#blooming-violets

[blooming-violets]

[tasm!peter x nameless she/her character] 

Summary: Unrequited love, heartbreak, and fear of the unknown. Every relationship can be seen through two different sets of eyes. Peter has his own memories of his best friend, his own story to share, and his own mistakes to make. (10K words) 

[The parallel fic to Dancing On My Own, please read that one first as this  heavily weaves through the original story, some parts towards the end might not make complete sense without it]

Warnings: Gwen’s death is a key part of Peter’s later personality, angst, depression, losing of one’s sense of self, mild PTSD flashbacks, guilt and self hatred, familial physical and verbal abuse of a minor, descriptions of potentially disturbing rough sex scenes bordering on the line between abuse and consent at the hands of Peter, brief murderous intent of a woman during sex 

[Dancing On My Own Spotify Playlist]

Second Grade: Over the Bar 

There was something so enticing about the way she would throw her head back on the swings. Her hair would flow out behind her and catch in the wind. She would lean her entire body back with her legs out straight. Her eyes would close and her face would relax into a blissful serenity. She was flying. He knew that’s what she imagined inside her mind whenever she got on the swings. Flying away from everything that shackled her to the real world. Once she told him that when she got high enough, she was going to let go, and soar all the way to Norway to visit the trolls that lived there. He wasn’t sure if trolls were real or imaginary but she believed in them so that meant Peter did too. She always loved her fantasy stories and he never got tired of listening to her talk about them.

Peter was afraid of her flying off without him. He didn’t want her to leave him behind so he climbed onto the adjacent swing. He backed up and tried to match his swinging pace with hers. He longed to be right by her side as she flew but, every time, they’d fall out of sync with each other. Peter could never keep up. She was too fast. Already higher than he was.

“Do you think I can swing around the bar?” She asked him. Her eyes opened and she gave him a lopsided smile every time their swings passed each other. Her two front teeth were missing. He thought it was funny because they hadn’t even been wiggly the day before they fell out. She told him that the tooth fairy stole them straight out of her mouth in the middle of the night. He didn’t think that was very fair. He always had to be stuck with an annoying, wiggly tooth for days before it came out. Hers got to come out by magic overnight. Apparently teeth coming out by magic also made her top lip get all swollen and bruised. It looked like it might hurt but she never complained. 

Peter nodded his head, admiring her toothless smile, “Of course! You can do anything.” It was true. He really believed she could do anything she wanted. He held her in such high regards. His best friend. His only friend. 

“Okay! Let’s try it.”

They both pumped their legs a little harder and moved their bodies in motion with the swings to get up as high as they could. Peter could feel the flurry of nerves in his stomach the higher he got. The slack in the chain would loosen at a certain height and gravity would pull him back down again. His knuckles were white with the death grip he had on the chains, so afraid that if he let go he’d fall and hurt himself. Meanwhile, she continued to toss her head back and laugh with a wild abandon. This is where she felt the most free and this was where he fell in love. 

She never made it over the bar.

Fourth Grade: The Broken Princess 

It had been a week since she was in school. Peter missed her. He’d wander aimlessly around the playground at recess, kicking stones, and making up conversations in his head that he’d have with her. Sometimes he’d forget they were supposed to stay in his head and he’d find himself talking out loud to no one. The other kids would mock him whenever they caught him mouthing the words to an imaginary conversation. Nerdy Peter Parker and his girlfriend were always the butt of their jokes. They sneered at the word “girlfriend” as if that was a bad thing. He’d have to control his anger when he heard them laughing. It was okay if they were laughing at him but he hated when they made fun of her. He had promised Aunt May and Uncle Ben that he wouldn’t get into any more fights. It was becoming a hard promise to keep. 

She was notorious for being absent from school but she’d never been out this long. He wondered what kind of sickness she had. She must be dying. That was the only explanation he could think of. She would die just like his parents had and he’d be all alone again. He decided that after school, he was going to go to her house to check. He’d never been inside her apartment building. She’d always come to play at his if they hung out. Uncle Ben had dropped her off at home before so Peter knew where it was. It shouldn’t be too hard to get there. He’d have to learn how to use the subway by himself eventually. This afternoon would be as good a time as any. He’d done it with Ben hundreds of times, he could figure it out on his own. 

By the time school was over, Peter had already rushed through his homework and burst through his front door, tossing his bag on the ground and shouting for May. 

She poked her head out of the kitchen and gave him a warm smile, “How was school?”

“I already did my homework!” He was out of breath from running all the way home. “Can I go out to play? I want to go to the skate park.” That was a lie. He didn’t like lying but sometimes it was necessary. 

May gave a little shrug and nodded, “I don’t see why not. I trust that you actually finished all your homework and aren’t lying to me?”

He eagerly nodded.

She gave him a doubtful look but let it slide, “Be home by 6, that’s when your uncle gets off work. We’re having meatball subs for dinner.” 

“Thank you! Love you! Bye!” He sprinted towards the front door.

“Peter!” She called after him. 

He skidded to a stop and poked his head back around the corner into the kitchen, “What?” 

May pointed her finger to his brand new skateboard sitting propped up against the living room couch, “Aren’t you forgetting something important for the skate park?” 

His face flushed crimson, already having forgotten his cover story, “Oh ya. Can’t do much without that.” 

“And bring a helmet, for heaven's sake. If I catch you riding that death trap without one, you will be in big trouble!”

-

Peter stood in front of her old, rundown apartment building. Her neighborhood scared him. It felt different when he was walking alone instead of sitting in the back of Uncle Ben’s car. He had kept his head down, the helmet dangling from his arm, and clutched his skateboard close to his chest. He was terrified of someone trying to steal it from him. The second he stepped out of the subway, he started to regret coming here. If Ben found out he lied to May about where he was going, Peter would be grounded for the rest of his life. Worse than that, he would have disappointed them. He never wanted to disappoint anyone. 

The front door to the building was propped open with a cinder block so he didn’t have to ring her unit to get inside. There was a hole shattered through the glass that resembled too similarly to a bullet hole for his liking. Peter shivered at the thought of his friend living here. This was not the fairy tale castle she liked to pretend she lived in. 

Peter quietly entered inside, his heart beating faster, like he was stepping into someplace he wasn’t allowed. The yellowed wallpaper was peeling off the walls and there were dark stains over the carpet. He didn’t want to inspect those too closely in case they were old blood stains. The air smelled thick with mildew. First floor, apartment 1F, he repeated in his head. Her wooden door was cracked with splinters. It looked like it had been painted a shade of a deep red once but was now faded and scuffed. He gave a quick knock, hoping it would be her who answered. 

It took a few moments before a man opened the door. He towered over Peter, taking up most of the door frame. He had a large, hairy pot belly that stuck out from under his wife beater shirt and a scraggly brown beard peppered with grays. Peter scrunched up his nose at the smell that hit him. He smelled heavily of cigarettes, sweat, and alcohol. The scent was so strong it was making his eyes water. He was fairly certain this must be her father. He couldn’t remember if she ever told him her dad’s name. 

“What do you want?” He spoke in a gruff, tired voice. 

Peter straightened up and smiled at him to cover his anxious fear, “Hi, I’m Peter. Can I come in to see your daughter? I’m her best friend. She hasn’t been at school for a while so I thought I could give her some homework that she missed.” The lie fell out of his mouth without thinking. He had nothing else on him besides his skateboard and helmet. It was obvious he wasn’t carrying any extra homework with him. 

Her father snorted, letting out a loud cough without covering his mouth. Specs of foul smelling spit showered down over Peter. He did his best not to flinch or grimace.

“Hell no. She knows she’s not allowed to hang out with boys. Don’t want her getting knocked up early like her momma. She don’t need no homework, anyway. She’s too dumb for that shit. What’s the point of even sendin��� her to school, ya know? Waste of damn time. Git outta ‘ere kid and don’t fucking come back.”

From under the man’s right arm, Peter saw her peek her head around the hallway to see who was at the door. Her eyes lit up when she saw him. On her arm was a large, bent, white cast that went from her wrist all the way up to her shoulder. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her. She was alive. She wasn’t dead. Relief flooded through his chest. 

Her father must have seen his attention diverted and he glanced behind him, letting out a booming yell, making them both jump, “Get back to your room! I didn’t say you could come out! When are you goin’ to learn to fuckin’ listen, you dumb bitch?” 

She ducked back into the hallway, out of sight, and the door was immediately slammed shut in Peter’s face. He stared at the cracking paint as a long breath of air exhaled through his lips. He hadn’t realized he had been holding his breath the entire time. Something about her dad made his palms feel clammy and his stomach feel sick. He immediately hated that man. All it took was a fifty second conversation for Peter to make up his mind. That man wasn’t anything like Uncle Ben or the vague memories of his own father. That was a bad man. No one had to tell him, he could feel it. A very bad man. 

He wanted to run home and cry to his uncle. He wanted to tell him about how this man spoke to his friend. He wanted to tell him that he was hurting her. He wanted Ben to know so he could fix it. 

But then he would know that Peter lied to May. He would be in trouble. 

What if Uncle Ben came to this house? What if he met her father? What would her father do to him? What if he hurt him like he hurt her? What if he killed him? He didn’t want Ben to die. 

His stomach ached. 

She liked to make up stories about the big, bad giant that would keep the princess hostage in his tower. He would lock her up and throw away the key. Sometimes the giant would hurt the princess whenever he was angry. Peter would always play as the knight who came and rescued her. He would save the princess from any giant that wanted to take her away. This afternoon, as he stood staring at her closed door, the skateboard clutched in his hands turned into a sword. He would bash down the door, stab the giant through the heart, and steal his princess back to safety. In his mind, he was the hero who saved her. In reality, he swallowed the lump in his throat, a heavy pit settling in his stomach, and he shuffled back out the door without another word about what he witnessed. 

He was starting to think that maybe her stories weren’t all make believe after all.

Sixth Grade: Star Gazing

“That’s the Big Dipper right there!” She pointed up above them.

They were sitting in his driveway on the hood of Uncle Ben's mustard colored Oldsmobile and reclining back against his bug splattered windshield. Night had fallen around them and a handful of dull stars blossomed up to speckle the navy blue sky. 

“Or maybe it’s the Little Dipper. I can never remember which one is which.” 

Peter didn’t think there were actually enough stars visible to be able to point out a constellation but he didn’t dare correct her. For all he knew, her vision was far superior to his. Besides, he liked to hear her talk. She doesn't talk very much these days. He missed the sound of her voice. 

“The Big Dipper isn’t even the full constellation,” she went on to tell him. “It’s actually part of Ursa Major, which is a big bear.” 

He noticed her interest in the stars had peeked this year. He wondered if it had anything to do with her desire to fly away. When she looked up in the night sky, did she wish to find a new home hidden amongst the stars? 

Peter wanted to please her. He wanted to make her happy. 

“I have an idea,” he whispered with enthusiasm, hoping she would appreciate it. “Let’s each pick a star and name it after ourselves. We can make our own constellations out of it.” 

He heard her give a quick inhale. It was the most excitement she would allow herself to show but he knew it meant that she loved his idea. Pride swelled in his chest. 

“I choose that one,” she pointed, without hesitation, up to a pin prick of light hovering above a tree branch. There weren’t many stars to choose from but it didn’t matter. She found the one she wanted. “That’s my star. It’s the tip of the nose to a dragon. Big and strong. She blows fire out of her mouth at anyone who tries to mess with her. She’s not afraid of anything or anyone.” 

Peter had the sudden itch to reach over and hold her hand. The tip of his pinky finger brushed up next to hers, subtle enough to seem like an accident, but he knew the truth. When she didn’t pull away, he kept his hand resting there.

“I’ll pick that one,” he gestured to a random, faint star near the one she chose, with the hand not begging to be held. “It will make a castle constellation. Big enough for the dragon to come inside whenever she needs to rest. Maybe it can be her home. That way me and you can live together in the stars forever.” 

From the corner of his eye, he saw her smile. 

“I like that idea.”

Seventh Grade: Cotton Candy Crushes 

“Hurry up!” Peter yelled over his shoulder as she trailed behind him. 

Her thirteenth birthday was supposed to be special. She was finally a teenager and leaving childhood behind. At least, that’s what Uncle Ben told him a month before on Peter’s own thirteenth birthday. It was supposed to be special because it meant they were finally growing up. He didn’t feel very grown up but he liked to pretend. Part of pretending to be a responsible teenager was planning her entire party for her. He knew if he didn’t do it then she wouldn’t get one. Both his aunt and uncle were in attendance as he led the three stragglers down the pier straight towards Coney Island. It was a small group to celebrate but he knew she wouldn’t want anyone else beside them there. His family was her family and everyone wanted to celebrate her. They didn’t have any other friends anyway. 

“We’re coming, Peter! Not everyone has the same amount of energy as you. Some of us are getting old,” Ben chuckled, his arm wrapped around May’s shoulders, as they brought up the rear. 

Peter slowed his pace only long enough to allow her to catch up and then kept in stride beside her. She had a growth spurt earlier this year. Now she was about a head taller than he was. It made him nervous because he was afraid she wouldn’t like him anymore if he stayed short. Despite his aunt’s assurance that girls often started puberty faster than boys, he was certain he was destined to stay at this height forever. 

He also took notice that she started growing in other places. He tried his best not to stare at her chest when they were together but sometimes he couldn’t help it. It was like he would go into a trance and not be able to pull his eyes away. Even with a face full of acne, she was the most beautiful girl he ever saw. 

She glanced down at him and stuffed her hands deeper into her sweatshirt sleeves. Her shoulders hunched in embarrassment. 

“What? Is there something on my face?” She quickly rubbed her hand over her mouth as if she was worried she missed some leftover tooth paste. 

Peter’s ears turned red, “No! You look great! I mean…you look fine…not fine but you look…normal…like you normally do…which is good…” 

She grabbed her hood and flopped it over her head, pulling the strings tight to encase her face, clearly embarrassed, “Stop looking at me then. I didn’t say you could look at me.” 

He immediately turned his eyes straight ahead, “Sorry. I wasn’t looking. Well, I was, but I don’t know why.” He quickly changed the subject, dragging Ben into the awkward conversation as an attempt to save himself from drowning any further. “Are you going to go on any rides, Uncle Ben?” 

He smiled, “I think I might convince your aunt to get on the carousel with me. We can pretend we’re kids again.” 

May shook her head, “I don’t know about that. I don’t think I can spin like I used to.” 

“It goes so slow though. You’ll be fine,” Peter chimed in. As he spoke, he kept his friend locked in the side of his gaze. Her shoulders had relaxed once more and the sides of her lips twitched into a tiny smile. He let out a soft sigh of relief for navigating them out of whatever weird, uncomfortable banter they had fallen to. He felt like that was happening a lot more lately. 

“Let’s go on the swings first!” It was the real reason he wanted to bring her here. Her childhood days of losing herself on the swingset were behind them but he knew she would appreciate that feeling of flying once more. He had this vision of her tilting her head back, hair flying in the gust of the wind behind her, as she closed her eyes and let her mind fly free. Peter wanted to give her every bit of comfort he could, especially today. It was her birthday and she deserved to get lost in it. 

Swings, carousels, tilt-a-whirl, wooden coasters, overpriced carnival games, junk food, and many laughs. 

His heart even nearly gave out when she reached for his hand during the drop of the coaster. Her palms were sweaty and she fit so nicely locked in his grasp. He wanted to protect her. Wrap an arm around her. Keep her forever. Tell her how much he adored her. He held on tightly to her hand until she took notice and quickly pulled back, placing them on the bar instead. 

Now, as they sat with their shoes off and feet buried in the sand next to the pier, watching the sunset, Peter passed her his stick of pink, fluffy cotton candy. She plucked off a piece and stuffed it in her mouth, giggling at how it stuck to her lips. 

He loved her. He didn’t care if he was too young to understand what love meant. He loved her. 

When she took her eyes off the sunset to stare back at him, instead of becoming flustered like earlier in the day, she only smiled back. Pink coated, sugary lips as sweet as her. 

He wanted to kiss her. 

But the fear of rejection was too strong. 

He stuck out his tongue to tease her and snatched back his cotton candy, the moment lost to time.

High School - Sophomore Year: Not Today

Gwen Stacey. 

The girl of his dreams. 

She was beautiful, intelligent, kind and quick witted. Her 70’s chic style of clothing was unlike anyone else in the school. She didn’t care what others thought of her. She was strong and confident. She was perfect. That’s how he would describe her to anyone who asked. Perfection. 

“You’re staring again, dumbass.” 

The familiar snarky tone broke through his daydreams. 

He pulled his sights away from the golden haired beauty sitting across the lunch room and turned them onto a different one instead. 

Then there was her. 

She wasn’t perfect. Far from it. She was broken. Sullen. Quiet. She never spoke to anyone else besides him. Never even tried to make other friends. But she was just as intelligent as Gwen. Smart but sad. He noticed that more and more. As the years went on, she lost more of the spark in her eyes. She retreated further into herself. Away from him. Away from everyone. 

He sensed jealousy in her tone whenever he talked about his crush on Gwen. She was afraid to lose him. Afraid that he would leave her behind on her own. Without him, she would have no one. He knew that. 

Peter forced a tired smile, lying, “I wasn’t staring.” 

He used to stare at her that way when they were younger. Funny how time works. He didn’t see her like that anymore. Not really. Her personality shift since entering high school helped push his sights onto someone new. He missed who used to be before she walled herself in and blocked him out. 

“Whatever you say, fuckin’ lover boy,” she rolled her eyes, giving him a scowl. She felt meaner than usual today. Irritated. On edge.

He wondered if something had happened. He had stopped asking about her home life years ago. It was a lost cause. He knew she was getting bullied at school, probably at home too. There were a myriad of reasons for her bad attitude. 

He chose not to dig deeper. 

She needed an outlet but he didn’t want to give her one. Not today. He was feeling meaner than usual, too. 

Peter turned his gaze back to Gwen. 

She was easier to look at. Softer. Happier. When he saw her, he didn’t have to see the years worth of baggage dragging behind her. There was just her and nothing else but his fantasies. 

Perfection.

High School - Junior Year: Spider Bite

His body hurt. 

Fire. He felt like liquid lava raged through his veins. His skin was clammy. Sweaty. His lungs constricted in agony with each breath. He could hear everything. Feel everything. Every hair was standing at attention. Every alarm in his head set off at once, alerting himself to dangers he couldn’t even see. Dangers he didn’t think were actually even there. Like having a panic attack for no apparent reason. 

His body was eating him alive and, yet, he never felt stronger in his life. 

The door to his bathroom lay propped up against his wall after he had accidentally ripped it from the hinges. 

He sat perfectly still on his bed. Terrified to move. 

There was a fluttering sound. Tiny, soft wings against a glass panel. Each smack of the wings reverberated like church bells inside his skull. A moth was stuck inside his room, trying to get out, trying to escape. He could hear it from his place on the bed. He could hear the flap of a moth’s wings. That was not normal. 

Something was wrong. 

He was sick. 

He needed…a doctor…a scientist…an arachnologist…

His best friend. He needed his best friend. 

Peter grabbed his jacket, getting it stuck to his fingers - why was everything so sticky? - as he tried to pry it from his grasp and onto his body instead. 

He hadn’t been inside her apartment building since he was a kid. She never invited him. Sometimes he would walk her home but he stayed on the street corner until he saw her disappear inside. She moved apartments a few times but still remained inside the same building. He couldn’t remember which one she was in now. He knew she was back on the first floor though. That would be enough. Something told him that he would be able to find her regardless of his lack of knowledge. 

Every sound of passing cars felt like his ear drums were being shattered. He could hear muffled conversations from people too far away. He could feel every drop of humidity on his skin. The putrid stench of garbage left on the street clawed up his nostrils. The smells, the sounds, the heat boiling inside his body was too much. Hot tears pricked at his eyes. He didn’t understand what was happening to him. The world was closing in. He couldn’t breathe. His throat constricted. His vision blurred. He was floating away. Getting lost in the overwhelming sensations of the city. 

Then he smelled it. 

Her body lotion. 

The faint smell of coconut as she applied it to her skin. 

From an entire block away. 

Peter picked up the pace until he was nearly sprinting towards the smell. He didn’t need to know which apartment was hers. It didn’t matter. He could hear her inside. Her steady heart beat. Her soft breaths. He’d never felt her so viscerally before. It felt like she was merging with his every cell. Drawing him closer. Calling him to her. 

His safety. Everything would be okay once he was with her. Everything would make sense again. She would know what to do. She always did. 

The tears streamed freely down his face as he turned the corner, down the alley, to the back of her building. She was three windows in. Metal bars fixed over every window on the first floor. Her own little prison cell. He could smell the thick odor of rust as he grabbed the bars in his fist, ripping them straight from her window with little effort. He heard her gasp. No screams. Just a shocked inhale. She never screamed. Never showed her fear. She kept it bottled up inside the safety of her chest. 

The rapid quiver of her beating heart slowed when she saw his face appear through the grimy glass. Her eyes were wide with shock. Confusion. He didn’t care. Peter pushed the window open. It had probably never been opened in its life, painted over countless times, but he forced it to bend to his will. He crawled through. Head first. Tumbled onto the floor in a heap. 

And then she was there. 

He was lying at her feet. Curled up tight. Tears spilling down his flushed cheeks. Jittery uncertainty behind fearful, honey colored eyes. He didn’t understand what was happening to him. A scared, little boy seeking the comfort of a life long friend. 

She fell to her knees in front of him, ignoring the fact that he had just ripped metal bars from the bricks, and gathered him to her chest like a mother protecting her young. She didn’t need to know what was wrong. She didn’t need an explanation. All she knew was that he needed her. She held him tightly, there on the floor, under her broken window. 

He relaxed into the safety of her grasp. Ragged, husky sobs shaking his body. It would be okay. Everything would be okay now. They could figure this out. Whatever this was. Together. 

Even as he thought it, she whispered the words to reassure him. To make sure he knew.

“It’s okay, Pete. I’ve got you. You’re safe. You’re okay. I have you.”

A Week Before She Left: Nothing but Death

Gwen Stacy was dead. 

George Stacy was dead. 

Uncle Ben was dead. 

He couldn’t save anyone. There was nothing. Nothing but grief. Nothing but hate. His heart had turned cold. Empty. Shriveled. 

He looked down at the letter clutched in his hands. May had taken it from her as an act of courtesy and slid it under his bedroom door. 

Pete, 

You can find me at the Empire State Uni off campus apartment housing. Building 5. Room 212. I’ve got two roommates but I have my own bedroom. 

My window will always be unlocked for you if you ever need me.

Come find me when you’re ready.

Love,

Your Fire Breathing Dragon

She kept knocking at his front door. Day after day. Kept trying to come inside. Kept trying to get him. He wouldn’t let her. Couldn’t. He refused to let anyone else die. 

He was no knight in shining armor riding into an imaginary battle with his dragon. He wasn’t someone who could save her. He wasn’t her friend. Not anymore. The boy she knew was gone. 

He was a murderer. A killer. 

He wouldn’t kill her. The best thing for her was for him to disappear. Erase himself from her life. Fade away in the darkness where he belonged. 

He crumbled the letter in his fist, letting it fall to the floor by his feet, along with the shredded dreams of his future.

Eight Months Since She Left: A Decaying Corpse 

How many slutty blondes could Peter Parker fuck in a single week? 

Eleven. That was his current score. Last night he had two at once. He buried his face between one’s thighs while the other sucked him off. No one tasted as good as Gwen. No one looked as beautiful naked. No one could ever come close. 

Except for maybe one. 

Peter pushed that thought out of his brain as quickly as it entered. She was gone. They both were. She died along with Gwen. That’s how he tried to frame it in his head. Somehow it was easier to accept. If he killed her off in his heart then he wouldn’t be tempted to find her. He couldn’t follow the dead. 

No matter how badly he tried. 

These women he surrounded himself with were nothing but a distraction. Half the time he couldn’t even finish. He could fuck them until they couldn’t stand but rarely found his own satisfaction in it. That was how he liked it. The more rough they let him be, the better. A sadistic side to him had formed these past few months. Part of him wanted to hurt them. Truly hurt them. They meant nothing to him. He liked to see how far he could push them, how hard he could slap them, how loud he could make them shriek before it became too much for them to handle. He wanted to push them past the limits they thought they had to show them how much they could really take. A test of their strength, of their will to live, how far they could go before tapping out. 

Once he choked a woman so tightly, he almost couldn’t stop. For a moment he wanted to feel his fingernails break through the barrier of her delicate skin and sink into the viscera of her insides. He wanted to tear her vocal chords from her neck. He wanted to feel her blood soaking into his skin. He wanted to kill her. She didn’t deserve to live. Why did she get to live while Gwen had to die? What did she do to deserve this life? 

It had taken everything in him to pull back. Before she could even fully catch her breath again, he was gone. Naked. Lost into the night. Didn’t even stop to grab his clothes. 

He didn’t know the person he had become. 

He wasn’t eating. Wasn’t sleeping. 

He had killed more bad guys this month than the month before. His body count was rapidly rising. It didn't matter what they did. Rapists, killers, and bank robbers were all the same in his eyes. No crime was less than the one before. They all got the finality of death. He didn’t care. The friendly neighborhood Spider-Man no longer existed. He died along with the old Peter. If the police thought he was a menace before, he was now actively wanted. A warrant was out for the arrest of the Spider-Man. Had been for some time. They would never catch him, of course. He’d snatch their life from them before he let anyone take him in. It wouldn’t be the first time he had a cop’s blood on his hands. 

A vigilante turned villain. 

A decaying corpse of the man he once was.

Nine Months Since She Left: We’re All Dead

“Where the hell have you been?” 

May sat in the dark at the kitchen table. It was 3am. She was still awake. She usually never waited up for him anymore. He thought she had stopped asking questions months ago. 

Peter stood in loose fitting, dirty clothes. Fresh blood dripped down his chin from his split open lip. His right eye was starting to swell shut. He refused to look at her as he gave a half-hearted shrug. 

“Out.” 

“Out? It is three in the goddamn morning, Peter!” Her voice was shrill. She was masking her fear for him with anger. “This is the fifth time this week you have disappeared like this. Do you understand how worried I get? You come crawling home every night covered in more bruises than I keep track of. Where are you going? What are you doing? Who is doing this to you?” 

He swallowed. His throat felt dry. He wished he could feel the familiar pang of guilt he used to feel whenever he would upset May. Instead, he felt nothing because there was nothing. He was nothing. A corpse. 

“I said I was out. I’m not a child anymore. You don’t need to wait up. I can take care of myself.” 

He pushed past her towards the stairs, making the climb to his bedroom. She followed closely behind him. 

“You think you can take care of yourself? Look at you, Peter! You are wasting away into nothing! I can’t find you behind your eyes anymore. It’s like there is nothing left inside of you. You need help. Let me help you, please. I can’t keep sitting around watching you slowly kill yourself. I can’t lose you, too. You are my boy and I refuse to let you continue down this path.” 

An angry beast raged inside his chest as he stopped dead in his tracks and spun around to growl in her face, “I am not your boy! I am not your son! My parents are dead with the rest of everyone else I ever gave a shit about! Ben is dead. Gwen is dead. You’re dead.” His eyes fell to an old picture of his friend hanging on his bedroom wall. They were kids. Smiling with arms wrapped each other’s necks. “She’s dead. I’m dead. Everyone is dead, May. Don’t you understand? Everyone is dead and there’s nothing left. I have no one! I am nothing. I don’t exist.” His bottom lip quivered but no tears formed. He had lost the ability to cry long ago. 

Her face broke in anguish, “Oh, honey.” Her voice was nothing more than a hushed whisper. “Oh, Peter.” She tried to wrap him up in an embrace but he pulled back. 

He shook his head, looking at her through pained, dead eyes, “I think it would be best if I moved out.” 

He closed the door in her face before she could reply.

-

“Peter?” 

He didn’t remember coming here. 

After his run in with May, he had started emptying out his drawers. He hadn’t known what he was looking for. Probably nothing. He just needed to be doing something. Anything. He had thrown his dresser drawers open and flung out his clothes. They lay scattered at his feet. Papers from his desk slowly fluttered back to the ground as he tossed them over his shoulder. A tantrum. That’s what he was reduced to. A tantrum where he needed to destroy everything he touched. 

And then her crumbled letter was somehow in his hand. His last contact with her. He didn’t even know he had kept it. 

You can find me at the Empire State Uni off campus apartment housing. Building 5. Room 212. 

His safety. His best friend. He had abandoned her. She wasn’t dead, just forgotten. He had killed her in his mind to make the separation easier. He was protecting her. He was keeping her safe. He didn’t want her to die. He couldn’t lose her. He couldn’t bury another person he loved. 

My window will always be unlocked for you if you ever need me.

“Peter?”

He blinked, his mask was on. He was in his Spider suit. He didn’t remember putting it on. He didn’t remember how he got here.

Come find me when you’re ready.

He reached up to pull the mask from his head. His eyes bore into her. He wasn’t sure if she was real or not. He couldn’t feel her living inside his senses like he used. They had become so dull since Gwen died.

“What are you doing here?” She looked nervous like she was encountering a ghost. 

Maybe she was.

His voice felt like a distant echo in his ears as he spoke, “I didn’t know where else to go.”

Summer: Why? 

Her roommates hated him. 

He could hear them constantly bitching about his presence through the walls. He was a dark cloud of depression hanging over their apartment. 

It only got worse after he fucked them. Not at the same time. Separate occasions. He thought it might shut them up for a bit but, once they found out he was sleeping with them both, all hell broke loose. 

They were screaming at each in the next room. 

Somehow she had gotten involved in the mess, too. He hadn’t intended for that but there was no stopping it now. They were yelling at her for letting him live here without paying rent. He didn’t even go to their school. They felt betrayed and used and they weren’t wrong. A man whore. That’s what they were currently calling him. 

A malicious smile grew across his lips as he laid in her bed, staring up at the ceiling. He liked the chaos that he caused. He wanted her roommates gone. Peter knew exactly what he was doing. He wanted her for himself. All they did was complain anyway. They never liked her. They made fun of her behind her back. They didn’t like her anymore than they liked him. 

Once they were gone it would all be okay again. 

They could go back to how things used to be. Just the two of them against the world. Two kids, with no other friends, clinging to each other as tight as they could. 

Her bedroom door opened. Her eyes were puffy. She was trying not to cry. For the first time in a long time, he felt the sharp slashing of guilt slice through his heart. An overwhelming sadness washed over him. It had been so long since he felt anything besides anger or bitterness. His jaw clenched as he sat up, mulling over the new emotions bubbling under his skin.   

“Why did you do that? Why are you doing this?” She asked weakly. 

Why am I taking advantage of your kindness by having you house me for free? Why am I letting you take care of me without giving you anything in return? Why am I sleeping with your roommates? Why am I sleeping with them instead of you? Why am I torturing you like this?

“I…I don’t know,” he replied. 

He knew how she felt about him. He could see it in her eyes. He knew that look. He’d seen it in Gwen’s eyes once upon a time. She loved him. More than a friend. More than family. 

Maybe she always had. 

He’d always loved her. Even when he loved Gwen. 

He couldn’t love her though. Not like she deserved. That part of him was gone. 

She sighed and wiped the tears from her eyes, a steady resolve settling over her, “They’re pulling out of our student housing next semester. I’m not going to have anyone to live with. You need to enroll in the school. It’ll qualify you for housing. We can move in together. I want to see it done by next week or else I’m done. I can’t do this, Peter. I took care of you all summer. You hardly speak to me, you don’t look at me, you give me nothing. I do everything for you because I know you’re hurting but this is enough. Enroll in the school, Pete. Get your life together. Try and make something of yourself. It’s time.”

Early Fall: Triggers

School was easy. It always has been. This was no different. He understood the lessons and could pass the tests, he merely struggled to attend the classes or pay attention. No one seemed to mind too much as long as he was passing. He wasn’t doing this for him. He was doing it for her. 

Little by little his feelings started to unthaw from their frozen state. College gave him a taste of normalcy back. There was a schedule to follow, whether he chose to or not. There was food always available and safe places to find silence when he needed to. He hadn’t spoken to May since he left but he kept telling himself one of these days he would reach out. 

He was trying to mend what shred of friendship he had left. She was very forgiving of him despite everything he put her through. Every day he saw the love in her eyes grow stronger. It scared him. Two steps forward, one step back. He wanted to keep her close but still hold her at arm's length. She couldn’t love him. He wasn’t ready for that. 

He would keep their conversations based on easier things. School work, Spider-Man, any lighthearted topics that involve little effort. Spider-Man was getting back to his old self, too. Peter hadn’t killed anyone since he found his way back to her, inadvertently or not. She was building new gadgets for him. Part of him felt like he was back in high school, popping by her bedroom window for a drink of water before swinging back into the night. It was nice. Familiar. 

Tonight she sat cross-legged on the couch, a pint of Ben and Jerry’s in her hand, as she watched Hook. 

“I haven’t seen this movie since I was a kid,” he lamented. 

Peter hopped over to her and plopped down beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She happily snuggled into his side. It felt right having her there. She scooped up a spoonful of the chocolate chip cookie dough and held it up to his mouth which he gladly accepted. 

“Do you ‘member what you asked the first time we met?” He asked her through his mouthful of ice cream. 

She frowned, trying to remember. The top of her nose wrinkled in concentration then relaxed, shaking her head, “No idea. I was, like, six years old or something. How do you remember that?” 

He smiled down at her, “You asked me if I was named after Peter Pan.” 

“Sounds like something a child would ask. He was the only other Peter I knew.” 

He nodded, pondering it over, “I told you that I wasn’t because I couldn’t fly.” 

“Look at you now,” she laughed. “I think swinging through the city is the closest you’ll ever come to flying. You almost got there.” 

His smile faded, only part of her words still ringing in his ears while the rest was drowned out. Look at him now. Look at him. Who was he? Nobody. Who did he want to be? Nothing.  Why was he alive? Because he was too weak to take his own life. What was his purpose? There wasn’t one. What was he doing here? Hurting her. 

He was hurting her. His abilities to feel proper emotions were still miniscule. They weren’t thawing out as fast as he would have liked. He was still cold too. Too mean. Too selfish. His mere presence in her life would only ever drag her down. 

Rufio was fighting Captain Hook. Going one on one with their world’s most dangerous pirate. Too cocky for his own good. Too young for the responsibility he was given. The Lost Boys looked to Rufio when Pan left them. He was placed in charge. He was given too much power, too young. Got too full of himself. Thought he could defeat the evil without any consequences. It would be his downfall. 

Peter’s eyes stayed trained onto the television, utterly absorbed in the story playing out before him. His own emotions started to spiral. He could feel the panic rising up his throat. Snuffing out his air. He knew what was coming next. He knew how this story ended. 

“Lookie, lookie, I got Hookie.”

His eyes slipped close. He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t watch the sword pierced through his chest. 

“Do you know what I wish? I wish I had a dad like you.” 

He wished he could turn back time. He wished he could have been faster. Stronger. Better. 

Pan held Rufio in his arms as the young boy died, the life fading from his eyes, just like he had held Gwen. Forever young. Frozen in time. 

Even the giant clock lodged between the crocodile’s toothy jaws reminded him of her final moments. Tick…tick…tick…her time was lost. 

Peter blinked through half spaced out eyes, straightening up, and removed his arm from around her shoulders. They shouldn’t be cuddling like this. This was how couples sat. This was how he used to sit with Gwen. He was giving her the wrong impression. He wasn’t helping her. He was being a bad friend. Always hurting her. 

“You okay?” She glanced between the scene playing and himself. She could sense his coldness settling back in around them. 

He gave a stiff nod, forcing a half smile, “Yeah. I’m alright. I think I’m going to go out for a bit. I’ll see ya later, yeah?” 

He needed to find someone. A blonde. Someone skinny with a pretty face. He needed to find them and dominate them. He needed them screaming so loud as he relentlessly pounded into them that she would hear. He had to show her that he wasn’t interested. He had to crush her love. That love would only lead to death. He couldn’t do that again. He wouldn’t bury her. He wouldn’t. Not to her. Never her. 

Late Fall: A New Seed

It worked. Whatever depression fueled scheme he had come up with to stop her from loving him, it was working, he was fairly certain. She seemed distant. He knew he was breaking her but he couldn’t stop. It had to be this way. How could he ever love someone again? It would shatter him in two if he even dared to entertain the idea. The further he pushed her away, the more she overtook his thoughts. 

Every time he plunged into a woman, he pretended it was her. Every late night session with his right hand was fueled by his desires for her. Every time he closed his eyes to sleep, she was the subject of his dreams. He breathed her in with every breath he took. 

She was so beautiful. 

She always had been but, the more she matured into an adult, the more in sync everything felt on her face. It was like she fell perfectly into place. 

Sometimes when he looked at her, he felt like he was eight years olds again, falling in love with her on the swings. 

The object of his desires. The one he wanted. The one he refused to reach out for time and time again. Only this time he wasn’t afraid of being rejected from a kiss. He was afraid of death. Afraid of the pain that would follow. 

His whole life she had been his. She never had anyone else. He never had to share. He made her have to share him but never the other way around.

Until now. 

It was only a matter of time until someone finally saw her the way he did. He was surprised it hadn’t happened sooner. The guy seemed nice enough. She lit up when he looked at her. A tiny spark of fire blazed behind her eyes with each word she spoke to him. There was something there. A seed being planted. One that could grow if she let it. He planted a seed and started to nurture it with someone else once. She should be able to do the same. 

Gabe. 

Gwen. 

This was what she deserved. To be loved by a nice man. Someone who would cherish her. Someone to see her potential. Someone to care about her. 

Someone with the ability to love. Anyone but Peter would do, he couldn’t give her what she needed. 

Then why couldn’t he stay away? 

He saw them together and his heart screamed out. His skin seared with heated inferno. Green with envy. 

Gabe. Gwen. Gwen. Gabe. Their faces flashed rapidly before his blurred vision. Gabe. Gwen. Gabe. Gwen. GabeGwenGabeGwenGwenGwen -

Her. 

He couldn’t lose her. Not like this. He couldn’t watch her disappear from him with another man. Is that how she felt all those years ago as he fixated on Gwen in the lunch room instead of her? Is this what her heart felt like when she looked at him? No wonder why she used to be so fucking mean. If her heart felt anything close to what he currently felt, it was a miracle she was able to keep herself so composed. 

Drawn to her like a magnet, he couldn’t control himself. He had to follow them. It wasn’t an option. His feet carried him straight to the shadows of the underpass. 

Gabe didn’t know her like he did. He didn’t play make believe with her. He didn’t pass notes with her in class. He didn’t devote his life to being her best friend. He didn’t know about her father or how she grew up. He never had to kill her off in his mind to even bear the thought of letting her go. They never manifested themselves into constellations so they could live together, forever, amongst the stars. 

He wasn’t there like Peter was. Peter knew her. Every part of her. So deeply. 

They were kissing. He was kissing her. She was kissing him back. 

The earth crumbled under his feet. 

He should be able to let her go. This was what he was trying to do. This was exactly why he was trying to push her away. This was his stupid plan. He had wanted her to move on. Anyone but him. Anyone…

Then why couldn’t he stop himself?

Like a jealous, angry, cocky boy given too much power before he was ready to fully bear the weight of it, he had tased her date and got him sent away in an ambulance. 

Just like that he was gone. 

Disappeared from their lives as quickly as he came in. 

Nothing but the two of them now. 

Like it always had been. Like it always will be. 

She was furious. Livid. But, worst of all, she was heartbroken. Completely and wholly heartbroken. 

“He made me feel special. He looked at me like I was beautiful. Why couldn’t you let me have that? Just once. Just once I wanted to feel like someone could love me. You gotta have that so why couldn’t I?” 

She was beautiful even through her pain. 

The city lights reflected off the water beside them and bounced back up onto her face. They glinted like tiny sparkles off the tears in her eyes. 

He hurt her. 

He broke her heart. 

His best friend. 

His only friend. 

Peter closed his eyes, letting her words wash over him and absorb into his pores. She had never once felt beautiful before tonight. How he had failed her. All these years she had looked in the mirror and never saw what he did. All these years he had loved her and never dared to say it. She was right there in front of him and he had chosen someone else. Loved someone else. He was the one who broke her. The one who abandoned her. The one who exploited her generosity and friendship. 

What had he become? 

He let himself die with Gwen when he should have kept living for the person who needed him most. 

“I love you,” the words he spoke were hardly above a whisper. 

They fell from his lips with a raw honesty he wasn’t used to. Pained like it hurt to physically say them. 

He loved her. Always. 

Even still, she couldn’t comprehend how true his words were. That’s how deeply he had failed her. 

“No. You’re not hearing me.” He reached for her then. He couldn’t stop himself. The emotions were too strong. He touched her cheek. Softly turning her face towards him, “I love you. I’ve loved you since the day you fell off those monkey bars in the first grade. I just…it was just too much. I was scared if it didn’t work out then I would lose you from my life forever. I’d rather keep you as my friend where you’re safe with me forever. But after Gw-” He still couldn’t say her name out loud. His heart stung. “-after everything, I don’t want to have anymore what ifs or what could have been. I saw you with that guy and it made me realize. Everything snapped into place. I love you. I don't want you to be with someone else. I want you to be with me.”

She was kissing him. 

Her lips were chilly. Soft. Her tongue warm and wet. A perfect blend to awake his senses. He felt alive. For the first time since allowing parts of him to perish, he was reborn. Awake. Whole. 

His arms were around her waist. Drawing her closer. He could smell the soft, lingering scent of coconut on her skin. The smell was as familiar to him as May’s light, floral perfume and the musty backseat of Ben’s Oldsmobile. One he could never forget. His home. His childhood. His everything. 

He loved her. 

He wanted her. 

He…

Gwen’s face exploded into vibrant color behind his eyes. 

…couldn’t do this. 

Peter gently pulled away. 

Her fist was balled up in her sleeve and pressed against the infamous spider symbol on his chest. Her eyes fluttered open. They gazed up at him with years of unexpressed love. She was too pure. Too good.

He gave her a sad smile, “I’ve thought you were beautiful my entire life. I’m sorry I never told you sooner. I should have told you every single day. But…this…” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, preparing himself. “I’m a broken man. I’m not okay. I’m not done healing. I don’t even think I’ve started. What I did tonight proves that. You are the most special person in my life. I’m sorry I keep hurting you. My head, it's…it’s not right…after everything…I’ve done terrible things. Things you deserve to know about before you choose me. I can’t steal you away like this. You deserve to make the choice yourself. After you know everything. When I’m done, whatever you want, I’ll do it. If you want me to drop you off at the hospital to see Gabe, I’ll do it. If you want to never see me again, I’ll go. If you want to keep me, I’ll stay. Everything is in your hands. It’s where it belongs.” 

She stayed silent. Listening. Processing. 

And nodded. 

-

There’s no good way to tell the person he loves about all the people he’s killed. It didn’t matter if they were bad guys, he was no better than them, he killed them quick and swift before the cops could arrive. There had been no more cute notes stuck to a webbed up, squirming criminal. Instead, all they’d arrive to was a bloody, broken, still warm corpse. If they were dead, there was no chance they could ever hurt anyone again. There was no more chance of anyone innocent crossing paths with the danger they brought. He gave them no chance for redemption and he felt no guilt for them or their lost lives. 

He couldn’t look her in the eyes when talking about the sexual abuse he inflicted on his sex partners. Most of the time they asked for it, agreed to it, but there were times when he went too far. Times they weren’t always asking to be slapped around that hard. Times he had lost himself. Times he wished they were dead. For them, he felt guilt. A deep-seated cavern full of it. He’d rather be ripped apart, limb by limb, than explain in detail how far he fell after Gwen’s death and witness the horror etched into her features. 

But he did it.

Because she deserved to hear it. All of it. Every dark monster lurking deep behind his closet door. He ripped open his chest and presented her his bloodied, broken heart without anything to hide behind. 

She cried. He cried. The tears felt foreign in his eyes but she had held his hand and he willed them to fall. It was a mess but they came out the other end more in sync than when they entered. 

A start.

A new seed being planted in fresh, overturned soil. 

The love was there. Nervous and shy, hiding behind their legs like a scared child. It needed time to grow, to blossom, before it was ready to stand on its own. 

It was decided that Peter needed to focus on himself first. A relationship now would be too fragile. There was no foundation for them to build on if Peter was broken and cracked. 

The anger couldn’t go away overnight. The shame and guilt lived on too strong to allow for much else. He’d have to pick away at the vines wrapped tight around his castle walls if he’d ever want to create a warm home for her to curl up inside. 

Their conversation lasted all night. They hadn’t moved from their spot standing above the river. He stood directly over the place he had tased a man simply because he saw her kissing someone who wasn’t him. They hadn’t moved an inch. Night turned into day. Dark to light. The early morning work folk started to take to the streets. No one looked twice at the maskless Spider-Man leaning against the railing, dried tears on his face, next to the girl of his dreams. It was too early for anyone to care. 

They watched the sun steadily rise over the buildings in silence. 

They had been silent for a while now but neither one wanted to move. It was comfortable here, side by side, with everything laid bare. No more secrets. No more hiding. 

“Therapy.” 

She was the one to break first. 

He blinked a few times to wash away the sleepy, mindless state he’d fallen into, “Hmm?” 

“Therapy,” she repeated. “That’s what I chose for us. You are going to get therapy. Me too. We need it.” She let out a soft exhale. “Badly.” 

Peter responded with a tired chuckle, “Therapy. I think I can manage that. Therapy, it is, then. That’s what we will do.” 

She nodded in confirmation, “I want you to keep living with me. Keep our separate rooms. I want to keep being friends and supporting each other while we do this. But, Peter-” Her tone shifted into something more serious, her body shifted to face him. “I do not want to ever listen to you have sex with someone inside our apartment. I won’t ever sit through that again. I love you, you know that, and I will not be tortured with that shit anymore. In return, I won’t date anyone else until you’re ready. Not that I have a line of suitors waiting out the door anyway…” 

The morning, golden sun highlighted the frizz that settled on top of her windblown hair after her stressful night. 

He wasn’t ever planning on sleeping with anyone again unless it was her. 

“And,” she continued. “I want you to visit Gabe with me to give him a proper apology. We both owe him that. He’s a good person. He deserves an explanation. Just, like, leave out the part where you’re Spider-Man and I created the Bug Zappers that nearly killed him.”

A lazy, crooked smile formed on his face, “Okay. Anything you say, I’ll do. Therapy, apologies, and abstinence.” 

She mimicked his smile, the love never once fading from her eyes, “Only for now.” 

One day, he would be able to give her everything she wanted. One day, she would be able to accept it. 

One day but not today. 

Today, they would walk arm and arm back to their home and fall asleep against each other on the couch. Today, they would skip classes and order in food. Today, they will be friends. 

Tomorrow, they could be whatever they wanted. Tomorrow, he might even continue with the apologies and give May a call. He’d gone too long without speaking to her. Maybe they could visit. All three of them together. Like older times. Times when everything seemed less big. Less scary. Less real and final. 

The future was theirs. 

Peter nodded, reaching out to take her hand, “For now.”

i’m still #teamgabe 

✨IF YOU ENJOYED READING THIS, PLEASE GIVE THIS A LIKE AND A REBLOG! ✨ YOUR COMMENTS ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED. ✨

Tag List (tagging some people who have left comments or reblogged the original, sorry if that was forever ago and you no longer care, just ignore me): @mrshipsmcgee​ @liz-allyn​ @sincericida​  @andr3wgarfieldsupremacist @winterswonderland01  @inexpertaxsiempreI  @peterparkers-webshooters @moonyslove78​ @lucaheartsyou​ @showerbeerpaymentplan​ @inezwood26​ @nolongereviliwantlove​ @favouritereadings​

[kosemsultanim]

Costumes in Queen Charlotte: A Bridgerton Story ~ 1.05 Gardens in Bloom

[corporalicent]

violet in bloom: novella | when he was wicked

(...) after his death, I was just so… stunned. I felt as if I were walking in a haze. I’m not at all certain how I functioned that first year. Or even the ones directly thereafter. So I couldn’t possibly even think of marriage. And after that… well, I don’t know what happened. Maybe I just didn’t meet anyone with whom I cared to share my life. Maybe I loved your father too much. Maybe I just never saw the need. I was in a very different position from you, after all. I was older, don’t forget, and already the mother of eight children. And your father left our affairs in very good order. I knew we would never want for anything.

[blujayonthewing]

thinking about how absolutely beautiful a yard carpeted in violets and creeping charlie is. what is lawn culture's fucking problem

[prince-liest]

flower appreciation post

[flamedork]

Perhaps you and Penelope would like to spend some time with the other young ladies in attendance. Hmm?

Watch a Wallflower Bloom | S2 (6/15)

[a-novel-addiction-2022]

Okay, I'm just as pumped about Polin as much as the rest of us, but can we please take a moment to react to Mama Violet staring at Lord Anderson's mouth? The fact that the Bridgertons' gardens are canonically blooming so out of control that none of them can watch a love interest eating a sweet without going internally mental is absolutely sending me. I could just eat up the yearning and lust...with a spoon.

[echidnacht]

Lots of Arum doodles, I love his huffy ass

[non-empatheticloser]

Me patiently waiting for Violet Bridgerton to get some

[blooming-violets]

Creature Like Me || Chapter One: Solo Hunt

[TASM Peter Parker!Werewolf AU]

Summary: Kraven and his guild of hunters have been tracking and quelling the werewolf population for centuries. The time has come for Aylin to complete her first solo hunt to prove herself to the guild. It was supposed to be simple. One wolf, one death, one victory. She never expected to end up with a secret hostage on her hands. 

Chapter One Warnings: depictions of torture and starvation, depictions of a violent death, use of a gun, blood and gore, is it animal cruelty/animal death if the animal is a werewolf?? 

A/N: This is an OC but please keep an open mind, read a paragraph or two, before you completely write off the story because it doesn’t have a “reader” insert character. Her descriptions are fairly minimal and her name is important to the story. Pretend you’re someone else for little bit and get lost in a world that’s not your own. Isn’t that what writing is for anyway? xoxoKatie

[link to chapter index]

The morning sun beamed soft, white light through the canopy of branches to illuminate the fog settled against the dewy grass. She watched the light push away the dark shadows of the forest as she plucked a handful of blueberries out of her pocket and plopped a few into her mouth. Mornings were never her favorite despite their inherent beauty. She preferred the tranquility of the night with nothing but the glow of the moon to guide her. She kept her love for the moon to herself. Those were thoughts she wasn’t allowed to have. Her guild worshiped the sun for it was the werewolf’s natural enemy. The wolves drew their power from the moon. It made them stronger, enhanced their natural abilities, and turned them into fierce warriors. As a hunter of the beast, her guild found safety in the light, but used the cover of the dark to hunt their prey. They saw the dangers of the night where she only saw serenity. 

“Aylin,” a deep, gravely voice fell over her shoulder. “Are you preparing for your hunt tonight or are you daydreaming again?” 

Aylin wiped the growing scowl from her face, replacing it with a passive smile, before she turned to greet her intruder, “Sergei. Good morning to you, too.” She shoved the ziplock bag of berries back into her pocket and stood up, brushing off her damp bottom from the rotten log she was sitting on. “I’ve been preparing my whole life for my first solo hunt. There is not much else I can do but wait.” 

Tonight was the night she would become a full member of the hunting party. At 21, those with the talent would be given a test. They were to track down and successfully eliminate a single werewolf on their own. Up until now, she had been hunting with a group. She participated in helping kill a total of five wolves so far. Now it was time to prove that she could be of use on her own. It was the highest honor a young person could receive in the guild. 

Sergei ran a hand through his long, scraggly beard. His dark hair reached to his shoulders and hung in wild waves framing his square face. The black pelt of a werewolf hung like a shawl around his shoulders. As leader of the Silver Colt Guild, he held the respect of everyone under him. The Silver Colt’s history dated as far back as the first known existence of a werewolf. They’d been around for centuries, culling the werewolf problem the best they could before it ever reached the public eye. Sergei, known by his enemies as his alias Kraven the Hunter, inherited the guild from his father. He ran with an iron fist to keep his people safe. They were the outcasts of modern society, taking on the burden of protecting those they would never meet from the horrors of evil that walked among them. 

“Being prepared does not mean you are ready to complete the actual task,” he chastised her. “Going one to one with a wolf is harder than you could ever imagine. In their wolf form, they are ten times stronger than you could ever be. In their human form, they are the master of manipulation. They would say or do anything to keep you from slaughtering them. The second you let your guard down, they will strike. There will be no help to back you up. Failing means death. A beast won’t hesitate to rip you limb from limb. Mindless, heartless killers. They are not guided by morals. They will not hesitate. I don’t want to lose you tonight.”

Aylin held her tongue for fear of talking back. Sergei always got under her skin. Still, she believed he deserved the title of their leader and, therefore, was worthy of her respect. He was easily the best hunter of them all. He could take out a wolf with nothing but his bare hands. No one else was able to compete with his sheer strength. At times, he seemed almost like an enhanced human himself. She often wondered where he pulled his abilities from, though she would never dare question him. He was a good leader but a boastful one. His hubris clashed with her humbled outlook. Aylin had no need for cockiness. She believed one’s skills should silently speak for themselves. There was no need to talk herself up. She knew what she could do and that should be enough. 

“If you are successful tonight then I could see you entering as the frontrunner to become my protégé,” he raised his thick brows at her, as if that was supposed to be the most enticing offer of her lifetime. “Don’t let me down.”

The leader of the guild would always choose the strongest new hunter to personally train. She would be forced to move into Sergei and his wife’s home to study his every move. Whoever was chosen as the leader’s protégé would one day take over as leader themselves. Some of her peers would slaughter each other for the chance to claim that title. Aylin saw it as a chore. Calypso, Sergei’s wife, was someone she’d rather avoid. The woman could easily stand on her own with her husband but didn’t possess an ounce of empathy. She was cruel, boarding on psychopathic, and the thought of having to live under the same roof as her sent a bolt of dread through Aylin’s nerves. She had no desire to lead anyone, either. All she wanted was to sit in her quiet woods, undisturbed, but there was no point in arguing over a centuries old tradition. If Sergei chose her then that’s what she would have to do. 

“I think I’ll be alright. You don’t have to worry about me. I’ve been tracking this wolf for some time. She works as a night security guard up at the old Eagle Peak Camp. I’m not entirely sure what she’s guarding there but, whatever is, I’ll be sure to report back to you with what I find. I think it’s where a pack has been meeting. If I can get information on them, our guild could potentially eliminate an entire group in one go. She’ll be an easy enough target for my first solo hunt. There shouldn’t be any civilians around and there's a lot of places to take cover. All my weapons are prepped and ready. I’ve been training for months. I will come back with her silver pierced heart in my hand. I’m confident in this.” She straightened her spine as she spoke to appear taller than she was in an attempt to see eye to eye with Sergei. He towered over anyone he stood in front of and she didn’t like feeling small.  

He gave a light hearted chuckle and slung his arm over her shoulder, pulling her into his side, and dwarfing her against his large body, “I believe you. I’m the one who trained you, remember? I know you have the skill. Doesn’t mean I don’t worry about you anyway.” The coarse fur of the wolf pelt tumbling down his shoulders tickled her cheek as he held her close. “Your mother is looking for you. She made you breakfast. Let me walk you back to town and we can discuss your strategies for tonight once more.” 

Even as she stood crouched under the shadows of a large pine tree, Aylin silently trailed her fingers over each of her weapons. She’d taken count of each one about fifty times in the last hour but it still helped quell her nerves. The tree she took shelter under protected her from the downpour of rain as she raised her binoculars to observe her surroundings. Eagle Peak was once a bustling summer destination for hundreds of children, aged 6 to 16, to attend a four week camp program in the mountains. Their days were filled with non stop fun canoeing on the lake, hiking through the forests, singing around a campfire, and making a lifetime of memories. That was until the wolf incident of ‘74. Three campers were found torn apart, their cabin broken into, and their bloodied bodies dragged out into the forest. Their deaths were chalked up to a pack of rabid wolves which had wandered into camp. While the pack was never actually found, the camp still closed down. Children being mutilated while they slept didn’t send out a great impression to other potential camp goers. The Silver Colt’s knew the truth. It wasn’t rabid wolves. At least, not how the public perceived it to be. One of the counselors was a beast in disguise. He was slain by Sergei’s father in the summer of ‘75. Sergei still wears the necklace of claws his father made after tearing them from the counselor's paws before he drove a silver dagger into the beast’s blackened heart. 

The camp had sat abandoned for years, left for nature to reclaim, until a private owner bought out the land. That was when the suspicion began. Hikers were going missing more often than usual. Strange howls could be heard at night. A heavy sense of foreboding hovered in the night air. The werewolves were making a return and it was up to Aylin’s people to stop them. Tonight, she would start their quest by taking out the guard and retrieving as much information as she could. 

From the outskirts she couldn’t see much. She’d been staking out this location for weeks. Besides the patrolling woman, she never saw anyone else move around the camp while she was there, but it was clear that there was something worth guarding. She would need to infiltrate closer to get a better look. While the night rain ruined her views, the sound would help mask her footsteps. Werewolves had particularly precise hearing. Sergei purposely chose a rainy night for her first hunt and she would take any advantage she could get.

Aylin mentally planned out her route. The main lodge sat in a large clearing overlooking the lake. A crack of lightning pierced through the clouds and reflected off the darkened waters. It was the only source of light she would have tonight as the moon was blanketed behind the storm. Surrounding the lodge on either side was a small office building and a nurse’s station. The lavatories were a little ways behind the main lodge and, down a wooded dirt path, held the bulk of the camper’s cabins. According to her old map, they used to refer to the cabin’s sleeping area as the Whispering Pines. A boathouse sat on the lake, still fully stocked with rotting canoes. That was thirteen buildings in total. She would have to search each one before she returned home. Once her target was removed, it would allow her the time she needed to properly investigate for any details on the pack that roamed these areas.

Sierra Molina was who Aylin was currently searching for. A 28 year old, gorgeous woman with thick, long black hair who moved to upper New York three years ago. She started out as a model in the city, gaining a good amount of success, when she suddenly switched career paths. A successful model in the big city to a solitary, private security guard for an abandoned summer camp in the Adirondack Mountains could only mean one thing. She was a wolf. She wasn’t born one, she was bitten. That was Aylin’s theory, at least. It would have been hard for a wolf to have a career in the limelight. Wolves and cities don’t usually mix unless they’re using them as a hunting ground. That would mean, at some point three years ago, a wolf managed to find its way into the city. It was growing its pack and Sierra was merely a victim of the beast. Victim or not, she had to die. 

There was not much luck for Aylin tonight. She had yet to catch sight of the woman. The heavy storm was probably compelling her to keep shelter in one of the buildings. A light was on in the back of the main lodge so she placed her bets on that. She wouldn’t be able to take her out with an easy scope shot. She’d need to get in closer. 

Aylin took a deep inhale, preparing herself, and stepped out from the protective shadows of her pine tree. Her old leather boots lost traction as she descended down a slippery slope towards the main lodge. The grass turned to slick mud under her and she silently cursed as she felt the cold, wet dirt coat down her side as she skidded to a halt at the bottom. If anything, the mud might help hide her scent too, though it made it harder to grip her weapons. She did her best to wipe her hands off on her black combat pants before continuing. 

She kept her body ducked low while she gave a light jog towards the lodge. There wasn’t much she could do about the squelching mud under her feet. All she could hope for was that the rain hammering on the roof was loud enough to cover whatever sounds she couldn’t hide. The second she reached the lodge, she pressed her back against the dark wooden panels. Her hand grabbed behind her to pull the crossbow from her back. She carefully loaded it with a silver tipped arrow, letting the rumbling thunder overhead mask the sounds. The crossbow was her weapon of choice. It was fast, powerful, and quieter than a gun. Unlike the colt revolver strapped to her thigh, she had more stealth advantages with this. The gun was for the final blow if she needed the added weight and her dagger was her very last chance of survival should things come down to hand to hand combat. She was no Sergei. Her strengths lay in long range and stealth. 

Aylin moved along the length of the outer wall until she was perched under a cracked open window. From inside, she could hear someone moving around. The smell of cooking chicken hit her nose. This must be the kitchen of the lodge and where her target was taking shelter. 

Sierra spoke to someone inside as she banged around the room, slamming cabinets in her wake, “I think he needs more food. The man is wasting away. Kateri hardly ever feeds him. I don’t know how she expects him to keep on giving her what she wants if he’s nothing but skin and bone.” 

She waited, listening for a secondary person to reply. When she heard none, it gave her the confidence to know that Sierra was still the only here. She was on the phone. 

“Yeah, I know it keeps him weak, but it’s also killing him. Call me crazy but I actually feel sorry for the bastard. I’m the one who ends up having to take care of him. He’s not my pet! If she’s so obsessed with him, you’d think she would actually take better care of him. It wouldn’t hurt to bathe him either. He’s starting to really stink. I wish Kateri would actually do something about that. The whole cabin is disgusting. I hate having to go in there.” The name Kateri was new to her but, the way Sierra talked about her, made it seem like she was the one who called the shots. The name of the pack's potential alpha. “Maybe I’ll let him run around in the rain for a bit. Let the storm hose him down.” Sierra laughed, “I’m joking! Calm down. I’m not going to let him out. He wouldn’t know what to do out of chains anyway. Kat’s got him fully conditioned to be her omega bitch.”

Aylin silently shifted her crossbow to get a better feel for it in her hands. Her curiosity peaked at the thought of who they were speaking about. It sounded as if they currently had someone hostage. She didn't dare peak through the open window for fear of being seen. 

“I cooked him some chicken. Kat can scream about it all she wants. He needs the protein. I didn’t even season it or anything. Just straight up dry chicken. What’s sad is that it’ll probably be the best damn meal he’s had in a year. Better than the dog food she’s been forcing him to eat.” The sound of her zipping up a bag reached Aylin’s ears. She was getting ready to move. “I’m going to even brave the rain for this loser. See? I’m not a heartless bitch after all. Who would have guessed? I’ll talk to you later, babes, once I’m back inside. See ya.” 

The sound of Sierra's footsteps disappearing followed the end of the phone call. This was her chance to move. Aylin crept around the side of the building, crossbow held up at the ready in front of her. She watched from the shadows as Sierra popped out the door and into the rain. Her peripheral vision was covered by the large, dark green hood of her rain jacket pulled loosely  over her head. She wore a black bag over her shoulder as she jogged towards the Whispering Pines. She had no idea that she was now actively being hunted.

Aylin’s  heart began to race as she trailed after her prey. When she joined the hunting party on their excursion to take out other wolves, they had already been in wolf form by the time she caught sight of them. Large, raggedy, snarling beasts. Blood had dripped from their jowls and matted into their wild, unkempt fur. They had been untamed, savage, violent creatures. It was easy to see them as a predator in need of putting down. They weren’t human. 

Sierra Molina was human. At least, how she looked now. A beautiful woman trying to make it big as a model. Her dreams of the future were snatched from her at the hands of true evil. She was dragged up to the mountains and forced into a new life. She ran through the rain, her shoulders hunched up in her oversized coat, her body shivering from the cold, to bring food to whatever neglected hostage her alpha had locked up. She was going against her orders to feed the poor soul. An act of kindness. A very human act. 

Her stomach ached at the thought of having to look this woman in the eyes as she killed her. She’d rather her be a wolf. It would be more dangerous but slaughtering an animal was better than murdering a human. The reality of what she was about to do came crashing down around her. The fear set in. 

Aylin slowed her pace, ducking behind a tree. Sergei was right, the rain would help easily conceal her from all sounds and smells. Sierra had no idea she was being followed. It felt almost unfair. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to do this anymore. She was born into this life. Raised to be a killer. It should be easy. She shouldn’t be this sacred. Fear and doubt were weaknesses. Those weaknesses should have been beaten out of her as a child yet they somehow still prevailed, stronger than ever. 

As her prey approached the last cabin along the path, the one tucked further back into the forest than the rest, Aylin raised her crossbow and took aim. There was no time for over thinking or panic. She had to act on instinct. This was her moment. It was now or never. She couldn’t return home without a wolf’s heart in her hand. She couldn’t fail her people. 

This was it. 

The familiar, loud thwip of the bolt leaving its home echoed off the trees. Before Sierra even had time to react to the sound, the silver tip buried itself straight into her lower spine with a sickly, crunching thud of bones being ripped apart. She dropped hard and fast. Crumbled to the ground in a heap, her bag slipping from her shoulders to fall beside her broken body. Her piercing howl of pain filled the air. Aylin made quick work to start loading up the next bolt while she still had the element of surprise on her side. 

“My legs,” Sierra cried out. “I can’t feel my legs! I can’t move them. Please. Help! Someone help!”  Her pleas for rescue were useless. There was nobody around to listen but Aylin. Her body flopped onto her side, teary, terrified eyes desperately searching for her assailant. “Who are you? What do you want?! What have you done? You-” 

Aylin approached, a black cowl mask hiding her lower face, and the end of the crossbow pointed at the other woman. Her target was in sight but she wasn’t ready to pull the final trigger just yet. She wanted her to turn. She needed to see the beast before she took her life. It was the only way she'd be able to follow through. 

Sierra caught sight of the golden, rising sun emblem carefully stitched into Aylin’s dark jacket. Realization flashed across her spasming face, contorting between pain and fury, “You.” Her voice lowered into a dangerous rumble. “You’re one of them, aren’t you?” Her words spit like fire out of her mouth. “That sun. You’re one of Kraven’s hunters! Kateri said you would come eventually. You have no idea how this will end for you. You have no idea what you’re walking into!” 

A low, threatening growl thundered in the back of her throat. It was followed by a quieter whimper like she knew how this was going to end for her. She was scared. A cornered animal ready to go down fighting. Death was the only future she held. Her pupils began to stretch, causing her tawny colored eyes to fill with a voidless obsidian until there were no remnants of her human soul. The growl grew deeper, more animalistic, as she started to shift. 

“That’s it,” Aylin whispered to herself. “Turn for me. Show me who you really are.” 

Like a firework bursting in the night sky, Sierra’s body exploded into a massive wolf with an angry howl, sending shreds of her green rain jacket and a spray of water droplets flying into the air. She nearly tripled in size. Silky, jet black fur, as beautiful as her own head of hair, settled down into place as her transformation completed. Saliva clung to her thick, pointed ivory teeth, black lips pulled back into a snarl, and her ears pressed flat against her skull. Steam puffed from her panting jaws, highlighting the chill in the air. She was savage. Desperate. Ready to kill. Her blackened sights set directly onto Aylin. 

This was the beast she was ready to hunt. This was exactly what she had trained for. Sierra Molina no longer existed. In her place was a raging, furious wolf ready to be slain. There was no more need for humanity for she was not human. A hunter and her prey. A tale as old as time. 

Sierra’s hind quarters remained crumbled under the weight of her body like a stray dog who had been hit by a car. They were as useless to her in wolf form as they were to her as a human. Aylin had managed to sever her spine with her first hit, rendering her weaker and taking away some of her power. It didn’t make her any less dangerous, though. She lunged at the younger girl, thrusting her massive body down the muddy path towards her as claps of loud thunder cheered on the upcoming fight. The muscular power of her front legs dragged her forward in jerky, pained movements, back legs dangling helplessly behind her. The coarse fur of her hackles stood on end. Teeth bared. She was ready to die fighting. 

Aylin released the trigger. The bolt shot out like a bullet and lodged itself deep into her foe's shoulder. The silver tip sizzled in her thick skin, the metal burning into her flesh. She doubled over with a howled cry, whipping her enlarged head back and forth in an attempt to reach the burning arrow piercing her skin with her long snout. While she fought with the pain, Aylin quickly tried to reload her bow. She had the arrow half way in, foot holding down the stirrup, and desperately trying to force the strong string back into position when Sierra noticed she was distracted. Ignoring the searing pain in her shoulder and crippled back legs, she lunged herself at Aylin. 

The force knocked her to the ground, tossing her bow off to the side, and pushing the air out of her lungs. The heavy weight of the wolf pressed down on her chest. The smell of wet dog filled her nostrils as Sierra leered down over her. Steamy, hot breath blew in her face. Black, leathery lips pulled back to reveal snarling teeth. For a breathless moment, Sierra thought she had the upper hand. 

And then a loud, cracking pop rang out, breaking the wooded silence, sending a flurry of terrified birds out of the trees and straight to the stormy sky.

In Aylin’s hand was the colt revolver, slipped out from her thigh harness, already prepped and loaded with silver bullets, now pointed directly under the wolf’s jaw. 

The bullet shot straight through Sierra’s thick skull, ripping through her brain, and forcing a bloody exit out the other end. A cloud of misty, hot crimson rained down onto Aylin’s face. Bits of fleshy brain matter scattered to the ground around her. A sharp fragment of Sierra’s rose tinted skull bounced off her forehead, slicing her skin, and tumbled into the mud. The wolf went completely still, the life snuffed straight out of her, as her heavy body slumped on top of Aylin, pinning her in place. 

The silence that followed was deafening. Not even the rumbling thunder or shower of rain seemed to dare make noise. All she could hear was the ringing in her ears. The echo of the gunshot reverberating inside her skull. 

Her heart was racing. Her lungs struggled to breath under the weight on top of her. Her mind desperately tried to catch up with the events that just unfolded. 

Her first solo hunt. Her first kill. 

A smile tugged at the corner of her lips, protected from the shower of blood thanks to her mask. The rain slowly washed the rest of the red from her vision. 

She had done it. 

She had killed a werewolf. 

She was alive. She was the victor. 

Aylin let out a grunt, grasping a fistful of Sierra’s fur in her shaky hands, as she wiggled her body out from under the enormous carcass. The slippery mud helped assist her as she slid her legs out of the furry prison. Her clothes were soaked through. Mud, rain, and blood all mixed together to seep into her frozen skin. She forced herself onto her feet and took a stumbled step backwards to examine her work. 

Sierra remained in wolf form after her death. They rarely ever changed back once their life was gone. Despite her blown open skull, she looked rather peaceful. Cute, even, if you looked from the right angles. Like a giant, sleeping puppy. They were beautiful creatures, werewolves. It was hard not to respect their strength and power. Sierra still nearly got the upper hand even with her paralyzed hind legs and silver burning her flesh. If it hadn’t been for the colt, she probably would have won. 

Death suited her, Aylin concluded. 

She turned from the corpse to pick up her crossbow off the ground and slung it back over her shoulder. She took a moment to gather herself, both her racing thoughts and her scattered belonging, before she attempted to continue. The adrenaline coursing through her veins made it difficult to think straight. The wolf was dead, the major threat eliminated, but there was still work that needed to be done. Cabins needed to be searched. Clues needed to be found. And a heart needed to be cut out as proof of her win. 

Aylin shuffled over to the bag Sierra had dropped. It lay at the bottom steps of the smallest cabin. A simple, faded, forest green wooden shack. While the other sleeping quarters looked like they could hold at least ten people total, this one could probably only handle four. She bent down to unzip the bag. A clear tupperware of cooked chicken, a bottle of water, and a ring full of keys were all that remained inside. Aylin glanced up to the cabin. That was where Sierra was headed to deliver the dinner. That was where they were keeping their pet. 

She snatched up the ring of keys and made her accent up the rotting wooden stairs. A screen door filled with holes stood in front of her. Behind it was another, solid metal door. It looked out of place, newer than everything else, as if someone had specifically installed it within the past year. A heavy padded lock bolted it shut. The kind of lock meant to keep something in. She tested out each key until she found the perfect fit. The lock popped open and she slid over the dead bolt, allowing the door to slowly creak open, unsure of what she would find on the other side.

The thick stench of musty sweat hit her nose as her eyes adjusted to the dark. It was pitch black inside. The windows had been boarded up and covered with heavy, old blankets. They would keep out the light and help dampen any noise. A set of two wooden bunk beds stood on opposite sides of the walls, built straight into the floor, but Aylin’s attention sought to what was chained between them. 

A man was naked, crouched on his knees, back curved forward, and head hung low. He was facing the blank wall across from her. His arms hung up above his head and stretched out to the side, forced into place by the bulky chains around each wrist. The sickly pale skin under the wide cuffs was rubbed raw. A trickle of dried blood caked down his forearm. His back was covered in a myriad of scars. Welts from a whip. Some new. Some old. All painful. She could see the perfect ridge of his spine protruding from under the scarred skin, each vertebrae clearly on display. The marks of a starving, tortured man. 

He head jerked to the side when he heard the creak of the floorboard as she took another step inside. His hair was down to his shoulders and hung in wild, greasy, matted stands. His skin was speckled with dirt and old, dried blood. Wheezing breaths struggled out his lungs. 

Aylin breathed through her mouth, trying to keep her nose blocked from the horrible smell wafting off of him. The closer she got, the worse it became. Not even her mask could help block the smell. He had been locked in this room for a long time, rotting away with no flow of air, no sunlight, nothing.  

“What have they done to you?” She whispered, horrified by what she was seeing. “Who are you?” 

The sounds of shifting chains filled the quiet shack as he came more alert. She stayed in the shadows behind him, just out of his eye sight while he tried to crane his head around to see who was speaking. This was a new voice, one unfamiliar to him. 

“Who are you?” He croaked. His voice was deep and scratchy like a rusty tool he no longer had any use for. 

“I asked you first.” She listened to the sound of the rain hammering against the wooden roof. It helped soothe the quickened pace of her heart. “Are you one of them? Do you…belong to them?” A pet. That’s what Sierra had called him. 

She had only been taught how to kill wolves, not what to do when she encountered a hostage they were keeping. This was new, uncharted territory. Sergei would probably want her to kill him and move on with her task, get home safe without any added baggage. Her mother would tell her to free the starving man and find him help, her humanity being more important than a flawless hunt. She chewed on her lip, silently weighing her options. 

The man gave a breathy, weak laugh. It sounded dark and ominous. 

“I…belong to them…yes.” He hesitated, defeat dripping in his tone. “Are you here to kill me? Please say yes.” 

Aylin swallowed, unsure. Was she? Her hand was clutched to the hilt of her knife. He could be dangerous. Or useful. There had to be a reason why a pack of wolves had him locked up. He belonged to them but was he one of them? It didn’t sound like he was part of the pack. A rival, maybe? Whoever he was, he wanted to die. He wanted her to kill him. Her heart sank in her chest. He looked so weak. His head had fallen back against his slumped over chest, his neck unable to support it upright for long. They had tortured him, starved him, until he was a broken shell. 

She took a deep breath and pulled her knife from the holster. He shuddered at the sound. She held it at the ready as she crept closer, ducking under one of his chains, to stand directly in front of him. He lifted his tired head to look at her. Her eyes widened at the horrors. Gaunt, pale cheeks caked in dirt. Untamed, wild hair like a mane framing his skeletal face. Dark, sagging circles embedded around hollow, red tinted eyes. His scraggly chestnut beard stuck out in all directions to hide his dry, chapped, pale lips. Every rib stood out against his grimy chest. She forced her eyes from traveling down any further, wanting to allow the naked man whatever shred of dignity he had left. 

“Well?” He asked again, watery eyes boring into her. “Are you going to kill me or not?” 

Aylin locked her gaze with his. It was the look of hope that softened his sharp features that simultaneously broke her heart and made up her mind. 

“No,” she declared. 

She couldn’t kill him. She didn’t care who he was or what he had done. Anyone chained up and begging for death deserved a second chance. 

A frown darkened his sweat dripped brow, “You're a hunter, aren’t you? I know that symbol on your coat. I heard you outside. You killed Sierra. That’s what you do. You kill werewolves.” 

Aylin nodded, “Yes.” 

“Then kill me,” he stated. The finality of his statement settled in the stale air around them. 

He was a werewolf. 

She should kill him. She should hate him. She should claim his life as a second victory. Two for one. It would secure her spot as Sergei’s protégé. She would be revered as a hero. A future candidate to lead the Silver Colts. Her destiny would be written in stone. 

Which was exactly why she wouldn’t. 

When she didn’t respond, he clenched his jaw, anger flashing across his broken eyes, “Kill me! I’m one of them! Do what you’re supposed to do and kill me!” He threw himself at where she stood, unflinching. The chains caught him before he could reach her and yanked him back into place as a sob escaped him. The fight immediately left his body. He was too weak. He curled up as best as he could with his arms hung weakly above his head. He let out a pathetic whimper. “Please…do it…please…” He whined. “Please. Help me. Make it end. Let it be over.”

He was a werewolf. A predator. A freak of nature. The one thing she was supposed to despise most in this world. Her enemy. The one she vowed to eliminate even if it cost her own life. She was raised to do this. Raised to be a killer. 

“No,” she whispered. 

It’s not a fair fight. He was too weak. Bound to chains. Already beaten into submission. She’d have to be a monster to pierce his heart now. He was supposed to be the monster. Not her. The plans of what to do next began swirling around in her mind. Crazy, ridiculous, unheard of plans. 

Aylin slipped her knife back into its holster. She had made up her mind. She was going to take him. Steal him from the pack. Bring him back with her. Hide him away from her people. Use him to get information. He was weak enough that she could control him. In the state he was in, his fragile mind could be easily manipulated. It was insane, yes, but it was her plan and her mind was set on it. 

The ring of keys were still stuck inside the lock of the door. She ducked back under his arm chain and retrieved them, starting to test each key until she found the right one, while he studied her with a quiet, sleepy, curiosity. She carefully unlocked each cuff, setting him loose. 

The wolf man fell to the ground the second his arms were free. He crumpled into the fetal position, chest heaving, unable to do much more in his feeble state. Aylin squatted down in front him. His knees were more raw than his wrists, almost worn down to the bone, as if he had to spend most of his time on them. It was then that she noticed his pelvic region. She only took notice because it stood out. While the rest of him was covered in grime, his pelvis was meticulously clean. Spotless. Perfectly cleared of any dirt, sweat, or blood. She couldn’t see anything more revealing as he tucked into himself but it was an odd observation, the kind that made her stomach lurch. Whoever Kateri was, she only seemed to care about one specific part of him. This hostage had a purpose. One she was going to take away from them. Cut off their supply and use him to lure them out into the open. 

He was the key to eliminating the entire pack. 

“What’s your name?” She asked softly. She could pretend to be nice, gain his trust, have him work for her. She could use him to bend her guild in the right direction. Think of all the information that could be learned by having an actual werewolf on their side. 

He peaked his eyes out at her, his lids hanging heavy like he hadn’t slept in days, “It’s-” He hesitated, having to think, to try and remember that part of himself. A part he lost long ago. “Uh, it's…Peter….yeah, that’s it. Peter.” Even though he was free, he made no attempts to move. Completely broken like an abused, unleashed dog sticking close to his master because he knew of nothing else. Kindness didn’t exist in his world. All he knew was pain and suffering. 

She reached out her hand, gently placing it against his cheek, even as he flinched and cowered away, she held steady, “I’m not going to hurt you, Peter.” She removed her hand from his scraggly beard and tugged down the dark cowl and mask to reveal the rest of her face for him to see, “My name is Aylin. I am a hunter but not to you. You no longer belong to these sadistic people. Now, you belong to me.” 

[Chapter Two]

A/N: A reblog will automatically put you onto the chapter two tag list. If you enjoyed what you read, please leave a comment! It would make this writer very happy and more likely to continue writing. I hope you have a lovely night/evening/morning/afternoon/day. 

Tag List: @liz-allyn @mrshipsmcgee @sincericida @moonyslove78​

[tulipsimss]

[wisteriamuses]

About Mun & Blog Rules

List of Muses

((As of 11/11/24, all muses are from Bleach or KHR. This is subject to change.))

[inthethickofbleeding]

Thoughts on Bridgerton S3

I'M JUST RANTING OKAY I've only seen part 2 once and these are just my thoughts and feelings I am gonna throw here and delete later when I probably change my mind after rewatching?? I just gotta rant😭

Penelope was so gracious and understanding and forgiving and I felt she deserved, in many moments, to be rightfully more upset, more vindictive, more fiercely witty and proud. Though I do LOVE all the things getting resolved and solved and brought to light and happy endings (I actually do love it), the journey there for me was missing a healthy and (imo) realistic dose of female rage. Just for the dramaaa come on. All the other drama going on here and Penelope is 'grateful for your counsel?' bfr. I'll show you grateful for your counsel by hating on it! She can show everyone her heart AND her teeth. She is more than capable and I thought that her character was reduced too much in the last four episodes. Penelope I want you to have everything, including your full range of emotion and humor and wit. Drink more w/ Madame Delacroix okay?? And with Lady Danbury.

I feel like my husbandColin was weirdly sidelined? I'm actually quite grateful for Part1 Colin, because I haven't landed anywhere yet with Part2 Colin. I knew he was jealous, I knew he was always going to forgive her...and we all knew he loved her....so the conflict/tension between them was not as interesting- for me! Just for meee. And stupidly drawn out. FOR MEEEEE. He had taken so many 'gallant' steps in his relationship with Penelope so when their wedding day and night and subsequent honeymoon days arrived and he was stuck in that attitude I was so unmoved. Don't play with me, Colin. Go worship your wife.

I JUST WANTED ANOTHER PURE VIOLET MOMENT! OF ANY KIND! Like before/about her dance with Marcus come oonnn! This is Violet! Please for the love. Also give me a convo with her and Penelope! Just one real one?? Damn. Her resolution with Francesca was alright? I guess. I do love that she isn't perfect with all of her kids, esp her daughters. But I feel they planted a lot of stuff for her as a mother and as a woman wanting to 'tend to her garden' you know? And it fell awkwardly for me. My favorite Bridgerton forever though.

HATE HATE HATE that Colin went to Cressida's house to make things worse trope. Seen it before. Didn't like it then and I don't like it now. AND he was forgiven so quickly. Absolutely not. DO NOT GO INTO ROOMS ALONE WITH ANYONE ANYMORE COLIN BRIDGERTON UNLESS IT IS UR WIFE PLEASE DON'T MAKE ME SLASH MY SCREEN. Go home to your wife and fix it there before you try to be all heroic outside of it okay. I will shave your head. I think I need Daphne.

Dear Eloise, you don't know what it is to be a friend, to have a friend, or even to lose a friend. Maybe I'm interpreting it wrong, maybe I don't care idk. But we start the show humanizing Cressida, bully since season 1 episode 1, THROUGH Eloise. BUT WHEN IT CAME TIME FOR THE FRIENDSHIP TO MEAN SOMETHING TO EITHER OF THEM Eloise willfully gave up, walked away, ran to the comfort of her privilege with her family and way-too-understanding friend. HOW DID WE CHAMPION SO MANY WOMEN ONLY TO ABANDON THIS THING W/ Cressida at the end as she was literally sent away alone.

Lady Danbury complaints similar to Violet. She is usually a more prominent player, so when she wasn't this season, well, I missed her and wanted anything more about her. But! Love her all the same.

HOW DARE THEY throw Kanthony back and forth all weirdy like that. Kate is here, just let us have Kate. And her lil loving husband. Come oooonnn. Three babies at the end and none of them Kate's😭 And Violet was overwhelmed and they didn't get to have another moment?? A lot of off-screen moments are told to us and we just get to believe whoever says whatever. Every actor here has shown they have skills for show-don't-tell productions! All those beautiful eyes! I just am feeling upset about the random use of this gorgeous couple. EVEN ANTHONY, Viscount and eldest brother of them all just walks away at one point when Colin is obviously needing more of him. Whatever.

Why why why did we have an original song PLUS an orchestral cover of it for both to be so unused??? Tori Kelly's song is so wedding-coded and so romantic and earnest. But it didn't make an appearance for Polin at all. Not at their wedding, not in their home, not in the carriage, not anywhere...

Maybe unpopular opinion but I hated "Yellow" being the wedding song. First see the point above and then please please just remember how much Penelope did to distance herself from that fucking color and the horrible memories of it. NOW! IF COLIN HAD MENTIONED IT SOME WAY OR WHATEVER THEN SUUUURRREEE keep the song. HOWEVER. EVEN THE WEDDING WAS NOT YELLOW, HER FAMILY WASN'T IN YELLOW, WE DIDN'T TALK ABOUT IT AT ALL WHY IS IT THE FUCKING WEDDING SONG WHEN THERE ARE MANY OTHER OPTIONNNNSSSSS WHYYYYY (idc why, I just hated it, even if I did cry).

Benedict has been cute and boring for far too long and that did not change for me in this season. TWO BRIDGERTONS with queer representation in an already huge season with so many storylines going on, I wish we could've celebrated it better. Amongst the thousands of other things that were being celebrated, Benedict has still been separated from them in weird ways.

Not a big point, just an interesting one. But where did Debling go? He just effed off to the wilderness? We spent a lot of time with him (and Cressida) in the first four eps.....and then he was gone.....okay.

Charlotte, I love you. You should know that first. But man you love to crash a party, and a wedding, and I just feel like you should've at least killed someone by now with all these theatrics. Even for Charlotte, I felt she was strangely incorporated into this last half of the season. She and Penelope are technically equals in many many ways- BUT WE NEVER GOT TO SEE THAT WIT AND BANTER PLAY OUT MORE WHYYYY

All in all. It's just my rantings. I was absolutely in love with the first four episodes. There was something so fairytale about it and it was so romantic. So, yes, I was disappointed in part 2 on the initial watch, despite the many things I loved about it. There was a lot going on and, sadly, most did not land for me. Yet.

It's a good show, I still love the show. I will be watching the show. Give me more of the show lol.

[smashwolfen]

The most perfect picture of Soshi I may ever take! Noticed she was sitting looking out the window and I had to get up and take this so fast before she decided to move ;w;

[prince-liest]

I did a little photoshoot of all my in-bloom African Violets!

Watermelon Bay

Frosty Cherry (Moroznaia Vishnia)

Cajun's Queen's Lace

PT Wild Plum

[mariailoveyou-guerin]

See Lady Danbury with her favourite Bridgerton boys holding hands all happy smily she’s just like me for real

Why do I have feeling lady Danbury garden bloomed and was seen to by Benedict? He’s just a himbo like that he would love to help any woman a true feminist it’s not like lady Danbury don’t have experience with Bridgerton man that why she’s looking specifically at our resident silly himbo boy? Is that why she was so up in ups about violet garden being bloomed too bc she of this her and Ben so she was trying to get mama some

​see how Colin knows something is up between them and Ben is hiding away trying so hard not to her eye contact in public oh my gif what if they bonded over him going to that fancy art school and having his pic hang at the national museum which she frequently went to even with Violet remember they met there!

The fact Luke is going on press with Golda before the part2 basically the queen and Benedict why would they be together if not for the fact Benedict is doing it with the queens confidant and friend all these years THINK!