N°1 EJ L⦻ver

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You were a messenger.

Not by trade but by chance, fate perhaps. A courier for the things that went bump in the night, the job itself is simple enough; bestowed on you by forces your mind couldn’t comprehend. It was early fall, leaves crunching under your soles as you hauled boxes through the door. You had hopped from place to place, not because you were running. Quite the opposite, actually. You were searching.

Searching for excitement. Belonging, something new, with the comfort of a well-loved commodity. Nothing had tied you to any past homes. Friends came and went; the good ones just one call away, so really, what did you have to lose? The days passed slowly as you settled in. Mundane yet enjoyable, but sometimes, there would be… outliers.

Small happenings that made you pause, like how the townspeople close their blinds the minute dusk breaks. The warnings to never look past the fence, nearing the edge of the woods, faded, with missing posters stapled to light poles.

The diner always let you off a bit early to “make it home safe.” There was a heaviness that came with their words, like a teacher who knew all too well what would happen next. Leaning down to lecture a boy who eats too fast, his sandwich in hand.

Naturally, you were curious, but not enough to push beyond surface-level questions. Such as when the fence was even built, or thoughtless jokes. Poking fun at the unspoken curfew everyone seemed to follow. They would answer in that vague way folks do when they want to change the subject. Fast and unassuming. Nothing to worry about. You never pressed. So maybe it was your fault.

Your boots were heavy on your feet, the normally unbothersome leather now bearing the same weight as solid lead. You’d just dragged yourself from the closing shift. Except Lady Luck was not in your favour, as your normal route home had been blocked.

The entire street was closed up due to some big company that bought up a hole in the wall shop, said the people needed more reliable lender firms. A giant fat ass lie, you and everyone in a ten-mile radius knew they were just as sleazy as the last. Loan sharks looking for some sheltered, sad sack to buy in.

Therefore, the most logical solution? Cut through the forest they had warned you about, you had checked the map at least a dozen times now. A dingy, mediocrely printed little thing. Shoved it into your work bag on the first day and have used it ever since. It hadn’t gotten you lost before, so why start now, right?

The path looked clean cut, too, straight through the trees, no twists or turns in sight. You could even see the trail from where you stood.

The barred railing reached across the entire end of town, but not unblemished. Holes ripped through the wire by animals, metal kicked up by misbehaving teens; it was easy enough to just slip past. Hunched over in a half crawl, you stepped over the silent barrier, and when your foot hit soil— something in the static snapped.

You felt it, a shift in the air, like you had been transported somewhere else entirely. The other side of the fence suddenly seemed worlds away; your gut curled in defiance. Every fibre of you screaming to turn back, that being said, your tired arms and aching back won the argument.

Superstitions be damned, you wanted to sleep for the next month and then some. And you’d rather suffer the cold sweat of a creepy forest than the nearly forty-minute walk you’d have to make otherwise. Trudging against the worn-down gravel, the hairs on your neck stood straight up. Whatever caused the initial dread had only worsened as you went.

Your grip on the satchel thrown over your shoulder never wavers. The shadows moved around you, taunting like they were alive. Anxiety gnawing, more and more tense with each passing tree- then, the summit of it.

The first meeting.

The confrontation had stopped you in your tracks, literally. Along the old path, there was supposed to be a clearing. You were expecting it, ready for it. What you were not ready for was the inhuman mass standing dead centre of it. Limbs hanging limply, too long to fit right, adorned in a mock suit and tie. Its fingers were thin, almost needle-like in shape.

The entity’s face paper white, gaunt in some places, a hollow replication of facial features carved onto porcelain canvas. Stature stretching to the tree line and as tall as the sky was vast; it was terrifying. Fear, unlike anything you had ever experienced, had you frozen in sheer panic. You could feel your hands grow clammy. Staring up at something you thought only existed in storybooks or nightmares.

The two of you stood stock still. A staring competition, except your opponent lacked the needed facilities.

This was it.

This was the moment you had gone too far, went against your instincts, and ended up here. This creature, monster, or whatever it was, was going to eat you alive, and it was going to hurt. You had never been particularly religious, but at this exact moment, you were calling on anyone who would listen.

Pleading in your head that death would come swiftly, that the silhouette in front of you, spared you its more sadistic traits. Closing your eyes, you braced. A chase would guarantee nothing but a brutal and gory end, so what was there to do? Other than breathing through your nose and praying that there were good snacks in the afterlife.

There was a pause, nothing but the rapid thumps of your own heartbeat. You heard it before you saw it, a slight rustle of the leaves, the wind colder than it was, debating pros and cons, you blinked and looked up. It loomed over you, not exactly chest to chest, but closer, then it spoke.

Not traditionally, though, more like an echo in your ear. Understanding the words after they’ve been said, but skipping the first part. Hot-lined straight to your head.

It told you the rules, explained hierarchies, and how its workers couldn’t fill certain roles. Too complicated, the risk was higher than the reward. It needed a middleman. Someone neutral to all sides, someone to keep the balance. That someone was you.

A first of your kind, like a boss, trying a new, fun office strategy. If your boss were an omnipotent evil who hired serial killers for day jobs. You agreed with reluctance, shook hands, and sealed the deal. Its palm swallowed yours entirely, then it was gone. The forest felt lighter, just a tad.

You made it home in one piece that night, freshly employed to a second job you didn’t know you were qualified for.

ᯓ★

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You met someone new today.

Well, met is a strong word; you saw someone new today. Almost eight months have passed since the proposal, the spontaneous interview you had in the forest. Surprisingly enough, the whole ordeal you had going on wasn’t half bad.

Your tasks are blunt, unvarnished, a letter at your doorstep in the morning stating what needs to be restocked. Routine scheduled for the first Sunday of every month and the last. Packages with notes attached, written instructions, and an address. It was simple, but simple didn’t mean easy. Residents can get prickly, no trust in outsiders, so they lash out.

You’ve dropped off supplies and sprinted off the steps more times than you can count, lest you get caught by someone not partial to your work. Deliveries are swift and done without fuss or mess. A quick trip to the overpass abridging the highway, a march to the rocky skywalk in the dead of night.

You don’t ask questions, and you don’t poke and prod. It’s not all harsh, though. Some residents treat you with decent manners or politeness. A mutual understanding of just getting the job done. You’re even fond of a certain few. A boy with messy brunette hair and a fabric muzzle, goggles always sat loosely against his curls.

A little erratic at times, but well-meaning all the same. He waves at you if he sees you, and his eyes crinkle when you wave back. Little gestures here and there, never full conversations. Still, even then, they warned you of the woods.

They were all horrors in their own right, you’re sure, but they whispered about him like he was something of myth. Monsters that took on the shape of men.

He moved like smoke, leaving ash in his wake. A born hunter with claws made of black steel. Ink-toned keratin that he used like blades, and strength as they had never seen.

An ancient hunger only satisfied by blood and bone. They told you to never stray from the path. That he feeds under the moon, and amongst the other night crawlers; it was safer to stick to your route—

Snap.

A twig, somewhere past the dark borders of the trail. The sound pulling you out mid inner monologue, head whipping to the side as you stared, scanning between the trees- you caught it. Barely there, but a flicker amidst bark.

You couldn’t see the rest of him, body blending into shade flawlessly; the only thing standing out was his mask. Two voids for eyes, like they devoured any light that came near. Hung heavy over his face and painted matte sapphire. He was tall, nowhere near the entity who had recruited you, but even from where you were, his face was obscured by branches.

His head tilted to the side, observing you. You observed him back. You didn’t know what you were expecting, maybe the second you spotted him, he’d lunge at you; or maybe you wouldn’t see him at all. You’d feel the breeze of his movements, then it’d all go black; this was... not that.

Honestly, you were hoping you’d never face him at all. Now you’re here, separated by a couple of feet at most. Call it human reflex, subconscious courtesy, anything to rationalize the fact that you had picked up your hand and waved at him. No reaction. Dropping your arm back on the box, snuggly tucked against your jacket, you slowly turned and went on your way.

He was unnerving, off-putting in the way he stared you down like prey. It made the hairs on your neck stand up- he didn’t eat you, though, and that was a win in your book.

You thought he was interesting.

He didn’t think of you at all.

ᯓ★

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It had been a full month since you’d seen him last.

Today’s delivery instructions were different; it was a medical supply run. Which in and of itself wasn’t abnormal, what was new was the fact that you had to take it straight to the infirmary. Something about house residents liking to tamper, knowingly or not, with medication. Never going in depth, just enough for you to understand the importance of the task.

Padding your way across the large porch, package by your feet, you knocked. Once, twice, raising your fist yet again before the rickety door swings open. A man with a worn-down tan jacket fills the frame, gloved hand propped against the door like he’s ready to slam it shut.

He takes a second before recognition flickers in his gaze, voice muffled behind a mask, “Medical?” One word, and you nod, the look he gave you after almost looked like pity. You had been inside exactly one time. The mansion was empty, aside from your axe-wielding friend who was stuck on watch outside. You’d made it to the borderline rustic kitchen, placed the box on a table, and left.

This time around, you had to hand-deliver the resources directly to the basement. A makeshift lab under the house, where you assumed the reason they were still functional dwelt. He steps aside, letting you pass. Breeze whistling through the house as you trek down the hall.

The wooden floorboards creak when you pass. Turning the corner, you’re head-to-head with the basement stairs. The steps are decaying, the splint of it starting to moulder. Staves dented and sunken in from wear and tear, groaning from your weight. Your legs stretch with caution, nearing the cement floor- you pause.

Antiseptic, the smell floods your nostrils, so strong it’s nearly dizzying. Mind-numbing buzz of fluorescent lights fills the silence, and the air is stale with a hint of something metallic. There are tools and scribbled charts laid out against the counters lining the room.

An improvised examination table sat in the middle, next to a cart stacked with miscellaneous scalpels and muddy-looking jars.

Your uncertainty bounced off the walls in waves. Just drop the package on the spare table and leave. Swiftly, you set the parcel carefully on the ledge, cardboard slipping off your fingers by an inch before you shoot up. The sharp rustling of metal hooks- twisting around to the back of the lab, you see him.

Broad and towering, he ducks under the frame, frayed curtain pushed to the side. Only halfway through the opening, and it feels like the infirmary has somehow shrunk. His shoulders alone took up the width of the door before straightening. Zeroing in on you, jaw clicking once. His hood was up, in a black sweater on the verge of falling apart.

The sleeves and edges weathered down, his mask not any less uncanny in better lighting. “They told me- it was in the instructions, I-I had to hand deliver it here-“ tripping over your own words in an attempt to explain. Voice quieter than you’d like, shaky at best, while his eyes remain fixed.

He crosses the room in three strides, now a table's length away, head tilting down at the box, then you. “Alright.” The cadence vibrating through the ground, deep and visceral. You felt the base of it in your ribs.

The tone was completely and utterly— neutral?

A singular, honestly, quite flat syllable. No snarling in your face, sinking his allegedly razor-sharp teeth into your throat. You blinked up at him, clearing your throat; “ok, um, thank you. Bye.” Barely audible, but he nods nonetheless. His form was unnaturally still, and you noticed he truly only moved when he chose to. No shifting weight from foot to foot. He doesn’t really readjust either, like a frame taken out of a paused video.

The rest was a blur, basically scampering up the stairs like a fearful hamster and rushing past the doorman on the way out. Mask pushed up, a cigarette hanging loose out of his mouth. He probably assumed you were an inch away from losing your life, and maybe that would have been better. ‘Thank you?’ ‘Bye?’ Who says that?

Your head hits the pillow with a defeated thud, body overflowing with humiliation. This was the least of your problems, surely.

He could have eaten you, nothing more than a limp corpse on the frigid stone floor, so why was it so embarrassing? Perhaps it was because you had been expecting the cannibal equivalent of the boogeyman himself.

To be fair, he probably was, but no one told you how normal he was outside of that. From his perspective, you were a glorified mailman. Shaking like a leaf for no reason as you dropped off Band-Aids and alcohol wipes.

Why did this even matter to you? It was a miracle you’d even survived this long, frenzied psychopaths at every turn. It was morbid and scary- so why was this the thing that stuck? You sighed with aggression into your pillow.

He probably thought you were weird.

ᯓ★

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Jack had a predicament.

Recently, he ran into you again. The anxious courier pigeon. That’s what you reminded him of, at least. It had been over a year at this point, dating back to when the operator plucked you from the road like a stray. You made things smoother, and he respected you for that. A meek little thing, he’d seen you interact with the others, heard it through the walls.

You were quick when needed, not talkative but polite, efficient. However, you constantly seemed uneasy when delivering to the lab. The thing was, you did it in a way that came off like you were trying oh so hard not to hurt his feelings.

Small talk, where your hands would tremble passing him an envelope. Looking up to meet his eye (socket), then immediately darting your sight back to the floor.

He hadn’t planned on paying you any mind; you were just another cog in an overworked machine. Jack liked distance, isolation woven into his lifeline. How he lived, how he worked, attachment was fickle at best and dangerous at worst. With the people they were, what they represented, being best friends wasn’t exactly on the table.

Companionship was far and few in between. Indifference was easiest, intimacy out of the question, but you try. Greet him with a smile as if it meant anything, and ask if he was busy, like it mattered. Wished him a good lunch, like you didn’t know, like he wasn’t different. Wasn’t this. Like you weren’t aware of how much brutality it takes for him to have a full stomach.

He knew himself, always aware, even when he wished he wasn’t. He prayed to be numb, wished to be cruel, begged and pleaded to be mindless. He was used to it for the most part, and still. There are moments.

When the night grows cold and unforgiving, when the hunger has finally subsided, what does he have? The crushed remains of someone else’s memories? He resents it, the part of him that wants, and oh does he want. The part that remembers how to hold, remembers the warmth of it. It makes him ill, sick as a dog, while he can taste the bile at the back of his throat.

The transformation had branded him like cattle. A grotesque scar that welted. It was both bleak and rampant. The metallic scent that never seemed to leave his clothes. The guilt that festers in his gut, the wailing that rings in his ears when the sky is still.

Sometimes he feels nothing, sometimes he’s angry, sometimes he sits with the butchered limbs and stares. He’s freezing from the inside out, always cold. Hunger is parasitic, the need to consume, the desperation of it, the shame that follows. The grief that gnaws at him, walking past pictures hung on the wall after he’s done.

They were happy. Closer than close, really. It fractures him. Always an observer but never by choice, he is an outsider with the hands of someone who will know you like no one else. Breaking you open, palms sunk in past your lungs. They cradle your heart, consume you whole as the stars shine brighter than they ever have.

Jack is constantly bathed in carnage, with death painting his palette sweet and bourbon smooth. It coats his teeth like salvation and rots his blood like the plague. When he leans down for the first bite, when the flesh is unmarred. There’s a whisper in that dark that says this is the closest he’ll ever get.

You bid him goodnight on late-night deliveries.

He thinks you’re weird.

ᯓ★

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You arrived bright and early, the morning air crisp, new.

Today was going to be a good day; business always seemed to slow on Saturdays, and your shift ended at noon. “Just black coffee- and an orange juice for the lady, a number eight to go,” grunted out and half-heartedly, not even looking up from his menu.

His wife, you assumed, was sitting across from him, picking at her old manicure like she had nowhere to be. They came often, regulars in every sense of the word.

The ink was already staining your hand as you scribbled. Then a quick nod, and you’re sticking the order to the call rack. Shoes clicking against patterned tile, the diner glowed orange. Adorned with windows from wall to wall.

You didn’t hate waking up early, but you definitely didn’t love it either. The sights sure could be nice, though. The sun peaking over the horizon, casting a haze on all the clouds it reached, made you feel cinematic, like a movie star or something.

Armed with freshly brewed coffee in one hand and a juice pitcher in the other, you marched back to the awaiting table. The steam wafting up as you poured, a glass of OJ already sweating onto the napery, “Speedy start today?” Customary small talk, totally easy.

Smoothing hands down your apron, acutely aware of the ticking timer for the to-go order. Your eyes flicked to the old cat clock, hung near the door right above the booth, a rough voice breaking the repetition, “Yeah, I got—“

Ding!

There it was, “Oh my- I’m so sorry, I’ll be right back!” Saved by the bell yet again, when you said regulars, you meant regulars before you. In your humble opinion, talking to people came fairly naturally. It was just something about how stern his stare was, his wife’s judgmental scoff every time you spoke. How they literally never seemed to want to be anywhere near each other.

You had been working hard for a year now, and the couple tucked into the back table had been ordering black coffee and orange juice before college. According to the head waitress, the two started coming in after their first date, a drive-in screening near the big lot of RossWood Inn.

Stumbling through the door, giggling, vibrant turquoise dangling from her ears, the whole nine yards. He romanced her till her head was spinning, high-school sweethearts they called them. Inseparable, all the way up until graduation, that is. He moved away, a sports gig in the city, promised her he’d be home with a shiny ring in no time, and he came home alright.

With some chick on his arm, his girlfriend at the time. They were supposed to move in together- until she got bored. Then guess who came running back. They married, settled down, never had kids, though. They don’t laugh much nowadays. The only similarities were the diner breakfast and those rustic earrings; she still wore them.

They contrasted a bit with her outfit, you think, but it was probably the sentiment more than anything. The greasy combo sat heavy as you tied the bag, kitchen heat making your hair frizz. You looked over, and she sighed something fierce; his eyes never leaving the morning paper. You pray a love that barren would never reach you.

Plastic rustling in your hold, an order handed off, and the door swung shut with a breeze.

Totally easy. Right.

ᯓ★

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Pace brisk, you got off later than you initially planned to.

Not that you were mad about it, it just set your plans back a little. You were going to go home, order from the only asian food place in town, kick your feet up and watch TV, maybe pass out on the couch. Too full and super satisfied. An exquisite night.

Your movements were sluggish by the time you got to the steps, a letter sticking out of your rickety mailbox. A job for tomorrow, but that was tomorrow’s problem. The lock clicked shut, and you reached your room in record time. Clothes off, jammys on. Socks thumping against your stairs while you scanned the corridor, landing on the phone book folded neatly against the landline.

The silicone buttons are tacky under your fingers, dial tone crackling to life in your ear,

“This is the MayFlower Express; what are you craving tonight?’

And you ordered exactly what you ordered every other time, salivated just thinking about it. Maybe that was shameful to admit; however, it was you, and it was real. They probably recognized your voice at this point; none of it mattered, all background noise.

Your food would be arriving soon, and all would be right with the world. Time passed quickly as you made work of your chores list; sometimes your weekend job felt surreal. Everything was so mundane, then it just… wasn’t. Even the people you were fond of, you knew they would come home soaked head to toe in blood. The missing posters made you feel a certain way; you knew where they ended up and how they ended up there.

Meeting an untimely demise with the end of a dearest friend’s axe. The same guys who’d laugh at your stupid mail puns, the ones who made silly faces as you waved goodbye. What if you weren’t who you were? If it wasn’t the head of operations you’d run into that night, where would you be? The thought made you shudder; it was conflicting.

You had gotten somewhat close with a handful of them, at least it felt like it; they were kind to you. As kind as they could be anyway, it wasn’t up to them, not really. Bad situations, bad homes, bad people, and can you truthfully expect a wounded dog not to bite?

The devil’s mark seared onto gnarled skin, jaw clamped down before they could ever understand it was wrong. Their sorrow was devastating. They didn’t show it in the way most would, but you could still see it all the same. Perhaps that’s why you tried so hard to make it normal, to tell those same stupid jokes, they laugh like they don’t expect it.

Laugh like they haven’t in ages. Shoulders shaking with something akin to endearment, and all of a sudden, you were looking at someone who never got to grow up.

The doorbell interrupts your train of thought. Your food. Opening your door with the grace of a newborn giraffe, you sighed. Finally. Hands moving swiftly to pull out the array of containers, almost on autopilot, before a soft clatter sounds from your floor. A tiny sticker book.

You knew you ordered from this place too much. Picking it up with little ceremony, the note attached read ‘A gift for our favourite customer !!’ Both honoured and incredibly hurt at the same time, your thumb flicks open the first page. Most of them were mini versions of the dishes, and a flash of red stopped you mid-flip.

Taking up half the page was a medium-sized sticker of Vampified Lo Mein.

The noodles were replaced with a swirled intestine, and the veggies were chopped up  to resemble brain and liver. The light bulb that appeared over your head was comical.

Halloween was overlooked due to your job and responsibilities. Now standing alone in your kitchen, however, an idea sparked.

Was it stupid? Yes. Was it risky? Also yes. Did he scare you? Most definitely, but that’s not what you wanted to focus on. It was all too perfect. The problem? What if he gets offended and eats you as revenge?

You’d like to think you were a pretty self-aware person; on the other hand, did cannibals even get offended? Does he even count as a cannibal? He was technically a demon, and he ate humans, so. He started as a human, though— this was dumb. Your tendency to overthink would be your downfall.

You vaguely heard about what had happened, about the ritual, a sacrifice gone wrong. They told you about it along with another mumbled warning, horrific beyond what you could ever imagine, you’re sure. Either way, you didn’t want to come off as insensitive or way too into it.

What if it was super traumatic to even acknowledge, and that’s why he’s so brooding all the time? Now you’re all in his face like ‘haha, I have a sticker of your most dark and shameful quality.’ Alas, it would be really funny, and there was a chance he’d actually like it.

The most you had ever “talked” was when you’d say goodnight, which he responded to by nodding once. Or the first time you’d met him, and he said, “Alright.” Or when you came to drop off supplies, and he wasn’t there. You’d stand and wait, then say, “Oh, hey. Were you busy? I have the restock.” Where he would promptly, once again, nod.

He never seemed unnecessarily violent or cruel; he didn’t quite come off that way. Not like that meant you were reckless. You knew he was dangerous. And you weren’t naive enough to believe you were special or invincible. At the end of the day, these were people you worked with.

Maybe to some it was pushing the line of too personal, but they had given their lives and arguably, their freedom. Just for a chance at survival. To breathe another day, no matter how gruelling. The least you could do was speak to them like they were still alive. People with birthdays and favourite foods. You’d bet it was lonely to live like that.

So you were going to try.

And if anyone attempted to stop you, they were severely underestimating your need to be liked.

ᯓ★

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You awoke before the sun.

The dawn peaked through your curtains, highlighting the swaying dust motes like snow. A slow dance that you watched in contentment, preparing yourself for the day ahead. Last night, you went back out to grab the letter, finding that the newest assignment lined up with your plans. Perfect.

The job stated that there was a shipment to be collected at the northern border. A trail that dragged along the train tracks. It was a bit of a trek, but not too bad in the grand scheme of things. Walking long distances had become the last of your worries, after all. With the whole, you know, crypted employer thing. So you slipped your big boy boots on and headed to work.

Trudging into the ivory, you sighed. While the task itself was simple enough, it was the trees that annoyed you. The pine always caught in your hair, no matter how low you duck. Snagging your sweater and fraying your sleeves, you hated this forest, truly. Nonetheless, you continued your hike, grumbling to yourself.

With the pine crunching softly under your soles, you ventured into a wide clearing. A train horn resonated through the trees, sending the birds scattering. The ambiance overlapped, and you arrived at your destination. The delivery.

In the centre, sat a small crate. There was twine tied over the sides, looping on the top in a misshapen bow. For carrying purposes, you assumed.

Hands resting in your pockets as you approached, you crouched down. Taking the saved sticker pack from your jacket and peeling one off the parchment. You applied the decal with care, smoothing the edges down onto the wood for good measure. If he ate you in anger after, at least the box would still look nice.  

You hauled the supplies over your back using the make-shift satchel you’d crafted. The splintered oak dug into your back slightly, but you guessed discomfort came with the occupation. Then, you began your journey back to the destination. Home base, if you will.

Technically, you didn’t have a spoken alliance with any of the houses. You were a true neutral to the climate, which is why you’ve made it so far. Some of the proxies were nicer than others, some of them sneered at you from the sidelines- and some of them despised you. Loathed you for tampering, in their words. You didn’t belong in this world, didn’t fit in with the murderers and misfits.

They thought of you as an intruder. Something to be rid of, to slaughter and be done with. To be honest, it kind of hurt your feelings. It’s not like you’ve done anything, and it was their boss who chose you. They act as if you applied for the job of your own free will. It irked you in a way.

You were thrown into this without a choice- like, what were you supposed to do? Say no? Let the all-seeing forest creature absorb you when it gives you an obvious way out? You understood why some of them hated you, but you weren’t immune to the harshness. The clear disdain in their expressions at the mention of you. Still, it was better than being dead, you huffed.

Making peace with your internal monologue, you nudged past the shrubbery. The bundle was neatly packed onto your frame while you marched, before a condescending laugh halted you. Stopped dead in your tracks, you swivelled to find the source. Eyes scanning the bark aimlessly- until you spotted a figure.

A man with glowing yellow sockets, dressed in a dark, long coat. He contrasted with the lively evergreen, sticking out like a sore thumb and radiating malice.

The Puppeteer.

You’d only ever run into him once, and it nearly ended with you losing your life. Out of everyone, he seemed to despise you the most. He couldn’t stand your view on things. Your optimism, your tendency to try and befriend the worst of the worst. You were a pest in his eyes, a bug that didn’t know its place. An unkillable roach.

“Long time no see, courier.”

He spat out each word with venom, wrath already bubbling to the surface while he stepped closer. “This isn’t your neck of the woods, is it? Care to explain why you’re trespassing?” His verbal interrogation had you backing up. Swallowing dryly, you licked your lips. “I was just picking up a package- it was in my instructions.”

Though you knew well enough your answer wouldn’t satisfy him. It didn’t matter what you said; this wasn’t about you.

Scoffing, he cocked his head to the side, gaze boring into you. “Is that right?-” He chuckled humourlessly, speaking through gritted teeth. “You know, you always did get on my nerves. Pretending like this is normal, like you can just squeeze past with a please and thank you-” The disgust in his voice grew, and he closed in on your space.

“It’d be a mercy to kill you now- that dense little brain of yours wouldn’t be able to handle reality. You think this is a game? Some stupid part-time? Walking around like any of your ‘friends’ wouldn’t slit your throat in a fucking heartbeat-”

The pain sears through your arm before you can blink. A hot, prickling agony that spread from your bicep to your throat. His web of strings stretched from his fingertips, the glowing wires piercing your flesh through the sweater.

You choked on the feeling, knees threatening to buckle. This was not how you wanted to spend your shift.

Stumbling forward, you barely caught yourself when you collapsed. The crate slipped off your back, clattering to the dirt with a thud. He jeered violently. “Pathetic. You play pretend as if you fit amongst us, yet you can’t even take a hit? How weak are you? Honestly, you should thank me for ending it so early.” The blood soaked through your sleeve, and tears blurred your vision.

Could you ever catch a break? All you did was follow rules, do your job as you’re told. Your efforts in being cordial were for naught because he seemed set on wiping you clean off the face of the earth. Like seriously? The literal Operator himself was nicer to you; he even had employee benefits and decent pay. This was bullshit.

Your arm jerked up, the limb tugged roughly by Puppeteer’s strings. The cord sank further into your skin, and you muffled a sob. It hurt, it hurt so bad. He was going to rip off your arm, the fear of death making your throat taut.

With scarlet dripping onto the soil, you desperately clawed at the ground. A pitiful attempt in steeling your nerves. A last-ditch effort in calming yourself, even if it proved fruitless. Shutting your lids tight, you braced yourself and when you thought all hope was lost—

A familiar, sharp clink of an axe whizzed through the air.

The hatchet embedded itself into the man's shoulder with a grotesque thunk. Sending him tumbling away from you, his feet tripping as he gathered his bearings. The commotion caused you to jerk back, whipping to the side just in time to see Toby.

In all his double axed, goggle-wearing glory, had come to your aid.

You could cry.

Lunging in front of you, he yanked the weapon from Puppeteer’s body. Your attacker cussed loudly, scrambling off the floor. “This isn’t your fight, Tobias-” And Toby sneered. Hostile as he replied. “That’s f-fucking hilarious coming f-from you, Johnathan.” Readjusting his grip on the handle, he rolled his shoulders back. Standing tall.

“Fuck off, twitch. She doesn’t belong here, and you know it-”

“Yeah? Tell that t-to stickman then. You know what he’ll do to y-you if he finds out you’re f-fucking with orders.”

That seemed to be a threat in itself. The mention of their boss quieted the other man in a flash, and he stuttered mutely for a moment before huffing. “She’s not gonna’ fuck you, twitch.” His comment made the brunette's lip curl into a snarl, his head jolting lightly.

“You’re f-fucking disgusting. J-just because you died a miserable piece of shit, with no one mourning you, doesn’t mean we all have to s-suh-suffer. You know that, r-right?”

People can say what they want about Toby, but when he’s provoked, he knows how to cut and make it sting.

His remark had Puppeteer scowling, and he spun to leave, more irritated than he came. Barking over his shoulder one last time. “She’s not gonna’ last out here.” Though Toby didn’t dignify him with a response.

With the man's shape disappearing into the distance, he finally faced you. Dropping his hatchets to the dirt, he kneeled. “Hey, pidgy- s-sorry I came so late. I didn’t even know you were here.”

The worry- the fondness in his gaze made the dam crumble, and you hiccuped. Pidgy, a stupid nickname he came up with a while ago. It stemmed from messenger pigeon, and right now, it was your lifeline. Something about the endearment in it sliced through the stress, the violence of everything that’d unfolded. You reached for him, and he embraced you without hesitation.

“Man- what the fuck is his problem, Tobes?” Sobbing into his shoulders, he laughed softly at your wording. “No idea, but we g-gotta’ get your shoulder looked at, okay? C’mon, I’ll carry you.” Helping you up, he motioned for you to get onto his back.

“Toby, I still have to bring the supplies-”

“I’ll get the supplies- y-you’re literally bleeding out. P-please just get on.”

His clear exasperation made you grin a little. In a world of people like Puppeteer, there would always be people like Toby. And you thanked the heavens for that.

Awkwardly clutching your wound, you climbed onto him. Letting him hoist you up, snagging the crate by the twine on the way. You breathed out in relief as he started walking, yet concern flooded your mind. “Are you sure I’m not too heavy? The box isn’t that light either-” He cut you off with a snort. “I go out of my way to s-save you, and you’re calling me w-weak? That is s-so low-brow, even for you, pidgy.”

You puffed, of course that’s how he took it.

“That’s not what I meant, dweeb-”

“Dweeb? Wow, maybe I s-should drop you. Make you walk back yourself, since you wanna’ be mean a-about it.”

A beat, then you both burst out giggling. Your friendship with him was born of proximity, but you liked to think that even if you weren’t estranged co-workers, you’d still be close. Sometimes you wouldn’t see him for months, though that didn’t mean anything would change. Two peas in a pod, that was you and him. You just clicked.

He was easy to talk to, as surprising as that may be. You looked forward to your job half the time because you’d inevitably run into him. You’d yap and yap, going back and forth about the dumbest things. When you pictured the words “Best friend,” you pictured Toby.

Sinking into his hold, you sighed. The sound came out sappy, and he already knew what mood you were in. “I know, I k-know, I’m great. A t-total knight in shining armour.” You snickered, “Bro, whatever... thanks for like- not letting me die, though. It would’ve sucked to bleed out in front of an emo with side bangs.” Now that got you a full laugh.

“I’d never let y-you bleed out in front of an emo with side bangs. Unless that emo with front bangs w-was me.”

The silence that followed his joke was stale, and he coughed.

“... Kidding- I’m kidding. I w-wouldn’t, you know that, right? You’re my best friend, I’d never- like, y’know-”

“I know, you loser. You love me too much- besides, who else are you gonna’ gossip with in between being a crazy axe murderer?”

“Ha ha, y-you’re so original, and sooo funny.”

The roll in his eyes told you he was annoyed, but his stupid smile said otherwise. Crooked, it made the gash in his cheek quirk up. And he didn’t deny that he loved you, because the truth was? He did. Loved you lots, actually.

You were one of the only people who treated him like he was normal. Toby couldn’t exactly just go out and make friends, so your presence was always a pleasant one.

Even when he was younger, he was always somewhat isolated. By his family, his peers and seniors. Yet you never acknowledged any of the things he deemed to be flaws as such. They were just a part of him in your eyes, and he could see that every time he talked to you.

It’s a sensitive subject, something he doesn’t bring up often, if at all- but deep down, he thinks Lyra would’ve really liked you.

Somewhere along the way, you began snoring on his shoulder. Drooling a little, though you were almost killed, he couldn’t complain too much. Toby nudged you gently when you arrived at the porch, giving you a slight jostle. “Up and a-adams, we’re here.” Chuckling a little when you stirred, blinking at him like he was an alien.

Your wound wasn’t terribly deep; most of the blood had clotted. However, it was bad enough for your sleeve to be soaked through, and he was not taking any chances. He’d lost too many people to bad accidents for that. You groaned.

“Ugh, my arm hurts.”

“Yeah, well, you did kind of get mauled, so...”

Cringing while he set you down, you stiffly clutched at the gash. When all of a sudden, you remembered your stickers- your plans. “Oh god- oh my fuck.” The outburst had Toby quickly turning to you, already inspecting your arm. Worry staining his features, “What? What’s w-wrong-”

His expression swiftly faded into a deadpan once you floundered. “I put a cannibal sticker thing on the crate- I don’t know- it seemed like a good idea at the time, but now I’m bleeding everywhere. Do you think he’ll be mad?”

“You c-cannot be serious.”

“Tobes, I have never been more serious in my life.”

The look he gave you had you shrinking into your jacket. Okay, maybe it was a stupid idea. Jack was an enigma even amongst the proxies; you genuinely don’t know where you got the audacity to try and pull this off.

“... You don’t think he’ll eat me, do you?”

“Just g-get in the house.”

With that, the two of you crossed the patio. He opened the door on autopilot, ushering you into the foyer and locking the entry behind him. And the second you rounded the corner, you were face-to-face with another resident. The masked man who had let you in last time, this time with less mask. His face was bare, scarred and stern; he reminded you of those outlaws you’d see on comic book covers.

It also looked like he’d kill you for telling him that, and your mouth remained shut.

“Do I even wanna’ ask?” A thick southern drawl coated his almost fatherly disappointment. Toby chimed up from beside you, shrugging. “Puppeteer was lurking like a f-fucking freak near the drop off, got her right in the arm.” The older man’s eyes flickered down to the wound, then to the brunette. Clicking his tongue when he focused back on you.

“That boy ain’t nothin’ but trouble. Next time you go North, take one of us with you. Those bastards won’t quit if it’s just you, understand?” His tone was harsh, yet the offer of a guide warmed you.

It made sense; you were their singular source of outside materials. Still, a part of you chose to believe it was because he cared. Glass half-full and whatnot.

Nodding, you watched as he strode past. Indifferent to the blood. The hand on your non-injured wrist snapped you out of your thoughts, and Toby tugged you down the hall. Package by his side while you walk.

You reached the basement entrance after a short minute, the rickety staircase framed by the doorway. Your companion had lived here for years, and even he seemed tense. While Jack was the main medic of the group, he was never the most approachable. The eyeless man was a step above the rest, a fact that everyone knew by this point.

He was half reaper, half salvation. Playing both roles seamlessly, it’s what gave him his edge. The care he gave wasn’t out of heart, but necessity instead. An obligation, a binding contract.

It’s why they only came to him if absolutely needed. And now, you were going to bother him with a dumb sticker and a wound you’d gotten because you were too friendly. Allegedly.

Toby nudged you ahead, gesturing you down the steps. The worn planks creaking as you descended, and you reached the concrete quickly. There, in the corner, stationed on a desk chair, was Jack. Absently flipping through a scruffy anatomy book, his head tilted up upon your arrival.

The brunette spoke first, clearing his throat. “Got your s-supplies- her arms fucked up, though. We need to p-patch it up.” The “We need you, specifically, to patch it up” went unsaid, but he got the memo.

Rising from his spot, he towered over you as he encroached. Motioning for you to take a seat on the metal table. The surface was cool beneath you, and Toby leaned on the counter across the room. He gave you a subtle thumbs up, cracking a grin to soothe your nerves. The luminescent glare bathed the space beakly, constantly humming like static. It made the lab more eerie than it had to be, but at least you had a friend.

Unfortunately for you, that comfort did not last.

From upstairs, an accented voice yelled for Toby. Informing him that he was required for some task. Something about a new assignment, and he gave you an apologetic shrug. Rushing up the steps and leaving you alone.

With no one to distract you, you were forced to pretend you weren’t aware of every shift Jack made. He moved briskly, exact. Making his way to you stiffly, the cannibal rumbled low in his chest. “You need to remove your coat. I can’t operate like this.” His instructions were easy enough, and you shook off your jacket. The outer layer now removed, he halted. Contemplating before he mumbled.

“I have to cut off the sleeve.”

Well, this sweater had seen better days, you supposed. After you nodded, he got to work. Snipping along the seam at your shoulder, his hands were swift yet careful. He held your arm with a shocking amount of tenderness, as if he didn’t want to hurt you further. The strong alcohol scent made you sniffle, and your gaze drifted to the crate. Your sticker.

Would this be a bad time to bring it up? He didn’t feel that agitated currently, though it was still a risk. A risk that you were willing to take, that is.

You swung your feet lightly while he cleaned the gash, mentally preparing yourself for the conversation. A beat passes, and you craned your neck to him. From this distance, you could observe him up close. And upon doing so, an alarming thought crossed your consciousness.

Jack was kind of... attractive. In a veiled, magnetic way. His presence came off sedative, lulling you into a fuzzier headspace.

He was still intimidating, but watching him be so meticulous about the process was oddly calming. Perhaps it was foolish, yet you couldn’t help placing trust in him. A whisper in the back of your mind that told you that you were in safe hands.

Breaking the silence, you hummed, staring at your shoes. “I found a sticker the other day, it reminded me of you.” Though your comment was lighthearted, he paused as if you’d just delivered grave news. Jack was stunned for a moment; his fingers hovering over the displayed tools. Then he grunted quietly, resuming his objective.

Okay, not a bad reaction. He wasn’t mad, that you could tell.

So you continued, having a one-sided talk with the mysterious medic. “It’s vampified Lo-mein, y’know... ‘cause you eat organs and stuff.” This time, his head lolled a fraction to the side, and you felt his eyes on you. “... I see.” Barely audible, his acknowledgment sparked a reasurrence in you.

“I got it from my take-out order, I actually totally forgot about Halloween- but I thought it was fitting.”

“Mm.”

“The boxes are usually so sad looking- not that I think you’re sad looking. I just wanted to spruce up the packaging a little.”

“Mm.”

The conversation flowed with a shocking amount of ease. It was mostly just you speaking, yet Jack appeared content, indulging in your mindless remarks. His responses were short, small hums and grunts here and there. However, they were existent, and that was enough.

Then he said something that threw you off. In the middle of inspecting the area, he nudged his mask at your other hand. “Your finger.” A plain statement that made you look down.

There, on your ring finger, sat a shallow cut. Scabbed over and barely noticeable, yet he saw it anyway. You tittered dumbly, unsure of what to make of his admission.

“Ah, I guess I scraped it when I fell or something.” Simply put, he took your words as confirmation. Turning to rifle through his tools placed on the cart, he pulled out a small cliche-esk medical-box. A red cross was painted on the lid, and he opened it, picking up a Band-Aid.

You held out your hand mutely, to which he responded by grasping the limb softly. Steadying your wrist as he smoothed the wrapping over your knuckle. Finishing the job, you couldn’t hide the grin that tugged at your lips. The bandage itself was colourful enough, but the part that made you laugh was the design.

A cat with rounded ears and a fluffy tail. Cartoonishly bright.

The quiet giggle halted him, the man going to complete the prior task. However, he seemed almost bashful, answering your unspoken question with a hushed, “I thought you’d rather that one over the others.” Turning your attention to the box’s contents- jumbled adhesives with only a few vivid amongst the beige. Jack had linked your personality to vibrancy.

It was endearing.

Cleaning the damaged skin, he swiped the deep cut with an antiseptic pad. It was cold, then it began to sting. Your reaction was involuntary, a little squeak when you jolted. It had him hesitating for a second, then he muttered. “Apologies, I’ll warn you next time.” And that statement changed your perception of him by a mile.

Again, maybe it was stupid- but perhaps he really was just a guy. Cooped up in his little basement med-bay and introverted. You understood why people were scared of him; it was obvious, logical even. Still, he seemed genuinely thoughtful, not sadistic in the slightest, like you were made to believe. You knew if he wanted to be harsher, he could’ve been. Knew if he was irritated, he would’ve made it clear.

The thing was, he hadn’t, and he wasn’t. The people you’d run into on the clock were way more violent and volatile than Jack. You’d would’ve picked interacting with the cannibal over someone like Puppeteer any day.

He finished tying the bandage over your bicep with little ceremony. Stepping away from you with a slight nod, you hopped off the table. Facing him with a grin, now on your feet. “Thank you, doctor.” You held your hand in the air, pushing your closed knuckles towards him.

A fist bump.

His mask dips down a tad, then back up. For a moment, you thought you blew it- until his knuckles knocked into yours. Lightly, and a little awkwardly, if you had to admit. Jack’s skin was chilled to the touch before he rigidly dropped the contact. It was evident that he hadn’t done anything of the sort in a long while. And you laughed, giving him a mock salute. Grabbing your coat, you spun to leave. Looking at him a final time, cheerful when you exited.

Back upstairs, you felt a sense of accomplishment. That definitely could’ve gone worse, and you gave yourself a pat on the back. Your boots thudded against the floorboards as you entered the foyer- just to immediately slam into another body. The two of you stumble back, unbalanced from the collision.

Blinking as you steady your footing, you looked up to find a man with shaggy, dark hair and a striped nose. Well, he was more clown than man, but same difference. A monochrome colour palette, adorned with layered feathers at his neck.

You don’t know how you missed him; the guy was massive. Tall enough to reach the ceiling, he stared at you in surprise. The paint on his face cracked a tad when his lips quirked up.

“A human..? Oh! I know, I know! You’re the little messenger bird, aren't you?”

Clapping his hands (claws?) manically at his own realization, he hunched over to your level. Cocking his head to the side, “Oh, my. What on earth happened to you, little birdy?” He prodded, glancing at your bandaged shoulder. You gave an unsure chuckle in return.

While he seemed friendly, you could never be too careful around here. “I was grabbing the supplies- um, I don’t know if you know him, but Puppeteer said I was in his territory. He tried to kill me; it was a whole thing.” Explaining your situation defeatedly, he hummed. Theatrically tapping his chin with a pointed nail.

“Puppeteer... Puppeteer- yes! He is such a drag, no? Always down in the dumps, he never laughs, even though I’m so funny. I really should just tear that spine of his out- save us all the trouble.”

Sometimes you forget they’re all psychopaths to a certain degree, and that irony was not lost on you.

You shrugged, nodding. You hoped he saved that murderous intent for people who deserved it, and not for poor mailmen. The clown notices your discomfort after a second, leaning down closer to your face. “Don’t worry, I pinky promise not to shred you to bits. Between us, I think you and your little packages are quite quaint.” The razor-sharp grin he gave you after did not help his statement, but you digress.

Humming while you side-stepped. You were squeezing past him with a tight smile when he stopped you, gasping loudly. “Where are my manners?! Jack, pleased to make your acquaintance.” Bowing dramatically, your eyebrows raised at how much space he truly took up. His shoulders were so broad they nearly blocked the hall, and you stuttered. Wait, Jack?

The obvious confusion in your features made him giggle. Shrill as he straightened up. “There are two Jacks in this house, my dear. The scary one downstairs is eyeless. I come from a music box-” Pushing into your space once more, his tone dropped to a whisper. “It’s where the ‘Laughing’ part of my name comes from, a literal Jack in the Box. Isn’t that fun?” His eyes swirled, sparkling brightly.

LJ’s enthusiasm was appreciated, but you were still slightly fearful when you agreed. Your gaze followed him up when he bounced, excited to have made a new companion, it seemed. The clown waved you off, and you made a very perplexed trek to the front door. How many people even lived here?

Finally, you stepped outside, inhaling deeply. Though your solace was short-lived because a sharp clang sounded from your left. Jumping almost a foot into the air, you whipped to the source- Toby.

Standing to the side of the manor, his hatchet was raised above his head, and he brought it down swiftly. The iron blade connects with a chopped stump, the force shuddering through the patio. Too focused on the task at hand, he failed to notice you. Huffing to himself.

You clutch your jacket closed over your chest as you approach. With the leaves bristling, you call for him when you’re about an arm's length away. “Toby, what are you doing?” Your voice made his head shoot up, and he rubbed his neck, sighing. “G-getting firewood, if I don’t, we’ll freeze later- how’s your arm?” Always a worrywart.

Stretching, you circled his workspace. Sitting on the rusted bench that was off-centre to the porch. “As good as it can be- also, how many roommates do you have, man?” You snickered, reclining while he threw his axe to the dirt. The question had him running a tired palm down his face.

“Way too many, y-you have no idea. Why?”

“Because you never told me there were two Jacks, I got cornered by a clown on the way out- I think he was nice, though. Sorta.”

Toby’s body language shifted at the mention of the other proxy. Suddenly grimmer than you expected, he narrowed his eyes. “Did he s-suh-say something to you? Did h-he try shit?” The concern flooded off of him, and he walked in front of you.

Though you were quick to pacify him. “No, nothing like that, he just asked what happened to my arm. He wasn’t like super weird about it or anything- is he bad?” Mumbling, your answer made his shoulders less tense, and he plopped next to you.

Resting his weight on his knees, he exhaled heavily. “LJ’s u-unpredictable. Sometimes he’s fine, and t-then he’ll flip over the most random s-shit. I- just be careful, okay? I’m not t-trying to bury you, too.” Said with a rawness that fell over you like a blanket. There was a fear there, a grief that drowned his words.

He’d told you about his past a bit ago. Telling you how he grew up, about his mom and his dad. How terrible it was to live in that house, and how much he missed his sister. Under all his aggression, his hostility and humour- there is a boy who is constantly afraid of losing.

The vulnerability had your heart aching, and you scooted closer. Hugging his arm to your chest with your chin on his shoulder. “I’m fine, Tobes. I swear I’m not gonna’ evaporate out of nowhere.” You felt him lean into you, grunting mutely. “I know, it’s just like- y-you shouldn’t even be here. Not s-saying I don’t want you here, it’s just dangerous. We’re not... we’re not good people, pidgy.” His confession was agonizingly soft.

You think the guilt Toby carried must be devastating.

Smushing your cheek into his sweater, you drew in a slow breath. “It wasn’t your fault, and you are good-” He scoffed, yet you continued anyway. “You are. You don’t do this because you like it, or because you want to see people suffer- it’s because you have to. I would know, you’re my best friend. And you tell me everything.” Ending it on a sappy note, it made his lips twitch up despite himself.

“Yeah, I do. Probably w-way too much, actually.”

“Definitely too much, you’re not even cool and mysterious anymore. You spilled all your secrets, negative points to your brooding persona for sure.”

“I am not brooding- and if I was, I’d be s-super cool about it.”

“Nuh uh.”

“Y-yuh huh.”

A moment of nothing but the wind and the faint chirp of sparrows- before you both giggled. Toby appreciated you more than you’d ever know. Always by his side, no matter what, an anchor when he was straying from shore. You made things lighter, easier to bring up. It was nice.

His shoulder was comfortable, and he was warm. Taking a break to rest your eyes when something hard stabbed you in the ass. Jerking in place, Toby looked at you, confused.

You had completely forgotten about your other plan.

Earlier that week, you’d stopped by a pawn shop to pick up some flip phones. While he did have something to contact the other proxies on, he didn’t have a personal device. Something that was simply meant for reaching him. You had taken the initiative, buying one for him and one for you.

As much as you loved the guy, he was still a serial killer. It would not be smart to just have his contact on your work phone. So this was your solution. It’d mean you wouldn’t have to wait months to see him, and you could bother him when you were bored. Like normal folk do.

Sticking your tongue between your teeth in focus, you reached into your back pocket. Digging out the mobile caller and holding it out to him with a grin. Snorting when he squinted at your gift.

“Surprise!”

“Is that a flip phone?”

“No, it’s a sandwich- yes, you loser, it’s a flip phone. So I don’t have to see you bi-monthly like we’re soldiers at war.”

His face was unreadable, then he puffed. Ruffling your hair with a snigger. “Y-you’re an idiot. You didn’t have to spend money; I could’ve figured it out.” You shook your head, disagreeing with fervour. “You know I love you, but you’re super broke, and I don’t need you getting arrested for petty theft.” And his jaw dropped.

“First off, I would not g-get caught-”

“Crazy idea, bring back being grateful.”

Toby’s mouth clamped shut at that, and he pouted. “... Thank you.” Rolling his eyes playfully while you smiled in triumph. “You’re welcome.” Both of you shoved at each other, laughing over the stupid argument.

He walked you home after, making sure you locked the door before he left. Even though you technically came close to dying, it was an overall pretty good day.

Sighing as you sank into the comfort of your own bed, you went over your mental checklist. Give Jack the supplies with the sticker? Success. Give Toby the phone so you could harass him when he worked? Success. It’d been a productive shift, if you do say so yourself.

All you had to worry about now was how to get an over seven-feet-tall cannibal to fall for you.

ᯓ★

➽──────────────❥

Humans were strange.

Maybe not all, but you definitely were. An outlier on Jack’s scale of interactions. You didn’t fit, not really. He struggled to categorize you, struggled to shove you into a box with the rest.

At the beginning, he’d brushed you off. You were simply another worker, another body to carry the burden. And you still were, it’s just that you confused him from time to time. The things you did, the choices you made, were never logical. Your ambition was unfounded, your common sense flawed. He had never entertained the conversations thoroughly, or with unwavering attention-

Yet you seemed unfazed.

It bothered him more than it should have. The cannibal didn’t particularly hate you or anything like that; it was the aftermath that he disliked. For whatever reason, your departures that followed the scheduled drop-offs always left him oddly... empty. An out-of-place ache in his chest that refused to budge. And that feeling only worsened over the months, incessant in staying, no matter how hard he ignored it.

Additionally, your scent was also becoming a problem.

See, Jack’s nose was very, very sensitive. Precise and capable of breaking down smells to each individual note. Which was helpful when he was deciphering how far along a cadaver was in the decomposition process. Useful when he needed to discern what stage an infection had reached- yet currently, it was nothing more than an irritation.

The problem began prior to your most recent visit. Last month, on a Sunday, was the first occurrence. It happened once you’d vacated his lab, and he was alone. Fixed in the spot you stood moments before, he inhaled deeply. Letting the lingering fragrance fill his lungs. Your aroma was unique to you; everyone’s was. A distinct balm that stuck to your skin.

He remained unmoving for at least five minutes straight, and the shameful part was that he wasn’t even aware of it until far too late.

You’d think a being so old would be past embarrassment, but the blue tinge in his ears proved otherwise. Unaccompanied in his med-bay, he chuffed quietly to himself. His claws flexed stiffly as he pretended that it hadn’t occurred.

It was probably because he was hungry, that’s all.

Chalking it up to an unfed stomach, he went hunting. And when he returned, your scent was long gone. So he moved on, not persisting in the thought more than necessary. Returning to his solitary routine, he found peace. (For the most part)

Then you came back.

Injured, you had walked up to him timidly. With Toby at your side, the brunette explained the events that caused your wound. Of course, Jack wasn’t squeamish; he’d seen all there was to see of the mortal vessel. It was the overwhelming amount of your scent that had him reeling. Your flesh and bone, the deep-seated sweetness of it. It made him salivate the second you entered his space.

The odium buried itself in his gut the second after. You’d come to him with trust, with the belief that he was good. That he would help- and he did. Jack helped you with drool collecting on his tongue. Aided you with an appetite behind his molars. Bandaged your wound with starvation gnawing at every fibre in his body. You’d be disgusted if you knew, and you’d be right to.

It’s the reason he failed to understand you. Your motives and goals were a grey area, a desolate patch in his mental diagram. You talked just to talk, brought him stickers as if you were friends. It was strange, and he thought about your perception of the proxies often.

Jack was aware of your relationship with Tobias and the comfort that you brought the boy. He talked about you, brought you up sporadically. Said that you were kind, that you cared more than you should, that he was fond of you. It was clear to him why Toby liked you so much- what puzzled him was why you stuck around.

Everyone in this forsaken mansion was condemned to hell and back. Their hands were stained with more blood than you could possibly imagine. So why?

Why did you stay? Why did you patch up the axe wielder's scrapes when you’d witnessed firsthand what he was capable of? Putting colourful band-aids on the smallest cuts, even when he’d told you himself that he couldn’t feel pain.

You both fascinated and unnerved him. It’s not like you were dim-witted; he knew that you knew what they did. Who they’d become when the static of an order came through. Who they were when dusk settled over the trees.

Such a peculiar creature, he thought.

Organizing the scalpels laid out before him, he arranged them in order of size. Sharpness and use came first, then wear and tear followed. Jack lined up the new shipment you’d delivered, discarding the blunt ones to make room.

All on schedule, he diligently kept at the task until everything was in place. And when his workspace was finally initialized, the cannibal stretched his neck from side to side.

He was hungry again, and his stomach acid demanded something solid. A feeling he’d unfortunately grown used to, he straightened his spine. It was late, and he’d been working down here since early morning. So with his to-do list finished, he decided it was time to feed. But not before noting the date on the calendar.

Jack’s rut was arriving soon.

ᯓ★

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A hitchhiker, from the looks of it.

Dragging duffel bags along the gravel, the man had gotten lost on the trail. Aimlessly finding his way through with a flashlight, he stopped to tie his shoe. Crouching down, he was distracted by the rope, and Jack thought he was broad enough for a full stomach.

Stalking near, his claws flexed, preparing to strike. He lunged from the darkness, piercing his talons into yielding skin. The victim didn’t even have time to scream, his windpipe swiftly bitten off by Jack’s unhinged maw. A clean sever, the tendons and muscles crunched under his canines, and he swallowed. Yet when he was hunched over the corpse, ripping cartilage from bone- he froze.

There, in the centre of the man's chest, was a pendant. A symbol he had fought tooth and nail to forget. It was the crest of an old testament, meant to represent worshippers of death and avarice.

Flashes of the ritual took hold of his mind. The fear of it, the black tar that filled his veins like lava. The agony of being changed.

He was stretched and gutted, mutated into something wrong that night. The transformation had left him in an irreversible state, and when the followers had believed they’d won, he stole their valour in a blink. Blinded by the excruciating hunger, he sank his teeth into every body he could get a hold of. It was nothing short of a massacre. Annihilation at its finest.

When he’d reached the last one standing, the man wailed like a wounded animal. Cursed him, damned him by their god's law. Spoke an incantation that would bring rot to Jack’s malice if he ever consumed devoted flesh.

The memory is as vivid as it is violating.

There were only a select few, a small community of unwell folk. Deranged into believing that greed and carnage would gift them something grand. A purpose larger than life and a way into the heavens. As if worshipping a mortal-consuming demon would ever get them anywhere close. Obviously, they hadn’t done their research- because the ritual had gone to shit.

Jack was supposed to be a vessel, not a host. Yet instead of corrupting his soul and assailing, the entity bound itself.

The black magic had woven into his DNA, making it inseparable from his form. It ruined him, turned him into this. And in return, he had devoured them eyes first. Taking his time to ensure the pain lasted, hunting them down until their temple was barren. He was sure he’d slaughtered them all- so what the fuck was this?

Digging through the body’s pockets, he snagged out an ID. Useless. He moved onto the luggage, and inside, he discovered paperwork. Apparently, the guy wasn’t doing well. Never married, with no kids and no surviving family. Jack worked through the pile with haste, searching to identify whether the cult was an active threat or not. He knew they stuck together in packs, always needing enablers to survive.

No friends either, no contacts or connections. The deceased had gone bankrupt trying to start another commune. Selling pamphlets with a lacklustre regimen, it seemed that the twenty-first century wasn’t a fan of sacrifices. Not outwardly, anyway.

He reclined onto his haunches, sighing. A straggler. While the sight of the emblem had him uneasy, at least the worst of it was over.

Though his relief quickly fled when nausea began punching up his throat.

The gravel trail beneath scraped into his knees through the denim, grating the skin. He could taste the bile, a pungent regurgitation of raw meat and blood. The usual pleasant metallic tang had turned putrid, and he gagged violently. Undeniably sick from the bites he took.

It came in waves, making him sway on the spot. Collapsing forward, his claws dug into silt. Dry heaving as he retched. Jack clumsily stumbled off the half-eaten corpse, dragging himself to rest against a tree nearby. He slumped onto the trunk, gasping weakly while he fought to stay upright.

The bark was abrasive, only worsening his condition. Everything was suddenly too much, and it overwhelmed his senses. The crickets were too loud, the wind too sharp. It hurt.

He shuddered; he hadn’t been ill in decades. His body had become used to the lack of mortal ailments, so the foreign seediness was amplified tenfold. It rattled him from the inside out, blurring his vision and impairing his judgment. He could barely even see in front of him.

With his eyes failing to focus, he swallowed a mouthful of vomit. It was disgusting, and the worst of it had yet to come. Seemingly out of nowhere, despite his unsettled stomach, his mouth had started watering. The drool slipped past his teeth, dripping from his snarl. Jack needed to get rid of the taste, or he’d fucking die here.

The cannibal tried everything he could think of. After crawling up, he supported his weight on the oak. Staggering a bit when he reached blindly for some fruit hanging off the shrubbery. The berries crushed in his hand, and he forced them down.

However, the produce did little to help, not soothing his revulsion in the slightest. Then, he tried shovelling the stained dirt and sand into his gullet. Though that hadn’t worked either. The craving for blood only amplified the longer he went, and his gut felt like it was consuming itself. He was so hungry.

So hungry he couldn’t think. Starved enough to devour anything in his path. And his forehead was damp with cold sweat when he heard it. Heard you.

Stepping out from the greenery, you were none the wiser to your impending doom. The cruel fate that awaited you for simply being in the wrong place at the right time. Your scent called to him like a siren's song, sweet and tempting. It curled into the wind, beckoning him. Acting as a noose around your neck while he closed in.

You held a package under your arm, another delivery to a separate house, he assumed. With your back to him, you readjusted your grip. Whipping around when a deep growl resounded throughout the forest. It tore through the silence. Interrupting the chirp of evening birds and the whistling breeze. It took a moment, but you spotted the disturbance as you glanced up.

Enveloped in shadows, stood Jack. His shoulders were beyond tense, jolting with narrowly contained strength. You could feel his gaze, even blocked by the darkness; it had weight. He surveyed you like prey, his mask sitting limply against his hair. From your spot, you could make out the shape of his jaw. The red that smeared his skin, and the mangled remains behind him. You were no longer staring at a medic.

In that moment, you realized why they’d warned you. Why they drilled the stories and myths into your head, why they were so desperate for you to understand. He wasn’t dangerous because he chose to enact, chose consume and desecrate.

Jack was dangerous because he didn’t.

He wasn’t human, and his harm lay in the lack of decision in that. His appetite wasn’t controllable, a carnal need not even he could govern. It accursed him the same way it accursed you. And now you were stuck in a cage with a beast that hadn’t been fed. The key was out of reach, existing in theory and never in practice.

Sure, you could try to run, but would that really do anything except prolong the chase? Stretch the dread that would cease solely when your rib cage was ripped open. Death had come for you in the shape of talons and grief. Taken form in an amalgamation of empty sockets and puppeted limbs. Driven by hunger and hunger alone. There was no way out.

Face to face with the man, you inhaled shakily. Dropping the box to the ground before relaxing your posture. There was no point in being defensive; he could overpower you in a second. The best bet you had was asking him to be swift, and you went to speak- only to be cut off by a strained rasp.  

“Suh- s-sorry.”

His voice crackled like an old radio. The pitch warbly, baritone so low it sounded as if he was choking on the syllables. It rumbled through the roots. Reverberating up your spine to the base of your skull, along with crystalline fear. You were terrified. Frozen in place, his word was the singular notice you got- and he advanced in a blink.

Lurching over you, your back collided harshly with the uneven soil. The rock was sharp against your skin, piercing your jacket while you trembled. Letting out a stifled sob, you gaped at him wide-eyed. A mute plea for him to end it quickly. Then, his claws sank into your arms, and the pain erupted, burning hot.

Your chest caved up and down in repetition. Hyperventilating as Jack waged war with himself above you. He didn’t want to, god knows he didn’t- but you smelled so good. The wound you’d acquired had yet to heal, and the blood wafting up made him salivate. Acid pooled at the back of his throat, nudging him to lean down.

He buried his nose into your collar, breathing in deeply before licking a stripe up your neck. And when his canines broke flesh, you screeched.

Your hands flew to his sides, desperately clawing at the fabric. It was nothing short of excruciating, the sensation blistering you like frostbite. Your muscles were spasming, contracting viciously from the tear. The grasp on his sweater tightened, and water filled your eyes. Streaking down your cheeks while he groaned.

Lapping at the gash, he gulped down mouthfuls of the thick liquid. You tasted utterly fucking divine. Sugary and euphoric on his palette. He prodded his tongue deeper into the laceration, slurping messily at the sinew. Your blood felt like an elixir, a cure packaged in cords and ligaments- he couldn’t stop. The shame in himself wracked his frame, his gut wrought into shape by disgust, yet he continued anyway.

Black tar poured from under his lids, dripping onto your face, and Jack wailed. Akin to a wounded animal, his anguish seeped into your lungs.

Perhaps it was the blood loss, the pain making your head foggy, but a part of you ached for him. Execrated by a malignity that was never his own, it’d be unfair to loathe him for it. Despise him for a fate that you wouldn’t wish on the already damned.

You think if you’d met under different circumstances, when the air around him had yet to be tainted, he would’ve been kind.

The crescent hung bright over the tree's edge, the glow mingling with the clouds in wisps. It was pretty. An enjoyable view to gaze at in your final hour.

Raising your hand, you cupped his nape. Running your thumb against the edge of his hair. By this point, you’d lost feeling in your neck, your brain failing to send signals to your nerves. The sharp pangs had dulled to a spark that flickered here and there. Your head was pounding when your arm fell to the dirt. Lying limp as he feasted.

Jack hadn’t fully torn off the chunk he’d bitten into. Chewing the frayed muscle that came loose and drinking the blood that spilled instead. Yet the damage had been done, and when he pulled back, it was too late.

It took at least half of your body’s plasma to ease the manifested hunger. Draining almost all your life source to give him clarity. With his voracity finally satiated, he slouched onto his knees, looking down.

Beneath him, you lie pale. Blinking slowly, once, twice, like it took all your strength. His eyes drifted to the injury, the gaping hole left by his teeth. A gnarled thing, the flesh was nearly torn to shreds. It made him sick.

Adrenaline kicking into overdrive, he moved with urgency. Hooking one arm under your knees and the other supporting your back, he hoisted you up. Carrying you, he pushed off his heel. Bolting through the timber faster than he ever had. You were not dying tonight. Not when he could save you, not when he would’ve done anything to go back in time.

He should’ve been stronger, tried harder. Could’ve, should’ve, would’ve- but he hadn’t, and now you were paying the price. Not only were you undeserving, but you were also pertinent to your role. A necessity, one that would not be easily replaced. The system was complicated, tricky to maneuver, and the true neutrality you offered was rare. Jack could not afford to lose you.

His feet struck the earth in desperation, steps thundering and rapid while he rushed to the manor. Luckily, his superhuman strength hastened his journey, and he reached the courtyard before your pulse withered completely. Rushing up the stairs, he slammed open the door. Darting down the hall and passing the living room. Toby saw you first.

The commotion had caused a ruckus, and he’d turned the corner just to witness your body in Jack’s arms. You looked like you were dead. Lips tinted with blue, your arms slack while the cannibal sped into the basement. The second thing he noticed was the clear bite taken out of your throat. The dried salt on your cheeks and blood under your nails. As if you had fought.

He wanted to vomit.

Sprinting after the other man, he borderline crashed into the cellar door. Jack had locked it behind him, and Toby roared. Screaming at the top of his lungs as he pounded his fist against the barrier. “W-WHAT THE FUCK DID Y-YOU DO, EJ?” He rammed his shoulder into the frame, throwing his weight against the wood. It shook the walls, and he grit his teeth.

“Open t-the door— OPEN THE F-FUCKING DOOR.”

The entry creaked loudly with every collision, finally giving way with a resounding final crash. The lock splintered, and he jumped down the staircase two steps at a time, filled with panic. The brunette charged into the lab, skidding to a halt when he spotted you.

Sprawled across the padded metal table, your chest didn’t even appear as if it was moving. He scrambled near, interrupted by Jack’s bark. “Do not move her. She’s lost too much blood- I have to focus-” Toby scoffed, hostile. “A-and who’s fucking fault is that? All s-she ever did was fucking talk to you. S-suh-sick fucking freak.”

“I wasn’t- she ran into me when I was hunting-”

“So you couldn’t hold back? J-just had to eat, right? It just h-had to be her? Out of everyone, it had to be f-fucking her?”

“If I don’t operate now, she will die, Tobias.”

The gravity of the situation shoots him through the chest. His feet were unsteady under him, his hands shaking when he slumped against the counter. Biting his nails until the skin is raw, bleeding while he watched the medic work. This wasn’t happening, it wasn’t.

You were fine. You were fine yesterday. You were fine when you gave him the phone, grinning brighter than the sun.

You were good, wholeheartedly good. So why were you here? In this decrepit basement, bleeding out with your throat shredded. It wasn’t fair. He had so little, wanted so little. You were his best friend, the only person he felt at home with. The only person who didn’t deserve to be on that table.

His head jerked aggressively to the side, teeth grinding so hard they could shatter. In front of him, Jack hurriedly prepared the surgical bed.

Dashing back and forth through the room, his hands flew to the tools. He needed to close the wound and close it fast, hook you up to fluids before you were gone for good. Pressing gauze to the opening, he held it firm, ripping open a sterile needle with his canines.

When the fabric soaked through, it was thrown onto the cement. Landing with a wet smack. And the action was followed by him splashing saline solution haphazardly on the puncture.

The bite hadn’t gone deep enough to pierce your carotid artery. It did, however, cut through the initial layer of muscle. Damage to the STA. He cursed, huffing. While not life-threatening in its current state, you were still at risk for hemorrhaging if not treated correctly.

Your pulse causes the laceration to sputter. Heartbeat pushing the plasma non-stop, and flicking scarlet up his forearms. The skin on your neck had been torn, not sliced. Therefore, he needed to rid the wound of non-viable tissue. Jagged flesh that lacked blood flow would most definitely rot if left alone.

Jack stabilized his grip, focusing on the incision. He glided the scalpel along the tears, cleaning the teeth marks into something neater. Tidier and easier to stitch. Isolating the segment, he switches instruments. Silver nitrate sticks were always stocked due to the proxy's constant recklessness- and they were needed now more than ever.

A pin drop could be heard in that moment. Toby couldn’t move, and his foot tapped rapidly. You needed to live, you had to.

Prepping the area, Jack noted your bleeding had clotted enough to apply petroleum jelly. The moisture from the wound would work as an activator, mixing the chemicals upon impact. After spreading the salve, the caustic pencil hovered over the abrasion. By heaven's name, this was going to work; there was no other option.

The lights buzzed to the thrum of your heart, and he lined up to cauterize the vessel. It sizzled atop the artery, only in contact with your capillary for a few seconds. Then, it was quickly removed when Jack deemed the slit closed. Every muscle in his body pulled tight, his back screaming from being hunched over your form.

Casting the thing aside, he moved on to the external mutilation. A thin needle was pinched between his fingers, the steel cold and sharp. This was going to work.

You weren’t conscious enough to struggle, and he began suturing the gash shut. The non-absorbable thread wove in and out of the wound's edge. A ladder-like pattern, before he snagged the stitching taut. Shutting the gaping brawn in one pull.

Still, he held his breath.

Not progressing with any less urgency, he connected you to the standby cardiac monitor once he’d bandaged your throat. With you attached to an IV drip, his attention strayed to the telemetry. The screen beeped to life, displaying your vitals. The notches dip, rising with your respiratory rate until they read stable, and he collapsed into a chair near your bedside.

A successful hemostasis.

Toby shoved off the counter, approaching the operating table. His trembling hand found yours, and he laced your fingers together. “She’s f-fine, isn’t she?” Muttering, he turned to Jack, the man nodding in response. “She’s stable, she just needs to rest. The parenteral nutrition will keep her levelled for now, but she’ll need food when she wakes up.” Gesturing to the bags hanging next to the monitor as he spoke.

The brunette shifted where he stood, glancing back at your connected palms. He wished you never met any of them. Wished that you could’ve stayed far away from this mess. A victim of circumstance, you didn’t deserve to be hooked up to all these machines. Stuck in a blood-stained basement because you wanted to help, because you were doing your job the way you were supposed to- it wasn’t fair.

You looked so weak, fragile, while you lay unmoving on the cot. The question of ‘what if’ plagued his mind over and over again. What if you hadn’t made it back in time? What if the bite had gone just a little deeper- then what? Would he have to bury you with the rest?

Mourn an unmarked grave, walking past missing posters of you stapled to trees. Fidgeting with the phone you gave him in his pocket when things got hard. Bringing it with him everywhere, knowing there would never be someone on the line.

Pretending you were only a call away, sending voicemails to an unmanned inbox. Always hoping that wherever you were, they laughed at your jokes and let you lean on them the way he did. The way he would.

The idea made his stomach churn, and he exhaled heavily. Shaking his head to rid the thoughts, he gave your hand a squeeze. “I’ll bring y-you the soup you like in the m-morning, pidgy.” Leaning down to press his lips to your damp forehead.

On the sidelines, Jack sat rigidly. The guilt and shame in himself were consuming, gnawing at every fibre of his being. He could still feel your touch on his nape, the aching tenderness in your acceptance. How you embraced him as he stole your youth. Thieving your innocence, your years, and soul under the stars. The forgiveness in how you held him, as if you understood.

As if you couldn’t bring yourself to hate him, not even then.

It drowned him in disgust. In himself, in his lack of control, in the still present hunger that simmered beneath the surface. What a terrible fate you suffered, he thought. Enslaved like them when you had no place amongst sinners. Whatever chivalry between him and Toby was long gone. The bridge burned to ash, a point of no return. It’s not like he could blame the boy, either.

Imprisoned in a cell with too many scratches on the wall to count. Forced to slaughter, to labour, and punish. The role of executioner was played to a T, a script he’d never chosen for himself. You were a window to the outside, the only speck of normalcy he could afford.

Jack had nearly ripped that from him. He could only imagine the fear and grief Tobias felt upon seeing you in that state. The change in his personality, in how he carried himself, was stark when you’d gotten closer. And he’d almost lost it all tonight.

The air was pungent with antiseptic and metal, the stale quiet interrupted by creaks from upstairs here and there. Their shared stillness lasted for another beat before Toby straightened up. Placing your hand down, his back was towards the cannibal, and he stepped to the staircase. Mumbling over his shoulder. “Tell me w-when she’s up.” With that, he trudged up the railing.

In the silence of the lab, Jack stared at your frame. The muted alerts of your vitals rang in his ears, and he ran a claw down his face. Exhausted and numb.

He should have died the night they bound him to the devil.

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Everything hurt.

The analgesic currently flowing through your veins helped, but it hadn’t numbed you completely. Sharp spikes of pain sparked every time you moved, and you sighed. Blinking to life slowly as you propped up onto your elbows. Apparently, you had made it after all.

You sniffled, wincing at the strain on your neck. The cotton sheets under you were scratchy, worn down with use. Rustling while you pushed the blanket off.

Overhead, the constant buzzing lights were nowhere to be found, and the room was lit by a single lamp in the corner. This place was even creepier in the dark. With your vision struggling to adjust, the shadows on the walls moved in your periphery. Swaying in the glow cast by the cool-hued bulb.

Swing your legs over, you paused, feeling a tug on your inner arm. A needle that connected you to the beeping screen. At least you’d been well taken care of. Thinking it over, you were in the middle of deciding whether to pull the thing out yourself or wait for someone to arrive, when a curtain swished behind you.

Emerging from the small room attached to the med-bay, Jack froze upon seeing you. Your eyes met for a moment, and you coughed awkwardly. “... Hi.” Watching him, your gaze followed as he walked to the monitor. Standing at your bedside, he didn’t respond, simply checking the information displayed.

Wow, you’d think for a guy that almost ate you, he’d be a little more talkative. Still, you chose not to prod, fidgeting with the edge of the blanket instead.

Your problem was that you hated silence- well, not hated. It’s just that, right now, it felt like a ton of bricks in your gut. Clearing your throat, you wet your lips. “Did you like my stickers?” That had him stuttering. His movements wavered, and a muted clicking emanated from his chest. He gave you a stiff nod before resuming his focus elsewhere.

It was evident that the whole almost killing you thing got to him. Probably fuelled the never-ending guilt-complex that he definitely had. Which was... not great, for what you were going for. You were supposed to smooth-talk the guy, not activate his hunter instincts and have him avoid you. Call you delusional, but you know what? This was just a hiccup. I mean, who hasn’t been mauled by a love interest, right?

Glancing down, he began peeling off the medical tape at the crook of your arm. The glue left a sticky residue on your skin, and you mumbled. “Are you okay?” Your comment was quiet, almost fond when it left your mouth.

Jack flicked the used bandage into the trash nearby, puffing through his nose. “Yes.” Though it wasn’t as convincing as he’d intended. His voice sounded strained.

The atmosphere was thorny, a tad too bleak for your liking. So, against your better judgment, you shrugged in his direction. “Are you sure? You’re not hungry, are you?” Joking, his head whipped up. Gaze boring into you. Okay, too soon.

He went back to removing the liquid IV, only to hesitate once it was out. The to-be-discarded needle in his hand, and he huffed. Exasperated when he stood to full height. “Why are you doing this?” Accusatory, his mask tilted to the side. And while you couldn’t see his face, you knew he was most likely scowling.

“Doing what-”

“This.”

Frustratedly throwing his claw into the air, he snapped. “You- I nearly ripped out your throat, I almost killed you. You must understand at least that, don’t you?” Tone shaky, clearly vexed by your refusal to acknowledge the fear you should be feeling. “Yeah, but- I don’t know. They... told me about your hunting. I know you get weird if you don’t eat. It’s not that big of a deal-” However, your retort riled him further, and he pinched his nose bridge through the mask.

“Not that big of a deal? Do you even hear yourself?” Laughing humouressly, he continued, snarling. “If I had gotten back even a minute later, you would’ve been a corpse. Food for the maggots outside, nothing but another body to bury- you wouldn’t be here, messenger.” Chest heaving after he finished his tangent, you rose to your feet- tried to, anyway.

Because as you nudged off the mattress, your legs gave out. Sending you straight into the cement, you braced, yet the harsh floor never came. Instead, you were engulfed by something solid. It held you steady, and you opened your eyes.

Jack had caught you, tugging you to his chest to keep you from falling. One hand splayed between your shoulders, the other on your lower back. He felt warm, carefully reclining when he deemed you stable. Palms on either side of you, while he looked you over. “Don’t rush if you wish to move. If you need anything, ask me for it, understood?” The switch in tone made your head spin.

Going from irritated and loud to awfully tender in a second. You supposed that’s why he was the medic, always prioritizing patients and whatnot.

With his arms around you, you became overtly aware of how close he was. Feeling everything there was to feel. The plush of his muscle against your front, the roughness of his calloused skin on yours.

Your panicked inner monologue was cut off by a grunt. “The sutures will rip if you’re reckless, but it shouldn’t scar. I’ll check in a week. I... I hope the pain isn’t unbearable. If it is, I have something you can take to sleep.”

Not quite an apology, yet the care in his words was undeniable. The previous heat of your one-sided argument had faded, and you hummed. “’Kay, thanks for patching me up, doc.” Teasing him, he appeared to have given up in refuting your humour. Not pointing out the fact that you wouldn’t even need to be patched up if it weren’t for him.

Towering over you, his eyes flickered across your face, then to your neck. The edge of his talon grazed the bandage as he leaned in. Observing the gauze, making sure it hadn’t soaked through yet. “Tell me if it hurts, I’ll fix it.” Hushed, the baritone rumbled deep behind his ribs.

He didn’t know why he was holding you. The overwhelming urge to ease your tension was lost on him. An itch he couldn’t scratch. Your scent, combined with your pliancy, had him giving in before he could stop himself.

The change was noticeable, and your cheeks felt hot. “Yeah- okay, um...” Stuttering, Jack was simply examining his work. Looking over the injury just in case. The issue was that you were aggressively attracted to him, and this was not helping. His hand was still resting on the arch of your spine, thumb absently smoothing up and down.

The claw near your collar then strayed upward, tracing along your jaw. Abruptly intimate, it was as if the air around you had shifted. Tightening a fraction and filling your lungs like smoke. The cannibal tilted your chin higher, your gazes locking. “What do you need from me, courier?” His face was inches from yours, and you squirmed slightly. Lids growing heavier by the second—

BEEP BEEP BEEP-

Unfortunately for you, you were very much attached to the monitor. The machine ratted you out and  borderline screeched. Your heart rate was too high, sending the thing into disarray. Alerting everyone in a five-mile radius that you had a case of the butterflies, bad.

You scrambled apart, with Jack rushing to turn off the telemetry. It shut down with a muted click, and he disconnected you soon after, leaving you to stand in silence.

That was... new. Perhaps you were hallucinating, but that felt just a bit too close for professionalism. Opening your mouth, you went to step towards Jack. However, before you could speak, Toby sprinted down the stairs.

His eyes darted between you two, clearly under the assumption that something had gone wrong. He was frantic as he approached you. “Are you- are y-you okay? Does it h-hurt?” Quickly pulling you into his arms, he cradled the back of your head. “Jesus fuck- I thought- I thought you were-” The last part was left unspoken, the fear in his pupils more than enough for you to understand.

Breathing in deep, you relaxed in his hold. While you didn’t hate or blame Jack, it was still scary. It still shook you up, and your body yearned for someone familiar. You didn’t even realize how much it’d affected you until tears began to dot his sweater. Burrowing your face into his shoulder, he gave you a squeeze in response.

“I-I’m here, I’m here. I p-promise.” Toby whispered into your hair. Rocking you lightly back and forth, he glared at Jack over your crown. A sign for the other man to leave, and he followed it swiftly. Striding past the curtain at the back of the room, the drape swung shut behind him.

Jack slumped onto his old cot. Sprawling on his back, he threw an arm over his eyes.

What the actual fuck was wrong with him?

Wires were crossed in his head, corrupting his agency and everything else up there. You were pliant because you were fucking terrified- and he couldn’t even give you that. He took advantage of you in the woods, forcing you to submit with your life on the line. Then, when you woke up, he’d lost himself again. Coercing you into just going along with it when he trapped you in place.

Your heart rate was so high it sent out a goddamn alert. You were so scared, you couldn’t even speak. The way you collapsed into Toby’s arms had him sick. Trembling like a leaf, you clutched onto the poor boy as if you were dying. And he supposed that you were, in a way.

Being stuck down here with him must have been hell for you.

It’d been obvious you were on edge since you woke up. Making jokes to soothe your anxiety, to try and placate him so he wouldn’t hurt you. So he wouldn’t hold you down and do awful things. Tear you limb from limb while you begged for it to end. All because you’d brought him a sticker. He’d witnessed that hesitance and held you anyway.

Caressing your face like some kind of degenerate. Violating you with the same claws that had nearly stopped your heart. You’d gone into shock, not able to express emotion at all until someone else entered. Someone who wasn’t an active trigger, who hadn’t given you trauma beyond repair.

You were the singular person who’d ever gone out of your way to talk to him- and he’d given you fucking PTSD.

His ears picked up the voices rising out of the basement. You and Tobias had left, which meant he could fall apart in peace. Sitting up, he tore off his mask, flinging it to the wall. His claws dragged down his face harshly as he screamed into his palms. Dry heaving while his teeth grind.

The inky tar seeped out in pulses. Dripping between his fingers and onto the concrete. It’d been so long, he should’ve been used to it. Should’ve trained himself well enough not to feel it the way he did. And yet, the question of why wracked him to the marrow.

Why had he been cursed with this fate? Why did he have to live in isolation? Why couldn’t he control himself even if he desperately tried to? Why did he have to want so deeply? It wasn’t fair.

When he’d adjusted the wrapping on your neck, for a godforsaken moment, he had felt less lonely. Your warmth, your closeness felt so tangible. Just out of reach, something he could grab if he tried hard enough. Like if he stretched far enough- it would’ve been his.

But that wasn’t reality, now was it?

Jack hated how badly he’d enjoyed it. How much he’d savoured it as if you weren’t horrified by his touch. He hated how agonizingly he longed for you to search for him, too. For you to look at him the same way you looked at Toby.

Reaching for him because he was safe, because you trusted him. Because, despite all that he had done, he was still someone you loved. Someone you’d fall into blindly because you knew he’d never hurt you.

A wretched envy shrieked from inside his chest. Scratching at his lungs, decaying his heart and rotting him whole. He would’ve given all his prowess, all his strength and agility just for someone to talk to. Bearing the weight of the job, risking death because he was human in exchange for a companion. That’s all he needed, all he asked for. Just one.

Lunging onto his feet, he sank his talons into the wooden desk. Launching it to the floor with an echoing crash. The oak splintered, and he threw a fit like a child. Ransacking his room, he hurled furniture, shouting until his throat was raw. Crying nothing but oil until his face burned and his hands bled. He hated it, despised it. This everlasting solitude that would plague him till the earth spun anew.

He sagged onto the cold floor after his surroundings resembled a war front more than a room. Choking on grief and disgust, Jack curled into himself. Hyperventilating while he wondered what it’d be like to be held dear.

What it’d be like to be loved at all.

ᯓ★

➽──────────────❥

That did not go well.

Toby, being the concerned friend he was, checked you over for a solid twenty minutes. Interrogating you on whether or not Jack had done anything to harm you when you awoke. When you’d said he hadn’t, the boy barely believed you. To which you smacked him on the chest for. Telling him you wouldn’t lie just to save face.

This led to him walking you home like always, dropping you off at your door, and waving you off. However, you didn’t leave the manor until at least an hour after you’d gone upstairs. So, on your way to the bathroom, you walked past the basement. Now, you wouldn’t say you were a psychic or a therapist- but you’d bet it had something to do with the events prior.

Pressing your ear to the locked door, you heard him throwing things around. Utter chaos from the sounds of it, and you sighed. When he had stepped away, he seemed so disgusted. Even with his face covered, his body language was loud and clear. On top of that, you remembered his exasperation from earlier. How aghast he was when you hadn’t screamed in terror.

Jack probably thought you were a hazard.

Someone who didn’t know their place. Poking and prodding where you didn’t belong. You were reckless, causing him problems just because you stupidly assumed it’d be fine. A walking risk.

You collapsed onto your pillows, wiggling your feet to get comfortable. Mumbling to yourself. “This minor setback might be a major setback, guys.” And just as you were about to roll over and call it a day, your phone pinged. With the screen lit up, you craned your neck carefully to skim the notification. The number was unknown, reading-

[ Unknown: Shit is getting crazy icl. Feels like I’m watching Love Island. ]

Assuming it was a wrong number, you decided to reply. Your boredom would be the death of you. You swiped your thumb across the glass, clicking on the message.

[ ⭑.ᐟ : LMFAO I wish. My love life is lowk in shambles bro. Also, this is def not who ur looking for :p” ]

[ Unknown: Nahhh, it for sure is. ]

The second that text loaded, your screen began glitching. Colourful bars filled your tab, and an image popped up. An off-toned character from a video game, with buzzing letters overlayed on top.

<<YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE DONE THAT>>10101010101

Then, a voice resonated out of the speaker- though it wasn’t nearly as creepy as you predicted. Instead of an eerie, ghoulish rasp, he greeted you like a YouTuber. “What’s up, mailman?” Okay, you guessed this wasn’t the weirdest thing you’ve been through. “... Hello?”

“Dude, shit hasn’t been this interesting since Toby got wasted and totally pissed in the sink.”

At the mention of Toby, you immediately knew it was someone from the mansion. Leaning back onto the cushions, you answered leisurely. Out of all the houses, The Operator had a surprisingly decent employee list. Compared to the others, anyway.

“The way I don’t know that means.”

“Brooo, oh my god. Your thing with EJ! The tension has me on the edge of my seat.”

You quirked a brow. First off, how the hell did he know about that? You hadn’t told anybody, and the interactions you’d had with him were lacklustre at best. Not counting the last one. Second, he was talking as if he’d been watching. And now he was contacting you about it. God, when would you rest? Picking at your cuticles, you crossed your ankles.

“I’m sorry- have you been stalking me?”

“What? No- dude. Well, like not stalking-stalking. Your phone's just out when you talk to him, I can’t not. It’s literally my whole thing.”

“That’s creepy. Like so creepy, you realize that, right?”

“Ayo, chill. I’m not creepy- I don’t watch you when you leave. It’s only in the house, and c’mon. You know what I’m talking about- spill the deets!”

Groaning, you thought about how this was definitely a bad idea. Yet your need to talk to somebody about it overruled your logic. “Bro, like I actually don’t even- wait. Who even is this?” A snicker, then he huffed. “Ben, elf guy, yada yada- now, spill.” You rolled your eyes, continuing nonetheless. “Okay, it’s not a big thing- I don’t know. We’ve only talked-”

In the middle of your sentence, a thud sounded from outside your window, and you whipped your head to the side. Ben laughed on the line, “Oh yeah, Jeff followed you home. My fault.” And before you could register his words, a pale hand yanked open the sill latch. The killer had somehow scaled your house, balancing on the ledge just to eavesdrop.

The glass pulled up, allowing space for a man to shove his head in. Long, unbrushed dark hair shagged over his face. A Glasgow smile carved into his cheeks, with scarlet freckling his hoodie.

You screamed.

“Fucking- shut up, shutup-” He scrambled through the opening, jumping to your side and clamping a palm over your mouth. You were both frozen in a stare-off for a beat, then he spoke. “I’m not gonna’ kill you, so stop throwing a fuckin’ fit, ‘kay?” A jagged knife fell from his waistband, falling to the floor with a clang. “... That’s for other stuff- just don’t fucking scream.”

Slowly, he removed his hand. Stepping back, then settling into your window seat and collecting his blade. Your phone chimed in again. “Well, shit. Guess the gangs all here-” Obviously, you were the lord's favourite jester, because just as you thought this was it- a claw shot out from under your bed. Crawling into the light, he stood up.

LJ.

In all his feathered grandeur, he loomed in your cramped bedroom. Sharp grin on full display. “Heyyy.” The clown waved at you before dropping onto your carpet. His legs folded under him. Your life was a joke, and you did one final call. “If anyone else has broken into my house- please just come out now.”

You truly didn’t know what you were expecting, but it wasn’t for a girl to pop her head in from the window.

Her hair was dyed with pink stripes, faced sliced with a scar to match Jeff’s. “Sorry- it’s just that everyone else was going and I wanted to see.” Cheery, then she climbed in. Plopping next to the other killer. You massaged your temples, exhaling heavily. “Why are you all here?” Aggravated that work was affecting your free time, Ben answered.

“I told you, this is the most interesting thing since that New Year’s bash- okay, I can’t do this over the phone.”

The line cut, and you heard your living room TV switch on. Static, then shuffling, followed by your bedroom door swinging open. And just as he’d stated, an elf. With pointed ears, he was blonde, his eyes blackened. Blood streaking his skin, he looked like a classic horror figure.

The glitch threw himself onto your beanbag, a bag of chips in hand, while he nodded at you.

“Alright, I’m ready. Go.” Munching away, your eye twitched as you took a deep breath. “Okay. I’m going to ask one question, is everyone ready?” Monotone, you deadpanned. The room filled with agreements, muted shifts of fabric, and you sat up. “Why are you in my house?” You claimed to be a patient person, yet sometimes situations really tested that.

Jeff flung his knife into the air, catching it with practice. “My girl likes gossip.” Said with little ceremony, you caught a glimpse of a bracelet dangling on his wrist. A singular ‘R’ charm that flickered in the light. Opening your mouth, you were interrupted by a collective gasp.

“Pause?!-”

“Oh? And you kept it from us?”

“Wait, who- Jeff, tell me-”

“PLEASE- can we just get this over with?”

Your outburst made them turn to you, stunned into silence. One could easily believe you fit in amongst them with the amount of homicide you were thinking about. Taking a moment to collect yourself, you gestured to Ben. “I’m guessing you’ve been running your mouth?” His lips pressed into a thin line, and he shrugged. “I got bored.” Reclining further back when your glare grew in heat.

“Aren’t you guys serial killers?”

“Not all of us, but it’s the same shit. C’monnn, give me something.”

Pinching your nose bridge, you deflated. Fuck it, might as well. “Whatever is said in this room stays in this room- or else I’m calling SWAT and ruining everyone’s day.”

Jeff snorted, and his acknowledgment mingled with the rest. The group listened expectantly when you began recapping the events. Reaching near the end, the girl who’d introduced herself as Nina piped up.

“He made you look at him? Oh my god- wait, I’m actually obsessed-” You replied with a sad puff. Shoulders sagging while you looked up. “It was fine- but like I think he kind of hates me- not hates me. It’s like I make him weird, and every time we talk, something goes wrong. Which makes it so complicated.” She hummed, tapping her lip in thought. “Mm, well, don’t you have to see him in a week anyway?” The remark had you frowning.

“Yeah, but it’ll probably be tense now.”

“Babes, he literally caught you. And it’s not like he said he hated you or anything. I think you should at least try making up- besides, you guys would be so cute.”

“Yeah, if he doesn’t fucking eat her.”

Jeff’s icy tone cut the banter like a dagger through prey. His head cocking to the side while he fidgeted with the knife's handle. “What? We gonna’ act like the guy’s not a headcase and a half? You’re lucky you even got out with your head- we all know he could’ve done worse.” Looking you up and down, he ran his tongue along his teeth. Though Ben was quick to ease the tension.

“Okay, but he didn’t. Also, where have you been? They have so much chemistry that’s literally all we’ve been talking about- and EJ doesn’t tolerate anyone. He held her, bro. That’s insane.”

Defending your budding romance with a passion not even you expected. The glitch emphasized his point by throwing his hands in the air.

Rolling his eyes, Jeff refuted his opinion. “I’m just saying not to be delusional. I mean, he fucking took a chunk outta’ your neck.” Nodding at you, his bluntness made Nina squint. “You’re such a debby downer. They could be soulmates, Jeff. Soulmates. Besides, he patched her up. If he didn’t care, she wouldn’t be here. That has to mean something.” She argued with a pout, and LJ chimed in from his spot on the floor.

“To be fair, she is the messenger. It’s his duty to keep the boss’s plans running smoothly. But wouldn’t it be wonderful if our medic had developed a crush? Oh, the drama, the anguish- I’m getting heart palpitations just thinking about it.” He sighed wistfully, twirling a strand of hair around his finger.

Nina crossed her arms, “I think you should go for it. Just like... bring an extra bag of organs in case he’s hungry.” Adjusting in her seat as you huffed. Ignoring the fact that you had no way to obtain said organs, you also didn’t have a clue how to approach him. Especially after that.

The situation was complex, something you’d never dealt with before, and far out of your comfort zone. You had to be careful.

Playing with the edge of your shirt, you shrugged, tired. “I don’t know- he’s checking me over next week. So I’ll see, I guess.” Your mood was sombre, yet Ben shot up. Snapping in your direction with a newfound determination. “Wait! You’re close with Toby, aren't you? He’s roughed up all the time, and we can get him to ask EJ about you-”

“Absolutely not.”

Your interruption was met with widened stares. The group, taken aback by your raised volume as you continued. “Toby’s weird around Jack right now. He saw me when I was down there, and it shook him up really bad. I don’t wanna’ stress him out more, alright?” The confession had Jeff gawking at you in disbelief. “Wow, he’s even got the whole overprotective act down- ya’ sure he’s not into you?” And the elf gasped, somehow more offended than you.

“Dude. No. That’s basically her brother; they have a whole thing. Oh my god, do you pay attention to anything?”

“They’re literally all over each other every time I see them. It looks like they’re fucking, Ben-”

“You’re actually- I swear you walk around with a blindfold and earplugs, bro. Toby is the overprotective childhood best friend trope, we are the comic relief cast, and EJ is clearly the brooding and damaged love interest. Your stupidity is throwing off the dynamic, Jeff. Lock in.”

Ben was nothing short of appalled, out of breath by the time he finished. Who would’ve known that the computer virus was a die-hard romantic?

Blinking, you shook your head. Focusing back on the conversation at hand. “... Okay. Anyway- please, just keep this to yourselves. It’s messy enough as is, and I have work tomorrow. I need to sleep. You guys can debate my love life another day.” You stated in defeat.

While you were technically using your schedule as an excuse, it was true. It was getting late, the clock reading fifteen-to-one when you glanced over.

If you wanted even a speck of energy for your day job, you’d have to pass out in the next ten minutes. But much to your dismay, the killers lingered for another half hour. Only departing once they’d ransacked your pantry for snacks. A few also insisted that you save their numbers, for “emergencies.” Allegedly.

It was nearly two AM by the time you were alone, and you groaned into your pillow.

Why did finding a boyfriend have to be so hard?

ᯓ★

➽──────────────❥

Hustle and bustle, hustle and bustle. That was the motto.

The glasses clinked as you balanced them on the tray, and you put your best foot forward. The diner was busy, filled with lively conversations. Gold streaming through the windows from the midday sun, music sparking over the old radio's static. It had you squinting when you approached the booth.

After they’d left the night prior, you fell asleep around three in the morning. Not terrible, considering your shift started at noon- but still. The lack of a full night's rest was felt, and your faint eye bags spoke for themselves.

Placing the dishes down on the table, you chatted with guests. Small talk with the patrons had gone smoothly up until this point, so overall, you were pretty content. Your heels scraped on the patterned floors while you made your way back, when the entrance bell rang. Chiming brightly, you turned to the door from behind the counter to see the regulars. The couple.

Turquoise hanging from her ears, she walked ahead of him. Settling down in their usual spot. They appeared to be bickering, the wife clearly upset over something. Emoting enough to cause the husband to huff. It wasn’t exactly out of the ordinary, and you wiped down the surface with a rag. Yet, their argument remained in your peripheral vision.

It made you sad, in all honesty.

Their love story had begun so promisingly, ending in tragedy just because he’d chosen excitement. Your heart hurt on her behalf, dimming your mood a tad. However, you didn’t have much pause to linger on it. The alert for your break was buzzing in your pocket, catching your attention. It was time to take your fifteen.

You stepped out the back. Fishing your phone out of your apron pocket and leaning against the brick. Scrolling through your notifications absent-mindedly, the sound of the alley door made you look up. The wife. She trudged onto the concrete, not sparing you a glance as she passed you by. Leaning on the wall adjacent to you while fixing a cigarette between her lips.

The lighter sparked once, twice, before she inhaled. Defeated when she finally met your gaze. The sky was now overcast, the clouds blanketing the warm glow above. Drifting to suit the mood, it would seem.

The woman tugged her coat tighter around her frame. “What?” Her words were muffled by the smoke, and you stuttered. “Nothing!- Nothing, I just...” The question of what truly happened spun in circles in your head. You didn’t want to come off as nosy or rude, but you wanted to know.

Everything you’d heard about her dull romance had come from others. A game of telephone played by gossiping strangers with too much free time.

Hesitant, you cleared your throat. “I’m sorry if I’m being like- invasive, but... why’d you stay?” Tucking your phone back into your tied pinny, she scoffed. The noise wasn’t offended nor cruel; it came off more tired than anything. As if she’d heard that same phrase over and over again. She took a slow drag. “Always that question, huh?” You went to apologize, only for her to shake her head.

“Mm, it’s alright. I get it. Why would I stay, right? Everyone in town talks about it. My man’s a deadbeat, I know.” Laughing humouressly, with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I loved him. Oh, I loved the bastard somethin’ awful. Waited on him for longer than I should’ve. Believed him when he promised me a ring- but you probably know all that, don’t you?” Her remark had your ears hot, and you nodded.

You felt bad, yet she appeared unbothered. Used to it after the years. “I stay ‘cause it’s been too long. There’s no point in leaving now. He pays the bills, gets me things I want, so I don’t yell at ‘im when he comes home with a hickie. It’s easier that way.” Though her tone was neutral, the stale hurt lay beneath. Worn down from age.

Flicking ash off her cigarette, she simpered. Humming like she was reminiscing. “It’s just how it is, hun. Ain’t no way else about it.” Giving you a once-over, the woman gestured at you. “Now, I don’t wanna’ lecture you, but you stay far away from men like that, understand? Don’t waste your life away settling for someone ‘cause they seem ‘safe’. I’m tellin’ you now, it’s not worth it.”

She took another inhale, the paper burning around the tobacco. Lighting up a muted amber as she continued. “I waited because I didn’t know better. You’re young, you got time. Don’t let yourself become bitter. If you find someone who sends your heart racin’, you chase that bastard to the finish line, ya’ hear?” The words were spoken as both an instruction and a warning. To not lose yourself.

To never sacrifice your joy for the sake of maintaining normalcy.

Finishing the smoke, the filter was crushed beneath her heel. Simply ash on cement when she goes to exit the back lane. Her hand gripped the steel handle, and she faced you one last time. “If it’s right, you’ll know. Real love won’t fade, it’ll stick like a scar- even if you ain’t want it to. Trust me.” A click of the latch, the door swung shut, then shes gone. Leaving you to simmer in your thoughts.

Alone on the street, you sighed. Her phrasing made you think. “Stick like a scar,” huh? If the bandage on your neck was anything to go by, that had to mean something.

If this wasn’t a sign, then what was, right?

With your shift nearing its end, you folded your apron. Placing the bundle on a shelf with the rest. It had been a decent work day, and you checked your surroundings for anything you could’ve forgotten. The kitchen had already been tidied, the counters and floors wiped clean- you straightened your jacket. All you needed to do was clock out, then you’d be free.

Reaching for a pen hung next to the printed schedule, you scribbled onto the paper. Signing off, before you begin your trek home.

The next check-up could not come faster.

ᯓ★

➽──────────────❥

Of course, everything that goes wrong- goes wrong on a Saturday.

In theory, today should have been easy. You were off, your chores were finished, and the only thing planned was a take-out dinner. Yet, fate seemed to love throwing you in the wringer.

It had been almost a full week since you’d seen Jack. While you and the medic hadn’t left off on the greatest of terms, you were optimistic. If you broke it down, the only barrier that technically remained between you was a misunderstanding. You just needed to talk, clear things up, and it’d be fine. Probably.

Hopefully.

However, you couldn’t even mentally prepare for your endeavours because currently? You were a mess. Since you’d woken up, your routine had been in disarray. The neighbour's dog had gotten into the yard, biting and kicking all your plants over. You had to physically go out to lead the puppy back to its owner. Who was not as grateful as he should have been, by the way.

Then, when you thought things could not possibly get any worse, you realized your favourite spot had closed early. Something about a kitchen mishap, which meant you wouldn’t be able to get your usual. Which also meant you’d have to leave the house to get dinner. Sure, you could just suck it up and make instant noodles- but you wanted a treat.

Things have sucked lately, and all you wanted was a good meal. Unfortunately for you, Lady Luck’s help was a one-time get-out-of-jail card. So now you were forced to buckle down and take a journey to the local corner store.

Walking quickly, you shivered a little. Should’ve brought a thicker coat, yet your suffering didn’t last too long. The lights of the mart were only a few steps away, and you sighed upon entering. The in-store heating warmed through the layers, relaxing you as you browsed.

Okay, let’s try... pasta? Maybe a roast on the side with garlic bread. Mumbling to yourself, you plopped a pack of raw brisket into the basket. Collecting the ingredients leisurely as you made your way through the aisles. You threw a bubbly drink in there, too. You deserved something fun after all that. In your opinion, at least.

Check out was a breeze, and you started your march back. The plastic bags rustling in your hold while you stepped, hung at your elbow. You were humming quietly until you caught a glimpse of the hole in a nearby fence. The place that started it all.

It was weird thinking about it now, making you wonder about how different things would be if you had taken another route.

Glancing from the empty sidewalk ahead to the crooked metal, you squinted. Would it be stupid to take a shortcut? It’s not like there was anything that could harm you past that point. As far as you knew, the only creature of the night that lurked these grounds was your boss. Deciding to risk it, you ducked under the wire. Strolling down the trail with your goods.

You could already taste the massive bowl of penne; it was going to be glorious. The imagery had you grinning, and you shifted your grip on the bag. At the mention of food, you hoped Jack was doing okay—

Snap.

A twig, somewhere to your left, had cracked. This could not be happening. Again. Turning cautiously, your eyes widened. Wolves. You’d been so caught up in thinking about supernatural threats that’d you forgotten about how dangerous the woods were. Too absorbed in your bubble to remember the animals that prowled the grounds. Now, standing face to face with the carnivores, you swallowed.

If you ran, they’d chase. If you stayed, they’d attack. Stuck in limbo, cold sweat lined your back. They moved in packs, growling, as they began to circle you. You cursed yourself mentally. Why did you even go this way? It’d gone terribly last time, so why on earth did you think it’d be smart to take the route again?

The one ahead of the group bared its canines, snout in the air. Sniffing like it could trace your blood in the wind.

You blinked once, twice, three times- and then it charged. The rest following suite. They surrounded you while you fought. Wrestling its head away from your face as best as you could, it snapped its teeth. And you weren’t weak, per se, but an animal was an animal. Winning a fight against one wolf would be a miracle. Surviving five is a daydream.

It gnashed in your hold, another one snagging your jacket. They were beginning to grow impatient, closing in on you. Hot breath wafted above you, and it smelled like meat and hunger. You probably struggled for a couple of seconds at most, yet it felt far longer.

The jagged stone stabbed through your coat when you shoved wildly. Out of all ways to die, out of all the near-death encounters you’d had- of course, you’d lose to something mundane. A stray animal attack. Your muscles screamed, burning and straining with all their might. But it wasn’t enough, and even you knew that. A single slip of your arm, before it broke through your restraint.

You closed your lids on instinct, your whole body bearing up in preparation. A ragged huff, and its drool landed on your skin disgustingly—

Then something ripped it clean off of you.

A figure too rapid for you to see, moving like smoke, lightning over ash. It swung the wolf to the dirt by its neck, and the animal landed with a grinding scrape. Snarling only for the beast to snarl back. A show of dominance, predator on predator.

When your sight finally focused, you recognized your saviour in a heartbeat. Recognized him in a heartbeat. Jack, his claws flexing, gnarled and broad with barbarity.

The wolves pounced onto him from behind. Latching onto his shoulder, its tusks sank deep before he seized the head. Talons piercing bone as he launched it aside. Another shot for his throat, and he ducked. Swerving to the left, he grabbed the thing muzzle first, slamming it to the ground and slicing it from head to chest.

Blood from both parties slathered the grounds. He was brutal, not stopping for even a second. Every attack was refuted by a bite with more force. A slash that cut to the artery.

Some scuttered away after realizing the opponent was stronger, and others became mangled in the crossfire. By the end, the cannibal huffed over scarlet-soaked gravel. Wiping the gore from his jaw with the back of his hand before flinging the remains away.

He was panting, sweat soaking his collar, with red splattered on his mask. The thing was half-on, pushed up to reveal his mouth and the tip of his nose. After rolling his shoulders back, swivelled on his heel. Spotting you almost immediately.

The silence stretched on for an uncomfortable amount of time, and just as you gathered yourself up, groceries still in your possession- he borderline folded in half.

Catching himself by sinking his claws into a tree. Even at this distance, you could see the shudders that wracked his frame. The barely contained growl that fought to break free.

Though you weren’t as scared as you thought you’d be. Sure, he’d displayed an insane amount of strength and brutality, but he’d saved you. Jack could’ve left you for dead, yet he didn’t. Getting mauled for your sake in the process.

Lacking fear, it was exchanged for worry instead. With concern taking its place in your gut, you moved closer. Carefully calling out for him. “Jack?” You were quiet when his head shot up. “Get away from me. It’s not safe.” He sneered in response, his body jerking.

It sounded like it was a struggle to even speak, and he collapsed onto the dirt. Heaving on all fours. Alright, perhaps it wasn’t the smart decision- but you couldn’t just leave him there. Especially after he’d put himself at risk for you. The poor guy could barely stand; it’d be wrong to just walk off.

Kneeling in front of him, you tilted your head lower. Trying to catch a better glimpse of him. Now closer, you could see how strained he really was.

The perspiration dripped down the columns of his throat, adams apple bobbing when he swallowed. Jack shoved away from you desperately, and his back collided with the trunk behind him. “Enough. You need to go. Now-” Cutting himself off with an animalistic clicking. The noise erupted from his chest, seeping between his gritted teeth.

In the grand scheme of things, he was probably correct. This was dangerous- the man had almost taken your life last time. However, he still patched you up. Still held you when you’d fallen. Still went out of his way to keep you safe. He was good, even if he didn’t acknowledge it.

Under all the hunger, the aggression and violence, he was well-meaning. You knew he was. So you stayed planted.

This forest was close to the main road, and in this state, you weren’t sure if he could properly get away if someone saw. Making up your mind, you spoke with urgency. “We need to get you somewhere else. People break past the fence all the time; they might see you.” With that, you grabbed his wrist, tugging. Yet Jack was adamant in his refusal.

“Stop thinking about me and worry about yourself for one goddamn second- you won’t survive if I-”

“I’m not leaving you here.”

The outburst stunned him, and your eyes searched his. Begging him to stand. “M-my place isn’t far, it’s a ten-minute walk, but we have to hurry.” The dread was thick in your cadence, and he couldn’t fathom your desperation. Your overwhelming need to get him to safety. You were too kind for your own good, offering sanctuary even if it was at the cost of your own preservation.

This was a beyond foolish idea. Letting you bring him back would only end in disaster. You would be injured and further traumatized at best, and mutilated with a still heart at worst. His self-control was weak, threatening to give in at any moment.

He’d put off hunting because he’d been too caught up in his spiral. Then his rut had hit at full force. And now the scent radiating off you was making his mouth water. This was a bad fucking idea. He couldn’t. Shouldn’t. Can’t—

“Please.”

Your voice shook, the hold on his arm faltering before it was readjusted. You held onto him with both hands, your fingers digging into his blood-soaked sleeve. Too earnest, too genuine as you pleaded. You decayed his fight, chipping at his resolve until it shattered. Jack was at his wits' end when he begrudgingly agreed. Staggering up along with you as he was dragged along the path.

The pair of you reached your doorstep, and after you’d ushered him inside, he dropped onto your couch. Rapidly tapping his foot while you hung your coat.

Jack could smell you everywhere. Your fragrance stained the walls, wafting off the furniture. It was dizzying. Pungent and drowning, it was clear to him that he’d fucked up. It was hard enough to rein it in when you were in the open air. With the space being confined, he’d doomed himself as much as he had you.

He needed to leave. Now.

Pushing off your sofa, he stumbled slightly. You, of course, noticed him in an instant and rushed to his side. Easing him back down with a soft murmur. “You need to rest, you can’t go out like this- I have meat if you’re hungry? I don’t know if you can eat animals, but I can try to-” Your voice was buzzing in his head, the tangent becoming background noise.

It was disgusting, a rotting want that festered behind his ribs. Thrumming through him in pulses as he struggled to keep himself still. You were trying to help. Naive to the vulnerability, the risk you’d put yourself at. He understood that, knew it like scripture- but alas. His grit was wittling by the second, and it’d only be a matter of time before he snapped.

Jack wouldn’t be able to leave without touching you- without bringing harm to you in the process. You cared far too much; you’d try to negotiate. You weren’t aware of the severity at hand. He wasn’t just hungry; the sick urge to claim was now present. The need to possess, to take and breed. It was a part of his biology, something that had changed in his blood the day they’d changed him.

You were so close, settling next to him after placing tea on the coffee table as if it’d help. As if he weren’t drooling at the thought of breaking you open. Both in body and in soul.

“... Jack?” Hesitant, you leaned to the side. Attempting to see his expression. “Are you okay?” He hated how much your concern fuelled his appetite. Innocent, akin to prey, you blinked at him. Confused when he rasped. “You shouldn’t have brought me here.” And your reply had his molars grinding. “I know it’s- weird right now. But you literally can’t even stand. I don’t mind that you’re here. I- I’m not scared of you, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

His nails dug into his palms. You were blameless, awfully generous to a beast that craved your essence. Jack cursed himself for letting his hunger get this out of hand. He should’ve hunted prior; at least then he’d have the energy to make a run for the door. The seasonal ruts were destructive on their own, so he couldn’t even comprehend the marks he’d leave on you.

Yet you only instigated the already building heat. Fussing over him, you fidgeted with your thumbs. “Is there anything that would help? It might be stupid- I just think if we get something in your stomach, you’d feel at least a little better.” Like poking a starved bear.

The straw that broke the camel's back was the minute you touched him.

Your palm rested gently on his shoulder, worry written across your features- and he lunged. Pouncing on you, your bodies slammed onto the floor. Causing the cups on the table to clatter. Jack pinned your wrists by your head, panting over you. His mask had slipped off in the rush, his face left bare. The obsidian tar dripped onto your cheeks while his lashes fluttered, and the sight made you gasp.

“You’re beautiful.”

It acted as a sucker punch to his gut, winding him. He snarled, the sound rumbling low. “You’re a fool.” Pained when he dipped his head closer, his nose grazing the uninjured side of your throat. You smelled so good, achingly warm and alive. It had his cock throbbing painfully in his slacks, and he latched onto the skin.

Lavving at the spot, his teeth pierced flesh, making you arch into him. And yet, this felt different than before. Too intimate, he wasn’t biting you to feast- it was like he was trying to infect you. Spreading his hunger like a disease and injecting it into you by blood. Another thing that contrasted with the previous incident was the way he dropped his hips between your thighs.

Spreading your legs to accommodate his mass and grinding onto your core. You whined, breathless. What the hell was happening? Though any logic was quickly dissolved when he began rocking against you. His zipper caught on your clit, the pleasure resetting your brain entirely. Your thighs twitched together, clamping around his body as he groaned.

It felt good, heavenly and mind-numbing. The taste of your blood, combined with the feeling of your clothed cunt sent him reeling. You sounded so pretty, all gasps and hushed moans. It was addictive- he couldn’t stop if he wanted to. Not now, not when you were squirming under him. Not when you’d writhe and shiver from his touch.

He rutted harder, rougher, while your lids drooped. Tongue sliding over the tiny cuts left on your skin, savouring the taste. You were even better than he imagined. Pulling back, he licked across his canines. Breathing heavy, the air was so heated it created foggy puffs with each exhale. A view that had you dripping, Jack looked manic.

His grin stretched up, razor-sharp teeth on display and glimmering in the dim light. He purred, “Sweet meat.” A slow baritone. Leaning down and letting his lips mold to yours. He kissed you deeply, with his tongues exploring every inch of your mouth. He was completely drunk off it. Off you. Too lost to stop and think about the way he’d trapped you in place.

You mewled, and the drag of his bulge over your cunt made you dizzy. The thick outline slotted between your folds through the cotton, pressing against your sensitive clit. He was drowning, vast and ruthless. The cannibal wasn’t even fucking you, and you were already panting. You just couldn’t help it- the authority, the control of it, making your head spin.

Whining into him, he swallowed the sound. Grunting while his hips jolted. The friction was too much, too fast. Jack fucked you through the denim with urgency, refusing to give you reprieve. It’s not like he’d started gently either. The man had jumped from sitting quietly to pouncing on you in a blink. Still, the embers within your core sparked like matches. Setting aflame and devouring your heart's home.

The fury, famine, and fervour were balanced on a pin. Tipping the scales as your release overtook you.

Your orgasm came without mercy, rushing from your head to the tips of your fingers. Making your spine curve while he soiled his jeans. The groan he let out had you twitching. Empty, when you clenched around nothing. Your back felt raw from the constant motion of your bodies, and the afterglow blurred your vision.

“J-Jack-” Yet the shaky call of his name landed on deaf ears, the cannibal flipping you onto your stomach.

He restrained your lower half under his weight, caging you between his heavy thighs. With his stiff cock nudging against your entrance through the fabric; it was obvious to you that he had no plans ending this any time soon. Just what had you gotten yourself into?

Continuing to hump you, Jack’s saliva dribbled down his jaw, and he dropped. His arms bracketed your head while he bit onto your nape, moaning at the taste. The pain was sharp, a repetitive throb that mixed with the heat. You sang from the prickle, “Ah- mmph, s-slow down.” However, it appeared he was in a daze. Dragging his teeth to your shoulder, he sank his canines down.

Orgasm after orgasm, he had you pinned under him for hours. His seed had seeped through his slacks, blending with your slick. You’d lost track of how long it’d been, barely able to keep your eyes open by this point.

Weakly pawing at his bicep, you hiccuped. Eyes rolling back when his engorged cock head ground on your clit once more. You seized violently, skin littered in punctures. The red had stained nearly everything around you. The slow drip of the wounds painted the rug, streaking your frame. It made your living room look like a crime scene.

The clock on the wall read ‘2:48 AM’ when he finally slowed to a halt. Sweat beading down his brow as he reclined. You were lying beneath him in disarray. Hair knotted, with tears streaming along your cheeks. His teeth marks nearly covered the entirety of your upper body.

That was when it dawned on Jack what he’d done.

The evidence was clear as day between your wet thighs. His cum coated your flesh, slobber leaving a shine from your marred shoulders up to your neck. You were wrecked beyond repair. Injured and crying mutely, with your head craned to gaze at him. The lack of focus in your pupils had him fucking nauseous.

He shoved off of you, scrambling to do anything. To help, to aid, to fix this. And when you struggled to roll onto your back, he tasted bile.

You weakly propped yourself onto your elbows, slumped slightly to one side. “It’s okay- it’s okay.” Though it was evident that he disagreed, he hastily crawled forward. His hands shook while he sputtered, “Shit- I-I have to stop the bleeding. Just- just wait- I’ll- Jesus fuck.” Claws hovering over you, desperate yet hesitant.

“My bandages and stuff are upstairs, in my bathroom.” Trying your best to calm him, he hurriedly picked you up. Cradling you in his arms as he rushed the steps. You two rounded into the ensuite washroom, and he placed you on the bathtub ledge.

Darting to the cabinet, he grimaced at his reflection before grabbing the medkit. Yanking the white box open and dabbing the cuts along your collar.

He kneeled in front of you, his breathing unsteady. As much as he wished to flee, he’d done enough damage. The least he could do was make sure you didn’t bleed out. The guilt consumed him with every peel of a Band-Aid, with every pat of gauze on your lacerated throat. And once he was done, the silence was so thick you thought you’d suffocate.

Idly remaining on the tile, his bottom lip wobbled. He was so angry, disgusted- filled with nothing but self-loathing. Jack had no right to cry, no right to grieve. Despite all of it, his body was running on fumes, and he tumbled onto his hands. Head hanging low, an inch above your legs. He let out a choked sob.

The cannibal collapsed onto his haunches, burrowing his face into your knees. His claws pathetically grasping at your calves. Careful not to harm you further.

“I’m sorry- fuck, I’m sorryI’msorry- I didn’t want to. I didn’t- I swear on my life I didn’t. I would never- I wasn’t-” You go to comfort him, your hand a centimetre away from his trembling form, before he jerked away harshly.

Clarity had shot through him like a bullet. What the actual fuck was he doing? Forcing you into such an uncomfortable position. Making you soothe him as if he hadn’t just submitted you to an act so violating it’d haunt you for years.

You were probably so lost, traumatized and afraid. Trying your best not to trigger him into doing anything more. The shock was most likely the only reason you weren’t having a full-blown panic attack right now.

Stumbling back, his expression was bordering on pure devastation. Horrified, when he staggered past the doorway, his gaze fixed on you. “I’m sorry.” His words were heavy, and he left your sight quickly. That was all you got, the singular statement he left you with. You heard your front door slam shut, the force rattling your home as you fell apart.

Jack was right about one thing. You were in shock, and you were definitely on the verge of hyperventilating. It wasn’t that you were traumatized from him, exactly- it was simply that you were beyond overwhelmed.

Everything had happened so fast, you hadn’t had the time to process it. You needed something to ground you, to ease you after your endorphins had peaked. And he had left.

Putting you in isolation at literally the worst moment. If you didn’t call someone, you’d vomit.

While your bedroom was a few steps from your spot, it felt a world away. Your feet lugged against the floor, heavy as lead, and you dove nose-first into your sheets. Fetching your charged flip-phone from under your pillow, you unplugged it. Pressing it to your ear after dialling the only person you could think of.

Toby.

The tone cycled three times, then it clicked. A voice crackling through the other side when you exhaled. “H-hello?” Salt had already brimmed under your lids, and you sadly puffed. “Tobes, please tell me you can come over.” The quake in your words made him straighten up immediately, gathering his coat.

“Yeah- yeah, of course. W-what happened?”

“Like- ugh. Just hurry, please.”

The conversation was swift, and you hung up once he’d told you he’d started walking. Time flies when you’re spiralling on the brink, you suppose- because your bedroom door swung open in a flash.

Toby, out of breath, stood at the entryway. And the second he digested your state, he jumped to your side. Frantically rolling you over while you sniffled. You were pitiful when you reached for him, and he didn’t hesitate to sink into your embrace. His arms slipped under your back, with his body on you like a weighted blanket.

He was attempting to stay calm- but holy shit. The first red flag was that your door was unlocked, the second being the blood on almost everything. Then, when he’d gotten to you, you looked like this.

Mind racing a mile a minute, the brunette mumbled into your hair as you sagged into him. “Talk to me, pidgy. You’re s-scaring me here.” A weak jab at humour, and you sighed. “You have to promise not to freak out.” Quietly, your hands curling around his sweater.

Okay, now he was definitely freaking out. All the signs pointed to an obvious conclusion, one that he prayed wouldn’t be correct. Though he nodded anyway, waiting for you to continue.

“... I ran into Jack, he was sick- I think. I don’t know, I brought him home. I was trying to help and then-” Toby pulled back instantly, cutting in with a disbelieving huff. Eyes wild. “What?” You freeze, backtracking to explain, but he was already set in his wrath. Cupping your face, he stared at you unblinking.

A simmering rage and disgust swam behind his pupils, grip steady. “It’s okay- you’re okay. I’ll take c-care of it, alright? I’ll kill him, I’ll f-fucking kill him- I promise. He’s not gonna’ touch you, I s-swear he’s never gonna’ f-fucking touch you again.” His forehead rested on yours, and you shook your head. Tugging at his sleeve gently,

“No- Toby, it wasn’t like that-”

“Listen, okay? It-it wasn’t your f-fault, you don’t have to lie for him. I’ll take care o-of it, I’ll figure s-suh-something out. You can drop things off outside, I’ll wait for you-”

“Toby.”

You planted your palms against his cheeks firmly. “I know it... seems bad. But I promise he didn’t do anything I didn’t want him to.” The confession made him pause, speculation strong in his gaze. Toby was stagnant for a moment, then he hummed. “... You can tell me anything, you k-know that right?” Still distrustful when you fixed a lock of hair behind his ear.

“I know. If anything ever happened, I’d tell you first.” His narrowed eyes softened a tad at that, and his shoulders eased. “Okay. So, what...?” Waiting for you to explain, the boy dropped his head back onto your collar.

You let your sight drift to the ceiling, exhaling. “It’s- ugh. It’s like every time I see him, something happens, and he runs. None of this is normal, but I still... I don’t know. I still like him, Tobes. And it feels like he either can’t stand being around me or he’s all over me. Everything or nothing- I just want to talk.” Finishing your tangent with a tired shrug, he was at a crossroads.

On one hand, he didn’t like the idea of you getting mixed up with Jack at all. On the other, he knew you too well to ask you not to. You were determined, hard-headed, and way too believing. Seeing the best in everyone, even when you shouldn’t. Toby hated that about you as much as he loved you for it.

Jack was a one-off. Unique in how he carried himself down to the very fabric of his existence. He was hard to read, difficult to understand. A singularity in lifeforms. It’s not that Toby didn’t trust your judgment; it was that he didn’t have complete faith in the cannibal's intentions. He wasn’t even aware the guy was capable of  things like romance, let alone wanting it.

Muttering into the hollow of your shoulder, “Why him?” He sighed, and you lamented for a bit. Playing with the strings of his hoodie, then your voice flooded the fragile silence.

“I thought he was cool when we met- it sounds stupid outloud, I know. But he’s not as bad as everyone says he is, and he saved me. I went to get food earlier, and there were wolves- you should’ve seen him, Toby. He literally threw himself at me to get them off. They bit him everywhere, and he fought them to keep me safe.”

You knew that if he really didn’t care, he would’ve turned a blind eye. It was a hassle, and it’d been apparent he was already in bad shape. Jack had chosen to put himself at risk anyway. Even before that, he’d always done everything with consideration, no matter how little it seemed to be.

Giving you a colourful bandage over a plain one because he thought you’d like it more. Apologizing when he hadn’t warned you of the alcohol swab. Catching you when you tripped. Actively choosing to make things easier for you, just because.

Continuing to spill your heart out, Toby listened intently. “It’s so messy right now, and maybe he never wants to see me again- but I wanna’ fix this. I’ll have to keep interacting with him anyway, I don’t need it to be super tense, you know? And if you were in the woods earlier, you would’ve done the same thing- ‘cause you’re reckless and you don’t think when you panic-”

The mock scold had him snorting mutely, but he remained still nonetheless. “I know you don’t trust him- but if you were cursed, I’d still love you. Even if you got scary sometimes, you’d still be Toby. You’re my best friend, but you literally kill people in cold blood daily. He’s in the same spot, and I can’t hate him for being like you.”

Your confession weighed on him heavily, and he groaned. You were right in a sense; he was technically being hypocritical, it’s just that he’d never done harm to you. Yet he understood that the fact had a high possibility of not ringing true if you hadn’t met him the way you did. If things were different, he could’ve done much worse.

Toby expired begrudgingly, giving you a slight nod. “You h-have the worst taste in men, though. Like, s-shit, you couldn’t have gone for a business guy or s-suh-something?” Teasing, you smacked his arm. “Ew, Tobes. You want me to date a finance bro?”

“God forbid I want y-you to have a stable home life.”

“It wouldn’t be a home in the first place if there weren’t people like you in it.”

You always say sappy things he doesn’t know how to handle. Not meaning you wanted serial killers in your house, but that you didn’t view them as just killers. Your friends- simply individuals who were stuck. While he didn’t exactly agree, you had yelled at him way too many times for him to vocalize that.

With your spirits lightened, you circled your arms around his neck. Rubbing your cheek against his. You reminded him of a cat, and he laughed. The atmosphere was much brighter than when he’d initially arrived, a full minute of solace before he chimed up. “Okay, but let me get t-the whole story. You ran into him, then you took him home and...”

Head lifted by a fraction, the brunette raised his brows once, lips pursed. Squinting at you and insinuating exactly what you thought he was. You rolled your eyes in response, pressing your lips into a line. It was so hard to be serious around Toby at times. The topic wasn’t funny in nature, but his phrasing and mannerisms always got to you.

The guy who ran around like a maniac, hatchets in hand- was the same boy who couldn’t use “sex” in a sentence without giggling.

Who would’ve guessed, huh?

You stifled a snort, tying his sweater’s draw-cords into a bow. “Okay, TMI- but it was kind of crazy, not gonna’ lie. Literally growled when I was on the floor, Tobes. He got... weird after though. I think he thought I wasn’t into it; he patched me up and sprinted. Apologized a bunch, too.” Perplexed as you toyed with the strings further, Toby clicked his tongue.

“Mm, I mean- did y-you guys talk after? Maybe he got freaked out. S’not like he g-gets around.”

“I wanted to, but he ran before I could even say anything. And I’m stopping by tomorrow so he can check the stitches. I just don’t want it to be awkward.”

Catching him up, you laid out the details. Everything from how it started to the things Jack had said prior to the event. You ended the information with a beaten groan, making him chuckle quietly. He still didn’t love the idea of you with EJ, but it wasn’t up to him.

You were your own person, plenty capable of deciding things for yourself. All he could do was stand by your side. Keeping you safe, supporting you to the best of his ability. The conversation stretched on for about another hour before his phone buzzed in his backpocket. An alert that told him he needed to return, and he gave you a sheepish smile. “Duty calls,” you supposed.

Collecting his things, you walked Toby to the front, waving him off. Then you flung your body straight into the shower. The leftover muck of the day felt gross, and a thorough scrub was overdue. Swiftly slathering your frame with soap, the water tinted with red. Washing away all your turmoil down the drain.

You finished your routine efficiently, stepping onto the tile in a towel. In the midst of your skin-care when you heard a clatter from your bedroom. The wooden floors were cold under your feet while you peered from the bathroom door.

The flip phone. Earlier, when you dialled your companion, you’d haphazardly thrown the device onto your nightstand. It appeared that the notification ping had knocked it onto the ground, and you bent to grab it.

[ Incoming Call From: ERROR101001 ] ✚ One New Message :101001011

A couple of years ago, this would’ve unnerved you. However, you’d seen too much, and the caller ID could only belong to one person.

Ben, for whatever reason, had texted you. The guy was nosy, probably contacting you to pry. Your thumb slid across the keyboard, the metal smooth as you read the screen. “DETAILS. DETAILS NOWWW.” Quirking a brow at his message. Toby wouldn’t have said anything, and Jack definitely didn’t- so how the hell did he find out?

⊹₊⟡⋆  . ₊˚ ☎︎₊˚✧ ⊹₊⟡⋆

[ ⭑.ᐟ : Istg if you were listening through my phone, I’ll actually find a way to delete you. ]

[ Elf: NO. Omfg u actually think I’m a freak. Toby came back and didn’t look like he wanted to murder EJ walking past the basement. SPILLLL ]

[ ⭑.ᐟ : You piss me off so bad. GET HOBBIES. ]

[ Elf: Pause- adding you to a gc. Give me a sec ]

He ignored the fact that you hadn’t acknowledged his request in the slightest, and you got another alert. Ben had stayed true to his word, attaching your number to a text chain. A groupchat with four other people. Wow, you wonder who in the world they were.

Giving up, you went back to your bedtime schedule. Sitting at your vanity, and opening your moisturizer. You multitasked, switching between replying and patting the cream onto your cheeks.

[ Clown: Ben told us you had big BIG NEWS !!!!!!! ]

[ Elf: I yapped mb ]

[ ⭑.ᐟ : How r u guys so evil yet so easily bored. Aren’t you supposed to be brooding and scary?? ]

[ Nina <3: Not all the time, and that’s only Jeff :p now tell ussssss plspls ]

[ Stabby: fck u ]

[ ⭑.ᐟ : Okay like. He saved me from a pack of wolves, and I lowk brought him home... ]

[ Elf: AYO???????????? PAUUUSSSEEEE ]

⬩➤ Multiple people are typing...

[ Nina<3: WAITTT ARE YOU SRS??? ]

[ Elf: THE DEETS MAILMAN. ]

[ Stabby: stting up rn wtf  ]

[ ⭑.ᐟ : I already told Toby, but it’s kinda TMI ]

[ Clown: You told Tobias ? I thought you said that he’d be against it ?? :^O ]

[ ⭑.ᐟ : I called him after. I was crashing out icl- it was so messy ]

╰┈➤ˎˊ˗ Replying to ⭑.ᐟ - [ Nina<3: Noooo why r u ok :((( ]

[ ⭑.ᐟ : I’m fine <//3 it’s just like ]

[ ⭑.ᐟ : Ugh. ]

[ Elf: I will start seizing rn istg STOP EDGING US BRO ]

[ Elf: Actually 1 sec ]

Elf added “Tobes :)” from your contacts ->

[ Stabby: sht might as well add masky atp ]

[ Elf: That’d be funny asf if he wouldn’t shoot all of us for it. NOW SPILL. ]

[ Tobes :): WHAT THE FUCK. HOW LONG HAVE U BEEN TALKING TO THESE PEOPLE???? ]

[ ⭑.ᐟ : THEY BROKE INTO MY HOUSE ITS NOT MY FAULT. ]

[ Elf: THAT ISNT IMPORTANT EVERYONE STFU ]

[ Stabby: lol ]

[ ⭑.ᐟ : Making it short idc. Okay he saved me and then he came over and we did thingshsgsui ]

[ ⭑.ᐟ : AND THEN HE RAN OFF. IDK IT WAS UGHHHHH. ]

[ Nina<3: Still not over the fact that he saved you T-T omggg I’m screamingg AHHH that’s so goals ]

╰┈➤ˎˊ˗ Replying to ⭑.ᐟ - [ Stabby: ej ran? ]

[ ⭑.ᐟ : Yeah. ]

[ Stabby: he prbly has a fcking complex ]

[ Stabby: got too real or smth. doubt its bc of u ]

[ Elf: Hello?? Who even r u rn?? ]

[ Nina<3: Jeff r u possessed ]

[ Stabby: stfu. ]

[ Stabby: im js saying it wdnt b surprising if he got weird ]

[ Stabby: ur a civi. ur soft n the mf eats ppl. he prbly got in his head ab it n fcked off ]

[ Elf: Holy shit. Having a gf gave you a brain. ]

[ Stabby: ill snuff u tf out ]

⬩➤ Multiple people are typing...

⊹₊⟡⋆ . ₊˚ ☎︎₊˚✧ ⊹₊⟡⋆

Despite the forming headache, Jeff’s words stuck with you. You already knew Jack was most likely at odds with himself about everything, but having someone who saw him daily confirm that made it click.

It would’ve been unimaginably lonely to live all your years at a distance. Always being careful because you never knew if ‘too close’ was only an arm's length away. Fearing a snap in physiology that could overtake you at any second, you’d flinch at touch. Craving it to the point of insanity, only to wail and wither as if it had burned you.

Jack kept you at a distance when he could, as a security measure. Not for his peace, but for your safety. Every time he’d crossed that threshold, you had gotten hurt, therefore reinforcing his bias. He left you assuming you wanted him gone. That was his apology; he thought the solitude was what you wished for, what you needed.

A gift to you after all he’d done. Made of sorrow and stitched from ruth.

With newfound clarity, you inhaled deeply. Mentally preparing for tomorrow's climate. It’d be uncomfortable, maybe tense and definitely stressful. Yet it needed to be done, to be said. You were going to talk to him, really talk to him.

No beating around the bush or avoiding the subject. You refused to exist in a limbo for all of the foreseeable future just because of miscommunication.

There was no time like the present.

Or whatever people said.

ᯓ★

➽──────────────❥

You’d been restless since dawn.

Going through the motions on autopilot, you were nervous at best and nauseous at worst. The journey to the manor was done through muscle memory, the ambience settling hushed as you marched. As if the trees were holding their breath.

The sun had set about an hour ago, and by the time you reached the infamous porch, the crickets sang loudly. You closed your eyes at the door, steadying yourself before you knocked. Then your knuckles rapped against the heavy oak, and you heard the lock click from inside. Metal rattling, the door cracked open a sliver, the gap widening when he recognized you.

“Where’s yer’ package?” A cigarette hung from between his teeth, and he gave you a once-over. It wasn’t harsh or suspicious; the man spoke like he was genuinely curious. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him not smoking. The leaves rustled behind you, and you rocked on your heels. “I-uh, I got hurt last time, Jack told me to visit for a check-up.”

“S’that right?”

“Mhm.”

He squinted at you, eyes narrowing for a second, before he stepped aside. However, as you passed him, he tutted. “You eat yet?” The question left you confounded, and you turned to him. Brows raised, “... I had breakfast..?” You replied carefully, unsure of his intentions.

‘Masky’, you were guessing, was the person who’d let you in on most deliveries. He never interacted with you much otherwise, and his abrupt curiosity was jarring. The man appeared decent enough; this was just random. Yet he didn’t stop there. Pausing like he was registering your answer, he shoved his hand into his pocket.

A puff of smoke curled into the air when he pulled out a granola bar.

The wrapper was a little crinkled, and he held it to you. Face still blank while he grunted. “Here.” Masky dropped the snack into your palm, then his fingers went to his lips. Snagging the cigarette. Another cloud of fog wafted out, and your confusion built. Maybe it was dumb, but you asked nonetheless.

“Why are you giving me this?”

“You questionin’ me?”

His glare was sharp, cut-throat like glass- making you shoot up. “No!” Said too quickly, though he remained unbothered. Scowl fading before he gave you a stiff nod. He shifted to the entrance, another figure joining his side. A guy in a muted yellow hoodie, with a knitted black mask tugged down to his neck. The gun-slinger looked over his shoulder, and you felt his gaze on you.

Preparing to leave on what you assumed was a mission, he adjusted the rifle over his body. Rasping, “Don’t die, an’ you better finish that.” Nudging his head at the bar in your hand. Then the pair exited swiftly, the door swinging shut behind them.

They were basically strangers, yet you felt as if you’d been scolded for not taking better care of yourself. The word “Dads” flashed through your mind unconsentually, and you shook it off. Continuing down the hall, the rickety floorboards creaked under your feet.

Your boots dragged with anxiety in every step. This was it; there was no more room for aversion, no more time to waste.

You ran through what you’d say and began your descent. Entering the lab, Jack was exactly where you’d thought he’d be. Nestled in the corner, surrounded by clutter, he busied himself. Glancing up upon your arrival. He stood carefully, evidently tense in your presence. “Your check-up.” It wasn’t a question; he knew why you were here.

Knew that there was a hefty barrier between you two.

An unspoken stalemate, before he gathered his med-kit. Walking over to the medical table, you did the same. Meeting him in the middle. Your heft was braced by your hands when you leaned on the surface, and he started preparing the tools. Lying the needles and sterile gauze on the steel, you puffed through your nose.

His body language was rigid, overly aware of the distance to your form. He worked on the very edge of the counter, his mask tilted to the floor. You couldn’t do this anymore. It had stretched on too long, leaving you stressed for days, nights- months. Every encounter always passed you by, never acknowledged, and you were tired. Over it.

“Why’d you run?”

Three words, yet he froze dead in his tracks. Braced as if you’d shot him. “... It wasn’t safe.” The ‘for you’ was unsaid, then he returned to his task, clearly not intending to expand further. See, you were a pretty level-headed person, but his avoidance struck a nerve. He had left you, abandoned you, always too caught up to hear anything you said. A constant push and pull that exhausted your patience.

If he wasn’t going to address it, you would. “So that’s it? We’re just going to pretend it didn't happen?” An accusation that carried a world of weight, making him drop the instruments. His posture was stiff, fists balled by his side, when he spoke.

“There is nothing I can say to erase what I’ve done, and even if you don’t trust me, I assure you this visit will be swift. I’ll change your wrappings, it won’t take-”

“You’re not listening to me.”

You interrupted him, pushing off the table. “You act like you can’t stand being near me, and then you pin me to the fucking floor. You saved my life, shoved your tongue down my throat and left, Jack.” You threw your arm into the air, exasperated. The hurt in your voice had him gritting his teeth, and he snapped. “You think I don’t know that?-”

Stepping back, he dragged a claw down his face. “You think I wouldn’t give anything to undo what happened that day? Wouldn’t give anything to rid you of the disgusting things I did to you- but I can’t.” Flinging his hand down, his shoulders heaved, lip curling up behind the mask. “I’m not asking you to take it back, I’m asking you to listen.” You argued with frustration. He wasn’t getting the point.

“You’re allergic to me one second- then you’re all over me. You came over, used me just to fucking leave. I just wanted to help-”

“And I told you not to. I warned you. I begged you to stay away, yet you refused. And now you’re stuck in a room with a monster who—”

Jack cut himself off, clamping his jaw shut. He couldn’t bring himself to say it, too cowardly to confess it outloud. Absolutely scum. The cannibal drew an unsteady breath, uttering quietly. “I know what I’ve done. I know you were scared. I know you despise me, and you have every right to. There’s no excuse I could give to make you forget, but I’m- I’m sorry.”

The silence was suffocating, and you swallowed. His guilt must be eating him alive- it wasn’t like that at all. One foot in front of the other, you moved towards him. Holding your hand out when he shuffled away, his back connecting with the wall. “I don’t hate you. I just wanted you to stay.” You dropped your arm and clutched it to your chest. Standing in front of him as the gap tightened between you.

“What are you-?”

“Jack.”

You said his name softly, a singular aching syllable that knocked the air from his lungs. Reaching for his wrist, you tugged it over your heart. Cradling it before lacing your fingers together. “You kissed me until I was dizzy and wouldn’t look at me after. You can’t be surprised I was upset.” You pressed yourself flush, bringing his large palm to cup your face.

Nuzzling into his touch, “I’m not scared of you. I like you, and when you held me, it felt so good.” You mumbled, and his cadence shook. Yet he didn’t recoil. “You don’t know what you’re doing- you have no idea what you’re asking for.”

Deny, deny, deny- still, his pulse quickened nonetheless. You were so close. Eyes swimming with nothing but want.

“I almost killed you- I’m dangerous, why can’t you understand that?” A warning with little grounding, his resolve was splintering like glass, and you could tell. Stretching to his mask, your thumb hooked under the edge of it. Pushing it up gently while you sighed. “You also saved me, again and again. You kept me safe.” He was terribly weak- selfish, a fatal flaw amongst all his mastery.  

“You’ll break. I’ll ruin you- the damage will be irreversible, and I won’t be able to fix you.”

“Then make me someone new.”

The mask clatters to cement, and his lips molded against yours. Claws gliding up your waist while he forced you back. It was a straight zero to one-hundred, and you felt him everywhere. Grabbing at your hips, pulling you deeper into him as your spine collided with the table. The cold steel sent shivers through your body, making you gasp.

With your mouth agape, he took the opportunity. Slipping his tongues past your lips. It was atonement, reverence, and possession in physical form. You ran your hands up his chest, squeezing the muscle. Jack’s brawn had never gone unnoticed, but now you were drowning in it. Given the freedom to touch and taste without obstacles.

He broke the kiss with a huff, a ribbon of saliva glinting between you. “You will bleed, and it will hurt.” Grunting, then he hoisted you onto the counter. The denim of your jeans didn’t stand a chance. His talons snagged the waistband, yanking down and splitting the fabric clean in half. Your pants were at your ankles by the time he dropped to his knees.

The cannibal fell so fast it sounded like it hurt, bone slamming into concrete- yet he didn’t react. Instead, he hauled you forward. Forcing your thighs wide when he tore your panties with his canines. He dove in nose-first, and you screamed.

Slurping lewdly, he was nowhere short of ravenous. Latching onto your clit and swirling into your hole. He didn’t let you adjust or prepare in the slightest. And the groan that reverberated from his ribs had you whining out. Jack was eating you like a madman. Devouring you with an insatiable appetite. “Fuck-” He lapped at your pooling slick.

Your head spun, completely overwhelmed by the pleasure. It was so much, and he wasn’t easing his pace. Tongues thrusting in and out mercilessly of your cunt. They reached deep, worming frantically inside your tunnel while you convulsed. “J-Jack- ah, wait.” You gave his forehead a flimsy shove, tangling your grip in his hair. “Please-”

He responded by swiftly sinking his teeth into your inner thigh. Piercing flesh, the taste that flooded his palette made his lids flutter shut. You were always so sweet, decadent and rich. Something to be served on velvet and gold under mosaics.

The bite marks spilled a dark red. Dripping down your leg, the second he unfastened from you. His claws had punctured skin, and they cut in more and more with each jolt. The pain had you dizzy as your gaze flicked to him. Jack’s muzzle was drenched in your arousal, your blood smearing the metal. He looked every bit of the monster they’d told you about- and your eyes rolled back.

Mewling when his nose knocked against the sensitive bud, your shoulders bowed. “S’too deep- ngh. Please, I can’t-” The tips of his tongues were driving into your cervix, making you see stars. He gulped, “You begged me like a whore, and you will take what I give you.” Snarling, his talons suddenly fastened onto your hips.

Heaving you off the polished surface, he flipped you. Your tits pressing to the metal while he prys you open. The sensation of his tongues at this angle had you choking. “Holy shit- haah-” Gasping for air pitifully. It was humiliating like this.

He had dug his thumbs into your folds, spreading you when he began rocking you onto his mouth. The cannibal was literally fucking you with the muscles. Three inky tendrils that slithered and expanded inside your pussy. They slipped back and forth, making your canal squelch loudly. You were so exposed, borderline put on display by his grip.

Jack was straight up making out with your cunt. Slobbering, licking at every inch of skin you offered. And you wailed upon feeling his incisors puncture the fat of your ass.

A deep wound above his hold on you. Tiny droplets of scarlet bubbled along the pattern, mixing with his spit as he feasted. It was as if he were trying to consume you whole.

Leaving his signature in your flesh, signing his name off by the edge of his canines. A labour under moonlight, in the thrum of flourescents and the heat of fever. If you wanted him, then you’d have him in his entirety. Take and take until there was nothing left of you both- because this wasn’t sex. It was a welded brand that would condemn you as sick as he was.

If you wanted to be remade, then he’d strip your bones clean.

Estacy overspilled in your gut, and you came. “Jack- Jack.” White knuckling the steel ledge. He ran his tongue along his teeth after pulling back, watching you tremble with fascination.

You were bleeding, scraped up from head to toe- yet you had the stupidity to peer at him. Asking for more, like you wouldn’t be torn apart in the process. Like there wasn’t a chance you’d lose your life for the sake of lust. A glutton for punishment. A deer that had skinned its own meat for a starving wolf. Your ankle was caught in a bear trap, and you did nothing but reach for the hunter.

Your release poured out between your shaking legs. Puddling on the floor when he wrapped your hair around his fingers. He ripped you off the table and forced you to your knees. Making you clumsily steady yourself, your palms flat on the cement, before you looked up.

Over you, Jack unfastened his belt. The buckle jostling, clinking mutely- he grunted. “Open, courier.” Grasping your chin, the other tugging down his boxers. He was big. Inhumanly sized, his cock hung heavily in front of you. Flushed at the tip, with a vein running down the underside. He stroked himself once, lining up with your lips, huffing.

You had no idea how the hell that was going to fit. Fear contorting your expression, he settled his free hand on your windpipe. Squeezing faintly as you dropped your jaw.

He was warm against your tongue, and you gave the head a kitten lick. “Look at you, pleading to be debased like some mutt in heat. A brainless pet begging for scraps. You’re pathetic.” Sneering, then he pushed your head forward. His girth was almost painful.

It stretched your mouth to the brink of capacity, making your jaw ache around him. You gagged from the intrusion, and he bucked his hips. Bullying the length further down your throat while tears gathered at your lashes. The cannibal moved his grasp from your neck into your hair. Twisting the strands harshly and yanking at your scalp.

The pace he set was brutal. Mercilessly thrusting without giving you reprieve. He was using you as a sleeve, a toy without thought or agency.

Your hands scrambled for purchase, latching onto the front of his slacks. You choked; he was only about halfway in, and your lungs were already burning. Cheeks stuffed full, his pre-cum bubbled obscenely. Forming a gluey ring around his cock. “Gods-” He droned, letting his head fall back. You stared as he swallowed, his adams apple bobbing.

The view could last you for decades. Sweat beaded down the columns of his throat, shoulders broad and heaving. With his hair in disarray, he was a vision fit for your most debauched fantasies. It had you clenching on nothing, and your thighs twitched. He was so mean, fucking your mouth ruthlessly- wet plaps resonated through the basement.

He gazed at you half-lidded, pulling out, just to slap his dick on your face. Depraved, when you lapped at his balls. He grabbed himself, tapping it across your skin. His seed dribbling onto your features. Arousal and possession curled in his stomach along with disgust. You were being tainted, corrupted by his own hands with a smile.

It was such a wretched, diseased gratification. Satisfying him like rot to maggots. Jack was death with a pulse. A relentless hunger that ruined and devastated. Yet you worshipped him as if he were salvation. Deliverance from something wicked, someone you deemed a saviour. If you were deluded, then he was vile.

Because he let you stay. Let you touch and moan and weep. Allowed you to degrade yourself to this. An animal with a warm mouth and inviting cunt. Grovelling at his feet, crying for his cock like a whore.

Lip curling up cruelly, he taunted you. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? Are you proud?” Shoving his boots between your thighs, he jerked your head back. Blood-soaked leather against your throbbing clit while you whined. It had your hips jolting, and your blissed-out expression made him grit his teeth.

“Humping my leg like you can’t help yourself. Stick out your tongue, dog.”

You followed his demand, obediently letting your jaw go slack. Drool gathering in the cavern- he spat harshly into your mouth, and when you swallowed, he scoffed. “I could crush your airways right now, and you’d use your last breath to thank me.” Then he slammed past your lips, immovable snare on your crown. You gagged violently.

Squirming from the pressure on your sopping pussy, and the fullness of your throat. You hiccuped with your nose buried in his happy trail. Salt streaming down your cheeks as he built his rhythm. You went limp, slumping into him with your spine arched. Each thrust had your body lurching in place, causing you to grind onto his boot.

“Fuck. That’s it- hah- keep it in-” Your esophagus was so wet, convulsing tight enough to have him shuddering. Roped muscle tensing when he rutted forward over and over. Brows furrowed in concentration. The pleasure had him fucking high. Submission was trust. Blind faith that he wouldn’t accidentally crack your skull open in the rush.

It was everything he’d ever wanted and everything he despised you for all at once.

Your surrender of mind and body sent him over the edge- and he flooded your mouth. Groaning lowly, while his cum pumped deeper. His grasp finally loosened, allowing you to tumble onto your haunches with a cough. Desperately trying to find your bearings, he tasted like thick syrup. A musky laquer that coated your tongue.

You lapped at his still leaking tip, gulping the leftover arousal. Pornographic, before Jack wrenched you up by the throat. Caging you beneath him after borderline tossing you onto the counter. Your back crashed into the chilled steel, and he threw your jeans to the side. Hiking your legs to your chest- “Wait! I want- I want to see you.” The meek stutter interrupted him, making him freeze.

Lying almost completely bare, you sniffled. Eyes glassy as you gestured to his sweater. “Please?” Beautiful prey, far too docile to be where you were. He reacted by snagging the back of his hood, ripping it over his head briskly. Now uncovered from the hips up, your leer drifted over his torso.

The scars littered his abdomen, tiny healed slashes leading from his Adonis belt to the curve of his pecs. They dotted up his frame, with freckles dispersed along the divots like stone. He was sculpted in the same way as statues in Rome were. Devastingly breathtaking.

He leaned forward, stationing between your legs as his hair shadowed his sockets. The cannibal was pretty. Perspiration dripping down his clenched jaw, lashes fluttering. A sacrilege of the natural law, yet you cradled his face anyway. He always loathed his reflection, couldn’t stand the sight of it- and here you were. Touching him like you wanted to, like he was something radiant.

Too gentle, too fond, you brought him closer. Brushing his nose against yours with intimacy he never deserved. Kissing him softly while he remained unmoving. It was overwhelming, and he flinched away as if you’d burned him. Wrestling your wrists above your head, his grip was bruising when he aligned with your cunt.

Jack paused, chuffing in thought- he grabbed a clean rag. Meant for blotting wounds, it had been cast aside, hanging off the table's ledge until now. He raised it to your lips. “Bite.” A single syllable, and the second your teeth met cotton, he returned his claw down south. Pushing the head inside without warning.

Your spine arched off the metal like you’d been struck by lightning. The bolt seized through your body, weaving into your blood, scorching your marrow, and forcing your ribs open. A harvest of the soul, reanimated like Frankenstein’s monster by Jack’s design alone. There was no going back. You had been altered to the very cell.

Wailing through the fabric, he grunted over you. Slowly feeding his length into your cunt, it was an ungodly stretch. Making you writhe helplessly, it felt like he was tearing you in half. You sobbed, and he sheathed to the hilt. Pitching over, while your vision blurred. He began rocking into you. Shallow thrusts that thumped against your cervix.

You tremored pathetically, you were too full, and you swore he was hitting your lungs. Stuffed to the brim, gorged beyond your limits. You snivelled, your eyes couldn’t focus- you couldn’t even think. Head lolling to the side with your ears packed with cotton. Your limbs went slack, and you jolted with every snap of his hips.

Letting out muffled “Mmph- mmph- mmph-”s. The searing pain had dulled to a simmer. Overtaken by a building decadence. It coiled in your womb. Engulfing you from the bottom of your feet to the base of your skull. He had torn your entrance, and the pale red blended with your slick.

Your ankles hooked behind his back, pressing him flush. You spat out the towel, “Wanna’ kiss- please. Ngh- so d-deep.” Mewling when he grinded into your sweet spot. You were a mess, ruined under him. Hair splayed on the metal with lacerations covering you.

Despicable as it was, the sight had him purring. You were a lamb ripe for the picking, lewd enough to make him salivate. Completely and undeniably his.

The baritone rumbled in his chest, sonorous as he dipped to your face. His mouth slotted against yours, making you moan into him. With his body bent to the new angle, his pelvis mashed into your clit- absolutely mind-numbing. “Ah- Jack.” It was spoken like a prayer, and he burrowed his head into the hollow of your shoulder.

His lust, his need, betrayed his principle. He lapped at your collar, sinking his canines in roughly as you screamed. Bite after bite, tear after tear. Jack was eating you alive, claiming you from the inside out. You wanted this, you begged him for this. So you would reap what you sow.

Releasing your wrists, the purple had already begun blooming. The hues decorating your flesh while he huffed. Driving his shaft balls deep. “Look at me, messenger-” Though your eyes refused to focus, and his patience waned. Running thin- he gripped your jaw. “You can’t even speak, can you? All it takes is my cock for you to become a drooling addict-”

Jack rolled his hips forward, the table creaking from the force. He continued. “Does it excite you knowing I’ve dissected bodies exactly where you are? Does it thrill you that I could snap your neck like nothing? Rip you limb from limb while you scream- does that make you wet?” Pounding into your weeping pussy as he snarled.

He was abusing your hole, splitting you open roughly, and your pupils blew wide. Rolling up into your skull. “Oh- ngh, god-” The cannibal hoisted your leg up, hooking it onto his shoulder before he crowded you. “Letting a monster fill your cunt like some depraved prostitute- pathetic.” His talons wrapped around your neck, pinning you in place.

The pace was unsparing, fucking you with abandon. You pawed at his forearm, and your view was speckled with black. The room had begun spinning. “Jack- can’t breathe. P-please, I can’t-” Yet his palm stayed firm, squeezing your airways without remorse. Your head was buzzing, your lungs burning from the lack of oxygen.

Pleasure and pain, pleasure and pain. You supposed it was inseparable to him, following him like a second skin. From the beginning, you already knew this was a risk. So this must have been fate.

Dying to him the way they’d warned you about. The way he’d promised it would end. A tragedy in the making, bound by grief and longing.

However, there was a whisper that told you he wouldn’t press harder. Maybe you were naive, but something about the anguish in his gaze made you believe it. His hold wasn’t one of malice; it was a test to himself. To prove something unspoken.

Your hand slipped, and you stared up at him. Admiring his features, the ripples of his body that were caused by exertion. Even though you were on the brink of passing out, it was still pleasant.

The deep drags of his cock sent waves of ecstasy through you, and you sighed quietly. “S’good- feels so good.” Slurring with your tongue heavy. You hoped that if this all went down in flames, he would remember you. A fleeting moment in his endless years. A time long ago, when an anxious courier had thought of him as something more.

Then, he suddenly yanked his claws from your throat, and you gasped. Inhaling deeply, he eased his rhythm to a halt. The look on his face was the definition of horrified.

His hand quivered near your neck for a second, then he slammed it onto the table. His nails flaying the steel open in grooves. “Fight.” Sneering, with desperation shaking his voice. Jack bracketed your form, trapping you beneath him when he roared. “Fight. Scream- yell for help-” His tone was exasperated, disgusted by his own actions and your acceptance.

“Hit me- do something- anything. I could have killed you. You would’ve died in this fucking basement under me-”

“I didn’t think you would.”

Reaching up, you cupped his jaw. The lacklustre strength made him sick, and you smoothed your thumb over his skin. “You didn’t think- you bet your life on a concept. Do you have any idea how idiotic that is? If I held on for even a minute longer, your brain would have begun shutting down. I would’ve violated you, then turned you into a fucking corpse.” He spat, lip curling up, and your reply had him scoffing.

“But you didn’t.” You sounded so sure. So absolute in your resolve- in your faith in him. It confused him as much as it angered him.

“You keep trying to convince me you’re this terrible beast, when you’re not. Every time you’ve done something, you break down. I know you’re not cruel. You just pretend you are because you think you have to be.”

He grit his teeth, letting his head sag to avoid your eyes. He stared at the center of your ribs, sockets flickering over the bruises and cuts. “Your belief in me is foolish. You should hate me.” Muttering with disdain, you raised his head, your palms on his cheeks. “But I don’t.” You whispered carefully. Searching his face and far too patient.

“You’ll get hurt.”

“We have Band-Aids.”

“It’ll ruin you. I’ll leave you starved.”

“Then I’ll come to you full.”

Your trust was agonizing. A string garden, woven together with glass thread, and devotion so pure it could only be born of something wrong. He drew a measured breath, resting his forehead on yours. “You make this more difficult than it has to be.” And you hummed, "Not if you stay.” Kissing him slowly, you took your time.

With your lips fitting together, you could pinpoint exactly when he gave in. A jar too full, each colourful marble hits the glass until it stacks to the top. The weight of it makes the container lean toward the edge of the shelf. You ran your fingers through his hair, unravelling the knots. Whining softly when his hips pull back.

Jack rutted into you, the base of him grinding onto your clit. He angled his maw to the right, savouring you without rush. The jar inches closer to the ledge, sliding a fraction. His tempo was painstakingly tender, and the warmth of it drowned you. “Ah- c-can feel you in my stomach.” You clawed at his shoulders, lids drooping.

A muted clink, and the thing sways a bit. He nuzzles your throat, rasping a defeated chuckle. “I should’ve warned you. Forgive me, little dove.” The petname has you swooning, making you cling to him. Pupils dilated when he pecked the corner of your mouth. The glass balances by a hair's breadth.

Your cunt twitches around him, plush and velvet-like. His jaw fell slack as he built speed. Hand sliding into yours before he entwines your fingers on the table. A sharp thrust, and your lips part, forming an O while your spine lifts. It topples over, shattering on the floor with the beads scattering vibrantly. “Please-” Slurring, he soothes you, affection bleeding in.

“I know, I’m here.” His cock pulsed inside your tunnel. Throbbing with need when you clenched down. He hissed, giving your smaller palm a squeeze. His claws were digging into the steel, an attempt not to harm you more than he already had. The metal below you fogged, and you tugged at his scalp. “Ngh- so good. You make me feel so s’good.” Your praise sent him reeling.

The med-bay was silent aside from your hushed moans and the sticky sound of skin on skin. Bodies moving in tandem, he thrusted in again and again. Picking up the pace with a grunt. “You don’t know what you do to me.” Then he hauled you off the surface. Bracing you by the waist, his talons dug into your ass. Reclining to full height when he started bouncing you.

Jack moved you like you were weightless. Unearthly strength that he used to sink you up and down. The added gravity had him knocking into your cervix, forcing pitchy moans to echo off the walls. He panted, “You have no idea how many times- haah fuck- I’ve thought of filling you-” Bucking up into your pussy, you left wet kisses along his jaw.

He was so fucking deep, a dizzying stretch, and your eyes crossed. Repeating his name like scripture while you came. The slick gushed out of you messily, drenching his abs and thighs. “So sensitive.” He cooed, fucking you through your orgasm. Following close behind when he slammed you onto his cock, once, twice more, before he spilled hotly.

Painting your insides white with a groan, he stepped across the room. Tugging you off, then twisting you to face the wall. His length slid back in instantly, and you arched into him. Spine forming a semi-circle as he snapped his hips forward.

The squelch of your cunt was embarrassingly loud, yet it did nothing but fuel his appetence. He grabbed your waist as leverage, jerking your frame to meet his rhythm. The friction of his balls slapping against your puffy bud made you collapse into cement, and you mewled. “Ah- ah- hah-” Drooling with your tongue lolling out of your mouth.

Your feet were lifted off the ground by his hold. On your toes, when he breaches your entrance to the hilt. The impact of his thrusts rippled through you. Pelting into the smooth surface under your palms and rattling the shelves. All his equipment, his tools and apparatus- clanked together. The glass clashing before whipping off the ledge.

The once pristine lab was an utter mess. Claw marks streaked the wall, dented into metal with blood trailing the floors. A ritual sight, where he bound you to him by essence and matter. Drawing release after release, splitting you in half until your pussy took his shape. Until your body would remember him by touch alone.

In the dead of night, when you were blind, lost at sea. When the North Star had failed to guide you, and your heart was shrieking with fear. You would call for—

“Jack!”

A gasp that made him zero in on your connection. His length was drenched, glistening with your arousal. It pumped in and out repeatedly, pummelling past the tight ring of muscle. Your hole had been overstuffed, oozing his seed with every plough. Obscenely pouring down your legs, gathering in a sticky puddle by his boots. He scrunched his lids shut.

Beating your cunt like he was mad at it, he splurted inside you. “Good girl.” Rumbling low enough to send you over the edge. You convulsed, crying out when he stilled. However, your peace was short-lived- because the man immediately spun you around.

Snagging your thigh in a large talon, he hauled the limb up. Hooking your knee over the crook of his elbow, then steadying you by the hip. He nudged in balls deep, and you sobbed. Nerve endings on fire while your other leg was basically dead weight. You scratched at his biceps, leaving shallow streaks. “Too much- I can’t think-”

Your blunt nails dug into grey, and he struck your sweet spot with a sniper's accuracy. Hammering into your bloated tummy over and over. You thought you were going to explode.

It was so much, devouring your senses like a wildfire. Every vein, every ridge, and pulse of his cock dragged against your walls as he continued to plunge. You could feel it all, oversensitive to hell and back. Jack was unyielding, tunnel-visioned on making sure it stuck. The pent-up need had possessed him; he wanted your mind rewritten.

Snarl akin to an animal- he grinded harshly. Baring teeth. “You’re mine.” His claw clamped down hard enough to bruise. “Mine to break-” The lines in his neck tensed, shoulders heaving. “Mine to corrupt-” You shuddered; his engorged cockhead was smearing too deeply. Fitting snug with no room to even breathe. “Mine to breed.” He drove his hips forward, and you saw white.

The cannibal bent had you in tears for hours on hours. Bending you in every position possible, he fucked you in ways you could barely comprehend.

Folding you over the table again, locking you in place with a heavy palm on your spine. He pounded you from the back, leaving welts on the fat of your ass. “Begging for more when you’re bleeding from the stretch. Where’s your dignity, courier?” Kicking your stance wider when you moaned.

He hung you upside down. Tongues expanding, guzzling your squirting cunt. He held you with a hand gripping your thigh and the other on your head. “Don’t pass out- you want to impress me, don’t you? Give me something worth keeping.” Using your throat while you clutched desperately at his legs, your ears ringing.

Then, Jack took you on the floor. Pelvis thwacking against your folds as you hiccuped. “Uh- uh- s’too good- ‘m gonna’ die-” He snickered, cruel and mocking. “What a mouthy lamb, I have.” Spearing you on his girth, you raked your nails down his back. Clawing his flesh, thrashing vigorously. He healed you like a saint and fucked you like the morning star.

You could barely move by the time he was done. Limbs buzzing with exhaustion, and your head heavier than tungsten. He hissed upon slipping out, meticulous of your state. “Apologies, I should have been more wary of your limits.” Mumbling quietly, his arms cocooned your limp form. Uprooting you from the concrete.

He carried you past the curtain near the back of the basement. Padding to the small washroom, you were gently placed on the bathtub's ledge. “I don’t think I can walk.” Teasing him while he stripped both of you. He shook his head in response, guilty. “You will be sore tomorrow, but I have ointments for your wounds.” The shower was turned on, and he helped you in.

It felt good under the spray, the warm water easing the sting. You circled your hold around his middle, and he hummed. Carefully washing the grime from your skin after discarding the old bandages. “Pretty romantic for a guy who supposedly hates touching.” You joked, resting your chin on his pec.

It seemed to fluster him, making his pointed ears tint with blue. “Enough.” An almost-pout, and he grabbed the shower head behind you, rinsing the cuts on your back. If you were a better person, you’d leave it at that. Let the poor man rest after all that turmoil. Alas, you weren’t, so you snorted instead.

“This better mean we’re official- ‘cause I don’t do one-night stands.”

“How you have the energy to be coy is beyond me.”

Monotone, yet the way he kissed your damp forehead after told you enough. He cleaned your bodies swiftly, finishing the task with medical precision. You were dried off with a fluffy towel, he’d left the room to bring you a new one and everything. Then he patched you up as promised. Transporting you between the med-bay and his sleeping area efficiently.

A solid twenty-minutes later, you were settled against his pillows. Watching him rummage around before you reached for him. “Cuddle.” Demanding with grabby hands, he agreed despite himself. “Are you thirsty?” Taking a seat next to you. He’d dressed you in an old T-shirt, covering your bottoms with the smallest pair of boxers he owned.

Low-hanging sweats at his hips, he was bare from the waist up, and you crawled onto him. Perched on his lap. “A little, but you didn’t answer me earlier.” You slumped forward, arms around his neck. It made him sigh. “You’re the strangest human I’ve ever met.” Tracing shapes onto your thighs, his hesitation wasn’t unnoticed.

Even if he was cautious for the rest of your days, there was still a risk. A danger that came with being around him. Though you were insistent on your view of him, refusing to back down.

“You bit me and said I was yours. Specifically, that I was yours to break, yours to breed-” And he threw an arm over his eyes. “Oh, gods.”

Post-nut clarity had hit him, the embarrassment kicking in quickly. You giggled. “No- no, it was hot, I liked it. Jack-” The groan he let out resonated through the entire room, and he dragged his claw over his face. Peering at you from between his fingers. “I got... carried away.” Cringing while you pecked his knuckles.

“Did you mean it? Like- y’know.” His hand descended, then he cupped your cheek. Memorizing your features, the vulnerability in your gaze- he exhaled as if he’d made a life or death decision. “Yes, I did.” A confession that fractured him more than you’d ever know, and you pressed your lips to his. Parting from him after a second.

You were determined to rid him of any excess worry. Your plan of action? Tooth-rotting affection. It was the obvious choice; he was right there. Completely unguarded, appearing very boyfriend material, you couldn’t not.

It started with a kiss to his nose, one to his jaw, then another to his brow. You trailed all over his face, leaving no stone unturned. And when you pulled back, Jack looked dazed. Sockets drooping, with an undeniable amour to his expression. “Mm.” He grumbled mutely, shying away by burrowing his head into your shoulder.

For someone so big, he curled into you like he was tiny. Clinging to you, he slid his palms under your shirt, sniffing a little. The closeness was addictive, and he basked in it.

Enjoying your scent, your warmth and intimacy. One achingly soft- saccharine moment of solace, before you spoke.

“I know you like the way I smell-”

“I beg of you.”

ᯓ★

➽──────────────❥

The aged wood creaked beneath his feet.

After you’d persuaded him to snuggle with you a bit longer, he ascended the lab stairs. Not bothering to throw on a shirt since it was nearly four in the morning.

While the proxies didn’t have good sleeping schedules by any means, they were always cooped up in their rooms. It should’ve been a brisk trip to fetch you water.

Emphasis on should’ve

Because just as he filled the glass, with the tap sputtering to life- a tell-tale snap sounded from behind him. Followed by a bright flash and a hushed “Oh my god.” He turned to see exactly who he thought he’d see. Ben.

Standing in plaid pyjama pants at the kitchen entrance, he had a palm slapped over his mouth, phone in hand. “Is she alive?” He stared at the cannibal with astonishment, flipping the phone around.

There, on the screen, was a picture of Jack. His back was covered in scratches, from the divots of his shoulders to his triceps.

However, much to the other resident’s dismay, he showed no reaction. “She’s fine.” Bluntly stated, before he shut off the faucet. Walking past him, the elf clicked his tongue. “We kinda’ thought it was over for all of us when you were down there- but I mean! Like- shit, congrats.”

Giving him an awkward thumbs up, it was evident that Jack’s presence still had him on edge, and he scurried off in a blink.

Though the interaction had been mundane, expected even, his words stuck. Just what in the world was Ben talking about?

ᯓ★

➽──────────────❥

Earlier ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ✉︎ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ -> ->

Approximately 9:45 PM Central Eastern Time.

They had gathered in the main room to lounge. Snacking on whatever they could find and putting on something interesting to watch- when suddenly, a force shuddered the manor. It rattled the ceiling beams, making dust waft into the air.

“The fuck?” Jeff mumbled, mid-chew, with his hand wrist deep in a chip bag. Spinning a blade with the other.

The group brushed it off as house noises, only for another bang to reverberate through the floors. Then another, and another, and another—

Toby, Masky and Hoodie had been sent on a job. So it couldn’t be the brunette trashing a room, Tim testing a new gun, or Brian fixing his truck. The next obvious choice would be LJ, except he was sitting in the love seat. There was no one else, and the boss was definitely not the answer.

The proxies were at a standstill, shooting each other curious looks, before Nina shot up. “Wait! Isn’t the messenger getting a check-up?”

A beat of silence as her words sank in, and the group erupted in scandalized gasps. The snack had fallen from Jeff’s lap, with LJ bordering a screech. “Oh heavens! You don’t think-?”

Ben replied aghast. “I mean, I knew they had tension, but holy shit- the whole house?” His tone made Jeff cackle, and he slammed his knife into the chair’s arm.

“Genuinely praying for her fucking pussy. Have you seen the guy? He’s gonna’ kill ‘er whether he wants to or not at this rate.” Immediately pulling out his phone to text his mysterious lover, Nina's eyes were bright.

“Ugh, their size difference.” Sighing wistfully, she clutched her hands to her chest while Ben scoffed in disbelief. “’Kay, this is great and all- but isn’t she human?-” Getting cut off by a loud crash coming from the basement.

It sounded like EJ and their messenger were either having the most insane sex to ever happen, or you were fighting for your life.

Nina hummed, freezing for a second, then huffing. “... Okay, but he’s in love with her. You literally said that!” To which the elf refuted with a passionate, “Bro- I want them to work. It’s just that EJ’s stroke game is about to collapse our house. Our house, Nina.” Exasperatedly throwing up his hands, she crossed her arms.

“You’re a fake shipper.”

“I am not! I’m literally the only reason you know about them-”

“Shit, what if he actually takes her out? Death by dick is fucked up.”

“Well, I’m choosing to believe our medic is simply a very, very passionate lover—”

➽──────────────❥

➽──────────────❥

His father was also a doctor, while his mother stayed at home (the laws back then Yada Yada.) They did love him though, and he was raised pretty well/respectful considering the times.

The cult incident was not his dad’s fault, but religion ruled their town. Religious psychosis got to Jack’s father a bit, and he wasn’t exactly in the right state of mind. If he was, he probably would’ve stopped EJ from hanging with the cult members.

They weren’t considered outcasts by the town because they kept their real beliefs hidden. Most of it was just the usual teachings, albeit askew, so no one batted an eye until way after the sacrifices got out of hand. But by then it was too late.

Jack was their “final” vessel. All of the other victims failed to host their god, and he was their last hope. Yet it worked in all the wrong ways. While the entity they summoned did come forth, it got bonded to Jack’s soul instead of devouring it entirely.

The demons power was fed by malice and devotion. Greed and hunger. In that moment, Jack was consumed by his rage.

His resentment and hatred for the ones around him synced with the appetite of his possessor, and his resistance was so intense it became a driving force- therefore “saving” his sanity.

The sacrifice was meant to turn Jack into a host, but since his soul fought back, it turned him into a cage. With nowhere to go, the consciousness’s of both him and the summoned became one.

It’s Jack’s heart and mind with the starvation and strength of something otherworldly. His mental state and logic remain unchanged, which is why he’s always the most “stable” of the creeps.

He grew up in a loving home. He had no prior issues regarding personal life and coping mechanisms. It was literally just a freak accident that made him into what he is.

However, despite his circumstances, he adapted decently overtime. His upbringing was peaceful but it’s good to remember when he was born. Things were strict, the world was very cruel to anyone “different.”

His mom and dad tried their best, yet their principles were products of their time. Their love was felt, but it was still objectively conditional in a lot of ways. And that’s not mentioning the roles he’d been forced into since birth because of the nature of their town.

There is a certain freedom that comes with being what he is. A freedom that would never have been available to him if he stayed human. So he does appreciate that aspect even if he loathes the others.

Jack was considered a prodigy, and expected to surpass his father in the field. He loves knowledge and learning the intricacies of the human body along with its psychology. Being immortal is very convenient when evolution is never ending.

That’s why he knows so many languages. I don’t really talk about it often, but in Sweet Meat, he calls reader Latin nicknames since that was one of the first dialects he became fluent in.

His age is also why he’s the most aware and strict about being respectful to civilians overall. I always throw in Jack’s moral compass in drabbles, but he’ll literally lecture Jeff if he says something distasteful about women.

Jack has seen how people deemed lesser than get treated by people who would clasp him on the shoulder fondly. Those interactions stuck with him, and he analyzed them more and more as time went on.

The years have taught him to pay extra attention to how he carries himself- man-eater or not, his principles are drilled into him. He doesn’t take pleasure in scaring people or consuming flesh, and he’ll go out of his way to eat sleazy men if he sees them.

There have been many nights when he’d already had his fill, but he noticed some girl getting followed. He’ll drag the guy into the trees before she even realizes there’s a threat and save the meat for later after dismembering him.

Jack hates anyone unnecessarily cruel and people who aren’t aware of their privilege/where they stand in the world. He’s been alive too long, seen too much to simply brush it off.

His eye genuinely starts twitching if he overhears someone badmouthing their partner for no reason or if they’re being plain ignorant.

TLDR: Cannibal maybe, so woke he’s raising the dead, definitely.