#Yandere breath of the wild

[bluesgrxce]

Yandere Link x Reader x Yandere Mipha Headcanons

Virgin Link x Reader x Zelda love triangle - Obvious ship is obvious, has been done a thousand times before, we all know the dynamic

Chad Link x Reader x Mipha love triangle - Rarely if ever explored, has more room for interpretation, involves THE superior ship of all time

I think we all know which one is better. (/j because I love the Link and Zelda triangle too)

Pretty much every yandere LOZ writer that I've seen has agreed that BOTW Link and Zelda would not be able to work together. At least not when they first met each other. And I totally agree. They're forced to spend time together nearly 24/7 by King Rhoam, which means they're also forced to share you, and that'll create tension. But Link and Mipha? They would definitely have an alliance. 

Their alliance is based on two factors. One: They share the same goal of wanting to give you the best life possible. Zelda uses you more as a coping mechanism, and even though Link does that too, he's especially focused on making sure that you're safe. Mipha desires the same, as well as making you happy. 

Two: Although Mipha is obsessed with you and priortizes your needs over Link's, she still admires him as a person. She knows how useful he can be. Link respects her as well. Not quite as much, but just enough to accept her into your life and let her help give you everything you want. 

In result, these two work together scarily well, even better than Link ever would with Zelda. They never had past resentment towards each other, and unlike Zelda who can be strongly adamant, Mipha would let Link take the lead and make big decisions.

That... isn't always a good thing. Link is willing to do anything to protect you, even if it includes doing things that would make you hate him. Mipha is aware of this, but she thinks Link is more capable of ensuring your safety than she is, so she'll likely remain silent. But that also means that they have less disagreements, making their alliance even more powerful. 

If you allow them to, they'll spoil you rotten. Mipha uses her royalty riches to purchase anything your heart desires, and Zora's Dormain is basically your playground. You've got just as much power there as she does in some ways. Because of that, this is the place where they'll keep you. 

Link is also putting in work. He'll use his skills as an adventurer to do multiple things in your name, like bringing back rare items from his travels or cooking your favorite foods. If you ever begin a sentence with "I want" then expect Mipha to drop everything just to hear you out. She'll tell Link about it and he'll run off at the speed of light to get whatever it is that you requested. 

Outside of that, the time you spend together as a group is generally quiet. They're both introverted and they would rather watch you do your own thing instead of talking all the time. Just being in your presence is enough to give them peace of mind.

Fortunately, neither are the type of yandere to keep you locked up. Not with actual chains. (Unless they believe you're in severe danger, but something insane like the calamity would have to be going on for that to happen) Link still loves to explore and he would love it even more if he could take you along on the journey. Mipha wouldn't object to that as long as you liked the idea! However, they both know that Hyrule is littered with monsters, so they're not about to let you leave without one or both of them by your side. 

If you ever argue with one, the other will try to convince you to make up with them. You'd think they'd want to turn you against them so they can steal your love, and trust me-- it's crossed both of their minds before. But this alliance has worked really well in their favor and they don't want it to fall apart so easily. 

That's not to say their alliance is perfect. Jealousy still exists in both of them, even if it hasn't been acted upon yet. And like I mentioned earlier, Link is usually the one who makes the big decisions on how to handle you, meaning that their alliance has a power imbalance. 

Plus, Link is stuck guarding Zelda most of the time. Mipha is more than fine with taking care of you by herself, but Link hates the idea of being away for too long. He'll try to convince Zelda to spend more time at Zora's Dormain to avoid getting in trouble with King Rhoam, but he's willing to sneak off if he must. 

If you're accepting, then your future is already laid out for you. It would be extremely difficult for Link to abandon his position as Zelda's knight just so he can become a normal citizen again, even after the calamity is over with. So the easiest way to get around that would be to transfer him to the Zora army instead. Except there might be issues allowing a Hylian inside their guard which is currently composed entirely of Zora... Until Mipha takes the crown and makes some changes. 

Either way, you're going to marry Mipha and be introduced into the Zora monarchy. Congratulations, you're royalty now! You're going to marry Link as well, but not officially, since some people would see it as scandalous to be in a relationship with your knight at the same time as your wife. But neither Link nor Mipha care. They know what your true feelings are and that's all that matters to them. 

But what if you don't accept them? Because as much as they spoil you, they still restrain you. You can't go anywhere alone. You can't do anything that would risk your safety, whether it's monster hunting or just going down a long set of stairs. And they're always second guessing you, especially Mipha. "Are you sure you're alright? I saw you frown for a second. Yes, it was only for a second, but you do know how I worry..."

So even if you like being with them intially, it'll get old after a while. Mipha will notice your discomfort first. She'll adjust those restrictions ever-so-slightly to make you think things have changed, when they really haven't. If you must leave Zora's Dormain without her or Link, then let a guard accompany you. If you must continue associating with that friend of yours, then tell her and Link everything about your relationship. Tell them everything about all of your relationships. They'll find who's good and who's bad for you. (Don't be surprised if they think everyone is bad.)

Link, though... Once he hears about this, he immediately shuts it down. He doesn't trust anybody to protect you but himself. And he's seething at Mipha for being so irresponsible. She's supposed to look after you, not risk letting you escape. 

Just the way that he glares at her is a silent form of gaslighting. She truly isn't fit to take care of you on her own, is she? She's too soft. She needs Link. If it weren't for him, you would have already left her.  

And now that Link has doubts about her ability to keep an eye on you, he'll enforce the rules himself. Now you can't even walk around Zora's Dormain without him by your side- when he's gone, you just stay put with Mipha. Not allowed to do anything until he returns. If you resist, he'll only make your life harder.

But you aren't totally screwed. There is one way to make their alliance fall apart: make them doubt each other. Link already doesn't trust Mipha enough anymore, so you need to manipulate Mipha into turning against Link. Usually that's impossible, but now that her confidence is low, you can appeal to her sympathetic side. Make her feel guilty for letting Link do whatever he wants to you. In this state, it won't take long before she cracks. 

Your best bet would be to trick her into thinking you want to run away together from Link. Actually taking her with you isn't an option. The Zora will go into a frenzy when their beloved princess disappears and if they find you, they'll likely blame you for convincing her to run away. 

Mipha wouldn't want to leave at first. She'd be too anxious about the consequences, knowing that she would have to abandon her father and brother. Knowing that Link would stop at nothing to take you back. She's just so obsessed with you though and she couldn't fathom the idea of you seriously tricking her. Besides, you only want to leave so you can be happy together, right?

She thought so. She really, truly believed so. But you went missing the moment she turned away to pack her stuff. Then... There was no other choice but to tell Link the truth. Because it's Mipha and she's simply not the type to lie, even if it might hurt her.

In this case, though? It isn't even a "might." Link had gotten used to being assured of your safety (or used to being in control of you) that it freaks him out once he hears you're gone. His immediate thought was to go find you, but his second is that how could he have ever trusted someone like her to protect you? He leaps to anger. He draws his sword. 

I can't say for certain what happens next. He knows how much trouble he'll get in for harming her, but in that moment, it wouldn't cross his mind. She probably wouldn't fight back much since she respects him so highly and feels awful for allowing you to take advantage of her. 

...If Mipha dies, the Zora will never forgive you. They'll be more pissed at Link obviously, but they'll blame you for indirectly causing this to happen. The whole LOZ fandom would never forgive you because we all love Mipha. I would never forgive you because I am the ultra #1 Mipha enjoyer. You might be able to live a content life if you can ignore the hatred and hide away, but just know that Link won't be the only one tracking you down. You'll be on the run for the rest of your life.

[yanderes-galore]

Mipha vs Revali using their divine beasts (BOTW) (Both romantic)

I'm honestly really excited for this one. My favorite champions.

Sure! I never actually finished BOTW but I do know the story. I wasn't sure what you meant by using their Divine Beasts... so I assumed you meant when they possess and pilot them. I apologize if something is wrong, like I said, I never got far in BOTW.

Yandere! Mipha vs Revali Concept

Pairing: Romantic - Rivalry

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Slight stalking, Overprotective behavior, Jealousy, Attempted isolation/abduction, Dubious relationship(s).

Revali picking people to rival against isn't new.

Although, picking Mipha of all people is certainly a strange pick....

Mipha is introverted and reserved, although is considered rather courageous.

She tries to assist her allies in whatever way she can, including using her healing abilities to close wounds.

She's always been a kind soul... perhaps even a romantic one.

Revali is quite the opposite.

He's arrogant and sardonic, boastful and loud about his abilities...

He hates admitting defeat and is envious of those around him, especially fellow Champions.

Although... It's said this is due to insecurity.

He may be smug... but he's vulnerable behind his barriers.

Now, the complicated thing about this request is how they know you.

The one thing that comes to mind is you befriending Link after he wakes up from his century long slumber.

Since then you have been helping him regain control of the Divine Beasts, or something similar to that.

This scenario would make you meet the Champions as spirits as you interact with their Beasts alongside Link.

Another variation of this, even if it makes less sense story-wise... You could have known the Champions when they were alive yet were sealed away for a century for one reason or another. Or maybe you're a Zora and have an extended lifespan.

It would certainly make you close with Mipha.

This leads you to travel with Link... and once again meet the Champions as spirits.

Like I said, I'm assuming since you said 'using their divine beasts', I'm guessing they're spirits.

Which means, you're going to spend a lot of time with Vah Ruta and Vah Medoh.

Maybe even after they're freed from Blight control.

After all, the spirits who pilot them would like to see you more.

Mipha, if she hasn't met you before, is curious about Link's new companion.

By the time Vah Ruta is freed by you and Link, you get to meet Mipha's spirit.

If she hasn't met you, she wants to be introduced to you.

However, if you're a Zora or somehow knew her a century ago... Mipha's brought to tears when she sees you again.

Before she went to pilot her beast, she's been close to you.

Link was her first love... but upon seeing his connection with Zelda, she turned to you.

Perhaps you've always been close to Link, Zora or not...

Mipha's happy Link has brought you back to her.

Mipha may even shyly ask if you can visit Vah Ruta often.

She knows you must help Link, in fact she encourages it.

But she wants her love to keep her company until the time to remove the Calamity arrives.

Then there's Vah Medoh, where you meet/reunite with Revali's spirit.

Revali, regardless of if you met him before or not, seems a bit antagonistic.

He doesn't particularly like that you're companions with Link.

Even less so if he's met you before and fallen for you.

Of course after he dies you go to his rival, it irritates him.

Revali is an easily jealous bird, even in spirit.

He knows it must be a pain to get to Vah Medoh... but still insists Link helps you visit from time to time until it's time to remove Calamity.

Your time visiting the Champions is... melancholic.

Since you care for them, or at least wish to honor their requests, you visit them in their beasts.

Link helps, although both Champions usually ask for privacy so they can speak with you.

When you sit on their respective beast and chat with them, the Champions retain their usual persona.

Mipha wants you to tell her all about your journey with Link.

She asks how you both are and often asks how your injuries are if you've received any.

She's attentive, even when dead...

She may be a spirit, but her love for you is as strong as ever.

Revali also asks about Link and anyone you've talked to, but it's less about being concerned for your well being.

It's more like Revali is trying to gauge if anyone else has your heart.

Even as a spirit, he's only ever vulnerable around you.

What's the point in hiding it?

No one else will hear since he's connected to Vah Medoh.

Both spirits want to be affectionate with their love... even if they can't properly feel them.

However, to go along with the idea of them using their beasts...

What if they interact with you through them?

Mipha and Revali can use all the mechanisms in their beasts.

Maybe they lock you away to a certain part of their beast, away from Link, so they can properly chat with you?

You and Link are the only company they've had in a century.

If they're obsessed with you... makes sense that they would want to keep you for extended periods.

Now, in terms of rivalry, I imagine it would occur when you mention spending time with the other Champion.

Mipha appears both intrigued and disheartened when you discuss things between you and Revali.

Revali also seems irritated when you mention Mipha, appearing to dislike you being so close to the Zora.

I assume you meant them fighting with each other using their beast... which while I can see some conflict, especially on Revali's part...

I think they know better than to attack one another while Calamity is still a threat.

Revali is definitely the instigator since I feel he gets so easily jealous.

I imagine Vah Ruta isn't as well equipped to move all the way to Vah Medoh anyways.

She wouldn't want to cause problems anyways.

Mipha loves you... but she won't go fight Revali over you.

Revali may be able to pilot Vah Medoh to hover over Vah Ruta though.

Which causes issues for both you and Link.

I imagine once the two beasts are near one another, both spirits can interact.

Which leads to you sitting through some arguments as Revali appears to be upset you're not spending enough time with him.

Meanwhile Mipha is trying to be reasonable, all while trying to get Revali back to his place.

Eventually he will once Calamity is brought up, but it does show he's quite desperate to keep your attention.

Another thing I thought of these two doing is essentially holding you hostage on their respective beast.

Which usually leads to Link trying to calm the two Champions.

If we are to assume Link summons their spirits when he calls upon them, then there's some conflict that could happen.

For example, summoning one spirit on the other's beast.

Which usually frustrates the other Champion.

Having two spirits obsess over you is bad enough...

But spirits in what amounts to war mechs? Worse.

For the most part both know not to fight over you using said beasts.

Yet when summoned for aid, they no doubt have some arguments.

Again... Revali is upset because Mipha liked Link at one point... so why can't he have you?

Link usually also ends up being antagonized since he gets more time with you.

Overall, the rivalry is mostly tame even if Revali starts fights...

Better hope they stay on track, however, the last thing you need is them using the beasts to fight one another while Ganon is still a threat.

[yandereunsolved]

☾ — Yandere Revali — ☾

"Impressive, I know. Very few can achieve a mastery of the sky. Yet I have made an art of creating an updraft that allows me to soar. It's considered to be quite the mastery of aerial techniques, even among the Rito."

"Hmm?"

"W-Were you not watching my feat of aerial mastery?"

"Sorry, Revali! I got distracted by one of the other Rito."

"Oh? What was this 'gracious' Rito speaking to you about? Was it that much more important than me?"

"It's nothing like that! I just got offered to be taught a few archery techniques. The Great Eagle Bow you gave me should be put to good use!"

What...? Some moronic half-cocked Rito is trying to teach you the thing I am greatest at? They're trying to teach my dear, my darling, my dove. How dare they.

"Ugh—such a betrayal. If you really want to learn something, then be taught by the master. Thousands have asked to receive my teachings, and I have turned every single one of them down. Yet, I extend my wing to you so you don't look so pathetic with that graceful bow on your back. Do you accept?"

"I kind of already made a promise that I'd go practice with them. You're really busy anyway. You have all that champion stuff you have to do. I wouldn't want to be a bother."

It seems like that Rito is about to have a flying accident. It'll be such a pity that they accidentally broke their wings and plummeted towards the ground. Their body will be barely recognizable. A pity. Such a pity.

"Nonsense. I could not allow my Hylian visitor to look like a fool in my village.However, if you already promised, it would be disrespectful of me to try and twist your word. Just take one of my feathers, will you? As good luck for your practice."

"Thank you for being understanding. It's such a kind gesture."

A gesture that you are mine. Such a silly Hylian. You don't know how courting is in Rito culture. Keeping that feather on you means that you are my new mate; you have accepted me. I hope that twat sees my feather in your hair before I kill him. 

"I am nothing if not generous." my love

( @sunset-peril @sixofcrowley )

[devotion-disorder]

this may be a dumb question but are Kuuya and Noel (I think that's the pink haired guys name) in the same universe as the elves?

I'd say for now that Kuuya/Noel and the elves (and other fantasy-race characters) are not in the same universe! Kuuya/Noel exists in modern times while the elves in the typical fantasy medieval-ish period? i don't know enough about history to say for sure!

i have kind of toyed with various ideas for the universe in which Kuuya/Noel exists in since rn it is basically just a "vanilla" setting; like maybe yandere-ism is some kind of genetic evolutionary defect, or what if yandere's have become completely normalized in modern existence (which leads to interesting ideas like - mandated yandere identification? special areas with warnings of high yandere populations?) but im not sure if any of these will really come to fruition. for now i kind of still enjoy the classic appeal that yanderes are just kind of...disparate anomalies in and of themselves in contrast to the normalcy of everything. it's all still up in the air though. who knows!

[dia-oro]

The best way to stop a fight internally in the group is at readers hand, imagine a clash of opinions very loudly between two links and reader just… “ok, Ok! Let’s agreed to disagreed in this one, you’re are all Babigirls so stop this Now” and just like that…. Both man just stop working. one time with twilight and sky you call them ‘malewife’ and just… two hours of both suffering a Error 404, two weeks later they are “sorry I gutted that thief that try kidnapping you… I’m still your malewife ?? 🥺🥺”

wind is having his best life there teasing his big brothers there.

[frickingnerd]

you'll grow to love me

pairing: zelda x gn!reader

summary: princess zelda has had her eyes on you for a while now and finally decides to make you her own. by force.

tags: botw!princess zelda, yandere zelda, dangerous / murderous yandere, royal!reader, death (of reader's guards)

“don't be scared. i don't want to hurt you.”

an angelic smile rested on the lips of the princess of hyrule, as she slowly approached you. she looked carefree, as she strode through the throne room, filled with countless of your loyal men, killed by the princess’ guards.

“stay away.” you shouted out a warning, hastily prying a sword from the cold hands of one of your guards and pointing it towards the princess. yet even from far away, she could see your hands shaking.

“you don't have it in you to kill someone.” zelda hummed softly, taking another step forward, yet more carefully this time. “you're a good person. that's exactly why i fell in love with you. and why i need to have you…”

“you know…” zelda mused quietly, as she approached you further, while you were still frozen in place, unable to make a move. “these people didn't know that you belonged to me, so i had to get rid of them. they tried to take you away from me! i had to do something! it's a shame they couldn't just settle this peacefully…”

as she spoke, zelda kept stepping towards you, until she was close enough to rest her hand on the blade in your hands. you flinched, but instead of taking the blade out of your hands, zelda positioned herself in front of it and smiled at you innocently.

“you can kill me right now.” she suggest, with an ease that makes it sound like she didn't just tell you to kill her. “or… you can come with me. you can learn to love me.” she paused and sighed. “this doesn't have to end in more bloodshed.”

zelda watched amused, seeing the gears in your head turn. you were clearly considering her proposal. she knew you were too pure to harm anyone, even a monster like her.

“i'll do it…” you eventually whispered out defeated. you couldn't even look her in the eyes as you spoke, so zelda softly rested a hand on your cheek and made you look at her.

“you made the right decision.” she assured you with a sweet smile. “and you will grow to love me back. i just know it.”

[spicyicetea]

My Forest spirit

A legend of Zelda BOTW/TOTK Yandere x Reader. This is obviously cannon divergent. Fem!Y/N is short and Curvy in this, and is often described with long hair. This story will contain NSFW!scenes, violence and profanity. MDNI

Next Chapter

Chapter 1: My knight in shinning armour

“Yahaha you found me!” A little Korok laughed as I stared down at him.

My ears twitched excitedly as it jumped up into my arms. The little forest spirits loved me. They always have. I grew up in this forest after my mother left me here. The clothes on my back are woven from fronds the Koroks brought me and I just ran around barefoot. I’ve only ever seen anyone like me once. He wore a cloak and was muttering about stopping the “princess” whatever that means.

A group of Koroks ran past my legs as the shaking of maracas grew closer. Their behaviour startled me, they shouldn’t fear Hestu… they’re a close friend of all of us.

“Sister Y/N! There are people, we must hide!”

I was dragged behind a tree as Hestu’s humming grew louder. Strange clacking noises grew closer, as well as other voices.

“I can’t believe you of all people will wield the Master Sword!”

“Revali ease up on Link, he’s a wonderful knight to me!” A feminine voice called back.

My eyes widened at the voices! No one ever enters the forest, what are they here for? What is a… Master Sword? I watched from behind the tree and the silent man in the middle of the group glanced in my direction. My large frond mask was still covering my face, so I scurried behind the tree with the other Koroks. They continued further into the forest and I ran between trees to watch them. As they approached the centre of the forest, I realised what they had come for, the strange thing in the ground. So that’s what it’s called, the Master Sword.

The silent one stepped forward and grabbed the hilt of the ancient blade. He grunted in pain as he pulled it up out of the ground and held it above his head proudly. I watched him from atop a tree, eyes wide and excited. Based off of Hestu’s cheers, this must be an amazing accomplishment. I should cheer too.

I clapped excitedly as the Koroks beside me seemed confused but then joined me in celebration. The group gasped and looked up to where we were, drawing these strange objects from their backs. Hestu gasped and ran in front of them.

“NO NO! Weapons down, you can’t hurt Sister Y/N!”

Weapons? My eyes widened beneath the mask as I slid to be hidden by the leaves. One of the women step forward, her tan skin and deep crimson hair complimented by the deep green of the Forrest. She placed her curved blade on the floor and held her hands up beside her head.

“Please don’t run dear, we had no idea you were friend not foe. The war has everyone incredibly stressed.”

“War?” I mutter, poking my head out of the leaves.

Hestu looks up at me and laughs gesturing for me to jump down. I slid off of the tree and landed on the stone beside Hestu. They shake their maracas happily as I smile at them beneath my mask. The woman who had spoken to me seemed shocked, I’m unsure why though.

“Ah… my apologies for staring, that was rude. My name is Urbosa, I’m assuming you’re Y/N.”

I nod as a few Koroks come and stand beside my legs, watching the group closely and protectively.

“This is Sister Y/N! She’s a spirit of the forest like the Koroks and I!” Hestu happily said.

“Sister? She’s clearly not anything like you all! She looks like your average Hylian!” The strange bird person yelled.

The large man behind him slapped him on the back. He winced but stayed quiet as the blonde woman stepped forward.

“I’m so sorry for us startling you Y/N. We had to retrieve the Master Sword to help win the war against Ganon. Do you… live here? What are you wearing?”

“Fronds.”

“Ah, so you do speak. I suppose you’re like Link then, he only speaks around his friends.”

“Link?”

“Yes, he’s my knight, the one with the Master Sword.”

“Master… I used to..”

“Did you guard the sword?” She asked.

“No, I used to use the zappies it made to start my campfires! How am I meant to start fires now?” I frown, jabbing the man beside her.

He just pulled a strange rock from his pocket and place it in my hand. I raised a brow and he pulled out a second, striking it against the stone on the floor and lighting a stick on fire nearby.

“Whoa! Pocket campfire! Fair trade fair trade!” I hold the rock in my hand in wonder, removing my mask to get a better look at it.

The man before me just stared straight at my face before grabbing my wrist.

“Huh? You can’t have it back, it was a trade!”

He just grunted and pulled me up off the ground and held me over his shoulder. One hand held the Master Sword while the other rested on the bump of my behind. The breeze ran right through me as his hand rhythmically squeezed. Is this how people interact? The Koroks don’t really have hands… maybe it’s to make sure I wouldn’t fall.

“Link! That’s inappropriate!”

“Hyaa!” He began to run, his grip becoming tighter as began to slip and held him in fear.

“LINK!”

“SISTER Y/N! Awww, maybe it’s good she sees the outside world, look after her.” Hestu sighed.

“Of course, we will,” Urbosa answered. Running to catch up with the others who were chasing Link.

New Yandere gained, Link.

Hey look at you, you managed to capture the knights heart! Now time for some facts about your new Yandere. (basically head cannons)

It's no surprise that Link is incredibly protective over you, he would let Zelda die if it meant he could ensure your safety.

He's also very physically affectionate. He must always have at least one hand on you and when he hasn't for a long time... He tends to get very handsy.

He gives you plenty of kisses the moment that people stop looking. If he feels like someone is moving in on his “territory” he will just begin groping you from behind until they get the message.

[yanderelinkeduniverse]

Hey I’ve got something in the works for Halloween but it’s probably going to be late, so it’s going to be more like a mid-November thing. But I’ll at least whip up some tasty art because you guys deserve something nice for the holiday.

Anyways, in the meantime I wanted to share a line of thought I’ve had for a while about Wild’s memories and his attitude towards both himself and Flora.

It’s kind of an analysis/speculation type of thing where I look at the memories in “Breath of the Wild” and see how these memories could have affected Wild’s current mental state in the actual comic, so not explicitly yandere.

All art belongs to Jojo!

So first things first, something that I’m sure a lot of people have pointed out is that Link’s memories in Botw aren’t actually about him so much as they are about Zelda.

From a writing standpoint, this at least makes a little sense since Zelda is supposed to be an important character in the game and since she’s currently preoccupied with keeping Calamity Ganon at bay, using the memories to explore her character is a reasonable thing to do.

But from an in universe perspective, this doesn’t feel very fair to Link. We rarely get to see events from his perspective and instead see things from the perspective of Zelda or some other character. Plus, we get no memories that truly focus on Link himself before he became Zelda’s personal knight. Anything we do know about Link is derived from comments characters make(like Zelda mentioning Link’s father) or diary entries.

Logically, this would all make Link kind of alienated from his past self, a stranger to this “Him” he used to be.

And we know that Link only ever regains memories of the Princess and not of himself, because when Zelda talks to him after he regains the final memory, she says this:

Note how she says “of us” and not just “all your memories from 100 years ago.” So there aren’t any little gaps in between shown memories where Link collects memories beyond the time he was with Zelda, at least none that exist beyond headcanons.

Anyways, I want to talk a little about Urbosa because for as well meaning as she may have been, I think some of the things she says in two memories in particular relate pretty heavily to Wild’s self esteem in the comic.

There’s two things she says in particular that I think would’ve stuck with Link — and thus — Wild.

The first one is this:

We don’t know what order Wild collected his slate memories in the comic, but if we assume that he decides to collect them in the order of which photos came first on the slate then what Urbosa says would most likely affect Wild heavily.

He’s basically got no solid self image of himself or especially not the self he was 100 years prior. So one of the first things he learns about himself being that he was “a living reminder of Zelda’s own failures” when he goes on to recover more and more memories relating to Zelda and her failures just feels like unintentional set up for Link to develop some more self loathing issues.

But being fair to Urbosa, she is basically Zelda’s surrogate mother and by this point has known Link for maybe a day or two. She’s not obligated to worry about him. Plus at the very least she does add on that this is how the Princess sees him, not what he actually is.

The second comment from Urbosa is this:

Prefacing this with saying, again, Urbosa does clarify that Link doesn’t hold any blame for the way Zelda sees him at this point, so good on her for that.

But still this is almost the exact same sentiment being repeated, Link’s own struggles are ignored in favor of focusing on how his success is interpreted as Zelda’s failure. Even if Urbosa adds on that this isn’t his fault it’s just how Zelda is, from Link’s perspective that’s got to leave some kind of impact on him. Perhaps guilt?

So to summarize, because of the selection of memories we know Link collects in canon, it’s logical to assume that Link’s view of himself in the present and from a hundred years ago would be rather negative.

And this perfectly reflects how Wild acts in the comic.

I don’t know about you but to me Wild has always had a particularly toxic view of himself from 100 years ago. He barely sees his past self as himself, instead calling that past iteration “Him” like he’s talking about a separate person. And he’s always given me the vibes of both resenting his past self while simultaneously wanting to be him again.

The way he talks about his past self being capable of feats he could never see himself doing shows that Wild in part seems to see his current self as “lesser than” his past self, especially when it comes to how the Master Sword responded to him at different points in his life. So it’s not a stretch to say that Wild may want to “be” that person again, especially since we see him use the sword at least one time.

But because of his perceived “failure” and possibly how he made Flora feel, he also resents the gifted prodigy he once was, not seeing that he was and has always been a human person with his own struggles.

Anyways this is sloppy and messy but I wanted to get this off my chest because I think it’s really interesting.

[ridingthatd]

yandere! gojo. x fem! reader

very smutty, pervert satoru, a lot of cum, sex sleep kink.

satoru was panting like a filthy dog in heat- i mean he basically was with the way his fat leaking cock was twitching against his pants, begging to be let out his steaming hot breath fills the room, his wet tongue peaking out to coat his dry lips with spit.

satoru already stopped the time with his ability, he was just standing near the edge of your bed examining your sleeping body with a wide smile on his face. he promised himself he wouldn't do this- but he can't hold back anymore, he can't hold back his itching cock that was calling for you.

he was no better than a dog.

"you feel so-so warm", gojo whinned through his sobs and hiccups as he humps your soft unmoving body. his mind went blank as soon as he touched, " I can't stop! I can't stop!", he sobs out as his red sensitive cock violently rut against you.

he trembles, cock heavy, wet and incredibly sensitive. he was getting over simulated, he can't believe what he's doing right now. his eyes widen, mouth hanged open as a string of drool hang down his lip. he can't believe how fucked up and filthy he is humping your sleeping body.

"so good! sooo goood! my fat cock is so needy- ahhhh! I'm sorry I couldn't hold back- please, leme cum- leme cum! please please!" muffled pleas drowning as he salivated above you. eyes wild with lust, his hips jerking hard. he whining on top of you, rubbing his cock until it hurt. his teeth clenched in his jaw, and ropes of milky cum spilled from his flushed tip.

"ahh, fuck- no, no!" he cried, trembling through his pathetic orgasm as threads of cum splatter all over you. he rocked into you desperately, shaking through an orgasm as keeps rutting his cock. it doesn't stop- it was so much, so much that satoru started sobbing from how much his cock was hurting.

it felt like it was on fire, he need something cold, something wet- his eyes flew open as they trail from your body to your mouth. gojo immediately stands up and shove his fat cock into your wet mouth, growling as soon as he feels his red tip making contact with your tongue. rocking his cock back and forth on it, trying to cool it off.

he was fucked.

[luv-lock]

ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤSHARING IS CARINGㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Yandere Dick Grayson x Wayne Reader x Yandere Jason Todd

☆⁠ SYNOPSIS : They Aren't Really Good At Sharing Things. But One Thing That They Both Can Agree On Is That They Like Fucking You.

☆⁠ WARNING : MINOR DNI, straight up smut, threesome, stepcest.

☆⁠ NOTES : Reader is female as usual. English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

The Batcave smells like sweat, blood, and sex—raw and dirty, the kind of stench that clings to the walls and stains the mats beneath you. You’re fucked-out already, sprawled ass-up on the grimy training floor, caught between Dick and Jason like some twisted prize they’ve been clawing at for hours.

Dick’s got you pinned, his moral bullshit long gone, just a snarling, sweat-drenched man with his cock buried balls-deep in your cunt. His hands are bruising your hips, fingers digging in so hard you’ll feel the marks for days, and he’s growling against your neck, all that golden-boy charm fucked into oblivion. “Jason, you’re fucking her too hard,” he snaps, voice ragged, his thrusts sloppy as he tries to keep some shred of control. But he’s lying—he’s just as brutal, slamming into you like he’s trying to carve his name into your goddamn soul.

Behind you, Jason’s massive hands gripping your waist like a vice as he rams into you from the other end, his dick stretching your ass so wide it burns in the best fucking way. “She’s a big girl, Dickie,” he snarls, voice dripping with venom and lust, his breath hot and damp against your ear. “She can take my cock—look at her, fuckin’ drooling for it.” He yanks your hair back, forcing your face up from the mats, and you whimper, spit trailing down your chin, your body shaking under the onslaught.

“Fuck, I don’t wanna break her,” Dick grits out, but his hips don’t stop, pounding into your dripping pussy with wet, obscene slaps that echo through the cave. He’s a mess—hair plastered to his forehead, sweat rolling down his chest, eyes wild as he watches where he’s splitting you open. His fingers slip, slick with your juices, and he smears it across your thigh like he’s marking you.

“Then don’t be a pussy,” Jason fires back, his thrusts brutal, unrelenting, his balls slapping your skin with every filthy shove. “She’s begging for it. Ain’t that right, princess?” He slaps your ass, hard, the sting making you yelp, and you feel a fresh gush of wetness spill out of you, soaking Dick’s cock even more.

“I’m—I’m fine,” you choke out, voice wrecked, barely audible over the sound of flesh smacking flesh. “Please, Dick, fuck me harder—please.” It’s a desperate, slutty whine, and Jason laughs, dark and mean, his hand sliding down to rub at your clit, rough and careless.

“Listen to her, Grayson,” Jason taunts, his fingers slipping in your slick, making you scream as he presses down hard. “She’s a fuckin’ Wayne—she’s built for this shit. Give her that pretty-boy dick like you mean it.”

Dick’s eyes flare, lust and fury crashing together, and he snaps. “Fuck it,” he snarls, and then he’s gone—fucking feral—his hips slamming into you so hard your tits bounce, your whole body jolting forward into Jason’s punishing rhythm. “You want it? Take it, then,” he growls, voice low and dangerous, his cock driving so deep you feel it in your throat. Your cunt’s a sopping mess, cum and slick dripping down your thighs, pooling on the mats in a filthy puddle.

Jason’s not letting up either—his thrusts are savage, splitting your ass open, and he’s grunting like an animal. “Goddamn, you’re tight,” he rasps, his voice cracking with raw need. “Takin’ me like a fuckin’ champ—shit, you’re a dirty little slut for me, aren’t you?”

“Fuck you,” Dick spits, but it’s half a moan, his grip on your hips bruising as he drills into you. “She’s not yours—she’s mine.” You feel Dick twitch inside you, close to blowing his load.

“Keep dreamin’, asshole,” Jason shoots back. He leans down, spits on where his cock’s stretching you, and the wet slide of it makes you scream, your body bucking between them. “She’s creamin’ all over me—fuck, look at that.”

They’re both losing it, and you’re the center of their storm—fucked-out, dripping, your cunt and ass clenching around them as they take you apart. “You’re a goddamn mess,” Dick groans, his voice breaking as he grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him. Your face is tear-streaked, lips swollen, and he smirks. “So fuckin’ beautiful like this.”

“Move,” Jason snaps, shoving Dick’s hand away, and then he’s yanking you up by the hair again, his lips crashing into yours in a messy, bruising kiss—teeth and tongue and pure desperation. Dick growls, jealous, and his next thrust is so hard you see stars, your moan swallowed by Jason’s mouth.

“Gonna cum,” Dick pants, his rhythm faltering, and Jason’s right there with him, his grunts turning into low, guttural curses. “Fuck—me too,” he mutters, and they’re both gone—Dick spilling hot and thick into your pussy, Jason unloading in your ass, their cum mixing with yours as you clench around them, shattering again.

You’re a wreck—screaming, shaking, cum oozing out of you as they keep thrusting through it, milking every last drop. Dick collapses first, pulling you down with him, his chest heaving as he buries his face in your neck, muttering your name like a prayer. Jason’s slower to let go, his cock still twitching as he pulls out, cum dripping down your thighs in a sticky, filthy mess.

“Jesus fuck,” Jason breathes, slumping beside you, his hand resting on your ass like he’s not ready to stop touching you. Dick’s arm snakes around your waist, pulling you close, and for a moment, it’s just the three of you—panting, wrecked, tangled in the aftermath.

“You’re did well,” Dick murmurs, his voice soft, lips brushing your skin.

“Damn right, good girl.” Jason adds, his fingers tracing the bruises they’ve left.

And as you lie there, fucked-out and sweaty, between their body.

— MASTERLIST ☆

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, use or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

[sangunary]

YANDERE BATFAM × NEGLECTED READER!

- Hush now crybaby.

\\Part 1// \\ Part 2// \\ Part 3 //

SYPNOSIS: After your death nothing felt the same.

Warning: Gore, death, violence, blood.

Everything happened in a flash, you couldn't even remembered what had hit you so hard to make your entire body run this high on adrenaline. You could feel your every pulse and the pounding on your head makes it hard to think properly.

When the clouds in your head finally clears you finally opened your eye's and looked down at your feet, your lifeless body laying on the ground.

Blood was profusely seeping out from the bash you received after the impact of the car... The car had hit you so hard that you flew and unfortunately your head landed on a fire hydrant.

The impact was so powerful that it left an open wound on your head... Everybody stopped to tape the situation not a single soul decided to even checked if you were still breathing.

You watched as the ambulance took your cold body. You watched as the medical staff's tried their best to wake you up. You watched as your own blood father hang up the call from just hearing your name, not even inquiring them further- He acted like your name was some curse.

You sit there by your body side, holding your own hands. Taking the little nursery book by the side table you began to read, you felt a little comfort but you can't complaint even a little was better than nothing.

The heart monitor began to beep indicating that you were no longer breathing. Staffs runs in trying to bring back your heart beat yet nothing worked you died that day.

You died because none of your guardians wanted to be involved with you... The hospital needed them to agree to a surgery yet since nobody or even if they picked up they just hang up without listening further.

You stood outside the morgue waiting patiently for your family to retrieve your body. You've been standing there for hour's, for someone who doesn't have a heart anymore it ache alot.

When your family finally arrived they were shocked, Damian was abit caught off guard, Bruce with the same face just more disappointed, Dick in tears, Tim was too sleepy to even react much... Jason was not present.

Barbara and Stephanie were crying holding your tiny cold hand's in theirs apologising, Duke was distraught and Cass you could tell she was uncomfortable.

Even during your funeral you stood beside your physical body, stroking your cheek and wishing yourself well. The funeral was small just the batfamily, your body was buried near the manor with high security.

Even your own mother didn't attend your funeral which made you frown which wasn't even your intention, your intention was to cry but not a single drop of tears could even fall.

Fortunately your mother did came but weeks after your funeral burst inside the manor and attack yout father. She was a mess, her mascara was ruined from the tears that won't stop flowing, her hair was extremely mess which was new. Your mother was a fashionable woman and seeing her this wild made you sad.

"You Piece Of Shit! OUR daughter died! How could you not inform me my babygirl is dead! I wanted to see her- To say goodbye!" Your mother yelled as she slap Bruce across his face. Bruce stays silent enduring the pain she was conflicting upon him.

"I left her with you so she could have something! How could You! She was so happy to have a father yet you let her chase your love and affection?! Even if you couldn't see her as your daughter why not call me??! I would have taken her with me!"

"...She was my world Bruce! My daughter... My baby... Now I can't even say goodbye. Im terrible, I should have been there..."

Your mother's grip on Bruce loosen as she fell onto the floor, sobbing into her hand's.

You slowly walk towards your mother, you wished you could have hug her in that moment for her to feel the warmth but you were cold.. Freezing, you don't think she would be comfortable.

Instead of hugging her you sit beside her holding her right hand, as you lean onto her...

"Im sorry mom, forgive me it's not father's fault... I was being emotional and being emotional makes me stupid...Maybe this is why nobody love's me"

Ever since that day Bruce became worst. You were haunting the manor watching as everybody tried to cope with your death.

You felt abit happy to be death, afterall you felt as your family finally noticed you. And all it took for them to love you was for you to die!

But it was tragic to watch your allready insane family become... This.

Dick was now sleeping on your bed every night, even when others tried to interfere he didn't budge. Holding onto the dress you wore that day and mumbling on and on about how he would take you to the park if you just come back.

Jason was also affected as much as it shocked, he was smoking more and barely even coming to the manor inorder to avoid anything that reminded of you.

Tim health was getting worst, he didn't even have the heart to look into any case at times and would just stare at blankly talking to himself and imagining that you were there.

Damian didn't show any weakness to anyone else he didn't show that he was greatly grieving. Nobody had a clue that he was trying to bring your soul inside your favourite doll. He would talk to himself which was alot tame than Tim but he was indeed speaking about how he will force your soul inside the doll just so everything could went back to normal.

Barbara was neglecting her job as Oracle. She doesn't have the energy to do anything, without your presence everything felt dead to her and if everything is dead what's the point of trying to salvage it.

Duke was taking it very well, talking about his feelings and making sure to clean your grave everyone Saturday, replacing the flower as much as he could... He was obsessed with your grave. At times he would sit there for hours just staring at it...

Stephanie wasn't as cheery as she was and even when she genuinely smiled it faid quickly... She kept getting nightmares of your body inside that morgue as a result she can't deal with crime including death in it. She gets reminded of you and when that happened she went into panick mode.

Cass on the other hand tried her best to move on unlike the others. But sometimes you would watch her as she entered your room and leaving quickly, it was as if she was trying to imagine you inside your room solely.

Bruce took it the worst, he would take his pent up guilt and anger out on any criminal, he even broke a couple bone of a guy who just rob a store with a knife. It was as if he was ignoring his own and the most important rule.

Silently blaming himself. He thought that Jason death would be the end of death in the family but that wasn't the case.

Alfred was heavily affected as well. He knew he was also in the wrong for favouring your other siblings while trying his best to avoid you during your time on Earth as a human. He would bake your favourite food and left it at your grave.

Alfred also had to stop the family from bringing your rotting corpse and dipping it into thr Lazarus pit. He knew you wouldn't like the idea of being brought back plus your body was too old to be able to be put together again.

Crime rate was raising because none of the family members were willing to talk about your death and keeping to themselves only. You could only watch as sigh as they tried to bring you back to life over and over.

The body inside the casket which was buried sixth feet underground was a simple decoy.

Your corpse have been rotting slowly inside a special room, where Bruce tried to bring you back somehow. You couldn't help but get teary just by looking at your corpse.

It was skinny and extremely pale... The stretch was horrible... Your body was clearly rotting away. It was not fun witnessing your organ being taken from your body just so your suddenly crazy/obessed father could bring you back.

[yanderes-galore]

@okchijt

@shinjisdone if you still like BOTW mutual.

I hope this came out well- It's not really gorey but Zelda never usually is so-

Yandere! BOTW! Link Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Overprotective behavior, Violence, Mentions of death, Manipulation, Dubious affection, Dubious/Forced relationship.

Like other Links in the past timelines, Link is also a quiet hero.

He most likely met you after his century long rest and resurrection.

If you think of what this Link has gone through... he's certainly been through a lot.

He's died trying to defend the kingdom, he wakes up to see all he cares about dead, he's alone as he tries to fix Hyrule.

Having a companion to help him along the way could potentially cause obsession.

He has no other companions when he first wakes up and begins to train.

Zelda is locked away to keep Ganon from growing in power.

The Champions have died with their spirits locked away in the Divine Beasts.

Sure, he gets companions and allies as he explores.

But his journey still feels rather lonely.

Not only that but he may not even remember them due to his memory loss.

You are the face that greets him when he manages to make it way into a village.

It's a surprise to see Link of all people 100 years after the battle.

However, you still make an effort to aid the hero.

Link notices the hope in your eyes as you offer him whatever supplies he may need.

You offer tools, scavenged weapons, food, water, whatever.

You even offer companionship.

Link naturally finds himself drawn to your helpful nature.

Your companionship touches his heart, friends are something Link needs during his journey.

You offer him a bed to rest and buy trinkets he finds to sell to you.

You help him find a good stable and horse to use on his travels.

The first village he visits, your village, he often revisits.

He hates that he doesn't remember much of anything.

All he knows is he has a purpose, even if his memories have been wiped away.

Part of him uses this to start new.

He allows you to be the first companion in his journey, one he can rely on as he grows stronger.

Link would still do what he's fated to do.

He'd challenge shrines to regain his strength.

Then he'd use such strength to aid Zora's Domain, Rito Village, Death Mountain, and Gerudo Valley.

Yet when it comes to rest, Link always treks back to your village on horse back.

It's like each day the knight of Princess Zelda comes back to you stronger.

He gives you a soft smile and holds out little things he's found for you.

You are too scared to leave your village most of the time due to Ganon's monsters.

So Link makes you feel like you're on this journey with him by gifting you treasures.

They're little gifts from him, it shows he cares.

Link's attachment to you grows as his journey continues.

He's silent, often speaking in actions more than words.

He's playful at times when he sees you again, encouraging you to hug him when he visits.

He takes you on horse back at times just to see things.

He promises to protect you outside of the village.

If any monster of malice threatens you, Link slays them with a blade and watches as the dark aura drains from them.

He apologizes with a hug that you nearly got hurt.

Truth is, he'd slay anything to protect you.

No matter how dirty the job is.

I feel Link trying to encourage romantic attraction between you would consist of gifts and physical affection.

He collects flowers on his journey to give you.

He collects shiny jewels for nothing but attention in return.

His hugs also appear to become longer the longer he's away.

Maybe he'll even sneak in a kiss on the cheek.

Before he lost his memories, Mipha and Zelda were potential partners he could choose.

But now... he only ever wants you.

In fact sometimes he wishes he didn't have to bear such responsibilities of piecing together Hyrule alone.

He just wants to settle down with you in your village.

He hates it when he has to part from you, especially for the final battle.

Even when he regains his memories, his thoughts of you stay rooted in his mind.

He no longer wants to be with Zelda romantically.

He's her knight, sure...

Yet he still wants you.

So when he comes back after saving Hyrule, why do you refuse him after everything?

You tell him he belongs with Zelda.

But he doesn't want that.

He wants you.

You seemed so susceptible to his affection before?

Every kiss, touch, hug, and gift....

Now... you won't embrace it.

You claim it was wrong to give into him, or that you never saw him in such a way.

Well... Link simply won't stand for that.

You've been a big help to him through his journey.

Even if you never physically came with, having somewhere to retreat to after battle felt fantastic with you.

Link isn't going to accept leaving you, he's tired of things never going his way.

So he decides he'll always stick by you, like it or not.

You can't get rid of him.

You can try to push, yell, and threaten him.

He doesn't listen.

He's fought off the evils of Hyrule just to be repaid with your affection.

He won't let you take that away from him now.

He's way stronger now and won't let you go.

You'll be safe with him... he promises to love you as repayment for helping him...

He's chosen to love you and no one else, even willing to even fight fate to stay beside you instead of anyone else.

[yandereunsolved]

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 Yandere Wild 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

"Sometimes I feel like I'm talking to a wall. Not that I mind. I just wish that I could understand what goes on in your mind sometimes."

Wild staring unblinkingly at Reader.

Wild's thoughts: I have the best travel companion. They're so eretheral. It is like Hylia blessed me after a hundred years. It almost makes the entire thing worth it. I would fight Ganon for all of eternity just to see them smile. To feel them touch my wounds and scold me. To feel their skin against mine while we are laying underneath the stars. To see their smile. To see their blush. To save them. To see them sing, or dance, or cook. To just see them exist is enough for my heart to swell.

"Truly an enigmatic soldier. Few words spoken— only action."

Wild's thoughts: Goddesses, their voice is sweeter than any honey. I would kill for them. I would die for them. I would kidnap them if Ganon ever rose again. I would kidnap them in a heart beat. I could kidnap them...

"Hey, Wild. Dinner's ready. You better get some before Twlight runs off with the cauldron in his wolf form again."

Wild's thoughts: Dinner. Dinner? DINNER! MY FAVORITE! I want to slaughter their worst enemy and put their head on a stick for them. Truly, it wasn't Hylia, the Champions, the Chain, nor even Zelda who kept me safe and alive during this journey... it was you.

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere Wendigo

Being out on the frontier ain't easy, 'specially not for a woman. And when a stranger wanders in from the plains, you know things ain't never gonna be easy again. 5.4k words. Originally published October 2022.

IT'S MORNING WHEN YOUR DADDY DRAGS A DEAD MAN INTO THE HOUSE.

You're curled up in front of the fire place, half dreamin' and half reading, when they stagger through the door. You notice your daddy first, breathing hard with the effort of keepin' the man up.

"Pa? What happened?"

Snow is thick on his shoulders and trapped in the brim of his old Stetson. But your daddy don't seem to care.

You get to your feet slowly. It's then that you notice the stranger.

A real tall fella, bent over like he ain't got much strength left in him. The winter was cruel to him and what's left of him is all bone, bone and hunger and aching need.

"Get the door to your room open."

Your daddy ain't askin'. That's his rancher voice - all hard steel. Your daddy is commanding you.

You stand still, too shocked to move. It ain't normal. Your daddy never talks to you like you're just one of the cowhands.

"But daddy, I don't want a dead man in my room."

You're whining, you know it. But you can't stop yourself. The stranger is covered in snow and bleeding too. You don't want him on top of your nice clean sheets, don't want a dying thing in the place where you sleep.

"Ain't dead yet. And he ain't gonna die, not if I can help it."

The stranger looks carved outta hunger and little else. Dark clothes and mean looking spurs, he ain't the type of fella you invite into your home.

"But why my room daddy?"

Your father is already dragging the man down the passage, his boots real loud against the wood floor. You follow behind them, your book still hanging from your fingers.

He doesn't wait for you to catch up. Just leans the fella against the wall for a second and opens the door to your room himself.

"But pa-"

Your daddy ain't hearing it. He spears you with a look to tan leather, a real mean glare that shuts you right up.

Your pa ain't ever cruel - not to you. You can't understand it. Why is he getting all worked up about a stranger? Ain't one man just as good as the next? Why go through all this trouble for someone you don't even know?

He drops the stranger on your bed and you flinch. When he speaks, his voice is still hard.

"He's half starved and half frozen. It don't look good and I want you to stay right here with him."

"Me? I ain't know a thing about him!"

Your daddy ignores you, dusting the snow off his hat 'fore putting it back on again. "Feed him and keep him warm, 'til I'm back with the surgeon. You hear me?"

You're staring at your daddy. He's gone mad, you're sure of it. The stranger is just another mouth to feed and you ain't got the food, not with winter already here.

Your daddy is tough and your daddy is smart - he tamed the west, made something out of the wild frontier. You don't like this starved man in your home, but if your daddy's asking you...

You nod slowly, shifting your eyes to the stranger.

"That's my girl." Your pa's voice is kinder and he grins at you. Then he's out the door.

In the silence, you finally take a good look at the man. He ain't much older than you really, but there's a hunger in his face you ain't got.

He's mighty handsome too, but it ain't...

It ain't a safe kind of beauty.

He's got plenty of scars but that ain't what makes you wary. 

There's something cruel in him - in the lines 'round his eyes, in the set of his jaw. He's winter lean. 

What was your daddy thinking? Leaving you to care for a wolf?

You take a deep breath. You can handle this. He's just a man, a man like any other. Ain't no kinder and he ain't no crueler.

But you ain't sure where to start. Lookin' at him is like lookin' straight into a grave. He ain't got no colour to him and his breathing is too slow to be normal.

Well, if you were sick and near dying, you'd wanna be comfortable, right? Get him all tucked away then get something for that hunger, that thirst.

His Stetson is covered with snow but underneath the ice, it's midnight dark. Slowly, you take it off. You're waiting for him to open his eyes, flinch, scream, anything.

But he's still as death and the hat comes off easy.

Underneath it, his hair is a dark blonde. Long enough to brush his jaw and still littered with snow.

The strands cling to his forehead and you smooth them away without thinking. His skin is real cold. Hell, he's probably frozen straight down to the bone. 

You sigh quietly.

His gun belt has two revolvers, both of 'em a bright silver. They ain't just for looking pretty either - the metal is covered in fine scratches from years of use.

You reckon it ain't a good idea to sleep with guns on and you reach forward, your fingers brushing the buckle.

He grabs your wrist.

He moves fast, faster than you've ever seen a man move. You try to jerk away, but he still has some strength in him and his grip is iron. Tight enough to bruise.

"The hell you doin' girl?"

The stranger's voice is deep but rough with thirst, a coyote learnin' to speak. You're frozen - you ain't expected him to be so strong or so fast.

You swallow and slowly drag your eyes up to look at him.

"Takin' your belt off."

It's his eyes that you notice first. Yellow gold and dangerous, he looks like he wants to eat you alive. Coyote eyes your daddy calls 'em.

"Oh really?" His eyes rake you up and down, lingering without an ounce of shame. "And you haven't even asked my name yet."

He ain't a gentleman and there's something in the way he smiles that makes you go cold. It's staring straight down the barrel of a gun, the way he makes you freeze.

"I ain't got a chance to ask your name on account of all the near fainting."

He laughs. It's deep, like his voice. But it ain't a kind laugh. The stranger don't have no kindness in him at all.

"I 'spose that's fair."

He's still holding your wrists but his grip ain't as tight.

"It just ain't a polite thing, touching a man's guns while he's sleeping. You get that darlin'?"

He lies down again and finally let's you go. Talkin' ain't done him no favors and his breathin' is real shallow. His eyes are closed again and you stand up, all slow and cautious.

"I'll get you something to drink."

He don't respond and you hurry away, your back burning the whole time.

Water is everything out on the plains and with winter outside your door, even the well has started freezing. You don't wanna feed the stranger, don't wanna quench his thirst. What good has ever come from having a coyote at your table?

But your daddy told you to do something and you listen to your daddy, 'specially out here. You listen to him 'cause otherwise you'd be dead and gone long ago. Buried out on the prairie like so many others.

Life ain't easy out west and the land belongs more to ghosts than people.

When you return, the stranger's eyes are still closed. Most folks look harmless in their sleep, like their dreams are all they care 'bout. But that ain't true of him.

Being near him is being near a bear just as the snow melts. Any moment, he'll open his eyes and chew straight through your heart.

You clench your jaw and reach out your hand. Your fingers rest on his forehead, then his cheek. He's still icy to the touch and you ain't sure how he keeps breathing.

"That feels real good sweetheart." His voice is low.

He opens his eyes slowly, and when they settle on you, he manages a smile. His teeth are sharp and his lips are bloody, like he's been chewing at them for a real long time.

"I brought you some water."

He sits up slowly but his eyes never leave you.

"Much obliged darlin'."

He reaches for it and his fingers brush yours. You flinch - his touch is cold as the grave.

He drinks slow but his muscles are tight and you know it ain't easy. He's fighting with himself for every sip - the desperate, thirsty part of him just wants to gulp it all down. He would drink a river dry, if you gave him the chance.

When he's done, he looks at you and he smiles. A twisted thing that never touches his eyes.

"You got some food too?"

"I do."

But you ain't eager to share it with him. What was it the ranch hands always said? Don't feed the wolves unless you wanna feed them everything you've got?

Your daddy was wrong to bring him here - wrong to offer him hearth and home when the men were lean and the crows were watching.

You don't move and he watches you. In the quiet, your heart starts to race. What's going through his head, that makes his eyes so dark?

"You ain't much like your pa, you know that?"

His wolf eyes look straight through your soul. You fidget with your dress, tryin' your best to look uninterested.

"Your daddy is a better man than most. But you...well, I reckon he spoils you."

He licks his lips and you realize the bleeding is worse than you thought - he's teeth are red with it.

He continues, "Your daddy ain't taught you enough about the frontier."

Who does he think he is? Lyin' in your bed, drinkin' your water and lecturing you?

"You ain't know a damn thing me."

You're scared of him but you're bitter too, and anger is easier to stomach than fear.

You don't mean to snarl at him, but your blood is up and you ain't good with your temper. Your cheeks are red hot and your heart leaps right up your throat, 'til you can almost taste your own blood. 

"Get your own damn food if you want it."

You turn to leave but his hand grabs the back of your dress and he yanks you toward him. He's strong and you ain't expecting it, ain't got any time to dig in your heels. 

You land hard on the bed, right next to him.

"I ain't done talkin' sweetheart. Ain't your daddy ever taught you any manners?"

He's voice is real close to you ear and he has a growl to him that makes you freeze. He smells of juniper and pine, of icy cold winter.

"Let me go."

You try real hard to sound brave and mean, to sound like your pa when he wants something done. But you ain't your daddy and the stranger is too close and too cruel. Your voice is quiet and afraid, a girl begging a monster.

You hate yourself for it.

"Why would I do that?"

His other hand curls around the back of your neck and he leans toward you, 'til you can feel his breath on the shell of your ear.

"You've got a real temper in you girl."

His voice is rough with somethin' you can't recognize. Hate? Anger?

He ain't a man to be disrespected, ain't someone to take an insult.

You should apologize, say your rage got the better of you. Say you won't let it happen again and that you're real sorry. Ask him to please let you go.

But even in your fear, your pride won't bend. How dare he touch you so easily? You don't belong to him - he ain't got a damn say in how you behave.

You swing around, your nails coming up to scratch his face, dig his eyes out, make him bleed.

But you ain't learnt from the last time.

He's faster than you and he catches your hand in his. His grip is tight and he's skin is rough, calloused from years of gun slinging.

He's face is just next to yours and the dim morning sun casts him in shadow.

"Temper, temper."

He chides, his gravel voice rumbling through you.

You're going to bite his face off, just lean forward and-

And he's smiling.

Not a cruel smile neither. All gold eyes and real deep dimples.

He's dangerous, you know it in your bones. But his smile is all honey, all sunrise gold.

There ain't a lot of men out here, and none who smile at you like that. None who look you straight in the eyes like you're all they've ever wanted.

"Let me go, please."

You ask politely this time. He's too handsome and he's too close and Lord help you, your hearts gonna run right outta your rib cage.

He hums softly. "Ain't happenin' girly. I let you go and you're gonna run right out that door and leave me to freeze."

You want to get away from him, it's true. He's twisting your soul 'round his fingers 'til you ain't sure whether he wants to kiss you or eat you alive. 

You shake your head. "I'll stoke the fire. My pa said to keep you warm."

He laughs, a real throaty laugh. "You always do what your daddy says?"

"Of course."

Why did it have to be him? If your daddy was going around saving strays, couldn't he have found someone else? Anyone else? 

The stranger is a mystery and you hate it. 

His grip tightens 'round your neck. "You ain't gonna run off?"

"Ain't that what I said?"

He's quiet for a real long time. You start thinking he ain't even considering it - he's just gonna keep you here with him 'til your daddy gets back. 

And then he let's you go.

"Alright sweetheart, let's see you keep your word."

You stand up slowly, keeping your eyes on him the entire time.

Your room is the only bedroom with a fireplace and when you've put all the space you can between the two of you, you finally turn your back on him.

You stack the firewood carefully, feelin' his eyes on you the whole time.

"You ain't scared of me, are you?"

You flinch. 

"Why would I be?"

Your voice comes out real calm. It's easier when you ain't looking in his eyes, when he ain't spearing you down with the heat of his stare.

"I ain't sure. I promise I'm real nice darlin'."

You make the mistake of looking at him. He's smiling at you with those sharp teeth and he don't seem nice at all.

You drop your eyes real fast. Your cheeks feel all tingly and you ain't sure why, ain't sure how he does this to you.

Ain't you 'sposed to like men who are kind?

Not this stranger, not a man made cruel from years of hard living. And still...

"You got a name stranger?'

"I do."

You wait but he doesn't say anything more. He's giving you a taste of your own medicine and you loathe him for it.

"How did my daddy find you?"

"Is that really the question you wanna ask me?"

His voice is better, less harsh. But that don't mean he's kind. Don't mean he's good. 

You fiddle with the kindling, staying quiet. 

" 'Cause I think what you really wanna know is 'why.' Why your daddy brought me here, why he wants to save me."

You turn to face him. How did he know? You ain't that easy to read. Hell, most of the ranch hands can't even tell if you're in a good mood, much less guess what you're thinking.

Who is this man?

He has you full attention again and he smiles, runs his hand through his blond hair. 

" 'S what I was sayin' earlier. You ain't know enough about the plains. You can't survive alone out here. You've gotta take care of folks, gotta keep them fed when they need it. Your daddy knows that."

You raise a brow. "And what happens when you don't?"

He laughs but it's bitter as sand. "Hungry folk are dangerous folk."

But ain't he half starved already?

You turn back to the fireplace, finally striking a match. The fire catches quick and the light rims you in gold. 

The stranger watches you - on your knees and haloed in warmth, you're a sight for sore eyes. All those long months on the plains, always tryin' to be one step ahead of death and here you are, a just reward for all his suffering.

You ain't got a clue how hard life is, ain't got any idea how the nights stretch long and lonely. But he'll teach you. 

He'll make sure you learn the danger of hunger unsatisfied. 

"Come sit with me." He says quietly.

You stand and shake your head slowly. Being in here is stifling, makes you wanna crawl right outta your skin.

Is it fear or want? You ain't sure.

"Come sit with me. I don't bite." He ain't smiling no more.

You swallow and cross your arms, fold a little into yourself. He ain't anything you're familiar with. Folks don't order you 'round - not when you're the boss' daughter.

"I don't trust you." You say simply.

He's sitting on the edge of your bed, his revolvers glinting in the cold winter sun. He's a desperado, you ain't got a doubt about it.

"What am I gonna do to you girl? I just want a little company."

He taps his fingers 'gainst his knee, watching you with sharp eyes.

"You ain't got a clue darlin'. Out there, folk shoot 'fore they offer conversation. Is it so bad that I wanna talk to you?"

"Then talk. I can hear you just fine from over here."

He shakes his head slowly. "You grudge me food and water. And now you won't even talk to me. You always this charmin' sweetheart?"

You bristle. He's the one who ain't got any manners at all, not you.

"Fine." You snarl and stalk forward, stopping right in front of him. "Happy now?"

A smile is crawling 'cross his bloody lips. "Still ain't working on that temper, are you darlin'?"

"I ain't your darling! And I ain't got a temper neither."

He reaches out slowly and his hands come to rest on your waist. He don't hold you tight but his fingers are long and they dig into you just a little.

You freeze, not expecting him to touch you. His voice is real low, just shy of a growl.

"Don't me want to call you my darlin'? You'd better stop me then."

You slap him.

You're quicker than him for once and you hit him hard enough to twist his head, the sound cracking through the quiet. Your palm stings and it runs straight up your arm.

He touches his cheek gingerly, his other hand getting real tight 'round you, clawing straight into your back.

Oh no.

You're done for. He's gonna grab one of his guns and end you right now, shoot you straight through the heart. Or maybe he'll do it with his bare hands, just choke the life outta you. Or -

He laughs.

"God damn girl, I bet you've got a mean right hook too."

He grins and rubs his cheek.

"You're a real hellcat, ain't you?"

His other hand is still curled 'round your waist and you step away, pull yourself free of him. You don't trust his good mood. Don't trust his smile when his eyes ain't got no joy in them.

He ain't eager to let you go but there ain't much he can do to stop you - nothing gentle at least.

You've had enough of him - of his entitlement and his anger, of his values that mean nothing to you. You spin on your heel and aim for the door.

"I wish he left you outside to starve."

You ain't gotta share a damn thing with him. Who cares if he dies? What's yours is yours. You ain't gotta give him food or shelter or kindness. Ain't owe him.

Your daddy was wrong. You gotta look out for yourself first.

"Sweetheart I-"

You leave 'fore he can finish, shutting the door and leaning against it. Just tryin' to slow your heart.

He ain't a pious man and he ain't thinking holy thoughts 'bout you.

The first thing you notice when you turn around is the dimness. The fires burnt out, sure. But the sun should be shining through the glass.

You walk into the living room and stare out the big bay windows, your mouth fallin' open. 

The clouds are thick and dark, real storm clouds blowing in from the plains. And the wind has gotten stronger too. You watch it kicking up puffs of snow and hurling it past the glass.

A blizzards blowing in, you're sure of it.

But it's movin' fast, faster than you thought possible. When the stranger came in, there weren't even a breeze.

God, is your daddy gonna be okay? Maybe he's reached town already. Maybe him and the doc are drinking together and waitin' for the storm to pass. Your daddy's tough - he'll be fine. Right?

"You okay darlin'?"

You whirl around, your heart in your throat.

The passage behind you is real dark and you can just kinda see the stranger, a blurry silhouette. He's standing strange and his arms are real long looking. Has he always been that tall?

"I'm...fine."

There's something 'bout his voice you don't like.

Somethin' in it that makes you take a step back. And then another and another, 'til you're pressed right against the window sill. It digs into your back and the chill goes straight down to your spine, dulls its teeth on your marrow.

"What I tell you 'bout leavin' while I'm talking?"

You can just make out his yellow eyes. They're catching the light and glinting like an animal's.

He continues, "You're real slow to learn, ain't you?"

You frown, your heart stuttering inside you.

"No. 'Course not."

He laughs and it runs down your neck like ice.

"You're really somethin', you know that y/n?"

When did he learn your name? You sure ain't told him.

His voice is low but it has winter's bite to it. He talks to you like cowpokes talk to girls after a real long time out in the plains - all hunger and need.

"You're just the kinda girl I like. Selfish, greedy, gotta learn her place."

His eyes trace your body and he smiles at you, that mocking half smile that ain't got an ounce of kindness in it.

"Now come 'ere."

He lunges forward but you're ready for it and you dive outta the way. You land hard on your knees but you scramble up, your blood screamin' in your ears.

Gotta get a weapon or somethin' - he's still stronger than you, even if he's half starved.

Your daddy keeps a Henry rifle 'bove the fire place and you aim for it, movin' fast.

But the stranger ain't no ordinary man. He grabs you from behind and you both go crashing down.

His body is pressed right up against you and he's cold as ice.

"That blizzards keepin' you right here darlin, ain't no running."

His voice ain't human. It's the cracking of bone, the tearing of flesh, the hound dog howling. His voice is hunger and nothin' else.

His hands are pressed into the floor next to your waist and his teeth brush your ear. Even starving, he's lean with muscle and you can feel the hardness under his skin.

His breath is cold and it smells of wintergreen.

He's gonna bite straight through your throat. Rip you apart. Have your heart right between his teeth.

But you ain't dying today.

You snarl and try to buck him off, but he doesn't budge. His weight is pressing you into the floor and you can't take a full breath.

Your ribs feel like they're 'bout to snap inwards, shards of your own bone driving straight through your heart.

You struggle under him and he laughs.

"Keep doin' that sweetheart. I love feelin' you squirm."

His voice is husky and it ain't like anything you've heard before.

The dead fire is right next to you and the embers are still hot, still have some burning red streaking through them.

You reach out and grab one. It's scalds your palm and your whole hand is nothing but white hot pain. But you ain't gonna let that stop you.

You twist around and press the burning ember right in his face.

He shrieks like an animal and leaps back, light on his feet like he don't weigh a thing.

"Fucking hurts." His voice is a hiss, a rattlesnake under your skin.

You scramble up and yank the rifle down, swinging around with your finger on the trigger.

The stranger is in front of you and there ain't nothin' human left in him. He's crouched down on the floor and his limbs are too long - sticking out like an insect's. He ain't got no lips neither. Just ragged, bloody skin like he's eaten straight through them.

Corpse pale and cold as the frost, the stranger in your home was always a dead man.

His teeth are sharp and long and Lord help you, he has so many teeth.

He lunges toward you.

He's fast, faster than anything alive. But you ain't done fighting yet.

His body is in the air when you fire the first shot. The bullet hits him straight in the head and knocks him back.

Black blood sprays across the floor, across the furniture, across your face.

He crashes into the dining table, his spine shattering against the table legs.

You don't wait to check if he's still alive.

You aim for his chest and empty your daddy's rifle. Put bullet after bullet straight into his heart. The sound is thunder and when the firing stops, your ears are ringing.

His blood pools around him, thick as oil. The wendigo is still.

The wendigo is dead.

The blizzard is startin' in earnest now and the snow outside the windows is coming thick and fast. Your shoulder aches from the rifle's recoil and you can't get the shaking outta your fingers. You sink down to your knees, your breath ragged.

They were just 'sposed to be stories.

You keep your eyes on its body, scared of even blinking.

With a heart of ice, it's born in the cold, lean months.

The wendigo devours.

The wendigo is ever hungry.

But the wendigo is dead.

You wait a real long time. Until you heart ain't as loud and the blizzard rages, until the whole house is freezing. The wind screams and the wendigo doesn't move.

You're safe.

You close you eyes. You let yourself breathe. The gun slinger is dead and he ain't gonna hurt you, ain't gonna touch you.

You were right - ain't nothing good ever comes of strangers at your table.

The winter grows angry, but you're safe and you're warm. And the stranger ain't ever gonna have you. You smile. You open your eyes.

He's gone.

He was dead and now he's gone.

You jump to your feet, holding the rifle like an axe. The quiet stretches around you, nothin' but your own breathing to break it.

Where is he?

You keep perfectly still, squinting into the dark corners of the room. The light is scarce and every shadow hides him.

"You ain't getting away from me sweetheart."

You whirl around but he's quick as a cat. He grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks you toward him.

He ain't gentle and he shakes you 'til your jaws rattling. Holds you like a kitten.

He's pressed up behind you and he dips his head low, 'til his lips are right above your pulse.

"So selfish but so warm..."

You scream, try to pull away. But he ain't movin' and all you do is rip some of your own hair out.

He laughs, laughs deep and cold.

"You gotta start listenin' sweetheart. What I just say 'bout getting away?"

He uses your hair like a leash and tosses you straight across the room.

The floor hits you hard and knocks the air clean outta you. Pain spikes white hot right through your ribs.

He's stronger than any man has the right to be. He threw you clear across the room without even tryin'.

He don't wait for you to get up neither. He just grabs your jaw and drags you to your knees. His fingers dig into your cheeks.

He's human again but that ain't a kindness.

His nails - his claws - leave bloody scratches 'cross your skin.

You look up and he's staring down at you with those strange, hungry eyes.

Coyote gold. Wolf gold. Killer gold. 

His pupils are blown out wide, 'till they're all black rimmed in honey. He's staring at you and there ain't nothin' but want in him.

"Your daddy's a good man. He knows the way of the west. But you..."

He smiles that sardonic grin of his. Your bullets ain't left a hole but blood is running down from his hairline. It creeps down into his mouth and his smile is red and cruel. 

"You need to learn a lesson girl."

He pulls you up and you scream. You claw at him, dig your nails in deep 'til your fingers ache.

He holds you like a prize and his eyes drop to your lips. And then lower still.

You're crying, tears on your tongue bitter as poison. It ain't fair. You just wanted to keep yourself safe and fed and warm. You shouldn't be punished for it. 

He runs a thumb across your cheek but there ain't no kindness in it.

"Awww, am I scaring you darlin'?"

He said your daddy was a smart man, a kind man.

Would he have let you go? If you were generous or selfless or good?

He smells of the forest and your head is swimmin' with it. His thumb traces the outline of your lips and his smile is all teeth. He'll shatter your bones like glass if he wants.

He presses his lips against your cheek and whispers to you, his voice cruel as the snow.

"I'll be gentle sweetheart. I promise."

It's then that you realize.

A man's got more than one kind of hunger.

[humanjarvis]

call it what you want

synopsis: when you visit a gathering of childhood friends, they’re wary of you and caleb’s relationship. and while you take it in stride, he takes it to heart. 

tags: fluff, angst, heart to heart, happy ending, calebmc judged by childhood friends for their relationship, mc withstands it but caleb withdraws, barely yandere caleb, he does watch mc when they’re apart though, caleb breaks somebody’s teeth with his evol, calebmc relationship depicted as the jumbled up mess that it is, there’s not really pseudocest though, calebmc are each other’s first kiss, caleb is insecure, mc comforts the hell out of him, references to caleb’s mental illness, allusions to sex. inspired by “call it what you want” by taylor swift  pairing: caleb x fem!reader, reader is mc word count: 8.1k (woah!)

a/n: behold my thesis on the intricate siblingfriendpartnership of calebmc. it’s the best thing i’ve written and i’m so glad. but also this has ended up doubling as my 2k followers special 🎉🎉🎉 that is an unfathomable amount of people subjecting themselves to my writing and i’m seriously so grateful. thank you for motivating me to create! anyway, i truly hope you get something out of this, but even if you don’t, i’m proud of it 💞

“C’mon, pip-squeak. We can't ignore it forever. I’m here now, and I'll be right by your side. All those bad memories…you won’t have to face them alone anymore.”

“I know. And I’m glad. But still, it’s…different now,” you smile weakly, failing to suppress a heavy sigh. 

Caleb was in Linkon for the week, having put his foot down about his well-earned time off. And you, having gotten used to the constant Fleet interruptions, had gone the extra mile to make him unreachable: locking his communicator in your bedside drawer. 

After three days of making new memories—you’d ticked the movies, the zoo, and a concert off your list—his love for nostalgia had finally gotten the better of him. He’d set his sights on reminiscence, and all morning, he’d been pestering you to visit your old neighborhood. Where your childhood home had once stood.

“We can just take a look around. Five minutes, tops. Aren’t you curious about that old playset you used to drag me to? Always made me spot you under the monkey bars in case you fell. I’m sure they miss you,” he teases, hope shining in his ametrine eyes. 

And as you picture it—the iron bars of the jungle gym, now rusted with time; the grayish, well-traveled cobblestone streets; the wild honeysuckle bushes scattered around the block—you know this is a battle you can’t win. 

“Fine,” you huff. “But you’re driving.” 

“As if I’d refuse. And hey,” he softens, grabbing your arm gently. “If it’s too much, let me know. We’ll come back right away.” 

***

Your stomach roils as familiar street signs come into view.  

Green lawns and picket fences. Symbols of safety you could no longer trust. 

Humming along to an old pop hit on the radio—a valiant attempt to distract you—Caleb turns into your neighborhood, and you clench your teeth involuntarily. 

Luckily, you don’t have too much time to worry. Because seconds later, he pulls over a few houses from home and puts the car in park. 

You sit for a moment. Watching. Breathing.  

Thinking of how the last time you came here, he was dead.

“I’ll race ya,” he says suddenly, shutting the engine off and throwing his door open. And with a strained chuckle, you follow suit.

You lose on purpose, slowing your steps the closer you get to Gran’s house. You know he can tell.  

But soon, you run out of room to stall. 

As you stand beside the “FOR SALE” sign, feeling like a stranger, the freshly polished wood and foreign color scheme deepen the pit inside your stomach. 

Caleb whistles lowly. “Sure looks different, doesn’t it?”

But you’re not listening. You’re remembering. 

You remember the smell—the charred scent that stuck with you for so long after the explosion, your nostrils blistered from too much blowing. The way ashes fell endlessly from the sky, and you didn’t know what—or who—they were made of. The last-minute salon visit you’d had to schedule to chop the singed ends of your hair off. 

“C’mon. That playground is just this way,” he offers, coaxing voice saving you from too much rumination. 

“Okay,” you whisper, sliding your hand into his.

It was an age-old lesson, one you’d learned a hundred times: summer heat and monkey bars don’t mix.

As you flinch away with a startled hiss, Caleb casually pulls spare gloves from his pocket—as if he kept them on him for a situation like this—and carefully slips them onto you. For someone whose hands dwarf yours, they fit suspiciously well. 

“Up you go,” he sings, lifting you to reach the handles. And just like all those years before, he walks beside you as you cross, steadying you with his gentle touch. 

When you reach the end, instead of jumping down, you shift your momentum to swing backwards, skater dress twirling with the motion. 

But as your front faces the street again, you realize your mistake a moment too late. 

“Oh my gosh, is that who I think it is?!” 

As a vaguely recognizable voice squeals, you freeze in place, hands squeezing around the iron bars in a death grip. 

“Oh, it totally is! You haven’t come around here in forever—it’s so good to see you!” the voice continues. 

Turning your head—slowly, like the main character in a horror film—your eyes land on an all too familiar figure. Sarah, a girl around your age you used to envy for her toy collection, stands just feet away from you, long leash corralling a massive German Shepherd held tightly in her manicured hand. 

With two light taps on your back—Caleb’s signal for you to come down—you loosen your hold and land almost gracefully on the pea gravel below. 

This was a situation you’d only been in once before. When Gideon had crossed paths with you at the cemetery and learned his dead friend was, well…not. 

In any case, the circumstances then had been rare enough for you to carry on without establishing a protocol. And now, as you stand at the mercy of someone with no reason to keep Caleb’s secret, you’ll be forced to improvise. 

“Hi…Sarah,” you grin awkwardly, fiddling with your hands in front of you. “Thought you’d have moved by now.”

“Nope!” she chirps, not catching your apprehension. “We’re gonna give it one more year. After my husband saves up from his new job, we want to travel a bit before settling down.” 

You nod brusquely. 

“By the way, we haven’t really seen you here since the accident. I’m so sorry about your grandmother and Caleb—I know how close you two were. But—oh! Excuse my manners,” she pivots, looking behind you as if a lightbulb flicked on overhead. “Who’s th—”

Sarah’s tanned face blanches. 

“Hey Sarah. It’s been a while,” he greets casually. 

And the woman in front of you looks between you both as if she’s seconds away from siccing that dog on you. 

“You…caught us at a bad time,” you giggle nervously. “It’s kind of a secret, but…that was a…false report, after the explosion. Caleb actually managed to flee the area with a few burns. The authorities just kept the whole thing under wraps in case it was a targeted attack, or something. So I’ve been keeping an eye on him ever since!” you smile tightly, squeezing his dry palm with your clammy one. 

“Oh…well…what a relief, I guess!” she chuckles uncomfortably. “Well…if you’re not laying too low, Caleb,” she starts, extroverted nature beating out her rationality, “we’re having a get-together with all the neighborhood kids tomorrow! You guys should totally come. We’d hate to miss our favorite duo—you were always so funny, nagging each other like siblings.” 

You bristle at the term, gripping Caleb’s hand so tightly it could bruise. “Um, thanks for the offer, Sarah, but we…” you trail off, looking at him to help you. 

“We’d love to come!” he doesn’t. 

“Uh, we…would?” you question, perplexed by his sudden enthusiasm. 

“Yeah, why not, pips? It’d do you good to reconnect with some of the girls you liked hangin’ around. Plus, I’ll be right there with you,” he smiles brightly. 

Though his reasoning barely quells your anxiety, your heart softens at the gesture.

“Alright, then,” you turn to Sarah. “We’ll be there.”

The old mall down the block is halfway through renovations. 

Neon orange construction cones litter the parking lot, and every door but the main entrance is sealed off with yellow caution tape. 

Navigating through the weekend traffic, you and Caleb wander through the swarming, noisy corridors, leaving store after store empty-handed. 

You don’t know what to wear. 

Meeting so many people after such a long time…there’s an irrational need to impress, to look like you have your life together.

And somehow, every outfit seems off on you. It’s not false advertising—the mannequins are gorgeous as ever. But there’s something about you that ruins every look. 

As you rummaged through different displays, Caleb had done some light hovering—staying near, but letting you do your own thing, overall. 

But as you return another dress to the rack with a frustrated growl, he swoops in to put his scary intuition to good use. 

“This would suit you,” he grins kindly, brandishing a pastel blue sundress. “Wanna try it on?”

You eye the fabric skeptically. It’s not your usual style, but you take it into the dressing room anyway. 

And of course, the first thing Caleb picks out for you is perfect. 

“Told ya,” he laughs when you call him inside, back hugging you in the mirror. “You look beautiful. ‘Course it helps that it was my idea, and all.”

Swatting him gently, you giggle as you try to push him out of the cramped space, grunting with annoyance when he sandbags you. 

“Get out of here!” you protest. “We still have to find your outfit, and the mall closes soon.”

“Okay, okay, I'm going,” he relents cheekily. “Snap a picture for me before you take it off, though, alright?”

***

Once you’d paid—or he’d paid, having levitated your purse in the air while you scowled at him—you’d dragged him over to the men’s section, where you’d found an outfit just his size with a similar color scheme.

He’d preened when you held it out to him, puffing his chest out with pride at the fact you knew his tastes so well. And in his sparkling eyes, you’d spotted a flicker of possessiveness as he looked between your clear garment bag and the clothes in his hands, not so subtly comparing the blues to each other. 

And evidently, with the way he’d refused to even try anything on before heading back to the register, he’d been satisfied. 

As you make your way back to his car, Caleb tugs you in by the waist to claim your lips in a tender kiss. 

“It’s perfect,” he breathes. “It’ll be perfect. And even though we’ll be matchin’…I get the feeling you’ll be the one people can’t look away from.”

Caleb’s hand is on the small of your back as you step through Sarah’s front door, but it leaves you as he encourages you to mingle. “Go catch up,” he urges with his signature grin. 

You know what he’s doing. What this whole thing has been. A way to push you out of your comfort zone, a prolonged apology, and a promise to be less overbearing, all in one.

He needs it just as much as you do. Needs you to know that he’s trying. So as you nod softly and make your way through the throng of laughing faces, you hope he sees you trying, too.

Sarah’s parents had both been lawyers, and if the diplomas lining the far wall of the living room didn’t make that clear enough, the sheer size of their house sure did. 

The layout is vaguely familiar—Caleb had been friends with her older brother, and you’d practically begged him to tag along on playdates so you could see the fancy house down the street. 

As you take it all in—the flat screen TVs (plural) broadcasting different channels, the iridescent streamers lining the bannisters, the variety of appetizers spread out across the first floor—you only grow more envious. 

Turning away with a petty huff, you focus on the people instead. As you study faces new and old, you wonder how many guests here brought their partners. How many know that you brought yours.

Sarah—ever the gracious host, never the gossip—had informed the attendees about Caleb’s situation in hopes that he wouldn’t be bombarded the second he stepped inside. And it was working, somehow, as far as you could tell. Aside from a few wary glances sent his way, people greeted him just like they did before: as the golden boy whose presence was a gift. 

At some point, as you’d hovered aimlessly by the drink table, a girl you remembered fondly had strolled up to you. Marley, her name was. With her lively eyes, kind smile, and eagerness to play dolls with you, she’d been your closest non-Caleb friend in the neighborhood. 

“Who would’ve thought the girl next door would grow up to be a hunter, huh?” she jokes, gently elbowing your ribs. 

“It’s really not that special,” you laugh, halfheartedly dodging her pokes. “Just something necessary, I guess, since the Wanderers came. I thought it’d be cool, high-stakes action movie stuff every day, but I kinda feel like a firefighter saving a cat from a tree sometimes.”

“Oh, please. You’re practically a superhero! Caleb, too, being a whole pilot and all. Time really flies—I still remember when he helped you set up your lemonade stand that one summer,” she giggles. “You were always so in sync.” 

“Still are,” you smile softly, gaze subconsciously finding Caleb from across the room. He's chatting in a group of his old buddies, but as always, it’s like he can sense you looking at him. His eyes find yours in an instant, as if he already knew where you were standing—because of course he did—and he shoots you a boyish wink.

“But, if you don’t mind me asking,” Marley hesitates, her eyes shifting perplexedly between you. “Are you two…together…now? You seem even closer than you were as kids, if that’s even possible,” she mutters sarcastically, talking from the side of her mouth. 

As the question hits you for the first time that night, you plaster a big, fake smile on your face. “We sure are! It was five months last week.” 

“Well, congrats, I guess,” she tries to exclaim, but her confusion stunts her sincerity. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s just…I never expected you guys would date! You always seemed more like…ah…friends,” she cringes, her own fake smile twitching slightly.

Friends.

As the word fights its way out of her mouth, likely beating several less polite alternatives, the weight of her hesitance is not lost on you.

“Friends, huh?” you echo, and your smile is real this time. A show of your teeth, a hint that she’s just entered dangerous waters. “What kind of friends grow up in the same house, Marley? Raised by the same person, and all. Pretty rare if you ask me,” you cock your head in mock contemplation. “C’mon, what do you really mean to say?”

You’d been taught well. 

“Okay, okay!” she huffs, folding like a lawn chair under the pressure. “I always thought you were like siblings. Thought you guys thought you were like siblings. I’m just surprised, is all.”

“There’s nothing to be surprised about,” you nod curtly. “You lived next door, not with us. You don’t know how we felt about each other.”

Your voice is robotic as you meet her with a deadened stare. No matter how much you’d expected it, no matter how much you’d prepared, the judgment catches you off guard. 

The rumors, the gossip—it’s one reason you thought Caleb would decline the invite. To protect you, if nothing else. But with a bitter, inward laugh, you guess that him trying means letting you be in situations you might’ve begged him to shield you from.

“I need some air,” you decide suddenly, interrupting Marley’s frantic apologies to turn toward the door. “It was nice catching up.” 

A cool breeze kisses your exposed skin as you watch the fireflies blink from the patio. And as beautiful as they are, glittering in the night sky, there are other things on your mind at the moment.

If Caleb was ever a brother to you, he was the best brother anyone ever had.

You’d seen the way your friends acted with their brothers. Always kept a watchful eye on their interactions, as if comparing their relationships to yours. Middle school, high school, college.

And over all those years, no brother had ever been as attentive—as doting, as patient, as loving—as Caleb. 

After the explosion, when you were left to deal with your feelings alone—no nagging, oversized puppy to distract you—you’d pondered how you saw him. Deep down, under the structure and order and propriety that was forced upon you too young. Regretted that it was too late to ask him how he saw you. 

And if those quiet nights crying so hard it felt like drowning had taught you anything, it was this: as much as Caleb was brotherly, he had always been more—so much more than what he had to be to you.

He could’ve shut himself in his room for hours, leaving you to fend for yourself. He could’ve ghosted you the minute you no longer went to the same school. Could’ve found a girlfriend, had kids early, and moved his real family far away from you. All these things, you’d seen happen.

But through it all, Caleb had stayed, and he’d done it with his signature smile. Even when you’d worried he’d outgrown you, had outpaced you with his stellar achievements, he’d just pinched your cheek with a fond grin. Who d’ya think I do all that for, silly? he’d laughed. 

By your reunion, when he’d stared down at you so cruelly, you’d known what he was to you. The only man you’d ever loved, in all meanings of the phrase. That’s why it had hurt so much. 

And Caleb had scared you off. Your feelings were fragile, only newly realized. But his…were developed. Intense. More intense than you were ready for, coming from someone who’d been off-limits for 15 years. 

So you’d resisted. Resisted his spiraling admissions, resisted the feelings you knew he had for you, resisted his frantic attempts to steal you from the world. 

It would take time for you to accept a love like his. You’d told him as much five months ago—that you needed to meet in the middle. And he’d promised to try. 

As the days went by, you got used to treating him like a lover. To putting new meanings behind every touch. And every time you kissed him, he carved out more of his own paradise in your mind, escaping the liminal area he’d occupied in unfulfilling restraint. 

It was only in moments like this when prying eyes and hushed whispers wore you down. People who thought that, because they knew you once—for a summer, for a semester, for a school year—they knew who you were and how you felt. But there was something paradoxically mercurial about you and Caleb: the more you stayed the same, the more you changed. And only the two of you were privy to it. 

Even still, some leers and questions got to you, just as they had tonight. Apprehension and a resented sense of shame had filled your gut, as if you’d been “caught” stealing from your own wallet. 

But of all the things Caleb was to you, only one mattered: he was yours. And as a firefly lands on your outstretched palm, twinkling beautifully in the darkness that threatens it, you know no one can take that from you. 

Caleb had had better nights. 

He’d had worse, for sure—agony and loneliness come to mind—but he’d definitely had better. 

He’s spent this one mingling among the names he hadn’t cared to remember, all as an attempt to show you he won’t cage you in. You can have fun, have friends outside of him, as much as the thought makes his stomach churn. 

And what better way to start than with people he already knew? Baby steps.

As he cranes his neck to find you again (which shouldn’t be hard, since he just has to look for the one dressed like him), he vaguely registers an incessant buzz of a voice talking his ear off. Jared, he calls himself. 

“Anyway, I can’t believe you did that to her. That’s fucked up, man,” the voice says, clapping Caleb’s back with an obnoxious chortle. 

And as much as he needs to find you, Caleb really wishes he’d spared some of his attention for the homunculus beside him. 

“What exactly are you implying?” he asks lowly, lifting the hand from his shoulder with a firmness that any sober person would find threatening. 

He’s almost certain you’re not in the room, now, your calming presence lost in the sea of discarded memories. Alarms sound in his head at the realization, only to be drowned out by something more damning.

“It’s just…you grew up together! Had the same grandma. That's like your sister, dude. But you know what, to each their own. The way she looks, I can’t say I would've held myself back any better than you did. Probably worse, man. Matter of fact, you fucked her y—?”

The force of Caleb’s Evol clamps Jared’s mouth shut.

And, if his muffled yelp is any indication, hopefully breaks a few of his teeth, their bloodied chips settling on his tongue.

“This sorry excuse for a conversation is over. Leave. Now. And if I see you talking to her on your way out, I’ll make sure you never get the chance to again.”

Jared nods fearfully, and after one last snarl, Caleb lifts his Evol, albeit begrudgingly. It takes Jared a few seconds to notice his newfound freedom, but the moment he does, he’s scurrying out of the house. Good. 

You’re back in Caleb’s sight, now. But as he takes in your shy smile, the faint melody of your laughter filling his keen ears, he doesn’t feel the comfort he normally would. 

Instead, he feels his dog tag. 

Your precious gift to him. A symbol of how you needed him, of your anticipation that he’d always be in your life. Of his hope that one day, you’d return his feelings. 

He recalls the once comfortable weight, the way his body heat would flow into the cool metal, linking it to him in a warm embrace. 

The chain now burns against his throat.

Jared had been brash.

Crude, crass, and certainly cocky, thinking he was deserving of you. 

So as Caleb watches you chat among a mixed group of guests, swirling his full cup in agitation, he decides he doesn’t care about the delivery. It’s the content that troubles him. 

Because Jared, in his drunken state, had managed to hit a nerve Caleb had tried to sever five months ago. 

Are you sure you want this? he’d asked you shakily. Want it from me? With me?

And in clear confirmation, you’d claimed his first kiss.

But even still, the thoughts lingered at the back of his brain. That he was tainting you, taking advantage of you, stealing your life away. 

He knows Jared isn’t worth the scum beneath his shoe, but those unsavory thoughts made his own worries resurface. 

And as fickle as his mind was, he’d only ever known to trust it. 

So when Caleb sees you beam at another man’s compliment, glowing like you’d been sent from heaven itself, he feels like maybe he’d been right.

For the rest of the night, Caleb dreaded the drive home. Luckily, you’d slept for most of the way back. 

But as he parks outside your building, gently rousing you from your sleep, the feeling returns in full force. 

“Good morning,” you giggle, stretching drowsily. “Sorry I fell asleep on you—I can’t remember the last time I talked that much. Did you have fun?” 

“Something like that,” he says, popping the driver’s door open. “You?”

“I did, I think,” you start, opening your own side and sliding out of his car. “I really did. It was a little rough at first, but it got better. What about you? Anybody try to stab your brains out? Since you’re undead and all.” 

He chuckles dryly. “Not exactly.”

As you trudge toward your apartment, Caleb trails behind you. You’re so dazed, you almost don’t notice it. But you miss the familiar warmth of his left hand.

Your tired fingers quiver as you fail to unlock your door, and with a gentle nudge, Caleb slides the key in for you. 

Mumbling a “thank you,” you step through the doorway, making space for him to follow. When he doesn’t, you turn to face him, frowning lightly in confusion. Gleaming in the moonlight, the metal threshold separates your feet: yours on the inside, his on the outside. 

“I’ve been called back to Skyhaven. It’s nothing too serious, but I’ll have to cut this visit short. Don’t worry about me.”

The words pierce your chest like a dagger, but his cold delivery twists the knife.

“Oh,” you breathe, not knowing what to do or where to look or how to hide your disappointment. “I didn’t know they had any way of contacting you. Your communicator’s still in my nightstand, you know,” you quip lamely. “But I guess four days has to be enough this time. I’m lucky to have gotten that.”

Smiling weakly, you lean in to kiss him. But with his sudden reservation, the moment is more chaste than you’d intended. 

As he starts to turn away, you instinctively grab his hand. “Are you…is everything okay? You’re being weird,” you whisper, eyes searching him in concern. 

“No I’m not,” he retorts, forcing life back into his voice. The weight of his hand ruffling your hair feels wrong, somehow, and his airy tone is a contrast to the darkness in his gaze. “Get some rest, pip-squeak.”

Caleb never thought the jewelry box you’d left at his place would come in handy. 

He had no use for it—the only piece he truly needed to preserve stayed looped around his neck at all times. 

But as he stares at the silver chain hung carefully on a hook, its ruby-crested apple dangling in the evening sunlight, he silently thanks you for your forgetfulness. 

It’s been two days since he returned to Skyhaven, but the events of that night remain fresh wounds in a fragile mind. 

I can’t believe you did that to her.

I can’t believe you did that to her.

To you. Not with.

As if his love was an assault. 

All his life, Caleb had tried to show you only the good sides of him. To tamper down his intensities so you’d eat from his palm. You were a skittish thing, failed one too many times by an inadequate world. So he’d approached you gently, practicing docility until it became second nature. To keep his eager hands from defiling you. 

He’d molded himself into whoever you needed him to be, never admitting what he wanted to be to you. All so you would tolerate him, want to keep him around for his services, if nothing else. Because as much as he claimed to protect you, your safety was his anchor. If you were loved, warm, and unharmed—if he kept you that way—then every consequence was worth it. 

He’d learned to live like a chameleon, his temperament matching your mood. And as much as a forgotten part of him yearned for identity, it was a role he’d settled into playing—until his weakened back had snapped under the pressure. 

When you’d confessed that you felt the same—that you loved him in more ways than the one you should—he’d deluded himself into thinking those years of restraint were over. That he could stop watching over you and start walking with you. That you would fall from propriety hand in hand. 

He’d never thought himself naive. Always launched himself ahead of the curve so that would never be an option for him. Naive was something someone with his responsibility couldn’t afford to be. 

But now, as his lifeline swings back and forth on its new perch, jingling with what could only be mockery, the feeling swallows Caleb whole. 

It would’ve killed him to see you with someone else. He’d had nightmares about it every month, save for the last five, ever since he was a teenager. But even if you chose to live with someone else by your side…at least he would have gotten to see you do it. To watch you be happy, carefree, without you wondering if it was your right to be. Without the guilt of robbing your life from you, tainting your purity with his sin.

He knew you were wary. You’d gotten better about it—at hiding it, at least—but he could still feel the panicked clench of your hand in his when someone looked at you too long. You were trying, for him, just as he tried for you. But if trying meant the unfiltered scrutiny that Jared had spewed could one day reach you, it wasn’t worth it, he decided. 

You deserved more than the headache he’d give you. 

***

The days drag on. 

Caleb’s vacation ends as little more than purgatory, and when he dons his Colonel uniform once more, the Fleet’s affairs feel his presence now more than ever. 

He’s sharper now, meaner. Mistakes that would usually earn a light slap on the wrist now end in termination. Figurative or literal, the recruits aren’t sure. 

He knows he’s spiraling. He hears the whispers: “The Colonel’s finally lost it” met with “As if he ever had it.” But rebuke from any voice but yours doesn’t reach him. 

During flights, he plays his missions a little less safe, making rash decisions sure to end in incident, eventually. He justifies it, in his head, by thinking that maybe an injury would inflict upon him the suffering he deserves. 

He’s been drifting, lately. Through the hallways, through the streets, through space. 

But aimless as he is, Caleb can’t bring himself to desert you completely. Those 15 years of gentle servitude had become so ingrained in him, he thinks a total cutoff would only make him more reckless. So he pacifies you with brief, polite answers, sharing none of his usual charm and emoticons. This flighty, diluted version of himself was all that he could offer. 

But each day, when Caleb stumbles back into the necessary solitude of his house, wheezing with overexertion, he heads straight to the hidden room where you’d discovered his bionic arm. Where, under dark wooden panels, a row of monitors hide. 

Their feeds are clear as they’ve always been. Your cubicle, your route home, your front door, your kitchen. Your bedroom. 

And until he succumbs to exhaustion, Caleb watches you. 

Watches you sift through reports, eyes open but unseeing. 

Watches you stumble on the way home, your foot catching on a stray root that he would’ve spotted in time. 

Watches you crumble, after a while, and curl up on the side of your bed where he always slept. 

Watches until the rhythmic rocks of your crying body lull you to sleep in place of his heartbeat.

As the clock strikes midnight, you complete your count to 23.

It’s been 23 days since you’d received anything more than a one-word response from Caleb. 

At first, you’d given him grace—thought he just wasn’t feeling well. He was always one to withdraw from you when sick, locking himself away for a while before emerging like nothing happened. 

But even then, he was never this curt with you. He always reassured you that he was okay.

Days passed, and the mysterious illness theory flew out the window. As you fired off another concerned text, all but pleading for him to say something, you wondered if he was mad at you—but what could you have done? Not to mention that when he was mad at you, it usually ended with him apologizing, somehow. It’s always Caleb’s fault, huh? he’d cooed at you, rubbing your back tenderly. I’m sorry, baby. 

Something was just…wrong. Terribly, scarily wrong. And whatever it was, you had to figure it out alone.

With a frustrated growl, you snatch your phone up from its place on your nightstand and scroll to your latest messages, hoping he’s decided to take you out of time-out. 

you: hi. i know you’re probably sick of me asking, but can you call when you get a chance? haven’t heard your voice in a while.

>:( : later.

Nothing. He was giving you absolutely nothing.

You want to scream. Want to hunt him down, grab him by the collar, and thrash him around for being so difficult. But as your gaze flits to the photo on your desk—a silly selfie you’d taken on your first official date—your heart constricts from how badly miss him. 

You miss him so desperately that the pain in your chest is worse than when he left for college. At least you’d known he would come back to you, then.  

As hot tears well in your eyes—far from the first time—you remember the words he’d written to you once, never intending for you to read them: “Any man who makes you cry isn't worth your time,” you repeat, snorting softly at the irony.

But unluckily for him, Caleb wasn't any man.

Any man wouldn't braid your hair from childhood to now, never teaching you to do it yourself because he wasn’t willing to give up doing it. Any man wouldn't skip the senior trip he’d saved hundreds for just to nurse you through a stomach bug. Any man wouldn't dedicate half his life to making sure yours was painless. 

So no, Caleb wasn’t any man. He was smart, skilled, and devoted. He was reliable, doting, and selfishly self-sacrificing. He was the reason you’d grown up so well, always wanting to make him proud. And he was yours.

Tugging harshly at the roots of your hair—a habit he’d always tried to break—you pace around your bedroom like a frenzied animal.

You were going to go to him, that much was obvious. To ambush him and make him explain what you’d done for him to discard you like this. To apologize, if he’d hear it. 

But how, if he wouldn’t give you the time of day? The man lived in a giant sky fortress, for God’s sake. And with his neverending suspicions, it wasn’t like he trusted any other members of the Fleet enough to give you their contact informati—

Except, you interrupt yourself, freezing mid-step. He did.

Liam.

Caleb’s faithful adjutant, the one you’d spoken to—or spoken at, while he looked at you unnervingly—just a handful of times.

Sometimes, bad ideas are the only ones available.

Retrieving your phone from where it lies face down on your rumpled blanket, you scroll and scroll to the bottom of your contact list, where Liam’s name stares back at you forebodingly. 

Steeling yourself with a shaky nod, you press call and wait with bated breath. He answers on the second ring. 

“Miss, may I ask why you’re calling? Are you in any trouble?” his deep, dispassionate voice, devoid of any true concern, rings out.

You swallow thickly before trusting your voice enough to sound as anything more than a pitiful squeak. “I-I have Caleb’s communicator,” you maneuver skillfully despite your nerves. “He left it at my apartment. Can you take me to him? So I can give it back.”

“You’d be better off turning it in to one of our administrators. The Colonel is very busy right now and—”

“Take me to him, please,” you repeat stubbornly, raised voice echoing off ivory drywall. 

“Miss, I'm only allowed to speak with you if you’re in immediate danger. I'm under strict orders not to facilitate any interaction with the Colonel.”

He’s going to hang up soon, you panic. And then your only chance is gone. 

A flare of anger heats your skin as you realize you don’t have an appointment to see your own boyfriend. The one who can pester you and break your boundaries with a barely apologetic smile, but shuts you out the second you try to do the same.

Channeling your tears from earlier—they still line your eyes, after all—you sniffle into the speaker. Desperate times… 

“What do you think will happen when I tell him you made me cry? You won’t be under any orders anymore,” you bait him quietly, relying on the fragile hope that Caleb was still as fiercely protective of you as he’d been before. 

The pregnant pause on the other line tells you you’d succeeded. “I…” he clears his throat. “Please arrive at the Skyhaven airport at your earliest convenience. I'll be there to take you to the Colonel.”

When Liam’s aircraft lands on the familiar floating island, you rush out with a muttered “thanks” and jam your thumb onto the sensor.

But as the doors slide open and you stomp inside, the silence you’re met with tells you Caleb isn’t home. 

Sighing heavily, you survey your surroundings: the spotless kitchen, barren like it hadn’t been used in weeks; the dust collecting on his most-used surfaces; the tray on the coffee table, missing its usual array of apples. Had he been eating? Had he been coming here at all?

Your worries carry you through the other rooms, but none hold the answers to your questions. 

And as you step into his bedroom, the place you were most likely to find a clue, you wish you hadn’t. 

Because there, hanging tauntingly on a familiar looking jewelry box, is Caleb’s dog tag. The chain he never went without. 

The ache in your chest becomes a gaping void. 

Blood rushes to your ears and makes them ring so loudly that you can’t hear the despondent noise you make. On unsteady feet, you lurch farther into the room and lower your trembling body onto the mattress. 

As you stare at the mahogany jewelry box, looming mockingly on the dresser, you think the walls spin around you. 

In all the years you’d known Caleb, he had never been one to just give up—so what about you was so condemnable that it finally made him?

He wasn’t here to answer. 

So you take the chain for what it is: resignation. Eviction. 

It feels like you shouldn’t be here anymore. Like you’re an intruder in a sacred space. Like maybe you shouldn’t have even made it in, but he just hadn’t had the time to axe your thumbprint from the system yet. 

You need to leave. That much is clear. But here, stranded in the sky, you don’t exactly have a getaway plan. 

Without the leverage of Caleb’s love, you doubt Liam would take too kindly to being threatened again, just hours after the first time. 

As fruitless minutes tick by, it’s clear that waiting is your only option. But as you curl up in the center of the bed, chest heaving with labored breaths, you no longer anticipate Caleb’s return. 

When your eyes blink open in the dead of night, you know he’s there before you see him.

The air in the room feels different. Heavy and charged, like just before a thunderstorm. 

Anything could happen when you face him. But he’s deprived you of so much lately, that at least something would. 

Shoving the thought to the front of your mind for motivation, you raise your head to find him in the darkness of the room, lit only by a lone streetlight. 

And the sight of him makes your stomach drop.

Caleb, uniform torn and tattered, slumps against the wall closest to the bed, eyes closed and head lowered. 

A smear of blood paints his cheek, and as you zero in on it, you notice the eyebags so dark they look like bruises. Like he hasn’t slept in days. 

But even with his eyes closed, you should know by now that you don’t have the time to ogle him.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he whispers hoarsely. 

“Where else would I go?” 

And those violet irises find yours. 

“Do you regret it? That you have nowhere else to go?” he asks softly, bloodshot gaze searching your huddled form. Checking, like he always did. 

No is your immediate answer. But you figure you should ask him first. That way, when you say it, he might actually believe you. “What?”

“Do you regret what I’ve done to you?” he elaborates, voice dropping near the end. 

The explanation doesn’t help. “What have you done to me, Caleb?”

He winces at the phrasing, though he knows it’s not an accusation. 

Cocking his head cynically, he lets a hollow chuckle escape. “I shouldn’t have pushed you to go to that party. Guess that’s what I get for trying.” 

“What are you talking about?” you probe, shifting to the edge of the bed. “What’s wrong with you?” 

“What’s wrong with me,” he mimics, “is that I’m trying to stay away from you. For your own sake.” 

“You weren’t there to see it. Hung up in another room, or outside, or something. It was the only time I lost sight of you,” he recalls bitterly. “And this guy started mouthin’ off about how fucked it was for us to be together. Said I was sick for the things I must’ve done to you.” 

A sliver of understanding eases the tension in your muscles. But you need to hear it from him. “And you believed him?” you ask, eyeing him warily. 

“It wasn't him who I had to believe. I already knew. Have known, for a while now, no matter how much I tried to pretend I didn’t. The way I thought my hands deserved to touch you—it’s a sin, isn’t it? One you shouldn’t have to carry. That’s why I left—so you could live a life unburdened by me.” 

At his words, an all too familiar irritation stirs within you. Alongside sadness that he’d thought it best to feel this way alone. 

Pushing forcefully off the bed, you kneel between his knees, gripping his bloodied face between your hands. “Who said you had permission to leave?” you ask lowly, and you hear his voice in yours. 

“I asked you what happened that night,” you continue. “More than once. And I'd have listened if you told me. Would’ve been there to tell you that none of it mattered. But you said it was nothing—another way to protect me, I guess. And then you left me on my doorstep, wondering how I’d hurt you.” 

Caleb’s mouth drops slightly, but you don’t let him interrupt. “When you said you would try, you overlooked one thing. Part of trying is considering how I feel. Like when I saw your necklace—how do you think I felt? I thought…you didn’t want me anymore. That you’d decided I was too big a burden for you,” you breathe, and when your voice breaks at the end, Caleb covers your hands with his.

“If your sin involves me, you don’t get to live through it alone. You pulled away from me without wondering if I wanted to be complicit. If I wanted to share it with you. You don’t get to make me a victim without asking if I feel like one. And I never have.”

He freezes at that, gazing up at you imploringly. When he finds what he’s looking for, he turns his head slightly, lips brushing your wrist in a hesitant kiss. “I know—” he swallows. “I know you feel ashamed sometimes. Of being with me, now, when I was who I was to you. Even if you don’t want to be, when we go out together, I can feel it.”

“You’re right,” you nod simply, and he fails to stifle a choked gasp. “But I don’t let it change anything.”

Now, it’s Caleb’s turn to ask. “What do you mean?”

“Remember Marley?” you start softly, stroking his tousled hair. “Girl I used to play dolls with when you were too busy? She asked about us, too. And I told her the truth: we’re together, and we’re happy, and our story is ours. It’s not just your choice, Caleb. I’m with you because I want the same. I always have.” 

And as much as you know he wants to believe it, to accept it and move on, things were never that simple with him. 

“You don’t understand,” he murmurs shakily, returning your hands to your lap as if they’ve burned him. “I can't…I've only ever wanted to keep you safe. No matter who I had to be to you. And when you let me have you—how I want to, how I’d wanted to…I wasn’t strong enough to turn you away. I’m not strong enough to do what’s best for you,” he whispers with glistening eyes.

Slowly, gently, you reach out to him a second time. To splay a hand on his exposed chest, to get him used to the feeling of your touch again. 

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” you murmur, stroking your thumb against him. “Because I think you’re very strong.” 

“I thought you were strong when you saved me from those bullies in middle school. Still remember the black eyes you gave them. When I saw that…I thought you were a hero. And I wanted to be just like you.” Pausing, you lean down to kiss his collarbone, and though he shudders, you take his pleading gaze as a sign to continue. 

“I thought you were strong when Gran got really sick, and you had to do everything. Cooking, cleaning, taking me to school. And you did it with a smile.” Giving him one of your own, you cradle his flushed face in your hands, stroking his darkening cheeks tenderly. Violet eyes watch you with disbelief—a reflection of six months ago, when you’d entrusted your first kiss to him. 

“And when you kissed me back that first time? When I felt how much you wanted to, how you kept it bottled up inside you for so long—I thought you were so strong,” you whisper, mouth hovering over his. “You’ve always been strong, Caleb. It’s why I love you so much.”

In time with his sharp inhale, you press your lips to his. But as large hands flex against your sides, he doesn’t respond to your touch. 

So you press harder, deeper, as if your kiss will awaken what’s dormant within him: his molten, unabashed need for you. The need that holds purity in its paradox, even if he doesn’t know it yet.

And when you circle your hand around his throat, where his necklace once collared him in your name, Caleb kisses you back. 

It’s an exploratory kiss, but a passionate one. As if your reacquainted lips are making up for lost time. 

You guide him with the steady suction of your lips, and when you tug at his frayed lapel, Caleb takes the lead. 

His tongue surges into your mouth, reclaiming what he’d missed, and you moan at the welcome intrusion. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, backing away slightly. “Sometimes I just wonder…if you’d be better off without me.” 

“I wouldn't,” you soothe, pulling him in for a reassuring peck. “You’re a part of me. I want you wherever I am, whichever version of you will have me.”

“All of them,” he mumbles against you. “And then some.”

And as you slip his hand under your shirt, there’s no reluctance in his tender grasp. Like he belongs there. 

Soft strokes on your bare shoulder wake you as the sun rises. 

“I missed seein’ you like this,” murmurs the voice you’d missed just as much. 

“And whose fault is that?” you chide, cutting your eyes to glare up at him playfully. 

“Mine,” he concedes instantly. “All mine.”

“Mhm. Speaking of,” you begin, stepping out of bed gingerly. “If you’re going to be my Caleb, there’s one more thing you need to do. Close your eyes,” you instruct. 

And Caleb complies—something that’s come easy the past six months. 

The room is silent for a moment, with only the distant sounds of jet planes piercing the air. 

Then, a soft clink. 

And as the mattress dips with your return to him, Caleb lifts his head instinctively. And the cool surface of metal slips around his neck. 

As Caleb spares you a glance from the passenger’s seat, the apple charm on his dog tag glints in the sunlight. 

Row after row of familiar houses comes into view, but you seem calm, this time. Unburdened. 

With some compliments and exaggerated enthusiasm, Sarah had been more than happy to host another party. And you’d been more than patient as you’d encouraged Caleb to attend. 

He’d been cautious, at first, for obvious reasons. But you didn’t dare push. 

So as the date loomed closer, he’d decided to try. 

And when you cross the threshold hand in hand to a sea of curious faces, the tension he expects to compress his pulsing heart never comes.

Instead, something kinder blossoms: pure, weightless pride.

[frickingnerd]

yandere zelda

pairing: zelda x gn!reader

tags: botw!zelda, abuse of power, mentions of killing & kidnapping, charming yandere, henchman!link, slowburn

zelda looks very sweet, but she has the potential to be quite dangerous!

after all, she's the princess of hyrule and she can and will abuse her power to get everything she wants – including you!

nobody refuses any of the orders of the princess and so zelda doesn't even have to get her own hands dirty to get what she wants!

especially link would do anything for the princess! he'll kill her romantic rivals, your friends, your family and even kidnap you, if necessary!

zelda plays the long game and she tries to slowly make you accept her and fall in love with her

and trust me, you WILL fall in love with her! even if you don't want to at first…

zelda is very convincing and charming, making it seem so effortless too!

everybody loves zelda, so it's not like you can simply reject her either. you'd never hear the end of it, from everyone in the kingdom, if you'd dare break her heart with a rejection!

so as long as you're obedient and reciprocate zelda's feelings, you'll be able to live the best possible life!

zelda can fulfill every wish you have and you'll be loved and spoiled until the end of your days!