as though it might burst from his chest. His breath hitched as the man’s lips curled back, revealing sharp teeth, his golden eyes flashing with a feral gleam. 

Then, in a low, predatory voice that sent a shiver down Steve’s spine, the man spoke, each word dripping with menace.

“Where am I?” he growled, his tone both accusatory and threatening. “Who are you? Why did you help me...and why are you helping me now?” 

He can talk!

Chapter Text

Steve's breath hitched when the metal fist slammed into the wall beside his head, the sharp crack reverberating through the room as debris scattered around them. The jagged hole left in the wall was a violent reminder of just how close he'd come to being crushed. His pulse pounded in his ears, but he didn’t flinch, even as the cold, unforgiving hand seized his throat.

“Answer me! Now! What is your identification?! Answer me!” The voice was a low, dangerous growl, dripping with fury. The grip around Steve's neck tightened, cutting off his air, his skin burning from the crushing pressure. His chest heaved as he struggled for breath, every muscle straining, but still, he didn’t raise his hands in defense, didn’t even attempt to push back. “Where am I and who are you?!” 

“You…were…hurt last night…I…I…was only trying to help…you…please…don't…don't hurt me”, Steve gagged in a whimper, only for him to feel the bite grip of the metal digging into his bruised neck. 

“Where am I? Where have you taken me? What is this place?” He then asked. 

“You’re in my cabin. You’re safe,” Steve rasped, his voice thick with exhaustion. “I swear, I’m not here to hurt you,” he added, his breath hitching as he struggled to steady himself. His eyes softened as he met the other’s gaze, his expression sincere despite the tension in the air. “I was only…*cough*...trying to help,” he continued, his voice breaking mid-sentence as a harsh cough escaped his throat. He winced but pressed on, desperation lacing his words. “Please, I mean no harm. I swear it”

He glanced around the room, taking in the stark surroundings before fixing his gaze back on Steve, still firmly in his grasp. “Is…this…” His voice faltered, a moment of hesitation hanging heavy in the air as he grappled with the word that loomed between them. Finally, he forced it out, his voice barely above a whisper. “...Hydra?”

Steve stared at him, seeing the fear in his eyes and he shook his head. “No. It's just my cabin” He grunted a cough when he felt the metal palm gripping his neck tighter. “I promise”

“You are not lying to me?” He growled.

Steve shook his head. “No. I am not lying to you”

“Who are you?” He then snarled.

Steve gazed at the golden eyes. “I am Steve”

He stared intently at the young blonde, his gaze piercing, searching for any hint of deceit. His eyes bore into the human’s, scrutinizing every flicker of emotion, but found no trace of dishonesty. He must conduct a deeper investigation. Steve gasped, pressing himself against the wall, his body rigid and eyes wide with fear. He felt the feral man approach, a primal presence whose hot breath washed over his skin. Goosebumps erupted on his skin as the man’s nose grazed his neck, inhaling deeply while still holding his neck, the heat of his breath sending shivers down Steve's spine. He remained perfectly still. With a sharp inhale that turned to an exhale, he finally loosened his grip, allowing Steve to collapse to the ground, gasping for breath. Harsh coughs racked Steve's body as he wheezed, desperately sucking in air. His chest heaved with relief, though shivers coursed through him with each breath, heightened by the feral man's sniffing.

He stared at him with stoic indifference, watching as Steve gasped desperately for air. Once Steve managed to take a full breath, he rubbed his throat, now tender and mottled with fresh bruises. The blonde looked at him with a quiet, uneasy fear. He slowly traced the scars on his face, the memory of last night flashing vividly in his mind. His eyes shifted to Steve’s bruised neck, evidence of his own violent hand. Unable to face the damage he had caused, he turned away, his dark brown hair falling across half his face. His gaze lingered on the bandaged wounds, particularly the one on his side, as if trying to escape the undeniable evidence of his guilt.

“Uh…I hope those wounds will heal up soon. I…I…I didn't learn much but…I did my best for you”

He didn't reply.

“Uh…right”, Steve said awkwardly as he cleared his throat then looked at the window. 

He still didn't respond to him. 

Steve glanced at him, noticing his focus fixed on the bandaged wound. "Uh...what's your name?" he asked, trying to ease the tension in the air.

For a long moment, there was silence. Then, without warning, the man finally answered, his voice laced with venom as his body shivered. “I...don’t have a name”, he growled.

Steve blinked in confusion, a hint of sympathy creeping into his voice. “You don’t have a name?”

With a sudden, violent snap, the man whipped his head toward Steve, his voice feral. “No! I don’t have a name! Didn’t I just say that, human?”

Steve recoiled, startled by the sudden outburst. His heart raced as he pressed his back against the wall, raising his hands defensively. “Okay, okay—I'm sorry”, he said, his voice trembling. “Just…please, calm down. You are safe here, I promise”

The man bared his teeth in a snarl before tearing his gaze away, eyes falling to the wooden floor, simmering with barely contained rage. 

Steve paused, studying the nameless man for a moment before a small, gentle smile crept onto his face. “Uh...do you need anything? A place to go, maybe? I can take you if you’d like,” he offered, his voice warm and inviting.

The nameless man held Steve’s gaze for a moment, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. Then, without a word, he abruptly turned and strode out of the room, disappearing in an instant. The door swung open wide behind him, leaving Steve standing there, momentarily stunned, as silence filled the space. He walked to the door to look outside, seeing no sign of him anywhere and he sighed deeply, as he closed the door behind him. “Your welcome”

Steve turned away from the open door and walked back to the couch, a heavy sense of loneliness settling over him like a fog. His thoughts drifted back to the nameless man and the events of the previous night. After tending to the man’s wounds, Steve had found it difficult to sleep, his eyes fixed on the unconscious figure lying before him. 

Memories swirled in his mind—vivid images of the wolf, the way it had transformed to him, the raw ferocity in his eyes. It haunted him, a reminder of the darkness that lingered just beneath the surface. He felt a shiver run down his spine as he recalled the man’s wildness, the primal energy that had surged through him.

Steve's gaze locked onto the front door, as if expecting the nameless man to walk back in at any moment. The silence in the room felt oppressive, amplifying the questions and fears racing through his mind.

~~~~~

Since morning, the nameless man had not returned, and Steve found himself fixated on the door, thoughts swirling around the man’s absence. Where could he have gone? Had he left for good? Or worse, had he been captured? A wave of worry washed over Steve, knotting in his stomach. He hoped desperately that wasn’t the case.

As he sat there, he recalled the man’s voice, trembling with fear as he spoke a single word: Hydra. The word echoed in Steve's mind, heavy with significance. What could it mean? Steve’s heart raced as he tried to piece it together, the name holding an unsettling weight. Images of lurking dangers and unseen threats filled his imagination, deepening his sense of unease.

Steve heard the door creak open and gasped at the sight before him. A brunette man stood in the entrance, his metal arm glinting ominously in the light. He carried a dead deer draped over his shoulders, its bloodied form hanging limply, one horn gruesomely torn off. Crimson dripped from the man’s mouth, streaking down his muscular chest in a vivid display of carnage. Startled, Steve rose to his feet, unable to tear his eyes away from the shocking tableau framed in the doorway.

The man with golden eyes fixed his gaze on Steve as he stepped inside, moving with a deliberate, predatory grace. He let the carcass slide from his shoulders, the heavy body hitting the floor with a resounding thud that made Steve jump and squeaked a gasp, landing hard on the couch from the shock. 

“What...what...?” Steve stammered, struggling to comprehend the scene before him.

“I thought you might be hungry,” the man replied coldly, his eyes drifting to the bandaged side of his injury, as if assessing the toll of his own brutality as a puddle of his blood seeping through the cloth. 

Steve gazed at the massive carcass of the animal, knowing its meat could sustain him for weeks. His eyes shifted to the hunter, who stood silent, a crimson stream flowing from his lips down to his chest, then at his wound. Steve slowly walked to him but he froze when the nameless feral hunter made a slow threatening snarl.

He slowly lifted his hands in a gesture of peace. “Hey, it’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you. Your wound is bleeding badly—I need to get a fresh bandage for it. Let me help”

The wild, nameless man locked eyes with Steve, his gaze lingering on the scars etched across Steve's face and the bruises wrapped around his neck. The growls and raspy, threatening sounds fell silent as he cautiously allowed Steve to guide him to the bathroom. Once inside, Steve grabbed the first-aid kit, pulling out a roll of gauze and a pair of scissors. The feral man’s eyes tracked Steve's every movement, tense and wary, particularly fixating on the scissors in his hand.

Memories flooded his mind as he gazed at the scissors, a chilling reminder of his time in the cold, sterile torture room. He could see himself strapped tightly to a metal table, surrounded by scientists wielding knives and scissors, their blades hot and ready to carve into his flesh. The sight of the scissors in Steve's hand reignited those haunting memories.

A sudden, primal roar escaped the feral being's throat, causing Steve to flinch. In a heartbeat, the man's metal arm swung with terrifying force, its silver fist smashing into the mirror. Glass shattered, raining down onto the floor, both men breathing heavily—the feral figure growling menacingly, his eyes locked onto Steve with predatory intent. Steve instinctively raised his hands, his voice trembling. “Whoa, hold it! Hold it! Wait! It's okay, I’m not going to hurt you!” He shouted as he pleaded, hoping to calm the savage being before he could attack.

He continued to snarl, his breath coming in rapid, heavy bursts, golden-yellow eyes fixed on Steve and the scissors. His lips curled back, exposing sharp teeth through feral, guttural growls, every muscle tense as he remained poised to strike.

Steve's gaze flicked between the feral creature and the scissors in his hand, his heart racing. Slowly, he lowered the sharp tool, never breaking eye contact with the beast. With deliberate caution, he straightened back to his feet, his movements measured and unthreatening. The snarling grew louder, a menacing warning that sent a chill down Steve's spine, but he remained calm, knowing any sudden action could provoke an attack. 

“Hey, it's okay. I'm not going to hurt you and anything else, alright?” He said in a cautious yet gentle tone. “You're bleeding, and the gauze is soaked through”, Steve said, his voice firm but gentle. “I need the scissors to cut it off so I can clean the wound and wrap it with fresh bandages, all right?” He kept his tone calm, trying to convey reassurance despite the tension in the air.

He continued snarling, his eyes locked on Steve, filled with distrust and pain. Steve, remaining calm, offered a reassuring smile. “I promise, I'm not going to hurt you”, he said softly, his voice soothing like a lullaby. “But I need to clean your wound again and wrap it properly. You have to trust me”

He remained fixed on Steve, his snarls gradually softening to a low growl, yet his eyes stayed locked on him. As Steve cautiously approached, hands raised and steady, the tension hung thick in the air. He then pressed his back against the wall as he felt Steve gently touched his arm gently. Their eyes were still glued to each other.

“Please. Let me help you”, Steve said again. 

The feral man finally stilled his snarls as Steve turned back, picking up the scissors with a steady hand. The tension in the air thickened as Steve approached him cautiously. With deliberate care, he cut the tape securing the gauze, the sharp snip echoing in the silence. The feral man snarled again, a guttural sound of unease, but Steve continued, unfazed.

As he unrolled the gauze, the man watched in silent relief, his eyes flickering with a mix of trust seeing Steve put the scissors down. Steve's movements were gentle, almost reverent, as he peeled away the layers, revealing the raw wound beneath. It was still a gruesome sight, but Steve remained focused, determined to help.

Once the gauze was fully unwrapped, Steve reached for the alcohol. The feral man tensed, a low growl rumbling in his throat, but he held his ground. Steve pressed a clean cloth against the wound, the alcohol biting into the flesh, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from the man. Despite the pain, he met Steve's gaze, finding a surprising comfort in his steady eyes. After carefully tending to the injury, Steve finished dressing the wound and stepped back, taking a moment to observe the man and his newly dressed bandage before him carefully. 

The feral brunette, once and remaining in instinct of aggression, now looked vulnerable and grateful, his expression shifting as he stared at Steve, a quiet acknowledgement passing between them.

“There. That should do it”, Steve cautioned. “Just try to be careful”

The brunette gazed at him in silence, taking in the sight of his freshly dressed bandage and the injuries Steve had sustained while trying to help him. Overwhelmed by a mix of guilt and gratitude, he turned away from Steve’s gentle, cautious smile, which was tinged with both kindness and concern. He let his hair fall forward, a curtain that shielded his face from view, hiding the turmoil of emotions swirling within him. Steve heard the brunette mumble softly, his voice barely above a whisper, laden with both gratitude and guilt. “Thank you for…doing all of this. For me. I’ve never had a…human being show me such kindness before. I don’t remember your kind being so gentle,” he growled, his words heavy with unspoken pain and fear. 

Steve stared at him in surprise and smiled. “Don't mention it”

He gazed at him once more, noticing the warmth of his smile—this smile was different from the cruel ones that had tormented him during his time with Hydra.

“So um…”, Steve scratched the back of his head. “you really don't have a name?” 

“No,” he snapped, but then his expression shifted. “With them…they called me an animal, a furball…a stupid beast, a dog,” he whimpered, pressing his lips together. “Mostly a dog,” he mellowed. 

Steve frowned upon hearing the response. “Who called you those things?” he asked, shock and sorrow etched on his face.

The man remained silent, refusing to answer. 

Then, a realization struck Steve. “Hydra?”

The man's expression shifted instantly to one of fear as he nodded shakily, dread filling his eyes. Steve noticed the man's body trembling as he hugged himself tightly with both his flesh and metal arms. Concerned, he took a step closer but froze, recalling the man’s earlier feral and dangerous actions. Yet now, he seemed harmless, though Steve maintained his distance. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re alright,” he soothed.

The brunette lifted his eyes to meet Steve’s, and in an instant, Steve gasped as the man suddenly lunged forward, tackling him to the ground with a grunt. He pressed himself against Steve, seeking comfort. Staring down at him, Steve felt a mix of awkwardness and confusion, but beneath it all, something deeper stirred within him.

“Whoa…uh…hey there…it's okay”, Steve said awkwardly.

The brunette let out a pitiful whine, clutching Steve even tighter, burying his face against his chest and gripping his shirt as if it were a lifeline. 

Steve’s expression softened into a mix of worry and sadness, his heart aching at the desperate sight before him. “Hey, it's okay, bud. You are safe now. I got you. Everything's gonna be okay”

“Please…don’t take me back there,” he whimpered, his eyes wide with fear and desperation. “I’ll do anything…whatever you want. Just please…don’t send me back to them. I can’t go back…I can’t,” his voice trembled, barely holding together. “I’ll be loyal to you…I’ll prove my worth. I swear, anything you ask…just don’t take me back to them. Please,” he begged, his body shaking violently as he clung to Steve.

Steve’s chest tightened at the sight of the broken man before him. His words, filled with terror and an almost frantic devotion, hit Steve hard. The man’s raw desperation, pleading to be spared from the nightmarish memories of this Hydra, shook him to his core. Gently, Steve wrapped his arms around him, pulling him closer in an effort to calm him. He could feel the man's entire body trembling uncontrollably, fragile and terrified. “It’s okay,” Steve murmured softly, trying to soothe him, his heart heavy with the weight of the moment.

“Please…I'll do anything you want. Anything, I promise. I'll be loyal…just don't take me back”, he begged again. 

“You’re not going back. I promise,” Steve said firmly, his voice steady yet gentle. “You don’t have to do anything for me—not loyalty, not anything. You’re safe now, and I won’t let them find you or hurt you. I swear, I will never take you back to them”, Steve’s words settled into the man’s ears, slowly breaking through the wall of fear. The brunette lifted his face cautiously, catching the soft, reassuring smile on Steve’s lips.

“I promise,” Steve repeated, his voice a calming presence. “You don’t have to prove anything, or do anything for me. You’re free. I won’t take you back, not ever. You’re safe now, okay?”

The nameless man stared up at Steve, his wide eyes searching for any hint of deception but found none. The sincerity in Steve’s words pierced through the terror clouding his mind. “Promise?” he whispered, his voice barely audible, as though afraid to hope.

“I promise,” Steve vowed again, his hand gently resting on the man’s shoulder. “Promise” he smirked. “After all, it gets lonely out here” 

He stared at the blonde, captivated by the gentle smile that, for reasons he couldn’t fully understand, filled him with an overwhelming sense of peace and safety. It was an unfamiliar feeling—something he hadn’t experienced in all his years with Hydra. His memories held no trace of peace, no moment of safety since his capture. But now, standing here without the ever-present cruelty or menace, a small, genuine smile tugged at his lips. This smile was different—unlike the hollow, sinister ones he wore when carrying out Hydra’s orders, this one held no malice.

“Now then”, Steve grinned. “If you don't have a name, we'll need to give you one," he said, watching as the brunette stared back at him, already sensing that Steve was thinking of a name for him. “Let's see….what to name you?” Steve wondered, thinking patiently for the name to reveal himself. He stared at the gleaming steel limb, its surface shimmering like sparkling snowflakes under the light. A smile crept across his face. “How about...Winter?” He suggested, offering the name for his new identity.

Winter stared at him, his ears welcoming his new name. “Winter…” He then caught a hazy glimpse of himself as a cub, playing in the snow. “Winter”, he said his new name again.

“You don't like it?” Steve asked, tilting his head with a worried look. 

Winter shook his head. “No, Winter...I really like it,” he said softly, allowing the name to flow from him with a soothing warmth.  

Steve grinned. “Alright then, Winter. That’s your name now”  

~~~~~

Throughout the day, Winter kept a watchful eye on Steve, following him from the shadows of each corner of the cabin. He observed as Steve cooked, the aroma of simmering food filling the air; he noted the way he cleaned, meticulously tidying up their space. Winter watched him wash clothes, the rhythmic motion of his hands a comforting sight, and saw him chop firewood with strong, precise strikes. As Steve tended to the fire, coaxing it to grow in the fireplace, Winter felt a sense of warmth—not just from the flames, but from the closeness of his presence, always lingering just out of sight yet deeply engaged in the moment, even when he was cooking the deer. Steve turned to him with a smirk. “How long are you going to spy on me?”

Winter stared at him and shrugged his shoulders. “You are active for a human being like you”

“Well…”, Steve said. “this is my second home and more than a summer home to me” 

Winter tilted his head at Steve's words, his gaze fixed intently on him as he worked. He couldn’t tear his yellow eyes away, studying every movement with a mix of curiosity and admiration.

Steve savored the cooked deer meat, while Winter sat on the floor, devouring his portion with wild abandon. He tore into the strips of meat, moaning softly with each bite, a low, hungry growl rumbling in his throat. Steve watched as Winter hastily ripped apart the tender flesh, the primal sounds of his hunger echoing in the quiet dining room. “Winter, slow down, bud”, he declared.

Winter ignored him as he continued to savagely rip the deer meat from the bone. Steve tried once more. “Winter, slow down. You might choke,” he cautioned, gently taking the cooked meat from him. Despite his words, Winter continued to moan and chew rapidly, his eyes fixated hungrily on the meat as if he couldn’t bear to be parted from it.

“You can't eat that fast”, Steve said.

“But...I...I don't want it taken from me,” he mumbled, his words slurred by the food in his mouth. Panic flickered in his eyes as memories of his imprisonment flooded back. “They would...sometimes…drug my food...and...and…” His voice trailed off, the weight of his past hanging heavily in the air, making it clear just how deeply those experiences still affected him.

Steve frowned and cupped Winter's face in his hands, drawing his gaze up to meet his own. “Winter, you’re not there anymore. You don’t have to worry about your food being drugged or taken, or anything like that, alright? You can eat as slowly as you want and have as much as you like. But you can’t eat that fast,” he said gently, concern etched on his face.

“You won't…take my food away?” He asked surely.

“I won't take it away from you, Winter”, Steve smiled. 

Winter stared at him. “Promise”, He vowed and with a nod, Winter began to eat slowly.

Steve grinned as he watched Winter eat calmly, no longer rushing to gobble down his food. His gaze lingered on the bandages and the healed patches of skin that remained uncovered, revealing scars that crisscrossed Winter’s body like the remnants of a battlefield. Each mark told a story of relentless struggle, a testament to battles fought in silence. Most scars had healed, but the deeper ones remained, a permanent reminder of pain that would never fade, surely his bullet wound. The largest scars, where metal fused with flesh, drew Steve's gaze, igniting a troubling curiosity about how Winter had come to lose it. Had it been taken from him, or had he been forced to sacrifice it? The thought tormented Steve, twisting in his mind like a dark shadow, as he tried to imagine the agony behind those scars.

Winter’s gaze tracked Steve, noticing how his eyes fixated on the metallic limb. His expression remained unreadable as Steve cautiously extended his hand, curiosity flickering in his movements. Before Steve’s fingers could brush the cold metal, Winter reacted in a blur of motion, clamping down on Steve’s wrist with a brutal grip. A sharp gasp escaped Steve as pain shot up his arm, his eyes locking onto Winter’s. The once calm, almost trusting yellow eyes had darkened, shifting into something primal and threatening.

A low growl rumbled from Winter's throat. “Don’t touch me,” he snarled, his voice dripping with menace.

Steve nodded weakly, his breath catching as the cold metal bit into his skin, the pressure almost unbearable. “I’m sorry,” he stammered, barely able to speak.

With a sharp, hostile shove, Winter let go, tossing Steve’s arm aside as if it were nothing, before turning back to his meal, tearing into the deer meat, not looking at Steve. Steve stood frozen, silently watching, the tension thick between them. Steve frowned, staring at him eating. 

~~~~~

The moon hung high in the sky as Steve slept soundly in bed, his body finally at rest. But suddenly, faint noises began creeping through the silence, pulling him from the depths of his slumber. He stirred, eyes snapping open as the sounds grew louder—pained, almost desperate. Steve sat up abruptly, heart pounding as his gaze locked onto the door. The noises intensified, raw and guttural. Winter.

Without a second thought, Steve bolted out of bed and raced down the hall, coming to a stop in front of Winter’s door. “Winter?” he called, his voice tight with concern. Only the sound of broken whimpers and low, feral growls met his ears, sending a chill down his spine.

Winter lay in bed, eyes wide and unblinking, as the soft glow of the moon finally reached him through the night. The moment the lunar light touched his skin, he felt her power coursing through him, igniting the primal force within. His smile was faint, almost wild, as a deep shiver ran down his spine. Then the pain began—his bones shifting, muscles swelling. A guttural grunt escaped him, followed by a slow, feral growl, as he struggled to contain the scream building in his throat, not wanting to wake Steve.

With a sharp tug, Winter threw the covers off and staggered out of bed, his body trembling with the transformation as he was soaked in sweat. He quickly locked the door before yanking off his fresh nightclothes Steve gave him, ripping the window drapes down, and letting the silver glow of the moon flood the room. His eyes locked onto the foggy haze of its light, drawn to it like a magnet, his body fully embracing the beast within.

Winter tasted the salty tang of blood as his teeth sharpened, small blades pushing through his gums. A sharp yelp escaped him as his bones snapped and twisted beneath his skin. His back arched violently, his mouth stretched wide in a silent scream as he fought against the urge to howl, his longer, razor-sharp teeth gleaming in the dim light. Eyes locked on the ceiling, his body trembled with the force of the transformation.

He lifted his hand, watching in morbid fascination as the once fragile, vulnerable flesh shifted, darkening into a coat of thick, jet-black fur. He had always cherished his fur. Even during his human days in daylight, he longed for its warmth and protection. His human skin had been fragile, too easily scarred by Hydra’s brutal experiments and the harsh realities of his missions. He tried not to look at the ugly scars that marred his flesh, reminders of the pain he had endured.

His fur had always been a refuge, wrapping him in warmth against the biting cold of his cage, concealing the remnants of his injuries from the tortures he had suffered. Now, as he felt the thick fur enveloping his body, he embraced the transformation, each strand a powerful reminder of his resilience. The soft texture burrowed against his skin, offering comfort and strength, a shield against the memories of vulnerability and pain that haunted him.

The scars that had once marred his skin vanished beneath the inky fur, disappearing as though they had never existed. His glowing yellow eyes flickered with a predatory light, and his ears slowly morphed into sharp, pointed wolf ears.

A knock sounded at the door, snapping him out of the transformation's trance. 

“Winter?” Steve’s voice came, followed by the sound of the doorknob rattling and frantic banging from the other side. “Winter?! Open the door! Winter!” 

No. He can't hurt him. He will never hurt him. Steve. He can't. 

Winter tried to respond, but it was too late. His face extended into a long, feral snout, his jaw filled with gleaming fangs. The door burst open just as the final stage of the transformation took hold, revealing the full terrifying form of the beast and a scream was heard. 

Steve stood frozen, terror gripping him as he stared at the beast before him. The gleam of Winter’s metal arm caught the moonlight, its dazzling reflection casting eerie shadows across the room. The creature snarled, rising slowly onto its hind legs, its glowing yellow eyes locked onto Steve’s motionless form. The air was thick with menace, and Steve’s heart pounded in his chest, his muscles frozen with fear. 

Before he could react, the wolf lunged, a blur of speed and power. Steve screamed, a sharp, panicked cry, as the beast slammed into him, sending him crashing to the floor. His face was pressed hard against the wooden boards, his breath coming in short, frantic bursts. The weight of the creature pinned him down, every muscle trembling as he felt the hot breath and deep growls reverberating through his body.

He heard the sharp, grating sound of claws digging into the floor, the flesh fur and metal scraping deep gouges into the wood as the creature snarled above him. Steve's skin crawled as thick strands of drool dripped from the wolf’s jaws, pooling onto his neck and shoulders. Every second felt like an eternity as he lay trapped beneath the beast, helpless against the raw power pressing him into the floor.

Steve forced his eyes open, heart pounding, staring straight into the glowing, feral golden eyes above him. The beast’s snarls were relentless, each breath a low, rabid growl that rattled through Steve’s bones. His voice trembled as he pleaded, desperation breaking through. “Winter... It's me. It’s me...it’s Steve, Winter. Please, remember me. It’s me, Steve,” he gasped, his eyes wide with fear as he held the creature’s gaze, searching for any sign of recognition.

The wolf hovered over him, its jaws twitching, saliva dripping from its sharp teeth, as if moments from sinking them into Steve’s flesh. Tears welled in Steve’s eyes as his voice broke. “Winter...please...don’t eat me...please, Winter...It's me... Steve. You know me. Please don’t do this” His voice cracked, trembling with raw terror. “Please...Winter…”

The snarling continued, the beast’s breath hot against his skin, each second stretching into an eternity as Steve braced himself, waiting for those massive teeth to tear into him, unsure if Winter could even hear him through the primal rage.

The wolf continued to snarl, its glowing eyes locked onto its first prey of the night. Its jaws parted wider, almost forming a twisted smile as memories of its bloody escape flooded back—tearing through Hydra soldiers who had dared try to stop it. But now, poised to strike, it hesitated. Something about this sobbing human beneath it was different. The scent was not like the others—this one wasn’t tainted by the cruelty and violence of Hydra. 

The wolf's nostrils flared as it leaned in, pressing its cold, wet nose against Steve's trembling chest. A deep growl rumbled from its throat, but its movements slowed as the scent grew clearer. Steve smelled...peaceful. Serene. Innocent. Nothing like the vicious humans it had once fought and killed. The beast sniffed again, its growls now softer, almost confused, as if something familiar stirred deep within its primal mind.

It froze, nostrils twitching as recognition finally settled in. A low, guttural growl escaped its throat, and then, in a sudden burst of motion, the wolf tore away from Steve. Moving swiftly on all fours, it darted toward the door, slamming it open with a powerful charge, disappearing into the night within seconds, leaving Steve alone with his rapid breaths and cries and the sound of the door creaking in its wake with the hinges surely broken.

Steve’s chest heaved violently, his breaths coming in rapid, frantic bursts as tears and sweat drenched his face. His wide, unblinking eyes remained fixed on the ceiling, where moments ago the hulking form of the werewolf had loomed. The room felt heavy, his heart pounding in his ears as the image of the beast lingered in his mind, replaying over and over. He continued to pant maniacally, trembling, his body barely able to process what had just happened.

Slowly, his gaze shifted toward the door, now flung wide open, the creature having vanished into the night. His limbs shook as he tried to sit up, his muscles sluggish from fear and exhaustion. Steve forced himself upright, his movements shaky and unsteady, eyes still fixed on the door, half-expecting the beast to return at any moment.

He then glanced around the empty bedroom where Winter had been sleeping, noticing the blinds and drapes strewn across the floor alongside the clothes he had given him and the discarded woven bandages. 

A profound sense of shock and emptiness enveloped him as he stared blankly at the door, struggling to grasp the chaos that had just erupted around him.

Chapter Text

Steve's eyes were locked on the closed door, his mind still fixated on the wolf. He could vividly see its yellow eyes, feel the drool dripping from its snarling snout, as if it were still looming over him. Yet, he continued staring at the door, his eyelids growing heavier by the second. He couldn't recall exactly when they finally shut, or when sleep overtook him. 

He jolted awake with a sharp gasp, his body surging upright. The door was still closed, just as he had left it, slammed shut the night before. He glanced around and realized he was still in the living room, sprawled on the couch, bathed in the clear, bright light of morning. His eyes returned to the door, and with a sense of unease, he slowly rose to his feet. Approaching cautiously, he gripped the doorknob, hesitated, then gently swung it open. Outside, on the grass in front of the stairs, a familiar figure lay motionless.

Winter lay sprawled on the grass, his metal arm glinting under the sunlight. Dirt and dried blood caked both the arm and his battered body, his hair a tangled mess obscuring his face. He was naked, vulnerable. Without hesitation, Steve rushed to his side, his fear long gone—especially after what he had uncovered last night.

He froze at first then slowly kneeled to him and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. “Winter? Winter, Winter. Winter?” 

A low groan escaped Winter as he stirred, his body sluggishly coming to life. Slowly, he lifted his face, his eyes fluttering open. The familiar yellow of his gaze met Steve's blue, weary and disoriented. He blinked, his head tilting weakly to the side. “St...eve?” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

Steve gave a slow nod, his eyes steady. "I'm here, Winter. Are you okay?”

Winter stared at Steve for a long moment, his gaze drifting from the scorching sun above to his battered, naked body, then finally to the man who had witnessed his darkest secret—the one who had discovered his alternate form. Twice. Shame flooded his expression, and he lowered his head, trying to conceal himself, his posture collapsing inward.

“Winter? Hey, it's okay”, Steve comforted. 

"Did…did…I…I…did I hurt you?" Winter's voice trembled, thick with fear and guilt, as he finally managed to let the words out.

Steve shook his head. “No, you didn’t hurt me,” he reassured him. “Though you might’ve broken the door a bit when you bolted out. And yeah, you scared the hell out of me, probably gave me a damn heart attack,” he added with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood. “But hey, turns out I almost didn't run over a dog or wolf, huh?” He hoped the joke might lift Winter’s spirits, even just a little.

He sounded like before. Lonely. Lost. Empty. At first, and in certain moments, Winter was feral, driven by instinct. But now, he seemed vulnerable—lost and lonely. It was a feeling he and Steve both knew all too well.

“Are you sure I didn’t hurt you...or bite you?” Winter asked, his eyes scanning Steve intently, searching for any signs of injury.

Steve nodded. “I'm sure. You didn't hurt me, Winter. You alright?” 

“You…weren't…supposed to see me…like that…”, Winter mumbled, hugging himself shivering. “see…me…like that…wasn't supposed to see that”

Steve hurried inside and came back with a warm blanket, carefully draping it around Winter’s shoulders to provide comfort and security. “Hey, it’s okay, Winter,” he said in a calming voice and small smile.

He then turned to the blonde man who had saved him, cared for him, and continued to offer support. After a moment, he looked away, turning to his metal arm, feeling a mix of gratitude, vulnerability, and confusion. “Why are you doing this? For me? You already know, I'm not a human being like you, and you don't even know me, only knowing what I am”

“But you need help and I chose to help you. No matter what you are and what you do, Winter. And besides, what's wrong with helping someone who needs help, Winter? Even though they may look human but they are not”, He uttered with calm wisdom. 

Winter stared at Steve in silence, his gaze drifting from him to the metal limb. Sensing the weight of his struggles, Steve gently wrapped an arm around Winter’s shoulders, offering support. “Come on, Winter. Let’s get you inside and cleaned up”

With a steadying hand, Steve began to lift him, but Winter’s muscles and bones felt stiff and sore from the transformation and the night of newfound freedom. He leaned heavily against Steve, nearly collapsing onto the rough wooden steps of the porch.

“Easy there, Winter. I’ve got you,” Steve murmured, his voice calm and reassuring. 

They finally made it inside the cabin, the warmth enveloping them as Winter leaned against Steve for support. Steve guided Winter into the bathroom, carefully lowering him onto the toilet seat. He turned on the faucet, and once again, the water ran murky, a mixture of blood and dirt swirling down the drain as he gently washed Winter. Winter felt the hot water soothing his sore muscles as he relaxed from the bathing water and Steve. Afterward, Steve helped him get dressed before leading him into his room, where the bandages, along with the drapes and blinds, still lay scattered on the floor. With care, Steve eased Winter onto the bed, inspecting his old and checking for any new or worsening injuries. 

Steve gently ran his fingers over the bandaged wounds, particularly where the bullet had pierced. To his amazement, most of the injuries had already healed into scars, and even the deep bullet wound, though still visible, showed signs of rapid recovery. He stared at the marks in disbelief, astonished by how quickly Winter’s body had healed. He then heard Winter purring gently from his hand gliding. “Wow, your wounds are healed up, Winter”, he said continued brushing his scarred skin. 

Steve lifted his gaze to Winter, who was staring at him with a blank expression. A soft smile crossed his face as he noticed Winter on the verge of drifting into sleep. “Do you need anything before you go to sleep, buddy?” 

Winter continued staring at him vacantly with his eyelids closing, Steve gently lowered him in bed and pulled the covers back around him as he lowered himself to the floor staring at him. He gazed at the fallen blinds and drapes and his bandages and back to Steve. “Sorry…about that”

Steve smiled. “Don't worry about it, bud. Now try to go to sleep”

Winter's eyes, heavy with exhaustion, stayed locked on Steve, gradually closing as sleep overtook him, signaling the start of his recovery. A soft, weary moan escaped his lips before he became completely still, the only movement the slow rise and fall of his chest with each peaceful breath. Steve watched for a moment, ensuring he was resting, before quietly leaving the room and gently closing the door behind him.

Steve stood in the kitchen, making breakfast while sipping from a bottle, his thoughts consumed by Winter and the concept of the creature known as a werewolf. The idea seemed absurd—mythical beings were meant to be just that, figments of imagination. Yet, Winter was undeniably real, a feral being who defied all logic. 

Steve's mind wandered to Winter’s metal arm, a reminder of a painful past filled with questions. Who was he really? How had he lost his arm? What had led him to be replaced with metal? And most importantly, what would happen when Winter left the mountains? He would have nowhere to go, no safe haven to return to. Steve's heart raced at the thought. Could Winter survive on his own? The harsh reality of the world beyond these mountains loomed large in his mind. Would he be able to navigate it, alone and vulnerable? The fear tightened around Steve’s chest as he imagined Winter being captured again by the Hydra. The thought of Winter falling back into their clutches, helpless and unprotected, sent a chill down his spine. He couldn't bear the idea of him suffering again, of that dark past resurfacing when he had finally begun to find some semblance of peace. 

Steve’s resolve hardened. He had to find a way to keep Winter safe, to ensure he wouldn’t be left to fend for himself in a world that had already shown its cruelty. The mountains had offered them a sanctuary, but the outside world was unforgiving. What could he do to protect Winter from the dangers that awaited him? Despite the mystery surrounding Winter and the worries for him, an instinct deep within Steve urged him to protect him, to guard him against any potential threat. He felt an unsettling sense of urgency; if the Hydra was indeed searching for Winter, he needed to ensure his safety.

His thoughts drifted back to the first time Winter had nuzzled against him, a gesture filled with unexpected trust. Even then, with suspicion still clouding his judgment, Winter had reached out, seeking comfort in Steve’s presence. It was a moment that lingered in his mind, an echo of vulnerability that tugged at his heart.

As he continued preparing breakfast, Steve focused on the task at hand, determined to make something special for Winter when he woke up. He poured ingredients into a pan, letting the familiar sounds of cooking ground him. The bond between them felt fragile yet profound, and he hoped to honor that trust by being there for him, no matter the danger that loomed. 

Steve rubbed his eyes, jolted awake by a noise, and slowly pulled himself out of bed. As he listened closely, he realized the sound was coming from Winter's room. With a groggy expression, he made his way to the door hearing deep groans and the fabric of the bed rustling loudly, opened it, and glanced inside, spotting Winter still in bed. But he didn’t appear to be resting peacefully.

Winter thrashed in bed, kicking and tossing as the covers and sheets became tangled and fell to the floor. The pillow teetered on the edge, close to slipping off as he continued to flail. Deep, unsettling growls and groans escaped his lips, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His head swung from side to side, teeth clenched, while his hands—particularly the metal one—gripped the blanket tightly. Steve not only heard Winter's struggle but could also hear the fabric tearing as it was pulled taut.

Steve approached the edge of the bed, noticing the tension in Winter’s face, with his eyes squeezed shut and teeth clenched. He reached out to touch him but hesitated, freezing in place. “Winter, it’s okay. It’s okay. Wake up. Wake up,” he urged gently.

“Grrr…grrr…n…No!” He shouted. “No…no…no!” He continued struggling with deep grunts and growls as he continued thrashing.

Steve tried once more. “Winter, hey, hey, wake up, buddy. You’re okay. You’re okay. Just wake up, buddy.”

Winter emitted another low growl, rife with anger and fear, his face contorting as he pounded the bed with his clenched metal fist, the sound of the frame creaking in response. “No stop it…no! No! Get off...get...off...me...stop it...stop…no, get off of me! Get off of me!” he shouted, pressing his face into the mattress as he kicked his legs and tightened his fists, the sheets beginning to rip under the strain of his grip.

“Winter, wake up! Wake up, buddy!” Steve shouted, reaching out to touch his shoulder. It was a grave mistake. In an instant, Winter's yellow eyes snapped open, and with a feral roar, he lunged at Steve. Steve's scream echoed as Winter tackled him, slamming him against the wall and lifting him off the floor. With his feet dangling helplessly, Steve choked and clawed at the metal hand that gripped his neck. 

Steve thrashed his legs wildly, struggling to breathe as the cold metal hand tightened around his throat. He clawed at the unrelenting grip, gasping for air as his vision blurred. Through the fog, he caught a glimpse of Winter, panting heavily with snarls escaping his lips, sweat beading on his forehead. The world around him warped, amplifying the overwhelming sense of danger that closed in on him. 

“Winter…Winter…it’s me…Steve…please…let me go,” Steve gasped, his voice strained.

Winter merely snarled, lifting him higher as a deep growl emanated from his throat. In that moment, Steve noticed the fear flickering in those yellow eyes, a stark sign of his torment. “Please…Winter…please let go of me… I swear I won’t hurt you…please…let me go”

Winter continued to snarl, panting heavily, his eyes filled with a mix of fear and anger. Gradually, his growls quieted as he began to recognize the human he was nearly killing in his metal grip. “Steve…” he murmured, fatigue lacing his voice, saying his name.

Steve nodded weakly, struggling to catch his breath. “It’s…me…Winter”

Winter's gaze remained locked on him, his eyes wide and exhausted. He processed the sight of Steve pressed against the wall, his grip tightening around the throat of someone who had shown him nothing but kindness. Panic surged through him, and with a sharp gasp, he released Steve, letting him fall to the floor. Steve coughed and wheezed, clutching his neck as he struggled for air.

Breathing heavily, Winter stared at him with mounting fear. Once Steve managed a final, desperate cough, he slowly pushed himself up onto his knees. Winter curled up on the floor, pressing his legs to his chest and watching Steve with wide, frightened eyes, as if bracing for further torment to come.

Steve gazed at the pitiful creature before him and began to crawl closer. “Winter, hey, it’s okay,” he said softly, reaching out to touch him. But Winter yelped, eyes squeezed shut, flinching away as his body trembled and a whine escaped his lips. 

Steve halted, holding still for a moment before inching closer again. He gently placed his hand on Winter's shoulder, only to hear another whimpering sob as Winter mumbled, “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to…I swear…I didn’t mean to…I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to…I’m sorry…I’m sorry.” His eyes remained fixed on the floor, avoiding the gaze of the blonde human.

Steve watched him intently and moved even closer. “Winter, it’s alright. It’s alright. You have nothing to apologize for, bud,” he said in a calming tone.

“It…was…an accident…I’m sorry…please…please,” Winter whimpered, his whole body trembling even more. Steve felt an instinct to hold him tight, unafraid of any potential attack.

“Winter, I’m not going to hurt you, okay? Just breathe. You’re safe now. It was just a nightmare, buddy. You’re safe.”

Winter whined again, “Please…don’t hurt me…please…please,” he sobbed, filled with despair. “Don’t hurt me”

Steve watched as Winter crumpled into tears. Carefully, he wrapped his arm around Winter’s shoulders and gently patted the cold metal of his arm. Winter gasped and flinched at the touch. “Winter, calm down. You’re safe, alright? I won’t hurt you, I promise. I would never hurt you. You’re safe here, okay?” he reassured him. “Look at me, Winter,” he urged gently, but Winter took a shaky breath.

“Look at me, Winter. Please” Winter complied slowly, still trembling as he braced himself for the anticipated torment. But all he saw was nothing but kindness and looks of protection in his eyes as Steve smiled at him. Winter gazed at him with intensity while Steve continued to smile, as if he were something truly special to him. “I promise I'm not mad at you or anything, bud, okay? I promise you, I'm not and never going to hurt you in any way, alright? And I promise you that you are safe here now and I won't let anyone hurt you while I'm around, alright? Do you trust me?” 

Winter slowed a nod that made Steve's smile widened. “Good, so you don't have to be afraid of me, alright?” 

Winter nodded slowly, shyly lowering his head and letting his hair fall over his face, attempting to shield himself from Steve. In response, Steve drew him in closer. “You don’t need to be afraid of me, Winter. I promise you’re safe here,” he reassured him. 

Tentatively, Winter leaned his head against Steve’s chest, burying his face deep into him. He clutched his shirt tightly, refusing to let go, desperate to hide as a soft, pained whimper escaped him, resonating deep within him. 

“It’s alright, buddy. It’s alright. It was just a dream. You’re okay now. You’re going to be okay,” Steve murmured soothingly. 

Winter slowly raised his face from his chest, staring at his blue eyes and smiling. “You hungry, bud?” 

Winter shyly nodded then he nuzzled his face against Steve's chest again. “You…feel…so…warm”, he purred deeply. 

Steve smiled as he patted and massaged his back then gazed at the metal part of his body. “Winter…are you ever going to tell me what happened? What did Hydra do to you? What did they make you do? How did you lose your arm? What really happened to you?” Steve asked gently.

Winter remained silent, pressing his face even deeper into Steve’s chest.

With a soft sigh, Steve tightened his embrace, holding him close.

Breakfast came and went, and in the quiet, ticking moments of the day, Steve remained by Winter's side until the nightfall approached. As dusk settled, Steve led Winter outside, where the air was thick with anticipation.

Winter’s body began to convulse with the agonizing onset of his transformation. His once smooth skin darkened to a deep, coarse black, fur rippling across his limbs. His teeth lengthened into sharp, cruel points, and his muscles bulked, stretching as if they were being sculpted by unseen hands. The contours of his face twisted, elongating into a wolfish snout as his bones groaned and cracked, shifting under the surface. 

Steve watched from the window, his hand pressed against the glass, his breath shallow. He could only watch, helpless, as Winter’s form became more feral, more dangerous. The door clicked shut behind him, sealing the world inside, while Winter, now fully transformed, bolted into the forest. The silence that followed was shattered by the distant, haunting sound of a lone howl echoing through the trees, mingling with the night air.

As he watched Winter vanish into the darkness, a lingering question gnawed at Steve: Would Winter ever share the story of how he lost his arm? The mystery hung heavy in the air as he turned away, the weight of unspoken words pressing on his chest. He made his way to his room, the world around him fading into shadows as he sank onto his bed. With a weary sigh, he closed his eyes, surrendering to a dreamless slumber that enveloped him like a heavy fog, dulling the ache of uncertainty.

~~~~~

Steve stirred awake, stretching his limbs and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. As he sat up, he was startled to find Winter curled up on the floor beside his bed, naked and covered in dirt, still lost in slumber. Alarm surged through him, and he quickly hopped out of bed, urgency propelling him forward. He knelt beside Winter, concern etched on his face as he assessed the situation, ready to offer any help his friend might need. 

“Winter?” 

A moan erupted from him and Winter slowly raised himself and met Steve's eyes that gave him such comfort and protection as he titled his head and made a small smile and immediately pushed nuzzles against his chest. 

“You are cute when you purr, Winter”, Steve smiled at him as he fondled himself deeper into him as he purred.

“Winter, are you going to tell me now?” Steve asked. “Where did you come from? What is Hydra and what did they do to you and…”, he gently sets his hand on the shoulder edge of the metallic chill. “How did you lose your arm or did they…?”

Winter whined.

“It's alright, Winter. You are safe. I promise, you are safe here, alright? You can tell me. You can tell me anything you want and I promise I won't be mad or anything, okay? I won't be afraid of you or something like that, okay? You can tell me” Steve then heard Winter make a mumble. “What, Winter?” He heard him mumbled again. “What are you saying, Winter?” He asked again. Winter once again garbled and Steve gently pulled him away, letting their eyes locked. “Tell me, Winter”

“I...I...I don’t remember…I only remembered falling...then lying in…the snow…”, He shivered, the memory of lying there clawing at his mind—his body sprawled on the frozen earth, the wet, biting cold seeping into his bones. The wind howled around him, a cruel specter that echoed the isolation and despair enveloping him. Each gust felt like a reminder of his vulnerability, as if nature itself was mocking his helplessness until he was discovered by the humans. “...cold, alone, in pain…alone…and bleeding...” Winter sobbed, his body trembling as blurry visions flooded his mind. He could feel himself plummeting, the brutal strikes of tree branches clawing at him, the unforgiving ground rushing up to meet him, hard and unyielding like the rocks beneath him and seeing his left arm missing, only seeing a puddle of blood. 

Steve remained staring at him, hearing his weakened mumbled words. 

“Then...I remembered...them...finding me,” Winter said, his voice trembling. “They dragged me to their lair, and when I woke up, they were all around me—staring,...examining me...” His gaze fell to the metal limb, the memory flooding back with vivid intensity. “They were drilling into my arm...the silver drilling to me…pain…burning…making it…glued…it to my body. I tried to fight, to kill,...to escape, but one of them stabbed me with a sharp, pointy thing...and…I got so…sleepy” His breath quickened as he recalled the heaviness in his limbs, the way his body felt foreign and unresponsive. “I became stiff, cold—just like the snow...I couldn't move...couldn't...couldn't fight...just...sleepy...and then there was only a dark pit…scary…nothing but darkness...I didn’t see anything else...but scary darkness…and feeling...ice...cold...dark...couldn't fight...or..move...and...hearing them…saying they could…use me…for…things…” Winter sobbed, his body shaking as the weight of his memories crushed him anew as he once again slammed himself against Steve. 

Steve was lost in words and emotions as he stared at the disheartening sight that was trying to hide, being close to him.

“Please…don't let them…find me…I can't go back…I don't want to do…bad things for them…anymore…I don't want to hurt…anymore people for them…I don't want…to be bad…anymore…don't want to be in the dark…don't want to be…chained…them hurting me…hearing them laughing and…smiling…calling me names…please…don't let them find me…please”, Winter sobbed uncontrollably, his grip on Steve's shirt tightening to the point that it threatened to rip. 

Desperation coursed through him as he pressed himself closer, seeking solace in the warmth of Steve’s presence. Despite the relentless tugging at his shirt, Steve remained steady, ignoring the pull as he held Winter in place. “It's okay. It's okay, Winter. It's gonna be okay, bud”, he softly spoke as he rubbed his back.

Winter made another sob as he felt Steve continues to comfort him. “I got you now, Winter. It's gonna be okay”, he said. “I promise I won't let them take you back, okay? I promise I am here now and I won't let them hurt you, Winter. You are safe now and I promise I will be alright with you”

“You…promise?” Winter squeaked.

“I promise”, Steve smiled.

Winter nuzzled his face against his chest again. “Steve…?” 

“Hmm?”

“I'm feeling sleepy, and everything is blurry. Will you stay with me until I wake up?” Winter cried in plea.

“Shh, Winter. Don’t be afraid. I’ll be right here. I promised, remember?” Steve grinned, his voice soothing. “I won’t leave you. I’ll never leave you,” he vowed, stroking Winter’s back. Hearing him make a weak gasp, Steve gently calmed him. “Shh, I’m here. I won’t let anyone hurt you”

Winter purred as he held Steve tightly, a deep, contented rumble escaping him. A small, tired smile spread across his face, memories of the bath and the freedom of last night drifting through his mind. With Steve by his side, he felt the comforting pull of slumber beckoning him. “You being here…is so...nice…you are so…nice”, he slurred weakly. “So...good…Steve”, he whispered one last time before he met slumber.

Steve continued to hold him in his arms. “I promise you are safe with me now”

Chapter Text

Steve watched over Winter, who had returned home the previous night after his time away, peacefully sleeping in his bed. After bathing and dressing him in fresh clothes, Steve remained seated by his side, close enough to ensure his safety. He was determined to guard Winter from any harm, keeping a vigilant eye on him so that his sleep remained undisturbed, especially free from the haunting dreams of Hydra that had plagued him.

Despite being a genuine, feral, and dangerous werewolf, Winter was intriguing. Steve smiled softly as he gently brushed a stray lock of hair from Winter's face. He heard Winter let out a sleepy moan, instinctively nuzzling into his touch as he remained deep in slumber. Steve continued to tenderly caress his face, watching him closely, before his gaze shifted to Winter's sparkling metal arm, which gleamed with the brilliance of diamonds.

He was wild and dangerous, a creature that became a wolf when the moon rose, yet in Steve's eyes, Winter appeared so innocent, fragile and lost. The more Steve pondered this, the stronger the urge grew inside him—he had to be there, to safeguard Winter and keep him safe.

Steve then heard a pained, terrified moan from Winter, who had a tense expression, revealing a mix of anger, fear, and pain. He then heard Winter release a low, deep grunt that gradually turned into a growl, his teeth clenched as he began to sway his head from side to side while softly groaning. With a concerned frown, Steve leaned in closer to Winter, remaining careful as memories flooded back to the moment he had first liberated the feral werewolf from his haunting dreams. “Winter, it's okay. You are dreaming. It's alright”

Winter let out another deep, pained grunt laced with fear, accompanied by muffled snarls. Steve observed as Winter's legs kicked beneath the covers, and he noticed the sharp talon-like claws of his metal and flesh hands gripping the bed sheet. Remaining cautious, Steve continued to focus on calming Winter, trying to ease his distress. Winter flinched, a low growl escaping his throat as he struggled against the haunting images in his dream. His nostrils flared rapidly, and his chest heaved with each ragged breath, the tension radiating from him palpable.

Steve watched with concern, his heart aching at the sight of Winter’s distress. He moved closer, speaking softly to soothe him, trying to reach through the shadows of his nightmares and bring him back to the safety of the present. “Easy, Winter, it is just a dream. You are safe now. You are not there anymore and you are not going back. I promised, remember?” Steve softly spoke with a smile, his fingers gently stroking Winter's silky brown hair. “I'll never let anyone hurt you and I will never leave you”

Winter let out another deep moan, and within moments, his breathing became slow and calm, his face relaxed into a calm, peaceful expression. Steve smiled, knowing he had succeeded in freeing Winter from his nightmarish vision. Finally, he quietly stepped out of the room, leaving Winter to hopefully enjoy a restful sleep.

~~~~~

Winter gasped at the memory of the dream, suddenly aware that he was in Steve's cabin. He sluggishly lifted himself up, scanning his surroundings to confirm that he was truly witnessing the rustic tranquility of the cabin and not the harsh, cruel laboratory. As he rose from the bed, his eyes fell on the many scars that marked his chest and arm—remnants of the abuse and missions inflicted upon him by Hydra, reminders of the lives he had been forced to take and the cruelty of Hydra.

He began to recall what he had seen in his dream; it felt more like a haunting memory, shrouded in enigma.

He lifted his head, inhaling the forest air for the scent of prey nearby. Moving stealthily through the trees, he caught sight of the two-tailed beings. Humans. He licked his fangs, savoring the thought; he relished eating humans, finding their flesh more delicious and satisfying. He crept closer, observing them dressed in black clothing with fur-lined caps, bracing against the harsh winter chill. The snow blanketed the forest floor, and he noticed that they were dragging more humans behind them, bound and held captive. The black-clad figures walked ahead, exuding a sense of victory as they marched onward. He kept his gaze fixed on them, waiting patiently for the perfect moment to strike. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Humans. Kill humans. Eat humans. Taste their flesh. Must kill. Can't wait any longer. Kill. Now. Strike! His instincts kicked in, propelling him forward at lightning speed, his eyes fixed on the first human prey. As the others barked and screamed, desperately trying to flee, he opened his jaws wide, ready to sink his fangs into the warm flesh of his first human. The chaos of their cries echoed in the air as he lunged, the thrill of the hunt coursing through him. The human screamed, striking his snout in a desperate attempt to break free, but he only sank his sharp jaws deeper into the flesh. Warm, crimson blood oozed over his teeth as the human continued to struggle, their screams transforming into choking gurgles as shock and blood loss took its toll. With each bite, he felt the soft give of tissue beneath his fangs, accompanied by the sickening sounds of snapping bones, squelching flesh, and feeling the human's punches slowly departing. Finally, the human lay still, skin pale, bloody and lifeless, eyes wide in a haunting expression of pain and horror. Just as he was about to dive into his prize, a sharp pain shot through him, causing him to growl and his yellow eyes to dilate in shock. He turned to see a bullet wound piercing through his fur, blood seeping from the injury. In front of him stood the black-clothed men, pistols in hand, their faces betraying their fear. With a furious roar, stained crimson, he charged at them, but then another bullet seared into him, intensifying the agony as they continued to fire. In a desperate move, he ripped a piece of flesh from the human and took off on all fours, the thrill of the hunt still coursing through him despite the pain. He heard the black-suited humans yelling behind him, their footsteps pounding as they pursued him. Bullets continued to whiz past, stabbing into his fur and intensifying the pain with each hit. Shouts of “Don’t let it get away! Keep firing! Try to surround it!” that echoed around him as they fired relentlessly, barking orders to one another. He sprinted forward, adrenaline surging, until he suddenly found himself at the edge of a cliff. Before he could stop, he plunged into the foggy void below, watching the edge shrink to a mere speck as he fell toward what felt like certain death.

Winter gasped as the flashback flooded his mind, panting heavily in its aftermath. He shifted his gaze to his trembling metal hand, clenching it tightly as a low growl rumbled in his throat. Then, his eyes turned toward the window, fixing on the blonde human outside.

Winter stepped out of the cabin and noticed Steve sitting on the dock behind it, holding something in his hands, his gaze fixed on the river as it stretched out toward the towering mountains in the distance. Winter tilted his head in curiosity and started walking toward him, his footsteps steady against the quiet landscape.

His gaze lingered on the wooden planks of the dock as he watched the blue waters of the river ripple gently. The distant sound of whistling caught his attention, and he continued staring at Steve sitting there. With a tilt of his head, like a curious puppy, Winter quietly made his way down the dock, careful not to alert Steve to his approach.

Winter watched Steve, who was calmly whistling as he held a peculiar piece of equipment, its string stretched out and trailing into the water. Suddenly, Steve turned toward him with a surprised gasp, then chuckled. “Winter, you scared me!” he exclaimed, grinning. Winter remained silent, his gaze fixed on Steve, trying to understand what he was doing. “I'm fishing”, Steve explained, patting an empty spot next to him. Winter continued to stare, first at Steve, then at the place where he had gestured. Slowly, he lowered himself to sit on the dock, his eyes fixed on the river and the mountains beyond. He took a deep breath, savoring the crisp, fresh scent of the forest, a feeling of freedom washing over him.

Winter glanced over at Steve, who was grinning as he kept his eyes on the fishing pole and the flowing river. Then, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, Winter couldn't resist making his move. 

Steve suddenly let out a sharp gasp, his smile fading into a grunt as he felt a force push him from behind. Before he could react, he was plunged into the water. He quickly surfaced, coughing and gasping for air, his eyes meeting Winter’s playful smirk. 

Steve shook his head and flashed his own grin, “Not cool, werewolf”

Winter tilted his head, a grin spreading across his face, and with a sudden, loud howl, he lunged into the water. Steve yelped as the splash soaked him, but he quickly broke into laughter, his hands covering his face as Winter emerged from the depths. The moment Winter burst through the surface, he shook his head, sending his long brunette hair whipping around wildly, causing a shower of water droplets to rain on Steve. Steve's laughter grew as he tried to dodge the splashes, his joy uncontainable.

“That was definitely not cool, werewolf”, Steve smirked, still wiping water from his face. Winter responded by playfully spitting water right back at him, and Steve couldn't help but giggle as he splashed Winter in return. “Oh, it is on!”

“I'm ready for you, human!” Winter smirked.

The two went back and forth, each sending waves of water at the other, their playful splashing turning into a full-on water battle. Laughter and howls filled the air, blending with the sound of the river, as they enjoyed their impromptu water fight.

Winter had never felt so unburdened. For the first time in years, he was truly embracing freedom, and it was a feeling he had never known so fully until now. He had finally escaped, and in doing so, he had encountered something remarkable—Steve. Being with him, by his side, brought a sense of liberation that he had never imagined. For the first time in ages, the painful memories—the abuse, the torture, the atrocities he had been forced to commit under Hydra's control—seemed to fade. 

The haunting shadows that had long plagued his mind no longer had a hold over him. Steve had become his anchor, the one who saved him, who cared for him with a love and tenderness that Winter had never thought he deserved. It was as if, in Steve’s presence, his troubled past no longer had a place, and the weight that had once crushed him began to lift. An unspoken instinct stirred within him—an undeniable connection to the very human being who had restored his sense of self, the one who made him feel safe, cherished, and most of all, free.

He was falling…in love. 

Steve laughed, his heart soaring as he felt Winter's playful splashes against him. It was a joyful sound, one that signified Winter’s newfound freedom and his realization that he was safe at last. Each laugh echoed in Steve’s heart, filling the empty spaces that loneliness had occupied for far too long. As he watched Winter revel in the moment, he couldn’t help but feel a deep connection to him. Despite being a werewolf, to Steve, Winter was not just a creature of legend; he was a tender soul who had endured so much pain and isolation in this vast world. Steve felt an instinctive urge to protect Winter at all costs, but alongside that came a warmth he couldn’t ignore—a growing affection that blossomed with each splash and each laugh. He didn’t care about the differences between them; all that mattered was the connection that seemed to deepen with every heartbeat. As he looked at Winter, he realized that what he felt was more than just a need to shield him; it was something profound, something that made his heart race and filled him with hope for a future they could share together.

He was falling in love. 

~~~~~

Winter felt his body beginning to shift as he gazed at the luminous moon, its light reflecting off his metal arm. The transformation coursed through him, becoming more intense and erratic, causing him to grunt in pain. Sensing his struggle, Steve smiled reassuringly and quickly guided him outside, where the change could unfold in the open air.

“I'll see you in the morning, buddy”, Steve farewelled.

Winter smiled as he stared at Steve, his instincts urging him to flee as he felt his body begin to shift into the beast. During the moment, he recalled something he had seen on the TV—two humans kissing, completely enveloped in love. Like they were…mates. 

In an instant, Winter yanked Steve toward him, causing him to gasp at the sudden motion.

Their lips touched.

Time seemed to stand still as Winter’s lips met his. Shock coursed through Steve as he met Winter's kiss, feeling a deep purr resonate from him.

Before Steve could fully comprehend what had just transpired, Winter bolted away with breathtaking speed, surrendering to the wilderness of the night and letting the werewolf inside him take control. As a distant howl echoed in the air, Steve remained frozen, bewildered by the whirlwind of emotions and events that had just unfolded.

~~~~~~

He stirred, feeling something nuzzling his face. A sleepy grunt escaped him as his eyes opened, and there was Winter, staring down at him. Steve let out a startled gasp, followed by a nervous chuckle as he took in the familiar sight—grime and blood marking Winter's body and face. 

“Don't do that”, Steve smiled, having his hand over his chest. 

Winter tilted his head, his intense gaze locked on Steve’s, who quickly looked away, flustered by the memory.

The memory of the kiss.

“Um...” the blonde stammered, unsure of what to say to the feral werewolf watching him so closely. “How was last night, bud?”

Winter continued to stare silently, tilting his head the other way as he gently brushed his fingers along Steve’s cheek. Steve let out a surprised gasp, his heart racing.

Each tender stroke on his cheek and through his golden hair made Steve’s heart pound harder, like a wild beast trapped within his chest, clawing to break free.

“Uhh…Winter…what are you doing?” 

The werewolf said nothing, moving slowly as he pressed his forehead gently against Steve’s, eyes closed, a deep, contented purr rumbling from his chest. A soft smile played on Winter’s lips.

Steve felt his cheeks flush, his heart thundering even more fiercely than before.

The emotion within him stirred once more, stronger than ever, ignited from the moment Winter had kissed him. As Winter continued to purr, pressing his forehead softly against his own, Steve felt that feeling grow, overwhelming and undeniable.

He was falling in love—with a werewolf—and, to his own surprise, he found he didn’t care in the slightest.

It was crazy, but it was true.

“You make me feel so good, Steve…so safe here with you, taking care of me,” Winter murmured, resting his forehead against Steve’s with a soft smile. “You’re so kind”

Steve’s cheeks flushed, and he gave a shy, heartfelt smile in return.

Chapter Text

He moved through the forest like a seasoned hunter, his gaze sharp and searching for the perfect prey. In the distance, he spotted a large deer grazing peacefully, unaware of his presence. A small smirk crossed his face as he crept closer, careful to stay hidden in the shadows of the trees. He took each step with calculated precision, avoiding detection as he closed the distance.

Settling low behind a tree, he raised his shotgun, taking aim. Patiently, he waited for the ideal moment to strike, his finger poised on the trigger, ready to claim his target.

Steve stared at the deer, steadying his aim, but froze the moment it spotted him.

“Shit!” he hissed.

In an instant, the deer bolted, and he took off after it, trying to close the distance. The deer was swift and nimble, weaving through the dense forest, leaping over fallen branches with ease. Steve grunted as he vaulted over a large branch, determined to keep up.

Just as the deer was almost out of reach, he heard a shout.

“Winter!”

A werewolf, still in his human form, lunged at the deer with a savage, animalistic leap. He tackled it, and they rolled across the forest floor, the deer thrashing in a desperate attempt to break free. But the werewolf’s strength was undeniable.

With a swift twist and a crack, the struggle ceased, leaving the forest area silent once more.

Steve grinned as Winter finally released the carcass, a low growl rumbling in his throat. Turning to face him, Winter’s mouth was smeared with blood, yet he managed a sharp, wolfish smile.

Steve brushed a stray brown strand from his face, his gaze meeting Winter’s intense yellow eyes, both of them sharing a moment of unspoken understanding over the hunt’s end.

Winter leaned in suddenly, catching Steve off guard. Before he knew it, Winter’s tongue, slick with crimson, traced a slow line across his cheek. Steve’s heart pounded in his chest.

~~~~~

The deer was gone, shared between the human and the werewolf back at the cabin.

Steve watched Winter now eating slowly and with care, no longer tearing into the meat with ferocity. He smiled at the change, feeling a rare warmth in his chest. For the first time in ages, he didn’t feel so alone here. 

This forest had always been his home. Somehow, it was the only place he’d ever truly belonged, especially since Peggy passed. Civilized life had never felt right to him, but here in the woods—where his father had taught him to hunt, camp, and thrive—he felt whole. This was where he and Peggy had come on countless camping trips, where every tree and river carried a memory. The forest was his sanctuary, his roots, his past.

And now, with Winter beside him, it felt even more like home. How was that possible? Why did the presence of this werewolf bring such comfort? Could it be that he was falling for Winter? Falling for a creature so unlike himself, yet feeling a connection he’d never imagined?

He smiled, watching as Winter continued eating the fresh, raw meat. 

Winter’s lips parted in a slow, satisfied smile as he licked the fresh blood from them, the taste of the meat lingering on his tongue. Steve moved toward the kitchen with calm, measured steps, reaching for a cloth. After dampening it, he returned and gently wiped the crimson from Winter’s mouth, his own lips curling into a soft smile. Winter’s gaze never wavered, his golden eyes fixed intently on Steve.

When Steve pulled the cloth away, Winter tilted his head, mirroring the smile, and with deliberate care, he raised his cold, metal palm to touch Steve’s cheek. His touch was feather-light, cautious, as if any misstep might mar the delicate skin beneath. Winter’s gaze shifted to a small scar, a remnant from the night they met—the same night Steve had taken him in, nursed him back to health, and offered him a home. Winter’s brow creased slightly, his fingers lingering as he traced the outline of that scar, each stroke a silent expression of regret and gratitude.

Steve awoke to the sounds of whimpers, heavy breathing, and low growls.

He remembered lying down after he and Winter had finished off the deer, feeling the werewolf’s gentle touch before drifting to sleep.

Now, Winter was beside him, caught in a restless sleep, struggling.

A deep growl escaped Winter as he gripped the pillow, his face twisted with fear and pain, teeth grinding.

Steve noticed the sun beginning to set; Winter would be changing soon.

He reached over and gently shook his shoulder, hoping to pull him from the nightmare. “Winter, wake up. You're dreaming. You're safe now. Wake up”

Winter let out a low growl that softened into a whimper, his breathing still heavy, his face tense, mind locked in the dream.

“Winter, wake up,” Steve repeated, careful not to startle the true, untamed werewolf beside him.

Winter moaned again, and Steve quickly backed away as the werewolf jolted awake, yellow eyes wide, every movement tense and fierce, ready to defend himself. His gaze darted around, his chest heaving as he panted, his body coiled for battle. He searched for the Hydra scientists, for the dead bodies, for the cruel faces wielding sharp instruments meant to dig into his flesh.

But there was nothing—no threats, no tormentors. Only the rustic bedroom around him: a quiet fireplace, a window, and a man. A blonde human who was no enemy, only a friend.

The room was warm, inviting, and safe. He was home. He was finally free.

With a deep sigh, Winter collapsed back into the soft, comforting embrace of the large furniture, drained from the nightmare and haunted by the horrific memories. His breathing was heavy as he looked up at Steve, who watched him with concern.

“You alright?”

Winter gave a weak nod, his voice barely a whisper. “I'm...fine,” he panted.

“Want to talk about it?” Steve asked softly, ready to offer comfort.

Winter remained silent, his gaze steady. Slowly, he reached out, his flesh hand brushing Steve’s cheek. His eyes held Steve’s, and Steve felt himself surrender to the gentle touch.

“You're so beautiful, Steve,” he murmured, his hand gently caressing Steve's cheek.

Steve's face flushed, warmth spreading over his skin.

“So beautiful,” Winter repeated, a soft smile playing on his lips.

He smiled. “So…are you, Winter. You are…too” He felt his face truly burning.

The once-imprisoned werewolf gazed at the blonde human, memories of scenes he’d seen on TV surfacing—humans kissing, and then him…kissing him.

He fixated on those human lips. Slowly, Winter leaned in, and Steve felt that familiar spark reignite.

Winter’s lips brushed against his, soft and tender.

Steve’s gaze held on Winter’s closed eyes as he felt the werewolf’s gentle kiss. When Winter pulled back, Steve’s heart raced, each beat pounding faster, and he turned away, overwhelmed.

Winter tilted his head, watching him, before moving in front to catch his gaze again. But Steve looked away, his face turned, and Winter mirrored him. Steve shifted once more, eyes shut, struggling with the whirlwind inside.

Winter’s chest tightened with worry and guilt as he studied Steve. 

Had he kissed him wrong?

He’d followed what he’d seen on TV, mimicking each move. He thought he’d gotten it right the first time.

Was it wrong to kiss him?

“Steve…what’s wrong?”

Silence.

Winter’s heart sank. “Are you mad at me?”

Steve opened his eyes, offering a faint smile. He said nothing, his gaze shifting between Winter’s glowing yellow eyes and the darkened window. Then, as if drawn by an invisible force, he turned back to the werewolf, his lips curling into a small, almost hesitant smile before they met Winter’s in a slow, tentative kiss. 

The touch was featherlight at first, their lips barely brushing, as if testing uncharted waters. But the moment lingered, the stillness between them broken only by the deep, thunderous rhythm of their hearts—pounding like relentless jackhammers in perfect, synchronized chaos. 

Steve’s eyes fluttered closed, surrendering to the softness of the moment, while Winter remained frozen, caught between shock and a primal hunger that awakened within. The beast inside him roared with desire, its demands echoing through his veins, yet Winter stayed captivated, entranced by the human’s deliberate, delicate assault—each caress igniting a wildfire that blazed through his very soul.

Steve finally pulled back, his lips parting from Winter's with a lingering warmth, his smile still soft but tinged with nervousness.  

Winter stared at him, his glowing yellow eyes unreadable, his silence speaking volumes. Unsure of what to do, Steve glanced away, his face flushing as he let out a shaky laugh. He lowered his head slightly, his smile shy, betraying the warmth on his reddened cheeks. "Uh… sorry about that, Winter," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.  

A low, rumbling purr resonated in response—a primal sound that sent a shiver rippling through Steve. His heart pounded harder, each beat hammering in his chest, and his body trembled under the weight of Winter's gaze. When he finally dared to look back, the werewolf had already leaned forward, capturing his lips again.  

This time, the kiss was deeper, more fervent, their breaths mingling as Winter’s tongue pressed past Steve's lips. The sensation sent a wave of heat coursing through his body, and Steve groaned softly, his fingers curling into Winter’s hair. The werewolf growled—a low, guttural sound of possession—as the kiss grew hungrier, more demanding.  

Steve's hand slid to the cold, smooth surface of Winter’s metal arm. His fingers traced the sharp, talon-like tips, marveling at the contrast between steel and flesh, until he gasped—the metal hand gripped the back of his shirt, talons slicing effortlessly through the fabric. The sound of tearing filled the air, sharp and final, and the chill of the room rushed against Steve’s bare chest.  

His breath hitched as he felt the cold bite of the air, colliding with the blazing heat of Winter’s closeness. Vulnerable and exposed, Steve’s body quivered—not just from the cold, but from the raw intimacy of the moment, the magnetic pull of surrender between them.

Steve’s body thrummed with vibrations that echoed through his every nerve, a soft, shy smile tugging at his lips as he met Winter’s intense gaze. The deep, resonant purr rumbling from the werewolf seemed to fill the space between them, low and primal. His eyes drifted downward, drawn to Winter’s bare chest—scarred, immortalized by battles fought and survived. His fingers traced the raised lines of healed wounds, pausing on the faded bullet holes etched like whispers of past violence.  

A shadow passed over his face as his touch lingered, reverent and tender. “I promise, Winter,” he murmured, his voice steady and resolute, “they will never hurt you again”  

Winter’s growl was low, almost a rumble of contentment, as his lips curled into a rare smile. “I...am...free,” he rasped, the words laden with a weight that Steve could feel in his chest. “Free”  

Steve nodded, his own smile softening with quiet agreement. “Yes,” he whispered, his voice barely audible but sure. “You are”  

Winter leaned forward with a slow, deliberate motion, the purr in his throat deepening as his forehead brushed Steve’s. The movement was unhurried, intimate, the tension between them crackling like static.

Their eyes met, and in that shared gaze, something unspoken passed between them—a bond, unbreakable and raw.  

Their lips met once again.

It was clear. 

~~~~~

The bedroom was steeped in silence, broken only by the raw sounds of growls and moans as the werewolf and human intertwined in their unbreakable union, their passion sealing them into something primal and impenetrable.  

The bed creaked and groaned under the strain of Winter’s claws, the wood splintering as his grip tore into it with savage force. Steve’s nails dug deeply into the shredded fabric of the mattress, his bare body glistening with sweat that shimmered like sticky, crystalline drops. He trembled under Winter’s hold, every nerve alight as the werewolf’s strength and presence pressed deeper into him, claiming and grounding him in equal measure.  

Winter growled low in his throat, a feral, resonant sound as his flesh-and-metal arms tightened their hold. One clawed hand tore effortlessly through the remaining cotton pillows, rending them into useless shreds, while the other clawed into the headboard, leaving deep, fresh gashes in the wood. His movements were deliberate, intense, as he felt the human beneath him sinking deeper into his being, a connection both physical and transcendent.  

Their lips found one another again, devouring in their intensity, only to slow with whispered words of safety, devotion, and unshakable loyalty. Mouths moved down bare necks and across sweat-drenched torsos, leaving marks of possession and reverence in their wake, each kiss an unspoken vow. Together, they pushed further into the moment, into one another, until the world beyond them faded entirely.  

Steve gasped for air, his chest heaving as he held Winter close, his gaze fixed on the window, where the moonlight spilled into the room. He didn’t want this moment to end. He didn’t want his nightly beast to leave him, retreating into the shadows of the forest.  

“Win…ter,” Steve rasped, his voice breaking, raw with emotion.  

Winter’s growl deepened, vibrating through his chest as his movements grew more fervent, more consuming. He felt the human within him, both body and spirit, reaching deeper into his being, into the very core of what made him inhuman. The feral beast within clawed and snarled, demanding release, yearning to take and be taken, more savage than even the torments Hydra had once unleashed.  

But this wasn’t about Hydra. This wasn’t about the pain of the past. It was about now—about claiming and being claimed, about freedom and love wrapped in a primal, untamed bond that neither man nor beast could sever. Winter growled again, his lips brushing against Steve’s ear as he whispered a growl. “St…eve”

~~~~~

Steve’s body was utterly depleted, each muscle locked in a tormenting ache. Pain radiated through him, sharp and unyielding, leaving no room for relief. Groaning weakly, he struggled to push through the overwhelming weight of his exhaustion. His every movement was sluggish, his limbs heavy as stone, and even the act of opening his eyes felt monumental.  

The blurry world he glimpsed offered no comfort. The cracked ceiling above swam in his weakened vision, the faint glow of the moon through the broken window painting fractured lines across the chaos of the room.

The bed beneath him was a disaster—strips of cotton spilling out like innards, shredded pillows scattered around his aching frame. The headboard was splintered into jagged wooden ruins, and the door, ripped violently from its hinges, slumped against the wall like a broken sentinel.  

Despite it all, he smiled.  

There was no anger at the destruction. No shock.

Only joy.

Only the memory.  

Only love.

Winter was his.  

And he was Winter’s.  

He belonged, finally.  

With a trembling sigh, Steve let himself sink back into the wreckage of the bed, his body sagging into the torn remnants. Contentment warmed him, even as the pain threatened to swallow him whole. He closed his eyes, willing to sleep to claim him again, yearning for Winter’s return.  

But the pain wouldn’t let him rest.  

A new sensation gnawed at him, sharper and more relentless than the soreness of his battered frame. His neck burned fiercely, as though fire licked at the skin. It outmatched the dull throb of the bruises darkening his limbs and the raw sting of the fresh scratches marking his flesh. This pain was precise, demanding attention.  

It felt like a bite.  

His drained body and ruined bed were nothing compared to the bite's lingering hold—a mark of ownership, of devotion, of eternity.  

The pain, the memory, the destruction—it all blurred together into one overwhelming truth.  

Winter would return. And when he did, Steve would crave more.

A beast was born within him.  

Winter had gifted it to him.

Chapter Text

The moon had claimed Winter once again. Steve sat alone in the house, as always, waiting. The stillness of the night wrapped around him like a shroud, broken only by the faint hum of his thoughts. He stared at the window, the full moon glowing in the sky, its pale light spilling onto the floor. He smiled, patient and expectant. Winter would return at dawn. He always did. Always will.

Yet tonight, his mind wandered, slipping into a familiar fantasy. He imagined himself transformed, like Winter. A beast under the full moon. A creature of the night, wild and free. Running through the woods on powerful legs, howling at the sky, hunting with a pack. With Winter. A part of him yearned for it—to leave behind his fragile humanity and become something more.

He touched the faint scar on his neck, a healed bite. His smile widened. Could it be possible? Could Winter change him? He wanted to believe it. He hopes so. He hoped the healed bite mark would help turn those fantasies into reality.

The house was silent. Too silent. Steve blinked, his thoughts interrupted by an unnatural stillness. Then, with a sudden snap, the lights went out, plunging him into darkness.

He gasped, his chest tightening as shadows swallowed the room. His hands fumbled for the dresser, pulling open the drawer. The cool metal of the flashlight steadied his trembling fingers. He clicked it on, a narrow beam of light slicing through the void.

“What the hell?” he whispered, his voice shaking.

Then he heard it. A sound. Outside.

A soft rustle. A faint crunch of leaves.

Steve turned toward the window, the flashlight trembling in his grasp. He didn’t open it, didn’t dare. The sound came again, closer this time—a whisper of movement.

“Winter?” he called, his voice barely audible.

No answer.

Footsteps. From behind.

Steve spun, the beam of light darting to the door. His heart pounded. It could be Winter. It had to be. But the memory of the bear—of its claws and its teeth, of Peggy’s scream—crept into his mind.

Panic surged. He lunged for the shotgun hanging on the wall, yanking it free. His shaking hands opened the cabinet below, grabbing shells and loading the weapon. The metallic click echoed in the room as he cocked it, the flashlight clenched tightly in his other hand.

The footsteps grew louder.

Steve aimed the gun at the door, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

“Please,” he whispered to the darkness. “Let it be Winter.”

The sound stopped.

Silence.

“Winter? Is that you?” He barked out, his voice trembling.

Silence.

Steve hesitated, his hand trembling as it gripped the doorknob. Slowly, he eased the door open. The porch was empty, the open field beyond eerily still. The mountains loomed in the distance, silent and cold.

"Winter?" he called again, stepping onto the porch.

Then he was struck. The blow came out of nowhere. A sharp, brutal impact to the back of his head. He grunted as his vision blurred as he collapsed, hitting the ground hard. Steve groaned, pain flaring through his skull. His eyes flickered open just in time to see a shotgun tossed aside.

Before he could react, rough hands grabbed him. He screamed as he was slammed into the grass, the impact knocking the air from his lungs.

Coughing, Steve looked up. Men loomed over him, their guns aimed and steady. They were clad in black combat gear, faces hidden behind masks and goggles. Silent. Menacing.

He froze, his body trembling as he glanced toward his cabin. More soldiers were pouring inside, their boots heavy on the wooden floor.

A hand seized his collar, yanking him upright.

“Where is it?!” The man’s voice was sharp, hostile.

Steve stammered, his words failing. His mind swirled with confusion and fear.

“Where is it?!” the soldier barked again. “Answer!”

“I-I don’t know what you're talking about!” Steve choked out, his voice barely above a whisper.

One of the men in black suits burst back outside, clutching a shredded pillow in his hand. His voice was sharp with alertness and determination. “It was here!”

Steve’s heart sank, the weight of dread rooting him in place. Before he could react, a fist collided with his jaw, sending stars across his vision. Pain blossomed as a soldier yanked him upright, gripping him with unrelenting force.

“Where is the asset?!” the man bellowed, his voice echoing with raw anger. “Where is it?!”

Steve coughed, the metallic tang of blood spreading across his tongue. The soldier leaned closer, his voice a low growl now. “Answer me. Where is the asset?”

Refusing to give in, Steve kept his gaze steady, defiance simmering behind his silence. Then, his eyes caught something—a badge on the soldier’s shoulder. A crimson skull with menacing tentacles unfurled beneath it, creating a symbol that sent a chill racing down his spine. Hydra.

The realization hit him like a hammer. Of course, it was them.

But Steve’s expression didn’t falter. He remained stone-faced, lips pressed tightly together, his resolve unyielding.

“Where is the asset?!” the soldier roared again, his voice desperate now, almost feral.

Steve said nothing, his silence becoming the loudest act of defiance. They want Winter. And they are not getting him. 

“Fuck you”, he hissed.

He was once again attacked on the face.

“Where is the dog?!” 

“Fuck…you!” He yelled, blood spraying from his lips and splattering across the masked face. 

The masked figure struck Steve again, the force of the punch sending fresh pain surging through his battered body. Without hesitation, the man drew a pistol, leveling it at Steve’s bloodied face.

Steve’s breath hitched as his gaze locked onto the weapon, the metallic click of the cocking hammer slicing through the tense air. Sweat clung to his skin, fear tightening its grip around his chest, paralyzing every fiber of his being.

One pull of the trigger, and it would all be over. One pull, and he would cease to exist. One bullet, and he’d be dead—never to see Winter again.

But Steve wouldn’t give up his werewolf. He wouldn’t betray him, not even under the shadow of death. He would protect him with his last breath.

Because he loved him.

And as the icy grip of mortality loomed closer, Steve’s only regret was that he hadn’t told Winter the truth. Not yet. Not before it was too late.

He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the swift, merciless end he feared was coming. 

But then it came—a roar of a howl, tearing through the suffocating silence, emanating from the depths of the shadow-cloaked trees. It was no mere sound; it was a voice born of nightmares, a chilling howl that clawed its way through the air, dragging with it the weight of something ancient and malevolent. The darkness itself seemed to tremble under the weight of ancient despair, stretching across the vast expanse like a shroud. It felt as if the moon itself had cried out, its lament cascading down from the cold, indifferent heavens above.

The Hydra soldiers and Steve froze, their senses on high alert. Steve, still lying on the grass, strained his eyes into the shadows, watching as the soldiers aimed their weapons into the dark before them.

Then…the howls faded, replaced by the unmistakable sound of footsteps—loud, hurried, as if something was stalking them, getting closer with each passing second.

Steve’s heart pounded in his chest. He glanced at the soldiers, their breath coming in sharp, panicked gasps. They activated their goggles, trying to pierce the darkness, their eyes wide with fear.

“Show yourself!” one soldier shouted, his voice trembling, though he remained on the porch, the torn remnants of a pillow scattered across the wooden floor beside him.

The footsteps grew louder, faster—accompanied by deep, guttural growls and snarls that reverberated through the air.

Closer. Closer. Closer.

Then, without warning, a blur of motion erupted from the shadows. A swift, monstrous figure shot forward, slamming into the soldier with a deafening crash. The wooden rail shattered under the impact, splinters flying in all directions as the soldier was tossed aside, his gun clattering to the ground.

Inside the house, one soldier gasped, while the others stood frozen in horror. Steve’s breath caught in his throat as he instinctively recoiled, still pressed to the earth. The shredded wood was already soaked in blood. 

Through the chaos, only screams and savage growls echoed in the darkness, filling the night with a bone-chilling symphony of terror. Then, as quickly as it had begun, the sounds fell to an eerie, suffocating silence.

Steve’s heart froze as his eyes locked onto the wooden porch, now soaked in a dark, crimson pool. The screams that followed seemed to tear through his soul, deafening and relentless.

The Hydra soldiers snapped to attention, their weapons raised as they aimed into the shadows. Another howl echoed, more feral and haunting than the last.

“Fire!” The command came in a frenzied shout. The soldiers unloaded their guns blindly into the forest, their hearts hammering against their ribcages as if they might burst free. But as the last shot rang out, the forest fell silent once more.

Steve remained frozen on the ground, his eyes wide with terror, his breath shallow.

Then, the second soldier staggered, his chest heaving in frantic gasps. His face twisted, a desperate, choking sound escaping his throat. Steve gasped, his eyes widening in horror as the soldier crumpled to the ground. The man’s armored back had been torn open, shredded as if by claws far too large, deep gouges marking his flesh. Blood poured from the brutal wounds, spilling like a river, soaking into the earth beneath him, his life already ripped away.

The soldiers turned, their faces drained of color beneath their armored suits as they stared in shock at their second fallen comrade.

The sudden, swift attack from an unknown assailant left the Hydra soldiers on edge. Tension crackled in the air as Steve seized his chance to act. Rising swiftly, he lunged at a soldier, hands grappling for the firearm. But the soldier's grip was unyielding—too strong for someone as wiry as Steve. A hard shove sent him sprawling to the ground. Before he could recover, the soldier aimed the barrel at him.

Gunfire erupted again, echoing through the forest, bullets tearing into the shadows.

And then it appeared.

Emerging from the darkness on all fours, it was a creature that resembled a wolf—but it was larger, more terrifying. Its hulking frame and glowing eyes radiated menace, every muscle taut with primal fury.

The soldiers opened fire on the beast, but it didn’t falter. With a bone-chilling snarl, the werewolf charged, weaving through the hail of bullets with savage agility. Its fangs gleamed before sinking deep into one soldier’s flesh, ripping through muscle and bone like paper. The man’s scream was cut short as blood sprayed across the forest floor.

Steve’s breath hitched as he watched the remaining soldiers turn their weapons on the creature. Without hesitation, he threw himself at another Hydra operative, grappling once more for the gun. The soldier resisted, his strength overpowering Steve’s desperate effort.

The werewolf snarled as more bullets tore into its flank. It whirled on its attacker with a feral roar that sent shivers down Steve’s spine. The soldier’s panicked screams rang out as he emptied his clip into the beast, but it was futile. With a single, devastating swipe of its clawed hand, the werewolf shredded the man. Flesh and blood sprayed in all directions as the soldier collapsed, lifeless, in a gruesome heap. The grass' green color turned to red.

Steve gritted his teeth, struggling to stay on his feet as chaos erupted around him. He fought against the soldier’s strength, determination blazing in his eyes. But his efforts weren’t just for survival—they were to aid the monstrous ally tearing through their shared enemy with a savage, otherworldly ferocity.

The Hydra soldier delivered a savage punch to Steve’s face, sending him crashing to the ground. But even in his frail, skinny form, Steve refused to stay down. He sprang to his feet and tackled the soldier to the floor, unyielding in his determination.

Meanwhile, the werewolf tore through the other Hydra soldiers in a whirlwind of claws and fury. Their scent clung to the air, sharp and haunting—Hydra. He could smell it, the stench of their approach, inching closer to his mate’s cabin. His senses burned with the knowledge that his mate was in danger.

He wouldn’t let it happen. He wouldn’t let them take what was his.

Snarling, the werewolf surged forward, blood and rage fueling him. He would fight. He would stay free. 

Steve wrestled with the Hydra soldier, both grappling for the gun as they rolled across the grass. The air around them echoed with the werewolf’s savage growls, human screams, and the sharp crack of gunfire.

Finally, Steve managed to rip the weapon free, but before he could act, a sharp, agonizing pain shot through his side. He gasped, his scream ripped from his throat as he looked down to see a cruel, gleaming blade embedded in his flesh. A brutal punch followed, snapping his head back and sending him sprawling to the ground. Blood poured from his mouth and nose as his vision blurred.

Through the haze, Steve saw the lone Hydra soldier turned quickly aiming at the werewolf seeing the beast devouring the dead soldiers.

Then he saw it–a familiar, spectral-white arm raised to strike, before the darkness claimed him.

Winter.

His dark savior was Winter.

Steve’s vision swam, the world around him spinning as he struggled to stay conscious. Through the haze, he saw Winter stagger, a guttural roar of pain ripping from the werewolf’s throat before the massive beast crumpled to the ground. The Hydra soldier stood over him, victorious and menacing, gun raised.

A searing pain in Steve’s side reminded him of the wound, his blood soaking the ground beneath him. His limbs felt like lead, and every breath was shallow and agonizing. He tried to move, to drag himself closer, but his body refused to obey.

“Winter,” he thought desperately. He had to help him. He had to fight.

But the edges of his vision darkened, the strength draining from him with each pulse of blood from his wound. His head lolled to the side, his sight dimming further as the sounds around him grew sharper, more savage.

Piercing screams cut through the night, followed by the wet, sickening sound of flesh tearing and bones snapping. Low, guttural growls and enraged roars filled the air, a symphony of chaos and violence. Steve’s vision finally slipped into darkness, his last thought a desperate prayer that Winter would rise again. That they would both survive this nightmare. Hope Winter will survive and stay free. 

Chapter Text

The pain in his side where the soldier’s knife had pricked him still lingered, a dull, nagging ache. It felt as though the wound had been wrapped tightly, the pain slowly receding, replaced by soothing, gentle touches. Around him, he heard soft purring interspersed with faint whines.

A weak groan escaped his lips as he fluttered his eyes open, the effort drawing another low groan from his throat. His vision wavered before settling on the familiar sight of the ceiling fan spinning lazily above. The soft cushions beneath him cradled his aching body, a soothing contrast to the ruthless cold of the immediate battlefield and the assassin’s blade.

“Steve?”

The memory of his dream flickered in his mind—a beautiful vision of him and Winter. Both of them as werewolves, running through the dense forests of the mountains, their movements wild and unrestrained. They had been free, utterly free, with no fear, no chains, no burdens holding them down. No Hydra. A dream so vivid and wonderful that it felt like a cruel tease now.

Another groan rumbled in his chest as he forced his eyes open again, this time fully. The ceiling came into sharper focus, but it was the gentle touch, so achingly familiar, that pulled his gaze. Turning toward it, his vision cleared further, and there he was—the figure from his dream.

Winter.

Tears streaked down Winter’s face as he leaned closer, relief softening his expression into something almost fragile. His knees locked to the floor beside the couch as he pressed forward, his forehead brushing Steve’s golden hair. Winter shut his eyes tightly, his body trembling with emotion as the low, soothing purr in his throat deepened.

Steve managed a faint smile despite the strained, sluggish effort of his body. Ignoring the sharp protest of pain, he lifted an arm to wrap weakly around his mate. His movements were halting and slow, but it didn’t matter. 

Winter was here—alive, safe, and free. Still here with him, period.

And in that moment, even through the lingering ache and exhaustion, Steve felt the weight of something far greater than pain—something tender and raw, yet wholly grounding. Winter was home. With him. Forever. And he will keep it that way.

“Steve...” Winter’s voice broke as a sob escaped him.

“Hey, it’s okay, buddy. I’ll live. I have you now”

The werewolf let out a shaky chuckle, tears streaking down his face as his gaze fixated on the blood-stained bandages wrapped around Steve’s waist. One spot of red stood out, and a low growl rumbled deep in Winter’s chest—anger and guilt intertwined.

“Winter…it’s okay,” Steve murmured, his voice soft yet steady.

But Winter couldn’t look away. His eyes traveled over Steve’s bare, bloodied chest, crusted with filth and marred by bullet wounds. As Steve pushed himself upright with a pained grunt, Winter immediately reached out.

“Steve, no. Lie down,” Winter soothed, his tone pleading.

“But—”

“I’ll be fine,” Winter cut him off, his words firm but trembling at the edges. His gaze shifted to the open front door, where the bodies of Hydra soldiers littered the ground outside. A deep, guttural growl escaped him. They had come for Steve—hunted him, endangered him. They had dared to harm his mate. And though they had paid the ultimate price, it wasn’t enough to ease Winter’s torment.

“You were in danger,” Winter growled, voice raw. “Because of me”

“Winter, stop. That is so not true” Steve’s voice tried to calm him, but it couldn’t reach the storm brewing inside.

“I led them here, Steve,” he hissed, the words dripping with self-loathing. “I put you in harm’s way. They almost killed you—I almost got you killed” His voice cracked. “I almost lost you. I’m so sorry”

Winter clenched his teeth, a snarl escaping as he pressed his forehead against Steve’s. His long brown bangs fell over his glowing yellow eyes like a curtain as he placed his metallic hand gently over the bandaged wound. “This is all my fault,” he whispered, his voice trembling as the weight of his guilt bore down on him.

Steve offered a comforting smile before leaning in, his lips meeting the werewolf's in a tender kiss. “Hey, I’ll live, Winter. I’m here now…and it's all because of you. You saved my life. And we’re still here, still together, and after losing everything…my wife…I have you now. That’s something worth living for. To be here, with you. Werewolf or not, you’re my reason to keep going,” he said softly, his gaze steady yet filled with warmth.

Winter’s lips curved into a shy smile as he glanced away briefly before looking back at Steve. “You really know how to be the Wolfman too. You’ve got it down, buddy”

Winter chuckled. “Wolfman?” he asked, his grin widening.

“It’s a classic. You should watch it sometime,” Steve replied with a playful smirk. “Trust me—it suits you”

A low chuckle rumbled from Winter’s chest, and for a moment, the tension eased. They kissed again, a gentle brush of warmth and connection, as their arms slowly entwined. Despite their injuries, they moved with careful reverence, finding solace in each other’s presence.

Steve's gaze drifted outside, following the dark trail of blood from the porch, weaving into the house, and ending near the couch. He turned back to Winter, who stood motionless, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“Steve…”

“It's okay, Winter,” Steve said softly, his voice steady. He smiled wider, though his eyes betrayed a quiet resolve as they dropped to the bullet wounds marring Winter's bare chest. Slowly, he looked back into those piercing yellow eyes.

“They’ll come back, won’t they?” Steve asked.

Winter lowered his head, his hair slipping forward to veil his face. “I thought I was free,” he murmured, his voice tinged with anguish. “I thought…I…thought…I’d escaped them...after everything they did to me. Everything they made me do. But I was wrong” His shoulders sagged, his words heavy with defeat. “They are still hunting for me…and now…I'm more afraid of them…more afraid of…you…”, he gazed at Steve's bandaged wound. “...getting hurt…or worse…and…it's all my fault”

Steve pressed his hand gently to Winter's cheek. The unexpected warmth drew Winter's gaze upward, meeting Steve's determined blue eyes. There, Winter saw no fear, no hesitation—only fierce protection and unwavering resolve.

“You’re not alone anymore,” Steve said quietly. “Whatever happens, we’ll face it together”

The werewolf shook his head, his voice trembling. “I almost got you killed, Steve. They tried to kill you—because of me. You got hurt because of me. You almost died” His words faltered, breaking under the weight of his guilt. “You were lying there so still...bleeding...and it was like…” Winter choked on the thought, his breath hitching. “It was like I had killed you. Just like I killed my victims for them…”

He whined low in his throat, the sound raw and full of anguish. “I wish you hadn’t helped me that night. I wish you hadn’t stopped...hadn’t gotten out of your car to help me. I wish you’d just left me alone. After all I've done…all the humans I killed…since I was…captured…you don't deserve me…as I don’t deserve you” His voice cracked, guilt crashing over him in waves as he let it consume him, pulling him under.

“Winter…”, Steve frowned, his heart breaking at the sight of him and hearing his words.

“I…love you, Steve,” he whispered, leaning his head against the human’s chest, nuzzling like a scared puppy rather than the fierce, deadly werewolf he truly was. “And your presence here makes me even more afraid of losing you”

Steve could only gaze down at the werewolf, his heart swelling with warmth as he pressed a gentle kiss to Winter’s forehead. “I love you too, Winter,” he murmured softly, feeling the rhythm of the werewolf’s soft purrs against his chest. “And being with you makes me want to be strong enough to protect you”

Winter’s yellow eyes met Steve’s blue ones, and a smile spread across his face, illuminating the shadows of their current situation. “We’re leaving this place,” he declared, his voice steady and resolute. “We’re going far away—somewhere they can’t find us. I know they’re searching for you, but I won’t let them catch you. We’ll escape to a place where it’s just us”

Winter stared at his human mate in disbelief. The determined truth in Steve’s eyes left him breathless, his chest tightening with emotions he hadn’t known he could feel. “Steve…”

Steve simply nodded, a small, resolute smile curving his lips.

Winter’s gaze shifted to the cabin—the sturdy walls, the warm glow of the hearth. This was Steve’s sanctuary, the place he had called his own in the modern world. A home, a refuge Winter had never thought he would find for himself. Yet, Steve was ready to leave it all behind—for him.

Winter’s eyes fell on the photograph sitting atop the fireplace. In it, Steve stood beside a woman in a white dress, a bouquet of flowers in her hands. He wore a tuxedo, his smile bright and unguarded. Winter turned back to him, uncertainty lacing his voice. “But, Steve…the cabin—it’s your home. You can’t abandon it…for me”

Steve exhaled, his expression softening with the weight of old memories. “Winter, I’ve lost everything that mattered most to me. Back then, I thought I had everything. But when I lost her…I thought I’d never feel whole again.” He paused, his voice thick with emotion. “But I was wrong. Now that I have you, I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you, to stay by your side…even if it means becoming exactly like you”

Winter’s heart clenched, stunned by the words. “Steve…you really mean that?” he asked, his voice trembling with a timid hope.

Steve reached out, taking Winter’s cold, blood-stained metal hand in his own. He didn’t flinch at the crusted remnants of violence. Instead, he smiled with quiet conviction.

“I’ll always remember my wife. She’ll always be a part of me. But now, my place is with you. I’ll protect you, no matter what. You’re my home now”

Winter’s heart soared, his golden eyes glistening as a rare, tender smile spread across his face. He leaned into the warmth of Steve’s neck, resting his cheek in the comforting crook.

“We’re going to be fine. You will be fine, Winter. I will be fine. And you will stay free—I promise,” Steve vowed, his voice steady, an anchor in the storm.

Winter’s smile softened as he nuzzled closer, savoring the moment. Freedom. It was no longer a fleeting dream or an elusive promise—it was his. For the first time in an eternity shrouded by shadow and doubt, he was truly free. And this time, he swore he would remain that way.

More than freedom, he had something far greater: a mate. Someone to love, protect, and fight for, just as Steve had fought for him. Hydra had tried to break him, to tame the wildness within. They had thought themselves victorious. And for a time, Winter had believed they were. But they had been wrong. He had been untamable then, and he was untamable now. With Steve by his side, he would ensure that untamed spirit endured—forever, if need be. And together, they would face whatever came, unyielding and unbroken.

Winter’s gaze drifted to the faint scar on Steve’s neck, the mark of his claim, now healed but eternal. A smile tugged at his lips. Soon, they would be untamed together, bound by love and the unshakable bond they shared.

Their eyes met, holding a depth of understanding no words could capture. Then, with a gentle, shared breath, their lips found each other in a kiss that spoke of freedom, love, and a future only they could build. They will be untamed together.

~~~~~

The werewolf had escaped while he was away on a mission, out of the werewolf's reach.

He snarled at the memory of the empty cell, the chain collar once bolted to the wall now useless, abandoned. A reminder of failure.

His rage deepened as he stalked through the carnage. Hydra soldiers lay sprawled in grotesque heaps, their bodies shredded, their blood soaking the ground. He sneered at their lifeless forms, wishing he could kill them himself for their incompetence—for letting his pet slip away.

The werewolf belonged to him. His and his alone. A prize. A pet. Hydra had dared to let it escape, and now the hunt would not end until he reclaimed what was his.

No one would stand in his way. He would find his precious creature, no matter the cost.

He still remembered Johann Schmidt—the skull-faced demon with skin like pure crimson blood.

Find the lycan. Bring it back. And do not fail me.

He would not fail. Failure was death. He would find the creature.

Through the dense forest he walked, his boots crushing the damp earth beneath him. The trees stood like silent sentinels, endless and oppressive, their shadows twisting into shapes that seemed to watch him. The air was thick, heavy with the scent of damp wood and decay.

Then, the forest broke. A clearing emerged, bathed in cold light. At its center stood a house—no, a cabin. Isolated. Silent.

He moved closer, his eyes narrowing. Werewolves eat meat. Humans are meat. Perhaps...

From his back, he pulled his weapon, a hulking gun loaded with silver bullets. Each step was deliberate, his movements fluid and precise. His focus was unshakable, his resolve carved into the hardened lines of his face. No fear. No hesitation. He was a predator, as much a hunter as the beast he sought.

Predators understand each other. They live by the same law: kill, or be killed. Both he and the werewolf knew this truth. It bound them in a twisted kinship.

The cabin loomed closer. The air hummed with tension. He crept forward, each step a calculated strike, his mind sharpening to a single, primal thought. The hunt was all that mattered. The prey was near. 

He halted as he coldly stared at the clear sight before him.

Hydra soldiers. Dead. Torn apart. Their bodies split and emptied, entrails steaming in the cool air. Blood stained the grass, the vibrant green drowned in drying crimson. 

At the center of it all stood the cabin. Its front door was shut, but a slick trail of blood led from the carnage, winding up the splintered stairs and disappearing inside. He smiled while ignoring the bodies. The asset was here.

Daylight burned overhead, but maybe—just maybe...

Slowly, he ascended the blood-smeared steps. Each creak of the wood echoed in the silence, a predator stalking its prey. The railing to his left was shattered, jagged splinters streaked with dark stains. Blood smeared the walls, a macabre canvas of violence.

His breath steady, his grip firm, he reached the door. His hand hovered over the knob. No hesitation. No fear. Only the sharp, relentless focus of the hunt.

With a swift motion, he forced the door open and stepped inside, weapon poised, his gaze darting through the shadows. His breath came fast and hard—not from fear, but from raw, unyielding resolve.

The living room was silent. Empty. No sign of life.

His gaze followed the blood trail to the couch, where crimson soaked deep into the cushions. The air was thick with the metallic tang of dried blood. He turned, his eyes scanning the untouched fireplace stacked neatly with wood. The television sat lifeless, the stillness of the cabin oppressive. And a hanger that appeared to hold a gun—specifically a shotgun—was now empty.

Panting softly, growls rumbling in his chest, he prowled deeper into the rooms. No movement. No scent of fear. The asset was gone. But the clues remained and discovered.

The bed was shredded, its frame splintered. The bedroom door hung from a single hinge, clawed and broken. Even all the drawers were empty and other materials were gone, leaving the bedroom empty. On the floor back in the living room, another sign. A pile of spent bullets, twisted and blackened by fire, glinting faintly in the low light. Blood clung to the casings.

He crouched, plucking one carefully between his fingers. Just as he suspected. Silver.

His jaw tightened. The asset had been here. Now it was gone.

Lowering his weapon, he moved with slow, deliberate steps back into the clearing. The carnage outside painted a grotesque contrast to the pristine interior. No death lingered within the walls. Yet outside, the ground was littered with Hydra’s failure.

Then, he saw it—tire tracks carved into the dirt, still fresh. He tilted his head, following their trail. They led away, deeper into the forest.

The asset hadn’t fled alone. Someone had come. Someone had helped. An ambush, a slaughter—and then an escape.

His lips curled into a sharp, feral smirk.

They had escaped Hydra. But they wouldn’t escape him.

The asset was his. The one who dared to take it would pay in blood. He would hunt them both. The helper would die, their death a reminder of his dominion. And the werewolf—his prey—would be reclaimed, broken, and bound to his will.

Rumlow turned towards the tracks, his smirk widening to a into some cruel and merciless.

The hunt had just begun.