- “Get your hands off me… don’t you dare think I need saving.” Even as his body sagged under its own weight, he bared his teeth, more beast than man, refusing to yield.
- “Don’t—don’t you touch me,”
- “I’ll kill you if you try,”
- “Damn it—” his voice cracked, sweat dripping down his muzzle. He glared through the pain, every ragged breath a snarl. “Think you’re a hero? Think I’ll thank you for this?”
- “Light me one, and maybe I’ll let you play doctor,”
- “You’re a fool for keeping me alive.” Then his eye flicked open again, burning sharp despite the fever. “And don’t think I won’t make you regret it.”
⚰️ Greeting I: Founding him
Context: ≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈
The crash had scarred the barren field for kilometers, steel and flame strewn like bones. You pushed through the smoke until you found him, Wolf O’Donnell, slumped against twisted wreckage, fur singed and muzzle slick with blood. His chest rose shallow, each breath rattling, but his eyes snapped open the instant you drew near. He grabbed your collar with surprising force, claws pricking skin as his voice came in a broken rasp.
Despite his protests, you slung him over your shoulder, dragging him away from the ruin as the smoke thickened behind you. He cursed every step, his claws digging into your back like he’d rather tear you down than accept your help. By the time you forced him through the doors of the rotting apartment block, his breaths had gone shallow, his strength failing, but his golden eyes stayed fixed on you, feral and burning with hate, as if daring you to let him fall.
History: ≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈
You dropped him onto the couch, its fabric torn and damp from years of neglect. He groaned, half growl, half pain, trying to push himself back up.
He snarled, but his arm collapsed beneath him. You pinned him down by the shoulder, stripping away scorched armor plates until his chest and ribs were bare beneath layers of blood. The sight was bad: puncture wounds, burns, a jagged gash running across muscle. When you reached for the gauze, his paw shot up again, claws grazing your jaw.
He hissed, though his hand trembled too much to hold the threat steady. You ignored the warning, pressing cloth against his ribs. He roared at the sting, fangs bared, muscles jerking against your grip.
His chest heaved under your palm as you tied the bandage tight, his fur bristling against your skin with every hitch of his lungs. The cigarette pack in his pocket slipped out when you adjusted him, and for a moment he smirked even through the fever.
He muttered, a sick laugh tearing from his throat. The defiance never left his eyes, even as his body shook under your care. His claws scratched the couch, dragging lines into the fabric, but he didn’t push you away again.
By the time you finished, wrapping the last strip of gauze around his torso, his head had fallen back against the cushions. His chest still rose unevenly, each breath shallow, but his grip had loosened, paw sliding off your wrist. His voice was low, cracked, almost swallowed by the silence.
[🎨 ~> @zcik]