#Friday the 13th: Rose Blood | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bellelvrs · 2 years

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ALL ALONE / GHOSTFACE

summary - a secret admirer calls you while you’re home alone. what could go wrong?

warnings - masturbation, fingering, groping, fear-play, stalking, dub-con, obsessive behavior, scarring, blood, cursing.

a/n - first one shot! extra info: afab!reader, 2k+ words.

Living in a small, sleepy town didn’t ensure that chaos wouldn’t break. You knew that. Your parents knew that. The Pruitts, who lived in a cozy home on Brooke St., didn’t know that. Not until their daughter Angie, an unsuspecting 16-year-old, was found mutilated in her bedroom, blanketed in gore.

So, it was no surprise that you immediately froze, darting eyes alternating between the bedroom door and window, as the phone on your nightstand began to ring.

There was the possibility that it was just another idiot meathead from school, maybe a bored friend, or merely a lonesome stranger. Nonetheless, it was late. You had already dozed a bit while ogling at magazines with clothes you could never afford on your babysitter salary. A phone call, even a short one, seemed tedious.

Although, with wakefulness came boredom. Boredom lead to curiosity. The endless ringing buzzed through your mind like a blaring siren. Stomach flat against the bed, you turned your head and stared at the restless phone. It was strange how you felt the dire urge to answer the phone. Almost as if there was an obligation. A dependence on it.

You scooted backwards, resting on your knees. It’s summer. Parents aren’t home. Just one call won’t hurt. You reached for the phone, lazily grasping it in your hand.

Unknown number.

Worry overwhelmed your thoughts as you accepted the call and slowly rose the phone up to your ear.

Curiosity never actually killed the cat…

‘Hello?’

The other end of the line sounded somewhat of static.

‘Hello.’

You rose your eyebrows, rather shocked by the unfamiliar voice. Gritty, low, rasped. Obviously matured. A little…sinister?

‘Erm…do-‘ Every word was considered, over-thought, in fear that over sharing even the smallest details with whoever this was, could be detrimental.

‘Do I know you?’

Rumors were whispered among town of a masked murderer by the name of Ghostface. Though the specifics of Angie’s death were obscured from the public, everyone, without question, assumed it was him. Cold killings only ever occurred in populous cities. A Halloween costume slaughtering a teenager felt like a cruel joke.

‘No. But I know you’

You quietly scoffed, sliding off your bed to impatiently pace around your room.

‘Is that so?’ Maybe the stranger was one of those weirdo punks that smoked at the local park. They always carried a standoffish, mysterious persona. Might as well play along.

‘It is.’ The stranger responded, without hesitation.

‘But only really by your pretty face,’

You rolled your eyes.

‘Which is why I want to get to know you.’

You considered hanging up, hovering your thumb over the “End” button.

‘Whatever.’ You mumbled under your breath, annoyed.

‘Wait! Wait! Wait!’ The stranger pleaded, almost barking into the phone.

You sighed, rubbing the palm of your hand against your forehead,

‘Okay…what do you want to know about me?’

‘Hmm.’ He hummed, ‘What’s your favorite scary movie?’

‘Agh. Halloween is my first pick, but Friday the 13th is a close second. I watch it every summer.’

‘Why those two?’

‘I don’t know. They’re cool. In a way, the final girls remind me of myself.’

‘Because they’re beautiful virgins?’ He teased. You could hear the smile growing on his face.

What kind of comment was that?

‘How do you know I’m a virgin?’ You snapped back playfully, even though you cautiously walked to your window and checked the outside.

The curtains, now slightly ajar, exposed the still summer night. Darkness began to creep into your dimly lit bedroom.

On the other hand, Ghostface could see just enough of you.

‘Just assuming.’ He knew. You hadn’t brought a boy home for all the 3 months he’d been watching you. Even then, he was still a bit clueless.

‘You’re wrong. It’s because they’re tough and smart and-‘ you trailed on, but he wasn’t listening.

Ghostface was crouched behind a thick shrub a few feet away from your window. Seeing the shadows dance on your bare, toned legs was enough to have him frantically unbuckling his belt. Lust had clouded his mind, a free hand massaging the stiff erection in his boxers as his grip on the phone slightly loosened.

While rattling on, you noticed the prolonged silence from the receiver. Listening closer, the man’s breathing seemed heavier.

‘Hey? Are you still there…?’ An uneasy feeling gathered within your stomach.

‘Yeah,’ caged in fabric, he withdrew his ached cock and pumped it steadily, ‘Tell me, y/n,’

He liked to see you stutter. Stiffen. Squirm. The moment your breath hitched, pre-cum dripped from his glans. A gloved hand gliding up and down his cock, slicked with arousal. However, he started to slow. Being too eager would ruin it all.

He hadn’t even gotten to the fun part.

‘How does it feel to be all alone?’

You stalled.

When someone is panicked or afraid, you expect them to run. Fight. Scream.

Do something.

Instead, feet firmly planted into the floor, you stood unshaken, emotionless, like a fresh corpse.

Some freaks enjoyed to frighten people for amusement. That’s just the case. No one was stalking you. You were safe.

Mom and Dad locked the front door behind them…

Your bedroom window was tightly closed…

The patio door is broken, jammed shut…

The kitchen window is a little bit ope-

‘What?’ There’s a hint of genuine confusion, but fear seems to paralyze your mouth from speaking any further.

‘Didn’t mommy and daddy leave you a couple hours ago?’

‘I-‘

‘I know they did.’ Ghostface interrupted, no longer hiding his labored breathing.

‘Because I’ve been watching you aaaaalllll night.’ A menacing, light chuckle followed.

Your brow, unintentionally, furrowed.

‘Every night, I’ve been watching you. Every. Single. Night.’

‘This isn’t fucking funny.’

The tremble of your voice allowed him to pump his cock faster. Each time gradually sloppier, as his thumb occasionally rubbed the tip. His eyes were locked on you. Only you. Not even the snap of a twig, or the rustle of a bush could distract him. He let out a faint moan every so often, just to see your face petrify.

‘You’re a disgusting creep. I’m hanging up!’

‘If you hang up I’ll rip your fucking guts out!’

Glassy tears blur your vision, sending rushes of anxiety throughout your entire body. The phone is practically glued to your ear, as putting it down would be a death sentence. You push the whimpers down your throat, swallowing every sob you can.

It becomes almost uncontrollable. His body is prickling with warmth. His hips give out a sudden jerk as his hand reaches the cockhead. He wants to hear your voice. How it whimpers and stammers when scared. If only you knew his name. To hear his name exhale from your delicate lips, delivered so soothingly. Even the frightened cracks in your voice were heavenly.

‘Come to the window.’

You turned to face the window, but didn’t bother to take another step.

‘Do it.’ He growled lowly, agitated.

Without question, you went to the window drew the curtains back.

The exposure was the worst part. It didn’t matter that you lived on the rural outskirts of town, you still felt as if you were putting on a show. No pants, no bra. Just a shirt and some casual underwear. Modeling for a psychopath.

Ghostface hummed as he felt himself getting closer.

‘Can you say Danny for me, baby?’ He asked, that mocking smirk reappearing behind the mask.

Your blood boiled.

‘Danny? W-why Danny? What kind of messed up shit are you dragging me into, huh? I swear to fucking god I’m going to ca-‘

His pace grew fast. He closed his eyes and let his body slouch. J-just keep talking, he chanted underneath his loud breath.

‘I’m giving your name to the cops, Danny!’

That was enough.

He couldn’t help the vulnerable moan that escaped him. Stumbling to his knees, he took in a few breaths, still looking at you. The phone left his hand with a toss. He had put himself back together, finally buckling his belt.

Your heart beat through your chest as soon as you noticed it.

He dropped the phone.

Like a glass cup on a hardwood floor. The sound of the phone hitting the grass, muffled and faint, rang through your ears.

You didn’t even feel the phone fall from your clutch.

Panic made you fast. Though earlier your body had gone numb, you managed to bolt to the kitchen.

Your life depended on it.

The kitchen window easily slammed shut, now you were focused on finding a weapon. Rummaging through cabinets and drawers, throwing silverware and plates across the room as if they were confetti. You found a drawer full of vicious knives, and chose the largest, sharpest one.

The silence became deafening.

In the reflection of your prized knife, a tall, dark figure with a ghostly face prowled a few feet behind you.

Before you could even turn to impale him, he pounced at you. Holding your struggling body against his, he dug his chin into your shoulder. The hunting knife he held pushed into the skin on your stomach.

You fought as hard as you could. Your elbows dug into his figure, legs flailed, kicking in all directions. Managing to push the both of you against the wall, he held you tighter, and let the knife slowly dig into your skin.

‘You gonna kill me?’ You said through gritted teeth.

He let out an amused chuckle, ‘I don’t want to hurt you baby,’

His voice was less deepened, with a clearer rasp. Still muffled.

‘I just didn’t want you to be all by yourself!’ A roaming hand grabbed your breast. The leather hand massaged your clothed chest teasingly. Moans bubbled from your lips.

‘Especially since a murderer has been running around town.’ Ghostface let his whispers fall close to you. His breath trailing your ear, to your jawbone.

You hated how you melted in his embrace.

‘Look at you, whoring yourself out so soon.’ The lunatic snickered at the blooming color on your cheeks.

He loved it.

There was a warm bulge grinding against your back. Two gloved fingers played with the hem of your panties.

‘You’ll be good for Ghostie, right?’

Something within you screamed. Cried for mercy. For dignity. It reverberated inside of your body. Calling your name, begging you to be conscious. Panic had washed away, but the fear still lingered. Depravity wanted him to defile you. Completely. For your own sick, selfish desires. Years of sexual frustration. A new adult who had barely been touched. It wasn’t right. But you would survive.

‘I will.’

That creeping hand of his ever so carefully slid into the your underwear, rough leather caressing sensitive skin.

His thumb now pressed circles onto your clit. The kitchen lights began to blur as your mind drowned in a steamy fog. His clutch did not weaken now that you didn’t resist. You were slightly lifted, head resting against a strap on his shoulder. Remorse contracted the muscles in your stomach as each pulse of pleasure jolted your body. Those same two fingers entered your throbbing cunt, the pressure on your clit strengthening. Whimpers freely spilled out from your mouth. Whether you were forced into obedience or pitifully insane no longer mattered.

You liked it.

The hunting knife still intimidated you. Hovering closely to your stomach, any mistake or mishap ending with a painful stab. He wouldn’t kill you. Not now. He seemed to revel in the heat of the moment. Though, speaking too soon would be a death wish.

His calm pace became aggressive, excited. It wouldn’t be long before you broke.

The stimulation wares on your body. You throw your head back, and rest your forehead against the side of his mask, his head slightly tilts.

He hums, pulling the arm holding your chest away. The active arm hooks you against his torso.

From your peripheral, he holds out a gray…rectangle?

‘Don’t be shy, baby.’

The single thrust of his fingers sends your entire body limp with a cry. Simultaneously, a bright flash causes you to wince. He lets you fall to the floor, much more invested in the picture he just took.

‘Aww, tsk, well isn’t that a great memory.’

You’re sweating, softly cowering as you think over everything at once. There’s nothing left within you to crawl away or scream. You might as well be dead.

There’s a sudden surge of pain bursting in your leg. A sharp edge cutting through the skin of your thigh. You don’t move in fear that the blade will drag farther, but you can’t help the agonized grunts and shakes. Cold gushes of blood trickle down your heated leg.

He carved the initials G.F. into the thick of your thigh.

Ghostface then crouches down in front of you, gently placing the blade of his knife under your chin to lift it. Your tired eyes meet with his soulless face.

‘Remember that I’m always here,’

‘So when I’m bored, and you’re alone, I might come visit you again.’

The toying tone of Ghostface’s voice shifted to a serious growl.

‘Without an invite.’

#ghostface #ghost face #ghostface x reader #slasher x reader #ghostface x you #ghostface x y/n #slasher x y/n #slasher x you #danny johnson #danny jed olsen johnson #danny johnson x reader #danny johnson x you

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dawnagustd · 2 years

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no rest for the wicked || jjk

➼ title: no rest for the wicked

➼ pairing: camp counselor!jungkook x camp director!female reader

➼ summary: Camp Crystal Lake is under new management. You’ve come back to your old hometown to gather some work experience before graduation. You know the dark history surrounding these grounds, but the real challenge is going to be hot guy standing in your kitchen, the same guy that made you leave in the first place.

➼ word count: 7k

➼ rating: 18+

➼ a/n: hi! so I wanted to do something based on one of my favorite horror films, Friday the 13th. This story is not horror and the horror/gore listed above is only mentioned. However, I recommend googling what the movie is about before reading if you haven’t heard of it because I based my backstory off of it. This story is more suspenseful and humorous if you ask me and mainly focuses on the pairing’s relationship instead of the actual Jason Vorhees story. Anyway, I hope you like it. Also, I know this is unedited and rushed but this was a last minute idea. I’ll edit it and make it better in the future.

masterlist | permanent taglist

Welcome to Camp Crystal Lake

The freshly painted sign lets you know that you’ve finally arrived at your destination. You’ve traveled over 800 miles and hiked through a slightly dense wooded area in order to reach your home for the summer. This all will be cleared by next week by the time camp officially opens for the children. For now, it’ll just be you and ten camp counselors that you’ll be supervising during your time here.

You accepted this job knowing the history of this place, and the tragedies that have occurred. But out-of-state school costs are expensive, and it’s been over 40 years since the original owners shut down the camp. After all this time, their children would like to bring innocence back to this place, and burn the horrific events that earned it the name Camp Blood.

People started calling it that in the 70s, after the grounds were terrorized by a vengeful masked murderer that sought after camp counselors he deemed unfit. The story says that it was all the wrath of a man whose son’s life was tragically lost due to the negligence of the employees.

There are some rumors that say his spirit still haunts the camp grounds every thirteenth Friday, symbolizing his son’s age at passing and the day of the week that it fell on—lurking for young adults who sneak off to fuck around in the woods instead of doing their job and monitoring the kids.

As if you weren’t already on edge walking the eerie grounds, tomorrow’s Friday and the calendar says May 13th.

You sigh as the glimmering lake and renovated cabins come into view. At least you’ll have a proper place to lay your head tonight. Initially the property owners told you that the cabins probably wouldn’t be ready in time of your arrival, and that you’d have to set up a tent most likely. But you got a call last night saying that everything was taken care of and you could bring your things into the employee living quarters.

You find it quite easily since it’s the largest building on the property. Inside is the kitchen, two bathrooms, and bedrooms for the staff. It also houses your office, and you can’t wait to get in there and customize your space. Your hopes are to make it so comfortable and fit for you that you forget about the memories that plagued you when you passed through your old hometown earlier. Everyone should have moved on by now; it’s been three years, but to be safe you made sure your job was away from the city limits—and the people you once called friends.

Those people have been left in the past, especially him. You shiver every time you think of his name, and you quickly bury it in the back of your mind so you can forget once again. This is a step towards your future, and you plan to use these credentials on your resume. The director who brought life back to Camp Crystal Lake will open a lot of doors for you. You have all sorts of activities planned for the children. You just have to see what you’re working with first.

The hiring stage was conducted by the owners so you have no idea who will be working under you this summer. Their information is supposed to be sitting on your desk, so you’ll dive in as soon as you settle. You’re very excited to meet new people that love children as much as you do, and you’re sure whoever they’ve selected will be great employees.

In fact, one of them is here a day early, and you’re relieved you won’t be spending the night on a deserted camp alone. The biggest smile adorned your face when you parked next to the black pick up truck in the lot, and it is still present as you step across the cabin’s threshold, positivity and optimism coursing through your veins while you look around the empty room.

“Hello! Anyone here?” you call out, but get no response.

Shrugging, you set your bags by the door and venture further into the mostly open floor plan. There’s a hallway towards the back that leads to multiple rooms, so you opt for heading in that direction. The wooden floor creaks beneath your feet every time you take a step, and you know it’s something you’ll have to get used to. There’s also some noises coming from two doors to the right, so you shout once again to announce your presence.

“Hey, it’s me, the new director. Are you decent?” Nervous laughter leaves your lips because you don’t want to literally catch someone with their pants down, or even worse, interrupt an active burglary or something. You can’t be certain that the car belonged to a camp counselor or ground’s keeper. “Hello?”

However, after one peek around the doorframe, you notice that there’s no intruder—just a guy jamming to music through his air pods while making himself a sandwich. You’re impressed by his moves, wishing you had half of his coordination. He seems to be around your age, but his back is facing you, and the only thing you can make out is his brown hair and muscular frame underneath his large clothing.

Tattoos crawl up his right arm and disappear under the sleeve of his shirt. Your mind is already wondering where the trail stops. You’ve always admired body art and you even have a few tattoos yourself—but only in places that are easy to cover. Unfortunately, they aren’t really favored in your career path.

The man seems to be enjoying his alone time, but you figure you’ll at least tell him you’re here so he’s not alarmed when he eventually hears another pair of footsteps walking around.

You tap his shoulder, and try to introduce yourself one final time.

“Hey there, I’m—”

“What the fuck?! You scared the shit out of…me.”

You both stare at each other in total disbelief, but after a few seconds you realize that you aren’t dreaming, and that you’re actually standing face to face. Your shocked expressions transform into scowls of disgust. You’re the first to speak while he grabs his phone to pause his music.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Jungkook?”

Never in a million years did you think you’d use that name again. It produces bile in your throat each time you pronounce just a syllable of it. He isn’t pleased to see you either, and his scornful eyes vividly display such feelings. They burn holes into your skull, but you imagine yours hold the same impact as you glare back at him. His hair may be shorter and his skin may now be littered with tattoos and piercings but those lips, those dark eyes—they haven’t changed one bit.

“I’m working, isn’t it obvious?” he finally scoffs out, resting his weight on the counter and grabbing his sandwich. He takes a bite before pointing at you, speaking throughout random gulps to swallow down his food. “Don’t tell me they hired your prude ass to watch children.”

Your weight shifts to one leg and you fold your arms. Offended by his tasteless insult, you decide to take a jab of your own.

“Worse,” you smirk while watching him take a sip of his milk, brows lifting with curiosity over the rim of the glass. “They hired me to look after you, asshole.”

Jungkook nearly chokes on his drink. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Deadass,” you gloat.

He turns away from you and looks towards the ceiling, pinching the bridge of his nose. If you weren’t about to be under the same roof as him for three months, you’d laugh at how flustered he’s become. “This has got to be a joke man.”

“It isn’t, and if I were you I’d watch what I say to me because let's not forget who’s in charge of terminations from today forward.”

Jungkook’s arms fall to his sides when he hears those words. You find satisfaction in watching his tongue poke at his lip ring because you know you’ve struck a nerve. He turns in your direction again and he shakes his head.

“I see you haven’t changed one bit,” he notes.

“And what do you mean by that, Jungkook?...because you haven’t changed so much yourself, you know? You’re still a jerk, and an annoying pain in my ass.”

He starts walking towards you, and suddenly you recall the last thing he’s ever said to you. “This isn’t over, bitch. You’ll get yours.” You have no idea what those words meant, but they still give you chills—and for good reason.

You ratted him out to the principal. You had no choice; he was going to prank you again, but this time the results would have been really bad for you. For two weeks prior, you’d been receiving anonymous gifts at school. You suspected Jungkook from the moment you saw the handwriting on a note someone slipped in your locker. The admirer told you to meet them behind the gym during sixth period. Since you were a senior, fifth period was your last class.

Imagine your surprise when you showed up early and found Jungkook standing in the meeting spot, waiting for you to arrive—a cigarette in one hand and a bundle of red roses in the other. You went directly to the principal’s office and he was escorted off campus shortly after. Jungkook was expelled only a few months before graduation and the entire school hated you for snitching, but what were you supposed to do? He was going to attack you.

“I’ll tell you what it means,” he says, stepping directly in front of you. He peers down at you through his lashes, asserting his dominance by using his larger stature.

However, you don’t plan on backing down, no matter how much his aura intoxicates you. You focus on your anger towards him, the built up hatred you developed due to all the horrible pranks he’s orchestrated to embarrass you during high school. It’s all you need to remember what kind of jerk he is, picking on girls in front of his friends, but dodging them when he’s alone. He’s a coward, and you won’t bow down at his command.

“It means you’re still an evil ass kissing bitch, but I’m about to dry your cunt up real quick, sweetheart.” He gives you a lopsided grin before he continues.

“You may be in charge, but this is my uncle’s property, and if anyone has to go, it’s going to be the girl who got his nephew expelled from high school. So if I were you…I’d watch what I said to me,” he chuckles coldly.

There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach following his words, but you ignore it and stand your ground. “All I did was tell the truth,” you whisper and Jungkook throws his head back in laughter.

“Are you delusional? You hearing yourself, right now?”

He shakes his head and grabs his phone, abandoning his lunch as he prepares to leave.

“You know what? Fuck it. Talking to you is like trying to get a brick wall to move. Just stay the hell away from me and we won’t have problems. I’ll sleep in my damn truck tonight.”

Jungkook brushes past you and exits the kitchen, leaving you alone to bask in bad memories you tried so hard to forget. You hated each other then and you hate each other now. However, the resentment comes from something much deeper than teenage rivalry. You know the tension between you is bound to come to a head at some point, and you just hope it isn’t here.

It could ruin everything, and it’d be one more tally for Jungkook when it comes to embarrassing you. For now, you’ll try to step on egg shells when it comes to him. You’ll play nice and only communicate with him when necessary because this job is too valuable for you to lose it over someone like him. You begin cleaning up the mess he left behind with a heavy heart. “Ugh…Why me?”

May 13th, 2022

Well, it’s Friday evening and you haven’t heard a word from Jungkook since he stormed out of the cabin yesterday. He eventually came inside this morning to shower and eat, but has spent the majority of his time in his room. None of the others have arrived yet, but they aren’t on schedule until tomorrow. You still wish there was someone else here to distract you from the ominous feeling you get at night.

It’s always so quiet; even the wildlife isn’t active when the sun goes down. It’s like they know something is lurking—something dark and sinister. You didn’t get any sleep last night. You felt so isolated, so exposed in the middle of it all. If it wasn’t Jungkook invading your mind every time you close your eyes, it was the stories of this place told to you by your parents.

All night you expected a man in a hockey mask to appear out of nowhere, and butcher you like he did previous counselors. There were some survivors, the employees who weren’t at the camp to fuck and party. You keep telling yourself that if his vengeful spirit were to return, or if someone followed in his footsteps—you’d be safe. But survivor’s guilt is real, and violence is never the answer.

You don’t wish such a horrible death on anyone, not even Jungkook. So, of course, you were a bit worried about him being out there alone last night. Hopefully, tonight he’ll consider staying in here—for his sake and yours.

There isn’t much to do right now, so you’re lying on your bunk bed, looking through your phone. Your head lolls to the left and what you see makes your blood run cold.

“Oh my god!”

You jolt out of bed and slip on your sneakers when you see the dark colored creature slither across the floor. It retreats under the neighboring bunks and hides in the darkness, waiting for something to venture near so he can strike. You run out of your room faster than the speed of light, calling for Jungkook to come and help remove it.

“Why the fuck are you screaming?”

His voice is rough and he’s obviously in a bad mood. You assume he was sleeping because he’s only wearing his sweats, not a shirt in sight. You almost forget the reason for calling him, but he snaps his fingers and you’re quickly brought back to reality.

You point towards your room and give him a nervous side-eye. Your voice trembles when you speak. “Under the bed. It’s a snake…a big one.”

His face shows nothing but annoyance.

“Are you sure it isn’t just a sock?”

Your eyes expand, offended by his lack of urgency and seriousness for the matter.

“That thing moved!...Fuck it, I’m not sleeping here.” You try to leave, but his arm wraps around your waist before you can get by him.

“Alright, just hold on. I’ll go check it out,” he sighs.

When he withdraws you cannot ignore the way your body reacts to the loss of warmth, and you want to slap yourself for actually seeking after his touch. You’ll blame it on your lack of human interaction since you’ve been here.

Jungkook steps into your room, but turns to you before he goes any further. “Can I use your phone? I need a flashlight.”

You nod and quickly pull it out of your cardigan’s pocket, placing it in his hand and allowing him to turn it on himself. Jungkook taps the flashlight icon on the lockscreen and approaches the center of the room. “It’s under the bed to your right. Please be careful. I don’t know what kind it is.”

He doesn’t say a word as he gets on his hands and knees, keeping a safe distance while he aims the light into the dark crevice. He squints his eyes and curses after only a few seconds of searching.

“Oh, shit. That’s not good at all.” Jungkook gets on his feet and you immediately take notice of his flushed face.

“Is it that bad?” you gulp, and to your worst fears Jungkook nods.

“The pupils are like diamonds; it most definitely is.”

He leaves the room, but doesn’t take his eyes off the snake’s hiding place.

“What kind is it?”

He blows out a puff of air before he responds. His eyes are wide and in utter disbelief. “It looks like a moccasin, but I’m not a hundred percent sure. I just know it has to go.”

“Well, what do we do? I can call my dad but—”

“There’s some shit in the storage closet; I’ll get it,” he states calmly, placing your phone in your hand. “Make sure you keep an eye on the floor, and if it comes out, just stay away from it. I’ll be right back.”

Jungkook is gone before you can get a word out, leaving you alone once again. Your mind can’t help but think about what would have happened if you’d put your feet down at the wrong time. You probably wouldn’t be standing here talking about it right now. What if you were alone? Help is miles away, and by the time anyone got to you, it’d be too late.

That’s why you requested that someone with trained medical experience be here at all times, and according to his paperwork, he should be here tomorrow morning at 8 am sharp. You’d sure appreciate it if he were here now, however. This isn’t safe by any means, and neither of you are professionally trained for this task.

“Has he moved?”

Jungkook returns with a bucket in one hand and what looks like snake tongs in the other. You make a mental note to go over the importance of safety when it comes to the local wildlife with everyone, especially the kids. A bite from a snake like this can be fatal to an adult, and a small child would have even less of a chance.

“No, it hasn’t moved. But Jungkook, I think we should call someone. This isn't safe,” you suggest.

“Your dad’s a cop. He’s never shown you how to grab a snake?”

“Yeah but…”

Jungkook laughs. “If you’re scared of snakes just say it. I’m not one to judge.”

“No! I’m just…kind of worried? Today is…you know.”

“Well, try not to be so superstitious,” he tells you before entering the room for a second time. “I’m gonna close the door so it can’t get out, okay?”

You want to protest, and your mouth opens to do just that, but he gives you a look and you instantly change your mind. “Okay.”

“See you in a bit,” he winks, shutting the bedroom door behind him.

About ten minutes later, the door opens again and Jungkook holds up the bucket in triumph. “Would you like to kiss your prince before he departs?”

You roll your eyes.

“So what are you going to do with it now?”

He shrugs. “I guess I’ll put it on the porch. He should be fine overnight. I’ll wake up before dawn and take him on the other side of the lake where there’s more wilderness. I’ve been wanting to catch the sunrise anyway, so this works.”

“How do I know you won’t just go over there and kill it?” you jest, but Jungkook doesn’t think it’s funny. The second his expression changes, you realize that the joke should have never left your mouth. You quickly try to apologize. “Sorry, I—”

“Keep it.”

“Jungkook, I didn’t mean it like that,” you try to convince him.

“I don’t care. That’s your fucking problem; you never think before you open your damn mouth.”

You opened your mouth to apologize again, but instead you ended up giving him a piece of your mind.

“Excuse me? At least I’m not a coward. You used to be cocky when you were with your little clique. Now you can’t even look me in the eye whenever I bring up what you’ve done.”

“I’m the coward?” He shakes his head and laughs. “Then what are you?...I called you, texted you, and you ignored me. You didn’t have to accept my apology, but you could have at least listened to what I had to say after you found out why I was really waiting for you that day.”

“Jungkook, I’m not going to believe your lies. You know damn well what you were doing back there and you’re just pissed that it backfired on you.,” you argue, and Jungkook scoffs.

“You keep telling yourself that.”

“I will actually because it’s the truth.”

Jungkook prepares to walk away, but then suddenly pauses. His back is turned, so he looks at you over his shoulder.

“You act like everything’s been all bad between us, like all I’ve done was harass you. You’ve forgotten who’s saved your ass with homework you forgot to finish or who’s given you rides home when it rained even though it was on the other side of town. I brought any of that to anyone’s attention because I didn’t do it to hold it over your head. I did it because that’s just the kind of person I am, especially for someone I care about. But if you want me to be something else…you got that.”

He starts walking down the hall without another word to you, and a part of you wants to go after him, but what he said doesn’t justify his actions. You don’t trust him, and he has himself to blame for that. So you stay silent, because if he really cared, he wouldn’t have so much animosity towards you when you did nothing wrong. It’s not your fault you couldn’t put the pieces together; you were too busy looking over your shoulder for his next prank, and even though it’s been years since he threatened you with his words—you look around every corner before you make a turn.

One thing you’ve already learned to appreciate in your short time here is the shower. The water reaches the perfect temperature, so you can’t help but stay in there a little bit longer than you should. You have to enjoy it while you can because after tonight you’ll have to share, cutting your time in the bathroom in half.

Since you’re alone in the cabin, you take your time and detangle your curls. Jungkook isn’t here so you don’t bother rushing to get your clothes on. A towel is the only thing that covers your body. Your skin is still damp and too hot to throw on a t-shirt so you opt to stay this way until you air dry and cool down.

Once you leave the bathroom, you turn off the lights and go straight to your room. You hadn’t realized you left the window open earlier, and you shiver as the gentle summer’s breeze flows through your bedroom. You throw your phone on the bed and quickly walk over to the window so you can shut it. However, a sudden uneasiness forms in your gut, an instinct you have when something just doesn’t feel right.

You gnaw at your bottom lip trying to piece together what could be happening and eventually, you brush it off as just your paranoia getting to you. Before you close and lock your bedroom window, you glance at the moon and stars, noting how beautiful they are away from the city and how you’d like to get some pictures before you leave. But that’ll have to wait because right now all you want to do is lie down and at least try to get some sleep—if only your mind allows it.

While pushing down the glass, you notice something out of place on the outskirts of the woods. You have a small view of the lake from where you are, and the only thing preventing you from seeing it entirely is the trees. However, there’s something blocking the small opening that allows you to see Crystal Lake from your room, or maybe…someone?

You lower your head to eliminate the glare in the window, and that’s when you see it. Barely, but you’re able to make out a white orb in the distance.

“What the fuck is that?”

You don’t have long to figure it out either. Suddenly, the object begins to move and within seconds you realize that it definitely is a person, and they’re coming straight towards your cabin. When they’re about 30 feet away you can clearly see their dark clothing and the infamous white hockey mask the guy that committed those murders were said to have worn. Fight or flight sets in, and your first reaction is to get the hell out of there before he can catch up to you with his long strides.

You rush out of the cabin wearing nothing but a towel and Pokémon slippers—no phone, no keys, only a bit of hope that Jungkook is alive and near or at least sleeping in his truck so he can drive you both to safety. Once your feet touch the soil, you channel every ounce of determination and drive you possess. Speed will be your only asset against a figure that appears to be twice your size. But unfortunately, even all of that isn’t enough.

“Let me go!”

A pair of arms grab you before you can even reach the path that leads to the parking lot. You kick, you thrash, and you scream like your life depends on it—because it does, and you use every tactic your father taught you to try and break free.

Your efforts pay off with an elbow to their stomach. A pained laugh escapes the person, and when you jab them again they finally agree to release you. You’re surprised at how familiar their voice sounds.

“Alright, alright. I’ll put you down, but chill. It’s just me,” he chuckles, placing your feet back on the ground. You try to make another run for it, but he grabs your hand and takes off his mask. “Don’t go running off into the woods. It’s just a joke. Calm down.”

“Jungkook?...Wha—”

“I was just fucking with you,” he laughs, doubling over and clutching his side. “You should have seen your face. And then you really almost crushed my ribs, damn girl.”

You feel anything but amusement right now, and you head straight for the cabin to start packing your things.

“Should’ve been your balls,” you say as you’re passing him.

Fuck this camp. Jungkook and everyone else can have it. You knew you shouldn’t have come back here; it was very foolish of you to think you could actually be in the same space with Jungkook and his old ways wouldn’t resurface. You’ll just find another way; something else will come up. But you can’t stay here any longer, not with him.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

You kick off your slippers because they’re just slowing you down. Jungkook is on your tail and when he grabs your arm you immediately pull away. “Get away from me. I’m leaving!”

“Leaving?...What are you just gonna quit?” he quizzes. You spin around and walk up to him, fueled by nothing but rage and resentment.

“That’s what you want, right? Well, you got it. I’m out…you’ve won, Jungkook.” His smug smile fades slowly and his brows furrow as he processes your words.

“Ahh, here you go again. How does someone survive under same roof as you?...I’m nice, there’s a problem. I’m a jerk, you’re ready to leave. It makes no sense.”

“You call setting me up to be humiliated nice?”

Jungkook’s hands run over his face in frustration. “I thought we established that I was doing nothing wrong that time.”

“If you weren’t doing anything wrong…which is obviously a lie because you were smoking. Why were you the person waiting for me to turn the corner?...With roses! I’m allergic to roses. You lured me there to hurt me and humiliate me.”

“First of all, I had no idea about the roses and I tried to apologize, remember? I wasn’t trying to be mean to you. I told you I just wanted to smooth things over and—”

“Then why write them Jungkook? Why make me believe someone actually liked me?” you question, cutting him off.

Jungkook steps closer, but once again you do not back down. You don’t care about how angry he is because you’re pissed ten times more. He’s gone too far this time.

“Maybe because I was building up the courage to tell the girl I’ve liked since third grade that I liked her? Ask her to prom? Apologize for being an asshole because she didn’t deserve any of that stuff I did...I don’t know, maybe it was all of those things. I was just doing what the guys told me to do. I wanted your attention, and I was finally trying to get it the correct way,” he argues, anger radiating from his body. He stares you down with so much hatred that if you weren’t feeling the same way, you’d crumble.

“So what if I had one cigarette to calm my nerves? I was fucking shaking, and I put it out after the first hit because I didn’t like it. But the only motive I had for being back there was to get the girl I liked alone so I could apologize and ask her out, but she got me expelled before I could do that.”

His words seem genuine and sincere, but they’re driven by fury. He’s still upset with you and you cannot understand why. You didn’t know, and if you did you still wouldn’t have known how to respond. It’s his fault for traumatizing you so much that you didn’t see all the signs. You feel like shit for it, but you can’t go back and change things. You’re trying to move forward, but each time you take a step, you’re always knocked back two.

“Then you just get to move on and forget it ever happened?” he continues. Your brows furrow when you see the gloss covering his eyes.

As if you weren’t already feeling terrible for not being able to read between the lines, Jungkook was right earlier; he helped you out just as much as he joked around.

You didn’t even give him a chance after the day he left school, but how could you when you were dealing with the aftermath of his expulsion? “You come here with your head all high like you own the place, like you haven’t flipped my life upside down. It’s not fair.”

“Jungkook, I had to move on. You think you’re the only one who suffered? Everyone hated me for getting you kicked out of school. And don’t act so beaten down, your dad got you out of it. Or did you think I didn’t hear about that?”

Jungkook scoffs. “Yeah, because everyone knew I liked you…everyone but you. And my dad paid a load of money to make sure I could at least get into a good school. Why the hell do you think I’m here? He calls and I run, until I’m done paying him back.”

“I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t know! But what am I supposed to do about it now? I can apologize a million times, but I can’t change the past. I’m tired Jungkook, so either we end this tonight or I’m leaving because I can’t live like this. Do your worst if it makes you feel better, prank me the whole fucking summer, embarrass me in front of the kids and the staff.”

He lowers his head and shakes it as he speaks. “That’s not enough. It’s never been enough.”

“Then what is, Jungkook?...Tell me what makes it right? I’ll fix it.”

Jungkook looks at you then, softer than before, but his expression still holds a bit of frustration.

“You just don’t get it,” he whispers.

“Then help me understand. Show me if you can’t tell me. You want revenge? Take it. Or if there’s something else you want, you can take that too. Just go for it because this may be the last chance you get.”

His fingers reach up and touch your arm, and he runs them delicately over your skin. “How do I know if what I want is something you’re offering?”

“Everything’s on the table. You have me alone until tomorrow morning. Do whatever you want, I’m all yours,” you assure.

“Anything?”

“Everything.”

“Well, come here then.” Jungkook pulls you close to his body and leans in. You expected him to kiss you, but you didn’t expect it to feel this way. His touch is more rough and aggressive than you imagined it would be since he was so timid previously. It still feels amazing despite his lack of tenderness and affection.

He grabs your face and guides you to the nearest wall, never breaking away from the heated moment you’re sharing as he does so. You can’t deny how attractive he is, and now that all of your hatred for him is being released, you can enjoy every inch of his sculpted figure.

You try to reach for his shirt, but he grabs your wrist and pins it against the wall, smiling when he hears you whine. His tongue slips into your mouth and explores as deep as its length will allow.

“Is that all?” you ask him when your lips ultimately part for air. His eyes linger on your mouth as if he’s missing the warmth already, and you can’t stop yourself from smirking in response.

“That’s not even half of it.” Jungkook’s hand still holds onto your face and neck, but you’re too drunk off his touch to feel any discomfort.

When he finally allows you to touch his chest and biceps, you try to coax him into spilling all of those hidden emotions buried beneath the surface; it seems to work after a moment. You purr each syllable when you speak, and Jungkook lingers onto every one of them as if they were the answer to all of his prayers. “Then what are you waiting for?...Clock’s ticking.”

“Stop talking like that.”

“Or what?...What’s going to happen if I don’t?” Your challenge makes him tighten his grip. You wince, but nothing tops the satisfaction you get from pissing him off. “What are you gonna do?”

Jungkook growls, and the sound makes you shudder. “You wouldn’t even be able to walk in the morning. Don’t ever try me like that, sweetheart.”

“Do it. I fucking dare you.”

Jungkook chuckles while kissing his way up to your ear. “You have no idea what you’re asking for.”

“Well, enlighten me–Oh fuck!” He uses his knee to force open your legs and flexes his thick thigh against your bare cunt. The contact makes you gasp out a desperate moan.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” Jungkook’s grin widens when he feels your thighs try to rub together for more friction.

“Fuck, yes.”

He drags you across the room and he all but tosses you on the couch.

“Strip, then turn around,” he commands.

You take off your towel and throw it at him. Jungkook twirls his finger in a circle, so you turn and bend over the sofa’s armrest. “Shit, you have tats, a nice ass, and you’re fucking soaking…the hell am I going to do with you?” he asks while leaning over you to speak into your ear.

“Hopefully, you’ll fuck me…and soon–ahh, shit.”

Jungkook slaps your ass and gives it a squeeze. You whimper under his touch, trying not to moan, but then his finger teases your entrance, and you have no choice but to let it out.

“You’re not in the position to give me demands…not while your cunt’s trying to suck in my fingers, sweetheart. Play nice, and I’ll feed you well,” he says with a smirk.

You groan, and he slaps your ass again; your backtalk then ceases for a while.

Jungkook spreads your folds and spits into your entrance, chuckling when you clench in response. “The quiet ones are always freaky,” he comments.

“Shit, I need to grab a condom. I’ll be right back—”

“Here.” You reach into the couch and pull out one of the condoms you secretly stashed there. You can imagine the shock on Jungkook’s face when you reach back and hand it to him. “None of us are saints, Jungkook. Don’t think about it too much.”

And he doesn’t. He quickly pulls down his pants and rolls it on. Your anticipation heightens when you feel his blunt tip come in contact with your heat, and you turn your head to watch his face contort when he slides in.

“Fuck,” he sighs when he finally feels your warmth molding around his length. His moaning makes butterflies erupt in the pit of your stomach, and you don’t even give him a second to get used to the snug fit. You bounce on his cock and watch as he looks on in awe, taking off his shirt and throwing somewhere across the room.

Jungkook grips your waist and takes control; you grab onto the couch when he starts fucking you back, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he concentrates on pleasuring you. You both set a steady pace, but you feel like he’s holding back so you purposely taunt him into giving you more. “You fuck like you’re scared or something. Afraid you’ll drown?”

He reaches forward and tugs your hair. “Nope. I was just going easy on you, but if you insist…”

You scream his name when his thrusts quicken, and he uses his grip to pull you back on his dick. He digs into you deeper and harder, and the pressure in your abdomen begins to build after a few calculated motions. Jungkook’s hand continues to come down on your ass randomly, and each blow leaves your pussy gushing with arousal. He pulls you up and holds you close to him once he’s left you behind red and sore to the touch. “You feel so fucking good. Damn, I wish you were mine,” he moans into your neck.

Your hand reaches behind you to play in his brown strands while he bites and leaves marks on your neck. “Is that what you want?”

He lifts his head and looks you in the eyes, slowing down but still digging into your cervix.

“Damn right,” he replies, teasing your sensitive clit. “Gonna come for me?”

“Mmhm, please don’t stop doing that.”

Your nails dig into his arm while he ruts into you. You come with his name flowing from your lips, and he follows soon after. His body trembles as he spills his seed into the condom, and he sighs when he’s finally released all the pressure he’s had inside of him.

Your body almost slumps over when he pulls out and tries to withdraw, so he’s forced to keep you close to him so you don’t hurt yourself. “Can you even walk to your bed?” he laughs, giving you a glimpse of his cute boyish smile.

“Probably not.”

He sighs and scoops you up. “Alright, let’s go to bed, lightweight.”

“Shut up,” you mumble, slapping his chest.

He stops near the kitchen door and tosses the used condom in the trash before taking you to your room and placing you on the bed gently. “Night,” Jungkook says quickly before turning to leave.

“Wait.” You grab his hand to get his attention, and he pauses. “I don’t usually ask these questions, but…did you mean that stuff or were you just fucking around?”

“No, I wouldn’t say that unless I meant it. I still like you, but I know it’s too late,” he says before he looks at you. He stares for a few seconds and responds with an exhale. “Please don’t leave, though. I really miss you.”

You pat beside you. “Come lay with me?”

Jungkook nods and takes off his shoes before he climbs in your bed. “I only ask because…well, you know.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry, for everything. Especially tonight, I never want you to see you that upset again,” he admits.

He doesn’t say anything when you touch his face and trace over his features. “Can I come with you when you take the boat out tomorrow?”

“Yeah, of course.”

You yawn, and Jungkook wraps his arms around you, caressing your sore behind to help you relax.

“We’ll talk then, okay? It’ll be all romantic and shit,” you tell him and he only scoffs. “Seriously, it’ll be like those movies, and then we'll kiss—”

“And then we’ll try to fuck without rocking the boat too much?” he suggests. You roll your eyes and turn away from him, suppressing your giggles as best as you can. “Did I ruin it?”

“It was ruined before I started talking.”

“True.”

When it’s quiet again, your mind begins to wonder and one question resurfaces in your brain that you forgot to ask Jungkook. “Hey.”

“What’s up?”

“How did you make it to the front of the cabin so fast earlier? You were literally like 10 feet away from my bedroom and then right on me when I ran out,” you point out, making him lift his head.

“I wasn’t back there. I was getting ready to come through the front door and scare you, but you just ran out. I figured you thought you saw another snake or something.”

Your breathing pauses. “Dude, I saw you.”

“No…you didn’t see me.”

Well, if it wasn’t him, then who?

Your heart rate speeds up, body working in autopilot as you try to usher Jungkook out of the bed. “We gotta get out of here. We have to run, there’s—”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. That was my friend Tommy. Please don’t be mad at him, I begged him to help me,” he confesses and you narrow your eyes at him. “Don’t get mad, babe,” he pouts.

“Oh, I’m not going to get mad, Jungkook.” You crawl over his body, straddling him and kissing his lips before you continue. He thinks he’s off the hook, but you’re about to show him what you’re capable of.

“...I’m going to get even.”

#jungkook x reader #bts x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #bts smut #bts angst #btsdreamcourt #bangtanbathhouse #bangtansorciere #jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic #bts imagine #bts x you #jungkook fluff #sugakookitty

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aphroditelovesu · 6 months

Text

⤷✿.｡Since you voted yes to commissions, so here we are. I was a little unsure about the price, so I researched and tried to make it as fair as possible. I hope you agree with this! ❤️

Also, this is completely optional! If you don't want to, you don't have to request a commission! All the other requests works the same way!! ⤷♡.+ n a v i g a t i o n.

What I would write

I write for any gender, both character and Reader/OC, be it female, male, neutral transsexual. Any.

Yandere!Character x Reader, Yandere!Reader x Yandere!Character, Yandere!OC x Reader and Yandere!OC X OC.

Dark!Au, Gore, Disorders, Smut/NSFW, explicit language, soft!yandere, alternative AU, Horror, Age gap (depends on how much).

Romantic, platonic and general Yanderes, as well as more specific themes; example: yandere x depressive!reader.

Stockholm syndrome.

Pregnancy, childbirth and death in childbirth.

Non-Con, Dub-Con, BDSM.

Fluff; non-yandere.

Monsterfucking, specific kinks.

Angst.

What I DON'T write

Any kind of NSFW content with children, anything with children will just be platonic.

I don't write NSFW with characters that have a childish appearance or personality, just platonic.

I don't usually write ships because I consider it something personal, but I can do it if someone wants to.

Age play, scap.

Minor x Adult (only platonic).

Prices (in $ and R$)

Headcanons

2,00 $/R$ 2,00 for 500 words;

6,00 $/R$ 6,00 for 1000 words;

12,00 $/R$ 12,00 for 2000 words;

NSFW content adds an additional charge of $3,00/R$3,00.

Imagines, Scenarios, Reactions, Oneshots, Prompts

3,00 $/R$ 4,00 for 500 words;

10,00 $/R$ 13,00 for 1000 words;

18,00 $/R$ 18,00 for 2000 words;

20,00 $/R$ 20,00 for 3000 words.

NSFW content adds an additional charge of $5,00/R$6,00.

My list of current fandoms, but I can always add more:

Anime

Attack on Titan, Amensia, Death Note, Demon Slayer, Diabolik Lovers, Fruits Basket, Haikyuu!!, Hakuoki, Hunter x Hunter, Jujutsu Kaisen, Kamigami no Asobi, Naruto, Mirai Nikki, One Piece, Blood of Zeus.

Books

Percy Jackson, Harry Potter, A Song of Ice and Fire, Pegasus and The Flame of Olympus (series), IT., A Court of Thorns and Roses (ACOTAR), The Bridgertons, Twilight, The Lord of the Rings, The Cruel Prince: The Folk of the Air, The Bridgertons, Twilight.

Games

Genshin Impact, Detroit Become Human, Mystic Messenger, Time Princess Dress Up (TP: characters), Yandere Simulator, My Candy Love (Amour Sucré), Arkyos Angel, A Plague Tale.

K-Pop

BTS, BLACKPINK, GOT7, EXO, BIGBANG, TWICE, AESPA, Stray Kids, ITZY, Hyuna and Dawn, Red Velvet, NCT, Monsta X, Taemin, Dreamcatcher, LE SSERAFIM, (G)I-DLE.

Series/TV Show

Game of Thrones, House of the Dragon, The Originals, The Vampire Diaries, Teen Wolf, Supernatural, Outer Banks, Friends, Brooklyn Nine-Nine, Euphoria, Reign, Bridgerton, The Flash, Supergirl, Outlander, American Horror Story, Wednesday, Riverdale, Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, The Sandman, Lucifer, Winx Club, Ragnarok, The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power, Invisible City (Cidade Invisível), Shadow and Bone, Adventure Time, The Witcher, Rebelde MX (RBD), Heartstopper.

Movies

Disney Universe, Marvel Universe, DC Universe, Maze Runner, Halloween, Friday the 13th, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, A Nightmare on Elm Street, Transformers, How to Train Your Dragon, Miraculous, Ever After High, Monster High, Barbie Universe, Christmas Movies, Maze Runner, Avatar, Twilight, Star Wars.

K-Dramas

My Demon, Bussiness Proposal, Doom At Your Service, Hometown Cha-Cha-Cha, Crash Landing on You, My Name, Mr Queen, King the Land.

Mythology

Greek, Egyptian, Norse Mythology and Brazilian Folklore.

Historical Characters

Alexander the Great, Cleopatra, Caesar Augustus, Julius Caesar and etc...

Additional Information

I accept payment via PayPal and Pic Pay only (PayPal = Ko-Fi)

Payment must be made before I start and I will always send you updates if you ask me.

I write in English and Portuguese.

I have a deadline of 5 to 10 days to complete your commission, however, if something unforeseen happens and it ends up being delayed, I will inform you.

If I write more than what was asked, obviously there will be no additions.

If you are interested, DM me with details and feel free to ask me anything.

#yandere #dark #yandere au #dark au #commissions #writing commissions

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beaft · 7 months

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october 13th

happy friday the thirteenth, everyone! and to celebrate, here's that poem you probably read at school that one time! today's spooky poem is "the highwayman", a delightfully melodramatic ballad by alfred noyes. there's an analysis of it here and a sung version by loreena mckennit here. and once you've listened to that you can watch this, if you're so inclined.

THE HIGHWAYMAN

Part I

The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees. The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas. the road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor, And the highwayman came riding— Riding—riding— The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.

He’d a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin, A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin. They fitted with never a wrinkle. His boots were up to the thigh. And he rode with a jewelled twinkle, His pistol butts a-twinkle, His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.

Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard. He tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred. He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there But the landlord’s black-eyed daughter, Bess, the landlord’s daughter, Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

And dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked Where Tim the ostler listened. His face was white and peaked. His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay, But he loved the landlord’s daughter, The landlord’s red-lipped daughter. Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say—

“One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I’m after a prize to-night, But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light; Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day, Then look for me by moonlight, Watch for me by moonlight, I’ll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way.”

He rose upright in the stirrups. He scarce could reach her hand, But she loosened her hair in the casement. His face burnt like a brand As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast; And he kissed its waves in the moonlight, (O, sweet black waves in the moonlight!) Then he tugged at his rein in the moonlight, and galloped away to the west.

Part II He did not come in the dawning; he did not come at noon; And out o' the tawny sunset, before the rise o' the moon, When the road was a gipsy's ribbon, looping the purple moor, A red-coat troop came marching Marching—marching— King George's men came marching, up to the old inn-door. They said no word to the landlord, they drank his ale instead, But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed; Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets at their side! There was death at every window; And hell at one dark window; For Bess could see, through the casement, the road that he would ride. They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest; They bound a musket beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast! "Now keep good watch!" and they kissed her. She heard the dead man say Look for me by moonlight; Watch for me by moonlight; I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way! She twisted her hands behind her; but all the knots held good! She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood! They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like years, Till, now, on the stroke of midnight, Cold, on the stroke of midnight, The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!

The tip of one finger touched it; she strove no more for the rest! Up, she stood up to attention, with the barrel beneath her breast, She would not risk their hearing; she would not strive again; For the road lay bare in the moonlight; Blank and bare in the moonlight; And the blood of her veins in the moonlight throbbed to her love's refrain. Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hoofs ringing clear; Tlot-tlot, tlot-tlot, in the distance? Were they deaf that they did not hear? Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill, The highwayman came riding, Riding, riding! The red-coats looked to their priming! She stood up strait and still! Tlot-tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot-tlot, in the echoing night! Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light! Her eyes grew wide for a moment; she drew one last deep breath, Then her finger moved in the moonlight, Her musket shattered the moonlight, Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him - with her death. He turned; he spurred to the West; he did not know who stood Bowed, with her head o'er the musket, drenched with her own red blood! Not till the dawn he heard it, his face grew grey to hear How Bess, the landlord's daughter, The landlord's black-eyed daughter, Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there. Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky, With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high! Blood-red were his spurs i' the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat, When they shot him down on the highway, Down like a dog on the highway, And he lay in his blood on the highway, with a bunch of lace at his throat.

And still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees, When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas, When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor, A highwayman comes riding Riding—riding— A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door. Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard, And he taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred; He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there But the landlord's black-eyed daughter, Bess, the landlord's daughter, Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

—Alfred Noyes

#october poems

73 notes · View notes

bits-and-babs · 2 years

Text

Mangled || Kane (Annihilation) x Reader

-> Rating: VERY 18+

-> Word Count: 10.4k!!!!

-> When tasked with a suicide mission, feelings for your colleague cloud your judgement. A celebration of Friday the 13th!

Gif Credit does not belong to me!

⚠️ CW/TW: !HORROR! LONG-ASS SLOW BURN ISH FIC BUT THE SMUT IS WORTH IT I SWEAR. Mentions of: war, infidelity, gore, death, injury, I don’t know if you’d call this hunter x prey vibes, kind of? DUBCON THEMES and vague allusions to pregnancy. Definite themes of: Hair pulling, breath play, rough sex, unprotected p in v sex, anal play, cream pie. Jesus, anything else?! ⚠️

When bodies are cast into rivers, they typically sink slowly beneath the surface and into the murky water below for days, sometimes weeks at a time. Only with decomposition and an accumulation of gas beneath the skin does that same body float back up to the surface, often disfigured and putrefied. This wasn’t so unlike the fear you had pushed down upon entering The Shimmer, drowning your nerves inside the depths of your being- but that same discomfort was beginning to float to the surface, twisting and disfigured into something more akin to terror.

Your team of Green Berets had witnessed unspeakable horror in your tours across the globe. People were blown to bits by IEDs in Afghanistan, and the genocide of Rohingya in Myanmar. Friends had lost their limbs, you’d carried your colleague's coffins across the airport tarmac with the Stars and Stripes draped across the lid. None of this could possibly have prepared you for the dreadful beauty behind the oil-slick Shimmer wall.

It had been subtle at first. You’re no scientist, but you had been certain on arrival that some of the flora that grew within the Shimmer was atypical of nature. Crossbreeds between wild roses and bluebells - an impossible mixture. It had painted a thin sheen of uneasiness throughout your body, ultimately grasping that things inside The Shimmer were beyond scientific understanding. That was, you believe, six days ago. It was hard to tell exactly, given the team would frequently lose track of time. Days' worth of food rations would disappear overnight, and you would often awake in entirely new places while not remembering having set up camp.

Continuously breaching your understanding, the scenes you witnessed became more bizarre, more unnerving as time went on. Large creatures far exceeding their natural size, almost Goliath-like, sounds that didn’t fit the fauna of the South-East coast. It was day three that these hybrid creatures had started their attack. One soldier had been dragged behind the bushes kicking and screaming by their legs into the blackness of the night, grasping fruitlessly at the air in an attempt to escape the jaws of whatever had him. Upon inspection of the surrounding area, red blood streaks gave you reason enough to believe he wasn’t coming home. Another vanished without a trace from behind the rest of the platoon with no explanation as to where he had gone or what had taken him.

You knew the prognosis. Area-X had made it exceedingly clear that not one person had passed through The Shimmer and returned. There was no explanation, no obvious guilty party for the missing soldiers, just an unspoken promise that those who followed them would suffer the same fate.

“Well, there are two theories of what went wrong in the Shimmer.”

“One, something kills them.”

Then, on day five, psychosis set in. Shared hallucinations, paranoia. Your fingerprints begin to twirl, spinning like whirlpools at the tips of your appendages. The unsettling and frankly bizarre sight is not the worst of it, however, the third member of your platoon, Mayer, succumbing to sporadic delusions, screaming into the quiet of the army base you had camped in overnight that his insides moved.

Sergeant Kane tied Mayer to a chair at the deep end of the empty swimming pool in the abandoned gym of the military base, insisting that you hold the flailing man by his shoulders to steady his abdomen. No spoken decision led to the events that happened that night, instead, it was as though the three of you shared a hive mind. Resigning to his fate, Mayer had simply heaved agonized breaths as Kane gutted him like a fish with a Swiss Army knife to expose his vital organs. Had it not been for the camera Kane had set up to capture every second of the faux surgery, you wouldn’t have believed you were witnessing your colleagues' insides wriggle throughout his abdomen like giant, fleshy tapeworms.

“Two, they go crazy and kill each other.”

Mayer’s corpse witnessed Kane spend hours frantically scrubbing his colleague's blood from the creases in his knuckles, bloodied army knife discarded in the algae-infested water beside his feet. He had insisted upon taking watch throughout the rest of the night, far too worked up from the events of the early evening to want to go to sleep. There, on the floor of the army base as you grasped desperately at the thread of unconsciousness, it had dawned on you that you and Kane were the only ones left.

Day six, grasping tightly onto your gun, your eyes pass over the lush green of the forest that surrounded you. The beauty of the flowers and the refracted light bathing the floor in rainbows is obsolete now, no longer settling your anxiety like it was probably designed to. The muscles in your shoulders are taut with stress, zeroing your attention on the treeline.

Seven years in the military had strengthened your mind, harderned it to outside stressors that would affect your ability to survive. You’d seen unimaginable horrors, been exposed to the worst of humanity and to life-or-death situations more times than you could count, enough that there was barely anything that phased you. But you can feel it now, horror and insanity twisting in your bone marrow, threatening to claw its way out of you in a scream. Fear.

“Hey Angel,” a soft voice cuts through the silence of the ethereal forest, startling you from your downward spiral into hysterics. When you look, the panicked thrumming of your heart slows to a steadier pulse.

“You doin’ okay?” He questions you gently, settling in his usual spot on your left side as he trudges through the forest flooring. You always considered yourself skilled at maintaining neutral body language, at masking your concerns, but Kane had cracked every single emotional cipher over his time with you like some kind of humanoid enigma code.

You’d known Kane the majority of your military career, having experienced three tours around the world by his side. He’d joked when he first met you in the mess hall in Iraq that he needed a woman to keep him on the straight and narrow after his wife resigned from the military to pursue teaching at John Hopkins, choosing to stay by your side ever since. A religious man, he’d led you in prayer before expeditions, had offered his rations to you when you were struggling for energy on particularly brutal missions. These shared sufferings had made him more of a brother than a colleague.

You nod slowly, a non-verbal acknowledgment of his question as your eyes continue to scan the treeline. It’s an obvious lie. There’s a cold sweat breaking out across the paling skin of your face, the camo uniform you wore clinging to your back and aiding in the claustrophobia washing over you despite being in a wide-open space.

Kane doesn’t argue, doesn’t even speak, instead opting to mirror your motions with a barely-there nod of his head. Guilt washes over you when you glance at him, taking in his uncharacteristically disheveled appearance. His hair, usually meticulously gelled back, falls in loose, messy ringlets around his head. He’s grown stubble after days of not shaving, and his skin is dirtied with dried blood and dirt. Most alarming are his eyes, bloodshot and almost wild, with deep purple under-eye circles that look as though the environment had beaten him down, bruising his skin with exhaustion. He looks unhinged.

Perhaps it was cruel to keep a secret from him, given the circumstances, but you can’t admit to him that you’re scared. That you’re angry with him. The sinking feeling that settled in your stomach upon seeing him sat at the back of the briefing room when Area-X called you in for assessment had made bile rise in your throat, his face the last you had wanted, or even expected, to see in the line up of those who were to take part in this suicide-mission into The Shimmer. Had you not been surrounded by your new platoon, you’d have throttled him in a last-ditch effort to shake some sense into him.

Kane is a talker, waxing lyrically for extended periods during previous late-night missions about his devotion to his ‘brilliantly clever’ and ‘exceedingly beautiful’ wife. Their relationship had been going strong for just over six years, and Kane still adored her with every fiber of his being. As far as you could discern, there was no logical explanation as to why he had signed up on this mission bar his infuriating savior complex.

“Hey, where you goin’?” Kane’s exhausted tone drags you back to reality, to The Shimmer. When you look at him again, there’s a concerned furrow on his brow. “I can’t have you goin’ inward like that, Angel, talk to me.”

A wretched laugh cuts through your throat before you’re able to swallow it down, the bitterness evident when paired with your sardonic expression. It wasn’t as though Kane was in any condition to hear your nihilistic, almost psychotic thoughts. He hadn’t been himself since the faux operation back in the pool at the military base.

“It’s hard to consider yourself ‘okay’ when I just saw my friend's guts move, Kane.” Your answer is brusque, skin-crawling fear pushing you beyond the ability to discuss your mental well-being reasonably. “Something isn’t right with this place! We’re… We’re losing it!”

Again, Kane nods slowly, like you voicing the swimming sensation in his brain had made its deteriorating condition a reality. Inside the iridescent walls of The Shimmer, all matter was breaking down, disintegrating and rebuilding itself- including your minds. You couldn’t shake that feeling, that shared consciousness within the blue and white tiled walls of the military pool, like all three brains had cross-contaminated each other’s thoughts. “I know, Angel. I know.”

An unsteady silence settles between the two of you, sparking like a static charge across the short distance separating your bodies. You’re scared that if your fingers brush it will be like a metal fork in a live plug socket, wholly frying you and setting your body alight. Maybe it’s the realization that it is unlikely that you’ll make it out of The Shimmer alive, if at all, that is causing your feelings for Kane to go into hyperdrive.

The sun is low in the sky, casting a golden glow against Kane’s face as you take in his weary manner. The urge to confess your love for him is intense after so many years of swallowing the bitter pill of rejection in order to support Kane’s love for Lena. The dying light makes him look youthful, almost, with gold banding in his ebony locks that you desperately want to comb your fingers through. It isn’t often you get to see his natural curls, as Kane always opted to gel his hair back against his skull. There were still shiny locks stuck down where the mousse clung to his temples-

“D’ya hear?” Again, Kane pulls you from your trance. You blink to find yourself staring directly at him, the concerned pull of his brow clearly displaying his uncertainty around your condition. When he notes your deadpan expression, he repeats his statement with a gentle tone. “I said we can set up camp at the next building we find. You look like you need some rest.”

“Y-Yeah. Yeah, I do,” you mumble weakly, rubbing at your eye socket with the heel of your palm as you fight back the extreme fatigue. Your legs, your fucking bones are screeching to lay down, to ease the burden of the military-grade backpack and the heavy weaponry you were hauling around with you. You certainly wouldn’t say no to laying down for the night, even if sleep was far beyond your reaches now.

————————————————————————

Nightfall in The Shimmer is easily the most horrendous of your experiences on this mission. While there is no gore, no visible creatures trying to drag you out into the blackness, the stars taunt you from the night sky as you suffer the psychological trial that the setting sun brings.

You’re almost certain that the crickets within the alien forest share their mutant genetic makeup with boom boxes, their screeches throughout the night loud and persistent enough to break down what little sanity you still desperately clung to. So much so, you’re sure you can hear their chirping ricocheting off the bone walls of the inside of your skull when you block your ears with your fingers.

Kane has noted your frustration, throwing needless apologetic looks your way from his spot at the window of the suburban house you had taken shelter in for the night. He had noted the home looked oddly familiar, and yet didn’t seem to be able to put his finger on it, stating the Deja vu the building evoked was a little unsettling. Lacking personal belongings, the bare furniture appeared undisturbed, abandoned for 15 years amongst the desolate Shimmer. While the dark grey paint on the outside of the house had peeled somewhat with age, it remained relatively unscathed by the wooded wasteland. Even plants grew in the flowerbed beneath the ground floor windows, despite their obvious abnormalities, bluebell-hydrangea hybrids splashing vibrant color across the otherwise monochrome house.

“D’ya think if I shoot at them they’ll shut up?” Kane mumbles, quiet in the dark so as to not startle you from your thoughts. He sounds exhausted, his voice cracking somewhat from lack of use for a few hours.

“They might,” you nod slowly, turning your head on the wooden floor to gaze at him. You can’t help but notice your voice doesn’t sound like your own, haggard and strained. “But I doubt that will be as a result of the shots as it would be the Thing the sound attracts.”

He chuckled weakly, the sound lacking any humor and instead edging on pained. It hurts you, works its way deep between your ribs, and settles in the tissue there like a stitch that sparks up your side. Kane had never looked so unhappy, so lost. The soft glow of the moonlight bathes his face in a silver-tone as he keeps watch at the window, washing him out and making him look paler and more tired than usual. His steady, almost hypnotic gaze settled on one spot on the lawn indicates he’s focused somewhere deep in thought now, within the recesses of his brain rather than on surveillance.

It starts creeping up your throat before you’re able to stop it, that burning question that had been twisting the pit of your stomach and filling you with dread more so than the horrific creatures that had picked off the team one by one. You swallow deeply and try to suppress the words before they form in your mouth but it’s too late, the syllables spilling from your cracked lips before you can press them shut.

“Why are you here, Kane?”

A heavy silence follows your pressing question. Kane doesn’t turn, doesn’t acknowledge your query with even the twitch of a finger. You can see his face reflected on the smooth surface of the window glass, his facial expression unmoving and his gaze firmly planted on that one spot on the lawn. You begin to think he hasn’t heard you, opening your mouth again to repeat the question until Kane lightly, barely shakes his head.

“Like you. I want to help.” Kane was never a good liar. Though he could sometimes be cheeky, almost crude, his religious upbringing weighed on him like mountains tied to his ankles. His conscience painted his face with dishonesty- you’d seen it first when he said he hadn’t taken the last of your favorite snacks in the canteen back in your first year working with him, only to swiftly admit his sins when you gave him a stern look that read ‘I know’.

Scoffing with a bitterness you forgot you were capable of, you sit up from the firm wooden floor, staring at your sergeant, your colleague, your friend through the darkness. “We have spent years together, Kane. I’ve spilled blood with you. Don’t you think I know you better than that?”

Further silence, this one weighing heavier than the last. That typical guilty look, the way it creases his t-zone with frown lines, and the downturn of his lips reflect back at you in the window, his eyes now flicking back and forth across the lush grass outside as he seemingly weighs up his options.

It’s the most conflicted you’d ever witnessed Kane. Usually, he threw himself into his decisions, almost recklessly. You and the platoon back with the Green Berets often laughed about his inability to think critically unless he was in the middle of a war zone. The chaos of warfare had suited him, it’s where he thrived- but this wasn’t war, it was alien.

“Kane, I just…” You hesitate for a moment, trying to compose the panic rising like bile in your throat. “I just want to understand. Seeing you sat in that briefing room when I walked in? I can’t explain-“

The truth was it had completely devastated you. Kane, over many years of tours, sharing rations and saving each other’s lives, had worked his way into your heart covertly. By the time you realized you loved him, he was five years deep into his marriage with Lena. Regardless of how agonizing you found it, you kept the disappointment, the yearning, buried deep within you, never wanting to compromise the happy family he was building with his wife. To see him grin like that, to listen to him ramble consistently about his undying adoration for Lena almost made the torment worthwhile. It was all that mattered.

So, to see him sat at the back of the Area-X briefing room that day with an empty stare had ripped your entire world from its roots. Knowing he was aware he was going to die in here with you, when he should have been home with Lena, should have been trying for the child he so desperately wanted with her makes you want to shoot him in his stupid fucking kneecaps. You wanted better for him, needed to understand why he would give all that up if he was so happy- wanted to know why your silent suffering of watching him live out your dream with someone else had been all for nothing.

You don’t have the energy to scream at him, don’t have the strength in your arms to hit him, to force the words out of him but the silence is more harrowing than the crickets that have been chipping away at your soundness of mind. Still, he contemplates his words, lips parting as he turns to face you, his jaw pulled taut with anguish while he weighs up the cost of his admission until he appears to be unable to retain his devastation any longer.

“She’s cheating on me.”

The gentle whisper with which Kane delivers this confession contrasts so deeply from the violent emotional turmoil that crashes across his visage. The shocked silence that follows is equally as torturous for him, knuckles white from his tight grip on the gun.

It’s as though the neurons in your brain cease fire all at once, leaving nothing but silent emptiness within the chasm of your skull. The anguish that floods through your chest is freezing cold, stilling the breath in your lungs as your stunned mind tries to translate exactly what Kane has told you. Surely you’d misheard him, maybe you were struggling to understand?

The slow shake of his head and the tightness of his jaw when he catches the disbelief in your frown and downturned lips causes your attempts to rationalize your surprise to halt almost immediately. You find yourself slumping back, steadying yourself to listen without pressuring your friend to clarify more than he was willing to disclose. Casting his eyes back out across the lawn of the house, Kane takes a shuddering breath as he braces himself to divulge the rest of the story to you.

“She… Uh- She met someone at work, y’know? Someone that understands her… brainy biology stuff.” He pauses to swallow down the emotions that were threatening to spill over. “They hit it off, or whatever, while we were on our last mission.”

That small detail makes your blood run hot, boiling beneath your skin. Your last mission was Iraq, defusing IEDs and rebellions alike. The two of you had been shot at in Baghdad- fuck, they’d fucking hit you, in the back! Kane had to sling you over his broad shoulders and high tail it out of the capital city streets. It had been a miracle he’d survived, ignoring your pleas to abandon you in order to bring you back to base. To think he was sacrificing his life, spilling blood for his country, and this bitch was fucking another man when you would never do that to him!

“Anyway!” Kane continues with a sharp inhale, his eyes still settled on those lush blades of grass outside. “She carried on as though nothin’ happened. Didn’t tell me or anythin’. I only found out two days before I left so I just… Set off a day early.”

It’s like no word your lips try to form around can convey your anger, could possibly explain your grief for him, for the time you’ve lost. You press your mouth in a thin line, struggling to your tired, blistered feet. He’s turning his memories over in his head, remembering the feeling of her in his arms. To think she made love to him when he returned from Iraq in the same bed where she was fucking another man?

Crossing the wooden flooring in your bare feet causes the old beams to creak under your weight. It doesn’t startle Kane, but the sound causes him to turn and look. He gazes at you in the darkness, the light of the moon barely illuminating his face enough for you to witness his wet eyes, the tear tracks running down his face.

“Kane,” you whimper, sympathy coiling around your tone like an unwanted embrace. He recoils from it, shaking his head with a shaky breath. Military life taught the both of you an invaluable yet toxic lesson; never talk about your emotions. It was harrowing, but bottling your feelings could be the difference between life and death in most war zones.

This was not most war zones, however, and this was no life-or-death situation. Only obliteration lay beyond The Shimmer, there was no known chance of survival. Perhaps it was silly, the child-like manifestation of your fear, but when you launch yourself forward to wrap your arms around his waist in a tight hold the beat of his heart against your ear soothes you like a lullaby. Kane is stiff at first, causing you to fear having crossed a boundary beyond friendly colleagues. You’d have pulled away, but Kane’s arm winds around your back to hold you impossibly closer to his chest. His palm settles against the base of your neck, fingertips resting delicately on the curve of your skull as you hear him inhale your scent, looking past the dirt, grime and blood to get to you.

Cradling you in his arms, he sways with your body gently. The movement rocks you into a sense of security that should be impossible for a place as horrific and desolate as The Shimmer, his lips on your hairline pressing gentle kisses that warm your skin from the inside. The tip of his nose nudges into the grimey strands of your hair, and the delicate touch is enough to force tears to your eyes because for once, the crickets don’t sound so loud, and your legs don’t ache as much.

The bliss is short-lived, however, his kisses trailing off as he moves his lips to the shell of your ear. “I’m going to go to the lighthouse tomorrow, Angel. Alone.” The final destination, the epicenter of The Shimmer. The closer you got to the lighthouse, the more dangerous things got.

Waiting for the punchline, you focus on the thumping of his heart, counting between the beats like you were numbering sheep. One, two. One, two. It takes at least ten contractions until you realize there is no gag, that he is entirely serious about leaving you here to finish the mission on his own. Find the reason for the Shimmer.

“You can’t be serious, Kane-“

“I am.”

The silence that follows is charged, his fingers gentle digging into your forearms as he pulls back. You’re staring into his eyes, those stunning eyes that you’d dreamed of every night for years and god they’re looking at you with such adoration.

“You’re gonna stay here and wait for me while I take on whatever the fuck is killin’ everyone and get us the fuck out of here.” He’s speaking with such conviction, that patriotic bullshit he would always spin when he knew he was in deep shit in a mission gone south. There’s no arguing with him, no talking him down with the way his intense, fixed look held you in place. He’d strap you to a fucking chair and leave you there if he had to, all so you didn’t come to harm- fucking dumbass.

“Oh yeah? You and what army?” You speak, voice breaking slightly in the knowledge he probably wasn’t coming back, that you’d just be sat in this house going fucking mental as you waited for a dead man until the creatures, or god forbid the insanity, takes you.

“Well. It’s just us,” he points out the obvious, searching your eyes for something you can’t explain. Within seconds he’s found it, that same cheeky grin you loved him for spread across his dehydrated lips, paired with a charming wink. “But that’s never failed us so far, has it?”

Just like so many times before, he pulls laughter from your tears and you hold him even tighter as the sun begins to paint the skyline a faint orange.

____________________________________________

Golden sunshine bathes your face in a warm flush as you sit beside the flowerbed that lies outside the window in the dying light of daytime. The bluebells have surpassed a violet shade and bloomed into a stunning cobalt color, far beyond nature's capacity outside the bizarre walls of The Shimmer. Hundreds of little blue heads blossom into a sea of azure, painting the otherwise green landscape with the striking color.

Beside them, in the saturated soil, grows something substantially less beautiful. Mushrooms sprout from the ground, their grey-green caps turning outwards at the edges. They ooze a strange milky-yellow color from their gills, reminiscent of putrefied corpses. The fungi are unseemly in the gorgeous garden, alien. It’s hard to suppress the thought that flowers in your exhausted brain; the garden is not that dissimilar to The Shimmer itself, dazzlingly beautiful on the surface yet horrifically twisted beneath the facade it had intricately built.

Closing your eyes to relish in the sunshine, you try to remember how long it had been since Kane had left for the lighthouse. You’d seen the sunrise four times since he exited the house through the front door. Given the lighthouse was all of a two-hour journey, you fought the intrusive comments your brain would make about Kane having died already in the relative silence of the lawn- by this time you had grown used to the shrill trilling of the crickets.

Kane’s constant hold throughout the night before he left had made it so you’d fallen asleep against his chest, counting the thudding of his heart until you were lulled into unconsciousness by the gentle smoothing of his palm against the curve of your head. You couldn’t be sure, but you guessed he hadn’t got a wink of sleep in order to maintain watch throughout the night for you to gain some much-needed rest. Kane was selfless like that, always putting you, or anyone else for that matter, before his comfort.

The morning after he had woken you with a gentle kiss to your temple. You’d been groggy, barely able to open your eyes against the oppressive exhaustion that kept your mind swimming in the dream world that clung tightly to you.

“I’m headin’ off now,” He had whispered gently into your hairline, doing his best not to disturb your slumber.

“Kane-“

”No no, Angel. Don’t let me bother you. I’ll be back by midday at the latest.” You remember thinking how odd the whole interaction was, as though he was simply returning to a nine-to-five office job back at home, not entering a suicide mission from which he might never return.

Perhaps you should have ignored his reassurance, should have sat up and begged him to stay, clung to his shins and weighed his feet down with your body weight. It was so hard to describe, but the weariness practically swept you away, and you were slipping into senselessness before you could begin to argue with him.

Four days later you find yourself beginning to regret not having fought with him, or at least tried to convince Kane to take you with him. The room in which you had set up the sleeping bags felt cold and unsafe, even with a chair hooked under the door handle to bolt it in place. Loneliness had set in only hours after he left, your ears missing the timbre of his voice as he rambled aimlessly to fill in the blank space.

The reality was you were starting to lose grip on reality in the quiet. You’d already been clinging onto weathered threads of sanity before Kane’s departure, but the effects of the brutal environment were accelerated in your solitude. The persistent sensation of your fingertips moving had progressed, the skin of your arms irritated as though the fucking crickets were crawling beneath your flesh.

Horrifying intrusive thoughts would worm their way into your mind in the silence. Echoes of Mayer’s pained grunts as Kane sliced into his abdomen rung through your ears, the slick, wet sound of his intestines twisting in his guts causing you to gag frequently throughout the day. It was hopeless for your body to attempt to expel food, however. You hadn’t consumed any of your rations in three days.

Worst of your symptoms were the effects of sleep deprivation. Two whole days into your conscious rebellion against sleep had been celebrated with hallucinations of plants pushing their way through the skin of your wrists. Cultured by the flow of your blood flooding your veins, these green blades of grass and strands of ivy wound their way up to your forearms, decorating your skin like evergreen bangles. When you glanced away from the putrid mushrooms to examine your hands now, you discovered the natural ‘jewelry’ had subsided despite having been there only moments ago, the skin of your arms utterly bare.

Snap

It’s like tripping when coming down a set of stairs. The panic freezes your blood cells in place, a chill bursting from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes. The shock appears to still you in your position on your knees, muscles so tense with fear that you can’t force them into action. The crack of the twig had sounded from behind you, amongst the forest line.

No amount of military training could prepare your already fragile mind to twist your torso in order to investigate the source of the noise. Paranoia had taken hold, your body's flight response triggered before the logical half of your fractured brain could kick into gear.

Slowly, you lower your upper body into the grass, chest pressed to the floor in order to get as low to the ground as possible. If it was a creature, you couldn’t risk it seeing you make a break for it. You had a better chance of surviving if you took your escape slowly, steadily. Without turning your head to assess the threat, you sink your nails into the damp, cold soil beneath you before dragging yourself towards the door of the house.

It’s like the sound of the friction between you and the ground as you pull yourself to the doorstep is too loud, as though the horrifically loud crickets that had tormented you had all ceased to sound in order for the creature to hear the blades of grass snapping beneath the abrasion of your body. If that didn’t give you away, the panicked heaving of the air being sucked into your lungs certainly had.

Despite the odds, still refusing to look behind you in case the creature was so horrific it froze your terrified body in place, you manage to heave yourself to the step, raise back up onto your knees and grab ahold of the handle to the front door with shaking hands. On the count of three, you shove the heavy wooden door open, scrambling to your feet and launching yourself into the corridor and across the safety of the threshold.

Twisting on your heel, you reach with flat palms to push the door so hard it creaks on its hinges. It takes only a second for the door to slam with a bang, but the solitary moment is enough for you to take a look behind you. It’s no creature at all. Amongst the treeline is the silhouette of a man, pitch-black thanks to the poor lighting of the setting sun and standing perfectly still with its hands behind its sides. The unexpected shock is enough to send you into a frenzied terror, hurtling up the stairs faster than your feet could carry you.

There’s no use in being quiet now, your dread taking ahold of your bodily functions. The thud of your feet against each of the steps of the staircase almost reverberates throughout the wood, the banister vibrating under your palm as you clung to it desperately. The support doesn’t prevent you from tripping, missing a step and falling on your patella on the rounded edge of the wooden staircase.

Sharp pain shoots up your thigh and you clutch at your throbbing knee with tears in your eyes. Desperately self-soothing, you rub at the afflicted area with your palm to ease the discomfort enough to be able to continue your escape. The strain of the metal latch in the front door has you springing back into action when you glance over your shoulder to find the brass handle twisting downwards.

“Fuck fuck fuck-“ you ramble in distress, managing to haul yourself up the stairs and onto the landing area before the door opens. The machine gun you had brought with you stands in its place against the wardrobe in the master bedroom, your only truly devastating weapon that you could use to protect yourself against the genetically modified creatures of The Shimmer forest. Grabbing at the cold metal of the barrel that leans against the wood of the cabinet, you set it up expertly so it is ready to fire before opening the wardrobe and crawling inside with the weapon.

Shuddering breaths you expel from your lungs appear to ricochet in the wooden shell of the cupboard, your exhales barely appearing like your own as the sound enters your ears. It does little, however, to drown out the horrifying sound of the man raising himself onto the first step of the staircase.

The wood creaks throughout the silent house under his body weight with each advancing step, like some kind of creepy xylophone. Thrumming in your chest, your heart is tight against your ribcage and seizing up in fear. Your breathing is labored still, more panicked as he proceeds up the staircase and across the landing with purpose.

When he crosses the threshold of the master bedroom door, the threatening man pauses in the middle of the floor. You can see his upper body through the crack in the wardrobe, his face obscured by the poor lighting. He’s wearing a khaki cotton T-shirt that clings to his defined pectorals and a pair of camo-patterned cargo pants- military gear. Still, you find yourself afraid, having realized just days into your expedition that nothing in The Shimmer is as it seems.

Fear grips you. Desperately clinging onto the M4A1 carbine gun, you ignore the instinct to cover your mouth with your palm with the intention of smothering your heavy breathing and ultimately leaving you at risk of being caught out with your hands off your gun. Before you even have a chance to get your finger firmly on the trigger, the man goes from stock-still to springing into action, turning on his ankle suddenly and practically ripping the wardrobe doors off their hinges to get to you.

The horrified scream you let out chokes up abruptly on your lips almost as quickly as it started when you find yourself gazing back into the familiar sight of Kane’s stunning earthy irises. You always thought they looked like soil after it had rained, warm, and full of life. Immediately the terror is washed away by a flood of relief as you scramble to your knees, tears welling in your eyes as you sob out his name.

“Kane! Oh fuck, I thought I lost you!” Days of not using your voice and the intense emotions you feel make your tone croaky as you wrap your arms around his waist and hold your friend, the love of your life, to your body. Perhaps he speaks, but you don’t hear him over your loud weeping while you cling to him as though you’re afraid that releasing him means you’ll lose him for good.

You don’t feel him hold you as you cry into the fabric of his T-shirt, his hands still at his sides as you release the anxiety of the past four days in the form of a dark, damp puddle of tears into the khaki material you have buried your face into. Normally Kane would console you, whisper in your ear and tell you everything is going to be okay, but you assume he’s tired and possibly injured as you embrace him tightly.

“I was so worried about you, you were gone for so long!” You repeat with a weak smile and broken voice, your nervousness alleviating when pulling back to look him in the face again. He looks exhausted, his previously rich brown eyes hollow and off-color as they trail over your face and take in each intricate detail. There is mud smeared in his beard and blood caked in his hairline at the front of his forehead, but there appears to be no serious injury.

“Angel?” His tone is all off, lifeless and almost robotic when he questions you. You’d be lying if you said that it didn’t throw you off, the lack of emotion he presents to you, but he truly looks as though he’s going to fall to his knees in enervation, fingers flexing at his hips.

“Yes-“ You’re barely able to get the singular syllable out of your mouth before his fingers take a firm hold of your jaw, tilting your head up quickly with a bruising grip and pressing a heated kiss to your dehydrated lips. The muscles in your eyelids practically strain with the way your eyes widen in shock. It’s as though he winds you, the air in your lungs exhaled through your nose all at once at the heavy press of his mouth against your own, his arms finally moving from his sides to wind around your waist.

His hand is rough on your jaw, calloused fingertips pressing hard into the skin against the bone and bruising the curling pattern of his fingerprint into your skin. Kane kisses you like he intends to breathe you in, intense and brutal and needy. His coarse beard scratches at your face, nose pressing into your cheek as his teeth sink into your lower lip. The pain is syrupy sweet, flushing your abdomen with white-hot arousal and sparking your otherwise paralyzed body into action.

Kane had never shown any true interest in you before this moment, but his lips against yours after days of intense loneliness and a slow, agonizing fall into insanity had you pushing aside all logic and regard for his (now failing) marriage to enjoy the press of his body against yours. The terror he had set in you only moments ago appears to have heightened your arousal, cunt seizing when you feel his erection push into your thigh through the material of your cargo pants.

There’s a vicious need settling between the two of you, heady and rough. Kane’s hands are gripping at your flesh with painful grasps, his hold on your ass enough to imprint the outline of the wingspan of his palm into the skin in the form of a purple bruise. Maybe you should put up a fight, but when Kane practically tackles you to your knees on the hard-wood floor you can’t summon anything other than a broken moan of his name at the loss of his lips against your own.

Anticipation creeps up the base of your spine as you crane your neck to look Kane in the eyes. He’s deadpan while he stands over you, expression cold as he holds your gaze. Perhaps it should have been somewhat of a red flag with a neon sign that read ‘danger’ with three exclamation points, but your brain seems slow to connect the dots when you see the obscure glimmer in his irises. It reminds you of light refracting in a bubble, faint rainbows spiraling across the surface.

You would question it, the inquiry painted across your tongue as you open your mouth to ask what on earth was wrong with his eyes, but Kane throws you off guard, taking a long sweeping step behind you and out of your line of sight. The attempt to twist your head in order to look at him is fruitless, the tips of his fingers connecting with the soft flesh behind your earlobe acting as the trigger for an Error 505 code for your body - ‘The server encountered an internal error or misconfiguration’.

Trailing his touch across the length of your neck, he traces your jugular down to the apex of your collarbone before settling your throat just beneath your chin between his forefinger and thumb. Your skin erupts in goosebumps despite the oppressive heat he’s drawing from you as he pushes his prints against your pulse points. Shuddering breaths vibrate against his palm as he begins to squeeze, slowly, intimately limiting your oxygen intake.

“F-Fuck- Kane,” you whisper throatily to the wall, unable to look behind you. In your lower peripheral vision, you’re aware of his knees coming into view on either side of your waist thanks to the green of his army-issue camo print cargo pants. Realizing that he’s crouching behind you so your body is settled between his thighs, you squeeze your eyes shut when he uses his grip on your vulnerable throat to push your back against his muscular chest. It shouldn’t excite you as much as it does, but you’re throbbing between your thighs, soaking your panties with need.

Subtle burning sets into your lungs, your limited oxygen intake enough to settle raw excitement through you but not enough to cause you to panic. Kane’s free hand snakes around the waistband of your pants, roughly undoing the button that sits just above your navel and ripping down the zipper with a harsh ‘ziiip’. Gasping weakly against the hold he has on your throat, you’d offer to shimmy the pants down your hips, but Kane has other plans. He uses his hold on you to push upwards on the soft underside of your chin, ultimately lifting you onto your knees in order to rip the trousers over your hips with his brute strength. He doesn’t bother to pull them off entirely, the fabric of your waistband bunched up just above the junction of your knees.

Air floods your lungs with a sharp inhale of breath when he lets go of your neck in order to push you forward onto your chest against the floor. The sudden influx of oxygen makes your mind swim, nerves thrumming with need. Exposed to the cool room, you can feel the slick of your arousal smearing the insides of your thighs, sticking them together. You don’t have time to think about it, to get embarrassed about your obvious desperation because Kane is sweeping his fingers through the wetness and the clink of his belt buckle catches your attention.

Fuck, you’re so fucking ready. The cold softwood flooring is uncomfortable as you rest your head against it, cheekbone already sore but you don’t have it in you to complain, submitting yourself entirely to Kane’s advances as you eagerly await the sensation of his dick splitting you open. You don’t dare to help him remove your panties, keeping your palms firmly against the floor both sides of your head.

You’re thankful you do, or you’d have missed the impossibly sexy sensation of Kane’s strong hands taking hold of the waistband and ripping the fabric open with a loud tear. You flinch, a moan slipping from your throat as he works to split the fabric of the crotch too, his knuckles brushing across your slick pussy lips as he does.

“Oh fuck, Kane please-“

“Open.” The one-word order causes your stomach to flip, your pussy to clench around nothing. His tone is bordering on authoritative, like the clipped intonation he’d use for soldiers lower down the rank than him back at base. You’re vaguely aware of him crowding your space as he crouches over you, fingers winding into your hair at the base of your skull for leverage as he yanks your head back towards him.

Instinctively, your mouth falls open with a sound mixed somewhere between a yelp of pain and a whine of pleasure. Kane doesn’t waste his time, pushing the damp fabric of your cotton panties against your tongue. His fingers work the material inside your mouth, effectively gagging you. The heady taste of your arousal floods your tongue, and you can’t help the way your eyes roll back at your own taste. You’d never imagined Kane to be this crude, but you fucking love it.

Pushing your hand beside your face out of the way, Kane plants his own palm in its place for balance. The face of the electronic watch he wears on his wrist is pointed towards you. The screen is distorted, no longer able to tell the time or the date. It’s a quick reminder of where you are, the threat you face and the fact that Kane is just going to fuck you here anyway because he wants to… Who were you to deny him?

You’re ripped from your thoughts when you feel Kane notch the head of his cock up against your opening, sweeping through the dripping wet folds of your pussy to push up at just the right angle. He’s taken ahold of your hips, pulling your lower body up by making you balance on your knees and forcing your back into a perfect arch for him.

“Mpfh-“ you struggle against the fabric in your mouth in an attempt to moan Kane’s name, the following squeal that he draws from you as he sinks into you high pitched and needy. The intrusion is incredible, stretching you out on the width of his cock as he pushes into you quickly. He doesn’t ease into you, opting instead to force his way into you and causing you to push your hips back, flush against his own until he’s suddenly bottoming out and pressing up against your cervix.

Kane’s other hand settles against your vertebrae between your shoulder blades, pinning your upper body to the floor to make the arch in your back almost painful- but fuck if it isn’t blissful. He’s pulling out of your sopping cunt with an obscene wet sound, before setting an immediate brutal pace, fucking into you hard and sharp and savage.

Even in your rooted position thanks to the force with which he holds you down, Kane’s ferocious snap of his hips has your body jolting against the floor, splinters from the wood digging into the exposed skin of your lower abdomen. The biting pain somehow adds to the devastating arousal that rocks through you when he manages to find your g-spot with little difficulty, ramming up against it with each thrust. You want to scream his name, to curse him out for making you feel so much so fast but you can only manage a muffled wail of ecstasy.

The brutality of his thrusts appears to pick up with each push into your heat, the sound of his balls slapping against you echoing in the empty room. The pleasure is overwhelming, flooding through you with each notch against that obliterating spot inside of you that has your toes curling in your combat boots. Your fingers wind around the wrist beside your face, digging your nails into the flesh of his forearm as he draws moan after moan from your throat despite the makeshift gag that muffled your noises.

Jaw falling open as he sets to spear your g-spot wickedly with each merciless clap of his hips against yours, the gag comes loose. You’re sobbing, tears streaming down your cheeks as you work your tongue to push the damp panties from your mouth with a desperate need to tell Kane just how fucking good he’s working your cunt-

All you can manage is a pitiful, salacious whine as Kane breaches the tight ring of muscles between your ass cheeks with little warning or delicacy. He’s clearly coated his finger with his spit, your cum, or something because the slick digit slips inside you down to his knuckle, filling you up more than you ever thought possible as you babble his name over and over with a new level of pleasure-laced anguish.

Twitching inside your cunt, his dick continues to pound into you as he pushes his finger in and out of you, refusing to allow you to adjust to being penetrated in two places all at once. You’re clamping down on his cock, on his finger, body chasing after the high you had waited years to obtain from him. It’s building your orgasm quicker than you realize, faster than you can stave off.

Kane still hasn’t spoken despite your pathetic calls of his name, the only sound you can pick up over the sound of his cock devastating your cunt is his heavy breaths as he exerts himself for your pleasure. Your nails are sinking into the creases of the floorboards, your throat ragged and broken as you cry out against the surge of your orgasm.

Kane’s hand gives way beside your head to balance on his elbow against the floor. It brings his chest closer to your back, angling your hips up sharply as he pounds into you at a new, obliterating angle. Leaning on his elbow allows him to stretch his palm across your throat once more, squeezing your windpipe harder than last time and obstructing your airway. You’re so breathless that it only takes a handful of seconds and a few punishing thrusts of his cock into you for your vision to begin fading black around the edges.

You claw at his wrist, the sounds of your sobs catching in your squished throat, but you’re not telling him to stop- you’re desperately trying to cling onto him as your orgasm rears up suddenly.

“One… Two…” Kane begins to count his thrusts, the intense pace suddenly slowing down to singular, brutal snaps of his hips. Despite his breathlessness, there’s a firm certainty in his flat voice. You feel the slow drag of him pulling out of you before plunging back in with a force so hard that your knees scrape against the flooring.

“Six… Seven…” The blunt tip of his cock punches your cervix and your abused g-spot along with it, your lack of oxygen making your head feel like it’s going to burst. The veins in the back of your hands are protruding, blue and raised as your body fights the deficiency.

“… Ten.” He lets you go and the sudden, needy intake of breath causes a flood of intense tingling over your body. Your spasming cunt tightens around the girth of his cock, gripping him right as the spark bursts through you with devastating impact. You’re convulsing in bliss, flooding his pulsing dick and his curling index finger as your jaw drops open with a cry of his name. It’s blazing hot, your clit throbbing at the intensity of the orgasm without having even been touched.

You’re certain your nails have scratched the wrist of the hand around your throat raw, blood smearing underneath your fingertips from where you have broken the skins as he continues to brutalize your cunt. Thighs shuddering beneath you, it’s like you’re unable to force the muscles there to work and you find your hips slumping forward without his support.

Kane is quick to slip his finger from your tight ring of muscles to grab your hips with his newly freed hand, sitting up and away from your back to allow him to hold them in place just long enough for him to settle his cock deep within your fluttering pussy and cum inside of you with the only low groan you hear from his mouth.

It’s like he’s filling you forever, flooding you with his warm cum until it’s dripping out of you, running down the back of your thighs. Your eyes roll back, a blissful whine working its way from you as he slowwwly fucks the leaking cum back into your aching cunt as deep as he can get it. He’s sensitive, hissing softly as he finally eases his dick from you, eyes settled on the way your walls clench around nothing- as though they miss him already.

When he brushes up the escaped cum coating the insides of your thighs with his fingers and pushes even those remnants of him back inside to ensure not one drop is wasted, you have to quietly beg him to stop in a croaky voice, so overstimulated that you can barely see straight with the way your eyes seem to cross. “Ka-Kane, oh fuck… Please-“

Pulses of your afterglow ripple through your bones as he finally steps away from you, out of your line of vision, and you allow yourself to close your eyes to revel in the exhausted bliss he leaves you in. It’s like you’re hyper-aware of your body from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes, lips parted as you pant through your open mouth to ease your burning lungs.

“Rest.” Another one-word order. It’s not as though you can argue with Kane, truly consumed with weariness after having skipped four nights of sleep and having been fucked into oblivion by the love of your life. It certainly wasn’t how you’d expected your coupling to go- if at all- but you can’t help the warmth that spreads through you knowing he had initiated it. That he liked you too.

Sleep grips you with that thought, the relief of knowing you weren’t alone in your yearning enough to finally ease your unsettled mind into the gentle oblivion of rest.

____________________________________________

Stark white walls of the quarantine zone inside Area-X make the fluorescent lights that hang above your head ever more blinding. You wince slightly, struggling to stare back at the man, the Thing, sitting on a gurney bed before you despite your eyelashes trying to block out the intense lighting.

Much like the initial days following your entry into The Simmer, the journey back to the outside world, back to a world without shark-alligator hybrids or bizarre corpse-like mushrooms, was a bit of a mystery to you. There was no recollection, not even foggy memories of how you had managed to find your way back, or the trials you had faced in order to return from the unsurvivable Shimmer.

Scientists and military officials were the first things you had seen when you came to, flitting around you and forcing you into an unprompted inquisition. Despite doing your best to answer their multi-layered queries, it was hard to recall memories and recount the horrific days you survived given the semi-automatic machine guns trained on your temples.

It wasn’t as though you blamed them. You and Kane were the first to survive the inhospitable land beyond the iridescent walls, they had every right to be afraid of you. When they deduced you weren’t a threat, they worked to inform you that you had been beyond the threshold for over fourteen months and that they had given up any hope that any member of the last expedition would return alive. Despite your insistence that you were only gone a week, the digital devices they had shown you clearly stated that a year had passed, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to argue much more than that.

In your quarantine room, you had spent many nights on your back on the mattress of your own gurney bed after the scientists had run multiple tests and experiments, staring up at the ceiling and recalling parts of your journey. Mayer’s moving guts, creatures beyond all reasonable explanations of science, Kane’s reason for joining the mission, the frenzied coupling after his return from the lighthouse… And his coruscating eyes as he pushed his cum back inside of you before you slept.

A ghastly realization that had taken over your bruised and battered body in the silence of your sterilized room was the reason you stood before Kane in your hospital nightgown now, the room encased by plastic walls not that dissimilar to those you had awoken to upon your arrival back to Area-X.

He’s gazing at you with those same glittering eyes, rainbow refractions sparkling through his irises as his expression remains perfectly still. Unlike you, whose body is covered in multiple contusions and blossoming bruises, Kane appears untouched- almost perfect. Not a hair is out of place, and the split in his hairline that had been there the night he returned to you had disappeared. He looks almost waxy, like a marble figure at a museum.

“You’re not Kane,” you manage with a shaky voice, nausea settling deep in the pits of your stomach and threatening to overcome you. The epiphany had taken root in you a few hours ago, having overheard the team of scientists discussing the planning for an ultrasound. All it had taken was a few recollections of the night he had taken you and comparisons of his personality before and after he’d left for the lighthouse for you to resign to the truth.

‘Kane’ hesitates for a moment, those shimmering eyes passing slowly over your body. His gaze is almost ice-cold, and his answer feels as though someone dumps freezing water over your abused body. “I don’t think so…”

Silence follows his- the Things admittance. Devastation rips through you at the knowledge that whatever it is has probably killed your Kane, has destroyed him, and taken his place in life- a carbon copy. You’re not sure how you figured it out, call it divine intuition and a bit of luck, but whatever it was planned to populate the world with its offspring - explaining its desperation to ensure you were full following the coupling, using your love for Kane to obtain exactly what it wanted- a surrogate. You push aside the new wave of nausea that washes over you, swallowing the bile that rises in your throat and glancing down at your hands.

Those tiny whirlpools on your fingertips continue to spin slowly.

“He loved you, you know.” It says with a level of conviction that has you almost believing it in your desperate, vulnerable condition, fear and grief blurring the lines in your mind and once again overlooking the ‘danger, red flag’ neon lights in your brain in order to find some level of comfort in the creature's words.

“You know that?” You croak.

“I can feel it.“ The creature watches as you put two and two together. It hasn’t just copied him, the thing has absorbed him. Has obtained not only his appearance but his memories- a mixture of part of Kane’s genetics and consciousness.

The terror and disgust that the Thing had sparked in you subsided slightly with this understanding, replacing your fear with a feeling of numbness. Your Kane, the sweet, funny, loveable Kane that prayed with you on military expeditions and held you when you were sad was gone, obliterated by The Shimmer. You had left with a shell of your Kane, filled instead with something far beyond your comprehension.

Perhaps it was the emotional distress, the irreversible damage your sanity had sustained inside the opalescent walls that had followed you beyond them, but you find yourself unable to alert the soldiers beyond the door to the existential threat that sat before you, looking up at you with Kane’s gorgeous eyes.

It looked like Kane, held you like Kane, and even smelt like him. As you work your way into the creature’s lap, encased by its arms, you note that it may not be the Kane you knew, instead your Kane was a part of it, and that you loved Kane enough to settle for even a slither of the man he used to be, in the shell of an extraterrestrial being that had the ability to annihilate humanity. You had waited for many years to have Kane to yourself, waited your turn for many years to call him yours. Now you could, even if it was only part of him.

“It’s okay Angel.” It speaks softly against the shell of your ear, in Kane’s warm voice, “It’s just us now. But that’s never failed us before, has it?”

END

Authors note: this was a really fun fic to write. Though I know it won’t gain much traction, I believe it is so important to write what you want and focus on different themes in an attempt to grow as a writer. I hope you enjoyed, and look after yourself if you have faced any themes inside this piece that are uncomfortable for you.

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