Work Text
The following work is meant for adult audiences. Dead dove do not eat.
Trigger/Content warnings for:- Rape (male on male; offscreen. Mentioned throughout the story.) Major plot point.- Sexual assault/threats of sexual assault (mentioned/implied, not shown.)- PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder)- Stress from trauma- Wounds/bodily injury from physical trauma- Blood & Gore- Anxiety- Depression- Thoughts of suicide/suicidal ideation (No actual suicide occurs.)- Self harm/thoughts of self harm (May or may not occur - appropriate chapter warning will appear when necessary.)- Cannon typical violence
Any updates or changes on content/trigger warnings will be provided on this chapter as necessary.
‼️⚠️Enjoy the story, reader discretion advised.⚠️‼️
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
He remembers it like it was yesterday: you sat atop a shabby bed in one of the many decrepit apartments now scattered across London's streets, all due to the war, the Spanish flu, and the rampant spread of vampirism. Death and decay hung in the air, making it even heavier than it already was.
Your skin was deathly pale and clammy, your half lidded gaze met with his. Concern and worry graced every inch of his face as he furrowed his brow in concentration as he examined you, his hand cupping your cheek:
“Paleness of the skin… shallow breathing… rapid pulse…” The more he listed off your symptoms the more he hated what he was seeing. You had already lost a significant but not deadly amount of blood, he’d done what best he could given the situation; you’d been shot at on the leg. Thankfully, nothing vital had been hit, that he could tell due to the blessing that was his vampiric abilities, however, all the same - he knew you wouldn’t survive long if he didn’t treat you.
“I’m sorry, Y/N…” He swallowed thickly, he knew that what he had to do next wouldn’t be easy.
“I need you to trust me-“ He spoke, holding your face in his hand as he met your unsteady gaze. “-can you do that for me?” At your nod, he gave a shaky sigh before speaking once more.
“Try and stay still for me…” He mutters, his voice low, before he slowly starts to dig into the wound to find the bullet.
His ears are met with the sounds of your screams, loud and pained - you sound like an animal being slaughtered. Despite the immense torment you’re in, you stay true to your word and remain relatively still for him, clenching your teeth so tightly together, you’re almost sure one of them will crack under pressure.
The sound of your scream sends wave after wave of guilt crashing through him. He wishes he could’ve done more to help you, to prevent this from happening but he was careless.
Just when he thought he’d managed to kill the three Priwen guards that had come after him, one managed to cling onto life just long enough after the slaughter to land one final blow. Though initially meant for him, the dying man’s aim had missed and hit you instead.
This was all his fault, everything - all of it. He’d never expected to run into anyone while he was trying to escape the clutches of Priwen, yet here you were. A weary wayward soul who was also trying to escape certain death at the hands of the local militia that hunted him down like a rabid dog. He didn’t know it initially when he first saw you but during the fight that ensued, he quickly pieced it together that you were just like him - well, almost. You were a werewolf, your movement and pattern of behavior during the fight gave the impression of an animal. What had sealed the deal for him weren't your claws or your canines, but rather the sheer strength of your jaws and the force in which you bit down, almost decapitating one of the guards with one swift bite. He knew such a feat was only feasible to those who suffered from lycanthropy; if he had once thought your kin and his were a myth, he certainly didn't anymore.
He pushes on despite your screams, his deft fingers searching through your flesh for the bullet. He knew it hadn’t exited; it was still lodged inside. Aware of the damage silver weapons could inflict on both your kinds, he worked quickly to remove it—lest you succumb to silver poisoning.
You gave a pitiful whine, “Reid-!” You warned him, body starting to shake from the effort it took to stay still.
“Almost-“ He reassured, he was close to it, he could feel it. There! He had it. With careful measured grace, he slowly pulled the bullet out from your leg, making sure not to damage you further.
When he pulls his hand away from your leg, he’s covered in blood. At first the slickness of the scarlet liquid is welcome to him as it provides a thin barrier from the silver, he knows he shouldn’t hold it in his hands as the smell of seared flesh greets his nose. The silver bullet had already begun to burn you from the inside, adding to your injury.
He chucked it to the side, hearing it land on the floor with a loud metallic clang.
Wiping his bloodied hands on his jacket, he held your face, watching you for a moment before his eyes landed on your injured leg. While you still looked pale and weak, he could already see an improvement in your health as the wound slowly began to heal on its own. Your regenerative powers hard at work.
“We… We can’t stay here…” you manage through labored pants, sweating profusely and shaking slightly - the adrenaline that was coursing through your veins would soon run dry and you would succumb to shock.
Jonathan nodded, “No, we can’t…” his mind was already running through several courses of action, though it's clear that you won't get very far in the state you’re in given your injury, he knew that he himself could escape and survive - but… he knew better than to leave you to suffer and die like this. If you were, he’d rather it be somewhere safe and away from the prying eyes of Priwen, under his care. That way, he could tell himself that he did everything he could, that your death wouldn’t be in vain.
He gently picks you up, his arms wrapping safely around you as he lifts you up and off the bloodied floor, being as careful as possible to not jostle you or cause anymore pain.
“What’re you-?”
“-I’m not leaving you here, they’ll kill you.”
“I’m only going to slow you down, leave me.”
He pauses in his movements and looks down at you, “Doctor’s orders, don’t argue with me and be quiet.”
You can’t help but silently comply, biting your lower lip as you hold on tight to his shoulders, your hands shaking more as the adrenaline continues to wear off, the first waves of pain coursing through you ever so slowly.
Arms full, he takes a step forward towards the door, his arm shifting to get a better hold from under your legs, as he opens the door.
“I’m getting us both out of here…” He whispers to you, it’s the last thing you hear as he goes mute, his sole focus on leaving the dilapidated apartment to… somewhere.. anywhere, it just had to be safer for both you and him.
He makes his way out into the hallway, looking around for a moment for any possible guards patrolling the area. He spots no one; the coast looks clear. With no signs of any guards patrolling or around, he takes the opportunity to slowly move down the hallway, his movements quiet and cautious as he starts to make his way towards the nearest exit - the roof. He knew better than to go out into the streets, the likelihood of Priwen waiting for him there was all too high, he had to take his chances with the buildings’ roofs and manage his way there with his powers.
He could only hope his plan worked.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Jonathan walked among the rooftops with bated breath, one misstep would be all it could take to send the two of you toppling downwards onto the wet blacktop streets of London. Regardless of this, he held strong as his grip on your form never wavered. There was a brief pause in his movements as he reached the end of one building’s rooftop, approaching the edge tentatively, he examined what his next approach would be.
“This building seems largely intact..” He mumbled to himself as he eyed its structure, it seemed as though it’d been spared of the German bombings - for now. Better yet, there was an entry point to the roof via a connecting access door that he could see some ways off of where he stood. He was quiet, still standing there with you in his arms as his mind lay deep in thought, however, that was soon cut short when the distant sounds of thunder could be heard. The soft wet pitter-patter of rain falling around you both.
“It’s probably best we rest inside…” He commented as he turned heel towards the access door. Although a part of him dreaded to ask just how much rest could the two of you get, would the inside of the building be littered with the corpses of this new plague? Of the war? If so, it would surely make for a distressing experience.
Just as he was ten feet away from the roof access door, it swung open with such force, Jonathan almost thought it would fly off its hinges.
“THERE HE IS!”
Priwen.
Jonathan turned around, dashing as far as the building’s edge would have him, panic quickly settling in.
The nearest building was an estimated four hundred feet away and given he is but a newly born Ekon brought back into this wretched earth no little than four hours ago, the largest distance he could cross was a measly two hundred feet at maximum. He didn’t know if this was all he could achieve permanently or if his abilities would perfect themselves given enough time.
But time was something he was quickly running out of at the moment.
He looked around, surely there was something he could use to maneuver the two of you? Just when he believed himself wrong, a nearby opportunity seemingly manifested itself to him - nearby repairs of buildings had left wooden platforms hanging attached to the corresponding buildings. The closest one had to be about a hundred feet away.
Just as Jonathan concentrated, focusing himself into a ball of mist, he suddenly felt you almost drop out of his hands. To which his body automatically recorporialized, grabbing you roughly as you almost fell.
The act was enough to give the guards a chance to strike, sending a metallic bolt whizzing through the air before it struck him on the shoulder. The tip had clearly been coated with something because he immediately could feel the sensation of burning within him, hot like fire. He cried out in pain, hand immediately flying upwards towards the contraption, not caring how the silver base burned into his palm as he practically tore it out of himself. Its jagged blade further destroying the already damaged nerve endings. When it finally came out, blood splattered onto the rooftop, the sound of metal clattering onto the ground.
“Jonathan!” You exclaimed, a pale shaking hand reaching towards him, trying to provide what little comfort you could despite the circumstances.
He ignored your comforting touch in favor of rising to his feet, he still has one usable arm and he’d be damned if this was how he’d allow himself to go out. Pulling out the old double gauge shotgun he’d managed to find on his way here, he cocked it. Aiming it straight at the youngest guard his eyes landed upon.
“I’ll take you to hell along with me.” Jonathan snarled.
He would use the last four bullets on these demented souls.
“Not if we take you first, Reid!” Shouted another.
What soon proceeded was nothing short of a blood bath, of the six guards that’d managed their way up to the rooftops, two already lay dead. Their bodies lay on the ground of the rooftop, heads split open, brain matter and blood decorating them.
Two shotgun casings lay by Jonathan’s feet and with it he could already feel himself gaining some feeling back in the injured arm, fingers twitching slightly.
The next guard held a flame thrower in his hands, Jonathan knew he couldn’t allow
him any closer, so when he saw the guard momentarily stumble backwards, he’d seen an opening and shot at the compartment holding the pressurized gas. The guard went up like a matchstick, screaming in agony as their whole body became encased in flames. They stumbled aimlessly until finally falling off the building’s ledge.
Only three remained.
Jonathan had to make his next shot count-
Just as the gun was raised, another yelp of pain tore its way out of his throat. His hand had been shot, the shotgun flying off of his grasp and over the edge, a loud bang could be heard as it misfired on the way down.
No matter, he had-
Wait… why did he suddenly feel so… fuzzy?
Was he always seeing doubles? Or..?
Jonathan had been struck by what he suspected was a tranquilizer, the world around him slowing, it seemed like he was stuck in slow motion. His movements were sluggish as he tried to turn around and say something to you but the words died upon his lips as he was struck once more by another bolt, then another. Each sending him stumbling backwards until he reached the edge and fell.
The last thing you heard was a sickening thud.