#now that i know where she is on the map I do not intend to progress the plot again for a fair while

[fell-court]

Today's gameplay progress:

I finished Myths of the Realm! I enjoyed the alliance raids a lot more than I thought I would, honestly, even if I did have to have the camera zoomed all the way out to get my bearings most of the time. (It helped that I was playing with people who mostly seemed to know what they were doing, including my level 90 friend.)

My friend and I also managed to get through Mount Ordeals - I didn't even die, somehow! - so I'm now done with patch 6.3 as well!~

I took this, to commemorate the event ^-^

[kenromis]

⌦ .｡.:*♡ last night on earth

⌦ .｡.:*♡ MDNI 18+

⌦ .｡.:*♡ WARNINGS: jayce talis, smut, some plot if you squint, post act 2 arcane, written before act 3, SPOILERS

⌦ .｡.:*♡ NOTES: i used to HATE jayce in 2021 but.... now i need him bad. dilf jayce stand behind me NOW!!! my official tumblr return for jayce talis, 2021 me would've lost it.

any and all negative comments will be deleted. if you have an issue with my writing style DO NOT read.

Soft clamors in the night, bandaged hands trailing against the wall to find their way through the corridors of his apartment in the darkness. The only thing audible is the sounds of his labored huffs and grunts as he limps towards any door he could find himself to first.

Jayce’s hip finds itself colliding with an item that God only knows of, hearing the sharp crack as it hits his marble floors. He lets out a groan, his free hand moving to rub his temple in reaction to the harsh shriek that echoed through the hall. Why did he even think about coming here first and not to a place he had mapped out better in his mind– such as his laboratory. He couldn’t go back there though… not after Viktor’s betrayal.

He hears the sound of a switch, the halls being coated with a blinding, artificial lighting that he hadn’t seen in however long he had been stuck in that goddamned dimension. Jayce’s eyes squeeze shut as he pushes his back to the wall, sliding down with a hand over his eyes. Always the one to have a flair for such dramatic reactions.

“Jayce!” A worried voice exclaims, footsteps running to approach him and shield his sensitive gaze from the light. “Jayce, goodness, where have you been?”

He knows the voice all too well, his lovely partner who had thankfully heard his desperate attempts to find his way through his home.

Jayce couldn't mutter a response, arms immediately wrapping around the woman that stood above him and pulling her form to envelope his. He hadn’t even bothered to open his eyes, burying himself in the crook of her neck with a satisfied sigh.

“Jayce?”

“Yes, honey?”

Her hands moved to rake through his hair— something that had severely changed in his absence. Not that she minded, however, it was clear Jayce had seen hell and back with the way his touch searched for solace on her body.

She bit her bottom lip anxiously, fingers dancing in his locks in an attempt to soothe him. “Are you okay?” Her question came out a lot more worrisome than she had intended, feeling the shift of his head move to look into her eyes through the strands that covered his face.

What could he say? She was no scientist, and while she was intelligent, there was no possible explanation he could give without sounding absolutely mental. But, she knew his line of work, so maybe there was a chance she could believe the sputtering and string of stories he had to tell about his absence.

However, right now, he couldn’t bother. His head dipped to rest atop her breast that had only been covered by a silk robe— his robe.

She took that as a response, realizing his reluctance. “The beard is new,” she mumbled affectionately, her free nimble hand moving to stroke the hairs that sat on his chin. It was rough and clearly untamed, but she hadn’t minded one bit.

Jayce let out a chuckle, moving his head back to lean against the wall. He couldn’t keep still one bit.

“I think I like this look,” she cooed, moving her hands to both sides of his face to caress his sunken cheeks. As worried as she had been, she couldn’t express it— considering how quick it was to get Jayce worried himself.

“I thought you weren’t a fan of facial hair?” He joked, resting his own hand against hers, his thumb rubbing circles around the skin. His gaze moved to hers, staring behind his long eyelashes and biting back a small smile at the way her hands rubbed the newly formed hair. It was quite different from how clean and kept he had been before, and his eyes searched for a reaction.

“I may be able to get used to it,” her soft voice whispered out, “but, I would prefer if we continue this conversation in the lounge.”

With that statement, she removed herself from her glass and onto her feet, hand extended to help as much as she could to get the weakened man to stand tall. Her hand gripping his allowing him to use her as leverage before wrapping his arm around her shoulder to limp his way to the destination she had led him to.

Jayce’s body fell to the sofa, a heavy groan as his arm moved to his shoulder with a wince while a ‘careful’ was yelled toward him. His other hand moved to the top of his head, soft pants spilling from his lips as if he had just run a marathon.

“Gracious, what were you put through?”

A seat is plopped beside him and immediately his head falls to her lap— a position he finds himself in quite often with his partner.

“If only you knew, [Name],” he whimpered out, moving her hand to caress his face once more. The only comfort he sought was from the softness of her skin against his.

“Then tell me,” she whispered in a plea, moving his head to look up at her. Her hand cupped the end of his chin to force his gaze, her softer expression from earlier now turned into one of slight irritation.

And how couldn’t she be irritated? Piltover’s golden boy disappearing without a trace, days after an attack at a memorial? Her only assumption is Jayce’s greed for revenge, which would perhaps explain his current state and absence.

“I know I worry you,” Jayce mumbled, moving her hand to place it against his lips. “I don’t know how I can tell you what is happening without worrying you more.”

“You’re an intelligent man, I’m sure you can find a way.”

He mind replayed the events from only a couple of days prior. How at one point he had been with Ekko and Heimerdinger drinking tea to an attempt to murder his best friend and partner. How would she understand? How could she? The pain he was truly feeling deep down behind whatever joking remark he had made mere seconds before. How could he explain the war coming to Piltover?

“There is something big coming, and all I want to do is make sure I can protect you,” he whispered, closing his eyes to avoid the live reactions from his lover. “I can’t live without you, I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you too.”

‘Too?’ What had that meant? [Name] was aware of Viktor’s condition so had that meant he had passed? But Jayce had told her about Viktor leaving before he had gone?

“Jayce, I don’t un-“ “I told you. I don’t know how to explain this to you.”

He hadn’t meant to sound cocky, or for his words to sound belittling towards her intelligence. Jayce had barely understood it himself, so why would he assume she could?

“I just need you to know that I am going to make sure I can protect you with all my might.” With that, his eyes fluttered open to look up at her.

Tears formed around her [eye color] eyes, biting his lip to hold in any sobs that threatened to spill.

“Hey, hey,” he sat up quickly, pulling her body close to his. Now it was his turn to comfort her.

His large hand found position atop her head, mimicking her comforting motions from earlier. His free grip had wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest as he felt the wetness of her tears on his blazer. Jayce’s shushes blended with her soft sobs, resting his temple against hers and mumbling apologies and words of comfort.

“We’ll be okay, [Name], I promise you.”

His head nudged hers backward, pushing her to look back up at him before placing a chaste kiss on her lips. Jayce’s lips were dry against her soft plump lips, his position halting as he soothed into the touch of hers. He had missed this. Her lips being one of the only things circling his mind as a reminder of what he was fighting to escape.

Jayce fought to pull away, cursing himself for using your innocence and fragility as an excuse to kiss you. What a scumbag he had become in just a few minutes he had spent with you again after what he imagined to be an eternity.

“I promise, I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

With that, her arms wrapped against his neck, placing her lips back against his. Their kiss moved in sync as Jayce’s hand found its way to the crook of her back, slowly pushing forward until he rested above her and her body placed against the material of his lounge chair.

A soft murmur escaped through their kiss, Jayce’s hand moving to the skin of her thigh that peaked through his robe. Oh God did he love seeing her in his robe, basking in his scent during his absence— waiting for him like a wife waiting for her husband in war.

“I’ve missed you so much,” [Name] whimpered, eyes trailing Jayce as his lips moved to her neck impatiently. She wondered if his debauchery was simply a distraction of the pain he was in, or if he had missed her just as much.

“I only thought about you,” he responded, teeth taking light nibbles against her skin. The roughness of his newfound beard brushed against her skin while her hands found comfort in his hair once more.

Oh how his hair was her newfound pleasure, oh how Jayce had felt a sort of fucked up appreciation for the arcane if it meant this was how his lover squirmed beneath him over something as simple as grown-out hairs.

His lips moved to the top of the robe where her chest slightly peaked from underneath, his teeth slightly pulling until he could get to the hidden jewels which he desperately longed for.

“Jayce…”

His golden eyes darted up to where her mouth pursed and her brows tightened. He lifted his own brow, giving a questioning look in response to her plea.

“Are you sure you’re in the position to do this?” She breathily asked, moving his unattended strands from the front of his face, combing them towards the back of his head. “You’re bandaged, you didn’t look good earlier. I don’t want you to strain yourself some m-“

Her words were cut off by his lips attaching to her breast, emitting a sigh from her lips. She hated how unfair he played, especially when it came to sexual pleasure.

God forbid she be concerned for her lover.

“J-Jayce, please.”

His head moved back, pushing himself to be at eye level with her.

“I feel better than I have in a long time,” he lied, “I want to spend this moment with you and only you.” His hand found its way up her thigh until it rested between its crevice. The tip of his finger danced against her underwear, hoping his attempt at seducing her would work.

“Can you just answer me something, please?” Her question came out sultry, unintentionally so.

Jayce’s brow had lifted once more.

“Are you truly okay?”

He smiled softly above her. It wasn’t every day someone would push away their own sexual pleasure to ask about the health of others. Maybe that was why he loved her so much, why he longed for her day and night and why the time spent away drove him to the brink of insanity.

The arms wrapped around him were what he craved.

A kiss was pressed against her nose, a small and melancholic smile tugging against his lips.

“I will be.”

[Name] gave a soft nod. A nod of understanding, of approval, of allowance for him to continue. Whatever made Jayce feel at peace was enough to satisfy her.

His fingers found their way wrapped around the band of her underwear, pulling it down enough until the pads of his fingers found their way against her core. They slide slowly, rhythmically, teasingly. It was almost as if he had been making up for lost time, even if it had only been a few days.

Jayce watched above, the way her teeth bit down on her lips and her eyes squeezed shut. He took that as a sign to continue, tracing her folds with his fingers along with a kiss to her jaw that slowly made its way downward back to his previous spot at her uncovered breast. His lip attached, teeth taking the bud between and grazing it together to earn a mewl.

How he basked in the noises he emitted from her behind closed doors. If only he could listen to the noise at every second of every day, like music to his ears. So melodic to his sinful ears, like a choir.

The way his name spilled from her lips was the only way he could stand hearing it, the only way he would dare to listen to someone speak to him with his full attention.

A finger dipped into her core, then another, slowly pushing in and out with the rhythm of her moans. His lips sucked and created pretty colored marks on the skin of her chest while his unoccupied hand moved to caress her untouched breast.

“Oh God…” She whined, pushing her head deep into the cushions, moving her arm to slither between the two. Her hand searched for the tent of his jeans, before gripping it harshly as a request.

Jayce was no idiot, he was a scientist after all.

He chuckled softly, lifting his head back up with a cocky smile. “If I knew growing a beard would have this effect on you, I would’ve done it long ago,” he joked, moving to sit on his knees and unbuckle his dress pants.

His comment earned an eye roll, [Name] propped herself up on her elbows to get a full view of the display.

Jayce’s new look screamed maturity, his freshly shaven look long gone from her mind now. He looked like a mess, yet for some reason, she had never been so much more attracted to him— despite being so in love. She wondered how he had managed to grow a full set in just a couple of days, but she was sure he would have an explanation for her when he was ready.

She watched as his fingers fumbled with his buttons with a nervous demeanor, lifting a brow of curiosity.

“Sorry, I just don’t know which parts of me grew hair…” he whispered, earning a laugh from his significant other.

“Do you really think I care that badly?” [Name] retorted with an eye roll, “I said before that I wasn’t a fan of facial hair, not pubic or chest hair,” she joked. “Plus, I already told you… I like this look.”

With that, his pants had been removed, falling off the couch as he moved to remove his shirt. His eyes stared into hers, taking occasional glances down to the robe as a hint to undress— which she happily understood.

His shirt had been removed, and a pool of chest hair that filled the blank canvas from before trailed down to where his pubic area sat. What a sight it was, to see a muscled man before her with a raggedy look.

Jayce’s hand found a way to his erection, inching closer with his knees to line himself up. His tip tapped against her core, a soft hiss coming from his lips. He knew he had to be careful, not just for his own physical wellbeing but hers as well.

His hand gripped the top of the sofa as he pushed in, panting heavily. His golden eyes stayed fixed on her face, watching it move around in pleasure. Watching as her lips formed an ‘O’ and soft mewls spilled from her lips— the same lips that had sobbed over his well-being a mere moment ago. Fuck, he wished he could keep her in that position forever, not because he wanted to be inside of her but because he wanted to protect her. He knew the only way he could truly protect her was as long as they were skin to skin, as one.

Jayce’s hips stuttered, pushing forward as slow as he could handle before moving his hips back to keep a consistent pace. His grip tightened on the coach, knuckles purple with how badly he wished he could destroy the furniture the two laid on— destroy her.

“Shit.”

His head found its way in her neck once more, hips rocking slowly and carefully with every noise she made.

“Jayce, please,” she whimpered, her fingers unintentionally gripping the dirty bandages on his back. “I need more.”

That was his cue to move faster. He hadn’t no longer cared about the injuries he faced, he just wanted to fulfill her needs and his own as quickly and efficiently as possible.

His free hand dug into her hips as he pistoned in and out of her, taking the skin of her neck between his teeth and sucking as hard as he can. He needed her to be reminded of him, of the effect he had, especially if it meant he wouldn’t be able to have her like this again.

“You’re too good for me,” he whined, lifting her thigh up to his waist. His pace quickened by the second. He had to show her what she meant to him, he had to show her heaven.

“I love you more than anything,” he spoke, gasps stopping his words mid-way as he thrust. “I only want you, only you.”

Her cries got louder, filling his once-silent apartment with her pleasured noises and expressions. [Name]’s grip on his shoulders signaled how close she was getting, and Jayce was unsure if he was ready to end it so soon.

He quickened, pushing himself towards his release before slowly drawing himself in and out. A smile on his lips as her pleas rang his ears, begging for him to pick up the pace and finish them both off— and so he did. His hips taking its final harsh thrusts before their orgasms spilled into each other, heavy pants from the both of them as their sweat mixed together.

Jayce let out a satisfied sigh, resting his head on her breast and pulling the robe off the floor to cover the lower parts of their bodies.

“Jayce?” “Yes, love.” “I don't know what you meant earlier but promise me, you’ll be safe out there.”

His eyes closed, his smile fading as his thoughts flooded and anxieties bounced around. “I promise,” he lied.

[elikajinnie]

Every Move You Make, I See It - P.J

P: Dead By Daylight Killer!Jay X Survivor!Reader (recommended age 17+)

Warnings: Murder, Death, Stalking, Predator/Prey, Blood/Injury, Obsession, Suggestive Content, Feral Behaviour, Psychological Thriller, Graphic Descriptions, the endings a bit fucked up.

Synopsis: The Entity's favored killers are violent, but a new hunter has arrived—and it’s fixated on you. Man or beast, no one can tell. All you know is: you’re being hunted.

a/n: did heeseung, sooo why not jay as well? interested in heeseungs? -> heeseung

disclaimer! all the killers and survivors in this is in dbd the game. I do not own any of them. the idea of jay was a creative endeavour. for educational purposes: mori means killing and it takes two hits in the game before you are downed. And to avoid confusion: when he`s running, his weapon is on his back.

now playing: rock you like a hurricane -2011 by scorpions | daydream by enhypen | chase it by set it off

--

You hated the killers who weren't human or weren't human before they ended up in the Entity's realm. The Xenomorph, the Unknown, the Singularity, the Dredge, Nemesis, Pyramid Head (you weren't really sure about that one), and the Demogorgon—all of them were violent, sparing no survivors, relentless, and merciless. Anytime you found yourself in a trial and they were the killer, annoyance simmered within you because you knew the round would be painful.

Then there were the other killers who weren't human anymore, like the Hag, Freddy Krueger, the Blight, Pinhead and Chucky. You were kind of relieved when the new killer, the Houndmaster, turned out to be more humane—well, unlike her dog, but that didn’t matter.

So when the survivors of the latest trial came back and announced they had just gone up against a new killer, you didn’t think much of it. New killers weren’t exactly rare, and the Entity loved throwing curveballs your way. But then they said something that made the room pause.

“I’m not sure if it was a man or a beast. It looked… human, but it also moved like a wolf.”

Jake, sitting across the campfire with a brow quirked, asked the obvious question. “Like a werewolf?”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. Great. A creature killer. The worst kind.

“Are you serious?” you muttered, glaring at Nea as if this was somehow her fault. “So, what? We’re dealing with something that bites again!?”

Nea shrugged helplessly, her face still pale from the trial. “It howled. Loud. I swear I heard it from across the map, and… it was hunting me. Not chasing, hunting.”

That word made something twist in your gut—uncomfortable, sharp. You hated the killers who acted like monsters, but the ones who actually were monsters? They were a nightmare. There was no bargaining with them, no understanding their patterns, no telling yourself they were just people corrupted by the Entity. Killers like the Demogorgon didn’t stop. Didn’t waver. Didn’t quit.

Now, apparently, this new killer—a wolf, a man, something in between—was joining that list.

Jake, always too curious for his own good, looked over at you. “What do you think its power is?”

“I think I don’t care,” you shot back, sharper than you intended. “It’s probably something that’ll tear you apart limb by limb, Jake.”

They looked at you for a moment, your irritation lingering in the air, before turning to the others to explain.

“We’re calling it The Beast,” Nea said, voice low, as though speaking the name might summon it. “It manipulates the map, and it hunts with precision. I swear it knew where I was the entire time.”

A chill crept up your spine, but you crossed your arms tightly, trying not to let it show.

“It had wolf attributes,” she continued, glancing around at the rest of you. “Fangs. Claws. The whole package.” She hesitated before adding, “It’s fast, too. Faster than most killers I’ve seen. The way it moves… it doesn’t just chase. It stalks, like Myers and Ghostface. But it’s worse.”

“How can it be worse?” Lara muttered.

Cheryl swallowed. “Because it runs on all fours. One second you see it watching from a distance, and the next, it’s charging you—low to the ground, like an actual wolf.”

Your jaw clenched as you listened, the mental image piecing itself together in your mind. A hulking figure with glowing eyes, tearing through the map with unnatural speed. It wasn’t just a killer anymore; it was something primal. Something built to hunt.

“Great,” you muttered under your breath, looking away toward the shadows beyond the firelight. “Another killer that moves faster than us. Just what we needed.”

Feng, ever the optimist, tried to make light of it. “Well, maybe it’s like Huntress. You know—scary but manageable.”

“Manageable?” You shot her a look. “Did you not hear what they just said? It stalks. It runs like an animal. If it’s anything like Huntress, I’ll eat my boots.”

“I’m just saying,” she replied defensively, but you weren’t listening anymore.

Nea`s words echoed in your head: It knew where I was. That wasn’t normal. Killers had their tricks—perks, instinctual guesses—but this? This sounded like something worse. Like an instinct that couldn’t be evaded.

“So, what did you guys do?” Ada asked them. “Did you escape?”

They all looked at each other, and their expressions turned grim. “We didn’t.”

The group went quiet, everyone processing the meaning behind those words. You exhaled sharply through your nose and leaned forward, staring into the flames. Another killer to outwit, another trial that would leave you with scraped knees and shallow breaths if you were lucky.

But as much as you hated the creature killers—the ones who weren’t human anymore—you couldn’t deny the shiver of unease curling at the edge of your thoughts.

If The Beast hunted like a wolf, what did that make you? Prey.

It didn’t take long before you were face-to-face with The Beast. Three trials. Three exhausting rounds of barely escaping hooks and killers that felt almost predictable in comparison. You should’ve known your luck wouldn’t hold out forever.

The moment you entered the trial, you knew something was different. The forest was unfamiliar—not the usual suffocating realm of the Red Forest or Mother’s Dwelling. This was something worse. The trees were taller, their branches clawing at the sky like skeletal fingers. The underbrush was thick with sharp brambles, and the fog was heavier than you’d ever seen, curling around your ankles like it was alive.

You huffed quietly as you adjusted the toolbox in your hands, crouching low as you moved forward. The leaves crunched softly beneath your boots, and your eyes flickered upward every time you passed a crow perched on a twisted branch. You weren’t about to let those bastards give you away.

Stick to the shadows. Avoid open paths. Survive.

But just as you turned a corner around a massive log, you froze. A distant shout cut through the silence, sharp and panicked. Then came a sound you weren’t expecting: bells. Not the sharp, haunting toll of the Wraith—no, this was something different. Rhythmic and unnerving, like chimes carried by the wind.

Without thinking, you bolted in the direction of the noise. Branches whipped against your arms and face as you ran, your heart pounding in your ears. The toolbox rattled in your grip, but you didn’t dare stop. When you burst through a thicket of thorny bushes, you saw her—Sable.

She was on the ground, her leg caught in a snare trap. But this wasn’t a normal trap. It wasn’t the crude, rusty bear traps you’d seen with the Trapper. No—this snare trap was made of barbed wire, coiled tight around her calf, digging into the skin. Blood dripped from the cuts, staining the ground beneath her, and her face was twisted in agony.

“Sable!” you hissed, dropping to your knees beside her.

“It—it’s a trap,” she whimpered, trying to pull her leg free. The movement only made the wire dig deeper. “It came out of nowhere. I didn’t even see it.”

“Stop moving,” you snapped, fumbling with the wire as you set the toolbox down. Your fingers trembled as you worked, trying to pry the barbed loops apart without hurting her more. The sharp metal bit into your hands, and you hissed through gritted teeth as you felt blood well up along your palms.

Keep going, you told yourself. Ignore it.

The bells rang again—closer this time. You stiffened, head snapping up as your eyes darted around the clearing. The forest was too dark, the fog too thick. You couldn’t see anything, but you could feel it.

Something was watching you.

“Hurry,” Sable whispered, panic creeping into her voice. “It’s coming. I know it’s coming.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. With one last twist, the wire gave way, and you yanked it off her leg. Sable gasped, clutching her bleeding calf, but there was no time to stop and tend to it. You grabbed her arm, pulling her up as gently as you could.

“Can you run?” you asked urgently.

She nodded shakily, wincing. “Yeah. I think so.”

The bells tolled again, louder this time—low and hollow, like they were reverberating through the earth. You felt the hair on the back of your neck stand up as the sound was followed by something worse: a low, guttural growl.

You didn’t look back. You couldn’t.

“Move,” you ordered, shoving Sable forward as you both started running.

You didn’t get far before you heard it—a sound you’d only heard described before, but never experienced yourself. The heavy thud of something large hitting the ground, followed by the unmistakable sound of claws digging into soil.

It wasn’t chasing you. It was hunting you.

The Beast had found its prey.

You and Sable made the mistake of turning around as you ran—and the sight froze your blood.

The Beast stood at the edge of the clearing, partially shrouded in shadow and fog, but you could see enough.

It was a tall man—if you could even call him that anymore. His frame was draped in black, torn clothes, a cloak of thick fur resting over his shoulders, matted and dark with grime. In his right hand, he held a glaive, its curved blade coated with blood, the metal glinting faintly in the low light. But it was his body that made your stomach twist.

His left arm was no longer human. It was covered in coarse black fur, stretched unnaturally over muscle and ending in claws that could shred through bone. The same grotesque transformation had overtaken his legs, fur and sinew wrapped around animalistic joints.

But it was his face that rooted you in place.

Black hair hung wild and untamed around sharp, angular features. His yellow eyes burned like embers in the darkness, fixed unrelentingly on you and Sable. And when he parted his lips, fangs appeared. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.

Cause then he tilted his head back—and howled.

The sound was deafening, ripping through the trees and echoing in the fog. It wasn’t a human scream, nor was it the howl of an animal. It was something in between, guttural and monstrous, vibrating deep in your chest like a death knell.

Sable gasped sharply, stumbling against you as her hands flew to her ears. “Go! Go!” she screamed.

You didn’t need to be told twice. The Beast lowered his gaze, his lips pulling back into a feral snarl, and then he moved.

It was almost too fast to process. One moment he was standing still, his claws flexing—then he dropped to all fours and charged.

You ran harder than you ever had before, pulling Sable with you as the sound of claws and snapping branches grew louder behind you. Your lungs burned, your legs ached, but you didn’t dare slow down. Each thud of his movement felt like a countdown, and you knew if he caught you, it was over.

Don’t stop. Don’t look back.

But even as you sprinted through the forest, weaving between trees and leaping over roots, you could still hear him. The low growl, the heavy breath. He was toying with you—getting closer, letting you hear him hunt.

“Split up!” you shouted to Sable, shoving her forward as the two of you reached a fork in the path. She hesitated for a split second, fear painted across her face, but she nodded and darted left while you veered right.

It wasn’t long before you realized he had made his choice too.

The sounds of his pursuit didn’t fade into the distance. The thundering steps—furred limbs pounding against the earth—stayed close. Too close. You risked a glance over your shoulder and cursed under your breath. He was coming for you.

“Of course you’re following me!” you hissed through gritted teeth, adrenaline flooding your system. Your legs burned with effort, each step feeling heavier than the last.

Up ahead, salvation presented itself in the form of a wooden pallet propped precariously between two crates. A quick escape. You angled toward it, lungs screaming for air, and forced yourself to move faster. You could hear him gaining on you, his growl vibrating through the air like a warning.

As soon as you reached the pallet, you grabbed the edge and slammed it down with all your strength. The wood crashed onto the ground, kicking up dust, and you whipped around, a shaky smile breaking across your face as you realized you’d timed it perfectly.

You’d stunned him.

The Beast halted mid-pursuit, the heavy pallet pinning him momentarily. His claws curled against the wood, his lips pulling back in a feral snarl. You allowed yourself a triumphant exhale—until his eyes snapped up to meet yours.

Your blood ran cold.

His eyes were no longer yellow. They were crimson—deep and glowing, like freshly spilled blood. The shift was immediate, like something inside him had awakened. The low growl that rumbled from his chest sent shivers down your spine, and for the first time, you noticed something you’d missed before.

The collar.

Thick and black, it wrapped around his neck like a cruel shackle. And on the front—glinting faintly in the dim light—were small silver bells. The bells. That’s where the sound had come from. Every movement, every step, was punctuated by that unnerving chime.

Your breath hitched as realization struck. The bells weren’t just for sound. They were a warning.

“Shit,” you whispered, backing up instinctively.

He growled again, louder this time, the sound vibrating through your chest. Then, in a blur of motion, he brought his clawed arm down on the pallet with enough force to shatter it. Wood splintered and exploded outward, shards clattering against the ground as the remains of your so-called “safety” crumbled at his feet.

You didn’t wait to see what he would do next. You turned and ran.

Your heart pounded in your ears as you darted through the underbrush, branches snapping and whipping against your face. Behind you, you could hear him—close enough that you swore you could feel his breath against the back of your neck.

You didn’t make it far before you felt it.

The whoosh of air as something massive swung toward you. A sharp, burning pain exploded across your back, and you screamed as claws tore through your shirt and raked deep into your skin. The impact sent you stumbling forward, your legs nearly giving out from the shock, but you pushed through it.

Move. Don’t stop. Don’t look back.

Gritting your teeth through the pain, you spotted salvation up ahead: a small, rotting building with a open window. You sprinted toward it, ignoring the sticky warmth of blood seeping through your clothes.

As you reached the window, you grabbed the frame and vaulted over with everything you had, landing hard on the floor inside. The room was dim, filled with scattered debris, the smell of mold heavy in the air.

You turned, panting, your hand pressing instinctively against the wound on your back. Your heart sank when you saw him.

The Beast was already leaping after you.

His massive form vaulted the window with terrifying ease, the bells on his collar jingling faintly as he landed. His crimson eyes—still glowing like coals—locked onto you and didn’t waver. He wasn’t looking around. He wasn’t searching. He was focused, utterly and completely.

“Oh, come on,” you groaned, stumbling backward. “That’s gotta be a perk.”

It had to be. You’d seen this kind of precision before—Killers who always seemed to know where you were, whether it was through a heartbeat, scratch marks, or some cruel Entity-given power. But this? Those eyes were more than just for show. They were locked onto you like a heat-seeking missile.

There was no time to think.

You bolted for the door on the far side of the room, practically throwing yourself through it. You could hear him behind you, his footsteps heavy but fast, the sound of claws scraping against the wood.

As soon as you were outside, you didn’t stop—you started looping the building. It was a classic move, one every survivor knew by instinct. Buildings meant walls, walls meant obstacles, and obstacles meant a chance to survive.

You rounded the first corner, adrenaline surging through your veins. The pounding of his pursuit was right behind you, relentless. You glanced back just in time to see him skid around the corner, his glaive dragging through the dirt with a metallic scrape.

Keep moving.

The building’s loop wasn’t perfect, but it was enough to give you a sliver of breathing room. Every time you turned a corner or ducked through an opening, you’d gain a precious half-second before the sound of claws and bells filled the air again, signaling that he was still there. Still chasing.

You risked a quick glance behind you, just once, and instantly regretted it.

His red eyes were still locked onto you. Even as you looped him, even as you vaulted and sprinted, he hadn’t faltered. If anything, he looked… determined. Like the hunt was enjoyable.

“God, I hate creature Killers,” you growled under your breath as you rounded the building again, already trying to think of your next move.

You couldn’t loop forever. He was too fast, too precise. And worse, the burn of the slashes on your back was starting to slow you down. You needed a plan—and fast.

It wasn’t hard for him to catch up.

You’d pushed your body to the brink, but it wasn’t enough. Before you could make another desperate turn around the building, you felt the glaive swipe across your legs with brutal precision. Pain shot through you as your knees buckled, and you collapsed onto the ground with a groan.

Dust and dirt kicked up around you as you hit the earth hard. For a moment, you just lay there, dazed, trying to breathe through the pain. Your ears rang, your body felt heavy, but instinct kicked in—you had to move.

With trembling arms, you started crawling. You didn’t know where you were going, but anywhere was better than staying there.

Don’t stop, you thought, dragging yourself forward inch by inch. Your blood left a streak in the dirt as you moved, but it didn’t matter. You had to—

A shadow loomed over you.

You froze, your head snapping to the side as you caught sight of it—a massive, bloodied paw. It dug into the earth by your face, the claws curling into the dirt with a sickening scrape. They were long, black, and sharp enough to skewer you where you lay.

You turned onto your back with a shaky gasp, dread settling deep in your chest as you looked up—and up.

The Beast stood over you, towering and monstrous, his hulking form casting you in shadow. Up close, the details were even worse. Sharp jaw. Unnaturally long fangs, his nose perfectly straight but twitching faintly, as if he was smelling you. The red glow of his eyes had narrowed into thin slits, like a predator zeroing in on its prey. Drool hung from his parted mouth, dripping down to the dirt next to you.

You couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe.

Your gasp caught in your throat when he leaned down.

Closer.

The world seemed to slow as he brought his face near yours, so close you could feel the heat of his breath. It fanned across your skin, hot and heavy, as though he was tasting the air around you. Then he inhaled—a long, deliberate breath that sent a shiver down your spine.

Somewhere deep in his chest, you heard it. A rumble. Low and resonant, like a growl—but there was something else in it. Something almost… pleased.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you stared up at him, wide-eyed, unable to look away.

Finally, he pulled back, just far enough for you to see the edges of his sharp grin. His lips curled as his gaze remained locked onto yours, and when he spoke, his voice rolled out in a deep, guttural tone—one that sounded as though it hadn’t been used in years.

“You… run well.”

The words hit you like a physical blow, your mind reeling. His voice was gravelly, rough around the edges, yet disturbingly clear. There was something undeniably human in the way he spoke—twisted and broken, but human all the same.

You blinked up at him, your throat dry, unable to form a response.

The Beast tilted his head slightly, his crimson eyes narrowing. “But you’re slow now.”

The way he said it—it wasn’t mocking. It was observational, like he was analyzing you, trying to figure you out. He crouched lower, his furred claws pressing deeper into the dirt, his bells jingling faintly with the movement.

You flinched as his glaive scraped against the ground beside you, the noise grating against your ears.

“What are you?” you croaked, your voice barely audible, trembling as the question left your lips.

The Beast’s grin widened, and the crimson glow in his eyes seemed to burn brighter.

“Hunter.”

And with that one word, he reached down. The moment his clawed hand wrapped around you, you knew what was coming.

“No, no!” you gasped, but it didn’t matter. With an unsettling ease, the Beast picked you up as though you weighed nothing and slung you over his shoulder. His grip was firm—too firm—and you felt the sharp edges of his claws pressing into your side, a silent warning not to squirm too much.

Like hell that was going to stop you.

You immediately started wiggling in his hold, kicking your legs and twisting your upper body, desperate to break free. You’d done this before—countless times. It was second nature to fight, to struggle, to buy yourself just a few more precious seconds. But this time, it was different.

Your movements barely fazed him.

The Beast huffed out a low growl, annoyed more than anything, like you were nothing more than a mild inconvenience. His bells chimed softly with every heavy step, each sound growing closer and closer to dread.

“Let go, you bastard!” you hissed, pounding a fist against his back. It was like hitting solid stone beneath that cloak of fur.

Before you could muster another attempt, you felt him stop. Your stomach dropped. You turned your head just enough to see it—the hook, rusty and towering.

“No—wait, wait—!”

You screamed as the sharp, unforgiving metal pierced into your shoulder, the pain blinding. Your body arched involuntarily as you were hoisted upward, the hook locking you in place like a gruesome marionette. Tears pricked at your eyes as you gasped for breath, the white-hot sting radiating through your arm and chest.

You forced yourself to look down through blurry vision, trying to center yourself despite the pain. That’s when you noticed it.

The Beast had turned away from you, his posture rigid. His yellow eyes—no longer the deep red from before—snapped toward something unseen, a faint snarl escaping his lips. It was subtle at first, just the twitch of his ear and a low growl that rattled through the air. Then, without warning, he took off.

Fast.

You barely had time to process it. One second, he was standing still, and the next, he was gone, his speed a blur that rivaled the Nurse when she blinked through the map. His bells jingled sharply, fading into the distance like some terrible alarm.

“Shit,” you muttered, panting as you hung from the hook. You had seen Killers leave quickly before—Michael Myers, Ghostface, even Wraith when they heard someone nearby—but this? This was different. His speed was unnatural, like he wasn’t just hunting—he was responding.

Someone had grabbed his attention.

Clenching your teeth, you scanned the area. The thick fog made it impossible to see much, but you knew better than to waste time. With shaky hands, you reached up and gripped the hook, biting back a scream as the movement sent pain jolting through your shoulder. You had to get down.

With one sharp tug, you gasped as you unhooked yourself. The motion sent you tumbling to the ground, your knees hitting the dirt hard as the metallic sting in your shoulder flared hot.

For a second, you didn’t move, staring at the ground in disbelief. You did it.

You turned your head, breathing heavily as you glanced upward, seeing the Entity’s claws frozen—hanging mid-air, its barbed talon twitching as though struggling against something unseen.

You scrambled to your feet, clutching your injured shoulder as you stumbled away from the hook. Pain pulsed with every step, but you pushed through it, dragging yourself behind two massive boulders just far enough from where you’d been hooked.

The moment you were hidden, you sagged to the ground, leaning against the cold stone. Your fingers shook as you fumbled for your med-kit, flipping it open and pulling out a roll of bandages. “C’mon, c’mon,” you muttered, forcing yourself to focus.

You could hear the forest around you, the eerie quiet broken only by the occasional whisper of wind and the faint creak of trees swaying in the fog. But just as you started wrapping your shoulder, the peace shattered.

A distant, loud howl cut through the silence.

You froze, the sound rumbling across the map like thunder. It was long and drawn-out, echoing ominously through the thick fog, sending chills racing down your spine.

Somewhere far off, a generator powered up with a loud hum. You flinched at the noise, your heart racing. The sound was like a signal, bright and sharp against the quiet, a neon sign for the killer to follow.

Then, almost immediately after, you heard it: two survivors screaming.

“Shit,” you whispered, yanking the bandages tight around your shoulder with a hiss. You ignored the sting, forcing yourself to finish patching up as quickly as possible. You couldn’t afford to waste time, not when the Beast was on the prowl.

Sliding the med-kit back into your belt, you pressed your back against the boulder and carefully peered around its edge.

He’s fast, you thought, replaying everything in your mind. Faster than most killers you’d faced. And those howls… they weren’t just for show. He was tracking you, tracking everyone.

And if he had heard those screams—if he was responding like he had with you—then two survivors were about to have a very bad time.

--

You crouched by the generator, your fingers working quickly to untangle wires and tighten bolts as the machine clunked and whirred under your touch. The hum of progress filled the tense silence, but your eyes never stopped darting to the treeline. You scanned the fog for any sign of movement—any flash of red eyes, any sound of bells.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

There were no growls. No howls. No heavy, animalistic breathing. For a brief moment, you let yourself believe you were safe.

Then, a distant scream pierced the stillness, sharp and panicked.

You froze, your hands hovering above the generator as you closed your eyes with a sigh. “Again?” you muttered under your breath. He was relentless—hunting like a wolf with no intention of letting up.

You shook your head and got back to work, forcing your hands to steady. There wasn’t much else you could do. The generator needed to be fixed, and the only way anyone was escaping this hellhole was through powered gates.

The next time you glanced up, you nearly jumped out of your skin.

Sable limped toward you, her form emerging from the fog like a ghost. She looked like she’d barely escaped—her clothes were torn, and fresh blood streaked down her leg from a deep gash. Her face was pale and damp with sweat, but she still managed to flash you a weak grin as she knelt beside the generator.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Sable muttered, already reaching for the wires to help. Her voice wavered, but her hands moved with practiced precision. “I don’t wanna hear it.”

“I wasn’t gonna say anything,” you shot back, though your brow furrowed as you spared her a quick glance. “But you look bad. Did he—”

“Caught me near the edge of the map. The bastard’s too fast, but…” She paused to take a sharp breath, wincing as she shifted her weight. “I got away. Barely.”

You swallowed hard, nodding. “He hooked you?”

“No, but it was close.” Sable’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I think he wanted me to get away.”

That made you pause. “What?”

She didn’t answer immediately, her hands fumbling with a stubborn wire. “I don’t know how to explain it. He had me. He could’ve downed me completely. But he just… watched me. Like he was testing me.”

You frowned, unsettled by the idea. “You sure he didn’t just screw up?”

Sable let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Not a chance. He’s too precise. The way he hunts, the way he moves—he knows exactly what he’s doing. It’s like…” She trailed off, biting her lip as the generator sparked briefly to life. “It’s like he’s playing with us.”

You tightened your grip on the wrench, trying to ignore the chill that crawled up your spine. You didn’t want to think about that. The Beast was already terrifying enough without the idea that he was toying with you.

“Let’s just get this gen done,” you muttered, shaking your head. “We can freak out later.”

Sable gave a small nod, both of you falling silent as you focused back on the task at hand. The generator rattled and sparked, the noise jarring in the quiet forest. You worked faster, both of you aware of how loud it was, how easy it would be for him to find you here.

Minutes stretched on, and you let yourself hope. Maybe you’d finish it. Maybe you’d—

A low, distant howl echoed through the fog.

You both froze.

“Shit,” Sable whispered, her face going pale.

The howl was closer this time, vibrating in your chest like the low growl of an engine. You heard the faint jingle of bells somewhere in the distance, growing louder—closer.

Your stomach dropped. He was coming.

The generator sparked again, and you and Sable flinched at the noise. Your hands were a blur, working faster now as dread crept up your spine. Every second counted. Every wire fixed, every bolt turned brought you closer to escape.

But then—

“That’s twice now,” a voice rumbled behind you. Low. Deep. Familiar. “You really ought to pay more attention to what’s around you.”

Your blood ran cold.

You and Sable froze mid-action, your breaths hitching in unison. Slowly—so slowly—you turned around, dread bubbling up like bile.

He was there.

Crouched in the shadows of the fog just a few meters away, half-hidden behind the curve of a tree. His yellow eyes were locked on the two of you, unblinking and unrelenting.

From this angle, you could see him clearer than before. His long glaive rested lazily in his normal hand, its blade still slick with fresh blood. His furred legs were bent as though ready to pounce at any second, his sharp claws digging into the dirt beneath him. And yet… he wasn’t rushing forward. Not yet.

Sable’s breath hitched beside you, her fingers curling tightly around a wrench as if it would do her any good. “You’ve gotta be kidding me…” she whispered.

The Beast tilted his head slightly, his yellow eyes narrowing as a low rumble vibrated in his chest. His gaze slid between the two of you like he was deciding which one to strike first.

“Run,” you whispered to Sable, not daring to break eye contact with him. “On three.”

“He’s too close,” she hissed back, her voice shaking.

“I don’t care—three!”

Before she could argue, you grabbed Sable’s wrist and yanked her with you as you bolted to the side, darting between the thick trees. A sharp, guttural growl erupted behind you, and you didn’t need to look back to know he was coming.

The bells. You heard the bells.

They rang in quick, chaotic bursts, each chime louder than the last as he pursued you. Leaves crunched and twigs snapped under his heavy, relentless strides, the sound too fast—too close.

“He’s on us!” Sable cried out, stumbling as she tried to keep pace.

You pushed her forward, urging her on. “Move!”

The forest blurred as you ran, your heartbeat roaring in your ears. You risked a quick glance over your shoulder, and your stomach dropped.

He was right there.

Running on all fours, his glaive held low, his yellow eyes locked directly on you, his movements unnervingly fluid—unnervingly natural.

He’s toying with us.

“Split up!” you shouted, veering sharply to the right.

Sable cursed but didn’t hesitate, darting left as you broke off in the opposite direction. You weaved through the dense trees, ducking under low-hanging branches and leaping over exposed roots. Your lungs burned, but you didn’t dare slow down.

The bells stopped.

You skidded to a halt behind a thick tree, pressing your back against its rough bark as you tried to catch your breath. Your chest rose and fell sharply, your shoulder aching where the hook had pierced you earlier.

Silence.

Where is he?

You froze when you heard Sable’s scream cut through the forest, sharp and gut-wrenching. You exhaled shakily, your fingers tightening around the edge of the tree as you processed what had just happened. He went after Sable. A pang of guilt flared in your chest, but it didn’t linger long—survival didn’t allow for much remorse. Sable knew the rules of the game as well as you did.

Without wasting another second, you turned back the way you came, darting quietly through the trees until you reached the half-finished generator. It sat there waiting, wires exposed and sparking faintly.

You crouched down and got back to work, your hands moving with a practiced urgency. Your ears were still on high alert, listening for the telltale jingling of bells or the rustle of something heavy moving through the fog.

Above you, the sky let out a deep, thunderous rumble, and the faint hum of the Entity’s claws slicing through the air echoed through the forest. Your stomach sank as you realized what that meant—Sable had been sacrificed.

Hooked twice already, you thought grimly, your expression tightening. I didn’t even realize.

You pushed the thought aside and focused on the task in front of you. There was no time to dwell.

"Sorry, Sable," you muttered under your breath, twisting a stubborn wire until it clicked into place. "Guess you’re out."

The generator sputtered, the sound growing louder as it inched closer to completion.

When the generator let out a loud, jolting clunk as the last bolt clicked into place. Sparks flew, and its lights blared to life, piercing through the thick fog.

You didn’t wait.

The second the generator roared to life, you took off running, your feet pounding against the forest floor. You knew better than to linger.

Two more. Just two more.

The thought became your mantra as you ducked low, weaving through the dense trees and tall grass. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears, drowning out the sound of the forest around you.

You needed a new plan. The others were still out there somewhere, working—hopefully—on the last remaining generators. If you could find one, or them, you’d have a chance.

You slid into a crouch behind a massive log, taking a second to catch your breath and survey your surroundings.

Then you heard it.

A faint jingling.

Shit.

You stayed low, your pulse spiking as the sound of bells grew louder, each chime like nails scraping across your nerves. You scanned the trees, your eyes darting wildly, trying to catch any sign of movement.

A shadow.

You flinched when you saw it—a dark silhouette moving through the fog, slow and deliberate. He was hunting again, his glaive dragging faintly against the dirt as he moved.

You held your breath and stayed perfectly still, your body coiled tight like a spring. He hadn’t seen you yet. You could wait him out—let him pass.

The jingling slowed. Stopped.

You frowned.

Why did he stop?

Before you could react, a low growl rumbled behind you.

No. No, no, no—

You spun around just in time to see him emerging from the fog towards you, his yellow eyes locked directly on you. His glaive gleamed in the pale light, slick and ready, his sharp claws flexing at his side.

You didn’t think—you ran.

He was on you immediately, the bells ringing out in chaotic bursts as he gave chase. You zigzagged through the trees, vaulting over fallen logs and ducking under branches. Your lungs burned, but you didn’t stop—couldn’t stop.

In the distance, you spotted something—a structure. Another shack.

You darted toward it, adrenaline pushing you forward as the growls and bells got closer, louder. You risked a glance over your shoulder, and your stomach dropped.

He was gaining on you.

With a desperate burst of speed, you vaulted through the window of the shack, landing hard on the other side. You stumbled but kept moving, running for the exit on the far end.

A loud crash echoed behind you as the Beast vaulted through the same window, his crimson eyes locked on you once again.

“You’re fast,” he growled, his deep, unused voice vibrating through the air, “but not fast enough.”

You ignored him, barreling out of the shack and looping back around, trying to buy yourself time. You knew he was faster but you had experience. Loops. Pallets. Technique.

You screamed as the Beast’s claws suddenly sliced across your back, sharp and unrelenting. Pain exploded through you, white-hot and disorienting, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. Gritting your teeth, you pushed through the agony and darted around the corner of some cages—rusted metal stacked haphazardly.

Your heart hammered as you sprinted, the sound of his heavy steps pounding behind you. You ran around as you desperately tried to put distance between you and him. Each turn felt like an eternity, every breath burning in your chest.

Finally, after what felt like forever, you skidded to a halt on one side of the cages, gasping for air.

The Beast stopped too.

You froze, your body tense as you watched him through the gaps in the rusted bars. He stood on the opposite side, unmoving. His yellow eyes, glowing faintly in the dark fog, stared directly into yours—sharp, unblinking, predatory.

And then, to your horror, he straightened up.

His hand reached over his shoulder, and you watched as he pulled his glaive from his back with a deliberate, almost casual motion. The blade gleamed darkly in the faint light as he spun it around his hand once—twice—with an unsettling ease.

The growl that followed was deep, rumbling from somewhere deep in his chest, but there was something else there. Amusement.

“Done running, little bunny?” His voice was low and rough, the words dripping with condescension.

Your blood ran cold. Little bunny.

“Shut up,” you spat, though your voice wavered.

He chuckled—he actually chuckled. The sound was dark, guttural, but far too human. It made your skin crawl.

“You’re a scrappy one, I’ll give you that,” he continued, tilting his head slightly as he dragged the glaive along the ground. “But you’ve been running for nothing.”

You frowned, your breath still coming in shallow gasps. “What?”

His eyes seemed to gleam as his lips pulled back into something halfway between a smirk and a snarl. “You haven’t noticed yet, have you?”

A sinking feeling settled in your stomach. “Noticed what?”

“You’re alone,” he said simply.

The words hit you like a punch to the gut.

“What—?”

He stepped closer to the cage wall, his gaze never leaving you. “You’re the last one left, little bunny. All your friends? Gone.”

You felt the ground shift beneath you, your pulse pounding in your ears. “You’re lying.”

Another rumbling chuckle. “Am I?”

The weight of his words crashed over you. The distant screams, the sound of the Entity rumbling in the sky—it all clicked into place. You hadn’t seen or heard anyone since Sable was taken. You thought someone else must still be working on the last generators, that maybe you had a chance.

But there was no one.

You were alone.

The Beast twirled his glaive again, the movement smooth and practiced. “You’ve fought well, but there’s nowhere left to run now.”

You tightened your grip on your side, wiping the sweat from your forehead as you met his predatory stare head-on. “Yeah?” you shot back, forcing your voice not to waver. “We’ll see about that.”

His grin widened, showing those gleaming fangs. “That’s the spirit.”

And then he moved.

You bolted the moment he lunged, the sharp whistle of his glaive cutting through the air as it missed you by mere inches. Your legs burned, your lungs screamed, but you pushed through, adrenaline surging through your veins. Run. Run. Run.

The Beast’s snarls echoed behind you, low and feral, punctuated by the pounding of his paws against the dirt. Every sound he made—growls, the snapping of his jaws, the guttural rumble of his breaths—sent chills racing down your spine.

You vaulted through a broken window of an old cabin, landing hard and stumbling but managing to stay upright. Without hesitation, you sprinted to the door on the other side, pushing it open and darting back out into the fog.

He’s still coming.

A heavy crash followed as he smashed through the window, unwilling to waste time following your path.

“Run faster, little bunny,” he growled from behind you, voice vibrating with dark amusement.

You hit a pallet, slamming it down just as he reached for you. The pallet struck his claws and chest with a loud crack, stopping him for a brief moment.

His red eyes snapped to you through the wooden slats, glowing with a furious intensity. Saliva dripped from his open jaws, long strings of it trailing to the ground as his chest heaved. With one clawed hand, he punched the pallet and crushed it into splinters.

You didn’t wait to see more—you ran.

Vaulting another window, you kept going, looping around the same structures, buying yourself time. He didn’t stop. No matter how many pallets you threw down, no matter how many windows you vaulted, the Beast was relentless.

You could hear him—feel him—close behind. The slap of his claws on the ground mixed with heavy breaths and the eerie jingling of the bells around his collar.

You passed through what looked like a slaughtered campsite—shredded tents, broken traps scattered across the dirt. A bloodied deer carcass laid limply on the ground, stomach ripped open. Nearby, a hunting lodge sat in decay, its walls splattered with claw marks. You didn’t slow, vaulting through the shattered lodge window.

As you looped through, your eyes darted across the environment.

A ruined jeep, long abandoned and covered in deep gashes. A pile of deer antlers stacked near an overturned trailer. Rusted cages lined with old bones—animal and human.

Everywhere you looked, the theme was clear. Hunting.

This was his map.

Everything—every structure, every grim detail—centered on the hunt. It was like you’d been dropped into his personal territory, a domain built to trap prey.

And right now, you were the prey.

You dashed between two more carcasses, your breathing ragged as you tried to keep moving. You could hear him still—too close, too fast.

“Run, little bunny.”

The words echoed in your head as you hit another pallet. You slammed it down just in time, hearing him growl as the wood cracked under his claws.

But this couldn’t last forever.

Your lungs were on fire, legs trembling as you stumbled around the thick trunk of a massive tree. His claws whistled through the air behind you, grazing your back just enough to tear the fabric of your shirt but leaving your skin intact.

And then you saw it.

The hatch.

It was nestled behind a massive fallen tree, partially hidden in the fog and decay, but there it was—your way out.

Your heart leapt in your chest as adrenaline surged through you. This was it.

You veered sharply to the right, pushing yourself faster than you thought possible. The fallen tree was a jagged mess of roots and splintered wood, but it didn’t matter. You scrambled up and over it, your hands scraping bark and dirt as you propelled yourself forward.

A deafening snarl erupted from behind you, so close it sent shivers crawling across your skin.

He’s right there.

But it didn’t matter—because you jumped.

You threw yourself toward the hatch, gravity pulling you down into its dark void. For a split second, you heard him—his enraged growl echoing through the trees, his claws slamming into the ground just inches too late.

And then you fell.

Everything went black for a heartbeat.

When you opened your eyes, you were back at the campfire.

The soft crackling of flames greeted you, warm and soothing compared to the oppressive silence of the fog. You landed on the damp ground in a heap, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath.

You were okay.

You glanced around, the familiar sights of the survivor camp slowly coming into focus. The fire flickered, its glow dancing across the empty logs and scattered supplies.

Your hands shook as you pressed them to the ground beneath you, grounding yourself, your heart still racing.

You did it.

You survived.

The realization hit you like a wave, leaving you breathless all over again. You were the first to survive the Beast.

The first.

A bitter laugh escaped your lips as you sat back, wiping the sweat and dirt from your face.

--

After that trial, when you managed to crawl into one of the ramshackle tents at the survivor camp, exhaustion dragged you under almost instantly. Your body was drained, and the adrenaline crash left you hollow and heavy. Sleep overtook you like a wave pulling you down into the deep.

But rest didn’t come easily.

The dream came swiftly, vivid and all too real.

You were back in the forest—his forest. The trees loomed tall, twisted and unkind, the ground littered with sharp branches and the glimmer of moonlight cutting through the fog. You could hear him in the distance: the soft jingle of the bells, the heavy thump of his claws on the ground.

You ran.

Your lungs burned as you tore through the darkness, stumbling over roots and ducking beneath low branches. But no matter how fast you moved, he was always there—just behind you. You could feel his presence, the weight of his stare pressing into your back.

“Run, little bunny,” his voice rumbled, dark and teasing, drifting through the fog like smoke.

You glanced back—and there he was. The Beast.

His crimson eyes glowed in the darkness, locked on you with unwavering focus. He chased you on all fours, his sharp claws tearing into the earth as he moved with an unnatural grace. His glaive was gone, leaving him raw and feral, his fangs gleaming in the dim light.

You screamed, pushing yourself faster, your body aching with every step.

And then—he caught you.

It happened so suddenly, you barely had time to process it. A sharp weight hit you from behind, sending you tumbling to the ground. Before you could scramble away, his body pinned you down, trapping you beneath him.

You froze, chest heaving as you stared up at him. Up close, he looked even more terrifying—wild and untamed, his mouth parted just enough to reveal sharp fangs, his breath hot and heavy against your skin.

But then, something shifted.

He didn’t harm you.

Instead, he scooped you up effortlessly, cradling you in his clawed arms as though you weighed nothing. You tried to struggle, but it was no use—his grip was firm, unrelenting, and yet… gentle.

He carried you deeper into the forest, further into the unknown, until you reached a cave nestled within the hills. It was dark and cool inside, the air heavy with the smell of earth and stone. He set you down carefully on a soft pile of fur—furs like his cloak.

You pressed yourself against the cave wall, unsure whether to scream or cry, but he only crouched before you, his red eyes staring into yours.

“Mine,” he growled, the word rumbling deep in his chest like a purr. His voice was dark and heavy, yet strangely… soft.

You blinked up at him, trembling. “W-what?”

“Mine,” he repeated, his hand brushed your cheek with shocking gentleness. The way he touched you sent shivers down your spine.

He leaned closer, his face mere inches from yours, his breath warm as it ghosted over your skin. “My bunny. Mine to keep.”

The growls in his voice softened into something sweet, almost melodic, as though he were coaxing you to stay calm. It should have terrified you—it did terrify you—but there was something unsettlingly comforting about the way he spoke.

You couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak.

And then you woke up.

You shot up in your makeshift bedroll, a strangled gasp escaping your throat as your heart pounded violently in your chest. Your hands gripped the thin blanket, sweat cooling on your skin.

You looked around frantically, the familiar interior of the cabin grounding you. It was just a dream. Just a dream.

But it felt so real.

You pressed a shaky hand to your forehead, trying to calm your racing heart.

It was just a dream…

A dream.

Sleep was out of the question after that. Every time you closed your eyes, you could see him—his crimson gaze, his claws brushing against your skin, his voice growling.

With a frustrated sigh, you kicked off the thin blanket and stood up, walking out of the cabin. Your thoughts were too loud, your body still tingling with the residual terror—and something else you didn’t want to name.

I need to clear my head.

You started walking, keeping close to the edges of the survivor camp but wandering far enough to feel alone. You let the quiet of the place settle around you, your boots crunching softly against the dirt.

Eventually, you found yourself near the invisible barrier that separated the survivors from them—the killers. You weren’t even sure why you wandered so close. Curiosity? Stupidity? Maybe you just needed to remind yourself where the line was drawn.

But then you froze.

Two figures stood just beyond the thin veil of fog.

The Trickster and Ghostface.

Their presence sent a cold shock through your chest, and you instinctively took a step back. But it was too late—they’d seen you. Trickster tilted his head, a grin already curling across his lips, and Ghostface’s mask turned to you.

“Well, well, well,” Trickster drawled, his voice dripping with wicked amusement. He leaned casually against a tree, his golden eyes practically glowing as he looked you over. “If it isn’t the Beast’s bunny.”

Your stomach dropped. “What?”

Ghostface let out a low, chuckling hum, his gloved hand tracing the edge of his knife as he stepped closer. “Oh, don’t play dumb. We know. You gave him quite the wild ride, sweetheart.”

You felt your face flush hot with anger and embarrassment. “Shut up,” you snapped. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Trickster cackled, his laughter loud and sharp, the sound echoing eerily in the fog. “Oh, come on. He came back furious after your little escape. Threw a fit like I’ve never seen. It was delicious.”

Ghostface chimed in, his tone teasing but low. “You’re all he could talk about, too. It’s like you’re his personal obsession now.” He mimicked the Beast’s deep growl mockingly: ‘Bunny.’

Your heart hammered in your chest, and you clenched your fists at your sides. “I don’t care what he said.”

“Mm, but you do care, don’t you?” Trickster purred, his smile widening as he leaned closer to the invisible line that separated you. “I bet you’re wondering why you’re so special. Why he didn’t mori you when he had the chance.”

“Leave me alone,” you hissed, taking a step back.

Ghostface tilted his head, the white of his mask gleaming through the fog. “What’s the matter? Didn’t you like his attention? After all, he went easy on you. That doesn’t happen often, you know.”

Trickster tapped a clawed finger against his temple. “You should feel honored, little bunny. Not every survivor gets a pet name.”

You glared at them, your skin crawling under their relentless teasing. You wanted to scream at them, to tell them to go back to their side of the fog and leave you alone, but you knew better. Picking a fight with killers—even ones that couldn’t touch you here—was asking for trouble.

Instead, you turned on your heel and stalked away, their laughter following you like a shadow.

“Sweet dreams, bunny!” Trickster called out behind you, voice dripping with mockery.

You didn’t look back.

Your head spun as you walked further into the camp, their words replaying in your mind. The Beast’s bunny. His obsession. Why didn’t he mori you when he had the chance?

You pressed a shaky hand to your forehead, frustration and unease settling deep in your chest. Why didn’t he?

--

The drop into the trial was as dizzying as always—the world around you materializing in a disorienting rush of fog and cold air. You hit the ground with a stumble, steadying yourself with a sharp breath. But as soon as you looked up, your heart sank.

No.

No, no, no.

Tall, twisted trees loomed in every direction, their jagged silhouettes clawing at the sickly sky. Bushes dense enough to hide anything rustled faintly in the breeze, and the unmistakable scent of damp earth and decay filled your nose. Ahead, you spotted the broken remains of a hunting lodge, its rotting wood and shattered windows familiar. Then, a flash of metal caught your eye—the glint of a rusted, blood-streaked hunting trap half-buried in the dirt.

Your blood ran cold.

You were on his map.

“Damn it,” you muttered, your voice barely a whisper, but the words echoed loud in your head.

Your stomach twisted as you remembered the last trial, his relentless pursuit, the flash of red in his eyes, the scrape of his claws.

“Get a grip,” you whispered to yourself. You couldn’t afford to freeze up now—not here, not on his turf.

Taking a deep breath, you gripped your flashlight and started moving, staying low as you weaved between the trees. Every step you took felt heavier than the last, like the map itself knew you were here—like he knew.

The broken-down jeep came into view, its rusting shell half-buried in leaves. You recognized it instantly—another landmark of his hunting ground. Just past it, you spotted the faint silhouette of a generator.

Focus, you told yourself. Find the gens. Fix them. Get out.

You crept closer, crouched low and trying not to make a sound. As you reached the generator, you knelt down and set your flashlight beside you.

You swallowed and started to work, your hands shaking slightly as you connected wires and tightened bolts. The hum of the generator grew louder with every adjustment, breaking the oppressive silence just a little.

But then you heard it.

A low, deep rumble carried through the trees.

Your hands froze. You didn’t even breathe as you strained to listen. At first, it sounded distant—almost like thunder rolling in—but then it grew closer. A soft, rhythmic growl, paired with the faint jingle of…

Bells.

Your heart plummeted.

Slowly, you turned your head, your blood running ice-cold. Through the thin veil of fog, you saw him—The Beast.

He stood just at the edge of the clearing, partially obscured by the shadows of the trees. His black cloak swayed faintly in the breeze, the fur draping over his broad shoulders as if it were part of him.

But it was his eyes—those glowing crimson eyes—that locked onto you like a predator spotting prey.

You couldn’t move. For a moment, it was as if the entire world held its breath.

Then he tilted his head, and his lips curled into something too sharp to be called a smile.

“Found you, little bunny.”

The sound of his voice—deep, rough, and unnervingly calm—snapped you out of your frozen state.

Run.

You shot up to your feet, abandoning the half-finished generator. Sprinting through the trees, you heard the pounding of footsteps behind you—heavy and impossibly fast. The bells on his collar rang softly with each movement, a haunting counterpoint to the blood rushing in your ears.

You weaved around trees and over logs, your lungs burning as you pushed yourself to move faster. But no matter how hard you ran, the growls grew louder, closer.

He’s toying with you.

The thought made your chest tighten with panic. You darted past a deer carcass, its lifeless eyes staring blankly, and nearly tripped over a hunting trap concealed in the leaves. A quick glance over your shoulder made your blood freeze.

He was right there.

Running on all fours, his claws dug into the dirt with every step, his cloak billowing behind him like a shadow. Drool dripped from his snarling mouth, and those red eyes—those damn eyes—never left you.

You turned sharply, sprinting toward a cluster of old crates and barrels. The familiar sight of a pallet gave you hope, and you grabbed hold of it, shoving it down just as he lunged forward. The pallet crashed to the ground, momentarily blocking his path.

You didn’t wait to see what he’d do next.

Vaulting over a window in a broken shack, you stumbled inside, gasping for air. Your heart thundered in your chest, but you seized the moment. The shack was small and dark, its rotting walls barely holding together, but the row of lockers against one wall caught your eye. Hiding was risky, you knew that, but running blindly wouldn’t get you far—not against him.

Quickly, you slipped into one of the lockers, squeezing yourself into the cramped space. The door creaked softly as you pulled it shut, and you winced, holding your breath as you pressed your body back as far as it would go.

You put a trembling hand over your mouth, forcing yourself to stay silent. Through the thin gaps in the locker, you could see into the room—shadows cast from the broken windows danced across the splintered floor. For a few agonizing seconds, there was nothing but silence.

Then you heard it.

The faint clink of bells.

Your stomach dropped.

The door to the shack creaked as it swung open, and the sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the room. Slow, deliberate steps—he wasn’t in a hurry. He knew you were here.

Through the locker’s slats, you caught glimpses of him. He prowled into view, hunched slightly forward as he sniffed the air, his claws scraping the wood with every step.

Then he stopped.

Right in the middle of the room.

You bit down on your hand, trying to control your ragged breathing as your chest rose and fell in frantic rhythm. His head tilted slightly, his crimson eyes sweeping the shack as though he could see through the walls. He growled—a low, vibrating sound that rattled in his chest.

“Little bunny,” he called softly, his voice rough and cruelly sweet.

You squeezed your eyes shut, praying he wouldn’t hear the pounding of your heart.

“I can smell you,” he continued, dragging out the words. “You ran so far… fought so hard… yet here you are. Hiding.”

His footsteps began again, the sound of bells chiming with each movement. You peeked through the slats and saw him move toward the lockers. Your blood turned to ice.

He stopped at the first locker.

The metal hinges creaked loudly as he tore the door open. Empty.

A low rumble escaped him—disappointed but patient.

Don’t open this one… don’t open this one, you thought frantically.

You watched as he moved to the second locker.

Your heart was in your throat, your entire body shaking as you clamped your hand harder over your mouth. He gripped the handle of the second locker door, then yanked it open with a growl.

Empty again.

He chuckled darkly, the sound making your skin crawl.

Then he turned to your locker.

You froze, every muscle in your body tensed as you stared through the gaps. His red eyes locked onto the locker door—onto you. You felt it.

He stepped forward, slow and deliberate, the glaive scraping against the floor as he moved. He was toying with you, savoring the fear that radiated off you in waves.

His clawed hand reached out, wrapping around the handle.

No, no, no—

Suddenly, the faint sound of a generator powering up echoed in the distance.

The Beast paused. His head snapped up, and his growl turned into a snarl. He hesitated for only a moment, then released the locker handle.

You didn’t move. You didn’t breathe.

With one last glare toward your hiding spot, he turned and stalked out of the shack, his bells jingling softly as he disappeared into the fog.

It wasn’t until you couldn’t hear his footsteps anymore that you dared to move.

Your hand fell away from your mouth as you gasped, air rushing into your lungs. You were shaking so badly you nearly fell out of the locker when you pushed the door open.

Slumping against the wall of the shack, you wiped sweat off your forehead and tried to steady your breathing.

That was too close.

“Get it together,” you whispered to yourself, standing up on wobbly legs.

You slipped out of the shack, your steps light as you crept toward the edge of the clearing. The cool air hit your face, but it did nothing to soothe the burn of exhaustion in your chest. Just as you were about to get your bearings, a blood-curdling scream cut through the silence.

Your stomach twisted at the sound of another survivor being hooked. You could almost feel their pain.

Shaking your head, you adjusted your grip on your flashlight and made your way back to the generator you’d started earlier.

The map was eerily quiet now, save for the faint hum of the Entity’s realm and the crunch of leaves beneath your feet.

You eventually spotted the generator up ahead, the same one you’d been working on before everything went sideways. It was tucked between two thick trees, its rusted frame bathed in the faint glow of moonlight.

Crouching down, you wasted no time. Your hands moved quickly, twisting bolts, reconnecting wires, and steadying sparking circuits. The generator let out small electric whines as you worked, and you winced every time it sounded too loud.

Your pulse quickened when you saw the progress bar fill just a little more. You were close—so close. The distant sounds of the map felt muffled as you zoned in on your work. Don’t mess up. Don’t mess up.

Then you heard it.

A growl.

Your hands froze mid-movement. You didn’t dare look up.

The sound was distant at first—like an echo carried by the fog—but it was unmistakable. Him.

“No,” you whispered to yourself, forcing your shaking hands to continue fixing the generator. If you stopped now, it’d all be for nothing.

You twisted one final bolt, and the generator sputtered before roaring to life. Its floodlights lit up the area, and the familiar blaring noise followed, announcing your progress to anyone listening.

Your breath hitched.

And that included him.

Somewhere close by, a howl ripped through the forest. Loud, guttural, and far too close for comfort.

Your eyes snapped up.

The fog shifted unnaturally ahead of you, parting like something monstrous had disturbed it. Through the haze, yellow eyes burned bright as they locked onto you.

Your heart dropped.

“Of course,” you muttered bitterly, turning on your heel and sprinting into the forest without a second thought.

The Beast roared in response, and you could hear the pounding of his claws against the dirt as he gave chase. The bells chimed in time with his steps, their sound twisted and distorted as they echoed behind you.

Trees blurred past you as you ran, leaping over roots and dodging branches that reached out like skeletal hands. You dared a glance over your shoulder and immediately regretted it—he was there, close enough for you to see the gleam of his fangs in the moonlight.

“Move, move, move!” you hissed to yourself, adrenaline pushing you forward as fast as your legs would carry you.

You felt it before you saw it—the sharp, searing pain of claws slicing across your back. The force of the blow sent you stumbling forward, your scream ripping through the fog as blood soaked into your shirt. The Beast snarled behind you, the sound a dark promise that he wasn’t done yet.

Move. Don’t stop.

Gritting your teeth through the pain, you spotted salvation up ahead: a pallet resting between two large trees. You pushed your legs to move faster, ignoring the burning sensation in your muscles as his heavy footsteps closed the distance.

With one final burst of speed, you reached the pallet, and in one fluid motion, you grabbed it and slammed it down with all the strength you had left.

The wood hit the ground with a satisfying thud just as he lunged, the pallet catching him mid-swing. He staggered for a moment, a low growl vibrating through the air as his red eyes locked onto you in fury.

But you weren’t done yet.

With shaky fingers, you flicked your flashlight on and aimed the beam directly at his face. The bright light pierced through the dark fog and hit him square in the eyes.

The Beast recoiled, a guttural snarl ripping from his throat as he jerked his head to the side, blinking furiously against the glare.

It worked.

You let out a shaky breath, a triumphant smile tugging at your lips despite the pain. The flashlight always works. He was blinded, even if just for a moment.

“Sorry, big guy,” you muttered under your breath, already turning on your heel and bolting away.

You didn’t have time to celebrate as you sprinted deeper into the forest, weaving between trees and broken fences.

The pounding of your footsteps against the dirt slowed as you spotted a faint glow through the trees—a generator, partially lit but still sputtering with effort. Relief rushed through you when you recognized three familiar figures huddled around it: Haddie, Ada, and Steve.

You stumbled toward them, blood still trickling from the slash on your back, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Hey!” Haddie called, her sharp gaze snapping to you. “Oh!”

“Jesus,” Steve muttered, already pulling out a med-kit and kneeling beside you. “Sit. You’re not gonna last like this.”

You hesitated for only a moment before sinking to the ground, letting Steve’s steady hands work on patching you up. The sting of antiseptic burned through the haze of adrenaline, but you bit your tongue, trying to focus on Ada and Haddie, who were whispering urgently to each other as they worked on the generator.

You opened your mouth to say something, but the words froze in your throat.

The sound came first. Faint, but clear.

Bells.

The soft, eerie jingle carried through the trees, distant at first… but quickly growing louder.

Steve stopped his hands mid-wrap, while Haddie’s and Ada’s both paused.

Slowly, all four of you turned to look behind you.

There, standing just at the edge of the clearing, was him.

His red eyes were glowing in the shadows, piercing through the fog like twin beacons. The glaive in his hand stained with blood, and his massive clawed arm twitched as though eager to tear into flesh again. He tilted his head, his stare locking onto all of you at once.

And then he spoke, his voice a deep, guttural rumble that made something in your stomach tickle.

“I can see you… all of you,” he drawled, his lips pulling back into a sharp grin that revealed rows of teeth. “When you’re together.”

Your heart stopped for a second.

“Oh, shit,” Haddie whispered.

Before anyone could move, the Beast lunged forward, his speed blinding.

“RUN!” Steve shouted, shoving you forward as he scrambled to his feet.

The air erupted in chaos.

You turned just in time to see the Beast barrel into the group, his glaive slashing outward. Haddie screamed as she was hit by the blade. Ada dove for cover behind the generator, her flashlight slipping from her grip.

Steve grabbed your arm, dragging you up as you stumbled.

“Go, go, go!” he yelled.

You bolted into the trees, your legs screaming in protest as pain flared through your back. From behind you, you could hear the heavy thud of the Beast’s footsteps and the ragged sound of his growls.

A scream echoed through the clearing—Haddie’s voice.

You glanced back for a split second and saw him standing over her, his claws raised, his red eyes flicking up to meet yours.

He’s looking at me.

Your stomach twisted, but you forced yourself to keep running, Steve at your side as the two of you crashed through the brush. Branches whipped against your face, the fog curling thicker the deeper you went.

The sound of Haddie's scream suddenly cut through the fog like a blade, sending a shiver of dread through your body. You could barely register the sound of Ada's scream following shortly after.

Tears stung your eyes as the wind howled through the trees, but you blinked them away.

But then you heard it—snap.

The world tilted as a sharp, searing pain shot through your leg, and you collapsed to the ground with a scream.

"Shit!" you gasped, clutching your thigh.

Your hands trembled as you looked down, the panic rising in your chest. You’d stepped into a snare trap. The sharp sting was immediate, its barbed wire coiled tightly around your upper thigh, the more you moves, the more the wire tightened, digging deeper into your skin with every movement, the barbed edges cutting into you like they were meant to hold you there—forever.

“No, no, no,” you panted, struggling to pull yourself free, blood began to trickle down your leg, warm and sticky, as you gasped, the pain making your vision blur.

“Help,” you cried out hoarsely, your voice breaking.

Steve, who had been ahead of you, didn’t hesitate to come back after hearing your scream. He rushed back to your side, his face pale as he looked down at the trap.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he cursed under his breath, kneeling beside you. His hands were frantic as he assessed the trap. “It’s too tight.”

You bit back a groan, trying to hold yourself still, but every small movement made the pain shoot deeper.

“Hold on, just… just hold on, alright?” Steve's voice was steady, despite the panic in his eyes as he worked at the wire. His hands were shaking, but he didn’t stop, trying to loosen it around your leg.

His movements were careful, slow, and you could feel every second ticking by like a countdown. The Beast could be right on top of you, you didn’t know.

“Steve, hurry!” you begged, the tears you had been blinking away now threatening to fall freely.

“I’m trying,” Steve muttered, his teeth clenched as he twisted the snare, trying to get it loose. “You’ve got to stay still, alright? You’re making it worse moving.”

You nodded, fighting against the urge to scream, biting down on your lip as you did your best to remain still.

“I’ve got it,” Steve said finally, relief flooding his voice as the wire loosened just enough for him to work his hands under it and pull your leg free.

You gritted your teeth, ignoring the throbbing pain in your leg as Steve pulled you to your feet. Your muscles screamed in protest, but you couldn’t afford to stop now.

“We need to go—now!” Steve urged, his voice tight with urgency. He glanced over his shoulder, scanning the fog, clearly sensing the Beast’s presence growing closer.

You nodded, swallowing the panic rising in your chest. The last thing you needed right now was to get caught. You limped, your leg barely holding up as you tried to keep pace with Steve, but every step sent a jolt of pain through you.

He kept his pace faster, glancing at you every few seconds to make sure you were still moving. “Just a bit further. We’ve got to make it to the generator—then we can heal, okay?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. You were focused entirely on the uneven ground beneath your feet.

And then, just as the rustle of movement caught your ear, Steve spun around, blocking your path. His face was tight with fear.

“He’s close,” he said breathlessly.

You nodded, trying to steady yourself against the pain in your leg, but it was getting harder to move. Every step felt like an eternity.

“Steve…” you whispered, voice cracking. “I don’t know how much longer I can…”

Before you could finish, a blood-curdling howl echoed through the air, the sound unmistakable. The Beast had caught your scent.

"Go! Run!" Steve shouted, urgency in his voice.

You stumbled, torn between the need to run and the instinct to stay with him. "What about you?" you asked, voice strained as the Beast’s growl grew louder.

Steve shot you a look, his expression grim. He didn’t have time to argue. “You heard what he said,” he panted, pulling away slightly. “He can see us when we’re together. We’re better off apart.”

You wanted to protest, to grab his arm and drag him with you, but his eyes were already scanning the fog, watching for any movement. His resolve was set.

He gave you a slight push, his voice soft but firm. “Go.”

Without another word, Steve turned and bolted in the opposite direction, breaking away from you. His footsteps disappeared into the thick fog.

You hesitated for only a moment before you took off running, forcing your legs to move despite the pain.

You were alone now.

You found a quiet place to heal, between two thick trees. The tension in your shoulders was unbearable as you worked, each slow, painful motion making the process feel like it took a lifetime.

But then, a scream.

Steve’s scream.

The sound tore through the fog, sharp and raw. Your heart clenched. The scream was cut short, but it was enough to stop you dead in your tracks.

Steve was on the hook.

Without wasting another second, you groaned as you pushed yourself to your feet, your leg screaming in protest. You couldn’t afford to leave Steve behind. You couldn’t. Not when he was still alive and needed you.

You looked around nervously, trying to get your bearings, but the dense fog made it almost impossible to see anything clearly. You limped toward the source of Steve’s scream, heart pounding, knowing you had to be quick.

You passed by broken trees and fallen branches, your breath quick and shallow. Each step was more painful than the last, but you pushed through it.

The sound of Steve’s struggles echoed faintly ahead, his voice barely audible but enough to urge you forward.

Hang on, Steve. Please hang on, you thought desperately.

When you reached the clearing where the scream had come from, you saw Steve struggling, dangling from a hook.

Your stomach twisted. You didn’t know where Haddie was—if she was even still alive—but Ada? You weren’t sure.

All you knew was that you didn’t see him close by, and so you took the chance. You rushed forward, limping toward Steve, your heart pounding in your chest as you neared the hook.

But then, you heard his voice—a strained shout.

“Stop!” Steve yelled, his voice tight with fear.

You froze, mid-step. Your eyes locked with his, confusion rushing through you. He was staring at you with wide, frantic eyes, almost as if warning you.

You didn’t understand at first, but then you heard it—the subtle scrape of claws on the ground.

From behind the hook, he emerged, his body low to the ground, his yellow eyes fixed on you. His mouth was twisted in something between a snarl and... a smirk? It was unsettling. He wasn’t even trying to hide his hunger now. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Your heart skipped a beat as he crawled closer, his sharp claws scraping against the dirt. The bells jingled softly, but it felt like they were ringing in your ears, louder with every passing second.

Your eyes darted between Steve and the Beast. The decision was clear.

Without another thought, you spun on your heel and ran.

Every muscle screamed in protest, but adrenaline was the only thing fueling you now. Branches whipped past you, the fog pressing in around you, blurring your vision. The sound of heavy footsteps echoed behind you, each thundering step closer than the last.

You heard him, the low growl vibrating in the air, and then the unmistakable sound of his bells—ting-ting-ting. You thought you could feel the ground beneath your feet trembling, his pace quickening as he closed the distance. You tried to cut left, darting around trees in an attempt to break his line of sight, but he was still behind you.

In that moment, you realized the truth: he wasn’t chasing you to catch you. He was chasing you because he enjoyed it. He was savoring this. The thrill, the fear that radiated off you, the helplessness that grew with every passing second. You were his prey. And he was playing with you like a wolf with its catch—only, you weren’t meant to escape.

You felt the slash against your back, a sudden, agonizing pain raking across your side. The scream tore itself from your throat as you stumbled, falling to the ground in a heap. Blood welled up from the wound, pooling around you, but you barely noticed it, your mind too frantic to focus on anything but the Beast who loomed over you.

You turned your head, gasping for air, your vision swimming as you fought to stay conscious. The Beast stepped over you, his massive, clawed feet brushing the dirt, and for a moment, everything went still. He stood there, towering over you, his presence suffocating, making it feel like the world had closed in. His red eyes locked onto yours, glowing.

He didn’t move, just watched you, his expression unreadable. A low growl rumbled from deep in his chest, the sound vibrating through the ground beneath you. Your heart pounded, your breath shallow and ragged, but you couldn’t look away. His eyes were mesmerizing, wild and filled with hunger.

For a moment, it was as if time stood still, the forest around you fading away into nothing. There was no escape. No hope.

A slow, almost sinister smile spread across his face as he leaned down, his claws brushing against your cheek in a slow, deliberate motion. His breath was hot and heavy, and you could feel the weight of his gaze as if he were searching for something in you—something he wanted to claim. You shuddered under his touch, your body unable to move, paralyzed by fear.

"You're mine now," he murmured, his voice a guttural growl that sent shivers down your spine. His fangs gleamed in the low light, sharp and ready.

You couldn’t fight him. You were too weak, too broken, and all you could do was stare up at him, eyes wide with terror. The Beast crouched lower, his form blocking out the sky above you, and you could feel the weight of his gaze on your soul.

Then, without warning, he licked your cheek, his rough, warm tongue brushing against your skin like a dog's. It sent a shiver down your spine, and you instinctively recoiled, but there was nowhere to go. His hot breath fanned across your face as he sniffed at you, inhaling deeply as if savoring your scent, his gaze lingering on your every move.

You felt an uncomfortable twinge of vulnerability, but you couldn’t move fast enough to get away. His eyes darted downward, now focused on your leg, the one still bleeding from the snare trap. You hadn’t even noticed until now how much blood had soaked through your pants.

Before you could react, he suddenly ripped open the fabric of your pants, exposing the wound. The rough sound of tearing fabric filled the air as his claws made quick work of the material, revealing the injury beneath.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you watched him, confusion and fear flooding your mind. What was he doing?

You gasped when the Beast's rough tongue suddenly brushed against the open wound on your thigh, the sensation shocking you. It felt strange—like something was pulling at you from within, and you instinctively flinched.

"Stop..." you gasped, though the words came out weak, as you tried to crawl away, desperate to get some distance between you and him.

But before you could get far, his sharp claws sank into the soft flesh of your thigh, gripping and pulling you back to him. The pressure was intense, and you couldn’t move. He held you there, unyielding, as his tongue continued to lick at your wound, collecting the blood.

You whimpered, trying to push against his hold, but his grip was like iron, and no matter how hard you struggled, you couldn’t escape.

As the Beast continued, the warmth of his tongue against your skin became oddly less weird. The fear remained, but you couldn’t deny the strange sensation of being so completely under his control. His actions were relentless, but they were also slow, as though savoring something delicate.

Then, suddenly, he pulled back. You heard soft whines escape from him, and it sent a cold chill down your spine. You met his eyes again, and you could see the remnants of your blood, mixed with his saliva, dripping from the corners of his mouth. The sight made your stomach twist.

He slowly licked the blood from around his lips, his gaze never leaving you. His breathing was deep, his chest rising and falling with each inhale. He crawled closer again, his eyes intense, and for a moment, all you could hear was his heavy breathing.

Then, with a low growl, he spoke. “You smell so... good,” he murmured, his voice deep and gravelly. “You taste so sweet...”

The words sent a shiver down your spine. He seemed to be savoring them as much as he had savored the blood from your wound. His voice dropped even lower, his words tinged with something darker.

“You’ve had me going crazy ever since I first caught a scent of you. I can’t get you out of my mind.” His eyes gleamed, hungry and wanting.

He leaned closer, his breath hot against your mouth. “I crave you,” he repeated, his tone possessive, as though the very thought of you was driving him wild.

Fear mingled with something else in the pit of your stomach. You weren’t sure what it was, but his words were like a trap, a pull that made it hard to think clearly, harder to remember why you needed to escape.

His breath was hot against your skin, his presence overwhelming, and before you could react, the Beast leaned in, his face inches from yours. Your heart raced in your chest, fear and confusion coursing through you. Then, without warning, his lips pressed against yours.

The kiss was rough, urgent, as if he were trying to claim you. You froze, unable to process what was happening. His mouth was warm, and for a moment, everything seemed to disappear around you, your thoughts clouded by the shock of the moment.

You felt his hands, still strong and unyielding, keeping you in place as his lips moved against yours. It was unlike anything you had ever experienced, and the unexpectedness of it left you breathless, your mind unable to fully comprehend his actions.

For a long second, time seemed to slow. He pulled away just enough to gaze at you, his red eyes intense, searching for something in your expression. The kiss had left you disoriented, unsure of how to feel, and you could see the hunger in his eyes.

Before you could gather your thoughts, he whispered low, “My little bunny.”

His grip tightened for a moment, and you could feel the intensity of his words as they settled in your chest. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice low, but there was an unsettling tenderness to it. "But I have to kill you now."

Before you could react, he flipped you over with ease, pinning you beneath him. His paw pressed down on your back, the weight of it overwhelming as his gaze locked onto you.

You squirmed beneath him, trying to push against his hold, but it was useless. His strength was far beyond yours, and every attempt to free yourself only seemed to make his grip tighten.

"Please," you gasped, voice trembling as you struggled.

But he didn’t stop. His eyes were locked on yours with an intensity that sent a chill through you, and his body felt like a heavy weight, pressing you into the cold ground.

"Can you at least tell me your name?" you asked, your voice desperate. It was all you could think of to try to connect with him, to find some way to understand him.

He stopped for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he considered your words. There was a flicker of something—something almost human—in his gaze before he growled, a low rumble vibrating through his chest.

"Jay," he said simply, the sound of it rough but clear.

You repeated it softly to yourself, tasting the name on your lips. "Jay."

He paused again, almost as if surprised- "You're the first one to know it." A flicker of something—maybe amusement, flashed in his eyes.

But then, without warning, he threw his head back, releasing a haunting howl that echoed through the night. The sound seemed to reverberate through the very air, a chilling symphony of raw power and unbridled emotion.

As the echo faded, Jay lowered himself, his jaws parting slightly as he moved closer to you. There was no mercy in his eyes, no hesitation. With a swift motion, he sank his teeth into your neck. The pain was sharp and intense, but before you could even process it fully, darkness claimed you, and everything around you vanished.

You gasped as you fell back into the survivor camp, unharmed, alive, as if nothing had happened at all.

The others were going about their business, completely unaware of the nightmare you had just experienced. The tension in your body remained, though, a tight knot in your chest that wouldn't loosen.

You knew you couldn't tell anyone what had happened. No one would understand. They would think you had lost your mind.

Shaking the lingering thoughts from your head, you stood up, your legs a bit unsteady. The sharp, eerie silence that had enveloped the camp was suddenly pierced by the unmistakable howl from the direction of the killers' area. It echoed through the foggy air, loud and clear, that it made the other survivors nearby glance up in alarm.

The howl was different from the usual ones. It was the triumphant cry of a successful hunt—an announcement to the realm that the beast had claimed his prize.

══════⊹⊱≼≽⊰⊹══════

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[gaysindistress]

Things Minthara says

Minthara eyeing you up and down, chuckling in a teasing tone, “you wish to consult me now? Did the wizard not provide you with a sufficient answer as I predicted?”

Minthara having a mocking attitude when you ask her about her thoughts on your companions but her voice wavers for a moment and becomes softer when she says, “you…you are different than I originally thought. I did not expect that you would be the one to save me from Moonrise given our first interaction.”

Minthara rolling her eyes and groaning whenever Gale so much as breaths in her or your general vicinity.

Minthara ordering lowly as you approach a hook horror, “stay low, stay quiet, and whatever you do, do not leave my side. You may be formidable on the surface but this is the underdark.”

Minthara mumbling over her maps with a furrowed brow and tight set jaw.

Minthara glancing over at you when you call her name quietly and making room for you to look at the maps with her as she hums, “Our enemies are everywhere, my love. How should we proceed?”

Minthara moaning with a her head tipped back, eyes fluttering closed, and a crooked smile as you glide your fingers over her ears.

Minthara drawling, “perhaps you do not belong as our leader. Perhaps your place should be here; on your knees before me, striped bare, and willing to accept any pleasure I give you,” as she slips her hands in your hair and gathers the strands into her fist.

Minthara grazing her nails down your bound form as you wiggle against her, growling, “Scarcely worth the effort, my love.”

Minthara cradling your head in her lap, her hands pressing on your wounds, whispering with tears in her eyes, “Have no fear, you will survive this. You will fight another day.”

Minthara pretending to not understand why you slapped her shoulder in horror, “Enlighten me, my darling; was I wrong in my assessment that Gale has the aura of a third child about him?”

Minthara gripping your wrist tightly as you try to leave her tent one night and staring at you with wide pleading eyes, murmuring, “I did not intend to imply that you’re a distraction or that my feelings for you are. You must know that you give me strength and courage to continue this fight. Without you, I do not know where I would be.”

[ganondoodle]

totk rewrite- botw2 edition

been thinking about the other totk rewrite again (the one only based on botw in which the sonau stay a mystery while being expanded upon)

i talked about it before but heres a lil breakdown (im reusing alot of mechanics from the villain rauru rewrite bc they work too well to be discarded for this one)-

(edit, about five hours later .. its not a little breakdown, its a pretty complete summarized breakdown of the entire new rewrite that i didnt intend to spend the last hours of my sunday on but here we are .. long post, but with pics bc theres lots of concepts im reusing or reviving)

okay START:

zelda and link explore the caverns below hyrule castle bc the shiekah tech has been losing power and their research as to why lead them here

they discover ganondorf and through zeldas curiosity break the, already weak, seal on him (no enigma stone here, the seal was done by an ancient queen of hyrule)- he wakes up attacks them, breaks the mastersword and miasmas/malices links arm off (also idea is that you have to fight him but meant to lose horribly lol) and then have to play an escape sequence (or watch a cutscene of it) in which zelda drags link after herself running from gan

(remember this old first idea drawing i made when i started to think about a rewrite? yeah im reviving that, except theres no totk sonau in this anywhere)

they get out and immediately afterwards a heavy earthquake runs through the land, completely, and actually, changing the map (also using the idea of devastating the regions climates- gerudo desert is flooded, death mountain collapsed inwards, the zoras realm is dried up, rito village has completely frozen over - ACTUALLY frozen over, everything encased in thick ice, the temperature has a special new low point, the winds too strong to glide anywhere-, mountains and rivers shifted, caves are revealed- oh and most of the main villages have tried to flee somewhere saver so theres no literal 1 to 1 repeat of points of interest from botw; also no uh .. miasmas holes that are literally jsut like drilled out bc what?? i want the access to the underground be few and hidden to make it more special to discover)

links arm gets amputated and replaced with a shiekah tech one (maybe using the botw shiekah stone/slate since they still dont know how to make them and its the best self sufficient piece of tech left that doesnt rely on the breaking fuel structure) (reusing this concept from the villain rauru one, with the difference beign that theres no corruption of link -or maybe it does have an effect to have shiekah tech literally hooked up to yourself *thinking emoji*- the abilities remainign the same)

when link wakes up some time has passed (so its more logical that the other regions have tried to cope with everything happening) you get a tutorial by purah and other shiekah (bc with zelda in charge theres more shiekah doing tech stuff again! cool!) and now have a magic meter (functions like in the previous pic, recharges over time depending on environment! bc i find that idea so cool for interstign puzzles and storytelling- like i said in an older post, a place where lots of people died might be richer in spirit energy recharging your magic faster- others have been hollowed out of luminous stone which slows down the recharge) and you are left to decide where to go

both zelda and you have a shiekah stone/slate replica but its incomplete since as mentioned the knowledge on how to make it is still lost so it only has the basic functions, such as the map, journal, camera and teleport

zelda is your companion from the start, in the years since botw she trained in basic self defense and can use her sealing powers as a shield to protect herself (though reluctantly since she doesnt want to rely on them) so you dont need to babysit her- you can tell her to be aggressive in encounters, supporting you (occasionally shields you or heals you a little?) or stay out of it/only self defend if an enemy targets her (in case you dont want any help) - she also copies your movement in a way, when you glide around she will too etc- in cases where you go very fast to one thing, like the hookshot, she will grab onto you

zelda also acts as your mobile crafting station, to put it bluntly, as she can craft and repair weapons, which is at first limited but can be expanded upon by doing quests (like the options of spear crafting being hugely expanded by a zora quest- fitting their fight style), when she does it you need the material needed for it though it costs no money- theres new little smith shops around the world that can repair and craft as well in which you can spend money instead for material you are lacking (and a little fee for the work you know)

(one of the first rough concepts for a pair of smiths, one is at the shop (green lady, the scars on her arms are her missing fins bc she burned them or lost them in battle), the other walks around it like terry (beedle) does and from whom you can buy already crafted simple things, like arrow types-

oh yeah, arrow types return and get more options bc theres no way in hell id make anyone scroll through that awful menu just to fuse one arrow at a time (the old types return, but theres new ones and all are craftable in bulk, here and old rough sketch)

(also theres no new 'in the same location jsut a few steps to the left' towers that shoot you into the air bc it just destroys the entire world design- even if there is no sonau tech in this one so no gliders- i want the sky to feel as dangerous and mystical as the underground)

the sky has to be reached via the hookshot, its got big islands mostly with old shiekah ruins, including that broken titan prototype i drew before, and the bird mechanic (you can tame birds and register them at a location there, idk if im keeping the idea of a lone shiekah there, but the birds will stay)-which is if you tamed a bird you can call it when gliding to gain a little boost in height, enabling you to reach islands further away (since no building, yeah that mechanic is better used in a game actually built around it, which totk just isnt- do not argue with me about that- to really let it shine instead of just being a tiktok viral funney build simulator that adds nothing meaningful to the game and actively makes it worse due to its implementation just not fitting there) or save you from falling if you barely missed the edge of one - theres few points of teleportation up there so the world map isnt made skippable, theres no shrines there (and in general, there are no shrines, just minidungeons- ACTUAL minidungeons- integrated into the world, like really big caves that are each unique and filled with challenges- and much fewer of them) (the islands being mostly made nigh invisible from the surface bc clouds gather on their underside)

perhaps different glider types?! and you can switch their design via zelda too

the old botw shrines are non fucntional due to loss of power, either overgrown or broken into pieces due to the ground breaking open, some might be infested with malice/miasma and comes alive like a weird mix between guardian and miasma crab (which also goes for guardian wrecks that hadnt been taken apart for research yet), some are fallen into caves that got revealed or got swallowed by the ground with only the tip remaining- the titans (divine beasts) are all repurposed (like in the other rewrite ideas i had)- the rito tried to flee the blizzard using medoh but sicne no one has piloted it and unstable connection to them causes them to crash in the hebra mountains, unable to leave it due to the storm and thus on limited time; vah rudania was perhaps made into a temple, or training ground but fell into the underground when death mountain collapsed (imagine ... malice/miasma infested rudania being an actual boss itself, chasing after you in the underground); vah ruta was absolutely made into a place of worship and after their domain dried out a few remained there praying to it convinced their faith would save them- its not able to move but manages to produce a little water still; vah naboris might have been used as a stronghold/lookout but due to the desert flooding (which is in fact, bad) its one of the 'islands' people now reside in

new weather types, including storm and darkness caused by mushroom spores that are invasife to the surface

theres at least six dungeons, one for each region (but not in the exact place as in botw bc that is literally just plain stupid though i might use the zora sewer/water system idea for an actual dungeon instead of .. a single button- bc how cool would that have been?? no no lets put the fish people in the sky and put a single button in the coolest part of it that only activates a waterfalll .... coming out of a tiny island in the sky- all just by of the visual neatness of swimming up??- anyway) plus a yiga one that is in and below the akalla citadel- also might put hyrule castle into the underground and inaccessible for a good portion of the game- and one in the forest of the krogs that was corrupted (which i thought was the reaso nfor the backpack krogs, but no, they literally have no goal and serve no purpose than to make funney videos with em, and then even the forest is nothing more but a reused lame fight agaisnt phantom gan- im starting to rant, sorry)

the abilties of the champions will be similar but there are changes, as in tulins (who i might just change to teba bc lets be real he was the one you interacted with in botw really..) isnt a gust of wind, since its both contrary to revalis whole deal of how difficult it was for him to create the updraft and then tulin can just do an almost exactly the same thing as like, a 12 year old- also its little usefullness after me adding in the birds for the sky and different glider types- maybe ill make it a strong windcut forward like in the other rewrite, like the yiga officer windattack but on steriods id also consider most of them not having the innate ability for it anyway, except for yuno maybe since he literally inherited daruks shield and as my idea was could make a variation of it adding the roll an fire to it but still having the shield, bc it kinda makes them like a boring copy of the botw champions and also lessens both their impact in a way (perhaps bringing dungeon items back?? idk,so still working on that)

each dungeon has a unique boss, at least on of which being a corrupted friend (PROPERLY DONE not like poor yuno in totk >:I ) bc each being just some monster tm is kinda boring (like twilight princess was so cool for how it mixed its bosses tbh)- also want satori to have a dark (also nice) counterpart that you might have to fight first bc you are trespassing into its domain (an old sketch gonna revisit it at some point)

new armor sets of course, and you still own YOUR house in hateno, zelda either has her own one in the spot where landa (the funky building lad that you bought your house from in botw) had the 'example' houses or yours got an additional building added onto it for zelda (and you can customize like, trees around it and have a lil farm spot too!!) and in your house theres a chest you can store armor sets in so you dont have to sell them to avoid inventory clutter

POUCHES return!! you can find some but most are locked behind quests (since logically people likely would have pouches) making them a really good reward and dont force you to engange with krogs if you are tired of them, it also avoids making you go back to them over and over just to expand inventory (you can choose for which part you want to use the pouch for, weapon or shield slot etc)- krog seeds are now its own currency for a lil shop you unlock in the forest, one of the highest rewards being the eponator zero (the motorcycle from botw)

also BOTTLES return! the main way to store healing, which also has to be consumed in real time (like in skyward sword, select in on a wheel so link takes it in his hands and 'a' to use it) avoiding the pause and spam apples into your mouth problem-

now cooking is NOT removed, it has even better effects than potions BUT it cant be stored and has to be consumed where you cook it (hear me out-); the cookbook in totk i find pretty annoyingly useless so, the cookbook is now a proper book you can fill out and when you want to cook a recipe you select it there and cook it with what you have (it shows if you dont have it all and also if you wanna swap an ingredient that would end with a similar effect) AND since you cant store it, theres special NPCs that reappear throughout hyrule (like a group of chefs that have one in each region at least) that let you just cook whatever you want without it wasting your materials, and if you hit a recipe it unlocks and is saved in your cookbook (you have to have the materials you want to cook with but it wont consume them, so you cant jsut spam it and fill the entire book out in one go- maybe the chef can give you subtle hints with expressions if something might be good or not before you try it out so you dont waste ages just cooking the same shit over and over xD)

(also possible idea for an item or big quest reward, a portable pot you can set up to cook with -with wood and fire- on the go without having to rely on finding them in the wild, and zelda can act as you chef giving you hints ... honestly i love this idea, remember all the cute botw art of them travelling and cooking together?? make that real you idiots!)

to upgrade your health or stamina you have to get spirit orbs still, but this time you get big ones that each can be traded, since thers fewer minidungeons but they are 4 times bigger than shrines they also give you 4 times the reward- but still one where you can choose which one you want bc i find that an important bit of freedom (idea still is that you free trapped souls and they give you the orb as a reward, majority of which are in caves in the underground or in the surface caves) which encourages you to vary your gameplay and not focus just on one area bc you probably want all those things, go for quests for puches and bottles, for minidungeons for health/stamina etc

oh yeah, the underground houses several dungeons, the weird gravity effect is in either the entire underground or in parts of it- it does not span the entirety of the map, isntead its smaller and often enclosed areas that each are more detailed and 'finished', theres different bioms and enemies you dont find anywhere else, and some enemies on the surface (like the miasma hands but like .. less easy and no phantom ganon bc that got boring rly fast) that sport those hands can grab you and drag you underground- which can either mean doom for you or .. discovering a new area down there hmmmm a risk to take isnt it :3 (also wanted there to be a mount there but idk if i will use this old concept of the dongos or if i want it to be a crab like thing bc of the underwater theme i want to go for)

LORE/STORY

so as you explore you may discover caves and areas in the underground containing sonau architecture (the type from botw, not totk) most of which heavily damaged, but theres few that are in 'better' shape bc they have been in selaed off caverns that werent yet discovered-

you find out the sonau, which you only vaguely knew from ruins in the overworld, were in fact real (but no you dont suddendly know they fucked with hylians and even their names of untold thosuands of years ago that you just so happen to have read in a book all of the sudden like it was an always known fact and not at all a myste- .. rant alarm .. ), and given the ruins underground they must have originated from there, but there are no scriptures that survived and all sculptures are in very bad shape, alot of which seems intentionally destroyed- slowly you and zelda piece together through vague clues (VAGUE game VAGUE, let people THINK) that they had knowledge of the past and the nature of the ever repeating return of disaster to hyrule; the biggest reveal beign that they knew the cycle wasnt natural at all and that it keeps being repeated only through the structure of how this land operates, the beliefs of the people that rule it, altered history etc.

the ancient shiekah under the rule of hyrules royalty found out what the sonau had discovered/knew and persecuted them (parelells to what the king would do to them later on, anyone??) since the divinity of the kingdom must be upheld by all means necessary- which is why the sonau had disappeared so entirely, with little of their culture left and none of them, and by doing so the ancient shiekah also discovered the previously lost knowledge of the gerudo king having turned into the biggest threat to the kingdom in the past (which the sonau had kept secret, knowing what consequences it could have if not handled carefully), which starts up a whole other betrayal plot of the kingdom planning to imprison gan before he can become a true threat (im gonna guess the relations between the gerudo and hyrule havent been that great even before since hyrule was still the main empire)

gan finds out before the plan goes through and assasinates the king of hyrule, the ancient queen declares war (yes, the queen for once) and in the end sacrifices herself to seal him away, more for revenge than any prophecy, but it nevertheless leads to the cycle doing its thing yet again

calamity ganon is a product of ganondorf trying to break free of his seal- and perhaps in an attempt to weaken his unbreakable will the shiekah discover they can use his spirit as a powerful source to their newly invented tech- which previously ran with processed luminous stones (yes battery theory will never let me go idc) and essentially use his own power against him by beating the calamity with their tech

(this knowledge is also how you get the yiga to work with you, using your knowledge of the past as leverage and zeldas ability to negotiate - and bc i thinks it would be cool to see her develop that way, and no i dont mean it as they all gonan fix it uwu either, its hard to go into more nuance here, its already way longer than i wanted- and yes this also ties into the koga is one of the ancient monks that made himself basically immortal through malice experiments HC of mine)

he attacks the regions bc they too sided with hyrule, he drags you to the underground bc its where he has spent thousands of years in agony, hes only out for revenge, an understable one and one you can sympathize with, but one you cannot negotiate with, its been too long, too much, no amount of apology could sate the desire for payback (which keeps the whole link and zelda defeat ganon formular alive BUT gives it nuance, right?? more tragic really, i hope that comes across)

he attacks link and zelda, breaks the masterword bc he has seen it all before, the original calamity, through the eyes of malice, he knows what you will do, inevitably so, you too will come for him, again

at the midpoint of the game you will reach hyrule castle (underground? perhaps it depends on how much health you have, getting grabbed and dragged into its depths losing hearts and if you have enough you survive until you are inside the castle and let go, you cant teleport outside - oh and zelda is either absent for the fight bc you got separated or she held onto you and protected herself with her power- honeslty kinda like the seperation idea bc after having her around all the time its gotta be super creepy to be suddendly alone) and will have a fight with him, that you kinda lose but are saved by the rest of the crew that zelda had banded together and brought here after being seperated from you- maybe without koga yet bc he would be locked to late game i think

there will be a quest to reforge the mastersword, which if you havent already gone to the forest will now lead you there (oh also some of the krogs you find outside the forest now will tell you that they had to flee, but maybe warn you not to go there yet if you are still in early game, others might not know bc they left to plant new forests, windwaker style, maybe a quest there too! to give them purpose beyond being your plaything and then just disappearing- ahem .. )

(old concept for the krog forest/dekutree boss)

the dekutree will tell you to restore it it will need the blessings of the three dragons (who might not have appeared yet, or slowly disappeared one by one, they might need to be rescued bc gan probably knows you are gonna try and repair the sword) (oh look more old concepts still relevant!)

in the end it will .. end with you defeating ganon, just like always (unsure of the place where it will will be but OH LOOK old concepts- here it was still with hyrule castle in mind but that might be jsut for the midpoint fight now- maybe id put the end fight on the forgotten plateau, to round it up nicely, ending where botw began ... ;3

i really like this one .. even more than the villain rauru one, though that one is fun bc a twist like that is pretty neat and fighting with ganondorf is also rly cool- but sicne i just dont like the totk sonau and much prefer them remaining mostly a mystery im very fond of this (also .. im so sick of ancient people with high tech bs now..)

the aim with this is to .. make a botw2 that actually feels like a botw 2 (for me), shiekah tech is still there but little functions still, logically bc its main powersource is breaking off of it, the sonau are a mystery and kinda negatively talked about bc the shiekah persecuted them just like they would later be - also explains why there are shiekah things in every sonau building, of course they would overtake their places and try to erase a much as possible of them (the thunder plateau might have been a place of worship to farodra or for research- now look its a puzzle for a shrine to strengthen our hero to defeat the thing we caused :)) ), the sonau are expanded upon WITHOUT destroying their mystery (none of them are shown, there are NO memories in this game, everything happens in real time and what you can learn about the past is mostly vague clues pieced together by nerd zelda!)

it gives more depth to the shiekah as well as add an important ounce of nuance to the yiga and shiekah, to ganondorf as well while adressing and fixing the things that needed work in botw in ways i would find enjoyable (instead of making it WORSE)

i also dont want to go too hard on 'zelda is totally agaisnt the monarchy bc monarchy BAD', its not meant to come across like that, i just wanted to do sth interesting that does question everything and bc i like to think she could be lead to a different way of thinking, especially if so through her own research and discovery of previously buried history, being confronted with her own biased views by her passion for her interests

anyway, if you read through all of this, i probably forgot stuff, buts its very late and i spent alot of time writing this (bc i cant stop once i started i guess) and theres lots of things repeated that i already talked about BUT if yo actually read through it all, i cannot even begon to express just how much that means to me, and id i dare request, do tell if you like it!!! and thank you so much!!! it might not seem like much but this is also very important to me, i still dream of gamedev after all and i see this as a sort of practice, are my mechanics and stuff actually better os does it just seem like it to me etc -

(though keep in mind, this is in part self indulfent bc hey, its not real and is never gonna be so i might just do what i want- and yes i do believe it is doable, even if this all sounds alot, the magic lies in making it less but make that 'less' more dense and detailed, hence the underground being like at least cut in half in size and the building mechanic being removed (to give to a game where its better used than totk) alone should free alot of time and space for the things i described here)

-thanks again for reading, posts like these rarely get much attention so uh ... its pretty much never worth the time i spent typing designing and writing it (even if theres still lots missing here, like the dungeons and details to the champions ..) so every bit of commentary weighs alot more <3

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Nik gets caught playing his favourite sport: Price Watching.

cw: sad Nik is sad; pining, wingman Laswell.

"What're you smiling at?"

"Hm?" Nik dragged his eyes away from where the captain was giving his briefing to the rapt attention of the gathered operators to give Laswell the side eye.

She raised an eyebrow.

"He did the thing," Nik said, unhelpfully.

"The thing."

"Da, the thing he does."

"Nik, Price does a lot of things..."

"You know," he grabbed the straps of an invisible carrier vest, rolled onto his toes and thrust his hips a little at the air, the movement rippling up the length of his torso in a perfect imitation of the captain currently gesturing over a map table at the front of the room, "the thing."

She smacked a hand over her mouth to stifle the guffaw and ended up blowing an undignified half-raspberry into her palm. Sergeant MacTavish raised his eyebrow at her before returning his attention to Price's briefing. She glowered at Nik.

"Laswell, that was very unprofessional," Nik breathed, amused.

"That's rich coming from you, I thought I was the only one who had noticed that," she hissed back in the practiced method of a woman used to keeping her voice hushed in the earshot of others.

Nik hummed and let the conversation lapse as John continued to walk them through the jump and intended target. Nik had read the file four times over and already forwarded his questions ahead of time. As they progressed onto assignments, he leaned towards Laswell again. "You are right. There are a lot of Price things."

"Oh?" She smirked. "Go on."

"When he finishes, he will tap the lieutenant once on the chest with a flat palm as he is standing closest."

She shook her head at him, her smile soft. "Nik..."

"I am right, you'll see."

"What else?"

"He blinks rapidly when he smiles. It is..." He trailed off, but Laswell had the creeping suspicion that the word 'beautiful' or even 'cute' had been about to come out of Nik's mouth. "And he twitches his nose before he drinks his coffee."

"Have you thought about asking him out for a coffee rather than watching him drink it from afar like a peeping tom?"

"He would say no."

"To a coffee?"

"Not to the coffee."

"Somethin' to add Nikolai?" Price called over from the front, and the sternness in his voice made both of them snap to attention.

Nik cleared his throat. "Nyet, captain. Only explaining the exfil to Laswell in simpler terms."

"Leave it 'til I'm done, I'll take any questions at the end."

Laswell nodded tightly and then kicked Nik's shin when Price returned to his explanation. "Asshole."

"Da."

"I'll tell him, you know."

"No you will not."

She sighed. They lapsed into silence again.

Nik continued to watch Price with the same open, adoring expression he thought was camouflaged by the crowd of soldiers around him. Laswell had seen that look on him so many times and yet Nik had never tried to progress his adoration beyond pining from afar. She couldn't understand it; they were perfect for each other. Whipsmart intelligence, bloody minded, grumpy in the morning, mischievous, scars behind their eyes... the list could go on.

"You should ask him out," she whispered.

"I am too old for him."

"Now you're just making excuses..."

Someone had the audacity to shush her and she turned to give them the stink eye only to come face to face with the colonel. Alejandro raised an eyebrow and she gestured her apology with two raised hands before turning back to face the front.

She watched as Nik went to receive the written answers to his enquiries to review before the flight, and waited for Price to head off to his office before she approached Nik again. He was studying the note closely, far longer than necessary. "Handwritten," she said meaningfully, her eyes darting over the notes in Nik's hands.

The briefing concluded and Price... did exactly what Nik had said he would do; one pat on Lieutenant Riley's chest as he dismissed the gathered operators to their assignments. Nik raised both eyebrows and pressed his lips together at Laswell in the most comical 'told ya' expression she had ever seen.

"Da."

"You can't torture yourself like this forever, Nikolai."

"Lucky for me that I do not have forever."

"Macabre, even for you."

He sighed, folding his note from Price carefully so that he could tuck it inside his jacket. "Everything beautiful in my life is taken from me, Laswell. My family, my country. If I keep him at a distance, then there is a chance I will not lose him too. Let me have... this."

"This is yearning and agonising from afar while he's oblivious. It doesn't seem like much."

"It is enough."

"There are no guarantees, not in this life."

"This is true."

She stared at him in hopes of more, but he only looked back placidly. "Coward..."

"Da."

She sighed and threw her hands up, exasperated. "One coffee, Nik. What's the worst that could happen?"

"He could fall in love with me."

"Jesus."

This was going to be a project, wasn't it? Well, what was it that Price said? In for a penny, in for a pound.

[olderthannetfic]

There is something confusing to me about older queer people (which is to say, older than I am, at a relatively young 24 years old) who get mad at original fiction whose worldbuilding involves neopronouns. I'm hoping maybe, ONTF, since you've been in queer spaces a lot longer than I have, you can explain why people have such a negative reaction to the idea.

Basically, I'm working on a novel based that takes white-throated sparrow biology and uses it for building blocks in the same way A/B/O takes (now debunked) wolf science and used it for building blocks. This means there are essentially four genders, the two viewed as more intelligent (brown-haired men and women) and the two viewed as more physical (white-haired men and women). Those two groups then get further divided along the lines of 'women are better at making smart decisions under pressure' and 'men are better at staying home and defending the children, as God intended'.

So it seemed natural to me that this worldwide quaternary system would result in at least some languages having pronoun sets for each of the four options. Some languages in real life have more complicated pronoun systems than that, particularly ones where there's a bunch of formal and informal pronouns. It'd also help the reader keep track of who was a part of what group without my having to turn around and state people's coloration constantly. Yes, these people are human, just as humans in A/B/O are, but society is fundamentally very different. I'm not throwing this in to just complicate things or sound smart or something. It's here because my minoring in Anthropology and majoring in Linguistics taught me language usage reflects the needs and values of a people.

The writing group I'm a part of IRL is mostly queer, mostly 40+, with some cishet women who are also present and active writers. The writing group I'm a part of on DW is mostly DWRPers, in their 30's and up, though no older than 50, and entirely queer. I did not expect these to be groups that were uncomfortable with the idea of "different world, different pronouns".

Instead the reception has ranged from suggestions it's pretentious or overthinking things to requests I reconsider doing it. I've been informed this could be seen as mocking the real life queer people who go by pronouns other than she, he, or they. One person asked if this was went to be me "artificially justifying" nonbinary pronouns and implying I didn't find them valid in the real world. That was an awkward conversation, to say the least.

In reality I wasn't really thinking about real life people who use nonbinary pronouns when I was writing. I was just asking, "Logically, wouldn't it make sense for things to work very differently under a quarternary than it does under a modern European binary?" and following my brain along to its' conclusions as it processed that.

I have gotten zero negative feedback from my queer friends my age regarding this. So obviously, generation and the experiences informing a generational context are key, here. I'm just... still lost on how anyone finds this objectionable.

Help?

--

Ahaha. Oh god.

Well, as a reader of sff in the 90s, the first reaction I have to such things is "IS THERE A CONLANG AND A MAP?" Because, man, the conlang people were some of the most tedious motherfuckers I ever had to deal with in sff spaces.

But broadly... I think the reasons queer people get annoyed about this stuff boil down to a couple of big factors:

Disrespectful children who don't know history

Idiot old people harrumphing about "history" they clearly failed to pay attention to while it was going on in the first place

I personally hate being asked to use new words most of the time. A few bits of fandom slang I'll pick up at once, but I'm usually like "Why would I call it 'spirk'? We already have 'K/S'!" *shakes cane*

If you're American, they're your "roommate", not your "flatmate". No, I don't care how much more precise this foreign term is, you pretentious wanker. (But then I'll use 'wanker' because fandom adopted that years ago...)

So my reaction to being asked to say aloud any pronoun not in very frequent circulation in my offline life is "Urrrgh. Do I have to?"

However, the reality is that people have been messing around with pronouns in English since forever. Do you see 'heo' in Modern English? No, you do not! (Not that it was gender neutral, but the point is that even words as ancient as pronouns have changed quite a bit.) The early internet was full of pronoun stuff in MUDs and the like. You had a choice of a lot more than just three in a bunch of these. People besides men and women have always been in queer communities.

So some people like to cry about neopronouns being actually neo, and they're just wrong.

As for the why do you care part...

There is a nasty habit in contemporary queer spaces to act like gay rights issues are solved. Bisexuality? Passe! etc. Gays and lesbians finally got a little mainstream acceptance only to suddenly be treated like the worst of the establishment by the queer youth. How dare?!?! It's even more egregious with bisexuality where the focus of a bunch of queer activism finally swung that way in the 90s... only to be sharply cut off in the 00s.

There's a real "You already got yours. Where's mine?" vibe to some queer discourse today, and it's directed at people who never got theirs. It shows up in demands for mentorship by people who've barely had a chance to escape a rocky start and figure out who they are themselves. It shows up in yowling about this or that bit of queer media we finally got not being progressive because it's the wrong letter of the acronym.

None of which has a damn thing to do with what pronouns you use in your novel, obviously, but I think some unresolved embattled feelings are why some older queer people are very weird about pronouns.

Some of them are also doing the old person version of throwing the weirdos under the bus to placate the normies. Respectability politics became a term long before the behavior was rife on tumblr.

--

If someone really does find it pretentious, though, and not just as a cover for crying about nonbinary identities being fake, I suspect they just remember how 1970s SFF was full of privileged anthropology students misunderstanding kinship systems from elsewhere in the world and then trying to tell everyone how ~deep~ their extremely contrived novels based on them were.

I'm not saying your writing is like this or that every one of these old sff novels was either, but when I hear "anthropology student", I groan internally. It's an instinctive reaction. It's less about the real fields and more about the bevvy of dilettantes I've run into over the years who'll say they study those things but really want to talk my ear off about Joseph fucking Campbell or the strong form of the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis or something.

--

Those birds are a really cool source of inspiration. Like with A/B/O, the first thing I wonder is how queerness works in that context and how much people like to defy their designated roles.

Omegaverse started on porn logic, so "The one I say tops always tops!" makes sense. When it gets expanded to try to make it make logical sense as a whole world, I often enjoy it, but it can break down quickly if treated as biology is law. I don't know how often the birds veer off of their set patterns, but humans certainly would.

One place where I get a strong "Oh god, this again" feeling from people's plotbunnies is when they're trying to make up a sff society that strikes me as too rigid in a way that real humans aren't. I'll see people using fake wolf biology (not just for horny reasons) but never looking at what's going on with gender in contemporary Thailand or whatever. Like... Le Guin may have made sedoretus feel plausible, but nobody I've ever seen stanning the concept as something fandom should play with has. That's probably because Le Guin was using over-complicated social norms as a thing that breaks down and causes trouble, and "This should be the next A/B/O!" posts are treating it as something that actually works and is a good way to get the pair you don't ship separated while shipping poly.

"It'd also help the reader keep track of who was a part of what group without my having to turn around and state people's coloration constantly."

This, in particular, gives me that cold shudder of recognition from when Homestuck fandom was everywhere and everyone wanted to over-explain those stupid playing card suits and why I should care.

Your concept sounds neat, and I think a set of four pronouns could easily make sense there...

But I also think that if people need the pronouns to keep track of coloration, you haven't set up a system that feels organic enough or haven't given enough cues about how characters are treating each other or why. Use the pronouns too, but just keep that in mind. It's like the "m/m is hard because the pronouns don't tell me whose hand is where" problem. It's almost never actually a pronoun problem.

--

Anyone else have thoughts here?

[brokenpieces-72]

I READ “Reunion” AND OOOOOO

HOW WOULD THE BOYS REACT TO READER GETTING CAPTURED AND SOMETHING HAPPENING WITH HER PARENTS???? 👀👀

So admittedly this was going to be a future story. For some extra context, the reader's father I haven't decided whether he exists yet or not, but the mother is... admittedly also undecided in terms of what she is. When I started writing this I intended it to be a drabble and now it’s… yep. Enjoy!

Reset

Massive trigger warning!!! Abuse, kidnapping, torture, poor eating mentions, cannibalism, angst, let me know if I missed anything.

First and foremost you know they tried, all of them. You saw it before everything went dark. Johnny was screaming for you, ready to tear everything apart just to keep you safe. He didn't care who the bitch was, you were his sister. Konig already was tearing everything apart, only he didn't notice your situation until it was to late. The cadejos had nabbed some shadows to rip up with Alejandro and Horangi grabbing at more, trying to restrain themselves from just ripping into them. As you were taking off, Kyle went so far as to try and chase after you, but had his wings shot at, making you scream and fight to try and help him. Ghost had been too far away to try and grab at the heli. Price would have burned the whole thing down but you were inside, and not fire resistant.

Seconds after they'd lost you, Hunter got Kyle into the infirmary to fix his wings but they were still garbage. The entire team is anxious and worried about you. They'd all learned as much as they could about your relationship with your mother but could only imagine what she wanted from you now.

Simon wasted no time. He dragged thrall after thrall into interrogation, demanding answers of where they could be taking you. Being brutal and pissed he put any humans they were able to take alive in the room to show he wasn't playing around. If a thrall wasn't willing to talk, the human better be ready to scream and beg.

Price and Laswell and working around the clock to get everything they can on your mother from medical records, to bank statements. The two friends are keeping each other calm, as best as they can when they are as fired up as they are. Laswell has to step out of the room more than once because of Price releasing smoke to keep himself from getting too heated.

To the surprise of many, Horangi contacts KorTac. He's getting information on... well anything. While he keeps to himself, he can't deny your presence hasn't been welcoming. The team was up in arms, and the last thing he wanted was to sit around and do nothing while he waited for this to be fixed. KorTac can look into any jobs or contracts they may have gotten from Graves or your mother as a one off. Maybe someone gave up information thinking it was just an innocent missing persons report. Maybe your mother had tried contacting KorTac before Graves. Whatever he can get to make this go faster.

Alejandro and Rudolfo did the same, contacting other bases to see if they may have run into Graves or thralls recently. If they mapped out previous locations they could find a pattern. They even went back to facility where they'd first encountered your mother, seeing if there could be any signs of where she might have gone. Aside from that they had taken the initiative of running everything on base, giving the rest of the team more time to focus on you.

Kyle is pissed because he couldn't do anything to help. His wings were too damaged to fly anytime soon. All he could do was join Alejandro and Rudolfo on recon. He hated wasn't about to just sit, wait and heal. He wanted to help now. Alejandro and Rudolfo aren't about to stop him either.

Konig became restless, and the percht was practically beating against him. It wanted nothing but violence, blood and revenge. Konig just wanted his little friend back. You'd helped him even when there seemed to be no hope.

As for Johnny... it's something everyone gives him space for. Simon is one of the few who approaches him. He's restless and the full moon approaching makes it worse. All the wold wants to do is to find you, and Jonny wants the same. Sleep is near impossible, and he's started going to your room in order to do so. Your scent is still there, smelling like earth, grass and pine. If he isn't trying to find you, it's like he's trying to remember you. After 24 hours of you being gone Simon found him.

"Did you tell your mom?" He asked. Johnny looked up from where he was sitting on your bed. Simon was in the doorway looking at him, mask off for once. The question is one Johnny never wanted to think about. Telling his mother he'd lost her new baby. Johnny just stares down at his hands. Simon comes in and sits next to him on the bed, picking up a small plushie. The last thing Johnny needed was his pessimism. Simon didn’t have high hopes for you but he wasn’t going to give up on helping you. Johnny still hasn’t said anything so Simon took out his phone and offered it to Johnny.

“You need her too.” He said. Johnny took out his own phone, and dialed his mother. Simon stood up to leave but Johnny asked him to stay. He didn’t want to be alone for this.

The call goes well at first. It’s short-lived. As soon as Johnny told his mother you were taken Simon could hear her asking questions. Johnny answered as much as he could but regretfully most of the answers were “I don’t know”. By the end of it, he was fighting tears, with Simon putting a hand on his shoulder. Johnny’s mother asked Johnny how he was doing, and if he was okay. He was fine. He was going to find you. He promised. He hangs up and his breathing is unsteady. Simon didn't say anything or move to comfort him knowing a lot was going on underneath the surface. Johnny was honest enough to tell him if he needed it. There was silence for a while until Johnny took a deep breath.

"What kind of a shite brother am I?" He wondered aloud.

"One that will find his sister even if he has to do it barehanded," Simon answered. Johnny looked at him. Simon looked back and just gave him a nod.

For a while, you thought every moment you had experienced, every smile, every joy, every triumph, every bad day, every victory... you thought it had all been some mental episode of escapism. A dream your mind had put you in to save you from the torment of your mother. You don't know how much time has past, but it's been long enough for her to try and starve you and feed you more raw flesh. The more feral part of you is starving and ravenous. You want to eat so bad but you know Graves probably put something in it to make your feral state more powerful. You're chained to the wall with a collar and cuffs on your ankles and wrists. Waking up had sent you into a panic attack where you passed out. When you woke up again, the food was there, staring at you with vacant eyes. Dead bodies were not something new to you, but in this setting it just awoke you trauma. This wasn't the first time you'd fought your hunger. You turned away facing the wall, trying to hold your breath so you wouldn't smell the carcass. You held your nose when you needed another breath. Next you took the chains and wrapped them around your limbs to make them shorter. You knaw on your shirt to resist.

Then your mother came in. Your spine went frozen, your whole body tensed, and your held sped through the horrible moments her voice awoke. The way she talks is like burning sugar.

"Hello my little bunny." She said, soothingly. It's not soothing, she is not soothing, the only thing she would soothe was her own heinous actions. Little bunny was her name for you. You didn't know your own name because she would just give you pet names. All you want right now is to do the same thing you had done to innocent people who got lost in the woods. She'd set you on them, letting you hunt to the feral monster's content. "Come on, I want to see you. Can you look at me? I want to see how much you've grown. They took you away from me, my sweet girl."

No. They saved you. There had been missing person reports pointing to the woods you'd grown up in. A hunter came, properly armed to deal with hybrids, with some blurry photos capturing your image. He'd saved you with his hunting party. They'd found you feasting on an elk, starting to come back to your normal state. When you tried to flee, a hunter shot you, wounding you. You curled up on the ground they gave you a sedative. You were too small, and they weren't about to kill a kid who was probably just running on instincts. They saved you from your mother, continuing to search the woods.

Your mother moved closer, voice staying motherly and warm. "Please sweetheart? I'm sorry it had to be like this. I just wanted you back."

No more. You wouldn't give her anything. You didn't care what punishment she would give you. Whether it was burns or cuts you wouldn't give in. Your whole body shivered and tensed up as you felt her gentle hands on your shoulder and back, kneeling behind you. Your mother rubbed your back and shoulders, trying to coax your body to relax. When she tried to tug on your shoulders, to pry open your balled up position, you yank away.

"How did you get tangled up like that?" She asked noticing your efforts to keep you from the food. You don't look at her but you can hear her shuffling. There was a horrible wet sound as she moved back to you. You covered your nose, breathing through your teeth, as she tried to give you the meat. "Come on sweetie you need to eat. You want to be big and strong for mommy don't you."

You cowered, blindly swatting and pushing her away. In any other context her reaction would be that of a mother trying to keep her child from hitting her. You know it's a facade, the setting was evidence of that. "Now now bunny don't hit your mother."

"YOU'RE NOT MY MOTHER!!" You shrieked at her. The wendigo, the guardian state could be heard within your voice. Your mother stopped.

"B-but... l-little bunny-"

"I'm not your little bunny you fucking bitch! You are not my fucking mother! You are nothing but a psychopath who made me eat the closest thing I had to a friend! I'm not your daughter!" You yelled, not looking up at her, head covered by your legs.

"I know baby, I know, I am so sorr-"

"No! No you're not! If you were sorry you would stay behind bars! You would have moved on when you got out! You would have walked away knowing how much damage you did." You argued. There was no excuse for the crimes she had committed. Your mother didn't say anything for a while. You heard her toss the meat to the floor.

"Fine," she said, sounding like she was biting back heartbreak. "We can try again tomorrow. Please eat something though. I don't want you to starve."

"That's exactly what you want." You said, your voice overflowing with poison.

From then on, the routine continued, with a new body put in every other day or so. Your mother continued to coax you to eat, giving you kind and gentle praises. She's changed truly, she just wanted her cute little bunny girl back, her precious baby. Then she tried gaslighting you, burning and cutting your skin, only to hurry away to retrieve a first aid kit, acting like you'd come to her with a scraped knee. Oh dear did you scratch yourself too hard? Don't worry she'll fix it. Do you want mama to kiss it better? No? Then she'll get Mr. Graves to come in and talk to you about the mean things you did to his thralls. Maybe he can get you to eat something too. Open wide, here comes to airplane. Don't spit it out!

It goes on... and on... and on...

Your stomach churned. Food you need food... there's some right there. You don't smell anything wrong with it... no... no not again...

When Price found you... damn. You were back to your feral state but this seemed to be worse. Blood drunk, but hopefully not on Graves tainted shit. It had taken them some time, too much time to track you down. Right now Johnny and König were making for a good distraction tearing into the thralls in fully shifted forms, Johnny having the full moon on his side. Kyle, now fully healed and flying again was keeping overwatch dive bombing anyone who might try to take up a sniper position. Rudolfo had the cadejos tracking your scent. Horangi was keeping Hunter safe, using the clouds for their cover. Simon was moving through the bunker looking for two other people, Graves and your mother, shadows keeping him from being noticed. Of course he also yanked a few thrall into them, as they tried to make it out to Soap and Konig.

"Captain, what's your status?" Alejandro asked through comms.

"I found the target." Price said. "Soap keep on the thrall. Lieutenant, what's your location?"

"South Hallway." Ghost replied, voice quiet.

"Have you located the other targets?" He asked, holstering his gun slowly approaching. Your blank white eyes looked up at him, and you launched yourself at him. Your chains snapped taut, making you fall back. Shit. You were still yanking and pulling on your chains to try and reach the fresh food that had stepped into your cell.

"Not yet. Wait, the cadejos may have found something." Simon replied. Before Price could get Simon's help, Alejandro came up beside him. He stepped back when you tried to lunge at him next.

"Fucking hell." He said under his breath.

"Horangi, get Hunter to our location, east side, second floor." Price said.

"Copy." Hunter said.

"She needs to be restrained." Price said. They needed to wait for Hunter, but until then you needed to be pinned down. Alejandro understood shifting to the jaguar form and stalking in. The meat was coming closer. You shrieked, getting on all fours, watching him closely. The meat kept his eyes locked with yours. It's growling, it won't let you eat without a fight. You screech back at the meat, encouraging some play before you feasr. Your body tightens in a crouch as you move back a little, readying yourself. You strike, but you can't. A huge weight is put on your back and you thrash around. Your arms are pinned behind you. No! You're hungry! You have fresh food right in front of you! Price wasn't about to let you enjoy Las Almas cuisine. Alejandro backed away the moment Price put his full weight on top of you. Hunter arrived a few minutes later, and Horangi stayed close. One sedative wasn't enough. Two wasn't enough. They gave it time, ut you weren't relaxing fast enough. One more. The world slowly goes dark. Hungry... you're still hungry.

You're released from the chains, but bound in them again. Simon acquired a blanket after trying to pursue your mother. He had a feeling he knew what Graves was actually doing and what was going on with your mother but he could wait. You're the priority. Your unconscious body was rolled up in the blanket, with the chains wrapped around to keep you restrained if you woke up. Johnny was demanding updates to your status, still outside with König, waiting on orders. Price ordered them to head to evac, and they had the target restrained. Johnny didn't like that answer but doesn't argue.

When he finally saw you, Gaz made sure to be in between you and Johnny. Johnny got out of the chopper and came over, back to his human state, clothes destroyed. Price wasn't about to deny his sergeant, even when he wasn't shifted. Johnny took you from Price and held you tight. The look on his face was focused as he got back in the heli, and the whole ride back he said nothing. Hunter got to work immediately giving orders for the medics on base to be ready. As soon as you woke up you would be hungry again. despite this Johnny just kept you close, as if you didn't show signs of being feral, or wouldn't try to dig into his flesh as soon as you woke up.

The healing process takes time. You're kept under for a very long time. Hunter had to get a feeding tube so you would return to normal. Your wounds are cleaned thoroughly, and you're put in a safe place. The team visited and stayed with you in shifts. The feeding tube was not a tested method for you yet, and Hunter was concerned about over feeding you, thinking it may cause you to vomit or get sick.

As expected Johnny had to be pried from your side more than once. Ghost did it to spar with him, knowing Johnny had plenty of aggression built up, and he could take the hits. The last thing he wanted was for a punching bag to receive that kind of treatment. Once you had been put under observation, Johnny called your mother. Your real mother. She'd relieved to hear you are okay, and asked Johnny if you would be able to stay with her for a bit to help you recover. Johnny would talk to Laswell about it later, you needed to wake up first.

When you finally wake up they’d already taken out the feeding tube, your state much more relaxed. You wake to see Johnny had fallen asleep in the chair next to you, his head rested on the bed. You sort of squirmed down further under the blanket to press your forehead to his. There are silent tears down your cheeks, as you feel a great sense of relief. Johnny woke up and pulled away to look at you. He wanted to pull you close to him, but he didn’t want to overstep. You sat up and he held your face in his hands, pressing your foreheads together again.

“You came to get me.” You said.

“Made a promise. Wouldn't go into the dark unless I 'ad to pull ya out.” Johnny said. You threw your arms around him and he gently returned the gesture. It was perfect. It was safe. You had your family back, and to make it better they had come for you.

The next while isn’t fun. Well a few times you enjoy yourself, but it’s mostly filled with recovering and exhaustion. Your mental state was damaged, your body was sore, and your hunger was difficult, as you were craving food but couldn't eat as much as you wanted without getting sick. Hunter does an amazing job of helping your body heal. While you do have a healing factor, the wounds weren't healing as much as they should. Your team's medic sits with you when you eat, keeping the portions smaller than you'd usually take, but they gave you snacks to sustain your stomach in between meals. Once you were out of the infirmary Price granted you a week off. Johnny was still in the process of getting you a month or so away from base.

For the most part, you became Johnny's shadow, if he wasn't yours. Part of it is because the wolf is now more protective over you, and well Johnny is too. He'd told you about getting time off and honestly it would be really nice to have it. Outside of that, you found yourself snuggling up with him. Johnny had done a good job at sleeping in his own bed since your return. Now though, you'd taken to curling up with him at night. He didn’t mind, finding your presence comforting. Seeing you asleep in his arms brought him peace.

Johnny still has tasks to do on base though so he can't be by your side 24/7. You go to the others on the team who don't mind having you nearby. You did a little where you could, like retrieving items or doing prep work. Sleeping and lazying around wasn't your thing. Hunter let you help them with prepping the medical supplies and take inventory as usual. The rest of the team either made something up or just let you observe.

König had taken to standing in when Johnny was too busy. He was grateful and happy to have you back. This was also a chance to return the favour for all the hard work you’d put into getting him in control. At one point you had a panic attack, accidentally knocking over a bowl had created a loud noise. Before anyone could step in König had you in a tight hug, talking to you. He ran you through the process of naming things in the room you see, smell, hear, touch and taste. Panic attacks were a first hand experience for him, having his own social anxiety. While he didn't know what exactly happened when you were in captivity, he wasn't about to let you suffer through the small triggers by yourself. König had promised he wouldn’t go into the dark. He wasn’t about to let you go through it alone.

If neither Konig nor Johnny was shaodwing you, Simon was quite literally shadowing you. In that he would peek in on you through your shadow just to be sure you were okay. He doesn’t hesitate to talk to about what happened. Abuse is something he will never forgive. Simon for the most part though would stay out of the way. You deserved some privacy, and a chance to heal on your own. Until another soldier was a little too clumsy and made a mess of the ammo bins. The crash is loud and you jump back, as the other soldiers raise their voices to hound him. Bloody idiots, keep yelling when there’s a startled kid! You back into the nearest corner and start to breathe heavy. Your ears ring, and Simon found you. He goes through the piles of ammo cartridges and suddenly the argument is muffled, and there’s only ringing. Until Simon’s voice broke through, and you looked up at him. You see you’re surrounded by darkness but Simon looked normal. His mask was on, but his focus was on you. Just take a minute. You needed it. This happened again, but only when you doing really bad.

Kyle hasn't stopped spending time with you, and if you're struggling to get up to the roof you guys like to sit on, he'll help you up. The wings are always around you, which can really help. It makes you feel like you're alone with Kyle, even if there are soldiers down below running drills or moving supplies around. You don't talk as much, but Kyle talks a bit more to fill the silence. Sometimes you guys don't talk at all. That's fine. Yeah, you could lean on him if you want. His arm goes around you, avoiding any scars you have.

The cadejos paid you a visit in your room one day, and they had... a ball? Rudolfo poked his head in and asked if you wanted to play some fetch for the dog spirits. You didn't think they played fetch but you don't say no. You follow them outside and throw the ball for them. The white spirit comes back like a golden retriever each time, front paws tapping away, tail whipping about, tongue lulling with happy pants, all while waiting for you to throw the ball. The darker spirit is a little less trained. When it caught the ball it sped back to you causing you to flinch. Rudy got his hands on your shoulders pulling you back, reminding the black cadejo to be gentle. Your body tenses but when Rudolfo checks in you tell him you're okay. Just startled a little. If you want to come out with the spirits again, you can ask.

You went to Alejandro and Horangi directly, asking if they could show you some better self defense techniques. You could fight, but you wanted to be better prepared if someone grabbed you again. Alejandro is hesitant because the last thing he wants is for you to have a panic attack in the middle of it. Horangi however is all for it. Knowing that stuff had saved his own ass more than once when he was building up debts. Why shouldn't you be able to drop captors like a sack of potatoes? Small bonus, he could make Alejandro be the one that got dropped on his back a few times. After all Alejandro had him outweighed, so learning more built attackers would be beneficial. Throughout the demonstrations, they do check in after check in. He was going to grab your wrists next okay? Alright, then he would whip you around, yep don't let him turn you around. Still good? Perfect.

Soon it was your last day off, and tomorrow you would be on leave with Johnny. It would be nice to see Scotland again. You wandered into the rec room where you saw Price on the couch. The tv was on likely watching the game. You sat down next to him, a blanket around you, and he gave you a smile.

“Are they winning?” You asked.

“Not who I’d like.” He admitted. You played on your phone for a bit and then started to nod off. Everything felt so much better. You were safe. No one could hurt you with your pack nearby. Price didn’t pay much mind. He assumed you came to the break room to have some privacy, and he kept his voice down for you in front of the tv. Until he felt the couch move. When he looked over, he saw you trembling. Fuck. He got off the couch and knelt down in front of you, shaking you awake.

“Come on kid, it’s not real. It’s not real!”

“NO!” You cried out, waking up and found Price looking at you, shaking you awake. Tears ran down your face. Nightmares were becoming more frequent again. All because that witch decided to force herself into your life again.

“You broken?” He asked. A gentle but calloused hand going, resting on your head. You gave him a hesitant nod. “Okay.”

Without asking he picked you up giving a playful roar. It surprised you, but you couldn’t help but laugh. He sat back on the couch, reclining so you could rest against his chest. You never noticed how warm he was. His wing wrapped around you unconsciously as he went back to the game. The captain’s heartbeat was calming against your ear.

“I’m sorry-“ you start to say.

“Don’t say sorry. You can’t control it.” He said. You continued watching the game until he turned it over to a show he saw you watching earlier in the week. Slowly you fell asleep again. Price found himself subconsciously stoking your ears as you relaxed into him. Before Price didn’t know what to make of you. Right now, he was worried about you. At first you were a requirement, something he was obligated to take on. Then you proved yourself, showing value to the team in more ways than one. Now… you were part of his hoard. You were a treasure worth protecting. His team had been doing better, and much better now that you were back.

“John I hav-“ Laswell walked in and looked up to see a scowling Price, shushing her.

“Just fell back asleep.” He said voice very low. Laswell raised a brow with a small smile. You shifted a bit and Price hushed you, not wanting you to wake up. John ran his claws gently through your hair, keeping you relaxed. Even Kate can’t deny you’d exceeded her expectations. When she first met you were about a terrifying as… well as a rabbit with antlers. You’d grown so much.

“You ever expect this to be a scenario we find ourselves in?” Price asked her.

“No. The time off has been approved… but there’s an issue.” Laswell said. Price looked up. “Colonel Vargas has offered an alternative.”

“What does that mean?” Price asked, a slight scowl at the word ‘alternative’.

“The program still has some authority, and with what’s been going on with the mother and the kidnapping they think sending her back with Johnny might put her at risk.” Laswell explained.

“…Alejandro has offered to take them in instead?” Price asked. Clearly the program wasn’t concerning themselves with separation anxiety.

“I’m trying to convince the program to let Johnny go with her. They’re proving difficult.” Laswell said.

“But she’ll be safe?” Price asked. Laswell nodded. Price got up, carrying you with him, still swaddled in your blanket. “Taking her to bed.”

Price took you to your room where he saw your things ready and packed. He set you down on the bed, and you shifted, rolling to your side. You would be safe. He knew that. He trusted the colonel, he was just worried about you. You’d only been back for a short while, and instead of going somewhere you knew, you were being tossed into a whole new environment. Hopefully Johnny would be understanding.

@yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @sans-chara @1mommyrose4ever29 @smitten-haematite-quartz @talia-the-gemini @yuki2129 @whitetiger846 @graystorm444 @chibiduck @reaperxxxxzz @danielle143 @sobbingnshtting @cringeycookies @cryingpages @dcnocap207 @reaper-chan666

[johnwickb1tsch]

andar conmigo ~ part 15

A Walk in the Clouds/Don John crossover outline/fic- Paul Sutton x fem!Reader x Don John triangle ~ You grow up at Las Nubes vineyard, and have to go home to your dying father. You take your fake new husband, Sgt Paul Sutton, with you...Your old flame don John does not like this at all. Warnings: angst, survivor's trauma, smut, FLUFF chapter map

-You stay together for a few days in the hotel in town to recover from your ordeal. Burns, Paul’s slashed arm, a possible concussion, raw scrapes at your wrists and ankles, and the lacerations upon your back that you feel sharply every time you move. A persistent cough dogs you without mercy, your lungs raw from smoke and the pure heat you’d endured in the inferno. 

Anjélica is able to slip away once to check on you. She tells you that Las Nubes has fallen into chaos. No body was ever recovered from the ruins of the house, but it was such an inferno that there’s no conceivable possibility don Juan survived. You hug your sister tearfully, certain you’ll never be able to return to your childhood home again. You do not know how your misadventure will pan out for the rest of your family, living in the shadow of the Aragóns.

When doña Maria sends a representative to your door to make noises about murder and arson, you tell them you’ll be glad to tell the world in court about what depraved things her son Juan Aragón y Espinosa did to you. The papers will eat up every sordid detail. To people like the Aragóns, saving face is everything. It would be their worst nightmare. 

They went away, and you haven’t heard from them again. 

You are sure they will rebuild, and the winery will go on, eventually under Juan’s younger brother, Pedro, who has been away at school. 

You have mixed feelings about Juan’s death. 

A part of you mourns the loss of your childhood companion. The more logical part of you insists that there was nothing left of that boy in the prideful monster Juan became. He fully intended to destroy you for the sake of his own ego, one way or another. He left you to die, and you should feel nothing for him. 

You always thought you would have been burned as a witch in an earlier century. 

You never imagined it was a fate you might actually face in the present time, had your sister, Paul, and the Veterans, bless them all, not banded together to save you. 

Now you and Paul have harrowing nightmares about your pasts, together. You cling to each other at night in your little room, taking turns soothing the other. 

What a pair you make. 

Paul helps change the dressings upon your shoulders. Some of it will heal, but you will be scarred for the rest of your life by what Juan did. You watch Paul work in the mirror, see the dismay upon his handsome features as he peels back your bandages. The wretched words fall from your lips before you can stop them: “Am I ugly?” 

His touch upon you freezes for a moment, taken aback by the vehemence of your outburst. 

You’re afraid that’s your answer, until he asks a question back: “Do you think my scar is ugly?” 

He surely means the long raised cicatrice that stretches the entire length of his abdomen, a souvenir from war shrapnel that nearly took his life in France. You turn in his arms on the bed to look at it, for he is shirtless behind you, only wearing blue-striped boxer shorts and a bandage around his upper arm, every inch your battered war-hero. Your heart is filled with so much love you fear it might explode, and you climb into his lap with your arms around his shoulders.  

“Of course not,” you answer without falter.  

“Why not?” His hands on your waist anchor you, pulling you closer. There’s no where you feel safer, as though finally you’ve found the place where you belong. You cup his face in your hands, tracing those high cheekbones with your thumbs. His eyes are liquid pools filled with so much earnest yearning–this man is so good, so valiant, so true, and you don’t know what you did to deserve him. 

“Because…I love every part of you, Paul Sutton. I love you.” Realizing the magnitude of this admission, you start to cry, but then somehow, you start to laugh too, ducking to hide in the bend of his neck “I’m so sorry.” 

“For what?” he asks through his own tears and laughter, flummoxed by joy and squeezing you carefully in his strong arms.    

“For…everything. For being me. For what happened. For getting you involved–”

He effectively shuts you up with his mouth on yours, a bone-melting kiss that renders you soft and pliant in his arms. “I wouldn’t trade you for anything,” he insists with his forehead pressed to yours. “I would only change…that you got hurt.” 

You’ve never really talked about Juan’s demise, and the parts the two of you played in it. You find that your only remorse in that moment…is that you have no remorse. 

You kiss him again, a lingering lock of lips that feels like offering up a piece of your soul to this man. You feel him smiling against your mouth, and for the umpteenth time you think your heart will burst. 

“Will you say it again?” he asks, so shyly with such a sparkle in his dark eyes. He is breathtaking beyond words, and in that moment you don’t know how you haven’t told him, every day and every hour. 

You never told him what you said to Juan to earn the worst part of your thrashing–you never intend to, you know he would just feel guilty, and that is not a weight you intend to lay on his shoulders, when he already carries so much. But you know what you said that night is true. This man owns you–in the way two puzzle pieces meet, or a lock that has finally found its long lost key–and incredibly…you are fine with that now. There is a freedom in this acceptance of the truth that makes you absolutely giddy inside.  

“I love you.” You say it again, and again, between kisses and running your hands over his form you adore so well. He shudders as your nails graze his scalp and your hips press into his, finding him at full attention between you. Suddenly what little clothing you’re wearing is too much between you. Yet he catches your hands when you reach for the buttons of his shorts. 

“Sweetheart…I want to,” he sighs raggedly. “I want you so much, but you’re hurt, and I–” 

You kiss him again, merciless in your sudden need to devour him whole and lick the bones clean. It’s amazing, how desire acts as such an effective painkiller.  “I’ll be fine. I will not be fine, if I can’t have you inside me.” 

He laughs, that beautiful, unassuming sound that fills you with sunlight. “Honey…” 

“Come here.” He lets you–of course he lets you, you could not budge this strapping man without his cooperation–nudge him over until he can lay back on the bed, and you can straddle his hips. As you undo his buttons you can tell Paul is fighting a war with himself, torn between need and worry. Taking off your brassiere helps slightly–you can’t help but grin with a bit of wickedness as a small sound escapes him, looking up at you. 

“Y/n…” 

“I’m alright,” you tell him gently. “Because of you. Let me thank you.” You feel the burn in your back, the sharp ache as you stretch your skin to lean down to press your lips to his scar, but you have no intention of stopping. 

“You don’t need to thank me…” His breath hitches, his fingers tangling in your hair as you brush the velvety tip of his manhood with your chin 

“I want to. I want to be close to you.” 

That much he agrees with, and you watch him nod, eyes half-lidded, before taking him into your mouth. 

Though he clearly loves it, his head thrown back into the bedclothes, he only lets you savor him for a little while before he tugs gently on your hair, urging you up, needing you too, guiding you with those big hands on your hips until you are sinking onto his thick length, and the both of you see stars. 

“Go slow,” he cautions you sheepishly. “Or I’ll lose it.”

You are so pent up with desire and emotion that you know you won’t last long either. You savor the delicious stretch of him inside you, riding him slowly with your breasts in your hands, his thumb on your ripe little clit driving you mad. He brings you like the sun cresting the horizon, a warm and bright pleasure that fills your center and spreads through your bones. You know he holds on by a thread as your greedy cunt milks every last drop of golden ecstasy from him, his strong fingers digging into your hips with a moan. Breathless, you take mercy on him, uncoupling to take him in your mouth once more. The taste of him spilling upon your tongue is divine–his throaty moans the most wonderful sound. 

With a satisfied sigh you curl up beside him, resting your cheek on his ribs, shuddering for his featherlight fingers tracing over your hair, careful of your shoulders. That disbelieving laughter you love so much draws your attention back up to him, finding him looking down at you with so much joy shining in those lovely dark eyes. 

Not for the first time, you think he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. 

“I love you so much.” 

“I love you too,” you answer with a smile, and in that happy moment you know you are equally blessed and ruined. 

The latter, you are finally ready to accept with an open heart.  

___

epilogue to follow...

[yeaimsafiya]

CHAPTER ONE back from rehab

SYNOPSIS the beginning of a teenage girl named y/n who is fresh out of rehab but doesn't intend to stay clean.

FROM THE WRITER AHH IM SORRY IM LATE GUYS!! This is the first chapter I'm ever writing, I took some inspo from episode 1 but I'm going to have to cut each episode into fourths because I really don't want to spend a whole week trying to finish a whole episode and school work. But I hope you guys really enjoy this chapter as much as I did - Love you guys, Sapiyah <3

WARNINGS Lots of unnecessary writing, female! reader, mentions of drugs and drinking, strong sexual content, nudity, violence, adult content, adult language, scenes might be uncomfortable for some, some scenes might include mentions of mental illness'

SERIES EUPHORIA

CHARACTERS INCLUDED members of the bakusquad & dekusquad, big three(?), some characters of class 1A

NOTES MDNI! Ageless blogs will be blocked or removed.

Readers discretion is advised

Suddenly, the whole world goes dark and nothing else matters except the person standing in front of you.

You were once happy. Content.

Sloshing and swimming around your own private, primordial pool; Then one day, for reasons beyond your control, you were continuously and repeatedly crushed...

Over..and over.. again by the cervix of your mother, M/n.

You put up a good fight, but eventually lost, for the first time, but not the last.

You were born 3 days after 9/11, your mother and father spent two days in the hospital, holding you under the soft glow of the television, watching those towers fall over and over again, until the feeling of grief gave away to numbness.

And then, without warning, a middle-class childhood in the American suburbs.

|

You were sitting at the dinner table with your mother, M/n, and Father, F/n. But it appeared something else had gotten your attention, a set of numerous lights above the dinner table, in which you wanted to count.

"Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, Seventeen.."

" What are you looking at y/n?"

"..."

"What are you doing? ..Y-y/n look at me."

"One, two, three, .."

"What are you doing Y/n?"

*cries*

|

"Id say she's suffering from obsessive compulsive disorder..."

Its not like you were physically abused..

"...attention deficit disorder..."

..Or had some type of clean water storage..

"..general anxiety disorder.."

..Or was molested by a family member.

"..and possibly bipolar disorder. But she's a little bit too young to tell."

So, explain this shit to me.

|

"Honey, it's just the way your brain was hardwired; Plenty of great, intelligent, funny, interesting and creative people have struggled with the same things you struggle with."

"Like who?"

"Vincent Van Gogh, Sylvia Plath, and even Brittney Spears, your favorite!"

You haven't remembered much from the ages of eight to twelve. Just that the world moved fast, and your mind moved slow.

"Does anyone have an idea of what a perception might be?"

And every now and then, if you focused on the way you breathed...

You'd die.

"Slow down, just breathe"

Until every second of the day, you'd find yourself trying to outrun your anxiety.

"What's wrong Y/n?"

..And quite frankly..

"I'm just fucking exhausted"

|

Coming down to the kitchen, you could hear the small talk between your mother and younger sister, S/N.

"You said the doctor was in our network. How can he suddenly be out of network?"

"I can't afford it."

"Did you see that video of the girl who got acid thrown at her face?"

"What? No.."

"It's pretty fucked up.."

"Mom do you know where the tampons are?"

"In my bathroom, right under the sink."

And at one point, you'd make a choice of who you are and what you want.

"Alright Gia, let's go"

"Why do the co-payments cost $300?"

"Y/n did you eat breakfast?"

".."

"What's with the glasses?"

"What glasses?"

You just happened to show up one day, without a map or a compass..

"Attention students, we need to lockdown."

..Or to be honest, anyone capable of giving on iota of good fucking advice.

And I know it all seems sad but guess what? You did not build this system up, nor fuck it up yourself.

But then it happens. That moment where your breath starts to slow. And every time you breathe, you breathe out all the oxygen you have.

Then everything stops: Your heart, your lungs, then finally, your brain. And everything you feel, you wish, and want to forget, it all just sinks.

And then suddenly... you give it air again, give it life again.

You remember the first time it happened, where you were so scared you wanted to call 911. Go to the hospital and be kept alive by machines and apple juice. But you didn't want to look like an idiot, and you didn't want to fuck up everyone else's night.

And now overtime, that's all you've wanted.. those two seconds of nothingness.

You spent a good portion of summer before junior year in rehab. God granted you the serenity to accept things you cannot change, the courage to change the things you can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

"Y/N," your sister yelled from afar, greeting you after your long leave. You smiled, and whilst running up to her, tried to continue the conversation with your younger sibling.

"Hey, Come here!"

"How are you?"

"Good, I missed you."

"I missed you too."

"Look at you, are you growing?"

"No."

Looking over, you see your mother standing by your family car.

"Hey," you yelled out to her, only to receive a small smile from her.

And with that. you knew it was your time to go.

|

"I'm very happy for you Y/n. You're about to start a brand-new chapter," Your mother says while driving you and your sister to school. You looked at her with a smile, then turned your attention back to the car window.

You had no intentions of staying clean. And yet, Jirou just moved into town.

"There's some new girl in town that I think you'll be friends with," Shoto said, with you standing beside him in his store.

"Who?"

"Shit, I don't know. She came in looking all punk rock and shit; So I'm thinking to myself, like, 'look like somebody Y/n would be friends with'."

Which was sort of a dead-on observation for Shoto, who's not normally revolving in the same direction as planet earth.

"So how long have you been back?" He asked.

"About five days."

"And how are you feeling?"

"I mean, ever since I gave my life over to my lord and savior Jesus Christ, things have been, like, really good."

"Word? That's what's up," You chuckled at his snarky remark, giving him a small smile.

"I'm fucking with you," you said whilst laughing, "It was a joke."

"Shit, hey, I don't judge," he defended, hands raising to just above his chest.

"But for real, is Deku in the back?"

"Are you serious?" Shoto questioned, seeming very disappointed in you.

"What, you think cause' I went to rehab I stayed clean?"

"I mean, ain't that the point?" he asks.

"Yeah, well, the world is coming to an end, and I haven't even graduated high school yet."

You gave Shoto one more smile before going to Deku, whilst Shoto stared at you the entire way there; There was a hint of sadness in his eyes, but since you were too busy looking for Deku, you didn't see.

You opened one of the doors of the refrigerators, leading you right to him with a bowl of fruit loops,"I thought your ass was dead," he said one he saw your appearance.

"And I thought you had Asperger's till I realized your just a prick," you barked back.

"This a fickle industry, y'all come and go. I'm just trying to stack my cash, pay off our mortgage," he said while pulling out a bunch of plastic bags out of a microwave.

"So what the fuck do you want?" You gave him a knowing look before he handed you needed.

"You sure you don't want to try something new?" He asks you.

"Like what?"

"2C-T-2, 2C-T-7, and 5-MeO-DIPT."

"I'm sorry I have no fucking idea of what you just said."

"It doesn't matter," he stated, "but this shit, is fucking lit."

"What is it?"

"N-diisopropyl-5-methoxytryptamine. It's a fast-acting psychedelic."

Got some similarities to LSD, but with, like, key differences. Not as visual as shit, but definitely a sense distorter.

"What's wrong?" That same dark purple hair girl questioned.

"I'm just so happy," you responded back.

"I don't know, this shits been going off in Tampa, and mad people like to fuck with this," Deku continued on with his descriptions with the drug.

"Okay. Yeah, why not."

"That'll be 120."

"Oh uh, Shoto said he'd spot me."

"Shoto doesn't spot nobody."

"Yeah, well, it's a post-rehab discount, so you should ask him."

"I will go ask him, cause' I know your full of shit."

Those were the last words he said before you walked out. Those were the last words you heard before you saw the same two boys in freshman year.

Bakugo and Kirishima.

TAGLIST: (send an ask or reply to add or remove) @urinejaeger, @saturxnn, @lv9su, @minnipe, @flamgosstuff, @lilrockzstar, @actfsgxcv, @lovebuggyboo, @russochild19, @iits-lexie, @mendez5657, @animatronicrat, @thirstygorl, @scrittynotfound, @pleaseleavemebelol, @thymebread, @cocojellie, @vxnanaaa-blog, @tn-johnson, @knotatwink, @hpttstears, @blackcatluna, @queennb-123, @nndntahg

All work is subject to copyright by © yeaimsapiyah as of 2024.

Do not steal, use or reupload my work without given permission or my consent. If so, you will either be blocked, removed, or reported.

[stomach-bugg09]

uhhhh can i please request a sully! reader fic wherein she’s lo’ak’s twin and is so so much like jake that although neytiri wouldnt admit it (shes her favorite) but shes also smart like her uncle tommy and brave like her late uncle tsu’tey? i just want more platonic and familial sully family love 🥹 basically just her life and the people she’s impacted, maybe she almost dies bc come on lets give neteyam a break 😭 and her family’s reactions + her recovering 🙏🙏🙏🙏

sully family x lo’akstwin!reader

tags: @pinkhotdogsfr @eywas-heir

a/n: so, first of all, thank you so much for the request!! second of all, this is so cute and def right up my ally. i decided that, just bc it's generally broad, i’d format it as a head canon so i can continue to test my horizons with writing. hopefully i do your req justice!! feedback is always appreciated. (p.s... please send in requests 🙏🙏 i need the inspo)

you were a sully, and sullys stick together

lo'ak's twin headcanons

being lo’ak’s (older) twin, there’d always been some sort of… fued, if you will, between the two of you. of course, it was light hearted—most of the time.

you’d always try and one-up each other, watching each other’s (extremely dangerous) antics and deciding that the next best idea was to perform something even riskier. let's just say, the two of you liked to keep neytiri and jake on their toes.

because of your quite idiotic decisions, both of your parents, although it was usually more jake than neytiri, felt like they were constantly scolding the two of you. together.

and don't even get me started on poor neteyam, always trying to take the blame from you two. man, he is tired. can't you just be.. i don’t know, smart for once? (the answer is no)

but, one thing that neytiri and jake constantly talk to each other about is the reason you and lo'ak are hazards to yourself and to others is all because of jake. you are just too goddamn alike — dangerously so!

as a result of the two of you being a constant reminder of his own problematic personality, he is harsher on the two of you than he intends.

he’s just scared of you getting hurt.

neytiri almost always reprimands her mate for yelling at the two of you, but she also knows exactly where he’s coming from. she’s been on the front lines of jake’s stupidity for years, so she’s all too familiar with the dangers it brings

but, joke as they might about how dumb you are when it comes to risking your life just to one-up your twin, a small sentimental part of jake notices how goddamn smart you are. not only is your daring personality similar to himself, your intelligence is uncanny to his own twin.

every day he’s reminded of tommy — as you sit next to him with a map, helping him plan the escape route if a raid goes wrong, as you converse with norm, as you examine every living creature that wanders the forest… all of it is a reminder of the brother he once cherished, and that just makes you even more valuable to keep safe (from other threats, but mostly from yourself + lo’ak)

sometimes, when you’re sitting with your father and discussing the best way to approach or escape a raid, neytiri will be sitting nearby, doing her own duties. she always has at least one ear open to listen, and as she hears the alarmingly mature and smart words that leave your mouth, she swells with pride. she may deny it forever and ever, but a part of her favors you because of.. well, everything in all honesty. you're a brave young woman who knows exactly how to speak for herself, what's there not to like?

on occasion, when you aren’t grounded for doing something dumb, neytiri will take you on hunts. the two of you bond, and it is just adorable because mother-daughter bonding is where it's at.

and do not forget how brave you are. oh my god, how is it even possible that you jump towards danger. you would put your life on the line for your siblings, and you would do it again and again. in that, neytiri is reminded of tsu’tey, another piece of pride being sewn into her soul.

now… what happens when you guys have to leave?

well, first of all, let's acknowledge the fact that yes, you did join neteyam and lo’ak to flying from your spots on patrol and into the raid. why’d you do it? lo’ak said he was. it was a no-brainer.

secondly! yes, you were extremely proud when lo’ak flipped the avatars off after they captured you. and you most definitely bit the one that held you when it was your time to escape. and then maybe you hit him over the head with a gun on the forest floor. (you couldn't do anything after that — kiri grabbed you before you could.)

now, when you got word from your parents that you would be leaving… you were not happy. like, at all. you were actually quite pissed, if anything.

the forest was your home. weren’t you just giving the sky-people even more satisfaction by allowing them to drive you from your home?

but, alas, you were eventually able to tone down your stubbornness and actually understand your parents’ point. you were in danger, and that meant having to sacrifice comfort for the lives of you and your siblings.

so, off you went.

by the time you reached the metkayina tribe, your ass was so extremely sore from riding your ikran all that ways. and your legs were so very stiff. do not recommend!!

oh, and the way that that metkayina boy eyed your apparent “freak-like attributes,” that had you set off pretty quickly. kiri had to grab your wrist before you thought to say or do anything.

the pride you felt when your mother stood her ground… of how we love neytiri. an absolute boss.

but, all in all, you could stay. so.. you did. and even you had to admit, the water was gorgeous, even if swimming was the worst form of cardio.

you were quicker to learning the metkayina ways than your twin was, so that was gratifying of course. but, you also knew it wasn’t all that easy learning to breathe when he was head over heels for the girl teaching him (a fact that you definitely did not miss… and you most definitely teased him for it)

now, of course when it gets the point in with ao’nung being an absolute bitch ass to your sister… oh yeah you wouldn't let that slide. unfortunately, you came to scene a tad late, so you only witnessed the ends of the fight. that didn't keep you from smiling with pride at your two brothers who annihilated a group of.. what? four? five? it's hard to say, but they still somehow “won?”

and do NOT get me started on when you and neteyam found out what ao’nung did to lo’ak. you almost murdered a bitch. thank the lord lo’ak ended up being okay, because otherwise ao’nung would have been dead.

you were skeptical at first when lo’ak told your group about payakan. but, based on your deep rooted knowledge of each other, it didn't take long for you to realize he was telling the truth.

so, when it came the time post sky-people’s arrival, you were completely on-board to join lo’ak to warn the whale.

you, of course, tried your hardest to remove the tracker, but you were also an unfortunate victim of yet another kid-napping.

by the time neteyam saved you, lo’ak, tsireya, and tuk (who clung closely to you as soon as you were released), you and lo’ak were fully aware of spider’s presence on the ship

while you weren't really looking to save the human boy, you knew, morally, you would feel better if you did… so, you left tuk to tsireya and joined the boys

you have a lot of battle intelligence just based from listening to your father speak and eavesdropping on the conversations he had when planning raids, so you helped neteyam lead the way.

unfortunately, by the time you all escaped, a bullet had pierced your shoulder. you could barely keep your head above the surface.

you barely even acknowledged as your brothers laid you on a rock, tears pouring down their cheeks as they attempted to not only reassure you, but reassure themselves.

you were losing blood quickly, but tsireya was quick. she knew exactly what to do, so she did it. neytiri and jake were barely functional as they watched the metkayina girl tend to your shoulder. but, as much as they wanted to, they could not stay. they had two other daughters kidnapped by quaritch.

so, as they went to save their girls, tsireya kept your from bleeding out (temporarily) before rushing the two of you on her ilu back to her mother.

the recovery process was long but sweet. every member of your family was overjoyed when you woke up and ended up being alive and okay. lots of tears were shed.

they were quick to help you recover to your full abilities, and they were more excited than you were everytime that you reached a new achievement. getting out of bed was apparently something to be proud of.

but, all in all, you were a sully, and sullys stick together.

[okasuka]

Bruce wayne x Reader.

tw- self harm, angst. mental health.

a/n - ignore the weird layout change i crashed out midway through writing

The rain fell in sheets over Gotham City, drenching its crooked alleys and the rusted fire escapes that lined its towering buildings. The night air was sharp, carrying with it the scent of wet asphalt and the faint hum of distant traffic. Perched on a gargoyle high above the chaos, Bruce Wayne scanned the streets below, his cowl shielding his face from the downpour.

It was a familiar scene: the city teetering on the edge of anarchy, his presence casting fear into its worst inhabitants. But tonight, something was missing.

You.

For the third night in a row, you hadn’t shown up for patrol. At first, Bruce had told himself you needed a break. Even vigilantes weren’t invincible, and you were no stranger to overexertion. He’d seen it in the way your shoulders slumped after missions, the exhaustion behind your quick quips.

But as the hours ticked by and the storm rolled in, his patience frayed.

You’d always answered his signal, no matter how exhausted or distracted you were. It was unspoken: when the city needed you, you showed up.

So why weren’t you here?

Three Nights Ago

“You’re pushing too hard.”

Bruce’s voice cut through the silence of the Batcave, his words heavy with concern. You were at the weapons bench, tinkering with a malfunctioning grappling hook, your gloved fingers steady despite your fraying nerves.

“I’m fine,” you replied without looking up.

“You’ve been running on fumes,” he pressed, his tone leaving no room for argument. “When was the last time you slept?”

You sighed, setting down the grappling hook with a bit more force than necessary. “I said I’m fine, Bruce. Drop it.”

His jaw tightened, but he said nothing more. He wasn’t one to push, not unless he had to. But the way your shoulders were hunched, the dark circles under your eyes—he couldn’t ignore the signs.

“Just… be careful out there,” he said finally, his voice softer.

You glanced at him then, catching the rare vulnerability in his eyes. It made something in your chest tighten, but you forced a small smile. “Careful? Says the guy who dives headfirst into gunfire.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, but his worry remained.

Present

The night stretched on, the rain relentless as Bruce moved from one part of the city to the next. He checked your usual haunts: the crumbling clocktower where you trained, the diner where you sometimes stopped for coffee, the quiet rooftop you favored for its view of the skyline.

Nothing.

His fists clenched at his sides as he stood on the edge of a rooftop, scanning the city below. Every second without answers gnawed at him, the feeling unfamiliar and unwelcome. Worry wasn’t something he allowed himself to indulge in—not when Gotham demanded his full focus.

But you weren’t just another ally.

Hours Later: The Batcave

“Any sign of her, sir?” Alfred’s voice cut through the low hum of the Batcave’s monitors as Bruce pulled back his cowl. His hair was damp, plastered to his forehead, and his expression was grim.

“No,” he said shortly, his tone sharper than he intended.

Alfred didn’t flinch. Instead, he stepped closer, his gaze softening. “Miss Y/N is resourceful. Perhaps she simply needed time to herself.”

Bruce stared at the screen in front of him, his fingers moving quickly over the keyboard. He was pulling up a map of Gotham, highlighting locations he hadn’t yet searched. But the truth was, he already knew where he needed to look.

Her apartment.

It was a line he hadn’t crossed before. You’d given him your trust, but you’d also made it clear you valued your privacy. Still, the thought of doing nothing, of letting another minute pass without knowing you were safe, was unbearable.

“I have to find her,” he said, his voice quieter now.

Alfred nodded, his expression unreadable as Bruce disappeared into the shadows.

Your Apartment

The rain had slowed to a drizzle by the time Bruce reached your apartment. The building was old but sturdy, nestled on the edge of Gotham’s East End. It was a part of the city that still held onto some semblance of normalcy, though the cracks were beginning to show.

He scaled the side of the building with practiced ease, his movements silent as he reached your window. It was slightly ajar, the faint glow of a bedside lamp spilling into the dark night.

What he saw made his breath catch.

You were lying on your bed, your body curled in on itself. Fresh cuts lined your arms, angry and red against your skin. Pill bottles were scattered across the floor, some toppled over, their contents spilling out. Your shoulders shook with silent sobs, your face buried in your hands.

Bruce froze, his heart clenching in a way that caught him off guard. For a moment, he didn’t know what to do.

Then, instinct took over.

He slipped through the window without a sound, his boots landing softly on the worn carpet.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice low but firm.

You jolted upright, your tear-streaked face turning toward him. For a moment, you just stared at him, your eyes wide with shock and something else—shame.

“Bruce?” Your voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.

He stepped closer, his gaze never leaving yours. “What’s going on?”

“I—” You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat. You quickly wiped at your face, as if that could erase the evidence of your pain. “What are you doing here?”

“You didn’t show up,” he said simply, his tone calm but edged with worry. “I was worried about you.”

“I’m fine,” you said, your voice trembling as you tried to pull yourself together.

“You’re not fine,” he said, his tone sharper now. His eyes flicked to the cuts on your arms, the pills scattered on the floor. “What’s all this?”

You flinched, pulling your knees to your chest as you tried to hide your arms. “It’s nothing. I just… I had a bad night.”

“This isn’t nothing.” He took another step closer, his voice softening. “Talk to me.”

You shook your head, fresh tears spilling down your cheeks. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

The Confession

For a long moment, the room was silent. The weight of his gaze was unbearable, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away.

Finally, you broke.

“I can’t do it anymore,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “The city, the fighting, the constant… noise. It’s too much, Bruce.”

He didn’t say anything, letting you continue.

“I thought I could handle it,” you said, your words tumbling out now. “I thought if I just kept going, kept fighting, it would get better. But it doesn’t. It never does.”

Bruce’s jaw tightened, but his eyes were filled with something you hadn’t expected: understanding.

“I feel like I’m drowning,” you admitted, your voice barely audible. “And I can’t keep pretending I’m okay.”

Bruce knelt by the bed, his movements deliberate and calm, as though he feared startling you further. His gauntleted hand hovered near yours, but he didn’t touch you—not yet.

“You’re not alone,” he said softly, his voice steady. “You don’t have to carry this by yourself.”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head as you pulled your arms tighter around your knees. “Don’t I? Look around, Bruce. This city… it eats people alive. If I can’t keep going, then what good am I? What kind of person breaks when people need them most?”

“You’re not broken,” he replied firmly, his voice cutting through your spiral of self-loathing like a blade. “You’re human. And humans—no matter how strong—can’t carry everything alone.”

You swallowed hard, refusing to meet his gaze. “You do.”

“No, I don’t.”

That made you glance up. His expression was raw, his mask of control slipping just enough for you to see the man beneath the cowl.

“You think I don’t feel this?” he asked, his voice quieter now but no less intense. “Every day, I wake up knowing that no matter what I do, it’s not enough. I can take down a dozen criminals, stop a hundred crimes, and it won’t change the fact that Gotham is still drowning in darkness.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. For a moment, you couldn’t breathe.

“Then how do you keep going?” you whispered, your voice trembling. “How do you… get out of bed, knowing that nothing we do is ever going to fix this?”

Bruce’s jaw tightened, his blue eyes holding yours with an intensity that made it impossible to look away. “Because I have to.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the truth.” He sighed, running a hand through his damp hair. “But it’s not the whole truth. The reason I keep going… the reason I haven’t given up is because of people like you.”

You blinked, startled. “Me?”

“Yes, you.” His voice softened, the edges of his usual stoicism crumbling. “You remind me why I started this in the first place. You fight because you care. Because you believe that people are worth saving, even when the world is telling you otherwise.”

You looked away, your throat tightening. “I don’t know if I believe that anymore.”

“That’s okay,” he said gently. “You don’t have to right now. That’s why I’m here. To remind you.”

Your breath hitched, and you felt the walls you’d so carefully built start to crack.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I know.” He hesitated, then reached out, his hand brushing yours. “But I’m glad I did.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve been where you are.” His voice was low, heavy with the weight of his own demons. “I know what it feels like to think that there’s nothing left. To feel like the world would be better off without you in it.”

Your head snapped up, shock written across your face. “You? Bruce, you’re… you’re the strongest person I know.”

“Strength doesn’t mean never falling apart,” he said, his voice tinged with sadness. “It means finding the will to keep going, even when it feels impossible. And sometimes, it means letting someone else help you.”

Tears welled in your eyes again, and this time, you didn’t fight them. “I don’t know how to do that.”

“Then let me show you.”

Opening Up

For the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself breathe. The weight on your chest didn’t vanish, but it felt lighter with Bruce there, his steady presence grounding you.

“I’ve been having these thoughts,” you admitted hesitantly. “Dark thoughts. They come out of nowhere, and I can’t stop them. It’s like… my brain is fighting against me.”

Bruce nodded, his expression calm and understanding. “Have you talked to anyone about it? A therapist?”

You shook your head quickly, panic flashing across your face. “No. I can’t. What if they figure out who I am? What if they tell someone?”

“There are ways to get help without risking your identity,” he said gently. “I can help you find someone. Someone safe.”

You bit your lip, the thought of opening up to a stranger filling you with anxiety. “What if it doesn’t help?”

“It might not fix everything,” he admitted. “But it’s a step. And steps are how we move forward.”

You hesitated, your mind racing. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“You just did,” he said, a small smile ghosting across his lips. “Talking to me? That’s a start.”

Reaching Out

The conversation stretched into the early hours of the morning. For the first time, you spoke openly about the thoughts that had been haunting you—the guilt, the exhaustion, the crushing weight of feeling like you weren’t enough.

Bruce listened, his patience infinite. He didn’t try to fix you, didn’t offer empty platitudes or unrealistic promises. Instead, he offered understanding—the kind that only came from someone who had walked through their own darkness.

“I know what it feels like to want to turn it all off,” Bruce said quietly, breaking the silence after you finished speaking. His voice was steady, but there was a rawness to it that made you pause. “There were nights after my parents died when I thought I couldn’t survive the pain. I told myself it would never get better, that the world didn’t care whether I was here or not.”

You swallowed hard, the image of a young Bruce Wayne alone in a cold, empty manor piercing through your own haze of self-doubt. “What stopped you?”

His gaze flickered down, then back to yours. “I didn’t have a choice. Alfred was there, doing his best, but he couldn’t reach me. I was a kid���I didn’t know how to ask for help. So I buried it. Turned the pain into anger and used it to build this.” He gestured vaguely to himself, to the cowl and the armor. “But burying it doesn’t mean it goes away. It festers, grows stronger, until one day it breaks you.”

You blinked, startled by his honesty. “But you never let it stop you. You’re still here.”

“Because I learned that I couldn’t do it alone,” he said simply. “You don’t have to be invincible, Y/N. You just have to let someone in.”

A fresh wave of tears pricked at your eyes, but you forced yourself to meet his gaze. “It’s hard. Letting people in feels… dangerous. Like it’ll make everything worse.”

“I know,” he said, his voice softer now. “It feels like weakness, but it’s not. Letting people see the parts of you that hurt—that’s strength.”

You hesitated, the truth of his words warring with your deeply ingrained instincts to push people away. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Start with me,” Bruce said, his blue eyes unwavering. “I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Healing Together

The minutes blurred into hours as the two of you talked. The rain outside softened into a light drizzle, the occasional drip from the windowpane filling the silences between your words.

“I’ve felt so… useless,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “Every time we go out there, it’s like we’re fighting a war we can’t win. And I keep wondering if I’m just making it worse. What if I’m not strong enough, Bruce? What if I’m holding you back?”

“You’re not,” he said firmly, the intensity of his voice making you look up. “You’re one of the strongest people I know. Strength isn’t just about how many fights you can win or how much pain you can take. It’s about showing up, even when everything in you is screaming to stop.”

You shook your head, your lips trembling. “I didn’t show up tonight.”

“But you’ve shown up a thousand times before,” he countered, his tone unwavering. “And you will again. You had a bad night—hell, a bad week. That doesn’t erase everything you’ve done, everything you’ve survived.”

For a moment, you couldn’t respond, his words sinking into the cracks you’d thought were too deep to fill.

“You don’t have to do it all at once,” he continued, his voice softening. “We’ll take it one step at a time. We’ll figure this out together.”

“How?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He hesitated for a moment, then reached for the scattered pill bottles on the floor. “First, we clean this up,” he said, his tone gentle but firm. “Then, we make a plan.”

You watched as he carefully gathered the pills, his movements methodical and precise. It felt surreal—seeing the Batman kneeling on your floor, handling your mess with such care.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked after a long moment, your voice trembling.

He paused, glancing up at you. “Because I care about you,” he said simply. “And I’m not going to let you go through this alone.”

Breaking Down Walls

Bruce stayed until the first rays of sunlight began to peek through the curtains. He didn’t rush you, didn’t push for answers you weren’t ready to give. Instead, he offered quiet reassurance, his presence a steady anchor in the storm that had been consuming you.

“You’re going to need time,” he said as he stood, his voice calm but resolute. “And that’s okay. But you can’t do this alone, Y/N. You need someone to talk to—a professional.”

You bit your lip, the thought of opening up to a stranger still making your stomach churn. “What if it doesn’t work?”

“Then we try something else,” he said without hesitation. “But you have to try. For yourself.”

You nodded slowly, the weight of his words settling over you. “Okay. I’ll try.”

He gave you a small nod, the barest hint of relief flickering across his face. “Good. I’ll help you find someone. And if you ever feel like this again—if it ever gets too much—you call me. I don’t care what time it is or where I am. You call me.”

“Bruce…” Your voice cracked, emotion threatening to overwhelm you.

“I mean it,” he said firmly, his blue eyes locking onto yours. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

The First Step

As Bruce left your apartment, the morning light casting a golden glow over the city, you felt something you hadn’t felt in a long time: hope. It was small and fragile, like a single flame in the dark, but it was there.

You didn’t know what the future held or if you’d ever truly feel whole again. But for the first time, you believed that maybe—just maybe—you didn’t have to face it all on your own.

And as Bruce disappeared into the shadows, you couldn’t help but feel a little less alone.

Strength in Shadows

The next few days passed in a strange haze of tentative healing. Bruce had kept his word, sending you the contact information for a discreet, highly trusted therapist who worked with people in high-stress, unconventional roles. The gesture was small, but it was enough to plant a seed of resolve.

You hadn’t called yet—not because you didn’t want to, but because every time your fingers hovered over the number, a voice in your head told you it wouldn’t work. That you didn’t deserve help.

But Bruce never pressured you. He’d show up each night for patrol, and though you still felt weak and fractured, you forced yourself to meet him on the rooftops.

The city hadn’t changed—it was still a churning storm of crime and chaos. But the weight of it seemed less suffocating with Bruce at your side.

A Quiet Rooftop

It was the fourth night since he’d found you in your apartment. The two of you stood on a rooftop overlooking Gotham Harbor, the city’s lights reflecting off the water. The rain had stopped, leaving the air crisp and clean.

“You’re quieter than usual,” Bruce said, his voice cutting through the stillness.

You glanced at him, your mask hiding your uncertainty. “Just… thinking.”

“About?”

You hesitated, the vulnerability that had come so easily in your apartment now harder to grasp. But his steady presence made it easier to speak.

“About everything,” you admitted. “How close I came to…” Your voice trailed off, the memory too raw to finish.

He didn’t press you to elaborate, but the subtle tension in his posture told you he understood. “You’re here,” he said simply.

“For now.”

“That’s all that matters,” he said, turning to face you fully. “One day at a time, Y/N. You don’t have to have all the answers right now.”

You nodded, your gaze fixed on the horizon. The city stretched out before you, vast and unyielding, but for the first time, it didn’t feel like it was closing in on you.

“Do you ever wonder what it would be like to just… stop?” you asked suddenly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bruce’s expression didn’t change, but you saw a flicker of something in his eyes—pain, maybe. Or understanding. “Yes,” he admitted after a long pause.

You turned to him, surprised by his honesty. “You do?”

“More times than I can count,” he said, his tone calm but heavy. “But every time I think about walking away, I remind myself why I started. This city doesn’t make it easy, but… it’s worth it.”

“Is it?” you asked, your voice cracking. “Some nights, it feels like we’re fighting for nothing. Like the city doesn’t even want to be saved.”

“It’s not about the city,” he said, his voice low but firm. “It’s about the people. The ones who can’t fight for themselves. The ones who need someone to believe in them.”

You looked down, his words sinking in. “I don’t know if I can believe in myself right now.”

“Then let me believe in you,” he said quietly.

The Edge of Vulnerability

His words lingered in the air, heavy and unspoken for a long moment. You turned away, unsure how to respond, but Bruce stepped closer, his voice softer now.

“I know what it feels like to doubt yourself,” he said. “To think that you’re not enough. But you are, Y/N. I’ve seen it. You don’t give up, even when it hurts. You keep fighting, even when you think it doesn’t matter.”

“But I did give up,” you said, your voice breaking. “That night, in my apartment… I gave up.”

“No,” he said, his voice firm. “You had a moment of pain. A moment where it felt like too much. That doesn’t define you. What defines you is the fact that you’re here, right now. You didn’t let it win.”

You felt your throat tighten, tears threatening to spill again. “It doesn’t feel like that.”

“It never does,” he said gently. “But it’s the truth. And I’ll keep reminding you of it until you can see it for yourself.”

Breaking the Cycle

For the rest of the patrol, Bruce stayed closer than usual. He didn’t hover, but his presence was a steady reassurance—a reminder that you weren’t alone.

As dawn approached and the two of you returned to the Batcave, you found yourself lingering. Usually, you’d strip off your gear and leave quickly, the weight of the night too much to carry for long. But tonight, you hesitated.

“Bruce,” you said quietly as he removed his cowl.

He turned to you, his expression unreadable but his eyes soft. “What is it?”

“I… I called the therapist,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

His brows lifted slightly, surprise flickering across his face before it softened into something warmer. “That’s good.”

“I haven’t scheduled anything yet,” you added quickly, your nerves bubbling to the surface. “But… it’s a start, right?”

“It’s more than a start,” he said, his voice steady and reassuring. “It’s a step forward. I’m proud of you.”

Part I: The Invitation

It started with a casual comment from Bruce one quiet evening in the Batcave. The two of you were sorting through reports of Gotham’s recent surge in gang activity, the hum of the Batcomputer filling the silence, when he spoke.

“You’re coming to the Wayne Enterprises gala tomorrow night,” he said without looking up from the screen.

You blinked at him, momentarily distracted from the report in your hands. “Excuse me?”

“The charity gala,” he repeated, finally meeting your gaze. “You’re coming with me.”

You raised an eyebrow, setting the file down. “And when exactly were you going to ask me? Or is this more of a royal decree?”

Bruce smirked faintly. “Would you have said yes if I asked?”

“Probably not,” you admitted with a shrug. “Gala events aren’t exactly my scene, Bruce. Fancy dresses, small talk, pretending to care about Gotham’s elite? Not my thing.”

“That’s why I need you there,” he countered, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t care about Gotham’s elite either. But you’ll make the evening… tolerable.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “Tolerable? Wow, you really know how to make a girl feel special.”

His smirk deepened. “I thought you already knew you were special.”

Your cheeks warmed slightly, but you rolled your eyes, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flustered. “Fine. I’ll go. But don’t expect me to blend in with the crowd. If I’m going, I’m going as me.”

Bruce’s expression softened, his rare smile genuine now. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Part II: The Dress

The next morning, a sleek black box arrived at your door. You frowned, unsure who would send something so elegant to your small, cluttered apartment. When you opened it, your breath caught.

Inside was the most stunning dress you’d ever seen: deep crimson, with a daring neckline and a high slit that promised to turn heads. The fabric shimmered subtly in the light, clinging to your fingers like liquid silk.

A small note rested on top, written in Bruce’s precise handwriting:

Thought this would suit you. – B

You stared at the note, then at the dress, and back again. Typical Bruce. He could’ve asked if you needed something to wear, but no, he had to go ahead and pick something out for you himself.

And yet, as you held the dress up to the light, you couldn’t help but smile.

Part III: The Gala Begins

The Wayne Enterprises ballroom was as grand as you expected: gleaming chandeliers, marble floors, and enough wealthy Gothamites to make you want to turn around and walk out. But you didn’t.

Stepping into the room, you smoothed the dress against your sides, feeling both confident and strangely out of place. Heads turned as you entered, whispers following you like a shadow.

You scanned the crowd, your eyes landing on Bruce near the bar. He was wearing a perfectly tailored black tuxedo, his usual intensity softened by the warm glow of the room. When he saw you, he froze, his drink halfway to his lips.

You approached him with a small smile. “Did I pass?”

Bruce’s gaze lingered on you, his eyes sweeping over the dress in a way that made your skin tingle. “You passed,” he said, his voice lower than usual. “You look… incredible.”

Your cheeks flushed, but you shrugged casually. “Good thing you have great taste, then.”

Before he could respond, a tall man in a gray suit interrupted, extending his hand to you. “Miss, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Marcus Dean.”

You shook his hand politely. “Y/N.”

Marcus’s eyes lit up, his smile lingering a little too long. “Well, Y/N, you’re easily the most striking person in this room.”

Bruce’s jaw tightened. “She’s my guest,” he said curtly.

Marcus raised an eyebrow, his grin widening as if he sensed a challenge. “Then Bruce is a lucky man. Would you care for a drink, Y/N? Or perhaps a dance?”

You opened your mouth to reply, but Bruce stepped forward, his hand resting on the small of your back. “She’s already spoken for,” he said coolly. “Excuse us.”

You followed as Bruce guided you toward the dance floor, biting back a smile. “That was a bit territorial, don’t you think?”

“He was bothering you,” Bruce said simply, his hand tightening slightly on your waist as the music began.

“Was he?” you teased, enjoying the rare crack in his composure.

Bruce didn’t answer, but the subtle possessiveness in his touch and the way his gaze stayed locked on yours spoke volumes.

Part IV: The Dance

The slow melody filled the room as Bruce pulled you closer, one hand resting lightly on your waist while the other held yours firmly.

“You’re full of surprises, Bruce,” you said, tilting your head to look up at him. “I didn’t know you could dance.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he replied, his voice softer now.

“Like what?”

“Like how much I hate these events,” he said with a faint smirk. “But tonight… isn’t so bad.”

You laughed, leaning into him slightly as the rhythm guided your movements. “Is that your way of saying you’re glad I came?”

“Yes,” he said simply, his gaze softening.

The confession left you momentarily speechless. You hadn’t expected him to admit it so openly, but Bruce had a way of surprising you when you least expected it.

Part V: Too Much Champagne

As the night went on, you let yourself indulge in the champagne—perhaps a bit too much. By the time the event started winding down, you were leaning heavily against Bruce, your laughter spilling out freely.

“You’re staring again,” you teased, poking his chest lightly.

“I’m making sure you don’t fall,” he said dryly, though his hand rested protectively on your back.

“Such a gentleman,” you said with a grin, your words slightly slurred.

Bruce sighed, his expression softening despite himself. “Let’s get you home.”

Part VI: The Ride Home

The car ride was quiet, the city lights blurring past the windows as you leaned against Bruce’s shoulder.

“Why do you always take care of me?” you murmured, your voice thick with exhaustion.

“Because you matter to me,” he said quietly, his fingers brushing yours.

You smiled sleepily. “I like when you’re honest.”

Part VII: The Kiss

When you reached Wayne Manor, Bruce helped you inside, his arm steady around your waist. As he led you to the guest room, you stopped abruptly, turning to face him.

“Bruce,” you said, your gaze serious despite your flushed cheeks.

“What is it?” he asked, his voice low.

Without thinking, you leaned up and kissed him. It was soft at first, but when he didn’t pull away, you deepened it, your hands curling into his shirt.

Bruce responded for a moment, his hands resting on your waist before he gently pulled back. “You’re drunk,” he said softly, his forehead resting against yours.

“And you’re amazing,” you murmured, a sleepy smile on your lips.

He chuckled quietly, shaking his head. “Come on. Time for bed.”

Part VIII: The Morning After

When you woke the next morning, sunlight streamed through the curtains, warming the room. You blinked, realizing you were curled up in bed—Bruce’s bed. And he was lying beside you, his arm draped over your waist.

Your heart raced as you took in his disheveled appearance: his shirt unbuttoned, his hair tousled from sleep.

“Good morning,” he said groggily, his voice deeper than usual.

Before you could respond, a sharp knock sounded at the door.

“Master Wayne,” Alfred’s voice called, amusement evident. “I trust you and Miss Y/N had a… restful evening?”

Bruce groaned, burying his face in the pillow as you stifled a laugh.

“I’ll have breakfast ready shortly,” Alfred added, his tone far too cheerful. “Though I suggest coffee for Miss Y/N.”

As the footsteps retreated, Bruce sighed heavily, turning to meet your amused gaze. “I told you—Alfred lives for moments like this.”

You laughed, your embarrassment melting into a warm sense of belonging. Despite the awkwardness.

Part IX: Breakfast at Wayne Manor

You sat at the breakfast table, the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the scent of warm pastries. Bruce sat across from you, freshly showered and impeccably dressed, looking every bit the composed billionaire.

You, on the other hand, felt distinctly out of place in one of his oversized sweaters, your hair still a mess from the night before. Alfred bustled around the kitchen, his presence both comforting and slightly intimidating as he placed a steaming cup of coffee in front of you.

“Thank you, Alfred,” you said quietly, your cheeks still flushed from the earlier teasing.

“You’re very welcome, Miss Y/N,” he replied with a small smile. “Though I must admit, I hadn’t expected to find you in quite such… casual company with Master Wayne this morning.”

Bruce cleared his throat, shooting Alfred a pointed look. “Alfred.”

“What?” Alfred asked, feigning innocence as he set a plate of eggs in front of Bruce. “I was merely commenting on how close you two seem to have become. It’s… refreshing.”

You bit back a laugh, sipping your coffee as Bruce glared at Alfred. “She had too much to drink last night. I brought her home to make sure she was safe. That’s all.”

Alfred raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. “Of course, sir. And naturally, the safest place for her to recover was in your bed?”

Bruce rubbed a hand over his face, clearly regretting every life choice that had led to this moment.

You couldn’t help but chime in, your grin mischievous. “Don’t worry, Alfred. He was a perfect gentleman.”

“Ah, of course,” Alfred replied, his lips twitching with suppressed amusement. “Though if I may be so bold, Miss Y/N, I believe you’ve had quite an effect on Master Wayne. It’s been some time since I’ve seen him so… relaxed.”

Bruce groaned, leaning back in his chair. “Are you done?”

“For now,” Alfred replied with a wink before retreating to the kitchen.

Part X: Quiet Moments

As the morning went on, you found yourself wandering the manor, coffee cup in hand. The sheer size of the place still overwhelmed you, despite the number of times you’d visited.

You eventually found your way to the library, where Bruce was sitting in one of the leather armchairs, reading through a stack of papers. He glanced up as you entered, his gaze softening.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

“Much,” you replied, taking a seat across from him. “Thanks to you.”

Bruce nodded, his expression unreadable as he set the papers aside. “You didn’t have to come last night, you know. I could’ve handled the gala on my own.”

“And miss the chance to see you get jealous?” you teased, earning a rare smirk from him. “Besides, I had fun—until the champagne hit, anyway.”

He leaned back in his chair, studying you. “You handled yourself well, considering how much attention you drew.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Attention I didn’t ask for.”

“No, but you deserve it,” he said, his voice soft. “You’ve always been more than you give yourself credit for, Y/N.”

The unexpected sincerity in his tone caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond.

“You’re full of surprises, Wayne,” you said finally, your voice quieter now. “I never know what to expect with you.”

“Maybe that’s why we work so well together,” he replied, his gaze steady on yours.

Part XI: The Interruptions Keep Coming

Just as the moment began to settle, Alfred appeared in the doorway, his usual impeccable timing cutting through the quiet.

“Master Wayne, I hate to interrupt, but Lucius Fox is on the line,” he said, holding out a phone. “Something about the new prototype you’ve been working on.”

Bruce sighed, standing up. “I’ll take it in the study.”

As he passed by, his hand brushed your shoulder lightly—a fleeting gesture, but one that sent a spark of warmth through you.

Alfred waited until Bruce was out of earshot before turning to you, a knowing smile on his face. “You know, Miss Y/N, it’s been quite some time since I’ve seen Master Wayne this… invested in someone.”

“Alfred,” you said, shaking your head with a laugh. “You’re reading too much into this.”

“Am I?” he asked, tilting his head. “Because from where I’m standing, it’s rather clear. He cares about you, Miss Y/N. More than he’d ever admit.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words wouldn’t come. Deep down, you knew Alfred was right.

Part XII: Back to Reality

By the time Bruce returned, you’d managed to gather your thoughts. He sat down beside you on the couch, the faintest trace of a smile on his lips.

“Alfred didn’t give you too much trouble, did he?”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” you replied, smiling. “He’s… not wrong, though.”

“About what?”

“About you,” you said, meeting his gaze. “About how much you care.”

Bruce hesitated, his usual composure faltering. “I do care,” he said finally. “Probably more than I should.”

The vulnerability in his voice made your heart ache, and before you could stop yourself, you reached out, your hand covering his.

“You’re allowed to care, Bruce,” you said softly. “You don’t have to carry everything alone.”

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. But then his hand turned, his fingers intertwining with yours.

“Maybe not,” he said quietly. “Not anymore.”

Part XIII: Post-Patrol Antics

The night was long, even by Gotham’s standards. After chasing down a group of armed robbers, dismantling a smuggling ring at the docks, and dealing with a few petty criminals along the way, you were both utterly spent by the time patrol ended.

Back in the Batcave, you peeled off your mask and collapsed onto a nearby bench, letting out a groan of exhaustion.

“I don’t know how you do this every night,” you said, running a hand through your hair. “I’m pretty sure my legs stopped working halfway through that last chase.”

Bruce smirked, removing his cowl and setting it on the table. Despite the hours of relentless action, he looked annoyingly composed—barely a hair out of place.

“You’re keeping up,” he said, his tone light. “Barely.”

“Barely?” you repeated, sitting up with a mock glare. “I was the one who took down the guy with the grenade launcher, in case you forgot.”

“I didn’t forget,” he replied, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement. “But you also nearly fell off the fire escape.”

“That was a tactical stumble,” you shot back, standing to stretch. “It distracted him long enough for me to take him down.”

Bruce chuckled, the sound rare and soft. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

You grabbed a spare Batarang from the table and tossed it in his direction, grinning as he caught it effortlessly.

“You’re impossible,” you said, crossing your arms.

“And you’re reckless,” he countered, though there was no heat in his words.

You rolled your eyes, turning to head toward the locker room to change out of your suit. But before you could take more than a few steps, Bruce’s voice stopped you.

“Y/N.”

You turned, eyebrows raised. “What?”

He approached you slowly, his expression softer now. “You did good tonight,” he said, his voice low. “Really good.”

The unexpected praise made your chest tighten, and you found yourself smiling despite your exhaustion. “Thanks, Bruce.”

Part XIV: Goofing Around

Once you were both out of your suits and back in casual clothes, you found yourself lingering in the Batcave instead of heading home. There was something about the quiet after patrol—the unspoken bond of having survived another night together—that made it hard to leave.

Bruce was at the computer, typing up his report, while you wandered over to the training area. Spotting a pair of boxing gloves on the mat, you slipped them on and started throwing lazy punches at the air.

“Careful,” Bruce called without looking up. “You might hurt yourself.”

“Please,” you scoffed, bouncing on your toes like a professional boxer. “I could take you down with one hand tied behind my back.”

That got his attention. He turned in his chair, one eyebrow raised. “Is that so?”

“Absolutely,” you said, grinning as you raised your gloves. “Come on, Wayne. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Bruce sighed, standing and walking over to you with a look that could only be described as amused exasperation. “You’re going to regret this.”

“Big talk,” you teased, throwing a playful jab in his direction.

He caught your wrist effortlessly, spinning you around until your back was pressed against his chest. “You were saying?”

You twisted out of his grip, your heart pounding as you laughed. “Okay, okay. You win.”

“Thought so,” he said, releasing you with a smirk.

But before he could step away, you took advantage of his lowered guard, landing a light punch to his shoulder. “Gotcha!”

Bruce shook his head, his smirk widening. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossible to beat,” you shot back, beaming.

Part XV: The Kiss

The playful energy between you lingered as you both sat on the edge of the training mat, catching your breath. You leaned back on your hands, looking over at Bruce, who seemed more relaxed than you’d ever seen him.

“You know,” you said, breaking the comfortable silence, “for someone who’s supposed to be all brooding and mysterious, you’re actually kind of fun.”

“Don’t tell anyone,” he replied, his voice tinged with dry humor. “It might ruin my reputation.”

You laughed, the sound echoing softly in the cavernous space. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

He turned to look at you then, his expression unreadable. The intensity in his gaze made your heart skip a beat, and for a moment, the air between you felt charged with something unspoken.

“Y/N,” he said quietly, his voice softer now.

“Yeah?”

Instead of answering, he leaned in, his hand brushing against your cheek as his lips met yours. The kiss was tentative at first, as if he wasn’t sure whether you’d pull away. But when you didn’t, he deepened it, his other hand resting on your waist.

When you finally broke apart, you were both breathing a little harder, your foreheads resting against each other.

“Well,” you said, your voice a little shaky. “That was… unexpected.”

Bruce smiled faintly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “I’ve been meaning to do that for a while.”

You laughed softly, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “Took you long enough.”

Part XVI: The Morning After Patrol

By the time you woke up the next morning, you were back in your apartment, the faint ache in your muscles reminding you of the night before. You blinked as you realized Bruce was sitting on the edge of your bed, a mug of coffee in his hand.

“Morning,” he said, his voice warm.

“Morning,” you replied, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “Did you… carry me home?”

“You fell asleep in the car,” he explained with a small smile. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

You smiled back, your heart swelling at the thought. “Thanks, Bruce. For everything.”

He stood, setting the coffee on your nightstand. “You don’t have to thank me,” he said, his gaze steady. “We’re in this together.”

As he turned to leave, you reached out, catching his hand. “Hey.”

He looked back, his expression questioning.

“Stay,” you said simply.

And for once, Bruce Wayne let himself relax, sitting back down beside you as the morning sunlight streamed through the curtains.

Part XVII: A New Beginning

The silence between you and Bruce was comfortable, each of you adjusting to the new territory the kiss had opened up. His presence beside you was steady, calm—something you hadn’t expected, but now, it felt right. After years of working together as vigilantes, fighting side by side through the darkest nights in Gotham, you’d never imagined that this kind of closeness would develop.

Bruce shifted slightly, his gaze still focused on the way your fingers were tangled together. It was almost like he was waiting for you to say something, as if he needed the assurance that this wasn’t a mistake.

“I never thought it’d be this easy with you,” you said quietly, breaking the silence at last. Your voice was softer than you intended, a hint of vulnerability slipping through.

“Easy?” Bruce repeated with a raised brow, his thumb brushing gently against your knuckles.

You nodded, leaning back against your pillows, glancing up at him. “Well, after all the years we’ve spent working together, I guess I thought there’d be more… complications. But with you, it just feels… natural. Like we’ve always known each other this way.”

Bruce’s expression softened at your words. There was a long pause before he spoke, his voice low and sincere. “Maybe that’s because we’ve always been more than just partners in crime.”

You glanced at him, your breath catching at the depth in his words. “What do you mean?”

His eyes met yours, and in that moment, you could see something that wasn’t there before—a shift in his usual guarded demeanor. “I’ve always felt more for you, Y/N. Even when we were just fighting side by side. But I kept it buried, because that’s what I do. I focus on the mission.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest. “Bruce…” You didn’t know what to say. You weren’t sure you needed to say anything more. His confession was enough.

He reached for your hand, gently bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss. “I don’t want to keep it buried anymore.”

The weight of his words settled in your chest, and you leaned forward, resting your forehead against his. “Then don’t.”

Part XVIII: A Day in the Life of Gotham’s Vigilantes

Later that day, as you both geared up for another night on patrol, the air was thick with the unspoken tension between you. Both of you knew things were changing, but the shift felt subtle—more like an evolution than a dramatic turn of events.

Bruce had already suited up, his cape flowing elegantly behind him as he adjusted the utility belt. You, on the other hand, were tying your boots, making sure everything was in place. The hum of the Batcave felt oddly comforting, a familiar routine in the midst of everything else.

“You ready?” Bruce asked, glancing over his shoulder. His voice was as steady as always, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

“Yeah,” you said with a smirk. “Just don’t expect me to let you take all the fun tonight.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

As you both ascended from the Batcave, the familiar cool night air hit you like a wave. Gotham was as chaotic as always, with the flickering streetlights and dark alleys hiding more than just criminals. But tonight, it felt different. Tonight, you were partners in a way you hadn’t been before—no longer just two masked vigilantes on a mission, but something more.

The two of you moved swiftly through the shadows, seamlessly coordinating your actions as if you were two halves of a single unit. It was like you didn’t need to speak anymore—you could predict each other’s moves, anticipate what the other would do.

“Two on the left, three on the right,” you whispered as you crouched beside him, surveying a group of thugs in the alleyway.

Bruce nodded, giving you a small but approving smile. “Let’s clean this up.”

The fight was swift and calculated. As you took down one of the men, you couldn’t help but notice the way Bruce moved—fluid, precise, his presence like a shadow that never wavered. He fought with a calm that you admired, a focus that never slipped.

When the last thug was on the ground, groaning in defeat, you both stood together, looking down at the defeated criminals.

“That was easy,” you said, wiping a bit of dirt from your suit. “I should’ve taken more of them.”

Bruce turned to you, his gaze lingering for a moment longer than usual. “You’re getting good at this. Almost too good.”

You grinned, nudging him playfully. “Careful, Bruce. You might start getting jealous.”

He smirked back, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I’m not the one you need to worry about getting jealous.”

Part XIX: A Moment of Peace

The rest of the patrol was uneventful. The city was quiet for once, and you found yourself enjoying the rare lull in action. As you perched on a rooftop overlooking Gotham’s skyline, you leaned back against the cool stone, feeling the wind against your skin.

“Do you ever think about what comes after?” you asked suddenly, your voice quieter than usual.

Bruce was sitting beside you, his eyes fixed on the city below. “After what?”

“After all the fighting, the running, the never-ending cycle of patrols and danger,” you said, your voice a little more introspective. “Do you ever wonder what you’ll do when it’s all over?”

Bruce was silent for a long moment, his eyes scanning the city as though he were looking for answers in the distance. Finally, he turned to face you, his expression unreadable but gentle.

“I don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “But I know I’m not doing it alone.”

You met his gaze, the meaning behind his words clear. He was offering more than just partnership—he was offering something real.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. But in that silence, something deep between you shifted. You didn’t need words. You had each other.

You reached for his hand, squeezing it lightly. “Good,” you whispered. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

And for once, in the middle of Gotham’s chaos, you felt at peace.

Part XX: The Kiss, Again

When the patrol ended that night, you and Bruce were back in the Batcave, stripping off your suits and trying to shake off the adrenaline. You were both quiet, moving methodically to clean up after the night’s work.

But there was an undeniable pull between you—one that neither of you had ever truly acknowledged before tonight.

Bruce set down his cowl with a quiet sigh, turning toward you. You met his gaze, and for a moment, everything else faded away.

Before either of you could speak, you were drawn together again, this time with no hesitation. His lips met yours urgently, passionately, as if he couldn’t hold back anymore.

The kiss was deep and filled with everything you hadn’t said before—the long years of quiet affection, the unspoken understanding, the shared moments in the darkness. It was more than just a kiss. It was a promise, one that neither of you had ever dared to make before.

When you finally broke apart, breathless and a little shaken, Bruce rested his forehead against yours.

“You’re more than I ever thought I needed, Y/N,” he whispered.

You smiled softly, running your fingers through his hair. “And you’re more than I ever thought I could have.”

And for the first time, you knew that whatever came next—whatever Gotham threw at you—this, whatever it was between you two, would be enough.

[hitmewithsomebooks]

@jegulus-microfic Feb 11 - map

527 words

Cowboy James 🤠

First part Previous part

~

“Wanna kiss ev’ry inch of you, gonna map out your skin with my lips, ‘m gonna have you committed to memory, baby, I—”

“Regulus Black where the fuck is my lipstick??” James’s sappy rambling was cut off by a rather loud Dorcas, who proceeded to slam the door open.

“Because I know you took it you little— oh… hello.” Dorcas cut herself off this time, as she took in a very naked James next to a similarly naked Regulus. Luckily, the sheet was covering their bottom halves, though in James’s case it was only just.

“Howdy.” James replied with a grin, grabbing his hat off the nightstand and tipping it.

“Are who are you?” Dorcas asked, now smirking at a rather proud Regulus. I mean, who would be embarrassed to have that in their bed?

“I’m James, lovely t’ meet you.” James answered, and made to get out from under the covers to shake her hand.

“Ah, no!” The very lesbian Dorcas stopped him abruptly. “You do not need to get up, thank you very much. You can shake my hand later… after you’ve washed yours.” She added, sending a pointed look at the both of them. James chuckled.

“Alright then. An’ might ah ask who you ‘re?”

“I’m Dorcas. Regulus’s best friend and roommate.” She replied, arms crossed firmly over her chest.

“You didn’ tell me y’ had a roommate.” James murmured, and Regulus scoffed.

“I most certainly did, and there’s two of them. You didn’t hear because you were too busy…” Regulus trailed off with a wary look at Dorcas, who rolled her eyes.

“You two can discuss that later. James, I have only one thing to tell you,” she stated, and James directed his full attention to her. “Treat him right, because his group of friends —myself included— are both not afraid of and good at hiding a body.” Dorcas said firmly, staring the cowboy down.

“Yes ma’am.” He replied, casting a wide-eyed glance at Regulus, who giggled.

“And Reggie, I’m proud of you, love.” Dorcas added with a smirk and a wink, before stepping out, closing the door behind her.

“Well that was… in’erestin’.” James commented, turning on his side to face Regulus again. The younger man chuckled, reaching up and playing with one of the cowboy’s curls.

“Indeed. That’s Dorcas, for you. And she’s the most sane one, aside from Pandora. I’m just glad she didn’t come in about 10 minutes sooner.” Regulus murmured, and James bit his lip, his eyes darkening.

“Or ‘bout a minute later.” He rumbled, pulling Regulus close again.

“James!” He scolded, but it was a laugh. “She’s just in the kitchen! Haven’t you had enough this morning, anyways?” James scoffed.

“Can nev’r get enough o’ you, sweetheart.” He growled, pulling the sheet off. Regulus rolled his eyes, but he had to force himself to hide his smile.

“Fucking insatiable, I swear, you’re a… you’re…” Regulus’s own hitched breath cut him off as James hummed and began trailing his lips downward. James had said cowboys always kept their promises, and he intended to show it.

And, Regulus had stolen Dorcas’ lipstick. Later, he would show James why.

~

Next part

[hundredandsix]

CRIMSON ✩ [ ellie williams ] ✩

[ ellie x fem!reader ]

✩ wc: 1.7k

✩ summary: ellie really likes your red nail polish.

✩ cw: mdni (18+), top!ellie, bottom!reader, fingering (reader receiving), masturbation (reader), bathroom sex, an obscene amount of references to red nails

You were fucking with her.

At least that's what Ellie told you when she shoved you into the restaurant's bathroom, tattooed hand glued to your waist.

And maybe you had been. You didn't miss the way her eyes followed your crimson nails. They were short. Nothing special. But Ellie's eyes had been on them the whole night.

She watched as you ran your fingers around the rim of your glass, dim light reflecting off the red polish. She gazed at your hands as you drummed your short nails on the table while Dina told a story you'd already heard before. And she nearly gaped at you when you bit your index finger as you decided what to order.

So, yes. You were fucking with her and it was turning out exactly how you'd anticipated.

"Don't know what you're talking about, El," you said, looking at her through your eyelashes.

She rolled her eyes and locked the door to the family restroom. It was spacious with a large sink behind you. You doubted this was its intended purpose, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Her hands found your hips again, pushing you against the granite countertop of the sink. She was close, so close that you could feel her breath against your lips.

"It's not my fault you get horny at basically anythi—" you started.

Your lips connected in a bruising kiss, her hand finding its way to your hair. She gripped at the crown of your head and tugged backward to expose your neck.

She was quick, not wanting to waste time. The food was likely at the table now, and people would wonder where you were.

Placing wet kisses down your neck, her other hand traveled beneath your shirt, caressing skin she'd mapped out ages ago. She slid her fingers beneath the band of your bra, kneading your breast harshly.

She ignored your gasp and removed her hand to yank your pants and underwear down in one movement.

"Don't see you complaining though, huh?" she mumbled against your neck.

Her hands slid to the backs of your thighs. With a grunt, she lifted you to rest on the edge of the countertop. The movement caused your pants to slip off your right leg, dangling from the left as you spread your thighs for her.

She dropped to her knees, gazing at your soaking cunt like she was about to devour you. That was what you'd been wanting her to do all night.

Instead, she grabbed your right hand, dragging it to your center. When you cocked your head in confusion, she let out a laugh, a smirk painting her features.

"Want you to touch yourself."

When you opened your mouth to protest, she grabbed your hand again, moving it to circle your clit with red-painted nails.

"But I want you to—"

"Don't think you deserve it for being so mean. Plus..." she trailed off. "You look so pretty like this."

Her fingers moved to stroke over the shiny, red polish. You had never seen her hypnotized by something so small.

Fine. If she was going to be like that, then you were at least going to give her a show.

You shook her hand off, placing it to rest on your inner thigh as you slid two fingers into your cunt to dull that ache spreading through you. Gasping at the stretch, you wished you had started slower at first, but there was no turning back now.

Your thumb moved to rub over your clit as you crooked your fingers, trying to find the spot that made you see red. It was a lot harder to do on your own than when her fingers were shoved inside of you. She knew exactly where to press and how to kiss you. You were a bit out of practice, to say the least.

But the sight of your girlfriend kneeling in front of you and practically drooling made you fuck into yourself with a newfound fervor.

Ellie groaned at the sound of your fingers pushing in and out of your slick cunt. It was obscene, and maybe Ellie was right because your pretty red nails seemed to make it so much better.

Her hand moved back and forth over your thigh, nails gently digging into the sensitive skin. The tile squeaked beneath her Converse as she moved to stand between your legs. Her other hand trailed up your side and came to rest on your shoulder, gently massaging the tense muscle.

Green eyes trained on your cunt, she rubbed the back of her hand over your forehead to wipe away the sweat on your brow. She laughed and it was so mean that it almost made your pace falter.

"Bet you wish it was me fucking you, huh?"

You refused to make eye contact, fingers pumping even faster, but she was right. The red on your nails was pretty, but it would be so much better if it was her instead.

"Maybe if you ask nicely I'll help you out. Can't go back to the table with my girl all desperate."

At her words, your body flung back to rest against the wall, but Ellie was faster. Her hand cupped the back of your head as you knocked hard into the mirror behind you.

You just wanted to cum, but it was so difficult with her watching you like this. And you couldn't fucking find the spo—

"Ellie, please. Want you to touch me."

Her hand left the back of her head and slid to rest on your inner thigh. She knelt in front of you again, gaze still trained on your red nails.

"But you look so pretty like this. It would be rude to interrupt you."

"You said if I—if I asked then you would."

"Right, but I don't know, babe. Still don't think you deserve it. Maybe if you say you're sorry..."

You groaned in frustration and pulled your hand out of your cunt, your clear slick glistening on your fingers beneath the fluorescent lights. Your hand gripped hers and guided it to your cunt. For a moment, all the both of you could focus on was the contrast between the red of your nails and her pale skin.

You pushed her hand against your core, but she refused to move, staring up at you with a stupid smirk on her face.

"I'm sorry," you tried, a pout forming on your lips.

"That's better," she said sliding her ring and middle fingers into your cunt.

It was almost strange how much better her hands felt than your own. Her long fingers found your spot immediately and pressed against it. You gasped at the intrusion, rocking against her fingers.

But she wouldn't fucking move.

"I don't think you really mean it," she said, voice so slow you had to strain your ears to hear it.

"No! I do. I really am sorry!"

Her fingers moved at a languid pace, so slow that you barely felt it at all. You cried out, the small movement somehow feeling better than your own fingers from moments earlier.

"Just wanted you to fuck me. 'm sorry for teasing."

She stood up again and your head fell to rest on her chest.

"If you wanted me to take care of you, you could've just asked."

You gazed up at her. "But it's more fun this way."

She cocked her head to the side, pondering your words, but she nodded. Her free hand grabbed yours, moving it back to your clit.

"Help me out, yeah? Don't have much time."

Her fingers sped up, and despite the new angle, she hit that spongey spot inside of you with such precision that you had trouble keeping up with her movements.

Her eyes were glued to your nails as they circled your clit. Your own fingers tried to match her speed, but it was so hard to focus when she was looking down at you like that. A strand of hair had fallen from her bun, dangling in front of her face. If your hands weren't completely soaked in your arousal, you would have tucked it behind her ear for her.

You felt that familiar feeling pooling in your stomach, and it burned all the way down your legs and to your torso.

"Want it so bad, El. So fucking close," you mumbled into her chest.

"C'mon, you owe it to me. Cum all over my fingers before I change my mind and make you finish yourself."

Her words sent you over the edge, and you clenched around her fingers as you reached your high. Her pace slightly faltered at the tightness, but she didn't stop helping you ride out your high.

For once, her eyes weren't focused on your face as you came. Instead, they were trained on your fingers. The red of your nails was covered in the glossy sheen of the slick coating yours and her fingers.

The sound that echoed in the otherwise silent bathroom as she slid her fingers out of you made you blush.

She reached behind you to wash her hands in the sink, and you let your body collapse against your shoulder. You weren't even hungry anymore, and the thought of going back to dinner after that made you want to cry.

Ellie appeared back in front of you with a few paper towels to help you clean up.

"We've gotta hurry before Dina comes looking," she said, helping you slide your pants and underwear back up your shaking legs.

"We've been gone for too long already. Pretty sure they already know what we're doing."

Loud knocking from the other side of the door made you jump.

"You two almost done? Your food is getting cold," Dina's voice called out.

"Yeah, just a sec," Ellie shouted back, helping your stand on unstable legs.

Dina's response was much quieter, but you still heard her muffled reply as she walked back to the table. "Can't even last 30 minutes."

"I blame you," Ellie said as she unlocked the door, hand sliding around your waist as you exited the bathroom.

"Like I said! Not my fault you get horny at—"

She slapped her hand over your mouth, and the look she gave you made you want to forget dinner and head straight home.

"C'mon, red. The food is getting cold."

[thespectral-wolf]

An Enigma in Shadows: Epilogue - Left Unsaid

A thousand thanks to @w0lp3rtinger for beta reading and helping out with the writing.

As the title says, this is an epilogue to my comic, which if you haven't read yet, you can find the first page here.

---

“Amy, please, let me help” Sonic pleaded to her for what felt like the fiftieth time this week.

Amy chose to ignore him and instead focused on making sure she packed everything she needed for today’s search. Almost three weeks had passed since Shadow left abruptly after her friends’ intervention. Fourteen days of her hoping the hedgehog would return so they could set things straight. Six days since she decided to find his residence herself and maybe, just maybe make it up to him. She took another look at her map to see where she would continue. Only four hundred square kilometers of jungle to search through. She let out an audible sigh.

Sonic waited behind her, arms crossed and one foot tapping rhythmically, betraying his otherwise patient expression. She turned her head slightly. 

“I don’t think I want your idea of help.”

Sonic groaned.“Look, I know I messed up-”

“That’s an understatement.”

Sonic let go of his irritation with a huff. He continued, “I do want to make it up to you, Amy. At least don’t go into the jungle alone again!”

Amy turned around to look him in the eye.

“Okay, fine! Let’s say I consider taking your offer. How do you intend to help me with this?”

The tension left Sonic’s body, the look of relief spread across his face. “Finally! Thank you!” he exclaimed, and before Amy could say anything, he stepped closer and continued, “You know, I often take a morning jog around the island. Maybe I’ve seen the place you’re looking for.”

Amy snorted, “Yeah, because you look at the places you pass by during your mach-one ‘jogs’.”

Sonic mocked a hurt expression at the accusation. 

“Come on now, I do appreciate the sights. Besides, I should mention that I have an impeccable visual memory,” he leaned on the table, arms crossed and looked his usual smug self. Amy normally liked his cockiness — not that she would ever admit that — but this time, she found it irritating.

“Go on,” he continued, “Test me. Describe the place we're looking for,” and gestured to her map with his head.

“Okay then,” she recalled what the part of the jungle looked like to her best ability. It wasn’t hard, even after so many weeks. The initial shock of Shadow’s living situation embedded the details of the place in her mind. The small incline Shadow used for sleeping, the little camp that was rather civil despite the roughness. The storm shelter that was probably a long abandoned property,  repurposed by the black hedgehog, hidden carefully from curious eyes. She even surprised herself by remembering where the two places lay relative to each other. Sonic did not say a word throughout all of that, only nodding a few times.

“So,” Amy spread her arms expectantly, “any ideas, Mr. Know-It-All?”

“I’m not sure about that shelter, but a small cave in a clearing facing north…” Sonic murmured, as he looked at the wall, eyes darting about. Suddenly, he snapped his fingers. “Yeah, I think I know where that is!”

Amy blinked, “Really? Just like that?!”

“Yup! Pretty impressive, huh?” Sonic smirked.

She wasn’t going to be convinced so easily, “Okay then, can you show me where it is on the map?”

Sonic glanced at the item in question, and gave her an amused smile, “You know reading maps is not my strong suit.”

Why wasn’t she surprised…

“Well, thanks for nothing, I guess…” she was ready to pack up and leave.

“Buuut,” he leaned into her line of sight, “I can still take you there.”

“I’m not letting you carry me there, Sonic,” any other day, the idea would’ve excited her, but she was still bitter over his actions.

He shrugged.

“I could take you on the Blue Force One, too. Tails just upgraded the offroad mode.”

“Isn’t the Blue Force One only for one person?” she raised an eyebrow.

Sonic looked away and rubbed his nose.

“It can fit two… if you hold on close,” he murmured.

“Ugh!” Amy threw her hands up and turned her back on him. For one, because she couldn’t hide her flushed face, and she felt ashamed that even when she’s supposed to be super mad at him, he could get this reaction out of her. And another, she couldn’t believe Sonic is still playing around like that.

“Hey, I’m just teasing!” Sonic held up his arms, and gave his most apologetic smile. The glare he earned from her then melted that smile off right away. After a moment of silence, he spoke up in a softer voice, “C’mon, Amy. You trust me, don’t you?”

She wanted to say no. Sonic betrayed her trust when he still went out of his way to spy on her and Shadow and got himself and the others involved. But also, he was one of her closest friends. Even if he hurt her, she couldn’t stay mad at him forever. And she knew he was genuinely sorry. She rubbed her eyes.

“Fine, but when we get there, you hang back, okay? The last thing I want is you and Shadow get into a fight.”

“You know it’s usually him who initiates them, right?” Amy glowered at him for that, and he immediately put his hands up defensively. “Right, no fisticuffs, got it.”

The ride was… unusually silent. She sat behind Sonic, trying to hold on to him in a way that wasn’t too uncomfortable for either of them. She didn’t see Sonic’s face, but as he drove at a reasonable pace on the uneven trail, the tension in his body told her he was focused on the task.

At one point, he slowed to a halt, turning off the engine.

“We gotta go on foot from here. I love this thing, but it can’t tear through the foliage… yet,” Sonic explained as he got out.

“Just don’t run off, okay?” Amy grumbled.

“Hey, I can walk if I want,” Sonic turned around to face her, walking backwards very fast.

“Are you sure you’re walking?”

“This is walking for me,” Sonic joked, then turned around and started to jog.

“That is a lie, and you know that!” Amy shouted, keeping up with his speed. She could hear Sonic’s laugh in front of her. She shook her head. He can’t take things seriously, can he?

They trudged through the forest for quite some time before the plant life started to thin. Amy squinted at the sudden brightness, but when her eyes adjusted, she loudly exclaimed:

“Yeah, this is it!” Amy couldn’t hide her surprise when she looked around. It was definitely the cave where Shadow was staying in during their time working together, although it was strange to see it in daylight.

Sonic kicked a pebble and looked as nonchalant as always. “And if you accepted my help earlier, you would’ve saved a lot of time.”

She ignored his comment, and instead approached the incline. She had to be cautious. Shadow avoided confrontation last time, but it could’ve been because he was taken by surprise. She didn’t know how the other hedgehog would react if she approached him uninvited.

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dark, but once she could see, she had noticed that the cave was completely empty, the only thing indicating that someone was here were the rocks and charcoal making up the firepit. Everything else — the old sleeping bag, the dirty rags that covered the log used for sitting, the various tools, even the empty food cans — were gone. He has left. She should have expected this, yet disappointment still washed over her. There might still be a chance though…

She dashed out of the cave, and went in the direction of the shelter. Sonic, who was leaning against a tree the whole time,  hurried to follow. She didn’t say a word.

She ground to a stop when she saw that the shelter’s door was torn off from its hinges and tossed to the side. It also looked like as if the earth collapsed where the rest of the shelter should be. She felt a tightness in her chest, but pushed past it and went for the entrance.

The ladder was missing, so she jumped down. Using her communicator’s in-built flashlight, she took a better look at the scene. The place caved in, leaving nothing but rubble and dirt. She cautiously moved some of the debris. She could see the remains of what used to be the shelf, but on a closer look, all the knick-knacks Shadow had there weren’t in the rubble.

That meant he took them. 

So he must’ve destroyed it on purpose.

She just stood there, staring at the ruins where barely a month ago she was spending entire nights awake trying to solve a mystery. Trying to help someone…

She absentmindedly hovered a hand to her cheek, feeling the freshly healed skin.

“Yo, Amy, all good?” Sonic shouted in from above, snapping Amy out of her thoughts.

“Yes, it’s fine,” she told him. She walked back and climbed out with the aid of her hammer.

“No sign of him,” she dusted herself off, and looked away into the thick of the forest.

“Do you want to try tomorrow?” he asked as they made their way back to the clearing.

“No… I don’t think we’re going to meet him here,” she looked off in the distance. “Just give me a sec, okay?”

Amy entered the small cave again and fished out an item: Shadow’s glove sealed in an airtight bag. Ideally, she would have given it to Shadow in person or at the very least leave it for him. But was he coming back here? Or will this place be vacant forever? A part of her wanted to resume the search, but the island was large, and Shadow would continue to elude them until he decided to be found.

If he ever decided he wanted to be found…

She finally made the decision and put the glove down on a flat rock where the elements hopefully won’t disturb it. She left, only taking one more glance back at the now empty place before going home.

~*~

It took several days before a figure appeared in the cave again. His heavy boots dug into the clay floor as he took in his surroundings. After he felt he was in the clear, he approached the item placed so clearly out in the open, it might as well be a bait for a trap. 

His instincts screamed that it was, but a small part of him said that he doesn’t have to be wary. That it will be okay.

It was strange how easy he listened to that small voice.

He picked up the bag containing the glove, and after making another quick check that nobody was watching him, he practically scrambled to put it on.

Something inside touched his fingers, making him freeze. Slowly he pulled out what appeared to be a neatly folded piece of paper.  He stared at it for a short moment before his fist closed with such force that were it not for the glove, his claws would have dug into his palm for sure. With the same rush of energy, he was ready to throw the crumpled note away as far as he could.

Something in the back of his mind stopped him, that little voice again, and his fist hung high in the air frozen mid-swing.

He let out a shaky breath, lowered his hand and stared at the little paper. Seconds stretched on, he could hear nothing but blood rushing in his ear, the buzz so loud it was almost drowning out his thoughts. Choppy breaths evened out, every long intake of air bringing in the smell of damp clay and moss. A faint memory of bamboo and scented candles and freshly cooked pasta tried to wriggle itself back to the forefront of his mind. Finally, he neatly straightened it and started to unfold it, the curiosity to find out what was inside finally taking over him. He read its contents. And read it again. And again. The wrinkles of his brow deepened more and more at his puzzlement. He turned it over, but found the rest of the paper empty. He read it again, taking in each word, like it was a riddle.

“You forgot it at my place. I figured you’d want it back. I did wash it though, I hope you don’t mind.”

That was all of it. He was expecting an overly sentimental message about making amends and the importance of friendship and something about Amy’s door being always open to him… yet this here was as plain as it could get. It baffled him. And yes, he did mind the smell of the detergent.

It was pointless to keep the message. But he did not throw it away. Instead, he folded it back and pushed it inside his glove so it sat between the fabric and his hand in a way that wasn’t too bothersome. Shadow turned tail and left the cave with a thought that felt so dangerous: what would it mean to him if he left a bridge unburned?

[the-ellia-west]

Silver Blood and a Glass Crown

Alkain Short Story 2/3

(It’s got a lot of small time skips and setting changes)

This was Written very Quickly in 3 days because of procrastination, I'm sorry (ToT)

I hope you Enjoy it!

(This one is very long, Also sorry, Lovelies!)

Alkain smoothed the map across the table with all four arms, arranging the pieces over the miniature landscape. “So this is the situation, correct?”

The messenger nodded sagely. “Yessir.”

“Then I suggest you move battalions here, here, and here. They can stay hidden amongst the trees here.” He moved a few of the pieces. “You don’t want to strike first in case the negotiations go well, and we don’t have to fight.” 

“If I may, this seems a bit excessive sir.” The General stepped up beside him.

“Hm, you’re right.” Alkain pulled back, studying the map as his voice dropped to a contemplative mutter, “Better safe than sorry...”

“Mister Ciranes!” Another messenger slammed the doors open, panting. “The King Requests your presence in the throne room immediately!”

“Understood.” The elf fixed the cuffs of his uniform and bolted down the hallway. He didn’t want to make a mistake. Not here, not now, not after he’d gained so much in his mother’s memory and finally earned the king’s favor.

The Advisor brushed off his uniform, tried to smooth out his hair, and trotted into the room. “Your majesty,” He dropped to one knee, silently cursing his frazzled appearance.

“Ah! Alkain, rise. It has come to my attention that the Valerίan princess will arrive this evening instead of three days later because of tensions on the road and the rushed negotiations.”

The elf glanced up. “Yessir?”

“I called you here to tell you this because it now means you must be extra vigilant in your duties tonight. You are one of the most prevalent advisors she’ll be dealing with throughout the negotiations, so if possible I’d like you to greet her in my place.”

Alkain tensed, shocked at the question as he nervously ran his upper hands through his sandy golden waves, holding the other two to his chest for comfort. “It would be an honor, Your Majesty! Is there anything else?”

The king examined him with scrutiny and frowned. “Did you run here?”

“Um… Yessir.” Alkain shrank in on himself. “May I go, Your Majesty?”

“Yes, but may I ask where you’re so eager to leave me for?”

“My room sir. If I present the palace to the princess, I ought to look presentable myself. If I could… Your majesty.”

The King nodded thoughtfully, taking the crown from his head. “I understand, and I agree.” 

Alkain folded his lower arms behind his back and nodded once. “Thank you, sir.”

But he jumped as the king called toward one of the doors, “Kinnea!”

A young servant girl stepped into the room, bowing her head. “Yes, your majesty?”

“I intended to gift a stylist to each of my advisors, and since you need one, this is Kinnea. Kinnea, could you attend to Mister Ciranes here? If you would.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” She nodded sagely and looked up, deep scarlet eyes sparking with worry.

Alkain rubbed his wrists nervously. “Thank you, your majesty.” 

“You’re very welcome. Now, I’m going to check on my son. You two have fun!” The King motioned for Alkain to go as he left the room.

The elf waved for Kinnea to follow him and stopped when he reached the door. “Aren’t you coming?”

“I respond to orders, sir. It’s my job. You haven’t given one.”

“Oh, uh… right. Follow me, please.” 

“Was that a request or an order?”

Alkain sighed. “I’ve never had a servant before. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Kinnea set her shoulders and put her hands behind her back, “You don’t have to justify yourself to me. I’m here to serve you, sir.” She wove around him and held the door, bowing her head. “My orders?”

***

Alkain adjusted his suit's neckline, tie, and tailcoat as he glanced back at Kinnea. “You’ve outdone yourself.”

The servant nodded and stepped back as the carriage pulled around the bend. Glittering glass strings hanging from the ornately carved frames jingled against one another as the horses slowed and one whinnied.

The King’s advisor held up a hand as a servant rushed forward, pulling the carriage door open himself. He bowed and gestured one arm toward the doors. “Your Royal Highness, Welcome to Seikaria, it is our honor to have you! Allow me.” He offered her a hand.

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure, Miss.”

“The pleasure is all mine…” She trailed off, raising an eyebrow at him as she took his hand.

“Alkain. Alkain Ciranes, Your Highness.”

“It’s wonderful to make your acquaintance, Alkain. Might I ask, what your position is that you would be sent to greet me in place of the king?”

“I am an advisor, your Highness, and a negotiator. The King wishes you well, but he cannot greet you himself as he is busy finishing the preparation for your arrival. You did arrive quite a bit earlier than expected, would you like to see the palace?”

“It would be my pleasure.” The Princess smiled at him and allowed him to take her arm and lead her toward the palace doors.

Kinnea followed close behind as Alkain and the princess made polite conversation. “We’re so glad to have you, your highness.”

“Valeran and Seikaria have been at odds for far too long. We must agree upon a treaty as soon as possible.”

“Do you think there will be peace?”

“There has to be, and I have no doubts with you in the negotiations.”

“You flatter me, your Highness.” Alkain bowed his head. “This is the war room where we will discuss the treaty.”

He led her through the halls, showing her to the ballroom as the King sent for him.

“Your Royal Highness!” The king smiled at the princess. She clung to Alkain’s arm, and smiled, though her voice came pleasantly through gritted teeth.

“Your Majesty, it is good to see you!”

“I’m glad to see you too Nirscia.” The King bowed to her. “And you, Alkain! You look good, I’m glad Kinnea did her job well!”

“My presence has probably become bothersome to two minds so great as yours. I will be on my way. It was truly an honor to make your acquaintance, your Royal Highness.”

“It is truly a pity to see you go. Must you?” Her smile lifted a little as he let go of her arm.

“It seems I must, I hope I will meet you again.” He bowed.

“I’ll still be within the walls for a few more weeks, don’t say farewell too soon. I may miss you myself!” She raised a hand, and Alkain retreated, smiling.

“He's one of your advisors?”

“Correct.”

“He's very sweet. I think I'll enjoy his company.”

“I'll be sure to tell him that for you.” The King smiled. “I hope you have a good time here. But before we join in on any of the festivities, I would like to discuss things.”

Throughout the rest of the night, the princess was warmly welcomed by the palace officials and servants and retired to her room late after the sun had already gone to rest beyond the horizon. 

Alkain drew the blinds and laid on his back, staring at the ceiling. Everything seemed different now. What with the princess in the castle, there would have to be double the preparations and double the meetings to compensate for the negotiations. 

He sighed. Closing his eyes, when all of a sudden, a hand reached over him and he jumped, pulling the knife from his sleeve and holding it to her neck. Kinnea glanced down at the knife, unflinching. “Sir. I don't think the king would appreciate a death in the palace while the princess is here.”

“Oh… it's you.” Alkain lowered the knife. “What are you doing?”

“Taking off your suit, sir. It would be uncomfortable to sleep in, and it may rip.”

“Um… thank you, Kinnea.”

“Hm.” She nodded as he sat up and allowed her to take it from his shoulders, handing her the tie.

“You're dismissed Kinnea.”

She nodded to him and left.

***

Alkain startled awake at a sharp jab to his shoulder. “Ow!” Kinnea set the poker down and straightened. The Elf rubbed his shoulder and sat up. “What the hell was that?”

The servant didn’t reply.

“You can speak.”

“The king wished for me to wake you. So I did, Sir. My apologies.”

“Did you have to stab me with a poker?”

“No.” 

Kinnea fixed his hair and his coat before he left for the meeting. 

The Elf took a seat in the middle of the table. The Princess waved to him. He smiled back in her direction and bowed his head. “It is good to see you again, Your Highness.”

“It's good to see you again as well, Mister Ciranes.”

“Could I get you a drink?”

“Oh. But that’s a servant’s job, isn’t it?”

“But it is an honor to serve you, Your Highness. I am not a royal such as yourself, so I am content resting in my station below yours if it means I get to elevate yours.” He stood and went to a cart, pouring a cup of water for the princess as he knelt and reached for her hand. “May I?”

“I’m a little afraid, what are you asking?” She smiled, offering it to him.

Alkain took her delicate fingers, rubbing his calloused thumb over her soft, smooth skin. “I’m offended you would consider me a threat, Your Highness.” He smiled and raised her hand, brushing his lips gently over her knuckles.

She laughed, “Your hair looks nice.”

“Thank you. You’re more beautiful than I could even describe, your highness!” He retreated to his seat, eyes straying back to her as his words echoed back in his mind. Her thick brunette hair spilled over her shoulders in waves, an intricate web of braids tying together into a strange pattern behind her head, showing off the glittering beads and pearls weaved into the glossy strands.

“Good morning everyone.” The King strode into the room and sat on his throne, surveying the table before he leaned forward. “We have a lot to discuss before the whole palace wakes, and starts missing us.”

A few of the advisors chuckled at the statement as the king began. “Princess Nirscia has come to our kingdom to finalize the terms of the peace treaty, and we will make her journey worthwhile. Valeran and Seikaria will have peace once more, but for now, we will go over the terms of the previous treaties and discuss why they failed and what we can do to make this one last.”

The meeting proceeded quickly and efficiently, suggestions, ideas, and details whirling in Alkain's head as he was assigned his job and sent to do it. 

He glanced between the servants in front of him. “Alright. You, go fetch some parchment. The rest of you,  find the rest of our team. We need a plan before noon.”

“Yessir!” The servants saluted him and promptly scampered off to their separate jobs. Alkain took the pieces of parchment as they were offered to him and scratched off a list of tasks on each one. He handed all four of them off to separate servants as he raced to find the team's planner. 

He found her in the gardens, conversing with the princess over a bush of roses. He called over to her. She looked up. “Ah, Mister Ciranes! What brings you here?”

“You, Miss. We need you for preparations inside. If you could.”

“Your Highness?”

“Got are welcome to go if you wish, but I would like to borrow the king's advisor for a moment.”

“Oh of course your highness, if he agrees. But we may need him back. Make sure you handle our fragile package carefully in conversation, he's a little brittle.”

Alkain stared after the planner in shock. The Princess giggled, trailing a hand down the leaves of the rose bush.

“Um, what would you like, Your Highness?”

“Only a moment, I know you're busy. Please,” She waved him over. “You have been nothing but kind and welcoming to me, and I appreciate that. Mister, Ciranes, you are fascinating and amazingly respectful. I may enjoy your company.”

“I… thank you, Your Highness!” Alkain broke into a grin. “That means a lot coming from someone so great as yourself.” His face tinged pink and he avoided her eyes.

“Hm.” The Princess smiled as she plucked a rose from the bush and flinched as a thorn pricked her, drawing a bead of blood from the pad of her finger. But she ignored it, threading the rose into the breast of his overcoat. “You're a lot like this Rose, Ciranes. Complex and beautiful. But those virtues make many… forget your flaws, and shield their eyes from seeing your danger. It takes someone skilled and thorough to appreciate you fully.” She pulled away, the drop of blood staining into the dark fabric. “Open up a little! It might do you some good!” 

Alkain looked down at the Rose, “Alright, I will make it my mission, Your Highness.”

“Would you like to join me for tea this afternoon?”

“I… yes. I think I would like that very much, Your Highness

“I'll see you soon.”

“Um… yes! I'll see you soon… Your Highness.”

Alkain turned quickly, face flushing as he cursed himself in his mind. Stupid, no, that was awkward and weird. She is a princess, you are a low-ranking advisor who comes from a slave house. That is your worth. You are dirt compared to her.

He brushed off his uniform, face and ears still pink as he returned to the house and stepped up beside the planner. The elf cleared his throat, “How is it going so far?”

“Well. The lists you made were remarkably accurate- Are you okay? You're looking a little sick.”

“Uh, no, I… uh… I'm fine!”

“You sure? Your face is a bit red.”

“Yeah! It's just… a very hot coat. I'll go inside and… survey the progress!”

“Don't be gone too long, we just might miss you!”

After a few hours of planning and preparation, Alkain went to greet the princess. They discussed cultures and kingdoms before night fell and he returned to his room. The next day continued about the same, and the next. But after the days of preparation came to a close, a dinner invitation came to his hands from the king. 

“Welcome! All of you, I thought it would be best if we were all acquainted before the ball tomorrow so we mustn't make the hassle of introductions.”

“Nirscia, this is my wife, Jevari, and my son, our future king, Makan.”

“Lovely to meet you!” The princess curtsied and Makan stood.

“Your Highness.” The Little prince kissed her hand and bowed, smiling hopefully up at her.

“You'll make a good king one day, I know it.”

“Thank you!” The little boy nodded to her and scampered back to his parents. 

Alkain smiled as the princess greeted the king and queen. She chose the seat next to him. “Good evening.”

“Good Evening, Your Highness. Are you well?” 

“Indeed, I am.” The Princess smiled back and turned to her meal, making light conversation with the royal family as the dishes were brought out. 

Nirscia looked at the roasted meat, surprise flickering over her face. “You have birds large enough to eat here in Seikaria?”

“You don't?”

“No! I haven't seen meat like this in ages, this is amazing!” She grinned.

“It may look nice, Your Highness. But trust me, It tastes even better.” 

“We'll just have to see, won't we?” 

“We will indeed. But I bet you'll like it!” Alkain smirked.

“Perhaps I will, Perhaps I won't.” She winked at him. “What are these spices?”

“I think it's a type of pepper flakes? I don't know. You'd have to ask the chef.”

“Hm, do you like it?”

“I do, are you having a difficult time admitting I was right, your Highness?”

“I like it as well. I'm perfectly capable of admitting anything I need to, Mister Ciranes.”

The two laughed and talked for the rest of the meal until the king finished and dismissed them. The Advisor stood, offering the princess his hand. “Would you like me to escort you back to your room, Your Highness?”

Nirscia hesitated, shock sparking in her eyes before a smile softened her lips and she took it, allowing him to lead her into the hallway. “You look nice… Mister Ciranes.”

“As do you, Your Highness. But I have no doubt you’re more beautiful than I could ever hope to be.” Alkain smiled as he held her arm a bit tighter, turning a corner. “I’m glad I’ve been able to see you so much, Your Highness. I really appreciate your kindness.”

“And I, yours. But Mister Ciranes, My name is Nirscia, you may use it.”

“And Mine is Alkain.” He smiled as her hands slipped into his.

“Alright Alkain, I’ve loved your company, but there is something else you need to know.” She glanced around.

“What?” The Elf tilted his head, his other arms raising to hold her hands as well.

Nirscia spun him toward the wall and pinned his arms above his head. She took a breath and kissed him.

Alkain’s eyes widened, but instead of pulling back as he knew he should, he leaned into it and kissed her back, his body melting into the wall, electric sparks racing between her fingertips and his wrists. They stayed there for a while until they had to pull back, both gasping. 

“I… Your High- Princess Nirscia… What-”

“Don’t speak… please.”

“I… I’m flattered!” Alkain sputtered, his entire face turning beat red.

“And I- Oh shit.” The Princess’s face flushed a bright pink, but this time Alkain threw his arms around her and pulled her back into another kiss, finding one another over and over again, until both fell back, Alkain too flustered to speak as Nirscia gathered her composure, accepting what had just happened.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” Alkain hugged all of his arms to his chest and looked down.

“I… I love you?” The Princess looked at him, her statement just as much of a question as an answer.

The two locked eyes and Alkain tripped over his words several times before he fumbled a response. “I don’t… this is… I love you too. I’m sorry… just- I- I’ll see you tomorrow!” He bolted down the hallway, the heat in his face burning hotter with every second as he slammed himself into his room and collapsed onto his bed, panting.

Kinnea didn’t comment as she pulled off his overcoat and tossed him a nightshirt, drawing the blinds and snuffing out the candles for him. But she did, as he wrestled on the nightshirt. “Is there anything you need, sir?”

“Uh, no. I… It’s a lot cleaner in here. Thank you Kinnea.”

She nodded to him and left.

***

“What happened to make you so panicked last night, sir?” Kinnea fixed the sleeves of his undershirt and fluffed the ruffles around his neck.

“Can I trust you with a secret?”

“Yes. I am your servant, it is my job to keep your secrets.”

“Even from the king?”

Kinnea looked up for a second, then said, “Yes. Even from the King.”

“Well, The Princess kissed me.”

“Huh.” Kinnea picked up an overcoat.

“I don’t know why she did it, but it was nice. I know I can’t be with her, but it’s a strange feeling. I’m not sure what I should do, it’s a little terrifying, to be completely honest.”

“Can you keep that a secret?”

“Yes?”

“Can she keep it a secret?”

“I think so. Why?”

“Then you have nothing to worry for, sir. Anything else?” Kinnea finished with his suit, moving onto his hair.

Alkain stopped, a little stunned. “I- Thank you.”

Kinnea ruffled up his hair, weaving some simple braids into a higher ponytail. She stepped back and nodded. “You should be ready there, sir.”

“Thank you Kinnea. I mean it.”

Kinnea stopped and glanced back at the other room.

“Go on, put on your dress. I’m not leaving without you.” Alkain took a flower from a vase, fixing it to the lapel of his suit, and waited by the door until Kinnea stepped out of the room, tense and straight-faced.

The long black dress covered her feet, intricate golden swirls matching the ones on Alkain’s suit. “It looks nice.” He took her by the arm and led her down the hallways into the main ballroom, breaking away from her to greet the princess, Kinnea trailing close behind him.

He knelt, kissing her hand. “Your Highness, It’s good to see you, Princess Nirscia.”

“As I am glad to see you, Alkain.”

“Glad to hear it!”

A long silence stretched between them. The Princess lowered her voice. “About last night, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean you any harm or disrespect, I hope we can remain on good terms.”

“As do I.” Alkain offered her his arm. “May I have a dance?”

“Of course.” Nirscia followed him to the dance floor, both ready to escape the topic of the previous night for the time being.

The Dances took them to afternoon, some light conversation and greetings with other friends bringing the ball to a height as it grew dark. The King rose from his throne to speak, but just as he began, a shriek pierced the dim atmosphere and something hit him, sending him reeling back against the throne. He wavered for a second on his feet and fell back into his seat, crown clattering to the floor beside him as he cried out. He reached for something, voice too faint to hear even in the perfectly still silence, and then he fell limp, deep scarlet red pooling at the base of the throne. Panic erupted. Voices shouted, and Alkain screamed, the shock finally dropping as he pulled for the king. Makan started for his father, but the queen whisked him away. Crowds jostled and guards crowded around the room. Alkain couldn’t tell what was happening anymore as two people pulled on his wrists. Kinnea fought back grief and fear, fighting to protect her master, as Nirscia tugged Alkain away from her into the crowd.

Chaos turned His vision blurry and confused him to the point of madness until the Guards managed to calm the crowds and file them out of the room. The next few hours were spent in shock and fast-paced decisions until the Queen announced that the Assassin had been found to be a Valerίan. This meant war, and the Princess had to leave.

Alkain stopped, horrified and confused. Everything had changed so fast. What had happened? He slammed the doors open and ran to find Nirscia. They met in the entrance, and she wrapped him into a kiss the instant he drew close enough, not caring of the witnesses, as she grabbed his shoulders, voice stern and fiery. “Alkain, This means war. But no matter how long it takes or what I have to do, I will be back for you.”

-

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|Part 1 | Part 2 (Here) | Part 3|

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