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em-ontv · 2 days ago

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Hi I’m the anon who sent you the idea for “sing a song for me” and it’s literally so perfect I can’t wait to read the second part. I might cry a little I’m not even lying this was a dream I had and I was like huh wow that would make a cool fanfic but I can’t write at all. And you made it even better than I could’ve imagined thank you so much 🥰

Sing a song for me. (2/2)

Pairing: Soldier Boy x supe!fem!reader

Warnings: injuries/scars, comfort/intimacy (non-explicit), language, no use of y/n, Butcher being Butcher, probably ooc Ben (I made him a bit too gentle, we don't need more trauma), not proof-read

A/n: hello, anon! I'm so glad you liked part 1, this is the long due part 2 I promised. Hope you like it <3 sorry for taking so long to write this :'(

Read part 1 here

Word count: 2.4k

The inside of the van was cramped and smelled faintly of oil and sweat. The seats were worn, the leather cracked from use. The night outside was dense, you saw just enough stars to remind yourself that while you were locked away, there was a whole other world out there beyond your cell.

You sat beside Ben, who kept casting glances your way as if he was afraid you'd shatter. But you couldn't blame him... you must have looked terrible. The bruises, the exhaustion, the haunted look in your eyes. You didn't even bother to look at yourself in the reflection of the window on your way into the van. It felt like too much—like you couldn't handle what Vought had done to you. Not yet.

The ride was mostly silent until Butcher finally spoke.

"Alright, love, here's the deal." he said, breaking the silence. His eyes looked over you, his expression calculating. "We need to know now. Are you in, or do we drop you somewhere nice and safe to rot? We're taking down Homelander. It's not a bloody game."

Hughie shifted uncomfortably, his mouth opening like he wanted to say something, but he stayed silent. You stared back at Butcher, trying to gather your thoughts, trying to form words, but your head was spinning.

You knew what he was asking, but it felt too much to make that decision right now. You just wanted to rest—a bed, a moment to breathe without fear clawing at your throat.

"Alright, back the fuck off." Ben's voice snapped, breaking through the haze of your thoughts. The tension in the van spiked, and for a second, it looked like he was ready to lunge across the seat at Butcher and knock all of his teeth out. "Can't you see she's been through enough? She doesn't need your bullshit right now."

Butcher's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing as he met Ben's glare. "We don't have time for second-guessing, mate. It's a very simple question."

Butcher turned his gaze back to you. "You can help us take down Homelander, the bastard who’s got half the world wrapped around his fuckin' finger, or we can take you back home. But no guarantees, yeah? Vought knows about you. They’ll come for you. Eventually."

You swallowed hard, rubbing a hand over your throat, your mind spinning. Home? That word didn't even feel real. Could that place—that cell—even be worthy of being called something like home?

But then again, if you didn't help, could you ever be safe again? For once in a very long time, the choice was yours, but both paths seemed like a death end.

"She needs time." Ben said, his jaw tensing, quietly observing you as if he knew what you were thinking. The hand that he rested on your back made you flinch slightly, causing him to retract it, his fingers curling into a fist.

Your gaze faltered, your eyes dropping to the ground before you managed to look back at Butcher.

A sharp huff escaped Butcher, his patience worn out. “Time's not a luxury we've got. This ain't a charity." He turned toward you, his tone biting. "Again, you can go back to your cozy little cell, I suppose. Vought’ll just find a new use for you.”

"For fuck's sake, she just got out of an shithole." Ben snapped, his voice simmering with anger. "Give her some fuckin' time."

For a moment, Butcher looked like he might argue with some witty comeback, but after a beat, he exhaled sharply, turning his attention back to the road. "Fine. But time's ticking."

The rest of the drive was quiet. You leaned back in your seat, your eyelids heavy, letting your eyes close for just a moment, the noise faded into the background as you let exhaustion win over.

––––

When you reached the destination, Ben helped you out of the van, his movements cautious, his hand warm and solid on your lower back as he guided you inside. The "safe house" was as secure as it was miserable, but right now, that didn't matter. It was shelter, and it was enough.

The others dispersed, Butcher grumbling quietly under his breath as he stalked off to another room, Frenchie and Kimiko greeted you with a wave before leaving too.

Ben, though, lingered by your side, his hand hovering near yours, gently brushing against it for a second, but he didn't dare to reach for you.

"You alright?" he asked, his voice rough but oddly gentle, his gaze never leaving your face. It wasn't something you expected to hear from him—after seeing his quite violent display in the lab, but here he was, looking at you with more concern than anyone else ever had.

You nodded, a small smile curling on your lips, swallowing thickly. "I'm... yeah. Just... tired," you were almost embarrassed by how weak you sounded, but he didn't judge, a faint understanding in his expression.

Hours passed in a tired blur. You had settled into a room, a worn-out bed, but it was better than nothing. Everyone retreated to their own corners of the place for what little rest they could find. You sank into the mattress, your eyes drifting shut almost instantly.

––––

It was sometime past midnight when Ben jolted awake, a cold sweat clinging to his skin, running a shaky hand over his face. The room was pitch dark, save for the faint glow of moonlight outside filtering through the window. He sat up, his heart pounding, the remnants of the dream clinging to him.

Images flashed through his mind—memories of Vought, of his own time in their hands, of the time when he was betrayed, taken away, being tested on, and then frozen for decades. His breathing was ragged, the familiar surge of anger clawing its way to the surface, but something else broke through.

His thoughts drifted to you.

Without really thinking, he got up, slipping out of his room and down the hallway, to the room where you slept. His steps were slow, cautious, not wanting to disturb you.

He hesitated at the doorway to your room, his breath catching when he saw you lying there, on the narrow, uncomfortable bed.

In the dim light, your features were softened, the lines of worry and pain absent. You looked peaceful, your breathing slow and steady, and it eased something in him, his shoulders sagging as the tension slipped away.

Ben took a step into the room, but the floor creaked under his weight, and your eyes snapped open, sitting up on the bed, startled.

"...m'sorry," he whispered, his voice soft but hoarse, like something was bothering him. "Didn’t mean to wake you."

"It’s okay," you murmured, your breathing becoming steady. Your eyes flickered over his face, the lingering pain in his expression catching you off-guard.

You knew that something was wrong, you'd seen that look before, in patients who had been through a lot, in people who had lost themselves along the way.

He hesitated, glancing away, as if embarrassed by his own vulnerability. He looked like he might turn and go back to his own room—but his uneven breathing made him pause. The sight of you was comforting, and that kind look in your eyes made him move closer instead of backing away.

He took a few careful steps closer, almost unsure. "Just wanted to… make sure you were alright," he said, his voice low.

You nodded, your heart still pounding, but not from fear this time, it was something warm. "I’m okay. Just… hard to sleep sometimes."

He nodded, understanding flickering in his eyes. He sank down to one knee, then both, kneeling beside your bed, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him and his slow breaths. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence heavy but comforting.

Without thinking, you lifted your hand, resting it gently against the side of his head, your thumb brushing over his temple. His eyes widened, a brief moment of shock crossing his face.

"What are you—?" his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, the touch almost made him wince in pain from how gentle it was. It was like your fingers brushed against some soft spot inside of him, he almost melted.

"It's okay... trust me," you started, trying to reassure him. His eyes met yours, the initial tension easing. He didn't pull away, but instead leaned into your touch in a quiet surrender. "My powers, they'll help," you added softly.

At your voice, his eyes fluttered shut, his expression softening as he exhaled a long, shaky breath. The walls he had built around himself crumbled bit by bit the more he felt your touch.

You hesitated, then began to hum—a soft, gentle melody, barely audible but enough to fill the silence. It felt strange, using your powers willingly again, but different this time... it brought you back to the bittersweet memories of your time before Vought. The tune was simple, soothing, a song you’d sung so many times before. Not destructive, but safe, warm.

As the notes drifted through the air, you felt Ben’s body relax under your touch. His breathing slowed, each exhale deeper, more even, and his hand reached up, covering yours as he pressed your palm closer to his face, silently grounding himself in the warmth of it.

His thumb brushed over the back of your hand, a gentle touch, and he felt something he thought he lost... peace. A kind of comfort that he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. Or something that he thought he'd given up for good, back in the old days, or maybe he'd never had it to begin with.

When your humming finally faded, he stayed there, his hand still covering yours, his eyes still closed. For a second, you thought he might have fallen asleep, but then he spoke, his voice barely a whisper.

"I don’t deserve this," he murmured, his tone laced with a sadness that made your heart ache. "You don't understand what I've... the things that I did."

You shook your head, your hand instinctively wanting to fall from the side of his face but he only held you closer with a conflict—whether he wanted to push you away or pull you into his arms and not let go.

"All I know is that I would've been stuck in that lab if it weren't for you," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "A favor for a favor. I think that's fair."

"Well, it wasn't entirely my choice to break you out," he muttered, that blunt tone of his slipping through, as if it was his last attempt to pull away before sinking too deep.

A soft scoff escaped your lips. "Whatever it was, at least I'm not stuck there anymore."

Slowly, you pulled him up onto the bed beside you, and he let you, his movements careful like he was afraid he might shatter the moment. You shifted, settling so that you were facing him, the blanket fell from your shoulders to pool around your waist, leaving the bruises and scars on your arms exposed under the dim light.

Ben’s gaze traveled over each mark, each scar, but there was no horror in his expression, no pity—only reverence. He reached out, his fingers brushing over a bruise on your shoulder, gentle and careful, as if touching something precious.

"They did this to you," he murmured, a hardness in his voice. It wasn't a question, but a statement. He knew too well.

You nodded, swallowing thickly. "They're fading." you said, looking away for a moment, as if you didn't want to acknowledge the scars.

Without a word, he leaned forward, pressing his lips to the bruise on your shoulder, a feather-light kiss that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Ben...?" you asked hesitantly. The small tremble in your voice made him stop, a flash of worry crossed his face, his teeth biting at his lower lip. He thought he might have overstepped.

"I'm... sorry," he whispered, pulling back. He feared that he had ruined whatever small trust that had begun to form between you.

But your fingers threaded through his hair, hand pressing to the back of his head to bring him closer again. "Stop apologizing," you breathed softly.

His eyes met yours and a small smile threatened to curl up on his lips, a mutual understanding settled between the two of you before his head dipped down to the crook of your neck. His lips brushed against your skin, kissing an old scar, then he kissed another, and another, his mouth trailing over each scar, each bruise, as if he was trying to erase the pain they held. It felt like an apology, like he was mending you.

His touch was careful, almost reverent, and you felt the warmth of each kiss seep into your skin, soothing the ache that lay beneath. You closed your eyes, letting the gentleness of his touch wash over you.

You felt your chest restricting, your breath becoming shallow, you couldn't remember the last time you'd been so taken care of. It was overwhelming, but you didn't want him to stop.

Ben’s hands were rough, calloused from years of fighting, but the way he touched you was anything but. He cupped your face gently, his thumb brushing away the tears that had slipped down your cheek without you even noticing. Then he closed the distance, pressing his lips to your forehead, a kiss so soft, so full of warmth that it made your chest warm and ache at the same time.

"You're safe," he whispered. "You're still here, and I'm with you." It wasn't much, but it was the most reassurance anyone could get out of him.

You leaned into him, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, and he sighed, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek, his gaze soft and unguarded in a way you hadn't seen before.

Slowly, he pulled you into him, wrapping his arms around you as you settled your forehead against his chest, his heartbeat steady against your ear. You closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into his warmth. For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt safe.

After a long silence, you spoke, your quiet voice breaking the quiet. "Hey... Ben?"

"Yeah?" he replied, his voice a murmur against your hair.

"I'll help you take down Homelander."

#soldier boy #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy imagine #soldier boy fic #soldier boy the boys #soldier boy fanfiction #the boys #the boys imagine #the boys fanfic #the boys tv #the boys amazon #jensen ackles

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velvetvexations · 21 hours ago

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I'm censoring this URL because the OP is eighteen. Do not seek the post out and do not harass anyone. Teens are often wrong about things. It's fine. It's radfem bullshit but it's fine.

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Let me be clear: The idea that t4t was invented by trans women for use betwixt themselves, and that "TME" people "gentrified it," is (a) holy fucking shit racist as fuck and (b)

takes a deep breath

WRONG INCORRECT UNTRUE EASILY VERIFIABLY FALSE

The OP is eighteen. That means that we did not do anything. They were not born when It came about on Craigslist and was being used by all trans people from the very start. I don't think they know what Craigslist is and probably more than half the people reblogging it don't either.

TME people fucking gentrified it? Are you fucking kidding me? Are these people tossing that post back and forth just fully playing pretend in fucking Tarabithia, what world do they live in where this combination of syllables makes sense and doesn't cause them to wither up in shame for even having the thought, much less vocalizing it?

Ohhhh but what really gets me is the assertion this was done because being with "TME" people meant there was a high chance you could be "socially (or even physically) murdered."

No.

No, OP. If you were any kind of trans person in pretty much any time and place before the 2010s, and a relationship with a non-trans person went poorly, there was a very high chance you would be dead. There's no "or even" about it. That is what fucking happened. Your ex didn't go crying to your mutual friends telling them about how you hogged the blankets. Your non-trans ex would proceed to ACTUALLY FOR REAL MURDER you, assuming they even waited for the relationship to go sour and didn't just kill you the second you walked through the door like they were always planning to do.

That's how it was when I was growing up, denied transitioning but longing so achingly to be a girl in spite of the horror and misery that seemed to plague us. So I have a problem with the obsession with sOcIaL mUrDeR that keeps getting tossed around these days, because of how degrading it is not only to how bad things still are with death after death after death, but how it disrespects what we came out of. But to directly act like soooocial murrrrrder was the big scary thing trans women feared back then? That's heinous. That's sickening. The social consequences all trans people were deathly afraid of back then was being outed as trans and then being fucking stabbed within twenty-four hours.

Even in spite of the election and what's coming next, how good we have it would be nigh-incomprehensible to the first trans men and women and non-binary people to be brave enough to advertise themselves as t4t to strangers. Like, I need everyone to understand that. They could not have wrapped their fucking heads around it. It'd be like explaining a circuit board to a Mesopotamian. One could show them a video of the Blue's Clues episode about queer people and it'd just register to them as migraine inducing static.

We're in such a better place than we were. And this is what people do with it.

Make up bullshit reasons to be angry at their siblings and imply they also didn't get murdered for being trans on a regular basis, or that even just trans women cared about an irritating buzzword, even as cishetpatriarchal fascism is empowered and determined to drag us back to the the horrific dark age that scholars refer to as Literally All of Human History Up Until Now.

Amazing.

Why do I even try. Like, with anything. Why do I get out of bed in the morning. I could have stayed in bed all day listening to rain sounds.

Anyway, that's my thoughts on that.

#so angry about so many things #trans radical feminism #discourse #cw hate crimes

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coffeebooksrain18 · 2 days ago

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I've gotten asks before why I don't like Daemrya or why I don't reblog stuff about them as I'm a Daemon lover and I sine I just saw a post saying you can't love Daemon without loving Daemyra I thought I'd explain my thoughts.

the main reason, I never felt it. It felt too forced to truly be real. it felt like the showrunners and writers were trying to make me like them together instead of letting me do that on my own which made me feel like hey didn't even feel it.

secondly, I have and always will see it as a political marriage. Do I think they care about each other? yes. Do I think they lust for each other? yes. But do I think they are in love? no. Rhaenyra literally had to dangle the crown an throne in front of Daemon for him to even agree to marry her.

and to the people saying "he slept with her the night of Laena's funeral." I say this. we know Daemon's way of mourning is fucking, fighting and drinking, its not sitting somewhere and crying. so to have Rhaenyra pretty much throw herself at him, why should he pay for a whore when she is so willing? now I'm not calling Rhaenyra a whore only stating what I think went through Daemon's mind.

third and final reason, I don't like Rhaenyra, never have never will, like seriously in the first episode I thought she was a ok character I didn't care about her and that has slowly turned into a hate. so why should I ship one of my favorite characters with one I hate? that doesn't make sense.

yet again, I never felt it, I never felt like they even really cared about each other more than what the other could give them let alone loved each other. so to me, that's not a power couple, that's not a couple I want to root for. so I don't root for them.

I do ship Alicent x Daemon and I definitely ship Laena x Daemon but other than that I don't like or care for other ships for him. I get the people who do like Daemyra I just don't get why they care so much that I don't.

#house of the dragon #hotd #alicent hightower #daemon targaryen #laena velaryon #anti daemon x rhaenyra #anti daemyra #anti rhaenyra targaryen #alicent x daemon #daemon x alicent #laena x daemon #daemon x laena #yes I am team green and yes i love daemon we do exist

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mackmp3 · 1 day ago

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☕how the writers delt with river song

SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP THEY DID MY GIRL SO DIRTY there are so many. good river song moments. and there are so manythat make me want to tear a strip off steven moffat like every goddamn episode with her they have to make some obnoxious sex joke or some Honey Im Home type shit & i understand this is like. A Moffat Theme & i dont always hate it but goddddd its so reductive like there is so much!!!! that could be done with her character !!!!!!!!!!!!!!! that is overshadowed by haha what if she was sexy like STOPPPPPPPPPPPP.

like silence in the library was a really good character lead in & i like her!!! as a character !!!! even the overly flirtatiousness unfortunately that would work on me but even aside from that. she is a good character let down but the sheer pull-it-out-of-your-ass writing of her backstory. like?? she could regenerate cos she was conceived in the tardis okay thats really cool much weirder stuff has happened when it comes to tardises & making babies but then WE SeE THIS FOR LIKE. ONE OR TWO EPISODES BEFORE THEYRE LIKE WHOOPS THAT DOESNT WORK ACTUALLY COS SHE'S DEAD UHHH SHE BETTER UHMM IDK SAVE TH E DOCTOR OR SOMETHING WHATEVER> COS HER ENTIRE LIFE HAS TO REVOLVE AROUND HIM. HASHTAG MARRIAGE AMIRITE like even the fact that her entire life was shaped around him isnt a Bad Idea it just feels like no one considered the tragic impies (implications) of this, & simultaneously doing amy so dirty in the process as well like??? she loses baby mels & then discovers she was her (never previously mentioned) childhood friend but then she uhhhh dies & turns into this woman you already know and them????? barely eveer mention it again???? holy shit?????????????????????? amy & river is a freaking horror story but one that the writers seem imcapable of dealing with because sOMEONE is too busy making obnoxious jokes about married life

a lot of thsi is specific to the General Vibes of the eleven era stuff as well which was in general so so weird about women & while its not like twelve or any of teh other doctors are expemt from this eleven is a massive dick to people quite a bit & a lot of this falls on river b/c he is seemingly (iirc i havent seen some of this stuff for a while though it Haunts Me) almost careless? with her? like a sort of 'welllllll she's here now so it was all okay in the end :)' sort of attitude ignoring that she went through A Fuckton Of Stuff before she was even a concious human(mostly??) being

even the husbands of river song is tragically guilty of some of that stuff like. she's seen some wild shit & she should have known it was twelve wayyyyyy way way quicker. like i understand why she didnt for plot reasons but she is in fact very intellegent like. she's allowed to show that. unfortunatley sometimes women cant be smart & have their boobs out at that same time I GUESSSSSSSSS

also the nine & river audios from earlier this year? i really like archipelago i listened to that a couple of times & i thought it was really powerful but AGAIN the writers make river So Fucking Obsessed With Romance like. you'd let it go by that point. nine had literally just proved he's the most aro guy in the universe (good for him) and shes stillllllll flirting at him. which. imo she wouldnt do anymore because, shock horror, she does actually like him as a person & values his company and you would think you would be friends wit hthe guy YOU ARE GONG TO MARRY OR WHATEVER. NOT THAT THEIR MARRIAGE WAS PARTICULARLY ROMANTIC EITHERIM GONNA BE SO REAL. obviously sex is important to her & good for her but yikes. it doesnt need to be mentioned so often.

like its the whole 'inherent tragedy of waiting for a time traveller' stuff which i do eat up every time meeting her in silence of the library & knowong that there is so much more there - VERY COMPELLING !! really good character intro augahagaauuaajaaajahhahahahhhh but nooooo her Entire Fucking Goddman Life has to revolve around being manipulated & The Doctor AS WELL AS !! the completely uncalled for ohhhh im a PSYCHOPATH ( <- unfounded & demonstrably untrue lowkey this is saneism right. thats an ableism there yes? ) thing they alllwaysssss have her say like well!! shes not !! theres 'youre talking about commiting a murder'/'no im not, i'm actually commiting a murder' which i like & is funny & she would say that and then theres teh vauge oooohhhhh im so Freaky & I Have A Gun or whatevr like augsugsaihuahahaouoauauoouauoauoauoauuo

also twelve & river had freaky t4t bi4bi aroallo sex after the end of husbands of river song but no actual dw writer is enlightened enough to see that because they have to flatten her into The Doctors Wife & she would have had a far better dynamic with 12 than with 11 (not that i'm biased) i wish they got more time togetherrrrrrrrrrr also you should listen to the bekdel test (diary of river song audio with missy)

#tldr river song is a character i love very much however she had the grave misfortune of being written in the mid 2010s by steven moffat #anyways. sorry yikes this got long im so sorry i dindt realise i had this much to say. wow #doctor who #thanks for the ask!!#this is not. very flattering of elevens era if are are emotionally attached to him you may want to skip this one <3 #jordan tag :D #river song

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midnightdemonz · 3 days ago

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Wings outstretched, not helping anything, his hands in his hair, he couldn't get himself to calm down. He was hyperventilating. Bad. He'd never been this way before, what was wrong? Tears spilled from his eyes. He backed into the wall. He wanted to crumple up into a ball, hug his legs and just rock on the floor. But that would give Irep, the man standing in front of him, looking shockingly concerned, another reason for future blackmail. He'd been reckless with his magic. He'd hurt Irep, clipping his wing, shooting him from the air. Irep had fallen to the ground with a loud thud. But he'd gotten up. He was okay. Obviously, he was able to simply fix his wing with his wand, but Peri had actually hurt someone he cared-- someone he didn't really want to hurt.

Irep was just floating there, eyes wide, in complete shock. All this over an accident? He was fine! He fixed it! Why did Peri blame himself for this? Irep found it easy to do bad things and not apologize, he loved it! But... Peri wasn't him. They were opposites. What was weirder was that, Irep loved to see Peri's pain. But now, now he feels.. bad? Peri was crying over him. He was having trouble breathing. Was this a panic attack? How did he approach this? He reached his hand out, only to pull it away. This was stupid. He would not be reduced to such a state, such a being of-- ugh --care. He did not care about Peri. He did not care about Peri. He did not care about--

He cared about Peri. Whether he liked it or not, he hated seeing Peri in this state. Looking like he was about to break down, more than he already was. So he did something he never thought he would. He reached out his arms in care instead in malice. He wrapped his arms around Peri, trying to ground him, figuratively and literally.

"I-Irep?" Peri didn't believe this. He felt Irep's hands rubbing his back in comfort. But he wouldn't protest. He needed this.

"Shh, don't speak..." Irep continued his gentle strokes, feeling Peri return the embrace. He suddenly felt Peri nuzzle his face into the crevice between Irep's head and shoulder. This felt weird. But he also didn't wanna let go. He felt Peri cry into his neck. He could swear he heard staggered and hushed 'I'm sorry's evey few seconds. They both cautiously floated back to the ground, never breaking contact. They could stay like this until they fell asleep. Hopefully no one would find them.

#fop #fopanw #fairly oddparents a new wish #fairly oddparents #peri #peri fop #irep #irep fop #doomwinkle #perirep #most powerful fairy au #peri x irep #irep x peri

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stucky-just-stucky · 2 days ago

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i loveeee love love how logan still loves wade like those are couple goals right there

NO BC LIKE IN THE WALKING DEAD LIKE if you had a "pet zombie" then other people would be scared of you but I love how here, other people would be scared because of LOGAN. like by now they know not to mess with the zombie with the dude with the claws as its owner WAIT

he/it pronouns for wade??? pretty please????? i love it so much and by 'it' i mean the thought of wade using those pronouns and wade in general

some other group would try to kill wade bc hes a zombie but THEY end up severely injured/dead instead because logan saw them just before they could touch wade

they get to have one little post apocalyptic family and its amazingggggg. imagine them having dinner and wade just has a chunk of logan on his plate. laura rolls her eyes affectionately at the soft look in logans eyes and gabbys just sitting there trying to hide her giggles. shes so happy that their little family is still complete, they ALL are and AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH I LOVE THIS SO MUCH

i absolutely loveeeeeeee that dementia-ish state that wade gets into whenever he turns fully zombie and forgets logan for a while. whats the longest it had gone for??? GOD the horror that struck logan when it happened for the first time and when it lasted longer than usual. imagine logan trying to shake wade out of it?? limbs falling apart, skin breaking?? and hes STILL in that unconscious state?? imagine logan tying him down unto the bed so he could keep him forever even if its JUST as that unconscious state and im talking lucille and negan style

gabbys just absolutely bawling with logan outside the door after and lauras trying not to cry so she could be there for them both and god bless her heart oml SHES SO OLDER SISTER UGHHH

wades self-hatred goes brrrrrr like it was bad enough as deadpool but now as ACTUALLY-DEADpool?? sheesh buddy. but wade!!! honey!!! you do NOT have to worry because logan literally loves you so much!! how much I love yous does logan have to say for you to believe that you're not disgusting

like to charge and reblog to cast so that logan can have AT LEAST one (1) decade of NO major historical event happening

I dont CARE that it's November 9th and "Halloweens over" ITS MY BIRTHDAY MONTH ILL POST IF I WANT TOO

Anyway.

Thinking about apocolpse au.

Wade getting bitten by a zombie, Logan freaking out, Wade dying, and him coming back (Again)

"Didn't you just die?? I literally fucking burried you!!"

And wades like:

"Of course. Man, God REALLY hates you dosn't he?"

And he's bassically the same person except just saying, "Rahhah har ran re" (translation: I think the devil doesn't want me either)

"What?? Oh for fucks sake... tell me you're kidding.."

"Rah?" 🤔

"Great so now you stink more and you can't talk. Fucking lovely."

"Mmmmh..." 🥺 (would you still love me if I was a zombie?)

"*sighs, blushes and grumbles how insane this is and how much of a bad idea this is* Fine! Come on...."

"Raah!!" 😄

And sometimes his limbs fall off because I think it would be funny if you just saw him stop, turn around, pick up his arm and shove it back into place like a dislocated shoulder. (Marvel Magic)

But its very obvious that Wade is still consious and so logan leads him around, puts a leash on him, ties him up when he goes to sleep the first few nights so wade dosn't eat him, sometimes luring him with a piece of his thigh or telling him he'll feed him soon to make him behave.

The only thing about this resource wise is that it seems Wade is a bottomless pit, not ever able to get enough. It's like all the nutrients just pass right through him, so he can't get fed meals daily, but Logan will share at least one bite of his food. It makes Wade so happy and way more "wade like" than zombie.

Logan has learned that the hungrier Wade gets the worse it would be, snapping at logan a few times.

"Grr-"

"Aye! That's enough outta ya"

"GggRah!"

"Hey!! I said no! Bad! Bad wade!"

"Mmmh??"

"Bad!!"

"Mmh....rahah.."

"I forgive you. But stop trying to bite me. I feed you, don't I? I hold your hand and tell you that I love you?"

Wade is actually extremely friendly for a zombie (duh) and still yaps at logan except its nonsense. Logan tries hard to understand him and talk back.

He holds his hand sometimes, even lays next to him only to scold him if he gets too bitey. This is hard because wade already had a biting issue and seeing as he practically ate anything or anybody now it was more difficult.

"...aahh-"

"Wade- No."

"Ggr.. raahh"

"Wade! No! Bad."

"Mmmh..."

"Ill feed you tomarrow. Don't bite me mkay? You wanna hurt me?"

He shakes his head like a dog shaking off from a bath, or that ate a bee.

"Then don't bite me."

"Mmh? Mrah?"

"No. No kisses right now. Im still not even sure if thats safe.."

"Mmmh...🥺 ahrrah?"

"No, not even a tiny one."

"Mm...😔"

Until Logan grunts and pecks his hand. "There. Happy?"

"🙂‍↕️mh"

"Good."

Honestly Logan felt bad, pitited him. No matter what food he ate it wasnt enough substance to sustain him and sometimes Logan would wake up to find him eating a different zombie that made the mistake of trying to eat Logan.

You ever wake up in the morning, lose your zombie boyfriend, call for him only to walk outside and see him knawing on some poor chaps arm like a happy puppy who found a chicken leg? Logan has. Many times. And he wishes his phone would charge so he could take a picture of it but unfortunately theres no electricity in the post apocalypse world.

This being said Logan is like- THE perfect guy for apocalypse au because he can smell everything and hear anyone before they even get to you, he has better wilderness survival skills then anyone I know and he'll never NOT have a weapon on him because of his claws. The only downside is that he's tired easily, needs a lot of food, and would lowkey be withdrawing from his tabccao and alchool, therefore very moody.

"Stupid fucking apocalypse having to happen when im fucking alive!! Why can't I just NOT live through ONE major historical event! Is that too fucking much to ask? One damn decade where everything is fine and dandy and- WADE! Get your ass away from that!! It's radioactive!! For fucks sake!"

"Rahahrah?"

"NO!! You can not become Spiderman! That's not how that works!"

"Aawr..😔"

The whole thing is they're on a quest to find Laura and Gabby, because when everything went to shit, they were on a cabin trip and now Logans brain is itching because he dosn't know where his babies are and its driving him insane. Once he finds them, they're gonna shack up somewhere with food and animals to hunt, and hes gonna make a little shed outside for Wade to sleep because he'll kill him if he bites one of the girls.

He dosnt care that much about himself really and he hates himself deep down for not being able to trust wade anymore but even wade dosnt trust wade, sometimes wandering off on purpose, staying about 30 feet away from him at all times, growling and giving Logan that glazed over look of unconsiousness. The only good thing about this, though, is after he removes himself from the idea of hurting Logan (because if logaj were to become infected - HA! Your all fucked. Utterly fucked. The whole humanoid species would go extinct because he'd kill anything that moved) he feels more trusting of him and it's not uncommon for them to hug after either. Afterall Wade- Some how???- is still wade and is very affectionate and sensitive when its not returned.

This whole thing also makes him think worse about himself, kicking reflective objects or staring at himself in a shop window in utter shock and disgust with a face of 'thats me..?' While logans raiding the place for supplies.

Did you know zombies can cry? Well, Wade could. Not a lot, only able to get a bit of liquid from dehydration, but sometimes Logan will catch him just... sitting there.. crying. Upset with himself for being bit. Upset with himself for trying to bite logan all the time. Upset at how ugly he is. Upset that he's starving all the time. Upset that he can't even talk to anyone, and Logan just has to guess what he's saying 90% of the time. Bro is literally

When they DO find Laura and Gabby, the girls are doing great. Laura was going to blow wades head off until Gabby ran in the shot, hugging him instantly, only to be ripped away.

"Of course my dad is the weirdo married to a zombie." Laura grunts, but is secrelty happy that wade is still 'alive'

Gabby, being as young as she is, thinks it's so SICK that her dad is a zombie now, giggling when he talks to her and holding his hand. She's not allowed near him for long, and not at all by herself, but Gabby bassically becomes Wades number one supporter, defending him when he messes up and snaps at laura.

"He's just hungry!! He's not bad! It's not bad to be hungry!" She'll say. "You wouldn't kill me if I was hungry.." she tells her bigger, more survival oriented sister whos suggested putting wade out of his misery, for his own sake. "I tried that... he found me again 3 days later." Logan tells her with a pang in his chest. It had taken everything in him to kill him the first time, and sobbed himself to sleep the next 2 days. By the third when he noticed Wade following him from a distance he couldn't believe it.

Not even the apocalypse could keep them away from each other..

#one #HAPPY EARLY BIRTHDAY FOREST #ASFHSHDFHSKDFJH #WOOHOOOOO #IT WAS MY BDAY YESTERDAY #and two #“Aawr..😔”#help???#NO BC LIKE #HELP????#THAT MADE ME LAUGH WAY TOO MUCH THAN IT SHOULDVE HAD #poolverine #laura #gabby #the walking dead #ish #zombie au #apocalypse au #fic recs

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paranormalpost · 2 days ago

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Connected with the Astral Realm

Channeling

Something I want to share, maybe there are more who feel the same as me? But since I was a baby, it's been like I'm completely out of my body, like I'm half out of my body, disconnected from this world. It felt like I was connected to astral realms, allowing me to experience spirits, entities, dimensional beings. I was never in the now, I've always been a daydreamer as a child, I had strange dreams of completely different places that I've never seen before in this life. I always had a fear of the dark, and this continued until I was 15, but at the same time I found comfort in the dark. When I was at school, I suddenly started seeing images in my head of the people in my school, what their parents look like and where they live and more visions. I have always closed myself off from other people, as a child I never socialized with people my own age but always went to the oldest people at the table. I had heard from my aunt that my own grandmother was afraid of me, that she thought I was possessed because I looked at things as if I were not human, like the way how I looked at art, the way I looked at other people, or the way I looked at things in general. People are always afraid of my cataracts because when I stare they feel like I'm looking through them, one girl literally said this to me. I had a difficult time in high school, I suddenly got images of other people committing suicide or being murdered, even through my own dreams, the were never about me. I could always read other people's auras, everyone thought she was happy I just knew she was going to cry, I always say things and people say 'hey I wanted to say that'. People on the street are always attracted to me? they just come up to me and tell me their biggest problems. I remember as a child going to the window and saying in my head ‘now comes a bird’ and then a bird came. ‘Now comes a red car’ and then a red car came. People in my family die and I immediately get messages from them, like 'I'm on holiday for a while' or that they are watching me from behind a wall, I remember when I was in boarding school and just felt my grandmother's presence in that room and saw a shadow after that night I got a dream of her, that she was watching me. I just ‘knew things’ like I got information through channeling. Just getting information of everything around me, or of objects. I always fly in my dreams, like I float, and see things about the world. As child I always felt extremely sad when I looked at other galaxies, and felt attracted to one star, and start crying?

#astro community #astro notes #astro observations #astro placements #astroblr #astrology #astroids #astronomy #astro content #astro icons #pyschic reading #paranormal

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requiemism · 2 days ago

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maybe its just because jinx is bpd (or, at least, HEAVILY coded as such) and i have a mood disorder but i truly cannot help but be bewildered by the lack of understanding and empathy towards her character both in the show and in the fandom. shes essentially a broken, manipulated, desperate child- even if shes "grown" now, shes so severely traumatized i sincerely doubt her brain developed properly and she certainly didnt and doesnt have the help required to become a well adjusted stable individual. i dont say this to take away her agency or infantilize her- her actions ARE her choice, and she DOES understand what she is doing. however, despite this, a majority of what shes done has NEVER been in a moment of rational thinking. she only did what she did as powder due to desperation; she threw the bag in the water because she was cornered, she accidentally caused the deaths she did because she didnt understand the tech she had and she was desperate to save her family. everything she does after as jinx is largely due to silcos manipulation, being severely disordered, traumatized, and abandoned, and literally every single person in her life telling her all shes good for is destruction and causing pain. she spends almost her ENTIRE life being told by EVERYONE but the person actively manipulating her that she is incompetent, annoying, destructive and batshit. OBVIOUSLY SHES NOT GOING TO BE NORMAL. OBVIOUSLY SHES GOING TO LOSE IT WHEN THE O N E PERSON SHE HAS LEFT FUCKING DIES BECAUSE SHE ACCIDENTALLY SHOT HIM DURING A PTSD DRIVEN BREAKDOWN CAUSED BY HER GODDAMN SISTER. O B V I O U S L Y SHES GOING TO DO SOMETHING RASH AND IMPULSIVE IN HER MANIC, BROKEN STATE. because now, she has nothing left. she has nothing to lose. shes a jinx, and she ruins everything that she touches, and maybe, just maybe, she can use that to honor her fathers lifelong goal. obviously this goes horribly and backfires on everyone, putting a target on the entire undercitys back, but she ABSOLUTELY wasnt thinking about that when she bombed the goddamn capitol mid breakdown. in season 2, after making this impulsive (and frankly idiotic but thats neither here nor there) decision she lays low, avoiding causing any damage unless necessary (although it IS overkill whenever she does harm people, thats what shes been taught is normal. she literally grew up in the undercity where people are murdered and mugged on a daily basis.) and using every opportunity to scourge her own existence. she VERY clearly hates herself for what shes done, and she certainly doesnt seem to be proud of any of it. i think this is best displayed in the discussion she has with isha when they first meet. when vi and the enforcer squad come after her, shes literally minding her business, making a GIFT for the woman who has repeatedly hurt her because "it was something (she) could fix." she cant even shoot vi when shes actively gassing her, literally CRYING at the thought. the only reason she actively begins attempting to kill her and caitlyn is because THEY'RE DOING THE SAME DAMN THING, and once again she very clearly cant bring herself to do so to vi. even in s1, during the tea party scene, its pretty evident that she doesnt intend to kill vi in my opinion? to make matters worse, when vi tries to kill HER, she practically BEGS her to do it.

i understand that jinx is objectively NOT a good person!!! she has literally killed tens of maybe hundreds of people and yes, she did kill caitlyns mom (although very honestly i could care less about that ngl caitlyn is absolutely a good character but i dont like her as a person for reasons largely unrelated to jinx 😓). she literally builds bombs and guns and whatever the fuck for fun. she enjoys watching people be beaten and killed. but i think the absolute lack of any empathy or understanding towards her a lot of people exhibit is a little ridiculous and it infuriates me to no end 😭 thank you for coming to my autistic ted talk!!!!

#can you tell jinx is my favorite #can you tell #jinx arcane #arcane #arcane season two #arcane s2 spoilers #arcane spoilers

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bonesofapoet · 3 days ago

Note

Heyy could u maybe do a frank castle x cook!reader who's like a female (or not what u want) carmen berzatto from The Bear

bittersweet author's note: god this was actually really fun to do?! i loved this request?!?!? the one where you wonder why you came home to save a dying pipe dream, but frank is your anchor when all you want to do is torch the place and be a menace to society. word count: 1600

On Tuesday evening, Frank Castle found you trying not to scream.

The alley was quiet, as night began to cloak the city in adamantine bands. Glittering light swept across the sky in familiar arcs of glowing stardust and heartfelt stories. A breeze, cool and gentle, flew across your skin in waves, a most welcome contrast to the warmth of the kitchen you’d been cooped up in since early afternoon.

The sudden stillness wanted to make you fucking cry. But you couldn’t cry, sure as all holy hell not here, not now. Screaming would be a better route to take - you’d get less shit from that - and you were positive most of the sound would be covered anyway, or, unfortunately, ignored - yet it felt like you’d been louder than usual all afternoon, which, funny enough, did nothing to ease the ebb and flow of a building storm just waiting for an excuse to break free from this fucking shit show called a restaurant -

“Hey,” says a voice. The crunch of footsteps catches you on your fall back down to Earth. They guide you back to a body so fraught with tension that you are, quite honestly, curious how the hell you’re still alive and kicking. “This a bad time?”

The laugh spilling through the alleyway is more than a little aggressive. More than a little sarcastic. It tumbles through your lips without thought, but then again, most things do when you're around Frank Castle. He's someone you can let go around, even on the days you'd rather burn down your inheritance than drag it kicking and screaming from the burial shroud it's been swathed in since you came back home.

The word home almost gets stuck in your throat.

“Well,” you say, a tired sigh hissing through your teeth, threatening to catch on the bones like barbed wire. The palms that flutter up dig into your eyes for a moment. Then two. They fall back to your sides, though your gaze stays locked on the few constellations unhidden by the godawful pollution filling the city. You supposed you would be a little more grateful for that, seeing the cosmos in any capacity, had you taken a. . .more gracious path of life. A more selfish one. One that didn't involve feeling guilt tripped into coming home to save a dead relative’s pipe dream from its own invariably slow and horrifically painful death. “That depends. You up for hire?”

Frank Castle steps under a stray glimmer of moonlight, starlight - it all looks the same, these days - and laughs, soundless, at your barb. At least, he thinks, he’s pretty sure you're joking. The closer he watches you - sees how your eyes aren't gleaming in their teasing tell, how your lips don't tilt at their corners when you're trying to hide the sin.

He watches you inhale. Exhale. Repeat. Watches your eyes fall down from the velvet sky to rest on him, hardly a worthy companion in comparison to the natural beauty surrounding you, even here, among this corner of your life that seems to be literally anything other than shiny.

You, on the other hand, would beg to differ.

“I really hope you don't mean that,” Frank starts, “because I would really hate to hike up your overhead. You know. Make your life worse, instead of doing you a favor.”

“Oh please,” you say, a smile clawing its way from the shadows after all. “That would be a favor, believe it or not.”

Frank chances a few steps closer, toes a loose pile of gravel by his boots. Looks up at you with brows drawn together just a little. It's cute, you think. More so than the full on scowl that intimidates a few of your nightmare colleagues inside. Your smile grows wider, feels genuine at the recollections.

“That bad, huh?”

The back door flies open, as if your own words would be an inadequate injustice to his question. He'd just have to settle for a little example then, something to really hammer home the reality of your headache personified. The hinges screamed at the quickness, the roughness, and any sense of peace you had begun to gather was about to evaporate into a flurry of nothing. You meet Frank’s eyes, and your expression conveys the very haughtiness of someone about to give him the proof of a lifetime.

He simply steps into a shadow, and watches.

Your name is falling through the doorway loud enough for the whole godforsaken block to hear, twisting and catching gracelessly around the latest woe that literally any entry level Sioux chef could solve in their sleep.

(Moments like this one made you question why, exactly, it was that you left - willingly left - the first, and only job that did not have you scrambling for sanity. Not counting, y'know, the constant anxiety of never being good enough to cook at a Michelin restaurant in New York fucking City. That was neither here nor there, these days.)

Silence follows, punctuated by the white noise of banter and the familiar, oh-so-beloved chaos spilling into the night from the threshold beyond. A lot of the unsavory arguing is carried off by the wind, yet you heard the gist, all the same.

Inhale. Exhale. Repeat.

“I'll be back in a minute.” You say, not even turning to the door, to your chef.

“Are you -”

The voice cuts off, dead in the breeze as Frank Castle is finally noticed lurking in the shadows. You turn around then, fully facing the silhouette, illuminated ominously against a backdrop of aggressive industrial lighting.

“Did you hear what I just said, or do you need to be pulled from the line and re-enrolled in fucking preschool?”

“I - sorry. I'll - I'll go relay the message.” The silhouette moves backwards into the light, hand pulling the door so it follows. Almost closed - it stops, along with your chef, slinking around the edge to tack on what was forgotten in the hasty, unpolished departure. “- Chef. I'll relay the message, Chef.”

At least an attempt was made. That was progress. And maybe, one day in the far, far, far, far future - you wouldn't have to hide in an alley trying not to think about arson. Frank Castle wouldn't carve out time to hide with you - even if it is of his own accord - playing bodyguard in case anyone felt bold enough to try backing you into a corner.

“Same shit, different day.” your hands find their way to closed eyes once more, a groan spilling into the alley to dance in the breeze.

Frank stepped out of the darkness, tendrils of velvety smoke clinging to him like a long lost lover, the remnants of a dream fraying at the edges. He stops a mere step away, hands buried deep in pockets instead of reaching for you, instead of pulling you all safe and sound to his chest. God, he thought, what he would give to hold you in his arms. Especially on a beautiful night like this one, when you were too frazzled to see it.

“Coulda been worse. No one said anything offensive this time.”

“That's because you scare them, Frank.” hands flutter back down. Frank is close when eyes blink open, slow and involuntary and grateful, even, maybe a little - if only so you can have him close enough to touch. You even smile a bit, something real this time, even if it is a little sardonic. Even if it is a little saccharine sweet.

Something flares in his eyes as he looks at you, burns hot and bright and fast before fizzling down to an ember, a spark, then nothing out of the ordinary at all. He doesn't kill the way his lips slope upward though, mirroring the infection your smile imbues into his own. Your fingers twitch, longing to close the distance, to reach over and feather a soft touch along his jaw.

“Maybe that's why I check in. Make sure they're treatin’ ya right.”

You huff a laugh, head tipping up and up and up to revel one last glimpse of the moon before heading back in to deal with the latest crisis you could, no doubt, avoid in your fucking sleep -

Then, a hand, slow and warm and steady slips to the small of your back, an anchor to your swaying body while you savor one last moment of blissful fucking silence. You feel Frank's hand countering you - acutely aware of every flex and point of pressure while you sway ever so slightly. It's - well. It's the first time your brain has, quite literally, shut the fuck up in days. Weeks, maybe. Months, possibly.

Your eyes drift shut, trusting him to catch you if you fall.

“And would you? Treat me right?”

A horn blares on the next block. Sirens scream in the distance. Voices shout from just inside the door. The laugh Frank adds to the muffled symphony of your world is just as quiet, yet it's the only thing that's crystal clear. The only thing that's sweet and honest, something you'd like to bottle up and craft a dish inspired by the thrill it invokes as it washes over your skin.

“You really askin’ me if I’d do right by you? Shit, sugar - I think we both know the answer to that.”

You sway a little, at his words.

His grip on you tightens, another hand resting on your waist. Your smile grows, glowing in the moonlight, starlight, all of the above. The voices inside fade into nothing as your hands rise to find his shoulders, another anchor to keep you from drowning.

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle imagine #frank castle oneshot #marvel imagine #the punisher x reader #the punisher imagine #the punisher #kas writes #kas answers #the way i miss him???

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seitmai · 2 days ago

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Very late and very many thoughts, so I'm gonna utilize the read more function

“How the hell are you still consistently finding this much alcohol? We’re barely finding enough food.” Heaving himself up until he’s sitting on the edge of his mattress, Jake rests his head heavily in his hands as the world continues to spin around him. Still slurring slightly, he mutters, “‘s not enough. Two bottles a night aren’t helpin’ anymore. Nightmare’s back.”

😬😬😬

The water heater broke a few months ago and with no one left in their dwindling group who knew how to fix it, freezing showers had become the norm.

Not me adding "learn basics of fixing a water heater" to my to do list lmao

Jake used to use the board as his motivation to keep fighting, to not let more names be added to the list. But now that it contains so many faces of the people he cared deeply for or respected—you, Coyote, Iceman, Cyclone, Payback—it has become a constant reminder of all the ways he failed.

💔💔💔

Next to her, Bob scans the area just beyond the fence, his blue eyes alert behind his cracked glasses. With his unusual prescription, it’s been impossible to find a replacement after they slipped off his face running from a pack of creatures. He made it safely to the church in one piece—one of his lenses did not. Yet, he has never once complained or made excuses for his impaired vision.

Bob is just such a good soul 🥺

“Oh, Jake…” Your hands fly up to cover your mouth as your eyes continue to roam over his body. Yet even covered, he can see your jaw trembling as you cry, “Baby, what…We promised if something ever happened to the other, we wouldn’t give up. We would keep fighting.” “I’m still here, aren’t I?” Jake snaps. But then he wilts under the weight of your gaze. Scrubbing his hand over his face, he whispers, “I almost ended it—a few times. Drugs, booze, even thought I’d take my nickname literally. Made a noose and everything. But the thing that always stopped me was that promise. So, yeah, I–I’ve been a bit of a mess since you—” he gestures at your transformed self “—and I’m sorry. I tried to be strong but losing you was the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. We were supposed to face this hellscape together and I didn’t know how to cope without you so I let myself become someone that I hate. But now that you’re back—”

This broke my heart.. it shows how truly broken Jake is and that every day is a struggle with her for him💔

You turn to gaze into the darkness surrounding you. “It’s like acid in my veins, a constant burning fire in my gut that only grows stronger if it’s not satisfied. Blood’s the only thing that soothes the pain for even a few hours, but it’s never enough. I’ve tried to stop myself, I have, but each time I drink it gets hard to fight. And with every life I take, I feel a little more of myself slip away. I’m not the woman you loved anymore, Jake. I’m just a monster with her face.” Jake shakes his head with a firm set in his jaw. “No. I don't believe that. It's still you. Why else would you have looked for me? The woman I love is still here and she needed to see me just as much as I needed to see her.”

He is still so in love 🥺

“And I don’t care what you think.” Without hesitation, Jake crosses the remainder of his little haven of sunlight and steps forward to join you in the inky darkness. You cower back again but he takes another step to maintain the same distance between you. “You're not going to hurt me. I know that. Because you're so strong and brave and you can fight this–”

The way he believes and trust in her more than she does herself 🥹

This newest revelation is the last straw for Jake. A man can only process so much trauma at once before he reaches his breaking point. Falling to his knees, he hangs his head, tears dripping off his face onto the dusty tile beneath him as his shoulders shake with stifled sobs.

I just wanna give him a hug, this is a lot 😭

You fall silent again, but Jake just continues to cry with no acknowledgment of what you said. After a moment of this, you plead, “Jake, talk to me. Tell me what you’re thinking. If you want me to go—” “Please…” Jake breathes, the weight of the past two years pressing down on him. “Please let me hold you.” “W-what?” Based on the utter shock in your voice, that is not what you were expecting him to say. It takes everything in him, but Jake lifts his eyes so they meet yours. “Baby, I need you in my arms again. To feel you, touch you, prove this is real. I have dreamed about you every night for two years. Horrible, bloody nightmares that have destroyed my life. I need you to chase those nightmares away.”

He is desperate for a moment of solace and how it was 2 years ago that he is willing to die for that 😭

“Jake, have you not heard a word I’ve said? I’ve killed our friends and I’ll kill you too. Or worse, I’ll turn you.” “I want you to,” he whispers.

He is so done with this life 🥺

“Please…” Jake sobs loudly, too emotionally and mentally drained to get to his feet and walk to you. “I can’t live without you anymore. I need us to be together, whatever that looks like.” “You don’t know what you’re asking.” “You’ve made it pretty clear. But I’m willing to bear the pain, the…the consequences of this choice if it means I can be with you. So, please, don’t make me spend one more second without you. Either kill me or turn me, but I can’t do this anymore.”

😭😭😭

Jake can’t wait any longer. He grabs your hand and pulls you into his chest, squeezing you as tightly as he possibly can. Your skin is icy beneath his touch, but he doesn’t care. He’s holding you in his arms again and nothing else in the world matters. Squeezing you tighter, Jake mutters, “No. It’s okay, baby. I want this. Just let go.”

He has already made his peace 🥺

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, black tears falling on his chest. “I’ll be as gentle as I can.”

❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

Soft moans and gasps that have Jake flashing back to all those times you were beneath him as he drove you closer and closer to the edge. And for just a second, he can bear the pain knowing he is giving you some semblance of pleasure.

He truly would do anything for her 🥺

Jake picks up the soft sound as it is breathed across the empty warehouse, his ears already tuning into sounds humans shouldn’t be able to hear. His eyes flutter open and just over your shoulder, he can see Bob and Phoenix bathed in sunlight standing at the entrance to the building. Bob has tears in his eyes, his lips whispering your name in horror as he watches the growing gory mess you are making of Jake’s neck. He glances back and forth between Jake and Phoenix, silently pleading with her to find a way to fix this.

Poor Bob 🥺

But Phoenix just stares at the pair of reunited lovers, her jaw set tightly. And Jake knows she understands. Phoenix always understands.

Of course she does 🥹

Jake is weak from blood loss and pain, but he manages the slightest of nods. Lifting two fingers to her forehead, Phoenix gives Jake a small salute in return.

What a small but beautiful goodbye between them 😭

Then she raises her flashlight. As the beam of light strikes your shoulder, your mouth instantly disappears from Jake’s throat with an agonized hiss as you try to flee from the pain. But using what strength he has left, Jake holds you in place. Smiling as every cell in his body begins to burn differently from before, he whispers, “Together.” And he holds up his hand which is cracking and disintegrating in the light just like yours. Though still pained, your face softens as you realize what he is doing. Transformation or death, those had been his choices. However, it turns out it wasn’t an “or” but an “and”. Reaching out, you link your fingers with his, your skin flaky and fragile in his grasp. You snuggle your head against the unbitten crook of his neck, whimpering slightly as the light does its job, and you whisper back, “Together.” Jake wraps his other arm around you and holds you close, silently vowing to never let go again.

Together 😭❤️😭❤️😭

The last thing he sees before his world slips away is the strangely beautiful swirl of particles of your two disintegrating bodies intermingling in the beam of sunlight.

A beautiful ending together, like they deserved🥹

Drink With Me (Part 2)

AI-Less Whumptober 2024: Day 6. self-sacrifice Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Jake "Hangman" Seresin, f!reader, Vampire Apocalypse AU Summary: Two years after Jake was forced to watch you ripped apart by the creatures that now terrorize the world, he is a shell of the man he once was. However, a familiar voice calling to him in the dark may give him a second chance. Word Count: 5911 TW: Hurt/Comfort, Blood, Vampires, Character Death, Murder, Grief, Biting, Mention of Suicidal Thoughts, Drinking (alcohol and blood), Language Notes: Not beta read so sorry for any mistakes! Part of @ailesswhumptober's event! 💗

Series Masterlist

“No….No!”

He tries to race to your side, to stop the torment playing out before his eyes, but he is held back by hundreds of hands wrapping around him, pulling him away. Fighting against them with every ounce of his strength, he screams, “Get the fuck off of me! We need to help her! No! What the fuck are you doing?”

“She’s gone, Hangman,” dozens of disembodied voices whisper in unison from the darkness behind him. “I’m so sorry, but there’s nothing else anyone can do for her now. It’s over. It’s been over for years. You failed. Just as you continue to fail every night.”

“No! I can save her! Please, let me save her this time!” Jake sobs as he continues to struggle against whatever is holding him back. “Please!”

But it’s no use. He’s not strong enough. As he is dragged farther and farther away, he sees you lift your head one last time, panic and pain etched across your face. You lock eyes with him and just have time to scream a terrified, “Jake!” before one of the creatures rips your throat out with its teeth—

Jake bolts upright with a deep gasp, only to immediately collapse back onto his mattress with a pitiful moan. He grabs his head as it throbs painfully with every beat of his racing heart and he squeezes his eyes together tightly in an attempt to stop the world from spinning around him. But it does little to help. His nearly naked body feels sticky and gross tangled in his soiled sheet and he wonders if it’s just sweat from the nightmare, or if he vomited in his sleep again. Maybe both…probably both.

At least he is fairly certain he hadn’t pissed himself this time if the intense pressure in his bladder is any indication. However, he doesn’t have the faintest desire to crawl to the bathroom so he’ll worry about those consequences later. Instead, he rolls over and tries to push your final agonized scream from his mind so he can go back to some semblance of sleep.

Just as he begins to pass out again, he hears the curtain hanging around his small space being pushed back and the toe of a boot digs into his side. Without opening his eyes, he swats at the foot, trying to shove it away. “‘uck off, Phe,” he mumbles somewhat coherently. “‘s too early.”

“Tell that to the rest of us who have already been awake for several hours,” Phoenix snaps, driving her boot deeper into Jake’s ribs. When he tries to roll away, she sighs, “Do we really have to do this every morning? I’m not your fucking babysitter. Get up! Bob and I need your help setting up the trap while the light’s in the right position.”

There is nothing in the world that Jake wants to do more than ignore her and go back to sleep. However, she’s right. They do go through this every morning and by now he has accepted the fact that he can not win this argument. So, reluctantly, he peels open his eyes and squints up at her.

Seeing that some progress is being made, Phoenix removes her boot from his side and takes a few steps back. In doing so, she almost slips on the drink Jake had spilled the night before. Looking around his small space, she shakes her head.

“Jesus, Hangman,” she grumbles as she kicks a few empty wine bottles out of the way, sending them clinking across the floor only to crash into piles of more. “How the hell are you still consistently finding this much alcohol? We’re barely finding enough food.”

Heaving himself up until he’s sitting on the edge of his mattress, Jake rests his head heavily in his hands as the world continues to spin around him. Still slurring slightly, he mutters, “‘s not enough. Two bottles a night aren’t helpin’ anymore. Nightmare’s back.”

“Yeah, well, we’ve all got our own nightmares that haunt us and you don’t see the rest of us pickling our livers to deal with it.” She hurls a half-empty backpack at him which smacks into the side of his head, nearly knocking over his unsteady form. “Now get your shit together and meet us out front in thirty minutes. We’ve got work to do.” She stomps out of his little alcove to give him some privacy but then pivots to add, “And for fuck’s sake, take a shower.”

Forty-five minutes later, Jake steps out of the shower stall, a thread-bare towel wrapped low on his hips. He shivers slightly as he pads across the cold tile floor towards the sinks. The water heater broke a few months ago and with no one left in their dwindling group who knew how to fix it, freezing showers had become the norm. While they should be grateful they even had any water at all, Jake can’t help but recall a time when a hot shower was the best part of his day.

A soft gasp leaves your lips as he presses his bare body against yours, pinning you to the cool tile wall. Your eyes sparkle in the muted light filtered through the shower curtain as you gaze hungrily at him. Warm water flows over his back as he sinks into you—

No. No memories. Not now. Not when he doesn’t have the luxury of going back to his “room” and drowning them in booze.

Instead, Jake quickly dresses, trying his best not to catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Half the time—when there is still enough lingering alcohol in his system—he sees your mangled corpse standing behind his reflection. The other half, he left staring at the shell of the man he had become. In some ways, that’s worse because he knows it would break your heart to see what losing you has done to him.

Even though sanitation supplies had only really become a scarcity in the last few months, Jake had given up the will for self-grooming long before that. The tangled beard covering his sunken cheeks is a clear indication of that as is the long greasy strands of hair hanging limply in front of the dark circles surrounding his bloodshot eyes. You had always preferred him clean-shaven and with shorter hair. But you were gone so he didn’t give a fuck.

Exiting the bathroom, Jake heads toward the front of the church. He averts his eyes as he passes the bulletin board that had been converted into a memorial shrine for those they had lost. He remembers the days when there had only been a few names and pictures up there. Now, the fallen takes up every inch of the board and spills out across the wall. Jake used to use the board as his motivation to keep fighting, to not let more names be added to the list. But now that it contains so many faces of the people he cared deeply for or respected—you, Coyote, Iceman, Cyclone, Payback—it has become a constant reminder of all the ways he failed.

Once, this rag-tag group of survivors who had dubbed themselves The Daggers had numbered in the dozens. But now, there are only a handful left. And with supplies and food dwindling quickly, there is no telling how long it’ll be before the rest of them earn a place on the board.

As he pushes his way through the church doors, Jake recoils as he is hit with the full brightness of the sunny day. His headache which had previously dulled slightly in the cold shower came rushing back with a vengeance. Groaning, he digs his sunglasses out of the backpack Phoenix had thrown him earlier and places them on his face. They were a cheap plastic pair Coyote had picked up for him on one of his runs to the pharmacy over a year ago, but they at least cut out some of the glare.

Phoenix is leaning against the fence with her arms folded across her chest, a scowl carved deep into her face. Now that most of those originally in charge were no longer with them, the title of leader had fallen on her shoulders. For the past few months, she had done everything in her power to hold the group together despite the increasingly dire conditions—and one jackass of a drunk who makes her life that much more difficult.

They were the best of the remaining survivors and had become the only real hope the Daggers had left. Yet they spent most of their days dragging Jake’s sorry ass around to ensure he didn’t drink himself to death.

Jake had been like them once: always stepping up when volunteers were needed, doing what he could to fix what was broken, protecting the people within their group. But he hadn’t been that person for the past two years. Not since he had watched you devoured before his eyes as he stood on these very steps.

It was that moment he tried desperately to avoid every night in his dreams. Reliving that day over and over again. Knowing all the moments he could have done something differently or acted faster that would have saved you yet being unable to change anything. Just forced to hear your agonizing final screams before catching his last glimpse of you whispering his name…

He needs to find more alcohol.

“About fucking time,” Phoenix mutters under her breath, pushing herself off the fence.

Bob shoots her a stern look, one that softens as he turns his attention to the new arrival. “Thanks for helping us out, Jake. We appreciate the extra hands.”

“Not like she gave me much of a choice,” Jake mutters under his breath. But seeing the way Bob’s shoulders slump at his words, he does his best to smile at him. “But I’m here now so let’s do this.”

Bob’s smile returns and he nods happily at the other man. As he turns to exit the churchyard, Phoenix shoots Jake another dirty look. He knows despite Bob’s insistence that she keeps dragging Jake along with them, she’s afraid Jake’ll screw up and cost her or Bob their lives. And it’s a fair concern. After all, it’s his fault Bob was almost killed the time his glasses were damaged. Jake had been drunk on patrol and hadn’t seen the creatures until it was almost too late to warn the rest of the team. While Bob never blamed him, Phoenix did. She tried to be as supportive as possible when Jake first began to spiral, but after the incident with Bob, she only tolerated his antics for the sake of her partner. Though not even she despised this version of Jake as much as Jake despised himself.

Jake knew what a failure and a screwup he had become. Yet as much as he wished he could pull himself together and become the man he used to be, he also knew that there was only one person who could help him do that.

But you were never coming back.

It’s amazing how much the world can change in such a short amount of time. In the three short years since the creatures first appeared, the center of town is now virtually unrecognizable. Vines and various foliage scale the sides of all the buildings. Cars are abandoned in the middle of the street, some with their doors still open as their passengers fled from them. Every window has been dark since the power grid failed. And without the constant upkeep, everything is starting to decay.

The warehouse is no exception. Once bustling and full of life, it has now is a shadow of its former self. With very few windows save those by the entrance and no interior lights left to brighten the space, the interior becomes a black hole after walking just a few feet into it. However due to a collapse in the roof, at certain times of the day, a single shaft of light shines all the way down to the ground floor creating a small illuminated circle on the floor.

It is in this small safe haven that Jake finds himself. Echos bounce off the walls of the cavernous space as he puts the finishing touches on the trap in front of him. Four months ago, a few survivors passing through had shared what they had discovered with The Daggers—a way to kill the creatures. Jake still doesn’t understand how it works, something to do with converting normal light into an artificial sunlight of sorts, but luckily there were those smarter than him around who understood and harnessed this knowledge into weapons. Since then, The Daggers had managed to take out a few of the creatures. However, they quickly learned that attacking the creatures in the large packs they usually hunted in resulted in costly casualties on both sides.

It was Phoenix’s brilliant idea to take the stealth approach instead of the head-on one. They began setting traps in the area using motion lights in the hopes of eliminating some of the creatures stalking near their hideout in the middle of the night when they were at their most active. So far, they have had promising results.

Jake is almost done setting this trap. Then he can test it and use his flashlight to get himself from this shaft of light back outside. Hopefully, he’ll then have time to sneak off to try to find more alcohol before Phoenix and Bob return for him. He hasn’t checked the houses a few blocks to the east yet and maybe—

“Jake…”

Jake’s head snaps up as his heart freezes in his chest, the trap instantly forgotten. His eyes dart around the room searching for the source of the sound. But there’s no one else there. He’s alone…he’s always alone.

Yet, just as he begins to return to his job at hand, he sees something. Squinting, he peers deeper into the heart of the building and just makes out the faint outline of a single figure within the darkness.

Instincts kicking in, Jake draws his knife from his boot and drops into a defensive stance in the center of the beam of light, waiting for the attack he knows is coming. His eyes flicker around the space, searching the darkness for signs of the rest of the swarm, yet for now all he can see is the one in front of him. But he knows that can’t be it. The creatures hunt in groups, using their numbers to overwhelm and incapacitate their victims so escape is nigh on impossible. The only few loners they had come across over the years were ones that had been injured or were too malnourished to contribute to the next hunt.

But the figure standing before Jake doesn’t seem injured or blood-crazed. It stands straight and still, completely unmoving. For several moments, nothing happens. Though still cautious, Jake begins to relax his stance a little, wondering if his eyes or mind is just playing tricks on him.

But then, a voice cuts through the silence. “I was three blocks away when I caught your scent. I don’t know how, but I immediately knew it was you.”

The knife slips from Jake’s fingers, the clatter of metal on tile echoing around the cavernous room. The voice that he had not heard outside of his dreams for the past two years punches him in the chest, nearly bringing him to his knees as tears welled up in his eyes. “B-baby?”

There is a pause before the voice continues, unemotional and flat. “I should have bolted in any other direction, put as much space between us as possible but…I couldn’t. I’m selfish enough that I had to risk seeing you one last time.”

“Oh my god,” Jake breathes. “It’s really you.”

He takes a few stumbling steps towards the figure—towards you—but you draw back further into the shadows. “No! Stop! Stay in the light.” There is a panicked edge in your tone, the first sign of emotion you have let slip in, and it is enough to make Jake listen.

As much as he longs to launch himself into your arms, he reluctantly does what you ask. He lingers just shy of the darkness, the toes of his boots resting at the point where the last of the sunbeams fade on the tiles.

“How are you here?” he asks, his voice breaking.

“You know how.”

He did. It was a fear that had nestled in the back of his mind these past two years that he didn’t dare consider. Whether that was out of the fear of falling into despair or building up false hope, he didn’t know. But he had never let himself imagine this moment and, now that it was happening, he didn’t know what to do.

Swallowing the lump forming in his throat, he says, “You said you caught my scent…Do I smell as sexy as you remember?”

A surprised snort of laughter echoes throughout the room as you are taken aback by his question. But when you speak, he hears tears in your voice, “Yeah, Jake. As sexy as always.”

Whatever cold, distant shell you had put in place when you first arrived crumbled and Jake can now hear the real you behind the words. Swallowing, he murmurs, “Please…let me see you.”

Your outline shifts in the darkness. “I-I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Please, baby. For the last two years, all I could see was that last memory of you. I need this.”

“No. Seeing me like this is not going to be any better than seeing me like that. I’ve changed.”

“So have I. But I love you and I’ll still love you no matter what.”

For a moment, there is only silence. Then you whisper, “Step to the other side of the light.”

Jake immediately scrambles backward, almost falling as he stumbles over the long-forgotten trap. But he makes it to the outer rim of the circle of light and waits.

Slowly, your shape edges closer to the light. At first, Jake still can’t make out any details of the person in front of him. But when he does, his heart clenches in his chest.

There is no denying that it is the woman he loves standing before him but yet it’s not the you he remembers. Your skin has been drained of its color and now resembles that of a corpse, cold and lifeless. Sharp, pointed teeth jut out your mouth over bloodless lips and your fingers end in claw-like talons. You are still wearing the same clothes you had on the day you were attacked but they are shredded and stiff with dried blood in various colors ranging from bright red to rusty-brown. Jake wonders how much of it is yours and how much is your victims.

Any lingering doubt he had about how you are here, any sliver of hope you had escaped your fate, is shattered instantly. This isn’t a miracle. It is a nightmare, a curse.

But based on the gasp that escapes your trembling lips, you must be thinking the same thing as you get a good look at the man he has become.

“I’m still here, aren’t I?” Jake snaps. But then he wilts under the weight of your gaze. Scrubbing his hand over his face, he whispers, “I almost ended it—a few times. Drugs, booze, even thought I’d take my nickname literally. Made a noose and everything. But the thing that always stopped me was that promise. So, yeah, I–I’ve been a bit of a mess since you—” he gestures at your transformed self “—and I’m sorry. I tried to be strong but losing you was the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. We were supposed to face this hellscape together and I didn’t know how to cope without you so I let myself become someone that I hate. But now that you’re back—”

“I’m not back, Jake. That’s not why—” You shake your head, letting your hands drop. “I shouldn’t be here. This was a mistake and I never should have come. I should have just let you think I was dead. I-I have to go.”

“No! Please–” As Jake takes a few steps across the circle of light, you cower back, retreating further into the darkness.

“Stop!” There is a pained quiver in your voice. “I’m barely controlling myself as it is. If you get closer…I can’t hurt you, Jake. I can’t. But I know if you get any closer, I will and there’ll be nothing I can do to stop it.”

Jake shakes his head. “No. I don’t believe it. You would never hurt me.”

“You don’t get it. It’s not a choice, it’s an undeniable force. It’s hard enough to control myself when I’m fully satiated, but I haven’t fed in almost a week. Your blood—” You squeeze your eyes closed tightly. When you open them again, they have darkened significantly. There is still some color in them, not the pitch-black orbs Jake is used to seeing when the creatures were attacking, but the change still makes him inhale sharply. “The venom doesn’t just turn us into these…these things. It drives us to hunt, to kill. And that need is neverending.”

It breaks Jake’s heart to hear the pain in your voice and he can’t imagine what you’ve been dealing with the past two years. However, as much as it horrifies him, he also wants to know more. “Wh-what does it feel like?”

Jake shakes his head with a firm set in his jaw. “No. I don't believe that. It's still you. Why else would you have looked for me? The woman I love is still here and she needed to see me just as much as I needed to see her.”

“Jake–”

“It’s not that simple—”

“Yes, it is.”

“Jake, stop—”

“No. Not until you believe that—”

“I've killed Daggers.”

Your admission hangs like a dense fog between you. Obviously, Jake had realized what being turned into a creature meant for your feeding habits, but he had been trying not to focus on that. However, now faced with the truth, Jake suddenly connects a few horrifying dots in his head.

He swallows before asking, “Coyote?”

Last year, he had gotten there just a moment too late. There was nothing he could do but watch as what was left of his best friend was ripped apart by a mass of creatures. But then, just for a second before Fanboy grabbed his arm and pulled him away, he caught a flash of one of the creatures and he could have sworn…

Your eyes widen, clearly not expecting him to know that, but you nod slightly. Then, in a small voice, say, “And Rooster.”

“Roo….Rooster?” The truth about Coyote had been painful, yet regardless of who killed him, Jake had come to terms with his best friend’s death months ago. But Rooster…

He had left the group a few weeks ago after hearing a rumor of someone sounding suspiciously similar to his godfather leading another group out in the desert. They all knew it was dangerous but if anyone could make it, it would have been Rooster. Yet if what you said was true…

“I never wanted you to find out.” Tears begin to stream down your cheeks, thick, black goo that leaves streaks in their wake. “I tried to stop myself but I couldn't. Coyote was already being attacked when I found him and the blood…this thing took over. And the worst part was he…he recognized me just before I tore his throat out. There was this mix of elation I was ‘alive’ and horror at what I had become. I still see it when I close my eyes. With Rooster it was different. I was alone when I found him. We’ve been starving since you found a way to destroy us and I needed blood so badly. He was dead before he even knew I was there.”

“Jake…I…” Your voice is brimming with tears as Jake sees your feet take one hesitant step closer to him. But then, you stop.

For a moment, there is only the sound of his soft cries echoing through the empty space. However, when you finally speak again, your voice has more of the defiance and strength he loves most about you. “You don’t understand what it’s like. When I slip into a frenzy, nothing in this world exists except for blood. Faces…names…past relationships…none of it means anything at that moment. All that’s left is the pure animalistic need to feed. It’s only after I’ve been sated that I come back, that I can remember what happened or what I did. Standing over what’s left of a person, realizing I’m to blame, knowing I’ve murdered them or I’ve forced them to become a monster just like me. I couldn’t stop myself from killing Coyote and Rooster, but I made sure neither of them could turn. They may not have deserved their deaths, but more than that, they didn’t deserve this afterlife. It was the least I could do for them. And I’m sorry it wasn’t more.”

“Please…” Jake breathes, the weight of the past two years pressing down on him. “Please let me hold you.”

“W-what?” Based on the utter shock in your voice, that is not what you were expecting him to say.

It takes everything in him, but Jake lifts his eyes so they meet yours. “Baby, I need you in my arms again. To feel you, touch you, prove this is real. I have dreamed about you every night for two years. Horrible, bloody nightmares that have destroyed my life. I need you to chase those nightmares away.”

“Jake, have you not heard a word I’ve said? I’ve killed our friends and I’ll kill you too. Or worse, I’ll turn you.”

“I want you to,” he whispers.

“Jake!” Normally when discussions became this heated between you and you resorted to that sharp tone, your chest would be heaving as you became worked up. Yet this time, your heart isn’t beating and your lungs aren’t huffing air so it remains deathly still. “I can’t do that to you. I won’t condemn you to this life.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“You’ve made it pretty clear. But I’m willing to bear the pain, the…the consequences of this choice if it means I can be with you. So, please, don’t make me spend one more second without you. Either kill me or turn me, but I can’t do this anymore.”

You stare at him for a long time, your darkened eyes not giving any hint as to what you are thinking. Then, slowly, you nod. “I don’t want to kill you or turn you, but I need you too. I think…I think I always knew when I came here that this is how it would go and I’m so sorry I wasn’t strong enough to stay away.”

“I’m so glad you didn’t.” Jake opens his arms, still kneeling on the floor. “Come here, baby.”

With stilted, hesitant steps, you begin to walk towards him. You balk a little as you get closer, fighting against the instinct to avoid the sunlight, but Jake is far enough in the shadows that you can reach him without crossing into the light. Slowly, you lower yourself to your knees in front of him and reach out.

However, you apparently don’t share the same outlook. Your entire body goes rigid beneath him, every muscle tensing as he draws you in. He can feel you begin to tremble as an animalistic growl rumbles in your chest.

“Ja—I can’t—Let me go. Don’t wanna hurt—” You manage to choke the words out through a clamped-shut jaw. As your eyes turn completely black, your teeth begin to grow longer until they resemble true fangs. Several poke through your lips as you press your mouth firmly closed. You are still trying to save him despite everything.

Squeezing you tighter, Jake mutters, “No. It’s okay, baby. I want this. Just let go.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, black tears falling on his chest. “I’ll be as gentle as I can.”

And you sink your fangs into his neck.

Living up to your promise, there is only a small sting as your teeth break his skin. However, in seconds, your venom enters his bloodstream and Jake tries to jerk away from the searing pain. However, your clawed hand clamps firmly on his shoulder, forcing him to remain in place. The venom spreads throughout his system until every cell in his body is screaming out in agony. He wants to black out but his body won’t let him. The change is already occurring and he is being forced to be conscious for every last second of his human life.

As you drink, small sounds begin slipping out between your lips, reverberating against Jake’s skin. Soft moans and gasps that have Jake flashing back to all those times you were beneath him as he drove you closer and closer to the edge. And for just a second, he can bear the pain knowing he is giving you some semblance of pleasure.

However as a vice of white-hot agony squeezes around his lungs and heart, Jake begins to jerk in your grasp as he begins to suffocate. Feeling his distress, you slide your teeth out of his neck and press your blood-soaked lips to the wound. Running your hand through his hair, you coo, “It’s okay, baby. It’s almost over now. I can already taste the change beginning in your blood. But this next part is the worst. Fighting it just makes it harder. Try to relax and let it happen. And I’m right here, my love, forever.” Then you sink your teeth back into his neck.

The choking suffocating feeling only intensifies, but against every self-preservation instinct in Jake’s body, he tries to listen to your advice and just gives in. Closing his eyes, he begins to slip into a sort of meditative state. While the pain or pressure doesn’t lessen, the panic and tension ease slightly. And even once he feels his heart take its last beat and his lungs go still, he tries to remain in this headspace until you are finished.

He isn’t sure how long he is kneeling there before—

“No…”

But Phoenix just stares at the pair of reunited lovers, her jaw set tightly. And Jake knows she understands. Phoenix always understands.

Jake is weak from blood loss and pain, but he manages the slightest of nods. Lifting two fingers to her forehead, Phoenix gives Jake a small salute in return.

Then she raises her flashlight.

As the beam of light strikes your shoulder, your mouth instantly disappears from Jake’s throat with an agonized hiss as you try to flee from the pain. But using what strength he has left, Jake holds you in place.

The betrayal on your face as you turn to look at him almost outweighs the pain. Jake knows you must think this was a trick, that he must have been stalling you all along just for this moment. Yet, he had meant every word he said.

Smiling as every cell in his body begins to burn differently from before, he whispers, “Together.” And he holds up his hand which is cracking and disintegrating in the light just like yours.

Though still pained, your face softens as you realize what he is doing. Transformation or death, those had been his choices. However, it turns out it wasn’t an “or” but an “and”.

Reaching out, you link your fingers with his, your skin flaky and fragile in his grasp. You snuggle your head against the unbitten crook of his neck, whimpering slightly as the light does its job, and you whisper back, “Together.”

Jake wraps his other arm around you and holds you close, silently vowing to never let go again.

The last thing he sees before his world slips away is the strangely beautiful swirl of particles of your two disintegrating bodies intermingling in the beam of sunlight.

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