#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.

[penvisions]

gone to the dogs {chapter 6}

Pairing: Boston QZ! Joel Miller x F! Reader

Summary: You and Joel make what you can of the life you lead in the zone, though the thought of more begins to form in your thoughts three years down the line.

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, canon typical gore, age gap (pre time skip reader late 20's and joel is early 40's, post time skin reader is 30 and joel is mid 40's), outbreak fic, degrading language, violence, heated interactions, adult language, fighting, references to injuries, blood, sexual content, rough sex, p in v, smut, unprotected p in v (it's the end of the world, y'all), slight dom/sub vibes, topping from the bottom maybe?, sexual propositions, oral (m receiving), warnings of pregnancy, unwanted pregnancy, references to off screen abuse, references to off screen assault (not reader), non con touching (not joel), mentions of past use of narcotics, illegal smuggling, references to death, lemme know if i left any out!

A/N: hi and bye (not back to posting on a regular basis yet but wanted to share this with y'all)

ao3 link || series masterlist || navigation || joel miller masterlist || ko-fi

The ground beneath your feet tears up with the force of your running steps, panic and terror making you numb to the amount of noise you’re making as you try to escape from the man who had separated you from everything you had ever known. A shock of violence for your quiet group as they had settled for the night just as the sun began to dip below the horizon. The image of Frankie being slammed into the ground hard and the breath knocked out of him burned into your mind’s eye. Of everyone, the few still left scattered like bugs underneath a log that was plucked from the earth.

They had come out of nowhere, ambushed your little group a mere five miles out from the zone that you had escaped from at the first sign of trouble, of change. It had only lasted two years, the initial set up for protection and mutual residence. Safety in numbers, safety in routine, safety in working together to preserve what worked from a time past and figuring out what worked in the current time.

But it all deteriorated. You had witnessed it with your own two eyes, the fall of what people clung to, the fall of what little relic of civilization had tried to survive. Frank hadn’t wanted to go, always believing that things could get better, that they wouldn’t fall, that people were good.

He had been convinced when you told him about the officer that had cornered you and tried to force himself on you in exchange for a few extra ration cards. His stuff packed in less than a day and a group of three others who he was on friendly terms with quickly gathering supplies when you showed up at their doorstep.

You had been torn from him, voice hoarse from shouting out at the rough treatment. Distracted by the violence that had befallen your group, territory being protected, and people seen as a threat. The pack of food and supplies was ripped from your shoulders as a man took advantage of your shock, of your shouting for someone who wasn’t you. It was the last time you were ever that unaware of your surroundings. It was the moment that changed the trajectory of your life, altered the very person who you were supposed to be into who you would become.

“Now you listen here and you listen good, little girl.” The man’s breath was ragged as he leaned in close and pressed his hands into the soft give of your chest. Fingers curling in a suggestive manner. “You’re either gonna let me have my way with you or you’re gonna be of some other use. Don’t need no one who can’t earn their keep.”

“Then let me go.” Your eyes look past him, to where Frankie is being thrown to the ground underneath the persuasion of a shotgun. His hands are shaking, held up in front of him. Looking straight at the accomplice of the man who had set his sights on you. A spare glance from both of them, then the man is smirking before turning back to Frankie and saying something that steals all the color from his face.

“Not on the table. We got two jobs for you, it’s your choice which one you’re willing to do.”

“Neither.” You spit into his face, the hold he has on your arm tightening and beginning to sting, your skin smarting.

“Cheeky bitch,” His palm is sharp where it lands on your cheek, stinging. He roughly jostles you, pain blossoming. Throwing you to the ground, all you can do is try to keep the trembling of your bottom lip to yourself and the tears watering your eyes from falling. “You’ll learn to respect me, that’s for damn sure.”

He laid himself over you completely, face far too close, his hands running up and down the length of your body. They lingered in places they shouldn’t, fingers dipped underneath the waistband of your jeans and then settled again over your chest where he feels it in his palms roughly. Moving to caress your face, he croons at how young and pretty you are, unsettling your stomach and rousing bile in your throat. All you can do is force your mind to blank and hope that the others got away…

You feel the same tendrils of fear now, as your boots beat into the ground now. There’s an eerie feeling about the early morning as the rising sun paints the sky with deep pink and orange hues, the distant screeching of possessed beings chasing after you. The safety that’s slowly diminishing as you rush around chunks of concrete and avoid spokes of rebar reaching for you.

Joel isn’t by your side, having pivoted when a clicker ended up between you both. There was a meet up point, in case of separation. That’s where you were headed, even as you hear the runners behind you gain speed at the harsh breaths, you’re unable to silence as your lungs burn.

Your pack catches on the corner as you round a building that still remains standing, the fabric ripping and the contents inside spilling out. You trip on a canister of coffee, the roll of it just right to be wrong and you feel yourself begin to go down. A monstrous snarl is far too close and you don’t even think to look back as you use your hands to push off the side of the building and then shove off the pack, goods be damned. Your life was more important.

He would understand, you know he would, but you still lament the loss of the pack.

You’re suddenly pinned to the ground, a heavy weight on your back uprooting your center of gravity.

Snapping teeth and a deep, guttural snarling fills your ear and drives your heartbeat up to a painful notch. Your hands scrape on the earth beneath you as you plant them as firmly as you can and arch your back to throw off the weight. Gnarled, spindly hands rake down the back of your jacket but the lack of nails on the tips of the infected’s fingers allows for you to buck them off of you directly. As soon as they land beside you, they lunge, crawling toward you on all fours in a terrifying scramble.

The gun you had lays between you both, the safety off. Kicking out, the heel of your boot makes a sickly crunch when you land a hit on the side of the infected’s head. The action pulls out a grating howl but gives you enough time to scurry forward for the weapon and as soon as it’s in your grip you’re pulling the trigger once, twice, three times before the thing collapses on its front and goes silent.

But you don’t waste a second, you don’t think you even take in a full breath before you’re back on your feet and running once again. You can’t see the others, but you can hear them, can sense them honing in on the gunfire and their steps are loud as they careen to where you had been just moments before.

You only watch with bated breath as you hear the distant sound of echoing footsteps from end of the hall. The door to the stairwell pushes open, creaking for the barest of seconds until a single hand curls around it, securing a hold on the handle just so and lifts the door slightly to relieve the tension on the hinges. It’s quiet as it slowly swings open the rest of the way and Joel’s form steps through it.

Your stomach swoops and the tense ball of fear and concern eases in your chest. Because for all your snapping teeth and biting words, for all the brandishing threats of your knife and the deliberate pointing of the barrel of your gun, the power in your decisions – you do have fear. For him to transform into something even you couldn’t bring him back from. From him simply disappearing from you in a heartbeat and you’d be left with nothing but a body that was once warm and housed his soul.

Sucking in a breath to center yourself, you watch as he traverses down the hallway, carefully avoiding the little traps and deterrents you’ve set up over the years. Once he’s cleared the distance and through the door to the apartment that is the hideaway and meet up spot, the door is closed and locked securely behind him.

His hands are scrabbling at you, reaching and pulling you nearly flush to him. Joel’s expression is hard, but behind his eyes you can see the worry and concern that he’s feeling. The steel gray that streaks through his dark hair is more apparent in the sunshine that filters in through broken windows and crumbling walls of the hotel lobby. Prominent in his sideburns, the scruff along the curve of his strong jaw, and the dusting of hairs across his chest. There’s water that has built up over the years, from the rain that trickles in, green with a thick layer of film over the top. It’s not an adjustment anymore to reach for him when you’re overwhelmed, though your voice and instincts betray you in snarky comments and biting rebuttals all the same.

“You did good,” He rumbles, voice breathy as he pants to regain the air in his lungs. He had taken longer to make it to the meeting point, but he was here. He was okay. You feel the harsh beats of your heart begin to calm, your own breathing beginning to even as you wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face in the crook there. His large palms are sliding down your back as he kneels. Hooking underneath your thighs as he hauls you into his arms, guiding your legs to wrap around his waist.

“Nasty scratch there,” You notice the bloody line cut into the skin of his chest, where his shirt is unbuttoned at the top, his undershirt gone- it’s hanging back in your shared apartment on a drying line from when you had washed it a few days ago. Yesterday’s run was not supposed to drag and turn into an anxious and long overnight stay in the ruins of the city outside of the zone. Not supposed to be a loss, but a win for the collection that steadily grows between two apartments and three partners.

You knew things were getting worse, but this was the first time any run had fallen apart in such a fashion in a long while.

“It’ll heal, they always do.”

He’s littered with them, from runs and trips and even an altercation or two with Bill over the years. But he’s fine, he’s more than fine. He’s…he’s strong, capable, a force to be reckoned with. A big, silhouette of a man that no one would dare to mess with. He’s really come into himself more, defined a clear-cut way of business that he’s taken a more invested front in. You still head the smuggling, the deals, the runs, dictating when and where he and Tess need to be. But he’s definitely the muscle of the operation, the one that people deal with the most.

He's bowing to press his lips to yours in a bruising kiss, spurring hot sparkles to dance along your skin and mingle with the sharp adrenaline that pumps through your veins. Teeth nip sharply at your bottom lip, at cut of your jaw, the column of your neck as he walks you toward the small bedroom at the back of the apartment.

It’s desperate, the way he’s dropping you down on the aged mattress and grasping harshly to flip you onto your knees. It’s depraved, the way his thick fingers undo the buckle of your belt and the fly of your jeans, tears the material over your ass and shoves it to bunch around your knees. It’s reverent the way he skims his palms down the small of your back as he hikes up your shirt and trails them along your sides, feeling the handles of your hips that make him dizzy, the curve of your backside, the ticklish skin of the back of your thighs.

You can’t help the moan that floats from you when he drags his knuckles over the swollen apex between them. But he doesn’t take his time, this round, as you hear the clink of his own belt being undone you can’t help but arch your back more for him. He let’s out a small, breathy fuck as his attention focuses on you and you alone.

The rounded head of his cock is striking as it glides between your slick folds, his skin fire that catches and burns through you in the most delicious way. He’s sliding into you, taking the moment to slow down and catch his own breath, his fingers bruising as they hold tight around your hips.

“Take it.” Joel grunted, hips slamming into the back of your thighs. The heft of his body behind every powerful move pressing you into the creaking bed. The frame was little more than a board of plywood set up on some concrete blocks. The mattress is far too soft from years of use. But it didn’t matter, the only thing that mattered was that he was upright and breathing. It was enough of a comfort in the hiding spot deep in an apartment building that still stands. The windows barricaded and the hallway lined with makeshift sensors to alert of anyone the second they open the stairwell door to the floor. “Such a good girl for me, letting me give you it to you like this.”

His hips slam into you, knocking you forward and one of your hands out from under you. A deep, guttural sound heaves from your chest at the new angle. As you’re bent and arched in a way that allows him to drive even deeper, to fill you even more. The thick feel of him has you fluttering around his base, your clit throbbing at the pleasure that crawls over your skin in a hot sparkling sensation. “Always love to see this thick, fucking ass ripple. How you let me do what I want, give me the chance to show you what you mean to me. See the way she swallows me into her tight, slick heat. God, you always feel so good. Better than any pills, better than any drink.”

He’s never been loud, at least excessively, but the mouth on him lately has even your head spinning. The walls he had constructed around himself lowering when he shared his space and body with you. When you shared your own with him.

You reach into the front pocket of your pants, still bunched around your knees. Taking a pack of travel tissues out and a single one from inside as you move to wipe yourself clean of his drying spend. Behind you he gets up to his feet as well, his thighs protesting the movement, his knees twinging at the weight of him standing. The barely audible pops and cracks of his body realigning itself after the rather intense actions catch your ear as much as it does his. A small groan rumbles deep in his chest as he gathers his breath, face turning away from you as he reaches down to rub at the bends of his knees.

“A little too much for you, hmm?” You needle, unable to help the saccharine coo from your voice as you turn around onto your back and look down to the end of the bed. Your chest is rising, heart racing and body singing as you still feel him all around you, his touch a brand into your skin.

“Ain’t enough, actually.” His teeth glint as he brandishes them at you before leaning over you to playfully nip at the end of your nose. Your eyes light up as a raspy giggle sneaks up from somewhere deep in your middle, the glint in his eyes sparkling as he takes in the mirth his action drew out.

“You say that, but your knees seem to want to argue that.” You lean up, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing completely against him. He groans as your unclothed hips meet his, the press of your still slick skin against him where he hadn’t tucked himself away just yet. Another giggle sounds in the air and he’s mumbling underneath his breath, knowing that you’re trying to get a rise out of him with your taunting. He steps back, putting ample space between your burning bodies before he thinks better of it.

He’s approaching, eyes zoned in on the tissues in your hands as he comes up in front of you. You don’t try to hide your smirk as he snatches the small pack out of your hand, lips curling in an ill masked grimace before pulling one free from the plastic.

His hands are shaky, the adrenaline of the separation and then rather…enthusiastic reunion is draining, leaving him a mess of shot nerves. Cooing, you circle him and back his large frame up to the edge of the shitty mattress until his calves are pressed up to it. Locking eyes with him, you place a hand firmly on his chest and push him to take a seat. He does so willingly, body losing some tension as his backside sinks into the fabric.

“Why don’t you let me clean you up?”

“Already got this,” Joel tries and fails to fight off a yawn as he waves the tissue in front of him. His teeth snap shut with a clack as you kneel in front of him, shoulder your way between his knees, and press a caste kiss to the still swollen head of his half-hard cock where it bobs in his lap. The jingle of the belt he had re-looped is loud as his hips jerk, oversensitive where his pants had barely been pulled back up over his hips.

The pack of tissues falls to the ground as you wrap your lips around him and lick your own release where it saturated his entire length. A testament to what he does to you, what he still does to you with a single look. Casting your eyes up through your lashes, you can see the way his own flutter as he struggles to keep them open and trained on you. His eyes snap open wide when the hands trailing over his middle beneath his shirt caress the jumping muscles in his thighs, one wrapping securely around the base of his cock and squeezing while the other sneaks between your legs.

His deep voice rattles of endless praise and encouragement as you both find another crest together.

You move to pick the pack up from the ground, but his hand pulls you toward him. The action is too quick, your legs too weak for the sudden movement, and you stumble into him where he’s still perched on the edge of the mattress. His hands cup your backside, thick fingers digging into the skin as he holds you in his lap, your hands tight over his biceps for balance. His chuckle is dark as he murmurs something about wanting more time to see how much he can really tired you out before he’s leaning in to kiss you deeply. The scruff about his face is a soft hush against your skin but you revel in the feel of it.

Rough movements for a rough man.

The pressure of his hands disappears for a moment before he’s bringing them down to smack his palm to the flesh. Gasping, you look up at him to meet the playful look of shock on his rugged features.

It morphs into a smirk, eyes calculating as he watches whatever crumbs he can glimpse of your thoughts across your face.

It’s not uncharted territory, it’s not uncommon ground, the crackling intensity of shared desire. It’s a facet of your life now, hidden between the seedier parts of survival, fending for yourself and protecting what was yours every minute of every day.  The physical connection you found with Joel is equal parts exhilarating and daunting. A reprieve of the harshness of life in the zone, but it could just as easily turn into damnation alongside everything else.  

You lean forward and kiss him deeply, his lips bruising as they move against yours again and again.

He sneaks a hand underneath your chin and nudges your face up more. Eventually he pulls away from you and something different swirls behind his eyes that has your heartrate pick up again. Something you see more of as the days come and go.

There’s a depth to them, beyond his hidden emotions and easily displayed ones, as if he was feeling the minute shift in the air that was beginning to take place. One prompted unwittingly by the thoughts that were beginning to tumble inside your brain, one in particular more than others. The idea was a silent one, a personal one. A way to get out, a way to make your own little bubble away from it all. To be more like Bill and Frankie. You think his own mind may be on the same wavelength or that he at least senses the yearning that is beginning to glow in your chest.

“All you gotta do is ask and I’ll oblige.” The words are whispered, like it’s a secret that they exist. Only for you to hear and only this far away from the place you both begrudgingly call home. You duck your head, to hide the small glint of teeth that betrayed a satisfied grin, his eyes catch it anyway and he dips down to nip at your bottom lip in a teasing manner.

You could feel his eyes on you still, as you detangled from him with a lingering caress to his neck, his muscles twitching at the soft touch. His dark eyes always watching as they took in the way you jiggled a little to get the waist of your jeans back up on your hips, the movement making your chest bounce in your tank top.

“Hmm, sure know how to fill ‘em out.” He’s reaching to trace a finger along your collarbone, thoughts swirling in the brown depths of his beautiful eyes. Watching, cataloguing, cautious and on alert every second of every day. “Zone’s getting worse, with the change of the season.”

“Medical bay is already rationing the antibiotics and steroids. Hell, they have been but it’s more apparent as this…strain of flu or whatever wreaks havoc.”

“Don’t want you gettin’ sick.” You hear the unspoken sentiment in his voice, the worry he holds as you had shared with him one night that you have recurring nightmares of suffocating as your body works against itself. Tries to fight off sickness only to be too weak. He hadn’t understood at first, when you whispered it to him. He had thought you were worried about being Infected, of the cordyceps, which you were. But you had explained that you meant you were worried of finding your death in something simple, something completely preventable. Something that would reveal just how weak you were, how human you were.

He had fallen silent, when you explained it. You hadn’t pushed him to share his own nightmares and he hadn’t dug any deeper into yours, but you know he thinks of the exchange often.

Once you were both fully dressed, he pulls you into a tight hold that you wouldn't classify as a hug, but for him it was. You huff as the air is squeezed from your lungs. Your body tenses for a millisecond before relaxing and bringing your arms around him, around his middle. You rest your head on his chest, his chin going to rest atop it. You squeeze him back, just relishing the fleeting casual intimacy.

Knowing it was only a moment and the gruff commands and barks of words would resume the second you both stepped out from the abandoned building. The way he acted in public so drastically different from how he softened when he was alone with you. It had been years, since that first explosive argument and then whispered plea to let him take care of you, it had been a long journey to get to this point and you’d be damned if anything threatened the life you had made for yourself. The life you had made with the man you leaned into willingly and wholeheartedly.

Sickness plagues the zone, from the youngest to the soldiers. It’s nasty, the strain of influenza, and stronger than the medication that has begun to wane in potency the longer is sits in bottles and foil packets. There are no more shots to take, no more antibiotics or narcotics of medical grade. Unless you were willing to pay big, and even then there was no guarantee it would save you.

There are so many bodies to burn each day, you know it and Tess knows it. But Joel doesn’t speak about it, just wordlessly enters the shared apartment and immediately showers after his shifts. Emerges in cleaner clothing and makes a beeline for the hooch you keep hidden underneath a loose plank in the floorboard. Today is one of those days, he’s off at work to earn enough ration cards to make the deal of getting you and Tess medical attention to combat the sickness you’ve both come down with.

Eventually the sickness has found itself at your doorstep, catching you and Tess by surprise even with the extra caution you both exhibited around others. Makeshift masks, excessive hand washing, but it wiggled its way into your immune systems all the same.

It's been two weeks, neither of you able to work or do much beyond organize trades for him to do until dark. Both of you losing weight, with hardly any appetite and fevers that wane in intensity.

Despite feeling like the very little food you had been able to keep down all day was making its way back up your esophagus, you push yourself up from the couch where you and Tess had been going over inventory of all the items hidden in both your apartments when a soft knock sounded on the front door.

Getting a knife into your palm, a small security, you peer through the cracked peephole. A moment passes as you watch the young girl on the other side of the door fidget in her spot, looking down both sides of the hallway before down back at her interlocked hands in front of her. She looks vaguely familiar, like the girl that Joel had once given a thick handful of ration cards one random day and then every two weeks since then. The same girl that you see around the mess hall and on job sites that have to do with the more lightweight work to ensure the zone keeps up in operation.

He hadn’t said as much, but you know he watched out for her. Tried to prevent her from falling into the seedy dealings and scene of the zone that grew bigger each year. The trade of skin for ration cards and goods, for food, for protection too prominent a life for girls and women alike. Their bodies simply another thing they could offer up in order to survive another day. But you know she’s on his radar, though she had yet to set foot in your apartment or Tess’s.

And you didn’t think it was sexual, you trusted him on that front. No, it was born of a need to protect and prevent, much like the way he watched over you and Tess. Another part of the pack that he deemed important. You had asked, once when you first noticed her eyeing him up across a crowded street, if the older woman recognized her. All she knew was that the girl used to work in the speak easy sometimes frequented. That was years ago now, but you always made sure to save a portion of anything you managed to bake from the sorry excuse of supplies the cards still got you. For Joel to give to her, the errant thought of having her move in with Tess was unspoken but on all three of your minds the worse things got.

“Yes?” You crack open the door and peek through the space, but you’re opening the door completely and ushering her in as you spy the tear tracks that stain her delicate face. She’s so young, you realize, a decade younger than you for sure, two more than Joel. You idly wondered the reasoning behind his soft spot for her, but then you realize whatever spurred it also spurred the one he has for you.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know where else to go. And M-Mr. Miller said to come for him if I ever needed help. Is- is he here?” You turn back to look at Tess, her own curiosity controlled into an even expression.

“He’s run out for something after his shift, are you hurt?” You close the door firmly behind her. Securing the lock in place and taking a deep breath before you reached out to touch a gentle hand to her shoulder. She cowers, a small whimper escaping from between her pale lips. “Do you need immediate aid?”

“N-no, just…bruises that are fading,” She rubs at her shoulder, thin hand reaching up and exposing her wrist and the mottled skin there. Your eyes narrow at the sight, Tess equally, is focused on the girl now.

Fuck, she couldn’t be more than twenty…

“I-I don’t know how I was even going to tell him, so it’s probably good you two are here…” Her voice trembles, fresh tears trailing down her cheeks.

“What is it-” Tess starts, cautiously stepping into the kitchen as you usher the girl into a chair. Her knees knock together as she struggles not to bounce them or cross one over the other. The stilted way in which she pivots her hips tells you more than she had verbally so far and your chest pangs for her. Kneeling down, you gingerly place a hand on one of her knees and assure her that she’s safe here with you both. That she can tell you as much or as little as she is comfortable with, but that you need her name and at least a direction to move in.

“Jean, my name is Jean.”

“Jean, is-who did it?” You can see it in the way she’s moving, the healing that her body is still attempting to do. The bruises that have nearly faded along her neck and the way her eyes cut to every sound that neither you nor Tess caused. The older woman stands at her full height at the shift in your voice from cautious and on edge to thinly veiled anger. “Who hurt you?”

“I-it was one of the guys who I used to work for in the speak easy. He…he cornered me one evening after my shift at the kitchens. He-he-” She breaks down, her sobs creating a valley in your chest that you recall heaving yourself once upon a time. “He did this.”

Something is thrust into your hand, thin and long and plastic. You glance down at it, surprise and anger fighting for purchase as your chest blooms with something akin to fierce protection.

It’s a pregnancy test. And it’s positive.

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[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Commission info!

I'm just going to give you a few pointers, I love your work. I entirely believe whatever you write I will love but can we please include these loosely. Go mad, change it about but something along these lines...

They have always looked out for each other from day one, she always checked in on him and made sure that he was okay and he did the same for her, they always had each other's back ever since the quarry. I don’t want it to be Daryl not being able to tell her that she loves him and the same for her for him if that makes sense. They both know that they love each other dearly and are fully aware of this but neither one of them likes the intimate stuff, the sex, the making out etc. They’ve shared sleeping arrangements before, cuddled, held hands a couple of times but they have never approached the subject as they were both scared about the thought of it or didn't feel the need to. But since arriving at Alexandria there’s been people flirting with one or the other, or making comments, or odd looks etc and it has been getting under their grill and realised that it really bothered them that they never actually made anything official either marriage or whatever but they can’t communicate about it because they’re both as awkward and as broken as each other and have this self belief that everything they touch just ends up in destruction. They end up on angsty terms and shut off from each other then something happens to either the OC or Daryl to the point of either almost losing them, something sparks between them and they decide that actually they do need to make it ‘official’ and shout it to the world. 

I hope that helps but either way let your creativeness flow my dear, do whatever you would like with it.

I know I’m going to love it <3

Fluffy-Dixon Commission

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Typical TWD violence & gore; allusions to smut

You loved Daryl. Daryl loved you. A sentiment that was never spoken but communicated nonetheless. You didn’t need words with him. It was almost as if you never did. The ability to read one another without speaking came naturally from even as far back as the quarry. Those days didn’t really seem like that long ago anymore, time bending and bleeding together as you struggled to just survive. 

The quarry, the Greene farm, the prison—a natural progression of something unnamed. It didn’t need a title. The two of you just fit. Stolen glances, smiles, and even holding hands while on watch. It just felt right. Given that the touches and gestures were reciprocated every single time without the slightest protest told you that it felt the same to Daryl. 

Eventually, you started sleeping in the same cell. There was nothing beyond holding one another, coaxing the stress from your bodies with simple touches that no amount of sex could ever achieve. No one questioned it, though no one really questioned any form of happiness anymore. It was too fleeting. 

“Today sucked.” You would whisper, nuzzling your cheek against the hollow of his throat. 

“S’over now.” He’d reply, fingertips dancing down your spine. 

It was an unplanned, nameless perfection. 

Carol had jokingly referred to you as an old married couple once, and while you didn’t get angry, it did raise several questions. You began to ponder things that had, until that moment, felt ordinary. You had never compared your relationship with Daryl to that of Glenn and Maggie or Rick and Lori. 

Such an innocent statement had been the birthplace of so many doubts. Should it be something that was made official? Should you talk to him about it? And then the prison fell, your combined grief straining whatever it was the two of you had. Though once you had been reunited with your family, things seemed to return to normal. 

Except the lingering thought that you should be doing more. 

“Don’t know how I feel ‘bout this place.” Daryl was perched on the chair just adjacent to the door of the house you, he, and Carol had been assigned, his legs outstretched for his crossed ankles to rest atop the railing. Whittling away at bolts, he didn’t bother to look up when a long time resident called out a hello. 

“It’s not so bad.” You smiled at your notebook and the run list you were creating. The archer grunted. He didn’t trust it. “It’s hard to get used to, I know, but Rick says—”

“Hey, Y/N.” 

Your gaze slid over to the steps, the one you had come to know as Spencer smiling at you from the walkway. “Oh, uh—hey.” The man had been watching you from the moment your group had arrived, his hungry gaze following you with a piercing intensity that made you a little more than uncomfortable. 

“So, the party is tonight.” He lifted a foot to the first step and you saw Daryl’s knife hand still from the corner of your eye. “I was hoping you would accompany me.” Your eyes blinked wide, dancing between the two men. 

“I—well I wasn’t planning on going.” You laid the pen and paper aside, placing your hands on your thighs. 

“Oh, come on, pretty lady. It’ll be fun.” 

Your eyes flitted over to watch Daryl’s hand tighten around the hilt of his knife. Was he just being protective? Was it something more? The questions you tried so valiantly to ignore rose again to the forefront of your mind. 

“M’a go talk to Rick.” The archer spouted suddenly, dropping his legs and standing. He was down the steps and on the walkway before you could manage to say a word. 

Spencer watched him leave, a visible tension draining from his form. Once Daryl was out of sight, Deanna’s son turned back to you with a smile that made your stomach turn. “So, about that party?”

You glanced over his shoulder to Rick’s front door. What would it hurt? Daryl wasn’t attending and making friends couldn’t be such a bad thing. If Spencer wanted more, you would simply set him straight. 

“Yeah, I guess so, but as friends, okay?”

The look he gave you filled you with instant regret. 

“Friends. Sure.” 

Oh boy. 

The gathering itself was a success, introducing you to some of the community’s residents while you gained a bit more knowledge about the history of Alexandria. It was Spencer’s relentless advances that had ultimately driven you to abandon the party early. You had acquiesced to one dance, yet that had been enough to send the wrong signals. 

“Daryl? Are you home?” You called, awkwardly removing the high heels from your aching feet. Of course they would give you the most uncomfortable shoes known to man. You’d definitely be sticking with your boots from that point forward, fancy dress or not. “Daryl?” Tired and more than socially drained, you wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed with your archer and let your stress melt away into the mattress while secure in the safety of his arms. 

It wasn’t meant to be. 

Daryl wasn’t there. It was unlikely he had left the walls. Unlikely but not impossible. So, you shuffled off to change out of the outfit you’d be given and into your familiar attire. By the time he strolled into the house, you had fallen asleep on the couch. 

“Hey.” You croaked, wiping the sleep from your eyes. Daryl glanced your way and offered a jerk of his chin in greeting. “Where’d you go?”

“S’it matter?” He huffed. It almost sounded bitter. 

“I guess not.” You warily watched him move around, the air growing thick with tension. “Just worried, that’s all.” He laughed ruefully, a sure sign that he was ill at ease. “Daryl, are you okay?”

“Dropped by the party earlier.” He cleared his throat. “Didn’t see no reason to stick around.”

Uh oh. 

“Oh.” Why did you feel guilty? Nothing had happened. “You hungry?” You asked, realizing the ridiculousness of the question when there were other obvious pressing matters that needed to be discussed. 

Daryl stopped stripping off his gear to spare you a sidelong glance. “Nah.” That wasn’t what he wanted to say, that much was clear, but he refrained. You felt your heart shift and twist uncomfortably. 

“Daryl, I think we should—”

“M’goin’ to bed.” And then he was gone, loud steps echoing from the basement stairs until they were muted thuds that were followed up by the loud slam of his door. You weren’t welcome in the room that night. 

Wiping angrily at the sudden tears on your cheeks, you cast your gaze to the stairs leading up to the bedrooms, suddenly exhausted. In fact, the thought of trudging up to the extra bed was a feat you weren’t sure you could accomplish. Lowering onto the couch, you sniffled and closed your damp eyes. 

Sleep wouldn’t find you that night. 

“We should—” The words were cut off by a mighty yawn, drawing Daryl’s unwelcome attention. His expression alone spoke volumes. 

“S’the matter with you?”

As if he had to ask. He knew you better than anyone, like the back of his hand. You hadn’t rested, fitfully tossing and turning on the couch the previous night, missing the warmth of his arms and the sounds of his breathing. 

Knowing you couldn’t start a discussion that might lead to foolish mistakes, you heaved a sigh. “I’m fine.” Keeping your eyes downcast, you pushed open the passenger door and climbed out, heading toward the main entrance of the mall. A succession of slamming car doors followed. 

“Y’ain’t fine.” Daryl fell into step with you, pulling his crossbow from his back. His eyes, squinting against the sun, remained glued forward. 

Neither are you, you wanted to say. Still, you pressed onward. “Let’s just get this done and go home.” You chose instead, picking up the pace to leave him behind. Arguing with him wasn’t new by any means, but this—tension, it was new. It was different. It felt much like the stress that passed between the two of you after the prison. The questions, the doubts. 

“Y/N!”

You shook your head when you heard him call. You couldn’t deal with that confrontation at that moment. There were supplies to find, there were walkers to avoid and—

You didn’t even realize how close the teeth had come to your shoulder until you felt the sting of Daryl’s bolt slide across the back of your neck to pierce the young woman’s skull. Hand slapping over the cut the projectile had left behind, you spun to watch the body topple sideways, your eyes wide. 

“The hell were you doin’?!” 

Your brain had yet to catch up, your lips moving with mere silence the only result. When Daryl reached you, his weapon clattered to the ground, leaving the others to watch your backs.

“I—”

“Ya just stood there! Why didn’t—goddamnit, Y/N!” 

Your hand jerked away from your neck as you were yanked against his chest, face squished until you managed to maneuver your head just enough to breathe. 

“I’m sorry—I—”

Daryl sniffed above you, roughly letting you go and stepping away. He had turned away from everyone, arm moving to appear as if he might have been wiping at his eyes. “S’get this done.” He snapped, jerking his arm in a vague motion to beckon you. “You’re stayin’ with me, y’hear?” 

You nodded, though he couldn’t see, and picked up his bow for him. After he had taken it, he stomped toward the entrance, barking at you to keep up. 

How could you have been so careless? You’d allowed your thoughts and worries to cloud your judgment, blind you to danger. If Daryl hadn’t been there, you’d have been dead. Now things were worse between the two of you. He stalked ahead, his shoulders tense and frame trembling. Did you dare try and smooth things over?

“Got somethin’ here.” He suddenly spouted, rocking back and forth with the toe of his boot pressing into a creaking floorboard. He glanced at you, eyes narrowed in a silent request to watch his back. You jerked your chin in a nod. Crossbow placed next to him on the floor, he crouched and used his knife to pry up the board and reveal a bag beneath it. “Bingo.”

“What’s in it?” You inquired, looking to him for a reply and then back to the door. 

“Meds. Some granola bars and Spam.” He shoved the sack into his satchel. 

“Trip was worth it then.” You were smiling when you turned to him, your mouth turning down when you were assaulted by the expression he donned. He was stricken. 

“Worth it.” He looked down as he stood, licking his bottom lip before chewing it in earnest. “Nah, Y/N. It weren’t worth it.” Squinting, he shook his head and brushed by you. “We’re done here.”

Sighing heavily, you rubbed the towel over your damp hair. The day’s grime had been washed away, swirling down the drain to keep your tears company. Daryl hadn’t spoken a word to you the rest of the run, not on the drive back, and he had disappeared the moment the car had been parked. 

Pulling your sleep shorts up to rest on your hips, you reached for your camisole when there was a soft knock on your door. You were once again in the upstairs room, giving Daryl his space while suffocating in your own. 

“Yeah?” You pulled the garment over your head and stepped out of the bathroom, narrowing your eyes at the entryway. 

“S’uh—” Daryl cleared his throat, the sound muted by the wooden barrier between you. “S’me.”

Your heart fluttered before it sank. Another argument wasn’t something you were confident you could handle, but you couldn’t just turn him away. Padding across the cold floor on your bare feet, you turned the knob and opened the door enough to lean against it. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He was already rubbing the back of his neck and shifting from foot to booted foot. He was anxious. “Can we, uh—can we talk?” He requested without so much as a glance at you.

Not tonight. I’m too tired. “Of course.” You ignored every possible excuse to avoid the conversation. He merely grunted and squeezed by you with care not to touch. 

And that hurt. 

“What’s up?” You asked with feigned nonchalance, sitting down on your bed. Daryl paid extra attention to the furniture and the things you had taken with you from the basement room. 

“‘Bout today—”

And there it was. “I said I was sorry, Daryl. I was distracted.” You felt your eyes burn, wishing you could say so much more. Tell him you missed him, that you loved him. “It won’t happen again.”

“Yeah, I know.” His tone was solemn and it dawned on you that he didn’t seem angry at all. He turned toward you, taking a moment to chew on the side of his thumb. You hated when he did that. You hated anything that caused him discomfort, especially the things he did to himself. “S’my fault, ain’t it?”

You blinked, saucer-sized eyes following his hand as he lowered it. “Your fault?” 

“Just—” You tracked him as he began to pace. “Just saw ya with that prick at the party an’ I—” He stopped, fists clenching before he shook them out and continued wearing a trench into the floor. “I thought—weren’t we—nah. I shouldn’a come up here.” 

The confusion muddling your brain had yet to wear off before you were on your feet and stepping into his path to effectively block the door. “Slow down, Daryl.” His mouth opened but snapped shut with a click of his teeth. “Say what you mean.” You pleaded in the calmest tone you could manage while numerous sentiments twisted in the pit of your stomach, tendriling out to wrap around your heart like a vice. 

“Dunno what I mean.” The defeat on his face, the utter bemusement in his eyes tore you to pieces. It also refueled every burning question that had befuddled your mind into nearly getting yourself killed. 

“Daryl.” For some reason beyond your comprehension, you hesitated with your open palms just in front of his chest. C’mon, idiot. This is Daryl and he— Your train of thought nearly derailed, maintaining just enough contact with the foundation to urge you onward. “Daryl, if I said that I loved you, what would you say?” Your hands finally made contact.

He reeled back a fraction of an inch, his wide eyes mimicking yours from only moments ago. “I, uh—”

“I’ve always thought that you loved me.” You dared, your hands sliding over to settle on his ribs. “I know we’ve never really—decided that we were—”

“Sure, we did.” He cleared his throat, hand traveling toward his mouth as he inhaled. You caught his wrist before he could begin to gnaw on already abused skin. “Mean, I thought we—”

You smiled and released your grasp, content to allow his hand to rest on your waist instead. “I love you.” And you held your breath. Blue orbs danced and sparkled, scrutinizing you and your declaration. 

“Y’sure?”

You didn’t hesitate. “Very.” 

Your first kiss was everything you had expected and all you could have hoped for: sloppy, inexperienced, yet so passionate and honest. Daryl’s teeth clicked into yours, uncomfortable but still inspiring a giggle that had him smiling against your mouth. A real smile. A unicorn in a world that had lost its magic. 

And it stole your breath, precious oxygen that you weren’t sure you found again until you settled on the bed beside him, sweat-soaked, sated, and more in love than you ever thought was possible. 

He never said the words but you had all the answer you needed. 

You were his. 

He was yours. 

And even if he turned beet red each and every time, you’d shout it from the rooftops. 

[evilvvithin]

FOR THE COLLECTION

pairing: asa emory x f!reader warnings: stalking, violence, description of blood and gore, Asa is cute few times that's a warning in it's own, smut but faintly words: 4,421 summary: When he first saw you, Asa thought you'd make a nice piece for collection, but not exactly in the way as other unfortunate victims - you'd be his perfect final piece.

notes: One shot fic but could be turned into multiple chapters later. I made multiple time jumps in this without specifically describing it but i like the story telling it creates. I really just wanted some Asa so started writing and writing and.. :) AO3 link || masterlist (pls don't read my old fics i am not proud of them)

It was finally the day - the day when a huge art gallery opens in your city. You were eager to go as you loved art and everything around it, not even caring all your friend turned you down on the invite at the last second. Despite them all coming up with various reasons as to why they can't make it, you knew they just didn't want to come - it was boring to them. They didn't appreciate the art. It wasn't disappointing though, you expected to go alone, again.

Losing yourself in the paitings for what seemed like hours, inspecting every single brush stroke and techniques, you were so lost in yourself and the art you didn't notice a man constantly following behind you. You've noticed him in the gallery before, but nothing really stood out about him - he looked very ordinary, but well groomed and kept overall, dressed in a simple black suit. 

He loved the way you stood in front of each display for long, making sure you saw every detail in it. The perfect imperfections. The perfections. You looked so peaceful standing there alone - the world around you disappeared. You tend to do it a lot, but he already knew that as it wasn't the first time he saw you at grand opening like this one.

“Fascinating, isn't it?” He nonchalantly said right behind your ear. 

You jumped, heart raced a little, looking at the man observing the painting now standing right behind you. 

“How they created such masterpieces without all the modern technology. Masterpieces that live forever. They were geniuses. All the years and no one could beat them to it.”

You smiled at the man, nodding. “I agree. I just can't get enough of it despite seeing the art so many times. It feels different every time you look at it.” 

“This one especially is my personal favorite.”

“Oh, same!”

The two of you looked at each other, excitement pouring out of you. You were here alone, mesmerized by the art - so was he. He was quite attractive now that you focused on it - casually looking but clean. Simple, attractive man with smooth yet sharp facial features. 

His phone beeped and after checking it quickly, he sighed annoyingly. “Have to go.. but would love to chat with you about art more.” 

You felt the heat running to your cheeks. His straight forwardness took you by surprise. 

“I-me too. Yes.” You mumbled out hoping he doesn't notice your awkwardness and reddish cheeks.

He himself felt a little awkward despite presenting himself so confidently - his way of getting girls usually didn't include talking to them trying to impress them or invite them out. 

“Can I have your number, then?” He smiled and handed you his phone in which you typed it. 

“People usually exchange socials and stuff,” you said and returned his smile.

“Oh, yeah. I myself find phone numbers more.. intimate. People don't hand these out publicly like their socials.” He let out a chuckle as he saved the number you gave him. The chemistry between you two was almost visible in the air. “See you later.”

“See you!”

What. An. Interaction.

Watching him disappear around the corner your heart pounded as if you just realized what happened, but you were definitely going to give it a shot and meet him. If he actually called you later as he said that was it. While you hoped he would actually invite you out, you couldn't shake the feeling it was just another fail. Maybe you were too awkward and he was going to rethink his choices later or it was one of those guys just collecting numbers anywhere they go. 

Oh, you were so wrong.

Taking a deep breath, you decided to ignore all that happened and focused on the art again. 

Later that day just when you got out of the shower and were ready to sleep, your phone vibrated on the nightstand. Your eyes widened in excitement as you saw an unknown number on the screen - must've been him. It was a text message, short and simple, inviting you for dinner at a nearby restaurant, with a wish of good night to you at the end. 

Maybe this could work out. Maybe good things were finally happening to you. 

Looking forward to it. Good night - you replied and giggled. 

The date went so good you refused to believe that it was actually real. 

He brought you flowers, somehow knowing exactly which ones you liked and what color. The food was delicious, the atmosphere magical, the tension between you only growing and more exciting. 

Not only the first date, all the other dates you two had were unbelievably good and enjoyable. Asa Emory, as he introduced himself, was smart and talkative once you get to know each other more. He felt comfortable with you and enjoyed his time, making him almost unable to stop talking. He was a professor - his way of talking sold it out before he even told you. He knew how to capture attention and what to say at all times. You could talk about anything for days and never get tired or run out of topics. It felt like match made in heaven.

You learned he was an entomologist later, right before you two started to date officially. You had an idea he had something to do with bugs when you saw his van, at which he had “Deratization” logo. Sometimes when he had time he went around and cleaned people’s houses from the bugs he liked so much. He restrained from telling you, scared you'd back away and feel disgusted, but the more he got to know you the more he knew you weren't so easily squeamish. Your love of horror and terrifying stuff in general might've been weird and off putting to many, but he loved that. You had that morbid curiosity in you, it just needed to grow to its full potential like when a cocoon turns into a butterfly. Though you weren't fond of bugs, you didn't completely despise them either. He thought maybe over time he could get you into the beauty and fascinating world of those little things. 

You also loved his dogs, German shepherds; he had a great taste in everything. Anyone loving animals as much as he did was a good person in and out. Asa used to be so childish around his dogs but at the same getting little annoyed when you spotted him.

“I like moths,” you told him once at a night ride through the city and he laughed for so long. 

Everyone loved butterflies if anything, but moths? Not so common. 

Oh, you were perfect.

Moths, the creatures of the dark and death, yet so fragile and beautiful. 

He was intrigued by you whole. In his eyes deep down you were just twisted as him, but unlike him you didn't let your creativity go free - yet. 

Despite all the tension and strong chemistry between you two since the very beginning, you didn't get physical till later on into dating. It meant way more to both of you, more intimate. Almost like you wanted to just fully enjoy the growing lust, enjoy every single bit of the act itself later. You've never felt so naked infront of anyone before like before Asa. It was so sensual, wild, but also incredibly sweet and romantic. He made you feel like you would crumble into pieces, your whole body shaking as he took care of you - in and out. He felt like exploding every time you touched him, the way you wanted him and lusted for his touch like no one ever did. The feeling that you needed him. 

You visited him at the college often, sneaking into his office room having fun often. Both his room and his house were full of colorful exotic insects, framed carefully behind a thick glass. It made you feel uneasy at first, especially all the giant spiders, which he found funny, but you got used to it pretty quick. They were quite fascinating after all, you had to admit. 

One day you decided to surprise him at his house. Knowing he was teaching till the evening, you timed it so you'd arrive at his place shortly before he would. Buying some snacks and wine on your way, it was unusually cold that evening especially as it was getting darker. You just hoped he wouldn't be late. 

Of course he was. 

You regretted not asking about his work that day even though it would ruin the surprise. With your ice cold hands turning white and purple ish, you checked the time again. Either you go home or use his spare key he told you about. Despite you being together and treating each other's houses as your own, it didn't feel quite right to you to just enter without him knowing. The dogs knew you already of course, not barking or growling, just tipping their little beans on the floor behind the door eager to greet you, their tails aggressively wagging. You waited a little longer anyway, but not seeing any sign of him and your legs starting to shake from the cold, you reached to the plant pot and dug up the key. 

A weird smell immediately filled your nose upon entering, making you gag and cover your face. A mixture of chlorine and alcohol that sat in the house as no windows were opened the whole day. You never smelled anything like that there and while thinking it was weird, you simply brushed it off. It must've been his etymology thing - sometimes he prepped his own display or cut them open to study them. After giving attention to the puppies, you prepared the snacks and wine on the table in his living room, still unable to get rid of the chlorine smell despite opening the windows for a while and decided to investigate. The density of it was stronger upstairs and near the basement. 

When will you be home?

You texted him and immediately received a response.

Work's busy today, it might take a while. Why?

I have a surprise for you.

I'll come as soon as I can. 

Asa squinted his eyes at the screen thinking about what surprise you had in mind. It didn't take him long to realize the reason you asked when he was about to be home was because you were waiting for him there - it was the most logical reason in his head.

“Fuck.” He let out through gritted teeth, jaws clenching together.

You just had to choose this exact day to come over. This exact day when he was working on his collection. He planned to show you his little hobby eventually, with your consent or without it - didn't matter. He was nearly certain you'd do it all willingly and be on his side, help him create the collection. He didn't even plan on actually falling for you when he saw you for the first time, but now that he wanted you to be part of his collection? Part of his journey? His life? 

Sitting in his van all in black with a custom balaclava mask on, a muffled screaming echoed from the back as he punched the wheel. Screams of a young woman stuck inside a little box - a second piece for his collection that week. The first box was already in his house, hidden in the basement with thickened walls in case anything went wrong. Asa did some work on the unfortunate man earlier that day after telling you he's at work. The guy made some mess and he had to clean it up, now wondering if the smell inside the house dissolved already. He turned his head to the back of the car and hissed loudly, making the muffled screams stop. 

Tonight was going to end only in two ways. He cursed silently and started the engine. 

When he arrived at the house and tires screeching cut the silence in the neighborhood, he saw a very faint warm light coming through the windows. Taking his mask off and running his hand over his eyes in an attempt to get rid of the black coloring, he rushed inside the house not thinking twice. The black around his eyes now smeared but still there and squeezing the mask in his fist, he looked like a maniac. Inside his house was quiet, nearly uncomfortably quiet. The table in the living room decorated with wine glasses, bowls of snacks and candles, giving the entire room the faded warm light he saw from outside. 

But where were you?

Your shoes were left right next to the door so you must've been still inside. The dogs didn't rush to the door to greet him - yes, they adored you, sometimes he was jealous. Asa stood still for a few minutes, carefully listening to any noise you or the dogs could make. His patience shortly after rewarded, he heard some faint rustling down below his feet as if a heavy object was being pushed around.

The box.

Rushing down to the basement stairs through the doors you left open before, he found you there exactly as he thought he would - trying to move the box around to open it. 

“Oh, you're here.. Do you smell it?” You said and inhaled the chlorine air again coming strong from the box. 

“I had to clean some mess in the morning. Thought it'd be gone by now,” Asa replied and laughed nervously. “Rather unfortunate the smell is still present. Can't just leave my windows opened while I'm gone.”

“It's horrible, I couldn't even get it out by opening the damn windows - arhh it's so heavy!” You finally let go of the box and looked up on him. “Oh wha- what's all that on your face?” 

He smeared his eyes again with his hands making them similarly black. You couldn't hold your laughter when you imagined it's one of those non washable body make-up and he would have to go to work with the black around his eyes. He laughed too, it must've looked comical without the mask on. 

“What's that?” You pointed at the balaclava in his hand.

“Ah -  nothing. Just a mask. Why don't we go upstairs and have a great night? As you planned?”

While that was your initial idea and the reason you came here, now that you discovered the smelly box you were dying to see what's the source of the awful stink. And why did he have a damn mask on top of all that?

“Yeah we'll go,” you nodded. “After I check the box.”

Reaching down towards the lock his hand flew to your arm to stop you, pulling you harshly backwards. He stood between you and the box now, walking towards you making you back off till your back was pressed against the wall. You let out a moan as the air got pushed out of your lungs. 

“Or how about we have a great time right now right here?” Asa's voice all low and whispery. 

“How about you put that mask on?” You smirked, not fighting him at all.

He grinned - of course you'd ask something like that, you fucked up little thing.

You felt how wet you were getting just from the way he held you locked in one place, his weight pressed against your hips. He placed his knee between your legs and brushed against your core, making you whine and already almost beg for more. Now with the mask on and the black paint covering any skin that'd be visible otherwise, he looked quite sinister - at the same time so hot. You didn't care about the chlorine smell anymore, you didn't care about the wine or snacks, you didn't care why even he was dressed like that with a balaclava. 

There was nothing else except you and him at that moment.

The whole set up and weirdness of the entire evening made the act between you two only stronger - you've never felt so eager to feel him before, not even the first time. To fill you up. There was something fishy about it all, but with each thrust of his - hitting your pelvic - the thoughts were disappearing; soon your mind just blank and your eyes unable to focus on anything. A chill running down your spine feeling his hot breath at your neck, his hands gripping you harder and harder with each sound you moaned out. He felt you slipping under him, his own legs getting shakey as he was close to finishing while you moaned yout his name.

God, you drove him crazy. 

He was so happy when you just passed out on the couch - time to finish his business silently. Couple glasses of wine should make sure you sleep deep. It was even colder outside now; his sweaty skin and clothes from before only made it worse. The second he opened the back of his van, the box shaked as the woman inside kicked around helplessly; yet she was silent other than that. A dose of narcotics made her body go fully limp. Asa chuckled to himself - her vocal cords were probably dead by this point. No one could hear her outside the van, as long as the cloth was deep down her throat; and he made sure it was. Yet, some people still tried to scream not realizing it's to no effect. He found it amusing, fascinating even. The lengths the human beings go when faced with pure survival. He wanted his subjects to obey, but not give up. 

Shuffling the box inside the house, he found you in the same position as he left you with your shallow, relaxed breathing. Tucking it right next to the other box in the basement, he locked the doors carefully, saving the key in his pocket. Tonight ended up differently than he planned at first, but it still met one of the scenarios he expected - you just not finding out anything.

You never asked him about that night, about the face paint, the mask, the boxes. The next day when you woke up they were all gone together with the smell. Asa himself never mentioned anything himself. Obviously. In his head, it didn't matter if you asked or not because eventually you'd knew about it all. When? Didn't really matter. He felt you were already ready nevertheless, but he was still waiting for the right moment. 

Days, weeks, months went by. 

When there was a chance, you two spent all your time visiting galleries or at his place. Sometimes you wondered if he gave up his hobbies except teaching since he had so much free time for you - not like you minded, you enjoyed every single minute of it. During that time, numerous TV news stations reported a serial killer on the loose as some missing people were found dead, again. He always laughed and said you were safe with him, nothing would ever happen to you when he's with you so why pay attention to the news? You didn't pay much attention to it at that time when it came on the news.

Not until the police knocked on your own apartment asking about Asa. 

“He was with me, yes. All the time.”

“Are you sure?”

“Excuse me?”

“It is known you two are in a relationship, ma'am. Don't cover for him.”

“I am not covering up for anyone. I'm telling you he was with me at that time. We were at the grand opening.”

“And what about here?”

“That was our date at the restaurant.”

“Alright.”

“What's going on? Why are you asking all these questions?”

“We can't share much details while the investigation is still going on.”

“Is it connected to the murders?”

“We can't -”

“So it is. You think Asa did it?!”

“Well, he is one of many suspects in this case. Anyway, that'll be all. Thank you for your time ma'am.”

Your mind circling back to that one night where you discovered the box, the chlorine smell. Asa with his mask dressed all in black, black paint around his eyes. The random times he had so much work and then almost none. The latex gloves you found in the trash later but didn't think twice about them. Grabbing the phone you were about to text him, but thought it'd be safer to just meet him face to face. The police could've been monitoring phone activity of both of you. You didn't even bat an eye at all the weird connections and the police coming to you - all you needed was to talk to Asa first.

Standing in front of his front doors, it took a while before he pulled up with his van. He gave you a confused look at why you were outside in the cold. Without a single word you just got in, taking the passenger seat and motioning to him to drive - and so he did. You didn't care where you were going. After a while you sighed and asked: “Did police contact you?”

He didn't seem surprised or anything. “No, why?” He replied casually as if you talked about the weather.

“They came to my apartment a few hours ago. Asking about you. Asking about where you've been on specific days and times.”

He was silent, focusing on driving. 

“Did you do something?” 

He clicked his tongue at the question as if he was annoyed. So that was it - the time he shares everything with you.

“They said you are one of possible suspects for the disappearances and murders,” you continued, gaze fixated on his unmoved side profile. 

He turned the wheel and stopped in front of a huge abandoned warehouse, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. Loud barking started, echoing sharply through the silence of the night. The entire place was like a ruin, the building itself half destroyed. The barking got louder and louder and you saw two german shepherds running towards you, recognizing them immediately. 

“What are they doing here?” You asked and got out of the car to greet them. 

“I bring them with me when I'm working.”

You paused for a moment, your fingers buried within the dog’s fur. “Working?”

That uneasy feeling creeped up on you, realizing you might not know Asa as much as you thought you did. 

“Please-”

“Wanna see my collection?” Asa said suddenly and reached his hand out, which you took without hesitation. 

“I'm confused, you know.” You sighed and followed him, his dogs running around causally familiar with everything. It was their second home.

Despite everything, you trusted Asa. You loved him and always stood by his side and you didn't plan on changing that. Approaching a rusty metal door, you saw like 6 locks hanging at the frame - what could possibly be inside that it needed to be so safe? The dogs squeezed in and ran into the distance, disappearing down the hallway; they were certainly familiar with everything; so was Asa. Following the dog's path, the familiar chlorine smell hit your nose. It wasn't strong at first, but the deeper into the building you got, the stronger it smelled. 

“Is that blood?” You looked down on the floor. 

He remained silent, holding your hand tighter. The uneasy feeling shot through you again like a wave; putting the pieces of the puzzle together you started to think his hobby wasn't only etymology and art. Entering a well lit room, you felt like you walked into an ongoing mortuary. The room looked like a morgue, even having the freezer boxes in the wall. A bloody mess of what seemed like a woman before was spread across the silver table in the middle of the room. Your stomach didn't twist, nor did you jump. You just stood there with an emotionless face, observing. The longer you looked at the mashed redness the more you doubted it was actually a woman. 

Asa on the other hand observed you, his whole body tense and ready if you tried to do anything stupid. He was pleasantly surprised seeing you not panic or scream at the scene in front of you. Leading you to the shelves on the side, you were met with a bunch of live tarantulas inside glass jars. You shivered a little seeing the 8-legged freaks crawl inside and Asa couldn't help himself but laugh. 

“That's what gets you?” He kept laughing. 

Next to the spiders were more jars but filled with various body parts in a liquid. From eyes, tongues to fingers - you name it. Your heartbeat raised once your sight landed on a jar with a woman's head inside, more likely belonging to the bloody mess you've seen just a few seconds ago on the table.

Asa still waited, still doubted you were so nonchalant about everything - maybe you were only playing it. “So?” He whispered, not letting his eyes off you. 

You didn't say a word - you were speechless, as if in a tranz. Letting him lead you further into the warehouse, you were surprised how well maintained it actually was on the inside. He clearly spent a lot of time here. Finally you entered a big hall, followed by the dogs wagging their tails happily. The entire room had a blue tint, every bit of it filled with giant fish tanks full of - something.

“The Collection.” Asa said proudly and his hand flew across the tanks showcasing his artwork.

You had to admit - there was beauty in the morbidity. The creativity and sense of detail that went into every single corpse was phenomenal. There you were once again - losing yourself in art, forgetting the world around you existed, just like the day Asa laid his eyes on you. Torsos sewed together with 4 pairs of arms or more. Two headed legs. Half skinned people with their ribs decorated. You went from one tank to another. Some of the faces - if they had one - you even recognized from the news. 

“Beautiful,” you whispered, making him smile in delight.

He knew you were the one. Since the beginning.

Asa was never really touchy or cuddle type, but now he hugged you tightly and held you for so long, not wanting to let go. You were his masterpiece, the final piece to the collection that didn't need to be any modified to be perfect - just as you were. His collection was far from being finished though, but with you by his side? 

He felt like the collection was already whole.

[mushies-stories]

Not leaving this one behind

chapter one

Slasher!Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley X F!Reader

summary: Simon moved to America after retiring and had taken up serial killing and stuff and you caught his eye. Simons been realizing some things about himself and he's sure your just what he needs.

warning: murder, gore, suggestive, no smut yet, kidnapping

word count: 3142

Happy Halloween

The sun was finally setting and you all seem to have found ways to entertain yourselves. After a long day of walking around and seeing the nature around you and taking some pictures of rivers and waterfalls and whatever else caught your eye, you were about ready to rest the second you stepped back into the camp.

You chose to bring a few books and picked your favorite out of the pile. You settled for being inside the camper while the others set up tents and partnered up. You figured it would end up this way, not like you minded, reading or finding something creative to do was enough enjoyment and you were just happy to get out of the house for a while. So cozied up on the bed with a thick blanket and your book was how you chose to spend your time. 

About two hours had gone by of no one coming into the camper for some reason or another and you were starting to get a little worried, it was getting late and you even heard a sound from outside. You mark your page and place your book on the bed and to the door. You slip your boots on before exiting the RV. 

You shivered as you stepped into the night air. Looking around there wasn't a sight of anyone and the fire was just about out. You shuffle over to the firepit and gently place a few logs in. pulling out your phone you check for any messages but there's nothing, and you have no signal. 

Something felt wrong. 

You take a deep breath and choose to go down the right bath path. There's only two ways out so it was likely someone had to be down either of them. 

Using your phone as a light you follow the windy path and look for any sign of somewhere your friends could have gone down. “Jess? Molly, anyone out there?” you try to be loud but it was starting to get more cold and creepy the farther you got and you were starting to get really scared. “C’mon guys it's getting late.” you try again, a bit louder this time. 

A noise to your left startles you. 

“Y/N?” a muffled voice says your name. 

You head in the direction of the voice. “Andrew, Is that you?”

“Y/N, dont-” Andrew starts to say.

“Don’t? Are you-”

“RUN!” His voice is raspy and breathless.

You stop in your tracks and freeze. There was no more sound from Andrew, it was silent again. You didn't want to over react, what if this was just a prank? You were always the more gullible one in the group, you were teased more often than not. “Are you messing with me andrew? You ask and take a few cautious steps forward. You don't make it far however, just at the edge of your phone's light you could see Andrew. He was laying on his stomach, eyes wide and looking right at you. He was covered in blood, it looked like it was coming from his back the most. You took a step closer, your own breathing becoming uneven. He was dead, you knew it. 

What you hadn’t noticed was someone else in the dark with you, circling you and getting closer without you even noticing. Simon stopped you right when you turned to flee. You ran right into his chest with a soft thud. You stumbled back a little and looked up at the man in horror and recognition. Now in a different mask that covered almost all of his face with a horrifying skull on it. 

You remembered him. How sweet he thought.

“You… I don't understand.” you take a step back and then another. He follows your movements and steps forward, but with much bigger strides than your own. You turn and start sprinting and to your utter surprise were not caught yet. You figured someone his size would snatch you up in a second but you had to try anyway, right? But he hasn’t, you didn't even hear him running behind you. You chanced a glance back and saw nothing nor did you hear anything. Really weird you thought. 

It took awhile but you managed to find the RV again after getting lost not taking the same way back. Slowly and quietly you snuck around it to the door. It was still closed with the lights still on and the fire was once again dimming. You didn't waste your time on it now, instead you slowly crept onto the RV. It didn't look like anyone had been in there. Everything seemed as it was before.

“HELP” 

You make for the door but before you can reach it Jessica comes flying in. 

“Jess, oh god what happened?” you rush to help and lock the door behind her before helping her to the little bench and table. 

“Some masked freak, he,” he sucked in a breath and clutched at her side. Looking down you can see her clothes were stained with blood. “He fuckin stabbed us.” she finished. 

You shake your head in disbelief, this can't be happening. “You're hurt right? Maybe we should take a look at that before we do anything.” you say, trying to think rationally and stay as calm as you could. 

“Fucking bastared, Andrew better be fine.” Jessica curses. 

You look at her but can’t bring yourself to say it. She noticed something in your features and knew something was wrong however. 

“No… he’s fine isn't he?” she asks, wanting anything but to hear the truth that was written all over your face. You wanted to lie but you knew it would do no good too. You slowly shake your head and avert your eyes, unable to bear the sight of your friends' lives falling apart all at once. “Damnit! What the fuck is going on, who is that guy?” she's shaking and more blood is soaking her clothes. 

“Okay, let's get this looked at.” you instruct her to move her arms, not wanting to waste any more time.

A bang on the side of the RV startles the both of you. 

“What the fuck?” Jessica shouts in a whisper.

“Sshh.” you shush her quietly. 

Another bang near the back. 

“He’s fucking with us.” Jess whispers, you shush her again. 

You sit and listen but there's nothing. After another moment you hear someone try and open the door but the lock stops them. You let out a sigh of relief too soon because the sound of the door being unlocked makes your heart almost stop right there. The keys were in the RV when you left, so that means he managed to get here before you did and swipe them. You both stay still as the massive masked man fills up the space of the entrance. 

“Fuck, i cant die Y/N im sorry!” Jessica yells before pushing you up and straight back into the killer. She turned  and ran for the back of the RV and behind the bed where there was a small window just big and long enough for someone to squeeze out of. 

You stumbled right into his arms and the hold he has on you gives you no wiggle room to get away. You look up at him with horror in your eyes as tears begin to form at the corners. “Please don't.” Were the only words you could manage to rush out. You were in disbelief, you were in the arms of a killer and your best friend just threw right at him. The man doesn’t say anything. Instead he crouches enough to lift you up by the legs and fling you over his shoulder, causing you to let out a very audible squeak. 

You were tossed onto the bed next to your friend who was still struggling with the window, only getting it about halfway open before she was being dragged from right beside you with a scream. She reached out for you but it was too late, she was already hitting the floor before you could get there. You almost go after her, but then the image of her pushing you into harm's way plays and you freeze. You watch as he drags her away and lifts her with a hand on her neck. The skull mask makes the whole scene look even more terrifying to witness as he pulls a knife from his vest out and brings it to her face. She tries to scream and reach out to you but you can't seem to make yourself move. 

When you looked up to the masked man again he was looking back at you, watching your reaction. 

“Pl-ease He-” Jessica tried to say but the grip on her neck was tightened. 

In the blink of an eye the man had plunged the knife right into the side of Jessica's head. You can't hold back the screech you make when it happens, or your reaction to crawl as far back onto the bed as possible. You shook and watched as he tossed her body out the door before turning to face you. He took up so much space in the RV even with being across the thing.

Simon can't help but think about how cute you looked. Dirt from the woods and your friend's blood all over your sweater, shaking like a leaf. You were perfect and everything he could have asked for. He wanted you, the thought taking up a now permanent spot in his mind. He needed to bring you home, no more leaving what he wanted behind. 

Slowly he took those long strides to where you sat still in fear. His eyes were trained on yours the whole time until he was towering over you as you cowered back, as far away from him as you could be. “Please dont… dont hurt me.” you plead, tears now staining your cheeks. This was it, it was all too much and you couldn't run anymore. The killer reaches for your ankle and pulls you back down the bed towards himself. He yanks your boots off and now what was your once white socks are now covered in bright red. 

Simon can't help the way his cock switches at the sight of your big glossy eyes staring up at him in horror. He noticed how you pulled at your skirt to make sure you stayed covered after he dragged you. Your cardigan was falling off your shoulders, you were too scared to move to even fix the garment. Simon reached down and wrapped his large gloved hand around your throat. You flinched and squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for him to start choking you. Once again the monster of a man surprised you and no harm ever came. Instead he seemed content to just rest his hand there enough to move you a little better just so he could see your face. You slowly blinked your eyes open and shuddered a little when your eyes met his. They didn't look like the eyes of a psychopathic killer, they looked calm and almost… warm. You shake the thought out of your head. No, he was a killer, nothing warm about that. 

Something in Simon told him he needed this, needed to be close to you, to touch you. His cock was getting hard just looking at your adorably frightened face. Slowly his hand starts to slide to your chest, dirting the exposed flesh of your collar bone. You stiffen even more as his hand makes it to your breasts, staining the light fabric of your shirt. He smirks at how much you're shaking, so scared but letting him touch you like this. If he keeps going he doesn't know if he’ll be able to leave you, he's tired of leaving what he wants behind.

Your breathing was getting even more unsteady, you were starting to panic. 

In a solid and precise motion Simon had picked you up, taken your spot on the bed and placed you straddling on his lap with your face buried in his chest. One arm held you close by wrapping around your lower back and the other rubbed soothingly at your upper back. You were effectively trapped against him. 

You stay as still as possible, even though with how much you were shaking made it actually impossible. Why was he holding you like he was comforting you? Was this some kind of trick so when he did kill you it was more fun? 

“Not gonna hurt ya.” The masked man tells you. His voice is deep and a little raspy with an accent you weren't expecting”

You peaked up at him with a little curiosity. “Why… why not? I mean... My friends.” you try and say but finding the words is becoming difficult. 

Simon looked down at you, his eyes void of emotion. “There was no reason for their lives to be spared. Why, ya feelin left out love? Wanna join those friends of yers?” he asks, a hint of teasing in his tone. 

You shake your head as more tears slip down your cheeks. “No, please, I don't want to die.” you tell him with a soft sob. You grip onto the front of his vest.

Simon chuckles, It's unnerving and sends a chill up your spine. “Didn’t think so. No, I think I gotta take ya with me.” 

Your eyes widen even more. “What…” Your voice is hardly a whisper. 

You feel his hand run up the back of your neck and his fingers tangled in the hair at the base, forcing you to stay in place with a firm grip. “I keep havin ta leave sweet little things like ya behind. Think the universe was giving me a sign when ya stepped off that camper.” He says, not making any sense to you at all. 

“I don't understand, why take me? I wouldn't be of any use, right?” You squeak out.

“Oh but ya would be.” He confirms. His other hand slipped under your ass and gave it a gentle squeeze. Just enough to have you letting out a shaky breath. “Be good and no escaping or trying to kill me and you’ll even be treated very well.” to add a little emphasis he pulls you in closer by the hand on your ass and rolls his hips up a little. You can feel his bulge pressing against your clothed pussy. 

You shutter a little but keep any sound from escaping you. Your brain tries to make sense of everything going on but with his hand continuing to message and squeeze your ass you find it difficult. You were scared but the way he was embracing you was almost comforting, even his scent aside from the dirt and blood wasn't bad. He smelt clean and natural and being in the woods and near the fire gave him an alluring scent. 

His other hand let go of your neck and reached behind him. You see a gun being pulled from  some holster and pointed behind you. You flinch and cling closer to the killer on instinct and in return he wraps his free arm back around you to keep you secured to him. 

“Y/N? Are you really sitting on that fuckers dick?” You turn to see Zac practically crawling inside. 

You try to move, to go to him and defend yourself but the hold on your waist is too strong. You shook your head and looked panicked between the two men. “No! That's not what's going on!” you start to tell him.

Zac coughed up some blood. “You know Molly's dead right? And I guess you saw Jess huh?” he seethed. You watched as he pulled himself to the driver's seat and reached for the side door.

“Zac, I didn't do anything, I swear.” you tried to reason with him as you struggled against the masked killer.

“Shut up! You're lying, look at you!” he shouts as he struggles to find something. When he did however it was useless. As soon as he pulled back and Simon saw a handgun he shot Zac right in the forehead. 

You couldn't help it, as soon as the gun went off you were clinging to the man holding you hostage once again. This time you buried your face into him as much as you could and your hold on his vest was like steel. 

You shook and cried against his chest. He tried to be soothing, cooing and patting your head. “Alright little one, gotta calm down and get yer things.” He told you after a few minutes. He figured he could wait to tear those clothes off of you for a bit longer. He may be a killer but he's not an animal, not when you were just what he's been needing. 

You look up at him with watery eyes and a little pout. “Where are you taking me?” You ask, voice hoarse and quiet. 

“Home Y/N, you’ll be comfortable, just be good yeah? Now get yer stuff.” He says and lifts you to your feet to stand in front of him. Even when he is just sitting he’s tall you notice. You don't move, not sure exactly what you're doing or how to react. Should you run, or try and fight back? Would it even matter, he was so much stronger than you and clearly knew what he was doing out here. “C’mon love, I'm trying to be nice. Grab whatever ya don't want left behind and put yer boots back on.” He instructs with a pointed gesture of his head. 

You nod slowly and reach for your boots. Once they are on and adjusted you turn around to find your duffel bag. Once you do you come back to the bed and reach around the man for the book you had been reading earlier and slide it back in your bag. “Okay.” you say. Having everything you came with now packed back up for wherever this man’s home was. 

He stands up and takes your bag from your shoulder. He reaches into your pocket and takes your phone out and tosses it into the pool of Zac's blood. “Alright, let's start walking.” he says and guides you out of the RV. You avoid looking at Zac and Jessica as you pass by their dead bodies. It was going to be at least a few days before anyone would probably even notice their bodies. 

“It's about a five mile walk, watch yer step and stay close, got it?” he informs you. 

“Okay.” you say softly. You looked into the dark woods and shuddered. What was going to happen to you? And then your dark and cold walk began with enough time for you to think about every horrible thing that could happen.

~thanks for reading~

[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.

[hippiegoth97]

Rainbow in the Dark

Collage by me :)

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Description: A few months after Eddie's death, he's resurrected by Vecna and recruited to destroy you and the rest of the group. But you're able to get through to Eddie, breaking the spell with the power of your undying love for him. The two of you make up for lost time, and he vows to betray Vecna and help you save the world.

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: smut, male reader, vampire!eddie munson, gay!eddie munson, gay!reader, character death (and resurrection), semi-graphic mentions of blood/gore/body parts/organs/other grisly things, vampirism, blood drinking LGBTQ references, oral sex, anal sex, lots of crying, angst

A/N: This story contains dialogue from Stranger Things season four for context within my story, some of which has been modified. The credit for said dialogue goes to the Stranger Things writers, the Duffer Brothers, and Netflix. I only use it for entertainment purposes, I do not own Stranger Things or any of its characters, and I do not profit from my stories.

Word Count: 14.6k

divider by @strangergraphics

Rainbow in the Dark

It's been a little over six months since you lost the big showdown against Vecna. Well, you know Nancy got him pretty good with her shotgun, and Robin molotoved his ass to a crisp. But in the end, it certainly feels like a loss. Vecna isn't actually dead, just severely injured, but you know he'll be back any day now. Max is still down for the count, lifeless in a hospital bed. Lucas hasn't left her side, refusing to give up on her. He barely sleeps or eats, blaming himself for her ending up like this. Most of the people have left town after the earth split open, evacuating as Hawkins has officially been deemed too cursed to live in.

The people still here carry on hunting for Eddie, despite your gang's efforts to convince them of all the upside-down bullshit. He's still being blamed for all of it, the killings, the 'earthquake', the world turning gray from the cracks in the earth. Dustin is a wreck, wracked with guilt over losing his friend. And everyone else is just barely keeping shit together. The upside-down has poisoned about half the town now, the plants are all dead, and any animals left behind have mutated into demogorgon hybrids. Day by day, you lose another battle as more parts of town have to be marked as 'dangerous and toxic'. The worst thing about all of this? You’ve lost the love of your life. Eddie Munson, resident freak, is dead.

You'd been secretly hooking up with Eddie when all this insanity kicked off. You were his right hand man in the Hellfire Club, helping him organize campaigns and recruiting new members. You'd known him for as long as you can remember, but you only became friends a couple years ago. You loved that club, always counting down the minutes until you could be back in the drama room with your favorite band of misfits. You and Eddie in particular became very close, he had taken a certain shine to you that nobody else had the privilege of receiving. One day, after a rather heated D&D session, Eddie asked you to stay back and help him clean up. As always, you happily accepted.

"Hey, you played really well today, Y/N." Eddie says, gathering the dice from around the table to put in his drawstring pouch. You're putting everyone's figures away in their box, and stacking the board tiles.

"Thanks, Eddie." You reply, trying not to blush. You don't understand why, but being around him, especially alone, gives you butterflies. He smiles at you, tossing the pouch into his bag, which lands with a clacking sound. "I'm excited for the next campaign, you're a great dungeon master." You say, meeting his big brown eyes.

He chuckles, walking over to you. "You really think so?" He asks, putting a hand over yours to take the boards from your grasp. You gasp at the contact, swallowing hard as your cheeks heat up beyond your control. "What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?" He teases, eyes flicking to your lips. He's grinning at you, tongue playing at the edge of his mouth. You wait for him to lean forward, to kiss you. You didn't even realize you'd want him to do that, that's odd. But he chickens out, backing off after a moment. He shakes his head, sighing before going back to his things.

"Um, what was that?" You ask, though you're not quite sure why.

"Nothing, Y/N. Don't worry 'bout it." He replies defensively, hoping he hasn't pissed you off. He doesn't want to assume something, and end up making you uncomfortable.

"But it's not nothing. Were you gonna kiss me?" You push, unable to let this go. His head whips around to look at you, eyes wider than you've ever seen them. It's here that you realize how many times you've lost yourself in those eyes. How many occasions your own have lingered over his body, admiring him without even thinking about it. He's so handsome, gorgeous even. You can't help wanting to tangle your fingers in his long hair, taste his plush lips with your own. It has never occurred to you that you're actually attracted to this man, until now.

"N-no." He stutters, forcing a nervous laugh. "What makes you say that?" He acts like what you're suggesting is utterly ridiculous, like he hasn't been secretly checking you out every chance he gets.

You slowly walk over to him, taking your time. He backs up a couple steps, becoming very nervous and assuming you're about to beat him up. "Relax, Eds. Please?" You plead with your eyes, not wanting to scare him. The look on your face makes him relax a little, and he stops moving so you can approach him. You're standing very close to him now, within kissing distance. You raise a hand to stroke his cheek, causing him to flinch. "It's okay." You reassure, and he lets you feel his soft skin with your palm. "You're so pretty, Eds. And I didn't put it together until now, but I'm very attracted to you." You speak quietly, feeling like your words violate the heated silence between you.

He snorts out a laugh. "You just NOW figured out that you like me? Man, you've been staring at me nonstop for months! Not that I'm complaining." He speaks in his usual smart-ass tone, you can't get enough of hearing him talk.

"Well, pardon me, Eddie! I've never looked at a man this way before, I didn't really think I could. Can I just kiss you already?" You roll your eyes, wanting so badly to act on this thing you've subconsciously been wanting for so long.

"Of course, baby. Do your worst." He jokes, making you both laugh to break the tension a little. When you quiet back down, you bring your mouth onto his, immediately melting at how soft his lips are. He tastes like tobacco and Dr. Pepper, a flavor combination you never thought you'd love so much. Your hands slip into his thick hair, weaving your fingers between the locks. Eddie's arms wrap around your back, holding you closer. Your matching Hellfire shirts rub against one another, radiating a welcome warmth between you.

"Hey, guys. I forgot my chemistry textbo-'' Dustin announces as he walks back through the doors to the drama room. He's frozen in his tracks, staring at the scene before him. His words startle you out of your embrace, quickly pushing each other away to try and hide what you were doing. Mortified expressions plague everyone's faces, eyes flicking between the three of you frantically. "Ah, there's my book! I'll just be going now!" He snatches the textbook from the table, about to turn heel and run.

"Dustin, wait!" Eddie calls to him, and Dustin stops in his tracks, turning back around slowly. "Just-..." Eddie gathers the words, struggling to piece them together. "Please don't say anything to anyone?" He begs, and Dustin's fearful expression softens. The kid walks over to the both of you, pulling you in for a group hug. You and Eddie look at each other, confused.

"I promise, your secret is safe with me." Dustin says, muffled against your chests. He lifts his head to look up at your faces. "I was wondering when you were finally gonna get together." He says with a joyful smile.

"What?!" You say simultaneously. Was your mutual attraction THAT obvious?

"Oh, please! The whole club has been talking about it, you two are not nearly as subtle as you think you are. The longing glances? The lingering on any contact either one of you makes on the other? You guys are the most lovesick people I've ever seen, it was getting painful to watch." He pats your shoulders, before turning to leave again. "Relax, I haven't said a word to anyone outside the group, and I don't plan to. I understand how dangerous this town can be. I'm happy for you though, so I'll leave you to it!" He salutes you both, jogging out of the room once more.

You look at Eddie again, utterly surprised that the club put two and two together before you even knew what your feelings meant. "Longing glances?" You ask mockingly, you can't help being a bit annoyed that the group has been talking about you like this.

"Lingering contact?" Eddie says, just as shocked as you are. He contemplates the idea for a moment, before giving you a devilish grin. "Although, I kinda like the sound of that. Maybe we should have some more." He walks the two of you backwards to the nearest wall, and you grunt as your back hits the cinder blocks. His large hand rests next to your face, essentially pinning you where you stand. His breath fans over your lips, your heart racing.

"Do your worst, Munson." You say, smirking as you anticipate his next move.

Rain patters against the windows outside Steve Harrington's house. Everyone had set up here as an official base camp, as it's the largest house of the group that hasn't been condemned yet. The patterns of decay and destruction have miraculously missed this place, the supermarket, and the hospital. But at the back of your mind, you know eventually nowhere will be safe anymore. It's only a matter of time. You're curled up in an armchair, looking out into the distance. Just a couple blocks away, you can see the vines strangling every house, tree, car, etc. Those nasty dust particles swirl around in the air like snow in slow-motion. "Y/N." You hear Jonathan behind you, his fingers tapping on your shoulder.

"Hm?" You hum in questioning, turning to see what he wants. He's holding out a mug of hot coffee, just the way you like it. "Oh, thanks." You say flatly, taking the mug from his pale hands.

"Yeah." He says awkwardly, leaving you to stare outside at the desolation. You take a sip of your drink, feeling the liquid warm you up on this cold October evening. It's Halloween, but nobody is in a particularly festive mood. You look around the living room, your heart sinking at the scene before you. Mike, Will, Erica, and Eleven are mindlessly playing Monopoly, trying to pass the time. They aren't smiling, barely saying a word unless someone owes somebody money.

Nancy, Robin, Steve, and Jonathan sit at a folding table drinking mugs of coffee similar to yours. Their expressions are similarly bleak, bags under their eyes as they don't sleep much. Dustin has separated himself from the others, residing in a spare room upstairs. You've often heard him sobbing when you go up there to use the bathroom, though lately the sound has stopped. The only sign of life he gives is leaving his empty dishes outside the door.

Hopper, Murray, Dmitri and Joyce sit on guard at every entrance, brandishing guns and axes in case any mutant creatures come knocking. Argyle went back home to be with his family a little bit after the fight. You're thankful his joyful spirit didn't have a chance to be broken by him staying in this godforsaken place. And Lucas is still at the hospital with Max, protecting her in her vulnerable state.

You found it odd that even after all this time, there's still running water and electricity in the parts of town that are habitable. You'd asked Hopper about it the other day, thinking that you'd be kicking it old school by now. Turns out, some of the associates of Hawkins Lab pulled some strings to man the power plant and water treatment facilities with a skeleton crew. The workers lock down inside the buildings, receiving weekly shipments of supplies while they keep things running. It seems these government assholes have a vested interest in the lot of you -and anyone you might recruit- surviving and beating Vecna when the time comes. They also ensure the safety of the hospital and Big Buy market so anyone left in town can get what they need.

Most of your parents have left you behind, once you explained that you needed to stay and fight the good fight. The Harringtons, Dustin's mom, the Wheelers, the Sinclairs, the Buckleys, your parents, are all gone. But they call often, letting you know how proud of you they are for trying to save the world. Plus, you have Hopper and the other grownups to keep you safe. Not to mention each other.

Despite sticking together, at least physically in the same house, tensions have been running high. Everyone is scared, sad, and tired. It leads to lots of arguments over who gets a turn sleeping in the beds upstairs while everyone else piles onto the couches or sleeping bags on the floor. Or who gets to shower first in the morning, who has to bring Dustin his next meal upstairs, who has to venture outside for supplies with Hopper or Dmitri. Petty things, really. These little fights always end in everyone involved bursting into exhausted tears, apologizing profusely once they remember the gravity of the situation you're all in.

Most times, you volunteer to do all of the things nobody wants to do to keep the peace. It helps your mind stay busy, keeping it far away from a certain deceased metalhead. You're also pretty built compared to some of the older kids. You worked odd jobs on the local farms before you were roped into the final act of Hawkins' torrid history of monsters and alternate dimensions. So you feel safer going out for food and other necessities, armed with Steve's nail-studded baseball bat to whack any creepy crawlies with.

One thing you've noticed through this whole shitty ordeal though, is how fucking quiet everyone is. There's no real conversation, unless it revolves around a potential plan of attack. No jokes are cracked to break the dismal mood that hangs over you all like the storm clouds outside. Not a single smile can be found on any of your faces, no glimmer of hope in your eyes. It's like, whatever is going on out there, is hollowing all of you out in here.

Eat, sleep, shit, shower, fight. That's all the thought your minds will allow anymore. Sitting, waiting for Vecna to strike again. It feels like it should've already happened by now, six months is an awfully long time to wait around when you plan to take over the world. And sometimes, a creeping, dreadful notion pops into your head to shake things up. You never verbalize it, and if the others think it too, they don't show it. You don't want it to be there, you always try to shove it away. But you can't help it, it just flashes inside your skull like a sickening neon sign. Did it already happen? Are we already dead? Is this what Hell is?

"What the hell? You can't do that!" Mike shouts, breaking the deafening silence. You look over to the kiddos, wondering what the dispute is about.

"What are you talking about, fartface?" Erica retorts, attempting to collect her $200.

"You rolled doubles THREE TIMES! That means you go to jail!" He spits back, snatching her thimble piece and moving it to the jail square.

"Nuh-uh! I don't know how your scrawny ass plays Monopoly, but that's not in the rules!" She puts it back in its original position, crossing her arms petulantly afterwards.

"Kids, please. Don't do this right now." Joyce says meekly, struggling to keep her eyelids from drooping.

"Well, then settle it! Do YOU or do you NOT go to jail after rolling doubles three times?" Mike demands, looking around at all your faces to weigh in.

"I dunno, man. I've never heard of that one." Steve chimes in with a sigh. He squints his eyes shut, taking a big swig of his coffee. You suspect he's been slipping some booze in there on occasion, though you don't blame him one bit.

"Oh, come on! Anybody else?" Mike doesn't let up, wanting to be right more than anything else.

"Look, kid. If you can't agree on a rule, then maybe you should just drop it. Same thing went for whether or not you can buy all the houses for one property at once, instead of one at a time to keep them even." Hopper speaks sternly, his gaze still stuck on the wilting world outside.

"That sounds fair to me!" Erica sneers, and Mike rolls his eyes.

"Whatever! Fuck this, I'm bored anyways." He flips the board over in a fit. The houses and money go flying through the air, clattering loudly to the floor. He stands up, storming off to the kitchen. Everyone exclaims in annoyance, but he just flips you all off.

"Nice." Murray says simply, finding this entire squabble to be a teensy bit entertaining. At least he's having fun, you suppose someone should be.

"Sorry, Erica." Will says, giving her an apologetic look. He's such a sweet kid, reminding you of your younger self. He helps Erica pick up the pieces that are scattered all over the room, while Eleven leaves to console Mike's temper.

"I'm gonna bring Dustin some dinner, maybe he'll talk to me today." You announce. A collective nod affirms your statement, and you go down the hall with your mug in hand. You see Mike leaning against the counter, Eleven's hand on his shoulder. "Hey, kiddos. Everything okay here?" Their eyes flick to you a moment, before proceeding to ignore your presence. "Okay, then." You breathe out, moving past them to dig around for some food for Dustin.

You prepare him a bologna and cheese sandwich, with some potato chips and an Orange Crush on the side. You climb the stairs quietly, not wanting to tick anyone off by being too loud. You reach Dustin's room, knocking on the door. "Just leave it outside." Dustin says weakly, his voice hoarse from sobbing nonstop.

"Dustin, it's me. Can I come in?" You ask, fully expecting him to say no. He's barely let anyone in during all this, closing himself off as a form of self-punishment. You hear no response, which draws out an aggravated sigh from your lips. You set the tray down, turning to leave.

"Okay." He says, immediately regretting it. He doesn't want a pep talk, or to be told Eddie's death wasn't his fault. He doesn't want to hear anything, he feels so guilty. Over these last few years, he's inadvertently led people to their deaths or put them in severe danger. He was the last person to see Will before he went missing. He endangered his friends by keeping Dart as a pet, roping Steve into the chaos of fighting the demodogs. With his stupid Cerebro, he led a band of kids into a secret Russian base. And finally, he got Eddie eaten up by fucking demobats. He swears he's cursed, dooming everyone he knows to pain and suffering.

You hurry into the room, setting the tray on the nightstand. He's laying on the bed, over the covers with his back to you. You sit on the edge, your weight making the bed squeak as it dips. "How are you doing, kiddo?" You ask dumbly, physically cringing at yourself for even bothering with it.

"Terrible, but so is everyone else, I'm sure." Dustin says, sounding utterly resigned.

"Well, you're not wrong. This isn't exactly spring break or anything." You try to lighten things up, but it's as if the air is being sucked out of the room.

He scoffs. "Ha, spring break. That's how this whole stupid mess started." God, you've never heard a child sound so bitter and jaded before. Dustin is usually the heart of the group, always there when you need him, eager to make you smile. But now, he's just as sardonic as the rest of you, even more so in fact.

"Dustin, I really think we've entertained you isolating yourself long enough. Can you please come downstairs? It's been months, and you barely say a word to anyone." You try to reason with him, but he quickly interjects.

"I don't exactly hear lively conversation going on down there, either. Everyone is just sitting and staring, right? Watching the clock tick the minutes away? Waiting for Vecna to come back and put us all out of our misery?" He shouts. He's so angry, you've never seen him like this.

"Look, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. I know you've been having a hard time. But I think you're forgetting that I also lost someone, Dusty. I loved him too, more than you know." Tears prick your eyes, you picture Eddie in your mind. He's laughing, tackling you onto his bed as he peppers your face with kisses. You shake your head, pushing the memory out because it hurts too much. "But he's gone, there's nothing we can do about that." You sniffle, wiping the salty tracks running down your cheeks. "And everyone down there? They feel like they've lost you too. I'm not gonna force you outta here, I just figured I'd let you know we miss you." You wait for a response, but he gives no indication of truly listening to what you're saying. You sigh in defeat, standing up to leave. You open the door, and just as you're about to step into the hallway, you feel Dustin's arms wrap around your waist.

"I'm sorry, Y/N." Dustin sobs, holding you tightly. You turn around to give him a proper hug, letting him cling to you.

"It's okay." You've missed hugs more than you realized, holding Dustin so tightly and not wanting to let go.

"I shouldn't have let him go back in there." He says, muffled against your chest.

"It's not on you, I shouldn't have let him do it. But he made that choice, Dustin. To buy us more time, because he loved us too." You stroke his hair, trying to calm him down.

"It's not fair." Dustin cries, shattering your heart into a million little pieces. He's right, it's not fair. Eddie was such a bright light in the world, never afraid to be himself. And now that he's been snuffed out, the entire universe can feel the loss.

"I know, Dusty." Is all you can think to say. The two of you stand like this for what seems like hours. Holding each other as you mourn Eddie for what you're guessing is the hundredth time. You'd hoped to be making progress in coping with Eddie's death by now. But seeing everyone's sullen faces, looking outside to witness the decay of reality, it only makes that wound split wide open again and again.

You still couldn't convince Dustin to come down and see everyone just yet. But he allowed you to keep him company for a few hours until you were fighting off a yawn. And he promised to try to join the others tomorrow, which you thought was fair enough. "Goodnight, Y/N. Thank you for hanging out with me. It's been really lonely up here." He gives you a weak smile, which you return in kind.

"Thank you for letting me in, kiddo. Get some rest, okay?" You reply, closing the door as you leave. It's your turn to have one of the bedrooms, and you're very thankful. Hopper snores so fucking loud, and Murray sleepwalks, which freaks you out. You don't make a stink about it, but it's nice to have a night of privacy every once in a while. Fourteen people in one house tends to get pretty crowded, even in one as big as this.

Eddie's POV

"Eddie....it's time to wake up." You hear a gravelly, booming voice calling your name. A distorted clock chimes, rattling your brain. "Come along, child. I've been waiting for you." The voice speaks again, and you realize it's inside your head. You open your eyes, only to find pure and utter darkness. You're laying on your back, arms over your chest like a corpse. You try to move, but you're surrounded by compacted earth. What the hell? Where am I? Where's Dustin, or Y/N? A flurry of thoughts dance around in your head, causing you to panic. "Eddie, the time has come for you to join me." The voice speaks once more, and it's here that the jumbled pieces click into place. You died, eaten alive by the demobats. You bled out in Y/N and Dustin's arms, sharing one last tearful goodbye. They must have buried you, and now you're hearing Vecna in your goddamn head. What the fuck?

You begin to claw at the thick dirt, feeling the soil shove its way under your fingernails. There has to be some mistake, you can't actually be dead, right? They wouldn't leave you here, would they? You pant and grunt while you dig upwards, blinking rapidly as the debris falls into your eyes. "Shit. Shit. Shit." You mutter to yourself, trying to fight against your claustrophobia. Your body has gone into overdrive, moving as fast as it can to break free from this prison. This seems to go on for hours, and your arms ache from the work. But you see it, a sliver of stormy sky above you. You keep going, eventually shoving a hand through to the surface. "Yes!" You shout, cheering for yourself in nervous relief.

You're about to worm the hole open so you can climb out of your shallow grave, when you feel a large, spindly hand yank your wrist. You scream, stomach flipping as this mysterious hand lifts you out of the dirt and into the air. The low light of the upside-down shocks your eyes, making you wince. But when you open them again, your face is centimeters away from who you can only guess is Vecna. "Eddie." He says, out loud this time. Another chime of the clock clangs in the air. Your feet dangle just above the ground as you look at him in horror. He's worse than you'd thought he'd be. Grey, fleshy, with tentacles moving about like living strands of hair. His nose is missing, and he looks kinda melted. He stares into your eyes, no clear expression on his face.

He sets you down, and you almost stumble to the ground while trying to gain your footing. "How long have I been here?" You're not sure he'll tell you, but you need answers. There's no way in hell that Y/N or the others would leave you like this.

"About six months, not that it matters." He replies, almost chuckling at the thought. Your eyes widen, six months. You take a moment to look yourself over, wondering how much you've decayed over all that time. And sure enough, you've gone full-on Romero. Your flesh is desiccated, barely hanging onto your bones, torn in multiple places from the bat bites. Your rings hang loosely on your fingers, the tips scraped off from digging your way to the surface. Your clothes are torn, covered in dirt and dried blood. They fit loosely on your rotting body. You feel your face as best you can, almost squishing your eyeballs in the process as they're like grapes gone bad in the refrigerator. You can feel your entire skull, and most of your hair has fallen off your head. If you had anything left in your shriveled stomach, it would surely come up your leathery throat and spew onto the ground below. You contemplate screaming again, but what would the point of that be? Nobody can hear you.

"Then how the fuck am I standing here?" You ask, in utter disbelief that this is happening. Maybe you'll wake up and this has all been a bad dream. Right?

"Well, I need you for a special mission, Eddie." He replies, grinning now. The image of it makes you feel ill, but he continues. "You see, I'm in the final phase of my plan. But I need you to go back to your world, and help me destroy your friends."

"There's no fucking way I'm doing that! I'd rather go back in the ground, thank you!" You shout, how dare he ask you to do such a thing. You refuse to hurt anyone, much less the people who tried to save you.

"Are you sure about that? After all, they left you behind." Vecna says, trying to draw you in. You shake your head, not allowing him to weasel his way into your mind.

"Well yeah, I got eaten by your stupid bats. What the hell were they supposed to do? They would've brought me back up there if they could." You retort, your joints creaking as you cross your arms.

"They could've at least tried to get you to a hospital. Or at least back up there for a proper burial. But no, they left you here to rot with me. The way I see it, they didn't care about you very much at all, Eddie." He moves closer, speaking in your ear. You want to punch him, his words do nothing but anger you. But who exactly is that anger really being directed at? Vecna, or yourself?

"That's not true. I have no reason to believe a damn thing you say. Y/N and Dustin cared about me more than anyone." You stick to your guns, showing him your iron will.

"Let me show you then. Show you just how much your friends care." He speaks mischievously, and you don't like it one bit. But you nod, wanting more than anything to see Y/N's face again. Maybe he'll be proven wrong, he'll know just how much the others miss you. With a wave of Vecna's hand, a billow of red smoke appears, forming an opening to view the right-side-up. "See for yourself, child." Vecna gestures for you to look closely, nudging you nearer to the window he's created. The clock thrums again, making you jump.

Inside, you see the group gathered in Steve's house. It must be Halloween, because everyone is wearing cobbled together costumes, pretending to trick-or-treat around the house. Everyone is smiling and laughing, making the best of their situation. "Okay, so? They've gotta be happy somehow, right? They've all been through so much, way before I got caught up in this." You look at him, unimpressed with his little show. Though, it does sting a bit to see Y/N and Dustin happy when you're not around anymore. But you can't expect them to mourn you forever. You tell yourself, and it's as true as it is painful.

"Just keep watching." Vecna insists, redirecting your attention to the scene he's displayed for you. The focus shifts to a D&D table, with Y/N at the head of it. Mike, Dustin, Lucas, Will, and Erica sit around your beautiful boyfriend. They're still dressed in costumes, and Y/N is leading a campaign.

You watch as they all play the game, noticing the campaign is based on something, or someone, in particular. "Your backs are against the wall, Vecna and his bats surround you in his lair. He speaks to you in a booming voice." Y/N weaves the tale for the players, his expression lighting up while he leads them along. "He says, 'You can either fight and die as a group, effectively leading to the destruction of your world. Or....you can sacrifice your friend, Eddie the Banished, to save yourselves.' What do you choose, dear players?" Y/N's expression is odd, nothing you've ever seen before. Like a vulgar glee. This can't be right. There's no way he would make a fucking campaign about you, let alone suggest the others sacrifice you like that. This is sick, Vecna is just trying to manipulate you.

"No! They wouldn't do this! You're trying to scare me, but it's not gonna work!" You scream at him, but it doesn't disguise the tremble in your voice.

"I can only show you what is, Eddie. This window is incapable of deception. It's your world up there, not mine. What you see is the truth. I suggest you keep looking." Vecna says, almost like a warning. But you doubt he can do anything worse than what you've already been through. You sigh, continuing to do as he asks. You still don't quite believe him, mostly.

"I say we fight!" Dustin suggests, which makes you smile. You look at Vecna again, as if to say 'told you so'. But his face stays the same.

"Are you serious? There's no way we can beat Vecna. And Eddie's not even a playing character. We can let him go, easy." Lucas interjects, eager to survive. Your heart sinks, or at least you think it does. You figure it's only fair for the players to weigh their options, you've had them do so on many occasions. But the fact that it's you they're considering letting go, it definitely hurts.

"I second that. Eddie doesn't matter to the game whatsoever." Mike says, and it feels like you've been slapped in the face. Even if it's just an NPC based on you, they don't need to be so harsh. You wonder why Y/N would even consider putting you in the game, just to make the others debate on whether or not to fucking kill you. You thought he had a bit more respect for you, and your relationship. The others come to an agreement, voting to let Vecna take you in exchange for saving their own hides.

"What the fuck is going on?" You feel like you've gone insane, your heart would be pounding right now if it could still beat. You turn away from the images being shown to you, unable to accept this as the truth. But Vecna insists, the window only tells you what reality is.

"I tried to warn you. You must not matter much if you're just cannon-fodder for their silly little games. But I'm afraid that's not the end of it." That stupid fucking voice continues speaking, poisoning your mind with anger and doubt. You groan in annoyance, facing this disgusting play once more.

You see Y/N again, but he's alone with Steve. You're guessing it's his bedroom or something, they're sitting on a bed side by side. Steve's hand is on Y/N's thigh, and it makes you seethe with jealousy. What is Harrington doing, touching your boyfriend? "I'm sorry about Eddie, Y/N." Steve says, but Y/N doesn't seem all that broken up about it. He's staring at Steve's lips, the way he used to stare at your lips.

"No, no. This cannot be happening." You say through gritted teeth, hopelessly watching as Y/N leans a little closer to tuck some loose hair out of Steve's face.

"We weren't that serious. I've always thought you were much cuter than Eddie anyway. I only settled because I figured I never had a chance with you." Y/N replies lustfully, and a lump forms in the back of your throat.

"Well, you do now that he's gone." Steve says, bringing his own face closer to your love's. "Can I kiss you now?" He asks, grinning slyly while looking in Y/N's eyes.

"Do your worst, Harrington." Y/N chuckles, pressing his mouth on Steve's. You gasp in shock, wishing your eyes are deceiving you. That was your line. Steve and Y/N start to make out heavily, their hands tangling in each other's hair. Their lips smack together loudly, and they moan against one another. You feel sick, sicker than you ever thought possible. You fall to the ground, wishing you had tears to cry. You sob dryly, shaking your head as you hold it in your withered hands.

"No, no, no. Y/N, how could you do this to me." You speak pitifully to yourself. You try to slap yourself awake. But the sting of your boney hand on your boney face is nothing compared to having your heart stomped on like this. You proceed to rock back and forth in the dirt, overwhelmed by everything Vecna has shown you. "This can't be real. Y/N loved me. He loved me. And I loved him. This isn't happening. I'll wake up and this will all have been a bad dream. Fuck this, it's bullshit. It's not fucking real! It's not real! IT'S NOT REAL!" You yell, and the clock chimes that fourth and final time.

"I truly am sorry, Eddie. But now, you have no reason to resist. I can restore you, make you strong. All I ask is that you go up there and eliminate Y/N and the others. I've allowed them to get in the way for too long." Vecna says, lifting you up into the air like you saw him do to Chrissy on that fateful night.

"It's not real. It's not real." Is all you can say, repeating it like a mantra. You just wanna wake up, be warm and safe in Y/N's arms again. You wanna be with the Hellfire Club, playing with Dustin and the others. You wanna be back in your trailer, having dinner with Wayne before he leaves for work. Hell, you'd take being in the middle of final exams over this. Your arms spread outwards against your will, and your toes point down at the earth.

"I'll make you all better, Eddie. And then you can exact your revenge." Vecna says, and you feel a shooting pain coursing through you. Your muscles and organs regenerate, filling your rapidly healing flesh. You gasp in air as your lungs inflate, and your heart begins to beat once more.

"No! Don't do this! It's not real! Fuck!" You scream, begging for him to just let you rest. It feels like you're being torn apart, while it's quite the opposite. Scar tissue creeps over your wounds, branding you as the rips in your body close up. Your face and gums plump back up to their original form, and brand new hair sprouts from your scalp, thick and curly as always. You look over yourself, seeing you're practically back to normal. You figure this would be the end of it, but it doesn't stop here.

"I think I'll make some improvements, hopefully they'll suit you well." Vecna says, and you wonder what the fuck that means. You're just about to ask, when your hands start to cramp. You glance over at one, watching in terror as your fingers begin to extend, with long, sharp nails pushing their way through the tips painfully.

"What the fuck!?" You scream as they fully form. You wiggle the digits, noticing the knotted knuckles and how the claws shine in the light. Before you can fully absorb what's happened to your hands, the unbearable sensation migrates to your mouth. Your canines are being forced from their places in your gums, sharp fangs shooting out like daggers to replace them. "Fuck! What the hell are you doing to me? You crazy motherfucker!" You speak with a slight lisp, the fangs getting in the way of your tongue. You scream in agony as your eyeballs pull themselves out of your head, plopping onto the ground. You can't see a damn thing, until some new ones sprout from your skull. Everything is tinted in a bloody hue now. Great, red irises. Real original, Vecna. And finally, two large wings spring violently from your back. They're obscenely large, dark red with black joints. There's holes and tears in them, as if you've already worn them out. "FUCK!" You scream, louder than all the other times. It hurts so fucking bad, you just want to be dead again. It would be so much better than this. Mutated into this monster, about to be enslaved into servitude for Vecna. A single, bloody tear rolls down your cheek as he lowers you back to the ground.

"You're mine now, you will heed my every command." Vecna makes another wave of his hand, and you feel yourself changing again. But this time it's inside your head. Those awful images spin around like a carousel, the costumes, the kiddos sacrificing you, Steve and Y/N kissing. You're no longer in control. It's like you're being tucked away, forced to bear witness as a new entity takes up residence in your mind. Anger, jealousy, and hatred fill you up, pushing out any love, or happiness you once had. You gaze at your new master with a sinister grin.

"Hail. Lord. Vecna." You say, almost mockingly as you call back to the campaign you played before your life as you knew it ended. The power coursing through you is intoxicating, no drug you've ever had even compares. And it's miles above any kiss or touch or fuck Y/N ever gave you. This feels so fucking good. You kneel before Vecna, bowing your head in obedience.

"You'll be the perfect soldier, Eddie. Now go, kill the ones who have betrayed you." He commands, and you nod as you stand again. You turn, giving one last glance at your grave. You notice Dustin and Y/N stuck your guitar into the ground in place of a headstone. How sweet, now I can use it to bash their sorry little heads in. You walk over, yanking the instrument out of the soil with ease. You sling it over your back, taking a running start. You spread your wings, jumping into the air. The wind catches, and you begin your flight to the right-side-up.

You snatch a demobat out of the sky as you ascend, suddenly quite ravenous for some food. It squeals and squirms, gnashing its teeth at you defensively. You just chuckle, watching it struggle to break from your iron grasp. "Payback's a bitch, little guy." You viciously sink your fangs into it, draining its bitter blood. The warm fluid drips down your chin, and you moan pleasurably as it flows into your belly. Once the bat is empty, you let it fall lazily from your palm. You lick your lips, groaning again as this little snack fuels you further. "You're next, Y/N." You say aloud, flapping your wings harder as you laugh menacingly.

Y/N's POV

"Eddie, what are you doing?!" You shout at him as he stands above you through the gate in his trailer. You and Dustin had just assisted him in distracting the demobats, who are currently eating their way through Eddie's bedroom door to get to you. Both you and Dustin have climbed up the knotted sheets to get to the right-side-up, while Eddie glances at the deteriorating door.

He looks up at you, fear and worry in his eyes. Those bats will just come right through and attack you, unless he stalls them. He lets go of the sheet, picking up his spear to cut the end off. The pale fabric falls to the ground, leaving him no path to escape. "Eddie! What the hell are you doing?" Dustin shouts, begging with him to stop messing around. Eddie pushes the mattress out of the way, so you can't follow him. You and Dustin scream helplessly, knowing exactly what he's up to.

"I'm buying more time." He says, flashing you a small heroic smile before dashing for the front door.

"Eddie, no! Please don't do this!" You scream, and Dustin starts sobbing as he yells right along with you. You look at the kid, sharing a tearful glance. "There's no fucking way I'm letting him go." You say, almost angry that Eddie would attempt something so stupid.

The door opens and shuts. And you hear Eddie shout to taunt the bats as he drives them away from the trailer. "Come and get me you sons of bitches!" You gotta move, and fast. You and Dustin move the mattress from your side away, putting one of the kitchen chairs underneath the gate. You step onto it, taking a leap to grab onto the gaping hole above you. It's slick in your hands, but you keep going. You fall through the hole, aiming so you land on your back.

"Fuck!" You shout as the carpet knocks the wind out of you. You lay here for a moment, surging pain running up and down your back.

"Y/N, come on! We gotta stop him!" Dustin cries in desperation. You nod, rolling yourself over with a wince. You make it to your knees, breathing heavily as you push past the pain. You finally stand, putting the mattress back in place so Dustin can get a soft landing.

"C'mon, kiddo. We have to save the jackass." You bark, and he follows your actions precisely, falling gently onto the mattress. You grab his arm, yanking him to stand so the two of you can go to Eddie. You sprint through the door, almost falling down the stairs before your feet touch the vine-tangled ground. You see Eddie riding one of the bicycles, drawing the bats away from you. "Eddie!" You shout, and he glances back at you in surprise. His eyes are wide, he didn't want you back in here.

Eddie hits a vine with his front tire, rolling onto the ground. He grunts roughly, getting back up to keep running. He can't let you or Dustin get hurt. He won't let anyone else end up dead because of him. He continues to let the bats chase him, before he stops in his tracks. He's tired of running, he doesn't want to be a coward anymore. He holds up his shield and spear, yelling as he lets the bats charge him. They swarm around him, there's hundreds flapping viciously about. They blow past in a wave at first, before circling like a screeching tornado. You watch helplessly, there's not a thing you can do to assist him without getting Dustin hurt. "Eddie!" Dustin shouts, wanting him to come back to the both of you.

One by one, bats dive and swipe at Eddie. He's able to dodge them or strike them down pretty easily so far, you think that maybe he'll be alright. But there's too many, you wish there was something you could do. Your mind races, trying to come up with anything to help him. Eddie whacks another bat, adrenaline pumping through his veins. There's so many of them, but he can't give up now. Not while you're watching, not while you're still in danger. "COME ON!" He taunts the creatures, feeling like a badass for fending off multiple bats already. He hopes this energy rushing inside him will keep him safe.

"Eddie, look out!" You cry, as another bat comes up behind him. It wraps its tail around his neck, strangling him to his knees. "No!" You try to run to him, but Dustin holds you back. "Let me go, I have to help him! Let me go!" You scream, tears streaming down your face as you watch your boyfriend get taken down. Four more bats whip their tails around Eddie's arms and legs, holding him down on the ground.

And here is where you reach the point of no return. The other bats descend onto Eddie's body, sinking their sharp teeth into his torso, his face, his limbs. Eddie screams, and it's the worst thing you've ever heard. Blood-curdling, earth-shattering agony. "Eddie!" Dustin yells, wishing he could save him. But you're vastly outnumbered, and the spears and shields aren't nearly enough to take them out. It seems to go on for hours, witnessing the most awful thing you've ever seen. Your love is dying before your eyes, and there's nothing you can do. You've never felt so helpless before.

But the other upside-down team must have finally given it to Vecna real good, because suddenly the bats squeal and fall lifelessly to the ground. You immediately run to Eddie, hoping there's a chance you can get him to a hospital. You kneel at his side, assessing the damage. "I'm here, Eds." You say softly, glancing over his body as he trembles on the ground. What you see tells you it's too late. His body is covered in bites, bleeding too much and too fast. He chokes as he tries to speak, he's bleeding internally too.

"We gotta move him, Y/N. He's in real bad shape." Dustin insists. But you wordlessly shake your head at him. His expression falls, but he doesn't want to make Eddie panic.

"That bad, huh?" Eddie manages to say, thick, liquidy noises mixed in with his voice. You lift his torso into your lap slightly, which makes him groan through gritted teeth.

"No, baby. It's okay. Just let me hold you." You coo at him, controlling your sobs. He's not gonna make it, and he can read it all over your face.

"I didn't run away this time, right?" He asks you, wanting to know if he did good for you and the others. To know he's not a coward.

"No, you didn't. You're so brave, love." You reply, stroking his thick locks as your tears fall. Your breath hitches as you talk to him, this is all too much. You haven't had enough time with him, it's not fair.

"You two are gonna have to look after those little sheep for me, okay?" He says, and those words break your heart more than you could have imagined. You don't want to accept that he's leaving you any moment now, shaking your head in denial. But he repeats himself. "Please, say you'll look after them? For me?" He begs, looking deep into your eyes.

"Okay, we will. I promise." You say, your shoulders shuddering as you cry a little harder.

"Baby, don't be sad. I'll always be with you, okay? You've made this past year MY year. I love you so much." He moves his hand to hold yours, interlocking your fingers together.

"I love you too, Eddie." You reply with a trembling lip. Eddie looks to Dustin for a moment, giving him a large smile.

"And I love you, kid. You're gonna be a kickass dungeon master for me, right?"

"I'll try my best. Nobody can compare to you though, Eddie." Dustin sniffles, wiping his eyes to keep it together.

"Oh, I dunno about that." Eddie laughs, which makes him cough up more blood. "Fuck, that hurts." You frantically wipe it away, though you realize while you're doing it that it makes little difference. He swallows as best he can, cringing at the metallic taste. This is the end of the line, time is almost up. He can feel it, as his blood flows onto you while you hold him. His head feels light, and his body is so weak. He reaches his free hand up to his head, clumsily pulling his bandana off and handing it to you. "I want you to have this, to remember me always." The words are harder to get out now, he can't stop choking and coughing with every movement.

You nod, trying so hard to keep your intense sobs back. You don't want him to see you lose control, but there's a painful lump forming at the back of your throat as you contain your cries. You take hold of the cloth, but his fingers can barely flex enough to let it go. "Can I give you a kiss goodbye at least?" You ask, not caring about the smears of crimson all over his mouth.

"Of course. Do your worst, Y/N." He smirks, flashing his red-tinged teeth at you. Even on death's door, he's still the lovable smartass you fell for. You lean down as carefully as you can, pressing your lips to his. He breathes heavily through his nose, and you feel a tear of his own warm your cheek. Eddie returns the kiss as best he can, using his last bit of strength to express just how much he loves you. After a moment, you feel his body go still beneath you. A thick sigh leaves his lungs, and his mouth stops moving with yours. His hands go limp, letting yours and the bandana fall from his grip.

You bring yourself upright again, looking at Eddie's face. His eyes are closed, and his mouth is slightly agape. He looks so peaceful, except for all the blood. You can't hold back anymore. A loud sob rips itself from your throat, stabbing the still air with its high pitch. You pull his body up to hold him against you. "It's not fair!" You cry, rocking back and forth as his blood soaks through your clothes. "It's not fair!"

Dustin puts a hand on your shoulder, attempting to comfort you through his own tears. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I'm so, so sorry."

"I just want him back! He's supposed to be with me forever, and we’re gonna grow old together. It's not fucking fair!" You scream, so angry and devastated.

"Y/N?" You're being shaken awake, gasping as you open your eyes to see Dustin standing over you. The lights are off, but you can make out his face in the moonlight shining through the window. "You were having a nightmare about Eddie again." He speaks calmly, but his expression shows deep sorrow and concern.

Your heart is pounding, and you're drenched in a cold sweat. You try to steady your breathing, noticing the trail of tears that fell from your eyes as you slept. You dream about Eddie's death almost every night, plagued with each vivid detail. You sigh, semi-relieved that you're not actually back in that awful memory. "Sorry, Dustin. I didn't mean to wake you." You give him a weak smile, carding your hands through your dampened hair.

"It's okay, I just wanted to make sure you were alright." You sit up, letting him pull you in for a hug. "Do you want me to stay with you?" He asks, not sure if you want to be alone anymore after your dream.

"Thanks, buddy. But I'll be okay, I promise." You leave his embrace, meeting his gaze again. He nods in confirmation, before heading to the door. "Goodnight, Dustin." You say simply.

"Goodnight, Y/N." He replies, before closing the door. You let out a deep sigh, rubbing your moist eyes to collect yourself. While your face is covered, you hear the shuffling of feet inside the room. "Do you need something, Dustin?" You ask, thinking maybe he came back in. You put your arms in your lap, blinking to look across the room. But you don't see Dustin, instead you see a sight that has to be a hallucination. You gasp, knowing a scream will just wake everybody up.

Crouching at the foot of your bed, there's a dark figure with glowing, red eyes. Its spindly hands rest at the edge of the mattress, with long, knotted fingers and sharp claws. You can't fully make out the look of it, but it's got long, curly brown hair. Just like Eddie's. But there's no way whatever the fuck this thing is can be Eddie. Right? It doesn't speak at first, just stares at you clutching the covers in your fearful fists. You can't move, or speak, all you can do is hold its intense gaze. After what seems like an eternity, it stands up on two legs to reveal itself. "Did ya miss me?" It says, exactly in Eddie's voice.

"E-eddie?" You ask dumbly, reaching over to turn on the bedside lamp. The light clicks on, and the creature before you shields its eyes while hissing. "Is it really you?" You ask, though the thing standing across from you looks like something out of a horror movie.

It lowers its hand, fully revealing its face to you. "The one and only, baby." You gasp again, it really is him. But not like you once knew him, he's changed. He's got those long fingers, and the blood-red eyes. Inside his mouth are sharp fangs like a vampire, they glint in the light as he smiles at you. You also notice he has huge red wings, tattered and torn like his clothes. "You like my new look, Y/N?" He asks, a strange hint of mischief in his tone. You're overjoyed to see him, regardless of how much he looks like a monster. You've missed him so much, you just wanna kiss his beautiful face. But there's something in the back of your head, telling you -no, warning you- to not get close to him.

"I'm happy to see you, Eds. We've all missed you so much." You can't help the uneasiness in your voice, and your fear only makes Eddie's smile grow wider. He's enjoying your terror, something is definitely wrong here.

"Oh, really? It seemed like you all were getting along just fine without me." He retorts, words dipped in a wash of anger. Your brows furrow, not sure what he's referring to.

"What are you talking about?" You ask, genuinely curious. Has he been like this for a while? Was he watching you? And if so, what did he see that indicated anything other than sheer misery?

His eyes flare with fury, and he raises his voice just a little. "Don't act like you don't know. I saw you. Laughing and playing D&D with the kids. You put me in the campaign, Y/N. And you all voted to sacrifice me to save yourselves." Your eyes widen. What the fuck is he talking about?

"Eddie, we haven't played D&D for months. Did you take a look outside? We've just been watching the world fall apart, waiting for Vecna to come back. That's all, it's been absolutely miserable!" You have no idea where he's gotten his information, but his facts are wrong.

"Don't bullshit me, man! Vecna showed me everything!" Eddie shouts, and you're worried he's going to wake somebody up. He walks around the side of the bed, standing as close to you as he can. He bends over, bringing his face right in front of yours. "He also showed me what you've been getting up to with Steve."

"Steve? What?!" You exclaim, you've never even looked at Steve in that way. He's not making sense, Vecna must be manipulating him.

"You were kissing him, Y/N. You told him you only settled for me, but you wanted him the whole time! Don't try to lie, I saw it all. You and everyone else don't give a fuck about me." He speaks bitterly, almost spitting his words at you. You wish there was a way to convince him, but you doubt you have the capacity to break the curse Vecna's got him under.

"Eddie, I swear. Nothing Vecna showed you is true. He's done this to you, made you a monster. And he's filled your head with lies." You feel tears beginning to sting your eyes, unable to believe this is really happening. You wished every day and night for Eddie to come back to you. But not like this, never like this. "I love you, Eddie. I always will." You say, looking deep into those scarlet eyes of his. You show him the bandana you have tied around your bicep, trying to make him see that you've never forgotten your feelings for him. "Look! I've kept it all this time, to remember you always." His expression doesn't change, but he shakes his head like your words have penetrated the walls a little.

"Y/N, I've been sent here to kill you. All of you. There's nothing you can say to change that. Vecna needs you out of the way." Eddie's tone is different, like it pains him to say these things. There's no more sick glee like before, you must be getting through to him. At least a little bit. You rack your brain, maybe there isn't anything more you can say. But perhaps there’s something you can do.

"Maybe you're right. There's nothing I can say, at least not with words." You act quickly to catch him off guard, afraid of what might happen if you fail. You grab the back of his head with your hands, bringing his face closer. You lean forward, kissing him in a desperate attempt to break this awful spell. He'll see that you've never stopped loving him. You just have to prove it.

"Mmm!" He grunts, attempting to push you away. You're tricking him, and he can't have that. But you won't let go, lacing your fingers behind his skull to keep him in place. Your mouth moves against his, waiting for him to return the kiss. It takes a moment, but you can feel the switch flip once you've been on him long enough. The evil thing Vecna planted inside him is thrown from the driver's seat, allowing his true self to take control once more. He stops struggling, softening at your touch. Eddie's hands grip your face, and he finally moves his lips against yours just like he used to. He even bites your lip, making you gasp. He slips his tongue into your mouth, tangling with yours in a fight for dominance. Tears run down your cheeks, and you can feel some of his own mixing in as you continue to kiss.

You break apart, looking at his saddened face. He sniffles, the corners of his mouth upturning in a friendly smile. "Is it really you, baby?" You ask, still unsure if your little plan has worked. He nods frantically, slinging his guitar off his back and climbing onto the bed to straddle you. His lip is trembling, he's so happy to be free from that mental prison. His wings retract into his back, which gives Eddie a pained look on his face.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I wasn't in control. Vecna showed me all those awful things. I didn't wanna believe him, the things he showed me were so awful. I knew it wasn't real, it couldn't be. But he made me into this, and he said I have to kill you. But I don't wanna do that. I don't. I don't. I don't." He speaks too fast for his newly-fanged mouth to keep up. He's shaking, and crying bloody tears. You've never seen him so distraught.

"I know, baby. It's okay, it's okay. I'm right here, and I'm never gonna leave you again." You bring his face to yours again, tenderly peppering him with little butterfly kisses. Your forehead rests against his, the two of you let out shuddering breaths as you try to calm down. "Just breathe, Eds. You'll be alright. I'm just so happy you're back here with me." You wrap your arms around him, and he does the same. Your heads lay on each other's shoulders, exchanging your warmth in comfort. "I'm sorry I couldn't save you. I dream about losing you every single night." You say, hiccuping through your words. You've been absolutely wracked with guilt since that tragic night. You cried harder than you ever had before when you buried him in the upside-down.

"It's not your fault, Y/N. I gave myself to save you, those fuckin' bats would've come through the gate if I didn't stop them. I couldn't let anything happen to you." Your grip on him tightens, letting your flexing muscles release all the pent up pain and anguish you've been holding onto these last few months.

"And you're so brave for doing that. Completely stupid, but brave." You can't help letting out a weak laugh at that, and he gladly joins you in it. You've been riding a temperamental wave of sadness and anger the whole time he's been gone. It feels so good to laugh again, even just for a moment. You pull apart to look Eddie over again, taking a real chance to absorb his image. You're afraid he'll evaporate like a mirage at any second, or that the monster will regain control. But all you find is your handsome boyfriend, with a couple new features. You'd be lying if you weren't attracted to them though, those red eyes pierce directly into your soul. "To answer your question before, I do like the new look. It's very...metal." You give him a sly smile, and he picks up on what you mean immediately.

"Is that so? Been missing me in an extra special way, have you?" He asks, his tongue playing seductively at the corner of his mouth. You can't believe you're actually thinking about sex right now, but you find vampires to be really hot. Eddie attempted to dress as one once to impress you, but you almost choked to death when one of his fake fangs came loose.

"Is that crazy?" You ask, blushing like mad. You don't know if he can sleep with you right now, or if certain parts are even still working.

"Not at all, sweetheart. I understand. And I'd be lying if I said I'm not dying to get reacquainted with you." He says, chuckling at his own bad joke.

"Are you able to-..." You start awkwardly, unsure how to phrase your question properly. "Is your-..." You sigh, covering your face with your hands as you laugh. You feel so silly, trying to figure out if his dick is functional or not. He moves your hands with his, taking hold of one to lead it between his legs. His eyes bore into yours, a gentle smile on his lips. Eddie holds your hand to his crotch, and you can already feel how hard he is for you.

"I assure you, my cock works just fine." You squeeze him gently, making him groan. "Fuck, Y/N." His body shudders at the contact, it's been so long since he's felt your touch.

Your own erection begins to grow beneath him, and the room has set itself on fire. You want him so badly, you've wanted just one more night with him more than anything. It seems selfish, but it's not just about the fucking. It's about the love intertwined within it. This man means the absolute world to you, and being with him intimately is the most potent expression of that fact. "I need you, Eddie." You tilt your head to kiss him, and he follows your lead. Your lips meet, and Eddie grips the sides of your face with his large hands. You moan against him, opening your mouth to let his tongue inside like before. He's such a great kisser, it's unreal.

Eddie's shuffles to pull the covers off of you, and you lay back down against the pillow. He puts his knees on either side of you, bringing his lips to your neck. He easily finds your sweet spot, making you moan. "I've missed you so much, baby." He says breathily, dragging his tongue along your throat. He can feel your heartbeat, sense the blood pumping away in your veins. He's suddenly feeling very hungry again, but he doesn't wanna hurt you. You notice an odd look in his eye as he pulls away from your neck.

"What is it, love?" You ask, his pupils are dilated, and he's breathing heavily. He looks at you, licking his lips. It doesn't take a genius to understand what's going on here. "Are you hungry, Eddie?" You say while gazing at him lustfully. He just nods, ashamed that he wants to taste you like that. He mentally curses Vecna for making him into a bloodthirsty monster. You take his hand, trying to reassure him that it's okay. "You don't have to feel bad, love. It's not your fault." He softens a little, his shoulders relaxing. "I can give you what you need, baby. I trust you." He stiffens again, shaking his head.

"Y/N, no. I'm not gonna do that, not to you." He insists, but you want to help him in any way you can.

"Eddie, I want to make you happy. It's just a little taste. It won't kill me." You speak carefully, not wanting to ruin the mood. Eddie sighs. You're so goddamn sweet on him, he has no idea how he got so lucky.

"Are you sure? I'm worried I won't be able to control myself." You hadn't considered that, he is new to this whole thing. How does he know when to stop? Or would he even want to stop? But you figure it's better to give him express permission now, let him get what he needs. As opposed to him getting caught up in the moment and doing it unexpectedly, he might actually hurt you if that happens.

"We'll be careful, okay? Just take it slow, and stop when you have just enough to not be so unbearably hungry anymore." You can't believe you're actually about to let your boyfriend drink your blood, but you hate to see him so miserable.

"Okay, okay. Just please don't let me kill you." He grumbles, frustrated as he battles with his heart and his stomach. You take hold of his hands, stroking them lovingly. He meets your eyes, finding nothing but trust and admiration within them.

"I know you won't kill me, baby. We love each other, and love has far more power than anything Vecna can do." You pull him by his tattered shirt, kissing him roughly to get the point across. You let him go, allowing him to slowly move to your neck. He licks and sucks your flesh, warming you up again. His hand drags down your front, ghosting over your jeans. "Eddie." You sigh, savoring every tantalizing touch he gives you. You lay your arms at your sides, trying to lie still for him.

"Are you ready, love?" Eddie speaks in your ear, sending a chill up your spine. You can hear the pure hunger in his voice, and it only turns you on even more. You want him to taste you, take you any way he desires.

"Yes. Take what you need, sweetheart." You're panting now, anxiously waiting for his sharp fangs to penetrate your skin. You close your eyes, biting your lip to conceal any noises of pain or pleasure you'll let out. Eddie positions his lips in a spot to avoid major arteries, using his newly gifted senses to find the perfect place to drink from you without causing injury. He holds the other side of your throat gently in his hand, keeping you in place in case you try to squirm.

His fangs begin to cut into you, slowly piercing the flesh with a slight burning sensation. You groan, clenching your eyes shut. It feels so good, in a really odd way. Your blood begins to flow, slowly coating Eddie's teeth. He starts to drink, sucking the essence of life from you. He tries to not make overly squelchy noises as he swallows, they don't sound very pleasant. "Mmm." He moans, tasting how perfect you are. Your blood is metallic, but also a little bit sweet. He's never had anything like it, it's absolutely mind-blowing. Your head lightens a little through the sting, which slowly morphs into ecstasy.

"Fuck, Eddie." You whimper, and the sound makes his cock twitch. You didn't expect this experience to arouse you so much. You swear you could cum from this feeling alone, and you almost wanna let him suck you dry. He continues to drain you, carefully keeping track of how much more he needs until he's sated. It's so very tempting to take every last drop of you until there's nothing left. But he won't, he can't do that to you. Just a little more, and he'll be alright again.

A few moments later, Eddie gingerly removes his teeth from your neck. He sits back on his knees, groaning in satisfaction while licking his lips to get every last drop. You see a drip of blood running down his chin, reaching up to wipe it away. He suddenly grabs your wrist, making you gasp in surprise. He stares at the crimson fluid gathered on your thumb, growling lowly at you for 'stealing' his food. He hungrily shoves the thumb into his mouth, rolling his tongue over while making the most inhuman noises. You just watch him breathlessly, seeing him act like a feral animal is definitely doing something for you. Eddie freezes, realizing what he's doing. He lets your hand free, blushing at his behavior. "Sorry." He rubs his neck awkwardly, averting his gaze.

"It's okay, Eds. It's kinda hot, actually." You reply sheepishly, your own cheeks turning red. His eyes flick to yours, a smirk forming on his lips.

"That's right, I forgot about your little vampire fetish." He chuckles, retracing the memory of him dressed up for you in his trailer that one night. What a disaster, he almost killed you when his fang got caught in your windpipe. "Looks like we get a do-over, huh?" Eddie says, finding the choice of 'modifications' Vecna gave him to be an odd coincidence.

"Yeah, and I'm so fuckin' glad we do." You pull him back down, kissing him like your life depends on it. He grunts at the sudden movement, before melting back into you. His hands play with the hem of your t-shirt, wanting to lift it over your head. You sit up against the headboard, letting him remove the clothing. His lips attack your toned chest, nipping your pectorals sensually. "Eddie." You moan, sliding his jackets off his shoulders. He discards them to the floor, removing what's left of his own shirt. You take a moment to look him over, most of his tattoos are gone, having been eaten away and replaced with thick scars.

"They're real ugly, aren't they?" Eddie asks, his tone falling into sadness. You just shake your head, pulling him closer to you so you can kiss every last inch of his pale skin. He groans at your gentle touch, a couple tears rolling down his cheeks. He's so happy you still love every part of him, even if he finds himself a bit horrific.

"You're gorgeous as always, Eddie. My beautiful man." You confess to him, hoping your words ring true in his ears. He grinds his hips against you, unable to help himself. You grope him through his jeans, drawing more hushed noises from his lips.

"Y/N, I need you. Now." He fiddles with your jeans, clumsily unbuttoning them so he can shove his hand inside. You feel his spindly fingers wrap around your dick, making your breath catch in your throat. You gaze into his ruby red eyes, watching him as he strokes your length in his hand. You reach for his belt, undoing it with ease to reciprocate his touch. "Shit." He says through gritted teeth. You both pump each other in your pants, riling yourselves up. This teasing is rapidly becoming unbearable, you don't wanna wait anymore. Eddie shares that sentiment, standing up off the bed to kick off his shoes and shed his pants and boxers. His dick springs up, slapping his stomach.

"Fuck, Eds." You groan, blown away by his perfect body. You put in the effort to take him in, committing every detail to memory. You look him up and down, letting your eyes settle on his aching length. You swear he's grown a couple inches, but maybe you're imagining things.

"See something you like?" He asks, posing intentionally with a hand on his hip to drive you wild.

"I see lots of things I like. Although, one in particular has caught my interest." You can't help biting your lip, watching him undress has distracted you from removing your own clothes. He gestures at you to take off your pants, eagerly scanning over your lower half as you do away with them.

"You're as handsome as I remember, baby. Even more so, in fact." He moves closer, stroking your cheek with the back of his hand. You dangle your legs off the bed, pulling him by the waist to position him a few inches from the bed. You carefully get down on your knees, taking Eddie's dick in your grasp. You look up at him for permission, and he happily gives it to you. "Go ahead, sweetheart." And with that, you sink your mouth down onto him in one smooth motion. He moans, trying to stay quiet. You're so hot and wet around him, his hand instinctively goes to the back of your head to hold you in place. "You feel so good, baby." He praises, making precum drip from you and onto the floor. You gag yourself on him, expertly swirling your tongue just the way he likes. His long nails scratch your scalp, making you moan on him. The vibrations send a chill up his spine, and he can't stop making the sexiest little noises.

You're tempted to jerk yourself off while you blow him, but you force yourself to wait your turn. He'll give you what you want soon enough. "Mmm." You moan against him again, loving every sound he makes in reaction to your touch. You want to make him lose control, he's so fucking pretty when he cums.

He's nearing the end, clutching your head like his life depends on it. "Keep going, love. You're gonna make me cum." Eddie's hips buck forwards into you, choking you with his cock. You let him fuck your face, patiently waiting to taste his load shooting down your throat. You massage his balls in your palm, giving him that extra little bit of stimulation to send him crashing over the edge. "Oh, fuck." Eddie's eyes screw shut, his words coming out strangled as he spills into your mouth. You swallow every last drop, remembering just how good he tastes. You let him ride out his orgasm, and he slips out of your mouth once he calms down. He's panting, slightly sheened in sweat.

"I've missed that so much, you have no idea." You say as you catch your own breath. The acrid air outside hasn't been kind to your lungs when you've ventured out for supplies. You stand up, and Eddie immediately pushes you onto the bed.

"Lay down for me, sweetheart." You do as he asks, but he remains standing. "I just thought of this, like an idiot." He chuckles, before continuing. "You wouldn't happen to have any lube on you, would ya?" He asks, and you shake your head.

"Nope. Although, this is Steve's parents' room. They might have something in the drawers." You proceed to help him dig around in all the drawers, locating a small bottle of exactly what you're looking for. It's half-gone, but it'll do. "Got it!" You show him your prize, and he grins while taking it from you.

"It's our lucky day, love." You get back in position, flat on your back. You spread your legs, propping up your knees. Eddie climbs onto the bed, clicking open the little bottle. "Hold out two fingers." He instructs, and you listen without question. He squirts some of the lube onto them, the cool liquid chilling your skin. "You'll have to loosen yourself up, I'd hate to cut you with my claws." He clicks his fingers together to emphasize his point.

"I appreciate it, Eds." You laugh lightly, letting him watch you lower your fingers. The lube meeting your asshole makes you yelp quietly in shock. It's so fuckin' cold. You carry on, slowly pushing one digit inside yourself. You whimper at the stretch, it's been so long since you've done this. You weren't sure you'd ever do this again, you don't want anyone other than Eddie. "Jesus christ." You meet his gaze, and he's observing you hungrily. He wants to be inside you so badly, you're such a perfect fit around him. You slip in the second finger, groaning again. You slide them together in and out of yourself carefully. You feel your body relaxing, settling back into the groove you used to share with the man crouching above you. "I think I'm ready for you now, love."

He nods, squeezing the bottle into his palm, before stroking it thickly over his dick. "Fuck, that's cold." He says, making you both laugh. You remove your fingers, wiping them on your thigh to get the excess lube off. Eddie positions himself between your legs, placing his tip against your ass. "You ready, sweetheart?" He asks, looking deep into your eyes again. His expression is so warm, and loving. You could swear his red irises changed into the shape of hearts.

"So ready." You reply, waiting for him to enter you. He starts to push in, causing you both to groan. He takes his time, letting you relax around him as he fills you up just like you remember. "I'd forgotten how perfect you fit inside me, Eddie." He takes hold of your own cock, the extra lube allowing his hand to move on you with ease. "Baby, you're gonna be the death of me." The combined sensation he's giving you makes your head spin, and he hasn't even started thrusting yet.

"Never, love." He says simply, pulling himself out before sliding back in. You wrap your arms around his back, holding him close as you press your lips to his. Eddie picks a steady pace, thrusting in and out tenderly. He continues to jerk you off, and slips his tongue into your mouth again. Tension is quickly building inside your belly, you've missed this so fucking much. You can't hold back the tears falling from your eyes, and Eddie pulls his head up when he senses the salty drops on his cheeks. "Is something wrong, baby?" He asks, concern lacing his voice.

"Nothing's wrong. I just missed you, missed this. I never thought I'd see you again, I buried you and left you down there." You sniffle, feeling stupid for sobbing while you're trying to have sex with the man you lost.

"I know, sweetheart. I didn't think I'd ever be back, either. I'm sorry for what I put you through." He starts crying too, drops of blood dripping onto your cheeks. He can only imagine what burying the man you love must be like, and it sounds like the worst thing in the world.

"It's okay. You're here now. Just make love to me, lost time doesn't matter anymore." You sigh heavily, wiping your eyes. He does the same, before picking up where you left off. You push the past away, focusing on the now. The two of you struggle to keep the noise down, having to keep kissing or attacking each other's necks to muffle the sounds. You're practically writhing underneath Eddie, touching every little bit of him you can reach, squeezing his ass to pull him closer to you.

Eddie's not much better, his thrusts are sloppy, inconsistent. You just feel so good, he can't help himself. You both keep it up as best you can, sweating profusely while you claw at each other like wild beasts. "I'm getting close again, baby." Eddie warns, though you don't heed it. You're right behind him, any moment now you'll be overtaken by the pent up lust inside you. You just moan against his slick flesh in response, hoping he knows what you mean. He fucks you a little faster, stroking your cock at the same speed.

"Oh my god. Eddie, fuck!" You whisper-yell, letting pleasure wash over you. Your body jerks upwards beyond your control, yanking on Eddie in the process. Your cum spurts out onto his hand, coating his long fingers and dripping onto your stomach and chest.

Your sudden movements make Eddie come undone right behind you, hips bucking against your ass cheeks as his load paints your insides. "Jesus, fuck." He clenches his teeth, holding back an obscenely loud moan. You ride out your highs together, waiting for the bliss to subside. Your hearts pound in sync as Eddie slips out of you to collapse onto the bed. "God, I love you." He says breathlessly, turning his head to look your way.

"I love you too, Eds. More than anything in the world." You lay on your side, giving him another kiss. You can't get enough of him, and you don't wanna let him go. But you imagine Vecna expects him back soon, thinking Eddie carried out the murders he ordered. "I don't want you to go." You say, desperately wanting him to say 'fuck it' and stay.

"I don't either, love. But I have to, I can feel the thing inside my head trying to fight its way back into control. But I promise, I'll tell Vecna I did what he asked. And then when he thinks he's safe, I'll take his ass out. I'll make him pay for hurting everyone, and for trying to make me hurt you and the others." He's more serious than you've ever seen him before. You nod in agreement, even though you're not sure how easily he'll be able to keep his promise. Like he said, the monster wants back in. And when it's in control, it could easily tell Vecna the truth.

"Okay. Should I tell the others about you? Let them know you're on our side, and want to help us beat Vecna?" You toy with the idea, not sure how the group would respond to such a thing.

"I dunno, it might freak them out. Especially Dustin." Dustin. You completely forgot about him for a moment, and Eddie might be right.

"Maybe I'll just tell a couple people, ones that know to keep their mouth shut? I don't know how long I can keep this to myself. And if someone else knows, maybe it'll be helpful later on." You reason, though you're not sure Eddie will like it.

"That might be a good idea. But they have to keep quiet. It could go very wrong very quickly if I can't keep my hand on the wheel. I'd hate to get everyone's hopes up that I'm alive and on the side of good if it all goes to shit."

"Agreed." You both put your clothes back on, taking many breaks in between to exchange more feverish kisses. You want as much of each other as you can get. Eventually though, Eddie is slinging his guitar back over his shoulders. And now for the hard part, letting him fly back out your window and return to that awful place. Your arms wrap around his neck, and his hands rest on your waist. "Please don't get yourself killed again. Play the part, let the monster out for a while if you need to. I want you back here with me when this is all over. I mean it." You speak with purpose, refusing to have anything outside your desired outcome.

"I'll do everything I can, Y/N. I promise, I'm not going down without a fight. I'll be home again, and we can be happy. Together." He pulls you in for one last kiss, sealing the vow he's made to you. "I love you, baby."

"I love you too, Eds. Now, go kick his slimy ass!" You say, making him chuckle. He pulls away, and you back up a few steps. He slides your window open, jumping silently to the ground. You lean your head out to watch him, observing his wings extending from his back. He turns to wave back at you, blowing you a kiss. You catch it, holding it to your chest. You gaze in awe as he takes a running start in the moonlight, jumping into the air as the wind fluffs his wings. "Wow." You say to yourself, watching the man you love fly gracefully into the night. Let's hope this plan works.

The end.

[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 ->

[azuramarigold]

Underground Dealings

Synopsis: You were a typical office worker that one day gets fired at your job at a smaller office ran by Naoya Zen'in, but your friend, Yuji Itadori, who works at a small coffee shop that you discovered a year ago on your way to work, suggests that you apply to his uncle's company. What you didn't realize was that your assets were going to be important to the company in every department, and that every head, from the CEO to legal has their own underground dealings on what keeps the company afloat.

Characters: officeworker!reader x CEO!Sukuna, officeworker!reader x businessassociate!Gojo, officeworker!reader x salaryman!Nanami; other pairings to be added

Other characters: Yuji Itadori, Megumi Fushiguro, Nobara Kugisaki, Naoya Zen'in, Maki Zen'in, Mai Zen'in, Uraume; other characters to be added.

Genre: modern au, eventual smut, 18+, angst, violence, gore

WARNINGS: (eventual) smut, blood, violence, gore, using weapons, death, drug use, smoking, alcohol use, cussing.

Divider/Navigation made by: saradika

Ko-Fi Commissions AO3 Profile

Prologue Prev.

Ch 2. Word count: ~4.2k

Chapter 2: Tour of the Office

“If you can sign here, here, and initial here…”

            The attorney that sat in front of you was older, him with nice dark, disheveled hair and eyes with a large nose, but honestly was still quite attractive, and with a strong jaw. He wore a black tailored suit and black tie with a crisp white dress shirt, it wasn't too extravagant – simple and neat. He used a long finger to point at every spot for you to sign on your new employee contract – deliberate and to the point.

            “You'll also be given a personal work laptop and personal cellphone as well,” the attorney stated, he had introduced himself as Hiromi Higuruma. Said items were beside him, a simple thin black laptop and the newest model of the top-of-the-line smartphone – your own phone was a few models behind. “You’ll need to sign an agreement regarding these.” Higuruma then pulled out a couple of documents.

            The documents were simple enough. They stated that you would not use the laptop for personal use such as storing photos, personal data, etc. It was the same for the phone, the phone was to be used to contact clients, arrange things for Mr. Ryōmen for business trips, order necessary things for him, and for him to contact you directly; you were to not give that phone number to anyone unless Mr. Ryōmen gave permission.

            “So, no Candy Crush?” you joked with a slight smile after you read over the contract.

            Higuruma looked at you with tired eyes. “Mr. Itadori tried that on his phone…” he sighed. “Mr. Ryōmen didn’t approve.”

            “Wouldn’t go easy on his own nephew, huh?” you grimaced as you signed. You signed your name with semi-bad penmanship, something your teachers have scolded you for years for, but you never bothered to correct as your mind worked too fast to care for neat handwriting.

            “If anything, the boss is harder on him,” the attorney informed with a slight grin. “He wants Mr. Itadori to be successful.”

            “Yuji never talked about his uncle before…” you mentioned. “Only his grandfather… Is there a reason?”

            “That is not my place,” Higuruma replied stoically, his grin disappearing. He then slipped out another piece of paper. “I almost forgot… you also need to sign an NDA agreement.”

            You internally sighed. You were familiar with those in your line of work. Back when you were an intern during your college days you had to sign quite a few while you were at numerous offices. Then you had to sign one while working with Naoya.

            After a moment or two of reading over everything – which was quite standard stuff – you signed off on everything. Higuruma took the papers back and neatly put everything in his suitcase. He slid over the laptop and cellphone over to you.

            “You of course can put the laptop and phone in any type of case you like,” he told you with a sly smile. “You do get the luxury of having a company credit card as well.” Higuruma then handed you a red card, heavy in your hands as it was made of a heavier material than traditional credit cards.

            Sheepishly, you pawed over the card, noting that there was no significant bank name on it. Its red color was almost a metallic color, reminding you of freshly spilled blood. There was no name on it either, making you wonder how it could be proven to be used as a card, but sure enough there was a magnetic stripe and a chip reader on it.

            “Mr. Ryōmen doesn’t mind what is spent on that card,” Higuruma specified to you. “So, no need to go to him for approval, or do anything for paperwork regarding what you spent on.”

            You raised a brow in confusion. Many, if not all, companies expected receipts when something was bought. Or they expected a full ledger report on what you were going to use the money for just to deny you it and watch you squirm.

            Once you were done in Higuruma’s office, he led you out and standing in front of the door was the white-haired man from the day prior.

            “Why, hello there, Y/N!”

            “Ah, Mr. Gojo, it’s nice to run into you again,” you greeted with a smile.

            Gojo’s crystal blue eyes brightened. “Ah, it’s great running into you again, sweets!” he jested. His eyes darted over to Higuruma, who was getting another document from his briefcase. “Higuruma, I know you are not grabbing what I think you are grabbing!”

            “A sexual harassment form?” Higuruma deadpanned. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

            “Asshole, put that away!” Gojo hissed angrily. “She’ll get the wrong idea!”

            You couldn’t help but chuckle at that, trying, and failing to cover it up with your hand. “What brings you here, Mr. Gojo?”

            Gojo gave a large smile. “Well, you’re officially hired, so, I thought as a lovely gentleman I would give you a tour – HIGURUMA STOP FILLING OUT THE DAMN FORM!”

            There was the subtle sound of Higuruma’s pen haphazardly scratching at the paper on the surface of the wall, filling out the necessary, or in Gojo’s mind unnecessary, parts.

            “Just getting a head start,” the attorney mumbled. He then put the paper away. “Now, Ms. Y/N, the phone I gave you already has some numbers programmed into it. It of course as Mr. Ryōmen’s number, Uraume’s, Mr. Itadori’s, mine, and every department head in the company along with their secretary.”

            Gojo’s eyes sparkled mischievously behind his glasses. “Oh, that means you already have my number!” he informed teasingly. “Feel free to program it into your personal phone as well!” He gave a not-so-subtle wink.

            Higuruma’s hand twitched toward his briefcase again for the form.

            “I swear to any deity that is willing to listen to me, Hiromi, I am going to beat the fuck out of you if you keep doing that!” Gojo threatened, raising a fist and waving it at him.

            “Not very wise to threaten an attorney, Satoru,” Higuruma quipped back, a smile playing on his lips. “Anyways, we are finished here, Ms. Y/N. If you would like to go with Gojo for a tour, I guess I cannot stop you.”

            You gave Higuruma a bow, ignoring the slight hike in your skirt that you for sure Gojo noticed. The skirt you wore was a tad bit shorter than you’d like, but it was the only clean one that you had available.

            “Thank you, Mr. Higuruma,” you thanked. You then took the phone and laptop, cradling the laptop under your arm.ō

            Earlier when you arrived back at Ryōmen Enterprises for your new employee paperwork, the receptionist, Shoko, had set you up with your new employee badge. She took your picture, complimented your hairstyle and makeup, and printed it on a nice official badge. Shoko had given you a generic lanyard for it but informed you that you can use any type of lanyard you’d like.

            As Mr. Ryōmen’s personal assistant now, you have access to every part of the building. Basically, if Mr. Ryōmen, Yuji, and Uraume had access to something, you had access to something. In a way it was refreshing, you had a lot more access to things than when you were with Naoya.

            Gojo was trying to be a decent guide as he wanted to start from the ground up. On the ground floor he re-introduced you to Shoko first, stating that he and her had gone to high school together and in turn when to college together.

            “Actually, a lot of us went to school together,” Gojo pointed out with a smile.

            You quirked an eyebrow. “Just how old are you then, Mr. Gojo?” you inquired with a sly smile.

            He gave an over-exaggerated open mouth gasp, putting his hand to his chest. “My, my…! How rude asking a young man his age!” he dramatically stated while Shoko chuckled.

            “He just turned 32,” Shoko informed coyly. Gojo glared at her in return.

            “Keep smoking and your 32 is going to turn into 62 real fast!” Gojo quipped back.

            You tilted your head to the side. You didn't think Gojo and Shoko looked any older than yourself, mid-twenties. In fact, you wonder how old Mr. Ryōmen was, as he was Yuji's uncle, he didn't look very old either.

            “So, did you guys go to school with Mr. Ryōmen then…?” you then asked curiously.

            “We met in college,” Shoko explained lightly. “He's a few years older than us.”

            You nodded. “It's just… like you guys, he doesn't look his age…” you noted. “It's weird he has a 19-year-old nephew.”

            Gojo shrugged offhandedly. “I think his twin brother knocked up a girl like, right after high school…” he mentioned.

            “Explains why Yuji and he look so much alike…!” you nearly gasped aloud.

            “Yeah, no shit!” Gojo laughed. “I thought Yuji was his kid at first. I was told to shut the fuck up and get back to work.”

            “Which you should be doing right now,” a deep voice rumbled.

            Comically, it looked like shivers ran up Gojo's spine and tingled through his white hair.

            “Oh…! Boss!” Gojo greeted smoothly as he spun around to see Mr. Ryōmen large form behind him. “What a pleasant surprise~!”

            “Get back to fucking work, Gojo!” Mr. Ryōmen griped, his face flushed with anger, teeth gritted, a vein about to pop from his forehead. “I swear to fucking Christ, the Brat does more work than you do and I catch him looking at AI porn of Jennifer Lawrence on his damn tablet!”

            Gojo gave a low whistle, “Kid got balls, man…”

            “Satoru…”

            “Alright, alright…!” Gojo griped, raising his hands up in surrender. “I just wanted to give the new girl a tour is all!”

            Mr. Ryōmen seemed to finally notice that you were standing there awkwardly to the side, now clutching your new work laptop to your chest. You gave a sheepish smile and wave. Mr. Ryōmen narrowed his eyes at the white-haired man.

            “Did Higuruma already start paperwork on your ass, because if he didn’t, I’m-”

            “What the actual fuck…” Gojo groaned in complete dismay before finally walking away in utter defeat.

            Before he could say anything to Shoko, the phone rang, and she promptly answered it with a faux smile and peppy voice.

            “Y/N,” Mr. Ryōmen said to you.

            “Yes…!” you answered with an almost terrified squeak.

            “Come with me, I’ll show you around,” he then ordered.

            “Yes, sir.”

            Mr. Ryōmen started on the bottom floor, which made sense since that was where you were. The bottom floor had the few receptionists that were there, Shoko being the lead one. There were a couple of college aged students that were interns that ran the back office making copies of documents and ran a small office for filing.

            He then showed the small café area where the workers got their coffees and some snacks. There was one lone barista, and he wasn’t all too busy since the morning rush was done.

            “I’ll admit he doesn’t get too much business here,” Mr. Ryōmen grinned. “I’ll probably not renew his contract after its up.”

            “Oh, why is that…?” you asked politely.

            “Ever since I bought that coffee shop for the Brat and he’s been working there with his little friends, most of the employees here get their coffee from him on their way here,” he explained with almost a proud tone. “Some even go on their lunch break for more coffee or the little lunches they have – everyone says the coffee and pastries are better there and love the customer service.” He gave you a side glance, a smirk playing on his lips. “And I recall a little someone walking in this morning also carrying one of those coffees.”

            Your face immediately flushed red. “Oh… well… that coffee shop was how I met Yuji and the others…” You admit that it the coffee was indeed better there than most chains, and you always enjoyed the hand decorated desserts that Megumi and Yuji did together. After hearing that Yuji wanted to franchise it out after getting a business degree, you wonder if that nice charm would still be there.

            “So, I’m gonna be paying you to buy my nephew’s coffee?”

            “What…!? Oh, no…!” You were trying to quickly explain yourself when you heard that he was chuckling under his breath. You frowned, realizing he was playing a joke. “Oh, ha, ha…”

            The tour continued to a large staff break room that had a complete kitchen with state-of-the-art stainless-steel appliances. The refrigerator was stocked with bottled water, sparkling water, and soda, along with some employees’ packed lunches with their names written on them. A few microwaves were attached against the walls and quite large, proving to be better than an average break room's 300-watt microwave.

            The countertops were a nice dark granite, something you would see in a six-figure home and not in a break room. There were small towers in random spots that held condiments and seasonings, all available to twirl to get what you needed. A few spots had electric stoves, so anyone was able to reheat something on a stovetop instead of a microwave. And lastly a lovely double oven was in the center.

            “Once in a while for parties I have professional chefs come and cook for the staff,” Mr. Ryōmen said. “But anyone is allowed to use the facilities here to prepare their lunch – as long as they clean up after themselves.” He stressed that last line heavily.

            You couldn't help but chuckle at that. “You make it sound like you have a couple of children here that don't look after themselves,” you nearly laughed.

            “Yuji can cook very well, he's an excellent chef in the making, but the fucker can't clean up after himself to save his life,” Mr. Ryōmen stressed heavily, you took note that this is the first time he referred to his nephew by name. “And Gojo, he'll start a fire just looking at an empty bowl… in the sink that has water in it.”

            “Oh, dear…” you nearly laughed. “That’s bad.”

            On the next floor on the tour were sales. The sales department was run by a man named Suguru Geto, who had the longest mane of black hair tied up you had ever seen. He gave you a friendly smile and shook your hand while he introduced himself. He didn't wear a suit jacket, most likely had it hung up somewhere, as he was just sporting a black dress shirt and purple tie with black dress pants and shoes.

            You had a feeling that you would be working with Geto a bit more than other departments as sales connect with clients a lot more. So, you chatted with him for a moment before a young girl with caramel colored hair tied in a neat bun with part of her hair as ringlets framing her face, her light brown eyes wide with worry as she gripped a piece of paper in her hands.

            “Mr. Geto…!” the girl nearly wailed. “I just got news from the client…! They want another revision…!” She then fussed as her dark purple skirt and cream cashmere sweater while bouncing between her feet nervously.

            Geto gave you a smile and excused himself for a moment. “Nanako, you and Mimiko have done it four times already, yes…?” he pressed, clearly trying to keep his agitation to a minimum – clearly it was toward the client and not the young girl.

            “Yes…” Nanako tearfully replied. “But they want another…”

            Geto's eye twitched. “Damn monkey…” he muttered under his breath. “Nothing but a circus show here…”

            Mr. Ryōmen seemed to know when Geto got in the mood it was time to leave. He escorted you from the office and headed to the next part of the tour, you were looking over your shoulder to see an almost devilish smile on Geto’s face as he was on the phone with the client.

            The next floor was marketing, although you could tell by seeing Mr. Ryōmen’s face he would rather skip it since it was Gojo’s department. However, it was part of the tour.

            With marketing, Gojo’s job was to make sure the brand was profitable and to help team up with sales to create awareness for clients. Gojo and Geto were high school best friends, so they were very familiar with each other and worked well together.

            Speaking of the devil, Gojo sat at his desk, his head cradled with one hand as he was on the phone no doubt with a client himself. His brows were furrowed angrily while he had a couple of people bussing about with numerous papers.

            In your line of work from previous companies, you have also dealt with marketing. There was no doubt that you would be working with Gojo as well as Geto. Luckily, Gojo was very easygoing, and since he was close to Geto you were sure you would get along with the raven-haired man as well.

            Gojo, having no time to do his usual charms, uncradled his head and used the now free arm to give you a subtle wave. He went back to what he was doing, looking as though he wanted whoever was on the other line to explode.

            Mr. Ryōmen decided to skip the next floor, as you were already there earlier – legal. You have already met Mr. Higuruma and the attorney showed you around. There were only a few lawyers with the company, but Mr. Ryōmen trusted Higuruma the most as they were classmates in high school and were roommates in college.

            The next floor was finance, which was run by Kento Nanami. He was a tall, blonde man with sharp cheekbones and a strong jawline, his hair neatly parted. Like the other heads of their respective departments, he was wearing a suit, but he wore beige with a dark, royal blue dress shirt with a spotted yellow tie and a pair of brown dress shoes.

            He was not very sociable as his greeting was short and curt, his hazel eyes barely taking a glance at you. It seemed Nanami was busy as he was looking through papers and asking others in his area to go over the numbers once more, including his second in command, Yuu Haibara.

            Sales, marketing, and finance all work closely together in a business – and as the personal assistant to the CEO of the company, now it is your duty to make sure to get the details of each department and make sure everything was running smoothly. Again, you will most likely get along with Gojo and Geto, but Nanami seemed very intimidating.

            There were a few other departments that Mr. Ryōmen introduced you to as well, such as IT, run by Takuma Ino, who Mr. Ryōmen had to remind him apparently once again to remove his beanie while in the office. The young man, who was the same age as you, only gave a sheepish smile as he complied while he introduced himself. He had messy brown hair, messy from his beanie, and large brown eyes, making him look much younger than he was – it didn't help that his professional attire was a dark gray polo shirt and black slacks with black and white canvas high-tops. In a way he was cute, you could admit that but compared to the other men you had just met Ino was almost too “Boy Next Door” type.

            Several small administrative offices were in the building as well, each connected to the main departments run by each person you were introduced to. Many of the employees on the administration side seemed to be around your age, or even a couple of years younger, around the same age as the café trio you've come to befriend. They all seemed friendly and excited to meet you, although a but uneasy to see who you were accompanied by.

            After roughly two hours of touring the building, Mr. Ryōmen even showed you where the supply room was and smaller kitchenette areas were for mini-fridges and coffee makers, you were finally back at the top floor where his office was located. Uraume was at their desk, typing away at the computer, their eyes glancing toward the two of you exiting the elevator before quickly finishing and getting up.

            “Sir, I have Ms. Y/N’s desk prepared as you have asked,” Uraume informed with a slight bow.

            “Ah, good, right-on time,” Mr. Ryōmen smiled. He then proceeded to lead you to a decently sized desk that was across from Uraume’s, but still in front of Mr. Ryōmen’s office. You could tell that the desk was new and sturdy, a nice, sleek desktop setup already booted-up with a printout of your new log-in information on the keyboard.

            There was still enough room on the desk to put the laptop to the side and work on it. You didn’t have a desk phone as everything you would do as the CEO’s personal assistant would be through the work cellphone. While Uraume was the secretary and kept up with the paperwork in the office and meetings within the building with the staff, your job was more for his social meetings with clients outside the office.

            You settled at the desk, the chair contouring to your body with easy. It was ergonomic with amazing lumbar support, and it even helped support your head and neck. You could easily sit in the chair for hours without pain. It sure beat the regular $20 Wal-Mart chair that Naoya had for your desk…

            “You are free to put some personal objects on your desk,” Mr. Ryōmen informed you when he noticed you were in bliss from the chair. It sounded like he was trying to hold back a chuckle. “You know, like pictures, I know Ino and the Brat puts up little figurines on their desks.”

            You nodded in acknowledgement, still content in the chair.

            “I’m guessing you like the chair…?” your boss rumbled in amusement, you could hear the smile in his voice.

            “This is the best damn chair I’ve ever sat on…” you sighed blissfully.

            “Damn, getting a hard on over a chair?” the man nearly choked with a cackle.

            “I am but a simple woman… nice chairs and maybe a nice cheese platter…”

            Another low rumble escaped Mr. Ryōmen. “Well, I'll be sure to have a cheese platter for you as your official welcoming gift to the office.”

            His comment snapped you out of your trance as you clumsily shot from your chair, causing it to nearly fly out from behind you. “Oh, no!” you nearly shrieked. “That is not necessary at all!” you insisted.

            The man only laughed as he turned away from you to walk back into his office, waving overhead as he did.

            For the rest of the day you sat at your new desk getting your desktop set up, Uraume helping you through the system and showing you the scheduling software. It was a couple of hours later when Yuji showed up to the office, in another crisp looking suit tailored, looking excited to see that you were officially there at a desk with Uraume.

            “I told you I was starting today…” you nearly deadpanned to him. “This morning I did when I got my usual coffee…”

            “It's so different from being told versus seeing it though!” Yuji said excitedly. Giddily, he almost ran to your desk at your side seeing what you were doing. “Did you already meet all the heads yet?”

            You nodded. “Yeah, Mr. Ryōmen showed me around,” you replied.

            Yuji blinked in surprise. “Really? He didn’t even show me around. He had Nanamin do it.”

            You tilted your head to the side in confusion. “Nanamin…?” you repeated.

            “Oh, Nanami in finance,” Yuji elaborated with a grin. “I just call him that.”

            You honestly couldn’t imagine the blonde, stoic man tolerating that.

            Yuji then shrugged. “Well, hopefully my uncle didn’t make you uncomfortable,” he then said.

            The next hour was you finishing up all your login information, both Yuji and Uraume making sure you were all set. Mr. Ryōmen saw the two crowding you as he walked out of his office, raising a curious brow.

            “You all settled?” he called out.

            “She should be good!” Yuji answered for you with a thumbs up.

            “Then she can go home, and you can actually do what you’re supposed to do!” Mr. Ryōmen snapped.

            Yuji hung his head, and he groaned, “Dude, I don’t even get paid here…!”

            “I literally bought you a whole ass coffee shop,” his uncle deadpanned. “Suck it up, Brat.”

            “Ugh… yes, Uncle Kuna,” the young man grumbled.

            You chuckled at the sudden familial nickname Yuji called your new boss. However, you did notice Mr. Ryōmen’s eye twitch slightly.

            “Y/N,” Mr. Ryōmen then said, a devilish smile on his face. “You may leave now for the day. I have… some words to speak to my nephew.”

            You didn’t need to be told twice as you logged out of the computer and gathered your items. As you began to walk away, you did wave at Uraume goodbye and went to do the same thing to Yuji, only to see Mr. Ryōmen dragging the poor boy into his office by the ear.             All in all, you thought your first day wasn't too bad.

Special thanks to my Ko-fi supporters!

Basic Tier

Aostrele

Draconic Hermit

JadEDU

Jaune Arc

Zippy

Middle Tier

@genderfluidsgetguns AKA IdoInFactLikeDogs

[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.”

[lay-z]

the daughter and the huntsman | 1

captain j. price x female!reader

Summary: While most of what is left of society keeps fighting and trying to adapt to the new world order, some people are still desperately trying to fix things. Wrapped up in all of this mess as one of the best combatants left, Captain Price gets assigned a very special mission.

Warnings/Info: Zombie Apocalypse AU | 18+ | strangers to lovers; age gap; cussing; horror; blood/gore; eventual smut; angst; suspense; hurt/comfort; dark!content; canon-typical violence; multiple POV's

☠️ 》 Masterlist

》 This story is set in the same universe/timeline as my other CoD story 'knights in shining tactical gear'!

The Captain listens intently, sitting in his large office chair with his arms crossed in front of his chest and his legs crossed at his ankles while Kate Laswell briefs him on the latest status of the global pandemic from the safety of her office on the other side of the world.

Dead people rising and coming back to live only to become mindless cannibals craving human flesh by all means.

It's not something John has ever believed possible, no matter the horrors he's seen and experienced during his military career. Still, every known government keeps vehemently denying ever experimenting with biological weapons. Even though the proof is right in front of everyone's eyes, roaming every capital's city street.

Well, maybe the politicans aren't lying after all, no matter how shady and corrupt they are. It doesn't seem like anyone was prepared for this disaster. Everyone is equally screwed nowadays.

"You hear what I'm saying, John?"

John blinks a few times as his vision focuses back on the pixelated computer screen in front him. Perhaps he isn't paying as much attention as he should be.

"I'm uh -"

He sighs in defeat and rubs his calloused hands over his tired face. Not being able to sleep nor rest in the past 28 hours is slowly starting to show an effect, even on him.

"Could you repeat the last...uh part?"

Meanwhile, Kate shakes her head with that certain look of disappointed judgment yet compassionate understanding. His mother used to give him a similar one and it always hit John right in the gut.

"You should get some sleep and consider that an order, Captain. Surviving off cigars, black coffee, and rage can only take you so far and we still need you over there"

John snorts as he just wanted to reach for his cold cup of black coffee standing right out of frame. He stops mid-move and crosses his arms again with a shrug.

"Eh, could be worse. Ya know what sorts of stuff and blokes I've survived before. 'Tis little virus is nothing", he says with a nonchalant shrug.

Kate clicks her tongue, shaking her head again.

"Oh, but it is. It's even worse than we've ever imagined. Two weeks, give or take, and most societies and governments around the world will have failed"

"Haven't they already", John mutters under his breath then cranks his stiff neck from left to right until the muscles pop.

"Exodus. Anarchie. The imminent downfall of humanity, John. That's what I'm talking about here"

She speaks hauntingly now, enunciating every word with obvious distress and care. It's a tone he's never heard her use before, not even during past seemingly hopeless operations.

"Ya speak as if the world has ended already"

Her head drops forward, her shoulders heave and John sees that she sighs deeply while her hands stay folded as she desperately tries to keep her composure, and now he's really starting to feel bad.

"Kate?"

"Yes and no, it hasn't ended yet. Not quite yet anyways -", she finally answers coolly.

"As I was explaining before, while you were peacefully zoning out on me...With the resources we're still provided with, we've managed to gather and save the lead scientists, virologists, scholars, researchers, basically every big-brain person, and whoever we could get to come with us from all around the globe to work on a cure together"

John purses his lips and runs a hand through his wiry beard as he ponders the given intel.

"Sounds a lot like classified information to me. Something you usually wouldn't tell over a nervy, unstable internet connection"

Kate chuckles then, an out-of-character sound in this situation and she waves her hands dismissively.

"Well, usually dead people stay dead and don't come back to hunt the living"

Now John is the one to laugh.

"Touché"

A sudden knock on his office door alerts John and he straightens up in his chair before Gaz pokes his head inside the room.

"No worries, sir", the young Sargeant assures calmly. "Just wanted to inform ya that the squad is back from patrol"

"Any incidents?"

Gaz shakes his head as he enters the office and closes the door behind him.

"Is that Sargeant Garrick?", Kate asks curiously and John's focus shifts back to her as he gives a short nod.

"Well then -"

She straightens up in her chair, clears her throat, and reaches for something off-camera before she pulls up a black file.

"we might as well discuss the matters now."

"Matters? Plural?", John asks, his suspicion rising as he waves Gaz over to take up a seat across from him before he finally reaches for the cold cup of coffee. He'll definitely need more fuel to get through the rest of this briefing. Meanwhile, the Sergeant sits in one of the chairs as Kate begins to explain.

"One's an offer, the other more like a...request. The US government has organized several so-called Alpha Teams. They're comprised of nationwide special forces soldiers and we'd like them to operate globally to support and fight the outbreak in designated areas. With the help of the AT's we're trying to build and establish additional safe zones around the world -"

"I see where you're going with this, Kate", John butts in.

"I uh don't, sir", Gaz says, scratching the back of his neck.

"What I'm saying is that I'd like to recruit not only you to join one of our Alpha Teams, Sargeant Garrick, but the remaining members of the 141 as well"

The quantity of Task Force-141 has diminished drastically since word about the outbreak of an unknown virus in some remote village somewhere in the Amazon has first spread through rumors and whispers online until it turned into a full-blown pandemic within weeks.

Bloody hell, the Captain is one of the few officers left keeping the base and its inhabitants afloat. When everyone else deserted and fled, whether to go back home to keep their families and loved ones safe or because they simply couldn't handle their new reality, he stayed behind to fight for the rest of the living.

"Both Ghost and Soap are still MIA. We haven't been able to contact and regroup with either of them as of yet. Only members left on base as of now are Gaz and König, and I can't -"

"No, you're right, John. You can't.", Kate interrupts the Captain swiftly with a significant edge to her voice.

"Now, about that other request..."

Weary eyes, steel blue and framed by wrinkles as he squints, stare back at John when he glances into the rear view mirror.

Bloody hell, when did he get so old?

Worry lines.

That's what his mother would call those kind of wrinkles back in the day. A term used to make one feel better about oneself.

Worry lines, sure. They happen when you're on your own, watching your own back of necessity in a hostile environment, 24/7, and by god, John is on his own in this. Why did he agree to go on this mission again?

Oh, right, to help safe human kind. Bollocks.

He adjust his boonie hat over his forehead once more when the sun continues to reflect on the rear view mirror, blinding him.

During his travels, country roads have proven to be less blocked and risky than their highway counterpart, but accidents can happen anywhere and John is not in the mood to deal with anything going sideways now.

31 klicks.

Only 31 more klicks to Sheffield. Not that his mission ends then, no, but at least he's finally made it to the AO. A road trip of four hours, give or take depending on the traffic, has taken him six days to complete. Six fucking days. Thanks to the lack of running gas stations.

And the actual mission, a search and rescue, will only begin once he gets there.

At least Laswell was able to give him some intel, more like a clue.

"Try St. Roslin Children's Hospital first. She had just started working there when things got messy -"

Finding a needle in a haystack, that's what this mission is.

Perhaps John should knock on the woman's door first; see if she's still living in her flat before he goes out of his way to seek out a hospital which has been overrun by now most likely.

The Captain scoffs at his own thoughts but his eyes flick to the tattered map spread out on his dashboard; the location of the hospital marked and circled with red ink. Old school yet functional. He doesn't miss technology too badly.

Eventually, the warm, late summer sun gets overshadowed by the clouds chasing it since dawn, and John isn't surprised by the thick raindrops suddenly hitting the truck's windshield.

Tags: @itsasecrets-things @mildlyhopeless @ipoopedmypants47

[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.

--

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[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+:)