#Captivity Alaska

[kylejsugarman]

its actually so fucking funny to think that jesse was probably so preoccupied with recovery and trying to Be Normal and impressing her that he just straight up forgets to tell demi that he's trans. not that he Has to or that it changes her perception of him at all, it's just extremely funny to imagine them already in the process of getting it on when it hits him and he's like "I FORGOR" while demi tries not to laugh

[wildwanderess]

just look at her captivating glow , magnificent ✨

[darkdemeter]

HABITS OF MOTHER NATURE'S WILL II

The DARK DEMETER WRITING CATALOGUE, WANDA MAXIMOFF COLUMN #2 —

—- not my gifs, credit to original posters! -—

Wanda Maximoff x Werewolf! GN/Female/Male Reader, (Platonic) Avengers x Werewolf! GN/Female/Male Reader

A/N — Here it is, werewolf readers! Been a little busy raccoon with writing this behemoth. Quite the read as you can tell by the word count. Please take care in reading the discretion list because this column is quite graphic and may be potentially triggering for readers.

WORD COUNT — 13.8k

READER DISCRETION — High levels of angst — hurt/comfort — minor sexual interaction, unspecified genitals but use of "groin". (making out. slight dry humping) — high level gore and violence (werewolves are fighting, and that is never clean) — sprouts of fluff moments — trauma/ptsd — mentions of violence and death (WARNING: Unspecified ages, but implied deaths of children and teenagers) — protective reader — aggressive werewolf! reader — reader begins recovery from trauma — some adult language — brief alcohol consumption — minor name calling feat. Tony calling reader "pup" — use of Y/N

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SUMMARY — Habits are not easy to let go and neither is the past. The team and yourself are sent to Alaska for an undercover op, but it becomes clear to the team that you’re more guard than guide on this mission. Mother Nature herself vouches that you will put your new wisdom to her intended use when the once distant howls have grown close. You will do everything in your nature to protect your pack and your mate. Instinct will take over; and instinct shall turn into habit.

You can’t change what cannot be undone. She wants you to embrace this, yet you fight it,  tooth and claw.

There came this new and sole desire that occurred during the excruciating ordeal of your shift on the full moon last night. 

Only such an experience meant Mother Nature was granting you a new wisdom, that which altered your previous nature, no matter how complicated the human biology was.

By her law, instinct was instinct. 

You splashed cold water onto your face and absorbed the sight of yourself in the mirror. Often you caught sight of the beast beneath your eyes in the reflective surface. And many times it scared you how close it always lingered. Ever watchful and biding its time.

How could Wanda see you as more than you realise? 

You caught the shine of amber as it shimmered across your eyes in your reflection. Right below the surface of your own skin, a predator resided with unbridled force. You shook your head to rid the intrusive need to let it out. 

‘It is done now. She’s preparing me for something.’

Your hands gripped the sides of your sink, your white, strained knuckles ached with the pressure that threatened to crack the ceramic basin. 

‘They wouldn’t understand it. Wanda wouldn’t understand it.’ 

A knock on your room’s door caught you off guard. That rarely happened with your keen senses. Your hands released their hold on the sink.

“Y/N?” Your ears pricked at the accented tongue of her voice, “you finished packing?”

You don’t even think about your actions because it felt natural to approach her. To be close to her. You’ve already opened your door when you came to your senses 

when a pair of bright eyes blink up at you. Fuck, you can’t control your racing heart whenever she smiled. 

You’re almost afraid she’ll read your mind again and discover what she’d be better off never knowing. 

She saw you as more than you realised but could she possibly understand the idea that you saw her anymore differently than you did before?

‘Mate.’

“I came to let you know everyone is waiting for us. Can’t leave our guide behind now.” 

Her eyes momentarily fluttered down before they lifted to stare into the captivity of yours. 

“Y-yeah,” you bit back a snarl at the stutter of your response, “I’m ready.”

“Good. Could you help me with my bags?” Her eyes looked hopeful for the short moment you left her unanswered before you nodded, perhaps a little too enthusiastically.

“Of course!”

And that’s why you now fought so hard against Mother Nature. She instilled within your agonised cries, broken bones and reformed muscle what every werewolf anticipated: a soulmate tie. 

When many were overcome with a pure and primal feeling of joy, you were consumed by trepidation. 

Nevertheless, you walked Wanda to her room and retrieved her bags - much to her protest, you gave a wolfish smirk to hide the near breathlessness in your lungs and rapid beating of your heart - and joined the others on the Quinjet for your mission in Alaska.

Where a wolf calls home.

“So tell us, Wolfie. What’s the whole story with you and Alaska?” Natasha spoke up from the co-pilot's seat, Steve sat next to her, his focus on flying the jet though her question piqued his interest. “Did you grow up there?”

A few hours into the flight and all was smooth sailing until her question made the hair on the back of your neck stand. 

When you mentally prepared yourself, you turned your eyes in her direction.

She’d turned to peer over her shoulder at you with a quirk in her brow, curious to Fury’s designation as the team’s guide.

“Ah,” you huffed and scratched at your neck haphazardly, another habit you shared with disdain, “something Fury left out of my file, I take it?”

“Well, yeah. Your file has barely anything regarding background. Only when you moved to the city and your skill set mainly.” Your lips pulled into a thin line with Sam’s deliverance of this news. 

Your nose wrinkled at the scent that tinged the air like ash and smoke. A dark tone to their concern. Were they worried you were hiding something?

You simply shrugged to ease some of the tension that built around you and your teammates. “Just spent some years there before I moved on to live in the city. As a werewolf, you tend to learn terrain quickly, no matter how long it’s been.” 

Natasha nodded but something in the way she pursed her lips made the tight coil in your chest grow, almost to the point it strangled out a whimper from you. 

“Alaska is a really beautiful place,” you sighed and your lips stretch to form a smile, “if we have enough time, I’ll happily show you guys around. 

“I’d like that very much,” Wanda said from her seat across from yours. Your smile turned shy under her gaze, a flutter of her glowing red magic used to merely entertain herself made your heart warm. 

An odd sensation as if her very magic was tied to your heart. 

Steve hummed out from his place, his eyes wandered to Tony as if to hear out his thoughts on the matter. Tony shrugged. 

“Just don’t forget we’re here for a mission, not a ‘walk-with-nature’ getaway trip.”

The small assembled team nodded and mumbled amongst themselves. 

“Alright, Stark. But I am personally not leaving Alaska without playing a proper game of fetch with Y/N.”

Your chin tilted down to conceal the smirk on your lips. Wanda was surely determined with a tone like that. You briefly caught her eyes and the wide grin plastered on her face.

If Mother Nature gave you one chance to change yours and Wanda’s - unbeknownst to her - new fate, would you truly want to?

The Quinjet landed without trouble thanks to Steve’s impeccable piloting skills, though you could tell Sam and Tony may have had a few hundred pointers for the captain. 

The engine was turned off and everyone gathered their bags together. You reached into your suit pocket for the small pill case, taking two of them. When Sam gave you a questioning look, you mumbled something about it being medicine for your headache. 

The ramp lowered and the frozen breeze brought most of your teammates to a shiver. You and the super soldiers hadn’t so much as flinched. 

You were the first to step down the ramp and greet the snow with your feet, the deep crunch beneath you a welcomed whirlwind of contentment.

‘Home.’

The others followed behind you, bags adorned, they took in the marvel of their new surroundings. Below a blue and sunny sky littered with clouds, the platform was mostly covered by the ensuing white that covered the landscape. 

Down the trail that led alongside the woods, a large house laid vacant in the distance right near the edge of the frozen lake. 

“Quite the walk,” Tony huffed with a cluster of windy ice before his mouth. Snow already littered in his dark hair. 

Your gaze followed the span of the ice until it reached the far off cluster of trees on the other side. Beyond that, the mountain peaks contrasted against the sky.

“See that mountain up there?” You pointed at the tallest one and your team all turned their sights to where your hand directed. 

“I’ve been up there. A sort of tradition to race up to the top just as the sun grazed the horizon.” 

The memories were distant when you moved to the city. But now they flooded back like an avalanche. 

“All the way up there, huh?” Steve asked, mouth agape as he assessed the frosty white peak. “By yourself?”

“No, with my siblings.” You answered that too quickly and too honestly. The frosted mist faded before your lips into the air with your words, unable to take them back. 

“Wait, you never mentioned you have siblings,” said Bucky with a furrowed brow. 

“Oh, I guess I never did…” Your once smile faded from your face and your eyes were overcome with that pain that stained the snow you walked upon. You felt the stares against your back and you huffed aloud, shoulders sagged.

“Come on, we should get settled in,” you said with a forced smile, the cold for once stung harshly against your face. It burnt your skin.

The others nodded and you led the way down the trail. The sun would set soon, and it was unwise to wander around after sun down. But that sole purpose that fuelled your soul burned deep within you like a campfire amidst a snow storm. 

You wouldn’t allow any harm to befall your team. You’d sooner die than let anything happen to them. To her. 

As you walked with a determined stride towards the lodge, Wanda’s warm fingers swept across your knuckles.

‘I’m here for you, if you want to talk.’

You swallowed thickly and the inkling of your head nodding seemed to answer her as her eyes scanned you.

“So how did Fury get this safe house?” Clint asked with a deep, and huffy breath, his hand adjusted the bag on his shoulder. 

“It belonged to a family many years ago. But it’s been vacant for some time and Fury gained ownership of it.” 

“You seem very familiar with the safe house.” 

Shit. Was she reading your mind as you spoke? 

You walked up the steps onto the front porch, key in hand but your hand lingered on the door handle with an iron grip. 

You stood locked in place for what felt like an eternity, eyes scornful as they glared daggers into the wooden and glass panelled door. 

“I’d worked alongside the family. Did some odd jobs here and there, kind of became a family friend.” 

you unlocked the front door and promptly  stood aside with a gesture to the others before you, the door held open. You offered them all a kind smile the moment your eyes found Wanda’s, the sharp lines in your brows eased even when in hers, you saw the glimmer of concern.

“Come on in.” 

It was safe to say the majority of your party were relieved to step inside the lodge and turn on the thermostat. Not that it was ever much in use back in the day, you were a little surprised that it still managed after all this time. 

While the others took in their temporary residence, you couldn’t help but let your eyes rake over the emptiness that took place. A shadow of its former self.

Your hands ran over the hearth’s sill, clean of any dust but once, it held the memories of a past you left behind. Each frame a moment in time which you treasured beyond belief with the passed family.

Now you stared at the unlit hearth. Barren of those memories. You thought it was for the best. Fury did well with the clean up.

‘Are you okay?’ 

You looked towards where Wanda stood by the L shaped lounge, arms folded over her front and fingers knitted together; her nails dragged across her knuckles and it made you cringe from the thought of her discomfort.

‘Yeah, I’m alright.’ 

“So how are we doing the rooms?” Natasha asked after she finished her investigation of the kitchen right across from the lounge room. 

“We will do pairs,” you answered curtly, yet you still feigned a smile even if they could tell it was fake. 

“Follow me.”

You only hoped they wouldn’t say anything that delved deeper than the surface. Only the wolf awaited them there.

You hadn’t expected the return to Alaska to hit you in such a way. And to add atop of it all, your senses were at an all time high, dialled up to eleven. You felt far more sensitive than usual. 

More easy to falter. Easier to piss off.

Everyone followed you up the flight of stairs to the second floor. 

The hallway was less narrower than you remembered, it could fit two people shoulder to shoulder fairly well. Rooms lined the hallway down towards the singular pair of double doors at the end.

“These are the rooms, take your pick. This is the bathroom here, the master bedroom has an ensuite,” you explained to them, your tone rapid fire. 

“Wanda and Natasha, you can take the master bedroom.” You opened the double doors and it took everything in you to prevent the tears. And yet a sad smile pulled at the corners on your lips.

You could still smell them after all this time. It was like they never left. 

“Are you sure?” Natasha asked rather sharply, almost offended you offered it up so casually, given your relationship with the family.

“I don’t mind bunking with Clint is all, if that’s your concern. You and Wanda can take the master.”

Natasha’s tone was one you knew well enough for your months with the Avengers. Firm. Bossy. She wasn’t asking, she was telling. Your breath goes still in your lungs and your face became heated, a red hue bloomed in your cheeks and the tip of your nose.

You and Wanda together in a room? By yourselves?

“I— er, I don’t—“ you’re a fucking stuttering mess again and you clear your throat, the sound more of a growl than anything. 

“I don’t mind bunking with you, Wolfie!” Wanda assured with a light and gentle smile, you could see easily she was holding back a flustered giggle given the faint colour in her cheeks.

Though you wished to chalk that up to the cold still settled in her bones beneath the layers. 

“Then that’s settled!” Natasha flashed you both a wink and you whined lowly, involuntarily on your part but no less made Wanda giggle freely this time.

“I’m not sleeping in the same room as Tony,” Bucky grumbled, his eyes found Steve’s to indicate he’d chosen his roommate. 

Tony huffed with a roll of his eyes. “Likewise, cyborg.”

“Okay, boys. Keep the peace. Everyone settle in and come downstairs for dinner in fifteen minutes. That’s an order!”

“I thought I was in charge!” Tony called after Natasha down the hallway, Sam patted his shoulder. “Yeah, only on report. We know who’s really directing this mission.” 

Steve and Bucky took the room that belonged to the second eldest sibling, further down the hall, Natasha and Clint claimed the room next to theirs; the twin’s old room and Sam and Tony chose the room opposite Bucky and Steve’s, the third eldest’s room. 

When you looked down that hallway, you could see the kids in that hallway again, their feet pattering against the wooden planks in their rush of excitement. 

The last bedroom, however, was off limits. Under lock and key. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. Fury put everything in there and put a lock on it. 

It was for the best. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Wanda asked after everyone had gone to their chosen rooms to unpack and settle in. 

You closed the doors with a heavy sigh, forehead pressed into the cool, wooden surface.

“Yeah,” you managed to breathe out, “yeah, I’m just… not feeling too good. Feel different…” 

Wanda took a few steps forward but was paused in place by the command in your voice. “Don’t…” 

Your vocals were contorted into a deep, husky drawl as the wolf shined through enough to reflect in your eyes with an ominous glow. Your claws dug into the skin of your palms to the point they almost drew blood. 

Her eyes drifted down to see your balled fists and her hands nervously fiddled together once more, you waited to see the red hue of her magic.

Was she trying to read your mind again?

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t—“ you retracted yourself, getting a grip of the wolfish desire to let go. You had to keep it together. 

Your heart rapped hard in your chest, your claws sank back and the amber glow faded from your eyes. “I’m sorry, Wanda.”

‘I’m sorry, Mate.’

“It’s fine, really, Y/N. Don’t worry about it. Just know I’m here for you if you want to talk. We all are.” 

There was too much on your mind to simply talk. No. You needed action. Talking about it would only lead to tears and a breakdown. 

“Hey,” Wanda closed the gap between you both and you fought between doing the same and taking a retreating step. You were locked in place a second time.

Her hand was delicate as she placed it on your arm to give an assuring squeeze. 

“Don’t fight it. Whatever it is that’s troubling you. I want to help you.”

‘I want your help. I want you.’

You feel like you can only nod in reply. Your words all jumped in the back of your throat, a knot ready to burst the moment you try to utter a single one of those words.

She took the daring leap and wrapped her arms around your torso.

The instinct Mother Nature had sewn into your wisdom made your arms wrap around Wanda, and you tugged her in until she was flush against you. 

Her scent filled your nose and your eyes softened with a rumble reverberating against her chest, the glisten of tears not long to follow as your eyes became coated. How you wished you had the courage to tell her this new desire. This need to protect her; claim her.

But she wouldn’t understand it. Those who did not share their very soul with the wolf couldn’t possibly grasp the identity of such serious and sacred matters that kept your species alive and the old ways honoured. 

Not often were humans and werewolves bound together by Mother Nature’s soulmate tie. Often the wolf was spurned because their mate didn’t understand that their rejection held far greater consequences than hurt feelings.

Perhaps that was why you wanted to protect Wanda so much. Not because she was your destiny or to protect yourself from getting hurt.

You were no stranger to getting hurt.

It was to protect her from what you would become and the guilt she would harbour on herself. 

“Thank you, Wanda. For being here,” you sighed after a long moment, time having felt dragged on for years as you held her in a tight hug. You didn’t want to let her go. Not now or ever. 

“Of course, Wolfie. You’re my friend.” 

You whined softly but the corner of your lips turned up into a faint smile, conflicted between pain and relief. “I like that…”

‘Mate…’ 

You and Wanda had been the last to join everyone downstairs for dinner. Natasha and Clint mostly tutted and bickered with each other as they slaved away with dinner, Wanda opted to help out when she had a taste test.

Tony and Bucky had helped themselves to one of the finely aged whiskey bottles in the cabinet near the dining table and Steve took interest in the small collection of books arranged by volume, while Sam took in the terrain from the wide, floor to ceiling windows that looked out into the growing dark woods.

Everyone was growing accustomed to their surroundings in the house. This was good, it meant they felt comfortable. That’s what you wanted, had hoped for. You couldn’t exactly say the same for you, but there was that feeling of home.

You joined Sam by the window, a cold bottle of beer curled into the palm of your hand. It didn’t taste the best, you’d never liked the brand, but it was what was on hand.

Alcohol had a weird effect on werewolves anyway so you opted to stay away from it as much as possible. 

You took a swig with a grunt from your unsettled gut and Sam smirked at you. “You doing alright, Wolfie?” He asked and you rolled your eyes.

“Just fine. Beer’s shit though, I don’t know how you guys like it.”

The sneer on your face as you glared down at the bottle only made Sam chuckle. “Honestly, it does taste bad, but I don’t fancy myself the connoisseur.” Sam, subtly as he might, gestured towards Tony and Bucky. “Unlike them.”

You huffed at that, a small grin on your lips. Sam was a good man to talk to whenever you felt like the world around you was caving in with a purpose to destroy you. 

Even more, when he’d talk about his family, you got immersed in his stories; as though you were there too. 

“I wouldn’t trust Tony to drink a shot of dyed bleach and tell the difference.”

Sam’s fist was brought to his face, a mouthful of his drink chuffed back when he snorted so he wouldn’t choke. 

You grin impossibly more and clapped his shoulder. “Hey, I’m not the best at jokes, how did you even find that funny?” 

“Something funny, pup?” Tony asked over the rim of his glass. Your eyes met his and you shook your head. “Just told a dull joke,” you replied, “like your taste buds…” 

Only Sam heard your muttering and once he was free of his mouthful of beer, he laughed loudly. The sound faded after a moment and you both stared out into the woodland.

“It’s really peaceful out here,” Sam said finally. You nodded but you feared something in you couldn’t entirely agree with him. 

It had been peaceful once. But now there lingered something eerie. It made you too alert to easily relax as the others did. Even if they too could sense the same thing as you, their scent gave nothing away. “I thought the same as you once.”

Sam looked at you with a troubled, confused furrow in his brow. His lips pulled down into a frown. Sam opened his mouth, no doubt to ask the question you already saw in his eyes, but Natasha’s announcement cut him off.

“Dinner’s ready!” 

Clint and Wanda served up everyone’s plates with the spaghetti bolognaise. The food was good on account of Wanda adding just a little bit more spice and salt to the sauce, and of course what was dinner without conversation.

Talk about smaller topics were easier to digest with your food. How you didn’t expect it to take a turn that made your hand halt before you could take another bite of your food.

“Is there anything dangerous out here, Y/N?”

“It’s Alaska and we’re in the middle of unsettled territory. Of course there are dangers out here,” you answered Sam with a casual shrug. 

Not many predators roamed so close to the house when you were here with the family. Just the odd bear once or twice. You glanced up to meet Sam’s unsure stare.

He didn’t believe you. 

“Just as a safety precaution, when we’re not on a mission, stay within the border of the property,” you began, “I’ll show you guys around tomorrow. At night, I ask that you stay inside. If you do go outside, let me know so I can come with you.” 

“We’re capable of holding our own against a drifter moose or yogi bear, pup,” Tony snarked lightly with another gulp of his whiskey. 

“I know,” you bite with a tone a little too harshly, the beds of your fingernails felt bruised and ached as your eyes burnt. “But just… please, just do that for me, yeah?”

You looked around the table and you let out a relieved sigh when you saw heads nod. “Of course, Y/N,” Natasha assured. 

“Good. Other than that, you have free roam of the house, minus the locked room upstairs. Just the family’s old belongings.” 

The others nodded again and your eyes met Wanda’s. she could see something deeply troubled you. You were usually so calm and collected on missions, barely flinching when bullets fired at you in a frenzied spray. Sure, your aggression was a feat unmatched in the heat of battle but it was what made you strong.

Deadly.

Effective. 

You were Mother Nature’s definition of safety and danger. An apex predator. 

But now, something in you had visibly switched. Gone was the fearsome animal that could maul and maim without restraint but one. Your confident smirk and wicked disregard for your life - despite your actions to protect your teammates - had contorted into a concerning frown and a strained, husk of a drawl. An underlying threat to unleash the wolf if steps were not taken carefully. 

Dinner resumed, albeit, a little less talking and a lot more tension. You finally excused yourself after you promptly thanked Natasha, Clint and Wanda for the food. 

You knew everyone watched you leave but Wanda’s eyes pierced through you like nothing else ever could. 

The wind swept across your back and through your hair with a hollow whisper in the night. The pier was a spot you went to to think when you felt troubled. The Northern Lights danced across the black canvas littered with stars and a bright, fading full moon. 

The frozen lake offered a different ambience with the rest of nature. A deep, echoing boom across the frozen surface could be heard from the water beneath the layer of ice. 

Boots intruded on the wooden boards of the pier as they gently - calmly - thundered towards you.

“Wolfie,” one accented tongue said so beautifully you thought for a moment an angel greeted you. Startled with a gasp, you spun your head to look in the direction of her voice.

“Wanda,” you greeted with a rumble.

‘Mate.’

“What are you doing out here?” 

She rolled her shoulders back and stepped closer. Then another step. The post behind you greeted your back then. 

“I came out here to find you. May I join you?”

You nodded, the action more of a nervous quiver than anything, Wanda smiled and stood by your side. Her shoulder brushed along your arm and you felt the air in your lungs dissipate. 

“You left dinner so abruptly. I wanted to make sure you’re okay.” 

“I’m alright.” You stared off into the distance to keep your eyes away from Wanda’s who you knew analysed you now. Her scent filled you and smothered out all the rest. You couldn’t smell the fresh wetness of the snow, the rich, earthly smell of the pines, nor the herd of the elk that traversed the wilderness across the vast lake. 

You could only smell her. That intoxicating scent of rose and vanilla that her shampoo couldn’t conceal from you.

The vanilla was stronger. She was in a state of unease. Worry. 

Your eyes slowly drifted from the mountains to her. Her gaze must have left you to also see where it was your sights wandered off to. 

“You don’t believe me?” You asked and she sighed, unable to meet your eyes. “Not really. I know something is wrong, you’re encumbered by this fear and it’s driving me crazy that I can’t— that I can’t…”

Your brows were pulled into a hard formation and your mouth fell agape. The struggle within her to voice her thoughts made your heart wrench and break. “Hey…” 

That instinct took over again, your arm  wrapped around her waist and you didn’t hesitate to pull her to you. 

It felt nice for Wanda to be held like this. The cold slithered beneath the layers used to keep it out, only to find the heat of your body to immediately nullify the chill. 

“It’s hard to explain, Wanda. I’m in a very difficult position right now and I fear what might happen to those around me.” 

“I told you that I’m here to talk, Y/N. I won’t judge, I promise. Please just… tell me.” 

Her head rested under your chin, her hands rested against your chest. It all felt so intimate. You wanted to cave and tell her everything on your mind. She was your mate and she had a right to know.

But would she understand?

“Wanda, you’re…,” you trailed off as something thick coated the back of your throat, “you’re…”

‘My mate. Just say it, tell her she is your mate!’

Your chest expanded with a deep breath, Wanda’s head lifting with it. Her cheek nuzzled against you. This was your chance. It was now or never. 

“Wanda, you’re my m—“

An announcing howl reverberated in the far distance like wind moved through a hollow. 

Your blood turned ice cold. The searing burn in your eyes returned with that striking, animalistic glow of amber. 

“What is it?” Wanda had asked but you didn’t answer. You glared off in the direction where the howl came from. That sounded haunted you; hunted you. 

“Get inside and don’t come out. No matter what,” you commanded beneath a baritone growl. Wanda looked at you, jaw dropped and eyes wide. You could smell it on her. Vanilla. 

Confusion. Fear. 

“But—“

“Now.”

You left no room for argument. Not when it came to her safety. Not when the wolf shone through the amber that danced ferociously in your eyes. There she could see a semblance of that old you. 

Protective. Dangerous. 

She made her way back towards the house but she stopped at the end of the pier and turned to look at you once more. Her bright, glossy eyes pleaded with you to follow her. You watched her and nodded for her to go on, that you wouldn’t be too far behind.

‘Promise you’re right behind me.’

‘I promise. Now go.’

She rushed off towards the front porch and entered the house as the wind was bitter against your back again; harsher than before.

You wanted nothing more than to end this. Your arm rested against the post, claws digging deep into your palm. You’d make it painful but to strike now would only invite conflict so early into your mission.

It would complicate things all because you couldn’t keep yourself in check.

A confirmation that even with your positives there came your negatives; unpredictable, bloodthirsty and dangerous to the team.

Dangerous to Wanda. 

You lowered your arm and drove your fist hard into the post with a pained grunt. You promised Wanda you were right behind her and what you planned on doing was only going to do the opposite. 

You saw the fear in her eyes. You couldn’t put her through anything else if you came out of this fight scathed and bruised. No less, the team would be suspicious.

You’d have to wait. 

Wanda waited up for you, no matter the hour it was now, she wouldn’t rest until she knew you were safe. The red hue of her magic glowed in the darkness of the room, the only other source of light was one of the twin lamps on the bedside table. 

Her head shot up and her magic ceased when she heard the doors open to your shared room, your form emerged from the dark hallway and promptly closed the doors behind you.

“Y/N,” she gasped your name and sat up on her knees, mattress dipping beneath her.

Your eyes met hers, amber flickering just faintly behind your pupils. With a growl, your face goes flush. Wanda was dressed down into nothing but an oversized shirt and what you chalked up to be her underwear. 

“H-hey,” you choked out as your hand rubbed the back of your neck. Your eyes darted elsewhere to keep your gaze - that now festered with a hunger - away from Wanda.

‘Fucking hell!’

“What?”

“What?” Your eyes widened as they stared into hers, you fought the tempting urge to let your gaze travel down her body.

Was this the work of your soulmate tie or your little crush? 

Wanda tilted her head curiously, her nose scrunched a little as the corner of her lips turned up. You appeared less troubled by whatever it was before. Now you were… you.

That you, whenever she would walk into the same room you occupied. That you, that often asked her how she was doing and complimented her. 

Her flustered wolf with the red ball. 

“I’m good, I just er—“ you glanced towards the ensuite bathroom with a wave of your hand. “I’m just gonna, ya know, get ready for bed.”

“Okay.” Wanda let out a light giggle. You were quick to gather your change of clothes and hurried into the bathroom. You may have taken a little longer than you’d have liked, but you had to get your bearings together before you re-entered that bedroom. 

‘To have her and mark her right now— no, no, none of that! She’s your friend…

Mate…

Fuck.’

You face-palmed yourself with another growl. The faint glimmer of the wolf behind your eyes had now brightened once more but with a newfound interest.

‘I was so close to telling her. I missed my chance.

Could tell her now…

No. Ain’t doing that.’ 

You walked out of the bathroom to find Wanda settled in bed and under the covers much to the conflict of your relief and disappointment. You climbed into bed beside her, being sure to leave a good amount of space between you both. 

Was she really happy to share a room with you for the duration of your mission? 

You flicked off the lamp and laid back against the pillow with a heavy, tired sigh. Both your arms rested underneath your head. 

“Wolfie?” Wanda’s voice whispered into the darkness. You hum in response. “I’m a little cold…”

You lifted your head slightly to look at her, able to see every detail on her face in the dark. A fine trait to have until you woke up first thing with the fucking sun in your eyes. 

It’s why you opted to always have the curtains drawn closed.

“The thermostat is a bit rusty, but I could get you an extra blanket if you’d like?”

She shook her head, fiery hair and cheek nuzzling into her pillow. A faint, shy smile on her plump lips. Lips you wanted so badly to kiss.

“I don’t want to trouble you with that.” 

You raised a brow at that. Why did she bring it up if she didn’t want you to resolve it?

Before you could say anything, she moved closer into your side, her arm curled over your stomach. 

Your muscles tensed as her cheek laid where your shoulder and neck met. Anything you did want to say completely went out the window of your thought process. 

“Much better,” she sighed almost silently, her breath even and slow. Your arm wrapped over her shoulder and Wanda relaxed more against your side.

“You good?” You asked, albeit hesitantly. She softly hummed in return and you couldn’t restrain your smile. 

By the soft thump of her heartbeat and her quiet breaths, she’d fallen asleep quickly. The warmth of your body must have really helped her.

You turned your head and your nose brushed against her scalp, lips hovering over the crown of her hairline. “Good night…”

‘Mate.’

You awoke to the sound of voices coming from downstairs. New voices that didn’t belong to anyone on your team. You grumbled as you sat up, arms pulled up to stretch your muscles. 

That’s when you realised the bed was vacant beside you. A piece of paper sat on Wanda’s pillow and you plucked it, reading the delicate handwriting.

‘Didn’t want to wake you. Come downstairs when you’re awake, Wolfie! P.S you were really warm and comfy’

You huffed at that, a smirk plastered on your tired features. For a moment you’d forgotten about the strange voices until you put the letter aside.

You frowned and your glare landed on the closed doors.

You stood up and silently, you opened the doors. You moved equally as quietly down the hallway until you reached the top of the stairs, thankfully you were obscured from sight on the first floor.

“What a wonderful place you have here. So, you lot just moved in?”

“Yep,” Steve said with a chuckle, “we all pitched in together to start fresh from the city. We’d heard good things about Alaska, stunning views and a lot of opportunities.” 

You applauded Steve’s skill to act like a civilian. A true and natural actor when it came to undercover ops.

Too bad your rather aggressive nature tended to give you a bad impression on people. It’s why you were often a background actor. Someone who was passing through, someone who wasn’t a permanent fixture to the attention of your targets.

Exactly the reason why you hid upstairs and eavesdropped. 

The man downstairs gave an amused hum. “And a lot of game,” he mused, you could hear the test in his voice.

Yes, you knew that voice. 

“Oh yeah, quite the trophies hunters claim up here. We’re quite the group ourselves, James particularly.”

‘Oh, Steve.’

You could smell the sudden change in Bucky’s scent. You rolled your eyes. 

“Oh?”

“Mm, when I’m up to it. I only go after the best game when it’s trophy season.”

“Then why don’t we go hunting together this weekend, huh? It is game season and I think it’d help break the ice as neighbours.“

You stiffened in your place, back rigid against the wall. You smelt it in the air. Each one of your teammates had a sense of unease. They must’ve known something was up, this man - these people - were undoubtedly your targets; drawn in just as Fury had predicted.

Only, he didn’t disclose what they were with the others. Only you knew. 

“Neighbour?” Sam asked and the man laughed. 

“That’s right! Over the mountain ridge out that way. A lodge like this one, you can’t miss it.”

“Sure, we might come by. Any particular spots for good game?” Tony asked, he’d actually fooled you for a second there with how invested he sounded in the idea of hunt and game.

“This valley is quite the place for hunting, actually. The best.”

Your eyes screwed shut, your mind slowly slipping away into that dark space you’d purposefully left behind. 

You wished they’d just leave.

“So it’s just you seven here? Nobody else?” He asked and your breath froze. 

“Nope, just us,” Wanda answered. 

“I see… hmm,” he replied, his response slow before a second silence befell him. You heard him clear his nasal before he shyly said, “Apologies, the cold season tends to make my nose sensitive. Well then, I’d best be going before the wife hangs my head over the hearth. Be seeing you, neighbours and welcome to Alaska.” 

You breathed out a sigh of relief when he and the men with him left. Your team bid their farewells to your neighbours and the front door closed behind your departing guests.

Your team was in danger.

‘And it’s my fucking fault!’

Werewolves don’t get sensitive to the cold. You lot were basically self-established heating machines to withstand the cold climates.

No. He’d sniffed you out and your pills to hide your wolf scent had worn off from yesterday. 

Your scent was known and he knew that his new neighbours had a little secret of their own. The muscles around your mouth and nose twitch, teeth clenched hard together as a rumble vibrates in your chest. 

How could you be so careless? You could smell them before you even opened your bedroom door and yet you failed to keep your own scent hidden. 

“Well, that was something,” Natasha huffed and you heard Clint grunt in an agreeable fashion. 

“You can say that again. The guy had a weird look in his eye when he spoke about the whole hunting thing.”

“I don’t think he hunts ordinary animals,” Bucky drawled, voice laced with his deep-rooted suspicion. He was right to be and you were glad he - or anyone on your team - didn’t fall for the facade.

They hunted animals to keep people off their scents but elk, bears and beavers weren’t their preferred quarry.

They prided themselves in hunting their own kind. A sick, perverted desire to slaughter other packs. Not only that, they had a sickening obsession with hunting humans. To do things no person should be subjected to.

Mother Nature scorned such vile behaviour with hatred beyond words. 

And this pack had connections to a Hydra resurgence group that intended to operate within Alaska. 

They had to be stopped and your temper was running short. Sooner or later you were gonna wolf out and you wanted the snow to be stained red with that pack’s blood. 

You should have done so last night, keeping your cover be damned.

You finally decided to head downstairs, the necessity to conceal your footsteps no longer mattered. 

All eyes fell to you and you waved in response to the uttered good mornings and greetings. 

“I take it you heard all that upstairs?” Tony asked you, doing you the courtesy of getting a cup of coffee ready for you. You nodded with a snarl, “yeah, and we’re gonna need a new plan.”

“Why?” Steve asked, brows knitted together as he leaned against the wall. Tony passed you the cup of steaming coffee. 

You took a gulp of it before your eyes looked to Steve and the others. You were silent, gaze elsewhere as your thumb massaged the handle of your mug. 

“What aren’t you telling us, Y/N?” Natasha asked from her place at the dining table, her own mug nestled against her palm. Still, you didn’t answer. 

“Because they know I’m here.” That’s all you said. What you intended to say. Did they truly need to know that they were dealing with werewolves? Probably, but you had other plans. 

“How? We told them it was just us,” Sam argued. You only shook your head. “They know I’m here. We need a new plan quickly. They’re not gonna wait until the weekend now.”

They didn’t like your answer, or rather, lack of answers. 

“You’re still hiding something from us.” You growled over the rim of your cup. Steve was pushing it. “If there is something about these guys that you know about, you need to tell us.” 

You placed your cup down on the countertop, hunched over on your stool. “Werewolves don’t get sick little noses because of the cold, Captain. The only thing that makes us sick are infections from wounds and poisons engineered from wolfsbane and silver. To which, Hydra has been known to have an abundance of.” 

They wanted the truth and you gave it to them on a platter. You allowed them to have their stunned silence, no matter how suffocated it made your nose feel. 

“You mean—“

“He could smell me, Tony.” Your eyes slowly rolled to meet his and for the first time since you met the billionaire, you saw the colour drain from his face as he stared into your eyes. 

“He’s the same damn thing I am and because of that, that leaves us in a very compromised position.” 

Another wave of silence filled the open space. You downed the rest of your coffee in a few gulps. You couldn’t even process the taste. 

“What do we do?” You heard Bucky ask from behind you. You turned to see him stare at you, blue eyes piercing into you to get the answer they needed. Wanda stood next to him.

She’d been quiet this whole time and that fear wedged itself sharply into your heart. To see the uncertainty of the mission because it had already gone sideways. 

“The whole guide shit was only half true. Fury sent me in as a guard,” you began, “but if you’re asking me what I really think we should do is get you guys back to headquarters.”

“What do you mean? Y/N, we’re not going to leave you behind. We’re going to complete this mission together.” Steve was pissed that you’d suggest such a thing. 

“We do have two capable super soldiers, an enhanced witch who can move things with her mind, an ex-spy, two mediocre talents at best and myself: the brilliant genius that I am,” Tony said. How you wanted to slap the arrogance from his head so hard. “And also a werewolf. What could go wrong?”

You shook your head again, tongue running over your teeth with a tsk. “You don’t get it, Stark. This pack has been here for many years. They know the terrain better than any of you. They will use that to their advantage. On top of that, they have ties to the Hydra resurgence. Tony, if I don’t get you guys out of here, there will be no getting out of here.” 

You turned to the others as you stood from your stool, your eyes coated in a hot, watery layer. 

“These werewolves are not your ordinary pack. They are literal hunting dogs for Hydra. You’ve all seen Bucky as the Winter Soldier…”

You didn’t wish to bring it up, not to see the pain in those blue eyes of his. Bucky and you seemed to get along quite well. You both understood each other. His time with Hydra was not something you brought up lightly; you had a point to make. They couldn’t grasp the severity of the situation. They hadn’t experienced what you did. 

You needed to get your team out of Alaska because they were yours to protect. They were your pack.

You take a deep breath in, your eyes scanned each awaiting face until they landed on Wanda. 

“Now imagine that type of scenario, but times it by ten. You have to trust me on this one. If I stay behind, I can fend them off while you guys get home and get reinforcements.” 

“No, Y/N…,” you heard Wanda whisper with a shaken breath. You didn’t want to see the tears in her eyes, but you turned anyway to face her. 

“Wanda, you have no idea what you’re getting yourselves into with this pack… but I do. What they did to the family that lived here is something I will not see happen again. Not to you.”

What remained of that day all felt like a blur. You’d all discussed the new plan and now, after two days of waiting, you were going to execute the escape plan. 

The howls from the woods had gotten closer each night. Their arrival was just as you had said. They weren’t going to wait until the weekend. 

“I don’t like this plan, Y/N,” Wanda said, voice quivering in her throat, “what if something bad happens to you while we’re gone? What if they kill you?” 

You shook your head. “They won’t kill me. I won’t make it easy for them.”

Wanda scowled at this and she rounded the bed to where you were. She placed a hand over yours, clenched together between your thighs. 

“This isn’t about making it difficult for them, this is about your survival. You said it yourself, these werewolves aren’t like any other. They’re different because of what Hydra did to them.”

Your jaw clenched tightly at her words. Her soft skin against yours made your hand tingle, her breath so close to beating along the apple of your cheek. 

“But so am I,” you said lowly. You turned your chin towards Wanda, her eyes searched your face and your uttered words for some semblance of understanding. 

“I… I still don’t like this idea. Just come back with us, please…” Tears wept down her cheeks and she didn’t hide the small sniffle. 

“It has to be this way, Wanda.” You stood up and pulled her into your chest without hesitation, her arms immediately encircled around your torso. 

“This is personal. What they did to—“ you grimaced at the memory. The blood that splattered the walls and the snow alike. Carnage like no other you’d seen stained the house secretly. The clean-up may have hidden the history but your memory did not let it go.

It couldn’t. The only way the nightmares would stop is if you uprooted it from the source. 

“What they did to this family - and more - is unforgivable. I have to be the one to do this. I can’t stand the thought of losing you, you’re my—“

This fucking soulmate tie. Why was it so difficult for you to tell her? Maybe she was right, you could possibly get killed and she would never know the truth because you were too scared to tell her.

Your arms squeezed around her a little tighter, hands quivering as they balled into fists until your knuckles were white and your claws unsheathed from your nail beds. 

“I’m what?” 

“I-I’m just…”

‘Scared.’

“Scared of what?” Her words made the air gasp from your lungs. You blanked your mind to shield it from her reading anything more. You just held her close. It was all what you felt capable of. With her head resting against your chest, she was able to hear the bombardment of your heartbeat. 

“I can’t say it,” you answered but Wanda shook her head. She was done letting this fear eat away at you from the inside.

“Tell me, or I’m going in there,” she ordered firmly, her hand reached out to grab your chin and hold it so she could rest her forehead against yours. You heard the smirk in her voice. 

You chuffed at her light attempt at humour, to make the currently dark moment a little brighter than it was. 

“I am scared that I will lose a second time. And I won’t survive that agony again.” 

Wanda nodded, her nose bumped against yours and your lips danced so close to one another. It was a struggle to not close the slight distance between you to kiss her. 

“You still haven’t told me what I am to you.” 

“I’ll tell you when this is all over,” you sighed, voice hesitant as you slightly withdraw your face from hers. Wanda’s hands slid to your cheeks and held you so you couldn’t pull away anymore.

“Promise?”

The corners of your lips tug into a smirk. “I promise.” 

You caught the way her eyes flickered down slightly to your lips and out of habit, your tongue darted along your bottom to wet it. Your eyes did the same to hers, plump and soft looking. Always tempting. 

“Kiss me, Wolfie.” Her voice called to you softly, the plea of your mate making you cave as you brushed your lips against hers. 

If you did this, you weren’t just friends. You saw her as more than a friend. Whatever she saw more than you realised, was it more than a friend for her?

Did she see a companion in you? A mate?

Your lips pressed into hers and your chest relaxed as the air was drawn from you, a deep growl resounded in the back of your throat. 

Wanda tilted her head to deepen the kiss with a breathless moan.

Your hunger consumed you. Your hands drifted down the length of her back until they reached her thighs, you knocked her knees and she gasped. Your tongue darted through her parted lips as her legs wrapped around your waist, your strength supporting her as if she were a feather. 

Her hands ran through the length of your hair with another moan and that unmistakable swell of arousal pooled in your groin. 

Fuck, how you wanted to claim her right now. That wolfish hunger, selfish in want, desired to make the bite now. 

But you would wait. You’d wait for Wanda and you’d wait for the rest of eternity for her. You couldn’t say she’d do the same, but you damn well hoped. 

You fell forward to lay Wanda down on the bed, your arms supported your weight like pillars on either side of her head. Her hands pulled you closer to her, even if the fight for air was growing too much to bear. 

You smelt it on her, the sweet aroma of rose tinged by an even sweeter scent; her arousal. Your hips bucked against hers and she gasped out, her fingers dug into you with a whimper of your name. 

Oh, how you wanted to hear that sound again. Her hips in turn began to grind against you, the friction of your pants made her legs quiver around your waist. 

You growled against her open mouth, her tongue submitted to you long before her back met the mattress. Her hand flew to your belt to loosen it but you captured her wrist and she stopped, you pulled away from her lips with a deep breath. 

“We don’t have to rush this, Sweetheart,” you pant, head nuzzling against hers. She smiled shyly and a red hue coloured her cheeks and nose.

Not that you blamed her, your own face was a fiery mess of its own.

“Sorry, I got a little wild,” she giggled and you flashed her a wolfish grin, chuckling deeply. 

“Says the witch with the literal wolf on top of her.” 

You brushed your nose along the curve of her jaw, inhaling her intoxicating scent. It made you feel how you presumed people felt when they got drunk. 

You lifted your head so you could see her now. Her eyes stared up at you and that smile that scared away the darkness was there.

How you adored her. What you wouldn’t do for the woman beneath you, you could not name.

You’d do anything for your mate.

Your hand caressed her cheek, thumb running over her chin. “What do you see in me, Wanda?” 

You were curious. She always looked at you with a sense that she saw something in you nobody else could. 

“I see many things within you.”

“Name one,” you urged. Silence ensued as 

her lips thinned in thought. Her gaze softened, perhaps you misread it because of the lighting in the room. You thought for a moment you saw love. 

Her mouth opened to finally give you her answer when a knock pounded against the door - and also your sharpened hearing. A grimace twisted your features.

Wanda offered a sad smile when the realisation that the small world you and Wanda were in had come to an end. 

There was a darkness out in the world that needed to be rid of. That temporary light had to withdraw for the time being. 

You rolled off of Wanda and she stood up quickly as the door opened, after you’d beckoned whoever it was to enter. 

“We’re ready to head off,” Natasha said from the doorway, eyes suspiciously squinted between you and Wanda with a smirk.

You cleared your throat when her knowing eyes landed on you. “Alright. Thank you, Natasha,” you bit down the bark in your words. 

When you two were left alone again, you looked to Wanda. “Don’t go getting yourself killed now. Promise me, Wolf.”

“I promise…”

‘… Mate.’

The sun was setting over the valley, the last rays of light quick to fade as night encroached. You would have to hurry to get everyone on the Quinjet safely. 

“Everyone ready?” You asked as you opened the front door and your team nodded. There was no time to drag their bags along. You’d all suited up and gathered your necessities. 

“Let’s go,” Steve said behind you. 

You exited the house first, a quick assessment of your surroundings, you signalled to your team to follow. 

“Keep together and in front of me. Go!” You urged, letting Steve take the lead to the Quinjet while you covered the team’s rear. It’d allow you to see any oncoming attacks. 

Wanda kept glancing back at you, to make sure you weren’t too far behind, her own fear that you’d be targeted first evident in her eyes. 

Twigs and branches snapped in the woods around you, the scent of your team polluted the air with their growing anxiety of an impending attack. 

“There it is, get going!” You called out, relief flooding the entire team in a shroud when the ramp was already lowered. Your hand brushed Wanda’s back as you urged her forward into a sprint, Bucky and Natasha beside her. You knew they would look after her. 

A colossal weight slammed into your side from the thicket of trees up the snowy hillside, your body instinctively shifted to the mass of muscle and fur now laced with snow. A roar tore from your vocals at the beast that’d separated you from the others. 

An expected tactic. 

You charged up the slope you’d been pushed down onto, leaping into the air and shoved your opponent into the ground beneath him. The hillside was crawling with the ambush, they moved swiftly down to join the first attacker. Most charged for you, but the few that ran for the jet didn’t escape your notice.

You bellowed a warning roar, Wanda among the group that guarded the ramp as Tony and Sam went to get the jet fired up. A clawed hand swept across your face hard, slashing you blind for a second and knocked you onto the ground. Your teeth sunk into the flesh of your attacker’s arm, a pained yelp echoed in the frosty wind. Your hind legs kicked at their toned stomach, claws tearing through fur and tissue as you launched them away; a chunk of flesh clenched between your canines. 

A flood of blood wept from the chunk in your mouth, you dropped it with a wet splash to the snow. A roar came from behind as another came at you but an arrow fired into her eye, her attack faltered as you rolled to the side. Wanda’s magic grappled hold of the wolf and flung her further back, her back smashed into a thick trunk with a growl. 

“The jet’s on, let’s get going!” Tony’s voice yelled above the ensuing chaos. You barked in agreement and cocked your head in encouragement for the team to leave.

“Y/N!” Wanda yelled out for you, fingertips touched by the tendrils of her magic as reached out for you; the ramp began to close. She made to run to you. 

“Wanda!” Steve called in his attempt to halt Wanda. One of the werewolves ran at Wanda, clawed hands outstretched to tear at her. 

Just as you went to jump to her defence, teeth clamped a hold of one of your hind legs. You yowled and used your other leg to kick at him but he avoided your defensive kicks.

Wanda screamed when a large, clawed hand grabbed hold of her leg, Steve and Bucky held onto her to keep her from being dragged out. Your leg arched towards your stomach and with another kick, you managed to loosen the jaws around your ligament and you charged at the wolf that tried to drag Wanda out from the jet. 

You ignored the agonised yelp caught in your throat, replaced by a deep growl as you jaws bit down and yanked at the bushy tail that dangled ahead of you; even when two new sets of jaws set their attack on both your legs this time. Flesh and muscle would be torn to shreds but that mattered little to you.

You’d survive it. The one that had a hold of Wanda released her and Steve and Bucky dragged her further back, even when she tried to reach for you again. “Y/N!” 

“Go!” 

Your roar cracked across the valley like a whip.

You snatched hold of the tail again before the werewolf could make a run for it. The two on your legs tried to shake you off your balance, you pulled the tail in closer and with all the strength you could muster, you flung him at a nearby rock side. His skull pelted against the dark stone and fell limp on the ground. 

The jet rose up just as the lip of the ramp closed.

Wanda’s eyes glowed a dangerous aura of scarlet. 

‘Be safe—!”

‘I will.’

The two jaws released your legs as you were hit from the side once again. This one was heavier, with more anger behind it.

You let out whines and growls as you tumbled down the snowy terrain and onto the ice lake. You lifted your head to see him approach down from the tree line. 

The beast that had sniffed you out. That intended to harm your team when he invited them over. 

Who was responsible for killing your family. 

“You’ve grown stronger,” he rumbled with a tilt of his head, his dark lips twisted into a crooked, fanged smile. 

His stare was bloodthirsty. 

“You should have been killed in that lab when Hydra had the chance. A wasted specimen who couldn’t obey a simple order.”

“I… was not going… to kill… innocents!” You ignored the way your ankles threatened to buckle under your weight, you stood on your hind legs to match the alpha’s height.

The remainder of his pack gathered behind him, forming a crescent around you. Car lights flittered through the tree line. 

Hydra agents. Your muzzle wrinkled with a snarl and your teeth bared until the line of your bloodstained gums showed.

“Well. We tried.” 

He surged forward faster than you could perceive to dodge his attack. His teeth sank deep into your shoulder, a high pitched yelp that mirrored a scream travelled across the ice. 

He pushed you down. He had you pinned, the layer of ice cool against your belly. His jaws ripped and shook you, a pawed hand pressed against you as he tore fur, flesh and muscle across your back.

His pack barked and yipped in their sickening cheers for their leader to maim you. Your jaws snapped again and again until you finally had his unguarded limb in your grasp. He snarled as your teeth gnashed down repeatedly, bone splintering until he kicked you aside. 

His ears were pinned against his head with a low, pained whine. His tongue hesitated to lick his wound and his eyes, full of hatred, darted towards you.

“I should have killed you when I had the chance.”

“Yeah…”

Your eyes squeezed shut, the pain from your shoulder down the line of your back stained your coat with dark crimson, the pain excruciating that steam rose from your wounds.

A guttural growl rose from the depths of your chest, anger festering in the old wounds.

“You really should have.” 

You ran at him and he met you halfway. Claws and teeth gnashed and swept at each other. Triumph in your fight with the alpha turned into moments of being overpowered; but you’d find a way to slip out and regain the upper hand.

A series of explosions caught you off guard. You looked up to see the jet had been hit, one of the engines on fire. The jet sputtered and sank. You whimpered out when the Quinjet crashed into the side of the tall mountain peak. 

Thankfully it hadn’t exploded. Everyone had to be alright. You had to hold onto hope.

You made an attempt to run for the mountain when something flew towards you and you ducked out of the way, a large harpoon penetrated the ice with a thunderous crack.

Silver.

You could smell the poisonous tinge of it. 

The armoured vehicles circled you, and Hydra agents jumped out, armed with what you only imagined were silver bullets. You roared and snarled at anyone who made a move to shoot at you.

“Nets ready!”

“Get it tied down and back to base!”

The mounted machines on the vehicles fired at you, whipping through the air as one net after another held you down. When you managed to slip out from beneath the nets, agents threw their hands forward, ropes entangled around your limbs as you struggled to break free.

“Get the humans!”

You turned your gaze back to the alpha at his command. His pack and him ran off towards the mountain. 

“Wanda! No!”

You’d heard the commotion from the mountain. Their screams. Your father’s howl. 

You didn’t wait a moment as you almost got yourself killed sliding down the slopes and cliff sides to reach home faster.

Your pack was in trouble. You panted as the wind attacked your fur as your claws cracked the surface of the ice beneath you. 

Your mother was who you heard, followed by your youngest siblings. Your heart felt as if it’d stopped beating. 

Your jaws came around the neck of their attacker and with a jerk of your head you heard the bones of their neck snap.

Your heart broke so very hard. Why did you leave them alone?

The twins laid together side by side, their smaller bodies nestled in the snow. Around them was a halo of their blood.

Blood that could have been avoided if you hadn’t left. You whimpered, your nose pushed into the fur. 

“Wake up, wake up please… no, please…”

Not far from them you glanced up to see your mother’s body. Her fur blended in with the snow. 

A rare white pelt. Now tainted with blood.

It was there your heart grew…

Ice cold. Your maws latched hold of the ropes that constrained you from protecting those who needed you. 

Who you promised yourself you would protect. Even if it killed you. You would not allow that alpha or his pack to massacre your pack again.

Your mate.

The agents stood no chance. They screamed as you shifted your weight to fling them into one another or the vehicles. You rammed and smashed into the armoured cars, destroying most and leaving the rest to burn when you tore the engine apart and flung it into another car. 

The ice cracked beneath you and you moved swiftly. You didn’t allow your wounds to alter your performance, no matter the pain or trail of blood you left behind. 

You pursued the pack that made their way to the cliff side. They jumped and leapt onto any vantage points but they didn’t know this mountain like you did.

You knew the best routes for quick travel up the terrain of the mountain. Whoever was in your way was shown no mercy. Your large hands ripped them off their balance and flung them off the cliff side to whatever fate awaited them below. 

Wanda softly grunted with a hand pressed to her temple. 

“Steve,” she mumbled as he knelt beside her. His hand helped to support her weight while she got her bearings.

“Wanda, are you alright?” 

“I’m fine, what happened?” She asked as her eyes focused on his blue eyes. “The jet’s engine was hit. It’s pretty obvious they wanted to knock us down.”

Wanda didn’t respond, not even as Clint and Natasha joined her and Steve. “Is everyone else ok?” Steve asked Clint and he nodded. 

“Yeah, the crash just took them by surprise is all.” 

“Come on, let’s get to cover.” Natasha’s hand found Wanda’s arm and pulled her to her feet, careful not to startle or aggravate any potential injuries.

Wanda pushed away from the ex-widow. 

“No, I have to see if Y/N is alright!” 

“Wanda, we have to get to safety,” Steve argued back but Wanda would not hear it. 

“They promised me!” She choked out, “you have no idea how I feel about them. The bond we have. This is why I must go to them!”

“They’ll be alright,” Steve assured with a hand pressed to her arm, “this is Y/N we’re talking about. If anyone can fend them off, it’s them.” 

Gunfire fired down the cliff side. “Stay here with her, I’ll help the others.” Natasha and Clint watched as Steve ran off to defend their flank with Sam, Tony and Bucky. 

A series of growls tumbled over the mountain ledge, glowing eyes crept into view as three hulking forms climbed up. 

Clint knocked an arrow to his bow, stance low and ready to perform a rapid fire, Wanda’s hands danced together before her as the glowing scarlet of her magic swarmed about her fingertips. Natasha drew her pistol and took aim at the middle werewolf.

Natasha was the first to fire. Round after round only made the beast grunt as if bitten by a fly as he charged forward. Clint shocked him with his knocked arrow and Wanda thrusted her hands forward with a grunt.

The werewolf was pushed over the cliff side with a howl. 

The werewolf to their right leapt at Clint, barely ducking in time. He rolled to the side and shot another arrow while Natasha took cover from an oncoming blow from the second. Clint was knocked back and used his bow to block the maw of his opponent from mauling him.

“Clint!” Natasha yelled out, Wanda waved her hands and pushed the werewolf off of Clint, granting him the opportunity to overpower it. He and the beast went tumbling down into a crevice in the mountain, having looped its neck between his bow and the drawstring.

The last werewolf swiped at Wanda but Natasha threw herself in front of it, grunting when claws tore at her arm sleeve. A clean gash bled through her suit. The werewolf rose it’s arm to come down at Natasha again when Wanda used her magic to fling it towards the edge. 

It bellowed a distorted roar at Wanda only to whimper when your teeth mashed down into its jugular with a baritone growl. Your amber eyes the bright fire beneath burning coals as you crunched down further. With another whine, you ripped your maw clean from the wolf’s neck and they fell to the bottom of the mountain. 

“Y/N,” Wanda gasped out as she ran to you. You dragged your body over the rocky ledge, Wanda was able to see the blood and wounds that covered you. 

“Good to see you’re alive,” Natasha said as she held her bleeding arm, her attention averted to Clint who was still standing his ground against his opponent.

 “I gotta help Clint!” She said hurriedly and rushed off to Clint’s aid. “Be careful!” Wanda yelled after her, hands attentive as they gently stroked along your neck.

A soft whine wheezed up your throat. Gunfire continued to ring, now having travelled further up the mountain near where you and Wanda were. 

Natasha and Clint climbed back up a short moment later, Wanda tugged Clint to rest as blood trailed down his face.

“Shit, you weren’t kidding about these guys, Wolfie. What exactly did Hydra do to them?”

Your vocal cords strained the rumbling chuff, hot air fanned out of your nostrils. 

“Come on, we should help the others,” said Wanda urgently. You, Clint and Natasha nodded and began to follow her but a blur flew from one of the higher up ledges.

Wanda screamed when she was pinned down, the form having pushed her back some distance from you and the others.

“Wanda!” You roared, you leapt towards her and the alpha without a second thought. The three of you fell over the lip of the mountainside, your body instinctively clawed Wanda out of the alpha’s grasp and encircled around her; caging her from the fall. 

Wanda was tucked between the heat of your body above and the snow against her front,  both of you stared at the alpha in front of you. 

His wolfish face formed into a snarl, saliva and blood dripped from his lips. 

Blood dripped from yours, fangs bared right back at him. 

“Protective, aren’t you? Found yourself a little mate?”

Your jaws stretched open with a protective roar. 

“That struck a nerve.”

The alpha jumped at you but this time you were prepared. You arched your body, arms latched hold of him as you both rolled back and over another lip, this time the fall was more steep and less intruded by any sharp rock edges. Your back collided with wooden blanks as yours and the alphas weight broke through it and crashed into the dusty keep below. 

Wanda shrieked your name. The sound was a fracture to your very soul, the tie to your mate tugged a little too hard for your liking. 

You barely were up on your own four limbs when the alpha continued his barrage of attacks. Each hit was ruthless as his claws swiped and tore at your body. His teeth fractured a number of your bones as you attempted to pry him off. He grappled the scruff of your neck and slammed you face first against anything he could.

He tossed you back and your back smashed into the crumbling bricks behind you. 

The sky of Alaska’s first rays of dawn illuminated through the old, stone archway with a pink and orange hue. Snow bellowed in with the gusts of wind.

For a moment you both stared at each other. Covered in the wounds bred from conflict.

Your shoulders rose and fell with each pant, pain rippled across your body and your fur bristled against the cool breeze. 

His glowing red hues danced in the darkness on his side, and the amber in yours did the same on your side.

If you killed him, it would be over. Without their leader they were hopeless. Defenceless. Weak. 

“Do you really think you are one of them? You’re not. You never will be. Mated to a human. She’ll break your heart and then… then you will become as cruel as I.”

“I am nothing like you. I will never be anything like you.”

Your hackles raised at him. He snarled back at you.

“We are monsters! Just embrace that! You will never be anything but that!”

You averted your gaze for a moment. He was right. You were a monster. You huffed lowly, ears twitching slightly when the breeze tickled against them. Mother Nature thought otherwise.

“I’ve embraced it. But if I’m a monster… then I’m a good one that hunts the bad ones.” 

You ran at each other with teeth bared and claws out. Snarls and growls echoed in the chamber of the ruin as you swiped at one another, biting into the flesh of one another.

Carnage.

Monster against monster. 

Mother Nature was not always as peaceful and beautiful as many thought she was.

She could be cruel.

Heartless. 

And it was all in the name of balance. It was fair.

His elbow drove into your face and knocked you back, he pinned your weight to the ground as his muzzle dug into your stomach and chest. You yelped and kicked your legs against him as the savagery of his mauling tore away at you.

Your claws swiped him upside the head again and again until he pulled his head away. A distorted scream came from the depths of his black and bloody throat. 

His clawed hand swept across your head, slamming it into the stones beneath you repeatedly in rapid repetition. 

Any moment he would smash your skull.

When he figured you’d endured enough, he stared down at the sight of you; ears flopped and a whimper struggling to escape your beaten and half torn apart chest. He raised his hand high. The light bounced off the blood, making it almost shine in the Alaskan morning.

Fairness. 

Was this fair? Perhaps not for you but for Mother Nature? Who were you to fight against her?

You’d been doing it for seven years. You were done.

You had embraced it all. What you were, what you went through, and what you were to become; come what may. 

“You could have been something more. Something great.”

“I already am. They made me something great.”

With a shake of his head, maybe calling you a fool beneath the huff of his breathy exhale, he prepared for his final slash. 

A bright red aura surrounded his arm just as it went to strike against you. Unmoving, the alpha whined when his arm refused to move. Wanda stood just in sight above the ruined keep.

You saw the determined shimmer of scarlet in her eyes. 

He roared at you in his confusion and you arched your neck forward. Your muzzle stained red once more when your teeth crushed bone, minced flesh and punctured his artery. 

He stilled above you and his weight drifted until it rested against yours. The sun finally began its rise over the distant peaks. You grunted as your limbs shoved the corpse, rolling him through the stone archway and down into the depths below. The ice could have him now. 

You didn’t know how long it took for your team to make their descent into the ruins you found yourself in. Your eyes were glazed over, the amber of your fiery hues slowly faded. Each breath you took was stunted from the damage you inflicted. 

Blurred forms moved down towards you, snow danced across your vision when a particular gust of wind blew through the archway. 

Voices beckoned you by your name but you couldn’t respond. 

“What are you doing here, Big Wolf?” You knew that voice. That adorable, innocent voice. “Big Wolf… why are you leaving them behind?” 

‘Hm.’ 

Their voices were inseparable, even in Mother Nature’s light. 

Your vision grew dark but the eyes of your mate were the last thing you saw. 

“Please, Wolfie… you promised.” 

You inhaled deeply as the smell of early stages of rabbit stew filled your nose. 

“Mother?” Your eyes were coated in a blurred layer of sleep. How long had you been out? Your mother was in the kitchen, humming softly as she prepared the freshly skinned rabbits. 

“You’re awake,” she chuckled as she peered at you on the couch from her place at the stove. 

“You’re awake, Big Wolf!” One of the twins shouted, the other not far behind. Their small feet thumped against the floor in their dash to get to you. 

You wheeze when your breath was knocked from your lungs as the twins plop themselves - rather happily as well - on top of you.

“You were asleep for so long!” One of them giggled. You chuckled at the enthusiastic pout on their lips.

“You promised you’d take us up that mountain before dark!”

“I…” you paused for a moment with a furrowed brow. Not long did you sigh and went to move. “I know. We can still go.”

They both jumped off of you as they raced each other to the door. “Yaaaay!”

You shook your head with a chuckle as you walked up to your mother, patting your two other siblings in greeting as they passed. “You guys coming or what?”

“Yeah! We’ll be out front in a second!” Said your second younger sibling. 

You looked to your mother who had chopped some vegetables on the wooden board, expertly. Even still, she never lost her concentration though her skill was unmatched and she could do it blindfolded.

She never overestimated herself. Never pushed herself to prove anything to the sake of being seen or respected. She did what she could with all she had. 

And that was enough for everyone.

She turned to put the chopped vegetables into the pot. Her eyes turned to you finally and she grinned.

You often reflected your father in both demeanour, stature and appearance; but the one thing you prided yourself for was that you had your mother’s eyes. 

It was the one reprieve you had. When you’d stare at yourself - beyond the wolf - you could see your family just from the colour of your eyes. 

“Something the matter?” She asked. You shook your head silently and stepped forward. Your arms wrapped her to you and she guffawed. 

“Finally gotten into the habit of being affectionate, have you?” 

You huffed at her words with a smirk. “Hmph. I guess I have.”

You should have known. A wolf’s memory was good. Often too good. This wasn’t a memory in that old lodge tucked into the valley, nestled near the lakeside. 

You and your mother pulled away to look at each other again. Her eyes were misted over and yours did the same. 

Her hand rose to caress your cheek tenderly. With a mother’s touch.

You leaned into her palm with a rumbling purr. “It’s time to stop running. Let go of that guilt that weighs you down.” 

You opened your eyes to meet her tearful eyes. “We’ve never left you. We have always been here, just know that in your heart.”

“I will, Mother…”

“You have to go now or you’ll be missed,” she said. You knew what she meant.

She looked towards the front door for a moment. “I’ll take them up the mountain for you,” she whispered with a kind smile. 

An understanding smile. She knew you had others waiting for you. 

“Thanks.” You embraced her again. Her warmth comforted you. 

“I love you, Y/N.“

“I love you too.” 

“Vitals are stabilising.”

“Good, that’s really good. Let’s get them on a new drip.”

“Wanda, here you go, Honey. Have some coffee.”

“They’ve been like this for a while. What if… they don’t make it?”

Your eyes peeled open slowly. The bright lights above flooded in. Wanda lurched forward with a hand clasped over her mouth with a sob.

“I beg to differ,” you rasped, your hand outstretched and your fingers combed through her hair.

Your name was said by voices you recognised all at once and many faces greeted you on the other side of that dark tunnel. Relieved smiles and sighs, tearful eyes and many uttering your welcomed return. 

Wanda grasped hold of your hand, the clear, thin tube of your drip made you aware you were in the medic ward.

New York. The compound. 

“Damn, Wolfie,” Tony sighed, “you gave us all quite the scare for the past two weeks.” 

“Two weeks? W-what happened?”

“You were in a really bad way when we found you, Y/N,” said Sam, eyes casted down to conceal the way his eyes glistened.

“We all thought we lost you a couple times there.”

You tried to shuffle your body to sit up more when pain shot through you from all directions.  You laid a hand on the wound that reached over the entirety of your shoulder. You hissed, teeth clenched hard and everyone winced at your reaction. Your memory of the fight came back to you, piece by piece. 

“Your wounds were severe, Y/N. When Cho and Banner saw you… they told us it was likely you wouldn’t pull through…” 

“Moving you back to the compound was a risk we had to take. Even from the ruins.”

You shook your head with a grimace as the pain slowly subsided. “Is everyone else alright?” You asked and the room of your fellow Avengers scoffed in disbelief.

“Minor scratches and bruises were the worst we got,” Steve informed you with a light chuckle, “everyone else is fine. It’s you who everyone is worried about. You took the brunt of that attack.”

“Well… I had to.” You moved again, being more cautious of your wounds. “You guys are my pack. Mine to protect.” 

Your eyes met Wanda’s, a small smile on her lips as she pulled your hand to cup her face. To feel the comfort of your warmth. 

You chuckled as you remembered that night she told you she was cold, only to then cuddle into your side. 

How her body fit just perfectly against you when you both stood on the pier. 

Your eyes lifted up to the rest of your pack.

“So get used to that because that’s a habit you’re not gonna shake from me anytime ever.” 

To be continued in: Habits Of Mother Nature's Will II: Aftermath

Thank you for Reading!

(◕ ᴥ x)

TREEHOUSE TAGLIST —

@alexawynters

[dailymothanon]

I’m back 🐶 thank you for being patient, things are relatively back to normal! Anyways I got some drawings… it’s the actual D&D au now! I’ve got plenty of ideas, but for now this is Alaska and Maine! Alaska is a Druid, circle of stars though his race is unknown (I also don’t have any general cloth ideas for him). It is noted he is very bird-like tho, no wings because he can just have a wild shape/starry form with a pair. Maine is a half human half beast, he’s quite prickly because unfortunately even in this au he still has to deal with the northeast 😒 (long rants of ideas below)

I also have other ideas for other states, but I haven’t drawn them yet. For New Jersey I’m thinking like Nevada he is a fae folk but of a bee; and he was born with deformed and torn wings that resemble the Jersey devil’s. But due to his deformity his “hive” decided to just toss him out because they wanted a big strong community with no one holding them back 😒 so maybe Jersey had to barely survive out there on his own, and in later years NY could’ve found him (I like to think he is a human knight, merely because instead of his bat he can have a sword) and took him in 😌 (and they were roommates)

Another idea I’ve got is for Texas! I would like to think he is a mostly human gunslinger who is legally blind (not totally blind, tho still very blind) but sees thru heat & taste, much like a snake does. Maybe he collects bounties, I haven’t really thought much for his lore yet 🤔 but he is one of the best gunslingers out there despite his disability!

Cali is also one I’ve thought up, I think he could be a dragon rider. A funny idea is that he has a scam where he and his dragon makes this whole act where he pretends to be a princess damsel in distress, being held captive by the big bag dragon and people who come and try to “save” him but it just ends up with Cali robbing them 😒 (love me a big flawed character)

As for Alaska, he’s as stated, a Druid of the circle of stars! He comes from an unknown island (just imagine irl state of Alaska except disconnected to any continent tbh) that’s gatekeeped gaslighted girlbossed because they don’t want no colonizers or anything ofc. But Alaska grew up hearing all about the other outside lands and he wanted to go see it! So one day he ventured into the continents (the one that contains all the other states except for Hawaii) and yaddy yadda; and Alaska is actually very curious and friendly in this au because he doesn’t have the trauma of outsiders 😌 he has a pet(s?) dog with three heads (ofc, Balto Togo and Fido) to accompany him! I haven’t designed his starry forms yet btw. And also he doesn’t really know how his Druid magic works somehow 🧎 it’s mostly innate and learned behaviors and habits and traditions. It just comes naturally to him! This is the biggest difference between him and Mass with magic, think of Alaska’s Druid magic as traditional and natural, meanwhile Mass’s sorcery as artificial and learned and studied magic. So it’s hard to say who between the two is better at magic

Maine is a half-human-half-beast, he faces discrimination because of it and there aren’t much others like him in at home land. He mostly doesn’t care but the occasional person really gets to him. Not really sure why he is half beast yet tho I don’t have the lore for that. Mass keeps trying to pester Maine about learning magic, as Mass is one of the best magic users in his region (and he’s quite boastful/egotistical because of it) so he believes Maine might be really good too, and Mass wants him to be able to know it when in times of need, but Maine doesn’t really listen 🙄 though he is nimble and quite good at sneaking!

My last minor ideas is that Ginny is a great swordsman (race undecided), Mass is probably a human sorcerer, Nevada is a fae folk, Ny is a human knight, and Hawaii 🤔 some sorta sea/ocean critter maybe? Dunno yet. Anyways I hope these ideas are cool and that you guys like them! I also want to mention I probably wont post daily still, I wanna do what’s comfortable for me.

[mixtapedoh]

How about lonely boy, lee know, and forced proximity?

@eclliipsed — i am thinking of you, specifically while writing this <3

;༊ — lonely boy

pairing: lee minho x gn!reader genre: fluff, office setting word count: ~3.6k warnings: language, situational stress, han is here stirring the pot, a startling amount of homicide jokes

olive’s notes: a unique challenge of writing lino fic that i did not before account for or even conceptualize is that when i think of said silly little stray kids cat boy, i think of him almost 99% of the time as 'lino' and like 0.9999999999% of the time as 'lee know'. lee minho? you mean the actor? it's not clicking up here, asdfghj. all that's to say, if i make a mistake and call him lino instead of minho, i'm so sorry, feel free to stone me in the square on whatever day is most convenient for you <3.

☄. *. ⋆ lee minho x forced proximity...

— society, as a collective, just loves their 9 to 5, right?

i mean, if it were actually a 9 to fucking 5, maybe you wouldn't be screaming, crying, throwing up, gnawing on the iron bars of your enclosure.

— but haha, as a general rule (collectively agreed upon at some point, or perhaps no one agreed so much as they were browbeaten into submission), more than society loves their 9 to 5, they love their workplace grindset culture.

gotta get those financial gains, amirite?

— which is all to say, you were simply enamoured, quite totally besotted with, completely captivated by and hopelessly devoted to your demanding, grueling, parasitic life-force of an office job.

and people had the gall to say you didn't have romance in your life.

clearly, they hadn't seen the zeal and devotion with which you dedicated yourself to your company issued computer, stacks of files, and white-walled cubicle.

after all, regular hours simply weren't enough for all the worship you had within you — you simply had to have both your mandatory overtime and your Implicitly Dictated and Oh-So-Reasonably Expected overtime hours as well <3 you did want to keep your job after all, and job security is such a silly little thing <3 corporate culture really is just soooo romantic in that regard <3 complete and utter devotion <3 commitment almost pious <3

until you managed to break away from the curse of Living in a Society and could live without bills, debt, responsibilities, more bills, more debt, and the desire for silly little (but financially substantial) hobbies to make this existence of yours worthwhile, your love affair with your job would simply have to stick.

— which made for the perfect little soup you were currently mired in. a thick broth of learned helplessness seasoned with intense loathing, a dash of interest in low stakes coworker drama, a sprinkling of compulsory people pleasing, a garnish of yes man energy, and an optional mix-in of untapped, constantly simmering rage.

so, of course you were best friends with han jisung.

— the universe really did do you a solid when they placed han jisung in the cubicle next to you.

perhaps the only employee that hadn't succumbed to the incessant humanity-sucking leech affectionately called a company, jisung was the only one who kept you sane when you were 56 hours deep in your work week and considering moving to a homestead on alaska where you would likely not even last a whole 72 hours — but, hey, you would at least get some sleep at the end of it when succumbing to the effects of hypothermia, so it didn't seem that bad of a gig, really (jisung always offered to cover half of the down payment cost, but at the end of the conversation, he'd just buy you a coffee and the two of you would call it even).

— and being friends with jisung was, all at once, both a blessing and a curse.

(because this is corporate living and existence is a fucking nightmare ~°~♫⭒~꘎ )

— poor excuses for jokes in your company chat box, sticky note battles during days when the mundane tasks you were assigned were mind-numbing enough to fell the strongest of corporate warriors, the constant "i owe you" back and forth when one of you went on a coffee or vending machine run and grabbed something for the other, and, of course, juicy gossip during your lunch break — all of these were the positives of being jisung's partner in captalist crime.

— but on the other hand, should either of your work be wanting in any regard... well... accountability is a word long enough to stretch between two.

— which led you to your current state of affairs.

"the next time you forget to delete your 'tongue-in-cheek' speaker notes on the powerpoint we're submitting for review from higher ups, i'm breaking your fingers so you can't type them in the first place."

but of course jisung just turns it into a joke about a hand kink.

— your punishment for 'distasteful' jokes left in the margins of official company output wasn't anything too severe — bless whatever cosmic force made it so that the generally easy going mr. ok taecyeon was the one to see jisung's fuck up, and not someone less forgiving — but it meant the next few weeks would be hell in the form of grunt work.

see, your company was expanding in the industry, and it meant that the building you were currently working in wasn't big enough to house all the ✨aspirational goals✨ it was just starting to believe in. thus, the majority of higher ups were going to move into a new office building... and for some ass-backward reason, so, too were all of the archives.

and someone had to go down there and box it all up, making sure it was properly labeled and in order.

sure, the company was just head-empty enough to have the desire to move physical archives to a new office building. but at least they wanted it all in order before they stuck it in a different dusty basement.

— the very first day you went to the basement and saw the sheer level of work the two of you had in store, you locked eyes with jisung and just knew that fucker was going to find some way to get out of it.

— on your lunch break you tried to beat him to the punch and defend your honor against the soul crushing weight of undue punishment. but alas! you had already taken vacation days in the last month (damn that kpop concert - did you really have to be that devoted to your ult group??) and han hadn't had a day off for the last 6 months.

how the hell did you end up doing the punishment work for actions that weren't even (mostly) yours?

han jisung better move to that alaskan homestead after all, nowhere else would ever be safe from your wrath... once you got out of this basement, of course.

— the most you were given was help in the form of lee minho — who would have thought that he of all people would be your saving grace?

maybe he'd help you plan jisung's murder. they were friends, true, but anyone who was around han long enough would not be opposed to plitting his demise. it was part of his elusive charm, after all. everything wonderful about him also lent itself to fodder for plotting his demise.

convenient, really, given the circumstances you were in.

— but back to lee minho. perfect performance lee minho. always last to leave the office lee minho. infuriatingly not suffering from looking chronically fatigued or daunted, overwhelmed, or simply fazed by the overzealous work culture you found yourselves in, lee minho. curt and focused but lacking of an edge that would make him unapproachable lee minho. impossible to pin down, the vitruvian man of corporate dreams, somehow the bosses favorite despite failing to do any of the sucking up some of your other coworkers engaged in almost religiously lee minho.

he didn't frustrate you; he didn't even really baffle you, but he didn't exactly occupy your brainspace in a way that could be described as indifference, y'know?

maybe this was something you could blame of jisung, too. he always talked about minho an ungodly amount, waxed poetic about how it was a shame that minho worked in a different department — how the two of you really would get along famously, but damn, if he couldn't convince either of you to spend any of your (perhaps two (2)) hours of off-duty life in the same place at the same time.

social lives, after all, were laughable, where the both of you were concerned.

— the day you walked down there and saw minho already elbow deep in a filing cabinet seemingly older than your parents (which, lamentably, was the worst organized filing cabinet you'd ever seen, and was regrettably representative of 95% of the work ahead of you), you laughed out loud and took the moment to convince minho to take a picture for you, so you could tell jisung that he was missing the Historic and Long Anticipated Meet Up, and that was the moment you realized that you were so deep in the basement, phone service was a pipe dream.

it wasn't a concern, really — you were both benefiting from the random employee benefit of free spotify premium, so your downloaded content was enough to get you through the long hours of organizing and packing, and hey! being in the basement meant no one really expected any more out of you than your required hours and whatever mandatory overtime you had left to complete.

— so really, jisung had been stupid as hell to avoid this punishment. it was effectively less work than you were used to (though tedious) and you were far enough away from your desk that the thought of the work piling up in the world above wasn't eating at you that much (at least not any more than usual; workplace anxiety and you were well acquainted, at that point <3)

— and minho! — god forbid you say anything complementary about that bastard han jisung while he left you (more than) 6 feet under, doing work that was, by many rights, his punishment — but he had been right when he said you and minho would gel.

he didn't disturb you, for the most part, but working in the same space for full work days with nothing to do but listen to podcasts and check the dates on dusty files meant that Annoying The Only Other Person In Your Vicinity became a welcome distraction from wallowing in the fact you were moving at a pace slower than desired. and he responded quite well to any question you threw his way - no matter how brain-dead, invasive, or embarrassing. in fact, he'd hit something back - put the ball in your court in a question almost more ridiculous, leaving you to question how jisung hadn't forced the two of you together sooner (but fuck jisung; all my homies are blaming this comedy of errors on jisung and are in this basement actively plotting his demise).

— and it didn't take you long to realize charming minho is almost exactly like getting a neighborhood cat to endear itself to you.

pspspsps at random (bat a stupid ass joke his way);

give him space but respond to his random bids for attention;

have a snack drawer (one of the first emptied out file cabinets furthest to the back of the archival area) and occasionally offer something sweet as a reminder that the snack drawer exists and is for joint indulging;

entertain him with logic puzzles and psychological warfare;

and, of course, shit talk your coworkers and company.

indulge the cats desire for destruction and mayhem; tell minho that whenever he was ready to put in his two-weeks, you'd be right there beside him and would run the paper shredder all night while he corrupted the files.

exist calmly and comfortable in the cat's space; work so well in tandem that you began anticipating the movements of the other.

spend quality time with the cat; both of you begining to wordlessly take your lunches at the table in the archival basement, instead of going all the way back up to the cafeteria, choosing instead to chat with each other and indulge in the other's niche interests and stupidly staunch opinions on poor pieces of media.

slow blink at the cat; catch yourself staring for a bit too long when he doesn't notice you looking, your thoughts getting all muffled and sappy as you become wholly fascinated by the slope of his nose and the softness of his big, dark eyes that look perpetually half-bored at work but sparkle with intelligence and mischief when you call out his name — lighting up with interest and disguised delight as that lazy, gummy smile makes it's way onto his features, eyebrows quirking upward, already expecting a challenge and...

— wait... what was that?

— is there absestos in the company walls, and that's why they decided to randomly move buildings? is there lead lining these filing cabinets? black mold in the ceiling? were you perhaps inhaling narcotics in this dusty ass air and hallucinating something vivid?

you were not developing a crush on someone just because you were stuck in the basement with this fool for going on two weeks now and hadn't seen another good looking coworker in quite some time. this wasn't some kind of drama where the ceo has a strange delight in forcing company employees into situations laced with ✨sexual tension✨. you weren't a main lead suffering from romantic withdrawals. remember your leech of a company. you have no time for shit like that.

— but, i mean, if you're never out of the office, perhaps finding romance in office is a solution...

shut the fuck up, you and minho weren't even in the same department. that point was moot.

— because damn, maybe asbestosis really was getting to you, and that's what was knocking the wind out of you any time minho smiled. yes, certainly the absestos in the walls was what was informing the way your heart constricted whenever the two of you brushed hands passing a file between you. maybe you should sue your company and have some hospital use you as a case study. maybe all the distracted daydreams was a new symptom of your newly contracted deadly disease.

see, that would make sense. you weren't catching a mean case of crushing on your forced proximity coworker, you were simply dying. because of the absestos.

— but even still, the day both of you piled all the boxes of (appropriately lableled) filing into a work car, and minho drove you over to the new building, the fresh air didn't seem to be a cure all. you were still a little more than distracted by his messy hair and black sunglasses... his concentration on the road... his pushed up sleeves... not to mention his hands wrapped around the steering wheel.

(but of course you'd snap out of your thoughts when you remember that joke jisung made about your supposed hand kink at the beginning of all this nonsense. shut the fuck up, memory ghost jisung. you don't know shit. you and minho had already talked about it and were coming for his broke ass the day he had the courage to step foot in the office again.)

— yeah, haha, you weren't crushing on lee minho because of a comedy of errors you had never dreamed would befall you in the first place. working alongside him hadn't woken anything in you. certainly not.

— and yeah, haha, you'd definitely be able to hide this from jisung when he came back. not a problem at all when he asks you about how sorting archives went (he had the gall to bring it up every five minutes — taunting you with the fact that he got to have 4 days off and was then reassigned to do answer all the emails that had piled up during his time out of office. yes, he had picked up some of the work originally meant to go to you, but still. a veritable traitor who deserved your absence from your usual lunch dates. and yes, it was hard to be slick when he'd bring up your casual absence from lunch — were you finding minho's company to be more than enough? — but you'd manage. like hell were you going to give the smug bastard satisfaction after he made you atone for his and also your crimes.).

— and yeah, haha, you'd would definitely be able to explain to a suspicious and put out jisung why you were canceling anime re-run night with him to instead go with minho to this hybrid cat-and-comic-book-cafe he had mentioned never being able to get a reservation for, despite living two blocks away from it. silly little things like that would be easy to wave away, right.

it's like, totally platonic for you and minho to meet up on your only day off to spend hours lounging at a cafe retreat together where you cooed at semi-sociable cats and joked about adopting and co-parenting the one who enjoyed wearing cute hats, and read comic books for hours and order food to share and have low-stakes debates about the best tropes and characters of shared beloved media.

it's not like that whole set up is incredibly date coded.

and it's not like it would become a recurring habit for minho to invite you to do things with him that would have jisung waggling his eyebrows even as you pleaded innocence and smacked him with whatever quasi-weapon you just so happened to have on your desk (mostly file folders and your favorite cat themed mini calendar).

— haha... it wasn't like you were down bad and incredibly bad at hiding your crush.

...right?

— you fool. you absolute buffoon. han jisung could smell your lies and poorly contained crush from thousands of leagues away. even if you weren't shit at hiding it, he would have known. he could have actually been on that remote homestead in alaska and still picked up on just how brain dead you were over your crush. you thought you were slick? when han jisung has a doctorate in anxious suspicion and twelve master's degrees in the art of bullshitting?

hell, he knew you were going to fall in love with minho before the two of you even met. why do you think he'd wanted to connect the two of you in the first place? because he thought you two needed a social life? please — he knew going in that putting the two of you in the same room was horrible for his self preservation; he knew it was practically undermining company goals because your joint productivity would fall 2000% and the amount of cat memes you two would send on company time would increase so exponentially, you'd both resort to making your own memes using your company paid subscription to adobe creative cloud; he knew that the two of you were almost scarily well matched and equally devoted to drinking your refusal-to-believe-i-can-be-loved-romantically juice.

he knew that you and minho would develop glaring crushes on each other and wouldn't do a damn thing about it beyond smoothly flirting for an afternoon, inviting the other out on dates-that-aren't-dates and promptly fake-gagging and denying in a manner almost theatric that you might *gasp* enjoy the other's company in a way not-so-platonic, only to do it all over again. a vicious cycle of 'stop feeding the rest of us lies and just kiss with tongue already, damnit.' and he knew all of your coworkers would be caught in the middle of it.

— which they were. for, like, a solid five months.

— now, it wasn't too bad, considering the fact that you and minho worked in different departments, but anytime there was cause for collaboration, suddenly you were clambering to be considered, no matter the intense workload or the way the task was slightly out of your wheelhouse. suddenly, it seemed you were incredibly eager to learn and prove yourself.

at first, your team leader was overjoyed. initiative? drive? a seeming zest and fire for more commitment? say less and do more! marry yourself to the dumbass collaboration with the other department! perhaps this could mean freedom for their long suffering servitude under the corporate thumb!

but then they saw you flirting with minho and making plans to spend an afternoon together at a book signing while still on the clock. and while they're not opposed to a bit of misuse of company time (vive la révolution contre les régimes capitalistes, and all that), it was a bitter and sobering pill to watch that shit happen daily while not getting any yourself, and then stomaching the fact that these clearlly love-struck fuckers won't admit their own transparency-set-to-0% feelings and put their chronically-single corporately-suffering coworkers to rest. either say you're in love and just be done with it or take the rest of us out with a shot gun. goddamn.

it's like a sitcom's mind-numbingly over-the-top valentine's day special. someone make it stop.

— and it didn't take a genius to connect the dots and realize that the employee responsible for all of this was han jisung.

after all, he's the mutual friend between them. no doubt he talked about the other constantly in glowing terms. no doubt he planted the seed they'd be a match made in heaven. no doubt he was the one to blame.

and! wasn't it his fuck up that forced you and minho to work together in the archives to begin with?

maybe killing han jisung wasn't going to make you and minho confess to each other, but it would be some kind of catharsis for the people who were stuck in this hell of Watching You Two Take Your Sweet Time With It.

— so jisung had to understandably think of some kind of plot. after all, the two of you were his best friends, but to hope that you would admit your feelings for someone to save his livelihood? don't be ridiculous. the both of you were quite happy with the flirting stage, as it currently stood.

— how to get your stubborn friends to admit their (very real and very reciprocated) feelings for each other... when there's no external or even internal pressure (on them, at least) to do so... jisung would have to think outside of the box.

or perhaps inside of it.

— which i'm sure is reason enough to explain how the both of you managed to get stuck in a closet during your company's holiday party.

and, through it all, is minho's mischievous eyes and your flair for the dramatic.

"do you think we should tell our coworkers we've been dating?"

☄. *. ⋆

blog home

[yeoldenews]

Hi! I don’t really have a question to ask. I just don’t know how to work Tumblr, and I wanted to say thanks to you for posting all the old kids’ letters to Santa. I particularly love the kid with his bevy of cranberry facts, but they’re all delightful.

I'm so glad you're enjoying them!

Having very much been an 'info dump' kind of child (a trait I have obviously not grown out of) that one delighted me. Ready to spill everything you know to any captive audience, even if that audience is Santa Claus.

I actually ended up finding that letter after realizing, when I was putting everything together this year, that I've never posted a letter from Alaska before - so I specifically went looking for one.

I found several other little snippets of school reports young Mr. Frank wrote that were published in school news column of the local paper, including this one:

[a-world-with0ut-dr34ms]

Ghost x City Girl Reader

After your car breaks down on you unexpectedly in the middle of the night, you're left with no choice but to call the only number left available to you... Ghost.

NSFW 18+, Eventual Smut (Coming in Full Part), Snippet, Hatemance, Toxic Relationships, Jealousy, Bickering, Slight romantic tension, Swearing, Reader and Ghost don't like each other, Scarcely Proofread

WC: 1.5k ~

I'm finally back from my captivity in Alaska. Here are some crumbs while I work on all my WIPs, full part should be out this weekend (with luck).

Previous Parts ~ Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Masterlist

NOTE: This is subject to change in the final version

"Come on, come on, come on-"

You step forward towards the edge of the road, making sure not to accidentally step 5 inches deep into another puddle of rain water, as your eyes catch sight of another pair of car headlights approaching in the distance.

Their distance glow expands like tiny, white orbs within the black of night, speeding by ever closer each passing second.

Perfect timing.

You stick your thumb out, using your other hand to try and wave down the approaching vehicle.

"Hey!" You call out, as though they can hear you over the growing sounds of trees around you blowing in the wind like it were trying to conjure up a tornado. "Hey, I could use some-"

The car zips by, carrying a gust of wind which insultingly hits you in its departure. You scoff to yourself, watching their red tail-lights slowly disappear down the road, and suddenly you're reminded of the predicament you'd just found yourself in.

That's the fourth car that's driven past you since your car unexpectedly decided to take a shit on you halfway through on your drive home.

Deep down you knew you should have just had your date pick you up from the jump; your car being the piece of shit was a secret to absolutely no one. Just three weeks ago, the damn thing died on you in the parking lot on your way home from work. However, you've had one too many experiences with being trapped at someone's place without a vehicle (at the will of your DD) to know it's best to be your own ride home.

Or that would normally be the case; honestly you wish you'd just Ubered, or had your date come get you, now that you're outside, stranded on some empty road too far from town to walk but just far out enough to be an inconvenient for anyone, in the dead of night. But at least it had stopped raining.

Though it's residue still remains on this dark road. You knew you had been out far in the boonies just from the lack of streetlights, seeing how pitch black your surroundings had been. It almost felt like a wall of sorts, some sort of abyss, boxing you in. It makes you feel like you're being watched (even though you're absolutely not).

Still, it motivates you to step back into your car, settling into your driver's seat with a frustrated huff.

By now, the remainder of the car's heat had been zapped out, all its interior lights completely dead. Some false sense of hope drives you to try and twist your key in the ignition once more, only to have your dreams retroactively crushed once you see the key completely stuck in its hole, just as it had been for the past forty minutes now.

It brings you to check your messages another time. You'd all but gone through your contact list trying to find someone that could come get you; it hadn't helped that it was damn near 1am.

You called your date first, seeing as he would be the closest to you and it hadn't been like you'd left on bad terms.

One month of seeing him, now that you think about it; you hadn't noticed the time flying by, though it's not to say your time together had been anything remarkable. Just a change to your usual FWB and one-night stand order. He liked taking you out on nice dates and you liked going back to his place to fuck, and seeing he wasn't insufferable, it worked, for now.

However, his ringer had gone straight to voicemail when you called. At first you questioned why that could have been, but then you'd remembered him mentioning his phone being on the verge of death in the midst of the movie you'd been "watching". It crossed him out all the same.

Soap and Price were some of the least reliable men to reach at night, though it had only been because they valued their sleep, and did so like professionals. You weren't surprised in the slightest when they hadn't picked up.

You didn't even bother calling Gaz; the man didn't have a car. And every other one of your friends was either too far away for it to be worth the drive or just unavailable. By the time you'd called the last name listed on your lifeline and it didn't pick up, the hopelessness started to bubble up again.

But then you remembered one other person you could call, someone you're sure wouldn't even bother, if he even picks up.

Ghost.

The phone sits in your hand, purposefully procrastinating, as your eyes toiled on his contact name on your phone. Reluctant.

There's absolutely no way he would pick up; he'd all but made it clear to you that he'd rather do without your being around him as is. What makes you think he'd want to get out of bed in the middle of the night for you?

And yet, your gaze lingered on his number.

Who else was there, if not him?

You slowly dial in his number, nausea swirling in your stomach at each press, until you've heard the phone begun to ring.

You place the cool glass to your face, listening to the other line ring, awaiting to hear that familiar automotive voice message system of his.

However, the air catches in your throat when you've actually heard the other line pick up, sounds of covers shifting and a man's heavy sigh filling in this period of silence that's gone on far too long for you.

"You do realize what time it is, don't you?"

You roll your eyes, sinking back into your seat as you settled in for this conversation. Welp, you called him, and here he is. Time to deal with that.

"I had no idea," you say sarcastically.

"Should probably buy a watch then," he teases.

"You offering?"

"No."

You can't help but do anything else other than smack your lips together in response. "I'll just keep doin' me then, boo," you say.

"A shock to no one, I imagine." You hear Ghost groan gruffly on the other end, clearly having been in bed. "So what then? Your date end poorly or somethin'?"

While he had been making a jab at you, his words were more revealing than he realized. Clearly, he'd still been thinking about you, despite wanting to act like you'd been the one bothering him right now.

It makes you giggle under your breath, though you're loud enough for him to hear. "It went great actually," you say. "He really knows how to wine and dine a girl down."

"No doubt letting a man actually treat you like a woman for a change is a new experience for you," Ghost remarks.

"Guess it just took finding the right guy for the job," you remark back. "He's got you on a run for your money, Manchester."

The right guy, meaning anyone but Ghost, he had imagined. Not in any tangible way beyond whatever lust-filled mistakes you two continuously shared between each other.

Ghost pauses for a moment. You know your comment had gotten to him somewhat. Though he spares little time for you to rejoice in it.

"He can have it," he says coldly. "We're done, remember?"

You're not sure why, but hearing him say that to you yet again -- with not a heartbeat to spare, it only seemed to make your own heart run a bit colder.

Ghost only continues, his patience having run thin since talking. "Why are you calling?"

You hesitate to speak at first, your pride already having been bruised just having to call him to begin with. You sigh lightly to yourself, regaining your composure and cutting right to the chase. After all, what reason was there to be nervous? This was only Manchester.

"I need your help," you say plainly. "My car broke down and I'm in the middle of nowhere. I tried calling literally anyone else... but you're the only one who's actually answered. So... look, if you don't want to, just tell me now so I can call someone else, alright?"

Silence.

You have to look down at your phone to see if the man had hung up on you suddenly; it wouldn't have surprised you. But no, he'd still been on the other line, merely existing with his tightly shut lips.

After some more seconds have gone by, you've found the silence has driven you mad.

"Look, just forget-"

"Where are you now?"

That's not what you were expecting to hear. His words stop you in your tracks, your heart beginning to race once you finally had a plan in motion.

You sit up in your seat, already typing in Ghost's address into your Google Maps so you could get a good estimate of how long you'd be waiting. You wanted to cry when you saw the double digits, and nearly did when you read that 27 minute drive time.

You hum to yourself, trying not to sound too disappointed as you spoke.

"Well..." You sigh. "It's not close."

"How far are we talking?"

Full Part Coming Soon... ( ˶˘ ³˘(˵ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°˵)♡

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Is He Safe?

CW: Captivity, creepy whumper. For @amonthofwhump Tropeathon Day 5: Covert Identity. (Jax, as always, used with permission and oversight from @comfy-whumpee)

Takes place during Jax’s first captivity.

The Motherfucking Gallaghers Masterlist

-

The ocean sounds like it’s breathing, a constant rhythm of water against the shore. Further down the way, groups of people laugh, throw beach balls, or otherwise enjoy the brilliant sunshine and growing warmth of the day.

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows of one of the Marcoset vacation homes, the beach is perfectly empty. Private, and privately theirs. At a white table in a white kitchen, Savvie sits, one hand laid over his, watching her best friend speak to his father on the phone. 

Jax is allowed one phone call per week, with Savvie by his side of course. She’s written out a few ideas for him on what to talk about on a little piece of paper. 

If he asks about:

How you are: Great! 

Mention foods you have eaten recently that you like

Change the subject

What you’re doing: Hanging out with friends! 

You love traveling around with me

We have a goal of seeing all fifty states! You’re really looking forward to seeing Alaska

Where you are: Tell him we’re at the beach in Florida

Seashells

Walking by the ocean

Sunshine

Talk about that concert we went to

Ask him about himself as often as possible

I will end the call if he upsets you

They’re really… optional.

Just guidelines on how to keep the conversation nice and light. He doesn’t have to use them, if he doesn’t want to, although of course he wants to. Easier, that way, it must be so much easier than trying to come up with things to talk about all on his own, right? Besides, she’s been able to keep his collar off all week here, and she’d like to not have to put it back on before they even get back home. 

Taking him out to eat and to shops feels like regular, normal life - briefly, Savvie forgets her grief over the loss of her parents, which still sometimes appears in deep waves that knock her over and leave her lying in bed weeping for a day or two on end, Jax cleaning somewhere in the house while Savvie can’t even begin to know how to go check on him or see what he’s up to. 

It doesn’t matter. He’ll just be cleaning, anyway. Unless she forgets to let him out of his room, and then he’ll just be sitting on his bed, or staring at nothing. 

“We, uh-” Jax clears his throat, and it jerks Savvie out of her reverie. She shoots him an encouraging smile, and he answers it automatically before he looks away from her again, looking out at the sea where it laps against the shore. His arm shifts under her touch, and she watches with fascination as goosebumps rise. She rubs at them, watching with delight as he shivers. His voice trembles, but only a little. His dad probably can’t hear it. “We’re in Fl-Florida, right now. Spent last week at the beach, yeah. Picking-... seashells and shit like that.”

“You picked… seashells?” There’s a note of something Savvie can’t read in Jax’s dad’s voice - he sounds almost doubtful, although it’s honestly true. Not the Florida part, but they did spend the last week at the Marcoset family beachhouse in North Carolina. Close enough. In any case, Jax absolutely spent a couple hours yesterday picking up the seashells Savvie pointed out to him, putting them into a little bag to wash and take back home. She'd even found a little bit of rock washed smooth by saltwater in the shape of a heart.

“Uh, yeah, we-... my-... my friends are into it, I guess,” Jax says, and looks at her again. She nods, and smiles, and gives his hand a little squeeze of approval. He’s doing so well. “Honestly I m-mostly just… hang out.”

“Getting a tan, then, are you?”

“B-bit of one,” Jax responds. He’s pale as a ghost, he hardly ever goes outside. When they lay out on the beach, Savvie makes him wear SPF 100+ sunscreen that lathers on as thick as chalk paste. But… his dad doesn’t need to know that either.

“Well, that’s good, then. But, Jax… these... friends of yours that you're with…”

All the conversations happen on speakerphone, but Savvie stays quiet and neither of them mention to the soft-spoken Brit on the other end that she is there. Jax knows better.

His eyes close, briefly, and then he looks steadfast out at the ocean. “They’re nice, Dad. I t-told you.”

“Right, but-”

“How’s Mam?”

The subject change isn’t done well, but his dad goes with it, answering reluctantly and allowing himself to be led away from questioning Jax’s mysterious friends. The first few times he asked, Savvie reached over and hung up the phone, and then made sure Jax didn't call him for weeks on end.

Now, Jax makes sure the wrong kind of questions stop fast. 

She isn’t forcing him to. It's not like they aren’t friends, like they aren’t on a beach trip, like he isn’t having a great time. And he can still call his dad, of course. It’s not like… a threat, or anything. Just that Jax gets so worked up, and it’s better for him to just not talk to his dad at all for a while if it’s going to cause him so much pain and worry.

That doesn’t happen anymore. Jax cuts it off before it can.

Content, Savvie curls her fingers until the tips brush against his palm, and feels his muscles twitch in response. Savvie tells herself he’s squeezing back. They’re friends now. She tells him everything, and he’s such a good listener. They go on weekly coffee dates, just as friends of course, where he sits in the sun by the window, sipping black coffee and watching Savvie as she tells him about… anything. Everything. She’s gone on three dates during this monthlong beach vacay and told him all the dirty details the morning after each one, while they wait for breakfast to be delivered from the bakery down the road.

One man she'd even brought back to the beach house, and Jax had been there, an unobtrusive presence cleaning up after breakfast that her date hadn't even asked about.

All her thoughts and feelings spill out of her with Jax, and it’s amazing. She’d been feeling so alone when her parents died, and Jax has made sure she knows she’s never, ever going to be alone again. 

He’s been such a good friend to her. And she’s been such a good friend to him in return, giving him these trips out and days off his work cleaning her house, letting him speak to his dad as long as he doesn’t start telling him lies or anything like that. Letting him come out of the shell the training place had put him into, letting him be sober most of the time instead of drugged like her uncle keeps telling her he should be.

He’s such a good friend.

He’s so good.

They’re going to be best friends for their whole lives. 

She gives his hand another little squeeze and smiles. He echoes the expression, a half-second delayed, his attention torn between her and the voice coming through the phone.

“... -coming home any time soon?” His dad asks, a little hesitantly. He’s asked that before, and Savvie’s smile briefly fades away, her brows furrowing in distaste. 

He keeps asking. 

Jax’s eyes flicker to her, searching her face for what he’s supposed to say - this isn’t written on the paper in front of him. She’d figured the old dolt would stop asking by now. She gives a slight shake of her head. 

“N-not soon, Dad, no,” Jax answers, without looking away from Savvie. The sun warms the handsome lines of his face and sets those hazel eyes to sparkling. Honestly, you could get lost in eyes like that. If she ever meets a man she wants to marry, and lets Jax date once she has someone else to spend her time with, some girl is going to fall head over heels for him just because of those pretty eyes.

She ignores a twist of some faint ugly feeling, refusing to see it as jealousy. He and his girlfriend can both work for her, that would be fine. Isaac probably has some staff he could choose from, if he wants a girlfriend or a wife. Or maybe one of the other families would have someone. Savvie would have to approve, of course. He'd have to marry someone Savvie thought was good enough for him.

Maybe she should pick someone out for him, she'd know better than he does what he needs, anyway.

“We’d like to see you,” Alfie offers, voice soft, not judging or angry. “We all miss you. Your mam, too, and your sisters-”

“I-I know, Dad.” Jax swallows. There’s a pain in his face Savvie wants so badly to soothe, to hug right out of him. She squeezes his hand again, harder this time, and he jumps a little, as if shocked back into awareness. “Sorry. You… you know h-how it is in America.”

His dad hums, noncommittal. He probably doesn’t know anything about living here, really, and Savvie can’t blame him - she knows more about Russia than she does England, and one day Jax can go with her to visit Moscow and see the ballet…

The thought makes her smile, wistful and daydreaming already about how Jax will get to see so many new things, living with her. She’ll be as good a friend to him as he’s been to her and show him so, so much…

Jax’s shoulders relax just a little bit when he sees her expression back to pleased. He chances a look back at the phone, but of course there’s nothing there but the call screen, the number, the time ticking away in seconds and minutes until Savvie tells him to say his goodbyes for another week. 

“I’ll let you know if I-I can come sometime,” Jax says. His breathing isn’t quite as steady, now. He isn’t looking at her. 

She doesn’t like him as much when he isn’t looking at her.

“Jax, are you-... are you safe?” His father’s voice softens even further, hard to hear through the phone. “Is someone keeping you from having your own phone-... I don’t know, just. We miss you. You know if you ever need to talk-”

Savvie’s eyes narrow. She leans over and firmly presses her index finger down on the red button to end the call. 

Jax exhales in a rush, looking over at her with wide eyes that look oddly hurt. She pulls the phone back to herself and turns it off in case the stupid old man calls back. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” She snaps, her good mood dissipating now, dissolving as she thinks about the question.

Are you safe?

His hands are rough, calloused and with skin that cracks and peels from the harsh chemicals that he cleans her house with. There are circles under his pretty eyes because he doesn’t sleep very well. Savvie isn’t much of a cook and the two of them mostly live on delivery and whatever can be safely popped into an oven and ignored for a while. He has scars around his neck in a little circle, like an odd reddish necklace. 

Sometimes she has him sleep in her room and she holds him, feeling the careful rise and fall of his breathing beside her. She has given him new clothes to wear when they go out and takes off his collar so no one will realize that he’s just staff. She lets him call his stupid family when Savvie should be all the family he needs, and his dad has the gall to not even be grateful for it. 

Is he safe?

What kind of question is that?

“Miss Savvie-”

“Shut up.” Jax’s mouth snaps shut, and Savvie fights a prickle of guilt, trying to tell herself it isn’t what it seems like from the outside. “Honestly, how dare he? As if I would ever let any harm come to you. How dare he!”

She throws the phone. Jax flinches when it bounces off a wall and hits the ground with a crack, shoulders hunching in an attempt at self protection. 

“He, he’s just-... w-worried, Miss Savvie-” Jax is leans away from her when she stands. She ignores it - he’s her friend, he’s not scared of her, he’s just surprised by the phone being thrown, is all. They were nasty to him at that place where he learned how to work, and he just… doesn’t like sudden movements. 

That’s all.

He knows Savvie would never really hurt him, if he’s good. 

Savvie stalks over to the fallen phone and picks it up, rolling her eyes when she sees the screen is cracked now. “Not again. Ugh, Jax, your dad drives me crazy! Maybe I should take you to see him just so he’ll stop asking all the damn time about it!”

“If-... that’s what y-you want, Miss Savvie,” Jax answers, cautiously. Savvie hates this version of him the most, where he gets quiet and barely speaks. Hates even more that it’s her own anger that made him that way.

No.

It’s his dad asking stupid questions, that’s what did it. Not Savvie’s perfectly logical response to them. 

“He… he is just awful, isn’t he?” Savvie says, voice flat and angry, setting her broken phone down on the counter. She’ll have another one delivered today. “I don’t know how you can stand to even talk to him, Jax, he’s so… rude.”

Jax is silent, now. 

That rankles even more, that he doesn’t agree with her and he doesn’t argue. He just watches her, and she can feel the weight of his eyes and usually it just means he’s listening to her but right now she’s sure it means he’s judging her. 

“Right. Well, he’s clearly stressing you out.” She straightens her shoulders, taking in a deep breath. She makes her voice cheerful and relaxed, hoping her body will follow suit. “So. Here is what we’ll do. Until I think you’re okay to talk to him without getting so worked up, then we’ll take a break from the calls, huh? Doesn’t that sound like a good idea?”

He still doesn’t answer.

His answer is not required.

Honestly, she’d just get angrier if he did answer.

Is he safe. It circles around and around in her mind. She’s the best thing that ever happened to him. She was given a cowed, frightened, silent slave to clean her home and now he’s got his own room, his own things, he’s her very best friend. He goes everywhere she goes. She hardly even lets him out of her sight. 

Is he safe?

“Get your swimsuit on,” She says, turning away and pointing towards the stairs to the second floor, watching as he hesitantly gets to his feet, watching her still. “We’re going swimming.”

“M-Miss Savvie-”

“Not one word about it, Jax. You can talk to that nasty creep again when I am damn good and ready.” She finally looks back at him. "You don't belong to him, Jax. You don't owe him anything."

“Yes, Miss Savvie.” Whatever he must see in her eyes keeps him from trying to talk it out any further. Good. 

He heads for the stairs, and she falls in just behind, running her fingers over the cracks in her phone screen, her skin catching at the edge of one, just a little.

Is he safe?

He’s the safest he’s ever been.

As long as he doesn't care about anyone else more than he cares about her. 

-

@whumpyourdamnpears @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @arlin-always-writing @wildfaewhump @whump-tr0pes @iaminamoodymoodtoday @orchidscript @sableflynn @pretty-face-breaker @raigash @whumptywhumpdump @boxboysandotherwhump @thefancydoughnut @mylifeisonthebookshelf @whumpinggrounds

[thatawkwardmoth]

The thing about Rachel's childhood is that she remembers everything, vividly. She remembers things she probably shouldn't be able to, things shared with her through her mother's telepathy. 

She remembers her first breath, from her mother's perspective, watching her father melt. The strong, unbreakable leader of the X-Men, cooing and crying over being handed his little girl. She remembers her mother feeling happy that Rachel had a head full of fiery red hair and big eyes that captivated her father. She remembers her mother cuddling her as a newborn, swearing on her life and the Phoenix Force inside her that nothing would happen to her. 

She remembers her first word, sitting in a soft crib, babbling nonsense as her father rummaged around her nursery, not paying enough attention to her. She remembers eventually getting mad and slapping the bars of her crib with a sharp cry of "dada!" that made Scott turn with a shocked face. She remembers being called a daddy's girl by her mother teasingly. 

She remembers her first steps, holding onto Jean's hands in a vice grip, confused but happy that she got to spend time with her mom. She remembers stumbling and almost hitting the floor multiple times, if not for her mother's telekinesis and the soft, loving way she'd set Rachel back on unsteady feet and let her try again. She remembers her mom feeling proud that Rachel didn't stop getting back up and trying again, only stopping when she made it all the way across the kitchen to where her favorite toy was. 

She remembers her first birthday, her first tooth growing in, her first real injury, her first big tantrum. Shared to her while she sat on the kitchen floor, nine years old, knees scraped to hell and back, feeling angry and pushed aside, left to be in the dust with the crowds of new students taking her parent's attention. Her mother sat in front of her, gently touching her forehead to Rachel's and letting her have those memories to keep. 

She cherishes them even more than she did back then, laying in her bed in the Boneyard, leftovers from the Summers family dinner in her mini fridge. Her father, the universe's version of him, tried to convince her to stay the night in her room in the Summer House. 

She can't do that. Not when her memories of her father forcing her to sleep include being cuddled in an armchair, some Disney movie playing in the background. Scott, from her universe, the one that raised her, always hugged her, always cuddled and kissed and loved her. Because he never wanted her to feel unloved like he did as a child. So he'd spend hours cuddling a grumpy toddler and then a budding telepath that couldn't figure out psychic shields for life of her. He'd watch the same movies every night until finally Rachel would fall asleep and wake up under her covers. 

This universe's Scott did those things to Nathan, not to her. It's not the same. He bids her goodnight when she stays, hugs her tight and then leaves. He doesn't stay and make sure she falls asleep like her universe's Scott did. He doesn't scoop her up and turn on some nonsensical movie Rachel loves that he hates whenever he finds her wandering the halls at night. 

She cherishes the memories for nights like these, when she can't remember certain things about them. Like how Jean would take her out daily for little errands, just making Rachel giggle uncontrollably at her use of powers. Like Scott teaching her about cars and planes. Like trips to Alaska and learning about the stars.

It's decorating her room in the Summer House and wondering if her parents decorated her room with care and love. Every little stuffed animal, every little model plane, the crayon drawings they hung up no matter what. The amount of times she outgrew blankets and clothes because she was lanky like her father and they'd just laugh. The pictures she regrets letting be destroyed, not taking with her. The amount of care her mother and father put into simple things like doing her hair. Her father learning how to braid, her mother brushing our every wild knot and tangle from Rachel roughhousing with the other students. It's carrying the last name Summers like it was a badge of honor. And in her universe, it was. 

She cherishes those memories when she feels unloved in this universe. When Jean has once again easily brushed her aside to coddle Nathan and even Nate. It's the memories of her Jean Grey that keep her going 

Being taught to swim, to read, to bake even though she really couldn't. Teaching her about her budding mutation. Listening to Rachel's rambles and incessant chatter of the simplest of things. Those memories of how much her Jean Grey loved her to death, to her death. 

It's knowing how scared her father was to be a dad. How scared he was to fuck everything up just to be so caring to her, so wrapped around her finger. Grabbing her a trinket from every mission, a midnight snack. Anything. 

It's knowing that even after losing her mom, Scott never once let himself hate or neglect Rachel. He worked through it, pushed past it because he lost a wife but Rachel lost her mother.

It's having every part of her childhood available to her and the version of them in front of her not matching up all the way. Or at all. This Scott tries. But he's late to the party, he never got to raise Rachel from infanthood. Never got to be that dad in the hospital. This Jean doesn't try that hard. She never wanted kids or if she did, she decided early on to wait and wait and wait. And then Rachel appeared but not in the way she wanted. 

("I always imagined us having a girl." Is whispered in Rachel's mind, some dumb memory picked up from running thoughts in Jean's mind. She wanted a girl. A daughter. Just not one like Rachel, already grown, broken, traumatized. It's understandable. It's not.)

("I'm not your mother, Rachel." Said to her as Jean tries to help her with something, said instantly after Rachel lets it slip out. It's easier on Krakoa. They've fixed things. Talked things through. But it is still there. Not your mother. The Phoenix says something different.) 

The thing about Rachel's childhood is that it was happy. She was happy. She was a stereotypical little girl, happy and bubbly and wild and free to roam but never wanted to go far from the safety of her parents. She wasn't always a Hound or always a killer or always a traumatized teenager looking for her mother's love in a world where her mother was already dead. She was once a little girl who was Jean Grey's whole world. 

[atomicwinnerdreamland]

Heyyyyyy I saw you were taking requests :)

Can we please have some NY and Louisiana hc’s?

Hii! Yes of course :D

New York:

-He likes to paint and read. His favorite things to paint are sunsets/sunrises, architecture (CA's Golden Gate, FL's Disney World, his own buildings, etc), and plants. His favorite types of books to read are psychological thriller, fantasy, and coming of age classics (occasionally romance as well, though he'd never admit it)

-He and California have little arguments where they talk about how similar they are to each other. "I have the Brooklyn Bridge!" "Well I have the Golden Gate!" "I have the New York Times, you copycat!" "No you're the copycat, I have the Los Angeles Times!" They're not really arguments though since these conversations usually end in laughter.

-Speaking of the NYT, he likes to journal. Whenever he can't resort to violence to let out emotions, he writes his feelings out on the nearest piece of paper he can find. Sometimes he burns them, other times he keeps them in a special drawer to read for later. He also likes to write little moments that occur in his life that he finds interesting; like eating good food, making a snowman, discovering a new song he knows he'll hyperfixate on for months, etc. He also likes to write books, though most of the time they're just little picture books you could read to kids because that's all he has time for

-I've mentioned this before, but New York plays board games with California. He wins against Cal in Monopoly but loses against him in Uno. New York also plays games (board games and party games) against his northeastern besties and he's very competitive when doing so.

-He's a fashion icon. The other states ask him for fashion advice and he delivers since fashion is a passion for him 💅 He's been told he could be a model, but he never actively pursued a modeling career bc of his statehouse responsibilities

-I feel like he'd be a huge fan of Taylor Swift, especially 1989 TV. Evermore's another one of her albums that he vibes with since a song called coney island's on it and bc it's a calming album for him :)

-He's friendly to Vermont, New Hampshire, and Maine. All three states are kind and don't annoy him, and New York appreciates that. They also all play in the snow at times. He also has a soft spot for Indiana, Wyoming, and Alaska.

-This one's a popular one, but my baby over here has insomnia. The only way he can get a true night's rest is if somebody's there to cuddle him ane calm his mind down, like *coughs* California. This fic by @alaskashigh is a great example of this if you want to read one :)

-Him and Illinois get along well. They buy each other coats for the winter and argue a lot about pizza and sports teams. Through this, New York managed to get along with Indiana and Minnesota, and now all three of them like to grocery shop together lol

-When that whole fiasco of the skies turning orange occured in the Northeast, the first person New York turned to was California, and rightfully so. California helped patch New York up and gave him advice on how to deal with stuff like that. New York told the rest of the NE what Cal told him so that they also know what to do.

-He shows he cares through gifts and actions. He doesn't say "I love you" very often, but he'd hurt anyone who hurts his loved ones, give you his coat when you're cold, make you some food, or plants specific flowers when he finds out what flowers you like. New Jersey usually helps New York with the planting part, and that's one of the rare times those 2 get along.

Louisiana:

-Louisiana hangs out in the woods with Florida and Texas just to get away from the Statehouse and to gossip.

-One of his favorite songs ever is House of the Rising Sun, and he never misses an opportunity to sing it. You can hear him sing it while he cooks, cleans, or when he does really anything. The states aren't annoyed about it though because his voice is captivating.

-He's a very comforting person. The states go to him whenever they need somebody to talk to because Loui can do it all: he can listen, cook, and make jokes.. whatever you need to feel better.

-He enjoys learning about old folk tales, urban legends, and superstitions in the US and around the world. The states often catch him watching paranormal true crime documentaries with a grin on his face, and the only state that's not unsettled by this is Florida.

-Speaking of Florida, he and Florida go on dates by doing the most dangerous stuff. Skydiving without parachutes, doing hit and runs, armed robbery in important government buildings just to make Gov mad, whatever crazy things these goons can think of. But on other times where they're feeling relaxed, their dates are just them cuddling or eating. They enjoy both bc they have each other :)

-(TW: suicide, death) If he was a normal person, he'd be dead a long time ago. He's been stabbed, shot at, beat up, hanged, basically killed, but since he's a personification he just sustained the injuries and went on about his day. When he found out he was a personification, he killed himself just to see what'd happen. Would he clearly see the paranormal stuff he likes so much? Would he see an afterlife? Imagine his surprise when nothing happened to him.

-He can read, but he just doesn't want to. He just likes to read his Mama's recipes and children's books. When New York makes a new children's book, Loui usually asks him if he can read it, and New York lets him.

-He was a nice kid in high school. Respectful to his Mama, probably indulged in some sports, escaped to the woods once in a while, and had a decent group of friends that were just as wild as him. He's the type of guy to not make any enemies, and he was one of those rare ones who were good looking in high school (I wish that were me lmao)

-He and Texas are buddies and cook together a lot. When Louisiana needs help with anything, especially natural disasters, Texas is the first one to make sure he's okay and vice versa. When Florida's off doing... something that definitely is a threat to his life and/or someone else's (aka being himself), Loui and Texas go to parties together. Loui gets drunk and usually almost blacks out whereas Texas only takes a couple drinks to make sure he and Loui get back home safe. They got each other's backs, basically.

-He and South Dakota get along most of the time, and the only time they don't is when SD talks about Pierre and pronounces it "peer". Loui doesn't take it too seriously, but they like to jokingly argue about it.

-He has a big heart and it's obvious. He likes to show love through his words and his actions. Like New York, he wouldn't hesitate to throw a punch to someone who has hurt you, but he also would stop whatever he's doing to make sure you feel loved and taken care of. He's almost burned the statehouse down once because he was comforting his buddy Arkansas, but California was around to stop this potential fire. He also likes to say he cares about you, you can occasionally hear him say je t'aime mon amour/mon ami(e) & tu es magnifique. (I love you, my love/my friend & you are beautiful).

That's all I have for now, thank you for the ask :D

[transparentgentlemenmarker]

Christopher McCandless's remains were discovered on September 6, 1992, by moose hunters near the northern end of Denali National Park in Alaska. He had passed away inside an abandoned bus that served as his shelter for the preceding 110 days, providing respite from the unforgiving Alaskan wilderness. Found alongside his scant provisions were a .22-caliber rifle, a collection of aged books, a camera containing five exposed film rolls, and a diary documenting edible plants in the book's margins. The cause of his demise was determined to be a combination of starvation and poisoning, likely resulting from misidentifying and consuming toxic plants. For a comprehensive insight into Chris's life, Jon Krakauer's book 'Into the Wild' offers an engrossing, highly recommended narrative. Additionally, a film adaptation of the same name, 'Into the Wild,' faithfully captures the essence of the story and is equally worthy of exploration.

Les restes de Christopher McCandless ont été découverts le 6 septembre 1992 par des chasseurs d'orignaux près de l'extrémité nord du parc national Denali en Alaska. Il était décédé dans un bus abandonné qui lui avait servi d'abri pendant les 110 jours précédents, lui offrant un répit dans la nature impitoyable de l'Alaska. À côté de ses maigres provisions se trouvaient un fusil de calibre .22, une collection de livres anciens, un appareil photo contenant cinq rouleaux de film exposés et un journal documentant les plantes comestibles dans les marges du livre. Il a été déterminé que la cause de son décès était une combinaison de famine et d'empoisonnement, probablement résultant d'une mauvaise identification et de la consommation de plantes toxiques. Pour un aperçu complet de la vie de Chris, le livre de Jon Krakauer « Into the Wild » propose un récit captivant et hautement recommandé. De plus, une adaptation cinématographique du même nom, « Into the Wild », capture fidèlement l’essence de l’histoire et mérite également d’être explorée.

[sea-salted-wolverine]

For the rum AMA: have you ever seen a real live wolverine?

in the wild I have tracked them and I have stood in their kill sites but I've never actually seen one in the woods, but I've also never hunted wolverine specifically. I have gotten to try on a parka with a wolverine ruff, which is cool because the oil in their fur means that the frost from your breath won't stick.

When I was working at the Alaska zoo there was a pair in captivity an older male and a rambunctious younger female. The male was content to nap in his hiddey hole all day and eat snacks but the female constantly wanted to play so she would uproot birch trees and drag them to her pool so she could bounce them around and log roll. And it wasn't small trees either, 4-6 inch diameter birch poles.

[spale-vosver]

I wanted to add a little perspective to the walrus vs fairy debate.

I live in the United States, as many people on Tumblr do. In the United States, only three places currently have walruses in captivity: SeaWorld Orlando (in Florida), SeaWorld San Diego (in California), and Point Defiance Aquarium (in Tacoma, Washington). All three of these locations are on the coasts.

Additionally, the only place in the United States within wild walrus territory is Alaska, which isn't even part of the contiguous (attached to each other) United States -- the walrus would have to either walk through Canada or swim down the Pacific Ocean to reach a majority of the population.

To reach my location, a walrus would have to travel AT MINIMUM 911 miles/1466 kilometers from Florida up to DC without being hit by a car or train, caught, or stopped in any way.

So, yeah, I'd be pretty damn surprised if a walrus showed up at my door.

[awesomecitys-blog]

During the walrus fairy debate, I saw someone bring the fact that people were assuming that the walrus had traveled to your door on its own, but what if someone places it there as a prank? There’s just one problem: who do you know personally who has the resources to transport a walrus as prank?! All the same things that apply to a walrus making the trek to your door unlikely also applies to someone trying to prank you, and twice as much. Someone else on here pointed out that in the United States, only three aquariums had walruses, one in California, one in Washington(the state), and one in Florida. The only state with wild walruses even remotely close is Alaska. Also walruses are heavy as all get out. The time and money to get all the things necessary to grab a walrus for a prank makes it highly unlikely. And that’s just the United States, I can almost guarantee that France, South Africa, China or any other country that’s not close to the Arctic probably doesn’t have any captive walruses, so no matter how the walrus is getting there, it’s a stretch. Long story short, a fairy maybe surprising, but the surprise factor of seeing a creature that has no way of getting to your door, free will or prank, is definitely up there.

[kylejsugarman]

Idk if you’ve answered this already but at what point in their relationship did Jesse tell Demi ab his past? How did that go over? How much does she know?

ive mentioned it some before but i haven't really gone super in depth!! as u all may know, i am very "and then everyone made it to alaska and everything ended up ok!! :)" minded, so i dont have a big dramatic revelation beat to my story and ultimately, jesse never tells demi that he's living under a completely new identity. however, he does tell her a Lot of other things, partially because he trusts her, partially because he feels guilty keeping things from her that might make her see him differently; he feels that she deserves to know how fucked up he is so she can escape him and avoid tying herself down to a mistake. jesse first tells her about his drug use after demi explains how her sister died, again out of that guilt and the expectation that she won't want to associate with a former(ish) addict, but demi saw firsthand how powerful addiction can be and isnt scared off. when it comes to his criminal history, it takes him a little longer to work up the nerve to disclose that stuff: he's afraid of both endangering her by letting her know what he's done and losing her. he drops a few things along the way, usually related to drug dealing and production since she was so understanding of that aspect of his past, but once they decide to get married, he feels that he owes it to her to be totally honest. the dark details of making and selling the drugs, being around violence and controlling figures. enacting violence himself. losing people. being sold into slavery. he leaves out specific identifying details (demi's never been a current events kind of person but he cant risk her connecting those dots) and places a lot of the blame on himself instead of trying to describe the people from his past who were pulling a lot of those strings. its basically an abridged version of the show's events, no names, no details in certain places (he doesnt even tell her which state he used to live in), and no forgiveness.

demi listens patiently the whole time, not asking many questions along the way. she tenses up when he touches on captivity, but otherwise her demeanor remains open and nonjudgmental. when it's over, she doesn't say anything, which is somehow worse than disgust. jesse is so wound up at this point that he flips out on her, insisting that this is her time to cut her losses. he's a criminal, a fucking murderer. he's evil. demi still doesnt react the way he wants and instead just waits until he's out of venom before reaching out to very gently smooth down his hair. petting the angry, upset dog instead of reflexively giving him away. "im sorry you've had to carry that around with you all this time," she says softly and that breaks him. because it Has been so hard carrying that around. demi asks a few more questions, clarifies a few more things, then tells him what she thinks. that she's seen how he acts now, how he treats people, how he treats himself. that she grew up with a father who sounds like the figures he alluded to in his story. that she is uncertain and insecure about a lot of things, but she's never been more sure that jesse is a good person and that she loves him irrespective of whatever came before. "im dangerous," he insists, a former fighting dog that would rather die than return to the ring. a hand on his own—"then why do i feel so safe with u?"

it's not perfect. there will always be things that jesse never shares with her and he will never totally forgive himself because as the one living person who knows the Extent of what went down, he feels that it's his responsibility to hold himself accountable for It for the rest of his life. demi's perception of him Does change, although not entirely in a negative way, and she is a little hurt that he expected her to bail so quickly and she can't lie and say that her mind doesn't occasionally drift to the fact that her husband has killed people. but at the end of the day, they're two broken people who were utterly convinced that their lives were over before they found each other. this is their second chance at life and they're never going to take that or each other for granted. whatever comes, they're going to face it together

[strljaem]

inspired by the movie “Twilight”.

jaemin cullen? perhaps.

💿 : what are they?, carter burwell.

The cafeteria was filled with the familiar hum of voices and the clatter of trays. I sat with my friends, laughing at some joke Mike had made, feeling like I was starting to fit into this new school in Forks. It wasn't home yet, but it was beginning to feel like it might be.

I was halfway through my sandwich when the double doors to the cafeteria opened, and everything slowed down. It was like a scene in a movie; everything blurred except for the person who had just walked in. A tall boy with pale skin and dark hair swept across his forehead. He had a quiet presence that seemed to demand attention without even trying. His eyes, deep and piercing, seemed to scan the room with an intense gaze. He was ethereal, like he was from another world, something too perfect to be real.

The noise around me dulled, and I felt my heart skip a beat. I wasn't the only one who noticed him. Heads turned as he walked in, his movements graceful and fluid, like he was floating rather than walking. It was as if he belonged to another realm, and I was just lucky to witness his existence.

"Who is that?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. My friends looked at me, surprised by my sudden interest in someone they had clearly grown accustomed to.

"That's Na Jaemin, totally gorgeous, obviously. But apparently, nobody’s here good enough for him. Like I care, you know?" Jessica said along with a nervous laughter at the end of her sentence, her eyes following him as he walked past us. "He's a senior. He and his family just moved here from Alaska, I think."

"Yeah," Mike chimed in, "they're the Cullens. Kind of keep to themselves, though. They don't really hang out with anyone."

"They're like... really close," Jessica added, nodding toward the other side of the cafeteria, where Na Jaemin joined a small group of equally stunning people. There were five of them in total, each one just as ethereal as the next. They sat together, their expressions calm and distant, as if they were in on some secret the rest of us could never understand.

I watched them from the corner of my eye, curious and intrigued. Na Jaemin sat at the end of the table, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp, observing everything around him. He caught me looking, and for a moment, our eyes met. A chill ran down my spine, and I quickly looked away, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. What was it about him that was so captivating?

"Why don't they hang out with anyone?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

"Who knows?" Jessica shrugged. "Maybe they just like their own company. Or maybe they're too cool for the rest of us."

I couldn't stop thinking about Na Jaemin. There was something otherworldly about him, something that made it impossible to look away. I knew I needed to find out more about him, about his family, about what made them so different from everyone else. Little did I know, my curiosity would lead me down a path I could never have anticipated, into a world I never imagined was real. But at that moment, all I knew was that Na Jaemin had just walked into my life, and nothing would ever be the same again.

———

The smell of formaldehyde hit my nostrils as I entered the Biology lab. I wasn't a huge fan of science class, but it was one of those courses you couldn't avoid. The room was dimly lit, with rows of lab tables and stacks of books piled high against the walls. Mr. Banner, the Biology teacher, was at the front, setting up some equipment for today's lesson.

I headed towards my usual seat near the back of the room, keeping my head down and my bag slung over my shoulder. As I walked past a small fan near the door, it suddenly kicked on, blowing a gust of air my way. The breeze rustled my hair, sending strands flying. I felt a shiver as I passed by, not just from the sudden chill, but because I sensed something... off.

The scent of pine and earth filled my nose, a lingering reminder of the ever-present forest outside, but there was something else, too. An undercurrent of something unfamiliar yet tantalizing. It was subtle but unmistakable, a hint of spice mixed with sweetness. I couldn't quite place it, but it made my pulse quicken.

I took my seat, my usual place, but something was different. The chair next to mine wasn't empty like it usually was. Na Jaemin sat there, his posture rigid, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the table. His eyes, normally a soft shade of amber, had darkened to a deep black, and his jaw was clenched tight. He didn't look at me. Instead, he stared straight ahead, as if focusing intensely on something only he could see.

"Hey," I said cautiously, trying to sound friendly, though my voice came out more like a whisper. He didn't respond. His eyes flickered briefly to me, then back to the front of the room. I felt a chill run down my spine. There was something in his gaze, a mixture of intensity and unease. I couldn't tell if he was annoyed or... something else.

Mr. Banner started talking, but I couldn't focus on the lesson. My attention was glued to Na Jaemin, to the way his shoulders tensed and his breathing grew heavier. He seemed uncomfortable, almost like he was in pain. The fan was still blowing, the air currents swirling around the room. I saw him inhale sharply, his nostrils flaring, and then he abruptly stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor.

Everyone turned to look, but Na Jaemin didn't seem to care. He walked briskly to the front of the room and spoke to Mr. Banner in a low voice. I couldn't hear what he said, but I saw the teacher nod and motion for him to leave. Na Jaemin didn't hesitate—he was out the door in an instant, the wind from the fan rustling his hair as he passed by.

The room fell into a stunned silence, and I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment. Had I done something wrong? I glanced at Jessica, who sat a few tables over, and she shrugged, just as confused as I was. It was as if Na Jaemin couldn't stand to be near me, and I had no idea why.

That day in Biology class left me with more questions than answers. What was it about me that had triggered such a reaction? Why did Na Jaemin seem so... intense? The mystery of the Cullen family grew deeper, and my curiosity turned into an obsession. I needed to understand what was going on, even if it meant stepping into a world where danger lurked just beneath the surface.