#apex bloodhound imagines

[kaiserouo]

Every hunter's dad.

[kohltrast]

cybernetic payload >:3

[caifee]

NAYTHING ABT BLOODHOUND OKEASEEEEE IM DESPERATE

This is the realest thing I've seen all day- 💀

But I gotchu>:] I'll do some basic headcannons, both SFW & NSFW w/ a GN!Reader

Bloodhound Headcanons

SFW

You'd definitely meet in the games, the two of you would meet in a duos match

It would start out super awkward and rough since Houndy tends to be more secluded and reserved

But after breaking 'the barrier', it would be very easy to talk to them, including getting close

At this point, Bloodhound would also get very protective of you, as their very protective over those they care and love

You'd join them on hunts as a way to get to know them further and learn their culture/ways

During the hunts, Bloodhound would definitely teach you the 'old ways' of hunting (cultural)

Definitely would turn into a survival lesson

They would be very patient and understanding though, their not the kind of person to down you for not getting it perfect right away

In turn, they'd always ask for you to join in on their missions

Bloodhound wouldn't fully open until after the discussion of a relationship

They'd close up, fearing they'll lose someone close again

You'd have to push past this. It's almost like a challenge of trust and loyalty in a way

Obviously, they don't do it intentionally, they'd never want to hurt you, It's a trauma response:(

But with enough pushing and reassure, they'd be more open, and the relationship would definitely blossom from there, in a good way!

Houndy would be a lot more protective and caring of you as well

They'd prepare a lot of meals and other cultural things for you, such as bringing you their trophies as well.

Lots of quality time together as well

If you ever face off with each other, Bloodhound knows they can't favor you. However, they will try to go easy on you, but not enough that its noticeable

Minors DNI beyond here, 18+ only.

NSFW

These moments would be very precious to Bloodhound

Their definitely a switch, depending on how their partner is

I can see them wanting to try different positions, toys, etc

They would mostly be open to anything besides something that's unsanitary or harmful to you

They care way too much to be the one inflicting harm on you

They like the sweeter moments than the rougher moments as they feel their more important and memorable

IF you tease them enough, they would probably fuck you during the games

Otherwise, they like to keep those moments secluded/private

[ruleofleft]

So I rewatched that Bloodhound origin video and like……. Young Bloodhound is so cute 🥰 I always forget how freaking adorable they are, they talk to themselves 💕

[deathmetalangel]

BEAST OF THE HUNT (BLOODHOUND X F!READER)

warnings: slight violence, mentions of suicide, death, mourning, slight ooc bloodhound, leaving family behind

a lethal tracker with old ties to their villages renowned beast tamer and fiercest fighter

It was cold, a small reminder of home. Yet, not as bittersweet as the hunter that she eyed carefully from her vantage point. They were in the woods, why was she here? This was far from her village, but she needed to get away. Not forever, no. Never forever.

How good of a tracker can they be if they hadn’t noticed her yet? Or maybe it was because they had already noted her presence. “You should stop hiding úlfur. I heard you coming miles ago.”

“So you haven’t gotten rusty in all this time. I was afraid you weren’t living up to your name, Blóðhundur. Or worse, that Boone made you soft.” Bloodhound freezes, how much did she know?

Boone, their Boone. A sore subject still. “What do you know of him?” Bloodhound questions almost threateningly.

“I know he was weak. Too weak for the likes of you. And too dishonorable as well. You’re better than this, so why do you fight for his honor? He was scum that deserved to be in Hel with the rest of the cowards that died before us.” So she was there at the Thunderdome. Had she been on Bloodhound’s trail for longer than they realized?

The snapping of jaws catches their attention, Bloodhound looks down at the feral wolf snarling below the woman. “Don’t worry vinur, she’s harmless. Just a pup. I’d be more worried about Skepna.” Behind the adolescent wolf a set of eyes glowed from the shrubbery. A low hearty growl rumbles the ground below.

Large daunting steps near Bloodhound as a goliath of a bear towers over them and the wolf pup. “You didn’t come to kill me, so what’s your angle? Why after all this time did you decide to find me?”

Y/n drops down from the tree where she was perched. Her glowing eyes glare at Bloodhound with malice. “You never came back after Artur’s death. I tried to find you for years. And when I finally do I catch whiff of your trail I see your face plastered on billboards like some cheap entertainer. What happened to the ways of old? What happened to you?”

Bloodhound sighs, they knew they’d eventually see her again. Yet, nothing could really prepare them for how different she looked after all those years. Not quite as tall as they were, but still retaining a flattering yet full figure. A finely trained warrior for the hunt. Even as children it was clear Artur had faith in her abilities, yet Bloodhound was always ignorant to how much trust Artur had in theirs.

“The old ways are still dear to me y/n. I’m not an entertainer in the Apex Games, I fight for honor as a warrior to secure my future in Valhalla. I assumed you would understand that.” They could’ve came off as condescending, but it was the only way to get through to the pig headed woman.

“Fighting for money isn’t very noble Blóðhundur, we are supposed to die in battle for what is right, not for a reward like mercenaries. You really have changed. And to think I had hopes of you being just as I remembered.”

Both hunters stand off. The tension was thick, almost suffocating. “We can talk. Just come with me úlfur.”

Y/n swings her spear around before planting it firmly in the ground. “Or I can allow you mercy, and send you to Valhalla myself. As long as you put up enough of a fight that is.” Her wolf nuzzles into her open palm. He could sense the animosity brewing from the scorned woman.

Bloodhound makes no moves towards their axe, they’d never raise a hand to her. “Don’t be like this úlfur.”

“Don’t tell me how to be! You’re a liar and a disgrace to your uncle. Perhaps if you’d been any better of a hunter your old love would be standing by your side right now, able to protect you from the edge of my spjót.” She was on the brink of insanity, those years of solitude had taken their toll.

She’d fought in wars with more bloodshed most people would only see in nightmares. All for the sake of being reunited with the person she thought would always come back to her. Yet, they never did. “Freyja has blessed my travels, has Allfather given anything to you?”

“The Allfather guides my travels and blesses me with sight.”

“No your technology aids your sight. Allfather simply watches over you as you stray father from our people.” She snaps back. Skepna snaps his jaws at the increasing tension.

A fight was bound to ensue. No matter how much Bloodhound dreaded it. They did feel guilty, after all they’d spent all these years hoping their past wouldn’t come back. Especially once they made a name for themself in the Games. Y/n was always temperamental. Bloodhound knew that, but all these years away had diminished their ability to calm her temper.

Bloodhound makes no moves. They stand completely still while the woman sizes them up, as if she was trying to see what changed about them after all these years. Hel hath no fury like her. She wasn’t evil, far from it in fact she fought for honor. To honor her people and those who have fallen before her. She assumed that Bloodhound did the same.

“I do not wish to fight úlfur.”

“Stop calling me that! That isn’t my name. It hasn’t been my name in years. And neither is y/n. They are both dead to me. Much like yourself.” It wouldn’t make a difference, they would always be at odds. Bloodhound knew that. They still hoped they could break through to their, friend. Who were they kidding.

She wastes no time to charge forward ready to attack. Leaving Bloodhound no choice they grab their axe and block the attack. “If you don’t want to fight then kill me. Kill me and get it over with Blóðhundur!” She was practically pleading, whining for the release of death. She had come all this way for a reason. To die.

“You’ve gone mad úlfur.” She truly had. She can feel her body growing lighter. She’d been fighting non stop for the past week, and it had taken its heavy toll. Each step sent her muscles into a frenzy while her blood pumped even more oxygen through her body. She couldn’t keep this up.

But she had seen them, finally seen them. Her Bloodhound. Freyja looked down from her realm upon the grieving woman. Not even her gifts would help mend her inconsolable mind. “So what! What do you care? You didn’t care when you left! You didn’t care when I spent all those years waiting for you to come home! You didn’t care when she died!”

Bloodhound tenses. She, she. What had they done. They could see how manic she was, her sanity slipping from her grasp. Even her control over her gifts had been let loose. Her hair raised like hackles and eyes glowing a deep vibrant shade. Her teeth remain bared showing their sharp point.

Y/n moves swiftly and swings her spear forward with her remaining strength. Mystical wisps of color emit from her body that was currently about to give out. Her muscles were beyond torn and battered. Each painful swing put her in more danger. Bloodhound only has to place their axe to her throat and finally end her assault.

There she stays, forced to her knees to kneel before the person she once loved. Her neck stretched and ready to be decapitated. “I don’t want to do this y/n. Please.”

“You have won this battle. Your winning is my life, take it was you please.” She county even get herself to bark back. No more snide remarks left her mouth. Her eyelids flutter shut, dangerously awaiting slumber.

“Helena is dead, isn’t she?”

“Yes.”

Bloodhound sighs. A hearty sigh that carries the weight of the guilt. “When?”

“Last month, but she got sick a few weeks after you left. I tried, asked the gods for help, even begged the Allfather to heal her. I made a deal with Hel, but I would have to slaughter cities in order to cure her sickness. It was new, different than anything the village had seen. She died. And I had to sit and watch my daughter rot away.”

Her daughter. Her miracle from the gods that would always be by her side. How could it have slipped Bloodhound’s mind. The small child would always be caught up in her mothers cloak just basking in the protection she had. Their heart ached. Bloodhound looks back at the beasts who simply watched their mother anxiously.

“She asked for you, every day. Sometimes I think she could even see things I couldn’t. She would tell me stories about our glory days. When we’d go on hunts with Artur long before she was born, maybe he was with her. After all she was so close to the threshold between life and death.”

Y/n was young when Helena was born, but she was still a fully grown woman. She chokes back a sob as her body starts to give out.

“What did she say?”

“She would tell me stories about my coming of age hunt. Or the one where you almost got eaten and Artur had to pry open a beasts mouth just to make sure you didn’t get swallowed whole. Then, she even told me about the day she was born. I asked her how she remember. Helena told me that Artur would tell her about it when he would watch her when we were away.”

Y/n looks down and presses the blade into her skin. “Blóðhundur, why did you leave?”

“I had to y/n.”

“But you didn’t. You knew I still needed you, we still needed you.”

“I would’ve suffered if I had stayed. I have come to terms with my life.”

Bile rises in her throat at their words. Her rage reignited. “Like she suffered all these years? The years she was incapacitated by her illness and wondering why you left?! Like I suffered by watching our daughter wither away into nothing and die right in front of me. And you say I lived reckless. She didn’t get to live at all!”

Their daughter. Bloodhound had failed. They knew that. They shouldn’t have left. Bloodhound had lived two lives, their child had lived none.

“Kill me. Do her what she’s owed and bring her móðir back to her.” Bloodhound makes no such movement. They move their blade away when y/n jumps toward her nails aimed for their throat.

Instinctively Bloodhound tries to push her back, but their nearest free hand resided the blade that would cut clean through her arteries and bone. A satisfying slice followed by the crunch of leaves and bone fill the deafening silence. Then the cry of the wolf.

Bloodhound falls back on their bottom watching her body crumple for the ground and her beasts protecting her corpse. The pup howls out mourningly while she nudges her mother’s warm arm.

Skepna huffs and places his large muzzle on her abdomen. Bloodhound looks at her face, a slight smile gracing her features. Maybe she had seen her daughters face once again. Soon the forest reeked of blood. Her wolf never leaving her side nor allowing Bloodhound to come near. Until it gave up.

She lays down with his tail covering her face and y/n’s arm. She was attempting to keep the warmth that was quickly fading. Bloodhound slowly tries to come near. Skepna makes no moves, both of them were nothing without their mother. She had saved them both from death and tamed them through her own weird intimidation. What a woman.

“It’s okay young ones. I shall take care of you.” The wolf looks up at Bloodhound with the most uncanny eyes. The look makes them almost fall back in alarm. How strikingly similar they look to hers. Bloodhound holds out a palm to the pup for him to sniff. She presses her cold nose into their gloved hand. “Come on Lena.” Both animals rise slowly and look longingly at their mother before following Bloodhound.

Especially the young wolf who’d have to wait to see her mother again. Hopefully she’d be fine without her for a little while longer. Her other parent needed her now.

[liahswriting]

Lesson of the Day

Relationship(s): Bloodhound/Original Female Character

Words: 2,463

Warnings: None

Summary: She wants to learn Icelandic and surprise him. He helps her.

She felt really stupid as she repeated aloud the same three phrases over and over again, trying to get the pronunciation correct. Or at least somewhat passable. She was a native English speaker, damn it!....... Her parents spoke English, her grandparents spoke English...... Her great-grandparents spoke both English and Russian but that's not exactly helpful at all in this situation. Or any situation considering her great-grandparents died when she was barely past the newborn age and she never learned.

Icelandic was a difficult language for her to learn. The foreign letters and tongue-twisting sounds they made seemed impossible to get right. But she wanted to try so she could surprise Bloodhound. She's expressed interest in learning before, but he didn't take her seriously and told her not to worry about it -English came easy to him after all these years, and conversation between them never had much of a barrier. Sure, every now and again he couldn't find the right word to use in a rare sentence he never said on a day-to-day basis. And, sure, sometimes he gets idioms wrong. But for the most part everything was fine.

It's been a month just going over basic conversation pieces: Hello. How are you. What's your name. My name is. She also learned a few food-related words and phrases, as well as a couple terms of endearment to use with friends, family, and loved ones. To be honest, that last part was purely because she loved the terms he used for her, and she wanted to find one to use for him.

All of this was meant to be a surprise, meaning she wanted to be far enough along within the lesson before she attempted conversation. But she got the feeling he was catching on to her. He almost caught her once as she was practicing. She didn't expect him to come home so soon and she was mid-phrase when he walked through the door. She scrambled to mute her phone audio so he couldn't hear the automated voice repeating the phrase over and over again.

And then he began to question what it was about her phone that had her so invested. He'd look over her shoulder, thinking she couldn't see him doing it, and she'd have to hide it. When she started sneaking off to practice in peace, he started throwing a multitude of questions at her: Where did you go? Why do you keep disappearing?

At this point, it was either put up or shut up. She didn't know how long she had before he figured it out, so she decided to cram as much into her brain as she could and then give it a go. She'll start off easy, she figured. When he comes home, she'll ask him how his day was. And then she'll inform him that she will be cooking pork for sandwiches for dinner tonight. Because that was the only thing she could pronounce in the lesson that wasn't an English-borrowed word. And then afterwards she will tell him she loves him. Easy peasy.

Yet, when he walked through the door, her heart started hammering and her mind just went completely blank. Part of her feared he'd laugh at her childish dialect. For some reason, non-English speakers are allowed to have an accent when speaking English, but it was not okay for a native-English speaker to have an accent when speaking another language. They were considered lazy learners who came off as offensive. Fucking hell, Octavio poked fun at her when she jokingly repeated a string of Spanish she remembered from her early school years. Called her a gringa in between his laughter, although he assured her it was said with love and not malice or offense. Even still, it felt like he was laughing at her and not her elementary-level Spanish.

"How was your day?" she panicked and asked him in English. She mentally kicked herself.

"Interesting. Elliott seems to become increasingly annoying every day." he replied as he kicked off his shoes and unclasped his mask and head gear. "How was your day?"

This was a good place for her to answer in Icelandic. She wanted to say her day was good. She knew the word for good: góður. The problem was trying to remember where to put it in the sentence. The syntax in Icelandic wasn't exactly the same as it was in English, and she had a hard time remembering which words got flipped around. When she hesitated to answer him because she was thinking, he repeated his question, making her hands shake as she prepped the kitchen space.

"Dagurinn minn var góður."

As if she was embarrassed, she looked down. Her gaze fell to her shaking hands, watching them open the package of pork and rub in some seasonings. She hoped her actions seemed natural and he didn't catch on to the fact that she was on the verge of tears. When Bloodhound approached her, she mentally prepared herself for his laughter. She didn't expect him to gently wrap his arms around her waist and place a tender kiss on her cheek.

"You have been learning something new."

"Well, trying is more like it." she said and then sucked in a breath.

"I told you not to worry."

"I know you did. I just thought you'd be happy to not have to accommodate me all the time." she confessed to him. He turned her and forced her attention on him. He looked at her like he couldn't believe what she was saying. Like she said something completely stupid.

"I have no trouble accommodating you. I learned English as a young child. I can understand you, and you can understand me."

"But wouldn't you be happier being able to speak your own language once in awhile?"

"I speak Icelandic when I go home. I do not need anything more."

"I still want to learn. I want to be able to have a conversation with you in the morning, where you're still tired and have trouble switching your brain into English mode. Or when you do that thing when you're really upset, and you flip flop between English and Icelandic because you can't find the right words to describe how much Elliott irritates you." she began giggling as she spoke. It was true that Bloodhound often used Icelandic insults in the middle of an English sentence because someone just had to say something so incredibly stupid that his mind just couldn't process it. But, mostly, she just wanted to be a good girlfriend.

"Alright." he said. "If you wish to learn, I will help you. Starting now, I will only speak Icelandic so you can learn every day conversation."

"Wait wait wait." she held her hands up and her eyes widened with panic. "I'm still a beginner here! You're gonna go easy on me, right?"

"The best way to learn a new language is to use it every day. It is how I learned English while living with my uncle."

"Well, yeah, but you also knew a little bit of English from your parents before they died. You had that foundation built for you. I'm starting from scratch." she reminded him. "Plus-" she butted back in before he could say anything. "-it's been proven that children are better adept at learning new languages than adults are. You learned English as a child. I am learning Icelandic as an adult. Very different."

"I only knew very little. My parents died when I was very young. I hardly remember them. But once you understand one word, you can understand a sentence. What I did not understand, I eventually learned. Adults learn new languages all the time."

"Alright. Fine. But go easy on me. Talk to me like I'm four years old. I only learned some greetings and a little bit of food. I didn't get any further than that." she begged of him. He nodded at her, and that should've been a comfort. But then he began speaking strictly in Icelandic, and the panic set in again.

"Hvað ertu að elda?" the Icelandic flowed easily from his lips. Her brain went blank. She had no clue what to do. Those words didn't sound familiar. She looked into his eyes, believing she could read his mind if she stared hard enough. But she couldn't. And he asked her again. "Hvað ertu að elda?" This time he pointed to the meat on the counter.

Her eyes followed his finger, and she pointed to the meat to confirm that's what he was talking about. He nodded, awaiting her answer. Hvað meant what. Right? Yeah, she remembered learning that as one of her first words in the lesson. Okay, he's asking what something is.

"Uh.... svínakjöt?" she answered unsure of herself. Adding a shrug of her shoulders for emphasis. "Samlokur. Svínakjöt samlokur."

"Svínasamlokur." he interrupted.

"What?"

"Svínasamlokur." he repeated.

"Pork sandwiches?"

"Já. Svínasamlokur." 

Okay. She knew what já meant. Pretty much every Slavic and Germanic language said yes the same way. She mispronounced pork sandwiches. Only slightly. She learned the word for pork, and then she learned the word for sandwich. She just assumed you smush the two together to make pork sandwich. Guess not.

"Listen, I only chose to make pork because it was the only thing I could actually pronounce." she confessed. He laughed.

"Þú munt læra."

"I have absolutely no idea what you just said. But, anyway, I am making pork sandwiches -svínasamlokur- and salad -salat. So, if you don't like pork sandwiches, too bad." He laughed again.

"Ég mun fara í sturtu. Þú eldar." he said. He kissed her cheek again and unwound his arms from her frame. She scrunched her eyes at him.

"What?"

Instead of offering a verbal response, he took her wrist and had her follow him into the bathroom. He pointed at the shower.

"Sturta."

"Shower."

"Já. Ég mun fara í sturtu."

"You're gonna shower."

"Já."

"Got it. Sturta means shower." she gave a seasoning-covered thumbs up like an idiot. "You shower, I'll finish cooking dinner."

He gave her a soft kiss before letting her go. She left the bathroom to give him the space to shower, and went back to the kitchen where the pork was ready to be tossed on the skillet.

"Sturta means shower." she reminded herself. "Shower, sturta. Pork sandwhich, svínasamlokur."

The pork sizzled in the oiled skillet. She topped it with a lid to keep the moisture in and then went to prepare the sauce to go on it. She was thinking spicy barbeque. The salad wouldn't take long, so she then chopped up all the ingredients and put it in a large bowl to get it done and over with. With that set aside, she put her focus back on the pork. She braised it with a little bit of butter and some of the barbeque sauce when it was about halfway cooked. Then let it marinate in the juices the rest of the way.

Bloodhound was done showering just before the pork was done cooking. She told him to have a seat, that dinner would be ready shortly.

"Kvöldmaturinn lyktar ljúffengur." he said as he sat down.

"Hm?"

"Kvöldmaturinn lyktar ljúffengur." he repeated.

"Kvöldmaturinn means..... dinner? Something about the dinner?" At his nod, she tried to guess what he was trying to say. "You're.... hungry?" He shook his head. "How long until dinner's ready?" Again he shook his head. "I have no fucking idea."

He did a dramatic inhale through his nose and smiled.

"Dinner smells...... hopefully good." she tried to joke. "If it doesn't smell good, keep it to yourself."

"Já. Góður." he laughed at her.

"Alright. Sturta is shower, svínasamlokur is pork sandwich, kvöldmaturinn is dinner, and lyktar ljúffengur means it smells good. And how much you wanna bet I'm gonna forget all of this tomorrow."

"Ég mun minna þig á."

"Once again, I have no idea what you said. You're going easy on me, right? Not using any big words? Or conjugating a bunch of stuff that I have to learn?"

"Ehhhhh." he lazily shrugged, trying to indicate with his hands that he was playing loose with the rules. She didn't really have the strength within her to fight about it.

"Whatever." She waved him off. "Dinner's pretty much done. So grab a plate. And don't ask me to say it in Icelandic. I didn't learn tableware yet."

Bloodhound stood and grabbed a plate from the cabinet and presented it to her.

"Diskur." he simply said.

"Plate."

"Diskur."

"Diskur, plate. Got it."

She handed him the bread bag and then proceeded to take some forks and shred the pork for him to build his sandwich. A drizzle of the spicy barbeque sauce here, some extra salt to taste there, and dinner was complete. She moved out of the way so he could get his food. When he was done, she plated some for herself.

Dinner for the two of them was usually filled with lots of conversation. But, unfortunately, her lack of Icelandic knowledge has squashed that ritual. Single word phrases and small sentences were the only things he uttered. And she tried her best to guess what it was he was saying. Lots of gestures. Oh my god, so many gestures. They might as well be playing charades instead of having a language lesson.

After dinner, it was her turn to take a shower. Which she happily remembered to translate. Mostly. She got 'I' and 'Shower'. She forgot if the proper phrasing was to go shower, to take a shower, or to have a shower. So it simply came out as 'Ég sturta'. Hey, it was a start. He knew what she meant.

Later that night, like they always do, they settled into bed and put on a random show to occupy the space. It took a long time to convince Bloodhound to get a tv. He eventually caved, and now they enjoy watching tv together. He would never admit it, but she managed to get him hooked on one of her favorite shows. Once the yawning started, they shut the device off and cuddled up under the covers.

"Ég elska þig." he murmured into her hair and then gave her forehead a kiss. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know what he said. He tells her all the time. Both in English and Icelandic.

"Ég elska þig." she repeated the sentiment.

And then they fell asleep.

[archive-arcanum]

Beast of the Hunt ⋆ Bloodhound x GN! Reader (Apex Legends)

18+ Themes ⋆ Primal/Prey Kink ⋆ Part One(?)

You had always admired Blódhundr's predatory, raw manner of hunting down their prey. Your lover was an admirable, and slightly fear-inducing, beast. So when they proposed a game, who were you to deny?

Word Count: 1055

"Alright, my little kanína, are you ready?"

"Yes,"

"I'll be cutting my connection, then. You know what do to if--"

"Blódhundr?"

"... Yes?"

"I love you."

Before they could utter a word back, you pierced the wiring keeping your little headset functional-- and abandoned it exactly where you stood. It fell into a meagre pile of dead leaves, half-covered up. That wouldn't keep your hound from finding it, and you knew that. You were leaving it on purpose, as a little clue-in for when they got here.

They'd given you half an hour. Half an hour, to skitter off into the dense woodland, before they'd release... Well, themself. You were confident you'd done enough zigging and zagging to at least confuse them a little, and were now just seeking a good place to hunker down for the time being. It wasn't as though you weren't comfortable on your own, watching calmly as the deepest shades of orange in the west slowly drained out, replaced by overwhelming blue and violet shadow.

With so much time to yourself, it was easy to let your mind sweep back to Bloodhound. You were struggling to measure exactly what this game meant, to them. When they'd suggested it, they spoke so confidently-- but their hands had wrung in their lap, fingers twisting and pulling as if there was something they simply weren't disclosing. You didn't distrust them to any measure-- but some awry anxiety pulsed little shocks underneath your fingertips, and laced the thumping behind your ribs.

You weren't afraid. That wasn't what you were feeling, at all. Though you were starting to realize that maybe you held more than just admiration for your partner's hunting prowess, given the way that same awestruck feeling had you wired even now. All that plagued your mind was the way they watched. The way they stalked. Had they already found a trace of you? Your boots, printed into the moist soil. Or maybe your scent, tied loosely to one of the trees you'd climbed over on the way out here.

Or maybe they already knew. Maybe they were already closing in on you, and it was only a matter of time before they caught you. And what would they do then?

Catch you...

Grab you...

Pin you to the dirt...

Would they eat you?

Like a wild beast?

Had you truly become prey?

... Were you really just an animal, after all?

A wild flurry of beating wings rushed out from the trees behind you, ears overwhelmed by furious, strong wing flaps. You'd hardly spun around, rushed steps tangling your legs until you fell into the dirt behind you. Your eyes darted to the sky, as a large raven rose from the trees-- chest heaving.

"...Fuck."

Your imagination was getting the better of you already. It had hardly been half an hour since your last exchange with Bloodhound, and all you could think about was your inevitable loss. But that was a miserable way to think, wasn't it?

That thought ignited a warm sort of passion, deep in your core. Or had that feeling always been there? Either way, you got back to your feet-- determined to keep on. You brushed the dirt from your clothes, and continued into the dark.

Now steeled with ambition, you had to plan what you'd do when they did catch you. It may have been near impossible to escape them, but what were you going to do when they did?

You'd have to fight back, now, wouldn't you? To push them back, and get on top! Turn the hunted into the hunter! That would show them, now, wouldn't it?

Your eager planning had made your ears dull. Slow, timed steps followed closely behind yours, creeping ever closer as you wove your way around trees and bushes. When you finally heard it, your heart stopped. You'd almost stopped dead, though your better nature reminded you to keep going. If they didn't know that you knew... Maybe you could gain an upper hand.

And so you kept on, wandering as though aimless-- though every turn and every pause was an invitation to attack. If all you could do was wait for it to happen, you'd just have to prepare for when it did.

But they kept following, just far enough away. You could hear every single step of theirs behind yours, waiting in anticipation for the attack. Your fingers twitched, terribly tempted to peek back over your shoulder. The jig was up, right? Why were they taking go long?

You turned again, hooking around a thick tree that would surely obscure your visage for a few seconds.

Within moments, you could hear scratching, as though they'd clawed against the very same tree to get around it and back to you. And was that...

Growling?

Was that really your Blódhundr? Or maybe... It wasn't. Maybe, some other predator had found you, first. The only weapon you handled was a hunting knife-- a gift from Bloodhound, with a carved bone handle they'd made perfectly, to fit right into your hands.

Before you could comprehend even having to use it, you heard the beast from behind leap. Before its body could overpower yours, you turned back, getting a firm grip on broad, capable shoulders.

You'd not had time to be relieved, though, turning the two of you over so that you landed on top. Hands clamped onto your waist and hips, growling furiously when you tried to pin them down.

Soon, the two of you were flipped over once more, your fight back knocking loose the goggles and mask they wore. When they'd worked their way to the top, two large hands overwhelmed yours, stinging grip straining your hands above your head. Crazed, animal eyes stared back into yours, teeth gritting and shiny with hunger.

Their breathing came in gravelly huffs, as though they'd run a million miles at once, just to catch you. Was this still your sweet hound? The one that had always treated you with gentle hands, and steeled patience? You almost didn't recognize them now-- crazed, depraved, and hungry. When you struggled, their grip on you grew ever harsher.

"You aren't getting away from me, kanína..."

A shiver wracked up your spine, even as it lie against the cold dirt of the earth.

"I found you. You're mine."

[stardusted-arrow]

Bloodhound x Reader Imagine ~

Notes: Pre-Apex Games, takes place in the Outlands, reader + Bloodhound are young adults on a hunting trip that feels like more. Fluffy, first date kind of vibes. Indulging myself into daydreaming about ✨them✨

Warnings: Animal death

___________________________

- You’re the blacksmiths kid, which means you and Bloodhound go way back. You were able to get a lot of practice with blade care thanks to Artur’s near obsession with taking care of his axe. He always brought Bloodhound with him though the two of you spoke very little.

- One day, your parent agreed to a barter- a new skinning blade for a hunting lesson with Artur. You weren’t too keen at first, until finding out you weren’t the only student going on the hunt.

- You showed up to their cabin, and Bloodhound answered the door. The hunter held in a giggle at how overprepared you came. Multiple blades hung from your belt and at least three bags worth of supplies were strapped to your back.

- “Come here, child,” Artur helped get you ready, leaving you with one good hunting knife. “It’s only for a sun cycle, we’re not going to be out there for ages.”

- You and the duo trudged along in the snow for hours, and little was spoken beyond how to pick up animal tracks, the ethics behind a good hunt, and where to strike your game. You listened to Artur closely, unaware of the eyes that stayed glued to you.

- Finally, a deer came into view, which tugged Bloodhound’s gaze from you. They readied their bow and arrow with such speed, you could only blink in awe at the sight. They whispered a small prayer to the gods before releasing the string, and the deer fell into the snow.

- Once back at the village, you quickly found out that processing the hunt was your least favorite part of the ordeal. Though, you did gain a newfound appreciation for all that went into efficient hunting practices.

- Artur left for a moment to gather more storage for the deer’s yield, which left you and Bloodhound alone for a moment.

- You couldn’t help but become extremely aware of your posture, and the breaths you took. Bloodhound’s goggles hid their gaze, but you could feel it on you. You let the silence seep in, however your magnetism to them did all the talking.

- “I suppose you’ll have to teach me to craft a blade the next time you have a chance, now that you’ve learned the basics of a hunt,” they said, accent thick and a small smile on their face.

- You nodded, unaware as to why their voice made your chest feel tight. “I suppose you’re right. It’ll be much warmer than going out into the snow, thank the gods.” You returned their smile, resisting the urge to fiddle with your dagger.

- “I think I’d like to try forging an axe like Artur’s. Or perhaps throwing knives.” Bloodhound mused, standing from their seat to add more wood to the fire in the shed.

- You couldn’t suppress the sound of your chuckle. “Throwing knives? And how would you use those?” The practicality of such weapons seemed dubious to you.

- Bloodhound crouched by the fire, hands outstretched. “Hunting. Or maybe just throwing them at a tree to see if I can get them to stick,” they were sure it would be the latter.

- “I could fashion some targets to help with those endeavors,” you offered, looking out to the fire and Bloodhound for some moments.

- It didn’t really click that they were looking back, but that didn’t stop you from gazing upon him wordlessly. You’d seen them so many times at the forgery, though today felt like so much more and you weren’t sure why. ‘It’s just hunting,’ you kept thinking to yourself.

- Neither was Bloodhound. All they knew is that they wanted to do this again, whatever ‘this’ was.

- Artur returned with more casks for the deer meat, its hide already on the drying rack. “Come here, Y/N. Let me show you where to make the cuts.”

- After the processing was finished, Artur handed you a satchet worth of meat. “You did well. Don’t be shy about coming on more hunting trips with us.” You nodded at the man, thanking him for his time and patience. “Bloodhound, walk them home please.”

- They helped you carry the abundance of supplies you had brought over, and the two of you trudged through the icy snow under the moonlight. You glanced over at them a few times during the trek, which didn’t go unnoticed by Bloodhound.

- The only sounds were your footsteps, you weren’t sure if you liked the silence between you and them.

- “I do hope you come back out with us again. It was nice having someone else’s ear talked off by Artur for once,” they said, looking over at you with a grin, “I’m only slightly kidding.”

- You returned their grin, shaking your head a little, “Artur talks little when compared to my parent, just you wait.” Bloodhound looked at you with a mouth slightly agape, and you wondered if they would renounce their want to learn how to forge metal.

- They asked you about your family, and your reply was quick- having very little relatives. You found a sense of understanding when they shared the same experience. And then conversation found its way back to the damn throwing knives.

- You were back to your cabin in what felt like seconds, and thanked Bloodhound yet again for their help.

- “Let me set these things down for you, at least,” they looked down at the multitude of supplies strapped to them. “You packed at least a months worth of supply, Y/N.”

- You narrowed your eyes at them, before opening the door to your home “Better prepared than not,” you said, helping them inside after kicking the snow off your boots.

- Once everything was settled into the table and chair space in the entrance room, you found yourself staring at Bloodhound wordlessly again. They did the same.

- Your chest tightened yet again, and you weren’t sure why. Bloodhound just couldn’t tear their eyes away.

- “I’ll.. see you soon.” You finally said, a tentative smile finding its way to your lips.

- “You will.” They replied, still unmoving. Gods, seconds seemed to pass like they were minutes.

- “Goodnight, Bloodhound.” you said softly, stepping towards them. They didn’t move, feeling their stomach flip at your closer proximity. Silence befell you once more.

-“.. and to you, Y/N.” They gently replied, backing up and out of the door slowly. Once they were out though, they picked up pace swiftly- as though the further they got, the more they could breathe.

- You watched them disappear into the night, smiling softly. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

[critterdotgo]

A random Bloodhound headcannon:

I like to imagine that due to them being a hunter (as well as after joining the Apex games). Bloodhound’s altar is a travel altar. Wether it be a shoebox, a little tin case, etc

As for offerings, I like to imagine that during their down time they write poetry in honor of Odin

[freakingholland]

MY WRITING PREFERENCES AND RULES (last updated - 9th Oct 2024)

hemlo loves, I've decided that I need to update my rules for fics and today is the day. a little disclaimer - they might change overtime as I'm a multifandom fangirl and my interests change a lot!

Who do I write for?

DC comics:

Dick Grayson

Jadon Todd

Tim Drake

Bart Allen

Wally West

Overwatch:

Cassidy

Brigitte

D.Va

Pharah

Genji

Hanzo

Kiriko

Mercy

Ramattra

Lifeweaver

Apex Legends:

Wattson

Wraith

Bloodhound

Mirage

Catalyst

Valkyrie

Loba

Octane

Vantage

Conduit

911:

Evan Buckley

Eddie Diaz

Call of Duty

Simon Riley

Alex Keller

Game of Thrones

Jon Snow

Jaime Lannister

House of the Dragon

Rhaenyra Targaryen

Valorant

Cypher

Clove

Viper

Jett

Sage

Omen

Criminal Minds

Spencer Reid

How To Get Away With Murder

Asher Millstone

House MD

Robert Chase

James Wilson

2. I only write x reader fics, will do fem!reader and gn!reader (as I want my imagines to be genuine and harmless, I'd like to make space for male!reader writers who can do a much better job than me!) I won't write AUs, I mostly write fanon fics/fics based on episodes/trailers/in-game events etc. depending on the media!

3. If you want me to write about a character who isn't on the list - ask away! I might not know their lore enough, but I will try my best to do my research. The worst that can happen - I'll just let you know that I won't write for them! But I don't bite I promise ♥

4. I'm not very experienced with smut, but I'm comfortable with it. I specialise in fluff! I'm a sucker for domestic imagines, will do hurt/comfort as well. Not really experienced with angst, but will do angst that ends with fluff!

5. I won't write about character under the age of 15 unless it's platonic or unless I headcanon a character as someone 15+ ! (my old imagines break that rule to some extent, but as they are harmless (involve romance but nothing suggestive), they will remain on my blog at least for now - might rewrite them in the near future).

6. I'm relatively busy with work and uni so it might take me a while to post!

7. I also do polls so make sure to catch those if you wanna help me choose!

8. I can add you to my tag list! just send me an ask!

[r-ando-m-w-rite-r]

Rough Beginnings

~a rev x ash~

i don’t really see these anywhere, and i found inspiration, so here it is.

some fluff, language, and ofc dirty talk (but kept to a minimum).

fyi i know at the end you guys might be thinking ‘wait but don’t robots NOT have parts to do...ykkkk...’ and you guys are right, he’s just not referring to THAT. you’ll see. anyways, enjoy!

---------------------------------- 

“Here friends, a medkit!” Pathfinder pinged heals inside the deathbox that was still warm to the touch. His squad had just gotten out of a fight, and everyone was trying to heal. 

“Give me that.”, Revenant growled out as he finished recharging his shields. Ash watched as Pathfinder quickly grabbed the red and white box. He handed it to the murder bot, who snatched it away without any recognition of the friendly squadmate. 

Ash just shrugged and began looking through another deathbox. She sorted through the contents, pinging a frag and a thermite. “Explosives here.”, she said in a monotone voice. 

“Take your paws off those, I need them.”, Revenant replied harshly, standing up from the corner he had been healing in, refreshed. Annoyance fluttered around in the back of her mind, and despite not wanting to start anything, she was bored and wanted something to bicker about. 

“Well what if I don’t?”, Ash snapped back, still in a monotone voice. She quickly stuffed the explosives into her bag as Revenant began making his way over. Even though she obviously wasn’t afraid of him, having him near her just gave her a feeling of insecurity. As he walked up beside her, she had to look up just to see his face. Seven inches really made a difference. 

He loomed over her, staring down into her face as she defiantly stared back. She was sick of him bossing people around, even though she didn’t care for Pathfinder very much and didn’t mind what happened to him. “You don’t wanna test me, missy.”, he growled, his voice ringing in her ears even after he stopped talking. He was irritated.

“Oh but I do.”, Ash replied, chuckling. “I like getting on your nerves.” She whispered the last part. Revenant made a weird sort of grunting noise before reaching out. However, his hand froze in midair before dropping back to his side, and he spun and took off in the other direction. She heard him muttering under his breath, and she could only imagine the vile things he was saying about her.

She looked over to see a confused Pathfinder just sitting there, watching Revenant storm off. He looked at her after a moment, but before he could say anything stupid, Ash walked off after her brooding teammate. This match was going to get interesting fast.

---------------------------------------

“Dammit!”, Ash heard Revenant shout as the totem shattered. The inner shadow she had acquired sucked out of her, and for a second her vision throbbed and her body was not her own. But soon she regained control, and just in the nick of time, because Bloodhound was aiming between her eyes.

Ducking and rolling out of the way, her body scraped on the concrete floor of the bunker. Revenant followed suit, quickly whipping out a shield cell. Pathfinder had rushed, an obvious mistake. Within seconds, the words “I’m down!” were cried out, and gunshots were heard before he was boxed up.

“Well, looks like it’s just the two of us.”, Ash muttered out enthusiastically. “Good thing this is the last squad and we will die anyway.” She was still annoyed from earlier and was fed up with her teammates, the fighting, and the whole of the Apex Games in general. This was surprisingly out of the norm for her, but then again, she had gotten more emotional as of late with Horizon joining the games.

Revenant growled at this. “Why give up so easily?” He peeked out from behind the wall, and shots whisked past his head. He took a deep breath before activating his tactical, chucking it towards wherever the gunshots were coming from. Ash leaned her head up against the wall, sighing and closing her mechanical eyes. 

Revenant must’ve noticed, because he muttered, “Wake up.” She grunted, and he sighed deeply. There was silence other than for the enemy team trying to heal up after being hit with Revenant’s ability. “Fine then, you need encouragement?”

Before she could even respond, he grabbed onto her waist, pulling her up onto his lap. It shocked her so badly that she couldn’t even muster a word. He pulled her farther back into his chest, leaning his head down beside her ear. Even through her hood, she could hear him. “Now that I’ve got your attention..”, he growled out seductively. “Help me win this game, and I will reward you later tonight.” If simulacrums could blush, Ash would’ve been a red hot mess sprawled out on Revenant’s lap.

She must’ve been radiating heat; she was so excited by his words. Even though she had just been picking on him earlier, she didn’t expect this much of a reaction from him, let alone one at all. Either way, she wasn’t complaining. She was confused as to what she could be rewarded with, but then again, she was still ready to earn it nevertheless.

Bounding up, Ash whipped out her sword, getting ready to launch into battle. Revenant just chuckled, amused. “Damn, you really want to please me.” She didn’t reply, she was not only focused, but also too embarresed to even say anything to this bot, this guy that was seeing her other side for the first time. He grunted unsatisfactorily, grabbing her chin suddenly and making her look at him. “Do you want to please me?”

One hand let go of her sword, the other grabbing the back of his head and shoving it down near her mouth. He was caught off guard, but didn’t pull away. “Yes.”, she whispered to him, and he almost seemed to rumble underneath her touch. She chuckled, he must be sexually aroused too. Letting go, she grabbed her sword with both hands once more before cutting a tear right into the enemies. It would be a bloodbath. She wouldn’t fail.

[caifee]

CUDDLING HC WITH BLOODHOUNG ?????

aahhh GIMMIE MORE FLUFF PLZ I LOVE IT

Cuddling w/ Bloodhound

GN!Reader | SFW

Houndy would definitely be all for cuddle time, especially after a game.

Just getting to relax with you calms their nerves and stress by a lot.

Their top love language is 100% quality time or gift giving, so cuddling would be a huge thing for Bloodhound.

Houndy would treasure those moments more than you'd understand.

Their also very clingy, very touchy.

Their favorite cuddle position would be the two of you facing each other, just enjoying each other's precense, the smallest touches here and there maybe to move a strand of hair out of your face or theirs.

They'd do this, especially after a hunt. It's like a reward to them.

Bloodhound would also love to just have you in their embrace, this position especially while going to sleep.

It makes them feel more safe and relaxed, as they fear you leaving, so it brings them comfort to constantly be holding you, knowing you won't be going anywhere.

If you do wake up before Houndy, either wake them up or wait, you'd absolutely terrify them if they woke up to you gone, especially after a nightmare.

There would be some kisses here and there as well, specifically forehead kisses. Those are Houndys' favorite, their soft and sweet.

You'd know if they were having a nightmare as well, Bloodhound would have a very tight hold on you whilst cuddling, most likely waking you up in the process.

They'd definitely feel bad too, not wanting their fears to get in the way of you two.

Cuddles overall would be a very emotional connection between you two.

[tarrenterror25]

Apex Legends

✨ - SFW 🔥 - NSFW

✨ - Bloodhound Imagine ✨ - Meet and Greet with the Legends (Up to season 9) ✨ - Dancing with Latin!GN!Reader (ft. Loba, Mirage, Octane, Kaleb) ✨ - TNOAF: Season 4 Revenant thoughts ✨ - Caustic Playlist

[quantumviolet1024]

Venus in Pisces

House of Hecate

Bliss Minor

I

He stands in twilight at the gates of the new city’s walls. A strange dawn stirs on the blade of the meridian. The last city smolders in the distance. His footprints in their soft, dust craters trail behind him. And alongside are the drops of blood that let astride him. He hears the distant hounds. A breeze lifts and covers his tracks.

But through the gate he peers for now. The city begins to awaken and to come to life. The bakers, the artists, the carpenters, the vagrants and the elite merge into one citizen smiling on their paths. He looks upon the road leading to the private houses and figures silhouetted above the sills. Laughter from within their walls. The sunrise catches the apex of a pearled pagan statue where paths converge, and his eyes divert upon it. He stands until the sunlight reaches her eyes of the East.

Hecate waits standing in stone without faltering. In three-form. One face by light. Two others by shadow. In each hand a torch. And the others hold a serpent, a key. He is entranced by a momentary paralysis. And he imagines the future unraveling to the North past the mountains, overlooking the new city. Her reflection in his dark eyes reverberates between them infinitely. Sage burns. A hex lifts. The ghosts like petals drift. The gravity of the morning moon, still in the sky, lifts the dew. The blades of grass bend toward the celestial. He begins to cry. And his eyes are then clear.

Two guards near and begin to call out. He returns down the path and takes a new fork up into the overgrowth and throngs of thorns. Up the mountain he wades unflinching and finds a clearing. He sets up a camp between the cities. Overlooking the distant landscapes, the smoldering old and the glow of the new. He speaks to the night phantoms and coyotes who dare not near, and the black fountain to him speaks of method and form like wine. A moth flutters into the light and heat to invoke a change. Geese pass overhead, a transition at the threshold of season. He watches the fire the night long and the hounds bay.

He douses the embers for the ashes to fractal, meet root, and rise again. Broken and delirious, he sees a vision of the frog at the well, at the edge of the underworld aflame. It clings in silence to the scales unfair. Tempting darkness to near. He reaches out with hand weak and it dives, escaping wet into the cosmos below sending ripples through the stars. He looks down at his reflection until the water stills, and in that moment his mirror splits to twin. He looks up but no one is yet there beside him. A premonition. A last black hope. The mountain grows cold. He cries out as he awakens.

II

Hecate’s pearly marble begins to hatch in small fissures as each day he returns to stand curious at the gate. He can see within her a subtle change, a darkness escaping and a sunlight entering. An exchange between them of these dualities. A reflection of his own scars and healings.

Her form divine, an undertaking etched by the sculptor in his creation. And in his destruction of the original stone placed by the floods of old, weathered by the same forces which created him. She, a fragment of the whole reformed into a holy projection, a savior of lost. And too, somehow lost, yet firmly planted.

One night he slipped through the gate to observe these forces. Under moonlight she shone more clearly than ever. The curvature of her form and sweet rounded features. Her rosy cheeks held between solemn and smiling. His head turned slightly and he peered into her steady reassuring eyes. He placed his hand on hers, still holding the torch, and felt a warmth escaping the fractures. For a moment her eyes seemed to speak of strange sadness. And the hounds bayed. And a lamp was lit in a window above. And he fled.

The bloodhounds caught up to him in a tree by the river and bayed. The handler soon arrived and he pleaded his case back down. He had shown how his hands had worked to the bone and how the crops still didn’t grow. He told of the moon and how it’s rising again upon him there would bring only doom. If I am not to be set free, there will be no blood left that isn’t lapped up, obscene, at the foot of this tree. The handler first argued, then nodded, then called off the dogs and walked back to rebuild the smoldering city.

III

He climbed down and arrived at the clearing. He built a meagre structure and lived. A small coyote occasionally came to watch, hiding in the morning grasses. The river went, and he drank from it. The suns came. He hunted, no longer haunted. The leaves changed.

He walked out one day up the path to the city gates. As he peered through as he had done a hundred times or more he felt a trembling in the earth below. The same earth from which she was derived. She began to chip and falter. And in the gentle rain she shed tears. Until seemingly, all at once, she escaped her enclosure and changed. Above the rubble stood a woman, warm in the flesh, free to move and bend, alive again.

In her hand was the key. And wrapt around her neck was a single pearl. And she looked up into his eyes through the gate and approached. She somehow knowing of his straying and stays. In the rain the last dust of the key departed the iron and rejoined the earth. She turned the lock. The gates opened slowly. She embraced him. The rain stopped. And he entered her city of light and life. Petrichor on the breeze. Hiraeth fades. A new beginning. A life worth living.

[drabblesbyprincessofhyrule]

Anniversary Gifts ~ FuseHound

Content rating: General

Tags: Fluff, One Shot

Words: 1, 597

After Boone's death, Bloodhound never thought they would open themself up to love again. Then, enter Walter Fitzroy, the most explosive legend known to man. Bloodhound didn't imagine they would grow fond of the man, but slowly his loud, witty, and touchy-feely personality began to appeal to the hunter. One thing led to another, and before Bloodhound realized, friendly appeal transformed into a sweet fondness.

Fuse reciprocated this fondness. He was more than willing to take a chance on Bloodhound, to work through their fears, and embrace newfound love. Now, the Apex Games lovers find their first anniversary rapidly approaching. Wanting nothing more than to make their anniversary special, Bloodhound and Fuse set out to get the best gift possible for one another.

Bloodhound's Gift to Fuse

The past year of Bloodhound's life has been complete bliss. Never before has the hunter felt so cherished and loved, and they want nothing more than to ensure their partner feels the same way. Over the past few weeks, Bloodhound had been working tirelessly to achieve exactly that. Countless nights were spent researching guitars, learning about what style is best for certain sounds, learning how to properly tune strings, and mending cracked wood. Splinters pricked their fingers and frustration sometimes swirled around in the hunter's head, yet the sheer love and determination that fills their heart was enough to keep them going.

Bloodhound can still remember the night Fuse smashed his guitar into the ground. Bloodhound sat with the explosive legend and listened to him recount tells of his past, how he wanted to move beyond his past and settle down. That was the night the pair agreed to move in together. That was also the night that Bloodhound hatched their plan for giving Fuse the best anniversary present possible. After Fuse had gone to bed later that evening, Bloodhound had collected the pieces of the busted guitar and stored them away.

Now, the guitar is in playable condition again, albeit a little rough around the edges. Bloodhound has yet to figure out how to perfectly tune the strings, and a few of the cracks in the wood are still obvious. Half of the wooden guitar has been replaced with a newer electric-style body, plus the guitar now has a flame-thrower mechanic that spits fire out of the bottom. Bloodhound thought that the flame-thrower embodies Fuse's personality perfectly, so the hunter was very excited when they managed to make that work.

Admittedly, Bloodhound wanted more time to finish polishing their handwork. Under normal circumstances, Bloodhound would have had more time to finish perfecting their gift. But, living with one's partner does come with its own unique drawbacks, such as their partner walking in while they're in the process of working on his anniversary gift.

"Houndy, is that me old guitar? You raised her from the dead?"

Bloodhound looked up frantically to see Fuse standing in the doorway. Their palms suddenly felt sweaty, their heart beating more rapidly than normal. "Ah, mitt Walter. Yes. This was meant to be a gipt for you, but it isn't finished yet. I'm struggling to tune it, and some of the cracks still need to be sealed."

Fuse found himself staring at the guitar in Bloodhound's lap. He was feeling absolutely bewildered that anyone would go through this amount of effort for him. The idea made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside, almost like he was tipsy. "I can tune her up no problem, mate. Don't ya worry about that. But, all of this work, just to prepare a gift for me? When I'm the one who destroyed her in the first place?"

"For you, Walter Fitzroy, I would move mountains. No task is too large. Please, consider this an anniversary gift. I know it's a little early, but I hope you'll be able to see how much you mean to me regardless."

"Houndy this is… This is the best gift I've ever received!" Fuse pulled Bloodhound into his arms and tucked his face into the hunter's neck. It was a strong, yet gentle embrace, the kind that makes a person feel safe and at ease. "I could bloody kiss ya for this!"

Bloodhound chuckled, all anxiety about how Fuse would receive the gift leaving their body. "Your love is the only thanks I need, mitt love. Now, how about you tell me more tales about the wild past of Walter Fitzroy."

Fuse's Gift to Bloodhound

After receiving such a lovely gift from Houndy, Fuse knew he had to go all out for their first anniversary. Fuse had considered buying Bloodhound a new hunting knife or bow but ultimately decided that his partner would prefer their old, trustworthy gear. After shooting down that idea, Fuse considered planning a hunting trip for the two of them, maybe on a remote planet with plentiful wildlife, or maybe at some fancy hunting club. After all, the two of them grew so close due to a hunting trip. But, deep down, Fuse knew that a hunting trip still didn't feel right. Bloodhound preferred hunting sustainably, and making a big fancy ordeal out of hunting would not fit within the realm of sustainability.

Fuse felt like he had used every single cell in his brain trying to plan the perfect gift for Bloodhound and it was beginning to drive him insane. Fuse just couldn't understand why planning a gift for his lover was so hard. He went as far as asking Loba for help since she and Houndy were close friends, but the translocating thief was too occupied with Revenant's head and Valkyrie's involvement to give Fuse any real ideas. It wasn't until the Salvonian was about to give up and just buy Bloodhound an assortment of their favorite snacks that a lightbulb finally went off in Fuse's head. "Of course," Fuse chuckled to himself, "I've just been overthinking it. Simple, thoughtful, and sweet is all I need." Thus, Fuse's plan was hatched.

It was an early October morning. The air was crisp and the sun was peaking over the horizon, making it the perfect day for a warm cup of joe. However, the new bag of coffee was mysteriously empty and Fuse had a sudden headache, meaning Bloodhound had to go out. Since the pair lived in a more remote location and chose to primarily live off the land, that meant the hunter would be gone for at least an hour, hopefully more if Mirage was actually waiting at the store to act as a distraction. Either way, Fuse was hopeful that he would have enough time to bring his vision to life.

"I am headed to the store, mitt Walter. Please rest until I return. It will help your head." Bloodhound pressed a kiss to the top of Fuse's head before turning to leave, causing Fuse’s cheeks to turn a light shade of pink.

"Of course, Houndy. Don't ya worry about me. I'll catch a few z's while I wait for you to get home." Fuse offered a lazy grin, laying back in the bed to convince Bloodhound of his intentions.

"Good. I'll be home shortly, love."

The door shut with a soft click and Fuse sprang to his feet. "Alright, ole Fusey! Let's get this party started!"

Music blasted over the small speaker Fuse placed in the kitchen as he scurried between tasks. Sweat dripped down his brow as he worked on preparing a honey glaze for the salmon Bloodhound caught on their last fishing trip. Plus he was roasting the asparagus he planted in the backyard garden, cutting up apples for a pound cake, and more at the same time. At some point, Fuse began to question if he had bit off more than he could chew with his surprise anniversary gift, but watching everything slowly come together felt extremely satisfying to the bombastic man.

After the salmon was cooked and glazed and the roasted asparagus was tender, Fuse plated the salmon filets on top of the asparagus in an attempt to be fancy. Once the apple pound cake was cool and taken out of the pan, Fuse put it on a platter and drizzled a glaze across the top in a zigzag pattern. After setting everything on the table with a small candle, Fuse had to admit that he was quite proud of his handy work. Now, he just had to finish cleaning up until Houndy gets home, hopefully before the food gets cold.

Fuse was elbow-deep in dishwater, scrubbing various pots and pans, when he finally heard the echo of boots against the floor. "Walter darling, I'm home."

"I'm in the kitchen, love!" Fuse yelled back. He swiftly left the sink and grabbed a kitchen towel his hands as the echoing of boots grew closer. "I wanted to prepare you something for our anniversary, to thank you for making me feel safe and loved."

A muffled gasp emitted from behind Bloodhound’s face mask as their eyes took in the sight of Walter standing next to the dinner table, fully set with a mouthwatering meal. Just looking at the table in front of them was enough to make the hunter salivate. "Walter, I… This is amazing. You made all of this yourself?"

"I did. Elliot gave me some cooking tips, and he pitched in by hopefully keeping you distracted at the store. I'm not certain it's perfect, but I'm sure this is going to be a good meal, especially with you by my side, Houndy. I can feel it in my ‘stache!"

An airy chuckle left Bloodhound's throat, a feeling of giddiness due to the pure love resonating in Fuse's voice building up in their chest. "Then let us make haste before the food gets cold. I can't wait to sink my teeth into the apple cake! How did you know it's one of my favorites?"

The couple spent the rest of their evening enjoying good food and even better company. Fuse fed Bloodhound their slice of cake and watched in delight as the hunter's face lit up at the taste. Laughs and kisses were exchanged, the pair finished cleaning up together, and they even brought out their favorite board games to round out the anniversary date. At the end of the day, Fuse was definitely glad that this was how he chose to surprise his love.

Also available at princessofhyrule on AO3!

[lettucedloophole]

dream logic is so funny because sometimes i'll be aware that i'm dreaming but still operate within the logic of the dream? for example i had this dream of like this bloodhound (apex legends) scp thing where part of bloodhounds SOUL or SOMETHING was a tree that had this disturbing face on it, switched between owl like and just .. distorted, and the tree killed people. and i was aware that i was dreaming, so i thought "OMG this bloodhound spooky concept is so cool i need to remember it when i wake up so i can write it and make it real!!!!"

problem is when i remembered it upon waking... i realised that's not that cool 😭 it's just kinda strange LMAO. dreams are so intense because you're living them and stuck in living them, trapped in your mind. this is frustrating because when i describe a nightmare or dream i had it may sound tame if you imagine it, because you can't emphasize the sheer feeling and immersion that goes into dreams.

an interesting thing that happens sometimes in my dreams, mostly nightmares, is that if something particularly disturbing is happening, it will become embedded in the fact of the dream that i'm in a game. either it begins as real life and fades into a game or it's a disturbingly realistic game from the start. this happens a lot with my zombie dreams. for example, i dreamt of playing cod zombies with my dad but it was first person. and not fps, i mean I Was In The Game. i feel my subconsious establishes the fact it is a game in the dream to protect me from feeling more fear, because i can respawn and even if it's scary and it hurts and i die, it's not really real. i think it's neat that my brain tries to protect me in this way.. the benefits of being a Gamer, i suppose.

so if you have nightmares... try gaming to the point where the mechanics embed themselves into your dreams! the positive ones, tho. lol