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keepswingin · 2 years

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Ok. If you could. I want you to hit me with your longest and most angstiest Willa Angst. I’ve noticed you’ve done a lot of Wyatt angst. Some Zed Angst. Addison angst too! But I gotta a craving, so if you could. I want some good old fashioned knuckle deep finger linger good Willa Angst. Please and thank you 😌. Bonus if she’s gay

One of the werewolves doesn't return, on a day where everything and anything has annoyed Willa.

She's halfway through scolding a pup when the scouts return from their evening rounds, and a quick glance tells her that she's missing one. Something in her gut twists at the information, but she ignores the feeling so that she can finish her reprimand. The pup scampers away a moment later, thoroughly imitated, and Willa exhales as she lifts her eyes to her pack once more, counting them again.

Six had gone out to scout for new threats, a daily occurrence for a territory as large as theirs, and one did not return.

Irritation builds inside of her, because of course this would happen on the one day where everything has gone absolutely wrong, but she shoves in down in favor of calling for Wyatt, a few lone eyes catching hers as she does. She glares until they turn away, muttering among themselves.

A long moment passes, and then her brother emerges from the far hallway that leads into the deeper parts of the cave, silhouetted by the dim lighting that leaks from the flickering lights behind him. His eyes quickly search the room until they land on her, mouth pulled in concern.

"What's wrong?"

Willa hates that he can read her so well.

"Wade didn't come back." The den goes silent as her firm voice echoes through the room. She can't help but roll her eyes. "And nobody thought to mention it."

Wyatt's eyebrows pull as he moves towards the entrance of the den, leaving Willa's eyes to stare daggers at each and every wolf that had gone out. It's pathetically ridiculous that she has to deal with petty rivalries and packmates picking and choosing still, after all they've been through.

It annoys her and angers her all at once, heat prickling at her chest. They didn't realize, how dangerous things could turn, from a calm evening to a cold night. Even after almost dying alongside each other, they still didn't understand how fickle life could be, or what real monsters still hid in the dark, bigger and scarier than they could ever be. Not only were all of their parents gone, but their memories of them too, and everything that they had learned and seen, lost to the haze of being far too comfortable in a place that had never welcomed them before.

She's toying with the idea of banishing them to the woods for the night, Wynter more than capable of taking care of the pups on her own, because if her words wouldn't teach them a lesson, then maybe the howls of beings unseen would, when a soft voice interrupts her musings.

Her eyes snap to the culprit, only to find that it's Weslie; reserved, a head too short and never one to speak up in times of quiet, she speaks up now, eyes darting between the fumble of her claws against one another and Willa's scathing expression.

"He said he wanted to check the riverbend," she says, shoulders sinking the longer Willa looks at her. "He said he heard something, but nobody else had, so we went on without him."

Willa gives a stiff nod in response.

Some of the other wolves in the room shoot scorned looks at Weslie, but Willa's moonstone colors as a growl ripples through the room. "She's braver than all of you," she spits, threat going unsaid as her amber eyes flicker from one packmate to the next. They heed her warning and lower their eyes without a word. Weslie ducks her head as Willa turns away, making her way out of the den.

She finds Wyatt waiting for her, perched on top one of the high rocks, golden eyes scanning across the expanse of the forest. She comes to a stop beside him, sighing loud, crossing her arms.

"Wade went to check out the riverbend. Weslie said he heard a noise that nobody else did, and that the rest of the pack moved on without him."

Bright color slowly fades from her brother's eyes. "Weslie told you that?" he asks as he glances over at her, sounding impressed. At his sister's silence he smirks, eyes moving back to the far tree line. "I guess you are getting more imitating with age."

"You're the same age as me," she points out dryly.

"I'm two minutes younger," he says proudly, before turning to face her. "Alright, let's go. We should reach the river before nightfall, if we're fast enough." He goes to brush by her, but Willa reaches out and grabs his elbow before he can get far.

"You stay here with those idiots. I'll go get Wade." She knows Wyatt doesn't like the idea before she even finishes talking, mouth twisting. He's stubborn, whenever it comes to her. "You know it'll be faster if I go by myself."

"And you know I can keep up with you. What gives?"

Willa lets go of his arm, exhaling.

A soft breeze pushes at them both, but they're steady against the wind. "I need the time alone anyway. Today has not been my day," she admits, glancing down. "As much as a headache going to get him is, I think I need the trip."

Wyatt's eyes flicker across her face. When he finds whatever it is that he's looking for, he steps back from her, lifting his hands. "If you aren't back in a half hour, I'm coming to get you, annoyed or not."

Willa's lips tick into a smile. "You're underestimating me in your old age, brother." She jumps from the rock as he sputters for a comeback, and leaves him there as she takes off into the forest, feeling less annoyed than she did.

Maybe if he had been around earlier, instead of doing whatever it was he did in Seabrook during the hours where no one needed him, the day wouldn't have been so bad.

Willa makes it to the first markings of the river a bit slower than she usually would, if only to take in the fresh air after a day of feeling nothing but caged.

She finds the sloppy tracks of her pack easily, and makes a note to remind them not to be so careless next patrol as she follows them against the current, eyes automatically scanning for threats as she goes. They've gotten lazy as time has dragged on, she thinks, eyes catching on snapped twigs and obvious missing pieces of brush.

It's been long since any incident, and she's been a bit more lax with the pups when she takes them out into the forest, Wyatt the only one who sees, smiling more often than not, but maybe word had gotten back to some of the pack. Maybe they thought that if their alpha was slacking off, they could too, because that meant there were no threats to be worried about. Maybe she should just slip back into the person she was when they were desperate to find the moonstone, claws sharp and teeth bared. She had to be everything the pack was supposed to be, and if she wasn't, then it was her fault that they weren't. Maybe the elders were wrong, in who they picked to be the next leader.

Maybe she was nothing more another packmate, no matter how much her heart told her that she was meant to be their alpha.

The sound of the water grows louder as she cuts across to the other side of the river, catching sight of the bend up ahead, rushing water foaming as it hits against an uneven pile of stones before moving on. The tracks she's following take a sharp turn before disappearing into the bushes off to her right, and she scoffs. All they had to do was stick around for a minute, and then they all could've been on their way back together. She tries not to think too much about it, if only to save Wade from the anger it brings her.

She makes it to the cusp of the riverbend, pushing her way past the branches that hang down low overhead, only to freeze. The branches slip away from her claws, swinging back into place with a soft rustle.

Ahead of her, is Wade.

He's lying on his back across the stream of the river, clothes drenched through as water struggles to find its way around him, curving around his outstretched fingers, his sprawled legs. His eyes are open as he stares up at the darkening sky, unseeing. His moonstone necklace is ripped from his body, and resting in the river beside him, just out of reach. His marking is wiped clean from his cheek.

His neck is red, skin torn jaggedly from a ripping cut that must have killed him slowly, desperate scratch marks surrounding it. The water has washed away most of the blood, leaving nothing to the imagination as Willa stares down in horror, unable to bring herself to move.

Water splashes from behind her.

She goes to whip around, moonstone flaring against her confusion and panic, but it's too late as pain explodes across her temple, vision blurring as she stumbles to one knee, barely able to catch herself.

Her breathing is heavy and her head throbs as she attempts to struggle back onto her feet, everything about this situation screaming nothing but danger, but a hand slips into her hair and pulls back roughly, causing Willa to cry out. Her necklace is torn from her neck, hitting somewhere on the ground beside her, and before she can react, she feels something press against the skin there, pushing hard enough that she can feel her own blood as it begins to slide down her neck.

She knows what it is immediately. Terror wraps around her chest and squeezes until she has no air left to breathe. The werewolf claws against her throat press harder, and Willa nearly chokes.

"What kind of fearless alpha falls for such stupid bait?" they hiss, mocking, laughing, sneering. "I can't believe that our pack has been scared of someone like you."

The claws against her throat dig deep and tear, not enough to kill her, but enough to stun her as they let her fall against the riverbed, blood pouring even as she lifts shaking fingers in an attempt to clot the wound.

She watches as the water below her turns red, all too suddenly cold and empty and numb to everything but the burning feeling of her wound, fingers slipping and sliding as she presses harder and bites back a cry.

Someone laughs from above her, and someone else mutters something she doesn't catch. She blinks and raises her head, only to see mud soaked boots staring back at her, more than she can count.

Was their whole pack here? Were they all here to take turns in making her bleed, until there was no blood left?

She knew the other packs had always despised her own.

Chosen, they would spit venomously, fangs baring. Chosen to protect a moonstone they couldn't even keep.

But the years had gone on, and their words had eventually faded into nothing more than spineless whispers. They had never tried to attack so boldly before, far more eager to snarl threats they could never go through with against her father, her mother, her brother.

Her, on a day where she had sent one of their runts back home, leaving just enough of a mark so that they would never forget what she was capable of.

"Pathetic," someone sneers, and a boot buries itself into her gut. She snaps her mouth shut, and refuses to make another sound.

Weak, she thinks as she lifts her head and sees the smirking face of their alpha looking back at her, to stab someone who's not looking. The marking is stark against the skin of his cheek.

"No wonder he went down so easily," he gloats, nodding towards where Wade's body still rests in front of her. More blood drips from between her fingers. Her skin is screaming. Her glare is piercing. "Is that all you teach your pack? How to die?"

"Is that all you teach yours?" she snarls, as fierce as she is meant to be, with or without her moonstone. She lifts herself up, standing before him and a pack that looks on in disbelief. "To take the easy way out?"

She launches herself forward, claws dragging along the water as she snatches her moonstone and brings sand up with it, causing some of the werewolves to stumble back. She catches sight of the alpha's red eyes as ancient power ripples through her the moment the moonstone presses against her skin.

She knows it's now or never.

She reaches him in a second, claws flashing. They make contact with skin, and she tears them across without a second thought. A wolf comes from her right. They fall to the ground with little resistance. Another from the left, a third from behind the now retreating alpha, barking orders as his beta moves forward.

Willa nearly scoffs. A true alpha would never hide behind their pack.

She fights off as many as she can reach, and leaves more than a few reeling and bloody, only for another to take their place. She doesn't dare howl, even though something inside of her tells her she should, but she wouldn't ever put them in danger. Not for her sake, not ever. So she continues fighting, until she has nothing left.

She doesn't know how long it lasts, before she can feel the slide of her power slipping away. A wolf slashes at her blindly and nicks the corner of her shoulder. Her throat feels as though it's fire, and she thinks she can taste copper on her tongue, which she's sure isn't a good sign.

An arm comes in swinging from the left, and she's too slow as her eyes catch on the alpha, scorned and filled with fury and far too quick. Her body can't keep up with her brain.

She screams.

She sees nothing but red.

Willa's heart thrashes from inside her chest as her vision is cut in half, panic gripping tight at her throat. The left side of her face burns, and the blood that drips does nothing but encourage the fire. She goes to raise a shaking hand to assess the damage, only for that to be torn open too.

She's surrounded in a matter of seconds, and no amount of fighting, bleeding or not, is enough to keep her from being shoved to the ground.

Nothing is enough to keep her from becoming the prey.

Someone's hand brushes against her shoulder.

Willa flinches.

Pain rips through her, like a knife shredding through skin. It's agonizingly intense, and she can feel her mouth open, and then close in an attempt to stop what wants to escape - you're an alpha, you're an alpha, you're - but the pain seethes, just under her skin, and she wants it to stop.

The whimper that spills from her lips is pathetic, she knows, but she can't stop it. Not when every inch of her is screaming, every part of her burning, every part of her wanting nothing but to be numb again, so that she doesn't hurt at all.

She's afraid to move.

A bitter part of her foggy mind tells her she's no alpha after all, if a little pain keeps her from standing up again.

Her stomach twists. She wishes it wasn't the truth.

"Willa," someone says from above her, tone edged with a panic she's not familiar with.

She's afraid to open her eyes. Afraid to move. Afraid that they'll string her up from the trees to rot, or dangle her from a cliff, or leave her body outside the den for the pups to find. They've already done all they could do to her. Taken her skin, her blood, her claws, her name, smeared away her marking until it could never be there again. What else could they possibly want, if not to finish the job?

"Willa," they say again. Their voice catches. Feet shuffle from her left and she can't push the right syllables from her tongue, can only try to move, but she can't move, not like this, not again. Something warm grips at her hand, squeezing tight. She thinks she feels the shape of carefully pressed rings against her fingers.

"No, no, it's okay. It's okay. Don't try to move, Willa. They're just gonna help, I promise. Stay still." Something cold presses against her side. A broken sound rasps from her throat. The hand around her own squeezes her hand hard enough that it grabs her attention away from where the cold is seeping into screaming, weeping, raw skin. "It's okay," the voice above her whispers, closer now, "it's okay. I got you."

It's hard to think clearly, when her head is spinning. It's hard to breathe when her heart feels as though it doesn't want to beat any longer. It's hard to listen to a voice that she thinks she knows, but can't place. It's hard to trust anything around her, when all the forest has done is encourage all that's happened to her.

"She's fading," a different voice murmurs, different patches of cold pushing against places that continue to burn despite it.

"No," the voice above her says, sounding desperate. "She's not."

The hand holding hers slips away for a long second, and then returns with something else, something that's hot and heavy and hums when it's placed in her hand. Their fingers wrap around her hand and push at her until she holds onto the object.

Her eyes snap open as she gasps, eyes glowing brightly.

Her heart is racing, and her skin is warm, and she hurts, hurts so much, but the ancient power flowing through her numbs the feeling and makes it so much worse all at once.

Her pack is around her, multiple wolves tending to what open wounds they can reach. Her brother is crouched in front of her, still holding tight to her hand, and two other wolves sit beside him, eyes flickering between the silbings.

Wyatt smiles at her. Soft, worried, happy.

"I told you I got you," he tells her, and Willa can't stop staring. She refuses to look down. Refuses to see what they did to her. Tries to lose herself in his eyes, in the power that's still racing through her. He'll keep her safe. He'll still look at her as the alpha. No matter what.

"The stone will kill her," the girl to her brother's right spits suddenly, glaring his way. "Her body is draining too much from it, she'll die and take the stone with her."

"She's not going to die," her brother responds, far too hopefully. Willa wishes he had a heart of steel, instead of one with gold.

"We can't afford to lose any moonstones," the girl argues back, lips curling. Willa wishes she remembered her name, so that she could tell her to stop. Her heart feels as though it's beating too quickly, suddenly. Her mind is a whirlwind of thoughts that she can't control. "Let go of it. Let her go."

Her brother ignores the girl.

The girl makes a face and then goes to move. Willa can't make her mouth move to warn him, and she rips his hand from Willa's, stone tumbling to the ground between them. Wyatt's eyes flash a dangerous shade of amber as he snarls, reaching up and throwing the girl from his body. "Let me go!" he growls, rabid, distressed. "Let go of me!"

Willa's world fades faster than it had colored, arms slumping to her sides, with nothing left to hold onto. Her eyes sluggishly drift from her packs' desperate expressions to the furious twist of her brother's mouth.

She can't feel her fingers.

"Willa!" her brother howls, claws flashing as he tries to reach the only family he has left.

Willa looks down. She doesn't know why she was looking up. She is no longer by the river, and the ground doesn't look familiar to her. A stone sits in the middle of torn dirt, dull and lifeless against the dark blood that paints the ground beside it. Something is sticking out of her stomach. She doesn't know what it is. She could reach out and touch the stone, if she wanted.

Her vision wavers.

"Willa!"

When she looks up again, it's into the eyes of the alpha that had done all of this to her, his pack holding her brother down, his claws digging into her brother's chest as he growls and struggles against him.

"Willa and Wyatt," he says, chuckling. His bloody boot slams into her brother's side and he wheezes and then growls deeper. "Fighters. Until the bitter end, the both of you." He waves an arm and Willa watches helplessly as Wyatt is lifted and shoved onto his knees in front of her, blood sticking to his fangs and dripping from the corner of his mouth. "I don't know what's better. To kill you both here and now, or to leave you somewhere where you can die together."

"I'll kill you," Wyatt sneers, eyes dull without a moonstone to light them. "You-"

Willa's breath leaves her in a rushing gasp. A sob hitches in her throat and gets caught, as she watches her brother slump forward and not make another sound. Blood pools from beneath him. The alpha wipes his claws on the side of his pants. His eyes turn to her.

"Your brother always talked too much," he says simply. He taps a claw to his chin, as if in deep thought. A smirk stretches across his lips. "You know what? I think I just thought of the best place to leave you two." He turns, waving to his pack. They advance toward Willa, and she doesn't fight back. She can't stop staring at her brother. Her little brother. Her baby brother.

She's given one mercy, as they roughly tug her onto unsteady legs with bruising grips. That the world around her fades away, as a violent hand strikes her head.

Wyatt haunts the darkness that welcomes her.

#zombies 3 #willa lykensen #wyatt zombies #wyatt lykensen #zombies 3 spoilers #keepswingin writes #mine #asks #hi hello i'm not dead this prompt just took me way too long to finish #i don't want to know the word count #shoutout to rain for giving me the base of the plot until i made it spiral #um i also just wanna throw out a violence slash gore warning for this too #anyway anon here hope you like this angsty mess #not to self promo or anything but 'all the things left unsaid' is on my ao3 if anyone is in need of any serious werewolf whump :)

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