#fuck gore posters
Text
Wishing everyone who posts pictures of mutilated and fucking dead children from the attack on Gaza a very i hope you fucking die.
Edit: after about 24 hrs, it seems this problem has been resolved. Please exercise caution as this could happen again but guest and pro Palestinian suggested videos and gore videos that were posted in pro Palestinian tags have been removed after mass reports.
WARNING!! THIS IS IMPORTANT!!!
Zionists and Trolls are posting copious amounts of gore and mutilated bodies from the attacks on gaza on TikTok!!!
It is uncensored gore of children and adults and if you don't see a problem with this blatant disrespect of the dead, don't fucking follow me!
These videos are not being published with any warnings and are not being published with the consent or in support of Palestinians! They are being posted to horrify people and silence them!
If you are triggered by gore or multilation, DO NOT GO ON TIKTOK RIGHT NOW!! There are hundreds of videos being mass uploaded and they are on people's fyps being tagged to intentionally show up in the feeds of people who support Palestine!!
Again DO NOT GO ON TIKTOK RIGHT NOW.
If you choose to, you take a risk on seeing these videos, the fyp is turning into LiveLeak with bodies being shown with zero blocking out, blurring or sheets to cover them. If you come across these videos, make sure you report them if you are mentally capable of doing so.
Please reblog this so others can be warned.
#clover speaks#i just came across multiple videos and despite me and others reporting them nothing is happening#if you even breathe a whisper of calling me antisemitic or saying im turning away from the reality of genocide#i am going to strangle you with my native American and native canadian hands#showing people gore will not stop genocide#it will trigger them and make them abandon things#i used to use liveleak and equally upsetting things to self harm and just because its important people know how bad it truely is#dose not excuse disrespecting the bodies of these children by posting them nor triggering and upsetting others unnecessarily#fuck gore posters#i wanna tag other big blogs rn but i dont wanna trigger anybody#so im not going to#but please reblog this so others know#i got 3 videos in an hour just scrolling my fyp and that's concerning#all were tagged as free palastine or anti isreal or other tags realted to palastinian freedom
111 notes
·
View notes
Text
There’s a post going around recently about how the whump community tags for disabled characters and I…have to disagree with its main point.
Simply tagging a post with ‘disabled whumpee’ does not give me enough information to know if a fic will be validating or triggering for me. I need more specific tags to filter out my squicks and triggers, and to identify posts of interest. Specific tags are the keystone of a community that specifically talks about potentially triggering or upsetting content.
For example, I like reading stories with characters that use prostheses and mobility aids. I find these stories relatable and validating as someone with both! But should those posts simply be tagged ‘disabled whumpee’ because it might conflict with the other users of the mobility aids and prostheses tags? I can only find out the nature of the whumpee’s disability by reading, and a negative outcome can at best turn out to be a waste of time or at worst deeply upsetting.
Cancer is a difficult topic for me given my past and current experiences with it. I have the cancer tag and a dozen variants of it blocked. Of course, people on tumblr with cancer or talking about their experiences with it use that tag to talk about it. If someone is writing about a character who has or had cancer, but only tags for ‘disabled whumpee’ I won’t know that I’m getting into a story that will cause me great distress.
I’m disabled. I have severe nerve damage, limited mobility, chronic pain, a plethora of other medical bullshit, and my condition is progressive. Whump is part of how I’ve been learning to deal with and process my struggles, and part of that involves writing and reading about disability in whump.
Do I just block all ‘disabled whumpee’ content and never know if I’m clicking on a story I’ll find relatable and validating or if I’m clicking on a story that will upset me so badly I won’t use tumblr for a few days? No - I block specific tags and specific blogs as necessary. The idea that we should stop using specific tags, when writing about a specific condition or disease, to put everything under one vague blanket is naive at best and dangerous at worst.
I understand the frustration of seeing posts you don’t want to see in a specific tag (the number of x reader headcanon blogs for fandoms I’ve never heard of that I’ve had to block when trying to browse is ridiculous). But at the end of the day if those posts are tagged appropriately (ie. not crosstagged spam in violation of the TOS) you just do what you always do for something you don’t want to see on this site: blacklist, block, and move on.
#whump#whump community#tagging etiquette#beans speaks#it’s fine if you disagree/are changing how you tag your disabled whumpee writing but I’m not so please feel free to block me (genuine)#if you see me in a specific tag you don’t want to see whump writing in#I understand where that post is coming from but also. is we stop tagging specific tags. how the fuck am I supposed to avoid my triggers???#I just don’t understand tumblr’s block and blacklist options are wayyy more effective than they’ve ever been.#and I don’t see how tagging a post that contains the depiction of apples would be clogging the apple tag? it’s an appropriate use of the tag#do I want to see posts about the fictional mlp character applejack when browsing the apple tag? probably not.#but I understand why the tag search included those posts and why the poster tagged the post with such. I block them and move on.#my blood sugar is low sorry if this is rambly and incoherent and. I don’t know stupid or insensitive?#disabled people are not a monolith we all have different opinions and preferences for how we interact with the topic of our disabilities#and removing specificity for the sake of…inconvenience just seems silly#sorry I haven’t read that post in a few days I might sound like a complete asshole in which case idk send gore and death threats I guess#I haven’t done tumblr discourse since 2015. do people still send KYS or is it all kungpowpenis these days?
15 notes
·
View notes
Text
I like to imagine mika has a collection of gore pict
never mind post cancelled i remembered it's canon that he does collect "scary" pictures/posters to plaster up on his walls
#well this is a joke post but#i like to think he does have a secret collection of fucked up gore♡ not just scary posters#i think he'd like that poster for the horror house i see every once in a while round here. i still wanna know what that's ab#but he'd enjoy it... the poster is of a teddy bear all bloody and beaten with a huge pin in its head or smth like that......#ensemble stars
20 notes
·
View notes
Text
(Wakes up in a cold sweat) WAS IT HAPPY TREE FRIENDS. WAS IT HAPPY FUCKING TREE FRIENDS. CHRIST. IS THAT WHAT GAVE ME MY BLOOD AND GORE TRIGGER? I REMEMBER BEING SUPER YOUNG AND MY SIBLINGS TORMENTING ME BY SHOWING IT TO ME. I WOULD BE SHAKING AT THE COMPUTER WATCHING EYES GET CUT OUT AND SQUEEZED INTO LEMONADE OR SHIT LIKE THAT.
#me: this is so fucked up none of my traumas happened early enough to have that affect on me?#me randomly remembering happy tree friends exists because a local cafe has a poster of it up: holy shit#ive cracked the fucking case#do NOT show your younger sibling happy tree friends they will end up w a very bad blood and gore trigger that still affects them years late#*later#personal#gore tw
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
Gotta love that title. Lots of fun posters too. The studio that produced it is called Dopest Shit Ever, which is fucking great, and their tagine is "No budget horror for life." Noice 😁 I actually bought this silly piece of shit a few years back but had to return it because it wouldn't play in my player. In hindsight, I know now it was my device, not the DVD. My bad. But was it worth the $15 I (would have) paid for it? Tough call. It's funny in a dumb and cringy way. There's definitely some attractive figures and consistent nudity, but the girls were pretty lowbrow; nothing I can't live without in my collection. The creature looked OK in a "it's kinda funny looking" kinda way, but the gore was wanting. I'd say I'd definitely watch this again for the nudity and the thick ass in jean shorts, but only after it's been so long that I can't even remember what I liked about it in the first place. At that point it'd be worth a rewatch for sure. So, $15? Maybe. If you just collect weird, indy shit-flicks, then sure. But you can watch it for free w/adds on Vudu, or buy/rent the digital copy for $7.99/2.99. The way I rate movies I watch is if it's a 6 or higher that means I'd watch it again. It's kinda ridiculous to give this piece of shit a 6 but, I gotta stay true to the system so, yeah. But the rest of the movie-critic masses averaged this one out to a 2.8 from 1289 votes, so, do with that as you will.
#don't fuck in the woods#Low-budget horror#b-movie horror#lowbrow#b movie#horror movie posters#horror movies#horror#creature#gore#thick babe#curvy
12 notes
·
View notes
Text
Just so frustrated that tumblr’s rolling out more unreality-triggering features: as if they didn’t already learn from the Y2K event…
How do they think that. A GIANT FUCKING CLOWN ON THE DASHBOARD THAT, WHEN CLICKED ON, MAKES THE BACKGROUND TURN TO A BUNCH OF WANTED POSTERS WITH EYES LOOKING AT YOU??? AND THEY SAY THINGS LIKE well find you OR SOME SHIT???
Why would they think that this DOESN’T trigger at least five types of—-
Fuck. Sorry if this post made no sense, just bristling right now.
Anyway: stay safe out there… a full list of the potential triggers with the new site update are:
Clowns
Eye contact
Unreality
Paranoia
Delusions
Violence
Let me know if I missed any.
Again, stay safe. And fuck Tumblr’s staff.
Edit: Adding some of the things I’ve reblogged and also suggestions (thanks @nimona-antifa for the suggestions, and @everlastingrandom for pointing that scopophobia’s another potential trigger)
Body horror
Gore
Scopophobia
Horror
Another edit: Thanks to @gwydionmisha for pointing out that the jump scares are harmful for people with:
anxiety
heart conditions
other related conditions
Another edit: FUCKING YEAH IT’S GONE but there’s still a widget at the corner of the screen with the buggy pirates’ logo, which looks like a clown pirate flag. So still be careful if you’re on desktop. Looking forward to when they take down the full thing.
#one piece#I’m so fucking mad#tw: paranoia#tw: delusions#tw: unreality#tw: clowns#tw: eye contact#tw: body horror#tw: gore#tw: scopophobia#tw: horror
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
▸ Assassin Jaehyun x Assassin Female reader
▸ Smut, Smut, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Gore, MATURE
▸ JAEHYUN SMUT SERIES: FUCK, MARRY, KILL
▸ VOLUME I: PART 1, PART 2, PART 3
THIS IS PART 2. THIS IS PART 2. THIS IS PART 2.
VOLUME I: PART 2 WORD COUNT: 7,889k
Warnings: THIS FIC IS FICTION ONLY, Smut, smut, smut, MATURE THEMES, Heavy description of killings because most of the characters are assassins, mentions of blood, character death, A LOT OF NCT MEMBERS WILL D WORD IN THIS FIC, unprotected sex, mentions of condoms, mentions of pill, pregnancy, swearing, mentions of alcohol. Mentions of being an orphan, Not everything is proofread, apologies again. I hope I did not forget anything.
A/N: I will cut VOLUME I into three parts, just because 20k word count is not acceptable in one post hahaha. I'm sorry :( this is already PART 2 of Volume I, so i hope you guys are still here. Im sorry if it took me so long to post. Can you guess what’s the next color of the poster? :))
When Hendery resurfaced again, he brought a different kind of chaos into your life and Jaehyun’s life.
A quid pro quo. That’s what’s Hendery’s after as he plans on surprising Jaehyun in Milan. It was Jaehyun’s earned free time, and Hendery was about to ruin it. Sure Jaehyun heard about the news that Hendery revealed himself, he was curious about the Phantom who made you soft, but little did he know that Hendery was even more curious about him.
Man to man they talked like normal people, sharing a bottle of wine but the people around them had zero clue that they wanted to kill each other right then and there.
“So you killed Yangyang,” Hendery started while smelling this expensive glass of wine.
Jaehyun was just quiet. He has no plan to trigger this situation further, he knows that a snipper is on standby to kill him from afar. All he could do was judge Hendery’s appearance, he now understood how this man fooled you. Out of all the Phantoms, Hendery is the simplest. Sure he looked like a prince, moves like a rich man but… Jaehyun can easily tell that he’s different.
“Pick a face to show today. I’m not here to play games, I’m sure you’re a busy man. Want to kill me now?” Jaehyun mocks while eating a slice of apple.
“I won’t kill you… that will hurt Y/n. And that’s the last thing I want to do. How is she?” Hendery pries, pushing and pushing Jaehyun’s limits because he knows that Jaehyun will keep on ignoring him unless he mentions your name. Hendery wanted to tease Jaehyun after all. “I fell in love with her you know. Sorry, I tried to stop myself but… she’s one great person… what are you doing Jeong Yoonoh?” Hendery mocked him.
And that’s what triggered Jaehyun’s anger, but he’s still stopping himself from killing Hendery with a cheese knife. The mention of your name just reminded him how he played you like a record of that fateful night in Hong Kong.
“It was so obvious that she still has feelings for you. Why aren’t you two together?” Hendery smirked. “Is it because you’re a Jeong and she’s just a nobody?”
“She’s not a nobody— why don’t you leave Y/n’s names out of this and let’s settle this. What the fuck do you want?” Finally, Jaehyun spoke. Hendery’s smile was wide because he knew that he was in Jaehyun’s mind now.
“Simple. Give Y/n her freedom. Free her from the Jeongs or I will do the best I can to ruin your family’s name in the business world” Hendery relaxed and looked at his surroundings, admiring the fine day, “It’s a win- win for the both of us you know. You can protect your family’s image, I get what I want, Y/n is free… I mean no harm. No one has to die” he smiles.
But Jaehyun knew that there's something behind that smile. He’s a Phantom after all. Guys like him don’t do ‘win-win’ situations. Hendery wasn’t scary at all, Jaehyun thought. But he knew damn well that the Phantoms know how to play. And that put Jaehyun in a very rough situation, especially when Hendery is after you… not to mention, that he wanted to free you from the wicked world of assassination. But even though that’s his motive, he can’t just sell you off away to Hendery.
“How can I trust you?” Jaehyun sternly asked.
“You can’t. I mean no harm to Y/n, but to you and other people?” he smirked, “Don’t even get me started, you killed my friends— Look, please decide ASAP. I have places to go” Hendery said in a different tone, almost as if he’s was in a rush but he still looked relaxed. “you see Jeong Jaehyun, you’re powerless. You’re just an assassin. You’re not a powerful Jeong. But I’m giving you a power right now… a power to make a wise decision. A power to give the love of your life the freedom she deserves… Come on Jeong… think long and hard. Taking my deal is the right thing to do”
And right then and there Jaehyun saw how cunning Hendery is and how dangerous he is.
Hendery stood up and left cash on the table, enough to cover everything served on their table. “I’ll give you a week… I’m excited to see Y/n again,” he smirked and walked away.
By the time Jaehyun got back, he did not let a second go to waste and planned to kill Hendery himself. But deep down… in Jaehyun’s heart, he is considering Hendery’s offer, just so Jaehyun could give you the normal life that you deserve. He felt so powerless, he felt stupid, weak and useless.
“Don’t do it Jeong…” Taeyong started. He can see right through Jaehyun that he is considering Hendery’s offer.
“You know I hate it when you call me that,” Jaehyun crossed his arms “He can give her the life she wants hyung” Jaehyun added, not looking at Taeyong and just looking at the dark blue sky.
“Y/n loves you. That’s enough reason not to sell her off even if it’s about her freedom. She knew what she signed up for and she’s willing to get her freedom fairly… maybe she’s doing it for you”
After that small talk with Taeyong, Jaehyun went to see you and was hoping to talk to you about this matter but he was too afraid to knock on your door and tell you everything he felt. Just when he was about to leave, you opened your door and welcomed him in.
This is the first time again that you two shared a room privately. What happened after New York was both traumatic and sad for the both of you. You never even got the chance to talk about it.. or even apologize to each other. Jaehyun thought that… this might be his chance.
“You never cease to amaze me Y/n,” Jaehyun started.
“What?” you asked with a faint laugh before you sat at the edge of your bed.
“I’m still amazed with how you continue to be my weakness. How you continue to give fire to my soul,” he walked closer to you. Standing in front of you so handsomely while you sit in front of him and melt in his words.
“Is that a confession?” you joked but it was a serious question that you hoped he would answer because you too… you needed answers. You need to know if he’s still hurting about what happened to your relationship, you need to know if he’s still longing for you just as much as you long for him.
“Yes” he answered with his deep voice. So calm and sexy. “I think about you every day. I want you beside me” he reached for your face and placed a soft kiss on your cheek. A kiss that answered every question in head. A kiss that felt like a promise. A promise to do everything right this time.
He reached for your hand and sat beside you.
“This war, between Hendery and me is mainly about you. It’s your freedom… now, Im asking you. Do you want it?” he asked gently.
“Of course I do. But I want it with you”
Jaehyun smiled. Showing you those cute dimples. “Of course you’d answer that—“
“But let me talk to him Jae. You don’t know him like I do, maybe I can talk some sense out of him or —“
You watch Jaehyun smile in disbelief, combing his hair with his fingers and showing you his frustration. Clearly the sweet and calm environment was already gone.
“You were with him one time and you even failed your mission— did you already forget that happened? You don’t know him Y/n. You couldn’t see the craziness in his eyes because you are charmed by his sex appeal or whatever” His tone went louder every word and you don’t like it. This night may have answered every important question in your head but you’re not planning to have a quarrel with him. “You just have to make me jealous now, huh?” he added.
“Please leave. I’d like to rest now” you requested and Jaehyun left immediately.
In the next days, Hendery grew impatient with Jaehyun’s answer so he got bored and made some damage to one the Jeong’s factories. No one is hurt… yet. Everyone thought that Hendery would stop playing games but no, he targeted Jaehyun’s sister and Jaehyun’s mother. Scaring the shit out of Jaehyun. Of course everyone is working double time to protect Jaehyun and his family, but Jaehyun grew tired. Everyone grew tired of it. Every day, Hendery always has his kind of game, toying and playing with everyone. Even you. One day Hendery revealed his location publicly, part of his silly games and Yuta fell for it but lost the fight putting him in the hospital for a few days. And that really was the last straw.
“THAT MAN IS CRAZY! It will be better if I kill him, it will leave a trauma to Y/n—“ Jaehyun exclaims towards Chanyeol.
“This is my failed mission— I’m sure it will be better for all of us! After all, I’m the one he’s after!”
“Oh so now I’m really jealous — Chanyeol what the fuck? I just wanted the best option for her. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. I met Hendery and you have no idea how dangerous he could get”
Chanyeol and the others are all quiet. Mark was the one enjoying the drama and so is Taeyong . “They’re definitely fucking,” Mark whispers.
“This is Y/n’s failed mission. She should finish this,” Chanyeol finally decides.
“Good luck with handling your trauma then,” Jaehyun leaves the room and bangs the door.
On the same night, you received a call from an unknown number. You had a hunch that it would be Hendery, and you’re right.
“I bet you’re already planning how to get to me,” he said.
You were silent.
“All I wanted was a chance to talk to you, and give you your freedom and that coward Jeong can’t make it happen,” he let out a heavy sigh.
“You do dirty business, that’s why” you explained calmly. You sounded worried too. Hendery was happy to hear your voice. “You also hurt my friend”
“Yeah that Yuta guy killed my bodyguards, he’s good but… I can’t let him kill me. Can you say sorry for me? Please?”
“I don’t understand you Hendery. Are you a good person or are you playing with me too”
Then you heard Hendery laugh so hard, almost as if he sounded like a crazy person. “Lets have lunch like normal people, I’ll text you the address. Good night ” he says, before he hangs up.
The next day, you told Jaehyun and Chanyeol about your conversation with Hendery. They weren’t happy about it, but it was a situation that you couldn’t dodge. It was obvious all this time, that Hendery is ahead of every plan you have and that he got everything controlled at the palm of his hands.
“I can’t track the number he used, sorry guys” Mark said.
“He is controlling us. He wanted you to come to him— and I can’t fucking believe that you’re going for it. If you want to have lunch, have lunch with me not with this psychopath” Jaehyun said calmly. He is done stressing himself out because of Hendery.
But even though Jaehyun already expressed what he thinks, you still met with Hendery secretly. Just to end this war against him and the Jeongs. This plan will most likely make Jaehyun even more mad at Hendery, but the situation is getting more and more ugly as the days go by.
You met Hendery at his favorite noodle shop. It was packed with different people, some were just enjoying their time alone, others were with their friends or family, company dinner… it was just a normal day for everyone. Including you… who’s just meeting an old friend. Something you’ve never done before.
“Back then me and the other Phantoms used to eat in this place. Good times,” Hendery started while stirring his noodles, ‘’but now we can’t do that anymore, because your friends killed my friends”
“I can’t say I’m sorry… “ is all you could say.
“Back then Yangyang was not yet successful unlike Ten and Kun, so they always feed Yangyang and buy him everything he asks them to…”
There was a short silence while you two enjoyed your food. You wanted to leave as soon as you can but you can’t seem to bring it up. Maybe… you missed having his company, maybe you missed this kind of bond. Maybe you missed this kind of awkward silence.
“Do you remember when we danced slowly in the dark while the fireworks lit up the dark sky?” he asks.
“Of course,”
“It was a hopeless day. I killed a lot of people that day, and I was really tired. I knew you were coming, then I actually met you and I instantly wanted to live my life more and shit I fell in love so quickly. But you told me you love someone else and you cant live without him. That’s Jaehyun. I wanted to kill you so bad because I can’t have you”
“Do you still feel the same way now?” You asked calmly.
“I want to kill Jaehyun now, not you. That way I can have you” Hendery smiled innocently.
“What makes you think I’ll love you like how I love Jaehyun”
“I’ll make you” he answered confidently like a crazy person.
This is not Hendery you thought…. At this point you really don’t know what kind of monster you’re facing. But the fact that he wanted to kill Jaehyun is enough reason to kill him even if it’s going to hurt like hell. Even if it’s going to be the saddest kill you’ll ever make.
In your eyes, he’s just a man blinded by love. He just wanted to be loved… but you can’t reciprocate that. After hearing everything he said, you excused yourself and went to the comfort room to breathe. Breathe and ready yourself to go for the kill finally and finish your long overdue mission. Jaehyun was right, this will leave trauma to you. You know you’re scared to kill now because you’re shaking. But just right after you get out of the comfort room, you see people running and panicking. You look for answers while you walk fast towards your table, but you see Hendery on the floor dead already. Someone shot him in the head while you were away.
And you have someone in mind already. Someone who could have done this while you were gone. A perfect timing.
When you got back to 127 house, Jaehyun was already there. He was waiting for you but you just ignored his presence and went straight to your room so you could have time for yourself after a long day. You’re not mad, you just wanted privacy and mourn for your friend. Jaehyun was just doing his job… because you couldn’t. Of course Jaehyun didn’t give you the space you asked for, he was stubborn and still welcomed himself to your dark and quiet room.
He lay beside you and held your hand… you didn’t know you needed his comfort until he made you realize. In return you kissed him on the cheek and snuggled close to him.
It was raining during Hendery’s funeral. Everyone was soaking wet, dressed in black when you and Jaehyun arrived. You didn’t have the guts to say ‘hello’ to his sisters and nieces, you didn’t want them to meet Jaehyun, the assassin that killed their brother so you two stayed in the car and paid your respects from afar.
“I’m still not convinced that he’s a bad person Jae,” You said to Jaehyun. But of course, you knew Hendery was just playing with your mind, you’re just thankful that it’s not Jaehyun’s funeral you’re attending right now.
Everything feels heavy inside. Jaehyun couldn’t take you home today, so he decided to drive away and check in to the furthest motel he could find. He knew that you were hurting and you were desperate for peace of mind, and going home to 127 house would not help you achieve that. The rain poured even harder, just as your tears continued to flow. So this is what feels like mourning. Mourning for a friend. Your only friend.
Desperate. You were desperate to forget.
“I bought noodles, let’s eat it while its hot, yeah?” Jaehyun was trying to brighten up the mood but he keeps on failing. Either way, he will not give up on you. He was lively setting up the table and kept on humming songs you love. He knew of course.
“Hey- I’ll do anything to help you. Emotionally and physically—“ he said, but you didn’t let him continue and sat on his lap. You wanted to turn him on… you wanted to turn yourself on by using Jaehyun but your mind just keeps on drifting to Hendery.
Jaehyun was startled of course, but he knew he had to stretch his patience over and over again. He did not let you succeed with your plan, he understood what you were doing. He can see the desperation in your eyes that you want to forget and divert your attention. Jaehyun wanted to help, but not this way.
He made you stop grinding on his growing bulge and kissed your forehead, “stop it. Don’t do this on your own, I’m here, talk to me” he whispered sweetly while soothing your back.
You were in tears again.
When Jaehyun finally convinced you to eat what he brought you, you two spent your day in bed, in each other’s arms. Quiet and peaceful, just how you two wanted. But when your eyes met again, he kissed you hungrily and showed you how much he craved for you. How much he missed you. How much he still loves you. He made you sit on top of him, giving you permission to use him however you want.
“See…You don’t have to sell yourself short to me, I’ll come to you” he smiled and kissed you sweetly, his hands roamed around your body and put it inside your shirt. Jaehyun knew that whenever he pinches your nipples, you go crazy and it turns you on, and whenever he brushes his fingers softly on your hard nipples it just melts you in an instant.
In return you went in between his legs and pull out his cock, gave it a good lick and made sure it was wet as fuck before you put it inside your mouth and give him a good head. You feel Jaehyun’s hand relaxed at the top of your head, petting you whenever he feels like it, and moaning shamelessly, moaning so good, letting you know that no one in this world can give him a good head except you.
You reach for his lips and give him a peck. Jaehyun wanted more but you teased him. “Come on, I wanted to kiss you longer” he pouted cutely.
“Later” you moaned while you slowly put his cock in your wet pussy. You both moaned deliciously, it has been so long since you two fucked.
“I missed you” Jaehyun said before removing your sleepwear. You were too busy to care, you grind and rode Jaehyun while he cums and while his hands roam freely on your body. Oh you miss his touch.
When you finally reached your high, you flopped on top of Jaehyun and just listened to his heartbeat. He feels warm. He feels good. And his arms feel so good around you.
You looked up to him and told him, “lets give love a second chance Jae”
All Jaehyun could do was smile and laugh, “after all that’s happened this past few days do you think I’ll let go of you again?” He kissed your knuckles and held on to you, “we will never part this time. Even if it takes killing everyone, I mean it”
Jaehyun dried and kissed away your tears, made you smile again and promised that “Hendery may have been the one who showed you the life that you want, but I will be the one that will make it happen,” you tried to avoid this conversation again, but this time Jaehyun won’t let you.
“Listen to me,” he asked sternly but still gently, “It’s not going to be easy Y/n, but I’m ready to take whatever shit my father will throw at me. I have nothing to lose… except you. When we can finally retire, I’ll turn my back away from being Jeong Yoonoh, I don’t want it”
Of course you agreed to him and decided to be together.
This is not going to be the smoothest relationship, a lot of people will die first before you two can have the freedom you want. But over the years, you and Jaehyun proved your importance to the field and they couldn’t do anything to get you to break up again. Of course Jaehyun’s father wasn’t pleased to be in love with a no one like you. Even though you’re his favorite assassin, he couldn’t let his only son marry someone nameless, who kills for a living and is only successful in life because of his generosity.
“Let them be, I’ll have her killed by the time Jaehyun becomes the boss,” are his exact words to his secretary after hearing the news of your relationship. “Let them play,”
And that is why you and Jaehyun had beautiful years of relationship together.
One fine day, Chanyeol called everyone for an important meeting. A mission that involves everyone, this will be pretty big you thought. Even Mr. Jeong’s foreign bodyguards are present, Mr. Jeong’s assistant and some more bodyguards.
Chanyeol says, starting the meeting as he enters the room, explaining to everyone that Jaehyun will finally appear in public as Jeong Yoonoh and will be introduced as the next Jeong in line in front of all Mr. Jeong’s right hand.
“We will protect and assist the Jeong family as they make a public appearance for a gathering. Yoonoh is going to be there to represent his father- I know that you guys trained together and it’s weird to protect Jaehyun”
“Tell me about it” you joked but Jaehyun looked at you with flirty eyes.
“But he’s still a Jeong too. And we made an oath that we will protect the Jeongs with all our heart” Taeyong said. “Can we all be serious now?” The leader speaks.
“Thank you Taeyong… going back to the mission…” Chanyeol continues to explain what needs to be done. You’re hearing everything fine, you understand what needs to be done. But the truth about what Taeyong said still lingers in your mind. And Jaehyun can see it in your eyes.
Jaehyun is the reason for your purpose.
“This is the first time that the big bosses are going to see Jaehyun as an adult… so that’s why Jaehyun’s appearance is a threat to everyone. Knowing far too well that the Jeong’s clan still has a successor” Chanyeol explained.
“The Prince Jaehyun” Yuta teases his friend.
“No no, more like a bait” you said, “This is a good opportunity for the business to know who’s the traitor or not. The companies that will send assassins to kill Jaehyun is the Jeong’s way to know about the truth- what a sick way”
The room went silent. And that is where everyone realized that Jaehyun may be special in everyone’s eyes, but his family use him for business and business only. Jaehyun knew everything about it, ever since he was a kid, his father never missed an opportunity to make him feel like shit. That’s why he didn’t want to be a Jeong and can’t wait to turn his back on this circus one day.
“Not to mention… The two Phantoms that are left alive are very much interested with this gathering because it’s good for business… this can be our chance to meet Ten and Kun— and Y/n can be on standby to kill the two Phantoms—“
“I’m not killing any Phantoms again Chanyeol… you know that, let Taeyong do it.” you said, looking at the floor.
“Well no one is available to do the job,” Chanyeol exclaims, “You will kill them,” and that is the end of this discussion.
“Unlike the other 5 Phantoms that has a very low profile, the entire world knows what Ten looks like because he is a socialite. Our only problem is he is heavily guarded at all times…”
The preparation for this mission took days to perfect but everyone is ready and well prepared to finally protect the Jeongs for the first time in their lives as an assassin. Everyone was ready except Jaehyun.
“Can I sleep here? I don’t want to sleep alone tonight before the big day” Jaehyun said with a soft smile. Even though you’re now openly dating each other, you two are not allowed to have a place on your own,
“Your room and bed is bigger Jae,” you said to him but you made room for him in your bed. You lay first, followed by Jaehyun who wrapped his arms around you immediately. “I like yours better. It allows me to squeeze in beside you like this” he said with a smile.
“Are you nervous for tomorrow?” You asked while patting his head softly. Letting him know that you have his back.
“I am-“ he said but you did not let him continue.
“Oh come on Jaehyun youve been an assassin for years and years now you can’t be nervous. I’m not having it” you said. But he looked serious.
“Yeah but. Not as Jeong Yoonoh — I’m not confident as Yoonoh. I’m not brave as Yoonoh” He reached for your hand and intertwined it with his, “The idea of Jeong Yoonoh is perfect. This place only knew the real me. But outside these walls, they think that I’m perfect, powerful because of my family’s name, I know how to run the business- but the truth is I know nothing. The shit that will come out to my mouth tomorrow is all scripted. It pains me to see myself like this Y/n”
And thats where you saw that he is seriously worried for tomorrow. You have no idea how to show that he has nothing to be afraid of. So you kissed him. Sweetly kissed him. And poured out your feelings into that kiss.
“Just remember that I got my eyes on you tomorrow, I’m your angel” you tried to take away his nervousness. Oh you wish you could help him even more.
First thing in the morning, Jaehyun was escorted to be with his family by Chanyeol and it was the first time ever that the 127 Squad traveled as a team with only four members. “Feels weird right?” Teayong blurted out coldly, “then no one should fuck up. Don’t let Jaehyun die today,” he reminded everyone.
As Jaehyun enjoy his time nervously with his family, the assassination squad are all in their assigned places. Mark is talking nonstop from the earpiece, Yuta and Taeyong are beside Jaehyun, keeping him safe. And you’re on standby, waiting for Ten and Kun to show up. It was one hell of a busy and nervous day.
After a few minutes of waiting, Ten showed up with an army of bodyguards. Shameless. You thought. He went straight to Jaehyun like they’re closed friends already, smiling like he doesn’t have something dirty on his sleeve.
“Jaehyun, get him to talk,” you said through the radio, but Ten was fast enough to start the conversation.
“Tell me Jaehyun— the truth and nothing but the truth only,” Ten smiled so big in front of Jaehyun, enjoying his drink, “Did your family killed my friends? as if they’re like cockroaches?”
Jaehyun was about to stand up and leave him talking, but Ten was one clever man.
“I bet Hendery gave you and your girl a rough time, he really wanted to kill you and get your girl… maybe she was really good in bed that’s why my friend went crazy in love”
After that sentence. Ten looked through your way. As if he knows how you’re on standby and ready to kill him. How could he know your exact location. Exact location. It scared you.
“The fact that you know that were together tells me that you knew too much already,” Jaehyun said calmly, “All the more reason for me to kill you dont you think?”
“Jaehyun dont fucking start a chaos now!” Chanyeol yelled through the radio, “You are Yoonoh today, not Bitter peach”
“Your friends are all crazy— that makes you crazy too” Jaehyun added.
“I’m not here to get killed. And I’m not here to start a chaos either. It’s bad for business and for the both of us,” He let out a heavy sigh with a big smile. A big mocking smile, “I’m here to invite you to my house and talk business. Consider this as the right and polite way to make business together. Without killing anyone or getting killed— let’s stop the killings here,….”he continued to talk about business, a lot of shit that Jaehyun couldn’t understand but good thing his father’s assistant was there too. Of course Ten made the invitation like it was strictly business, and fooled the assistant. Ten reached out his hand, offering him a deal in front of his father, of course Jaehyun couldn’t do anything about it.
Hendery was right after all, he’s just a powerless Jeong.
When everyone came back home, everyone is discussing and agreeing about that ‘invitation’ from Ten. It was obviously a trap. Even you think that it was trap. It was obvious that Ten is a mad man. But Jaehyun’s father was fooled too, he was fooled by Ten’s charms and business talk.
“If you’re comfortable with it, can you answer how nice Hendery was to you?” Taeyong asked politely. Giving you a cup of coffee because you badly needed one.
“He was thoughtful. Family oriented, and a gentleman in bed,” you laughed it out and said it truthfully to Taeyong. He cant believe what he just heard. He was amused.
“Does Jaehyun know,” Taeyong laughed while asking.
“Of course. That guy knows everything,”
“So do you think it’s safe for him to make business with Ten?”
“It would be his greatest mistake Tae,” you let out a sigh, “Those guys are monsters, even Hendery was but he didn’t show it to me,”
“Well then stop him from stepping a foot to that guys house,”
But of course Jaehyun couldn’t resist. As long as his father ordered it. When Jaehyun did his part to showing up to the meeting, Ten didn’t…it was a trap indeed. But Ten didn’t bail on the business deal, he still did his part, signed contract with the Jeongs, etc. he just wanted to hurt Jaehyun physically without getting his own hands dirty. That way, there’s no proof that Ten ordered the assault. Smart man. Ten’s guys tortured Jaehyun inside that big house from sun up to sun down. Sending Jaehyun back to 127 house all covered in blood, naked and you couldn’t almost recognize him. Chanyeol drove him straight to the hospital and that is the end of Jaehyun’s career as an assassin.
Only families are allowed to visit him in his room and of course his family wont allow any of you guys to come near him. For all you know, he will never be Bitter Peach again. He will be Jeong Yoonoh everyday now.
While Jaehyun was in a coma, you were pretty busy with a lot of missions here and there. The squad and Chanyeol is busy with searching for Ten, but no one is getting lucky this time around. Your anger and drive to take revenge for Jaehyun has put aside because all you want right now is his safety and for him to wake up. But even though youre not doing anything right now, you swear to kill Ten and make him pay for what he did to Jaehyun.
But now… another thing is hurting you.
Like Jaehyun… you feel like a powerless person who couldn’t even visit the love of your life in the hospital. You can see how you’re 100% and perfectly incompatible for Jaehyun. You’re nothing but someone who works for his family after all.
The wait for Jaehyun to wake up was excrutiating. Depressing and uncertain. His wounds may be healing, but hes still sleeping soundly.
“The Jeongs wont cut Jaehyun’s life line right?” Yuta expressed his frustration when he overheard an ugly rumor about Jaehyun’s family cutting his life line.
“No. Mr. Jeong won’t have a successor and his pride wont handle that” Taeyong finishes Yuta’s worries.
He was in coma for two weeks. You can’t eat, sleep or even think properly because your mind is busy worrying. And when you received the news that he finally woke up, you were already on your way for a mission and all you could do is cry in the car because of happiness but of course with a mix of anger, how could Chanyeol sent you away for a mission now that Jaehyun is awake.
While you were way, you got the news that Jahyun’s assassin days are over. His father was scared that he’d lose Jaehyun again, even before Jaehyun could fulfill his duties. You also hard the news that they removed all his things from 127 house and they only see him through video calls now … and as Yoonoh.
“It’s like they forced us to forget the friendship that we had— Jaehyun was against it. Damn he looked sad during the meeting earlier” Mark said.
“He’s currently, learning shit about his family’s business while still healing” Taeyong added.
“Well guys, I have to go now. Thanks for the news. I’m really glad he’s safer than ever. You guys look out for him… for me” you said with a heavy heart before ending the call. This mission is taking too long its frustrating you even more. You wanted to hug him so bad and comfort him, tell him that he will do great as Yoonoh. But you can’t.
Then you saw your phone light up your dark room. It was Mark who sent you a text,
“Don’t worry. We’ve planned everything already. You just have to wait for him ;)”
After that message from Mark they never called you again or texted you, you just trusted your friends and their so called ‘plan’ for you and Jaehyun to meet up. And again, the wait was brutal. The wait lasted for four months and sure did felt like he was never going to show up. All you could do is hope that this mission will soon be over so you could go home and do things your way.
Tonight, the wait is over. He’s not 100% healed, he can’t walk straight yet and his right arm is still broken.
But he brought you flowers. And wore the biggest smile. If only you knew how happy Jaehyun is right now, seeing you and holding you in his arms again.
“Hi beautiful. Missed me?” he wrapped is left arm around you and kissed you one too many times. Oh you missed those soft lips.
“Are you warm enough?” you asked with worried eyes, “Are you hurting? How are you?”
“I’m warm, but you can make it better,” he winks and started to kiss your neck.
“Okay I’m convinced you’re all well now,”
The cold night became warm and even warmer as hours go by. You and Jaehyun did not even waste a second and made love the whole night.
This was far from everything you’ve had from New York, your place was small, cramped and it wasnt fancy at all. It completely symbolizes how you feel for the past couple of months while you’re away from Jaehyun.
“I didn’t know you were coming today… I didn’t get the chance to tidy up—“ you apologize while you let Jaehyun kiss your body, feel his warm lips on your skin. It felt like you were dreaming, you almost lost him, he almost died…
“Stop it with your ugly thoughts, Im here now” he whispers beside your ear, giving you goosebumps, making your heart skip a beat. His touch is everything, it give you comfort, the assurance that you’re not dreaming and that he’s real and beside you now. He intertwined his fingers with yours, kissing it one too many times to make you believe. “I’m here” he said again and again and again. Putting your arms around his neck before he starts kissing your neck sweetly, his hands cant get enough of your being, kisses trails down from your neck to your boobs. Sipping on your nipples one by one, making it harder by the second, licking it just the way you like it and teasing you with a soft pinch without a warning just so he can see a faint smile on you face.
“Do I need to tease you the whole night just so I could see that smile?” He asked softly and proceeds to kissing your lips. You feel his hand go down in between your thighs, spreading them just the way you like it and checking your slit if you’re wet already. Of course. This man can make you wet by just a touch.
He teases you with his soft touch, touching your slit softly while he kisses your neck. Softly his fingers moved in between your thighs and dance softly on your skin, not putting anything yet inside, which make you crave for him even more. He kneeled in between your legs and spread them wide, still running his fingers on your slit to make you wetter. And without a warning, he planted a soft kiss on your inner thigh, which if course you know whats coming next… a soft lick on your cunt that soon became kisses. You feel both his hands spreading your pussy lips so he could lick you on the right places. Your body is on fire, you wanted to close your legs so bad but Jaehyun’s tongue felt so good. All this so you get hurt by the time he puts his cock inside of you.
By the time Jaehyun met your eyes again, you were catching your breath and holding on to his arm as hard as you could. “Babe, it hurts” he smiled handsomely and kissed you. You immediately stopped what you were doing and apologized, asked him if he was hurting to other places but the man in between your legs is currently so horny and is longing for your tight walls already. He kissed you hungrily, almost as if taking your breath away, and when you felt the tip of his cock by your entrance, he slowly pushed in until his whole cock is inside of you. “You’re soaking” he managed to whisper while thrusting in and out, his arms caging you while you take everything. Lips crashing every second while feeling his thick cock, listening to each other’s moans and groans, never ending touching and lust.
The night became longer when you two spent your time just talking and laughing. Tomorrow he leaves already. But he promised to fix everything and make you come home as soon he talks to the right people. He also promised that now that he’s not an assassin anymore, he can finally prove that he’s worthy of the name Jeong. He wanted to prove that Hendery is wrong, that he’s not a powerless Jeong.
“Now I know that this is not the original plan before we decided to get back again but…”
“You dont need to explain yourself Jae” you said while you snuggle and bring yourself closer to him. He accepts it by hugging you back and planting a soft kiss on your forehead.
He may not say it to you, but he is scared for himself too. Even though he promised you that he will give up his name just so he could turn his back someday, you let him shine and be Jeong Yoonoh still because this is right.
“What time do you leave?” You asked softly, careful not to break the silence.
“Around 6 in the morning? It has been a beautiful night— are you happy?” He asked. “I am. Im really happy right now” he added.
“Telling you I’m happy is an understatement,”
“Im sorry if I make your life complicated” he says, “just hang in there and we’ll have longer days and longer nights like this. For now… just let me make you happy in my own way”
Even though Jaehyun was scared for the drastic change in his life, he did it anyway. He did it even though he’s doubting himself. He did it even though he knew he’s not going to be good at it. He did it even though he misses you bad. He did it even though he’s tired. He did it. And he did with only a year of knowing the ins and outs of their business. Knowing every people involved in their company. Making it his own kingdom instead of making it control him. And of course he did this to prove to everyone that he’s the boss now.
Jaehyun changed for the better, even more respected, smarter and wiser this time.
He didn’t want to be like his father. Scary and will opt for war in an instant. Jaehyun wanted to change the system. Enough with he killings, just strictly business. But even though he’s the boss now, his father is still the last call. He cant fully change everything, not until he’s gone.
Three years in the relationship
It was half past ten already and you’re still not sure about your target for tomorrow. You scanned pages of papers over and over again, reading every word and catching every detail but you still don’t have a clear shot for what’s coming tomorrow. It’s Ten. It was the same case as Hendery’s. But this time, you know the face that you need to kill.
And you can’t wait to kill that fucker. You will strangle him with your own hands if you have to .
“You look sexy when you’re concentrating, hi,” your boyfriend came out of nowhere who’s been gone for three days but you didn’t notice because you were too busy. You’re even surprised that he went straight here, in 127 house instead of your shared place. “Still flying blind for tomorrow?” He asks while his right hand soothes your back, giving you a slight massage to somehow relieve your stress. It felt like an invitation if you’re being honest. An invitation to ‘come rest and enjoy the night with me’, but at the same time you were desperate to finish this job as soon as you can.
“I think he will really show up tomorrow, and if I could only finish this, I could get home to you tonight— are you here to pick me up? I really can’t go home tonight” you said sternly but your voice was breaking. Frustrated because you missed him so much, and now that he’s here, you only have hours to be with him.
Jaehyun chuckled handsomely at what you said, looking at you lovingly and silently proud of the woman you’ve become. “I’m not going anywhere,” he planted a soft kiss on your forehead and you immediately wrapped your arms around him. “I’ll go home alone if that’s what you want. Pomise you will come home? In one piece and safe?” he joked while spreading kisses on your neck and caging you with his strong arms.
“Yes I promise” you said but still accepting what Jaehyun is doing to you. You don’t mind how his very touch melts your whole being, how his kisses are the best persuasion you’ve ever experienced, and how his hands are all over you but somehow he’s stopping himself. He left a sweet kiss on your lips which you returned without hesitating.
When Jaehyun left you alone in the study room, you feel bad for rejecting him. You know he longs for you, you know he misses you so much, and you know that you can die tomorrow and neglecting yourself from Jaehyun’s loving company is a stupid thing to do. “Fuck” you said as you think about the moment earlier. His touch, kisses, his very presence. You missed him. So much.
And so you arranged all the papers, cleaned up the desk and went to your room to prepare everything in advance for tomorrow. Guns, knives and other important things that might save you, you packed it all and drive yourself home to Jaehyun. The preparation took a while and Jaehyun might be sleeping already but whatever, you will sleep beside him tonight. You silently walked into your shared room see him dressed in his black sleepwear, calm and peaceful. Hugging a pillow and pretending that it’s you. Oh he looked so innocent.
“Hey,” you wake him up and removed the pillow from his arms because he doesn’t need to pretend anymore. “I’m here now and I’m sorry about earlier” you apologized sincerely and hug him tightly. All of a sudden the cold room became warm.
“Hmm. It’s okay it’s not your fault” he keeps you close to him and cage you with his strong arms. Oh you missed being like this.
“How was your business meeting?” You asked because you figured it was not easy given that he was gone for three days.
“Bloody, but I stayed alive,” he joked, pretending that he’s still an assassin. “You do the same thing too, okay? Come home to me”
“I will, always” you assured him.
“Want me to assist you tomorrow?” He offered. Just because he’s worried about you, and maybe because he couldn’t handle being apart from you anymore.
“No baby, I will be fine you need rest,”
He nods and said “I love you”
“I love you”
Its been three years since you almost lost Jaehyun. The past couple of years were hard on the both of you, mainly because his family never approved you as Jaehyuns girlfriend. But Jaehyun never actually cared about what people think, but you do.
Sometimes you imagine yourself disappear in this place and get away from Jaehyun’s love. Dont get me wrong, you love Jaehyun just as mush as you love him but until now, you cant help but think that you have nothing to give to him. When he introduced you to his family formally, they did not approved and clearly hear them gasped sharply when they heard that you’re part of the 127 squad.
You see every Jeong that you knew in the room, the very Jeongs that you swore to protect with all your life. But none of them are thankful to what you do for their family.
“You will be the cause of Jae’s death I know it”
And those words from Jaehyun’s sister still haunts you. It was just a dream right now but that scene really happened. And it broke your spirit.
You face Jaehyun while he was sleeping, caressed his face softly and left sweet kisses. He no longer sleep talks and scream in his sleep you thought, little did you know its all because of you. You are Jaehyun’s peace. “Good morning, I love you. I’ll see you in a few days” you whispered and snuggled closer to him.
While you were away, Jaehyun did not expect his father wanted to see him. He was clueless of what’s going on because every business meeting was already taken care of. Nonetheless, he still went to the office and give respects.
“You wanted to see me” Jaehyun said.
“Sit son,” his said.
“How are you?” his father asked, Jaehyun answered directly and fast because he did not like small talks. “How is Y/n?” this question made Jaehyun smile. Maybe he’s here because his father finally approves. But just after Jaehyun was so happy telling his father all about you, he wasn’t so pleased to hearing that your relationship is going strong.
“I was hoping that your relationship is in shambles and that she finally come to her senses and left you but- I won’t beat around the bush anymore. I want you to meet the daughter of my good friend Johnny. They’re americans, maybe just maybe, you will realize how y/n has no match to these other women who has education a family background and power. Do it for the family. Meet her”
“That druggie? Y/n protects our family, how could you say that to her” Jaehyun defends. At least he tried.
And then his father’s secretary knocked on the door to remind his father about other errands. Jaehyun felt so powerless at that moment, he can’t even make his own father listen to him. Ever since he was a kid, Jaehyun did not like how his father controlled him and that is why he never considered himself as a Jeong. He hated being a Jeong so much.
When you came back after a failed mission, good thing Jaehyun was waiting and expecting you to arrive. Ever since he stopped being an assassin his schedule became busier than ever, but of course, now that he’s one of the boss, he’s never too busy for you.
“I need to ask you something” Jaehyun started while pouring you another glass of his favorite wine, “If I ask you to marry me-“
“No. The answer is no, Jaehyun” you sat closer to him and asked him what’s wrong and what’s troubling him. You can see it in his eyes. He wouldn’t mention marriage out of nowhere if everything was fine. “Not yet. Please. We haven’t have any peaceful years in our relationship and marriage will just make it worst I believe” You added.
But the thing is, he couldn’t just say that he’s father is making him marry someone, Jaehyun knew your insecurities of course, he couldn’t just say and be honest with you right now. So he didn’t answer any of your question. He just left a kiss on your lips and drank his wine slowly. Looking at his glass, lost in the silence like you’re not even beside him even though his hand is holding your hand.
It’s clear that something is bothering him.
Or maybe… Jaehyun really wanted to get married already?
You wont know. You don’t know.
But for Jaehyun, if you don’t want to marry him yet. That’s fine. As long as you will stay by his side and to never leave him. But little did you know, Jaehyun has a plan. If you don’t want it yet, well he will give you reasons to marry him and say yes soon.
“Lets just have one peaceful year, then lets get married” you blurted out just so you can stop worrying. His silence is choking you. He smiled and let out a cute laugh, hearing that from you, completely changed the mood and made Jaehyun happy. He is never greedy in life, he never asked for anything else, but when it comes to you, he wants all of you. That’s all he ever wanted.
“Okay… so correct me if I’m wrong but… you’re saying that we could get married some time next year?” he chuckled and teased you.
“Ugh. Yes. It’s just that… I can’t handle it when you’re like this. I love you and I want to be with you too but… you have to understand that the life we curently have is not a good life. We don’t have freedom Jae” you expressed your worries.
The wine in front of you two is completely forgotten.
“Okay. Okay. I understand.” he pulls you closer for a hug, wrapping you in his strong arms, “No pressure” he says and kissed you softly.
But even though you two compromised already, he’s still on the missions to make you want to marry him soon. And he will try until he succeeds. Hopefully.
The next day, he brought you to his sister’s brunch event, it was an awkward place to be, but you and Jaehyun wanted to see Sofi, Jaehyun’s niece and wish her a happy birthday. It was also a statement to Jaehyun’s family that he will not take any of their shits from now on. He will love whoever he chooses.
“Uncle Yoonoh is here!!!” Jaehyun shouted while catching young Sofi and lift her to the ground. The little girl was ecstatic and excited, to be carried by her uncle. She also hugged you and said hello before she invites you in and to let her lead the tour and introduced you to her friends.
“Why don’t you marry and have kids already instead of pestering me with your visits. My kids are always looking for you lately saying “uncle Jaehyun is the best when is he going to visit?” Jaehyun sister says as she makes a perfect impersonation of her kids. Jaehyun chuckled and gave his sister a kiss.
“Ive been trying” Jaehyun says with a big smile.
“To what? To getting married? To whom? To the daughter of Johnny Seo? Jeez she was your type?” Jaehyun’s sister said without hesitation. Not even thinking about you.
“No. I’ve been trying to get Y/n to say ‘yes’” Jaehyun says directly, “You do realize that were never breaking up. I’ll handle the Seos , I’m sure I can make business with them-“
“You’ll gain nothing from her Jae. Look at you now, you’re already suffering. You have the Phantoms and the Seo’s choking you hard… and now the girl you love doesn’t want to marry you? Ungrateful bitch”
“Its love. She has her reasons. I’ll try and try” Jaehyun says with a smile.
“Whatever your plan is, do it faster. By the time that Seo girl takes over her father’s business, we’re screwed Jae-“
“Tell me, why are we in debt with the Seos again?” It was an honest question, “all I know is they lend us money back when father’s business isn’t going well”
“Nothing special. Johnny Suh is one greedy motherfucker. His daughter is ready to get married and of course pairing her to the heir of the powerful Jeong family is the best way to be richer”
“That’s it?” Jaehyun asked.
“Yep. No plots,” his sister laughs.
“This is our word Jae. It’s already fucked up, it doesn’t need a plot anymore. Dad made you an assassin and made you kill for the family and suddenly you’re the boss, haven’t you learned anything?”
It was quiet for a moment. Then his sister said something unexpected, something he didn’t expect shed say.
“Stop caging Y/n Jae… Don’t you think she deserve so much better than this? If you really love her, set her free. This is not a place for her, she earned her freedom. And marrying you just makes her permanently imprisoned under the Jeongs…. you want a plot?” she smirked, “picture this. Someday, when she’s all fed up with all of this shit, she will leave you and you can’t do anything about it because you love her”
After knowing the truth about the Seos and after hearing the ugly truth from his sister, Jaehyun drowned himself with work and stayed in his office alone for a few days. It was like his head was splitting into half. One second he’s thinking about business and deals wih the Seos. Then the next minute he’ thinking about you. It wasn’t easy. He was trained to be an assassin and fix things with a gun or a knife, but this… this cannot be easily fixed with violence and Jaehyun knew that damn well. It’s frustrating him,
“Hey-“ you startled Jaehyun. He was lost in all the paper work that he needs to finish. His mind is already tired, but the one giving him rest and peace has entered the room. His mood completely changed when he saw you. “What’s up?” You added.
You sat on the vacant table beside him and watch him undo his sleeves and roll them up. He’s ready to call it a day already, you’re here.
Jaehyun stood in between your legs, making you wrap your arms around his neck, and your legs around his waist. Lips immediately found its place on your neck, down to your chest. “Wanna have sex on this table?” Jaehyun asked while kissing you sweetly. You can only nod and agree to his crazy idea. Not to mention, its been too long since you two did something like this.
He was quick to remove your pajama, leaving your shirt and panties on. Obviously, this was a stress release, you can see it in his eyes that he was stressed for days already and now that he got time he’s just craving for your body and craving for you in general. You went down from the table, kneeling in front of Jaehyun and help him undo his belt. His Calvin Klein boxer briefs always looked sexy on him you thought.
“You dont need to do this” he bend down and kissed you on the lips before you pull out his cock and give it good lick. Making sure its all wet and hard, watching Jaehyun from below… watching him became weaker every lick that you give him. And when you finally put it in your mouth, his hands are both relaxed on your head, pushing in gently as possible so he could reach the depths of your throat.
Jaehyun is not hard to please, he loved everything that your tongue is doing to his cock. Sucking and licking, it takes his breath away.
“I’m gonna cum” he warns you and made you stand and bend you on the table. He was quick to pull your panties to the side and thrust inside you, hitting you with fast thrust that made the table rock, you thought it will break any second. Then he pulled you closer to his chest, putting your hands behind you, his lips on your neck as he continues to fuck you good while he cums.
Slowly, while he rides his high he continues to plant kisses on you, “your turn” he says with ragged breaths. He made you lay down the table and spread your legs wide, watching his cum come out of your cunt, playing it with his fingers, turning you on while he bend down and proceeds to suck you boobs. You can feel that even though he already came, he’s still hard, very hard. And when he thrusted in again, the stretch was incredible.
“You’re so hard, fuck Jae,”
“Does it hurt?” He asks while he continues to fuck you, his lips on your lips, his hand busy with kneading your boobs and teasing your nipples. Everything was too much.
You and Jaehyun went on for a few couple of rounds. Few, but dirty and wild. It felt like you bith have the energy to go on and on, fuck like teenagers and do anything you could think of.
“Can you stop taking pills? I’ve read that, its affecting your emotions its not healthy,” he says sweetly.
“Woah there, since when did you know so much about these stuff?” you kissed him sweetly on the neck, reaching for his cock and checking if he’s still good for another round. “Well can you stop cumming inside me?” You joked, but your hands got him on chokehold but not for long. He was on top of you again, kissing your body and spreading your legs.
“Then I’ll wear a condom just stop taking those and I’ll try not to cum inside you, just please be healthy Im worried” he said before he puts it in for the nth time tonight.
“Hi beautiful”
Your heart beat so fast in a matter of seconds the moment you hear his deep voice. You smiled and continue to prepare your things.
“I can see you smiling from this hidden camera planted on the lapshade… I’ll tell Mark to hack this for good-“
You chuckled at what you just heard, “can you please stop hacking Mark’s shit and let the kid work?— let us work, rather”
“I just miss you” he said.
“Miss me? You could have call me—“
“I’ve been calling you. The moment you landed on Thailand” you tried looking for your phone the moment he mentioned it but you cant see it on your desk, “baby, its at the back pocket” you can hear him laugh at you. “Oh can’t wait to take care of you for the rest of my life, anyway, Mark is on I should go. I love you. Come home, alright?”
Right before you could even say that you love him, Mark got his control with the system and jumped right into whatever details you need for the big day tomorrow.
The call was at least 3 hours. Full of plotting and brainstorming, nothing about this big plan was rushed. If there’s one thing that you learned about this whole thing, it’s perfect timing. Ten is hard to find, and it took you months to get a head start. Ten was even harder to track, and it took you a few more months to keep track on him… all because of perfect timing.
Revenge. “Happy Revenge day” you murmured to yourself.
A steady look through the snipper, breathing and out calmly as you watch Ten, the first Phantom, flirt with his lover at his private penthouse.. well, it’s not private anymore, because tonight you’re gonna invade that.
“Green light,” Mark’s happy voice was clear through your earpiece. “Are you going to kill his lover too?” Mark asks.
“Yeah,” you answered calmly, “he wanted to kill me too when he thought he killed Jaehyun”
By the time you remember how Ten tortured Jaehyun, you pulled the trigger… and killed his lover. You watch Ten for a few minutes to do everything he wanted.. cry, call for help, shake his dead lover, watch him get scared and take cover.
As long as you watch him suffer.. as long as you see the sadness in his eyes because the love of his life died right before his eyes… he’s good as dead to you.
There’s a part of you that you didn’t want to kill Ten, not because youre nice. But because you wanted to make him suffer even more and live with the pain in his heart forever.
“Consider this as mercy,” you whispered through the cold air, wishing that Ten could hear it. And in a matter of second, your mercy was released. And you watch Ten bleed on his expensive marble floor.
It’s done.
5 Phantoms dead… and there’s only one left.
You smiled at the thought of your achievement. You smile as you watch the beautiful sunrise in front of you.
When you got home everyone applauded you for killing Ten, they couldn’t believe that you did all the work alone from investigations to finally killing Ten. He was a bit of a work you thought, he was hard to track, hard to find, and hard kill. But you saw his weakness… because you two are the same. You two have one thing in common.
Your lovers are your weakness.
“I’m happy you’re here beside me,” Jaehyun whispers while he pats your head softly.
You squeezed him and hugged him tighter.
“And since, it was such a beautiful kill,” you both giggled, “we should celebrate, we should go to a fancy restaurant tomorrow and celebrate” Jaehyun says excitedly but you looked like you’re not interested, maybe you’re tired, or maybe you just wanted to get on with it as soon as possible and find Kun.
“What do you know about Kun?” You asked Jaehyun.
“Well, he’s the riches among them. He knows all sorts of thing. A real family guy- he can fly a plane”
“Well maybe he’s not down here you know—“
“What? Do you think he lives on the clouds?” Jaehyun joked. “Please babe, you just got home. Take a breather, rest” Jaehyun once again provided calm to your life. And while you two enjoy each other’s warmth in his cozy bed, he’s playing with your engagement ring and kissed you good night.
He’s more than happy that you came back and now you’re safe in his loving arms.
The next day, he brought you to a fancy restaurant and had dinner together. It was a public space which you think was beautiful. Normal people eat on public spaces like this. They chat, dine, laugh until their stomachs hurt… it was all refreshing to you. And Jaehyun knew that.
That’s why he’s smiling from across the table, looking at you while you look at the people around you. He loves seeing you like this.
“Have you ever thought of early retirement Jae?” You asked him with a smile while he drinks wine.
“As an assassin? No.” He answered truthfully and poured you another glass of wine. “I would rather be Bitter Peach than Jeong Jaehyun”
“Sorry I forgot-“ he reach for your hand and told you its fine. He understands that you’re overwhelmed with the surroundings.
“You know while you’re gone.. me and Taeyong.. weve been growing tomatoes and herbs,” he had a proud smirk before he reaches his phone from his pocket and showed you pictures of what he has been doing in the gardens. “I’ve thought of someday having a winery…”
“That sound cool,”
“Have a winery while growing old with you” he added.
“Well, that’s beautiful” you said while he reaches for you slowly and give you a kiss.
But after that beautiful kiss you suddenly dropped on floor.
Your nose was bleeding and slowly you’re loosing air.
Slowly your vision fades out. You can’t move but your mind is telling you to stay awake. “Baby! Dont you dare close your eyes!” You hear Jaehyun yell at you, but even though he’s yelling and slightly slapping you to help you stay awake, you felt useless.
Then you coughed blood.
Jaehyun is already on the phone with Mark, asking for help. “Mark hurry up— she’s bleeding so much!” Jaehyun yelled through his phone.
You watch him try his best.
You saw his perfect clothes got stained with your blood.
And that was the last thing you saw before you closed your eyes.
Thank you so much for reading this work of mine! If you love what you read, please leave something in my inbox and tell me how you feel! CLICK THIS LINK.
I hope we can practice, give and take.
Stay tuned for the next part!
-B.
#nct smut#jeong jaehyun smut#jung jaehyun smut#jaehyun smut#jaehyun x reader#nct 127#jaehyun#nct imagines#nct scenarios#nct#nct 127 smut#jaehyun fluff#jaehyun angst#jaehyun imagines#jung jaehyun fic#fuck marry kill#fmk
275 notes
·
View notes
Text
HABITS OF MOTHER NATURE'S WILL II
The DARK DEMETER WRITING CATALOGUE, WANDA MAXIMOFF COLUMN #2 —
—- not my gifs, credit to original posters! -—
Wanda Maximoff x Werewolf! GN/Female/Male Reader,
(Platonic) Avengers x Werewolf! GN/Female/Male Reader
A/N — Here it is, werewolf readers! Been a little busy raccoon with writing this behemoth. Quite the read as you can tell by the word count. Please take care in reading the discretion list because this column is quite graphic and may be potentially triggering for readers.
WORD COUNT — 13.8k
READER DISCRETION — High levels of angst — hurt/comfort — minor sexual interaction, unspecified genitals but use of "groin". (making out. slight dry humping) — high level gore and violence (werewolves are fighting, and that is never clean) — sprouts of fluff moments — trauma/ptsd — mentions of violence and death (WARNING: Unspecified ages, but implied deaths of children and teenagers) — protective reader — aggressive werewolf! reader — reader begins recovery from trauma — some adult language — brief alcohol consumption — minor name calling feat. Tony calling reader "pup" — use of Y/N
PREVIOUS COLUMN — NEXT COLUMN
SUMMARY — Habits are not easy to let go and neither is the past. The team and yourself are sent to Alaska for an undercover op, but it becomes clear to the team that you’re more guard than guide on this mission. Mother Nature herself vouches that you will put your new wisdom to her intended use when the once distant howls have grown close. You will do everything in your nature to protect your pack and your mate. Instinct will take over; and instinct shall turn into habit.
You can’t change what cannot be undone. She wants you to embrace this, yet you fight it, tooth and claw.
There came this new and sole desire that occurred during the excruciating ordeal of your shift on the full moon last night.
Only such an experience meant Mother Nature was granting you a new wisdom, that which altered your previous nature, no matter how complicated the human biology was.
By her law, instinct was instinct.
You splashed cold water onto your face and absorbed the sight of yourself in the mirror. Often you caught sight of the beast beneath your eyes in the reflective surface. And many times it scared you how close it always lingered. Ever watchful and biding its time.
How could Wanda see you as more than you realise?
You caught the shine of amber as it shimmered across your eyes in your reflection. Right below the surface of your own skin, a predator resided with unbridled force. You shook your head to rid the intrusive need to let it out.
‘It is done now. She’s preparing me for something.’
Your hands gripped the sides of your sink, your white, strained knuckles ached with the pressure that threatened to crack the ceramic basin.
‘They wouldn’t understand it. Wanda wouldn’t understand it.’
A knock on your room’s door caught you off guard. That rarely happened with your keen senses. Your hands released their hold on the sink.
“Y/N?” Your ears pricked at the accented tongue of her voice, “you finished packing?”
You don’t even think about your actions because it felt natural to approach her. To be close to her. You’ve already opened your door when you came to your senses
when a pair of bright eyes blink up at you. Fuck, you can’t control your racing heart whenever she smiled.
You’re almost afraid she’ll read your mind again and discover what she’d be better off never knowing.
She saw you as more than you realised but could she possibly understand the idea that you saw her anymore differently than you did before?
‘Mate.’
“I came to let you know everyone is waiting for us. Can’t leave our guide behind now.”
Her eyes momentarily fluttered down before they lifted to stare into the captivity of yours.
“Y-yeah,” you bit back a snarl at the stutter of your response, “I’m ready.”
“Good. Could you help me with my bags?” Her eyes looked hopeful for the short moment you left her unanswered before you nodded, perhaps a little too enthusiastically.
“Of course!”
And that’s why you now fought so hard against Mother Nature. She instilled within your agonised cries, broken bones and reformed muscle what every werewolf anticipated: a soulmate tie.
When many were overcome with a pure and primal feeling of joy, you were consumed by trepidation.
Nevertheless, you walked Wanda to her room and retrieved her bags - much to her protest, you gave a wolfish smirk to hide the near breathlessness in your lungs and rapid beating of your heart - and joined the others on the Quinjet for your mission in Alaska.
Where a wolf calls home.
“So tell us, Wolfie. What’s the whole story with you and Alaska?” Natasha spoke up from the co-pilot's seat, Steve sat next to her, his focus on flying the jet though her question piqued his interest. “Did you grow up there?”
A few hours into the flight and all was smooth sailing until her question made the hair on the back of your neck stand.
When you mentally prepared yourself, you turned your eyes in her direction.
She’d turned to peer over her shoulder at you with a quirk in her brow, curious to Fury’s designation as the team’s guide.
“Ah,” you huffed and scratched at your neck haphazardly, another habit you shared with disdain, “something Fury left out of my file, I take it?”
“Well, yeah. Your file has barely anything regarding background. Only when you moved to the city and your skill set mainly.” Your lips pulled into a thin line with Sam’s deliverance of this news.
Your nose wrinkled at the scent that tinged the air like ash and smoke. A dark tone to their concern. Were they worried you were hiding something?
You simply shrugged to ease some of the tension that built around you and your teammates. “Just spent some years there before I moved on to live in the city. As a werewolf, you tend to learn terrain quickly, no matter how long it’s been.”
Natasha nodded but something in the way she pursed her lips made the tight coil in your chest grow, almost to the point it strangled out a whimper from you.
“Alaska is a really beautiful place,” you sighed and your lips stretch to form a smile, “if we have enough time, I’ll happily show you guys around.
“I’d like that very much,” Wanda said from her seat across from yours. Your smile turned shy under her gaze, a flutter of her glowing red magic used to merely entertain herself made your heart warm.
An odd sensation as if her very magic was tied to your heart.
Steve hummed out from his place, his eyes wandered to Tony as if to hear out his thoughts on the matter. Tony shrugged.
“Just don’t forget we’re here for a mission, not a ‘walk-with-nature’ getaway trip.”
The small assembled team nodded and mumbled amongst themselves.
“Alright, Stark. But I am personally not leaving Alaska without playing a proper game of fetch with Y/N.”
Your chin tilted down to conceal the smirk on your lips. Wanda was surely determined with a tone like that. You briefly caught her eyes and the wide grin plastered on her face.
If Mother Nature gave you one chance to change yours and Wanda’s - unbeknownst to her - new fate, would you truly want to?
The Quinjet landed without trouble thanks to Steve’s impeccable piloting skills, though you could tell Sam and Tony may have had a few hundred pointers for the captain.
The engine was turned off and everyone gathered their bags together. You reached into your suit pocket for the small pill case, taking two of them. When Sam gave you a questioning look, you mumbled something about it being medicine for your headache.
The ramp lowered and the frozen breeze brought most of your teammates to a shiver. You and the super soldiers hadn’t so much as flinched.
You were the first to step down the ramp and greet the snow with your feet, the deep crunch beneath you a welcomed whirlwind of contentment.
‘Home.’
The others followed behind you, bags adorned, they took in the marvel of their new surroundings. Below a blue and sunny sky littered with clouds, the platform was mostly covered by the ensuing white that covered the landscape.
Down the trail that led alongside the woods, a large house laid vacant in the distance right near the edge of the frozen lake.
“Quite the walk,” Tony huffed with a cluster of windy ice before his mouth. Snow already littered in his dark hair.
Your gaze followed the span of the ice until it reached the far off cluster of trees on the other side. Beyond that, the mountain peaks contrasted against the sky.
“See that mountain up there?” You pointed at the tallest one and your team all turned their sights to where your hand directed.
“I’ve been up there. A sort of tradition to race up to the top just as the sun grazed the horizon.”
The memories were distant when you moved to the city. But now they flooded back like an avalanche.
“All the way up there, huh?” Steve asked, mouth agape as he assessed the frosty white peak. “By yourself?”
“No, with my siblings.” You answered that too quickly and too honestly. The frosted mist faded before your lips into the air with your words, unable to take them back.
“Wait, you never mentioned you have siblings,” said Bucky with a furrowed brow.
“Oh, I guess I never did…” Your once smile faded from your face and your eyes were overcome with that pain that stained the snow you walked upon. You felt the stares against your back and you huffed aloud, shoulders sagged.
“Come on, we should get settled in,” you said with a forced smile, the cold for once stung harshly against your face. It burnt your skin.
The others nodded and you led the way down the trail. The sun would set soon, and it was unwise to wander around after sun down. But that sole purpose that fuelled your soul burned deep within you like a campfire amidst a snow storm.
You wouldn’t allow any harm to befall your team. You’d sooner die than let anything happen to them. To her.
As you walked with a determined stride towards the lodge, Wanda’s warm fingers swept across your knuckles.
‘I’m here for you, if you want to talk.’
You swallowed thickly and the inkling of your head nodding seemed to answer her as her eyes scanned you.
“So how did Fury get this safe house?” Clint asked with a deep, and huffy breath, his hand adjusted the bag on his shoulder.
“It belonged to a family many years ago. But it’s been vacant for some time and Fury gained ownership of it.”
“You seem very familiar with the safe house.”
Shit. Was she reading your mind as you spoke?
You walked up the steps onto the front porch, key in hand but your hand lingered on the door handle with an iron grip.
You stood locked in place for what felt like an eternity, eyes scornful as they glared daggers into the wooden and glass panelled door.
“I’d worked alongside the family. Did some odd jobs here and there, kind of became a family friend.”
you unlocked the front door and promptly stood aside with a gesture to the others before you, the door held open. You offered them all a kind smile the moment your eyes found Wanda’s, the sharp lines in your brows eased even when in hers, you saw the glimmer of concern.
“Come on in.”
It was safe to say the majority of your party were relieved to step inside the lodge and turn on the thermostat. Not that it was ever much in use back in the day, you were a little surprised that it still managed after all this time.
While the others took in their temporary residence, you couldn’t help but let your eyes rake over the emptiness that took place. A shadow of its former self.
Your hands ran over the hearth’s sill, clean of any dust but once, it held the memories of a past you left behind. Each frame a moment in time which you treasured beyond belief with the passed family.
Now you stared at the unlit hearth. Barren of those memories. You thought it was for the best. Fury did well with the clean up.
‘Are you okay?’
You looked towards where Wanda stood by the L shaped lounge, arms folded over her front and fingers knitted together; her nails dragged across her knuckles and it made you cringe from the thought of her discomfort.
‘Yeah, I’m alright.’
“So how are we doing the rooms?” Natasha asked after she finished her investigation of the kitchen right across from the lounge room.
“We will do pairs,” you answered curtly, yet you still feigned a smile even if they could tell it was fake.
“Follow me.”
You only hoped they wouldn’t say anything that delved deeper than the surface. Only the wolf awaited them there.
You hadn’t expected the return to Alaska to hit you in such a way. And to add atop of it all, your senses were at an all time high, dialled up to eleven. You felt far more sensitive than usual.
More easy to falter. Easier to piss off.
Everyone followed you up the flight of stairs to the second floor.
The hallway was less narrower than you remembered, it could fit two people shoulder to shoulder fairly well. Rooms lined the hallway down towards the singular pair of double doors at the end.
“These are the rooms, take your pick. This is the bathroom here, the master bedroom has an ensuite,” you explained to them, your tone rapid fire.
“Wanda and Natasha, you can take the master bedroom.” You opened the double doors and it took everything in you to prevent the tears. And yet a sad smile pulled at the corners on your lips.
You could still smell them after all this time. It was like they never left.
“Are you sure?” Natasha asked rather sharply, almost offended you offered it up so casually, given your relationship with the family.
“I don’t mind bunking with Clint is all, if that’s your concern. You and Wanda can take the master.”
Natasha’s tone was one you knew well enough for your months with the Avengers. Firm. Bossy. She wasn’t asking, she was telling. Your breath goes still in your lungs and your face became heated, a red hue bloomed in your cheeks and the tip of your nose.
You and Wanda together in a room? By yourselves?
“I— er, I don’t—“ you’re a fucking stuttering mess again and you clear your throat, the sound more of a growl than anything.
“I don’t mind bunking with you, Wolfie!” Wanda assured with a light and gentle smile, you could see easily she was holding back a flustered giggle given the faint colour in her cheeks.
Though you wished to chalk that up to the cold still settled in her bones beneath the layers.
“Then that’s settled!” Natasha flashed you both a wink and you whined lowly, involuntarily on your part but no less made Wanda giggle freely this time.
“I’m not sleeping in the same room as Tony,” Bucky grumbled, his eyes found Steve’s to indicate he’d chosen his roommate.
Tony huffed with a roll of his eyes. “Likewise, cyborg.”
“Okay, boys. Keep the peace. Everyone settle in and come downstairs for dinner in fifteen minutes. That’s an order!”
“I thought I was in charge!” Tony called after Natasha down the hallway, Sam patted his shoulder. “Yeah, only on report. We know who’s really directing this mission.”
Steve and Bucky took the room that belonged to the second eldest sibling, further down the hall, Natasha and Clint claimed the room next to theirs; the twin’s old room and Sam and Tony chose the room opposite Bucky and Steve’s, the third eldest’s room.
When you looked down that hallway, you could see the kids in that hallway again, their feet pattering against the wooden planks in their rush of excitement.
The last bedroom, however, was off limits. Under lock and key. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. Fury put everything in there and put a lock on it.
It was for the best.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Wanda asked after everyone had gone to their chosen rooms to unpack and settle in.
You closed the doors with a heavy sigh, forehead pressed into the cool, wooden surface.
“Yeah,” you managed to breathe out, “yeah, I’m just… not feeling too good. Feel different…”
Wanda took a few steps forward but was paused in place by the command in your voice. “Don’t…”
Your vocals were contorted into a deep, husky drawl as the wolf shined through enough to reflect in your eyes with an ominous glow. Your claws dug into the skin of your palms to the point they almost drew blood.
Her eyes drifted down to see your balled fists and her hands nervously fiddled together once more, you waited to see the red hue of her magic.
Was she trying to read your mind again?
“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t—“ you retracted yourself, getting a grip of the wolfish desire to let go. You had to keep it together.
Your heart rapped hard in your chest, your claws sank back and the amber glow faded from your eyes. “I’m sorry, Wanda.”
‘I’m sorry, Mate.’
“It’s fine, really, Y/N. Don’t worry about it. Just know I’m here for you if you want to talk. We all are.”
There was too much on your mind to simply talk. No. You needed action. Talking about it would only lead to tears and a breakdown.
“Hey,” Wanda closed the gap between you both and you fought between doing the same and taking a retreating step. You were locked in place a second time.
Her hand was delicate as she placed it on your arm to give an assuring squeeze.
“Don’t fight it. Whatever it is that’s troubling you. I want to help you.”
‘I want your help. I want you.’
You feel like you can only nod in reply. Your words all jumped in the back of your throat, a knot ready to burst the moment you try to utter a single one of those words.
She took the daring leap and wrapped her arms around your torso.
The instinct Mother Nature had sewn into your wisdom made your arms wrap around Wanda, and you tugged her in until she was flush against you.
Her scent filled your nose and your eyes softened with a rumble reverberating against her chest, the glisten of tears not long to follow as your eyes became coated. How you wished you had the courage to tell her this new desire. This need to protect her; claim her.
But she wouldn’t understand it. Those who did not share their very soul with the wolf couldn’t possibly grasp the identity of such serious and sacred matters that kept your species alive and the old ways honoured.
Not often were humans and werewolves bound together by Mother Nature’s soulmate tie. Often the wolf was spurned because their mate didn’t understand that their rejection held far greater consequences than hurt feelings.
Perhaps that was why you wanted to protect Wanda so much. Not because she was your destiny or to protect yourself from getting hurt.
You were no stranger to getting hurt.
It was to protect her from what you would become and the guilt she would harbour on herself.
“Thank you, Wanda. For being here,” you sighed after a long moment, time having felt dragged on for years as you held her in a tight hug. You didn’t want to let her go. Not now or ever.
“Of course, Wolfie. You’re my friend.”
You whined softly but the corner of your lips turned up into a faint smile, conflicted between pain and relief. “I like that…”
‘Mate…’
You and Wanda had been the last to join everyone downstairs for dinner. Natasha and Clint mostly tutted and bickered with each other as they slaved away with dinner, Wanda opted to help out when she had a taste test.
Tony and Bucky had helped themselves to one of the finely aged whiskey bottles in the cabinet near the dining table and Steve took interest in the small collection of books arranged by volume, while Sam took in the terrain from the wide, floor to ceiling windows that looked out into the growing dark woods.
Everyone was growing accustomed to their surroundings in the house. This was good, it meant they felt comfortable. That’s what you wanted, had hoped for. You couldn’t exactly say the same for you, but there was that feeling of home.
You joined Sam by the window, a cold bottle of beer curled into the palm of your hand. It didn’t taste the best, you’d never liked the brand, but it was what was on hand.
Alcohol had a weird effect on werewolves anyway so you opted to stay away from it as much as possible.
You took a swig with a grunt from your unsettled gut and Sam smirked at you. “You doing alright, Wolfie?” He asked and you rolled your eyes.
“Just fine. Beer’s shit though, I don’t know how you guys like it.”
The sneer on your face as you glared down at the bottle only made Sam chuckle. “Honestly, it does taste bad, but I don’t fancy myself the connoisseur.” Sam, subtly as he might, gestured towards Tony and Bucky. “Unlike them.”
You huffed at that, a small grin on your lips. Sam was a good man to talk to whenever you felt like the world around you was caving in with a purpose to destroy you.
Even more, when he’d talk about his family, you got immersed in his stories; as though you were there too.
“I wouldn’t trust Tony to drink a shot of dyed bleach and tell the difference.”
Sam’s fist was brought to his face, a mouthful of his drink chuffed back when he snorted so he wouldn’t choke.
You grin impossibly more and clapped his shoulder. “Hey, I’m not the best at jokes, how did you even find that funny?”
“Something funny, pup?” Tony asked over the rim of his glass. Your eyes met his and you shook your head. “Just told a dull joke,” you replied, “like your taste buds…”
Only Sam heard your muttering and once he was free of his mouthful of beer, he laughed loudly. The sound faded after a moment and you both stared out into the woodland.
“It’s really peaceful out here,” Sam said finally. You nodded but you feared something in you couldn’t entirely agree with him.
It had been peaceful once. But now there lingered something eerie. It made you too alert to easily relax as the others did. Even if they too could sense the same thing as you, their scent gave nothing away. “I thought the same as you once.”
Sam looked at you with a troubled, confused furrow in his brow. His lips pulled down into a frown. Sam opened his mouth, no doubt to ask the question you already saw in his eyes, but Natasha’s announcement cut him off.
“Dinner’s ready!”
Clint and Wanda served up everyone’s plates with the spaghetti bolognaise. The food was good on account of Wanda adding just a little bit more spice and salt to the sauce, and of course what was dinner without conversation.
Talk about smaller topics were easier to digest with your food. How you didn’t expect it to take a turn that made your hand halt before you could take another bite of your food.
“Is there anything dangerous out here, Y/N?”
“It’s Alaska and we’re in the middle of unsettled territory. Of course there are dangers out here,” you answered Sam with a casual shrug.
Not many predators roamed so close to the house when you were here with the family. Just the odd bear once or twice. You glanced up to meet Sam’s unsure stare.
He didn’t believe you.
“Just as a safety precaution, when we’re not on a mission, stay within the border of the property,” you began, “I’ll show you guys around tomorrow. At night, I ask that you stay inside. If you do go outside, let me know so I can come with you.”
“We’re capable of holding our own against a drifter moose or yogi bear, pup,” Tony snarked lightly with another gulp of his whiskey.
“I know,” you bite with a tone a little too harshly, the beds of your fingernails felt bruised and ached as your eyes burnt. “But just… please, just do that for me, yeah?”
You looked around the table and you let out a relieved sigh when you saw heads nod. “Of course, Y/N,” Natasha assured.
“Good. Other than that, you have free roam of the house, minus the locked room upstairs. Just the family’s old belongings.”
The others nodded again and your eyes met Wanda’s. she could see something deeply troubled you. You were usually so calm and collected on missions, barely flinching when bullets fired at you in a frenzied spray. Sure, your aggression was a feat unmatched in the heat of battle but it was what made you strong.
Deadly.
Effective.
You were Mother Nature’s definition of safety and danger. An apex predator.
But now, something in you had visibly switched. Gone was the fearsome animal that could maul and maim without restraint but one. Your confident smirk and wicked disregard for your life - despite your actions to protect your teammates - had contorted into a concerning frown and a strained, husk of a drawl. An underlying threat to unleash the wolf if steps were not taken carefully.
Dinner resumed, albeit, a little less talking and a lot more tension. You finally excused yourself after you promptly thanked Natasha, Clint and Wanda for the food.
You knew everyone watched you leave but Wanda’s eyes pierced through you like nothing else ever could.
The wind swept across your back and through your hair with a hollow whisper in the night. The pier was a spot you went to to think when you felt troubled. The Northern Lights danced across the black canvas littered with stars and a bright, fading full moon.
The frozen lake offered a different ambience with the rest of nature. A deep, echoing boom across the frozen surface could be heard from the water beneath the layer of ice.
Boots intruded on the wooden boards of the pier as they gently - calmly - thundered towards you.
“Wolfie,” one accented tongue said so beautifully you thought for a moment an angel greeted you. Startled with a gasp, you spun your head to look in the direction of her voice.
“Wanda,” you greeted with a rumble.
‘Mate.’
“What are you doing out here?”
She rolled her shoulders back and stepped closer. Then another step. The post behind you greeted your back then.
“I came out here to find you. May I join you?”
You nodded, the action more of a nervous quiver than anything, Wanda smiled and stood by your side. Her shoulder brushed along your arm and you felt the air in your lungs dissipate.
“You left dinner so abruptly. I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m alright.” You stared off into the distance to keep your eyes away from Wanda’s who you knew analysed you now. Her scent filled you and smothered out all the rest. You couldn’t smell the fresh wetness of the snow, the rich, earthly smell of the pines, nor the herd of the elk that traversed the wilderness across the vast lake.
You could only smell her. That intoxicating scent of rose and vanilla that her shampoo couldn’t conceal from you.
The vanilla was stronger. She was in a state of unease. Worry.
Your eyes slowly drifted from the mountains to her. Her gaze must have left you to also see where it was your sights wandered off to.
“You don’t believe me?” You asked and she sighed, unable to meet your eyes. “Not really. I know something is wrong, you’re encumbered by this fear and it’s driving me crazy that I can’t— that I can’t…”
Your brows were pulled into a hard formation and your mouth fell agape. The struggle within her to voice her thoughts made your heart wrench and break. “Hey…”
That instinct took over again, your arm wrapped around her waist and you didn’t hesitate to pull her to you.
It felt nice for Wanda to be held like this. The cold slithered beneath the layers used to keep it out, only to find the heat of your body to immediately nullify the chill.
“It’s hard to explain, Wanda. I’m in a very difficult position right now and I fear what might happen to those around me.”
“I told you that I’m here to talk, Y/N. I won’t judge, I promise. Please just… tell me.”
Her head rested under your chin, her hands rested against your chest. It all felt so intimate. You wanted to cave and tell her everything on your mind. She was your mate and she had a right to know.
But would she understand?
“Wanda, you’re…,” you trailed off as something thick coated the back of your throat, “you’re…”
‘My mate. Just say it, tell her she is your mate!’
Your chest expanded with a deep breath, Wanda’s head lifting with it. Her cheek nuzzled against you. This was your chance. It was now or never.
“Wanda, you’re my m—“
An announcing howl reverberated in the far distance like wind moved through a hollow.
Your blood turned ice cold. The searing burn in your eyes returned with that striking, animalistic glow of amber.
“What is it?” Wanda had asked but you didn’t answer. You glared off in the direction where the howl came from. That sounded haunted you; hunted you.
“Get inside and don’t come out. No matter what,” you commanded beneath a baritone growl. Wanda looked at you, jaw dropped and eyes wide. You could smell it on her. Vanilla.
Confusion. Fear.
“But—“
“Now.”
You left no room for argument. Not when it came to her safety. Not when the wolf shone through the amber that danced ferociously in your eyes. There she could see a semblance of that old you.
Protective. Dangerous.
She made her way back towards the house but she stopped at the end of the pier and turned to look at you once more. Her bright, glossy eyes pleaded with you to follow her. You watched her and nodded for her to go on, that you wouldn’t be too far behind.
‘Promise you’re right behind me.’
‘I promise. Now go.’
She rushed off towards the front porch and entered the house as the wind was bitter against your back again; harsher than before.
You wanted nothing more than to end this. Your arm rested against the post, claws digging deep into your palm. You’d make it painful but to strike now would only invite conflict so early into your mission.
It would complicate things all because you couldn’t keep yourself in check.
A confirmation that even with your positives there came your negatives; unpredictable, bloodthirsty and dangerous to the team.
Dangerous to Wanda.
You lowered your arm and drove your fist hard into the post with a pained grunt. You promised Wanda you were right behind her and what you planned on doing was only going to do the opposite.
You saw the fear in her eyes. You couldn’t put her through anything else if you came out of this fight scathed and bruised. No less, the team would be suspicious.
You’d have to wait.
Wanda waited up for you, no matter the hour it was now, she wouldn’t rest until she knew you were safe. The red hue of her magic glowed in the darkness of the room, the only other source of light was one of the twin lamps on the bedside table.
Her head shot up and her magic ceased when she heard the doors open to your shared room, your form emerged from the dark hallway and promptly closed the doors behind you.
“Y/N,” she gasped your name and sat up on her knees, mattress dipping beneath her.
Your eyes met hers, amber flickering just faintly behind your pupils. With a growl, your face goes flush. Wanda was dressed down into nothing but an oversized shirt and what you chalked up to be her underwear.
“H-hey,” you choked out as your hand rubbed the back of your neck. Your eyes darted elsewhere to keep your gaze - that now festered with a hunger - away from Wanda.
‘Fucking hell!’
“What?”
“What?” Your eyes widened as they stared into hers, you fought the tempting urge to let your gaze travel down her body.
Was this the work of your soulmate tie or your little crush?
Wanda tilted her head curiously, her nose scrunched a little as the corner of her lips turned up. You appeared less troubled by whatever it was before. Now you were… you.
That you, whenever she would walk into the same room you occupied. That you, that often asked her how she was doing and complimented her.
Her flustered wolf with the red ball.
“I’m good, I just er—“ you glanced towards the ensuite bathroom with a wave of your hand. “I’m just gonna, ya know, get ready for bed.”
“Okay.” Wanda let out a light giggle. You were quick to gather your change of clothes and hurried into the bathroom. You may have taken a little longer than you’d have liked, but you had to get your bearings together before you re-entered that bedroom.
‘To have her and mark her right now— no, no, none of that! She’s your friend…
Mate…
Fuck.’
You face-palmed yourself with another growl. The faint glimmer of the wolf behind your eyes had now brightened once more but with a newfound interest.
‘I was so close to telling her. I missed my chance.
Could tell her now…
No. Ain’t doing that.’
You walked out of the bathroom to find Wanda settled in bed and under the covers much to the conflict of your relief and disappointment. You climbed into bed beside her, being sure to leave a good amount of space between you both.
Was she really happy to share a room with you for the duration of your mission?
You flicked off the lamp and laid back against the pillow with a heavy, tired sigh. Both your arms rested underneath your head.
“Wolfie?” Wanda’s voice whispered into the darkness. You hum in response. “I’m a little cold…”
You lifted your head slightly to look at her, able to see every detail on her face in the dark. A fine trait to have until you woke up first thing with the fucking sun in your eyes.
It’s why you opted to always have the curtains drawn closed.
“The thermostat is a bit rusty, but I could get you an extra blanket if you’d like?”
She shook her head, fiery hair and cheek nuzzling into her pillow. A faint, shy smile on her plump lips. Lips you wanted so badly to kiss.
“I don’t want to trouble you with that.”
You raised a brow at that. Why did she bring it up if she didn’t want you to resolve it?
Before you could say anything, she moved closer into your side, her arm curled over your stomach.
Your muscles tensed as her cheek laid where your shoulder and neck met. Anything you did want to say completely went out the window of your thought process.
“Much better,” she sighed almost silently, her breath even and slow. Your arm wrapped over her shoulder and Wanda relaxed more against your side.
“You good?” You asked, albeit hesitantly. She softly hummed in return and you couldn’t restrain your smile.
By the soft thump of her heartbeat and her quiet breaths, she’d fallen asleep quickly. The warmth of your body must have really helped her.
You turned your head and your nose brushed against her scalp, lips hovering over the crown of her hairline. “Good night…”
‘Mate.’
You awoke to the sound of voices coming from downstairs. New voices that didn’t belong to anyone on your team. You grumbled as you sat up, arms pulled up to stretch your muscles.
That’s when you realised the bed was vacant beside you. A piece of paper sat on Wanda’s pillow and you plucked it, reading the delicate handwriting.
‘Didn’t want to wake you. Come downstairs when you’re awake, Wolfie!
P.S you were really warm and comfy’
You huffed at that, a smirk plastered on your tired features. For a moment you’d forgotten about the strange voices until you put the letter aside.
You frowned and your glare landed on the closed doors.
You stood up and silently, you opened the doors. You moved equally as quietly down the hallway until you reached the top of the stairs, thankfully you were obscured from sight on the first floor.
“What a wonderful place you have here. So, you lot just moved in?”
“Yep,” Steve said with a chuckle, “we all pitched in together to start fresh from the city. We’d heard good things about Alaska, stunning views and a lot of opportunities.”
You applauded Steve’s skill to act like a civilian. A true and natural actor when it came to undercover ops.
Too bad your rather aggressive nature tended to give you a bad impression on people. It’s why you were often a background actor. Someone who was passing through, someone who wasn’t a permanent fixture to the attention of your targets.
Exactly the reason why you hid upstairs and eavesdropped.
The man downstairs gave an amused hum. “And a lot of game,” he mused, you could hear the test in his voice.
Yes, you knew that voice.
“Oh yeah, quite the trophies hunters claim up here. We’re quite the group ourselves, James particularly.”
‘Oh, Steve.’
You could smell the sudden change in Bucky’s scent. You rolled your eyes.
“Oh?”
“Mm, when I’m up to it. I only go after the best game when it’s trophy season.”
“Then why don’t we go hunting together this weekend, huh? It is game season and I think it’d help break the ice as neighbours.“
You stiffened in your place, back rigid against the wall. You smelt it in the air. Each one of your teammates had a sense of unease. They must’ve known something was up, this man - these people - were undoubtedly your targets; drawn in just as Fury had predicted.
Only, he didn’t disclose what they were with the others. Only you knew.
“Neighbour?” Sam asked and the man laughed.
“That’s right! Over the mountain ridge out that way. A lodge like this one, you can’t miss it.”
“Sure, we might come by. Any particular spots for good game?” Tony asked, he’d actually fooled you for a second there with how invested he sounded in the idea of hunt and game.
“This valley is quite the place for hunting, actually. The best.”
Your eyes screwed shut, your mind slowly slipping away into that dark space you’d purposefully left behind.
You wished they’d just leave.
“So it’s just you seven here? Nobody else?” He asked and your breath froze.
“Nope, just us,” Wanda answered.
“I see… hmm,” he replied, his response slow before a second silence befell him. You heard him clear his nasal before he shyly said, “Apologies, the cold season tends to make my nose sensitive. Well then, I’d best be going before the wife hangs my head over the hearth. Be seeing you, neighbours and welcome to Alaska.”
You breathed out a sigh of relief when he and the men with him left. Your team bid their farewells to your neighbours and the front door closed behind your departing guests.
Your team was in danger.
‘And it’s my fucking fault!’
Werewolves don’t get sensitive to the cold. You lot were basically self-established heating machines to withstand the cold climates.
No. He’d sniffed you out and your pills to hide your wolf scent had worn off from yesterday.
Your scent was known and he knew that his new neighbours had a little secret of their own. The muscles around your mouth and nose twitch, teeth clenched hard together as a rumble vibrates in your chest.
How could you be so careless? You could smell them before you even opened your bedroom door and yet you failed to keep your own scent hidden.
“Well, that was something,” Natasha huffed and you heard Clint grunt in an agreeable fashion.
“You can say that again. The guy had a weird look in his eye when he spoke about the whole hunting thing.”
“I don’t think he hunts ordinary animals,” Bucky drawled, voice laced with his deep-rooted suspicion. He was right to be and you were glad he - or anyone on your team - didn’t fall for the facade.
They hunted animals to keep people off their scents but elk, bears and beavers weren’t their preferred quarry.
They prided themselves in hunting their own kind. A sick, perverted desire to slaughter other packs. Not only that, they had a sickening obsession with hunting humans. To do things no person should be subjected to.
Mother Nature scorned such vile behaviour with hatred beyond words.
And this pack had connections to a Hydra resurgence group that intended to operate within Alaska.
They had to be stopped and your temper was running short. Sooner or later you were gonna wolf out and you wanted the snow to be stained red with that pack’s blood.
You should have done so last night, keeping your cover be damned.
You finally decided to head downstairs, the necessity to conceal your footsteps no longer mattered.
All eyes fell to you and you waved in response to the uttered good mornings and greetings.
“I take it you heard all that upstairs?” Tony asked you, doing you the courtesy of getting a cup of coffee ready for you. You nodded with a snarl, “yeah, and we’re gonna need a new plan.”
“Why?” Steve asked, brows knitted together as he leaned against the wall. Tony passed you the cup of steaming coffee.
You took a gulp of it before your eyes looked to Steve and the others. You were silent, gaze elsewhere as your thumb massaged the handle of your mug.
“What aren’t you telling us, Y/N?” Natasha asked from her place at the dining table, her own mug nestled against her palm. Still, you didn’t answer.
“Because they know I’m here.” That’s all you said. What you intended to say. Did they truly need to know that they were dealing with werewolves? Probably, but you had other plans.
“How? We told them it was just us,” Sam argued. You only shook your head. “They know I’m here. We need a new plan quickly. They’re not gonna wait until the weekend now.”
They didn’t like your answer, or rather, lack of answers.
“You’re still hiding something from us.” You growled over the rim of your cup. Steve was pushing it. “If there is something about these guys that you know about, you need to tell us.”
You placed your cup down on the countertop, hunched over on your stool. “Werewolves don’t get sick little noses because of the cold, Captain. The only thing that makes us sick are infections from wounds and poisons engineered from wolfsbane and silver. To which, Hydra has been known to have an abundance of.”
They wanted the truth and you gave it to them on a platter. You allowed them to have their stunned silence, no matter how suffocated it made your nose feel.
“You mean—“
“He could smell me, Tony.” Your eyes slowly rolled to meet his and for the first time since you met the billionaire, you saw the colour drain from his face as he stared into your eyes.
“He’s the same damn thing I am and because of that, that leaves us in a very compromised position.”
Another wave of silence filled the open space. You downed the rest of your coffee in a few gulps. You couldn’t even process the taste.
“What do we do?” You heard Bucky ask from behind you. You turned to see him stare at you, blue eyes piercing into you to get the answer they needed. Wanda stood next to him.
She’d been quiet this whole time and that fear wedged itself sharply into your heart. To see the uncertainty of the mission because it had already gone sideways.
“The whole guide shit was only half true. Fury sent me in as a guard,” you began, “but if you’re asking me what I really think we should do is get you guys back to headquarters.”
“What do you mean? Y/N, we’re not going to leave you behind. We’re going to complete this mission together.” Steve was pissed that you’d suggest such a thing.
“We do have two capable super soldiers, an enhanced witch who can move things with her mind, an ex-spy, two mediocre talents at best and myself: the brilliant genius that I am,” Tony said. How you wanted to slap the arrogance from his head so hard. “And also a werewolf. What could go wrong?”
You shook your head again, tongue running over your teeth with a tsk. “You don’t get it, Stark. This pack has been here for many years. They know the terrain better than any of you. They will use that to their advantage. On top of that, they have ties to the Hydra resurgence. Tony, if I don’t get you guys out of here, there will be no getting out of here.”
You turned to the others as you stood from your stool, your eyes coated in a hot, watery layer.
“These werewolves are not your ordinary pack. They are literal hunting dogs for Hydra. You’ve all seen Bucky as the Winter Soldier…”
You didn’t wish to bring it up, not to see the pain in those blue eyes of his. Bucky and you seemed to get along quite well. You both understood each other. His time with Hydra was not something you brought up lightly; you had a point to make. They couldn’t grasp the severity of the situation. They hadn’t experienced what you did.
You needed to get your team out of Alaska because they were yours to protect. They were your pack.
You take a deep breath in, your eyes scanned each awaiting face until they landed on Wanda.
“Now imagine that type of scenario, but times it by ten. You have to trust me on this one. If I stay behind, I can fend them off while you guys get home and get reinforcements.”
“No, Y/N…,” you heard Wanda whisper with a shaken breath. You didn’t want to see the tears in her eyes, but you turned anyway to face her.
“Wanda, you have no idea what you’re getting yourselves into with this pack… but I do. What they did to the family that lived here is something I will not see happen again. Not to you.”
What remained of that day all felt like a blur. You’d all discussed the new plan and now, after two days of waiting, you were going to execute the escape plan.
The howls from the woods had gotten closer each night. Their arrival was just as you had said. They weren’t going to wait until the weekend.
“I don’t like this plan, Y/N,” Wanda said, voice quivering in her throat, “what if something bad happens to you while we’re gone? What if they kill you?”
You shook your head. “They won’t kill me. I won’t make it easy for them.”
Wanda scowled at this and she rounded the bed to where you were. She placed a hand over yours, clenched together between your thighs.
“This isn’t about making it difficult for them, this is about your survival. You said it yourself, these werewolves aren’t like any other. They’re different because of what Hydra did to them.”
Your jaw clenched tightly at her words. Her soft skin against yours made your hand tingle, her breath so close to beating along the apple of your cheek.
“But so am I,” you said lowly. You turned your chin towards Wanda, her eyes searched your face and your uttered words for some semblance of understanding.
“I… I still don’t like this idea. Just come back with us, please…” Tears wept down her cheeks and she didn’t hide the small sniffle.
“It has to be this way, Wanda.” You stood up and pulled her into your chest without hesitation, her arms immediately encircled around your torso.
“This is personal. What they did to—“ you grimaced at the memory. The blood that splattered the walls and the snow alike. Carnage like no other you’d seen stained the house secretly. The clean-up may have hidden the history but your memory did not let it go.
It couldn’t. The only way the nightmares would stop is if you uprooted it from the source.
“What they did to this family - and more - is unforgivable. I have to be the one to do this. I can’t stand the thought of losing you, you’re my—“
This fucking soulmate tie. Why was it so difficult for you to tell her? Maybe she was right, you could possibly get killed and she would never know the truth because you were too scared to tell her.
Your arms squeezed around her a little tighter, hands quivering as they balled into fists until your knuckles were white and your claws unsheathed from your nail beds.
“I’m what?”
“I-I’m just…”
‘Scared.’
“Scared of what?” Her words made the air gasp from your lungs. You blanked your mind to shield it from her reading anything more. You just held her close. It was all what you felt capable of. With her head resting against your chest, she was able to hear the bombardment of your heartbeat.
“I can’t say it,” you answered but Wanda shook her head. She was done letting this fear eat away at you from the inside.
“Tell me, or I’m going in there,” she ordered firmly, her hand reached out to grab your chin and hold it so she could rest her forehead against yours. You heard the smirk in her voice.
You chuffed at her light attempt at humour, to make the currently dark moment a little brighter than it was.
“I am scared that I will lose a second time. And I won’t survive that agony again.”
Wanda nodded, her nose bumped against yours and your lips danced so close to one another. It was a struggle to not close the slight distance between you to kiss her.
“You still haven’t told me what I am to you.”
“I’ll tell you when this is all over,” you sighed, voice hesitant as you slightly withdraw your face from hers. Wanda’s hands slid to your cheeks and held you so you couldn’t pull away anymore.
“Promise?”
The corners of your lips tug into a smirk. “I promise.”
You caught the way her eyes flickered down slightly to your lips and out of habit, your tongue darted along your bottom to wet it. Your eyes did the same to hers, plump and soft looking. Always tempting.
“Kiss me, Wolfie.” Her voice called to you softly, the plea of your mate making you cave as you brushed your lips against hers.
If you did this, you weren’t just friends. You saw her as more than a friend. Whatever she saw more than you realised, was it more than a friend for her?
Did she see a companion in you? A mate?
Your lips pressed into hers and your chest relaxed as the air was drawn from you, a deep growl resounded in the back of your throat.
Wanda tilted her head to deepen the kiss with a breathless moan.
Your hunger consumed you. Your hands drifted down the length of her back until they reached her thighs, you knocked her knees and she gasped. Your tongue darted through her parted lips as her legs wrapped around your waist, your strength supporting her as if she were a feather.
Her hands ran through the length of your hair with another moan and that unmistakable swell of arousal pooled in your groin.
Fuck, how you wanted to claim her right now. That wolfish hunger, selfish in want, desired to make the bite now.
But you would wait. You’d wait for Wanda and you’d wait for the rest of eternity for her. You couldn’t say she’d do the same, but you damn well hoped.
You fell forward to lay Wanda down on the bed, your arms supported your weight like pillars on either side of her head. Her hands pulled you closer to her, even if the fight for air was growing too much to bear.
You smelt it on her, the sweet aroma of rose tinged by an even sweeter scent; her arousal. Your hips bucked against hers and she gasped out, her fingers dug into you with a whimper of your name.
Oh, how you wanted to hear that sound again. Her hips in turn began to grind against you, the friction of your pants made her legs quiver around your waist.
You growled against her open mouth, her tongue submitted to you long before her back met the mattress. Her hand flew to your belt to loosen it but you captured her wrist and she stopped, you pulled away from her lips with a deep breath.
“We don’t have to rush this, Sweetheart,” you pant, head nuzzling against hers. She smiled shyly and a red hue coloured her cheeks and nose.
Not that you blamed her, your own face was a fiery mess of its own.
“Sorry, I got a little wild,” she giggled and you flashed her a wolfish grin, chuckling deeply.
“Says the witch with the literal wolf on top of her.”
You brushed your nose along the curve of her jaw, inhaling her intoxicating scent. It made you feel how you presumed people felt when they got drunk.
You lifted your head so you could see her now. Her eyes stared up at you and that smile that scared away the darkness was there.
How you adored her. What you wouldn’t do for the woman beneath you, you could not name.
You’d do anything for your mate.
Your hand caressed her cheek, thumb running over her chin. “What do you see in me, Wanda?”
You were curious. She always looked at you with a sense that she saw something in you nobody else could.
“I see many things within you.”
“Name one,” you urged. Silence ensued as
her lips thinned in thought. Her gaze softened, perhaps you misread it because of the lighting in the room. You thought for a moment you saw love.
Her mouth opened to finally give you her answer when a knock pounded against the door - and also your sharpened hearing. A grimace twisted your features.
Wanda offered a sad smile when the realisation that the small world you and Wanda were in had come to an end.
There was a darkness out in the world that needed to be rid of. That temporary light had to withdraw for the time being.
You rolled off of Wanda and she stood up quickly as the door opened, after you’d beckoned whoever it was to enter.
“We’re ready to head off,” Natasha said from the doorway, eyes suspiciously squinted between you and Wanda with a smirk.
You cleared your throat when her knowing eyes landed on you. “Alright. Thank you, Natasha,” you bit down the bark in your words.
When you two were left alone again, you looked to Wanda. “Don’t go getting yourself killed now. Promise me, Wolf.”
“I promise…”
‘… Mate.’
The sun was setting over the valley, the last rays of light quick to fade as night encroached. You would have to hurry to get everyone on the Quinjet safely.
“Everyone ready?” You asked as you opened the front door and your team nodded. There was no time to drag their bags along. You’d all suited up and gathered your necessities.
“Let’s go,” Steve said behind you.
You exited the house first, a quick assessment of your surroundings, you signalled to your team to follow.
“Keep together and in front of me. Go!” You urged, letting Steve take the lead to the Quinjet while you covered the team’s rear. It’d allow you to see any oncoming attacks.
Wanda kept glancing back at you, to make sure you weren’t too far behind, her own fear that you’d be targeted first evident in her eyes.
Twigs and branches snapped in the woods around you, the scent of your team polluted the air with their growing anxiety of an impending attack.
“There it is, get going!” You called out, relief flooding the entire team in a shroud when the ramp was already lowered. Your hand brushed Wanda’s back as you urged her forward into a sprint, Bucky and Natasha beside her. You knew they would look after her.
A colossal weight slammed into your side from the thicket of trees up the snowy hillside, your body instinctively shifted to the mass of muscle and fur now laced with snow. A roar tore from your vocals at the beast that’d separated you from the others.
An expected tactic.
You charged up the slope you’d been pushed down onto, leaping into the air and shoved your opponent into the ground beneath him. The hillside was crawling with the ambush, they moved swiftly down to join the first attacker. Most charged for you, but the few that ran for the jet didn’t escape your notice.
You bellowed a warning roar, Wanda among the group that guarded the ramp as Tony and Sam went to get the jet fired up. A clawed hand swept across your face hard, slashing you blind for a second and knocked you onto the ground. Your teeth sunk into the flesh of your attacker’s arm, a pained yelp echoed in the frosty wind. Your hind legs kicked at their toned stomach, claws tearing through fur and tissue as you launched them away; a chunk of flesh clenched between your canines.
A flood of blood wept from the chunk in your mouth, you dropped it with a wet splash to the snow. A roar came from behind as another came at you but an arrow fired into her eye, her attack faltered as you rolled to the side. Wanda’s magic grappled hold of the wolf and flung her further back, her back smashed into a thick trunk with a growl.
“The jet’s on, let’s get going!” Tony’s voice yelled above the ensuing chaos. You barked in agreement and cocked your head in encouragement for the team to leave.
“Y/N!” Wanda yelled out for you, fingertips touched by the tendrils of her magic as reached out for you; the ramp began to close. She made to run to you.
“Wanda!” Steve called in his attempt to halt Wanda. One of the werewolves ran at Wanda, clawed hands outstretched to tear at her.
Just as you went to jump to her defence, teeth clamped a hold of one of your hind legs. You yowled and used your other leg to kick at him but he avoided your defensive kicks.
Wanda screamed when a large, clawed hand grabbed hold of her leg, Steve and Bucky held onto her to keep her from being dragged out. Your leg arched towards your stomach and with another kick, you managed to loosen the jaws around your ligament and you charged at the wolf that tried to drag Wanda out from the jet.
You ignored the agonised yelp caught in your throat, replaced by a deep growl as you jaws bit down and yanked at the bushy tail that dangled ahead of you; even when two new sets of jaws set their attack on both your legs this time. Flesh and muscle would be torn to shreds but that mattered little to you.
You’d survive it. The one that had a hold of Wanda released her and Steve and Bucky dragged her further back, even when she tried to reach for you again. “Y/N!”
“Go!”
Your roar cracked across the valley like a whip.
You snatched hold of the tail again before the werewolf could make a run for it. The two on your legs tried to shake you off your balance, you pulled the tail in closer and with all the strength you could muster, you flung him at a nearby rock side. His skull pelted against the dark stone and fell limp on the ground.
The jet rose up just as the lip of the ramp closed.
Wanda’s eyes glowed a dangerous aura of scarlet.
‘Be safe—!”
‘I will.’
The two jaws released your legs as you were hit from the side once again. This one was heavier, with more anger behind it.
You let out whines and growls as you tumbled down the snowy terrain and onto the ice lake. You lifted your head to see him approach down from the tree line.
The beast that had sniffed you out. That intended to harm your team when he invited them over.
Who was responsible for killing your family.
“You’ve grown stronger,” he rumbled with a tilt of his head, his dark lips twisted into a crooked, fanged smile.
His stare was bloodthirsty.
“You should have been killed in that lab when Hydra had the chance. A wasted specimen who couldn’t obey a simple order.”
“I… was not going… to kill… innocents!” You ignored the way your ankles threatened to buckle under your weight, you stood on your hind legs to match the alpha’s height.
The remainder of his pack gathered behind him, forming a crescent around you. Car lights flittered through the tree line.
Hydra agents. Your muzzle wrinkled with a snarl and your teeth bared until the line of your bloodstained gums showed.
“Well. We tried.”
He surged forward faster than you could perceive to dodge his attack. His teeth sank deep into your shoulder, a high pitched yelp that mirrored a scream travelled across the ice.
He pushed you down. He had you pinned, the layer of ice cool against your belly. His jaws ripped and shook you, a pawed hand pressed against you as he tore fur, flesh and muscle across your back.
His pack barked and yipped in their sickening cheers for their leader to maim you. Your jaws snapped again and again until you finally had his unguarded limb in your grasp. He snarled as your teeth gnashed down repeatedly, bone splintering until he kicked you aside.
His ears were pinned against his head with a low, pained whine. His tongue hesitated to lick his wound and his eyes, full of hatred, darted towards you.
“I should have killed you when I had the chance.”
“Yeah…”
Your eyes squeezed shut, the pain from your shoulder down the line of your back stained your coat with dark crimson, the pain excruciating that steam rose from your wounds.
A guttural growl rose from the depths of your chest, anger festering in the old wounds.
“You really should have.”
You ran at him and he met you halfway. Claws and teeth gnashed and swept at each other. Triumph in your fight with the alpha turned into moments of being overpowered; but you’d find a way to slip out and regain the upper hand.
A series of explosions caught you off guard. You looked up to see the jet had been hit, one of the engines on fire. The jet sputtered and sank. You whimpered out when the Quinjet crashed into the side of the tall mountain peak.
Thankfully it hadn’t exploded. Everyone had to be alright. You had to hold.
You made an attempt to run for the mountain when something flew towards you and you ducked out of the way, a large harpoon penetrated the ice with a thunderous crack.
Silver.
You could smell the poisonous tinge of it.
The armoured vehicles circled you, and Hydra agents jumped out, armed with what you only imagined were silver bullets. You roared and snarled at anyone who made a move to shoot at you.
“Nets ready!”
“Get it tied down and back to base!”
The mounted machines on the vehicles fired at you, whipping through the air as one net after another held you down. When you managed to slip out from beneath the nets, agents threw their hands forward, ropes entangled around your limbs as you struggled to break free.
“Get the humans!”
You turned your gaze back to the alpha at his command. His pack and him ran off towards the mountain.
“Wanda! No!”
You’d heard the commotion from the mountain. Their screams. Your father’s howl.
You didn’t wait a moment as you almost got yourself killed sliding down the slopes and cliff sides to reach home faster.
Your pack was in trouble. You panted as the wind attacked your fur as your claws cracked the surface of the ice beneath you.
Your mother was who you heard, followed by your youngest siblings. Your heart felt as if it’d stopped beating.
Your jaws came around the neck of their attacker and with a jerk of your head you heard the bones of their neck snap.
Your heart broke so very hard. Why did you leave them alone?
The twins laid together side by side, their smaller bodies nestled in the snow. Around them was a halo of their blood.
Blood that could have been avoided if you hadn’t left. You whimpered, your nose pushed into the fur.
“Wake up, wake up please… no, please…”
Not far from them you glanced up to see your mother’s body. Her fur blended in with the snow.
A rare white pelt. Now tainted with blood.
It was there your heart grew…
Ice cold. Your maws latched hold of the ropes that constrained you from protecting those who needed you.
Who you promised yourself you would protect. Even if it killed you. You would not allow that alpha or his pack to massacre your pack again.
Your mate.
The agents stood no chance. They screamed as you shifted your weight to fling them into one another or the vehicles. You rammed and smashed into the armoured cars, destroying most and leaving the rest to burn when you tore the engine apart and flung it into another car.
The ice cracked beneath you and you moved swiftly. You didn’t allow your wounds to alter your performance, no matter the pain or trail of blood you left behind.
You pursued the pack that made their way to the cliff side. They jumped and leapt onto any vantage points but they didn’t know this mountain like you did.
You knew the best routes for quick travel up the terrain of the mountain. Whoever was in your way was shown no mercy. Your large hands ripped them off their balance and flung them off the cliff side to whatever fate awaited them below.
Wanda softly grunted with a hand pressed to her temple.
“Steve,” she mumbled as he knelt beside her. His hand helped to support her weight while she got her bearings.
“Wanda, are you alright?”
“I’m fine, what happened?” She asked as her eyes focused on his blue eyes. “The jet’s engine was hit. It’s pretty obvious they wanted to knock us down.”
Wanda didn’t respond, not even as Clint and Natasha joined her and Steve. “Is everyone else ok?” Steve asked Clint and he nodded.
“Yeah, the crash just took them by surprise is all.”
“Come on, let’s get to cover.” Natasha’s hand found Wanda’s arm and pulled her to her feet, careful not to startle or aggravate any potential injuries.
Wanda pushed away from the ex-widow.
“No, I have to see if Y/N is alright!”
“Wanda, we have to get to safety,” Steve argued back but Wanda would not hear it.
“They promised me!” She choked out, “you have no idea how I feel about them. The bond we have. This is why I must go to them!”
“They’ll be alright,” Steve assured with a hand pressed to her arm, “this is Y/N we’re talking about. If anyone can fend them off, it’s them.”
Gunfire fired down the cliff side. “Stay here with her, I’ll help the others.” Natasha and Clint watched as Steve ran off to defend their flank with Sam, Tony and Bucky.
A series of growls tumbled over the mountain ledge, glowing eyes crept into view as three hulking forms climbed up.
Clint knocked an arrow to his bow, stance low and ready to perform a rapid fire, Wanda’s hands danced together before her as the glowing scarlet of her magic swarmed about her fingertips. Natasha drew her pistol and took aim at the middle werewolf.
Natasha was the first to fire. Round after round only made the beast grunt as if bitten by a fly as he charged forward. Clint shocked him with his knocked arrow and Wanda thrusted her hands forward with a grunt.
The werewolf was pushed over the cliff side with a howl.
The werewolf to their right leapt at Clint, barely ducking in time. He rolled to the side and shot another arrow while Natasha took cover from an oncoming blow from the second. Clint was knocked back and used his bow to block the maw of his opponent from mauling him.
“Clint!” Natasha yelled out, Wanda waved her hands and pushed the werewolf off of Clint, granting him the opportunity to overpower it. He and the beast went tumbling down into a crevice in the mountain, having looped its neck between his bow and the drawstring.
The last werewolf swiped at Wanda but Natasha threw herself in front of it, grunting when claws tore at her arm sleeve. A clean gash bled through her suit. The werewolf rose it’s arm to come down at Natasha again when Wanda used her magic to fling it towards the edge.
It bellowed a distorted roar at Wanda only to whimper when your teeth mashed down into its jugular with a baritone growl. Your amber eyes the bright fire beneath burning coals as you crunched down further. With another whine, you ripped your maw clean from the wolf’s neck and they fell to the bottom of the mountain.
“Y/N,” Wanda gasped out as she ran to you. You dragged your body over the rocky ledge, Wanda was able to see the blood and wounds that covered you.
“Good to see you’re alive,” Natasha said as she held her bleeding arm, her attention averted to Clint who was still standing his ground against his opponent.
“I gotta help Clint!” She said hurriedly and rushed off to Clint’s aid. “Be careful!” Wanda yelled after her, hands attentive as they gently stroked along your neck.
A soft whine wheezed up your throat. Gunfire continued to ring, now having travelled further up the mountain near where you and Wanda were.
Natasha and Clint climbed back up a short moment later, Wanda tugged Clint to rest as blood trailed down his face.
“Shit, you weren’t kidding about these guys, Wolfie. What exactly did Hydra do to them?”
Your vocal cords strained the rumbling chuff, hot air fanned out of your nostrils.
“Come on, we should help the others,” said Wanda urgently. You, Clint and Natasha nodded and began to follow her but a blur flew from one of the higher up ledges.
Wanda screamed when she was pinned down, the form having pushed her back some distance from you and the others.
“Wanda!” You roared, you leapt towards her and the alpha without a second thought. The three of you fell over the lip of the mountainside, your body instinctively clawed Wanda out of the alpha’s grasp and encircled around her; caging her from the fall.
Wanda was tucked between the heat of your body above and the snow against her front, both of you stared at the alpha in front of you.
His wolfish face formed into a snarl, saliva and blood dripped from his lips.
Blood dripped from yours, fangs bared right back at him.
“Protective, aren’t you? Found yourself a little mate?”
Your jaws stretched open with a protective roar.
“That struck a nerve.”
The alpha jumped at you but this time you were prepared. You arched your body, arms latched hold of him as you both rolled back and over another lip, this time the fall was more steep and less intruded by any sharp rock edges. Your back collided with wooden blanks as yours and the alphas weight broke through it and crashed into the dusty keep below.
Wanda shrieked your name. The sound was a fracture to your very soul, the tie to your mate tugged a little too hard for your liking.
You barely were up on your own four limbs when the alpha continued his barrage of attacks. Each hit was ruthless as his claws swiped and tore at your body. His teeth fractured a number of your bones as you attempted to pry him off. He grappled the scruff of your neck and slammed you face first against anything he could.
He tossed you back and your back smashed into the crumbling bricks behind you.
The sky of Alaska’s first rays of dawn illuminated through the old, stone archway with a pink and orange hue. Snow bellowed in with the gusts of wind.
For a moment you both stared at each other. Covered in the wounds bred from conflict.
Your shoulders rose and fell with each pant, pain rippled across your body and your fur bristled against the cool breeze.
His glowing red hues danced in the darkness on his side, and the amber in yours did the same on your side.
If you killed him, it would be over. Without their leader they were hopeless. Defenceless. Weak.
“Do you really think you are one of them? You’re not. You never will be. Mated to a human. She’ll break your heart and then… then you will become as cruel as I.”
“I am nothing like you. I will never be anything like you.”
Your hackles raised at him. He snarled back at you.
“We are monsters! Just embrace that! You will never be anything but that!”
You averted your gaze for a moment. He was right. You were a monster. You huffed lowly, ears twitching slightly when the breeze tickled against them. Mother Nature thought otherwise.
“I’ve embraced it. But if I’m a monster… then I’m a good one that hunts the bad ones.”
You ran at each other with teeth bared and claws out. Snarls and growls echoed in the chamber of the ruin as you swiped at one another, biting into the flesh of one another.
Carnage.
Monster against monster.
Mother Nature was not always as peaceful and beautiful as many thought she was.
She could be cruel.
Heartless.
And it was all in the name of balance. It was fair.
His elbow drove into your face and knocked you back, he pinned your weight to the ground as his muzzle dug into your stomach and chest. You yelped and kicked your legs against him as the savagery of his mauling tore away at you.
Your claws swiped him upside the head again and again until he pulled his head away. A distorted scream came from the depths of his black and bloody throat.
His clawed hand swept across your head, slamming it into the stones beneath you repeatedly in rapid repetition.
Any moment he would smash your skull.
When he figured you’d endured enough, he stared down at the sight of you; ears flopped and a whimper struggling to escape your beaten and half torn apart chest. He raised his hand high. The light bounced off the blood, making it almost shine in the Alaskan morning.
Fairness.
Was this fair? Perhaps not for you but for Mother Nature? Who were you to fight against her?
You’d been doing it for seven years. You were done.
You had embraced it all. What you were, what you went through, and what you were to become; come what may.
“You could have been something more. Something great.”
“I already am. They made me something great.”
With a shake of his head, maybe calling you a fool beneath the huff of his breathy exhale, he prepared for his final slash.
A bright red aura surrounded his arm just as it went to strike against you. Unmoving, the alpha whined when his arm refused to move. Wanda stood just in sight above the ruined keep.
You saw the determined shimmer of scarlet in her eyes.
He roared at you in his confusion and you arched your neck forward. Your muzzle stained red once more when your teeth crushed bone, minced flesh and punctured his artery.
He stilled above you and his weight drifted until it rested against yours. The sun finally began its rise over the distant peaks. You grunted as your limbs shoved the corpse, rolling him through the stone archway and down into the depths below. The ice could have him now.
You didn’t know how long it took for your team to make their descent into the ruins you found yourself in. Your eyes were glazed over, the amber of your fiery hues slowly faded. Each breath you took was stunted from the damage you inflicted.
Blurred forms moved down towards you, snow danced across your vision when a particular gust of wind blew through the archway.
Voices beckoned you by your name but you couldn’t respond.
“What are you doing here, Big Wolf?” You knew that voice. That adorable, innocent voice. “Big Wolf… why are you leaving them behind?”
‘Hm.’
Their voices were inseparable, even in Mother Nature’s light.
Your vision grew dark but the eyes of your mate were the last thing you saw.
“Please, Wolfie… you promised.”
You inhaled deeply as the smell of early stages of rabbit stew filled your nose.
“Mother?” Your eyes were coated in a blurred layer of sleep. How long had you been out? Your mother was in the kitchen, humming softly as she prepared the freshly skinned rabbits.
“You’re awake,” she chuckled as she peered at you on the couch from her place at the stove.
“You’re awake, Big Wolf!” One of the twins shouted, the other not far behind. Their small feet thumped against the floor in their dash to get to you.
You wheeze when your breath was knocked from your lungs as the twins plop themselves - rather happily as well - on top of you.
“You were asleep for so long!” One of them giggled. You chuckled at the enthusiastic pout on their lips.
“You promised you’d take us up that mountain before dark!”
“I…” you paused for a moment with a furrowed brow. Not long did you sigh and went to move. “I know. We can still go.”
They both jumped off of you as they raced each other to the door. “Yaaaay!”
You shook your head with a chuckle as you walked up to your mother, patting your two other siblings in greeting as they passed. “You guys coming or what?”
“Yeah! We’ll be out front in a second!” Said your second younger sibling.
You looked to your mother who had chopped some vegetables on the wooden board, expertly. Even still, she never lost her concentration though her skill was unmatched and she could do it blindfolded.
She never overestimated herself. Never pushed herself to prove anything to the sake of being seen or respected. She did what she could with all she had.
And that was enough for everyone.
She turned to put the chopped vegetables into the pot. Her eyes turned to you finally and she grinned.
You often reflected your father in both demeanour, stature and appearance; but the one thing you prided yourself for was that you had your mother’s eyes.
It was the one reprieve you had. When you’d stare at yourself - beyond the wolf - you could see your family just from the colour of your eyes.
“Something the matter?” She asked. You shook your head silently and stepped forward. Your arms wrapped her to you and she guffawed.
“Finally gotten into the habit of being affectionate, have you?”
You huffed at her words with a smirk. “Hmph. I guess I have.”
You should have known. A wolf’s memory was good. Often too good. This wasn’t a memory in that old lodge tucked into the valley, nestled near the lakeside.
You and your mother pulled away to look at each other again. Her eyes were misted over and yours did the same.
Her hand rose to caress your cheek tenderly. With a mother’s touch.
You leaned into her palm with a rumbling purr. “It’s time to stop running. Let go of that guilt that weighs you down.”
You opened your eyes to meet her tearful eyes. “We’ve never left you. We have always been here, just know that in your heart.”
“I will, Mother…”
“You have to go now or you’ll be missed,” she said. You knew what she meant.
She looked towards the front door for a moment. “I’ll take them up the mountain for you,” she whispered with a kind smile.
An understanding smile. She knew you had others waiting for you.
“Thanks.” You embraced her again. Her warmth comforted you.
“I love you, Y/N.“
“I love you too.”
“Vitals are stabilising.”
“Good, that’s really good. Let’s get them on a new drip.”
“Wanda, here you go, Honey. Have some coffee.”
“They’ve been like this for a while. What if… they don’t make it?”
Your eyes peeled open slowly. The bright lights above flooded in. Wanda lurched forward with a hand clasped over her mouth with a sob.
“I beg to differ,” you rasped, your hand outstretched and your fingers combed through her hair.
Your name was said by voices you recognised all at once and many faces greeted you on the other side of that dark tunnel. Relieved smiles and sighs, tearful eyes and many uttering your welcomed return.
Wanda grasped hold of your hand, the clear, thin tube of your drip made you aware you were in the medic ward.
New York. The compound.
“Damn, Wolfie,” Tony sighed, “you gave us all quite the scare for the past two weeks.”
“Two weeks? W-what happened?”
“You were in a really bad way when we found you, Y/N,” said Sam, eyes casted down to conceal the way his eyes glistened.
“We all thought we lost you a couple times there.”
You tried to shuffle your body to sit up more when pain shot through you from all directions. You laid a hand on the wound that reached over the entirety of your shoulder. You hissed, teeth clenched hard and everyone winced at your reaction. Your memory of the fight came back to you, piece by piece.
“Your wounds were severe, Y/N. When Cho and Banner saw you… they told us it was likely you wouldn’t pull through…”
“Moving you back to the compound was a risk we had to take. Even from the ruins.”
You shook your head with a grimace as the pain slowly subsided. “Is everyone else alright?” You asked and the room of your fellow Avengers scoffed in disbelief.
“Minor scratches and bruises were the worst we got,” Steve informed you with a light chuckle, “everyone else is fine. It’s you who everyone is worried about. You took the brunt of that attack.”
“Well… I had to.” You moved again, being more cautious of your wounds. “You guys are my pack. Mine to protect.”
Your eyes met Wanda’s, a small smile on her lips as she pulled your hand to cup her face. To feel the comfort of your warmth.
You chuckled as you remembered that night she told you she was cold, only to then cuddle into your side.
How her body fit just perfectly against you when you both stood on the pier.
Your eyes lifted up to the rest of your pack.
“So get used to that because that’s a habit you’re not gonna shake from me anytime ever.”
To be continued in:
Habits Of Mother Nature's Will II: Aftermath
Thank you for Reading!
(◕ ᴥ x)
TREEHOUSE TAGLIST —
@alexawynters
#treehouse taglist#wanda x werewolf! reader#wanda maximoff x reader#werewolf reader#wanda x y/n#wanda x you#platonic avengers x reader#marvel mcu#gn reader#female reader#male reader#angst#hurt/comfort#werewolves#tw violence#tw injury
218 notes
·
View notes
Text
Twenty Years Later: Joel Miller x F!Reader - Chapter Four
Chapter Four: Luck
Plot: Joel, Y/n, Tess and Ellie encounter Clickers, and sacrifices are made.
Warnings: tlou ep.2 spoilers, language, violence, gore, blood, guns, death, (16+)
Word Count: 4.4k (what else for chapter 4? lol)
A/N: So the only reason I was able to get this out so fast is because chapter three and this was supposed to be one big chapter. It ended up being too long, so it got split. Please don’t make this your expectation 😂
I love reading all your comments, even if I’m horrible at responding to them. I’ve never had this kind of response to my writing and it’s a lot to keep up with. I, once again, have to reiterate that this is a 16+ series and if your name is not listed on your page, I will not be tagging you. Gotta look out for younger eyes 👀 I hope you enjoy this chapter! There’s no flashback, but a lot of hints about things to come later…I’m a terrible tease 😂🤫 Enjoy!!
———————
The museum doors were covered in fungus.
“This feels like a great plan,” Y/n sarcastically stated.
Joel ignored her disapproval, going ahead and kneeling down at one of the fungal sites. He ran a hand over it before breaking through it with the butt of his rifle.
“It’s bone dry,” he reported, “It could mean they’re all finally dead in there.”
Could was the key word of the sentence. ‘Coulds’ were like ‘probablies,’ hope with barely a breath left in it. The adults all started going through their packs, puling out their flashlights.
“Oh, man…” Ellie muttered.
Joel whipped out his light and looked exepctantly to Ellie, “Marlene pack you one of these, or just sandwiches?”
“Yeah,” Ellie answered, searching through her pack.
Y/n nudged the kid’s arm, drawing her focus. “You stay behind one of us at all times,” she instructed, “Slow and steady. Do not wander. Got it?”
Ellie nodded, “Got it.” When Tess crossed her hands, a gun and a flashlight in each, Ellie took notice. “I have a spare hand.”
“Congratulations,” Joel noted sarcastically.
With her pistol drawn, Y/n watched Joel move forward. It bothered her that he had been leading them the whole way. Their talk on the highway proved he thought he was capable of more than her. He assumed that just because he’d known her when she could afford to be delicate, she couldn’t have possibly grown into a fighter. Setting caution aside, she marched forward to walk parallel to him.
“Get back,” he ordered.
“Get bent,” she grunted.
The four of them moved as silently as they could through the museum’s lobby, posters and signs proving it had once been a landmark. Y/n moved alongside Joel, at one point taking a step ahead of him and finding a corner full of dry Cordyceps.
“We’re good,” she announced.
“Oh, finally,” Tess remarked, “Some fuckin’ luck.”
“I guess we should’ve gone this way in the first place,” Joel acknowledged.
“Oh, shit!” Ellie exclaimed, the three of them ran to join her. She’d broken Y/n’s third instruction like it was nothing.
There lay a body, covered in fresh blood and claw marks through its clothing.
“What the fuck did that?” Ellie inquired.
Y/n, Tess and Joel shared a knowing look.
“Maybe,” Tess’ voice shook as it lowered, “Maybe he was attacked outside and crawled through the doors. The door was open. Could’ve been him. I don’t hear anything.”
“Who would you hear?” Ellie asked.
The adults shushed her, Joel held up a hand.
Ellie lowered her voice, “Who would you hear? Are you saying an Infected did that?”
“Shh,” Tess crooned.
“Because I’ve been attacked by one and it wasn’t like that,” Ellie added.
Joel took a breath, it was all he could allow himself. “Okay, from this point forward, we are silent,” he whispered, “Not quiet…silent.”
“What-“ Ellie began.
“No, no questions,” Joel stopped her, “Just do it.”
Having very little trust in the man who had openly admitted to wanting to kill her, Ellie peered at Y/n, who nodded in solemn agreement. Things had suddenly become very, very real.
The four of them made their way to the museum’s staircase, taking slow steps up the creaking steps. Joel and Y/n made it to the top first, only having to stop when a piece of debris fell in a cloud of dust. They shined their flashlights across the way, a massive piling of death and fungus-covered bodies laying tragically still.
Crunch.
The exes spun around to see Ellie baring her teeth nervously, a skeletal hand below her sneaker. Everyone held their breath. There was creaking coming from above them, every step they took was a step closer to being buried alive.
Joel and Y/n made it into the Independance Hall exhibit, taking stock of their surroundings and coming up clean. Ellie followed with Tess close behind her.
Suddenly, there was a crashing sound; the building was finally giving out. Lightining fast, Y/n surged forward and grabbed Ellie’s arm, pulling her forward as Tess nose dove to the floor. Y/n let go of Ellie to extend a hand to Tess, who braced herself with it and got to her feet. They barely had a second to gather their thoughts before a loud, animal noise echoed through the room.
Then came the clicking.
Y/n and Joel drew their guns together, aiming in the direction the sound had come from. They slowly backed up, Tess and Ellie moving behind them, as the noises drew closer.
Fear can stop a clock, and none of them could tell how long they waited until the snarling, shriveled monster stepped into the room.
Y/n and Joel’s grudge ceased to exist as they moved in sync, silent as the grave they prayed they weren’t about to meet. As their group passed a doorway, more clicking sounded through it. They startled, backing up as the erratic footsteps came closer.
Two. There were two Clickers.
The foursome sought shelter behind a glass display case as the Infected began to roam the room. Each of them were processing the situation spearately, but they needed to move together as one.
Joel saw the fear in Ellie’s eyes, he couldn’t take it from her, but he could prepare her. “They can’t see,” he mouthed, leaning over Y/n, “But they can hear.”
On the other side of the display case, one of the Clickers walked past, shrieking as it jerked around. It had been over a year since Y/n had been this close to one of them, she’d forgotten what it was like. The way experience melted away and fear overtook all your senses.
Joel held up a finger to the three of them. If the Clickers could pass through without noticing them, they could make a straight shot up to the passageway and be gone. Everything rested on how the next thirty seconds went.
Y/n was too afriad to shut her eyes and too scared to face the creature head on. She simply stared ahead, trembling with each sound the monster made.
They listened as it turned the corner of the display case, until it was mere inches from them.
Ellie gasped.
Y/n grimaced.
The creature spun around to them and screamed.
Joel unloaded his rifle on the creature, who reached out and dragged him forward.
“Run,” Joel screamed.
Tess took off with Ellie, shooting at the other Infected before escaping the room. Y/n stayed, firing shots at the creature as it fought Joel. It knocked the rifle out of his hands, leaving him with only his pistol. Y/n was able to wound it enough to momentarily stun it, giving Joel and her time to run away.
They sprinted down the hall, Joel turned around and fired a shot before they dove into the next room. He knocked over a podium, creating an obstacle in the Clicker’s path, buying him and Y/n a few extra seconds. Joel grabbed her wrist and threw them behind a shelving unit.
Now fear, it turns out, is a powerful thing. It can cause people to turn on one another, or it can bring them together. Y/n had spent the last twenty four hours listing all the ways she wanted to kill Joel Miller, but face to face with the reality of losing him, she was doing everything she could to save him. They both were.
Joel’s hands shook as he reloaded his gun, his flashlight tucked between his shoulder and his chin. Y/n stretched her arm out over his chest, her breath trembling in time with his as they waited…
The Clicker was right next to them.
Joel shone his flashlight around the corner, the Infected was a mere ten inches from them. Mercifully, it hadn’t sensed them, and headed around the other side of the shelving unit. Y/n peered through the dusty screens, charted a clear path, and motioned for Joel to come forward. They crouched as they walked, Y/n spotted Ellie hunched against another display case.
Joel and her quickly crossed the space and got down alongside her. Joel looked to his side, signaling for Ellie to follow them around the case. They crawled in the opposite direction, the Clicker only a few feet away from them and but a second from discovering them. It just needed to take a few more steps and then it would be in the other room….
A piece of glass crunched under Joel’s boot.
The three of them stopped.
The Clicker screeched and leapt across the case, tackling them to the floor. Ellie thrashed and yelled as it pinned her down. Joel and Y/n each kept an arm against its chest, pushing it away with their combined strength. Y/n freed her arm from between her and Ellie’s bodies, pressing her gun against the Clicker’s abdomen and shooting it three times. It stunned the monster, giving Joel time to shove it off of them. Y/n shielded Ellie, who was gripping her jacket, and Joel shielded Y/n. Joel aimed his pointed at the Clicker once again, and gunned it down as it ran towards them. He fired a few final shots, just to ensure it was dead.
The second Clicker charged towards them, Joel and Y/n shoved Ellie behind them, no time to draft an attack plan. Saving the day, Tess came from the side and lodged an axe in the Clicker’s head. Thinking quick, Joel left Y/n and Ellie to retake his rifle, firing one shot before a second that did the creature in.
Joel surveyed the Clicker, examining the bloody chunks of fungus laying around its head. Fear was enough to create doubt, even in front of fact.
“You all right?” Joel asked Tess, who was getting to her feet.
“Twisted ankle, but…yeah,” Tess answered.
Y/n turned to Ellie, “Are you okay?”
“Well, I didn’t shit my pants, so…” she responded, glancing around her in case they’d missed one. She stopped and rolled up her sleeve, revealing a bloody mark, “You fucking kidding me?”
Y/n didn’t know whether or not to be scared. Joel knew exactly what to feel.
“I mean, if it was gonna happen to one of us,” Ellie muttered.
Joel didn’t let his anxiety come over him often, but he could feel it building. Tess was tuned into him enough to see it happening.
“Hey,” she coaxed, “Let’s get the fuck outta here.”
The four of them filed out the top window, Y/n offering Tess her hand to help her onto the roof. Joel went to work immediately, pulling out a first aid kit and a piece of cloth.
“Put this around your arm,” Joel instructed Ellie, handing her the cloth. In the chaos, he hadn’t even thought to ask Y/n if she was injured. “You-“
“I’m fine,” Y/n said coldly, eager to settle back into blind hatred.
Ellie made her way to the makeshift bridge, a few wooden planks, and took the first step. “Over there?”
“Yeah, I know,” Joel spoke as he examined Tess’ ankle, “It looks scary.”
“That was scary,” Ellie replied, “This is wood.”
Y/n followed Ellie, her legs steadying more with each step across the divide. In the world they lived in, fear had to pass as quick as a summer storm.
“Are they always like that?” Ellie asked once they were both on the rooftop.
Y/n sighed, “Not at first. I mean, they’re always scary but at the beginning, they look…” she paused, forcing the memories out like a tide in the ocean, “They look normal.”
Ellie hummed, wandering off to the edge of the building. As Joel crossed the plank, Y/n went to stand beside Ellie. The sun was shining gold down on the remnants of Boston, illuminating the good and the bad.
This. This was what still gave Y/n hope. She needed to believe that maybe, maybe, there was a way to restore the world back to its beauty. That was the key difference between her and Joel; she still wanted to find what little good was left out there.
Joel came to stand on Ellie’s other side, peering over at the girl. “Is it everything you hoped for?”
“Jury’s still out,” Ellie gave a half-shrug, “But man, you can’t deny that view.”
Tess rejoined them, walking with new purpose. “C’mon, let’s get there before it’s dark,” she grunted, climbing over the edge and scaling down some siding.
Joel and Y/n stood at the edge of the roof, each staring out into the horizon lost in their thoughts. Their severed connection lived in the space between them, sparking and straining as it tried to pull them together.
But they’d had twenty years of ignoring one another’s memory. It was going to take more than a fight and a sunset to come to any kind of truce.
Y/n silently climbed down the side of the building, leaving Joel on his own. He glanced down at his watch, taking a valued second to himself, before heading down after the rest of them.
—————————
The rest of the way to the State House was spent in quiet suspicion. Everyone watched Ellie with more interest than before, waiting for something to happen.
When they arrived, Y/n spotted the truck that was supposed to transport Ellie and her. There was supposed to be someone outside waiting to meet them and yet, the place looked as deserted as the rest of the city.
Joel glanced at Y/n, silently asking if this was right. She answered with a distant shake of her head as she looked around them. She drew her gun and got up, stepping strategically through the grass. Joel huffed in exasperation, coming out in the open to follow her.
Y/n approached the truck cautiously, her breath already trembling like she’d already seen what lay inside. She ignored Joel practically breathing down her neck as she swung open the vehicle’s door. Empty.
Joel held up a hand to Tess, who stood with her gun aimed and Ellie protected behind her. “Stay back,” he mouthed. When he turned back to Y/n, he found air.
Y/n rounded the vehicle, examining the other side before her eyes and nose were drawn to the ground. There was a bloodied body laying underneath the truck. She knelt before it, whatever had happened to it hadn’t been more than an hour or two ago. The blood was still new, but the flies had already found the poor soul.
Joel was at the rear of the truck, bracing himself for whatever fight lay inside it. He threw the back door open and took a stance, finding the same nothing they had in the cab.
“Joel?” Tess called, coming to join them, “What the fuck is going on?”
“I don’t know,” Joel said, looking around the corner of the truck to Y/n, “What was the plan?”
Y/n sighed and ran a hand through her hair, “Driver was supposed to be waiting here, one or two Fireflies just to verify it was us…we were supposed to jump in the truck and go.”
“They went inside,” Ellie announced, staring at the steps leading to the State House. The three adults peered over to see the bloody footprints painted on the staircase.
“Come on,” Tess grunted, grabbing Ellie’s hand and letting the blood tracks show them the way.
“Tess,” Joel called, Y/n wasn’t waiting for him to call the shots. She jogged up the stairs with the same urgency as his partner. “Tess!”
Tess burst through the doors, holding both Ellie and her pistol in front of her. Y/n flanked Ellie, ready to attack whatever could been lurking in the building. Joel followed the women, exhausted by their recklessness.
What they found was worse than they could have imagined.
Every Firefly body was on the floor, their blood spread across the slick marble.
Y/n could feel her chest cave in on itself. Her comrades, the plan to take Ellie west, hope itself, it all dead lay around her.
Tess showed the same panic Y/n was trying so hard to contain. “Okay, I mean there’s gotta be a fuckin’ radio or something, right?”
“Start looking,” Y/n holstered her gun, running to check the crates, the equipment…anything that could offer them a morsel of chance. If she could get in contact with Marlene, they could form a new plan. She’d take Ellie herself, if necessary, doubts be damned. They couldn’t admit defeat so easily.
“Tess,” Joel called, having already deduced that one Firefly had got infected and it had spread to the others, “What’re you doin’?”
Y/n threw open crates, scouring the contents for a radio, with Tess searching beside her. They both ignored Joel.
“Where did Marlene say you two were going?” Tess asked Y/n.
“Tess-“ Joel tried again.
“Just west,” Y/n answered, her breath quickening, “We were supposed to get the exact location here.”
Tess threw her hands out in exasperation, “Just west. Fuck. Okay…well, one of ‘em’s gotta have a map on them, right?”
Y/n was already examining the bodies without touching them, “Check each one.”
“Joel, can you help us?” Tess impatiently asked, kneeling next to Y/n and searching through the victim’s pockets.
“No,” Joel bellowed, refusing to indulge the fantasy any longer, “Tess, it’s over. We are goin’ home.”
Tess spun around, shooting daggers out her eyes, “That’s not my fucking home!”
Her cry was loud enough to silence the rest of them. Tess hung over one of the bodies, fighting back her tears enough to stand up and face Joel.
“I’m stayin’.”
Y/n stayed on the ground, confusedly watching the scene play out.
“I mean…” Tess almost laughed, “Our luck had to run out sooner or later.”
Joel stood perplexed. Perhaps he’d have figured it out if he had looked in between her words. In her eyes. In her quivering lips.
“Fuck,” Ellie exclaimed, her voice lowering to a whisper, “She’s infected.”
Joel felt the very ground they stood on crack down the middle, a divide separating him and the only person he’d allowed himself to care about in twenty years. The unspeakable plague had finally come for one of them, and it had attached itself to the wrong person.
“Show me,” he muttered.
“Joel,” Tess said softly, taking a step forward. Joel flinched, jumping back an inch away from her. He regretted it immediately, it was pure instinct.
Tess pulled back her jacket and shirt to display the reddening bite mark.
Y/n got to her feet upon seeing the wound, unafraid to close the distance Joel was putting between them. Joel threw out a hand to pull her back, but Y/n smacked it away and placed her fingers around Tess’ wound. In another life, it could have been extremely well done Halloween makeup. She wanted it to be.
“Oops,” Tess tried to smile, “Right?”
Y/n rubbed her fingers against Tess’ shoulder, if these were her last minutes, she wanted her to feel human touch one more time.
“Take your bandage off,” Tess ordered Ellie.
The girl unwrapped the cloth from her arm, showing the adults her newest bite mark. It was already healing.
Tess surged forward and took Ellie’s arm, holding it up to Joel. “Look. Joel? This is real,” she pulled Ellie forward, “Joel, she’s fucking real.”
Joel and Y/n spotted it at the same time: Tess’ hands were beginning to shake.
Tess retracted her arm into her person, her breaths quickening with passion. Passion for a future she would never see.
“I need you to get her to Bill and Frank’s,” Tess stated.
“No,” Joel started to argue, a flurry of emotions hitting him at once. It was real. This was real.
“They’ll take her off your hands,” Tess continued, unstoppable in her pleas, “They’ll handle it from here.”
“No, no, no,” he shook his head, sounding like a child in denial, “I can’t. They won’t take her. They’re not gonna take her.”
“They will,” Tess insisted, “Cause you’re gonna convince them.”
“I’ll take her,” Y/n said from behind Joel, “Tell me where they are and I’ll get her there.”
Tess squeezed her eyes shut, “No, it has to be him,” she looked to Joel, “I never ask you for anything. Not to feel the way I felt, not to-“
“No,” Joel said, a kneejerk reaction. He had spent so long caring for her as much as his grief would allow him.
“Shut the fuck up,” Tess snapped, “Cause I don’t have much time. This is your chance. You get her there, you keep her alive…” she bit back her tears, “And you set everything right. All the shit we did…please say yes, Joel, please.”
Joel could feel what was left of his heart beginning to break. He couldn’t lose anyone else.
A strained gasp from one of the Infected Fireflies echoed behind Ellie, “Oh, fuck!”
With all the tranquility of a piano melody, Joel stepped forward, cocked his pistol and blew a chunk of the one-time human’s brains out.
The strands of fungus began to stretch out around the Infected’s hand. The signal had been sent. Within minutes, hordes of Infected would descend upon the State House.
Joel exhaled, realizing what he’d done and ran to the building’s door. He could hear the distant snarling and choking of the Infected. Whatever pitiful amount of time they’d possessed had just gotten slashed in half.
“How many?” Tess asked calmly.
“All of them,” he reported, “Maybe a minute.”
Y/n took a shaky breath and raised her gun to Tess’ head. Joel was quick to aim his rifle at her head.
“Don’t you fuckin-“
“Do you want me to do it?” Y/n ignored Joel, locking eyes with Tess. It wasn’t an act of anger, it was an act of mercy. She was trying to save what was left of Tess’ life.
Tess shook her head, taking stock of her surroundings and rushing around the room. She tipped over barrels of gasoline and crates of grenades, letting them spill across the floor. Twenty years of sin and her last act was to save. This was Tess Servoupolis. Not her reputation, not who she’d been forced to become to survive…her.
Joel watched, heartbreak etched in each line of his face. He wanted to scream, to cry, to punch, but time had numbed his emotions enough to be able to keep it all inside.
Tess finally came to face Joel, keeping a foot of space between them. She couldn’t handle watching the man she loved move away from her like she was…what she was.
Y/n backed up to stand with Ellie, feeling like they were intruding on an intimate moment.
“Joel…” Tess said his name one last time, knowing just how much weight the words she was about to say carried, “Save who you can save.”
He was holding so much back, so many things he wanted to say, even just to touch her one last time. His grief overwhelmed him, for both women he wasn’t able to save. But if he couldn’t heed Tess’ final wish, he’d never be able to look himself in the mirror again.
Joel took one last look at her, the two of them committing each other’s gaze to memory, and Joel turned on his heel, grabbing Ellie and dragging her away.
“No!” Ellie yelled, hitting Joel’s arm to try and break his grip, “We’re not leaving her! Get off me, you fucker!”
Y/n, let them pass, standing firmly planted in front of Tess. She wanted to say something, but nothing rivaled the weight of the moment. She wanted to thank her for her sacrifice, tell her how sorry she was that she was about to what was to come…something to let her feel some sort of compassion before she lost herself entirely.
“I-“
“Protect her,” Tess urged, staring straight past the Joel and Y/n’s resentment and into her soul, “Protect him.”
Y/n’s breath shook as she considered what Tess was asking of her. She wanted to know the man she loved would live to see the days she wouldn’t. Y/n couldn’t fault her that, it was so easy to care about Joel. If Tess was a better woman than Y/n and had earned that devotion he showered upon a select number of people, she would feel the same devotion to him till death.
Y/n wanted to run in the opposite direction, but she wasn’t so heartless that she wouldn’t obey Tess’ last request. She nodded, pouring out her condolences through her pained stare, and took off the same way that Joel and Ellie had.
Leaving Tess to die.
She found them outside, Ellie still fighting Joel tooth and nail. Y/n pressed her hands to Ellie’s back and urged her forward, running alongside them in a desparate effort to escape the tidal wave of Infected encroaching.
They’d put a safe amount of distance between them and the State House when the building exploded.
Joel wrenched Ellie forward to shield her, letting him and Y/n take the heat of the blast. They drew their guns, waiting for a stray Infected to pass through the violent flames, but none came. Tess had succeeded.
The three of them stayed perfectly still, except for their heaving chests, watching the fire consume the State House. Twenty years ago, Joel would have allowed himself to break down. He would have let his knees hit the dirt, his fists ball and his grief would have spilled out of him as if he was made of it.
Twenty years ago, he could feel whatever he wanted. But to survive, you had to bury your desires with the dead. Joel knew that better than anyone.
And so, skipping the eulogy and going straight for repression, Joel lowered his rifle and walked away.
Y/n, who wasn’t as hardened as her ex-love, could no longer keep her tears at bay. She crouched down in the dirt, pressing her hands to her lips in a praying position, and allowed a silent rain stream down her cheeks. Losing anyone was awful, but losing someone who wanted redemption, who wanted to atone for their sins and leave the world better than they’d found it…that was tragic. Tess had sacrificed herself to save them, to save Ellie, to save a future she could only hope came to pass. Perhaps Joel couldn’t mourn her, Y/n knew his grief was the match that lit his whole being ablaze, but she could. She would.
Ellie stood beside her, tears filling her once-innocent eyes. Her naivety had always been on life support, but it was fading with every minute she spent outside the Wall.
Deciding her momentary memorial would have to serve as enough for Tess, Y/n got to her feet and wiped her eyes. “Come on,” she whispered, her voice strained as she put a hand to Ellie’s back. She led them down the dirt, following Joel’s ghostly silhouette…
————————
TYL Taglist: @bachiracore @stolenxkissess @kayleezra @the-wistful-reader @allthesesonsofbitches @goth-detectives365 @trippovert @rh1nestonecowg1rl @emiliaserpe @khaleesihavilliard @frietiemeloen @gracie7209 @dorck26 @thegirlnextdoorssister @alanis-altair @mariwinns16 @whosscruffylooking @endofthexline @alexiaricciardo @eonnyx @pedrosmexicangf @scarlettequinn @ao-sleepy @toinfinityandbeyonce2 @deanlovescassie @turmoil-ash @sorrowjunky @kpopslur @xxlilyxx90 @midgetpottermills @presidential-facts @scoopsnini @tubble-wubble @jamesdeerest
Joel Miller Taglist: @xsnak-3x @xmoonknightlyx @simplybarnes @stolenxkissess @mandoshoney @alexiaricciardo @eonnyx @deanlovescassie @paintlavillered
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x y/n#joel miller imagine#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fanfic#the last of us fanfic#the last of us imagine#the last of us fanfiction#twenty years later
2K notes
·
View notes
Note
not a specific prompt im just a whore for kas!eddie being utterly obsessed w Regular Guy steve harrington & i think it'd be funny if they tried to just have a normal hangout w the party & eddie absolutely cannot be normal & just like gargoyles around or something
sorry about the wait, writer's block hit me pretty hard again but i did it!!! i hope it's to your tastes and that you have a very happy birthday!!!
So here's the thing.
Eddie could have been a vegetarian.
It was a whole thing when he was like thirteen years old and had just watched a very, very terrible movie that involved a lot of gore and too many metaphors about chickens. It fucked him up so bad that he refused any of Wayne's meat-infested meals, from pies to hot dogs to fucking sandwiches.
He did end up caving after one too many weeks of hiding in his room when the smell of delicious, juicy steak (it wasn't really a steak but fuck if he knew the difference) wafted around the trailer. He cried the entire time while he ate but Wayne pat him on the head and said he was still proud of him for making it that far.
Anyway, the point is Eddie could have sworn to look at nothing but vegetables and grass his whole life.
He's never been so glad that he didn't.
Not when Steve, the absolute fucking dork that he is, is eating his burger in the messiest way possible just to prove to Robin that he could do worse.
Eddie can't tear his eyes away.
The way the dark, twilight blue of that Henley somehow makes his skin look that much warmer, the way his smile is riddled with sauce and lettuce, the way his eyes squeeze shut when -
"You can't eat Steve."
Eddie blinks, and turns his head to find Dustin with his arms crossed, his face squished into a grim expression.
Eddie tilts his head.
"I'm serious, you promised you wouldn't eat anybody -"
"I don't want to eat Steve," Eddie rasps out, his tail flicking against the wall. It's cold, the surfaces of everything in this house is too cold. He's almost desperate enough to burrow his way into the couch, just so he can soak up the warmth of Steve and Robin, even if their eating habits are disgusting.
Dustin glances at Steve, who's already got a tissue and is jamming into Robin's cheek with a laugh, and frowns at Eddie. "You're sure? Because you've been staring at him like, all day."
Sighing, Eddie resettles himself on the island counter so he's sitting cross-legged and continues to watch Steve. "I know."
There's a pause.
"That's it?" Dustin says incredulously. "That's all you have to say?"
"Have you ever seen someone so intrinsically against everything you've ever believed in that's somehow also the exact poster child for what you should aim to achieve?"
He hears Dustin blink. "What -"
"He's just so -" Eddie flails a hand, his tail mirroring the motion. "Benign! And yet, he possess the strength, the fearlessness of a man on the battlefield -"
"Why are you using your DM voice -"
"And yet again, he will sit there, with a perfect swoop to his hair, an innocence to his eyes and a delicate sweetness to his tongue and he will ask that you believe him to be harmless."
Another pause.
"Okay, that was a little weird -"
"And you will!" Eddie leaps onto his feet, standing above Dustin with power raging through his veins as the head rush of a monologue captures him. "You will believe that fine, gracious man to be harmless! As long as you don't - look - back."
"Eddie, get down from the counter."
With a laugh, Eddie spins and his tail wiggles a hello to Steve, who looks up at him with his exasperated, innocent eyes. "My liege," Eddie says, hopping down only to slink into Steve's space and wrap his tail around his bicep. "How goes the competition?"
"Robin won -"
"As usual!" said-bird calls out from the living room.
"Yeah, as usual," Steve repeats with a lovingly snarky tone. Eddie's tail tightens. "What have I said about standing on tables, Eddie?"
"Oh but sire," Eddie murmurs as he circles Steve, ducking down just to pout up at him. Yeah, he knows the power of his big brown eyes, he knows how to use 'em. "I was simply delivering an informative, nay, crucial declaration of your -"
"Eddie."
He switches tactics. "I won't do it again?"
"You fucking better not," Steve mock-glares down at him and oh, that's a look to think about later. Hooking a finger under Eddie's tail, where it's curled around his skin, Steve gently pulls it off and walks to the sink, the warmth of his finger sending shivers down Eddie's neck.
There is a moment of silence.
"You can't fuck Steve either, by the way, it'd be like - weird. For a lot of reasons. Not because you're guys -"
"For fuck's sake, Henderson -"
#i restarted this request so many times but eventually went back to this iteration#and i think i did alright? not as much description of steve being Regular as i think you wanted sorry about that apple#wishing you a great day tho!!!#sailor✧writes#sailor✧replies#steddie#writing#ficlet#au content: kas!eddie#kas eddie munson
265 notes
·
View notes
Text
Health and Hybrids (XIV)👽👻💚
[I can't remember the original prompt posters for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]
PART ONE is here PART TWOis here PART THREE is here PART FOUR is here and PART FIVE is here PART SIX is here and PART SEVEN is here PART EIGHT is here PART NINE is here PART TEN is here PART ELEVEN is here PART TWELVE is here PART THIRTEEN is here and this is part fourteen! Yes I messed it up this morning yes I had to wait all day to correct it it's all goooood
💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts
Where we last left off... Bart is a good egg who is having a Bad Time waiting for his friend :(
Trigger warnings for this story: body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) | my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.
💚👻👽👻💚
Danny wakes up with a gasp.
He’s—where is he? Everything hurts. He can barely think. Danny groans, long and loud, and lifts up an aching hand to his temple.
His fingers come away green. Aw, fuck. What happened to him? What’s going on? Why is his hand…blurry? Is he concussed? Is something wrong with his eyes, or with his head??
(He hopes it’s not his head. It’s waaay easier to heal from one than the other.)
Danny tries to sit up, and— NOPE. Ow. Bad idea. Suuuuuch a bad idea. His arms and hands and his neck and his back are screaming at him, now that he’s awake enough to pay attention. Ughhhhhhhhhhh.
He lays back down. His eyes don’t—well, they don’t shut all the way, which part of his brain labels as very bad, actually, but the world does turn darker and greener as he tries to shut his eyes, and that’s close enough to closing his eyes that Danny can mostly zone out past the pain.
He licks his sore lips. They taste like copper. And battery acid. …And Pixie Sticks.
Ugh, ecto-blood. His own, he assumes.
Everything is blurry and everything kind of hurts and he doesn’t know how he got here or what’s going on. Danny tries to roll over, tries to get more comfortable, but something starts dragging on the inside of his arm, which means intravenous lines.
Ugggghhhh. He hopes it’s got pain meds at least.
Awake him can deal with this later. Danny zones out, his labored breathing evens.
He’s asleep before he knows it.
*
Danny wakes up next to quiet murmuring, and to weird sensation of something moving in his arm.
He yawns—and his jaw cracks apart farther than usual, with more clicking noises than his jaw usually makes. Weird. His arms come up, his eyes unblur…
The tugging sensation doesn’t go away. Danny sniffs blearily. Blinks.
Two white-coated humans(…?) in PPE pause at his bedside, a half-dissembled IV shared between them.
Danny stops breathing. He can’t—is he—
His eyes go to the ceiling. The floor. He doesn’t recognize the room he’s in. He doesn’t understand. Is this the Guys in White again? Is he— Did he never leave? Is he trapped? Danny doesn’t—he can’t—
—One of the white coats starts making worried noises, which. Danny’s never heard that before. It’s usually threats. They raise both their arms, and Danny flinches back—
…And so do they. Huh. Hm. Are the Guys hiring scaredy cats now? That would be a change of pace, if they were as scared of Danny as Danny is of them.
The second person clicks the new IV bag into place. Danny stops focusing on number one and starts focusing on number two.
They don’t make any overt tells either. The IV line is already in him, and the bag is… Well. It’s not red and Danny’s not in any pain, and it’s not green either. It’s just. Kinda opaque? Milky? The person doesn’t start cackling evilly or telling Danny how screwed he is, either. They both just sort of…tidy up?
The first one doesn’t get closer, either, but Danny can mostly tell that they’re scanning him visually. Their attention goes from his face, to Danny’s visible arm, to the puncture point in his elbow for the IV needle.
Danny also eyes his IV point. Well. It looks like a needle. Doesn’t hurt all that much.
Someone says something he doesn’t catch. But the tone isn’t…mean, or anything. If anything, it sounds quiet, and low, like they’re trying to keep him calm.
Danny doesn’t understand.
He moves as far out of the way of them as possible. It only has the effect of a few inches and it's so painfully slow. If that. He— he remembers. He’s supposed to be scared of— something. No, he knows it—
The labs. He’s supposed to be scared of the labs. The smell is rank there and there’s always screaming and Danny had been hurt there; really, really hurt.
He’s still hurt. He’s still in a lab. In a room. In some sort of too-small prison, and now his barely-sewn together lungs are trying too hard to keep air in his body and it’s not working, and—
Danny barely pays attention when the first doctor leaves. He sees the other back into the door and reach for the phone line, and he can’t stop breathing and he can’t calm down because that means that they’re calling for help and they’re going to hurt him all over again. Tie him down. Cut him open. Shock him, until he can’t breathe without screaming—
Someone new comes in. They look— rushed. Danny can see her actively tying up long black hair, threading a mask up over her face, pulling on one of those paper shifts the doctors wear. The only difference is that she doesn’t put boot covers on.
She has big, bright boots that go all the way up her legs. With his green vision, they look kind of…greyish? (Maybe they’re pink..?)
Either way. They look…ridiculous. Danny doesn’t exactly forget to be scared, but also…what the fuck.
The woman sees that Danny can see her. She waves.
Danny presses back against his— cot. Bed.
That doesn’t stop her. She pulls latex gloves from out of the paper slip she’s wearing and snaps them on, revealing a thin layer of something shiny underneath her elastic-bound sleeves. Once that’s on, she does a visible body checkup of herself: boots, gown, gloves, mask, hair.
…No hair net, though. Or goggles. The Docs in White always wanted to be fully covered when they saw their victims. Being able to see her eyes is a lot…friendlier.
She figures herself out. Straightens. Gives a double thumbs up.
…Danny's eyes roam around. There’s no one nearby. There's only a wall behind him. Is she looking at…him? Is that directed to him?
She doesn’t move immediately— and once she’s in, the second doctor leaves the room entirely.
…The new person takes over. She goes from monitor to monitor, getting closer, but with none of the focus on Danny, per se. She reads his stats, verbalizes them out loud, which, doesn’t sound like…English? But enough to confuse him? It’s kind of like trying to discern Esperanto when he's not thinking about how it's not English.
Ancients. The pounding in his head is getting worse. Maybe Danny has a concussion or something.
The woman doesn’t…get. Him. In fact, he seems to be the least interesting thing in the room to her. Her time is spent on reading the charts and the machines waiting around him, putting something into a…fridge? A Cabinet? In the corner of his room? And otherwise, she leaves him alone.
Until. She does get up and look at him, and all of Danny tenses up painfully. He can’t move. Something’s holding down his legs, his body’s stiff, and all of him is so tired that he genuinely can’t tell if his waist is tied down or if he’s just that exhausted.
He can hear his heart rate monitor kick up. He can’t move, not really. He tries to go intangible but his core just throbs with misery, and—
She mostly just pats his sheets. Not his person, even. Apparently the torture is being held off for now. “Eow eart wel?”
…Danny squints. That is almost English.
“Eom hebbjan yift,” she adds, leadingly, as if Danny is a friend she can tease and not a subject under threat of the knife. He doesn't like it. It hurts. Nothing is real and everyone hates him and all he wants to do is leave but his body is rejecting him and—
Something light and plastic thumps down onto the bed.
Danny blinks. He looks—down. (His neck makes him regret that.)
Is that a…is that a space shuttle? No, ‘cause Danny thinks he recognizes it. It’s Discovery? Isn’t it? That’s the one they just retired. He tries to grab it, but— ouch, oof, his fingers can’t even stretch, bad idea—
The woman gently guides the shuttle into his hand. It doesn’t even hurt. And.
It’s cold to the touch. The model is plastic, it shouldn’t be so cold, but the sensation is distinctly cool and kind of familiar.
…Oh. Danny struggles to flex his fingers around the thing.
It’s him.
Or. Well. The shuttle is his. It has his ectoplasm imbued all throughout it. He can even sort of feel the sensation of carefulplayingcareful he’d have felt while near it. The feeling is weak, and timid, but it’s still there.
So. Then. When did he get it? And…why? Why was it allowed to him? How did he get it?
Is this how they’re feeding him now? Instead of showering him with poorly filtered ectoplasm every time he gets rowdy, are they actually trying to feed his Obsession? For real?? That’s—that’s brand new behavior from the—
Danny blinks. Wait. That’s not it either. Because there’s an IV in him. So…they know he’s getting human food.
So. Uh.
Hm.
Danny doesn’t want to get his hopes up. But this…might not be the Guys in White.
Of course, they might not be better than the GIW either; it’s a total possibility that Danny’s getting suckered into some scheme where every gentle permission and soft voice is a debt he owes…some new reason to take…
His eyelids twitch as they try to shut. He’s so tired. Fear kept him mobile, but now…everything is so heavy.
The lady carefully shushes him, ever so gently. She pulls up his blanket for him. Pats it down.
Danny shivers. He’s so, so scared.
“Ræste þiht,” the woman whispers. The words sound fond. Danny’s so scared, but he’s so tired. His heart is beating so fast. “An freond becymþ hraðe.”
It’s reassuring.
Danny doesn’t want it to be.
He falls asleep the way the desperate do—clawing at the last traces of wakefulness, only to have his consciousness ripped from him.
#Diana: Hi friend! :) I'm glad you're awake!#Danny: *dialling 911 and failing* HELLO???? POLICE?? ANYONE?? HELP???#HE'S UP AND HE'S PEOPLE!#also shoutout to everyone who thought Danny was too concussed for English. Nope! This is a Fundamentally Different English y'all.#health and hybrids#dp x dc#dpxdc#dcxdp#danny phantom#tw gore#tw medical#tw body horror#dcu crossover
248 notes
·
View notes
Text
Crybaby
Rating: Mature (for horror not smut)
Word Count: 7440
Tags: psychological horror, gaslighting, manipulation, monsters, body horror, gore, murder, blood, OC x OC (Threat x Crybaby), bad end, dead dove do not eat, please let me know if I missed anything but please heed the tages
Summary: A few weeks ago you met someone at a bar and offered them a couch to crash on. You don't know why you did that, but you can't take it back now.
"Then what did you do?" You ask, hugging a pillow to your chest. You're sitting cross legged on the couch having what your couch surfer has dubbed "slut talk." It's your favorite part of the morning. Somehow despite the late nights your half-invited guest is always awake when you are. You hardly turn the coffee pot off when they wander into the kitchen with messy hair and a yawn.
They hum, "Grabbed a bite and left, same as always." It's a disappointing end to all their stories, you sort of wish there was something exciting to end their nights with. Instead of the usual fuck, eat, leave.
"Do you think people notice when you raid their fridge?" You lean to grab your mug off the coffee table.
"You don't notice when I raid your fridge," they shrug. You roll your eyes.
"Ok, well, you're allowed to raid the fridge, you're sort of living here." You tell them. They shake their head with a smile, lean against the arm of the couch to kick their feet up onto your lap.
"A fact I greatly appreciate and plan on repaying." You nearly choke on your coffee, and wave your hands to dismiss the thought entirely.
"Oh, no, no it's fun having you around. I just wish I had a better bed to offer you."
"I don't mind the couch, but if you wanna cuddle I'm all for it." They wiggle their brows, it's enough to tell you they're only teasing you.
"Funny," you grin, "you're funny."
You check your phone, and unceremoniously shove their feet off you. You've gotta get going if you want to shower before work. It's fun having a couch surfer living with you, but it's definitely tightening your schedule talking to them so much.
-
You feel eyes on your back as you walk across campus to the metal studio. There’s a new missing poster tacked to the board outside the art building.
-
This is your least favorite part of your art hobby. Gathering material. You usually only do it once or twice a month, and even that feels too often. If your flat had any sort of garden or nearby trees you could manage, but no you wanted to live in the city. Really it wouldn’t be such a bad trip if the forest didn’t whisper to you, didn’t seem to sink deeper and darker when you stared into it.
You crouch at the edge of the forest picking up pine cones and helicopter seeds. You carefully place them in the appropriate bags to keep them separated while you look for the twigs you like. Thin, but not too thin, with good knotting. You hum quietly to yourself, mostly for the noise of it, and pluck a few of the freshly fallen leaves off the ground. Everything is inspected and saved, or discarded, as you move. It’s a good day for the woods.
They’re quiet. The usual woodland critters sing their song, but otherwise? No voices, no shifting shadows, no spooky shit. You can almost ignore the watched feeling, the tug to go deeper into the trees’ embrace. There’s nothing good in the woods. You’ve known that since you were a child. Wandering too far off your path has always made your stomach squirm.
Which is fine. You’re not adventurous, you have no desire to get lost in the forest. Just like you have no desire to jump out windows or sleep with someone new every night. You wince a little at your own mental tone. You shouldn’t think of your couch surfer like that, they’re perfectly nice and you can’t judge other people’s lifestyles when your own is so sheltered.
You shiver, bunch your shoulders up close to your ears. You can feel eyes on you, but you know better than to look for them. Looking for them just makes the whispers start.
You finish your collection quickly and start back towards civilization.
-
"You smell good," their voice is in your ear. You nearly jump out of your chair, you hadn't heard them come in. Maybe you'd been too focused on your work, sueding twigs to wax and vice versa. You push your needlepoint glasses up to look at your guest.
"What?"
"You smell good," they repeat. You learned early on in their stay that your guest is a little off. Not just in their sexual escapades but in every way: the way you never see them eat, the way they never seem to sleep, and especially in how they don't seem to have any shame in their compliments.
"I smell like pine cones, I was out in the woods today." You flip your glasses down and go back to your wax work.
"That makes sense," they pick through the other wax figures you've made, shuffling them to the side as they search. "Where's the deer-fly?"
"What deer-fly?" You ask, because you don't want to admit you might believe in monsters to your not-roommate who --despite all signs against it-- seems pretty together mentally.
"You had a cute little deer with helicopter seed wings, I remember you working on it," they pick through your figures again.
"Oh, uh, I cast it." You lie.
"Oh," that's the other thing about your guest, "Ok," they believe you when you lie.
-
You fidget with your guest’s rings, twisting the gold around their fingers as they lay on their side next to you. You like how intricate they are. You trace your fingers over the thick band around their middle finger. The gnarled gold, like roots, is warm from their skin and dotted with red chip rubies. Their eyes rest on your hands, their cheek resting against their closed fist. You’re not really sure how you both ended up on your bed, but it’s comfortable.
“You sure you don’t wanna come out with me? You’d be good bait.” You snort, and roll your eyes.
“Clubs aren’t really my scene.” You move on to the interlocking rings on their pointer finger. You twist them off and watch the thin bands fall apart. It’s easier to talk when you don’t have to look at people, when you can keep your hands busy. “Besides, I’m horrible bait. People don’t talk to me.”
“I talk to you,” You can hear the smile in their voice. You shrug, twisting one of the bands onto another and pinching it to keep it together as you work on the rest.
“You don’t count.” They hum.
“Yeah, suppose I don’t really.” They take the ring from you as you struggle fitting the pieces together, their long fingers elegantly turning each piece with practiced motions. It’s strange watching them do it one handed, each finger working nimbly in a way you’re not used to, before the ring slides back onto their finger. “Person is a loose word. We’re not looking for people, we’re looking for meat.” They settle their hand back in yours and you tip your head to look at them. They raise their brows.
“Would love it if you could say dick like a normal person,” You tell them. They laugh and tug their hand from your grip to flick your forehead. Something warm pools in you, and you smile. “I really like having you around.”
“I like being around,” Their voice is a little softer, fingers brushing stray hairs from your face.
“I should’ve gotten a roommate ages ago,” You sigh looking back at the ceiling. Their fingers stall, just a fraction of a second before they continue their sweep. “I’ve never been good with empty houses. Makes me a little-” You grimace, trying to think of a word other than paranoid, spooked, or crazy. Your crash-roommate pats your cheek and pushes themselves to sit up.
“Well, you got me around now. I’m way worse than any ghost could be.” You grin at your empty ceiling and sit up to watch them shrug their jacket on.
“Because you’re so scary,” You laugh at them.
“You know me,” They flash you a smile with all their teeth, “I always have to be the biggest threat in a room.” It’s a trick of the light that they look sharp for the briefest moment. Your fingers shake, your smile falling a little. They’re gone by the time you can get your nerves under control.
-
You carefully pen your letter, a short single sentence. You only do this when your sort-of-not-really-roommate is gone. They’d make fun of you, they already notice when your statues are missing. You fold the tea dyed paper carefully. The sides in, the bottom two thirds folded up, top folded down to slide the bottom in and close it. You run your fingers over your army of wax and pluck one of the fairies from the middle.
One for the window, and the rest to cast.
You tug the window open in your craft room and tug your crucible free from its fire safe home.
-
You scrub at your arm with your hand, it feels like you just walked through a spiderweb. You hope not. You always worry that means the spider is on you now, a rather unpleasant thought. The flat is dark, well, dim. There’s a blue glow from the living room, a gentle static of televised voices, as you make your way from your room to the bathroom. You think it’s maybe three in the morning? You didn’t check.
The TV is still talking when you finish your business, your couch surfer must be home. You’ll get a glass of water from the kitchen and make sure they’re not sleeping with the TV on. You’re less jumpy with someone else living in the house. The shadows don’t scare you the same way, still, there’s a growing sense of unease as you make your way down the dark hall to your living room. You don’t like being awake at this time. Three am is when horror movie bullshit happens.
You squeeze your hands into fists, feel your nails dig into your palms. It grounds you enough to keep you walking as you actually get into the open living room. It’s empty. On the television an infomercial is walking through all the great deals you could be getting on a 15 piece cookware set. You power through the living room to the kitchen.
Light from the streetlamps slants across your floor from your street facing window. The scattered letters and your half closed laptop on the kitchen table under it, just barely illuminated. It’s enough to keep you from bumping into the chairs. You know your kitchen well enough to navigate it in the dark. You repeat your “I’m not scared, definitely not scared, monsters aren’t real and the dark is safe” mantra as you fish a glass out of the cupboard next to the sink.
The tap squeaks as you twist the cold water on and hold the glass under it. This is totally fine. You’ll turn off the TV after you get your water, and go right back to bed. You’re so proud of yourself for braving the safety of your empty flat. Real powerful stuff.
The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, a full body shiver goes through you. You turn from watching your glass fill up to look towards the living room. Your guest, or something with a similar shape, stands in the shifting technicolor light of your old television. The long night shadows of the room and the moving light make them hard to discern, make you think you can see long jointed limbs protruding from their back. Their hands hang by their sides, fingers long and sharp, dripping with a viscous fluid you think shines red as it falls on your floor. They stand unnaturally still, waiting for you to make a move, waiting for you to blink.
You can’t even breathe.
One of the long limbs behind them moves, directs itself towards the ceiling, the rest of them following. Your guest pulls themselves like a spider back towards the shadows as your breath starts again just in time for you to start hyperventilating. You can hear the rapid insectoid clicking over the rush of water from the sink.
Water pours over your hand and your attention is sucked back to your overflowing glass. You swear and turn the tap off quickly, setting your glass in the sink to grab a towel for your hand. The front door of your flat rattles, the lock turning. You can hear your guest humming as they open the door to come in. You turn to look at them quickly. They look the same as always, a little more disheveled than when they left you suppose, but otherwise perfectly normal. You try to calm down your heartbeat as they toe their shoes off. It was just your imagination, your paranoia working overtime at this late hour.
“Oh shit, did I wake you up?” Your guest whispers. You shake your head, swallow and go back to your cup. You pour some of the water off and decide you should start keeping a water bottle in your room.
“No, uh, just- just had a bad dream, I guess,” You tell them, sticking close to the wall as you make your way out of the kitchen towards your room. You’re sure it’s blatantly obvious you’re avoiding something. “Did you turn on the TV before you left?”
“I thought you’d appreciate the noise,” They half follow you, going over to the couch and grabbing the remote, “It didn’t freak you out, did it?”
“Nope,” You lie.
“Good,” They smile, “Wouldn’t wanna scare ya’.”
-
You chalk up your late night scare to being half asleep and an overactive imagination. Nothing to be worried about. You scroll through your local paranormal site and update them on your recently disappearing statues. You chew your nails as you watch the comments pop up on your post, the message board discussing whether it's human or monstrous intervention. You sigh and close your phone. Maybe your therapist was right and you are giving in to your delusions to an unhealthy degree. It seems crazy to think that some unseen monster is following you just because you're an artist, more so that the little statues you've been leaving out on your windowsill aren't just being taken by some random human.
You haven't been looking over your shoulder as often since they started disappearing but that could very well be a placebo effect. None of the folks in your class have been missing either, a few have even come back. There’s nothing to be worried about. Nothing waiting to eat you alive for… what? The sin of being creative?
You stare at your bedroom ceiling. You should get some work done today, finish casting some statues. You push yourself up and out of bed, grabbing a sweater and your slippers to get some coffee before you shower. Maybe you should leave the house, it’s been a while since you went anywhere that wasn’t your workshop or class.
The lump on your couch hardly stirs when you wander past, their shoulders rising and falling with their breaths. You try not to stare, try not to slot your guest into last night’s nightmare. You do a pretty good job. You make yourself busy in the kitchen getting grounds in the coffee maker and rummaging through your pantry for something to eat.
You can feel dread creeping just at the edges of your mind, stiffening your spine, eating at the end of your sanity. You thought when you finally lost your mind it would be a sudden thing, not this slow descent. You itch at your arm, at the invisible spider thread feeling, and grab a granola bar.
“You’re so cute in the morning,” Your not-roommate says behind you. You just about jump out of your skin, turning to face them with your heart hammering in your chest. “So jumpy,” They smile over their coffee cup, bounce their shoulders to mimic your fright.
“You’re up,” Look at you pointing out the obvious, they raise their brows, duh. You don’t know how to explain your unease around them this morning. You can’t reasonably tell them you had a weird semi-lucid nightmare hallucination and now their smile makes you think of their head spinning like the exorcist.
“Call the media,” They joke, grabbing your mug and holding it out to you. You force yourself forward through the anxiety to take your coffee. It’s easy. Their hands are both occupied, and there’s no reason to think they’d hurt you. Still, you approach the gesture with the tremor of a bomb defusal technician rapidly running out of fingers.
They transfer the mug to your hands without a second thought, dropping their hand to their side as soon as it’s done supporting the coffee’s weight. You feel the tightness in your chest unspool, your shoulders drop, the tension leaves you like it was never there in the first place. “Seriously what’s with you this morning, look like you saw a ghost.” Their voice is almost concerned. Not quite, it’s a play at concern, a child acting out what they think it should sound like. It twists your stomach into knots.
“Guess I’m still thinking about that dream,” You breathe.
“Nightmares are a bitch, huh.” Their concern drips with amusement. You knew it would be silly to bring up. They’re never concerned by the things that scare you. You don’t think your guest is scared of anything, least of all bad dreams. You brush past them to go sit on the couch, pulling your legs up to your chest as you click the TV on.
“-recent string of deaths has been linked to a potential black market organ ring-” the television buzzes in the background, your guest falls hard on the couch next to you.
“You wanna do slut talk, or…?” You shake your head, they shrug. “Whatever, mind if we watch something else?” You offer them the remote silently, you don’t like watching the news anyway. Too much bad is happening in the world, you don’t need the added anxiety.
“-say citizens should be on the lookout for-” Your guest punches in a new channel number and the anchors are replaced by a pair of far too large men discussing statistics of some sort. The camera cuts to a caged octagon. Oh, fighting. You tune it out and try to start hyping yourself up to leave the house.
-
“Have you been taking your medication?” Your therapist asks. You pick at her couch, fingernails scratching at the felt balls that pop up on well worn knits. You don’t like that way she says it, like you’re crazy for bringing up an issue she asked about. Then again anyone would think you were crazy talking about the- the thing you saw in your house. Or didn’t see. Thought you saw.
“Every day,” You assure her, “it doesn’t feel like they’re helping anymore.”
Your therapist thinks for a minute. You like her, she’s kind, and most days helpful. She lets you talk without making you feel like you’re losing your mind, at least.
“Your sculptures, are they still disappearing?” She starts, and you desperately want to know where she’s going with it. You nod, and she nods as well. “How’s the ventilation in your craft room?”
You wince. “Not great, but I open the windows when I’m die casting.” She nods again, slower, heavier.
“Do you think you might be exposed to any toxic fumes that could be interfering with your meds? Hallucinations, memory gaps, lost items, it could be caused by that.” You hate to think she’s right, but the alternative is you being right. You suppose a carbon monoxide or noxious fume issue is more plausible than monsters being real(and out to get you). Your therapist takes your silence as agreement and pushes on. “Maybe you should try a less… fume-y hobby for a while, see if that clears up any of the symptoms.”
“And if it doesn’t?” You ask.
She sighs, leans back in her chair, “Then we might need to start entertaining the possibility that this isn’t just anxiety.”
“I’ll figure something out.” Whatever tests she’s thinking of, you’d like to avoid for the moment. It’s probably the fumes. It has to be the fumes.
“Find a stopping point for your sculptures, and let me know next week what you want to try.” Your therapist scribbles something on their notepad. You suppose it’s good they know you well enough to know you won’t quit your art just for your health.
You’ll use up the rest of your supplies and find something easy to do.
-
You’re almost completely over the nightmare incident by the end of the week. Your guest is as friendly as ever, unbothered by any of the anxieties that plague you. You leave your offering for whatever is taking your sculptures, ask it to stay out of your house while it’s kept away. You figure that must be what it was. If it was anything at all.
You shove laundry into your washer, dropping in clothes from your hamper as you scroll on your phone. You should grab some of your guest’s washing too, that’s the nice thing to do, and they’ve been staying with you long enough. You grab your empty hamper to go snag their pile from the living room.
Come to think of it, how long have they been staying with you? You feel like it’s been a while now. You can’t really put your finger on when you offered them your couch. You think a month? Maybe? But, that doesn’t feel right. The thought rubs against your brain the wrong way. You shove their spare shirts into your basket. You’re not great with dates but you know you’re better than this. Forgetful but not enough to forget when you opened your home to a stranger. Wasn’t this supposed to be temporary? Why does it feel like they’ve moved in?
You wince, feeling the sharp stab of a stress headache forming. You try to keep your focus on the clothes you feed to the washer, stopping to check the tag on one of their flannels. You check the little symbols against your cheat sheet on the wall and stop.
You rub your finger over the hard crust on the collar of their shirt. It makes your lip curl in disgust, it doesn’t feel like dirt. You glance down to see if you need to pre-treat the stain, scratch at one of the brown droplets. It looks like a nasty stain, already soaked into the fibers of the shirt. You frown, it looks like blood. But on their collar like this you would’ve seen a cut on their face by now. Besides this was at the bottom of their pile, and you haven’t seen them wear it in a few days. Plenty of time to notice a new bandage or scar. Which makes you think it isn’t their blood.
You dig your nail into the stain, feel it crush under your finger. There isn’t any reason to think it’s blood. No reason to think it isn’t your friend’s blood. Really this whole blood stain business is a bad faith line of thinking. Except you know blood when you see it.
With shaking hands you set the flannel on the table and go to grab the lemon juice. At least you can clean it up. You can get the blood out of your house and then it won’t be blood anymore. No more blood in your house. You swallow your fear, set the lemon juice next to the shirt. You think of the red that had dripped off your nightmare’s hands as they stood in your living room.
You leave the laundry and go to the living room. You’re going to convince yourself that this is silly. You’re being ridiculous. You settle on your knees in front of the TV, and inspect the floor. Your flat isn’t exactly the most up to date, your wood floors have seen better days. If there was blood -there wasn’t- then there should still be some between the floorboards. You run your fingers over the dips between the wood, looking for any disturbance in the lacquer.
There’s nothing, not even a speck of dirt.
You exhale, shaky, and stand again. Good. Good, you knew there wouldn’t be anything. You clean up well.
You go back to the kitchen to finish getting your friend’s mystery stain out of their shirt.
-
You drum your fingers against your work table, staring down your army of silver statues. Their delicately sculpted features don’t help you make up your mind. In fact they almost coax you away from your prescribed course of action. You’re good at this. You don’t want to be bad at something new.
Either way you need supplies.
You grab your usual bag and grip the canvas tight. It’ll be fine. You can be bad at something. You just can’t keep living like this. You lock your front door tightly behind you and start down the street towards your favorite craft store.
The streets are cold. The wind at your back makes you shiver, and the watched feeling... Fumes, you tell yourself. You’d rushed to get everything cast and now you’re paying the price. You hook a right towards the tube station and make your way down the steps. People walk past you on the other side, swipe their card after you, wait around you for the train. It’s normal. It’s suffocating. You squeeze your hands around the straps of your bag, nails digging into your palms. It’s only one stop, but you rush to get off the train and back up into fresh air. You bump into someone and give a hasty “excuse me.”
Halfway down the street someone grabs your arm. You tense and they drop their grip immediately.
“Yer bag’s leakin’.” A low voice informs you. You tug your bag to check it and groan. There’s a tear on the corner that a pound is nearly tumbling out of. You feel your shoulders drop, that’s just fabulous. You suppose the canvas has taken a beating over the years, it must have caught on something when you were leaving the house. “Aw, dinnae cry bonnie, s’alrigh’.” You glance up at the man, he holds up a handful of pencils and coins, “I caught yer trail.”
You find yourself sitting on a bench sniffling while a stranger sews the hole in your bag closed. His stitches are neat, clinically precise. He doesn’t take long, just like he promised, and knots the dark thread with careful fingers when he’s finished. You wipe your eyes, cursing your bad luck and anything else you can think of. Your life feels like it’s been falling apart recently. First you lose your mind, now you’re losing your favorite tote.
“Good as new,” the man gives the mended corner a tug and starts grabbing your supplies to drop back into it. He hums, the tune is familiar but you can’t put your finger on it. “Ya done with yer tears yet, bon?” He settles your tote between the two of you, an illusion of space. You nod, even though he reaches to scrub a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb.
You give a half annoyed hum, and feel the rays of his smile. You glance at him, and realize you hadn’t actually looked at him until now. It feels rude to not even have spared him a glance. Except that he feels completely overwhelming as soon as you look at him. His eyes are so blue they burn, every piece of him slotting uncomfortably close to human. You flinch as pain strikes through your head.
His brows draw together, and he tips his head forward, leaning closer to get a better look at you. He mumbles something and reaches to press his fingers against your forehead. His skin is so warm it’s almost alien. His nails scratch bluntly at your skin before catching on something.
It’s like he’s pulling a nail from your skull, the pressure gone as soon as he rolls his fingers together to dust off the hair. You blink, your head feeling lighter than it has in days.
“Better?” He asks. You rub your forehead.
“Yeah, thanks, um-”
“Soap,” He supplies, pushing off the bench to stand.
“Soap,” You smile, it’s silly but you suppose you’ve heard worse. He offers you a hand to pull you to your feet. His fingers wrap around yours, warm, calloused, big. You try not to focus on them too much as they tug you up. He leans around you to grab your bag and hold it out to you.
“Where’re ya off ta?” Soap asks.
“Craft store, I’m-” You sigh, you shouldn’t tell a stranger your therapist is mandating a hobby change, “I’m looking for a new hobby.”
Soap tips his head to the side, thinking --you think. He rattles off a few potential options, paper crafts, fiber arts, clay sculpting, good old fashioned pencils on paper. You hardly hear a word he says, too busy feeling your heart jump into your throat. From this angle you’d almost swear he had a second set of teeth.
-
You press against your front door when you get home, fingers shaky as you click the deadbolt into place. Soap had been perfectly polite and cordial to you, and yet you felt unnerved. You were seeing things you couldn’t get out of your brain and it was making it hard to focus on pretending you’re normal. He’d even walked you home, his eyes lingering on your window. You have unfounded suspicions.
“Wow you’re home late,” Your guest calls from the kitchen. They wander into the living room and stop dead when they spot you. Their nose wrinkles when they frown.
You run a hand over your hair, close your eyes and try to focus on the time. Your stomach rumbles. You hadn’t grabbed dinner, despite Soap’s offer. You’ll eat leftovers, or throw something together. It's no problem.
“You ok?” You jerk back against the door. Your friend hovers too close. Their eyes are wide and searching, darting over you with a strange intensity you’ve never seen before.
“Fine, I just had a long day.” You tell them, brushing past to head for the fridge. They follow close behind, almost clingy.
“You sure? Maybe I should stay home tonight, take care of you.” They offer. You sigh and tug the fridge door open, leaning to check what you have. Your not-roommate’s hands pluck at your sweater, reach around you to grab food when your eyes settle on it too long.
“Don’t let me ruin your fun,” You let them tug you away from the fridge, and you hop up to sit on the counter. Pasta is dumped into a bowl and shoved in the microwave.
“I can skip going out,” They stare down the microwave timer, fingers tapping the counter.
“I’m really-”
“Did you meet anyone interesting while you were out?” They cut you off. You blink. That’s a weird question. You don’t know how to respond. Their gaze is so sharp you almost don’t want to tell them the truth. You swallow.
“What?”
“Do you think you’re getting sick?” They repeat, “It’s getting colder out, you might’ve caught something you shouldn’t have.” There’s a ringing in your ears, you shake your head to dislodge it. Maybe you are coming down with something.
“Just more reasons for you to go out, I don’t wanna get you sick.” You press the back of your hand to your forehead, you should find your thermometer. Your guest hums in annoyance.
“Alright, but think about staying home this week.” You nod, you weren’t planning on heading out again except for groceries, but you can always order in. “Don’t wait up,” They tell you, reaching to flick your forehead as soon as you drop your hand.
-
“I thought you were going out tonight?” You freeze in the hallway, staring at your still home roommate. They look up from the couch, a beer dangling from their fingers.
“Decided to stay in,” They tip their head back to finish the can. You don’t watch the bob of their throat as they swallow. You do rub your eyes in the glare of the television. “Hey, you mind if I sneak in with you tonight?” They ask. The question slides over you like water.
You hum, and nod before you can actually think about what they asked. You turn back down the hall and pad to the bathroom. You hear the TV click off and figure they’re heading to your room. Which is weird.
When you head back to bed your roommate has already made themselves comfortable. They have one of your stuffed animals on their chest, their hands flopping the bunny ears back and forth while they wait for you. You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.
Having them in here makes you- but you can’t-
You climb into bed on the other side of them and click the light off.
-
You jerk awake. Something physically pulls you awake.
You stare, frozen, into the darkness. The darkness is otherwise occupied, it’s spindling limbs cracking and clicking as they reach with odd angles for your ceiling. They lodge themselves in the corners of your room, eating the shadows cast by the streetlights outside your window. You’re powerless to stop it as it drags threads from your cracked chest. The strings throb, glowing an angry red as the dark monstrous mass that’s haunted your shadow for weeks drags clawed fingers over them. The light catches on the silver of spiderwebs. Lace draped all over your room like a nest. You wish you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t feel the air of the room on your lungs. You wish it felt wetter, not this horrible wash of dryness.
Long delicate claws piece out your threads, nudge your lungs to the side and you feel your muscles tense. Your fingers retract, clawing at the sheets, gouging into the soft cotton. Fingers slip against your heart, drawing it from your chest in a mess of veins and tethers. Your stomach rolls, watching the shadows inspect the organ. You’ve never felt your pulse in such a sick way, never been so conscious of your blood or the ways it’s distributed through your body. The wetness of your heart drips onto your lungs.
It’s a short nightmare that seems to last forever before your heart is settled neatly back into place. Your ribs are pressed back into place, skin knit together like it never was moved to begin with. Then the claws reach for your face, palm pressing tight over your eyes and pushing you down deep into sleep.
-
It’s strange how well you sleep with your guest sharing your bed. You always wake up cuddled close, their arms around you as they snore softly. You’re used to being the first one awake. Even without them going out, you find they’re slow to wake up. It’s sort of cute. People seem much less cool and untouchable when their face is smushed in a pillow and their hair is all over the place.
You brush your teeth and wince. You must’ve slept wrong. Your neck is killing you.
Your eyes slide off the mirror, unable or unwilling to hold onto your reflection. You grab some painkillers and make your way to the kitchen to start on coffee.
-
You gasp, coming to on your couch like you’ve pulled yourself out of the sea.
The news drones on about a festival happening this weekend. Weekend? What day is it? You can’t remember. You frown, check your phone. It’s dead, despite being plugged into its charger. You tug at the cord and it pulls up into your hand without resistance, unplugged from its little cube. Ok, so no sense checking that. You plug the cord back in and watch the little light turn on before getting up.
You can check your craft room. You have a general idea of timing on your projects, you just need to check how far you’ve gotten on- on-
What are you working on right now?
You stop in the doorway, staring down your neat work desk. Someone cleaned up in here(was it you?) and you haven’t had time to dirty it up yet. There are no scraps of fabric, no balls of yarn, no picked apart pine cones or snapped twigs. You move towards a pile of freshly folded fleece, picking at the soft fabric. You almost remember buying this, that must’ve been at least a week ago. Last weekend, maybe.
You pick it up to check you didn’t set it on top of any ongoing projects and spot the orange flipper of your duck buried deep in the basket. With a frown you tug it free, the cool fabric making your frown deepen.
When’s the last time you left an offering on your windowsill?
You glance out the window, it looks just past sunset. The house is quiet. Your roommate must have gone out already. You take the duck with you back to the couch and grab the remote. You’ll find something interesting to watch while you wait for your phone to charge.
“-of local nightclubs,” The newscaster drones, their even tone hardly relaying the gravity of their report, “you may be in danger. New police reports indicate that these bars may be the hunting grounds for the trafficking ring that police now believe may be a single disturbed individual-”
You lower the remote, sitting forward to listen with growing unease as the newscaster describes murders you should have heard about by now. Murders that have been going on for weeks. Missing organs. They recount the investigation’s process. The first instinct towards organ trafficking, and the growing evidence towards one organized individual and not an organization. Eye witnesses that can’t remember who the victims left with. Precise injuries and surgical precision, their throats torn out like an animal had attacked them.
There’s something itching at your brain, something familiar. Something you can’t touch. You’re not supposed to touch. You stroke your fingers over the handmade plush in your arms, something warm and stick clinging to them as you self soothe. It dislodges your nerves, shakes them free, snakes through the fog over your brain.
You tug the blanket off the back of the couch and drag it over your lap. You press yourself back into the corner of the couch, small and safe. It’s your paranoia.
Have you been taking your medicine?
-
You wake up to the front door closing. You must have turned the TV off at some point. You rub your eyes and go to check on your guest.
You flick on the kitchen light and see your roommate roll their shoulders back with a click. They tip their head one way then the other, stretching with an unnatural length to their movements. The shadow they cast skewers the corners of the room. When they turn to look over their shoulder at you, their eyes are almost black, all four of them blink. You press yourself back against the wall. When you blink they’ve turned towards you.
Blood drips down their chest, stains their lips and traces down their throat. Their hands hang by their sides, nails stained with grit. Their tongue darts out and along their lips, cleaning some of the red off.
“You’re-’ You don’t know what to say, feel frozen by your own fear.
“I thought we’d settled this,” They sigh, wipe their throat with their hand and inspect the blood. The level of casualty they display strikes you more than words ever could.
“Blood, that’s blood,” You stammer out. They shrug sucking on their fingers.
“O negative if you wanna be specific,” Their voice is thick as they swallow, “Organ donor too, since you were so picky about that last time.”
Last time? What are they talking about?
Blood rushes in your ears, your heart pounding so loud you can hardly hear them over the noise. Your hands shake, tug at your shirt. Suddenly you can feel the cloth against your skin, can feel your muscles sliding against your bones, a nauseating sensation you can’t seem to get rid of. The way they talk about this, like it’s something you’ve discussed, something you could be OK with if you just had guidelines set up. You can’t imagine ever being alright with whatever is happening.
Something clicks into place in your mind. The string of murders on the news, missing organs, strange lacerations, drained of blood. Was it them? Your guest holds their chin, cracking their neck as you try not to hyperventilate.
“You’re the one from the news,” You whisper. They hum, and smile at you.
“Fun right? I’ve never been famous before,” They laugh like this is some sort of game. You feel your stomach roll.
“You’re killing people.”
You watch as their usual gentle smile falls, as their entire face seems to fall away into a blank unfeeling parody of the person who's been crashing on your couch.
"So we’re doing this again." The start, picking one of your kitchen knives out of the block on your counter, "What’s the line? I'm not killing people, I'm killing men? Although," They laugh, it’s a hollow cold thing, “I’m really not that picky with my prey.”
Your eyes dart towards the door, you take a half step back. "Don't run," they warn you, condescending as you've never heard them before, "I won't be able to help myself if you run." You don't know what else you could possibly do in this situation. You can't stay, there's no way they let you live now that you know they're a murderer. You have to run.
With a burst of energy you bolt from the kitchen for your front door. You hear a snarl behind you, a “you always do this,” as you flip the deadbolt and rip the door open. You nearly tumble down your front step, but it hardly slows you down. You know better than to look back when you can hear the crashing, feel the strike of claws through the air behind you. How do you combat a murderer? You can feel tears starting to blur your vision, and for once in your life you hope they fall just to clear your eyes.
How many times have you run to the local police station? The monster behind you had said you’d done this before? Would they think you were crying wolf? Would they put you back in the house with this person? Would you forget again?
You’re caught around the middle and lifted. You scream and kick, push at your captor’s face and claw at their arms. You hardly seem to make a dent in them, all hard muscle and low grunts of pain.
“Calm down lass,” Soap orders, voice dropping with your panic. You dig your nails into his arms, sob and scream for him to help you. He grabs your chin and tips your head to the side. “Christ, bonnie, what happened to ya?” He grits, his fingers skating over your neck. You jerk away from the pain that his touch rolls through you.
You freeze, your breath heaving as you stare down your unwanted guest. They haunt the end of the street like a nightmare, their sticky shadows dripping in the midnight moonlight, streaking to cling to the walls and fall to the cobblestone street. Soap hums behind you. No. Humming is too human a description. He growls. The sound low and vibrating, like a dog warning of its impending bite.
You’re struck by another bout of blind panic. For whatever reason your guest has kept you alive, but Soap is a different story. You can’t be a party to this man’s murder. You renew your desperation as you push at his hold.
“We have to go,” You tell him desperately, watching your guest stalk closer, “they’ll kill us, we have to go.”
“That’s mine,” Your guest growls, the sound whispering through the shadows and making your head pound. You squeeze your eyes shut, press back into Soap’s relative safety.
“That’s too bad,” Soap growls, amusement clear where you’d expect fear, “been feeding me for weeks.”
Your eyes snap open, glancing up at your newest monster. He smiles down at you with too many teeth.
“What-”
“Somethin’ much worse than your little spider,” He tells you, holding up a finger, “boop.” He taps your forehead and everything goes black.
#x reader#x oc#oc x oc#oc: threat#oc: crybaby#johnny soap mactavish#soap x reader#soap x oc#johnny soap mactavish x reader#john mactavish x reader#1fae1#tw gore#tw blood#tw gaslighting#tw body horror#tw manipulation#tw psychological horror#threat doing fucked up shit to keep their girlfriend from leaving#dead dove do not eat
183 notes
·
View notes
Text
burning body waiting (ellie williams x fem!reader)
read chapters one and two here
warnings for this chapter— graphic blood/gore, alcohol, overall adult content | word count: 8.8k
chapter 3: animal instinct
WINTER
2 years ago
Burgundy and pink wax dripped poignantly down the slender candles, pattering on the grimy, unfinished wood floor. The winter wind howled ominously, whistling through the cracks of the deteriorating shack, the battered, peeling Hole poster you half-heartedly pinned up fluttering with it.
Hot tears trailed down your cheeks, warming your wind-numbed face. You adjusted your mother's lavender cardigan over your shoulders, her lingering scent growing fainter alongside the memories of her voice as the days without her pressed on, ceaselessly. The Cranberries blared disjointedly through your staticky headphones, your shaky fingers drumming to the beat against your walkman.
Do you know you made me cry?
Do you know you made me die?
It is the lovely thing
The animal, the animal instinct
You squeezed your damp eyes shut and craned your head back, resting it against your mounted wall of sketches, humming softly to yourself. The cold had raked phantom talons through your spine, chilling you to the core.
The dim candlelight flickered as the shack door abruptly, forcefully swept open. You deliberately disregarded the pulsing presence occupying the threshold, the snow billowing in fiercely around his broad, heaving frame.
Zander hollered something incoherent over your boisterous music, the shack walls vibrating at the intensity of his voice.
You swiveled away sulkily, somberly tucking your knees to your chest, staring out the splintered window. Snow fell gracefully like an all-white hour glass, plodding and dense. Snow that you spent hours fumbling through in search of him.
He grabbed you, shaking your shoulders rapturously, your teeth clattering at the violent judder, panic contorting his features. You shredded off your headphones and shot him a withering glower, swatting him away. "What?" You sniped heartily, lip curled.
Your brother's mutilated, gauged eyes were concealed by a strand of fabric you'd cut from your sheets, enveloped around his head in a makeshift blindfold. Recovery was torturously slow. The wounds were open and gaping for weeks, baring soulless, fleshy caverns to the world. The memory of those black pits penetrating through you blankly sent a shudder of repulsion trickling up your spine.
Blood still oozed from the punctures in the delicate, healing flesh. It'd been months.
Then again, it had been months, and you were still waiting to wake up from the nightmare; to burst out of your tucked sheets, your mothers tender smile illuminated by the morning sun, as she smoothed back the hairs from your forehead and murmured a reassuring, "Just a dream, baby. It was all just a dream."
Your dad would be planted on the porch, sipping his scalding black coffee. Zander would be in one piece, zig-zagging through the fields of corn, chasing you with a laugh.
"Don't do that!" Zander bellowed in outrage, his severe, deep voice extracting you from the depths of your memories and reverberating through your shack, one of the candles winking out from the gust of his harsh breath. "Don't what me, fuck ass! I couldn't fucking find you!"
His hands vehemently patted your features, before pinching each of your numb cheeks. "Ow! Asshole!" You exclaimed, thrashing your head out of his unyielding grip, slapping his hands.
"I thought something happened to you. I know you're pissed off at me, but you cannot do that!" His voice had magically escalated, spit lurching through his barred teeth.
"Where else would I go, Zan?" You drawled acidly, rolling your eyes, heedlessly flicking off your walkman and popping out the cassette tape you found crammed under your parents bed, labeled in fraying marker: "OUR MIX."
"I can't see you," Zander breathed raggedly, dismay lancing through his tone, as he braced both hands on your shoulders. The pain in his voice gave you pause. "I can't see. I had no idea where you went..."
Guilt bloomed and sprouted in your chest, bubbling up your throat. You uncomfortably gulped down the apology simmering at the tip of your tongue, steeling your resolve. The thought of him flailing absently, desperately through the snow, screaming for you in terror, blind to the treacherous scenery and any potential harm.
All because he'd left without telling you.
Fresh tears surfaced in your eyes— not from the paralyzing remorse that mental image ignites, but from the reminder that he had left.
You seethed out a trembling breath, belligerently shoving him off of you. "And who's fault is that." You speared accusingly, glaring at him, a pit of dread yawning open in your stomach.
All you wanted was your brother. He was all you had left. All your friends had left you. Your parents were dead. He was the only remaining scrap of your untethered family.
And you thought he'd left you.
It'd been a cruel, unforgiving winter, snow knee-high, wind glacial and penetrating. Every day a cutting, bone-chilling cold. The furious flurries of snow so dense and strenuous, only the few feet ahead of you were visible if you dared trek the winter plains. You and Zander promised one another to never, ever leave the house without notifying the other, for safety reasons. Made an effort not to leave alone at all.
Yet you awoke that morning to a creeping silence. The wind rattling the bones of the hollow houses vacant carcass, the beams groaning emptily.
And a note. Tucked into the dry-rotting pages of your leather-bound notebook in a nearly unintelligible scrawl, reading vaguely:
Don't look for me.
You'd spent hours enduring the vicious blizzard, feet and hands plump and swollen and pulsating with frostbite, in search of him. Rummaging through all the snow-sunken debris within a three mile radius of the old house you were squatting at.
Thinking the worse. Thinking he'd took it a step further from impairing himself to deflect the harrowing scene he'd been bestowed. His eyes may be gone, however, the haunting memories did not die with his sight.
They plagued his slumber every night. He screamed and thrashed and begged the God's for peace.
Unfortunately for him, God abandoned them a long, long time ago.
Zander's hands fell dejectedly to his sides, wind-chapped fists clenching stiffly. He was silent, his lips pursed, chest heaving. Knuckles white. He composed himself before muttering regretfully, "You didn't see what I saw," he mused your name grimly, "and I am so thankful for that."
His fists unfurled, then closed. Wound back into taut balls. Opened, flexed. Closed. Sweat glistened on his calloused palms despite winters unapologetic chill. "If I had to go back, I'd see them and lose my eyes all over again, just so you don't have to see what I saw."
A deep frown transformed your face, a furrow stippling between your brows. You staggered toward him, planting an anchoring hand on his shoulder. The physical contact, the palpable confirmation that you were there, hearing him, seemed to alleviate his trepidation, a deep breath dispersing from his peeling lips.
"Zander..." you began cautiously, surveying the flakes of melting snow clinging to the front of his corduroy jacket in a shameful attempt to avoid the blindfold that ominously concealed the evidence of the terrors he'd witnessed, and the horrific truth that coincides with it. That they're gone. It's just you and him now. "I need you. I... I don't know how to do this on my own," your voice broke on a hideous, gurgling sob at the admission.
Zander's face crumpled. He leaned in to scoop you into an embrace, which you stealthily side-stepped, sniffling in disdain at the audacity. "Don't touch me. Were you really going to leave me without a fucking word?"
He swallowed ruefully, staying silent. You prompted him with an exasperated, biting, "Zander."
"I left a note," he muttered sheepishly in response, cheeks a chagrined flush. You scoffed bitterly as he crammed his hands into his pockets and continued, "It wasn't meant to happen that way. I- I wasn't leaving you. I would never, ever leave you. Ever." He swore faithfully and with enough conviction to ease your apprehension.
You would have never believed he'd leave you, before he did. It seemed reasonable he'd decide having a little sister to protect was a gamble with survival; no logical person wanted an extra mouth to feed, let alone a snarky, combative teenager to provide for.
"Really?" You blurted dumbly, tearily, voice hoarse with misuse, earlier's frantic screaming and sobs straining your vocal cords. Feeling smaller under the weight of all the uproaring emotions than you would've liked to. "Why did you go?" You croaked, using the sleeve of your sweater to smudge off the snot accumulating at the tip of your nose, mustering an ounce of dignity.
He didn't respond. He fumbled for you and enveloped your shivering frame with his big arms, crushing you to his chest; this time, you didn't protest, sinking into the damp, familiar fabric of his coat and hiccuping body-wracking sobs into him, letting him whisper false, ferocious promises.
Later, you come to find out, where he was heading to so cryptically. For a month prior to his sudden departure, he'd been sneaking off in the night to convene with a band of soldiers based on the outskirts of the deserted neighborhood you were residing in.
They told him they were part of an even larger organized group. They told him they had space for two more, plenty of supplies to spare.
And they told him they call themselves the Washington Liberation Front.
• • •
MID-SPRING
NOW
Rain patters down fiercely, thunderously, the heavens spewing an angry, roaring down pour. You grimace at the enormous crater splitting through the earth, a rigid canyon dividing the road, a public transit half-submerged in the mucky water. Obstructing your path.
"Fucking Washington," you mutter vexedly to yourself, craning your head back to examine the encompassing, collapsed buildings, squinting against the harsh rainfall.
You spot a rope dangling from the edge of a shattered window, mumbling reproachfully as you mount a concrete barrier and leap for it. Grunts flea from your pursed lips as you hoist yourself up to the dilapidated second-floor of an old commerce building.
Breathing labored, you plant yourself in one of the rusted office chairs, spinning around with a breathy chuckle. You rotate the chair back around to survey the shadow-shrouded view from the gaping hole in the wall, everything desolate and soggy.
This morning, the sun had blazed bright and true, gleaming through the window, illuminating the warm room you and Ellie had refurbished.
Now it seems the weather went to shit shortly after you noticed her absence, because now, you're drenched head to toe in glacial rain water, teeth clattering, nose tingling— and cripplingly alone.
You ignore the pain clanging through your chest at the passing thought, jarred by the solitude, the supposition of her abandonment. Is abandonment not a common practice? One shared despite religion or ones unspoken personal devotion? Something we all unite in? Snakes shed skin. People move on.
Will you keep pushing and pushing, begging to be worth fighting for? Will you keep proving yourself to people who've already decided you are nothing? It seems your life is an unabashed, consistent cycle of disappointing people. Over and over. Until they leave.
Ellie is no exception. You spent the morning over-analyzing every interaction you had with her, reflecting on every word you uttered, every ghost of a touch against her skin, down to every expression you donned, trying to pinpoint precisely where you went wrong. What you did to scare her off.
You chalked it up to her deeming you helpless. She had to save you numerous times. Had to haul your unconscious body across an active battlefield. Did sweeps of the building while you languished. Did most of the killing where infected were involved. Maybe she tired of your incapability, your inefficiency.
Maybe she got the relief she needed, and now you were useless to her, a worn toy casted aside.
You suppress the doleful thought. Force the notion that you're only insulted because she left you after sex; when in actuality, you'd be hurt either way. It feels like no matter what you do— the joy you sacrifice, the strength you wield, the precious parts of you that you bare without reluctance— it's never enough to make anyone stay.
Your mother taught you that kindness was a weapon in itself. If you wield it against your enemies, they'll falter at a glimpse of tenderness.
But you understand now that she was spoon feeding you morality; there's no home for altruism in this world. Violence is the true conqueror. The only way to survive, is to instill fear in those who cross your path.
Being soft in the face of brutality, honest in a web of lies, and tender-hearted at the end of a vengeful bullet has gotten you nowhere. You've been met with nothing but heartbreak and wrath. Snarls and gunfire. Skepticism and punishment.
One good beating heart is not enough to mend the fragility of this corrupted world.
Ellie had shown glimpses of herself, where the good festered underneath the thick layers of indestructibility she'd built around herself. You had a lick of it and now you wanted to rid her of it all, peel the sharp edges and rough plains from her one by one, learn the hurt that made a monster. Nestle yourself beneath her skin, coil around her bones, live in the casing of her ribcage.
The disturbing thought infiltrates your mind, looming like a dark, depraved shadow. You grit your teeth, massaging your temples, trying to banish the deranged image out of your head. It's always been either absolute disinterest or full blown, disabling obsession for you.
You're teetering toward the ladder.
Her brutality had captivated you. And that tongue...
You rapidly shake your head to banish the obscene thoughts. "Focus." You drawl to yourself slowly, examining the view. The forward operating base was around five miles onward. The only way left to go was back. Back to your brother. Back to the WLF.
You sigh heavily and study the jilted office, in search of anything that could be useful in getting you across your barricaded path. When you find nothing, you bravely measure up the distance between you and the neighboring building.
Close enough.
You wind up, hefting a placating breath, before leaping for the building. You narrowly make it. Your brain rattles with the force of the collision as your stomach slams into the crumbling ledge, soot and rubble clattering to the battered concrete below. "Fuck," you breathe hoarsely, weakly lifting your body up, wrists wobbling feebly.
You allow yourself to lay there for a moment, eyes closed, rain misting your face.
When you open your eyes, your body lurches in terror at the veiny spattering of spores curving up the wall and over the ceiling.
And the distinctive blood-chilling clacking of a clicker.
• • •
The waning evening sun peaks shyly through the overcast clouds, dimly illuminating the sprawling field before you. Wildflowers sway clemently with the breeze, soggy moss cushioning your hitched steps from earlier's relentless rain. Small, white butterflies flutter along the long, wisping coils of grass, their presence a promising sight.
But the dewy meadows damp, whimsical beauty could not outweigh the ugliness you felt rotting inside.
You try not to think about the excruciating pain lancing up your side. Disregard the blood gushing rapidly from your abdomen, the deep, dire crimson seeping through multiple layers of clothing.
Your fingers are drenched a thick, dooming red where you apply significant pressure to the oozing wound, limping aimlessly for the ivy-swathed, overgrown watchtower, sitting dilapidated at the edge of the clearing. Hoping you can preserve enough energy to make it to the top, where you can rest and get an adequate view of where you need to head at dawn.
You're nearing the splintered ladder when a whispered crunch sends you whirling in alarm. Your gun is nimbly drawn from it's holster, stance broad, the hairs raising stiffly on the back of your neck.
The drumming of your heart slows, blood roaring tumultuously in your ears at the freckled face staring back at you.
Ellie is frozen in place, arms up defensively, battered features contorted in authentic shock. Her muddy blue eyes are bright with consternation, flickering over you uncertainly.
Surprise, surprise, you think gratingly.
She startles when her gaze lands on the harrowing blood stain exuding from your jacket. "What happened—"
She cuts herself off when you flip the safety switch.
"You scared the shit out of me, you know. I thought you were one of those creepy fuckers," she quips breathily, her arms still raised, a hesitant smirk tugging on her mouth.
You don't smile back. You drag your gaze over her analytically, blankly, rage simmering low in your gut.
That untamable anger must bubble to the surface, glimmer darkly in your eyes, for Ellie's expression changes— you watch the light-hearted but uneasy amusement dwindle and leech from her face, a veil of vigilance draping over her.
"Easy, now," she murmurs cooly, warningly, carefully dropping her hands.
"Don't move!" You demand viciously, lurching forward, the gun a hazardous few inches from her face.
Her throat bobs with a swallow, hands half-lowered. "Hey," she whispers softly, though the warning in her tone was withstanding.
The gentle delicacy in her tone only ignites the already festering fury. "Stop talking." Your voice disperses from your lips with cold, lethal calm. Unfamiliar, that quiet violence rolling off your tongue.
It tastes good.
Her eyes dart between yours dubiously; regret tinges her cheeks a faint flush. She utters your name gently, taking a reluctant step forward. You let her, the gun trained on her forehead.
"It's just me," she says feather-lightly. As if one wrong breath would blow you off the edge, send you plunging to the deep end.
Maybe she was right to heed you like a rabid animal, uncaged. You feel like a dog downed, sick and trembling with want, deserted by its owner. Tail tucked and ears perked, belly down on the porch, waiting for the screech of tires on gravelly tarmac.
It takes you back to the day Zander disappeared. The memory so potent, so painful, you can presently feel the bite of winters bitter cold carving into your bones.
As your thoughts drifted, a hollowness creeping into your eyes, Ellie had inched closer without you realizing. She hovers only a couple precarious feet away, her fingers grazing the barrel of your gun. Your grip shakes violently, lip quivering.
"It's me." She repeats firmly, urging you to lower the gun. Your muscles naturally comply to the movement, until the gun is hanging limply at your side.
"I know," you respond dully, words ringing hollow, even to yourself. "I know."
She stares at you contemplatively for a moment, before her gaze droops to the gleaning wound. "Need some help with that?"
"I need to get going," you mumble absently in reply, pivoting away from her, her honed attention spearing through your back. Exhaustion was gradually, heavily weighing on you from the blood loss. The emotional turmoil from the memory of your brother, who's absence is growing palpable and leaden, like a boulder smothering your lungs, was making pressing on increasingly difficult.
You need to get back.
"Let me look at that first." She nods toward the blooming, shapeless stain.
You glance down at the wound indifferently. The blood is pouring out of you in heaps, flim and clots dribbling down your pant leg. "What the fuck," you gasp out, staggering, blood-blemished hand cradling the pools of crimson. Dots speckle your vision, and you plummet unsteadily to your ass, inching back as Ellie approaches, concern etched across her face. The tall grass engulfs you, it's embrace crisp and prickling.
"Fuck, am I gonna die?" You blurt, eyebrows furrowed, as you lift your faltering fingers and examine the near-black blood coating them.
Ellie is a looming shadow as the setting sun descends tranquilly behind her, rays radiating off her fraying ridges, the light off-setting the grim lines of her face. You squint up at her, and she crouches at your side, throwing off her backpack, fervently rummaging through it.
She fishes out a roll of gauze and a near empty bottle of alcohol. "Lay back for me," she directs in earnest, a hand on your shoulder carefully leaning you back, your body bolstered by plush, uncut grass.
You watch her silently, heavy-lidded, disorientation a dull drumming throughout your skull. The grizzly flesh around the wound is numb to the prodding of her insistent fingers.
She abruptly freezes, blood coating her calloused hands.
"What?" You rasp, fright gripping your heart and seizing at the look of dismay tainting her face.
She's silent for an imperative moment. Time ticks tediously, a shadow of fear contouring her expression.
"What?" You repeat breathlessly.
"Are you infected?" She asks after a long, apprehensive pause, attentively studying your injury. Blind to the scratch marring your shoulder.
Her composure bewilders you. If she truly believed you were infected, wouldn't she be scrambling away? Terrified you'd turn at any moment and take her down with you?
"No," you whisper, shaking your head, eyelashes fluttering in extortion. The hidden wound on your shoulder throbs perniciously at the lie. Your hand fumbles for hers, both grimed and caked in thick coats of drying blood, working in tandem to apply pressure to the wound. "I-I fell."
Her expectant stare roams over your paling face, urging you on. You swear her grip tightens imperceptibly on your hand— maybe in comfort— though it was likely just the excessive blood loss and trauma of the brutal injury warping your senses.
It hurt to speak, breaths leaving you in sharp, uncontrolled spurts. "I- there was a- a clicker," the words wheeze out of you. Instead of fleeing at the mention of your implied encounter, Ellie positions herself closer, draping over you almost protectively, holding a hand to the wound while the other cradled the back of your neck, propping you upward. "I tried t- to run. Jumped to another building but I- I missed, landed on a pipe."
That part is true. You left out the part where the clicker's talon-like hand scraped down your shoulder, grazing the flesh— enough to leave a scar. Enough to potentially inject venom.
She nods curtly, jaw set in determination, the warmth of her hand momentarily abandoning you as she picked up the alcohol and popped the cork.
She soaks a grimy cloth with it, casting you a fleeting, nearly apologetic glance before urging your hand aside and bunching it against the wound. You seethe, burning agony searing through your side, but you don't look away. You watch your blood soak the fabric, the alcohol tainted red, dribbling down.
"Why did you leave?" You ask deliriously, head lulling, words slurring. The pain almost doesn't register anymore. Neither does the shame the pathetic question should've brought.
She says nothing, not a flicker of emotion passing through her face, as she holds the wet cloth to your skin and stridently tears the medical tape with her teeth. She sloppily patches the cloth to you, hands swift and brutal, expression bleak and thoughtless.
"Alright. Lift your arms for me," she murmurs gravelly, a thick husk in her tone, fingers edging the bloodied hem of your camisole. You comply, a shudder wracking through you at that low voice, the one that had talked you through your shared obscene acts. Ordered you to ride her thigh, praised your dripping pussy...
"Good," Ellie drawls, leisurely, deliberately hiking your shirt up to avoid disturbing the wound. Her pale eyes probe yours, dissecting the rage and hurt that froths there in tumultuous waves, crashing against the surface, pooling there even with your effort to hide it.
She slips the shirt off of you, tossing it aside. Her eyes drag to your heaving breasts, as if an anchor of temptation was towing her gaze down. Her nostrils flare with her stuttered breath, mouth parting, as if in memory of how it felt to seal her lips around your budding nipples.
You arch your back under her attentive stare, your breasts grazing her front. Her eyes close briefly at the sensation, a breath stealing out of her. Her hand slithers up your waist, pausing before it reaches your tit, thumb smoothing over your hot skin.
"Don't move," she directs hoarsely, the bristle of the surrounding grass reducing her tight voice to a faint whisper.
She tilts you back further to examine the wound, and you whimper at the movement. "I know. I know," she murmurs distractedly, securely wrapping the bandage around your waist, the rough pads of her fingers dancing across your exposed skin, igniting a distant wave of pleasure in the pit of your stomach.
The wind escalates, whipping your hair out of your face, unveiling the pulsating mark on your shoulder. You forgot that you were supposed to be concealing it when she was looking at you like that; like you were a tempting meal and she was a person emaciated. Something delectable to be devoured.
Fuck.
Fuck fuck fuck—
Your stomach roils with dread at the very moment she sees it. The ravaged, torn flesh is upturned and caked with blood, a golden, poisonous liquid seeping from the scratch, glimmering under the sun.
She's shell-shocked, unmoving.
"Ellie," you start hesitantly, fear creeping into your tone, as you rigidly sit up using your uninjured arm.
To your surprise, she doesn't stagger off. She slumps back defeatedly, studying you.
"It was just a scratch. I didn't think..."
She leans in, inspecting it. Solemnity twinkles in her eyes.
They dart back to your face, and the sadness there scares you for the first time since the encounter, the thought of your fragile mortality a lurking, creeping presence, clouding your mind.
You could die.
You open your mouth, tears brimming your own eyelashes, when Ellie forcefully cradles your neck and jerks your head to the side, baring the fizzing mark. "Stay still," she demands coldly, and you do, stiff with terror under her harsh hands. Half expecting her to put you out of your misery right then and there.
Her mouth unexpectedly connects with the wound, lapping up the blood, a startled moan squealing out of you at the intrusion of her tongue upon the tingling claw mark. "W-what are you doing—" the words tumble out of you in abject horror and confusion, your shaking hands planting on her shoulders, attempting to wrestle her away.
She suckles on the tenderized flesh, another moan hiccuping out of you, as she slides her fingers into your tousled hair and cranes your head further, licking ferociously.
"What the fuck!" You exclaim boisterously, mustering all your might to shove her away. She stumbles back, raking in a deep breath, crimson staining her lips, dribbling down her chin, venom glistening.
She flinches as she spits it out, her face rigid with determination. "I need to suck the venom out," she breathes, blood dotting her nose, smeared gruesomely around her mouth.
Understanding dawns on you, infiltrating the fear coursing through you. You nod reluctantly, permissibly, and she smiles, blood brimming the crevices of her teeth. She tucks a tendril of hair behind your ear, leaning in, her lips hovering a breath away from yours, watching the way they twitch at her nearness.
Earlier's resolve and resentment fade away as she peppers slow, ghoulish kisses down your jaw, your throat, the seam where your neck meets your shoulder. Her hot breaths skate across the injury, and you cup her head, shifting your shoulder to allow her better access. Her lips graze the wound, the brush of them nearly intimate, as they rove it over before latching onto a spool of gold-laced blood, suckling it in greedily.
"Shit," you whisper shakily, fighting the desire out of your voice, pain and pleasure coinciding at the warm sensation.
"Mm. Almost done," she mumbles into your skin dully, hand languidly slithering out of your hair and down your chest. You mewl, squirming when her thumb tweaks your aching nipple on its descent to your waist, holding you in place.
She shouldn't be doing this.
You know, by not only touching the venom but drinking it in, she's risking her own life to potentially save yours.
Which is so at odds with the way she left you without word just that morning.
She pulls away, spitting a thick wad of spit to the side, slowly running her sleeve across her tainted mouth. Blood blemishes the fabric, but she doesn't look at it, her eyes trained on yours.
You stare back, navally breaths spurting out of you, your cheeks buzzing at her attention, nipples hardened at the chill. It was nearly dark, dusk swathing the sky in subdued, swirling purples, the sun an amber pin-needle stabbing through the shadow-shrouded treeline. The darkness paints the blood marring her lips a near black, her breaths equally as heavy, unmeasured.
Crickets begin to chirp, the weeds undulating with nights restless creatures. Everything is quiet. Tranquil.
But not the storm brewing in Ellie's watchful eyes. Staring into them is turbulent and enrapturing; they beckon like a sea at night, moonlit and inviting, the air thick with electricity, waves battering a mean cliffside.
You tentatively extend your hand, thumb delicately plodding her bottom lip, ridding the blood there. She observes you closely, a smirk on her lips, and you scoot forward, hand dropping to her jaw.
"Ellie..." her name comes out a fragile whisper; concerned. "What if... what if you're... infected too, now?"
Her jaw clenched, the tendons flexing under your hand. Her eyebrows furrow, and she lightly shakes her head. "That's not possible," she whispers stoically back.
When you say nothing, confusion contorting your face, she scrunches up the sleeve of her jacket and leisurely lifts her tattooed arm between you, the winding moth design dark and elaborate.
The dense layer of ink did not conceal what lie underneath. The raised, marred skin expanding across her forearm, frail and wrinkled. You don't know how you never noticed before.
"What happened?" You mumble plaintively, caressing a gentle finger down the length of the rigid scar, speaking soft and cautious, afraid one wrong move would send her bolting, like a feeble, knobby-legged fawn caught in headlights.
She gulps audibly, breaking eye contact, eyes falling to your mercifully stroking hand. "I got bit. When I was 14," she informs callously, with a lack of emotion that did not equate her dismal words.
She traces a pensive finger over the scar, your hands brushing, an electric current hissing to life at the incidental contact. "So did my best friend," she continues bleakly, heartlessly, "Except she turned. And I never did."
You store the sacred information in a pocket of your brain; taking the tenuous piece of herself she willfully offered and handling it preciously, like an artifact to be glassed and admired, acknowledged from afar and with reverence. Knowing it's monumental and a rare, fortunate token in your treasure trove.
Grief for a little, less-scathed Ellie shades your heart. The thought of her harboring such a ghastly, horrific past; witnessing her friend transform into a beast she could not fathom.
You choose your next words carefully, not wanting to bestow a worthless apology. Sorry won't bring her friend back; won't mend the fractured pieces losing her had shattered. "You are very strong," you comment meaningfully, inching your hand off her pulsing wrist, splaying it upon her racketing heart. "Such a strong girl."
She swallows again, effortfully, as if forcing down the lump that had gathered there. "It's nothing," she says tightly, clearing her throat, stroking a thumb across your hand, where it rests gingerly on her chest. She remains silent for awhile, and you let her; whether the silence be to mull over her thoughts and meticulously craft her next words, or just as a space to exist in the quiet, in the now.
A loan bird soars overhead, the shadow of its feathery, nimble body spanning across the grass. It caws distantly, as if responding to the singing insects, the night breeze.
"I forget about it sometimes." She mutters suddenly, scratching the scar sheepishly. You see it now, the solemnity that her tone was void of— the despair kindled in her eyes, faint but flickering, like dying embers in the snow. As if she was just now remembering, the pain born anew, unsheathed from a hidden holster.
"I forget the worst things, too," you share benignly, honestly, removing your hand from her and tucking it under your chin timidly. It doesn't scare you to admit this to her; even though usually, there's a nagging voice, a phantom at your side, tittering that it's all going to be used against you, your own dull truths sharpened into blades aimed for your back.
"Until they spring up unexpectedly and ruin that moment. I can never fully escape it," you continue, shrugging.
Ellie stares at you a moment, that foundation of grief crumbling, reconstructed with hardened fury. One old and bone-deep. One that had resided in her, fed off her for some time. A slash of silver vengeance strikes through her eyes.
"It wasn't one of the worst things. Not even close," she declares without the malice you expected. Stated purely as a tragic wrong she had every intention of correcting.
She possesses an air of anger, even when she's placid, calm. You sensed it when you met her. When she was nothing but an eclipsed figure, disguised by the blood of her victims and the roaring of the flame she tamed. There was a darkness that leered over her shoulder, a honed presence waiting to strike, something hungry for violence. An itching lodged beneath her skin, only sated by bloodshed.
You can feel it now, the violence a living, breathing part of her. Even if it's tucked soundly into sleep, in the caverns of her soul. Even if right now she's looking at you like you hung the moon, like you are a temple to be honored, there's still that kill-switch, an inclination to snap and destroy. People ruin beautiful things all the time.
"Stop looking at me like that," Ellie insists softly, brushing a loose lock of hair out of your face.
"Like what?" you mumble absentmindedly, watching her bloodied lips quirk into a half-smirk. She leans in close, close enough you can count the freckles spattering her cheeks, her response a breath ghosting your lips.
"Like you fucking want me."
Your lips crash together in a symphony of need, your body awake and alive with desire, regardless of the wounds. You bask in the soft groan that grumbles out of her and into you, patiently, gingerly drawing your lips together. The metallic tang of your own blood violates your tastebuds as your tongues move ardently in tandem, slow and savoring, deep and searching.
Her arm envelops your waist, steering you nearer, and you melt into her firm embrace, chests constricted, hips aligned, the kiss long and languid, mouths leeching and hands claiming.
It feels right in the wrongest way. Like home, where the household is neglectful and thrumming with darkness under its floorboards, evil thriving behind closed doors; but still home. Where you're meant to be, where you feel you belong, even when you're petrified.
You straddle her hips and maneuver her backward, until she's laying on her back. The tall, coiling grass tickles your arms as you plant your hands on either side of her head, lips foraging. You roll your hips and she hisses a muffled curse when you grind your pelvis against hers, her hands roaming up your waist, masterfully avoiding your sealed wound.
It was instinct to move your body in time with hers. To get lost in the plush warmth of her mouth, that addictive, kindling pleasure between your legs.
But there was another instinct, humming to life in your core, slinking through your bones; one that came with living in this world, where danger lurks in every shadow.
That instinct must flare to life in Ellie, too, for her lips detach from yours, head canting. A faint crunch rings from the towering grass, and both of you are up in a minute, her gun drawn. You hurriedly tug your top back on, grimacing as you incidentally chafe your injury.
Stars speckle your vision, a migraine splitting your skull at the sudden shift of position.
"We should get inside," Ellie states breathily, sweeping a cautionary gaze over the dark meadow, before lowering her gun and pivoting to face you.
Dried patches of blood smirch her face as she scans you. "You good?"
You nod wearily, exhaustion ricocheting through your body. She must see your ailing face, for she hoists your unblemished arm over her shoulder and drawls, "I got you," partially alleviating the straining of your abdominal wound.
"Thanks," you grumble, slumping your weight into her. Allowing her to aid you across the lumpy field, toward a rusting twist of warped, wired fence, a hole yawning open in the center.
You're about to cross it when a dim orb shimmers before you. It twinkles, off and on, drifting by.
"A firefly," you whisper tenderly, smiling at the sight, despite the creaking of your bones, the misery lugging on your limbs.
Ellie starts to smile, too.
But she's not smiling at the firefly.
• • •
You stare into the steely face of the Bull, it's gold-encrusting fading. Vines dangle in snared tendrils from its protruding horns, the eroding, bleached bronze Bull overlooking the once country-themed bar. It was preserved due to being welded out of pure iron, withstanding the worlds fatalities, surviving the bombs and disease.
It's hollow slits for eyes leer right back at you, a cold, inhospitable welcome.
You waltz inside, disregarding it's looming heed, giddy at the indication of alcohol. You could knock back a few shots right now. To numb the now mellowing pain ambushing your body, and to calm your swarming mind.
You couldn't stop thinking about what Ellie told you. That she was bit— and lived. At the cost of carrying a heavy, harrowing memory through life with her.
Your mind wanders to Zander. Images of the now sealed over craters of his missing eyes flashing through your head. The way the blood had poured from him in alarming, unbelievable heaps that day, his eyes dangling from cords of tissue, hanging against his cheeks.
How could a person bleed out their body weight and miraculously survive?
How could a person get bitten and never turn?
You glance at Ellie uncertainly from over your impaired shoulder. She creeps into the bar with less enthusiasm, hand instinctively relaxing on her holster, thoughtfully scanning the place.
Tattered, dirt-blemished Texan flags hang from the low ceiling, dancing with the breeze whistling through the glassless windows. The walls are paneled with polished, dark oak, dusty black and white portraits either lining the walls or cracked on the unfinished wood floor. Depicting an array of Southern-America scenes, ranging from bull-riders to mane-flowing horses to western movie posters, pistols blazing, hats high.
You smile subconsciously, running your fingers over a painting of a girl about your age, wedged onto a stool, gloved hands milking a cow, a long, golden braid sloping down her back, her mischievous face craned toward the viewer. Her bell-bottom jeans hang low on her hips, gleaming red cowboy boots toeing the dirt.
You wriggle your toes in your own boots, the cowboy boots wearing and scuffed— a pair that belonged to your mother. "This place is in really good condition," you state aloud, eyes sweeping over the floor-to-ceiling bar, where bottles tipped and half-full and some broken, edged the shelves.
A lone cowboy hat, caked in grime, sits on the debris littered counter.
You gasp, swiftly shaking it off, wood chips clattering to the floor. You secure it on your head, the brim minutely misshapen. You adjust it and exclaim, "How do I look?" Sweeping your arms in an inelegant flourish, grinning crookedly at Ellie, who shakes her head in light amusement.
It reminds you of when Zander and you were little. He would force you to play a game where he was the deputy and you were the zombie that violated the Western town. He'd tackle you to the ground and bind your wrists with tethering thread, until you screamed and pouted to your dad, who scolded him for being rough.
"That's our baby, son," he'd tell Zander, always gentle in his authority, patting his shoulder paternally. Pointing to where you crouched in the grass, hopping in chase of a frantic butterfly, grinning ear to ear, the game forgotten— your cheeks still glistening with tears.
Zander would turn away at night in your shared bed, grumpy, furious that you ratted him out. Until you'd scoot closer and whisper into the balmy room, "Bubby, what's wrong?"
He would always ignore you. And you always scooched even closer, unruffled by his anger, sucking on Blue Bear's ear, resting your head on Zander's arm. You'd fall asleep there, chewing noisily on his bear, tiny body draped across him.
And you'd wake up back on your side of the bed, his face smashed into the pillow near your head, arm slung across you, as if naturally protecting you in his sleep.
The fond memory blooms and withers as soon as it sprouts. Zander always took care of you; even blinded, he put you above all else. You can't even stomach the thought of his worry at the news you were missing.
Glass crunches poignantly under your boot as you round the bar and pick up the nearest bottle of Vodka; nearly full. "Well, shit," you snort, popping the cap, taking a brisk swig straight from the bottle, wincing as it burns your throat on the way down. You spin around to Ellie, who was leaning against an intricately-carved wood pillar, watching you. "Want some?"
She contemplates your offer, before snatching it brazenly out of your hands, taking a controlled sip. Her head tilts as she surveys you. "You almost died today, and you're here, smiling like an idiot."
You shrug half-heartedly, stealing the bottle back, gulping down greedily. You smile uneasily at the repulsive, stinging taste overwhelming your tastebuds. "Happy to be alive, I guess."
"It's not a life worth living," she teases plainly, gesturing wide, emphatically to the sickened world.
You eye her diligently, tracking the sharp edges and soft planes of her face. "I disagree," you say quietly, crooking a knowing smile, sauntering off, swaying your hips.
The entrance gives way to an expansive saloon, a second, broader bar lining the back wall, tables dotting the spacious room. Fraying murals of rolling, sweeping mountains of Montana paint the perishing walls. In the center of the space is a mechanical bull, buffered by a barred platform.
"Oh my god!" You blurt animatedly, flailing for the bull, vodka splattering out of the bottle as you run with little consideration of your injuries.
You leap over the encompassing ring and size up the off-kilter bull before hoisting yourself onto it, flinching at the shooting pain careening up your side. "Zander always wanted to ride one of these! He was obsessed with the whole cowboy thing when we were kids."
You turn to face Ellie only to find her gone, a swirl of dust lingering where she once stood. "Ellie?" You holler, concern lacing your tone, tongue dry.
As if in response, the string lights overhead flicker and buzz raucously, illuminating the dark, decimated space. It's only a second later when the bull beneath you whirs to life, jerking suddenly, a clamorous sound emitting from you as you lurch for the handle on the synthetic saddle, gripping your hat to steady it in place.
Ellie emerges from a half-door leading to a dim back room, her face gleaming under the warm-hued lights. "I didn't think it would actually work," she admits, strolling over and leaning her hands on the railing, watching with a smirk as you struggle to maintain balance.
The bull is choppy and delayed due to age and unuse, yet it's belligerent movements are still sharp and undulating, the lag not enough to anchor you down without exploit. You shift your hips and bare your weight down, encasing your legs around the sides, wires and metal protruding from the matted, faux fur.
"That's it. Look at you," Ellie chuckles huskily, clapping, the praise in her tone awakening a string of tingles up your curved spine. Those sparks erupt into a raging hot flame when she drawls just loud enough for you to hear, "Ride it just like that."
Your head tips back on a dramatic groan, hips grinding into the jilting bull. "Fuck, what are you trying to do to me?" You giggle jubilantly, coyly, one hand planted on your hat, her unwavering attention spearing through you.
The bull screeches to a halt, it's rusted mechanics boisterous, the abrupt motion sending you careening off its back. You collapse to the matted floor with a thump, seething at the agony rocketing up your stomach, a faint dollop of crimson blooming through the bandage. "Ouch," you sulk, rubbing it half-hazardously, propping yourself on your elbows. Vodka still in hand.
The brim of your new hat obscures Ellie's impending figure as she heaves herself over the railing and stands over you. Her smirk is roguish, a formless dimple surfacing on her cheek. She rinsed earlier's blood away, but a nearly unintelligible crimson stain discolored the skin adjoining her mouth.
"Come here," you instruct softly. She's undeniable under the waning, golden lights, her mussed brown hair gleaming an auburn red, her eyes as blue and incandescent as you'd ever seen them, like ocean spray on a desolate beach.
She lowers herself just enough to suspend over your reclined frame, one knee planted between your spread legs, arms pinned on either side of your hips, caging you in her company. The imprisonment of her arms was a desirable iniquity; a preferred confine.
"Kiss me," you purr airily, as she crawls across you, descending her wanting lips onto yours on the cusp of your request.
You writhe beneath her, canting your chin to meet the divine ferocity of her desperate, animalistic kiss, your delighted moan muffled into her mouth.
Her lips detach from you just as swiftly as they had met yours. "Does that need re-bandaged?" She nods to the blood leaking through your top, a flush rising to her cheeks, as if fevered by the taste of your spit saturating her lips.
You snort. If you didn't know any better, you'd think she was flustered, your unabashed need for her making her shy. "No. I hardly feel it," you assure with a wispy laugh, wiping the dampness from her mouth.
She lingers there a moment, seemingly relishing in your nearness, before she ascends to her feet and extends a hand.
"Come on," she clasps your forearm and hauls you strongly to your feet, her hot breath reeking of liquor and something promised as it fanned your alcohol-warmed face.
You hover close, smiling mindlessly, looking at those damn lips. Imagining them snaking down your body, kissing you in forbidden places, eliciting unspeakable, ballooning pleasure within you.
That faint scar twitches upward under your amorous observation. "What?" She rasps, hand still encasing your wrist, the veins in her forearm fluttering.
You press a pliant, affectionate kiss to her lips and snake your arm out of her lenient grasp. "Nothin'," you muse blissfully, cheeks taut and sore from the strength of your grin, as you slither out of her residence.
She watches you slink away, rooted in place, as if frozen in disbelief by your easy display of endearment.
You hoist yourself onto the bar, all loose-limbed and unflappable, swinging your legs. "So what's our next move, then?"
She trails after you pensively, positioning herself between your legs. She sizes you up, from the shape of your thighs filling out your soiled Levi's, to the cleavage heaving at her from the brim of your dirty, lace-embellished top.
"What is it you think you want from me," she husks, craning her head with predatory calculation. "You want me to play with this pussy again?" Her hand slithers up between your legs and cups your clenching cunt through your jeans, sending you arching back in surprise. "Or is there more?"
Your heart drums mercilessly. Of course it's more. It's beyond her conception; the animal instinct that claws ravenously up your body and demands control whenever she's near, voracious for a sinking of teeth, a swallowing of her whole.
Of course you cannot tell her that when she's around, there's an incurable hunger, festering in the depths of your belly, chanting, I am hungry I am hungry I am hungry, for a taste of your darkness, a glimpse of its creator.
Of course you cannot say she is the catalyst and the maker of the peace you fabricated falsely for yourself. And that you want her to keep ruining all the ruined things you've built yourself upon.
So all you can you say, voice shaky with resolve, is, "I want you."
A grim understanding overtakes her face, varnished by varying shades of disappointment. Like you just asked her for the one thing she could never give you.
She takes a telling step back, distancing herself not only physically— imperishable walls of iron erect around her mind, barricading you, powerless and wailing on the other side.
"We should find somewhere to rest for the night."
She's gone before you're even off the counter, her shift in demeanor churning the alcohol sizzling in your gut.
That night, in the shadows of a grass-swept 7-Eleven, she sleeps with her back to you, her silence a skewering condemnation, prying open the scab of the wound her abandonment from that morning had opened.
Leaving you confused and, once again, wondering where you went wrong this time.
Maybe it's better this way.
You have to get back to Zander. Back to the base.
You don't have time to mull over what you said wrong.
You're in your own sleeping bag a few feet from her, watching her back inflate with unconscious, frantic breaths— like she's drowning in her sleep. You extend your arm across the space separating you, toying with a tendril of grass, circling it around your finger until the tip purples.
Sleep never graces you with its presence. You lay like that for hours, the tall crass whispering outside the broken window, the buildings groaning, Ellie's breathing labored but soft, the only noise the occasional bristle of her sleeping bag as she twitched and squirmed.
Until, with a suddenness that dropped your heart, she lurched up with a painful gasp, wretched, snotty sobs hiccuping out of her. She fumbles for the oversized, creased leather jacket she had draped over her as she slept, cradling it to her chest, unleashing ghastly cries into the fabric, covering her tear-slicked face.
Her back heaves with the force of her weeps as she bends over the jacket, rasping out hideous, wounded-animal like noises. You stare in horror, pain twinging in your heart at her palpable grief— wanting to comfort her, but being too coward to disrupt her unchained emotions.
She's nearly smothering herself with the jacket at that point, and you're about to intervene, jump up and rip it from her reddened face, when she comes up for air, gulping down hitched breaths.
You close your eyes in alarm, not wanting her to know you were awake, witnessing her meltdown.
"I'm sorry," she whimpers shakily, the hopelessness in her tone saved for the solitude of night, the unjudging eyes of the moon.
For a moment, you fear she's apologizing to you for the punishing silent treatment, so you crack open a heavy-lidded eye to peak at her.
She's thumbing the collar of the jacket, whispering into the flannel-liner inside, inhaling deeply. "I am so sorry. I am so sorry," she tips her forehead against the tag, rocking back and forth, muttering an indiscernible name, like a forgotten prayer.
She bows over it for so long, her tears muffled by the fabric, you wonder if she fell asleep while sitting up.
Just as the thought passes through your mind, she lays back down, cuddling the jacket to her chest, breathing harshly, appearing smaller than you'd ever seen her.
This time, instead of letting exhaustion cast you under its spell, you lay awake in the night, ready to face whatever dawn may bring— an empty bed, a lost companion; or a kinder tomorrow.
One that didn't tear you apart the way Ellie seemed to be torn as of now, her broken pieces discarded on the floor, unsalvageable— forged into an anger blazing like a loaded pistol.
Ready to load off at any given moment.
#ellie williams#the last of us#ellie tlou#joel miller#playstation#ps4#the last of us 2#tlou2#tlou#ellie williams fanfic#ellie williams x reader#ellie x y/n#ellie x fem reader#ellie the last of us#ellie smut#wlw#hungry#Spotify#burningbodywaiting
116 notes
·
View notes
Text
I like the silly Pokemon Parody Ark Ripoff game so here's my two cents if you're interested. Under the cut bc this post is long as fuck lol
Also congrats Palworld for the 1.5 Milly player peak on steam, go you crazy ass indie game
After trying to find cute Palworld content on tumblr and seeing nothing but whining, it's surprising how many people hate this random ass indie game that was made on a budget of 10k?
Like yeah the designs can be boring parodies with a handful of great original ones but the amount of people who are outright hateful's kinda.. odd?
Like lads you can critique a game, it's designs and CEO without sending death threats to the developers right? Tumblr likes to steal from the rich so why is it bad when someone actually does?
Anyway it's insane how there's people trying to prove the game stole assets from Nintendo and then compare models which. Are not the same poly and vertices wise? And even if it was, it's hard to take seriously when the poster is someone who admits they hate the game for... Animal abuse?
Also insane how many people hate Palworld for the fact it has -human- slavery, Pals can do jobs for you 'so it's cruel' and has a certain Pal number 69 who's description is suggestive so the game's immoral and over all "trying too hard to be edgy" it's like.
Since when do we police such topics in games of all things?
Have you played games that aren't Baby's First Christian Game before?
Scratch that because even shitty bad Christian games have harsher shit than what's in Palworld.
Catching and selling ppl [who tried to kill you in the first place] in the game's exactly like catching 'mons and it's nowhere near as fucked up as Rimworld where you have to go out of your way to make prisons for people and, if you wanna be extra evil, you can extract their organs and sell them on the market n' nobody tried to cancel that game.
In-game, Palworld discourages you from overworking your lil guys and asks you to make spas and beds and keep them well fed and to make sure they're medically sound and happy! Oh no! How cruel! I am asking my little teapot elephant to water my garden!!!
Pokemon's also confirmed that people used to marry Pokemon in-lore and we have games like bg3 and DOS2 where. Um. Halsin is a bear in more ways than one yknow what I'm saying? also spider. Both pretty nasty and def not my cuppa but having a fit over a description in a game's kinda weird?
Also for a game promoted on "Pokemon with guns" it is INCREDIBLY tame. Slavery is p-much "oh lol I can catch this guy. Anyway back to petting my fire fox :)" and put him in a box like any other creature bc who cares, videogame + the guy literally tried to Kill You. There's also no blood or gore or anything actually shocking tbh? Yeah there's guns but they're late game and you can literally chose not to deal with guns
Since when did we decide to yell at a game like the satanic panic of the original pokemon where ppl said it promoted cockfighting?
Although it is fictional cockfighting gamewise, nobody cares because it's way more than that lol
Also why does nobody complain that the game is literally ARK btw? Is it because ARK players don't give a shit or is it because some people will view a game and crit it for purely surface level assumptions with no nuance or understanding? Criticize it for lifting game elements from more than just pokemon, criticize it's CEO for being a regular ol' shitty CEO, criticize it's terrible official servers and buggy 'mon AI, but by all means do NOT spread false information and slander-ish claims against it jfc
83 notes
·
View notes
Note
I have thought a lot about how Cayce would deal with a candidate opposing his darling who makes moves that are not clean and humble, even making smears about the reader.
Short answer: Cayce’s gonna wipe the floor with them even if she doesn’t want to admit that she’s doing it because she actually does care about her darling lol.
I hope you enjoy!! :]
TW: Stalking, obsession, threats, violence, explicit murder, explicit but minor gore
Cayce tore down the smear campaign poster and ripped it up. Her friend gave her an odd look.
“What you doing that for?” She asked. Cayce unraveled the crumpled poster with such force that the paper nearly tore into two halves. The poster was a facsimile of your own campaign posters, but pasted over top was a list of reasons why you might not be a good candidate for class president, ranging from somewhat legitimate criticisms to downright malicious rumours. At the bottom, a slogan asking people to vote for your rival candidate. Cayce’s friend shrugged.
“So? It’s just class president. Who cares if swots and nerds are having a slap fight over who gets to be teacher’s pet?”
“It’s him,” Cayce said, pointing to your rival’s name on the slogan. “Slimy little ratbag. I can’t stand him.” She tore the poster in two and let it flutter to the floor. Her friend rolled her eyes.
“I get you have some vendetta against the class president candidates or whatever, but why do you even care?” Cayce clenched her jaw and felt herself going red in the face.
“Fuck off,” she muttered.
“I bet he’s going to win. Them rumours on that poster have been spreading like wildfire. I’ve seen them get into an argument over it in the study hall and everything,” he friend said. “Everyone thinks it’s true.”
“But it’s bullshit. It’s all lies, it’s obvious!” Cayce grumbled. As students milled past, ready to go home, she spotted a familiar face in the crowd - your rival, a smug smile on his face as he strode out of the school.
“Hey, I’ll see you later,” Cayce said, not waiting for a response before leaving her friend and slipping into the crowd. She followed the rival, keeping sight of him as she waited until he broke off from the swarms of students milling about the streets until they reached some emptier streets, where it was only the two of them walking. Cayce seethed as she watched him walking home, her glare intense enough to burn a hole in the back of his uniform. He was just some git, a ponce who was so desperate for power he had to cheat and drag your name through the mud. Another unfair, cruel person in this world that had always been so mean to Cayce. She saw him about to turn into a back alley, and she ran up, overtaking him and blocking his passage through the narrow alley.
“Hey-!”
“Give us a ciggie,” Cayce demanded. The rival frowned and scoffed.
“I haven’t got any,” he said, waving dismissively. Cayce glared harder.
“You haven’t got any, or you just don’t want to share?” She said, crossing her arms. The rival tried to step past her, but she moved to block him again.
“‘Cause you had no problem sharing all them rumours about the other candidate, didn’t you?”
“What’s it to you?” The rival growled. “Did they pay you to play fisticuffs or something? Well you can tell them I ain’t scared of them or you.”
“I’ll tell you what it is to me - you’re a fucking ponce and a coward and you’re going to end up with your head smashed in,” Cayce snarled. The rival snapped, lunging at Cayce, looming over her. He was much taller, but Cayce was stronger and faster. On instinct she threw herself at his torso, ducking under his grabbing arms and tackling him, sending him flying to the ground. His head smacked against the brick wall at the side of the alley, staining it with blood. He gasped as he writhed on the ground, winded and trying to get his breath back as his head bled profusely. Cayce threw a punch across his jaw, sending him reeling again, his body slowly beginning to convulse from the head blows. Cayce’s anger suddenly evaporated into fear upon seeing him in such a state, and out of fear she kicked his head with her boot. He slumped to the ground, still. Cayce panted as she looked upon his dead body, limp on the floor, still bleeding from his head. She’d just killed for you - shed blood for the first time, and even as her heart pounded and she was scared of getting caught, she didn’t regret it one bit. Cayce turned on her heels and fled.
Dividers Credit: See Pinned Post
#yancore#yandere#yandere blog#yandere fic#yandere imagines#yandere x darling#yandere drabble#yandere oc#yandere oc x reader#female yandere x darling#female yandere oc x reader#female yandere oc#female yandere#yandere female#Ask#Story#Cayce
46 notes
·
View notes
Text
Fₒᵣ ₕₑᵣ
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠.
ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴍɪɢᴜᴇʟ ᴏ'ʜᴀʀᴀ x ᴡɪꜰᴇ! ᴠᴇɴᴏᴍ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ
Tw: Death of a child, murder, angst, descriptions of gore? nudity, reader is kind of pshyco, comfort
A/N: Sorry that its short
Masterlist
Who knows how long you've been knocked out, when you woke up, you felt your whole body in pain. You were also laying on a bed, the same bed that you used to sleep in, looking down you saw that you were dressed in a big t-shirt. You forgot the last time you wore clothing, your symbiote companion was basically your clothes. Slowly you sat up, looking around the room, everything was still intact. Almost everything, the room was a mess and on the wall there was a board with papers and red strings.
Getting off the bed, you went over at the board, there was new papers and reports of venom, about their crimes and recent murders. Looking over, there was a missing person poster. It was of you, he used an old picture of yours. In the picture you were smiling and seemed happier. Now you just looked tired and with so much hate.
"I didn't think you'd wake up" you heard a masculine voice refured to you. Turning to see who it was, it was the one and only Miguel, your husband. You sighed and crossed your arms over your chest. "So, I'm guessing you're going to turn me in?" you asked, almost sounding snarky. Miguel shook his head. "No.." he stopped, looking at you. "I just want to know why?" he asked. You were busy playing with strands of your messy hair, acting as if you had no clue what you were talking about. "I don't know what you're talking about" you said.
Miguel groaned. "Por amor de-" for the love of- he stopped, taking another deep breath and spoke again. "Why did you kill those men?" he asked. You let go of your hair and looked back the board with the papers of your crimes. "I'm pretty sure you heard me in the ally" you said, looking at the recent murder. You've changed, you were no longer that loving person who wanted nothing but for the world to be a good place, now you were basically someone filled with rage and a murderer. It was as if he didn't know you anymore. "I didn't kill them instantly, killing them would be like, giving them a pass for their crimes. So I improvised.. I made sure they felt my pain.." you said coldly, this made Miguel a bit sick. He knew what you did to those men, he would be the one at the crime screen to witness the things that you left behind. He couldn't get that view out of his head.
"You're not better then them y/n, you also did crimes, crimes worse then pick pocketing and robbing!" Miguel explained, all you could do was laugh. "So? I never did this to be better than them! I did it for my daughter! my baby!" you began to yell at him. "Did he think about what he was doing?! That man shot my fucking baby dead! Her blood was in my hands!" You continued screaming, feeling your eyes fill with tears. "The last words she told me was 'mama, I'm scared'... she was a fucking child Miguel!" you shouted, already falling into hysterics.
"She was my daughter too, I saw everything that you did, she was also my baby." Miguel said in a calming manner, trying to calm you down. "You weren't there when I needed you... you were gone for work and doing your spiderman shit!" you presided to scream. "... the only time you were here was to try and put me in a fucking psych ward.. " you reminded him. It was true, he was gone, leaving you alone to cry. He felt guilty, he regretted not being able to give you the help that you needed, he approached you the wrong way, he shouldn't have shouted or threated you to lock you away for a time. He also felt responsible that you had left and why you became the person that you had become.
You were still crying, going back to remembering that same day many years back. How you carried your daughter to the hospital and how both your hands as well as clothes had blood on them. It began to feel as if her last words to you echoed in your head, causing you to let out a loud sob. You then felt a huge pair of arms wrap around you, Miguel had pulled you into a tight hug as you continued to cry. "I did it for her!" you sobbed, while trying to get away from him, but he didn't let go. You still struggled to get away from him, but he kept a hold on you. "I DID IT FOR HER!" you screamed loudly, even though it hurt his ears, he still held you.
Eventually you stopped fighting, you just cried. "It was for her.." you sobbed as you cried while holding onto his tightly. Miguel continued to hug you and stroking your hair trying to calm you down. He knew that you needed to let it all out. It sounded as if you had been holding it in for years. You both stayed like that until you eventually stopped crying, who knows how long it's been since you stopped. You were just snuggled up in his arms as while you crying. All Miguel could do was hold you while stroking your hair and whispering that it was okay. It felt nice having your husband back.
ₚᵣₑᵥᵢₒᵤₛ ₚₐᵣₜ
#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara x you#miguel o'hara x y/n#miguel o'hara x fem reader#miguel o'hara x wife reader#miguel o'hara fic#miguel o'hara angst#female reader#female y/n#wife reader#wife y/n#venom reader#venom y/n#mom reader#mom y/n#cereza's writing#cereza's angst
310 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
bygloryy
By GLORY.
inosais
i love you no jutsu
filha-rei
Sejam, bem-vindos =)
art-jarecka
Art_Jarecka