#warning smut gore and a few other stuff

[seijorhi]

Violent Delights

for my very dearest best friend (wife) @iwaasfairy i'm sorry it's super late, but august and april both start with 'a' which basically means they're the same month <33 iwaizumi hajime x female reader w.c 4.4k tw: yandere themes, non-con, drugged reader, blood/gore, murder, incest, sorta smut (nsfw)

M I N E

It’s funny in a way. Amidst the wreckage, the blood, what was left of your friends and the cooling puddle of cum splattered across your naked stomach, four letters carved into your bedroom wall seemed almost… harmless. Or at least the easiest to digest. Fixate on.

The detective asked about your ex partners, the dates you’d been on recently, whether or not you’d noticed anyone in your day-to-day paying you too much attention, if anyone made you feel uncomfortable, or said anything that seemed out of place.

But your exes don’t care enough to kill, and the two dates you’ve been on in the last six months never bothered to text you back. No one’s left weird, unsettling gifts, or stared too long in line at the coffee shop. There’s nothing. No precursor or warning, no giant red flag waving in front of you.

Mine. 

Hovering on the edge of numbness, blind hysteria just out of reach, you stare at the beige walls of the hotel room they’d put you up in, the angry gouges flickering in and out of existence with every blink. 

Mine.

Mine.

Mine.

Kaori was the one obsessed with all the true crime stuff. She’d be the first to tell you psychopaths and nutjobs – they don’t jump straight into drugging and triple homicide. There’s a pattern of behaviour. Escalation. 

Something you missed. 

Then again, considering it’s her blood still caked under your fingernails, there’s a strong possibility she wouldn’t be all that enthusiastic about the whole thing to begin with. 

You need a shower, a proper one – not the glorified sponging off they’d given you at the hospital. Enough to get you out the door, not nearly enough to scrub away the grime and rid yourself of what he did to you–

The others had it worse. You survived. He barely touched you.

Mine. 

The thought of scalding water, of scrubbing yourself raw does hold a certain appeal, yet hunched over atop starched white sheets, those same bloody fingernails sink into the flesh of your arms instead, grounding you in the tiny bite of pain. 

Minutes tick past and you don’t so much as twitch. Not until a sharp knock sounds at the door and a gruff voice calls out your name. 

You wait half a beat, but when nothing more is forthcoming, you slowly edge yourself off the bed, making your way to the door. Through the peephole you spy a dark haired officer, different to the one who’d dropped you off, staring back at you. 

They did tell you there’d be an officer with you the whole time, at least for the next twenty four hours. 

“Miss?” he calls again, and you distantly realise that while your hand is poised over the deadlock, you haven’t moved to undo it. 

Squeezing your eyes shut, your forehead meeting the wooden door with a muted thud, you curse that stupid, tremulous fluttering in your chest. They’re here for you, protecting you. You’re safe.

Open the damn door. 

“Y-yeah?”

Coward.

“Brought some food for you. Dinner.” There’s a rustling on the other side, and you raise your head to peer back through the glass in time to see him lift up a paper carry bag to the peephole. The idea of eating anything right now has your stomach roiling in protest. “Nothing fancy, but it’s good, I swear,” he says. Then, gentler, like he’s talking down a spooked animal, adds, “You need to eat.”

Still, you hesitate. All you need to do is open the door, grab the food and then at least it’s there if you want it later. Easy. 

Too quick, too jerky to be natural, you twist at the handle and yank the door open a scant few inches, enough for you to reach out an arm expectantly for the food. “Thank you,” you pre-empt, because hungry or not, you’re not completely without manners.

The officer lifts an eyebrow. “Yeah, no. I’m not taking heat from the Cap when the guys on the next shift find you passed out ‘cause you haven’t eaten anything,” he scoffs. “C’mon, we can talk while you eat.” Not a suggestion – you barely have time to stumble back before he’s pushing his way inside and kicking the door closed behind him. The second he takes to flick the lock somehow simultaneously eases the knots in your stomach and sends your heartrate ratcheting.

It’s halfway to a miracle that you’re still standing at all. 

“Eat,” he tells you, his deep voice brooking no disagreement as he shoves the bag of food your way and grabs the lone chair in the room, dragging it closer to the edge of the bed and settling himself down. Clearly he has no intention of going anywhere until he’s satisfied you’ve eaten your fill.

With little else for it, you do as you’re told, reaching into the bag to find steamed buns at your fingertips, still warm as you pry open the wrapper– and wince. The familiar scent of pork, ginger and chives wafts through the air, unwittingly digging at old wounds. 

Suddenly you’re a kid again, strolling down the hill with your family, one hand tucked safely within your brother’s, the other grasping a steaming hot bun. You’re happy and whole and so, so young–

“Something wrong? You don’t like meat buns?” 

Not the time. Ignoring the bitter ache the memory conjures, you’re quick to shake your head, “No. No, thank you. It’s great.” You doubt he buys it, but then again you also doubt he cares so long as you get something in your stomach. 

One bite, chew, swallow. Another, chew, swallow – mechanical until it isn’t. The first bun disappears and you reach for the second.

“How’s your head?” he asks.

You swallow down another mouthful. “Fuzzy. Sore. I still can’t remember anything,” you  admit, in case that’s where this line of questioning is going. Nothing beyond waking up in your bed covered in blood and a stranger’s cum at any rate.

The blood work they did at the hospital confirmed you were drugged along with the others, the detective mentioning the near-empty bottle of wine they’d found, which they were in the process of testing too. He’d also pointed out the lack of evidence indicating any kind of forced entry, which paired with the former is something you’ve been trying not to dwell on. 

The officer gives a considering nod, “That’s to be expected, don’t worry about it. I still think it’s worth asking a few more questions if you’re feeling up to it?” Again, it’s phrased like a question, but already he’s pulling out a voice recorder, setting down on the mattress between you. 

“Um, sure. Yeah,” you croak. 

A small smile, “Good.” He leans forward to switch on the recorder. “We’ll start with the other victims – your friends. Tell me about them.”

“Kaori, she’s– she was my best friend. We worked at the same grocer when I first moved out of my parents’ place, when I got a job here she made the decision to move with me. That was about six months ago.” 

“And the other two?” 

“Her brother Koji and another friend of ours Takashi. They came up to visit; Kaori’s been back once or twice since we left, but I hadn’t seen them–” tears blur at your vision and your voice just… gives out. 

They’re gone. 

You drag a shuddering breath in and it hurts. 

Blindly, your hand reaches across the bed, blood tipped fingers sprawling over pristine white, and when they meet warmth – an open palm outstretched – you seize it and cling on with everything you have. You’ll unravel if you don’t.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” you chant, each syllable shakier than the last.

He dips his chin, just barely, and squeezes your hand, “You invited them?”

A wordless, wide eyed nod. 

“You were close.” Not a question. He sounds like he’s mulling over the thought, though his expression is inscrutable. “Were you involved with any of them?”

This time, there’s the slightest hesitation before you shake your head. The officer frowns, “I need the truth. Your friends were attacked for a reason. Lying to me won’t help bring their families peace.”

The blood drains from your face, your heart lurching on a sickening thud. 

Your fault. 

Instinctively, you yank back your hand, or try to at least, but his grip tightens – enough to keep you from drawing away, not enough to hurt. Though neither his tone nor his expression hold any condemnation, it doesn’t change the truth of the matter. 

You didn’t drug them or pick up the knife and swing. You didn’t invite this psycho into your life, but the fact remains that they’re dead because of you. 

“I– it wasn’t like that. We weren’t… I didn’t–” 

MINE.

Tears threaten to spill and your bottom lip trembles. 

For a long, drawn out moment, he simply stares. There’s a twitch at his jaw and he sighs – more of a grunt, really – leaning back and pulling his hand from yours to rake through his dark hair. 

(Stupid, you think, how some part of you mourns the loss.) 

“Okay, alright. Fine. We’ll come back to that,” he concedes. “What about other friends? Coworkers you were close with?”

“No, I– I already told the detective I wasn’t seeing anyone.”

An irritated flash darkens his gaze. “I didn’t ask if you were fucking them.” And you must make a truly pathetic picture then, flinching like a kicked puppy, because he lets out another huff, closing his eyes for a beat and visibly working to soften the harsh lines of his expression. “Shit, okay– I’m sorry. It’s been a long day for us both,” he makes an odd noise, somewhere between a scoff and a laugh, the sound entirely devoid of humour. “The guy who did this, he either already knows about the people precious to you, or he’s gonna do his damn best to find out, and if he thinks they’re threats, he’ll hurt them, or worse – he’ll use them to hurt you. I need you to tell me everything.”

And so, feeling the exhaustion of the day creeping over you, you do.

You tell him about the small group from work you occasionally go out for Friday drinks with, your old friends from uni, right down to the neighbour two floors below, who’d seen you hauling boxes the day you’d moved in and immediately offered to help. When you’d christened the kitchen baking you’d made sure to bring him some, and just last week you’d had tea with him and his grandma.

“What about school? Anyone you still keep in contact with?”

You try for a laugh but it sounds all wrong. “I wasn’t exactly popular back then,” 

His eyes narrow. They flit across your face like he’s searching for… something. You feel like a bug, pinned in place, squirming and uncomfortable, your face too hot. 

“Bullied?” he probes. 

Another nod. 

“How ‘bout family?”

Your mouth dries.

“My parents… I haven’t spoken to them in months. We don’t really get along.” The last conversation you’d had with them, if you could call it as much, lasted all of five minutes. Dry pleasantries and thinly veiled criticisms, wrapped up in yet another pointed reminder that things didn’t have to be this way – you were the one adamant on shutting them out. 

You doubt it’d raise a single eyebrow between them if you went the same again without contact. 

“Siblings?”

Another tear slips from your lashes and you swallow against the tight lump in your throat. The weight of his gaze feels oppressive, you’re too bare, too vulnerable, you don’t want to talk about this, so you shift your line of sight to the paper delivery bag, half crumpled now, and let your fingernails sink into the skin of your palms. 

Still, the words don’t come straight away, and when they do, they’re strained. Choked. Painted so thick is grief that you wonder if he understands them at all.

“No. I uh, I had a brother– a twin brother. He died.” 

You don’t talk about your brother, ever.

Kaori knew the bare bones of it. Koji and Takashi too – you had a twin brother, he died, and it fucked you up. Without ever uttering a word, they’d known not to press, that the wounds left behind weren’t quite as healed as the scar tissue led to believe. 

“How old were you?”

Seven, when you lost him. Twelve, when the letters stopped coming. 

“Fourteen,” you whisper, curling in on yourself. “He was sick.”

Stop asking, stop talking, stop, stop, stop. 

When you risk a look in the officer’s direction, his features are hewn granite, eyes set in a hard, angry glare that steals the very breath from your lungs. “Yeah?” he grunts, rising to his feet. “You stopped writing long before that.”

There’s just enough time for understanding to crash over you, for your lips to part, a feather light gasp of “Hajime?” to slip out before you’re flat on your back, wrists pinned to the mattress above your head, the officer– a ghost– Hajime looming over you. 

“What did I fucking tell you?”  

—

‘Sweetie, make sure you hold your brother’s hand.’

They’d meant when you were walking home from the bus stop, or crossing the road. When there was a buddy system so no one got separated or left behind. 

Hajime was always holding your hand. Not because your parents told him to, but because that’s how it was supposed to be. You were twins, he’d been born first (by all of six minutes) and you had followed. You were always following Hajime, and he was always going to look after you. 

Until he gets put into the Otter class with Mr Inagaki, and you go into Dugong with Miss Ino. 

Hajime’s nothing short of enraged. He throws chairs and yells and tries to kick the Principal, but it doesn’t change anything.

It would be good for you, they said, to have a chance to make other friends. ‘You can’t keep using your brother as a crutch, honey,’ your mother gently admonishes. 

Hajime scowls at that. Later, when it’s just the two of you hiding away in his room, he tells you she’s an idiot and a liar. ‘You don’t need anyone else. You have me.’

You knew that. You’d always have Hajime, but the other kids in your class weren’t as awful as he made them sound. Some of them were actually kind of cool, and they liked you, too.

For a while, you began to believe you could have both; Hajime and your new friends. 

Until one day you’re waiting for him at lunch when a boy from your class tugs on your braids and with a wide, toothy grin, loudly proclaims to the whole playground that even though you were a girl, and girls have cooties, it’d probably be okay if you wanted to be his girlfriend. 

You didn’t see Hajime coming up behind you. You’ve no idea where he found the scissors. The only warning either of you get is a sudden, splitting roar before he’s throwing himself at the smaller boy, tackling him to the ground. 

‘She’s MINE!’

Silver glints, flashing in the sunlight, and a high pitched shriek rips through the playground as he brings the scissors down on the poor, struggling boy. 

With a viciousness you’d never known of your brother, he swings again and again. It’s chaos. The other kids scatter and the teachers run to intervene. Hajime, spitting and snarling, red in the face and half-feral, doesn’t stop for them.

He stops for you. 

At the sound of a sharp little gasp, a line of red slashed along your forearm, Hajime stops dead, wide, horrified eyes fixed on yours.

—

‘Sweetie, what have I told you about snooping? I raised you better than that.’

‘But they’re addressed to me. Hajime wrote to me.’

‘Your brother’s not well, those letters– they’ll only upset you. I don’t want you reading them.’

‘… He says he misses me.’

‘I know, but he’s where he belongs, getting help. You want that for him, don’t you? To get the help he needs?’

‘I want to write back to him.’

—

There’s another letter waiting for you when you get home from school.

You hang your backpack near the door, still damp from being tossed in the pool, and eye the opened envelope sitting by your father. He doesn’t look up from his laptop when you reach for it, doesn’t lift a finger to stop you. Nevertheless, the displeasure radiates from him clear as day. 

“You shouldn’t encourage him. He’s not well.”

You’d scoff if it wouldn’t get you in trouble. Nothing you said could ever be taken as ‘encouragement’, and you’re under no illusions about who and what your brother is. 

The violence terrifies you. Sometimes he says things in the letters he writes that make your stomach all twisty and your palms sweat, but Hajime could be a monster, and you think you’d love him anyway. You wouldn’t have a choice. 

So you pluck at the envelope and tuck it close, making your way to your room without another glance at either of your parents. Sitting cross legged atop your bed, you eagerly scan the contents;

He hates the new therapist. They had a movie night planned, but some asshole started a fight and the whole thing got cancelled. The food’s still shit. He’s fed up and pissed off, whether he behaves or not, they won’t let him out and they won’t give him what he wants, so what’s the point in pretending?

The both of you turn twelve in ten days time – you owe it to him to come spend it together. 

—

‘Maybe it’s for the best, sweetheart.’

Dismissive. She’s always dismissive. Your hands curl in response, tightening before you force yourself to flex them out and bite your tongue. It’s not worth the fight. Neither one of them actually care, and nothing you say will ever change that. 

He’s angry at you. Or hurt. Both, probably. 

They wouldn’t let you visit. You’d begged – cried, even – and it hadn’t swayed them. The rules are that you aren’t allowed to go and see Hajime and you aren’t allowed to talk to him on the phone. The letters are the only communication you have, and when your twelfth birthday comes and goes, those stop too.

You’ve sent four letters since, no response. 

He’s shut you out entirely and while you can’t blame him for it, it’s painful.

You’ve always had Hajime, through everything. Him shutting you out feels like losing a limb– 

No, it’s more than that. It’s like slowly losing some vital function inside of you. Like your lungs are shutting down and you can’t breathe properly and your heart isn’t pumping the way it should. You feel guilty and horrible and at least twice, you debate trying to find a way to sneak out and make the two hour journey on your own, just so you can see him.

It’s a stupid idea, they wouldn’t even let you through the front door, but it’s the only idea you have and so you cling to it.

You keep writing to him– panicked. Desperate. Begging his forgiveness. 

He never writes back.

—

They sit you down at breakfast three months after your fourteenth birthday and tell you Hajime’s gone.

There was another fight, someone pushed him–

You don’t want to hear the details. They don’t matter and your ears are ringing too loud to make sense of them anyway.

Hajime is gone.

The cord between you was stretched and fraying already. He hadn’t written in over two years and probably hated you towards the end but he– he was–

Yours. A part of you. 

Gone.

And your mother’s asking about the English test you have second period. 

—

“What. Did. I. Say?” Each word is slowly enunciated, a quiet growl that drags an unwilling shiver down your spine. 

He smells of wood – of cedar, spice and musk, the notes melding, coiling with the dizzying body heat, the solid weight of him, bracing himself above you.

His lips are mere inches from yours. 

Not dead. 

Here.

There’s a thousand thoughts racing through your head, connections that light up, clicking into place like pieces of a puzzle, painting a deeply unsettling picture – all of which are drowned out by the revelation that Hajime is here.

You burst into tears–

and Hajime – your brother, very much alive and glaring at you from above – surges down to swallow them in a vicious kiss.

The moment your lips touch, all the tension in his body just… bleeds out. Hajime groans, low and heated, his hips rocking, grinding along your stomach, and if you weren’t too preoccupied short circuiting, dangling on the precipice of a panic attack, you’d feel the twitch of his mouth, curling into a small but no less satisfied smirk.

He relaxes, like he’s coming home rather than returning from the dead to land the killing blow.

“Mine,” he answers his own question, breath heavy and ragged as his teeth nip at your jaw. “I told you you’re fucking mine.”

The scratches on the wall. Kaori and Koji and Takashi, asleep in a sea of red. The viscous mess spilled over your belly. Your mother’s hushed voice, carrying down the hallway, ‘– only a phase. The books all say he’ll grow out of it before long.’

She hadn’t sounded convinced. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, desperate to block it all out as more tears spill into your hairline. Hajime won’t let you. He groans your name into the shell of your ear and licks at the tears as they fall. “Don’t,” he warns, fingers pressing tightly around your wrists ‘til they shoot back open with a gasp, “don’t you dare check out.”

When he rucks up your shirt to find you sans bra and a warm palm slides up to grope the soft, supple skin, a fresh burst of panic spurs you into action. Pinned under his weight as you are, you can’t move, and the idea of trying to physically fight him off is as laughable as it is terrifying – but when you were younger, you were the one – the only one – who could coax Hajime back from the edge, your hand in his.

Until he leapt from it entirely, and they took him away.

“H-Hajime?” A trembling, hiccuping whimper, thick with tears.  

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even pause – shuffling down your body to mouth at them instead – but hooded, simmering pools of green flick back up to your face, a hum of acknowledgement rumbling in his chest as he nips and sucks pretty, burgundy blooms across your breasts.

“I-if you ever loved me, even a little… Please, Haji– don’t hurt me like this–” you choke on another sob, pathetic mess that you are.

Hajime goes preternaturally still, eyes boring into you. 

You stare right back, fighting the urge to cower and flinch, to turn your cheek and stare at the discarded dumpling wrappers, letting him take what he wants. Praying that he won’t hurt you too badly if you give it to him without a fight.

Because it will hurt, you think. It’ll break you entirely. 

(Are you not already broken?)

When his head drops, you can’t help it – the sharp, terrified hitch in your breath – but his lips meet your forehead, then each cheek, before finally they brush over your lips with a tenderness he has no right to. “You don’t have to be afraid of me,” he vows, cradling the side of your jaw, “I won’t hurt you, ever.”

But that’s a lie, too.

“I love you more than anything.”

He kisses you again, soft and sweet and gentle, as if those promises weren’t sewn from violence and legitimised in blood. As if he isn’t breaking your heart with every sweep of his tongue, plundering your mouth.

There’s no fight in you left when he reaches for the waistband of your sweats and slowly starts easing them down. You don’t claw and shove when the hold on your wrists loosens and then disappears entirely, both hands needed to strip away his clothes. 

The sound of his belt buckle clinking, the soft hiss of a zipper, they wash over you, white noise lost to the pounding in your ears. 

But you don’t look away.

He strokes his cock – long and thick and flushed to the tip –  crawling up the mattress to kneel between your legs like a supplicant before an altar of the divine. 

Devotion demands sacrifice. 

“It killed me,” he starts, dragging the mushroom head along the slit of your pussy. He frowns a little, leans back and spits – a fat glob of saliva landing dead centre, adding to the mess his weeping cock’s already made. “When the letters stopped coming. I was angry, so fucking angry, all the time. I’d lash out and they’d put me in another cage, and I’d do it again, and again. They tried convincing me you’d moved on,” his eyes flash darkly, “which was bullshit. They’d have to carve me out of you with a knife.”

What shocks you isn’t the violent imagery, but the truth of it settling into your bones, inescapable and undeniable; you’ll always love your brother, even if that very love destroys you.

“I didn’t–”

The first thrust rips a strangled yelp from your throat. 

He’s too big, you’re not prepared to take him – and Hajime doesn’t care. His head tips back, shuddering out a breathy laugh. 

There’s no pause, no period of grace, seated deep inside of you, the walls of your pussy hugging him tight, Hajime won’t allow you a second to catch your breath and wait for the burning sting to abate. His hips draw back until only the throbbing head of his cock remains inside, and, upon grabbing a leg to hitch over his shoulder, uses it as leverage to punch forward, stuffing your tight little cunt to the brim.

The pace he sets is brutal from the outset. Bruising. He licks at your tears between kisses and moans when you clench and shudder around him. “Never again,” he pants into your ear. “I’ll kill them all if you leave. Every last fucking one. You’re mine. Mine.”

And you’d think it cruel, a punishment, if not for the way those green eyes burn. 

When his fingers twine with yours, pressing you down into the mattress, holding you there, you wonder if this was always an inevitability. 

Hajime led and you followed, hand in bloody hand. 

He’d never allow anything less.

[sailoryooons]

Red | KNJ | (m)

☾ Pairing: Werewolf!Namjoon x f. reader

☾ Summary: For as long as you can remember, your village has been relatively normal. But when people begin to turn up dead right after a group of newcomers arrive, pieces of your past start to fall into place, and something feels familiar - particularly the quiet man who can't take his eyes off of you.

☾ Word Count: 21,148

☾ Genre: Supernatural, thriller, smut

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings: Fantasy violence, light depections of murder and animal attacks, mentions of gore, discussions about community displacement and violence, Yoongi is an asshole, animal attacks, depictions of blood, tbh reader and Namjoon don’t know each other THAT well when they fuck so idk, implied protecting from a far but not in a stalker way, explicit language, intense sequences of fear and anxiety, reader is attacked by a wolf, there is a mention of animals being hurt/killed but not in explicit details, dead bodies, arson, sexually explicit content invluding vaginal fingering, nipple play, vaginal penetration, a little bit of mention of fluids but not really. 

☾ Published: Sunday, January 21 2024

☾ A/N: I wish I could explain to you how this got to be so long. I wrote it over several weeks and each day I picked it back up, I just kept adding dialogue and scenery and setting. Like half of this isn’t even Namjoon and reader reacting - what was I doing? I wish I knew! I hope you like my spin on Red Riding Hood anyway! I tried to do this in a way that it doesn’t seem creepy that Namjoon was silently looking out for reader but like… I could understand if someone finds it creepy I am so sorry lmfao.  I did read through this to edit but I 100% missed stuff because I'm a rougher editor and this is unbeta'd.

☾ A/N 2: This is a Red Riding Hood Retelling that is similar in vibe to the 2011 Red Riding Hood movie directed by Catherine Hardwicke.

 Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

| Masterlist | Ask | Make Me Your Villain Collab | Taglist

Father always said not to go into the woods at night. Like him, though, the woods have always called to you, feeling like a second home. You’ve never been able to explain it, and you’ve stopped trying to. 

It’s a little chilly outside, the first breath of harvest air nipping at your skin. In a few weeks, it will be freezing outside, forcing you into cloaks and furs. 

Grass crunches beneath your feet as you slip through the small yard and toward the tree line. Your house already sits at the edge of the village, the dark trees stretching high above the rooftops. Soon the trees will be dusted in snow, but for now, they sway gently in the autumn breeze, turned silver by the moonlight. 

You’ve always loved the woods. The sounds of the crickets singing and rabbits dashing underfoot are calming, the smell of sticky pine and fresh air invigorating. You especially love them at night, hidden beneath boughs and walking through the shafts of moonlight that slip through the trees. 

The best part is that you don’t feel so alone out here. There is a feeling you cannot place each time you enter the woods, like you’re a little closer to discovering yourself. You’ve been chasing that feeling since you were a little girl, hungry for finding whatever it is that drives you out here. 

Hands tucked into your pockets, you walk the same route you always follow. It isn’t deep into the woods - you aren’t silly enough to believe you’re safe alone in the dark - but it’s enough of a walk to clear your head. 

Howls echo up into the night, a wolf pack on their hunt. The sound of them makes the hair on your arms stand on end.

The wolves don’t come very close to the village anymore since the vicious wolf hunts when you were barely old enough to remember them. The relationship between the men of your home and the wolves in the wood is violent, a chill cooling your skin every time they’re mentioned by one of your neighbors. 

A terrible howl splits the night. You feel your body go cold with fear, warmth leaching out of you as you press yourself against a tree, heart in your throat. The sound is something like a howl laced with utter anguish, chilling you down to the marrow. It tapers off into a whimper before falling silent again. 

Pressed against the tree, you wait. Your heart is beating so harshly that it feels like you might vomit in fear. Soft whimpering drifts on the wind. You hold your breath and strain your ears. It almost sounds like an injured dog.

It tugs at your heartstrings. You bite your lip, weighing your options. The noise sounded like it came from the south a little off of your path and toward the ravine that splits the part of the woods that is relatively safe from the deeper part where the animals are more lethal and more frequent. You could easily find your way back if you made it to the ravine, and as the whimpering vanishes entirely, you can’t help but imagine an animal in pain. 

The most difficult part about working with Dr. Kim at the veterinary clinic is always the animals that he can’t fix. You’ve held the hands of loved ones who couldn’t save their aging dogs, and you’ve hushed lame horses as Dr. Kim prepared draughts to send them to sleep and then to death. 

Pivoting, you turn and march toward the initial sound. It may perhaps be the single worst idea you’ve ever had, but you suddenly don’t care. You’ve worked with Dr. Kim enough to know how to triage animal wounds, and the thought of leaving something alone and suffering replaces any sort of fear you originally had. 

You’re careful not to lose your footing as the ground slopes steadily as you get closer to the ravines and canyons of the south side. Leaves shift underneath your feet as you go. It feels overly loud in a forest that is suddenly so quiet, only filled with the softest sound of labored breathing.

A small dip in the ground catches you off guard. You gasp, a scream stuck in your throat as you lose your footing and slide down the slope, your back and ass hitting the ground hard as you slide, leaves hissing underneath you. You scramble to grab a hold of something, but the hill isn’t very high and you hit the bottom of it quickly.

Heart pounding, you lay in the damp leaves for a second, panting, hand pressed to your heart as it rattles under your palm. Just as the fear settles down, a growl makes your blood run cold. Slowly, you begin to turn your face toward the left. You realize you’ve slid down a dell, and a few yards from you is a large, shivering form covered in fur.

You blink. Once. Twice. You realize that the large mound of fur is a creature - a wolf. It lays on the ground shaking, a ride of jet black hair standing up on its spine, hackles raised. The wolf’s ears are pinned back and its yellow eyes are wild, nearly consumed by the dark pupils drinking you in. Its teeth are bared, foam and drool lining pink gums as it snares, nose twitching. 

It’s the biggest wolf you’ve ever seen. You can’t move. You can only stare at it, wondering why it continues to snarl and stare at you, but not move. Your eyes rove its trembling form from maw to tail, and you realize its front leg is wet and held at an odd angle.

“Oh,” you gasp, realizing that the wolf’s foot is stuck in a claw trap. “I’m so sorry. I… can I help you?”

The wolf stops growling for a moment as if it understands. You stare with wide eyes, not daring to move as it assesses you. It leans toward you and sniffs, the sound of snuffing loud in the silence of the dell. For a few moments, you just watch as the beast regards you. 

Then, it chuffs and looks at its own foot, whining. You sit up slowly in amazement. The creature watches you with what you can only describe as a caution. You get up carefully and make your way toward the wolf. It watches your every movement. It can surely smell your fear as you get a few feet away, crouching down with your hands held out to let it know you’re not going to cause harm. 

You pause, waiting for permission to examine the wolf’s foot. It gazes at you and for a moment, you lose yourself in that burning, golden gaze. The wolf’s eyes are so human that it’s hard to see it as a simple beast. There is something alive and intelligent there.

As if sensing that you’re waiting for the all-clear, the wolf chuffs and lowers its head toward its foot, gesturing. You smile a little at that, marveling at the communication skills. Carefully, you look at the trap around the wolf’s foot. It’s a metal contraption that is pressure-engaged, with metal teeth. You cringe seeing the red on matted fur and metal.

“You must have stepped on the pressure plate,” you tell the wolf, though it probably doesn’t understand. You gesture to the round plate at the center of the trap. “It would have been in a circle and when stepped on, snapped closed like jaws.”

The wolf whines and bows its head. You wince. “They’re really strong,” you admit, chewing on your lip. “I don’t think I can pull it apart all the way, but I might be able to open it enough just for a moment for you to pull out your leg. Can you do that?” 

A huff. Somehow, you think if it could, the wolf might roll its eyes. Your mouth twitches in an almost smile as you get onto your knees, wiping sweaty hands on your pants. This close to the beast, you realize just how large it is. 

“This is going to hurt,” you insist. “Please… Please don’t bite me, okay? I want to help you.” 

The wolf lowers its head until it's lying on the ground, gold eyes watching you. Its muscles are tense and the hair along the ridge of its back is still standing, afraid and alert. 

“Okay. I’m just… I’m just going to touch the trap and try to get a grip first, okay?” The wolf doesn’t answer. It blinks at you, waiting. Licking your lips, you whisper, more to yourself than anything, “Okay, I can do this.”

Slowly, you reach out toward the wolf’s injured foot. You flick your gaze over to the wolf looking for a reaction. It just watches you, though you feel tension. The metal is wicked cold to the touch. You hiss and the creature flinches a little, a whistle-whine escaping its nose. You mutter an apology, fingers pressing to the ridges of the cold metal. 

It’s slippery with blood. You chew on your lip, prodding your finger in the space between the metal teeth on the edges where it’s not clamped around the wolf’s paw. You wiggle your finger a little, testing the strength of the closed jaws of the trap. It doesn’t budge and you curse. 

Sweat beads on the back of your neck, freezing in the cool air. You lift your other hand, very carefully trying to find a good grip on either side of the jaws to pry them open. The movement jostles the trap a little, the wolf snarling in pain. You flinch and rip your hands away, looking at it. Gold eyes burn and the wolf huffs, as though telling you to be more careful.

“Sorry,” you mutter. “I’m nervous and it’s hard to get a grip on it.” The wolf snorts. You glare at it. “I’m sorry, do you want to do this instead?” Your only answer is a rumble as it looks the other direction. “That’s what I thought.”

Sighing, you turn your attention back to the metal. Anyone a little stronger and older could probably pull it open. Seokjin for sure could - even Hoseok who is as old as you are, but plenty stronger. You try not to think about how weak you are, and instead wiggle your fingers through the gaps in the teeth.

The cool metal stings your hands. It’s not a great grip and your fingers are placed in bad positioning due to the teeth of the trap. Taking in a big breath, you try to pull the metal jaws apart. 

Nothing happens and you let your breath out, panting lightly as you stop trying to pull. The wolf flicks its tale but makes no other sound. With the way you’re gripping the jaws, you realize that pulling it apart is going to be difficult. It would rely on your forearms to peel the metal jaws backward… But if you were to push down and push apart, you could use your body weight as an extra boost. It would be pushing the jaws apart from above instead of trying to pry them apart with sheer strength.

Leaning high on your knees, you position yourself straight over the trap, your weight settling in on your forearms. You take another deep breath and this time when you pull, you push your weight down on the trap. For a second, it seems like it’s not going to give. You hiss through your teeth, muscles clenching, fingers burning as your skin presses against the metal as hard as you can stand it.

Then, the jaw opens a little. You grind your teeth harder, the ache in your arms growing as you push as hard as you can. Your forearms are trembling. You feel the vein throbbing in your neck and forehead. Just when you think you’re going to fail, the jaws give way again. You growl, feeling a surge of energy go through you at the small victory and you shove your body weight down on it hard. The springs creak a little and open more.

Little by little, the trap opens up. Your vision pulses red as you pant, strength waning. And then it’s like you hit the let-off point of the contraption, pushing it enough that the rest of the way it just falls open. You let go of the trap and the wolf yanks its leg from it. It now lies open and bloody as you collapse on the ground next to it, breathing hard, breath misting the air. 

Your heart beats in your ears, pulse thrumming in your neck wildly. For a second, you forget all about the wolf. You laugh up to the dark trees, a giddy feeling shooting through you. You did it, even though you didn’t think you would be able to. 

A dark presence alerts you. Slowly, you turn your head to face the wolf. It’s standing almost above you, looking more imposing than it did before. You swallow hard, mouth going dry as it blinks down at you. It favors the injured leg, but stands nonetheless, watching you. 

“Please don’t kill me,” you whisper, limbs trembling not only with exhaustion but fear. 

The wolf doesn’t kill you at all. Instead, it leans its head down and presses its cold, wet nose to your arm. You flinch, squeezing your eyes shut for a minute. Then the beast chuffs, making you peak at it. When you meet its gold eyes, you get the sense it is vaguely amused.

“Oh,” you breathe, relief sagging your aching body. “Cool. You’re not going to kill me.”

Standing, you realize that the wolf is still taller than you. You tilt your head upward, staring. There’s no way this is a normal creature, but you don’t know what else it could possibly be. You recall the legends of werewolves and dire wolves told by the men of your town, but you’re unsure if those are real. 

“Let’s take care of this,” you mutter, grabbing a branch and jamming it into the pressure plate of the trap. It snaps shut with a loud clang, snapping the branch, but otherwise ineffective now that it’s re-sprung. The wolf flinches and whines at the sound, no doubt remembering the feeling of the instrument on its leg. “Sorry.” 

Silence stretches out over the woods, the night growing deeper and cooler. You shiver, rubbing your hands up and down your arms as you turn to the wolf, which watches you keenly. 

“Will you be okay?” the question comes out as a whisper. The wolf huffs and steps forward, pressing its snout to your head. It’s cold and wet, making you shiver as it snuffs against your skin. “Good. I um - should start climbing this hill.”

It swivels its head and turns, waiting. You grin, realizing it will accompany you back up, at least. Though injured, the wolf is able to walk with three legs, the wounded leg lifted off the ground. Its gait is awkward and hobbled, but the two of you make it up the hill together, your breathing labored. 

At the top, moonlight shines through the trees and you both pause. A series of howls goes up in the night, startling you. The wolf looks up, ears twitching as it tilts its head, listening. Slowly, it turns to look at you, gold eyes sparkling. 

“I guess you have to go, huh?” it bows its head once. “Stay safe, okay?” 

The wolf steps forward. Presses its muzzle into your temple and huffs, making you grin. You smell pine and bergamot, pleasant and calming. “Yeah, you’re welcome.” 

Slowly, the wolf clambours off, vanishing into the dark woods, leaving you to hurry home yourself. 

-

“Wear this at all times for protection, especially in the forest,” you murmur, holding the neatly scrawled note. You frown and look down at the fine cloak folded on the dresser. It had appeared overnight as if by magic, a funny feeling flipping your stomach. “Where did you come from?”

The cloak, of course, has no answer. You lift your hand to feel it, breathing out a dreamy sigh. The inside is lined with soft bear fur. Outside is some of the finest cloth you’ve ever seen, gentle but sturdy to the touch and dyed the most delicious shade of scarlet. 

Carefully, you lift the cloak. It’s a little big for your size, but not unwearable. You slip it over your sleeping gown, loving the way the material ripples like blood over your shoulders, the fur lining keeping you warm. It smells like pine and bergamot, making you pause. 

Certainly, a wolf did not bring you a cloak. Still, the timing is quite odd. You don’t know who else could possibly make a cloak so fine in the village, and the smell… you shake your head. A wolf did not bring you a cloak, but it did seem perhaps you had a secret admirer. 

-

THIRTEEN YEARS LATER

“Boo!” You scream and drop the collection of logs in your hands, whirling around. Hoseok bursts into laughter, doubling over as he slaps his hands against his knees, hot breath misting the air. “You should see your face!”

“You rotten bastard!” You growl, picking up a log and throwing it at him. It doesn’t hit him, but he jumps away from it anyway, careful not to let it drop on his toes. “That isn’t funny!”

“It’s a little funny.”

“It’s not!” You crouch down and start picking up the timber. Hoseok at least has the decency to help you, starting with the log you threw at him. “There was another animal attack last night, in case you didn’t know.” 

That makes him pause. “There was?”

“Yes,” you hiss, snatching the last log and standing. “So stop lurking around corners and scaring me. It isn’t funny.” 

“Well, an animal isn’t going to attack you in the village. Unless you’re talking about Mingyu’s fiancee, anyway. That one is feral indeed.” 

You level Hoseok with a look and he gives you a grin. His nose and ears are red from the cold - and maybe a little guilt for scaring you - and he offers to take the timber from your arms. You let him, shoveling it over to him and marching around the front of your house. 

Wind howls between the houses, ripping at the ends of your red cloak. It catches your hood, throwing it up over your head as you shiver and tuck your hands into the fur lining. A shiver rattles up your spine as you kick the snow from your boots and rush inside, Hoseok quick on your heels. 

“So what happened?” Hoseok asks, following you to your room. 

“The Matheson Family,” you mumble. “They were attacked. San went down to collect new saddles his father ordered and found them slaughtered - their hounds too.” 

“They have hunting hounds - what the hell can kill those?”

“Perhaps it’s the wolves again. Dr. Kim was going with the city council to investigate.” 

Hoseok sighs. “The timing isn’t good. It’s about time the traders arrived. What if they bypass us entirely if the road is too dangerous?”

It’s a thought that has been plaguing everyone in the village. Because of the remote location on the north side of the woods, your small spec on the map relies on traders at the beginning of every winter for things that you’ll need to make it through: salt, extra grain and fruits, tools too advanced and large for the local smithy, repairs on houses and wagons. 

Arrival times of traders fluctuate every year. Sometimes there’s a cold snap, burying roads in heavy snow that are unnavigable. Other times, there is unrest in the woods when a rogue band of thieves gets the idea to rob travelers and hide in the woods until the city council sends a team of men to deal with it. 

Now, though, it’s getting into the late period of their arrival. The entire village holds its breath waiting for them, people looking out the open gates down the snowy road hoping to see a courier come ahead to announce the arrival of wagons and troupes of people. 

“Do you really think it’s wolves?” Hoseok asks. “I don’t think I’ve heard of wolf attacks like this since…” 

Hoseok winces. “It’s fine,” you assure him with a smile. “It’s not like I remember that time, much less remember my dad.” 

It’s true. Early memories of your childhood are murky at best. You remember being happy and loving your dad. You remember a period of fear and general uneasiness in the town, wolf attacks rampant and frequent. There had been plenty of men and women who died during that period, including your father.

That was a long time ago, though. For the most part, life in your small village is uninteresting. Some winters are harder than others, like the current season, but you’ve always managed to get by. 

“Do you remember much of that time period?” you ask him quietly. 

“Not really. Just that everyone was afraid. It was a really harsh winter and it drove wolves down from the mountains. I remember it being strange.”

“Strange how?” 

You chew your lip and shake your head, trying to encapsulate the thread of memory you have. Of feeling the tremor of fear in the air, the cold feeling of dread… like something violent was in the village. Something wrong.

“I don’t know. I was so young.”

“Hmm.” 

The talk of wolves makes you think about your wolf. Your lips curve at the memory of how gentle the wolf was, the somber eyes, and the smell of pine and bergamot. 

It would be a lie to say you had not gone out to the woods several times since that night to try and find the beast again. You haven’t seen him since, but you’ve always had a feeling he’s there somewhere. Watching. Waiting. 

“Either way,” Hoseok sighs. “Dad seems worried this winter will be like that time. He’s been doing a lot of will and testament papers at the office. He works late every night and is gone early in the morning.” 

“Really?”

“Want to hear what Mr. Hillshire is leaving for his kids?” Hoseok leans forward, conspiratorial. “You won’t believe it.” 

-

The bell over the door rings as someone enters the salon of Dr. Kim’s veterinary practice, drawing your attention. You straighten when you see San walk in.

“Hi, San,” you greet. “Here to pick up Maple?” 

“Yeah, is that alright? Mom is busy at the shop.” 

“Of course.” You wipe your sweaty hands on your skirts and gesture behind you with your thumb. “I’ll go fetch her. Dr. Kim is on an errand but she’s ready to go.” 

The back of the building with the kennels is quiet. The Choi family cat and two other sleeping dogs are the only occupants of the practice, making it an easy day. Maple is dozing in her kennel, chirping in protest when you open the cage and scoop her into a carrier. She’s a lazy thing, a calico with pretty eyes and a newly stitched ear. 

Carefully you carry her up front. San is standing patiently in the lobby, hands behind his back as he looks around nervously. You raise your brows as you come around the counter, handing over the carrier. “Everything okay?”

“Hmm?”

“You look nervous. It’s just me and the Lowells’ hounds back here.” 

“Oh, yes.” His ears blush pink as he accepts the carrier and steps back. “Just a nervous energy in general. I have been since um…”

Oh. You had forgotten that it was San who discovered the Matheson family disemboweled by some kind of animal. The constable had thought that maybe it was a pack of wolves but was concerned by how big the claw marks and destruction were. 

“I’m sorry,” you blurt.

“For what?”

“That you had to see that, I guess? It must have been terrifying.”

“A little,” he admits, looking at his shoes. “I walked the path to the Mathesons all the time. I don’t ever recall seeing something that could… do that.”

“Was it that awful?” 

He nods. “Like nothing I’ve ever seen. Don’t get me wrong, I go on hunting parties. We’ve seen the leftovers from bears and wolves. This was something worse. It felt like…” He shakes his head and looks up at you. “It felt angry.”

“Angry?”

“Yeah. I know that doesn’t make sense. It was probably just a beast coming down from the mountain because it was starving. You know how harsh winters are.” 

You hum in agreement. 

San dismisses himself, thanking you again for helping with the family cat and throwing a wave over his shoulder. You return it half-heartedly, already distracted with thoughts of what the animal attacks could mean.

You think about your wolf and how kind and intelligent it was. You don’t remember ever feeling a sense of impending doom like you do now, a heaviness to the air as you stand idly behind the counter. 

Dr. Kim's return startles you at the counter. You press your hands flat against the top of the desk, leaning up on your tiptoes as you see his son Seokjin enter behind him. Your heart flutters a little at the sight, still overwhelmed by his handsome face. 

Seokjin is tall and broad, with dark hair and a beautiful face. His sharp eyes find you and he gives you a half smile, though there seems to be something on his mind as he follows his father into the backroom, Dr. Kim barely saying hello as he goes, his brows furrowed in deep thought.

The two of them disappear and you watch the door swing shut behind them. Curious, you trail around the counter and softly walk over to the door, pulling it open a smidge.

It’s difficult to pick up on their words, but you can hear Dr. Kim’s timbre speaking in low tones from somewhere in the backroom. You hold your breath and wedge the door open a little more, pressing your ear toward the gap between the frame and the door. 

“... again. They’re going to want to start hunting parties again soon.”

“So what do we do?”

Silence. Then, “Send a message….”

“... brought it on themselves… it’s time to make things right.” 

Behind you, the bell rings at the door. You gasp, letting go of the door to the back room and spin around, heart hammering in your chest. Hoseok stands at the door, raising his brows in question. 

“What are you doing here?” you demand, suddenly angry that he’s startled you and ruined your sleuthing.

“I promised your mom I would walk home with you at the end of your shift, remember? Dangerous out there.” 

You blink and look out the window, realizing that the heavy gray of evening is setting over the road. You hadn’t realized it was so late. 

Nodding, you grab your cloak in a hurry. You pop your head into the back room, both Seokjin and Dr. Kim looking at you as you do. “I’m leaving for the evening, sir. Is there anything else you need?”

“No, thank you for watching the place while I was gone. Tomorrow we have to make a house call to the Marrow farm. Lame horse.”

Seokjin frowns. “Do you think that is wise?” Dr. Kim looks at his son under heavy brows. “With the current conditions.” 

“We’ll be fine.” Something passes between them, son and father locked in a heated gaze. You stand there awkwardly, glancing between the two.

Seokjin breaks his stare from his father and flashes you a grin. “You have someone to walk you home?”

“Yeah, Hoseok is here.” You hug the cloak tighter to your chest and Seokjin’s eyes drop to it. An unreadable expression passes his face before he nods. “Have a good evening!”

“You too.”

Leaving them behind, you head to where Hoseok waits for you, examining drawings of animal skeletons and anatomy. You pull your cloak on, feeling safe and warm under the red material. Hoseok looks up at you, thrusting his thumb at one of the drawings of a horse. “I don’t look like that, right?” 

-

The red cloak tied around you wicks the sweat from the back of your neck. Your fingers work quickly as you tie it, knowing you’re already late to meeting Dr. Kim. Thankfully, you don’t make a habit of being late and you’re sure he won’t mind too much.

Strange dreams had plagued you all night. Images of wolves, blood and mist. Echoes of howling, screaming and thunder. Now as you hurry out of your home and into the wicked wind of winter, you cannot shake a sense of premonition.

Dr. Kim is already on the doorstep when you arrive at the veterinary office, a heavy coat on his shoulders and a bag of tools in his hand. He nods when he sees you and comes down the steps, turning toward the south exit of the village. 

Neither of you speak. Beyond the fact that you don’t think you’d be able to hear Dr. Kim over the howling wind, it doesn’t feel like the kind of trip that requires speaking. The evergreens on either side of the road loom over you, bows heavy with snow. Every so often, a branch cracks with the weight of frozen icicles, making you flinch with the sound.

It feels like you’re being watched. Every so often, you swivel your head this way and that, glancing at the trees. The trunks are too close together and the branches to tangle to see beyond them on either side of the road. Still, your skin tingles from something beyond the cold, you just don’t know what. 

The Marrow farm is only a little over a mile from the main village, but the snow covered roads make it slow going. As you near the edge of where their acres begin, your boots are already heavy with melted slush and your calves and thighs burn from dragging your feet through the path. 

Perhaps it was not a good day to do a house call. 

Passing white-covered gates, you’re thankful that at least the wind has died down as the morning turns into midday. The sun is hidden by clouds, but there is a hint of warmth in the air. The Marrow farm is made up of three buildings: the small house in front, the large barn to the back left where they keep their animals, and a giant silo for grains. 

As you near the house, a loud banging reaches you. Both you and Dr. Kim pause, listening as the sound carries on the wind. It doesn’t sound like hammering, but rather like a door slamming over and over again. 

“Barn door?” you suggest, looking up at Dr. Kim. His dark eyes look at the house, expression grim. “But why would they let it slam relentlessly?” 

“Keep your wits about you,” he murmurs, ignoring your question. “Go to the main house. I’ll go round to the barn. Perhaps they’ve forgotten the appointment.”

No smoke comes from the chimney. No snow is cleared from the footpath to the door. The shutters are closed, which makes sense to keep the cold out. As you approach the steps leading up to the porch, you note that none of the hounds are baying. The Marrow’s have several bloodhounds, all of which keep noisy providence around the threshold of the door. 

Spine tingling, you lift your hand and knock. There’s no answer. You strain your ears, leaning forward for any hint that the Marrow’s or one of their two sons are coming to the door. Not even the dogs alert them of your presence. 

You think about San finding the Mathesons butchered and your stomach drops. You knock again, knuckles stinging with cold as they rap harshly against the wooden door. Tucking your hand back into your cloak, you wait. 

Nothing comes. 

Taking a deep breath, you reach for the door and twist the handle. It opens easily, swinging inward to a cold, empty home. Inside, the air is still and dead. Behind you, the breeze brushes the edges of your cloak and the hood on your head. 

Silence hangs. Licking your lips, you lift a foot. It hands over the threshold, fear making you pause. There is nothing inside the home, and yet you find that you’re utterly terrified of stepping inside. Your stomach knots and for a few moments, you just stand there with your foot in the air, staring with unseeing eyes into the dark interior. 

You step into the room and pause. Nothing happens. The air inside the home is stale, like the doors and windows have not been opened for a few days. The cold is bone deep, clinging to the undisturbed air. You scan the room for any sign of life, but see nothing that stirs. 

Everything looks lived in. There are knitted blankets tossed across the backs of old arm chairs, boots by the door, unlaced and soft with age. Mugs have been turned upside down and placed on a towel near the basin for drying, and there are dice on the kitchen table. 

Navigating slowly, you move to the hall with bedrooms. Doors hang open, revealing unmade beds and clothes on the floor. Here too, the air feels undisturbed. You hear the breeze outside and the soft creak of the house, but nothing else makes a sound, save for the loud beating of your own heart. 

Shivering, you make your way to the front of the home. Something foul hangs in the air and you want to be rid of the feeling, quickening your steps to leave through the front door and-

Fear stabs deep into your stomach when you see the wolf standing in the doorway. It stands half in the home, half out, only the front two paws over the threshold. The beast barely fits in the door frame, wide as two men standing side by side and tall as a horse. 

You don’t move. It stares at you with bright, burning eyes. Its fur is dark, though there is a jagged ring of light fur around the right, front paw. You swear you smell pine and bergamot. Something nudges at the back of your mind as the two of you stand off - and it clicks into place.

“You,” you breathe. “You’re the wolf I helped!” 

For a moment, the bright yellow eyes stare at you. They’re unreadable, and yet… emotive. Intelligent. Understanding. The wolf dips its snout in a nod. 

“What are you doing here? Where are the Marrows?” 

The wolf’s ears flicker. Slowly, it backs out of the house. Throwing caution to the wind, you rush after him, nearly tripping over a wolfskin rug in the home.

Outside, the wolf stands below the porch. You step on the porch and pull up short, heart racing as you see the pack of wolves standing in front of the home.

The wolves are a variety of colors and sizes. You dare not move your head, but you scan them with your eyes, drinking in the different creatures. The only thing that they have in common is that they are freakishly large. 

Your wolf - for in your mind he’s yours - stands in front of you. He growls, hair on his spine raising as he regards the other wolves. There’s a silent standoff of sorts, the wolf you saved facing the others. You cannot understand their body language, but the air seems charged. 

The smell of smoke is in the air. You don’t dare look for the source, too afraid to do anything to disrupt the standoff. Breathing in deeply, you think you smell cedar. Oil. Something else that you can’t identify. 

Footsteps crunch the snow. You whip your head to the side, a warning on your tongue as Dr. Kim rounds the house, a haunted expression on his face. He stops abruptly, looking at the display in front of him behind frosted glasses. He says nothing - does nothing but glance between you, the wolf in front of you, and the others. 

Finally, one of the other wolves chuffs and shakes, dispelling snow. It has an all white coat and intense, dark eyes that look at you with… annoyance, if wolves can look annoyed. It turns to leave and the others follow - all five of them - as the white wolf leads them at a loping trot toward the silo and the woods beyond.

Your wolf turns to peer at you, ears flicking before it breaks off into a run, trailing after its pack to leave you and Dr. Kim standing in silence, watching them go. 

Slowly, you turn to Dr. Kim. He scrutinizes you, eyes squinted. “Where did you get that cloak?” 

You look down at the rich, red cloth. “I… well it just appeared, one day when I was younger. I don’t know.”

He regards you suspiciously. “I see. Come. We must leave right away.”

Dr. Kim begins walking at a fast pace back toward town, clutching his tool case. “Wait! Where are the Morrows?” 

Instead of answering, Dr. Kim continues on. You scramble after him, careful not to slip on the icy stairs. The wind picks up and you smell a fire again, making you turn back as you try to catch up. You almost stumble over your feet, eyebrows shooting up as you see orange flames consuming the barn. 

“Dr. Kim!”

Again, he says nothing. You stop and stare, watching as the fire eats away at the barn. The smoke burns black. Fueled by oil, you think. Looking over your shoulder, you watch Dr. Kim’s retreating back and wonder what exactly it is that he’s done. 

“Did you set that fire?” you demand, chasing him. He gives you a withering look. “What is going on?”

“Speak nothing of this,” he snaps. “We arrived here to make a housecall and discovered that the barn was on fire. We suspect that Mr. Marrow was burning to melt the snow around the barn and that the barn caught. The Marrow family died inside trying to put out the fire.”

“But the wolves-”

“Do not mention the wolves, girl.”

“Did they kill the Marrows?” His jaw works but he doesn’t answer. “Did they kill the Mathesons?” 

“This village has a complicated history,” he says finally. He pulls his coat tighter. “I don’t expect you to understand, but I do expect you to stay out of it. Say nothing of the wolves and stay away from them. You’ll make it through winter.”

-

Two weeks pass, the secret heavy on your tongue. You work with Dr. Kim as though nothing happened, and when people ask about the Marrow farm, you recite vague details. You don’t know why you do it but… the image of the wolf - your wolf - floats in your mind each time you spit out the lie. 

Thoughts plague you as Hoseok lounges on the porch of the office that belongs to Hoseok’s father, who acts as the town’s scribe and legal affairs recorder. A sudden warm day has brought everyone outdoors, lounging on their porches and trying to take advantage of the melting snow around the buildings. The streets are muddy and murky as kids run by, feet splashing. 

A group of men prowl around the outskirts of the village. Sun shines through the slats of the overhang in front of the inn, warming where you lean on the porch railing. Hoseok rattles on about gossip he’s heard from his mother’s tea parties and his father’s work on will and testaments with the growing fear of death in the village. 

“Plagues, serial killings, blood feuds and animal attacks,” Hoseok sighs, staring up at the ceiling where he lies. “Good for father’s business. Bad for my cramping hand trying to help him.” 

“Hmm,” you hum noncommittally, thoughts lost as you stare out into the street with unseeing eyes.

Shouts make you flinch. You stand rod straight, gripping the railing as you look for the source of the disruption. Hoseok stands up immediately, joining you at the railing as the pair of you lean to look toward the entrance to the town. 

At first, you think that it’s about another wolf attack. People rush into the street, looking toward the commotion. Then you see it. Gleeful cheers spring up to the buildings closest to the town’s entrance as the first few traders enter the road. Your heart soars when you see donkeys pulling a cart behind them, followed by more people carrying packs and towing small carts. 

“The traders!” You breathe, feeling a sigh of relief sweep through you. “They’ve made it!” 

Excitement ripples through the village. People come flocking from the buildings to welcome cart after cart full of people. Some traders tow full carriages with riders at the front, the shutters on their carriages tied shut, hiding their wares inside. 

Hoseok lounges back down, letting out a sigh of relief. You feel the same, leaning on the railing again to watch as the carts are towed down the road, pulling down different streets to set up shop and find accommodations. 

Most of the traders look vaguely familiar to you - you see the Robin’s with their cloth cart and Morty with his towering carriage of unusual wares and charms. The Yang twins set off small, popping fireworks from the back of their cart, making the children squeal. 

Something catches your eye. “There are more traders than usual,” you tell Hoseok, frowning as your eyes settle on the large men who walk among the carts, all of whom wear weapons belts and look from side to side as they walk. “I think they’re warriors, Hoseok.”

“Warriors?” he laughs. “Strange.”

“No really, there are several men with blades at the hip and bows on the back. They look… guarded.”

He tilts his head, eyeing where your eyes flit from person to person. “Perhaps the road is as hard as we suspected this year.” 

You hum in agreement, watching as the caravans stop and unload, the muddy streets filling with people and chatter and bubbling with excitement. It feels like the bubble of anxiety looming over the town has popped - at least temporarily - relieving the pressure that had been building with every passing day. 

Leaning against the rail, you’re content to observe. All manner of people and things are pulled from carts. Vendors start setting up right away, people forming lines for ingredients, cloth, and wares. The largest line of all is for weapons and metal tools, Old Man Heo barely has time to park his cart before the men of the village ask how much for iron arrowheads and blades. 

A shiver goes through you as your eyes sweep back toward the town entrance where more people pour in. Fewer caravans come through - now it’s just people with pack mules or bags over their shoulders. 

The hairs on your arm stand up when you see him. Wind lifts the edge of your cloak, making it flutter around you. You watch as he walks down the main street with the other travelers, eyes flicking around as he drinks in the buildings and the crowd of villagers coming to welcome the traders. 

As though he senses your staring, his head snaps to you. You feel frozen to the spot, your fingers tightening on the rail as you meet his eyes. They’re unfathomably dark and yet… a tingle of familiarity slithers up your spine. 

He stares at you in turn. You’re sure he’s looking at you, paused near the cart he stands next to, dark gaze focused on where you stand on the porch. 

You’ve never seen him.  You’re sure of it. You’d remember a handsome face like that anywhere. His long, dark hair is pushed back from his face, revealing a sharp jawline, a strong nose, and intense eyes. His lips are red from the cold - pretty against tan skin.

He’s tall. Taller than most men in the village and broad, with strong shoulders and thick arms, though it’s hard to tell underneath his tunic. Like the other hardy men accompanying traders, he has a weapons belt snug around his waist and the bulk of his frame implies that he knows how to use them. 

The man doesn’t break eye contact. His mouth begins to tilt in what you think might be the start of a smile when Hoseok sits up abruptly, startling you. You break eye contact, looking at Hoseok who bites into an apple, offering you one. 

“You frightened me,” you snap, a little irritated at being distracted. When you glance back up at the man, his attention is elsewhere. 

“What were you staring at anyway?” he asks, crunching bits of apple. 

“Nothing,” you murmur, eyes on the flexing back of the man as he helps unload a wagon near the inn. Something niggles at the back of your mind. I know you. “Nothing at all.” 

“Want to visit the vendors later when they’re all set up? I would love to get some spiced wine and listen to Marla’s stories tonight.”

“Yes,” you answer without hesitation. “Let’s do just that.” 

-

Every minute that passes by feels like an eternity. Incurable energy simmers under the surface as you wait for the day to fade to evening. You clean the entire house, you collect wood from outside, you dress and then change into something else, and you ultimately end up pacing back and forth in your room while you wait for Hoseok to arrive. 

Your thoughts are consumed by the mystery man you had seen earlier. His handsome face swims in your memory. The clear image of his face is accompanied by some feeling you cannot identify, something that almost feels like nostalgia. How can you feel nostalgia for someone you don’t know? 

Hoseok finally arrives, letting himself into your house cheerily. The brief respite from winter is already bleeding away, the wind carrying a painful promise as it lifts your hood outside. The traders, it seems, arrived at the perfect time, the cloudy sky promising snow in the morning once more. 

Energy sizzles in the air. It’s as though the momentary fear of the wolf attacks is momentarily forgotten with the arrival of the vendors and travelers. The noise echoes from every street, torches, and fires lighting up the alleyways and down as people hang lamps in the windows and carts string up tea lights. 

Though you’re nervous, you are temporarily distracted as Hoseok pulls you through a tangle of carts toward Sal’s Sweets. Your stomach grumbles when you catch the scent of melting sugar and sweet confections, joining the line at Hoseok’s side to pick up hot, sticky sweets. 

With hot, sweet rolls drizzled in honey in hand, you and Hoseok explore the vendor carts. It is an explosion of color and lights, glittering jewelry hanging from displays, hot meats sizzling in pants over fires, the flash of powder and light as the Yang twins set off more fireworks, and the smell of spices as you pass by herb carts and tents. 

Everywhere you go, you see the men from before, looming near carts with weapons and steely expressions. But not even the eerie sight of them can bring down the spirits of the villagers, kids running with new kites and jars full of fireflies. 

As you stand in line with Hoseok who wants new inkwells, you listen to passing chatter. From what you gather, it was a hard trip this way on the caravans this year. The winter was just as harsh on the road as it was in the village, and the traders' voices become quiet when they talk about thieves and monsters in the woods.

You exchange a glance with Hoseok and he nods. Wolves. 

Wordlessly, you wait as Hoseok points out the inks that he wants. You begin to crane your neck, looking for the familiar stranger that you had seen before. The square is crowded and packed tight with people, making it nearly impossible to make out much beyond a few feet in front of you.

You spot Dr. Kim walking next to Seokjin, both of their heads bowed as they speak to one another. You narrow your eyes, remembering the way Dr. Kim had silenced you at the Marrow farm. You watch them as they head toward the road that the veterinary practice is on, pausing as a man pushes off the wall to join them.

It’s him you realize. You recognize the broad shoulders and the dark hair as he turns his back to you, walking with the Kims down the road. You don’t even have to think twice.

“Hey,” you tug Hoseok’s sleeve. “I’m going to go see Dr. Kim about something really quick. I’ll meet you at the inn?”

“Sure.” He frowns. “Is it safe to go alone?”

“With all of these people?” You’re already backing away and shrugging. “Definitely.” 

Without waiting for Hoseok to respond, you turn on your heel and rush into the crowd. The bodies of people immediately swallow you. The sound and sights and smells become a blur as you push through the crowd, shouldering people aside. You get some nasty looks from the force at which you move, but they immediately forget you as more people press in.

Less people pass you by as you walk up the street, pulling your cloak in tight. The lights in front of the building are off. You creep up the stairs and try the handle, finding it locked. It doesn’t matter, you sneak around the back of the building to the rear entrance and press your ear to the door. When you hear nothing, you try the handle and it twists.

Victorious, you open the door and slide through. The hallway is narrow with four doors on the right leading to examination rooms and two doors on the left. The first door leads to the kennel area where you hear voices. The second leads to the front lobby and desk.

The front lobby is the safest option, lest you get caught eavesdropping in the hallway when they leave. Carefully, you creep by the door, holding your breath and praying the floor doesn’t creak. Your heart pounds as you inch past the door, hearing deep voices on the other side as you go by. 

Clearing the door, you hurry into the lobby and to the door behind the desk that leads to the kennels. Crouching down low to hide yourself from anyone walking by the windows, you carefully pull the door open, unwilling to open it any further than the width of your index finger. Pressing your ear to the open gap, you listen.

“We talked about discretion,” Dr. Kim says, his voice frustrated. “This isn’t discretion. This is harassment and fear-mongering.”

“I told you,” a deep, smooth voice answers. You assume it must belong to the stranger and you shiver, eyes fluttering as the sound of it washes over you. “It isn’t my decision to make. I do not lead. Yoongi made it very clear how he wishes to proceed.” 

“Yoongi is a lunatic.”

“He’s the alpha.”

You frown. Alpha? You’re familiar with the concept of alphas in packs of dogs and herding animals, but you don’t know what that has to do with people or who Yoongi is. 

“The hunts will begin tomorrow.”

You think Dr. Kim means the hunting for the wolves. It makes sense now that the traders are in town and they can stock up on weapons. 

“As is the way of things,” the stranger answers with a sigh. “You know why Yoongi has chosen this path.”

“Is revenge worth it?”

“Perhaps your kind do not understand.” The stranger’s voice hardens. You wonder what he means by your kind. “You have one foot in the forest, one in the village.” 

“We understand, but we’re also not reckless.” Charged quiet hangs in the air. You hold your breath, your heart thundering in your chest, waiting for the sound of footsteps at the end of a conversation. “Why are you here, Namjoon? You came alone.”

Namjoon. The name washes over you, a warm feeling like the first spray of summer rain. It must be the stranger's name. 

Namjoon answers, “There is… a protected here. But I still fear for them. Yoongi and the others are angry - I wish to further keep them from harm.”

A frown twists your mouth. This Namjoon is here to protect someone from Yoongi. You wonder what this has to do with Dr. Kim. Could… Perhaps someone is using the wolves as tools? You’ve certainly seen a hunter train wolves or wolfhounds before, though it’s a dangerous business. 

Dr. Kim sighs. “That is the only saving grace of you being here, I’m afraid. Seokjin and I cannot help you. Not without exposing ourselves. I’ve already done what I can.”

“You have my greatest thanks for that. You and yours will always be safe. And not just because of your blood.”

Shuffling makes you lean away from the door immediately. You slowly drop it back in place before crawling over to the desk and hiding under it, straining your hearing as the footsteps go into the back hall and out of the back door. You remain there long after you hear the back door shut, waiting just in case they’re still outside.

When you’re sure they’ve gone, you crawl out from underneath the desk and hurry into the hall and out the back door. The alley is empty when you stick your head out, sagging with relief. You hurry out and close the door behind you, spinning around and-

“You know, most people who don’t want to be seen don’t sneak around in a red cloak.”

The man - Namjoon - looms over you, looking down at you with an amused expression. Your scream is cut off when he winces and cups your mouth with his hand. “Well don’t scream! You’ll summon Giho and Seokjin back this way. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Namjoon waits for a moment, your chest heaving as you nod, signifying that you won’t scream for help. Maybe it’s silly, but you trust him not to hurt you. At the least, he is there to protect someone in the village, so he doesn’t seem like he’s there for nefarious reasons.

When he drops his hands, you press yourself against the door, trying to put a little distance between you. Namjoon’s presence is demanding, a tickle prickling at the base of your spine as you look up at him, mystified. 

He’s so beautiful. Up close, you can make out his features far better than earlier that day. His eyes are dark and framed by beautiful, silken lashes. His nose is broad and his jaw is sharp. A dimple appears when he gives you a lopsided grin, dark eyes sizing you up.

The same sense of familiarity from earlier comes back to you, and though you’ve never seen his face before, you swear you know him. Warmth radiates from him, the delicate smell of pine and bergamot reaching you. He feels like… yours. Like some part of him completes you. It is the strangest feeling. 

“You okay, Red?” he asks, tone earnest. You furrow your brows at the term and he grins - genuine and warm. “Your cloak. It’s a very bright red. Pretty, though.”

“Thank you?”

He raises a brow. “Are you asking me?”

“I’m… you’re awfully close.”

Namjoon takes a few steps back from you. You suddenly regret saying something as his warmth vanishes, replaced by the cool wind. “Sorry,” he says, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “Didn’t mean to freak you out.”

“Why didn’t you alert Dr. Kim if you knew I was snooping.”

“You don’t seem to be a threat. Plus, he’s a bit of a grouch. It didn’t seem worth it to hear him chastise a pretty girl.”

You flush. “How do you know the Kims?”

“Family friends.” 

“What were you all talking about?”

He cocks his head to the side. “Just because I’m not chastising you for listening to our private conversation doesn’t mean I’m going to divulge the details of said private conversation.”

You divert your gaze, feeling flushed. He has a point, but if he’s put out by your line of questioning or your eavesdropping, he doesn’t show it. “Come on,” Namjoon says. “Let’s go back to the square. I need a drink and it’s dangerous to walk around right now.”

“Because of the wolves?”

He stares at you. “Because it’s dark and there are a bunch of strangers in your town, and you’re a woman alone. In the dark.”

“You’re a stranger in my town.”

His grin spreads and his dimple deepens. Your stomach flutters. You’re not unaffected by him, a little dizzy and nervous when he sticks out a hand. “Namjoon. I’m a part of the Kim family.”

“Like… Dr. Kim?” you ask, reaching out your hand and giving him your name.

“We’re related, in a way. Pretty name. I think I’ll stick with Red, though.”

Namjoon takes off walking. For a second, you just stand and stare at him. He shoves his hands in his pockets and doesn’t look back. You lick your lips, heart pounding. You cannot shake the sense of something peculiar about him, something familiar. He’s a Kim - perhaps you know him.

Determined to find out, you take off after him, scurrying to catch up. You fall into step with him and look up to find him smirking down at you before focusing back on the growing noise and lights of the main square. 

“Have you been here before?” you ask, watching him from the corner of your eye. He shakes his head and you frown. “I feel like I know you.”

“Perhaps I have one of those faces?”

“No, I’d remember a face like yours.”

Namjoon turns to you, arching a brow. “A face like mine, huh?” 

Multiple fire pits dot the streets, groups of people clustered around them to keep warm as the chill seeps back into the village. The inn is bustling with people, the door propped open with a chair as people walk in and out with platters of food and tankards in hand. Multiple villagers have pulled out tables and chairs from their homes, setting them up in the street. 

It feels good. The air hums with euphoria and the promise of better days ahead, like suddenly there are not several families mourning their loved ones. The atmosphere reminds you of a festival, and you suppose it kind of is a festival. 

The smell of burning fat and ale hits your nose as you walk into the inn. Voices roar over one another and the workers are busy behind the bar. A fireplace crackles in the far corner where you spot Hoseok guarding an extra chair. 

“I fear this is where we part ways,” Namjoon announces over the din of voices. “Try not to do any more eavesdropping tonight.” You hesitate, wanting to protest. There are a million burning questions you have for him. He must see it in your face, because he smiles and says, “We’ll run into one another again. Don’t worry.”

“I wasn’t worried.”

You were actually, and you know he knows by his smirk. “Goodnight, Red.”

You watch Namjoon go. He moves toward where the innkeeper stands at a podium looking over reservations, blending into the crowd. Just before he reaches the podium he glances over his shoulder at you, catching you watching. He shoots you a grin and you scowl, pivoting on your heel to charge toward Hoseok. 

Hoseok raises his eyebrows when he sees you storm over to him and yank the chair out from the table, sitting down in a huff. Without a word, you snatch his tankard of ale and take several, cold gulps before setting it on the table, letting it wash through you. 

“Who was that you came in with? And then stormed over here after speaking to?”

“Some relative of the Kims,” you mutter. “I find him very… frustrating.”

“He’s very handsome.”

You glare at Hoseok and see the beginning of a wicked smile. “And frustrating.” 

He lifts his cup, shrugging. “Cheers to being frustrating.”

-

A scream wakes you up in the middle of the night. You lurch up from bed, head spinning as you try to gather your wits about you. Blankets tangle your limbs as you try to peel them from sweaty skin. Another scream makes you stumble out of bed, the world tilting on its axis as your body tries to catch up with your sudden lucidity. 

In the main room of your home, your mother is stumbling through the kitchen too, lighting a candle and grabbing a holder. You feel relief as you realize the screaming isn’t coming from your home, but your neighbor’s.

Together, you and your mother rush out into the cold in nightgowns, not bothering with shoes or coats. The cold is bitter, immediately stinging your skin as the Liang family joins you in running to the Hutch family home where it sounds like Mrs. Hutch is screaming like a wild animal in her house. 

“It’s Leanne,” your mother breathes, words turning to steam in the air. 

“Come on,” you urge, pulling your mother as you go, driven by the shrieks.

The front door hangs open as Mr. Liang enters the home first, an ax in hand. It occurs to you that neither you nor your mother have weapons, but Mrs. Hutch has always been kind to your mother, making the both of you charge into the darkness of her home empty-handed.

A metallic tang hits you immediately. You recoil, recognizing the stench of blood immediately. Villagers spill into the home behind you, alerted to the wailing coming from the bedroom. With torches and candles in hand, you spot the red on the dark wood floor in the hallway. 

Mr. Liang stands in the doorway of the bedroom, staring with a haunted gaze at what he sees there. Your mother pushes through the people in the home to look over his shoulder, her hand flying to her mouth as she gasps. 

“Oh Leanne,” she murmurs in horror, shoving by Mr. Liang.

You don’t go to the room. The smell and the weeping coming from the bedroom give you an inkling of what lay inside. You stand in the living room as people fill the hall, gasping and murmuring. Someone shouts to wake the constable. 

“Why?” Mrs. Hutch screams in her room, the despair in her voice rattling your bones. “Why?”

“His throat has been cut,” someone murmurs from the hall. “Murdered in bed.” 

Murdered? That throws you for a loop. You had assumed somehow it was an animal attack but… you shiver. Murder is different. 

Mr. Liang begins shooing people out of the house. You slink out into the cold and hurry to your own home, bare feet freezing in the cold, wet earth. Your mother stays with Mrs. Hutch, leaving you alone.

The dark presses in on you, every creak of a floorboard making you jump. The shadows seem menacing now and you’re quick to find and light a candle, orange light flooding the home. 

Cloth and candle in hand, you return to your room to wipe the cold mud from your feet, skin still burning from the frigid air. Voices carry in from outside, the entire town waking and gathering as the shock of murder ripples through the streets, a stone in a pond.

With sleep nowhere near possible for the remainder of the night, you get dressed. You pull on thick woolen pants, a tunic, and multiple socks, sticking your feet in your boots. Your cloak goes next, fastening it around your throat as you look out your bedroom window. 

Your home sits at an angle in a row of houses that circle the village like a ring. You can see the wall of the home next to you, and a sliver of the backyard as well. It’s that tiny space in the backyard that catches your eye, watching as someone moves from the edge of the home out of sight. 

Heart in your throat, you grab a candle and run outside. The crowd in front of the Hutch’s has grown, but you ignore them, skirting around your house to the alleyway between you and your neighbor. Nothing catches your eye as you run to the backyard, swiveling as you search in the darkness for the shadow you saw. 

The wind howls, drowning out the voices in the street. The treeline behind the houses is dark. You squint your eyes and lift the candle in your hand, the flame barely flickering as the wind makes the trees sway. There is nothing in the darkness and you begin to turn when you see a shadow in the tree line. 

It’s barely there - perhaps a trick of the light, even. You take a step forward, boots crunching in the snow. A gust of wind makes your cloak snap at your ankles, candle going out and leaving you without a source of light. You had not realized how dark it was without it, the shadow vanishing from your line of sight. 

Fear nestles in the pit of your stomach. Your breath gets stuck in your lungs as your limbs lock, realizing how stupid it was to come outside if there was a killer among the trees. Soft snow crunches somewhere close to you. You squeeze your eyes shut, tucking your chin to your chest as panic makes you shut down, unable to move and-

“Red.”

Namjoon’s voice makes you spin around. He holds a torch level with his head, the flame casting an eerie glow on his face. For a moment, he looks lupine and terrifying, your heart nearly stuttering to a halt. 

Then his face twists in concern. “What are you doing out here alone?”

“What are you doing?”

“Dr. Kim sent me over to check on you. No one answered the door so I came around back.”

“Why?”

Namjoon seems confused. “Why did I come around back or why did he send me?”

“Both.”

“I could see the light of your candle and because a murder has just happened.”

You relax a little at the logic in his answer. Snow begins to fall from the sky. You look up at the moonless black,  thick clouds floating as the bits of snow drift on the breeze. You shiver and look back to the trees, seeing nothing but tightly packed pines. Still, there is an instinctual sense of trepidation that sits heavy in your gut.

“Come on,” Namjoon says gently. “Let’s go inside. I’ll wait with you until your mother comes home.” 

Reluctantly, you follow Namjoon. Eyeing him, you realize he is dressed differently than previously that night. Now, he’s in black breeches and a black linen shirt. The weapons belt is gone and he’s without a coat. 

You frown. “Aren’t you freezing?”

“I run warm.”

It’s the only answer that he gives you as you walk back into the street which is filled with people and torches. In the distance, you hear the baying of hounds. It chills you, goosebumps exploding up and down your arms as you watch a cluster of firelights gather far off down the road. 

“The constable is leading a manhunt. They’ll come to question us too.” 

Wordlessly you gesture for Namjoon to join you inside of your home. He closes the door firmly behind you and strides to the fireplace, using the torch to coax the simmering logs to a full flame. Cedar pops as he adds the torch to the fire, orange embers drifting up the chimney. 

Rubbing your hands together, you offer him tea and he accepts with a soft smile. It doesn’t meet his eyes as he looks around the only place you’ve ever called home. Suddenly shy of your less-than-luxurious surroundings, you clear your throat and gesture to one of the mismatched armchairs by the fire as you grab a kettle.

Namjoon hardly fits in the chair. You press your lips to keep from laughing, which feels inappropriate with a man dead just a few yards away. With careful hands, you hang the kettle next to the fire, the flame close enough to heat the water as you scurry back to the kitchen and fill tea bags with herbs. 

“What kind of tea do you like?”

“Yarrow, if you have it.”

“I do.” You grab the jar, popping the top. “Are you in great pain, Mr. Kim?”

“Call me Namjoon. Mr. Kim feels far too formal.”

“Well, we are strangers, after all.”

Namjoon certainly doesn’t feel like a stranger. You cast him a sidelong glance as you say it, looking for his reaction. He turns his head from the fire, meeting your gaze head-on. His lips curve in a secret smile, making your nerves dance.

“I suppose that’s true.”

Is it? You wonder. You’re not so sure. 

Instead of asking him, you bring the mugs with bags of tea over to where he sits, handing him one. Steam rises from the spout of the teapot. With a thick towel, you lift it off of the hanger. Namjoon holds out his cup and lets you pour carefully into his mug, the smell of yarrow and mint wafting toward you. After pouring your own cup, you set the kettle down and sit across from him.

Your cold hands leech the warmth from the mug. You settle comfortably in the chair, relaxing and inhaling the chamomile in your cup. After a few moments of silence, you realize how comfortable and safe you feel with Namjoon, though you’ve only known him for a few short hours. 

“Why have you come to the village?” 

Namjoon watches the fire as he answers, “You were eavesdropping at the veterinary office. I’m sure you heard me.” You look down at your steaming cup and Namjoon chuckles, raspy and deep. It’s a nice sound.

“You said there was a ‘protected’ here. And something about a Yoongi.”

Namjoon’s face darkens at the mention of Yoongi. You chew on your lip, worried you’ve pushed him too far before you’ve even started to ask him real questions. His jaw works as he contemplates what you’ve said, sipping the tea a little. 

“A protected just means someone under protection by my family,” Namjoon says finally. “My extended family is… large. We are a very close group and we consider those in our community blood.”

“It is… not always like that here.”

“Your mother assists Mrs. Hutch, though. That seems like family, in a way.”

“Mrs. Hutch is kind. Not everyone is.” 

Namjoon nods. “It is not like that where I am from. We bear the sins of our neighbors and we share the responsibility of keeping everyone safe.”

“That must be nice.” You sip your tea and scald your tongue, hissing and setting the cup down. Namjoon leans forward as though to help you, alarm on his face. “Tea is too hot. I don’t know how you drink it.”

He smiles and shrugs. “I run warm.” 

“So you said. How are you related to Dr. Kim?” 

“He’s my uncle. He’s my father’s brother. His wife was best friends with my mom.” 

“Oh.” You blink in surprise. “She passed away when I was very young. She… died the same winter as my father.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Namjoon frowns and cocks his head. “What did your father do?” 

“He was a hunter.”

One of the logs pops in the fireplace, making you flinch. You give a nervous laugh and glance at Namjoon, who has gone stone-still. The firelight dances on his face as he peers at you. Your smile falters a little at the gravity you find there. 

“He only hunted fowl and deer,” you find yourself explaining. You don’t know why you say it, only that suddenly that feels important. “He didn’t like to hunt bigger game or predators. Mother says that he believed they were best left alone and that a true hunter knows his betters when he sees them.”

Namjoon hums. “Smart man.”

“I don’t know. He died in an animal attack when I was very young.” 

“You must resent the woods.”

“Not at all. I think…” You bite your bottom lip, trying to find the right words. “I think that he wouldn’t blame the animals. The woods are their home. My mother says he was always very adamant about that. They don’t usually attack villagers, though.”

“Usually?”

“There are animal attacks happening. I’m sure Dr. Kim told you…?”

“Ah, yes. You think they’re without reason?”

“Perhaps hunger? I don’t know. It does not happen often.” 

“Wolves are not known to hunt people.” Namjoon’s fingers drum against his mug, a steady tap. He seems thoughtful as he regards you. “They’re intelligent creatures and their packs are important to them. They take the threat to their land and their family seriously.” 

“Like your family?”

He laughs. “Like my family.” Namjoon sips his tea again. “This land used to belong to several packs of wolves, you know?”

“Really?”

“Yes, until settlers drove them out. Not that long ago there were hunting parties for sport. They slaughtered entire packs, destroying bloodlines and nearly wiping out the wolves here entirely.”

“I always found that incredibly sad.”

“Why is that?”

“They’re incredibly important to the ecosystem here. And I guess I always agreed with my dad. I don’t remember him much, but I like to remember that he was good at heart.”

Namjoon hums but says nothing else. You sit in silence for a while, enjoying the warmth of the fire. Namjoon’s presence is steady, keeping out the cold and the fear just beyond the door. You wonder how he does that by just sitting in a chair, or how it feels so natural. 

Outside, the world begins to turn gray. You yawn as exhaustion begins to set in and you feel yourself sagging. Eyes burning, you rub them with the back of your hands, blinking a few times to fight the explosion of colors in your vision. 

“You can sleep,” Namjoon says softly from where he sits. You glance at him. “You can trust me.”

A hint of pine and bergamot drift toward you, making you drowsy. Namjoon grabs a blanket from the back of his chair and stands up, bringing it to you. He takes your mug and you watch him with sleepy, round eyes as he places the blanket over you.

“Sleep.” His voice is soft, distant. “I will be here.”

Your eyes flutter shut and you drift to sleep, remembering the warm sound of his voice. It… reminds you of your wolf.

-

Gentle voices pull you from the clutches of sleep. You wake slowly, a cramp in your neck making you reluctant to get up. You smell the fire and the hint of pine and bergamot. You hear a low, raspy voice that you instantly recognize as Namjoon. 

How swiftly I know his voice, you think. 

“You must wake her,” a male voice says. You recognize it as Dr. Kim. “The constable is coming for questioning.”

“She’s already awake,” Namjoon answers, a smile in his voice. Your eyes snap open at being caught, meeting his dark gaze as he smirks from near your door. “See?”

You scowl at him. How did he know that? Sitting up and stretching, you appraise the two men lurking near your door. “Is my mother still with Mrs. Hutch?”

Dr. Kim nods and steps swiftly into the room around Namjoon. Namjoon reaches out a hand, catching Dr. Kim with his arm and stopping him from entering the room properly. You watch in puzzlement as there’s a silent exchange between the two of them, Namjoon’s face dark as Dr. Kim raises a brow. 

Then, Namjoon lets him go. You cock your head to the side, wondering what that’s about. Ignoring Namjoon, Dr. Kim approaches and says, “The constable will be here shortly. Say nothing about the farm.”

The farm. The memory of the wolves brings a chill to your arm, the smell of smoke and burning oil. The confusion and Dr. Kim’s refusal to answer your questions. 

“What is going on?” you demand, eyes flickering from Dr. Kim to Namjoon. “Animal attacks, murders, you covering up something at the barn. I’m being lied to.” 

“Say nothing about the farm,” Dr. Kim says again, voice firm. Namjoon makes a noise that startles you. It’s almost like a growl, your eyes going wide as he glares at Dr. Kim. “I told you this village has a complicated history. I’m looking after your safety.” 

Heavy footsteps sound on the porch. There’s a loud knock on the door, the constable announcing his presence on the other side. Namjoon opens the door for him, standing back to let him in. The constable looks him up and down with confusion before looking at you, a question in his eyes.

“They came to check on me,” you offer. The constable has known you since you were a child, it’s no wonder he’s confused at the presence of a stranger in your home. “How can I help you, constable?”

“I’d like you to answer a few questions about last night. Mr. Liang confirmed you were one of the first people to Hutch’s last night.”

Dr. Kim walks to your kitchen and busies himself making tea. Namjoon moves to sit in the chair across from you, his warm presence from the night before replaced with something mildly threatening. You cut him a look but his dark eyes are focused on the constable as though he’s a threat. 

The questions are easy enough. When did you wake up? Did you notice anyone around your home when you came home? Did you notice anyone outside? When did you come home? 

You leave out running into Namjoon behind your home. You don’t know why, but you feel the need to not draw attention to him. You also leave out the strange incident at the farm, glancing sideways at Dr. Kim when he brings you lemon tea. 

When the constable is finished, he eyes Dr. Kim. “Be at the station at four,” he instructs. “We’re splitting hunting parties. One to look for the culprit, the other to get rid of the damn wolves.” 

“The wolves were there first, you know?” Namjoon speaks up, looking at you and not the constable. “Have you ever tried figuring out what they want?”

“And who the hell are you?”

“Please ignore my nephew, constable. He likes to insert himself in conversations he doesn’t belong in. Come, let’s look over the hounds before you send them out tonight.”

Together, the constable and Dr. Kim shuffle out. Before he shuts the door, Dr. Kim levels the pair of you with a heavy gaze. You don’t know what that gaze means, but you know that something is going on in this village and that he and Namjoon seem to have some idea about it.

As soon as the door shuts, you turn to Namjoon and demand, “What is going on?”

He sighs. “Would you listen if I just said to wait it out?”

“Do you know who murdered Mr. Hatch?” 

Namjoon hesitates and shakes his head. You narrow your eyes, unbelieving. “I really don’t know who did, Red.”

“Why are you really here? Why all the secrets?” 

“I told you, my family protects those who belong to their community.”

“What did you mean about asking what the wolves want?” 

“I told you last night. There were wolves long before this village existed. Seems to me that if the wolves are suddenly killing the townspeople, perhaps it’s because they want their land back. Or maybe they’re angry from years of being hunted.”

That shuts you up. You can’t argue with that, exactly. But… “Are you saying that the wolves are capable of revenge?”

Namjoon stands and gestures to your cloak. “How often do you wear that?”

“Every day. It’s… sentimental to me.”

His eyes lighten and he offers a half smile. “Good. Red is a lucky color.”

“Where are you going?”

He opens the door, cold wind hissing past the opening. “Your mom is coming. I’ll see you later, Red.”

Without another word, Namjoon slips through the door and shuts it firmly behind him. You stare after him, openmouthed and confused. As promised, you hear your mother come up the steps, light feet scuffing before she quickly lets herself in, shutting the door firmly behind her.

You offer to make your mother breakfast, happy to help as she dozes in the chair. It isn’t until later that you wonder how Namjoon had heard her coming at all.

-

Little Lucy Larkin

In a little wood

Little Lucy Larkin

Up to no good

Little Lucy Larkin

In her little hood

Little Lucy Larkin

Ware of the woods!

Little Lucy Larkin

Stole a little bread

Little Lucy Larkin

In the woods of dread

Little Lucy Larkin

Is a little thief

Little Lucy Larkin

Die by wolf’s teeth

A sense of unease slithers up your spine as you pull your cloak closer. The voice of the children playing the Little Lucy Game echoes down the street and you pause to watch as the little boy playing Lucy steals the rock from the middle of the circle and the little boy playing the wolf gets up to chase him. 

The other kids scream and giggle as the boys give chase, the sound of their laughter eerie in the cold gray of twilight. Shaking it off, you turn and duck your head as you walk up the steps to the Tall Tales Inn. 

Warmth and the scent of food greet you. It’s a thinner crowd than the day before but still more people than you’re used to without the traders in town. There is a clear divide in the dining room with traders on one side and townsfolk on the other, the murder quick to make the locals distrust the new people in their streets.

Tense conversations hum in the gold light. You navigate around tables until you find Hoseok sitting with Seokjin. The sight of Seokjin gives you pause. He seems to sense your presence, glancing up and meeting your questioning stare. He gives no reaction, though, turning his attention back to Hoseok who is murmuring quietly.

“I didn’t expect to see you here, Jin,” you say by way of greeting. Hoseok gives you a look at your clipped tone. You ignore it, sitting down and leveling the older man with a stare, his father’s mysteriousness weighing on you. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

He narrows his eyes a fraction. “Just enjoying the company of friends.”

“Shouldn’t you be helping the constable?”

“I’m on the late-night shift.” 

Grinding your teeth, you sit roughly. Hoseok just watches you, brows raised. You say nothing as you order a drink and a meal, picking at the splinters of the tabletop, eyeing Seokjin. If he’s put out by your rudeness he doesn’t show it, drinking heartily from his tankard and watching you with dark, even eyes. 

You know Seokjin knows whatever it is his father and Namjoon have been talking about. You yourself have not been able to work out what’s going on in the village, but you’re sure the Kims know. And if Dr. Kim asked you to lie to the constable… well perhaps Seokjin is leading him astray as well.

Hoseok pipes up, steering the conversation everywhere he can to avoid the tension building between you and Seokjin and the topics of murders. You participate as little as possible, mind trying to put together the puzzle pieces of the blooming mystery in your home. 

An uncomfortable thought starts to take root in your mind. Is it possible that the Kim family is behind the murders? Dr. Kim has plenty of weapons at his disposal, and they had been talking about revenge, and Dr. Kim had covered up what happened at the Marrow’s farm… but what did that have to do with wolves?

You’re not sure. But you do know that the Kims are purposefully hiding things, that there is a murderer somewhere in the town or near it, and that there is a sense of doom that you cannot shake, a dark itch like stinging nettle in your bones. 

Seokjin excuses himself to take an afternoon nap before his hunting party heads out for the evening. Your eyes track him as he goes. Seokjin certainly doesn’t seem evil, but there’s no telling what’s behind his pretty face. 

“What is wrong with you?” Hoseok asks, leaning over the table and whispering harshly. “You’re behaving rather odd.”

“Something is going on.”

“Yes, your attitude.”

You turn and glare at him. “No, Hobi. Something is going on with the Kim family. I don’t know how to explain it.” You grip your cup tighter. “But I intend to figure it out.” 

Hoseok questions you about what that means. You keep your answers vague, not wanting to rope him into your plan. Too often as children did you lure Hoseok into trouble, and with how dangerous night is becoming in your town, you know it’s a bad idea to endanger him too.

T sun sets over the village. You stand at your bedroom window, watching through the frosty window as the sun turns the sky into a smear of blood. The clouds have cleared away just for this sanguine sunset. It makes your stomach turn, a sense of foreboding heavy in the air.

Still, it doesn’t deter you. Red fades to gray-blue and gray-blue fades to black. Wind rattles the glass in the window pane. Turning from the window, you find your thickest pair of pants and fur-lined tunic. The fabric feels scratchy on your skin.

Dressed, you look at your red cloak folded on the bed. Any other night you would take it with you. It has become your safety net, something that keeps you warm and keeps you safe. You cannot recall a day you haven’t worn it since it mysteriously showed up thirteen years ago, but tonight, you need obscurity.

Instead, you reach for an old, thick cloak that used to belong to your father. It's dark brown and worn at the edges, a little too big for you as the hem brushes the ground. It will serve its purpose in keeping you hidden in the dark of the woods, though. 

All you grab is a hunting knife that you don’t know how to use, a wax candle, and a solid piece of flint and sharp rock to light it with. The candle and flint are for emergencies only. You hope it won’t be so dark that you cannot see, but you’re unsure what the clouds are going to do.

Outside, the wind is sharp. Your nostrils burn as you breathe it in and duck away behind your house. No new snow has fallen during the day, which is a good thing. You don’t have to worry about dragging your boots and tiring your calves. It also helps that the sky is clear tonight, the moon a sliver of sharp light. 

Baying hounds echo through the village and the forest as the hunting dogs lead the men into the woods. You’re quick on your feet, dashing into the woods and heading north. You don’t want to run right into the hunting party, but you do want to find their burning torches and keep them in your line of sight.

They are easy to find, hovering like orange fireflies in the distance. Careful to make your way in the dark, you follow them. Your breath mists in front of you, hands shaking more from the adrenaline than the cold. 

The torches spread out. You chew on your lip, unsure which group would belong to Seokjin. You take a gamble, heading after the group closest to you. 

Everything feels too loud. Each snap of a branch under your foot and crunch of dry leaves feels like it’s going to give you away. Still, you’re good at sneaking for the most part, having spent plenty of time skulking through the village to take nightly strolls in the woods.

Voices carry to you. Through a system of running a few steps forward and dodging behind a tree, you manage to follow the men at a distance. You think that you hear the constable’s voice, which is a good sign. If he’s around, perhaps Seokjin is too.

The deeper you go into the forest, the colder it gets. The ground beneath your feet slopes. The evergreens are packed tighter here, needles tickling your hands as you keep your hands held out from your sides as you slide downward.

This is near where I saved that wolf, you think. 

It’s true. You recognize the slope of the land and the general area. You cannot tell if it’s exactly where you met the wolf, but it’s close enough that your senses tingle and your eyes sweep the land, expecting something to happen.

A sense of foreboding trails you as the men move deeper into the wood. You turn around and look for the other torches and see nothing but a dark, compact forest. Your stomach flips uncomfortably but you continue, unsure now if it’s safer to turn back or to keep going. 

Ahead, the group of men decide to take a break. The hounds sniff the area around them, pulling at the leashes as they go. Crouching low, you watch as the hounds go in circles, following the scent of something that seems to confuse them. 

The men take long droughts of water, making you wish you’d thought of that. Mouth dry and hands cold, you huddle against a tree, bark digging into your back. 

A few minutes pace by. You close your eyes, resting your head against the tree, breathing cold air in deeply. You don’t know what you expect the group to lead you to, only that you-

Something snaps behind you. Your eyes fly open and your limbs lock. Heart beating like a steady drum, you hold your breath and strain your eyes. For a moment, there’s nothing but the dim voices of the men taking a break. You think it’s nothing until you hear something again, a gentle susurration of leaves. 

One of the hounds lifts its head, ears twitching. Your eyes scan the surrounding area back and forth, searching for what you know is there. 

It happens so fast that you don’t even see the wolves enter the ring of torchlight until they’re there, snarls rattling the trees. You clamp your hands over your mouth to mute your gasp as the sounds of screams and tearing flesh explode in the night. Hounds screech, their growls savage and choked as the wolves descend. 

You don’t know how many there are. Torch lights go down and drown you in darkness. Squeezing your eyes shut, you curl in on yourself, panting through your hands as the sounds echo in your ears. A new fear has stabbed its way between your ribs, making it hard to breathe. 

Time moves slowly. Or quickly. You cannot tell which. One moment the sounds of a nightmare turned real are just a few hundred yards away. The next, an eerie silence blankets the dark forest. 

You don’t want to open your eyes, but you have to. Very slowly, you crack an eye open. At first, there’s nothing. Your vision swims with flashing colors, your eyes trying to adjust. Then, there is the vague outline of trees. Ahead of you, where the men had been, lay shadowed piles. 

Shaking, you glance around. You see nothing - hear nothing. You stand slowly. Each inch you gain feels like you’re being too loud. Sweat gathers on the back of your neck. The cool air makes it feel like an icy finger brushing down your nape. 

When you’re sure that there’s nothing else around, you take a step toward where the attack happened. Leaves crunch beneath your feet. You stop breathing, waiting for signs of anything. Nothing happens and you let out a trembling breath, taking one more step. Again, you wait to see if your footfalls will trigger something. 

You repeat this to the edge of the slaughter - for that’s what it is. A slaughter. Bile rises in your throat as you reach the first body and stamped-out torch. The constable and his hound lay in tatters, only recognizable by the batch on his cloak. 

It is carnage. You don’t dare breathe through your nose for fear of breathing in the scent of death, circling the scene with weak knees, hand pressed to your mouth to keep in the whimpers. You see the faces of men you’ve known since you were a child. Ripped, bloodied, gored. 

Finally, you lean over and empty the contents of your stomach. It burns on the way up, choking you. Pressing a hand against a tree, you breathe raggedly. The adrenaline coursing through you makes you twitchy and unstable, each nerve feeling like it’s on fire. 

Leaves crunch a few feet away. Your head snaps in and you zero in on the source of the noise, mouth hanging open when you see Seokjin standing amongst the trees. He stares at you, frown on his face. 

“Who are you?” he asks, voice gentle. You realize he can’t see your face under the cowl of your hood and you’re not in your traditional red. He sighs. “Doesn’t matter.” 

You hear shuffling behind him before you see a white wolf. The white wolf from the Marrow farm. There are others, then. You don’t know how you missed them, the darkness of their fur blending in with the darkness around them.

The white one is spotted in red, muzzle matted, teeth slicked. Your stomach lurches. It isn’t hard to guess where it’s from. You take a step back and the wolf growls, lips pulled back. You freeze, looking amongst the pack of wolves that fan out around Seokjin, desperately looking for your wolf with the kind, intelligent eyes. 

You do not find him there. 

With a growl, the white wolf steps forward. Your instincts kick in and you turn and run, letting out a wild shriek as you do so. If Seokjin recognizes your voice when you scream, you cannot tell. The wolves are after you and you’re barreling through the trees with no hope of outrunning them, especially uphill.

A wolf nips at your ankle and you scream, tripping over your feet in your terror and going down hard. You’re jarred as you hit the ground, bones rattling as pain shoots up your limbs from the impact. Before you can scramble, there are teeth around your ankle, not biting down hard enough to snap, but hard enough to drag.

Your scream is wretched even to your ears. It is a curdling, nightmarish sound. You feel the scrape of leaves and sticks against your skin, cloak picking up dirt and twigs as you go. Your nails dig into the ground but the soil is frozen solid, fingers scraping bluntly against it. 

With a surge of self-preservation, you kick your free leg backward as hard as you can. You hit the wolf in the muzzle, making it cry, and let go of your foot. You manage to crawl to your knees, slipping in the foliage as you try to stand before it’s tearing at your cloak, determined to drag you one way or another. 

Sliding again as it drags you by the cloak, you try to undo the ties at your throat with shaking fingers. It comes away and frees you from the hellish drag to your death. This time, you’re faster to your feet, turning and running in the opposite direction. You don’t know where you’re going, just that you want to get away. 

Your foot slides on the incline and with a shout you go down. This time, your head hits the ground hard. Your ears ring and your vision pulses. Blinking, you roll over and stare up at the canopy of dark trees. The world spins dangerously and you feel nausea churn deep in your stomach.

“Yoongi!” you hear the deep voice but it sounds warbled like you’re hearing it through water. Your head lolls to the side, the ringing in your ears still going as you see feet pass you. “Enough!”

Your field of vision narrows to a sharp point, edges pulling with black. You realize you’re about to pass out, oddly just thankful that you’re already on the ground. Just as your world begins to face, the face of the person in front of you appears.

Namjoon. 

-

“Hey,” a gentle voice calls to you. There are soft hands on your head, brushing against your forehead. It smells like pine and bergamot as you snuggle into them. “I hate to wake you, but you need to wake up every few hours.”

The memory of the wolves comes to you. Your eyes snap open and you blink a few times before your vision adjusts to see Namjoon leaning over you. Cringing away from him, you press yourself into a warm, soft mattress that isn’t your own.

“Easy,” he cautions, holding his hands up. “You smacked your head very hard. I think you have a concussion.” 

“Where am I?” 

The room isn’t so much a room as it is a shack. There is a single fireplace in the far corner, a pile of logs, and the bed that you’re in. Despite the tiny space, it looks well-built and it’s warm, your heart slowing down as Namjoon leans to sit further from you and give you your space.

“Random shack in the woods near your village. I think it used to be a hunter’s stead for the winter.” He jerks his thumb toward the fireplace. “Hasn’t been used in a while. The wood has rotted.” 

“Seokjin - you - what is going on?” 

Emotions spill out of you like a broken dam. You don’t know which to acknowledge first: anger, fear, curiosity, gratitude. 

Namjoon’s sigh is heavy. He visibly looks wearing, running a hand through his hair. You wonder how soft his hair is, followed immediately by feeling ridiculous for the timing of said thought. 

“Just…” he winces. “Try to lean back and take it easy, I’m worried about how hard you hit your head. I promise I have no intentions of hurting you or letting anyone hurt me.”

“You called that white wolf Yoongi. Who is Yoongi? Why was Seokjin in the woods - those people - they’re dead.”

He nods slowly. “They are.” 

You lean back carefully. The bed is comfortable and Namjoon keeps his distance, worried eyes on you. “I will try to explain the best I can. It will require a little bit of faith that I’m not lying to you and that I’m not insulting your intelligence by telling you things that will sound insane.” 

“Like what?”

“Like werewolves exist.”

You stare at him. He doesn’t laugh, crack a grin, or do anything to make you believe he’s joking. Your first instinct is to blow him off. Werewolves were a tale for children and a way to help the children of the village cope during periods of wolf violence. 

Thus far, all Namjoon has done is protect you. Strange as it seems, you know that fact to be true. He didn’t tell Dr. Jim you were eavesdropping, he kept you company after Mr. Hatch’s murder, and he stopped the wolves from taking you.

Namjoon is… there is something between you. You know it.

Hesitantly, you say, “Alright. Werewolves exist. Keep going.”

He is visibly relieved that you’re not questioning or berating him. You don’t exactly believe him yet, but you want to hear his story. 

“There were communities of werewolves who lived here long before humans did. When people migrated to this area, they drove them out and forced those communities to become smaller and smaller. When the werewolves asked for their land back or to share resources, they were hunted and slaughtered.” 

Namjoon’s throat bobs and emotions flicker across his face. His features settle on pain, and you stop yourself from reaching out to take his hand. “What you vaguely remember as wolf attacks and wolf hunts as a child was those families being exterminated. There are a few families in the village who remember that werewolves exist. They took it upon themselves to remove the problem forever.”

This village has a complicated history. 

Dr. Kim’s words float through your mind as you chew on what Namjoon has told you. He lets the information settle, giving you a few moments to think. You don’t recall anyone seriously ever talking about werewolves but… 

“They’re angry,” you murmur, remembering how San described the massacre at the Mathesons. “The wolves now - those aren’t wolves. They’re werewolves who are getting revenge. You spoke of revenge with Dr. Kim. Is that why the animal attacks have been happening?”

Namjoon nods grimly. “There is a very small concentration of people in the village who keep the secret about the massacres and the knowledge of werewolves. Those families have been… targeted recently. They still hunt werewolves when they can.”

“Who is Yoongi?”

“Ah,” he lets out a humorless laugh. “He leads the last remaining community of werewolves. His family was murdered by your constable when he was a child.” You blanch. “Yoongi is angry, vengeful, and very influential. When he was voted pack alpha, he decided to eliminate the last remaining threats.” 

“He’s the white wolf.” Namjoon raises his brows but nods. You think that makes sense, remembering the white wolf at the Marrow farm and the one who dragged you in the forest. “Why was Seokjin there? Did he lead the constable to-”

Namjoon hesitates and nods. “The Kim family are wolf friends. It’s largely the reason Dr. Kim is a veterinarian. They’re what we call one foot in the forest. There were two others in your village that were wolf friends. Your neighbor was one.”

You twist your fingers in the blanket. “Did Yoongi-”

“No. I believe he was murdered by one of the men who knows what Yoongi and his people are.” 

“So that’s why Seokjin led them to Yoongi?” Namjoon gives a curt nod. “This is…. A lot to take in.” 

“It is. Sleep a little more and we’ll talk about it more when you wake up. Your head is already swimming enough, yeah?”

Namjoon’s grin is gentle and you shoot one back. “Do you promise to tell me why you’re really here? And why it feels like I know you?”

“Of course. Sleep, Red.”

-

Namjoon wakes you again a few hours later. This time, it’s with water. It’s cool and fresh, soothing your aching head and waking up your sleepy senses. He lets you drain the entire thing, sitting thoughtfully at the end of your bed. 

This time, you feel more alert. Sitting up carefully, you cross your legs and examine him. He’s dressed in simple clothes and a jacket, the fireplace throwing an orange glow on his face. Again, you’re struck with how much you could swear you know him, like his eyes are something you know and love. 

He waits for you to get settled, placing your hands in your lap. You fiddle with the edge of your tunic, drinking him in. Strong shoulders, rough hands, tawny skin. Your heart does a flip before you shove away thoughts of how pretty he is to think about what he’s told you so far.

“I have questions.”

He smiles and it’s as warm as the fire behind him. “Of course you do.”

“Did the werewolves kill my father?”

You get the tough one out of the way first. It was a thought you had just before you slept, wondering if your father had been someone who helped the constable murder Yoongi’s family. Though you have decided to dislike the white wolf very strongly, you can’t help but pity him.

“No,” Namjoon says vehemently. “After you told me about your father, I did some asking around. He was a wolf friend. That’s why he didn’t hunt big game, Red. He knew about us.” 

A tight feeling works its way up your throat. The relief and anger you feel is a double-edged sword, happy that he didn’t contribute to the displacement Namjoon is speaking of and angry that you know with every bone in your body that he was murdered. The instinct speaks to you the same way it tells you that you know Namjoon. 

You look up at him sharply, realizing something. “What do you mean ‘he knew about us’? Us?” 

Namjoon’s eyes are dark. He regards you intensely, making you shiver. Slowly, Namjoon begins to roll one of his sleeves. Your eyes drop to his hand as he does, long fingers meticulous. He bares his skin and holds his hand out to you, displaying the jagged, white scar that lopes around his wrist. 

Without thinking twice, you reach out to him, pulling his hand toward you. His skin is warm, sending a tingle through your fingertips. His palm is large and rough, your fingers delicate as you flip it to face the ceiling, eyes glued to the scarring around his wrist.

You move your fingers over his palm gently, scraping the calluses as you go. He lets you do what you want, touch stopping at his wrist bone before glancing up at him. His eyes are impossibly dark and he nods, urging you forward. 

The scarring is rough. Thick, ropey lines encircle his wrist like his hand was ravished by teeth. It makes you faintly think of Yoongi’s teeth around your ankle or -

“You,” you breathe, eyes meeting his. They are the same warm, intelligent, and welcoming eyes of the wolf you’d saved all those years ago. The wolf who had stood between you and the others at the Marrow farm. The wolf you dream about every night. “I saved you?”

His throat bobs. “You did.”

“I… that’s why it feels like I know you.” Your fingers trace his scar, almost fondly. Namjoon’s eyes flutter. “I do know you. Why didn’t you tell me?” 

He smirks. “‘Hi, my name is Namjoon and I can turn into a wolf whenever I want and you saved me a few years ago and I’ve been thinking about you ever since’ is not exactly a great opening.” 

“Better than ‘you know most people who don’t want to be seen don’t wear a red cloak’.” He scrunches his nose. Cute. “I don’t know what to say.”

“That’s alright. I’ll talk if you’re willing to listen?”

You nod, not letting go of his hand. Now that you know who and what he is, any residual fear is gone. You scoot toward him, wanting to be closer. “I want to know.”

“Giho is my uncle like I said. He’s not a werewolf, though. That trait passed through my mom’s side of the family. Still, he was family and he knew about the werewolves that my father married into. He's a wolf friend and does what he can to help us, including making house calls and stealing us goods in harsh winters.”

“Huh. I always just thought he was a quiet, grumpy vet.”

“He is very much that, but he has also been a lifeline. He helps Yoongi far more than he should. It puts him in danger. His wife was killed for being a wolf friend. Giho was left alone simply because he is useful to the village.” Your fingers squeeze his hand at the hurt in his voice. “That night you found me… I was pretty young then. Fourteen, to be exact. I was nosing around the village that everyone was so afraid of and never saw the trap. I cannot emphasize how much you saved my life.” 

“It seemed like the right thing to do. I was afraid but you were… hurt. And your eyes were so kind. I don’t regret it.”

“What a relief.” You smile, genuinely happy. “I was worried you might after finding out my family were sort of… killing people.”

“When you put it that way,” you wince. “But I do believe you. That humans drove you out. That people are hurting you and your people. You don’t deserve it and I… don’t think I am in a position to offer moral arguments to what you’re doing.”

“I knew I liked you.”

“You barely know me.”

Namjoon turns his hand and catches yours, lacing your fingers. Your heart skitters as he pulls you a little close and leans, eyes narrowed playfully. “Hmm, sorry. I wasn’t really allowed to come hang out around your town, Little Red.” 

“Why did you finally come? Is it to help Yoongi?”

He shakes his head. “I only have one goal.”

“Which is?”

“To keep you safe.” That quiets you. Namjoon doesn’t meet your eyes when he continues, “You showed me such kindness, I just wanted to repay you. I liked to keep an eye on you when I could, always from a safe distance. You might not know me, but I grew up knowing you.”

Your mouth goes dry at his words. For someone who poses such a threat, Namjoon is gentle. Soft. Kind. You swallow past the lump in your throat. “Did you give me the red cloak?” 

“Yeah. It was to mark you as a friend. We give them to those who are under our protection.” He narrows his eyes. “Which is why Yoongi swears he didn’t know it was you in the woods tonight. Seokjin’s eyesight is too piss poor to realize it was you. Idiots.”

“Well if you know about me, tell me about you. What’s your favorite color? What do you like to eat? What's your favorite thing about being a wolf?”

So Namjoon does tell you. You both end up sitting on the bed next to one another, arms touching as he traces the lines on your palm. Your backs are pressed against the wall, feet dangling off the edge of his bed as he tells you about his childhood. 

It is fascinating hearing about the dynamics of his community but it’s also sad. Hearing how they live in fear, hearing how so many of the people he knows are gone. Realizing that the things he tells you match up with things you realize about your own community. 

Sadness sinks to the bottom of your gut like a rock. It isn’t pity that you feel, but something far more profound. It’s regret that you didn’t know any better. Frustration that he has suffered. A radical feeling of anger and desire for justice knowing you lived in comfort while Namjoon and his family suffered. 

There are good parts, too. Namjoon recalls happy moments and blushes when he recalls seeing you a few times. It doesn’t feel weird or strange, knowing someone was looking out for you. It feels comforting, like old friends catching up. 

Namjoon’s eyes sparkle as he tells you about his favorite books. You don’t know when you stop listening to him and start staring, but it’s inevitable. You love the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, dimple making an appearance as he recalls a story about putting Yoongi in the dirt with his brother, Taehyung’s help. You love the way he gestures wildly with his hands, every word evocative and enthusiastic. 

He’s the kind of person you would have been friends with had he grown up with you. And maybe a little more, you think, watching Namjoon watch you. His gaze is even and heated, making you squirm. His mouth twitches and you’re so sure that he knows he makes you nervous.

“I never thanked you,” you mention. He hums in question, letting you go back to tracing his scare delicately. He twitches and you grin. Good. “For saving me from the jaws of Yoongi.”

“Ah, that. I think he knew it was you. There’s a reason he dragged you instead of killing you on the spot.”

“Huh. Well, that’s very rude.”

“He’s good at that.”

“You sound fond, still.”

He nods. “I love Yoongi. Is my brother, in a way.”

“Well still. Thank you.” 

You look up at Namjoon. You’re sitting so close, shoulders pressed against one another. He smells like pine and bergamot, your favorite scent. It’s heady, awakening a foreign ache in you. Your heart speeds up as you lean into him just a little more, watching him through your lashes.”

“Don’t look at me like that,” he rumbles, voice deep. 

Your toes curl. “Like what?” 

“LIke you wanna do more than just thank me.”

“Maybe I do.”

“I know.” 

Ah. You start to pull away and turn your head, realizing that he’s not interested, but Namjoon catches your chin with his other hand, tilting you back toward him. Your heart stalls when he looks down at your mouth, then back up to your eyes. “I’ve known you for all my life. Not how I wanted, but I’ve known you nonetheless. But you haven’t had the chance to know me.”

“I want to. I feel like I have known you. Like I knew you were always there.”

“Is this what you want?”

This. Namjoon. Whatever is crackling between you. The thing that has sparked since the moment he caught you eavesdropping. It doesn’t matter that it doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t have to make sense. 

Namjoon makes sense though. The way his gaze softens when he sees you. The way he looms on the edge of your life, a silent protector. The way he could do so much damage but is soft instead. The way everything about him feels like the sun on a summer day, like a field of wildflowers in spring.

He must sense you tipping over the edge. His grip on your chin becomes firm and he tilts your face toward him, leaning down to press his warm, full mouth against yours. The effect is instantaneous. You melt into him, sighing as a feeling of belonging slots into place.

The kiss is chaste. Namjoon pulls away and your lashes flutter. You hadn’t even realized your eyes closed. His gaze is dark and half-lidded, his face close enough that you feel his breath. His lips have stoked a fire in you and you want more, you want to spill out the years of longing for something you didn’t know was there, for the sudden confirmation that he’d been there all along.

Surging forward, you press your lips to his again. This time, it’s searing, your mouth fierce as you push up off of the bed. Namjoon falls in your rhythm easily, hand leaving your chin to grab you by the waist and pull you into his lap.

Knees slotted on either side of him, you pour everything you have into the kiss. Your fingers card through his thick hair, silky strands sliding between them like you knew they would. His lips are soft on yours, mouth warm as you break the seal of the kiss with your tongue.

Namjoon lets out deep, throaty sounds. It coaxes the flame inside of you to a roar, tongue tangling with his. It’s wet and messy and a little impractical but you don’t feel embarrassed or nervous. It’s Namjoon. It feels like home. 

Pleasure tingles down your spine. Namjoon grips your hips, fingers digging into your flesh. It feels hot and your skin is burning up, static trapped between your chests where they’re pressed together. Your hips twitch, tentatively seeking friction in his lap. Namjoon responds immediately, pulling your hips toward him and letting you roll. 

Your mouths part but Namjoon doesn’t stop kissing you. You pant while he presses his mouth to your chin and jawline, tongue tough against the softness of your skin. “I’ve wanted you for so long,” he growls. You tilt your head back, letting him pepper your throat. “You have no idea.”

“I always felt like something was missing. I think it was you.”

Namjoon moans at your admission. The heat between your legs is almost painful. One of Namjoon’s hands goes from your waist to between your legs, cupping you. You gasp back bowing as he presses firmly, deft fingers providing mind-numbing pleasure.

“That feels good.” You fist the collar of his shirt and squeeze your eyes. You feel tense, color exploding behind your closed lids. “Don’t stop.”

“Whatever you want,” he whispers. He pulls you in close, fingers curling. Your hips buck and you realize it isn't enough. You need the barrier of clothes gone. You want it more than anything. “You know I’d do anything for you.”

“Yes.”

You do know. It’s second nature. You knew even that day in the street when you’d first seen him. Just like Namjoon knows what you want and need, land leaving the apex of your thighs to help you off his lap and onto the bed under him. 

There’s a confidence in his movements that makes the room spin. Long forgotten are the wolf attacks and Yoongi’s teeth around your ankle. Here, it’s only the rasp of your pants against your skin as Namjoon pulls them down. It’s only the heat of his skis as you yank on his tunic, desperate to feel him.

Namjoon does run hot. His skin is burning up as your hands explore his firm chest. He captures your lips again, sucking your bottom lip in his mouth as he spreads your legs open with a knee. You shake under his touch, equal parts eager and stimulated. 

He’s so, so gentle as he caresses your inner thigh. When he brings his fingers to your sticky center, you let out a pitiful whine. Namjoon pauses, fingers pressed to your swollen kiss as he laughs and breaks the kiss, forehead pressed against yours.

“Don’t laugh at me,” you pout, leaning your head up to bite his chin. “It feels good.”

He gives you a quick kiss. Once. Twice. “Good. I want to make you feel good.” 

Namjoon circles his middle finger lazily around your clit. Your feet press into the bed, hips pulling up off the sheets. It feels amazing, pleasure sparking in your stomach. “That,” you gasp. “I like that.” 

He dips his head down, attaching his mouth to your neck as he teases your cunt. You don’t have to say anything else, Namjoon’s inquisitive fingers learning what makes you squirm and sigh. You’re a mess beneath him, chest heavy, beats of sweat making your shirt cling to you.

You claw at it, pulling it away from you. Namjoon leans up and lets you take it off, eyes dipping as he smiles appreciatively. He combines the efforts of his fingers with his mouth, bending low to catch a pert nipple with his teeth.

“Shit!” you squeak, making him chuckle again.

His fingers circle your clenching hole, pussy leaking onto his fingers. He presses a finger in and you let out a long, quiet whine. The feeling of his finger pressing against your walls is perfect, your cunt clenching as he shallowing thrusts the finger.

Everything he does is perfect. He sucks at your nipple hungrily as he fingers you slowly, making sure to press up inside your cunt in a way that has you seeing stars. Your fingers tangle in his hair, unable to think about anything except his teeth scraping your sensitive bud and your pussy clenching around his finger.

Namjoon is attentive. The heel of his hand presses to your clit and he eases another finger in, slower than the last. He looks up at you, mouth slick with spit to watch your mouth fall open. You nod, urging him further, sound stuck in your throat. 

The wet squelch between your legs as he fucks you with his fingers is obscene. You like it though, driven by the fact that it’s Namjoon doing it. Namjoon who you saved. Namjoon who watched over you. 

You open your eyes and look up at him, cradling his face in your hands. His forehead is damp with sweat from the heat building in the little shack. His skin is flushed and his hair hangs in his face. You pull at his bottom lip with your thumb and he gazes at you, hungry and wild, pupils blown.

Greedy, you pull him to you. The kiss is more teeth than lips, the two of you panting. Your leg hooks around his waist and you nibble his bottom lip, hips rolling to meet his thrusts, an orgasm starting its ascent. 

“I want you,” you breathe against his mouth. Your lips are sore from arduous kissing. “Please.”

He kisses you. “Okay.”

It’s that simple. You ask for it and he gives it to you.

Namjoon retracts his fingers from your cunt. You feel the sudden loss, fidgeting as you wait. He makes quick work of his pants, kneeling on the bed and bringing his hands covered in your juice to pump his cock. You feel your eyes bulge at his thick length. 

He notices and grins, slowing his movements. You watch as his hand smears precum down his shaft, twisting lightly as he gets to the top, his thumb brushing over his dark tip. “You can take it,” he pants, grinning wolfishly. “I know you can.”

Instead of answering, you nod, lifting your hips eagerly. He hums, pleased as he lets go, cock bobbing heavily while he shuffles over and leans over you. He places his hands on either side of your head, arms flexing as he holds his weight to bend down and steal a quick kiss. 

You kiss back feverishly, one hand traveling between your sweaty bodies to grip his length, trying to stroke him the way he did. He sighs, breaking the kiss and dropping his forehead against your chin as a shiver ripples through him. You smile, continuing to pump him.

“Want to be inside,” he mumbles, barely coherent. 

You open yourself up more, gently guiding the blunt crown of his cock toward your trembling entrance. You hold your breath as his hips follow your hand, breaching your ring of tight muscles and pushing in. 

Immediately your muscles spasm and resist, overwhelmed by Namjoon’s girth. You blow out a long breath as he enters you so, so slowly. It’s heaven and it’s hell, it’s pleasure and it’s pain. Namjoon presses his mouth to you, tongue distracting you as he bottoms out, stuffing you full.

Nothing has ever compared to how stretched you are. He doesn’t move, letting your cunt twitch around him. He holds himself up with one hand, the other brushing up and down your side, squeezing bits of flesh comfortingly as you try to still your beating heart under him.

The pain fades. You get greedy, wiggling your hips back and forth experimentally to feel the way Namjoon’s cock rubs against your walls. He blows out air sharply, a half laugh before his hand drops down to your hip, pushing you down into the bed with his weight as he slides backward.

“Ohhhh,” you sigh, head lolling to the side. The pressure of Namjoon pressing you down as he sets a slow pace of fucking into you is just right. You close your eyes, letting him set a slow pace in silence. “Yeah.” 

Namjoon’s breath is unsteady. Every little sound he makes sets you on fire. You’re pliant beneath him as he picks up his speed, properly fucking into you. One of your hands reaches up to grab his bicep, nails digging in, the other shooting to his hand on your hip, squeezing his wrist. 

Everything feels right. Connected. Overheated. The air is so thick you think you might suffocate, sheets sticking to your balmy skin, toes curling as Namjoon’s cock hits that spot inside of you that drives you mad. 

Nothing but this matters. Nothing but knowing your wolf isn’t really a wolf at all, and that he’s been there all along. Just like you’d hoped. 

“Fuck,” Namjoon pants. “I never dreamed I’d have you.”

“I dreamed of you,” you gasp on a particularly hard thrust, your nails dragging down his arm. “I just didn’t know it.”

His mouth crashes to yours. “Mine,” he growls. “My savior, mine to protect.” 

Your orgasm spins like an out-of-control spool of thread, winding tighter and tighter. Namjoon can tell, chasing your orgasm with reckless abandon, throwing his gentle movements out the window and fucking you hard into the bed. 

The sounds and words coming out of your mouth are useless babble, your thoughts turning murky as that spool tightens so much inside of you that it bursts, unspooling and spilling out of you around Namjoon’s cock. 

You can’t even breathe as you come, feet kicking, nails digging into his skin, teeth clenched. Your heart beats in your ears, the only thing you can hear for a few seconds as you spasm, eyes clenched shut. You are vaguely aware of Namjoon coming shortly after you, your name ripping through clenched teeth as he does. 

There are a few minutes of nothing punctuated by your stilted breathing and rapid pulse. Finally, you blink, stars swimming in your eyes as you look at Namjoon, who hangs his head on your chest. You reach a hand up and run your fingers through his sweaty hair.

Your wolf. Somehow you’d always known it. Even when you thought you were crazy. 

Gently, Namjoon pulls out of you, fluid spilling between your legs. You don’t care, limbs too heavy to move. Your skin is still burning up from exertion and you roll your head to the side to watch Namjoon as he lays next to you, pulling you toward him. 

For a little while, it’s quiet. You listen to the beating of his heart, closing your eyes and breathing deeply. You’re content just to lay there feeling whole just for once. 

After a while, Namjoon sighs. “You have to go back eventually.”

“We.”

“Hmm?”

“We have to go back.”

Namjoon pulls away and frowns at your tone, eyes reading your face. Your mouth is set in a firm line and you look at him with all seriousness. “We’re not letting them get away with what the humans did to you and your family.”

“You want to help?”

“Yes.” You pause. “I think it’s what my father would have wanted. It’s what I want. Even if Yoongi bit me.”

“Yoongi will never bite you again,” he vows fiercely. Then, a little more gently, “But he… would be glad to hear your sympathetic stance. I’m glad to hear it, Red.”

“Good.” You snuggle closer. “You’re mine to protect too. And I will make them pay.”

For Namjoon. For your father. You’ll paint the village red. 

[heevanly]

LATE NIGHT TALKS : LEE HEESEUNG (이희승)

𝐬yn. : being the host of a college late night radio talk show was a passion project since freshman year of college, but now as a senior, y/n hadn't expected the fame it brought to herself on campus... but maybe it was the recent string of murders that caused more tuning in than ever seen before.

𝐰arnings. / 𝐭ags. : (18+!). small series. gore. horror. college au. similar to a murder mystery au. swearing. mentions of wanting to vomit (no vomiting occurs). humor. mildly suggestive. no smut. main character death. side character death. heeseung and jay are manipulators. jay and heeseung have a small argument. enha members as main / side characters. lsf members as side characters. ive members as side characters. pet names used mockingly (baby, sweetheart, honey). more to be added as parts come out.

𝐧ote. : warnings are just overall, not everything mentioned is in this part in particular (like 98% is tho). also welcome to my first fully published work, i hope you guys like it. everything is also in lowercase, not sure why but that's just how things ended up happening haha.

𝐭aglist. : @livsateez @velvethana @ilyjxdz

© @heevanly 2024 | do NOT copy, plagiarize, reupload, or steal my works.

WC : 6.7k

Part Two. (TBD)

walking towards the music building on your campus was always the worst trek for you. it was the furthest building from your on-campus apartment and it was a combination of uphill walking, stairs, and loose gravel sidewalk that for some reason the school had yet to get fixed. you kick a loose rock and grumble incoherently, watching the rock hit the bottom stair leading up to the building. letting out a sigh you begin walking up the last of the stairs that leads towards the building. 

the night was serene at least, a bit chilly but it was still early spring, you’re just glad the hoodie you’re currently wearing is enough to block out the wind blowing past every so often. with the last bit of sunlight fading behind the horizon, you scan your fob into the building’s sensor, unlocking the doors.

a small noise crunches somewhere from behind you and your head immediately turns in the direction of the sound yet nothing is there. eyebrows furrowing, you rescan the fob and head inside the building shaking your head, “i hate walking at night, curse heeseung and his off-campus apartment, if only he’d pick me up.”

you head into the hallway that holds the elevators that lead into the basement. it’s never been the most ideal location to record, but it offered a few rooms that had equipment and space you needed to borrow.

after the trip down from the elevator you walk into the room the four of you have continuously used for the radio show. setting your bag down you start cleaning up the space, trashing old papers left behind, wiping the tables, doing simple tests on the mics to just make sure they work, overall just getting the place ready. you leave jay and jake's stuff mainly untouched, as they have their own way of setting up the lights, mic sensitivities, and what all else.

the door opens up behind you as you continue to do tasks around the rooms, not bothering to look at the door, you glance at the clock instead, “hey guys, you’re a bit earlier than when you normally get here.. we still got an hour.. but since you’re here could you,” your voice quiets down as you turn to address whoever was behind you directly, however no one is in the room.

“what the hell,” you mutter out scratching your head, “i swear i heard the door open.”

you quickly scan the room you’re in, checking under the table to see if one of the four decided to fool around a bit. seeing no one under there you move to the other room where jay and jake usually stay in, but no one is seen there either. a sense of unease begins to grow in your stomach but you decide to keep yourself busy by finishing up tasks in the room. printing out the schedule and loose script for the recording, you skim through, making sure you didn’t leave anything out and once satisfied you set the schedules and script in heeseung’s and your spot.

the clock reads 9:27 pm and you sit down on the couch, getting comfortable, getting ready for the other three to walk in at any moment. your phone rings and seeing jake’s contact pop up, you answer.

“hey jake, what’s up, did something happen?”

jake clears his throat on the other side, “y/n! glad you answered, couldn’t get a hold of heeseung, but i told jay already- wait is he there yet?”

“er, no.. well at least i don’t think so.” you scan the room once before playing with the charms on your nails.

“what..?” jake asks, confusion in his tone, “you don’t think so? y/nnie i hate to break it to ya but i think you’d know if someone was in the room with you.”

you let out a puff of air out through your noise in fake annoyance, “yes i’m well aware of that jake sim. but i heard the door open up behind me a little bit ago and i figured it was one of you guys stopping in a little early but no one was there so..”

“well.. i’m sure it’s just your pretty little mind playin tricks then, anyways jay should be there soon though, he left the flat a bit ago- oh right! since he isn’t there i guess i should tell you. i can’t make it tonight, forgot i overscheduled myself with my plans so i have somewhere else i need to be tonight.”

“what? jake why didn’t you say anything earlier today? i mean it’s fine, i got the room mainly all ready anyway but a warning other than being like five minutes before you get here would’ve been nice.” you click your tongue in annoyance to further drive the point in. frankly, you didn’t mind that much but teasing jake a little bit was something you couldn’t pass up.

you hear jake give a dejected sigh and stifle a laugh, “ok listen i know i know, i’ll make it up to you i promise but just this night i can’t make it alright?”

“yeah yeah, you have fun with your plans or whatever.”

jake chuckles, “oh i will, see ya y/n.”

the call ends just as jay walks in, he gives you a little wave and sets his stuff by yours, “here like always, before everyone else is.”

you drum your nails along the couch’s arm rest as you watch jay get situated in the room, “someone has to get everything ready, and it sure ain’t gonna be jake with the way he bailed on us tonight. and we’re lucky if heeseung shows up 10 minutes before we go on air.”

jay lets put a small laugh, “he told you he’d be gone? thought i was gonna have to be the one to tell you.”

“nah he told me, think he’s trying to get a hold of hee right now too.”

“eugh, good luck to him then.”

you raise your eyebrows in understanding, “yeah.. anyhow i printed out the schedules and cleaned everything up so..”

jay sits in his seat and turns to you, “you emailed me my schedule right?”

“yup, did it before i left my apartment.”

“perfect, alright you go get set up and i’ll test your mic and make sure feedback is clear.” upon hearing jay’s words you get up from the couch and move to sit down in your chair, jay gives you a thumbs up and you test your microphone, “test test test.”

jay fiddles around with a few notches and motions with his hand to try once again, “test test test.” you repeat into the microphone, which you receive a thumbs up and lean in your seat. all thats left was to wait for heeseung.

a few minutes later and he walks in, dragging his bag behind him, “woah dude you look like shit.” jay says, looking heeseung up and down.

“this assignment for prof kim is killing me,” heeseung groans out, exasperated, “i swear she wants me dead.”

your jaw drops slightly at the look of heeseung, “have you slept recently?”

heeseung drops his bag with everyone else’s, “just did, i was supposed to work on the assignment, fell asleep, woke up and sprinted over here.”

his hair was all tousled up and his shirt was slightly stained but his jacket managed to cover most of it up and his pants looked as if in some places dust or dirt got smeared onto it.

jay does one more look at heeseung before turning around in his seat, “alright well man, go get situated next, we’ll test your mic.”

heeseung simply nods before walking to his seat next, once jay gives him the go ahead he speaks up in the microphone, “test test.” jay gives the thumbs up to heeseung and you look up at the clock, 9:58 pm, almost time to go live.

you turn to heeseung, “you sure you’re alright? if you’re that tired i can handle doing a night alone.”

hee gives you a small smile, “promise im all good, that nap was like.. one of those ones where you wake up not knowing who you are or where you are kind, so i’m like.. oddly rejuvenated right now. think i could even fight off a werewolf and win.”

blinking once and then twice you look at him and slowly nod your head, “oohhhhhh kay mister tough guy.. whatever you say..”

“you not believing me is not very kind you know.” heeseung frowns, his lips forming a pout.

“i know, oh-! we’re going live.. 3.. 2..”

"welcome welcome welcome toooo SCU 101.85, you’re currently tuning in to the 10 o’clock pm talk show. i’m your host y/n and i’m here with my co-host..” you turn away from the microphone and glance at your co-host, lee heeseung.

“heeseung.” he speaks up into his microphone, shuffling a few of the papers around.

“and it’s currently a friday night, it’s 67 degrees out with a small breeze too so make sure you wear that jacket!” you chirp.

heeseung snorts and you pass him a look which he returns with a shrug, “you just sound chipper.. s’all.”

“ah.. well our ratings have been going up again.. it’s better than we’ve been seeing these past four months.. so.”

the past four months have been rather difficult for you and heeseung and the radio show. when you started this project sophomore year, it had just been you and your roommate kim chaewon, your ratings were steady in the beginning but had started declining after two months, which made your at the time co-host and roommate, quit. you don’t blame her, you nearly stopped too, which was before heeseung hit you up asking if you still needed another co-host.

accepting his help was the best thing you had done, his roommates jake and jay were all about the technical jargon behind running a radio show, which the reasoning was apparently the three had thoughts about starting a podcast but couldn’t get the timing right to actually get it started, so here they were willing to help you out.

production took off and the four of you found yourselves seeing steady viewers and got to even open a talk line, which was a segment that both you and heeseung took seriously, finding fun in chatting with anonymous students with various complaints they had of others, professors, relationships, or whatever else going on in their lives.

then, out of nowhere four months ago, the viewers started thinning out, causing your small team of four’s good feelings to falter. having been used to success it was shocking to be randomly met with a hard wall and seemingly, no way of getting out.

heeseung and your’s efforts were all in vain as you tried advertising the radio talk show, you had chaewon talk to her friends about spreading the show, heeseung talked to about it to his other friends and also had them spread the word. jake would mention it at his part time job, and jay even mentioned it at a small on-campus event, which he texted that he was never doing again out of sheer embarrassment.

heeseung hums, “well.. i could imagine people have been feeling a bit safer because of us, due to…” he trails off.

right, there's been a few recent deaths that have plagued not only your campus, but the town. you claim they’re very obviously murders while heeseung’s been claiming it’s been various unfortunate accidents. so far the death toll has hit only four, two on campus, one at a campus nearby, and one on the outskirts of town.

“the murders.” you finish his sentence off, gravelly.

heeseung rolls his eyes, but remembers that the listeners can’t actually see that, “you’re so obsessed with these being murders,” he teases.

“well.. it’s quite obvious, no?” you ask, tilting your head a little bit.

“ehh, i wouldn’t really say so, besides the two on campus cause they were ruled as a murder-suicide. regardless that was two months ago and the one at KTU was concluded to be an unfortunate accident.. shit what did they say about how she died again?” heeseung racks his brain, trying to remember how the girl from KTU died two weeks ago.

you scatter your papers around, “wasn’t it something about a lab issue..? their school got to close down because of it, that’s.. uh.. kind of all i remember about that.”

“oh you’re going to hell, haven’t you been following this whole thing since the murder-suicide on campus..?” heeseung laughs loudly and you slump in your chair, embarrassment flooding your system.

you sit back up and clear your throat, “in my defense..”

heeseung accusing points at you, “you! don’t have one.”

“pause, yes i do! rude…. my defense is that the fourth one’s been throwing me off with this whole thing, that i focused a little less on the third girl.” you huff out.

the fourth death was the weirdest in the whole thing so far, it happened a few days ago and it’s been the only one where the person involved wasn’t in the same age range and died supposedly.. well.. naturalistically. it had been a middle aged man, who was on his way home from work. apparently the report and the news claimed his tire gotten flat and when he had gotten out to check on it, he had been mauled by a pack of wolves wandering through. 

the police and how they concluded it just didn’t make sense to you, you stayed up for two days trying to determine it all. first, wolves hadn’t been sighted in that area for several months so a random pack coming through didn’t make sense. second, the blood inside the car, how did it even manage to get in there if the man was supposedly outside? the third rea-

heeseung snaps his fingers to try and get your attention back to the talk show, “hey, y/n, quit thinking about it, you’re just gonna make yourself paranoid.. or worse.. really obsessive over this.”

you sigh, biting at your lip as you mull over his words, “my bad, i just need to stay up on all this, our viewers need the information, they deserve the best after all.”

“and the best of the best is from two college seniors..?” heeseung raises an eyebrow.

“absolutely!” you respond, “we’re the only ones giving multiple sides to these events and ways to stay safe.”

“i’m sure the news have been doin all that too though.”

“pff, news schmooze,” you wave your hand at heeseung, “college students don’t care about tuning into the morning news before classes or turning the evening news on, we’re a source of entertainment AND murder mystery, and that’s what eats up.” 

“you’re greedy, y/n, soo greedy.” heeseung shoots a grin your way, a way to let you know he doesn’t mean it.

trying to stop a grin from making its way on your face, you roll your eyes, “oh suck my dick lee heeseung.” 

“gladlyyy..” he sings out, wiggling his eyebrows and chuckles into his microphone.

“you’re a freak..” you gather your papers back up and glance up at the clock, 10:26 pm, time to open up the first talk line segment of the night.

you give a small nod towards heeseung and he nods back and clears his throat, “well well well SCU you are listening on 101.85 and it’s rolling up to 10:30 pm, we got a two minute sponsor for y’all and when we come back live, our callers will be up discussin’ random whatever with us. give us a call at +82 70-5208-6001 and see if you’re lucky enough. again that is +82 70-5208-6001. see you soon.”

both you and heeseung give a thumbs up to the room in front of you and jay switches your sets off, rolling the sponsor. a few seconds pass and before you’re able to turn to heeseung to just casually chat, the switchboard for the phone calls light up, more so than you’ve ever seen before.

turning to heeseung you give him a look of wonder, his eyebrows are furrowed as if hes wondering the same thing you are, why are there so many callers tonight? jay clicks off the sponsor and puts on a jazzy song before stepping into the room, “what’s up with the callers tonight?”

heeseung looks up at jay, “not sure bro, we’re just as confused as you are. we haven’t seen anything like this before.”

the calls keep coming through, lighting up the board until nearly all have popped up, indicating that people are on the line waiting to chat.

jay takes a glance at his set up and back at the two of you and the board, “well you guys got about a minute before we go on air, can’t keep them waiting for too long so just…” he sighs and runs a hand through his hair, “just… i suppose keep their talking segments shorter..? man i wish jake was here right now he could help weed through the callers with me on my end.”

heeseung raises an eyebrow at jay, “he’s not here today at all? i thought he was just late?”

“nah, up and bailed last second, said somethin’ about a date but i think he’s lying.” jay rolls his eyes, “30 seconds, you’re both up soon.”

jay closes the door and you look over at heeseung, frowning “why the hell did he schedule a date during the same time he’s supposed to be here? he told me it was important, not that a date isn’t but i was thinking something with his parents or.. i don’t know..”

heeseung mulls it over for a few seconds, “i mean unless he was planning on bringin her home..”

“dude.”

“it’s jake we’re talking about, y/n.”

“okay, yeah you’re right, well you wanna go first with the calls then..?”

heeseung nods, the on air button lights up and he clicks on a random caller, “hey lucky number one, congratulations you’re on air with us on STU 101.85, what’s your name?”

“hey guys it’s yunjin!” yunjin’s voice is heard through the speaker.

you sit up in your seat a little bit, “oh my god, hey girl! thanks for calling, how you been tonight?” 

“same old same old, prof jeon is an asshole still and said my submitted designs lacks the ‘creative theme’ of what he asked for. the problem is, is that he gave us no theme, aside from it being wearable. so i based it off of 1960’s greek spring chic wear and now he’s denied my third design.”

heeseung nods his head, “we’ve heard from other fashion design majors that prof jeon is the worst, i guess this goes to show to any sophomores and juniors to not finish your semesters as a senior with prof jeon.”

yunjin scoffs, “you could say that again, i wish i took prof song’s class, apparently shes at least nicer with going about denying designs.”

“isn’t she tough to impress though..? i hear her students always come back with lower scores than those who take prof jeon?” you ask, “wouldn’t that be.. worse?”

“oh you’re right.. ugh just don’t be a fashion design major, worst choice ever.”

heeseung lets out a laugh, “alright well we’re gonna let you go and head to the next caller, good luck on the rest of your assignment.”

a hum is heard through the speaker, “yeah i should really get to finish on working with the fourth design, you guys have fun, i’ll still be tuned in too.”

the line clicks and heeseung switches to another caller, “and listeners that was miss yunjin, another senior here at STU, you may have seen her around workin tirelessly at the sewing machines in the fashion department, so send some luck her way for dealing with prof jeon. now we got our next caller with us, you’re on air!”

silence fills the studio and jay looks at you two through the window, mouthing a “the fuck?” and you two shrug, confusion on the both of your faces.

“uh.. dude? you there?” heeseung looks annoyed as he shuffles around in his seat.

more silence fills the room and now you can also feel annoyance creep into your body, “hey, listen if you’re not gonna talk we’ll move on. not sure if you stepped away from your phone at all or what kind of prank you’re trying to pull but you can cut it out, it’s not funny and it just holds us and everyone else up.”

“..01101000,” a gravelly, raw voice crackles through.

heeseung sits up, “okay i’m changing the caller, you’re a weirdo and can get off our line.”

 the voice continues, “..01100101.. 01101100–”

heeseung cuts the line, cutting the voice off too.

“freak.” you mutter, “what the hell was that?”

heeseung shrugs, “sounded like binary code, probably someone from comp sci deciding to pull a prank on us.”

“well they’re not funny, that was weird and kind of scary.” a shiver runs down your spine as you think about the voice that crackled through, whoever it was managed to perfectly replicate fear in their voice.

“oh don’t worry, i can protect you.” heeseung winks at you.

“i think my chances of survival lay better with jay, hee.” you look down to choose the next caller as heeseung makes a noise of offense, taking your words to heart.

“he would not-”

you connect to the caller, “and you’re the third caller of the night, thank you for spending your night here with us at STU 101.85, may we get your name?”

“uh, yeah hi it’s yang jungwon.. i’m a sports medicine major.”

your eyes lit up in recognition at the name and voice, “oh yeah! you’re on the journalism club right? i’ve seen you there frequently.”

“yeah, thanks for helping us out, y/n. uhm, you know i wasn’t positive that i’d get picked so i guess i’m unsure of how to say this.”

heeseung leans closer to his mic, “what do you mean, jungwon?”

“uh, well it’s just, that last caller and then the mysterious figure on campus is what i wanted to talk to you about."

that made you sit up straighter in your seat and from your glance at heeseung, his interest piqued as well.

“go ahead jungwon, we’re interested and i’m sure all the other listeners are too.” you give the green light for jungwon to essentially take over the whole talking segment.

jungwon takes a deep breath and you can hear some shuffling in the background as he gets ready to speak,“okay well, i’ve been staying late on campus for the last week because i work on the sports section of the campus news website right? and i’m not sure what’s been going on but i’ve noticed this shrouded figure walking late at night. they seem to be following any student late at night leaving the stem building.”

you look up at jay and then over to heeseung, the both of them listening to jungwon’s words intently you look back down at the board as jungwon continues, “i think it’s cause they often stay behind the latest right? i’m not sure, i felt it was better to be here and say it as a warning, in case the man was dangerous.”

heeseung speaks up, “you’re saying something now? didn’t you say it’s been the past week?”

jungwon is silent for a few seconds before breathing out, “okay yeah i figured someone would ask that, honestly i thought it was a prank at first, especially because it was a costume the person was wearing.”

“costume?” you ask, “what sort’ve costume?”

“it was that ghostface costume, you know like the scream movies one?”

“ghostface?” heeseung asks, skepticism in his tone, “you saw a dude in a ghostface costume? in spring?”

jungwon clicks his tongue, “that’s why i didn’t say anything, because it just sounds stupid. i really thought it was just a prank someone was pullin on a friend.”

you nervously pick at your nails as you think about jungwon’s words, “you’re saying something now though aren’t you? what made you change your mind?”

jungwon hesitates before saying anything, “the call.”

you raise an eyebrow, “what’s the call got anything to do with the ghostface random?”

“i.. got a weird call yesterday night, it was the same voice that just called you guys. honestly if i wasn’t seeing the costume dude on campus i wouldn’t have thought much of it or if i wasn’t tuned into the radio show tonight.” 

“why don’t you go to the police or campus security? dude like campus security should and would kick the guy off campus, even if what he’s doing is harmless, he’s being creepy.” heeseung sighs out and rubs his forehead a little.

“i did, they think i’m sleep deprived and seein shit, apparently they can’t find ‘any evidence’ that supports that someone's walking around being weird so they think i just need more sleep.”

“what about that phone call? isn’t it logged?” you’re honestly a bit worried for jungwon, something weird is happening, the murders, the calls, and the shrouded costume ghostface guy.

jungwon speaks a bit faster, trying to get all the information he can into the hands of however many people are listening, “thought it was, i re-called the number two days ago and it just immediately disconnects, then the number was gone from my phone yesterday. poof up and deleted from my call log.”

“oh what the hell..” you breathe out, heeseung looks pale as he listens to jungwon’s words.

“dude.. does that not remind you of the damn scream movies? like at least in some way?” heeseung shakingly asks, “it literally sounds like you’re being hunted jungwon.”

a clang is heard and a quiet “fuck” before some shuffling, “sorry dropped my phone, you kinda freaked me there with that heeseung.” jungwon lets out a sardonic laugh.

you turn to heeseung and lightly smack his arm, “no for real, why would you say some shit like that.”

heeseung splutters, “well.. like does it not? i don’t want to sound grave or mean about this right now but genuinely this shit sounds like jungwon is in danger.”

“not helping, dude.” jungwon speaks into his phone, voice low.

“no he’s got a point jungwon. with what hee’s talking about, you could really be in some serious danger. i mean a famous point of scream was the calls to the victims and if you’re really seeing someone run around in the ghostface costume..” you trail off unable to voice the rest of your concerns aloud.

“well thanks for helping me out you two,” the sarcasm in jungwon’s voice is clear and you flinch out of guilt. you didn’t mean to freak jungwon out a bit more, he really wanted to just warn people on campus who were out late. “regardless thanks for warning everyone on this, listeners tell your friends or if you know of any late night students, tell them they should be careful on campus now if they’re out late, just in case. jungwon this goes for you too you know?”

“yeah i know, i’m already off campus now so i should be fine.”

heeseung picks at his jacket’s sleeves, “still man, sounds like you gotta keep yourself safe anywhere.”

“i will, thanks for letting me stay for a while longer than you normally let your callers on.” from the background noise going on in jungwon’s call it sounds like someone coming in through his door, “i’ll go ahead and get going now, my roommate brought food and we’re gonna eat, thanks for having me guys!”

jungwon ends the call and you glance up at the clock which reads 11:07 pm, “alright we have time for one more caller, normally we’d have ended this by 11:00pm and done another segment at 11:30pm as you are all aware but i guess we’ll just have one long talk segment today. heeseung you wanna do the honors for the last lucky caller.”

heeseung nods and clicks on the next caller, “lucky number four, you are live with us at STU 101.85, you get to be the last call of the night with us, anything on your mind that you’d like to chat with us about?” heeseung and you are met with heavy breathing into the phone’s microphone. 

“hello..?” you call out tentatively and heeseung groans out beside you, “alright i’m really getting sick of the people who decide to prank us.”

the breathing stops abruptly at heeseung’s words and your breath hitches in the back of the throat. you’re unsure as to why the caller made you nervous, heeseung is right, prank calls have been weirdly often tonight, this was the second one of the night after all. heeseung’s hands reach to change the caller and that’s when a weird low static sounding voice filters through, “don’t hang me up, lee heeseung.”

heeseung stops his movement’s mid way and your head whips into his direction quickly, the voice continues, “why don’t you put your hand back down. we’re going to chat.” heeseung quickly obliges and fear has overtaken everyone in the room, jay from where he is, is even frozen from the voice.

“much better. thank you for having me on your lovely radio show. you know, i’m not exactly the happiest at having been the last caller, but i suppose only the best are chosen as the final right?” the voice takes a shaky breath before continuing, “y/n,” you freeze as your name comes out, “don’t you think being the final one is best too..?”

you don’t answer, unsure if that’s the best course of action, you just can’t bring yourself to say any words at this moment, but the mysterious caller decides he’ll make you answer, “answer me y/n. you get to choose the fate of someone very important tonight after all.”

your blood runs cold at his words, eyes shaking and tears even start to brim, you stutter out, “what.. what do you mean?”

“i’m so glad you asked honey, let’s bring out my special guest out.” the sounds of a muffled cry and cloth are heard before jake’s voice faint and hoarse comes out of the phone, “let us go man, just please let us go.”

you gasp loudly, heeseung slams his fist down at the table, and jay upon hearing jake’s voice runs into the room, a look you’ve never seen before on his face, either of their faces. jay looks like he may faint yet angry while heeseung looks as if he’s never experienced anger in the way he’s had before.

“i’m sure you know now who is with me.” the voice chuckles and you can hear some crying from a girl as well in the background, “i managed to get a two for one deal tonight for you all.”

“the fuck do you want with us?” heeseung grits out and the caller laughs.

“it’s not so what i want with your group, it’s what i want done with you, lee heeseung.”

heeseung’s bravado falters slightly, “what are you talking about? what could i offer you?”

“i wanna know why.. scratch that i think.. everyone here tonight deserves to know why actually, about the things you’ve done for your beloved radio show.”

you slowly turn your head to heeseung and he’s pale, hands slightly shaking, “hee? what is this guy talking about?”

heeseung looks up at you, pupils blown wide in fear and you feel your heart break at how scared he is, you know you’re not much better either, “i.. i don’t know, this doesn’t make any sense, i.. there’s.. i don’t know.” he’s panicking and you reach over to grab his hand to calm him down some. his hands are clammy but given the situation you understand, you squeeze and he squeezes back.

the voice scoffs, “oh please, get that fake shit out of my face. heeseung knows what he did sweetheart and if i were you i would think twice about holding his hands when all they know are acts of violence.”

jay speaks up before you have the choice to ask what they meant, “i’m calling the police, sick freak.”

“ah ah ah..” the caller tuts out, “if any of you three call the police, your beloved pal jake is getting gutted. i’ll even string out his body parts so prettily for you. send some lovely pictures, y/n you’d appreciate my art for you? right?”

you frankly feel like throwing up and you shake your head frantically, “no.. no..”

the caller lets out a cackle and speaks in a mocking tone, “aww… poor thing is so scared, heeseung why don’t you comfort your poor girl, after all you’ve done sooooo much for her.”

“fuck. off.” heeseung snarls out, hand not holding yours gripping the table and the strength behind it shocks you.

“no fun, either of you, jay’s always been a bit boring anyways, wanting the police involved in our fun so early. however i’m aware we are live.. so i guess we should speed things up. besides jake here i have someone important to jay here. say hello to jay.”

the sobbing girl is heard more clearly and the pit in your stomach is ever growing, the feeling of vomiting coming back tenfold, “why.. why are you doing this.. please i never did anything to you, please please please, let me go i won’t say anything. please j-”

a loud bang and a shriek is heard and jakes voice is screaming, “stop! stop just let her go, man. what is wrong with you?!”

some more shuffling and the caller is heard better, “what’s wrong with me? me..? you were the one who brought your dear friend’s ex out on a date.”

jay slams his hands on the table, leaning forward, “my EX? you were out with fucking yujin?”

more sobs from yujin, you suppose, comes through the phone, “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry, i wanted to make you jealous. i wanted you back, that was it i’m sorry i’m so sorry.”

rubbing his jaw, jay paces around the room, shouting out a “fuck” and slamming his fist against the wall, “jay! this isn’t the time! this asshole WANTS us to act like this, you’re playing into his hands!” heeseung calls out, standing up quickly, “he WANTS you to get angry, he’s enjoying this.”

“yeah?” jay spins around and lets out a shaky laugh, “really? and how do you know that heeseung? you know this guy or something? i wouldn’t be surprised considering you’ve got some fucking secrets of your own now.” jay jabs at heeseung’s chest and he stumbles back in surprise.

you put your head in your hands and yell, “stop! just stop you two! a sadistic killer has jake and yujin and you’re fighting?! what the fuck. just what the fuck?!”

“yeahh.. you two, what the fuck..?” the voice giggles, “you should be more like y/n and focus on the two that’s with me. maybe you can make y/n’s job easier and help her with her choice.”

your whip your head up, tears streaming down your face, “what the hell do you mean help you, you sick fuck?!”

“that’s not very kind now baby… and i mean helping me choose who i kill for everyone tonight of course.”

oh. oh no. no no no no no. absolutely not, you would not choose that, there’s no way you could bring yourself to do that. you shakingly look at the board and whimper out a “no” which the caller barks out a laugh in return, “i’m afraid it’s non negotiable. if you don’t.. i choose at random then and the other person lives with the information that they were saved because of me! or… i just kill both.”

the two men in the room with you freeze at the information they’re hearing, heeseung slowly walks to you, pushes your mic away and crouches down to your level, putting his hands around your body to help the tremors going through your body, he rubs your back soothingly and jay’s jaw clenches as he angrily blows air out of his nose.

heeseung lowly whispers into your ear, “it’s okay y/n.. you.. you gotta do it.. you can do this.. make the choice.. it’s easy right..? you don’t know yujin.. jake needs to be saved y/nnie. jay will understand.. yujin cheated on him anyways.”

you’re not sure why heeseung is calmly telling you this information, you’re not sure why jay won’t look at you directly, you’re not sure why it has to be you that makes this choice, but as heeseung whispers more into your ear about how you can do it and he believes you’d make the right choice you start thinking that doesn’t matter and heeseung’s right. jake needs to be saved. jake is your friend. you don’t know yujin. yujin was a bad girlfriend to jay. you don’t question heeseung’s whispers, you don’t question heeseung at all.

“jake..” you quietly mutter out.

“what was that? i couldn’t hear you..?” the killer sings out and you almost throw up for what feels like the thirteenth time that night.

“jake..!” you speak up a little louder and heeseung squeezes your body comfortingly, “i choose to save jake.”

yujin screams in anguish and you flinch in guilt. “excellent choice, y/n. saving your friends.. how heroic.” the killer praises and you put your head in the crook of heeseung’s neck, wishing this nightmare would just end, he just rubs your back, but you miss the grin he sends jay’s way.

the phone is set down and you can hear yujin plead for her life with the killer, “i just did what you wanted! you said.. you said j- no no stop don’t come any closer i swear i swear no one will know. let me go please. please. i’m sorry,” she cries louder and starts pleading to you all, “jay please.. convince her to save me. jay please we can be happy again. no. no. no! NO! JA–”

the wet sounds of a knife meeting flesh is loud, yujin’s cries become louder and you breakingly sob into heeseung’s shoulder, he grips your body stronger and continues to rub your back. the squelch noise of multiple stabs into yujins poor body ring in your ears. her choked back sobs and cries as her throat fills with her blood causes your sobs to bellow out even louder, heeseung whispers that everything’ll be alright, his constant whispering so soothing you try to focus on them instead of yujin’s dying noises.

it feels like an eternity later but the noises quiet down and all that’s left is silence in the room and the killer’s heavy breathing. “thank you, for allowing me the opportunity to give you and your listeners a show.”

more silence fills the room and you can hear jay’s footsteps in the background pacing once more but you don’t dare look up, an irrational fear that the killer is in the room with you playing in your mind.

heeseung’s eyes darken as he looks down at your shaking body, the small whimpers you let out ignites a fire in his body that he’s only ever gotten killing others and he has stop the smile from forming on his face as he thinks how quick you were to just trust him. his eyes flicker towards jay as he turns off the equipment in the radio show, jay nods once everything is off and they’re no longer live.

the voice speaks up once more and your body stills, having believed the killer dropped the call, “you’re always so sweet y/nnie. so so so kind. the best player for our games. sweet dreams.”

you slowly lift your head in confusion but a small pinch to your neck makes your head drop back down, your eyes blearing together as the only thing you can make out is heeseung’s necklace and white shirt, the feeling of his steady breathing and whatever just stung you luring you into the dark and away from the sick and twisted situation.

[maxislvt]

Moths To A Flame

Summary: Being a detective wasn't easy in New Jersey. It becomes even harder when you're tasked with capturing demons, witches, and other supernatural beings. Juggling that herculean task leaves your love life high and dry. Despite this, your friends encourage you to find a partner. That leap of faith lands you the perfect girlfriend, but what if that protection is only an illusion?

Warnings: dark themes, manipulation, tracking, obsession, possessive behavior, gore, blood, organs, gentle kidnapping (?), Stockholm Syndrome, smut, afab reader (no gendered terms), pet names (baby, puppy), fingering, brief orgasm denial, rough sex, gentle sex, pet play, mommy kink, strap on use

Author's Note: this shit took nine billion years but I'm so proud of myself :)

Being a detective meant you had to be ready for everything. It didn’t matter where you were or what you were doing, sometimes you'd have to drop everything for the sake of justice. Working with regular everyday criminals was one thing, but it became even harder when you were up against the supernatural and occultists. That often meant you'd be forced to cut a date short or leave the house at odd hours, a combination that certainly wasn't ideal for many relationships. You were fine with that. Your job was important and you weren't selfish enough to demand someone stay by your side despite how little time you had for them.

Your friends on the other hand were less okay with that revelation. No matter how many times you reminded them of your undateable schedule, they signed you up for dating apps and websites without care.

Sometimes it was "Everybody needs somebody!'" as Monica would insist. She was always the romantic one among your friends. Other times, you'd get a much more practical "I can't keep coming over here to patch your ass up and cook you." from Sam. There was nothing you could do to get any of them off your case besides get a girlfriend so you just decided to let them have their fun.

Now you were a little upset you let them do it.

After a few days of humoring her flirtatious texts and eventually trading phone numbers, you landed yourself a date with one of the most beautiful women you'd ever seen. Her fiery red hair and serene emerald eyes pulled you in with ease. The way she spoke to you had you wrapped around her fingers in only a matter of days. Just the sound of her smooth, sultry voice made goosebumps rise over your skin. For a moment, you were worried you'd fallen for a siren.

Now that she was sitting just arm's length away, you were sure she wasn't. Wanda was just a really pretty woman.

"What, never seen a pretty girl before?" Wanda asked with an amused smile. She noticed you were staring on the car ride here. It was adorable. You were so easy to tease and fluster.

"Not one as pretty as you," You said without thinking. It wasn't until Wanda started laughing that you even registered what you said. "I- Sorry, I'm just not…I'm not used to dates and stuff like that." A blush covered your face in a matter of seconds. Your hands nervously played with the fork on the table to distract yourself.

Wanda rested her hand on top of yours and leaned in to whisper in your ear. "If you keep playing your cards like this, we might have to leave here a little earlier than intended." She placed a soft kiss on your cheek before leaning back in her seat. A proud smirk covered her features, the exact opposite of the bashful smile on yours.

Controlling your heart rate during the rest of the date was near impossible. Your only saving grace was the waiter coming by with your food. Even that didn't stop Wanda from teasing. She saw it as more of a reason to do it. Wanda had already taken the lead by ordering for you but continued to dominate you subtly just in case you didn't catch the hint.

The final nail in the coffin was when it was time to pay. When you reached into your pocket to pay for it, your wallet was mysteriously gone.

"What? I swear I put it in here…" You glanced up at Wanda to find your wallet sandwiched between two of her fingers. "How did you do that? I felt it in my pocket until a second ago." It was like magic. Not as grand and chaotic as the one you encountered on your job, but certainly had an air of mystery. You would've sensed it by now if she was.

Wanda winked and tossed you your wallet. "You seem like the chivalrous type, it was just a precaution." She reached across the table for your hand and squeezed it gently. "I couldn't let you drive me all the way here and pay for our food. That's just unfair."

The drive to Wanda's apartment was dead silent. Not that you two had run out of things to talk about, but because Wanda's teasing persisted and you were worried you'd crash the car.

A sigh of relief escaped your lips as you safely parked in front of Wanda's apartment. It seemed much bigger now that it was dark. "Um, tonight was fun and I appreciate you for inviting me out." The words left your mouth in a rushed haze as Wanda began to play with the strands of your hair next to your ear.

"Well, I was thinking we could take our little party up to my room and keep it going." Wanda's hand cupped your chin and forced you to face her. "That's only if you want to, sweetness." Her thumb rubbed over your bottom lip. "If you're too needy, I could always take you right here."

Just the thought made you wet. "Um, I- Public sex is a misdemeanor, your bedroom is much better." Wanda's amused giggle made your ears burn. You were thankful she thought everything you did was cute. Your fun fact earned you a kiss on the cheek before Wanda got out of the car and led you toward her apartment building. You could tell it was expensive from the outside, but just getting to the elevator made you feel like some cheap peasant.

Wanda didn't give you much time to lament about your financial situation because she pounced on you the second the elevator door closed.

Wanda wasted no time exploring your mouth. Her tongue wrapped around yours and sucked to her heart's content. "Fuck, you have no idea how long I've wanted to touch you like this." Her arms snaked around your waist to keep you still. The stiffness of your body would've been adorable if she wasn't trying to strip you naked. "Relax, we're going straight to the penthouse floor with no interruptions," She whispered into your ear before kissing the side of your neck.

Just as you began to give in to Wanda's seduction, you caught on. "Did you say penthouse?" You glanced behind Wanda and saw the biggest apartment you'd ever seen. "Oh my god, you live here by yourself?" You slowly stepped out of the elevator in awe.

Wanda grabbed you by your collar and guided you to her bedroom. She has you pinned up against the door in a matter of seconds. Your questions about her house were quickly muffled by your pathetic whining. Her hands began to explore your body excitedly. She grabbed your ass and was surprised to feel some strange hardness. "Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" She asked teasingly.

You cleared your throat nervously and pulled out the object in your pocket. "It's just my badge, I keep it on me in case I get called out." The words die in your mouth as you watch Wanda carelessly toss it to the side. You leaned forward to get it only to be pushed back against the wall. "I need to be able to find that in the morning, what if-"

Wanda cut you off with another kiss and began unbuttoning your shirt. "And I'll help you find it if you need it. Just focus on me right now. Pretty please?" It was like she got prettier every time you looked at her. Her lips are quick to cover any newly exposed skin in kisses. It takes so much self-restraint not to litter your skin with bite marks and hickeys, but she pacifies the desire by just lightly nibbling on your skin. "You sure know how to dress nice."

Your brain is far too clouded with lust to form a proper response. Instead, your brain focused on the way she slowly began unbuttoning your pants and pulling down your underwear. The skin of your thighs isn't given the same leeway as your stomach and they're littered with bruises in a matter of seconds. "Ah, you're rough!"

Wanda chuckled darkly. "Something tells me you like it that way." Two of her fingers ran down your slit and were immediately covered in your slick. She eased one of them inside of your cunt and started at an agonizingly slow pace. "I know you wanna be fucked senseless baby, but I gotta stretch out this little hole of yours first." A satisfied hum escaped her lips as you began mindlessly grinding against her. All it took was a little praise and you were hers to keep.

Another one of her fingers slipped into your hole and she spread them apart. She could feel your walls fluttering already. "Poor baby. You need to cum?" A proud smirk spread across her lips. Watching you hold off an orgasm was the cutest thing ever. You squirmed and whined while biting your hand, but none of it worked. The second her fingers rubbed against that spongy patch of nerves inside of you, you were done for. "There we go, let it out."

You shuddered and whimpered helplessly as Wanda's fingers continued to make a mess of your hole. Every word you tried to speak left your mouth in a string of broken moans. "Ah, right, that's- that's enough," You whispered with all the firmness of a tired kitten.

Eventually, Wanda pulled away and helped you stand upright. "Oh sweetness, I hope you didn't think that's all I had planned for you." She forced her fingers into your mouth. "Good little detectives like you deserve a reward, don't they?"

☲☲☲☲☲☲☲☲

The adventures of last night left your body aching. Wanda's self-restraint whittled away the more opportunities you gave her to use your body. The love bites littering your chest was proof enough. You rarely got the chance to bottom and even then no one had ever spoiled you that much before. It was like a dream come true.

But of course, you had a job to do and that always came before romance.

"Hello," You said into the phone without checking the caller ID.

"Hey, uh, how fast can you get to Upper Montclair?" Monica asked nervously.

"Monica?" You immediately got out of bed and looked outside the window. "About half an hour. What's the problem?" The search for your badge and clothes was frantic and quickly proved to be unsuccessful. At least your shoes were where they should've been.

"There was a fire in one of the condos up here."

You stopped your search. "A fire? Monica, that's the fire department's job, not ours."

"If it was just a fire I wouldn't have called you! There are these weird symbols in the ashes and Jimmy doesn't want any of the guys touching anything without you here."

You sighed and continued looking for your clothes. "Alright, tell the guys I'll be down there in a half hour…if I find my clothes that is." You grumbled as you searched underneath the bed. Monica's excited gasp almost made you drop your phone. "I'll tell you everything when there are no magic fire runes to deal with, okay?" You hung up the phone.

After nearly twenty minutes of aimless searching, you found your clothes neatly folded and your badge freshly shined on top of the dryer. You put them on in a rush and made your way toward the elevator.

Just as you pushed the button to go down, the elevator opened. "You're back," You said as your eyes trailed down to the bag of food in Wanda's hand. "And you brought breakfast…god I'm so sorry." You were disappointed in yourself. Whether it was because you were about to break Wanda's heart or because you weren't fast enough to avoid her you aren't sure. "Last night was really fun, but- but I can't just hang up on work. I promise I'll make it up to you when I have the time."

The corners of Wanda's mouth flicked upwards in what you thought would be a sad smile. "Hey, it's alright. You told me last night, I just wish I left a bit earlier." She handed you one of the bags in her hands. "Just eat up and call me when you have the time. We'll work out a second date later." Wanda affectionately pinched your cheek before going to the kitchen.

You were shocked. Most people weren't as understanding when it came to your random work calls. It was a first. Not only that, you had a second date. That realization didn't even hit you until you pressed the first-floor button. Your first second date with a girl. "Thank you for last night!" You said excitedly just as the elevator closed.

Your head was so far in the clouds, you almost forgot about the grim scene waiting for you.

As the smell of ash and smoke filled your lungs, you began dreading the investigation ahead of you. Something strong had been in the area, you could feel it in your gut. Magic and murder mixed quite often in New Jersey. It didn't matter if it was the pretty mansions or the overcrowded apartment complexes downtown. Blood sacrifices, demon summonings, and generational curses. You'd seen it all, but none of it had ever been as professional as what lay in front of you. For one, the fire didn't jump. Even though there was less than a foot of space between the condos, only one had been destroyed. The one still standing didn't even have ash on it.

"Well, this was certainly personal." You began taking photos of the runes and rubble. A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you put on the latex gloves Monica handed you. "Do we have any casualties?"

"One dead and one injured but all other tenants escaped unharmed." Monica was one of your closest friends. She knew how you worked better than anyone at your station. Working with her was the easiest thing in the world. "Vision and Tony Stark. I tried talking to Tony but I think he's still in a state of shock. That and he looks sick, but not burned. I think you should check him out before anything."

You looked over at the ambulance. Sitting out the back was a man not much older than yourself. His hair had streaks of fading brown and the bags under his eyes seemed exaggerated by the looming cloud of dread. "Okay, I need you and Jimmy to search for anything magical while I try talking to Tony." You took the sunglasses hanging off your shirt collar and put them in Monica's face. Enchanted glasses always came in handy when working with the nonmagical.

You grabbed a bag out of your car. It was full of herbs and potions. If Tony wasn't burned, it was likely he was feeling the side effects of whatever spell that was meant for his brother.

"Hello, I'm Detective L/N." You stuck out your hand for the other man to shake.

"James Stark, his husband, but Rhodey is fine." Rhodey shook your hand firmly. His face was tense. "We're not going to be much use, just got here ten minutes ago and Tony hasn't spoken a word."

You nodded. "Well, I did come to ask questions, but part of my job is making sure everyone on the scene is safe. I just want to make sure your husband isn't suffering from any spells or curses." You placed your bag down and gestured towards Tony "May I?" When Rhodey gave you his approval you began your inspection immediately.

Fortunately, you weren't working against anything too crazy. You couldn't figure out what exactly caused it, but it wasn't difficult to undo. Slowly, the paleness in Tony's face faded away.

"Please come by the station as soon as possible for questioning, but there's no rush at all." You pulled a contact card out of thin air. "Don't hesitate to call me if you have any questions or concerns."

☲☲☲☲☲☲☲☲

Tracking down witches was never easy. It was even harder to do on an empty stomach. The easiest way to combat that was to track down witches in a local diner. You, Monica, Darcy, and Jimmy were all regulars at May's Diner. The four of you spent countless hours in the booth writing up reports and putting together information. That or you'd just spend hours eating your frustrations away. Today it seemed to be the second.

"I'm stomped. This doesn't look like any of the symbols in this book," Darcy complained while nibbling on a french fry.

You groaned and closed the book in front of you. "I got nothing either." With Tony still sick and the runes undeciphered, the investigation was already at a standstill. This was already starting to get a little difficult but you were determined to keep pushing.

"Cheesecake for the lead detective."

You shook your head and immediately handed the plate back to the waitress. "Pete, tell your aunt to stop giving us free dessert every time she thinks we need to take a break. I'll lose all my teeth at this rate."

The young man frowned as he put the plate back on the table. "We both know she's never gonna do that, but this is just for you. The lady at the cash register bought it." He tilted his head in the direction of the registrar.

It was Wanda.

You didn't even sense her entering the diner. "Fuck, oh my god. Thank you, Peter." You quickly took off your jacket and smoothed down your shirt before leaving the booth. "Hey, Wanda. How's it going?" The expression on her face was unreadable. Was she upset with you or just happy to see you?

Wanda's hand immediately reached out to cup your face. Your cheek fitted perfectly in her hand as she began to caress it. "You didn't call me last night and I was worried you got hurt." She said teasingly, but there was a twinge of bitterness in the way she spoke. "I see now you were just exploring your options." She frowned as she shyly played with your fingers.

God, she could pull at your heartstrings sometimes.

It broke your heart to see Wanda upset. "Hey, it's not like that at all," You whispered. You gave her hand a firm squeeze and stood closer. "I got a little hyper-focused on it and haven't been thinking about much else." Explaining yourself seemed to make Wanda feel a little better but you wanted to make sure she was okay. "Are you free tonight? I have to go back to the station soon and clock out, maybe we can go out afterward?"

Wanda hummed. "Alright, but you have to promise me that you won't end up leaving before breakfast this time." She stuck out her pinkie finger.

You laughed and wrapped your pinkie around Wanda's. "I promise to stay until breakfast." It was childish, but a promise was a promise and those couldn't be broken easily.

☲☲☲☲☲☲☲☲

As the investigation dragged on, things began to heat up in more ways than one. The cool breezes of spring had disappeared and the bold flames of summer started to lap at your skin. Wanda was becoming a much more constant part of your life. Most importantly, Tony was starting to recover.

Though it wasn't a part of your job to do so, you decided to keep tabs on Tony. His recovery was integral to the case. He was your only key witness and you couldn't afford to lose him. This meant you'd occasionally have to make sporadic, late-night calls with Rhodey to keep up with them.

"The doctor says he's experiencing a bit of brain fog and that could take months for him to get over, but I think he's good enough to answer a few questions."

That wasn't the best news to hear, but it was something. "Well, I still need to take emotional distress into account so I'll give it another few days before questioning him." It was around eleven pm when Rhodey had called but it didn't feel right letting it go to voicemail. Rhodey had enough on his plate taking care of his husband and running a business, the last thing he needed was for you to be flaky in your communication. "I must ask, how are you feeling going through all of this?"

Rhodey sighed. "I don't have any reason to think this, but I'm just worried someone is going to come after Tony next. It's just unsettling." The unrest was heavy in voice.

You nodded along. "I understand. If you find anything that even remotely suggests that, just call me and I'll do my best to have you both out under witness protection. Please try to rest easy, for all three of us." You and Rhodey talked for nearly an hour. It would have been longer if a familiar pair of lips hadn't begun attacking your neck. "It's getting late — ah— I'll call you later this week." Rhodey's goodbye fell on deaf ears as Wanda continued staking her claim.

How did she always manage to sneak up on you?

"You said you wouldn't leave," Wanda said with a heavy pout. Her hand slipped underneath your sleep shorts and headed straight for your crouch. It cupped the warmth between your legs and hummed. "Does my little worry detective need help to get back to bed?"

A blush spread across your face as Wanda began to grope your thigh. "I was coming back to bed, I just had to take a call." You desperately tried to collect the files you spread out across the table. "Let me clean up and I'll come back right after."

Wanda's eyes landed on one of the photographs that landed on the floor. She let go of you and immediately picked it up. Her face immediately fell. "Do you know what this stands for?" Wanda asked, pointing to the symbol in the photo. The features on her face turned to stone.

You took the photo from Wanda and glanced over it. "Uh, no actually it's had me stomped for weeks." You slipped the photo back into the folder and stacked it neatly on the table. "Don't worry though, my witness is healthy again so I'll be able to move forward just fine!" Wanda's serious expression was lost on you. Cases got slow sometimes. There was no way for Wanda to know that but you didn't want her worrying about you too much. "Why don't we go back to bed, yeah?"

Wanda grabbed you by the shoulders and turned you around. "I'm gonna tell you something and I need you to listen to me every step of the way." She dragged you to the bedroom and forced you to sit down. Once you settled down, she bolted over to her closet and began shuffling things around.

You were endeared at first. You thought Wanda had a book she thought would help or maybe she even recognized the symbol. If that had been the case, it would've been helpful. Maybe even a little cute. It only took one metallic click for your thoughts to change. "What are you looking for?" You asked nervously.

There was something magical in Wanda's closet. You could feel it. Something older and much more powerful than you. Just being in its presence was suffocating. It was almost nauseating.

Wanda pulled out a book. It was heavy and covered with dust and runes you could never begin to understand. "I know you probably don't believe in this kinda stuff but my mom used to tell me this story about a witch." The book was huge, but she held it with ease. She opened it to reveal a drawing with a tall woman surrounded by magical symbols that were foreign. "That was a symbol of the Scarlet Witch."

The evil radiating from the was practically suffocating you. "What- who is the Scarlet Witch? I've never heard anything like that before in my life." Terror had overtaken your entire body, but you didn't want to back down. It was the first actual lead you had. "I mean like, obviously she's a witch but what kind?"

Wanda watched your facial expressions carefully. You leaned away from her like something was going to jump out of the book and grab you. She just giggled and cupped your face. "It's late so I won't scare you, but just promise you'll be safe going forward. Okay?" She placed a kiss on the top of your head and got up to put the book away.

You sent a text to Darcy about what Wanda told you. Though you tried your hardest to act unaffected by the story, the tight grip you had on Wanda while you slept was a dead giveaway.

☲☲☲☲☲☲☲☲

"I was doing some research on what you sent me the other day and I'm about to completely ruin you guys' weekend." Darcy placed the large stack of files on your countertop. "I did organize all of them from oldest to newest and put some notes in there but the three of you are gonna have to read all of this."

Sometimes cases got too graphic to be studied in May's Diner and the only other option was to board up in someone's house until all of you made a breakthrough. Since you were the only one with enough food in your fridge and counter space for everyone to work, it usually ended up being your house.

A heavy sigh escaped through your nostrils. "Alright, well let's get this going." You grabbed the file off the very top and opened it. Most of the magic identification was left up to you but Jimmy, Monica, and Darcy took care of profiling and other things. The cases became more and more disturbing, but you swallowed the fear and kept pushing for the sake of justice. If all of these cases had been done by one person, they needed to be caught.

But the longer you kept researching, the more strange things started to occur. Every case you studied came with another wave of nearly unexplainable sleepiness and no amount of cold water or coffee shook it. Then you'd catch glimpses of someone staring at you through your window. Your vision would blur and your ears would ring at random. You worried someone in your neighborhood was playing with magic, but you would've detected it if they were this close.

Then, someone knocked at your door. You all turned to look at each other.

"Did y'all order anything?" You asked. Everyone shook their heads and you got up to open the door. You didn't know why, but you felt sick to your stomach. Something was wrong. Your heart pounded in your ears with every step you took. Everything moved slowly.

Only for no one to be at your door. The street was empty and dead quiet. Not even your neighbors were up. Except for the mysterious plastic bag sitting on your porch. Hesitantly, you picked it up and brought it to the counter in front of everyone.

"This feels wrong." You said, eyeing the bag in front of you. There was no smell or markings on it, but it made your skin crawl. It set off so many alarm bells in your head. "Someone else should open it."

Everyone's fingers touched their nose at the same time.

Jimmy clocked his tongue. "It could be nothing. Maybe some door dash driver dropped it off. It could be a neighbor's!" He always tried to be reasonable even in the most senseless situations. Even when he was just as irrational as the rest of you.

"You open it then!"

Jimmy stepped back. "I didn't say we had to open it. I just said we could give it to the neighbors."

Monica grabbed a pencil from the counter and threw it at the bag. "It's not an animal…or at least it's a dead one."

You huffed out and headed to your bathroom to get a pair of latex gloves. "Fine, I'll open it. Either it's nothing and I'm crazy or it's something and I'm calling the station." The confidence in your voice didn't match the growing sickness in your stomach. You walked back to the counter and slowly untied the knot in the bag. The brown box inside had a note attached to it. "Your heart should only beat for me…heart emoticon." You could feel bile rising in your throat. The ink didn't look right. It was a weird faded red color and pooled in seemingly random places.

All that was left to open was the box. You carefully took it out of the paper bag and placed it on the space of your counter. Your eyes instinctively closed as you removed the lid of the box. A distinct smell of blood hit your nose. It was worse than anything you could have imagined.

A still beating heart with your name and badge number burned into it.

"Call the station, call the station!" You shouted as you slammed the lid back on.

It had taken about ten minutes for the police to arrive at your house. In that time, both you and Monica had thrown up and Jimmy had gone into a panicked fit pacing around your house trying to find signs of an intruder that didn't exist. All four of you were forced to sit outside while other officers searched your home and tapped it off.

You could sense another magic user in the area.

"Detective L/N?" A tall, much older woman approached you slowly like you were some injured kitten waiting to be picked up. She had on a dark purple windbreaker and a beanie to match. "I'm Detective Harkness, but you can call me Agatha." Her smile was small but genuine. Most importantly, she was very strong. It made sense because she had some years on you. You felt honored just to be in her presence. "The other officers spoke very highly of you on the way here, I can tell you're very talented."

Her words made your heart flutter. Of course, you'd never say it out loud but thrived on praise and validation. It was even better coming from a pretty woman. "I- thank you Detective Harkness, but I must ask why you're here. I thought they were just getting the human heart out of my house"

Agatha's face fell. "There's no real easy way to tell you this, but all four of you are being taken off this case."

Your heart dropped. "I-I'm sorry, what?" Maybe it was some sick joke or another of those hyperrealistic nightmares you had when you fall asleep right after reading case files. "Detective Harkness, I'm sure this isn't your doing but I'm the only witch in this district." You were pissed. Months of research and investigating were snatched right out of your hands over something so stupid. "You can't take us off just cause some freak left a heart on my doorstep!"

"A human heart on your doorstep that had a note written in blood and your badge number engraved into it." Agatha gave your shoulder a firm squeeze. "I get it. If we can prove it's not a serious threat we'll put you back on but for now, just find somewhere safe to stay for the next few weeks and I'll get back as soon as possible. Get some rest tonight and we'll work on getting you guys relocated as soon as possible." The older woman slipped a card into your pocket.

You let Agatha walk away. Even though you didn't want to say it, she was right. This case was bigger than you and it was even bigger than your friends. Who knows what kind of danger you'd put yourself in trying to catch your suspect? You took a deep breath. "Okay. We got this. I'll just crash in Jimmy's futon tonight and find a decent hotel to sleep in until I get my house back. I'm fine. We're going to be fine."

Your friends all shared a look but chose not to say anything.

Some hours later, you were curled up on Jimmy's futon dreading the day ahead of you. You had already called Rhodey and Tony to give them Agatha's contact information. The reality of your situation had only just settled in. Your suspect had their eyes on you and you had no idea how to protect yourself. Everything felt hopeless and there was nothing you could do to distract yourself.

Then your phone rang.

Wanda was calling you, but you weren’t entirely sure wanted to answer it. Wanda could always tell when you were upset and that made it near impossible to keep secrets from her, but maybe you needed to be honest.

You press the green button on your screen and put the phone against your ear. "Hey, Wanda."

"Hey, Sweetness! Are you okay? I know you said you were working late but I just want to check in on you." Wanda's voice was silk smooth as it filled your ears.

The sleepy rasp in her voice brought your comfort. "I want to tell you I am but I don't think that's the right thing to do. I'm not even sure I can legally tell you what's wrong." You could hear the sound of her sitting up on the bed. Your fingers played with the flimsy bed sheet underneath you. "I...I got removed for the case and I won't be going back to work for at least a month."

"What? Did they suspend you?" Wanda was surprised. Sure she had planned for it to happen, but she didn't think it'd happen so quickly. "You're not in trouble, are you? My family knows a good lawyer if-"

You flinched at the sudden yelling. "No, I didn't do anything wrong and I'm not wanted for anything. They just want me to go somewhere else for a bit until they catch the arsonist." You tried your very best to make the situation sound as simple and harmless as possible. "It's not like witness protection exactly but my house is currently a crime scene so-"

"A crime scene!? Where are you, I'm coming to pick you up right now!" Wanda got out of bed and immediately grabbed her keys.

"No no no, I'm fine right now! I'm safely in Jimmy's house and sleeping here until they figure out what they need me to do." You ran your fingers through your hair. "They'll probably want me out of town for a bit. I couldn't stay at your apartment even if I wanted to."

"I have a cabin a few hours away! It's a bit out there but I'm willing to drive us both out there if it means keeping you safe." Wanda's tone was frantic but serious at the same time. "We don't even have to stay the whole time you're off. Just two weeks to get your mind off things, please?" The whine in her voice was heavy.

"Are you pouting?" The small 'mhm' made you laugh a little. "Alright, fine. Just gimme a few days to do the serious detective stuff and then I'll pack what I can." You couldn't help but smile and Wanda's excited cheers. "Now I gotta get to sleep…I love you, good night."

"I've always loved you."

☲☲☲☲☲☲☲☲

Love was a very loaded word for Wanda. To be loved by Wanda was to be hers completely. Wanda told you that early into your relationship, but you were starting to see the extent of that living with her for days with little to no interruptions.

Wanda had been very handsy. Every time you walked by she'd grope and tease you as long as you later her — which was never for a short period. It happened so much you just decided to go without pants or a shirt. It wasn't the best solution considering it was just an incentive for Wanda's addiction to your body to worsen.

You were spoiled and loved every second of it, but you were starting to get antsy. Wanda didn't let you do anything. Occasionally, she'd let you accompany her to the store or take you to the beach — but even that lost its novelty after three weeks. You didn't want to sound ungrateful, but you were bored. Being idle was like a death sentence for you.

Despite all the love in her heart she had for you, Wanda seemed uncharacteristically apathetic to your complaints. You were starting to worry the relationship wasn’t going to work. Things you used to love about Wanda were starting to irritate you. She was starting to smother you. You weren’t even sure why you liked it in the first place.

"Wanda, can I go into the city for a bit? I'll be back in time for lunch." The heavy pout on your face and collar on your neck did nothing to sway Wanda's answer. You groaned and made your way back to the shared bedroom. The once lush sheets now felt uncomfortable and suffocating against your skin. You learned pretty quickly not to stomp off whining or whimpering because Wanda would handle your frustrations. Which wouldn't be a problem if she had a solution besides fucking you senseless. That brain would get foggy and all you could think about was clinging to Wanda.

After frustratedly tossing and turning on your bed you realized something. You didn't need Wanda's approval to do anything. Asking was just a courtesy. Nothing was stopping you from putting on your clothes, hopping in the car, and going out to explore the city close by. That's exactly what you did. You washed your face, got dressed in the nicest clothes you had, and grabbed your keys. Then, you headed for the front door. It was that simple.

"Where are you going?"

Wanda's cold voice made you shiver. "I'm going out. I just need some fresh air, I'll be back soon." You unlocked the door only for it to lock back. A frown formed on your face, but you kept tugging at it until a hot red mist surrounded it. "Ah! What the fuck is wrong with the door." You shook your hands to ease the hot pain.

Wanda grabbed both your hands and peppered them with kisses. "I said no. You need to learn how to listen." Her voice was still stern despite the affection she gave you. "If you need to go out, play around in the backyard but you are not to leave this cabin." She squeezed them gently before letting go. "I know your little puppy brain is telling you to run around and do whatever, but you have to do what mommy says." A confident smirk spread across her face and a blush spread across yours.

You huffed and stomped your way out towards the backyard. The breeze did very little to cool your heated skin. You hated being so easily flustered. Wanda wasn't above using it to her advantage. That anger caused something to shift and you couldn’t tell what is was. It was like someone had taken off your rose-colored glasses. "Go away. I'm not in the mood to talk." You could sense her before Wanda even said a word. Something wasn't right. Wanda's presence usually slipped under your radar. She was always a pleasant surprise. Now she felt big. Bigger than anything else you've ever been around.

"Oh sweetness, you're so strong and don't even know it." Wanda's hand reached down and gripped your neck with uncharacteristic amounts of strength. "Shush, your little attitude put you in this situation." She let you thrash around and scream to your heart's content. Watching you struggle always stirred up something deep and sadistic within her.

You looked up into the face of a woman you'd never seen before.

She looked like Wanda but she was a much darker, twisted reflection of the woman has grown to love. Her brown hair turned a fiery red. The bright green eyes you fell in love with were now darker and glazed with a hint of red in them. Bags under her eyes were now much more prominent and more than just a product of the sleepless nights both of you had.

"It takes a lot of work getting past that little sixth sense of yours. I was worried you'd figure me out too early." Wanda leaned down and forcefully kissed you. She could feel your heartbeat and hear all your frantic thoughts. "Nothing will work, I'm much stronger than you and we both know it."

You flinched as Wanda nuzzled into your cheek. Your body was frozen with fear. "What…Wanda, what are you?" Your voice trembled as you spoke. The power you were detecting felt millions of years old, but Wanda was only twenty-seven. How could she have mastered something so powerful so fast? Agatha was almost just as strong, but she was much older than both of you. "And no weird cryptic fake folktale shit either."

Wanda rolled her eyes and dragged you back into the house. "I'm just like you, puppy." Her magic forced you to sit on the couch. She cupped your cheeks. "I am the Scarlet Witch and I'm so proud of you for catching me!" Her hands slid down your neck and all the down to your stomach. "I knew all you needed was a little push and you'd be strong enough to do it."

You tried your best to avoid Wanda's touch. "Get away from me." You didn't want this to be the woman that you fell in love with, but it made sense. Before, there was nothing about Wanda that stood out to your senses. Even the weakest of fighters had something, but Wanda was nothing to your sixth sense. It would always explain how she was able to find you or could tell how you are feeling. The thought of loving something so evil should've made you feel sick. It upset you how little it did. "And I'm not your puppy, stop calling me that!"

"Really? 'Cause this," Wanda flicked the tag on the collar around your neck, "says otherwise." Her hands explored your body. Not even the darkness could get in the way of how much she cared for you. "You still love me and you will learn to accept that, especially if you want your little friends safe."

Your heart stopped. There was no telling how far Wanda was willing to go to keep you. If you couldn't handle her, your friends wouldn't stand a chance. "Fine, whatever. Just get off me." You said through gritted teeth.

☲☲☲☲☲☲☲☲

She was right. You did still love her. No matter how much you wanted to hate her, you couldn't find it in you. Every night you snuggled into her side looking for the comfort she'd given — and Wanda gave it to you without question. That didn't stop you from trying your hardest. Every slight disagreement escalated into a full-blown argument with the hopes she'd become irritated with you. It usually only left you in tears. Either you were frustrated that you couldn't escape or mad at yourself for still being in love with Wanda. She was stronger than you and more mature too.

"Mommy did this because she loves you." Such a heavy statement with the most jarring delivery. It made you sick.

"I don't want anything to do with your or that weird ass book." The edge in your voice had long disappeared. You couldn't keep up if you put your all into every argument. You wouldn't get very far wrapped up in Wanda's arms either, but something was better than nothing. "Just leave me alone."

Wanda kissed the side of your head. "We both know you don't want that." It was all she said because that was the only lie you told. Wanda was fine if didn't want to be what she had become, and she loved you for you. She could not stand by and watch you hinder yourself out of spite. "You're safer here, you're safe with me. What kind of girlfriend would I be if I let you go back to work knowing you'd get hurt?"

"You're not my girlfriend. You're a liar and a criminal." You shrugged Wanda off and got out of bed. "I don't know if you've noticed, but you kidnapped me and trapped me in the middle of fucking nowhere!"

Wanda pulled you back into the bed and pinned you down. "I'd let you go back if you weren't so disobedient." Her strong hands gripped your chin and forced it to the side. She began littering your exposed neck with love bites. "If I let you go now, you'll report me and I'll have to go away for a long time. We don't want that, do we?" She harshly sucked on the gentle skin of your neck.

Your body wouldn't listen to you. Every touch lit your body on fire. "Stop, please." You whimpered. The wetness growing between your legs felt like a punishment within itself. A shiver ran down your spine as Wanda's tongue glided over your neck. "Just let me go."

The desperation in your voice made Wanda's cunt throb. "But your parts are so sticky. Why don't you let mommy help?" Her voice was low and seductive. She has you wrapped around her finger. You'd never really say no to her. All your squirming came to a halt the second her hand slipped into your underwear. "I know you wanna go be big and play detective, but you have to learn how to be a good pup first."

Hate ran hot through your veins. Why was it so hard for you to fight back? She wasn’t controlling your mind or being more aggressive than usual. All you had to do was leave. Yet, your body chose to stay. You chose to let Wanda have her way with you.“T-that feels good.” You mumbled. Her fingers were cold, nothing like the warmth you had grown to love, but that made it easier to pretend it was someone else touching you. It wasn’t Wanda who was tugging off your clothes and forcefully stretching out your cunt. Wanda would never manhandle you so carelessly.

“Pretending I’m someone else doesn’t change the fact that you like it.” Wanda slipped her fingers inside of you with ease. She didn’t bother with taking her time. Two of her fingers made quick work of cunt. “You like it when I’m mean and you like being treated like some stupid pup that can’t do anything without a mommy.” Her thumb pressed harshly against your clit as she continued fucking into you. “Say it.” Her voice was so commanding and rough. “Say you like being mommy’s dumb little puppy.”

You frantically shook your head. “I don’t and I hate you!” Internally, you braced yourself for punishment. You thought maybe she’d spank you until you caved in or smack you for having the gall to say you hated her. Instead, she just went quiet. Her fingers pulled out of your cunt and left you hanging high and dry. “Where are you going?”

“I’m not your mommy, why do you care?” She rubbed her slick-covered fingers down your cheek. “Be difficult all you want, but I mean it when I say you are not to leave this house until you learn to be obedient.”

You were left cold, naked, and alone on the bed. Wanda didn’t even bother checking in on you that night.

☲☲☲☲☲☲☲☲

That’s how Wanda broke you. Apathy. If you didn’t want to listen to her, she felt no obligation to listen to you. It didn’t matter how many tantrums you threw or how loud you cried, Wanda didn’t care. She was perfectly content with waiting. You were the impatient one. Which was to say you didn’t even last a full week before crumbling without Wanda’s attention. After several days of breaking things and screaming your heart out, were tired.

It was cute watching you burn yourself out.

After a particularly rough night, you found yourself desperate for comfort. Your hopes that the Wanda you had fallen in love with would magically return were dashed. You had to learn to love the new one.

You stood in the entryway of the kitchen and watched as Wanda typed away at her laptop. It was hard to give up. Your suspect was sitting just feet away and you were about to let her win. If you loved her, there was no way you could turn her in. But you needed her. You needed someone to take care of you and Wanda was offering to be that person. All you had to do was let her.

Wanda looked up from the monitor and raised her eyebrows. She pulled out a chair from the table, but didn’t say anything to you.

You swallowed a lump in your throat and slowly made your way toward her. The first thing you noticed was the darkness covering her fingers, but you decided to ignore it for the sake of your relationship and sanity. Just apologize to Wanda. Don’t argue and don’t ask any questions, just apologize. “I’m sorry.”

Wanda stopped typing and turned to look at you. You looked pathetic. So small and defenseless compared to her. That’s how she wanted you. “I’m going to need a little more than that. I know you can do better.” She cupped your face and used her thumb to caress your cheek.

You sniffled in an attempt not to cry. You couldn’t believe you were really about to do this. “I’m sorry for being so mean to you. You wanted to take care of me and I was being ungrateful.” Part of you felt sick, but the other part was relieved. You were torn. Should you go back on your word or should you just accept your situation? You felt empty, but at least Wanda felt warm again.

Wanda leaned forward and placed a kiss on your lips. “I’m proud of you, baby.” Her arms wrapped around you and pulled you into a tight hug. “I know that was hard for you,” She whispered. There was nothing she could comfortably do about your shame, but she could love you. She could train you to love yourself. “Are you gonna learn to be mommy’s good puppy?”

You nodded and buried your face into her neck. “I’ll be good. I promise.” You let yourself be guided to the bedroom. There was no doubt about what would happen next. She’d claim you all over again and you'd let her do it. Denying yourself was so hard. "I wanna be mommy's puppy again."

Wanda laid you down on the bed and straddled your hips. "You were always mommy's puppy. Just because you have a bad time doesn't mean I don't love you anymore." Her hands slipped underneath your shirt and immediately began playing with your nipples. "Mommy loves her puppy detective even when they're mean and trying to hurt her feelings." It took almost nothing to get you all mushy and obedient. She took her sweet time stripping you naked. Leaving kisses and hickeys over every inch of newly exposed skin.

This time, you didn't try to hold back. You let yourself get lost in the comfort of Wanda's weight on top of you and the way she held you. You weren't ashamed of the wetness growing between your legs or the desperate little noises coming from your mouth. "I need mommy, please?"

Wanda smiled fondly as she let her hand wander down to the wet patch in your underwear. "Oh puppy, you're such a mess down here. I promise I won't tease you anymore." A heavy strap-on appeared around her waist. "Lay back and let mommy fill up your little puppy parts." She grabbed the base of the toy and circled it around your clit.

"It's too big." You immediately clung onto Wanda as she thrust the toy inside of you. It practically split you in two, but it felt so good. "G-go slow, it's too much!"

Wanda giggled at your sensitivity. "Baby, I haven't even moved yet." She carefully leaned down to kiss your forehead. Her hips moved as slowly as they possibly could. Every distressed whimper and small whine earned you another soft kiss from her. "I know it hurts now, but I promise you it'll feel good soon."

Wanda was right. Eventually, the pain subsided and you just felt full. The pace Wanda set for you was deep and slow. Whimpers turned into moans. You were starting to lose yourself fast. "Thank you, mommy. It feels so good."

One of her hands pinned both of your wrists above your head. The needy whines coming from your mouth were music to her ears. "Don't be shy, mommy loves hearing how good she makes you feel." Her pace slowly got faster until you were practically screaming for her. The hand she wasn't using immediately began to massage your clit. "Is my sweet little puppy gonna cum already? It's okay if you do, mommy's here to help you afterward."

Your face burned as you desperately tried to escape Wanda's nimble fingers. "N-no, I can…I can hold it!" You most certainly couldn't. Wanda was going to make sure of it. Never had Wanda denied you and she'd never let you deny yourself. "Mhm, I'm cumming! It's coming, please slow down!"

Wanda did no such thing. Instead, she trapped you in a passionate kiss as she continued rutting into you. "Come on, baby, make a big mess for mommy." Her thumb continued to torture your poor overstimulated clit until she was satisfied and sure you had gone as far as you could. Once she was done, she slowly pulled out of you and let you go limp against the mattress. "There we go, you look so cute all fucked out for mommy." She bent down and peppered kisses all over your slick-covered thighs. "I'm going to run you a bath, okay? Just stay still and relax."

For a moment, you were in pure bliss. Mindless, completely satisfied even.

Then everything began to settle in. It didn't matter how gentle Wanda was. She was a killer. You'd given yourself up to a killer and enjoyed every second of it. Not only that, but you were going to let her keep killing. You were just as bad as she was. Maybe even worse for being bribed with something as simple as good sex.

You were a dirty cop now.

[captain039]

PART 6 WASTELAND HEAT (REDONE)

Cooper Howard(The Ghoul) x reader 

Warnings: Violence, blood, gore, AOB dynamics, heat, oral F receiving, smut, swearing, fallout stuff, implied cousin incest, virgin reader, drug usage, needles, plus size reader, sexual assault

Previous part <-

He kisses like a starved man. He has your hands forced above your head and his hips grinding against yours. You’re overwhelmed by everything him, his smell his leather gloves and too clothed body, his leathery lips making yours swollen and achey. He hums softly every now and then as he lets you breathe for a second, chasing air in a rush. One hand has your wrists pinned together above your head while the other is fiddling with the hem of your tank top. Your minds foggy, you’ve forgotten pretty everything right now, all hazy and heat riddled. You struggle to move your hands groaning a little in frustration as his leather covered fingers slide under your tank top and spread over your side. You want to take those damn gloves off, you hate them currently.

“You don’t stop fidgeting I will walk out that door” his warning is a low growl in your ear and you let out a small breath.

“Cooper” you mutter and his eyes snap to yours.

“Gloves” you mumble to him. He smirks slightly removing his hand from under your shirt and holding the tip of his finger to your mouth. You frown and he cocks his head to them. You hesitate but bite down on the tip of the glove and tug, before he moved to the next finger. You tug the glove off with your teeth and he continues his smirk.

“Good girl” he says taking the glove from your mouth and dropping it on the floor. He sits up, back on his knees as he tugs off his other glove and his duster coat, laying them on the floor before staring down at you. You feel like squirming under his gaze before his hands go to your hips. He grips the tops of your shorts, hooking his fingers in and pulling them. You shuffle your hips and lift them up so he can slide them off, not expecting him to slide off your underwear at the same time. You panic a little as he moves your legs to bend before dropping your bottom half clothes on the floor. You can’t cross your legs, not with him between them, your hands were quick to cover yourself though, looking everywhere but him. He lets out a tsked sound and you look to him again. He stares at your hands with slightly raised brows and you gulp. You can feel the heat you’re producing and slick, it makes you embarrassed.

“Omega, my leaving this room still stands” he says with a click of his tongue and your eyes go a little wide. You remove your hands, avoiding eye contact as his eyes stare before he presses himself back against your body. His hand grips your chin to force you to look at him and you do. You stare at his eyes, the little lashes around them too, the feel of him against you. Your need for something you don’t even know how to do or ever experienced. Every time Lucy talked about it sounded so uneventful and meaningless. Not that it had to have meaning but it sounded like most of the time she didn’t enjoy her encounters. You don’t feel him shifting till you feel a finger slide through your slick folds and a gasp leaves your lips.

“Getting in your head sugar” he mutters leaning down to press his lips against yours again. You think back to Ethan and what happened, it makes you tense and press against his chest. You don’t push him away, you grip the shirt he wears, breathe in deeply while he slows his kiss and fingers. He lifts his head frowning and you open and close your mouth a few times.

“I was accepted in the marriage trade, when the raiders came in, a raider named Ethan was supposed to be my husband, we didn’t know they were raiders. He forced his hands on me, his lips too, I don’t-“ you blurt out at the speed of light and watch the his eyes go a little wide. His hand moves from your sex and you let out a whimper.

“No, no please” you beg quietly clenching his shirt. He kisses you a little rougher this time and you sigh in relief at it.

“He didn’t do anything else but that, my father came in and killed him before he could undress me, it was the first time I’d been out of the hospital area too” you say quietly against his lips.

“Please, please I need-“ you don’t know where your begging comes from, the pure need for him to be close, to have him be your entire moment.

“Omega” he says a lowly hand gripping your hip. He flips you suddenly and you almost struggle to move with him as he perches you on his lap, his back against the headboard. You take a small breath hands resting against his clothed chest. You feel the bulge in his pants against your exposed sex and shuffle a little closer to grind yourself against it. His hands instantly grip your hips in a bruising touch and you stop letting out a small sound. You pant softly as his fingers move to the singlet covering your top half. He watched you with eyes like a hawk as you nod a little and he slips your singlet up and over your head. His hands smooth down your sides over the flesh there.

“I’m not hurting you?” You ask and he frowns before raising an eyebrow in question. You glance at yourself, the rolls on your side your chubby belly and thick thighs. He follows your gaze eyes staring hungrily over your flesh before his hands move behind your back to unclasp your bra. You look to the head board instead of his face, your body is flush with a layer of sweat over it, you’ve no doubt soaked his pants from where you sit. You feel his hands slide over your side, thumbs under your breasts before one thumb brushes over your nipple gently. It makes you jolt in surprise and look back to him, seeing him lean forward tongue darting out to twirl around your other nipple while his thumb rubs over the other one. It’s gentle not like what Ethan had done and squeezed harshly, his tongue swirls and flicks before his teeth gently scrap over the sensitive flesh and a small gasp leaves your lips. You glance down to him seeing him staring at you intently again as his full hand covers your breast and gives a gentle knead. He smirks when you make another small noise as he fondles and toys, your hips grind against his hardened cock and you feel a rush of need. You grind a little harder feeling him smirk around your breasts before he leans back.

“Go on” he cocks his head hands leaving your body too. You frown and glance down to his bulge before shuffling back to his thighs. He rests his hands behind his head watching you as you shakily undo his buttons and zip before shuffling his pants down a bit. You move his boxers away and pull him out hearing him sigh quietly, his eyes closing. You stare a little, just like the rest of his body it’s leathery with some ridges, a deeper reddish orange than the rest of him. You swallow silently and shuffle back forward, hips raised, lining him up.

“Easy-“ before he can finish you slowly lower yourself onto him and you whimper. His hands instantly grip your hips and still you and stop you. It’s a stretch and it stings your head hung and your breath leaving you in sharp pants.

“Fuck” he grunts holding you deathly still his tip just in.

“Jesus Christ, omega” he breaths and you let out a small noise in response.

“Sweetheart you gotta prepare yourself” he mutters.

“Sorry” you mutter back.

“Stop fucking apologising” he snarls with a sigh as he lets his bruising grip loosen.

“Just- slowly now” he says and you nod. You slowly lower yourself feeling the stretch, the sting and resistance before your butt meets thigh.

Your minds blank with how full you feel, how warm everything feels. The alpha lets out a low growl from his throat head leaned back.

“Slowly move your hips when you’re ready” he says a little breathlessly and you nod. You grind down on him and let out a small breath before lifting your hips slowly and lowering them. There’s a lot of stinging, and you lean forward a bit, head still hung and rest it against his shoulder. His hand snakes up your back leaving goosebumps in its wake before he massages the back of your neck with his hand.

“I know it hurts sugar” he mutters before he lets out a small chuckle.

“Sort of your own fault” he adds and you whine in response not finding any words to back talk him. His other hand goes to your hip, guiding you to slowly move up and down, and grin against him.

“It’ll feel good” he murmurs as you slowly find a rhythm and the sting begins to fade. Your hands are gripping his shoulders now as you lift your head and find strength to move on your own, the hand on your neck going to your side and squeezing gently. His eyes stare into yours again as you feel yourself quickening briefly then slowing down again, testing how everything feels.

“Fuck” you let out and another rough chuckle leaves him before he hums and guides you to move faster. You feel him inside, roughly gliding against your walls, the feeling of being so full makes you pant and clench slightly.

“Clenching around me already sweetheart” he pants and you nod. Your legs and hips hurt, but you don’t care, tension builds in your stomach like a knot but you can’t find the edge yet. You whine a little frustrated and he moves his hand between you both, two fingers pressing against a sensitive spot before rubbing slowly. You moan eyes closing as you feel your stomach tightening again. His fingers go in time with your hips and you feel yourself clench around him before coming undone. Something snaps inside you, you feel slick going down his cock and between your thighs. He snarls softly, grabs your hips with both hands and holds them up a little before he’s thrusting inside you. The movement makes you moan into his shoulder as he thrusts into you, you feel him swelling and whine softly. You tilt your neck without thought feeling his hot breath against your pulse. He ruts into you, pushing the knot of his cock inside and locking it in. You gasp and pant at the feeling your hips twitching slightly as he rests you back in his lap. He didn’t bite your neck like the teacher said and you feel somewhat unsatisfied by it. You mouth along his neck tasting sweat and dust, his head tilts ever so slightly and you gently scrap your teeth. He moves his hips and you stop with a small moan. You feel exhausted but full, your mind more focused but tired.

“Sleep” he orders and you hum eyes already closed and body sagging against his. You feel him shuffle a bit, hissing softly as he tugs his knot inside you. He reached for the blanket covering the end of the bed, bringing it up around your shoulders and you snuggle in deeper.

Next part ->

[transhuman-priestess]

Sigma-38 is an assimilator unit out on her first raid. Her target: a young man deemed perfect for assimilation as an incubator.

The New Flesh is a gory, violent smut story for consumption only by adults over the age of 18 who are cool with dubcon, noncon, drugging, gore, light cannibalism, surgery, forcefem (kinda/sorta), brainwashing, weird gender shit, and probably a bunch of other stuff i forgot to mention

April 2

0313 Earth UTC

200 Million Kilometers beyond Jupiter

Sigma-38 fixed her vacuum helmet to her chassis. They were 2 minutes out from their target, a John Henry-class mining vessel, the Blair Mountain. The ship carried 2,000 metric tons of platinum-group metals, 20,000 tons of common ores, and 5,000 tons of water ice. None of that would be taken. When the Blair Mountain would be found, several months hence, her cargo would be entirely accounted for. What happened to her crew would be a mystery, the sort of thing that old astronauts talk about in hushed whispers at Jovian saloons.

The raiding party consisted of two K-class interdictor vessels, each containing 10 Gamma-type assault drones, 4 Mu-type engineers, and 1 Sigma-type assimilator. This was 38’s first raiding party, the drone was eager for the opportunity. Raids were one of the few times when command and control of the hive was allowed to devolve to individuals. Like water rushing in to a cave as the tide rises, the party would disperse into the target ship before washing its contents back out to the ocean of stars.

Nobody had to speak the 30-second warning. Logistic commanders were unnecessary for the hive. Antithetical to it, really. They would have a 15-minute window to subdue and extract the crew and whatever provisions they could before the Blair Mountain came out of a dead zone in the deep space network.

10 seconds. 38’s vessel, K-19, was aligning itself with the main crew hatch. The other interdictor, K-13, was covering the emergency hatch. 5 seconds. There was a soft thump through the floor of the cabin as K-19 achieved hard dock with the target. The airlock decompressed and the force field deactivated, allowing Mu units 76 and 45 to go to work wiring into the Blair Mountain’s airlock controls.

Zero.

The door opened, and the 15 drones of K-19 flooded into the airlock. The Mu units immediately set about bypassing the second door. 10 seconds later, the party was in. Sigma-38 pushed her way through. Screams erupted from the cramped quarters inside. Intelligence pegged the number of crew at 20. The hive had calculated a loss rate of 25% would still result in an acceptable gain, but a dead body was only good for its biomass, nothing more. Nonlethal weapons unless absolutely necessary.

38 followed the sound of screaming down the hall to her right, 4 Gammas behind her. 10 meters in, they came upon a small dormitory. She turned the handle on the door, feeling resistance as the 5 crew members behind the door pushed all their weight on it to try and keep it closed. 2 of the Gammas joined 38 and together they rammed the door down. Sigma-38 grabbed her first quarry of the raid. A young engineer’s mate, no older than 20. Tears filled his eyes as he begged, “Don’t kill me! Please! Don’t kill me, please!’

38 did not respond, only applied a shock from the stun rod embedded in her forearm. The engineer’s mate collapsed as 3 of his shipmates tried to knock her down. The assault drones pulled them off, applying their own stun rods to their prey. It was over in 20 seconds. One of the Gammas put magcuffs on the humans. 38 left the room and continued down the hall as a Mu used a gravcart to haul the humans back to the interdictor.

3 minutes had passed since the airlock was first breached. Mu-76 had patched the hive into the ship’s computer. 38 absorbed the data as she walked down the hall, zeroing in on the captain’s quarters.

The ship’s manifest listed the captain as Theresa “Terry” Holder, 37, a 10 year captain in the civil navy. A picture of the captain appeared in the corner of 38’s vision as she walked through the hall. Though she long ago gave up on being human, 38 still appreciated the form of them. The picture of Holder showed a strong-jawed woman with long brown hair and a swaggering smile, dressed in a grease-stained tank top. 38 felt her cock grow warm underneath the armor plating.

38 found the captain’s quarters, opening the door without hesitation, and was immediately met by the noise of a gunshot and a blast of kinetic energy as a .45 caliber round struck her left chest plate. She noted it, but felt no damage beyond the superficial. Four more quickly followed. Holder’s grouping was good. It would not save her.

Sigma-38 made eye contact with Captain Terry Holder as she approached. Something about her sent a thrill down 38’s spine. Holder’s gun jammed at the same time as a curious expression overtook her stubbled face. Not just fear. Confusion, maybe even a hint of recognition.

“What!?” She shrieked, as she frantically worked the pistol’s slide, trying to clear the jam, “You’re dead. You’re dead! You have to be dead! I shot you! I shot you and you’re dead!”

Sigma-38 grabbed the captain by the neck, lifting her half a meter into the air, and spoke, “Do not resist. You will become beautiful.” with a twitch of her wrist, a needle shot a sedative into the captain’s neck. This was the part 38 had been waiting for. The part where the prey knew it was beaten. that help would not come, that there was no more point in fighting. She locked eyes with the captain as the latter slipped out of consciousness. Though Holder could not see it, 38 was smiling

*****

All told, the raid, from infil to exfil, had taken 12 minutes. Only 2 of the crew of the Blair Mountain were lost. Their bodies were taken, their biomass useful for the synthesis of hormones, amino acids, and neurotransmitters. The other 18 would join the hive. They would be kept sedated until their assimilation began. It was a 4 day flight back to the hive’s nexus, and in that time 38 had planned to assimilate around half of the take.

The first, she decided, would be that engineer’s mate. One of the Gammas brought him to the assimilation chamber. 38 looked him over. Young, thin, around 19 or 20. No tattoos, sandy hair. She affixed a respirator mask to his face and, after checking that he was properly restrained, pressed a button on the stretcher to pull him out of sedation.

He stirred slowly, eyes bleary with drugs. So vulnerable, so innocent. 38 couldn’t wait to assimilate him.

“Where am I?” he said, “I...my name...my name is...Phillip Ellis...203243…”

“Your name,” Sigma said, “is of no concern to us.”

“Phillip Ellis, 2-oh-3, uhhhhh, 2-4-3”

“You have been selected to become an incubator for the hive.”

“What?” confusion crossed his face. Soon would come the fear.

“Your body will be modified and augmented to perform the function of incubator in the hive’s breeding chambers.”

“I...what?” The fear was starting to creep in. 38 had a choice now. She could administer the gas, which would clear away all that fear and doubt, or she could push him just a little further into terror. The choice was not difficult.

She waited for a few seconds and then said, “Do not be afraid,” It was too easy, really, “we will alter your body surgically and mechanically. Superfluous limbs and organs will be removed. You will be conscious during this process. You are afraid now, but you will enjoy it, soon.”

Phillip Ellis’s response was simply to begin screaming. A high pitched, entirely undignified wail of dread. With a smile, Sigma-38 turned on the gas.

Ellis could only scream for so long before his lungs ran out of air. When they did, he had no choice but to inhale. His body was operating on adrenaline, he couldn’t have held his breath if he’d wanted to. He took a deep breath, already preparing to scream again, but the gas worked quickly. Before he finished inhaling it had already worked its way into his brain. A powerful aphrodisiac, it would arouse him, making the next step much easier and faster.

38 felt her cock begin to swell, and said, “I am going to release the restraints on your ankles. I want you to lift your legs up in the air and present your ass to me.”

Ellis resisted, somewhat half-heartedly, “No, I...I don’t want to,” he said.

38 frowned. She dialed up the gas and again, said, “I am going to release the restraints on your ankles. Lift your legs up in the air and present your ass to me.”

“I…” Ellis trailed off. His pupils were dilated, his mouth hanging open, a wide, crazed grin on his face.

“If you will not comply,” said 38, “I will compel you.”

Her cock was aching now. She didn’t feel like waiting for him to lift up his legs. He was so blissed out anyway that he probably couldn’t do it on his own. She grabbed his ankles and lifted them over his head. She held them there with one arm, and with the other, she took her cock and pressed it up against his asshole. He provided no resistance, “oh,” he said, “That feels good,” he was smiling. 38 smiled, too.

Slowly, she began to slide in and out of him. His thin, pale body squirmed and bucked in time with hers. He was hairless except for his head and groin, his cock engorged. She felt his ass grip her cock, and began to fuck him faster. As his moans grew louder and louder, 38 felt herself approaching orgasm. To her, this was foreplay. What came next was the main event.

The first convulsion twitched behind her cock, another, seconds later. The pressure began to build. It would be soon now. She could feel the replicators in her prostate working overtime on their payload. Another pang, the pressure now sustained. Ellis’s moaning was joined by 38’s and she felt her eyes close and her cock grow hard before it finally let go. She felt the pump of her prostate and her balls as they shot 10ccs of assimilation nanites into Ellis’s ass.

Ellis moaned, then groaned, and finally started screaming. This part was always painful, but it would only last for a minute or so. The nanites in 38’s semen were already dispersing themselves through his bloodstream, turning his veins a dark grey, his skin pale as they worked their way through his capilaries. In 10 seconds they had found their way to his brain. There, they began working to redirect the pain signals from his body into the pleasure center, and soon his screams of agony had become cries of ecstasy as he felt his tissue being remodeled on a cellular level.

38 pulled her cock out of his ass, a few grey pearls of cum dripping onto the floor of the chamber. Idly, she touched her finger to the end of her cock and brought it to her mouth, licking her own nanites, a metallic rush on her tongue.

“Nooo,” came Ellis’s pathetic voice, “please don’t stop. I need more.”

“You will get more.”

Ellis smiled. Sigma-38 reached for her first tool, a long, curved knife.

The first thing to do would be to cut through the skin and muscle on all four limbs. The last ¼ by the torso would be allowed to remain. She pressed the knife to Ellis’s left bicep, and whispered in his ear, “are you ready, dear?”

“Yes, yes please!”

She plunged the knife into his arm, feeling it slip through the skin and muscle and thunk down onto the bone below. Ellis screamed from the pleasure of it. Sigma allowed herself to remember this feeling from before the hive. It was bliss. She felt her cooling pump speed up just thinking about it. But she had to focus on the task at hand.

The wound did not bleed much, the nanites already replicating, aiding in clotting and building contact points and hookups for later. Ellis would make an excellent Iota-type incubator.

Soon, 38 had carved away a 3-centimeter wide section of flesh around each cut point on Ellis’s femurs and humeri. She put the knife back in its slot on the wall and reached for a circular bonesaw. She held it to his left humerus, but did not turn it on yet. Instead, she reached down and gently stroked the exposed bone, feeling Ellis shudder under her touch, hearing him moan in pleasure. She looked at his cock and saw a drip of precum fall from it on to his taught, hairless stomach. Almost a pity he wouldn’t have it anymore within the hour. Almost.

She turned on the bonesaw and began removing the limb. Bone chips and marrow spattered on her face, she idly licked them away from her lips. The salty, copper taste drove her mad. She lived for this. It was her purpose.

The next step was to install the hookup sockets to his residual limbs. She touched the side of her head to take a lidar scan of each, before sending them to the replicator in the corner of the room. By the time she’d made her way over, four fresh limb sockets were waiting. She brought them back to her quarry and began fixing them to each limb in turn.

These would be hooked into the breeding chamber back at the nexus. They would carry everything this incubator would need to survive. Nutrition, water, power, networking.

“There,” she said to him, “Isn’t that so much better? Don’t you feel so much lighter? Freer?”

“I do, 38.” He used her designation. A good sign, this meant that the neural connection with the hive was already being established. Usually that took longer. Ellis would likely not reject the hive. That was always a concern. Incubators rarely experienced rejection, but fixing it was always a messy proposition that left the hive with a less-than-fully-functional drone.

“Do you know what’s next, Iota unit?” she asked him as she hooked his limb sockets into a temporary life-support machine

“I do not have access to that information at this time.”

38 smiled and said, “Next we install your chestplate unit, dear.”

She walked to there replicator and pulled out the unit. It resembled a mechanical simulacrum of human breasts in shape, although its function was quite different. This would be the Iota unit’s biomech support device. Hormone synthesizers, nutrition processors, oxygenation units, heat exchangers, blood filters, and an assortment of other devices were included.

Gently, lovingly, she lowered the device onto the Iota unit’s chest. Microhooks dug into his flesh, and he let out a moan of pleasure. Grey lines appeared under his skin as tubing and wiring melded itself with flesh and bone underneath.

She cupped his left breast with her hand, squeezing gently. The silicone skin gave little under her touch, but the Iota gasped and opened his eyes, fixing his gaze on her, before lying back and relaxing again.

It was time for the best part. “Dear,” 38 said, “after this next step you will become Iota-723. Do you know what the next step is?”

“The next step is…” the incubator was thinking, “You give me my womb and pussy, correct?”

“Very good! That’s right!” 38 was beaming ear to ear. 723 was doing very nicely already, and 38 was eager to feel as he felt during this part.

She took a scalpel in her hand, “Just so you know,” she said, “You won’t be able to talk out loud after this until the incubator hardware is installed,”

“That’s okay,” she heard, not out loud, but through the wire. This one was learning quickly.

“Alright” she thought back, “here it comes”

She pressed the scalpel into the soft flesh of his underbelly, just below his sternum. A bit of blood wept from the incision. She carved down and around the lower perimeter of his ribcage, down and around his abdomen to his pelvis, then across his belly, back up to the other side of his ribcage, and back up to the sternum again.

“38,” she heard, again through the wire, “I think I might cum.”

“You have to wait, not yet. Trust me.” she thought back.

Tenderly, she reached her fingers under the skin, and peeled it back, exposing the organs underneath. No longer were they the bright pinks and reds of a normal human’s. Grey filaments spiderwebbed across them, the nanites inside already processing them for use later.

38 went about removing 723’s intestines, stomach, liver, lungs, pancreas, kidneys, bladder, and spleen. Soon, all that was left in the hollow chest cavity was 723’s heart. It was beating fast. Though its owner was quite unperturbed by the situation, the heart itself seemed terrified. 38 once again allowed herself to remember her own assimilation.

Lying on the table, a strong feminine hand reaching inside her, up under her ribcage. Pleasure aching through every remaining fiber of her flesh. Her heart pounding as if trying to knock down the wall of some impregnable fortress. She let this memory swim to 723, letting it communicate through feeling rather than words what was to happen next.

38 reached into 723’s ribcage, and gently clasped his heart in her hand. She reached the other hand in, the one holding the scalpel, and quickly cut through the vessels and ligaments holding the heart in place. It kept beating as she slowly pulled it out and presented it to him.

But 723 didn’t see. He was screaming, or rather, trying to, the pleasure overtaking him. His eyes rolled back into his head and the muscles that remained in his body flexed rhythmically as he experience the most powerful orgasm of his life.

When 38 had been assimilated, her orgasm had lasted for 12 minutes and 22 seconds. She sat there, stroking 723’s short, sandy hair, for more than 15 minutes, until the last waves of ecstasy left him.

When he finally relaxed, 38 stood up and retrieved the incubator hardware from the replicator. The main part of it consisted of an expandable tank, for growing embryonic drones. Other equipment included amniotic filters, immune augmentation, and a vocal synthesizer that would hook up to the throat to allow the unit to speak normally.

She lowered the hardware into the cavity, easing the accessories under 723’s ribcage and attaching the mount to his lower spine. When she was finished, she gently caressed the small window of the tank. “You’re going to make us such beautiful drones, dear.”

“That is all I want,” said 723, out loud now, “to serve the hive.”

“Well,” 38 replied, “you’ll need a pussy to be a proper breeding device, won’t you?”

“Yes!” he cried, excitedly, “give me my pussy!”

38 went to work. She opened up his scrotum first, removing the testicles and gently placing them aside. The next step was to remove the erectile tissue from the penis. She took great care while doing this not to cut the nerve that ran to the head. Damaging that would mean there wasn’t anything left to make 723’s clitoris, which would be a shame not just for him, but for the entire hive. An incubator that could not feel pleasure was no incubator at all.

She pressed the now-inverted penile skin up into 723’s abdomen, and felt the incubator hardware grasp and attach to it. She opened a small tube in one of her fingers and injected pleasure nanites into the cavity. They would lubricate and protect the birth canal, as well as make it more sensitive for both 723 and 723’s end user.

38 took some nano-suture and sewed small details into the skin outside, she placed the clitoris under a nice little hood, sewed small wrinkles into 723’s new lips, and, rather tastefully she thought, bunched up the pussy lips so they were nice and plump.

“723, would you like to see your new pussy?”

“Yes! Yes I would!”

Rather than hold up a mirror, 38 simply showed 723 how his pussy looked through her eyes.

“Oh god, it’s so cute!” he said, “I can’t wait to use it.”

38 smiled, “All in time. For now, you need rest.”

“Understood,” 723 said. He closed his eyes and slept while the nanites in his body finished up the finer details of installation.

Sigma-38 picked Iota-723 up, and carried him to the adjacent conditioning chamber. Gently, she hooked him into a wall mount, before turning and making her way to preprocessing.

723’s assimilation had taken only an hour. Incubators usually took less time than full drones, though. 38 stepped into preprocessing, and looked over the remaining 16 humans, (Sigma-47 was working on assimilating another) held by mag restraints on vertical beds. Her gaze fell on the captain.

Terry Holder’s sedation was just now wearing off, as 38 had planned. Groggily, the captain opened her eyes and fixed her gaze on 38. She struggled, ineffectually. The drugs were still in her system, still keeping her slow and weak. There was that look of confusion again, from her quarters, and recognition. Her eyes grew wide as it dawned on her, and she said, “Jenna? You’re alive?”

“Hello Terry,” said Sigma-38, “The Jenna you knew is long, long gone.”

[roughdaysandart]

Rough Day Comic Masterpost

Based on Rough Day by @no-droids. I am editing the smut out ("Abridged for Christian Roomates") but acknolwedge its sanctity. Filler content/arcs will be included to make up for taking it out.

"The immovable object and the unstoppable force are both implicitly assumed to be indestructible and to mutually co-exist, thereby creating an inherently unreconcilable tension. By definition, an unstoppable force, in order to become unstoppable, ought to possess infinite energy. On the other hand, an immovable object is non-submissive to any force of any magnitude, from being palpable to an asteroid attack. That is, it won’t shift from its place at all..."

But what happens when two such forces meet their match...when youre not strong enough to keep that distance any longer...nor weak enough to let go of your rules, of your past...everything?

How can it feel like it's all coming apart...

yet all coming together...

...can they really let it go?

This, dear viewers, is the predicament that our Sweet Girl and a certain tin can man have found themselves in, certainly before, but most especially after one particularly rough day. Join me fellow sickos on this journey, and watch as the unstoppible meets the immovable.

-Madison

SERIES GEN WARNINGS: NON-canon typical gore/blood/violence, emotional supression, bodily self-hatred, implied nudity, implied and explicit trauma (Blood, death, depression, anxiety, bullying, sexual), yearning for a fictional man

BOOK/SEASON 1: "THE EXCEPTIONS"

BOOK/SEASON 2: "TORN"

BOOK/SEASON 3: "TITLE TBD LOL"

BEHIND THE SCENES CONTENT (latest SNEEK PEEKS, FREE backgrounds for artists, storyboards, designing process, SW pinterest megaboard, soundtrack)

NON-RD ART/WRITING/FUN/LIFE STUFF

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

[ORIGINAL POST] (FEB 2024)

"Fuck it I'll try making a Rough Day Comic" 🤦

I just loved the process of creating that Cantina comic so much, and I really really have been a imagining how cool a comic could look for the entire fic (its just written so well) and I really wanna make it super clean so...I think imma break out the tablet and get this going. Also I just love this work so much that it would really being me so much joy (especially as my first comic) and thats what's important in the end.

No idea if it'll stick or if it'll be just a few or how soon but...I really am excited to try

Also kinda have to get used to drawing star wars environments/backgrounds/people in general, as I'm not used to that at all so here's to learning ALOT of new things ahead!

Probs will start out with the backstory drabble from @no-droids masterlist just for chronological sake and then do the chapters in order.

About the smut...🙃

*sigh* I live with my very christian siblings in a one bedroom so.....just no soft or hardcore smut (idk if i can even get away with any spicy gestures at all lol), and will probs have to clean some of the language up or leave bubbles blank until I live alone and can edit them later then re-upload 🤣

At least for now lol

So yeah I hope anyone who also enjoys this fic has as much fun observing this process as I will have making it!

[f1nalboys]

Wall Of Photos - Bo Sinclair

Bo Sinclair x Fem!Reader

started as a sick little smut and then ended up all sick no smut so. sorry? anyways enjoy Bo making you pick a photo from the wall to recreate <3

WORD COUNT: 1165

WARNINGS: dark, death mention, blood and slight gore/viscera mentions?, bo's polaroid wall is the main focal point, photos of past victims described (not-correct shibari and chair being used, photos taken of creampies, etc), mention of past victims. reader has such intense stockholm syndrome and they just dont know it, bo gets off on the photos, weird metaphorical nonsense and just nonsense in general? real freak behavior from me, dark, alludes to past abuse from bo, reader sorta kinda helps (or ignores) the killings and is jealous of people that get bo's attention, alludes to reader death and them being perfectly content with it, polaroid wall is a vigil of sorts so religious stuff? the town and bo are one fr. proofread but i am dumb so....pls let me know if i forgot to tag something!!! it was kind of hard figuring out what needed a warning and what didn't

He steadies you, arms around your waist, his front pressed against your back. He smells like Marlboro Reds, cheap beer, cologne, and blood. It’s more comforting now that it was in the beginning. His smell had long faded from the stench of death that seemed to cling to him; you realized it was this town that the smell clung to, not him, sinking its claws into every crack of the road and every crevice in the maggot-filled buildings. 

“So,” he purrs into your ear, breath hot against your skin. He was always so warm, whether that be his breath or his skin or his words, red hot, hot enough to scald you if you weren’t careful. You were far from careful now, your mind still in the chair a few feet behind you. It hadn’t left even when he had let you out of it months ago. You couldn’t feel your feet but you could feel his arms around you, his fingerprints embedding themselves into your skin like his knife used to. “Which do you like?”

You blink, trying to focus your vision. “Which… do I like?” You repeat and he hums. He’s swaying behind you, with you, like you’re dancing to some tune only he can hear in his head. Maybe the wedding march, maybe something from his youth, maybe his mothers voice. It’s all the same to him. He has you in front of the polaroid wall. “These are…” You don’t finish your sentence, swallowing thickly. Your mouth is dry. 

You can feel the smile on his cracked lips.

Dozens of people, all dead now, all exposed on his wall. He’s in some of them, sometimes his hand, other times his cock, a few of his face, but most of them the person is alone. They’re tied up, either strapped to the chair with duct tape or suspended from the ceiling in a mock shibari style. They’re on their knees, tear streaks and blood covering their faces. Most aren’t looking at the camera, but some are. You try to imagine what they had done to deserve that, to deserve Bo’s voice telling them to smile real pretty for the camera. 

You ignore the jealousy.

“Pick. Whichever one you like, we’ll do.” A choice. He’s giving you a choice, something that had been stripped from you the moment you got to town, maybe long before that. Maybe you never had a choice to begin with. All roads lead to Ambrose. He reaches past you and taps a dirt-covered finger against a photo of a woman on her back, her legs spread, her face tilted to the side in embarrassment. The flash is bright but her cunt is the focal point, not her. She wasn’t what he was looking at, he was looking at what he had done to her, what was leaking from her. Him. The photo was of him. “This one’s my favorite. Ain’t that a pretty sight…”

Bo sighs as he relieves the memory then and there behind you. You feel his hips jut forward ever so slightly, grinding against your back. He was getting hard. “What was her name?” You ask and Bo scoffs, his movements stalling. 

“Fuck if I remember. Why? You jealous of her or something, darlin’?”

“No.”

“No? You suddenly feel bad for ‘em all, is that it?” His voice is sweet like the honey you had watched him slather onto your toast this morning. The sharpness doesn’t evade you and you think of the knife he had used. Steel and honey, honey and steel. One and the same when it came to him. “Didn’t feel all that bad when we had that other girl come into town, now did you?” His hand breaches your shirt, sliding up your stomach to your tits. 

Bo grabs at you roughly, keeping his voice level even when you squeak, struggling against him slightly. Not enough for him to worry; you knew better than that. “No.” It’s true. When she had rolled into town, you hadn’t tried to warn her. You hadn’t done anything, in fact. Just watched while she endured what you did. She wasn’t special. Not like you, not like how Bo treated you. A play thing was just that; a thing. You were something to Bo, and that was enough. 

“Now pick or I’m pickin’ for ya.” 

Blindly, you reach forwards and tap one of the photos. It’s an older photo, long before you, and the girl was smiling. She was on her back in Bo’s bedroom, you knew from the sheets, legs spread with him slotted in between. “This one.” You wonder if this was the first. If this is the girl he’s been chasing all these years, if this is who had started it all. Your stomach twists at the thought of Bo loving someone other than you.

“Good choice, sweetheart.” He drawls, placing a soft kiss to your neck. Your body relaxes at the feeling, at the rare praise, and he knows your putty in his hand. How could you not be? His hand falls out from under your shirt. “We’re gonna head on up there, alright? Let me grab the camera.”

You turn around when he takes a step back from you but you don’t dare move forwards. He grabs the polaroid off of the shelf, checking for film. In another world, the sight would give you butterflies. You can feel them stirring in your gut regardless. “Why do you keep the wall?” You blurt out before you can stop yourself and Bo looks up at you, eyebrow raised. “You never look at it. What is it for?” 

He bares his teeth into a grin. They’re white but they should be red, covered in red, blood from the sheep you are, the poor animal caught in the trap of his smile. “It’s a vigil. You think I just take, right? That I don’t give? I mourn them,” he steps forward slowly so as not to startle you. You wouldn’t move even if you could. The girl in his bed was you now and you were going to be added to the wall, another ghost in the town, another warning no one would be able to heed. Had she thought of Bo the way you did? Had she looked at him and felt a twisted love, a sick and festering commitment to the very end? “I’ll mourn you, when it’s time.”

You nod, letting him place his hands on your cheeks. You’re not crying. He didn’t expect you to. “And I’ll mourn you, Bo.”

“I’m sure you will.” He kisses you and you can taste the blood in his mouth. It’s yours, it's the people behind you stuck in a photograph, it's his mother and father and brothers. It’s his. It’s the town, filled with blood and bile and sickness and rot. He pulls away. “Let’s go on up to the house.” He grabs a wrench on his way out, your hand in his.

You follow.

[gingerlurk]

Lovers' Crest | Chapter 9: The Save

Din Djarin x f!Reader

Masterlist

Summary: How to save you… Din Djarin has one hope.

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, slow burn, non-canon (the Razor Crest never gets destroyed, it also gets upgraded with a cabin), canon-typical violence, eventual smut/filth, post season 3, Our Reader really Goes Through It this chapter (sorry). CWs for: blood, gore, injuries, being imprisoned, gross male characters, and unconsciousness, and a level of violence beyond canon.

A/N: Thank you for reading and I promise some lovely, tender stuff is on its way.

--

The first thing you sense on coming to is the sensation that your shoulder is being ripped from its socket. The next is the way it and your other arm are wrenched behind you, bound together. Cold metal bites into your back and your head, which throbs.

Opening your eyes, you swallow down a hysterical panic.

The cell is long and narrow. You’re chained on a longer side on which, as you glance left and right, more than a dozen bindings for beings of all sizes line the wall. The opposite wall is mere feet in front of you, also lined with restraints. Cables dangle from the ceiling and spark dangerously close to puddles of water across the floor. You can’t see a door and when you look up, there’s just a metal grate lining the ceiling. 

You sit shivering for a while before some degree of your wits return. 

You’re alone in here, which you take as a small mercy. You edge your feet back, trying to keep them away from the sodden sections of floor. You push and lurch until you can stand upright. The movement rips at your shoulder and you have to fight back the urge to start sobbing.

Gingerly, you test how tight your bindings are and find you’re able to flex your wrists back and forth, feeling the tension loosen just a little. Hmmm, if you rotate the left counter-clockwise against the right, it’ll— but even that sends jolts of agony rippling up your arms. You clench your teeth, wincing through the pain. For some reason, your instincts are telling you that it’s a good idea to stay quiet.

Not a lot of options. Just try something.

You remember an old fighting teacher you had back ho— back at the Estate. He claimed he could block pain receptors by meditating. Seemed wild to you, but he’d taught you the basics and maybe if you try it you can twist out of these restraints. What you’ll do after that, you’ll think about then. You’re just casting back to those lessons, digging into the recesses of memory, when your mind is whited out by a momentary vision so indescribable and impossible, you let out a cry of astonishment, a gasp of shock.

In an instant, it’s gone. 

Gods, was that? Are they--?

The cell comes back into focus and a shadow falls across you from above.

‘Ah, she’s awake,’ a voice overhead. ‘Good, good. Hello there.’

It’s a soft and lilting voice, but sickly. 

‘She’s a pretty one, my,’ he speaks, apparently to someone else. 

Still short of breath, reeling from what you think you just saw, you tip your head up to try to see your imprisoner. A beady set of eyes is above you, glaring down. They sit in a round face, rimmed with horns and sporting a toothy sneer that crawls across your nervous system. 

‘Who knew such a pretty thing could do so much damage to my little traction systems, hmmm?’

You’re so overwhelmed by pain and fear, it takes several moments for what he’s saying to sink in. Oh, fuck?

‘It was you, wasn’t it?’ he questions. Through the blood rushing in your ears, you hear boots shuffling on the other side of the wall you’re chained to. ‘No way that crazy bounty hunter would have been able to crack my codes.’

The eyes disappear from above the grate and for a few moments there’s only thuds and echoes reverberating around your prison.

Then, the whole room slides sideways and you’re nauseated with disorientation. It’s when your limbs scream in protest that you realise you’re what’s moving. The panel you’re chained against has spun 180 to present your shuddering figure to the gathered company.

‘And now I get to crack you,’ Cephlate says, a twisted face of fury boring into you.

Somehow this room is even more terrifying than what’s now behind you. Because that’s definitely a carbon freeze unit taking up the bulk of the space. The beady eyed warlord and three goons stand between you and it.

You utter the first thing that comes to you, an exclamation of disbelief, ‘How--?’

He steps forward and backhands you.

‘Tsk, naïve girl,’ he intones. ‘I own this treasury, you know? I own this fucking sector. And I own that upstart ex of yours. He doesn’t know, of course. But how do you think he acquired something so valuable as that ship holo? How do you think he learned of the significance of that beskar on board? And came to be in the cantina that day?’

He leans back and lifts a fleshy brow at you in an ‘it was all me’ type of expression.

‘Just pieces on a dejarik board,’ he sighs. ‘I was after that Mando of yours, of course. The New Republic makes most space too hot for me nowadays, so I couldn’t go to him. So why not just make him come to me?’ 

He claps his palms together. ‘It’s sad those idiots let him escape, but… Do you think he’ll come back for you? I sure hope so. Although…’ his eyes rake over you, ‘maybe not for a little while, hm?’

He steps close and raises a hand again. But this time he takes your chin and gently tilts you side to side, appraising.

You know what comes next. They always try it.

He leans in close, dry lips brushing your ear, and speaks.

He’s only a few words in when something inside you roars to life.

Feeling a wild fury you don’t know or understand, in that moment you use the only means of fight you have. You lean forward, bare your teeth, and sink them as hard as you can into the soft flesh of his exposed neck. Your jaw strains and everything hurts – but you’re surging, raging, burning up. Skin gives way and hot, pulsing liquid gushes into your mouth.

He shrieks and pulls away. You hold on to what’s gripped in your teeth and the sounds of it send you manic. Blood sprays your unhinged face as you spit and snarl.

He paws a hand to his ruined neck.

‘Fuck this little animal,’ he spits. ‘Fine! I’ll deal with her later.’ He whirls from you, stumbling away. He waves a hand behind him, ‘Throw her in the freeze, boys.’

Six hands drag at you. The binds on your arms give way and your dislocated shoulder swings wildly about. You finally scream, unable to bear the excruciating sensations wracking your body any longer. It’s met with laughter and the feeling of being lifted whole into the air.

You’re not thinking at all, mind blank with pain and terror, but your body still has its instincts and muscle memory. So it tries to fight, twisting and thrashing against what holds you. You might land a kick somewhere significant because you hear an angry grunt, then a curse, then a brand new and overwhelming pain in your side.

Head lolling, you look down to catch the blade leaving your belly, a gush of blood pouring onto the floor.

That’s the last thing you see. You’re losing consciousness, giving up, when you feel yourself dumped into a – is this a coffin? Then a hiss and a burning ice crawls up your limbs. Then you feel nothing.

--

The Crest coasts through an inky black. Din, with Grogu now in his lap, kills the engine and works to keep his voice calm.

‘Grogu,’ he says. The child looks over his ear at him. ‘You know how you, how you learned to sense me? Find me in the essence, or energy, or whatever?’

‘Heh,’ the kid says, already looking at the charts.

‘Yes, exactly. You get it.’ Din lets himself feel hope for the first time since he saw you kick that pod hatch closed from the wrong side. 

‘Can you reach out, out there,’ a glance to the black, ‘and find her? Tell me where she is? She’s on a ship. These are the last coordinates I have of it.’ He taps the screen.

Grogu, to his stunning credit, hums shyly but moves straight into a meditative stance. Din’s chest swells.

‘That’s it, kid. Find her for me.’

The little arms raise and begin to tremor, hovering back and forth over a presence Din can’t sense or comprehend. He just waits, and trusts. He knows this power is deeply special, and that Grogu can do things beyond explanation.

The child grunts with effort. In an instinctive move, not even sure if it would help, Din puts his hands on the little, quivering figure, trying to offer support.

After an agonisingly long moment, Grogu pops his eyes open and hops onto the console, pointing a clawed finger at the spot his father had shown him and trailing it along the screen, then giving it an urgent tap. Din leans in and starts thumbing at switches and palming levers.

‘I knew you could do it, buddy,’ he says as he pulls the child back into his lap. ‘Let’s go get her.’

Pulling the same manoeuvre to park the Crest is surprisingly straightforward. Din has total faith that the cloaking drive you’d installed after the run-in on Cephlate’s moon will hold up. Still, he leaves Grogu securely in his space, the child groggy and fatigued from such a stunning use of his powers.

Once dropped into the upper-level corridors, Din orders R5 to ready the canon protocols he’s queued. ‘Wait for my mark,’ he commands. 

Instead of taking the carefully plotted path to avoid detection, Din charges into the first unit he comes across. Six are dead within minutes and the last guard flails on his stomach as Din leans a knee in his back and a vibroblade at his ear.

It’s not long before the sap is singing, ‘the prison! Eight deck! The boss he-! She’ll be in carbonite by now! Please don’t-- ’ He slams the guy’s head into the floor and surges forwards, sprinting and checking the map at the same time, finding the location.

As he nears the section of cells, he tells R5 to disengage locks and move the Crest into position. He rounds a bend, planting detonators on the walls to activate on his way back out.

Horror floods his system as he takes in the prison section. Where the fuck are you?

He has to dispatch of only one set of personnel barring his way as he clocks one door window after another. When he spots the unit, he whole bodily kicks the door aside and marches to the control panel.

The blocks of carbonite rotate one after the other until you come into view. Relief and rage tear at Din’s insides as he takes you in. Your hands seem to be pressed into your left side, elbows locked to your ribcage. Your face is a rictus of pain, but your eyes are closed – that’s a small mercy.

He checks the read-out – you’ve been in there only a few hours. Only. Din’s stomach is roiling. He thumps the release pan.

The machine disengages your frame and the room fills with a wretched vapour, obscuring his vision of you for a moment, but he holds his arms out ready. When the process ends, your knees buckle and you collapse into Din’s embrace, limp and unresponsive. He can see your heart beating though and, as you start to shake violently, he can reassure himself you are in fact alive.

But as he lays you down to check your condition, he gives a shout of alarm. 

Blood is everywhere.

He focuses on the gash at your side and tries not to think about the dried blood covering your face. It doesn’t seem like you’re injured there and the implications of that makes Din’s blood run cold.

Throwing the medical pack off his shoulder, he tears through the contents for a sterile patch, pushing the shredded hole in your tunic aside to lay the dressing as best he can over the wound. It hisses and puckers the surrounding skin as it creates a pressurised seal to staunch the flow.

That’ll have to do for now. He looks over the rest of you. Your left shoulder is sitting low and outside the joint and he rechecks your face for any injuries. Your jaw may be bruised, and the taser’s burn mark is bright and blistered, but he’s confident you’re not bleeding anywhere else.

Time to move.

‘R5,’ he growls. ‘Begin the barrage.’

The treasury shudders as the Crest’s thermal railguns lay into the landing bay where Cephlate’s ship is docked. R5 will empty the energy cells then break vicinity and jump. Distraction and revenge, for now.

With your injured shoulder tucked into his chest and an arm looped under your knees, both blasters pointed in front of him, Din swears on his creed and clan that every fucker he crosses paths with is going to meet a swift end.

The escape vessel settles on the grass and gives a final grinding whir as the landing lock engages. A huge boot kicks the hatch door open, bashing it into the side. The Mandalorian lunges from the pod with your unconscious form in his arms. He strides to his ship, barking at R5 to drop the doors.

Once he has you laid out on the cabin’s low bed, he pulls every med pack to hand from the rack.

He looks you over to take stock of each hurt. The plaster seal is working on your stab wound, no blood leaking out or sign of infection. Nothing for the burn on your neck but salve and time.

Shoulder first then.

Din sets to work.

--

Prev | Next

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Not a request, but a question! I really want to post some TMNT writings again. However I noticed that 18+ (gore, smut other dark themes) seem to be a matter of heavy debate. Such as you can't age up character or if you're now an adult you cant interact/write/draw for the fandom anymore. I left years ago because of how bad it got. Do you get a lot of hate for your writings? Or has it died down after all these years?

No, I get no hate. I've only gotten two mean-ish comments, and none of them had anything to do with my 18+ writing.

Dark themes, and to a certain degree, gore, has always been part of the TMNT universe. Leo's PTSD pattern in the tv shows, Raph's homelessness in the IDW, Donnie gradually becoming more and more robot in both comic and tv, and of course Mikey in The Last Ronin. And then there is the ROTTMNT movie. That was some dark stuff, and if you think about it, there was body horror as well.

Sex is not new to the TMNT comics either. Donnie is the only turtle that haven't lost his virginity in cannon. We have to remember that the turtles have been in relationships and have had crushes ever since the Mirage days, so sex doesn't seem that far off.

I'll say it's all about being comfortable with what people are reading. That's why I put warnings and try to put it into a genre. There are people that just don't feel comfortable with these themes, and that's perfectly fine. At the same time, some people find that by interacting and inserting themselves or other people into the story, it ruines it, and that too I understand. To me it's almost an art form to write fan fics and inserts that does not mess to much with the story and plot, yet at times it's fun to play around with "what ifs".

With all that being said, I too do have things I don't feel comfortable writing about, with non-con being a BIG no for me. At the same time I don't mind writing about age gaps, as long as the youngest person partaking is at least 18. But with fictional characters that we know age over time, I don't see a problem with pushing their age so it matches the theme of the story. That's also why I often by my smut a few year after the main events took place (unless people want me to write about a specific scene, in which I still push their age up to an acceptable place that I too would feel comfortable with).

Maybe TMNT fans are adults today, so it would be strange not to let adult have a go and make fan content, even if it's 18+:)

[sinsandsweetness]

Assurance (sex and zombies- chapter 17)

pairing- (Rick x fem!reader)

summary- you want this.

warnings- canon typical gore. Nothing crazy tho. No smut in this chapter.

notes- (this is immediately following chapter 15)

*only 2-3 more chapters left for this work. I have just drafted the final chapter and love the way it ends <3

Feedback/comments are always appreciated!

You made sure to sneak away early in the morning. The sun had only just started to rise, making the bedroom fill with a gorgeous, orange hue. It wasn't that you didn’t enjoy waking up next to Ricks pretty face and an arm draped over your waist. But you weren’t exactly sure how he’d feel about last nights events, now that you’d both gotten a few orgasms out of the way. You figured maybe he’d be thinking more clearly. Not that you were. In fact, it had made things so much worse. All you could feel were his hands wrapped around your waist and his warm lips against yours.

So you took a quick shower and made your way to the infirmary. Wanting to subtly find out if there were any morning after pills hanging around. If not, then well, you’d definetly need to go on a run today. With little Judith babbling around and Maggie planning a pregnancy, you definitely didn’t need or want a baby. Right now, anyway.

Thankfully, Pete wasn’t in the office yet. So you were able to sneak in and look around. Inspecting the medications that had been organized so meticulously.

No luck.

In a cabinet above the sink, you found a bunch of weed though. Surprised and amused, you grabbed a couple joints and a baggy and tied them up. Stuffing them into your pocket. The door opened behind you and a blonde lady with glasses apologized quickly. You’d clearly startled her.

“Oh hey, sorry,” you smiled and put your hands up. Like you got caught. You did, though she didn’t seem to realize that.

“That’s ok… I’m Denise,” she stayed at the door holding a clipboard.

“Ok…”

“I’m the other doctor here. Sorry,” she was very awkward. You stuck a hand out and told her your name. “This might be a little weird, but I was wondering if you guys had any.. um… morning after pills...”

“Unfortunately we don’t. At least not that have been turned into the infirmary. I can ask around-“

“No that’s okay…um maybe we can just keep this, like between us?” You tell her.

She laughs. “Yes sorry,” she fumbled with her pen. “There is a drugstore. Not that far from here and I think if anywhere would have some, it would be there,” she started. “Actually I’ve been telling Deanna we need to have someone go looking for some stuff anyway. I have a list…” she held up her clipboard.

“Maybe I can take the lead on that then.” You tell her, and she smiles at you.

“One’s enough for you?”

You give her a look, not fully understanding the question.

“Like one kid,” she clarifies, “Obviously you’re not planning for another..?”

“Uh... I don’t have a kid…”

“Oh,” She looked confused.

“Wait why do you-”

“Well the baby, I thought… sorry, I thought she was yours.”

“She’s Ricks.” You tell her, thinking that had been made clear to everyone in Alexandria already.

“Yes I know that… I just figured… sorry I’m- I just figured you… uh. Yeah.”

Some strange part of you wanted to smile. A complete stranger thought you and Rick were together. Together with a baby. Did it seem that way? To everyone else at least?

“No, um Rick was married…before,” you tell her. She nodded, and looked down at the floor in discomfort.

“Look I’m gonna go talk to Deanna, see if I can take a car and maybe find some stuff on that list? Anything urgent?” You ask her. Switching the topic back to why you were actually here.

“Oh! Yeah that would be amazing! Um, just some regular stuff, I doubt you’ll find any of these,” she pointed to a few bullet points on her list. “Nothing urgent… I mean, definitely your pill. More if you can find them. Just any contraceptives. Antibiotics, anti inflammatories, cough meds. Anything over the counter. We can use it all. “

You nod and grab the list from her. “Thanks Denise. And the pill…um… just between us right?”

“Yes absolutely,” she nodded intently, “Lips are sealed.”

-

You were packing your bag on the kitchen island when Rick walked down the stairs, rubbing at his eyes with his knuckle. The collared button up and tie he wore, made you squeeze your legs together. Fuck. You really thought he was going to be at Tobins for the day. Doing construction shit or whatever it was he was helping with.

“Hey,” he said walking to the cupboard.

“Hi.” You responded shyly. Memories of the night before, flooding into your brain.

“Why'd you run off this morning?” He glanced over at you, grabbing a tall glass of water from the tap, and downing it all in one.

“I didn’t run-”

"You did." He turned to face you.

"I did not-"

"Don’t lie.”

“Ok," You gulped. "I did- I... it was more of a jog...” You tried lightening the mood. He just rolled his eyes. He actually seemed irritated.

“Should we talk about last night? About us?” He asked, leaning up against the counter.

You pursed your lips. Seemed like a really heavy conversation for being so early in the morning.

“Alright then… can I ask you something?” He asked instead, the frustration evident in his tone.

You sighed. Knowing he would ask regardless of your answer. He came up to you, grabbing your face with his calloused hand, rubbing a thumb along your jaw. His touch making your knees all weak.

“What you said last night, about making you mine... Is that something you still want?" He sighed, and licked his lips. "Before, at the prison, I know we talked about it. But I- I just want to be sure... after everything... Were you just sayin’ that, in the moment?”

He didn’t like your hesitation and spoke again before you could even really process what he was asking.

“I can’t tell sometimes, with you- you just- you've been so closed off lately. I know we've been going through something, and I haven't always been the best... " he stopped himself, shaking his head. "I'm not perfect, I know that. But you haven't talked to me. You won't. And it's making me think that maybe- I don’t know… ” You weren’t fully understanding his question. He could tell. His stare burning right into you.

“Just- God dammit- do you want this? You and me? Do you want… this?” He squeezed your jaw slightly. Just enough to get his point across.

His baby blue eyes were locked on yours. The tiniest hint of worry flickered through them. Worried you were going to say no. Worried you had changed your mind after all the events between the prison and now.

You placed your hand on his wrist and nodded into his hand. Chewing on your inner lip nervously. You did want this. You’d wanted it back at the farm. You’d wanted it at the prison. At the church, and every awful and amazing moment in between. You’d wanted him. To be with him. And the way he was standing in front of you now, demanding clarification, was giving you all the reassurance that he wanted it too, just as much.

“Then quit running.” He whispered, letting his hand fall. You nodded, letting him know you understood. That you'd do whatever he asked. Whatever he wanted, if it meant you were his. Actually his. Officially.

He gave you a weak smile before turning back around and heading for the fridge to fix himself something to eat.

-

“Heyyy…” you sneak up behind Daryl, who was filling up his bike with gas.

“What’s up?”

“Found something fun… you want it?” You asked hiding the gift behind your back. Giving him a little grin.

“What is it?” He seemed intrigued, turning around. You lean up against his bike and feel the strap of your tank fall down your shoulder. Twirling the little baggie in your hand you show Daryl your prize.

“No way,” he smiled and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Mhm. They’re yours if you want em’.” He went to grab the bag from you but you snapped your hand back. “But I’d really like if you shared.”

He smiledd and grabbed the bag. Stuffing it into his pocket.

“I’m going on a run, wanna join?” You asked. You needed backup. And maybe some company.

“I’m actually going off with Aaron today. Sorry.”

You smiled softly, “That’s alright, I’ll find someone else. Be safe.”

You did find another group to go out with you. Glenn was willing to give Nick another chance after their last fuck up of a supply run. There was five of you. Nick, Glenn, yourself and two others that claimed to be experienced with outside the walls.

Turns out they weren't. At least not in the way you and Glenn were.

You did get the supplies you needed. Cleared the pharmacy pretty easily. Secretly took your plan B in the bathroom with a swig of warm, blue gatorade from the store. It was the way back home that went wrong. The car broke down. So you guys had to walk. Trying all the vehicles that you'd stumbled across, but nothing was working. And soon enough, while helping Glenn try and jumpstart an old Buick, there was a scream. A rather small cluster of walkers approaching you all, and somehow, one had bit one of your group members. On the arm, close to his wrist. Screaming and crying, the young man stumbled back, holding the bloody mess of his forearm as you and Glenn rushed over. Taking care of the walkers and quickly realizing what you'd have to do.

"Hold this" Glenn tightened the belt around the kids arm, above the bite. The kid was thrashing and screaming and making everything a lot harder. Nick yelling at you both telling you that it was gonna kill him.

It didn't.

No one died. But there was still an amputation. Having to carry the one boy back, passed out from pain. Draped over both of your shoulders as you walked towards the gate. The blood from his arm coating the majority of your torso.

-

“What the hell happened to you?"

Rick looked worried at the blood coating your torso. The kid getting taken off to the infirmary immediately, as Glenn and Nick started to argue at the fence. A bunch of your own group running to stop it. To calm everyone down.

“The kid got bit. These people are idiots, Rick. They can't even pay simple attention to their surroundings.” You told him as he grabbed your jaw, inspecting your face. Looking you up and down for injury. You could feel Nick looking over at you with a scowl.

“Are you ok? You hurt or anything?”

“I’m fine.” You grab his wrist gently, pulling it away. There was a guy missing an arm, and all Rick was focused on was you. Making sure you were ok. The realization sending a twinge of affirmation through your gut. And though you liked how much he cared, you also didn’t need taken care of right now. Even though he would clearly jump at the chance.

“Go get cleaned up. I’ll talk with Deanna. Supper is at the other house ok?”

In the shower you scrubbed the blood of your chest and ran cold water all over your shirt, in a sad attempt to save it.

You put on a camisole and some soft little sleep shorts, and headed downstairs, over to the house next door. Delicious smells of whatever casserole Carol had come up with, wafting through the air.

“Bedtime already?” Rick came up beside you, leaning his forearms on the counter you were sitting at.

You give him a side eye and a little scowl.

“Are you okay? Really?” He asked, referring to your day. He plucked at the edge of your tank top, trying to lengthen it.

"Yeah. Used to it. I'm just glad the kids alive." You told him.

"It has been a while since you've gone out there. You did good. Quick thinking."

"Well I learned from the best." You looked up at him, turning to see his face. Trying to contain his smile by biting the inside of his cheek.

"The best, huh?"

You let out a little huff. "Don't let it get to your head." You rolled your eyes, spooning another bite of dinner into your mouth.

His hand was now brushing lightly on your lower back. Everyone else was talking and eating, paying you two absolutely no mind. You liked it that he was doing this in front of them. Touching you. Not hiding whatever was between you. Something the both of you had been doing since the prison.

“I won't."

He paused, and you could tell something was on his mind.

"What?"

"Just thinking'," He shook his head.

Turning on the barstool, to see his slight bashfulness, your knees brush his own legs.

“About what?”

"You." He answered. He seemed a little surprised that he'd said it out loud. You could feel your cheeks turn warm. You grabbed his hand and dragged it up the smooth skin on your leg, fingertips brushing the seam of your shorts.

He whispered your name, firm like a warning. But his hand didn’t move after you let yours fall. Still feeling your leg, thumb brushing over your scar.

“Yeah?” You whisper back innocently. As if you had no idea what your touch was doing to him. How soft you knew you felt underneath his rough hands. Looking up at him through long eyelashes. He gave you a glance. Playful, but stern.

Voice still low but no longer a whisper he pulls his hand back from your trance, “Look I got some business tonight. Gotta meet with Tobin about the expansion. I'll uh... I'll see you later?”

You nod at him. Knowing exactly what that question actually meant.

He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. Internally debating wether or not to lean in for a kiss, and you wish he had.

“Don’t stay up too late,” his thumb rubbed over your cheekbone before he dropped his hand and walked away, giving you a little glance from the living room as he kissed Judiths forehead and whispered something to Carl. Slipping quietly out the front door.

You couldn't help the smile on your face or the butterflies swarming around in your stomach as you ate the rest of your meal.

See you later, Rick.

[thatbanditqueen]

Elvis One Shots

One-off little drabbles, usually written in a matter of 2 - 4 hours as part of a writing game prompt. So there are a lot of typos. Attentio to detaul iz not me thngg.

Rating: Explicit, No Minors, NSFW

Relationships: Elvis Presley/Original Female Character(s)

Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI, smut, sex, cursing, drug use and alcohol. Also some of them are fluffy and innocent. See individual labels.

Come Hell or Come Sundown

A Charro! Behind-the-Scenes One Shot

Angst and fluff and a hint of a hint of smut... but mainly kissing

It is the summer of 1968 and Elvis finds himself in a New Hollywood, no more production code, just a ratings system with the promise of more sex and violence. This is good, because Elvis is in transition too! He is hot off the set of his TV special and ready to make a gritty western he can be proud of. Things are going well onset until they aren't....

Aphrodite's Curse

An Elvis-o-Ween 2023 One-shot

Angst, smut, more angst and some witchcraft.....

Loosely based on Elvis' affair with Elisabeth Stefaniak, this one shot finds our boy during his Army service living in Bad Neuheim and playing the field, much to the chagrin of his shy, live-in secretary and girlfriend Bettina.

Bless Your Heart

An Elvis-o-Ween 2023 One-shot

Angst, fluff, smut and more spooky paranormal stuff

Angst, fluff, no smut, a little kissing, and a touch of scary gore at the end. Not really too scary.

Summary: It's 1957, and Jan's dreams come true when she gets invited up from the gate to join Elvis' parties at Graceland. But not all that glitters is gold, and this new social circle may have a few angels and demons among them.

Little Blue Toes

An Elvis-o-Ween 2023 One-shot

Angst, fluff, smut and a little spooky paranormal jazz

Summary: It is the summer of 1955, and Elvis and his band are back on a grueling tour schedule. Their first stop out of Memphis is Batesville, AR. The crowd is not kind, the venue is uncomfortable, and so Elvis decides to take off and make his own trouble. Along the way, he comes across a young women who is having an equally bad afternoon, and they find that spending the rest of the day in each other's company might be just the solace they were searching for.

Smash!

Angst and fluff

Summary: Eadie is walking up the canyon to her uncle's house when a beautiful stranger almost runs her over, out on a car ride to clear his mind.

I Was The Best Husband

Smut

Summary: It is March 1972, a month after Priscilla officially told Elvis about her affair with Mike Stone and her decision to leave him and request a divorce. He is in LA, getting ready to go back on tour and his entourage have invited some women over to help cheer him up.

George's Garage

Smut

Summary: Elvis and the Memphis Mafia are driving back to Hollywood from Memphis to shoot Kissin' Cousins, when the car breaks down on Route 66. Luckily they are not too far from George's garage and her skilled, lady mechanic fingers.

The Lou Lou Special

Fluff

Summary: Lois is away from home, visiting her family in Texas, when her cousins abandon her after an Elvis Presley concert.

The Late Night Dayton Gig

Fluff, angst, some drugged out moments.

Summary: Alex is helping her mom close up the family deli in Dayton, OH when they get a last minute rush catering order for a special VIP client.

[captain039]

Wasteland heat (Redone) PT 4

Cooper Howard(The Ghoul) x reader 

Warnings: Violence, blood, gore, AOB dynamics, heat, oral F receiving, smut, swearing, fallout stuff, implied cousin incest, virgin reader, drug usage, needles, plus size reader, sexual assault

Previous part <-

It feels like days of walking, what you tried to share in your pack with Lucy is now gone, water scarce, and food also scarce. Lucy's missing a boot and you're missing your bed. You feel so tired, your body like jelly, your legs numb and painful at the same time, like pins and needles hitting every inch of your skin. You've hit what looks like an old town maybe, you're not sure which one but as the alpha stops and your pip boy fuzzes at the small water gathering in an old broken metal thing you falter, smacking your lips together softly. You haven't told Lucy that you've been avoiding your meds, you couldn't chew them, couldn't swallow them without water, and you would always gag and cough them out. 

"Hm," The man says filling his canteen and drinking from it with a loud sigh, you glance to Lucy seeing her staring at him intently, or maybe the water he's drinking. She falls to her knees and you go to stop her but she cups her hands and drinks from the radiation-filled water with coughs and gags. 

"Now you're getting it" The alpha hums and you make a small noise in your throat. You can't reach your backpack with your hands tied, can't reach the medication you need to stop you from having a heat. You wonder if it will still work with this type of water. You don't have much time to think because the alpha starts coughing and wheezing and before you know it Lucy has grabbed you and ran. 

You don't find her sudden adrenaline burst the same as you run around the cars and to a dead end. You see the giant hole in the ground and the city beyond, it makes you stop and stare before Lucy's got rope around her waist and is tugged back. You turn to the man holding a lasso and tugging her closer, you charge at him with little force, but you manage to tumble to the ground. You can't do much with bound hands and the sudden position makes you so much warmer. He snarls at you as you struggle with fighting his free hand, his other under your knee. You manage to someone hug his hand to your chest and hold it there, hoping Lucy will hurry up and get free and grab his gun. The other wishes she didn't, the other wishes he'd reverse the roles and had you pinned down and tied up. Your mind's in a haze and your grip loosens significantly and he gets his hand free and quickly aims his gun and your sister. You feel like you're struggling to breathe, feeling like the sun got a meter closer and someone poured a bucket of sweat over you. Lucy yells your name but it sounds distant, like she isn't actually right there only a few meters away. Your whole body feels like it cramps up as you're thrown off left on the dirt. You whimper and curl your knees to your chest as you hear scurrying uneven steps and Lucy is at your side. 

"I couldn't take the meds" You feel like there's sand pouring from your eyes as you see her shocked face. 

"It's ok, It's ok, we can figure this out" She whispers gently lifting your top half to lean against her. 

"Fuck sake, get her up and Vaultie and move!" The end of his words break off into an inhuman snarl and coughs rack his body again. 

"Come on, there might be help inside" Lucy whispers. 

It's a struggle to get you on your feet, an even more struggle to get you to whatever place the alpha was going to. He hits the terminal a buzzing sound coming from it before he speaks. 

"Transaction" He says. 

"How can I help?" A male voice answers, a little too happy for the wastelands. 

"Sixty vials in exchange for two females mint condition" The alpha replies. 

"Physical condition must be examined in person, send them in!" Answers the voice. You're too out of it to know what's really going on, you desperately miss your bed even if it was a hospital one, and you need pillows, blankets anything. You whine and Lucy mutters something to you before you move inside. Once in, it feels cooler, and fresher even, on your body before Lucy gasps and jolts. 

"What the fudge"

"Fudge? There's no fudge here, just your friendly robot Snip-Snip mark 4" You frown looking at the robot in front of you.

"And you appear to be women, come through" The robot doesn't give you a chance to speak as you're led through the building and into a room.

"Have a seat on that gurney there" The robot points and Lucy helps you onto the gurney.

"Now it appears you are distressed somehow, how can I help?" he asks. 

"My sister, she's in heat, she hasn't been able to take her medication, do you have any repellents?" Lucy speaks for you as you sag against her. You want to move though, want to be back outside with the alpha, you want to take his shirt off and feel his skin against yours.

"I say what a predicament, let's see here" He turns and fumbles through drawers. 

"I was worried this was a sex slave place" Lucy chuckles lightly and the robot snaps around. 

"What a disgusting thought! No!, I'm simply going to harvest your organs" His words make you both freeze before something is injected into your stomach. 

You awake groggily and to someone shaking you, you open your eyes slowly and focus on Lucy. 

"Thank goodness, you just stay here ok, I'm going to deal with this and I'll be back ok?" She smiles softly and you frown going to speak but she rushes off making you groan. You glance around the room, an old storage room by the looks of it, now with surgical supplies instead. Your memory buzzes back to what happened with the robot and you sit up slowly. You look at the other gurney next to you and sigh a bit. Your body still feels hot and heavy and a nagging keeps scratching your brain as you slowly stand up. You ignore the shots outside, ignore everything, you snatch the two foam tops from the gurneys and lay them in the cleanest corner, you find some old sheets for the gurneys in one of the cupboards and lay them down, folding one as a makeshift pillow. You don't know where your backpack is so you can't use that blanket either. With what you have, which is very little you manage to make a bed well in this case a nest as the teacher called it. She was very brief in explaining what happened if you ever had a heat, there were always medical supplies to avoid all this. You sit on the foam before falling onto your side and sighing, you struggle with your jumpsuit, pushing it off so you only have your white singlet on. The door opens and you jolt sitting up, but relaxing as you see Lucy, she has a grim look on her face, blood on her face and chest, gun in her hand. 

"We need to go," She says simply, too simply too emotionless. 

"Lucy?" You question and her face falters and breaks as she forces a smile. 

"We can find Dad, we can go home soon" She coos and you're not sure if she's telling you or herself. 

"Lucy I can't" You mumble and she freezes.

"I'm going into heat I will slow you down and attract unwanted attention, we can connect our pip boy trackers-" You gulp a bit trying to control the emotions that bubble up. 

"I just need some food, water maybe, maybe if I take my meds now it won't be so bad" The truth is you don't want to go on, you're tired and need a break, and your body won't move from this spot you've claimed.

"Ok, I'll get you supplies" She whispers tears in her eyes as she walks out the door. 

She gathers supplies, she gets you food and water, alcohol too, she fills up a bag for herself also before sitting with you for a little bit before she says goodbye and she's gone, you watch her move on your pip boy before you lay back with a sigh. You barricade the door on shaky legs and make sure there is no other way anyone can get in. It's a stupid idea really, staying here and waiting out your heat, who knows if you'll even join up with her again? 

You're in and out of sleep, the heat becomes worse, your body sweats, slick coats between your thighs and your breathing is heavy. Caught between fevered dreams and reality till you hear footsteps. You tense up, hoping they can't get it, you made a pretty firm blockade.

"Omega?" You shudder and sag at the sound of the alpha you were travelling with, well forced to travel with. He'd been cruel though, more than once and you feel tears in your eyes like sand again. 

"Your sister left you?" He asks and he sounds pissed and you scoff quietly. 

"I made her leave" You call out trying not to sound like you're crying or showing any emotion. You haven't spoken much with the stranger, hell you don't know if he even has a name besides what the knight called him 'ghoul'. 

"I'll slow her down, she can find Dad and come back and we'll go home" A small sob leaves your lips, for some reason it isn't the truth. You hear him hum outside the door before he shuffles a bit before he lets out a big sigh. "I'd invite you to the party" He takes a sharp a breath before sighing. 

"Don't think that's your forte though darlin" he finishes and you're frowning, what party? There's no cake, no people out there as far as you know. 

"Don't overthink it" He chuckles and you feel yourself grow warmer that he knew you were. It's quiet for some time and you feel yourself drifting in and out of sleep, you've thrown your vault suit on the other side of the room and ate whatever dried fruit Lucy had found. 

"You awake in there omega?" You hear quietly. 

"It's dark out now, best be getting some sleep" He mutters, almost too soft for you to hear. 

"Why're you being nice?" You ask before you can think and you hear him chuckle. He doesn't answer though and it makes you frown harder before you give up on anticipation and fall asleep once more.

Next part ->

[zizz-asdf-re-r-o-u]

NU:Carnival Gambler's Paradise Event Review/Analysis

Warning for spoilers! (Note: This was written before Rusted Nation event came out, so some of the gore/assault stuff I talk about is missing)

Ok so I'm technically new to playing Nu Carnival (as in, since Sunburst Festival), so I can only compare it to Sunburst Festival, Misty Vale, and the reruns since Sunburst Festival. But I thought I'd share my thoughts on why the Gambler's Paradise event was so good.

As a disclaimer: I'm not into fluffy stories and personally prefer horror, gore, action, and ofc smut. So if that stuff ain't your cup of tea, then what I'm saying are positive things, may not be your thing. I'm also a lesbian so I'm not playing this game with the intention of self inserting myself to be banged by the guys. I can only think in terms of the quality of the sex and story compared to other porn games I've played. 

The story/sex:

One thing many people have said about NU:Carnival, is that its a gay porn game, but with "an actually good story and good characters". However, if we look at it realistically in terms of what most players can afford, then it's more like a gacha turn-based RPG, with a few porn scenes locked away. With the exception of the 1st opening scene, in all the main storyline chapters, there is no sex, unless you pull for character cards. At most, we occasionally get characters talking about their sexual exploits and Chimes of Darkness event had an off-screen orgy. Naturally, this is still a gacha game and the H scenes will never be available for free. 

But in Gambler's paradise, a very taboo sexual crime (vore) is what kicks off the plot, characters are deliberately flirty for plot reasons, a magical cock ring is what solves the day, and so on. It's a very horny event, mixing porn with plot and that's what I think makes a good porn game. A porn game shouldn't be censored or fluffy- it should have horny first, and then to elevate it from being just a bad cliched average porn game, it could also have a good plot. 

The SSRs:

I personally think SSR Aster & Morvay battle stats kind of suck, so we'll just ignore that. Instead, their SSR designs are very good. I do really miss femboy twink Aster, but full form Aster is not bad and actually made me notice/appreciate twink Aster more. Morvay, however, is standout because he doesn't have illogical gravity-defying skintight clothes and has fatty pecs. All the big titty guys (including Morvay SR/R/N) in NU:Carnival have perky tight muscular pectorals. But SSR Morvay? His are borderline sagging! To everyone who complains that there is are no fat guys in Nuca- first up its a porn game so it'll never happen, but SSR Morvay is the closest we can get to so far. Nuca's other claim to fame is the clothing damage. I don't have every card so I'm not sure if any other cards have it, but I think Aster & Morvay might be the 1st SSRs with visible marks on their bodies (kisses, handprints, rope, etc). 

As for the rooms- I did look up kink stats for all rooms, and I gotta say- Aster & Morvay have THE most creative H scenes in the entire game so far. Nuca is actually kind of vanilla if we think about it, and they BROUGHT the kinky shit. Most other porn games have more far extreme (or stupidly ridiculous >_> ) stuff than these 2 rooms, so Nuca is finally starting to catch up. 

I would like to bring extra attention to Aster though. I've read a lot of BL manga, I've played a tiny number BL games, watched many more BL game Let's plays/livestreams, and have researched many titles/looked at many people's recommendations, so I think i know a decent number of titles. At this point in history, there are absolutely 0 transguys that have sex in BL (not including "magical MTF  genderswapping" that hentai/anime is known for). There's also 0 use of strapons in smutty BL. We've also still haven't seen Aster naked or directly using his junk into/with someone else. Yes there's mention of Aster's "rod" & something gushing/leaking behind Eiden's back in his SR room, but we don't see it, there's no "orgasm splashing sound" that Nuca's H scenes are known for, and Aster's VA is also not orgasm-moaning/screaming during it. 

Several other tumblrs have already speculated that Aster might be trans and reddit has speculated that Aster might be ace spectrum/sex repulsed.  So Aster might be the 1st male character in all of explicit East Asian BL to use a strapon, possibly trans, and possibly on the ace spectrum. Also also- Aster's a shapeshifter, he can probably make a dick appear & reappear at will! And transguys can also do packing! There is just so much evidence it can't be just coincidences. I think that's SO cool. 

The gameplay: Unfortunately, the battles were the same as any other NU:Carnival battle. Nothing novel about this.

The gore/horror/assault:

This is the point where MOST people will disagree and turn away, so trigger warnings for everything. And just cause I enjoy the horror, does not mean that everyone needs to. It's valid for someone feel uncomfortable/horrified by it, but also you should not yuck my yum. Like I mentioned, I'm not into gay porn to pretend I'm being banged by guys.

Anyways, NU:Carnival, is a mostly vanilla gay porn game, so there's only horror *sometimes*, and it's usually just fighting/killing, psychological manipulation, or Kuya. Well, Gambler's Paradise opens up with serial killing and vore. We also "see" onscreen sexual mutilation, onscreen sexual assault, murder, and Aster & Morvay technically cannibalize Leroy. (They're familiars, Leroy is a familiar, so cannibalism?) Depending on how you interpret Aster & Morvay's relationship, you could view Morvay's room 5 H scene to be Aster assaulting Morvay too. Note that all the violence and stuff is still limited by the mobile game animation format, so the animation isn't great, but the text and SFX communicates the horror well enough.

Now, there are actually a LOT of horror BL visual novels/games with sex and most of them are high quality horror compared to NU:Carnival. However, one thing NU:Carnival offers is it's signature self-awareness, genre-saviness, and the opportunity to do sexy comedy horror. And ofc, since it's a regularly updated online gacha game, that means it has the time to be relevant and to experiment and try out different genres, so if this event isn't for you, there is the main story and other events that could suit your taste. Gambler's Paradise takes what it's best at, takes the risks & opportunities its' genre can offer, and makes it unexpectedly fun. (Except the whole gacha/pulling/price shenanigans, and ).

[slutforstabbings-archive]

Clean Again

Chapter 11: RULED BY MARS read on AO3 | previous chapter | tumblr chapter index make sure to check AO3 for this fic's playlist and other extras! Corey can't put off meeting Veronica any longer. general warnings for this fic - angst, fluff, eventual smut (MDNI), canon-typical violence, canon-typical gore contents/warnings for this chapter - angst, semi-coerced drug use, detailed description of getting way too stoned 4,618 words @rebel-blue @heartrot666 @wolvesandvampires @cordelium @toxicanonymity @multifandom--mess @hersweetrevenge @futurewife @yllcm @ethanhoewke dm me or reply to this post to be added to the tag list 💕

The knife Corey gave you makes your purse heavier than usual as you trek across a massive, muddy field with Veronica and Rose. The three of you tried to get to the flea market early but you weren’t early enough to find parking in the paved lot.

“I can’t believe you love him and I haven’t met him yet!” Veronica says

“I know, I know! I want you to meet him, I want everyone to meet him. But he’s shy.” A severe understatement of whatever is going on with your sweet, strange boyfriend.

“Have you ever gone anywhere with him?” Veronica asks as you arrive at the gates.

The sound of the vendors’ radios playing music over tinny speakers - Contemporary Christian, Grunge, Trap, Mariachi - floats to you from beyond the chain link fence. A gentle gust of wind brings you the smells of barbecue and fried food.

“The grocery store?” you supply. “The library?”

“Okay, those absolutely do not count.”

“Then I guess I haven’t. People make him nervous.”

The three of you enter the market. It’s laid out like a maze, but you have it memorized from years of traversing the cramped and crowded aisles. Your feet carry you instinctively towards the tables and stalls you know have the most interesting items and the best prices. Your friends keep step beside you.

“So if you never go anywhere, what do you do all the time?” Rose asks.

“That’s what I wanna know!” Veronica adds.

“We hang out, I dunno. We watch movies, we play video games, I’ve been teaching him some stuff in the kitchen when I cook for us…” You trail off, realizing that nothing you could say about your time with Corey would make it sound interesting to someone who isn’t there, who hasn’t experienced him like you get to. “You know, it’s not about what we do. It’s about spending time together.”

“The dick must be out of this world,” Veronica responds.

“Oh my god,” you say.

“V!” Rose chides at the same time.

“ For your information the dick is stellar ,” you hiss. “But so is his personality,” you continue, returning to your normal volume. “I genuinely just like to hang out with him, no matter what we’re doing.”

You peruse a few stalls without saying anything to each other except Wow! Look at this! and Oof, prices just aren’t what they used to be . But Veronica isn’t giving up that easily.

“For real though, don’t you ever get bored?” She demands, rummaging through a bin of vintage happy meal toys.

“Nope,” you dismiss her.

“But don’t you want to spend time with him like, at places? And events?” Rose asks.

“Of course I do! But my relationships have had some boundary problems in the past, if you hadn’t noticed. I’m trying to respect his limits.”

“All I know is if I hadn’t seen him that one time, my belief in him would be limited,” Veronica jokes. “Like that boyfriend who ‘went to another school’ in seventh grade.”

“Fuck you!” You say, cringing but laughing, remembering the boy you made up out of pieces of pro skaters and bass players to feel cool. “I promise you’ll get to meet him ASAP if you never bring that up again.”

“Deal!” Veronica says, setting a tiny Betty Spaghetty back into the box in front of her and sticking out her hand. You clasp it in your own and shake it vigorously.

When you get home Corey is sprawled out asleep on the couch in his boxers, the crocheted blanket you keep in the living room hanging off of him. Last night when he woke you up he seemed exhausted. Though he ravished you with kisses, you could feel his limbs getting heavy on him and you gently coaxed him to slow down and go to sleep. This morning when you woke you slipped from his arms and got ready, thinking the thing with the knife must’ve been a particularly vivid dream, or the confused invention of a mind still half asleep. Until you went to kiss Corey goodbye and saw it there on the nightstand, folded up, handle glittering under the lamp that never got turned off. Your lips on his skin roused him and he insisted on getting out of bed and walking you to the door. You told him he should stay comfortable, go back to sleep, but he refused. As he kissed you goodbye, he put the knife in your purse to make sure you had it. Then, it seems, he passed back out on the couch.  

You know he needs the rest, and you're not exactly eager to hold up your end of the deal with Veronica, so you do your best not to disturb him, every sound feeling impossibly loud in your small apartment. He finally wakes up in the early afternoon. You’re in the dining room doing some hand sewing tasks with headphones on when he shuffles in. You don’t realize he’s there until he’s behind you, plucking the buds from your ears. You jump up from your chair and spin around in surprise. 

“Jesus, Corey!” You scold. “That’s the kind of shit that’ll make me use that knife on you! Or a fucking seam ripper.” You brandish the tool in your hand at him, then set it on the table. Corey smirks.

“How was the market?” He opens his arms to receive you for a hug. 

“Pretty good. I’ve got some cool stuff to show you later. Veronica was kinda on one though.”

“About what?” he asks the top of your head.

“About meeting you.” You say it like an admission of guilt. And you do feel guilty, because you already know what his reaction will be, before he groans and deflates in your arms, before he pulls back to look at you with a pained expression, before he asks his question. 

“What does she wanna meet me so bad for? I’m nothin’ special.”

“Corey. You are something special. I wanna show you off! And she’s my best friend. It’s honestly kinda weird that she hasn’t met you yet. I want to hang out with my two favorite people, together .”

He groans your name. You put your hands on his cheeks and rub his temples with your thumbs, trying to encourage him to relax his sour face. It doesn't work.

"Look, I know of a couple of restaurants that are super quiet during the week, we can grab dinner somewhere where we'll be the only people, and it'll be so chill." 

“Why can’t she meet me here?” He asks like a petulant child.

“If you really want me to, I'll convince her and we can all have a nice night in. But she thinks it’s weird that we never go anywhere, and it’ll make a better first impression on her if we hang out somewhere else.”

Corey looks into your eyes for a moment, seeming to search for something. It’s not clear if he finds what he’s looking for or gives up, but his lids flutter closed and he sighs.

“Somewhere really quiet?”

“Yes, I already know exactly where. There’s a pub that we all like that’s always totally dead on weekdays. It’s super cozy and the food is really good.”

He rests his forehead on yours in defeat. “Okay.”

In the evening you text Veronica.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s Wednesday. Corey goes home to his own apartment after work. He showers in his little phone booth shower, the tiny bathroom filling with dense steam. He shaves his face, careful not to fuck it up with trembling hands. Towel wrapped around his hips, he digs through his clothes, unsure of what to wear. He has to force himself to complete one step of the getting ready process at a time, stuffing his phone in his pillow case to quell the urge to text you and ask to change the plan. Dread boils in his stomach. He lights a cigarette, and then another one, drinking them more than smoking them in his desperation. When he’s feeling as ready as he thinks he ever will, he climbs on his motorcycle and speeds to your apartment, rolling through stop signs and accelerating at yellow lights, trying to compress the ride as much as possible. His tires cut a deep groove in the gravel of your driveway as he screeches to a halt in his usual spot.

“Bathroom!” He hears you call as he lets himself into your apartment and takes off his shoes.

He walks into the bathroom and sees you sitting on the counter. Your hair is wet and held back with a headband. You’re dressed in nothing but the largest t-shirt Corey has ever seen. You look away from the mirror where you’re doing your makeup and give him The Smile, but it barely dents his anxiety. He gives you a quick peck on the lips and when he pulls away he walks to the other end of the bathroom, stalking back and forth like a predator in a too-small cage. 

“You’re awfully early,” you say, digging in your makeup bag.

“I just wanted to spend some time with you alone.”

“Aww, Corey. It's gonna go great,” you assure his reflection as you do your eyeliner. “You don’t need to be nervous. Veronica is gonna love you. I don’t know how anyone could meet you and not love you.”

“You’re biased,” he replies miserably. 

The pacing is just making him more anxious, so he leans against the wall next to you while you finish your makeup and blow dry your hair.

He follows you when you go into your bedroom. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he looks at the floor while you get dressed. Despite having sex, showering together, and sleeping tangled in each other’s limbs with every inch of your bare skin sticking to his, he still feels like there’s moments when he’s not supposed to look. You don’t seem to think anything of it, but it just feels respectful to avert his eyes while you shimmy into your underwear. He hears a zipper going up and your bare feet enter his line of sight. Your toenails are painted the color of dried blood. 

You squeeze his chin with your thumb and pointer finger, encouraging him to look up at you. Corey's only ever seen you dressed up to go out from a distance, or at the end of the night when your makeup has been reduced to a smattering of colorless glitter and you've long ago pulled your sweat-damp hair into a bun. He's a wretched bundle of nerves – he's not sure he's been this anxious since the first day of his manslaughter trial – but even so, he’s taken by seeing you like this, fresh and up close, for the first time. He doesn’t know fashion words but he can tell you’re doing something, and doing it well. For one flickering second he’s glad this is happening, feeling stupid for not joining you out before now. He wants so badly to see you in your element, looking like a model and doing the violent dance you described the first time he noticed bruises on you that he hadn’t left with his mouth. 

As you lean in to kiss him, soft and warm and tacky with tinted balm, Corey wishes he had the power to stop time. To freeze this moment, avoid all the hazards of being asked unanswerable questions or the waitress being so sure she’s seen him somewhere before, to remain safely trapped in your sticky kiss for all eternity like a bug fossilized in amber. No such luck. You pull away and bring your thumb up from his chin to wipe the transferred makeup off his bottom lip. 

“I love you,” Corey says, fearing in his gut it’s the last time he’ll ever get to say it.

“I love you, too,” you reply, and it’s even scarier that it might be the last time you ever say it back.

When you pull up to the pub Corey recognizes it. He’s been here, watching you, parked in the shadows down the street. He’s seen you laugh and toss your hair, silhouetted in the window under the neon Krelborn’s sign, pregaming for a big night, and watched you struggle to sit up straight when you came back hours later to satiate your munchies. 

You parallel park behind an idling Volkswagen Jetta. He waits for you to turn the car off, but you don’t. Instead, the Jetta goes dark and silent. The driver steps out of their car and opens the rear door of yours.

“Good evening, y’all!” Veronica lilts as she slides into the backseat.

“Hello, hello!” You sing back, twisting in your seat to face her. “Veronica Hand, this is Corey Carpenter. Corey, Veronica.”

Veronica leans forward between the seats and offers her hand to him. “So nice to finally meet you!”

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” he says, shaking her outstretched hand. Corey tries to smile a nice, normal smile. He’s acutely aware of his body language, feeling Veronica’s eyes, knowing she’s assessing him already. 

On the drive here he’d asked you if she was interested in true crime. You shrugged and said just the normal amount, as if there was one. When you wanted to know why he asked, he reminded you of what you said the first night he came over. It’s just my friend checking in. She’s nervous about you coming over, 'cause you could be a serial killer or something. You assured him it was a bad joke, and that texting to check in standard even if your date’s vibes are in no way serial killer-y. You quoted one of the films from the teen drama-comedy night you arranged last week, though he couldn’t remember which one. That’s just like, the rules of feminism! You said.

Somehow the conversation failed to make him feel any better, any less like he would be under a microscope every second he was in Veronica’s sight.

“I know you’re nervous so I brought a little something to make the night more fun for everyone,” she’s saying, pulling a small, flat, silver box out of her purse. She pops it open and removes a single hand-rolled cigarette. It’s made with such skill it takes Corey a second to realize it’s a joint, it’s so different from the ones he refused in high school. 

He looks to you and you return his gaze.

“Do you want to?” You ask. 

He scans your face, conflicted. He had a lot of fun smoking with you, but that was in the safety of your apartment. No strangers. And no chance of being seen by the cops.

“We won’t get in trouble?”

You and Veronica both laugh. It stings his already raw nerves.

“The county decriminalized it a couple years ago,” you inform him. “Plus, this neighborhood is super chill. That’s why we’re here.”

“Yeah, this place is a well kept secret, so don’t go spilling the beans.” Veronica points at him. 

Corey forces a little chuckle.

“Okay,” he says, feeling helpless. Being steered towards saying yes makes him realize he wants to say no. He really can’t afford to lower his guard tonight, not even a little bit, not even for one second, but his only reasonable protest was deflated by decriminalization. What other reason could he give to reject Veronica’s hospitality? He’s learned the hard way how poorly that goes over down here, making enemies by accident at work. His only option is to acquiesce. 

Veronica lights the joint and takes a drag, then holds it out between the front seats. You take it from her. The three of you pass it around and the inside of the car clouds. Corey takes it every time it’s offered, despite already starting to feel the way he felt the other night. After a few more rounds you hesitate to pass it to him.

“You doing okay, lightweight?” You ask him.

“Yeah,” he says. “Terrific.” 

If he’s terrific, it’s in the original way of the word – full of terror. He’s sweating and his tongue feels like it’s the size of a hockey puck. His heart beats against his ribs like it’s trying to escape. His stomach turns like it’s being wrung out by invisible hands. You study him for a moment, then pass the joint back to Veronica instead of him, cracking a window. The tiny current of cool, fresh air feels glorious, but it’s not good enough. The car seems to be getting smaller and smaller, like he bit into a cookie that said Eat Me.

Once the joint has burned down too short to hold, Veronica places the roach back in her cigarette case and slips out of the car. You roll the window back up and turn the key. Corey tries and fails to open his door, clawing at it, on the verge of a panic attack.

“Hey,” you say in a soothing voice, putting your hand on his thigh. “If you’re feeling sick, or freaking out, that’s normal. You just went a little overboard. A hotbox is a lot for your second time. Just breathe. It’ll pass in like, 10 minutes.” You lean in and give him a kiss on the cheek. 

Corey’s head pounds. His fingers tingle and he can still feel your lips, like your kiss left a chemical burn. He tries to ask to go home, but he can only produce a barely audible croak, and you’re already closing your door and joining Veronica on the sidewalk. He opens the car door and nearly falls out, struggling to get his footing under Veronica’s baleful eye. He suddenly feels very sure that she’s onto him, that she knows everything about him already. If he lies to her she’ll catch him red-handed, and she’ll tell you everything. She’s going to be a problem , he thinks. 

Veronica leads the way into the pub, to a booth in the back corner. The interior looks like it was put together with a $15 budget. The tables, booths, and chairs, all mismatched and clearly salvaged, cracks in the leather patched over with green tape, rest directly on the plywood subfloor, which has been painted a powdery-looking black. Above the bar, the beer list is written on a chalkboard in cramped, messy handwriting. A single speaker on a shelf weakly broadcasts a song with beautiful, sparkling guitars, and vocals like the singer is being attacked. Corey thinks he might like it under different circumstances, but right now the juxtaposition only serves to set him even more on edge. 

Mercifully the restaurant is almost empty. The only other people are the employees, a couple near the door with their heads together, and a solitary man at the end of the bar with a pint of dark beer in front of him. You and Veronica make small talk. You lace your fingers with Corey’s under the table, and he tries to focus on the sensation of your small, warm hand in his palm while he waits to come down a little. 

A girl brings menus and a glass of water to the table. She greets you and Veronica by name and sets the cup in front of Corey.

“You look like you need that,” she says. 

“Thank you,” he rasps. 

You and Veronica order your drinks and an appetizer. The waitress didn’t give him a straw, so Corey lifts his glass to his lips with a shaky hand and chugs. Then he gets paranoid about having bad manners and sets the glass down, blotting his lips with his hand. Veronica looks at him with raised brows. 

“Cool ring,” she says.

“Thanks.”  

“Pretty unique. Looks vintage.”

“Uh, it was my dad’s.” Corey can’t help but think of the teen movie marathon again, imagining Veronica’s interest as plastic, and as soon as he’s out of earshot she’ll whisper to you that it’s the ugliest effing ring I’ve ever seen . When he blinks his eyelids feel like sandpaper. It’s so fucking hot in here. Has it been 10 minutes yet? 

“Veronica loves vintage jewelry,” you say. “She found some really cool shit at the flea market the other day. There was this Victorian bracelet the seller didn’t even realize was super rare.”

“Yeah, I almost felt bad about how little I paid. Almost.”

“Almost,” you echo, nodding.

Corey finishes his water, drinking more slowly. He can feel it sloshing unpleasantly inside him every time he moves, but he’s never been thirstier in his life.  The waitress delivers him another glass with the appetizer. 

“How long have you lived here?” 

“Year and a half,” Corey feels his mouth say. 

It’s like his brain has been split in two. He isn’t paying attention, the vibrations of the very molecules he’s made of are so loud he can’t focus on anything but that and the washed out, crackling sound of the speaker. Yet he’s giving coherent responses, answering Veronica’s questions before they even register. 

And Veronica asks him a lot of questions. Veronica bombards him with questions.

“Where are you from?”

 He already told you Illinois, so he has to be honest, and when she asks for the name of the town, the part of his brain doing the talking is relieved he wasn’t stupid enough to tell you that too. He just says it’s rural and small, not the kind of place people have heard of. It’s not a lie. No one would have heard of it, if it wasn’t for Michael. Still, it’s a risky move. She lets him get away with it. 

“Do you like it here?”

“It’s better than home.”

“Where do you work?” He tries to be vague but she weasels the name of the shop out of him, saying “Oh, where? There aren’t any VW dealerships in town and my current guy always complains when I come in.” 

Maybe it’s not the car they’re complaining about , half of Corey’s mind thinks.

“How long have you been a mechanic?” “How did you start working on cars?” “Did you go to college?” “Why only for two years?” “What did you plan to major in?” “What made you interested in that?”

When his food is set on the table, the sick feeling he’s been battling since the third time the joint was placed between his fingers is immediately replaced with gnawing hunger. He devours his own meal in record time, all concern about manners gone, before he starts stealing your fries, sliding them one by one off your plate in an attempt to be sneaky. You catch him almost right away, but you just laugh and put your plate where it’s easier for him to reach. Veronica finally lets up when she and Corey both have their mouths full. 

While she’s still eating he starts to feel all the water he drank, and he’s pleased to have an excuse to ask you to let him out of the booth before she can start up again.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

You crane your neck to watch your boyfriend’s broad back disappear around the corner towards the bathroom. “What are you doing?” You ask as soon as he’s gone.

“Trying to get to know your boyfriend.”

“Why are you asking him a bunch of shit I’ve already told you?”

“I’m making sure his story’s consistent.”

“And why are you doing that, Detective?” You’re frustrated. The night hasn’t been terrible, but it hasn’t gone how you hoped at all. You wanted Veronica and Corey to hang out, not play Interrogation. You know she’s not endearing herself to him by acting this way.

“I don’t know.” Veronica picks at the label on the glass bottle in front of her. “He was so resistant to meet me, I wanna be sure he isn’t hiding anything.”

You heave a sigh. “I really appreciate that you’re worried about me, V. You’ve seen me through more relationship bullshit than you should have had to. But Corey doesn’t have any of the red flags that Hurley and Orin did. You can’t make him guilty by association.”

“I’m not! I’m making him suspicious by association.” She laughs. “But I’ll chill.”

“Thank you.”

Over her shoulder you see Corey leave the bathroom and slip out the front door, already pulling his cigarettes out of his pocket

“What do you think though?”

“I haven’t gotten enough from him to really know. He’s pretty… terse.”

“Thinks a lot but doesn’t say much. Remember when I said that was his vibe?”

“Yeah, back when he was just Mr. Library.”

“Also I think we greened him out a little.”

“Oops,” Veronica says with a grimace.

You wait five, ten, fifteen minutes for Corey to come back inside. Veronica remarks on how long he’s been gone, and you’re just about to stand up to go find him when he comes back through the door.

“So,” she prompts as he settles into the booth, on the outside this time. “What’s your sign?”

“Seriously?” You ask with a snort.

“What? I don’t believe in it that much, I just think it’s fun,” she defends.

“I don’t know my sign,” Corey says.

Veronica looks to you, silently asking if you can fill in the gap.

“Um… I don’t know either, I never remember which dates are what.” The statement is true enough, but you’re using it as a cover. A more honest reply would be I don’t know Corey’s birthday . What the fuck? How are you just now realizing you don’t know his fucking birthday? You sink into the booth.

“Well, when were you born?” Veronica asks.

“April 18th,” Corey says. If he realizes this is the first time you’ve heard that date, he makes no indication.

“Ah. An Aries.”

“What does that mean?”

“Aries is the ram. Named after the god of War, ruled by the planet Mars. Aries can be aggressive, impulsive, quick to explosive anger, impatient. They love instant gratification and dangerous situations.”

“Wow, super insightful,” you say sarcastically, rolling your eyes. You want out of this conversation, out of this restaurant, now . You don’t want to process that this is how you found out a major piece of information about the man you’ve been dating for months with an audience. “That’s why I don’t fuck with it. It’s always just a list of mean adjectives.”

Corey tries to take your hand under the table, but you keep your fingers curled under so he can’t slip his between them. You’re not sure if you’re mad at him or not, if you should be mad at him or not.

“There’s positives too! Aries are really passionate. They love a challenge. And they’ll fight like hell on behalf of their loved ones,” Veronica offers.

“Good to know,” you say with finality.

The waitress, your friend Shelly, approaches the table. She looks between the three of you with curiosity, sensing the vibe has changed. “Dessert?” She asks.

“Yes, please,” Corey says.

She lists options, cakes and pies provided by a bakery down the street. Corey asks for a slice of chocolate cake.

“To go, please,” you add.

Veronica shoots you a look across the table.

“Just tired.” You shrug, trying to seem casual.

She doesn’t buy it. The two of you just look at each other until Shelly returns with Corey’s cake in a plastic container. She sets it on the table with a disposable fork and the check. Veronica breaks eye contact to reach for the check, but Corey’s already holding it, fumbling to get his wallet out of his pocket. He hands Shelly a wad of cash and tells her to keep the change. You cross your fingers he’s not too stoned to do the math for the tip.

[marvelcriminalhoe]

The Great War

Chapter One: Pirates

Steve Rogers x Reader Zombie Apocalypse AU

My knuckles were bruised like violets • Sucker punching walls, cursed you as I sleep-talked • Spineless in my tomb of silence • Tore your banners down, took the battle underground

TGW Masterlist

AN: Slow updates for this but here is chapter one. I have been writing A LOT over on wattpad (Have three stories going. Yeesh.) right now there’s a lot of personal stuff going on so all my stories are slow updates. This has been in my drafts for awhile though so thought I would finally get it posted.

Word Count: 2,316

Story Warnings: Zombies. Blood. Gore. What do you expect in a dystopian world. Strong language. Eventual smut. Could contain heavy content or topics, read at your own caution.

Summary: Some called it the end of time, others the zombie apocalypse, but most people called it The Great War— the living vs the dead. At first, that’s how it was split, only two sides fighting. But as the years drew on, the lines began to blur and the world became even more dangerous. When a new group makes itself known in your area, it’s your job to decide if they can be trusted or not. Especially when tragedy seems to strike and a fight against more than just the walkers is on the horizon.

The sound of dripping water echos through the destroyed pharmacy. It’s the only sound outside the quiet shuffle through the practically barren shelves of your search team. This is the only pharmacy within fifteen miles of your camp, and you know this is the last run you’ll be able to make here, having to go farther out the next time. The thought sets you on edge. The farther the runs the riskier they are. But you do what you have to do.

Your camp has rules, especially on runs, only take what you need, don’t horde, and don’t make noise unless absolutely necessary, the walkers are attracted to the noise. You know most people, especially now, take everything and anything they can. But your camp still believes in the laws of humanity. The laws set in place during the beginning of the pandemic. 

1. Water and shelter should be your main priority. 

2. Don’t horde supplies, everyone needs something. 

3. Don’t fight them unless absolutely necessary. 

And the last one, maybe the most important, 4. Do what you need to survive.

The world changed a lot in the beginning. Food, water, and medicine flying off the the shelves faster than demand warranted. This led to the rise of outbreaks as more and more people went looking for supplies, it also led to the start of fights against each other. As time went on, the pandemic turning into an apocalyptic situation, the Great War started and it only got more out of control. Places that were meant to be safe zones got ransacked by pirates, men that wanted to horde and control everything. More and more places became unlivable, making more and more people victims to the walkers. 

Splitting up into smaller groups seemed to be the best option, not trusting outsiders. Your camp was more likely to survive that way. But small numbers could lead to dangerous situations if a walker pack found you. Advantage in numbers always meant more in the end.

Your camp is fairly decent in size. Stationed at an old school, it has plenty of room, buildings, and space. A nice twelve foot fence sits around it, and multiple wooden towers were built for look outs. You have great room for a garden during the spring and summer months. Even growing a few veggies during the fall to stalk up for winter. The school had some Ag barns available too, giving you place for a few cows and goats. You have a couple horses to help around camp too. It’s a nice camp, probably one of the nicest, not that you have a lot to compare it to though.

Your family was one of the first with the camp, helping build it to what it is now only a year into the war. Though just a year later, you were overrun by pirates and almost lost the whole thing. They had disguised themselves as refugees claiming to need safety, to want a home. They used the woman and children within their group to their advantage, but just as you all had let your guard down, letting them into your camp, trusting them, treating them as friends and comrades, they turned on you. 

You lost a lot of good people that night, your father included. He was the only family you had, surviving for that long, only to die at the hands of greedy men. It sickened you. Most of the people left were in the same boat as you, losing family, friends. Left broken by the devastation of not only what life is now, but the grief of never getting it back. When you were able to banned together again, start rebuilding, most turned too you for direction, which lead to you taking on more and more responsibility as time went on. You were able to build up the school again, and now, two years after the initial mutiny you suffered, the basecamp is better than before.

Peter, the other lookout partner in front of the pharmacy, turns to look at you, whispering out and drawing you from your mind, “Do you see that?”

You look out the windows, following his gaze, and see a small movement of a shadow across the way. “Guys let’s hurry it up, we could have company.” You tell the two in the back going through the aisles looking for supplies. 

“Friendlies?” One calls back, making you whisper under your breath as you see more movement, “they’re never friendly.” 

You make sure your gun is loaded before bringing the butt of it up to your shoulder, looking through the scope with your right eye. You can tell immediately that they aren’t walkers, just by how they carry themselves. But there are at least 4 that you can see, all together, which puts you on edge. 

“Alex, hurry it up.” You yell when you see where they’re direction is headed, “We got maybe four minutes before they come in here.”

It takes two more minutes before Alex and Miles finish grabbing the supplies they can find, coming to stand by you and Peter. 

“Is there a back way out of this place?” Miles questions, and you have to sigh, knowing there is, but it’s a longer stretch to get back to the bikes, “Alright, stick close, we don’t need anything to draw attention to our location. I don’t think they know we’re here. Let’s keep it that way.”

You receive three nods from the teenage boys. They might still be young, but they’re the best when it comes to runs, fast and efficient. All of them alone like you after the betrayal. 

At first, when they sort of stuck to you like small ducklings, you found them extremely annoying. Especially when they would beg day after day to get to go on runs and be part of the scout teams. Some days you still find them annoying, but they’ve turned into little brothers to you, and they’ve proven themselves ten fold in their duties. 

The three of you sneak out the back way through the broken door, trying not to step on all the glass and debris around. Going this way, your forced to walk two extra blocks to make it back to the bikes, but when you get into view of them, your happy you had to go this way, as there’s extra coverage than the front offered. 

You put your hand up, stopping the boys behind you as you spot the two men at your bikes. Their weapons are by their sides, hanging off their shoulders as the look the bikes over. You put your finger to your lips before gesturing with your hands how you want the boys to approach, lifting up your gun as they do the same. You flip the safety off. 

“On your knees.” You make your presence known with a gun to the blonde mans back. He puts his hands up, as the other man reaches for his gun, being stopped by Peter, “Don’t even think about it.”

“We don’t want any trouble.” The blond man says as he slowly turns around to face you, you take a step back in case he makes a move for your gun. He’s a lot bigger than you, probably stronger. He stands at at-least 6’5, arms and legs fully muscled. His broad shoulders are strained as he understands him and his buddy are out numbered when Alex and Miles make their appearance. He’s more of a dirty blonde now that you can see him closer, face full of a beard. He has small scars on his face, as most people do now a days from such harsh living, and his eyes are blue, dark like the night sky. 

“So you’ll have no problem getting on your knees then.” Your shrug nonchalantly, face stoic as you keep your gun trained on him, target locked right where his heart should be. You aren't taking any chances, you don't know these strangers. You don’t trust them. 

“Okay.” He gestures with one hand for his buddy to follow his lead, getting on his knees. His friend follows him down, but with a dirty glare on his face. 

“You bandits?” The black haired man spits out, and you roll your eyes at his accusation, considering they were the ones looking at your bikes, “No, just people that don't like strangers touching their bikes.” You gesture with your chin for Alex and Miles to get on one of the bikes, waiting until Peter gets on the other one before climbing on behind him, gun still pointed just in case. 

“We didn’t know they were anyones.” The blonde man reasons as he starts to put his hands down. He watches the four of you curiously and you don’t like that he's studying you. “We wouldn't have come near them if we knew they were someones.” “Right.” Miles scoffs, and you send him a look. Don’t antagonize the very big men, Miles. The teenager just starts up the bike, Peter doing the same. you don’t lower your gun until Peter starts to drive away, trowing it over your shoulders as your arms move wrap around his waist. 

Looking back over your shoulder, you make out that the two men are no longer alone, four new bodies beside theirs, all watching the bikes drive away. You recognize one of them, the short blonde girl, and you realize she was one of the people you saw in the scope back at the pharmacy. 

You face forward again, an uneasy feeling in your stomach that you were never really outnumbering the men. Your stomach churns more at the thought that this might not be the last time you see them. 

“How’d you do?” Jean, one of the nurses at the compound, ask as you and the boys place the medical supplies on the table in the lab room. Alex starts to fill her in on what items you were able to acquire as you instruct Peter and Miles to take the food bags to the cafeteria for distribution. 

You don’t usually make it a habit to do consecutive runs together— food, pharmacy, and base supplies— but you knew this could very well be the last run in that area and wanted to take advantage of it.

“Any problems?” Logan questions you as you put the gun over your shoulder on the table beside him. Logan is fairly older than you, having been in his forties when the outbreak started. He lost his wife and daughter in the beginning before making his way north, running into you and your dad. You traveled to the school together, making it what it is now. He was there for you when your dad passed. You don’t trust anyone as much as you trust Logan.

Logan was in the army before the world ended, having knowledge of tactics and weaponry and all the scars to prove it. His wisdom is beneficial and he's usually the one to train the recruits and over see scouting duty stations and scheduling. 

“Yeah.” You shrug, but he can see your jaw clenched, rising a brow and waiting for you to explain whatever it is that’s plaguing your mind, “We had a small run in with some others but nothing serious.” “But you’re worried.” He summarizes, being able to read you like a book after all these years, “You think they’re pirates?” 

“Dont know.” You shake your head, running a hand over your forehead, “But I don’t think we’ve seen the last of them.” “I don’t know of another camp this far North.” 

And you sigh, because you haven't either, “Thats what I’m afraid off. They're either new, which is entirely plausible, or they’re travelers.” 

“Either one could be a problem.” Logan nods, his mindset the same as yours. 

Whoever they are, you hope they stay far away. 

“You boys alright?” Nat questions Steve and Bucky as her, Yelena, Sam, and Clint make their way over to the two men. 

Bucky scoffs, “You could have come out, what if they had shot us?”

“If they knew they were outnumbered it could have spooked them.” Nat rolls her eyes at the man, “We don’t want unnecessary fights, remember?” 

Steve nods to the girl, “You did the right thing.” “Who do you think they were?” Yelena questions as she watches the bikes disappear. 

“Pirates.” Bucky spits out, venom lacing his voice, but Steve shakes his head, hands on his hips as he watches the now empty street where the bikes once were, “Nah, I don’t think so.”

“Yeah, they were too clean to be pirates. Young too.” Sam agrees. 

Bucky frowns, “The girl was older though, at least in her 20s.”

“Think they have a camp here? Or it’s just them?” Nat asks. 

“Did you see their bags? They were gathering supplies. This was a run for them. They’re probably part of a camp.”

“I didn’t know there was a safe zone this far north?” Yelena’s eyebrows furrow as she tries to think, “I thought the closest one was like 200 klicks from here?” 

“Maybe it’s not a safe zone.” Nat remarks, “Just a small camp.”

Clint nods, before tilting his head, “Maybe. But the stores were basically wiped clean, we got a few things but not much. Wonder how they did.”

“They didn't take everything? They had to have been in there before you guys.” Bucky observes. 

Clint shrugs, “If they were, they didn’t take all that was left.” 

Steve turns over to his best friend, giving him a pointed look, “Doesn’t seem like pirate behavior to me.” 

Sam sighs, “Whoever they were, they’re gone now. And we should get going too. It’ll be dark soon, we need to get back to the others.” 

Steve nods as the six of them start making it back to they’re set up for the night, his mind set on the woman with the gun pointed at him, wondering who she is, and how she's managed to survive this long with three teenagers. 

Maybe they're wrong and there is a safe haven near by. Maybe they don’t have to try and travel another 130 miles before reaching a proper shelter. 

Its a dream, Steve knows that. The likelihood of that being true is slim. But the longer they're traveling, the harder its becoming, and the more restless they all become, especially the kids. He just wants his people, his family, to be safe. 

As safe as they can be that is.