#the character death was always there though

[1queer-bookworm]

I love the exploration of "good" endings for this game, specifically the ones after the crash.

The game will always be the true ending, of course, the way the story was intended to be told and the way it would have played out in-universe. Especially in the context of tragedies, in the sens that a tragedy is often a situation that is inevitable not because of outside circumstances (though that is often part of it) but a result of the characters. Lots of good endings, I find, come from characters doing something that they wouldn't have or "OOC", because in these kinds of stories for things to not end in a trainwreck the characters have to behave in a way antithetical to themselves, to not be themselves.

These kind of "good" endings, though, I'm obsessed with. The ones where the characters go through most of the game's most awful events but still find themselves alive at the end of the day. It robs them of the pain that comes with their deaths, but also of the finality of it. Anya still suffered and still has to suffer, because she's alive. I choose to view this comic as coming from a timeline where her attempted suicide failed, so she finds herself after the horrors still alive and still in pain but with a future. Curly, too, probably doesn't view this situation as a good one, just one with a future. That's what's horrible and beautiful about the realistically "good" endings : things were bad, things ARE bad, you don't know how to feel about anything, but you're alive.

So, to end this messy train of thought, this comic hurts but also soothes the soul. Because the characters still failed, failed each other, failed themselves, still suffered, still have to take responsibility, but because they are still alive there is the possibility of a brighter future.

maybe never forgive. but things are different now. so we'll use maybe.

[witchesverse]

please, don't.

pairing: agathario x reader

summary/request: you're an inexperienced witch who tried to stop her coven from executing agatha. after agatha kills them, rio appears, and that is how you meet the loves of your life. once you and nicholas die, agatha and rio part ways, only to see each other on the witches' road.

content: character death, getting shot, blood, crying, begging, angst without a happy ending.

masterlist

a/n: erm so im not entirely sure if this what u wanted but this is what i wrote anyway :> icl this is not what i normally write so if it sucks that's why lol

1693

The forest was typically quiet, the only sound being the running of water and the chirping of a bird. You loved the quiet, though. After living in a busy, loud village for most of your life; the quietness was peaceful. Plus, it gave you a chance to practice your witchcraft without someone screaming in your ear about it. But, it sometimes got lonely.

So, when you heard the loud screams and cries of a woman, it peaked your curiosity and you crept towards it.

One half of your brain was blaring alarm bells. This could easily be a trap that you were foolishly walking into. But, the other half of your brain told you that there could be someone in danger and you couldn’t not help them.

Your eyes widened. There was a group of women standing around a small stage with a woman tied to the pole in the center. The scream must have come from her.

“You stole knowledge above your age and you practiced the darkest of dark magic.” One of the women spoke. “You will be executed for your crimes, Agatha.”

Even before you started practicing witchcraft, dark magic had always been an interest for you. You had dreamt of learning dark magic and becoming a powerful, twisted witch. Now, this was your perfect chance to learn dark magic and your teacher was about to be executed. 

You couldn’t let that happen.

You were positive that these witches had centuries of witchcraft on you, but that didn’t stop you from throwing an attack spell at them. You impressively managed to hit 3/6. The three witches that you hit fell to the ground and squirmed in pain.

Unfortunately, you were blasted into a tree by one of the other witches. You groaned. You felt like all your bones had been snapped in half. 

Two witches lifted you to your feet and dragged you in front of the oldest looking witch. She was angry.

“Who is this pathetic excuse of a witch?” She asked.

“The hell did you just call me?” You roared. “I’ll snap your fucking neck.”

Your threat was empty. You had never inflicted such damage against a person, but you hated being called a ‘pathetic witch’. You preferred the term ‘inexperienced witch’ or ‘baby witch’.

“I’ll deal with her after this.” She waved her hand and you were dragged to a tree, hands bound behind your back with magic.

You couldn’t believe it. You had lost your chance of learning dark magic and now, you were probably going to be killed. That is beyond embarrassing.

You flinched as Agatha was blasted with six beams of magic. Normally, that would kill a person immediately, but she didn’t die. She screamed in pain but with horror, you watched as their blue beams turned purple and they had the life sucked out of them.

Their lifeless bodies slumped to the floor. “Holy shit.”

Agatha sighed, stepping down from the stage and looking contently at the dead bodies of her coven members. You accidently snapped a twig underneath your foot as you moved towards her, causing her attention to snap to you.

“You tried to save me. Why?” She asked.

“You’re unique and that interests me. Not many witches practice dark magic anymore and I want you to teach me.”

Suddenly, you felt an uncomfortable and cold feeling wash over you. You glanced around the forest until your eyes landed on her.

“I must say, that was quite the performance.” 

The woman moved towards Agatha and you. There was an unsettling feeling about her - something not human. 

“And you are?” Agatha questioned.

“Rio Vidal.” She bowed dramatically. “And I think we’re going to make a perfect team, baby.”

1815

You scowled and crossed your arms. You had been trying to successfully do this spell for the past 5 months, but you haven’t been able to. It frustrated you that you couldn’t do it.

Agatha kissed the top of your head as she walked past you. “You’ll get it at some point, sweetheart.”

You noticed the basket of fresh strawberries in her hand. “What’s that for?”

“We’re having a picnic.” Your eyes lit up and she smiled. “Come on. Grab your coat, it’ll be cold.”

You walked for 20 minutes until the thick trees faded and you walked into an opening. It was beautiful. You followed the trail of flowers that led to the edge of a cliff, the strong smell of wet grass and salty seawater combined with a nice breeze made you smile.

“There are my girls.” Rio sat cross-legged on one of the cushions on the picnic blanket and smiled at you. She patted the cushion in the middle and you sat down.

There were different types of fruit, baked goods, and drinks spread around the blanket.

“When did you plan this?” You asked.

Agatha sat next to you and placed her hand on your thigh. She always put her hand there; she said it made her feel at peace.

“A few weeks ago.” She answered, grabbing a grape and popping it in her mouth. “We figured you deserve a reward for doing so well in your learning.”

You kissed both of their cheeks. “Thank you.”

For a while, you talked and ate with them whilst looking out into the ocean. You excitedly pointed out every marine animal you spotted in the waves, which caused Rio to spew facts about them. After being around since the start of death, she had many nerdy facts about animals.

Once the sun had started to set, you became sleepy. Your head was resting in Rio’s lap and she scratched lightly at your scalp, lulling you to sleep. Agatha sat with her head resting against Rio’s shoulder and they quietly talked.

You sighed happily. Sometimes you thought about what your life would have been like if you didn’t try to help Agatha. You wouldn’t have met Agatha and you would’ve first met Rio once you died. 

Suddenly, there was a loud scream.

You all stood and became very aware of how exposed you were in the opening. There was silence for a few moments, then there was another scream and a gunshot.

“You need to go.” Rio shoved Agatha and you towards the forest.

“What’s going on?” You couldn’t hide the panic in your voice.

“Witch hunters.”

Your heart dropped. Lately, there was an uprising in witch hunting, but you thought that you lived far enough from a village that there was no risk. Clearly, you were wrong.

Agatha grabbed onto your wrist and dragged you through the forest. You shook in fear with each gunshot and scream you heard. Even though your girlfriend was Death, death still scared you.

“Oh, and what do we have here?”

You froze and Agatha cursed loudly, shoving you behind her. A man stood in front of Agatha with his gun pointed at her with a sick, twisted smile on his face.

He pulled the trigger.

You don’t even know how your body reacted that quickly, but you managed to step in front of Agatha and took the bullet straight through your heart. You dropped to the ground, blood spurting from your chest.

Agatha screamed and blasted the boy with her magic, leaving a blazing hole in his stomach. His lifeless body collapsed. 

“No, no, no.”

Agatha turned you on your back. There was blood dripping from your mouth and your chest. She couldn’t feel a heartbeat.

“Agatha.”

Rio stood next to her.

“Shut up, Rio.” She snapped. “Please, shut up.”

“Agatha.” She said more sternly. 

Agatha shook her head. “You can stop this. Bring her back to life.”

Rio sighed and crouched next to your body. She tried to brush your hair out of face but Agatha slapped her hand away.

“Do not touch her.” She spat. “You bring her back to life or you don’t fucking touch her, do you understand me?”

Rio stood, her face emotionless. She stared at Agatha, almost like she was waiting for Agatha to change her mind, but once she realised there was nothing more she would say, she left.

1887

Agatha cried out in pain and leaned on a tree for support. After carrying her child for 9 months, he was finally ready. With tears falling down her cheeks, she prepared herself for birth. 

She was finally going to meet her boy. 

Then, she saw the familiar figure.

“No, please.” She cried as Rio stepped towards her. “My love, please don’t do this to me again.”

Rio didn’t reply.

“You took Y/n from me. Please give my boy, I need him.” She begged. “I will hate you forever if you do this.”

Rio swallowed. “I can only offer time.”

And so she did. Agatha birthed a healthy baby boy who she named Nicholas, and he lived for six years until Rio took him. Once again, Agatha’s heart broke and she was left alone.

2026

Since the death of Nicholas and yourself, Agatha and Rio weren’t in contact. Agatha hated her with every fiber in her body. Rio, on the other hand, missed and craved Agatha with every fiber in her body.

So, when Rio was summoned to The Witches’ Road, the exact place where Agatha stood, they both felt strong emotions.

“Agatha,”

It was quiet, besides the occasional snores from Alice. If you were there, you would have considered it to be peaceful and relaxing. 

“I know you’re awake, Agatha.”

Rio carefully stepped over the sleeping bodies and sat in front of Agatha. She rolled her eyes when she saw that Agatha had her eyes shut, pretending to be asleep.

Rio flicked her forehead. “I want us to talk.”

Agatha glared at her and sat up. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

Rio grabbed Agatha’s collar and tugged her forward. Agatha tried to recoil but Rio kept her close. 

“Yet, there is.” She insisted. “They wouldn’t want us to be like this. Y/n would want us move on and continue living the perfect life that we had.”

“Don’t say that. You have no idea what they would want.” Agatha scoffed.

"Do you seriously think that Y/n and Nicky would want us to live with anger and hurt for each other?"

Agatha didn't respond.

Being this close to each other, Rio noticed small details about Agatha’s face. There was a small scar under her left eye that hadn’t been there before, and she wondered where she got that from.

“It broke my heart to take both of them from you. I did not enjoy watching you cry and beg, but-"

Agatha cut her off. “Once we get off The Witches’ Road, I do not want to see your face again. I want you to leave me alone, do you understand?”

Rio felt her heart break and she blinked back tears. She released Agatha from her grasp and stood. If Agatha truly didn’t want to see Rio’s face again, she would respect that, no matter how bad it hurt her.

[lefteagleblizzard]

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔡𝔞𝔯𝔨 𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔥

Mike munroe x male reader

Summary: A year has passed since Hannah and Beth's disappearance after the prank and Josh has invited everyone back to the lodge to relive old memories. But when you and Mike take a detour to the cabin, the night spirals into a nightmare beyond anything you imagined. Now, you're thrust into a desperate fight for survival as a vengeful Wendigo prowls the mountain, hungry for flesh and revenge.

Tags: Male reader. He/him pronouns are used towards the reader. Takes place during the events of the game. Mike and Emily/Jess are not together in this. No use of Y/N. Mike and the reader are now together. Smut. Gay smut. Top Mike munroe. Bottom male reader. Anal sex. More plot than porn. Lots of characters deaths, some more explicit but nothing too graphic. Happy ending?

Part 2 of 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔡𝔥 𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔥. The chapters that i focused on are chapter 1-3-4-7-8-10 to anyone interested <3. When you see long spaces it means that we are moving to the next chapter. I hope nothing is too confusing, i tried my best.

Words count: 12000

Can also be found on wattpad and ao3

𝔗𝔴𝔬 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔰 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔬𝔤𝔢𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯

𝔍𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔶 𝔞𝔱 𝔅𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔨𝔴𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔐𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔦𝔫

𝔄 𝔱𝔬𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫 𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔢

ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔶𝔬𝔲

The sky is tinged with fading sunlight, casting a warm glow over the snow-covered mountains.

The place is quieter than usual. With just you, Mike and Ashley here so far, it feels almost peaceful.

Josh is nowhere to be seen, likely off searching for a way to enter the lodge, and Mike is beside you, his arm wrapped lazily around your waist as he takes a look at the place.

You're leaning on one of the woody rail nearby, hand playing with the snow there.

"You’re excited to see Chris again?" You asked Ashley quietly, leaning against Mike and feeling a warmth settle in your chest at the sight of her expression.

She looks up from her phone and a slight blush spreads across her cheeks "Well... he's always excited to be here, right? I mean, we're all friends."

"That's why you've checked your phone about a hundred times in the last ten minutes?"

She bites her lip, a flustered laugh escaping her as she glances away. "I was just... you know, checking the time, that's all."

"Of course," you reply, letting your voice carry the full weight of your teasing. "You two would be great together, though. You know that?"

"Thanks," she murmurs, glancing up at you with a look of gratitude before looking down at her phone.

You feel Mike shift beside you, and his hand finds yours, his fingers intertwined with yours in a gentle, familiar way that sends a pleasant warmth up your arm.

He leans in close to your ear and whispers something just for you to hear. "What do you say, handsome?" he murmurs. "Think we could sneak off for a bit? Just you, me, and a cozy little spot out back?" His hand drifts lower behind your back to playfully squeeze your butt. "I know a lot of ways to warm you up. Want to experience them yourself?"

You snort, rolling your eyes as a flush creeps up your cheeks. "I'm not doing that out here in the cold. You'll have to wait."

"You're worth waiting for," he grumbles, flashing that grin again to you.

"I'm going to check if Sam and Chris are here yet," you say, glancing up at him and kissing his lips quickly . "Be back soon."

Mike raises a hand in a lazy wave as he watched you walking away. "I'll be here, waiting patiently... or impatiently, whatever comes first."

You've started to run down the path for fun, the snow crunching beneath your boots. Memories of your year with Mike drift through your mind, one after another. The excitement and nervousness of your first date, that late-night drive to a quiet lookout. The countless messages he'd send daily, even when he was busy, letting you know he was thinking about you or the way he looks at you like you're the only person who matters. The cold seems to fade, replaced by a warmth that fills you from head to toe.

The anniversary of those memories is just around the corner, and the thought of spending it with him brings a grin to your face.

Soon enough, you see two familiar faces behind a closed door. You rushed there in time and pressed the button to open it.

Sam's face lights up as she pulls you into a tight hug. "It's been ages! How's it been?” she says, her voice full of genuine happiness.

You chuckle, patting her shoulder as you step back. "Good! Life's good. And you? How's everything been?"

She shrugs, a wry smile on her face. "Nothing that exciting to know. I hope everything will go well this weekend" her face shifted for a second as she glanced back at the lodge far ahead.

Chris steps forward, his smile wide as he gives you a friendly clap on the shoulder. "Hey, man. Glad you could make it. I saw all the stories and posts Mike put on his socials. Someone gave you a little push in the right direction, eh?"

You nod, feeling a smile spread across your face. "Yeah, we are. He's... well, he's pretty amazing. Guess he hasn’t figured out how weird I am yet. Finger crossed for another year of him tolerating me"

Chris laughed loudly together with you. "Damn, look at that! I knew my matchmaking skills were top-notch." He gestures to himself with a mock bow. Sam stifles a laugh, giving you a knowing smile.

"Oh yeah, because you totally did all the work," she teases, nudging him with her elbow.

You can't help the fondness that fills you as you open your arms and pull both of them into a spontaneous group hug. "Missed my besties," you say, squeezing them both.

Chris groans playfully, though he leans in, and Sam laughs, wrapping her arms around you, warmth flooding through the three of you.

Sam pulls back a little, looking up at you with a thoughtful smile. "So, wanna do some hiking trip this weekend? Or are you too busy with... boyfriend things?"

You laugh, nodding eagerly. "Of course, I'll make time for it. Want to add some climbing as well?" You glance over at Chris, adding with a grin, "I think Ashley's been looking forward to seeing you, too”

Chris freezes, his face paling slightly as he stares at you with wide eyes. "Wait, what did you tell her?"

You raise an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "What do you mean? I just mentioned a few things. Gave her a heads-up that you were excited to see her."

Sam bites back a laugh, watching Chris squirm with a mixture of amusement and sympathy. "Relax, Chris. It's not like she doesn't already know. You're kind of obvious, you know?"

Chris groans, rubbing a hand over his face. "This is going to be a nightmare," he mutters, but there's a small, almost shy smile on his face, like he's secretly looking forward to it.

The three of you head back up toward the lodge, chatting and catching up as you walk, the snow crunching underfoot as the familiar outline of the building comes into view.

You see Mike leaning against the wall. His eyes light up when he sees you and he pushes off the wall, making his way over.

“You made me wait way too long” he teases, slipping an arm around your waist as he pulls you close.

You roll your eyes, though you can't help but smile as he presses a quick kiss to your temple. "Please. You'd have followed me down if I took any longer."

"Damn right I would have," he replies, giving your waist a gentle squeeze. "Can't let my favorite guy get too far out of sight."

All four of you catch up on everything you missed out on each others in this days.

Josh, fighting with the frozen handle, calls Chris over for some help. Chris nods toward him and you went to follow to help and get the chance to talk with Josh after all this time

The decision you made a year ago, involving Hannah, still haunted you. It only grew worse with each passing day after her and Beth’s disappearance. You couldn’t bring yourself to speak with him without the crushing weight of guilt for what had happened to his sisters.

He doesn't look up right away, his shoulders tense, jaw set. For a moment, he's just staring at the door, like he's somewhere far away. Finally, he turns, his face relaxing into a grin.

Chris, concern evident in his voice, asks, "You doing okay?"

Josh nods, though there's a hesitation there, something unspoken. "Yeah. Just past it now, you know? Ready for a weekend with my friends. Let's make it memorable."

Josh then turns to look at you with an unexpected question, almost casually asking, "Let’s say you’re in a life-or-death situation. Who do you save? The person you’ve got a crush on or Chris, your best friend?"

The question catches you off guard. Chris blinks, staring at Josh in confusion while you feel your own stomach twist in discomfort. You laugh it off at first but Josh doesn't drop it, his gaze steady and unyielding.

Answer honestly. It would mean reaffirming the loyalty and depth of your friendship, showing that friendship holds a unique importance to you, separate from romantic affection.

Deflect with humor. Joking about the choice would ease the tension. Chris might laugh it off and Josh's curiosity would go unsatisfied. However it would hint that maybe you're avoiding vulnerability.

Answer honestly

You rest a hand on Chris's shoulder, meeting Josh's gaze with a steady look. "I'd save Chris," you say, your voice calm but sincere. "A crush isn't enough to put a friend's life at risk or, you know, my own life. In that case you would cover me up, right?" You winked at Chris at the last part, hoping to ease the tension that Josh brought. Chris's expression shifts, softening, his eyes reflecting a gratitude that goes unspoken. A flicker of recognition passes through his gaze, something understood as he analyzed your words carefully.

ℬ𝓊𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇𝒻𝓁𝓎 ℯ𝒻𝒻ℯ𝒸𝓉 𝓊𝓅𝒹𝒶𝓉ℯ𝒹

"So that means you'd pick me over Mike?" he teases, his voice light and a grin present on his face.

You laugh, nudging him lightly. "That’s a different story! Especially now that I've been together with him for almost a year. If a psycho for some reason forces me to make a choice between you two, I'll probably just throw myself off a cliff or something"

The snow crunched beneath your feet as you followed Mike, your breaths visible in the chill mountain air. Ahead, the small cabin came into view, a hidden little nook away from the lodge where Mike said he wanted to take you to.

On the way there, you came across a small and old looking building where Mike strode over, walking inside through the missing door. You waited, your curiosity piqued as you heard the sounds of him rummaging around.

A moment later, he reappeared, holding a mask, rusty and all black. He slipped it on, the mask completely covering his face.

"C'mere, gimme a kiss" he teased, his voice muffled behind the mask. He leaned forward, the masked face inching closer, but you recoiled, scrunching your nose in mock disgust.

“Mike, that thing probably had more mouths on it than a barstool"

He pauses, considering your words, then yanks it off, wincing in disgust. "Fair point."

He tosses the mask aside and wrapped his arm around you as you continue walking.

An horrible sound echoed from a distance, followed by a scream of pain from an deer. You soon enough spotted one lying off the path breathing heavily, its body twisted at an unnatural angle. A large gash along its neck. You glance at Mike, who steps forward and tries to think of what to do.

Put an End to Its Suffering. The deer's labored breaths shudder through the cold air. He could end it now, spare the creature further pain, the mercy quick and final.

Comfort the Deer. The creature lies there, its body trembling from pain and fear. He could try to soothe it, offer it a few last moments of peace, a kindness amidst the cruelty of the wilderness.

He takes a slow breath, crouching down, his hand reaching out and he makes his choice.

Put an end to it’s suffering

There's a serious look in his eyes as he kneels beside it, placing a steady hand on the deer to calm it. "You, uh... might want to look away."

But you don't. You watch as he tries to do the humane thing and took a step forward to try and help him out but he moves his hands, trying to get a solid grip and with an unexpected crunch, the wound worsens and the deer's head comes off in his hands.

Mike recoils, eyes wide, dropping the head immediately. "Oh, holy-!" he takes a shaky step back, brushing his hands on his jeans with a horrified expression.

You're just as stunned, your own eyes wide as you take in the surreal sight but something rustles nearby and snatch the deer's body, dragging it off into the woods with surprising speed

“Run!" Mike grabs your hand, the fear and adrenaline sending you both flying back toward the chalet. Snow kicks up in clouds beneath your boots as you sprint, your heart pounding with the thrill and terror of whatever that creature was. The wind cuts cold against your face but you barely feel it as you focus on Mike's hand holding yours pulling you forward.

"Don't let go!" he calls, glancing back every few steps to make sure you're right there beside him.

The cabin looms ahead and as soon as you reach the door, he shoves it open, practically pulling you inside before slamming it shut behind you. Both of you stand there, breathing hard, adrenaline buzzing through your veins as you process what just happened.

“Maybe it was a bear?” Mike tried to make sense of the situation you experienced.

“I didn’t see or hear a bear, though” there is a drop of sweat already present on your forehead.

“Don’t think about it. Whatever animal it was, it can’t come here inside”

You sank into the couch, the air inside the cabin was carrying a faint scent of cedar and something earthy. You glanced over at Mike who plopped down right next to you, his body pressing close.

He leaned back, casually draping an arm over the back of the couch. His hand found its way to your thigh, his fingers settling there naturally, like it was the most ordinary thing in the world.

"You know," he said, his voice low and filled with a familiar warmth, I may have asked Josh if we could stay here tonight. Just us, in this cozy little love shack." He turned to look at you, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous glint that made your heart skip a beat.

"Didn't expect to be sweating out here with you for saving my life," you replied, a playful tone in your voice.

He let out a soft laugh, his fingers giving a light squeeze on your thigh.“If you think this heat is something, wait until we really turn it up.” he teased back, his voice dropping to a whisper as he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Something catches his attention and he gets up from the couch. Mike's eyes narrow playfully as he raises his chin in a mock proud stance, grabbing a old rifle from its spot by the wall and lifting it.

"Look. I'd make an amazing hunter, don’t you think?" he boasts, posing with the rifle as if he were an expert marksman. "Picture it: me coming back every day with something new for you. Deer, elk, maybe even a bear if I'm feeling ambitious."

You snicker, crossing your arms as you lean back. "Right. And we’ll celebrate the collection by starting with the head of that deer with something written on it like: 'Local Hero Mike Munroe terrorized by Bambi’"

"Oh, you're hilarious," he mutters, setting the rifle aside as he strides over to you. "Keep that up and see what it gets you." He tossed his jacket aside as he felt the heat from the run catching up to him, remaining in a simple white tank top despite the weather outside.

"Oh, really?" you challenge, raising an eyebrow as you edge off the couch to toss your jacket on the table.

“If you're gonna make fun of me, you'd better be ready to back it up."

Before you knew it, he was lunging toward you, and you darted off, laughing as you escaped successfully around the other side of the couch, watching as he straightened up.

He raises an eyebrow, moving a few steps closer, his gaze playful but intense. He tilts his head, letting his gaze drift over you in a way that makes you feel hot inside. "Are you ready to lose?"

He lunges forward, his movements quick, almost catching you by surprise again, but you dart around him in time, laughing as you stay just out of reach.

Mike lets out a mock growl, his eyes narrowing as he starts to close the distance between you. "you're only making it worse for yourself." he says, his voice a soft, teasing murmur as he edges closer, arms wide open to catch any possible attempts you could make to slip away.

"How's that?" you challenge, keeping your distance as you hide behind the other side of the couch.

"Because when I catch you, it's going to be twice as sweet." and he lets out a playful growl, quickening his pace as he closes the distance between you and with a sudden burst of speed, he leapt over the couch, landing just in front of you. His hands wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

He leaned forward, one of his arm slipped underneath your knees and you were playfully hitting him on the shoulder to break free.

With a grunt, he managed to lift you up bridal style and dropped you on the couch.

Soon he pulled himself on top of you, hovering over your body completely, his weight keeping you trapped underneath him.

"Caught you," he murmured, his breath warm against your cheek as he looked down at you, his expression both triumphant and adoring.

"Alright, alright, you won," you whispered, feeling the heat rise in your face. But he didn't let go. Instead, he tightened his hold, tilting his head as his gaze softened, his fingers tracing slow, gentle patterns at your waist.

"Couldn't have asked for a better catch," he asked, his voice a low, teasing drawl. He leaned in, his lips brushing just barely against yours. Words got caught in your throat as he closed the distance, his mouth pressing firmly against yours, deep and insistent.

His hand moves to cradle the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he deepens the kiss, a kind of hunger in the way he holds you close, like he's savoring every second.

You respond, your hands slipping around his shoulders, pulling him closer.

Mike's hands slipped under your shirt, his touch firm as he dragged it over your head and tossed it aside.

He wasted no time, his lips returning to yours with fervor, his tongue pressed against yours, demanding and eager to get a taste.

His hands moved lower, undoing the button of your pants with practiced ease, and before you knew it, you were standing half-naked in front of him, your breath coming in shallow gasps.

His hands roaming over your skin, his lips trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your chest. His body pressing against yours as he continued his relentless assault on your senses.

His fingers worked at your waistband, pulling your pants down in one swift motion before he settled between your legs.

"You're so damn perfect," Mike growled against your skin, his breath hot and heavy. His light beard scraped tantalizingly against your flesh with every heated kiss. His lips moved with a possessive urgency, exploring your neck, trailing down with his hands.

You could feel the heat pooling in your stomach. Mike's hunger only fueled at the sight of you like this and when he finally reached between your legs, your body arched off the bed, desperate for more

Mike's own breath was unsteady, mingling with yours in a symphony of shared pleasure. You could feel the hardness of him pressing against you.

He wraps his hand around you firmly now, stroking you slowly as he kisses you deep. The vibration of your moans against his mouth made everything ten times better for him.

He kept stroking you and you curl into him.

Mike positioned himself in between your thighs, cock of his own throbbing through his jeans, rubbing his hardening self against your own with no remorse or embarrassment.

His hips buck up just slightly, seeking friction. You buckle his belt to pull him out of his jeans and boxers and he reaches down to help you. His mouth found yours again as his hands wrap around the both of you, rutting his leaking cock against yours, fucking into his palm.

You follow suit, hips rolling forward as you chase your high. He smirks against your lips before pulling away to look at you. "Ready?" he rasped, his voice thick with need.

"Fuck! Yes pleas-" You struggle to find the words, too lost in the pleasure of his dick against yours.

His hands moved to your waist, gripping you tightly as he deepened the kiss, tongue sliding against yours with a possessive hunger that made your knees weak.

The taste of him was intoxicating, and you found yourself drowning in a desperate attempt to get closer, to feel more of him.

He slid his hand between your thighs, his fingers brushing against your entrance. You could feel the anticipation building as he teased you, his touch deliberate and calculated.

Mike's fingers slid inside you slowly, stretching you open as he worked you with a steady rhythm that had you trembling beneath him.

His free hand gripped your hip, holding you firmly in place as he picked up the pace, his fingers moving in and out of you with expert precision, curling at the right spot that made you arche your back. You could feel the heat building in your core, the tension coiling tighter with each thrust of his hand.

"So perfect," Mike murmured, his voice thick with desire.

You could barely think, your mind clouded with pleasure as he continued his relentless pace.

Just as you were on the verge to fall apart, he pulled his fingers out, leaving you aching and desperate for more.

The head of his length is now nudging at your entrance. His hands grip your hips tightly, holding you steady as he pushes forward, sinking into you inch by inch. The sensation is overwhelming, your body stretching to accommodate him as he fills you completely.

Mike groans softly, his forehead resting against the back of your neck as he stills for a moment, letting you adjust to the feeling of him as he stretched you open.

Mike groaned, his grip on your hips tightening as he buried himself to the hilt, his body trembling with restraint.

"Fuck" his voice a low growl as he began to move, setting a slow, agonizing pace that had you panting for breath.

His hands gripped your hips, holding you firmly in place as he thrust into you, his movements steady and deliberate. Each thrust sent a jolt of pleasure through you, your body tightening around him as he pushed you closer to the edge.

The small room was filled with the sounds of your ragged breathing, the wet slap of skin against skin as Mike drove into you, his pace relentless. You could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter inside you, the pleasure building until it was almost unbearable.

"Mike," you gasped, your voice barely a whisper. "I'm close."

He groaned in response, his pace quickening as he chased his own release, the muscles in his arms and shoulders tensing with the effort. His grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your skin as he thrust into you harder, faster.

You could feel the heat pooling in your stomach, your body trembling with the need to let go. And then, with one final thrust, you shattered, pleasure washing over you in waves as you came apart beneath him.

Mike followed soon after, his body tensing as he buried himself inside you one last time, his release spilling into you as he grunted against your lips.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, the only sound in the room the ragged gasps of your breath. Mike's body was warm and solid against yours, his hands still gripping your hips as he slowly came down from his high.

Finally, he pulled and collapsed on top of you. His arm wrapped around your waist as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

Minutes passed and were spent with him relaxing against you. Each quick, playful kiss he placed on your neck ignited a flutter of joy in your heart. With every stroke of your fingers through his hair, he let out a contented sigh, leaning into your touch.

The quiet piece is shattered suddenly by the loud sound of glass breaking. Both you and Mike freeze, your smiles fading as the unexpected noise jolts you back to reality.

"What the hell was that?" Mike mutters, already standing up and moving toward the sound with a look of concern etched on his face.

You pulled your shirt back on and stood up, heart pounding as you followed him a few steps. "Stay here," he says, glancing back at you.

You hesitate, a twinge of anxiety creeping in but nod as he heads toward the other room where the sound came from. You slipped back on your jeans while moving over to the window, pulling aside the curtains to peer out into the night, searching for anything unusual.

Something on the snow caught your attention just outside, right here in front of the stairs.

Lean closer to Investigate. Curiosity gnaws at you, an urge to move and see for yourself. It’s right here outside. One quick look can't hurt... right?

Inform Mike about it. It hopefully won’t disappear soon despite the snow falling rapidly. You can go and inform Mike about it along with also seeing what happened with the window.

You take a breath, steeling yourself. And in a single, decisive moment, you make your choice.

Lean closer to investigate

A faint shimmer appear, the delicate flap of a butterfly's wings.

ℬ𝓊𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇𝒻𝓁𝓎 ℯ𝒻𝒻ℯ𝒸𝓉 𝓊𝓅𝒹𝒶𝓉ℯ𝒹

Curiosity gets the better of you and without a second thought, you lean closer to the window. Your warm breath fog the window but not enough for it to be at the same height of your eyes.

Footsteps oddly spaced stretch from the edge of the woods toward the chalet. There's something... wrong about them, something that makes your skin crawl. The tracks don't look human, they're wider, deeper, and almost clawed. They're fresh, not yet filled in by drifting snow and tinted in red crimson blood. Whatever made these prints is close. Too close.

You turned around when you heard Mike coming back, his voice confused as he told you about something that broke the window.

You barely had time to inform him about what you saw before the glass behind you shatters and claws dig into your shoulders as you're pulled back, helpless against the force dragging you

You soon made contact with the snow as you got dragged further and further away from the cabin and into the woods.

The thing holding you is relentless, hauling you over snow and rock with an unnatural speed that makes your head spin. Fear crashes over you like a wave, cold and consuming. You thrash, trying to free yourself, your hands scraping against hard, rough skin.

You hear from not far the frantic shouts of a voice you know well. Mike. He's chasing after you, calling your name in a voice filled with fear and desperation but you can barely hear him over the blood pounding in your ears.

All you can think about is survival.

Desperately, you claw at the ground, fingers scrambling for anything to slow down the creature dragging you deeper into the trees. Your hand brushes against something solid, a branch half-buried in the snow. Without a second thought, you grab it and slam it upward, striking the creature’s arm.

The creature hisses, a guttural, furious sound that shakes your bones, but its grip loosens just enough for you to tear yourself free, stumbling forward and landing face-first in the snow. Cold bites at your skin as you scramble to your feet, legs already aching from the strain, but you can't afford to stop.

Not now.

Your injuries slow you down. Blood seeps from your arms and legs, leaving a trail as you push through the forest. Every breath feels like fire in your chest, your vision blurring around the edges as you force yourself forward, stumbling over rocks and roots.

In the distance, Mike's voice reaches you, a lifeline you cling to even as fear claws at your heart. You risk a glance back, just a fleeting second, and see him from afar, rifle in hand, his eyes wide with terror as he takes in your disheveled form and the blood marking your path.

He shouts your name desperately, his voice is raw, terrified and it propels you forward with renewed urgency.

But before you can reach him, the creature catches your ankle, sending you sprawling to the ground once more. Pain jolts through you as you hit the frozen earth, your vision going dark for a split second as it kept moving forward deep inside the woods and far away from Mike until you could no longer see him.

It stopped abruptly, it’s clawed hand slashes through the air, inches from your face, before a bright flash of light erupts behind it.

A burst of flame cuts through the night, illuminating the creature's twisted form as it recoils with a screech, backing away from the intense heat. You blink, disoriented, your eyes adjusting to the sudden glow. A figure stands a few feet away, wielding a flamethrower with a practiced ease, his face covered by a mask and big glasses for the snow.

"Get up," he barks, the command cold and unyielding. "Follow me, now."

Still dazed and struggling to catch your breath, you hesitate and the stranger's moves closer, the flames licking dangerously close as he gestures again with the flamethrower.

"I said, move."

With no other option, you stagger to your feet, following him as he leads you through the trees. Blood drips down your leg, each step a painful reminder of your injuries, but fear propels you onward. You cast one last glance over your shoulder, hoping to see Mike but to not success.

From a distance, Mike watches, heart pounding as he tracks your struggling form, his pulse surging with terror and fury.

He sees you stumbling through the snow, your face pale and stricken, blood streaking your clothes and painting the ground beneath you. His stomach twists painfully. His hands tighten on the old rifle he'd grabbed from the cabin, fingers white with the grip.

His eyes flick to the figure standing near you, holding a flamethrower. Mike can't make out the man's face due to the position but he's close enough to see the way the stranger's hand grips your arm, steering you with a harsh, unyielding authority.

A surge of rage floods Mike's chest into something cold and vengeful.

He shouts, his voice cracking with a desperation he can't hide but you’re too far away for him to hear. He raises the rifle, leveling it with a single, fierce purpose. His heartbeat pounds in his ears, drowning out the sounds around him. All he can think about is protecting you, keeping you safe, stopping this man who had the nerve to lay his hands on you.

He pulls the trigger.

Nothing happens.

Mike stares at the gun, disbelief and frustration crashing over him in a sickening wave. His hands tremble as he frantically checks the rifle, but it's no use. The damn thing's too old, a relic that was never meant for anything more than decoration.

“Jammed up piece of shit” he muttered to himself as he tossed the gun on the ground but not before taking the sight off.

His fists clench, anger and self-loathing simmering just beneath the surface. If he'd only been quicker. If he'd only gotten to you sooner.

You stumble over your own feet as the stranger pulls you forward, his hand gripping your arm with an iron strength that doesn't allow for argument or hesitation. Your head throbs and a nauseating chill seeps into your bones

He's silent, his face obscured by the mask he is wearing. You're not sure whether you should be more afraid of the creature that attacked you or of this stranger.

"Where are you taking me?" you ask, your voice rough, scraping against the quiet. Panic flutters in your chest, but you keep it in check, trying to sound braver than you feel.

The stranger’s grip tightens, his voice low and cold as he finally speaks. "To the sanatorium. Only place you'll be safe."

Safe? You can't help the bitter laugh that escapes, but it sounds foreign even to your ears, tinged with the underlying fear that pulses with each beat of your heart. "And I'm just supposed to trust you?"

He doesn't respond, his silence as solid as stone. You're struck by the thought that maybe he doesn't care if you trust him at all. To him, you're just another problem to be dealt with, whether you like it or not.

You feel the blood trickling down your calf, soaking into your jeans, and you know that each step leaves a fresh trail in the snow, a trail that anything or anyone could follow.

The old building looks even more haunting up close, its windows shattered, its walls covered in a thick layer of ice and grime.

Your footsteps falter as you take it in, the realization sinking in that this terrifying ruin is where he intends to take you.

The stranger seems to sense your hesitation, and he stops, turning to you with a hard, assessing gaze. "You don't understand what's out there," he says, his voice a low, gravelly murmur.

You square your shoulders, meeting his gaze with as much strength as you can muster. "Then tell me," you say, the words steady but quiet, a demand laced with a plea. "Tell me what's going on. What was that thing?"

He hesitates, just for a moment, deciding how much to reveal. Then, with a deep sigh, he gestures toward the sanatorium. "Inside. We're not talking out here."

You follow him through the heavy, rusted doors, wincing as they creak open, the sound echoing through the hollow halls. Inside, the air is thick with dust and stale.

The stranger leads you deeper into the building, down a winding corridor lined with cracked tiles and peeling paint. He finally stops in what might have once been a treatment room, with a few battered chairs and a broken table shoved to the side.

Two wolves appear from the dark. A black one growling at you and a white one tilting his head as he looked at you curiously.

You leaned back against the cold, damp wall, feeling the weight of exhaustion pressing down on you as the adrenaline began to fade.

With a quiet hiss of pain, you tore off a strip of fabric from your shirt, pressing it against a particularly deep scratch along your arm. The fabric was thin and already damp from the cold air, but it was all you had, and the pressure seemed to slow the bleeding. You shifted your weight, your hand shaking as you worked to tie the makeshift bandage in place, gritting your teeth against the sting that flared with each movement.

The stranger knelt down, his movements slow and deliberate as he reached into a pocket, pulling out a small roll of cloth. He hesitated, his masked face turning to you, as if silently asking for permission. You gave a slight nod, and he moved closer, crouching down to your level.

His gloved hands were surprisingly gentle as he pressed the cloth over a cut on your leg, inspecting the wound beneath. He muttered something under his breath. "Not too deep. You must be tough one to make it out here in one piece."

You managed a weak smile, though it barely masked the pain etched into your features. "I... I didn't have much of a choice. I just kept running."

"Smart," he murmured, adjusting the bandage on your arm, his fingers surprisingly steady and precise despite the thickness of his gloves. "It was all you could do in that situation. If you ever face them again, don’t move. It’s like toads. Sight is based on changes of movement in their field of vision"

He pulls out a small photograph from his jacket pocket and hands it to you. You take it, fingers trembling as you examine the image. The man in the picture is a horror to behold. His face gaunt, his cheek on the left a gruesome patchwork of scarred, missing flesh, exposing jagged teeth beneath. His eyes are milky, blind and vacant, but there's something hauntingly human about his expression, a remnant of a person buried beneath the monstrous features, a true nightmare made flesh.

You swallow hard, slipping the photo into your pocket as the man turns around to throw a bone at the wolves.

ℬ𝓊𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇𝒻𝓁𝓎 ℯ𝒻𝒻ℯ𝒸𝓉 𝓊𝓅𝒹𝒶𝓉ℯ𝒹

"What you saw out there wasn't just any creature. It was once human, before the curse took it."

You blink, your mind scrambling to process the words. "A... curse?"

He nods, his gaze hardening. "Wendigos. Spirits that inhabit the bodies of those who commit cannibalism. It turns them into monsters, driven by the need to feed. And once it's taken hold, there's no going back."

"So... the thing that attacked me..." you start, your voice barely a whisper, "it used to be human?"

The Stranger's gaze softens, just for a moment, and he sighs. "The Wendigo remembers parts of what it once was. People, faces, moments. Things it hated. Things it wanted. All now mixed with hunger”

Suddenly, the faint sound of footsteps reaches your ears, distinct and growing louder with each step. You freeze, the pulse of fear quickening in your veins. The man hears it too, his eyes narrow, his body going rigid as he listens. Without a word, he tightens his grip on your arm, helping you stand up and dragging you with him as he pulls you away from the main hallway

"Don't make a sound," he murmurs, his voice barely more than a whisper, harsh and commanding.

You see a silhouette emerging around the corner and he starts to pull you backward, leading you out of the room, away from the figure.

The stranger led you down twisting passages until you reached an area near the entrance to the mines. He turned to you, his grip finally loosening, and gestured to a dark alcove.

"Stay here," he ordered, his voice low but firm. "I'll check to make sure the rest of your friends aren't out there. When it's clear, I'll take you back to the lodge."

You nodded, exhaustion overtaking you as you sank down against the wall, your mind spinning with worry for Mike. You touched your cheek again, feeling the sting of the cut, your pulse still racing as you waited, alone, the cold stone walls pressing in around you.

Back inside, Mike watches as your figure disappears around the corner, led away by that dark, looming man and a fury unlike anything he's ever felt boils up inside him. He takes a step forward, desperate to follow, but his path is blocked by a heavy iron door separating him from the main lobby, the missing key preventing him from giving chase. He shakes the door in frustration, feeling the cold metal dig into his palms as he rattles it, cursing under his breath.

"Dammit," he mutters, his voice low and seething. The image of your face twisted in confusion and fear is burned into his mind and that only makes the anger roiling within him burn hotter. He barely notices his surroundings as he slams his fist against the door, once, twice, the sharp pain a poor substitute for the wrath and worry he feels building inside him. That bastard had hurt you, taken you, and he has no idea where or why.

The night air bites at their faces, unforgiving and cold as Mike and Chris drag Josh through the snow. Mike's hand is iron around Josh's collar, yanking him forward with an urgency that leaves no room for argument, while Chris trails close behind.

The desperation in his eyes is like a fire that's threatening to spiral out of control.

"Mike," Chris starts, his voice quiet, hesitant as he watches his friend's clenched jaw, the tightness in his grip on Josh's shirt. "Maybe we should just take a second. Think this through."

"Talk?" Mike spat, his voice a low growl. "We've been talking, Chris. And he's not saying anything because he's lying." He looked back at Josh, his gaze cold, unforgiving. "He did this. He knows where he is and he's just sitting here, laughing in our faces."

All he can see is the image of you being dragged away, hurt and vulnerable, every second stretching like an eternity, his mind racing with fears that sink into his chest like stones.

They reach the shed. Mike throws the door open and shoves Josh inside, not giving him even a moment to catch his breath.

Josh stumbles as he's shoved against a wooden support beam, his wrists still bound. Both Chris and Mike stepped forward to tie down and immobilize Josh completely against the wooden beam.

"Where is he, Josh?" he demands, each word taut with barely contained fury. "He's out there, alone and injured because of your sick little games!" Mike's voice rises, his anger spilling over as he steps even closer, his face inches from Josh's.

Chris stands to the side, a knot of worry tightening in his gut. The thought of you being hurt, or worse, out there because of this was almost too much to process. A wave of guilt rushes over him, crashing against the worry and confusion roiling inside him. He remembers every joke, every moment you'd shared and the thought that Josh might be responsible for taking that away, it's enough to make his stomach turn.

"Josh, please," Chris says, his voice soft, pleading, as he takes a step forward. "If you know anything, just tell us. We're not... we're not doing this for fun, okay? He’s a friend. Just... please."

There's a flicker of something dark in Josh's eyes, something that only Chris seems to understand. A decision, a choice that still lingers in his memory. Josh seems to notice, his smirk growing wider, almost triumphant.

"You let him talk you into thinking you were important, that you mattered, and then you turned on the only one who would've stuck with you." Josh's voice is soft, insidious, as he watches Chris's face pale. "All it took was a few words, and look at the mess you made with her. But sure, keep believing that he's your friend. Keep thinking he's anything more than just... clever with his words."

Chris’s expression stricken, the weight of the accusation settling heavily on his shoulders, mingling with the unresolved guilt he's tried to keep buried.

Josh looks between the two of them, an air of smugness creeping into his expression. "What, Mike, you think he's anything special? Can you realize that he’s not really the angel you think he is?" he mutters, a sneer curling at the edge of his mouth.

Mike feels his hands tremble with the effort to hold himself back, to keep from lunging at Josh right then and there.

"Don't you dare talk about him like that," Mike hisses, his voice rough, a dangerous edge in his tone. "You don't get to say anything about him. Not after what you did."

Josh just laughs, a hollow, bitter sound that echoes through the empty shed. "You've got it bad, don't you? You'd do anything to convince yourself he's worth the risk."

Mike's fist slams into the wood beside Josh's head, sending a shower of splinters scattering to the ground. "You don't know a damn thing about what he means to me," Mike growls, his voice low, laced with a ferocity that makes Chris's breath catch. "Not a damn thing."

For the first time, there's a flicker of confusion in Josh's eyes, a hesitation that betrays the anger, the defiance in his expression.

“No... no... I don-. I’ve got a problem, Mike... I don’t remember hurting him...”

“Christ” Mike mutters to himself, looking around in disbelief at seeing how fucked up Josh’s mental health was.

“I mean, I feel like I would’ve remembered killing him, right?” Josh continued, his tone shifting from confusion to something Mike didn’t quite like. “If you were with him for a year, he must’ve had one hell of a body.” He flashed a smug grin at Mike.

Mike pulled out the gun from his jacket and pointed it at Josh, shouting with a desperation that borders on madness. “If you don't shut your fucking mouth, I swear I'll-"

"Mike!" Chris's voice trembles as he steps forward, reaching for his friend, fear evident in his eyes. "Don't do this. He's just messing with you. It's what he wants."

Time seemed to stretch endlessly, the air thick with tension until Mike finally lowered the gun. He never wavered his gaze from Josh as he spoke to Chris.

“Go back to the lodge with the others” Mike told Chris as he glared down at him, his voice barely controlled, barely holding back the rage that's tearing him apart. "You sure you’re okay?" Chris whispers and Mike nods. “they’ll want to know everything’s fine up there”.

“You’re right. See you in the morning” Chris muttered, sparing a last glance at Josh before slowly making his way back to the lodge.

The lodge has grown quieter than ever, the weight of fear and exhaustion hanging heavy in the air. The night presses on, feeling endless. A loud scream echoed inside the woods and Emily soon bursts into the lodge, her face pale, her breaths coming fast and shallow. Snow clings to her hair and jacket and her eyes are wide, glazed over with a fear none of them have seen before. She's shaking, her body visibly trembling as she stands there, looking as though she's barely keeping herself upright.

"Emily?" Sam is the first to speak, her voice soft but filled with worry as her and Ashley carried her to the couch. "What happened? Are you okay?"

Emily takes a shaky breath, swallowing hard as she nods, though her expression is anything but calm. "A monster- it’s a monster!" she stammers, glancing around, her eyes darting from face to face.

“Em are you okay?” Chris asks, concerned but also curious about what happened to her.

"I’m fine. I just need to calm down. It was moving so damn fast- i just needed to get away!"

“Em, Em. You can relax... Josh was messing with us but we-“

“You’re not listening to me!” Emily swallows again, her hands shaking as she raises one to her mouth, pressing her knuckles to her lips in a nervous gesture.

The group falls silent, their faces reflecting a mix of shock and unease as Emily explains to everyone how she called for help from the tower and she found herself in the mines after it collapsed.

"I found Beth’s dead body" she whispers, her voice barely audible, but her words carry through the room, settling like stones in their chests. "I didn’t find Hannah but I found some of her things there. It seemed she was just there starving to death while we were all searching for her up here"

“Em! You made it” Mike entered the lodge breathless from running.

She got up from the couch and immediately hugged him.

“What about Matt?”

“We’re trying to figure it out...”

“And there is also this “monster” that was chasing her-“

A loud knock at the door made everyone turn. A fresh wave of panic settled over them. Mike's hand instinctively goes to his side, reaching for the gun, but he stops short, his face tense as he glances around.

"I'll check it out," he mutters, glancing at Chris, who nods, his expression equally wary.

They move toward the door cautiously, every step filled with tension. He opens the door slowly, his hand poised on the gun and there, framed in the doorway, stands a stranger, his face full in view this time. He moves with a speed that catches Mike off guard, wrenching the gun from his grip in one smooth motion.

"Easy," the stranger says, his voice a low rumble, as he lowers the gun, his gaze intense but steady. He glances over his shoulder, nodding toward the darkness outside. "It's safe. You can come in."

There's a moment of silence and then, slowly, you step into the doorway. You're limping just slightly, your clothes torn and dirty and covered up by an old jacket similar to Mike’s one, your face bruised but alive.

Mike's heart stops, a strangled sound escaping his throat as he stares at you. He can barely move, his eyes wide, unable to process what he’s seeing. For a split second, he thought that it was a dream until you take that hesitant step forward and reality crashes in. He whispers your name, his voice barely audible, filled with a raw, aching vulnerability he can't hide. And then he's there, crossing the distance in an instant, wrapping you in his arms, holding you tightly.

The warmth of his embrace floods over you, the steady weight of his arms filling you with a sense of safety you haven't felt since the night began. You return the hug, exhaustion seeping into every muscle, and you let yourself sink into his warmth, closing your eyes as you let the moment wash over you.

"I thought I'd never see you again." Mike's voice cracks, and he buries his face in your shoulder, his breath shaky as he struggles to hold back the emotion.

You reach up, brushing your hand against his cheek, and manage a tired smile. "I made it back." you whisper, your voice soft but steady.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his gaze scanning every bruise, every cut, his fingers brushing gently over each mark. "Are you hurt? What... what did this do to you?" His voice is laced with worry, a protectiveness that's fierce, almost desperate, as he holds your face in his hands, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek

You reached up to cover his hand with yours. "I'm okay, don’t worry" you murmur, offering a small, reassuring smile.

Chris steps forward then, his eyes wide, relief flooding his expression as he pulls you into a hug, his grip firm, steady. "Man, you scared the hell out of us," he says, his voice thick with emotion. He pulls back, a grin breaking through the tension as he adds, "Don't ever do that again, okay?"

A small laugh escapes you, and the tension in the room begins to ease. You all follow the stranger and get to where the girls were waiting.

"Thank god you’re okay." Sam says softly, a warm smile on her face as she carefully hugged you to avoid any further pain.

Emily, still recovering from the shock she went through, gave a curt nod in your direction. "You look like you have been through hell" she mutters.

You manage a small smile, grateful for each familiar face.

The man clears his throat, drawing everyone's attention back to him, his gaze steady, a hard look in his eyes. "I don't have time for reunions," he says, his tone firm but not unkind. "There's something you need to understand."

Everyone falls silent, their faces tense as they turn to him. Mike leads you to the couch, pulling you down beside him, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist, holding you close as you leaned against him.

The stranger begins to speak, his voice low and grave as he explains the truth of the mountain, the curse that turned the ones who commit cannibalism into unrecognizable monsters. His words hang heavy in the air, each one sinking into them like stones.

Mike's hand tightens on your waist, his gaze dark as he listens, his mind racing with the reality of what you must have endured all alone. The knowledge that you survived this and made it back to him fills him with a mixture of pride and fear that he can't shake.

When the stranger finishes, silence falls over the room, the weight of his warning settling into every corner, pressing down on each of them. Chris is the first to break the silence, his face set, determined. "So... what do we do?"

The stranger's gaze sharpens, his expression hard, his voice filled with a quiet intensity. "You’re going to need to find somewhere safe to hide"

“For how long?”

“Until dawn”

They all nod, a shared understanding passing between them.

“Guys... i ran out and left Josh when i heard screaming” Mike told everyone, guilt spreading on his face at realizing what could happen to Josh.

“Your friend is already dead” the stranger spoke with unwavering certainty.

Chris steps forward. “No, no he can’t be. We were just with him a moment ago”

“A lot can happen quickly on this mountain”

"I'm gonna get him," Chris said with determination. "I’m supposed to be his best friend and i let him down"

“Then i’ll go with you” the man said, offering Chris a rifle to fight if needed.

Chris takes a deep breath, steeling himself and holding the rifle tightly to his chest as he stares at the door, the stranger next to him and ready to leave to rescue Josh. Just as he's about to turn away, he notices you and Mike standing together. Mike's arm is still around you but you place a gentle hand on his shoulder, leaning in close to murmur something to him. His face softens and he reluctantly lets you go, his hand lingering for a moment longer.

You walk toward Chris, your movements slow but steady, the worst of your injuries seeming to fade, the pain dulled and it gives you a chance to run again thanks to the man’s help. You hold up a hand for a high five, grinning just a bit. "Be careful out there, alright?"

Chris smirks, the familiar glint of humor in his eyes. "Hey, you know me. Careful my middle name." He claps your hand, his expression softening slightly. "We'll get through this."

Your gaze shifts to the stranger, a silent expression of gratitude in your eyes as you give him a slight nod. He meets your gaze, there's a faint hint of acknowledgment in the way he inclines his head.

Turning back, you move toward Mike. You catch sight of Ashley leaning against the wall, her gaze fixed on Chris with a strange, distant expression, something that you never saw on her when together with Chris. You pause, opening your mouth to ask her if she's alright, but she steps forward and places a hand on your shoulder to help you back toward Mike.

You give her a small nod, something unsettled lingering in your mind but you let it go as she guides you back to Mike. You feel his hand slip around your waist again, steady and reassuring, his warmth grounding you as you settle beside him, leaning into his side as he guides you to the basement with the others.

The atmosphere in the basement is heavy with silence, an oppressive weight settling over everyone. You were sitting down on one of the tables there, looking at all the cameras present there together with Sam and Emily. The door creaks open, and Ashley stumbles down, followed closely by Mike. You can see immediately the way his face is drawn, his eyes hollow, a deep sadness etched into every line.

He looks at you, the pain in his gaze made you fear the worst. "Chris... he didn't make it," he whispers, his voice barely above a breath.

You feel the ground shift beneath you, the words sinking in with an ache so sharp it feels physical. Chris, your friend, is gone. Your throat tightens and the reality of the situation claws at you, an emptiness that leaves you hollow.

Ashley stands frozen, her face pale and expressionless. Emily immediately moves to her side, reaching for her hands, while Sam steps forward, her voice soft with sympathy. "Ash... I'm so sorry."

Ashley shakes her head, her jaw clenched as she stares past them, her eyes glassy with shock. "I'm fine," she insists, her voice hollow and distant, "I'm fine."

Sam's voice is soft, cautious as she looks at Mike. "What about the man with the flamethrower? Did... did he make it?"

Mike shakes his head, his voice a low, haunted murmur. "Didn’t see him coming back. He's dead, too."

The walls seem to close in and Mike moves with big steps towards you and hold you tightly, pulling you closer, "I’m so sorry”. His hand moves gently to your back, tracing soothing circles, his fingers trembling slightly.

You find yourself melting into his touch, his hold a balm to the raw pain in your chest.

Mike began searching around the place and on the cameras to look for any possible other escape. Josh had the key for the cable car. The wendigos might have taken him to the sanatorium and he declared he will go there to get them and save him.

All of your friends group around the table to analyze the map left by the man, talking about the mines and the sanatorium.

You’re too deep in thoughts to participate in it. You felt tears ready to spill down from your eyes as you kept thinking about Chris and the man’ deaths.

“Em... Em, what is that?” Ashley's tone of voice was concerning. You looked up in time to see all of your friends slowly backing away from Emily as she kept a hand on her shoulder.

You got down from the table and wiped away the tears on your eyes. Stepping closer but stopping when you noticed blood seeping through her shoulder.

“Ash...” Emily began to talk, her gaze moving towards everyone as she carefully thought about her next words

“Oh my god. Oh my god, oh my god! Oh, no, oh, no!” Ashely was freaking out as her gaze moved back and forth to Mike and Emily.

“It’s nothing. It just- it bit me and-“ Emily tried to explain but Ashley's loud voice interrupted her again.

“It bit you? What bit you?!”

You took another step closer while Ashley grew increasingly agitated with each word.

“The...ah... the wendigo,” Emily stammered, her voice trembling with fear rather than conviction. “It’s nothing, really. It’s not a big deal—it doesn’t hurt anymore, not really.”

Mike takes a step back "Em... if that thing bit you..."

“I know what you’re thinking and i’m fine” she took a step forwards and expanded her hands towards Mike but he backed away, his arm moving in front of you to shield you from her as he stepped away.

“Emily at least let us check it out,” Sam told her quietly, hoping to calm her down.

“Emily... if the wendigo bit you, you could turn into one of those things” Mike told her as he kept his arm in front of you.

“Oh that’s ridiculous” Sam said, her voice rising in frustration as she stepped forward to intervene. But Ashley sharply spoke again, her expression a mix of desperation and impatience.

“He said it was from EATING each other- remember, he said that! It happens if it bites you, you’re gonna turn into one of those things and you’re gonna turn in on us. Oh my god. Oh, my god! OH MY GOD”

Was it really like that? The man told you that it happened if someone committed cannibalism but he never told you about bites or other things like that. Was it just common knowledge and he didn’t told you because it was oblivious?

You took a step forward and felt pain radiating on your shoulder. A whimper of pain was heard through your closed lips and Mike turned around immediately, his arm outstretched in front of you while slowly moving you behind him as he positions himself between you and the perceived threat.

“You can’t be down here with us. You gotta go. You’re putting us ALL in danger” Mike told Emily firmly, no hesitation on his face or voice.

“Like hell I am!” This was the first time you saw Emily this desperate.

“Mike, just cool your head, okay? We don’t know how it works, maybe it’s just a bite” Sam said, her voice steady but edged with concern, though the unease in her eyes made it clear she wasn’t entirely convinced herself.

“What is this? Guys, what are you doing” Emily looked more and more scared the longer she looked around at all of you.

“Door’s right there. I’m letting you doing this voluntarily” Mike spoke firmly at her.

“Oh, no. You’re just doing this to make yourself feel better about sending me to my death because you know there’s a wendigo out there ready to rip me to pieces like it did with-“

“OKAY, OH MY GOD! WILL YOU JUST GO?! GO! GET OUT OF HERE!” Ashley screamed at the top of her lungs, voice full of frustration and terror at this point.

Mike move towards the table and took the gun, pointing it at Emily who immediately backed away in shock.

“Whoa,whoa-whoa- Mike! Calm down!” Sam tried to intervene but Mike pushed her away, his arm pulling you behind him protectively as his other hand kept pointing the gun at Emily.

“You’re gonna shoot me?” Emily crawled on top of the table until her back hit the wall, desperately trying to get away from the situation. “Mike...? Me?”

“This is the safe room, Em. And it’s not safe as long as you’re in it. Not for us!”

“Don- don’t do this!” Her voice broke on the last word, her hands reaching out as if she could somehow stop him.

“I’m really sorry” Mike choked out, his voice trembling with regret, the words barely escaping through a veil of anguish. His hands shook as he gripped the weapon, his heart pounding in his chest as he took a step forward. His finger pressed the revolver’s cylinder, rotating it to prepare the next shot.

Tell Mike Not to Shoot Emily. She's still Emily, still herself... isn't she? The fear is there, yes, but a part of you knows this isn't right.

Support Mike no matter what he chooses. The thought of Emily becoming one of those things, of putting Mike in danger, fills you with a dread so deep it nearly leaves you breathless.

Your heart pounded as memories surged through your mind, vivid and relentless of the wendigo’s claws tearing through your body as it dragged you into the unknown. You remembered the helplessness, the horror, the feeling of being trapped in a nightmare you couldn't escape.

Now, the thought of Mike facing anything remotely close to that horror because of a single hesitation sent fear clawing at your chest. You wanted to believe Emily; she was one of you, someone you'd shared memories with. But what if she did turn? What if Mike's hesitation meant losing him?

Support Mike

You lean closer, your voice soft, trembling, barely a whisper. “I trust you, Mike. Whatever you think is best... I'll stand by you."

A subtle shimmer appears, almost like a faint trick of light, the beat of butterfly wings sending ripples into the unknown.

ℬ𝓊𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇𝒻𝓁𝓎 ℯ𝒻𝒻ℯ𝒸𝓉 𝓊𝓅𝒹𝒶𝓉ℯ𝒹

Your words seemed to reach him, settling into something deep inside. The fear in his eyes hardened into something resolute. He was reminded of the bruises on your face, the cuts on your skin, the exhaustion in your frame as you spoke softly at him. You were still recovering, still weak from the encounter. In the state you were in, you wouldn't be able to defend yourself if she turned into one of those things.

He can't let her be a threat.

The shot rings out, sharp and final, echoing through the room. The bullet made contact with her left eye, ending her life on spot and smearing the wall behind her with blood.

“Oh, shit... oh, shit... oh, shit. What the fuck did i just do?” Mike lets the gun fall from his hands, his expression haunted, his eyes flicking to you.

You reach for his hand, gripping it tightly.

“You’re safe... you guys are safe. I had to do it” he looked around, searching for reassurance, for some sign that he did the right thing.

Ashley backs away, shocked and terrified to look at him despite being the one ready from the start to make Emily leave the room.

“I’m going to get the keys from Josh. I’ll... I'll come back here.” He began to back away “you guys are safe... it’s over...” he let go of your hand, looking at you desperately one last time before turning away.

You watched him go with a worried expression. Sam came close to you, her hand resting on your shoulder as she looked with you where Mike went to get what was needed to let you escape this nightmare of a place.

From behind, you heard Ashley panicking again as she mumbled under her breath. She was sitting on the opposite side of a table reading what you assumed to be the diary of the stranger

“What? What does it say?” You and Sam stepped forward together until you were right next to her.

“It says... well... if it bites you it’s not infectious. It doesn’t do anything”

Sam took the book in her hands, looking briefly at Emily’s dead body and whispering her name softly. A tear about to spill from her eyes.

You peeked over Sam’s shoulder as she read the last page pf the diary. It talked about all the wendigos trapped inside the sanatorium.

Mike was going to fall right into a trap.

“We need to get to Mike” Sam said firmly, tossing the book aside as you and her made your way to Mike.

The dim, echoing tunnels of the mine stretch before you, the air is thick with dust and the faint metallic tang of rust. Mike is beside you, keeping close, his eyes darting around as if searching for any sign of danger, while Sam moves slightly behind you, her flashlight casting shadows that flicker and dance against the rock.

A small lake was blocking your path. The frigid water sending a chill just from looking at it.

"Guess we don't have much of a choice," Sam murmurs, voice tight.

You nod, sharing a glance with Mike, whose gaze is steady but filled with the same dread. Together, you step into the water, the cold biting instantly as it soaks through your clothes. It seeps up your legs, then higher, numbing everything it touches. By the time the water reaches your waist, your muscles are tense, your breaths sharp and shuddering from the sheer chill.

You could help but mutter something about how you were freezing your ass, teeth chattering as you trudge forward and earning a small chuckle from Sam, suffering as well from the extreme low temperature of the water.

A solid surface came ahead and you all got up from there.

Sam spots something on the ground and in the glow of her flashlight, you see a small, battered notebook, its cover dusty and worn but unmistakably familiar. It's Hannah's diary, you recognized her handwriting.

The three of you huddle close, drawn in by the painful intimacy of her words. The cold, the hunger and the maddening isolation as she struggled to survive in the mines with a broken leg. She stayed here for around a month.

“Oh god... it makes sense. I think... Hannah dug up Beth. It was Hannah. Beth died in the fall- so Hannah must have buried her“ Sam pieced everything together”

“God-dammit” Mike muttered in disbelief.

“She would have been starving... she would have been desperate-“

The implication of what it meant twisted your stomach, bringing back flashes of the memory from that night. You feel the cold seep through your skin, but it's not the chill of the mines.

It's the haunting weight of regret.

Mike's voice breaks through your thoughts, his tone gentle. "Hey... you okay?" He's watching you, his gaze filled with concern.

Lie. You could brush it off, tell them it's just the cold getting to you. It would be easy, just a few words to keep the truth hidden, to protect yourself from the shame that threatens to overwhelm you. But the guilt would stay buried, festering, a constant reminder of what you did and chose to keep hidden.

Confess. You could let it out, finally release the burden you've been carrying. Admit that you saw Hannah that night, that you knew about the prank but chose not to warn her. This choice would mean exposing yourself but it might also allow you to find a sense of forgiveness. A chance for honesty and maybe a path toward healing.

The truth gnaws at you, clawing its way to the surface, refusing to stay buried. You can't keep it hidden any longer.

Confess

Taking a shaky breath, you look at Mike and Sam, your voice barely above a whisper. "There's something I need to tell you. I saw Hannah that night. Right before... everything. She asked me if I knew where Mike was and I didn't tell her about the prank." Your voice cracks, raw with the pain of holding back the truth. "I could've warned her and stopped it. This is all my fault."

The silence stretches as your confession hangs in the cold air. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, your chest tightening as the weight of it crashes over you.

Mike's hand tightens on your shoulder and he looks at you with a softness that you didn't expect. "This isn't all on you. I shouldn't have gone along with the prank in the first place." His voice is laced with regret. "If anyone's to blame, it's me."

Sam's hand finds yours, squeezing gently. "You made a mistake but we all did. I should have found her faster. I should have insisted more on stopping that prank. None of us were perfect that night."

Her words are like a balm, gentle but unwavering, her empathy wrapping around you as she holds your gaze. The three of you share a moment of quiet solidarity, bound together by the shared regret.

You all continue moving through the mines. Mike's hand brushes against yours as you move inside the water.

"So... you were jealous?" His tone is playful, laced with his usual teasing, as if trying to lighten the atmosphere.

You roll your eyes, feeling the corner of your lips curve upward. "It was like a year ago, alright? And yeah, I was jealous."

Mike grins, his eyebrow quivering as he nudges you gently. "And how long were you crushing on me?" He leans a little closer, his voice dropping to a low, flirtatious murmur.

Sam, walking just behind, groans in mock exasperation and from the cold water. "Could you two get a room already? I really don't need to be the third wheel right now."

"Sorry, Sam." You laugh, feeling the last remnants of tension ease from your shoulders.

Eventually, you could hear Josh mumbling to himself, his eyes wild, his expression a chaotic mix of fear and mania.

"Josh!" Sam calls, her voice gentle but firm. "Josh, it's us."

He doesn't respond, muttering incoherently, his gaze distant, as if lost in a nightmare he can't escape. “He’s tripping or something” Mike muttered to himself before giving him a slap to snap him out of his stupor. "Josh!"

Josh blinks, his gaze slowly refocusing on the three of you, a flicker of recognition sparking in his eyes. "Don’t h-hit me, p-please-"

“You were deep in it, man. Full metal jacket”

“Josh, Hannah was down there for weeks... a month?! She dug Beth up” she was on the verge of crying and you stepped forward to place a hand on her shoulder.

"We need the keys," you said gently, trying to keep him calm. "The keys to the cable car, do you have them?"

Josh's hand trembles as he digs into his pocket, pulling out the keys and handing them to Sam. She pockets them and glances toward the slope leading up to the surface.

"That's our way out," she says, her voice filled with determination.

Mike shakes his head, glancing at Josh. "He's not going to make it up there. We'll have to go back the way we came."

Sam nods, though her face is etched with worry. She looks at you, assessing your condition with a careful gaze. "Think you can handle the climb? I can help you up if you need."

Mike steps in, his hand brushing your arm as he looks at you. "You sure you're up for it?" he asks, his tone soft, but there's a hint of worry in his eyes.

You nod, meeting his gaze with a steady look. "I can handle it. Sam's got my back in case”

He hesitates, his grip tightening on your arm, his gaze flickering with a hint of reluctance. Then, with a soft sigh, he leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, his hand lingering on your cheek as he pulls back, his voice a whisper only you can hear. "Be careful, alright? I want to see that handsome face of yours back at the lodge."

You smile, brushing a hand over his. "You too, Mike. Don't do anything stupid."

He chuckles, the sound soft but tinged with a bittersweet edge. "Stupid? Me? Never." He winks, a smirk playing on his lips, though his gaze holds a flicker of sadness.

He knelt down to help both you and Sam with the first push to start climbing and with one last look, he turns back to Josh, his hand gesturing to the direction to get out of the mines.

You and Sam exchange a determined nod before turning to the steep climb. Every movement is careful and calculated, each foothold chosen with precision as you make your way up.

The climb back to the surface is grueling, every muscle in your body aching, but the sight of moonlight filtering through the cracks above fills you with a surge of determination. Sam pulls herself up beside you, panting but grinning as she looks over at you with a playful gleam in her eye.

"That was just like a climbing class, right?" she quips, giving you a nudge.

You laugh, shaking your head. "Yeah, except with a lot more life-or-death stakes," you reply, matching her tone with a smirk.

She lets her hand fall onto your shoulder, her fingers gently squeezing as she takes a moment to study your face. “You did good,” she says, her voice a soothing contrast to the chaos you’d just survived. “Not a single complaint, even when you looked like you were about to pass out.”

You raise an eyebrow, glancing over at her. “Do I really look that bad?” you ask, the question coming out more tired than you’d intended. The last time you saw your reflection was before you were dragged away from Mike, leaving your body feeling like it had been run through a blender. You knew there were cuts, scrapes, and bruises all over your body. The left side of your cheek throbbed painfully whenever you touched it and you could feel the stickiness of dried blood against your lips.

She gives you a small, teasing smile, a spark of humor glinting in her eyes. “Nah,” she says, her voice light but sincere. “It makes you look tough. I can guarantee you, Mike would approve of me without hesitation.”

A tired smile tugs at the corners of your lips. Despite the exhaustion in your bones and the tremble in your legs, you can’t help but feel a small spark of gratitude for her presence, appreciating her support as the two of you move forward and towards the lodge.

A bone-chilling scream pierces the air from behind you. You can feel the presence of something behind you, its screeches growing louder.

The two of you bolt toward the lodge, every step pounding with adrenaline without looking back until you reach the lodge. You pound on the door with both fists, your heart hammering as you shout for someone inside to let you in. You feel the tremor in your hands, the knowledge that every second spent outside is a second closer to whatever horror is chasing you.

Then, a figure from behind calls for your name.

Mike.

Relief floods through you as he steps forward, grabbing you in a fierce hug, his arms wrapped tightly around you, his breaths shallow and shaky as he presses his face against your shoulder and allows himself to rest for just a second.

Sam picks up a rock, smashing it against the window of the door to unlock it. With a final glance behind, the three of you slip inside.

“And Josh?” Your voice suddenly small, a tremor running through it as you glance at him.

He lowers his gaze. It’s a look that sends an icy chill through you, the kind of look that makes your stomach twist in dread. “It got him”

Your breath catches, you feel sick to your stomach, cold in a way that has nothing to do with the temperature around you.

Sam’s shoulders sag, her face twisting with anguish as she drops her eyes to the ground. ”Ohh, god, what an awful way to go...” she mutters, her voice thick with disbelief and grief.

“What do you think we should do now?”

“We should check the basement, might be someone left down there”

Descending down the stairs to the basement, the only thought passing inside your mind was that there was no time to mourn yet. Help will soon be on the way. You just have to survive just a bit longer.

The door of the basement cracks open and three wendigos are there. Their emaciated bodies twisted and contorted, creeping forward with a surprising speed.

Ashley was no longer there.

Mike takes hold of your hand and with Sam behind, you all backtrack to the main lobby. Mike suddenly halts and tugs harshly at your arm to block you in the track.

"Don't move. Don’t fucking move muscle." His voice a hoarse whisper.

Your heart pounds as you follow his gaze and that's when you see it. A wendigo, tall and twisted, perched on the wooden chandelier above. You caught a glimpse of the butterfly tattoo on its arm. This was Hannah. She was no longer recognizable, skin stretched taut over skeletal limbs, her hollow eyes scanning the room with a terrifying intensity.

𝒟ℴ𝓃'𝓉 𝓂ℴ𝓋ℯ

Fear grips you, cold and unrelenting, as you force yourself to stay still. You can feel every tremor in your muscles, the effort it takes to control your breathing, to keep from trembling as the creature shifts, her claws scraping against the wood.

The wendigos from the basement emerge to the main lobby. One of them lunges at Hannah, and in a flash of brutality, she catches it’s leg and throws it first against the wooden stairs and then against the chimney, causing one of the gas pipes to break. Another one attacks her from upstairs but despite the height advantage her claws successfully sink into its neck and decapitate it with little effort.

Your eyes flick to Mike, his face drawn tight with focus as he inches toward the lightbulb switch while keeping an eye on the distracted wendigo.

Then you see the last wendigo from the basement perched on the wooden railing near you, its blind eyes scanning and it's facing Mike. Every step he is making is putting him in danger.

Save Mike. Do anything in your power to distract the monster from him. Anything to protect Mike, even if it means putting yourself in danger.

Run. Save yourself. The path is clear. No wendigos are paying attention to you. Just a quick turn around, a chance to escape. You could save yourse—

Save Mike

You raise your foot and press it down onto the floor, letting it creak just enough to attract the wendigo's attention. The creature snaps its head towards you, the hollow gaze empty and yet focused, its twisted limbs twitching as it crawls toward you, its movements disturbingly animalistic.

𝒟ℴ𝓃'𝓉 𝓂ℴ𝓋ℯ

The wendigo creeps closer, its body contorted, moving on all fours with a disturbing grace, each shift of its limbs slow and deliberate, its clawed hands digging into the wooden floor. You can see its sunken eyes, the stretched skin pulled tight over a jaw filled with teeth too sharp, too numerous.

Just as it seems to lose interest, it shifts, turning toward the stairs, drawn by a new sound. Hannah’s form looming over it as her hollow gaze fixes on it, ready to fight.

You see Sam from the corner of your eye, moving silently toward the door, hiding behind the remnants of overturned furniture. Hannah close in on her hiding spot, her bodies coiled with an unnatural tension, ready to strike.

Your heart pounds in your chest, its frantic rhythm deafening in your ears as your body locks in place, paralyzed by terror.

Mike has backed away and reached your position. His hand slips into yours, his grip firm as he starts to pull you toward the door. His gaze remains fixed on the wendigos, unwavering, every muscle in his body tense with vigilance. His attention flickers only briefly to Sam, a silent worry in his eyes matching yours.

Just as you're inches from the door, Sam's scream cuts through the silence. Your blood freezes. Panic surges through you as you turn around.

Hannah’s grotesque hand shoots out, grasping Sam's face and yanking her up in the air as she struggles to break free. In one brutal, swift motion, Hannah's arm pierces Sam's body, tearing through her.

Her scream pierced the air, and then... silence. Sam's body goes slack, her eyes glazing over as the light fades from them. Hannah lets her crumple to the floor, lifeless.

Tears burn in your eyes, blurring your vision as your breath comes in ragged gasps. You clutch Mike's hand harder, your fingers digging into his skin, as the crushing weight of Sam's death settles over you, the weight of loss heavy on your heart. You feel Mike's hand squeezing yours back, his body tensed beside you but his face filled with grief and helplessness.

The two wendigos turn, their hollow eyes finding you and Mike, and they begin to move, their twisted limbs carrying them forward with terrifying speed.

"I'm sorry, Hannah," you whisper as your gaze locks onto Hannah's, the words slipping out, soft but filled with regret at what you did to her.

Mike steps forward as he reaches for the light switch. The moment he flicks it, a spark ignites, and the room erupts in a blinding explosion. The force sends you and Mike flying backward, his arms wrapping around you protectively as the two of you crash to the ground, the shockwave rattling through your bones as the lodge goes up in flames.

You lie there on top of Mike, the world spinning as the roaring fire consumes what remains of the lodge.

In the distance, you hear the faint whir of helicopter blades, the sound growing louder, accompanied by a voice echoing through the smoke. "We've got survivors."

The harsh fluorescent lights overhead cast a sterile glow in the police station room, making everything feel painfully real.

The officer across from you studies you with a quiet intensity, his face neutral, but his eyes carry a weight that tells you he knows he's about to hear something he won't easily forget.

“I... I was grabbed and dragged through the woods. I thought I wouldn't make it, but then this man showed up. He had a flamethrower... he saved my life and he... he died trying to save a friend of mine” You recount everything, the words spilling out in uneven breaths as you described the twisted nightmare that unfolded in the mountains.

When you finish, the silence stretches out, heavy and unnerving, until the officer leans forward, his gaze intense.

"There's one more thing we need to discuss," he says, his tone carefully measured. "We recovered multiple bodies from the lodge after the explosion. One is severely burned, difficult to identify, but we believe it was one of your friends." He pauses, watching your reaction. "From what we could determine, she was shot."

The words sink in, your stomach twisting as you realize he's talking about Emily.

The officer's gaze sharpens, his voice low but probing. "Your boyfriend already told one of my colleagues what happened, but... I want to hear it from you. Can you tell me why he did it?"

His question hangs in the air, pressing down on you with a weight that's almost suffocating.

Tell the truth. You could tell the officer everything, lay bare the paranoia and fear that drove you all, admit that Mike had acted out of a desperation to protect all of you, even at the cost of a friend. This would leave Mike exposed, vulnerable to judgment and consequences that he might not deserve.

Protect Mike with a half-truth. You could bend the truth just enough to shield him, craft a version that holds the essence of what happened but protects him from the harshest scrutiny. You could tell the officer that Emily was on the verge of turning, and that Mike's decision was one made in self-defense for everyone. After all, Mike had a clue the bite wasn’t infectious. This would keep Mike safe.

You think of Mike, his face as he'd held the gun, the determination and anguish mingling as he made the choice to protect all of you. The quiet nights, the endless texts that bridged the miles between you when life pulls you in different directions. The inside jokes that only the two of you understood, the late-night conversations. You remember the way he’d stood by you through everything. The way he would always try to make you smile when you were having a bad day, the sound of his voice calling your name in a crowd, the way he’d look at you like you were the only person in the world that mattered. The memory of him chasing after you through the woods risking everything to save you.

Protect Mike

"There were other... things in that lodge, things that weren't human. I don't know if you've recovered them yet, but I'm sure you'll find them."

The officer's brow furrows slightly, as if considering the implications of your words. "We... found some burned bodies in the lodge. They were deformed, impossible to identify." His words trail off, as though he's reluctant to admit what he's seen.

You steady yourself, forcing your voice into a calm, controlled tone as you look back at the officer. "Emily was infected. She was about to turn into one of those things. Mike acted in self-defense for all of us, he was trying to protect us." The officer's face remains impassive, though you see a flicker of skepticism in his eyes.

You lean forward, pulling the crumpled photo from your pocket, the one the stranger had given you of the man twisted by the wendigo curse, the monstrous transformation captured in horrifying detail. You hand it to the officer, your hand trembling as you do.

ℬ𝓊𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇𝒻𝓁𝓎 ℯ𝒻𝒻ℯ𝒸𝓉 𝓊𝓅𝒹𝒶𝓉ℯ𝒹

"These... things aren't human. It wasn't her anymore. Mike did his best at saving us."

The officer studies the photograph, his expression shifting from skepticism to something darker, more troubled. He nods slowly, his gaze flicking back to you, and there's a note of respect in his tone as he speaks. "We'll look into it. Thank you for sharing this. We’ll keep it in mind for the investigation." He slips the photo into his folder, his expression thoughtful as he regards you one last time.

You hesitate, your voice soft but filled with a quiet desperation. "Could I see Mike?"

The officer studies you for a long moment, taking in the bruises on your skin, the exhaustion etched into every line of your face, and the pleading look in your eyes. He sighs, standing up and nodding toward the door. "Come with me."

You follow him through the narrow hallway, your heart pounding with every step as you finally catch sight of Mike, seated outside another interview room, his head bowed, hands clutched together. The exhaustion on his face is evident but the moment he sees you, his face transforms, relief flooding over him like a wave.

You barely have time to process before he's standing, crossing the short distance to you in a few strides and wrapping his arms around you in a fierce embrace. His grip is tight, his body trembling as he pulls you close, his breath hitching as he presses his face into your shoulder.

"It's over now," you whisper, voice barely audible as you press closer. "We're safe. It's finally over."

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes filled with fierce determination. He’ll never let anything happen to you ever again.

The two of you sit together in silence, your hands intertwined, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a gentle, steady rhythm. You can barely bring yourself to look at him, feeling the guilt gnaw at you. All of your friends died and it was your fault

His arms then pull you in closer and you lean into him, not saying anything because no words seem to make the guilt any lighter. But, in that moment, with his arms around you, there’s a strange sense of relief. No matter what happens next, at least you’re not alone.

ℬ𝓊𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇𝒻𝓁𝓎 ℯ𝒻𝒻ℯ𝒸𝓉 𝓊𝓅𝒹𝒶𝓉ℯ𝒹

I really love all the characters in this game, and honestly, it was painful to write their deaths. But I wanted to try something different this time. I hope it didn’t make the story less enjoyable to read—it wasn’t my intention at all. If you liked this, please leave a comment. I love reading them <3

[iamfitzwilliamdarcy]

I'm trying to word this in a way that makes sense because I'm not sure that I'm contradicting exactly-- here is the thing, though if Eowyn had died in battle, her death would be no better than Denethor's, and what kind of story would that be telling? Does the plot actually demand that of her?

Throughout the story, we have characters grappling with despair and choosing to go on despite their hoplessness (Frodo and Sam) and then characters who choose to give into despair (Denethor)-- and Eowyn chooses this too! She goes to battle to die-- this isn't glory, this is suicide.

Her healing by Aragorn is completed by Faramir -- in the sense that she wakens still in sorrow and despair, but Faramir loving her brings her through the winter-- but her heart isn't changed (or at least understood) until she chooses to accept that love -- it's again a choice she makes -- to turn from despair and allow herself to be healed-- unless she worked in cooperation with the love and healing she was offered, it would not have worked

And I think what I'm trying to come around to is the agency of Tolkien's characters and the consequences in the plot as a fall out of their actions vs what the plot demanded of the characters -- and so often it feels very genuine to me that the characters always have a choice and what they choose does matter -- Denethor could have repented and did not have to die-- but he chose not to and so did-- Eowyn could have chosen to reject Faramir's love, but she accepted it and so completed her healing-- Frodo and Sam could have chosen to give into despair but they did not and so were successful in their tasks-- and so on

I do love that you can see the influence of Tolkien meaning for Eowyn to die throughout her arc. That girl just screams "doomed by the narrative". She's set up for this grand yet tragic death, and wants for nothing else than a grand exit and a glorious end to all things.

But having her live is so much more interesting. And having her live to find happiness especially. She seems like a tragic character. She thinks herself a tragic character. She is overwhelmed by a sense of doom and helplessness. Her narrative is overwhelmed by a sense of doom and helplessness.

But she isn't doomed.

Turns out, decent healthcare, clued in and concerned family members, and a decent support base, go a long towards towards un-dooming her narrative.

[rispwr]

Hate you - chapter 3 - J.JK

Pairings : ex! Jungkook x ex! Reader

Notes : didn't get to do my word goal again:(( will definitely do it again next chapter. we don't talk anymore by charli puthh "what kind of dress you're wearing tonight, if it's holding onto you so tight, the way i did before"

Genre : Ex2L, angst, slow burn, fake dating, slice of life, fluff, e2l, corporate rivals, smau, smut

Sypnosis : ‘You were always told that hating someone is the only way it doesn’t hurt but what if you can’t hate him? No matter how hard you try your heart will always find it’s way to his’

2 years after breaking up with your boyfriend of 2 years you were finally on your way to become the ceo of your family’s company your rival turns out to be your ex.

Contents/warnings :

Misunderstood break up, insecurities, mentions of self harms or mental health issues, jk is mean at the start, yelling, sensitive language or words, mentions of family trauma, corporate au, smart (both), mentions of yoongi x oc, mentions of cheating, soon to be ceo! Jk, soon to be ceo! Oc, oc is still named Y/n or {__}, corporate rivals?, fake dating, lack of communication, death of a character, mentions of suicide attempt. not proofread

series masterlist

Can't believe this

February 10, 2027 — Present Time

You’d decided it was finally time for Yoongi to meet your mother. His calm demeanor and unwavering support had been your anchor during some of the toughest times.

Your fingers were laced with his, the warmth of his hand grounding you. The two of you looked effortlessly coordinated in matching blazers—his in classic black, yours in a crisp white.

As you reached the door, you took a deep breath and pushed it open.

And then you saw him.

Jungkook.

He was seated next to your mother, deep in conversation, his voice low and composed. His hair, once a warm chestnut brown, was now jet black, styled into a sleek, elegant mullet. It framed his face perfectly, the strands slicked back with precision. His right arm rested casually on the table, the sleeve of his shirt rolled up just enough to reveal the intricate tattoos that snaked up his skin.

This wasn’t the Jungkook you once knew. He carried himself differently now—poised, polished, and every bit the powerful CEO.

Your heart clenched, a mixture of shock and betrayal surging through you.

“Mom?” you said, your voice cutting through the quiet hum of the room.

Both your mother and Jungkook turned to face you, but it was your mom who spoke first. “Oh, Y/N, dear. I was just about to tell you about our new brand deal—”

“No,” you cut her off sharply, your tone icy. “I don’t want to, Mom.”

Your mother frowned, a flicker of disappointment crossing her face. “Y/N—”

Before she could continue, Jungkook stood, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “Y/N, listen—”

“It’s Ms. Kim Y/N to you, Mr. Jeon,” you snapped, your voice sharp and unyielding.

Yoongi shifted beside you, clearly sensing the tension. “Uh, maybe I should step out—”

“No, no, Yoongi,” you said quickly, your tone softening as you glanced at him. “It’s fine. We’ll be out of here soon.”

Jungkook’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. His gaze flickered briefly to Yoongi, his expression unreadable.

Your mom sighed, attempting to mediate. “Y/N, this partnership could be beneficial for both companies. Jungkook’s team—”

“I don’t care,” you interrupted, your voice firm. “We don’t need this deal, not if it involves him.”

The weight of your words hung heavy in the air.

Jungkook’s face remained stoic, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—regret, perhaps, or frustration. “Understood,” he said finally, his tone even.

Without another word, you turned and walked out of the room, Yoongi following close behind.

Once you were out in the hallway, Yoongi gently squeezed your hand. “You okay?” he asked, his voice low and soothing.

You nodded, though your heart still raced. “Yeah,” you said quietly, looking up at him. “I am now.”

I gathered my bag and slid out of the car with his help, the cool morning air brushing against my face. Adjusting my blazer, I turned to him and said, “I’ll be out late, so don’t wait for me or pick me up. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied with a respectful nod. His stoic expression didn’t waver, but I knew he’d make sure everything was handled as usual.

Just as I was about to step inside the building, my phone buzzed in my hand. It was Yoongi. I couldn’t help but smile as I answered. 

“Heyyy, wanna go out tonight?” he asked, his tone playful.

I hesitated for a moment, remembering the plans I’d already made. “Well... I kinda have plans with Namjoon and Sana tonight at the club,” I admitted. “But you can come. Can you?”

“Yeah, sure,” he said without missing a beat. “Pick you up or just stay at your place?”

“My place,” I replied, knowing it would be easier that way.

“Alrighty. See you, pretty,” he said smoothly, and I could hear the smile in his voice.

“See you,” I said, hanging up.

I slipped my phone back into my bag and walked into the towering office building. The lobby was sleek and modern, filled with employees and visitors. I walked confidently across the polished floors, my heels clicking rhythmically as I made my way to the private elevator reserved for executives.

Once I reached my floor, the familiar scent of fresh coffee and crisp paper greeted me. My assistant, Sejun, was already waiting by my office door, his usual clipboard in hand. He was a sharp dresser, his navy suit perfectly tailored, and his hair neatly combed back.

“Good morning, Ms. Kim,” he greeted me with a polite bow. “Someone sent you a letter. It’s on your desk.”

I raised an eyebrow. “A letter?” It wasn’t often that I received personal mail at the office, especially in this day and age.

“Yes, it was hand-delivered this morning,” Sejun explained as he opened the door for me. “It seemed urgent.”

I hummed in acknowledgment, stepping inside my spacious office.

I sank back into my chair. After all the training, coaching, and pressure to step up as CEO, I’d finally started to find a rhythm that felt… right. There was satisfaction in this work, a sense of control I hadn't experienced before. For months, I'd felt buried under the weight of everyone’s expectations. But now, as I glanced around my office, I felt the slightest glimmer of pride.

With a small smile, I gave in to a rare moment of relaxation, spinning slowly in my chair. Just as I was beginning to feel settled, something caught my eye. A sleek,brown, small envelope lay on my desk, standing out starkly against the polished white surface. I frowned. The name on it was written in bold, elegant script:

To: Kim Y/N, CEO of RNT Inc. From: Jeon Jungkook, CEO of GCF Productions.

My heart dropped as I read his name. Jungkook. After everything, after years of hurting me, he was reaching out now? My fingers hovered over the envelope, hesitant, but curiosity won. I picked it up, feeling the weight of the paper in my hand, the texture rich and smooth under my fingertips. Slowly, I slid my nail under the seal and pulled out a letter, already bracing myself for the frustration I knew would come.

The very first line felt like a slap to the face.

Dear Y/N, the love of my life.

A harsh, bitter laugh escaped me, almost involuntary. "Is he kidding?" I muttered to myself, rolling my eyes. He had to be joking. This was the same man who’d walked away without a single explanation, leaving me to piece together the wreckage of my heart on my own. Yet here he was, casually calling me "the love of his life," as if that title could erase everything that had happened between us.

Taking a breath, I continued reading, my fingers gripping the edges of the paper.

I wrote this letter back in December 2025, almost a year after we broke up. Well, after I broke up with you. I know what I did could never be justified, nor will it ever be okay, and I’m writing this to tell you I’m truly sorry.

I’ve spent every day since hating myself for how I hurt you. I couldn’t even bring myself to face you and say it out loud. I was selfish, Y/N. I was only thinking about myself, my fears, my insecurities. But the truth is, losing you was the biggest mistake of my life. I know I didn’t deserve you then, and I probably never will. You deserve someone better, someone who can love you fully and without hesitation. I was never that person, and for that, I’m sorry.

A slight tremor ran through my hand as I lowered the letter, blinking back the prickle of tears that threatened to gather. So that was it? That was all he had to offer? An apology scratched out on a piece of paper, years after he'd torn me apart? I felt a strange mix of rage, sadness, and exhaustion welling up in me as I reread his words.

I’d spent countless nights trying to understand why he’d left. I’d gone through every possible reason in my mind, analyzing each argument, every little moment that might have led him to walk away. And here he was, admitting to being "selfish," "insecure," and telling me he’d "made a mistake." But it wasn’t enough. I needed more. I needed an answer that made sense, something to validate the pain I’d gone through.

I let out a shaky breath, the frustration building inside me. His "explanation" was just a reminder of how deeply he’d scarred me. All those moments I’d doubted myself, the insecurities that had crept in because I thought I wasn’t enough for him. And now, he was telling me that none of it had been my fault? That he’d just been... scared?

I felt a surge of anger rise, mingling with the hurt I’d buried over the years. “So that's it, huh?” I muttered to myself, voice edged with bitterness. “You just get to come back and apologize? You get to ‘hate yourself’ for what you did, and that’s supposed to be enough?”

Another part of the letter caught my eye:

You deserve someone better, someone who can love you fully and without hesitation. I was never that person.

My eyes narrowed as I read those words. I didn’t need someone to tell me what I deserved—I’d worked hard to find peace, to rebuild myself without his validation. I’d made it to where I was now because I had pushed through the heartache, and I refused to let him swoop back in and disrupt the life I’d built for myself.

My gaze drifted to the windows, the city skyline gleaming in the afternoon light. This was my world now—a world I’d crafted from the pieces he left behind. And the more I thought about it, the angrier I felt. He had no right to just appear out of nowhere and stir up these emotions, no right to force me to relive the pain I’d worked so hard to bury.

I glanced down at the letter one last time, reading the final lines, feeling the bile rise in my throat.

If I could go back, I’d have done things differently. But I can’t change the past, Y/N. I know you might never forgive me, and I understand. I just needed you to know how sorry I am. You deserved better, and I’m sorry I couldn’t be that for you.

With a bitter laugh, I folded the letter neatly, my fingers pressing down on the creases with a sharp finality. “You’re sorry?” I whispered to the empty room. “No. It’s too late for that.” My voice trembled with the weight of years of bottled-up resentment.

For a brief second, I considered crumpling the letter, letting it join the discarded pieces of him I’d long since cast away. But instead, I placed it back on the desk, staring at it with a cold, unfeeling gaze. Jungkook could write all the letters he wanted. He could regret everything he’d done, but he’d never be able to undo the damage he’d caused.

“You miss your mommy, huh? How about me? Don’t you miss me?” he said in a playful, high-pitched voice, scratching behind Cosmo’s ears. My dog wagged his tail enthusiastically, clearly enjoying the attention.

Smiling to myself, I crept quietly toward the couch, leaning down to wrap my arms around Yoongi’s shoulders from behind.

“Y/nnn!” he whined in surprise, tilting his head back to look at me.

I laughed, planting a quick kiss on his cheek. “Surprised you, didn’t I?”

He huffed, a small pout forming on his lips, before breaking into a grin. “Cosmo misses you,” he said, pointing dramatically to the dog. “And this person too.” He jabbed his thumb toward his chest.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, you’re funny,” I said, shaking my head. “Let me get ready, and we can head out to the club?”

“Sure,” he replied, leaning back into the couch. “Which club is it, anyway?”

“Oh, Namjoon just opened a new one nearby,” I said, making my way toward the bedroom. “It’s called Serendipity.”

“Cool,” Yoongi said, his tone casual. “Leave it to Joon to pick a name like that.”

--

After finishing the final touches on my outfit, I stepped out of the bedroom, feeling confident. My eyes immediately met Yoongi’s, who was leaning casually against the armrest of the couch. His gaze softened as he took me in, a small, appreciative smile curving his lips.

“You’re always beautiful, babe,” he said, his voice low and warm. He pushed off the couch, closing the distance between us. “You know, I was thinking…” His hand reached up to gently brush a strand of hair from my face. “Maybe we could just stay home tonight? Just you, me, and Cosmo.”

I crossed my arms, giving him my best pout. “Yoongi,” I whined. “This is the opening night. Namjoon will kill me if I don’t show up.”

He chuckled softly, leaning down to press a quick kiss to my pouty lips. “I’m just kidding,” he said, his laughter rumbling against my cheek. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Besides,” he added with a wink, “I can't wait to see the new club anyway.”

at the club 

“Babeee! You made it!” Namjoon grinned, pulling me into a quick hug. Sana followed, giving me a playful nudge before turning her attention to Yoongi. She stepped back, arms crossed, and eyed him from head to toe, a teasing glint in her eyes.

“Ohhh, so you two are together now, huh?” she said, raising an eyebrow at me.

“Well, not exactly yet,” I admitted with a small smile, glancing at Yoongi, who simply shrugged with his usual calm demeanor.

Sana leaned in closer to him, lowering her voice. “Listen, Yoongi,” she said, her tone light but with an edge of protectiveness. “You know what her ex did. He broke her, left her shattered. If you even think about pulling something like that…” She smirked, “Let’s just say you’ll be picking up your pieces from the floor.”

Yoongi didn’t miss a beat. With a playful grin, he gave a mock salute. “Understood, ma’am. Won’t let you down.”

Sana laughed, giving him a soft punch on the shoulder. “Good. I like this one,” she said, turning back to me. “Don’t mess it up.”

Namjoon chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright, Sana, let the man breathe. Y/N’s got good taste.”

We made our way deeper into the club, finding a table near the center. The place was packed, people swaying to the beat under the shimmering lights. Namjoon leaned in, his voice barely audible over the music. “You might want a heads-up,” he said. “A lot of important people showed up tonight.”

“Oh? Like who?” I asked, taking a sip of the cocktail Sana had handed me.

Namjoon hesitated for a moment, then said, “I’ve got a new partnership lined up. They’re interested in using the club as a film set.”

“Really? That’s amazing!” I said, genuinely impressed.

“Yeah,” he nodded, his expression slightly cautious. “It’s with GCF—Golden Closet Film Productions.”

The name hit me like a freight train. My smile faltered as my grip tightened around the glass. GCF. Of all the production companies, it had to be his.

“That’s…interesting,” I said, keeping my tone neutral, though my heart raced.

Namjoon noticed the shift in my demeanor. “Are you okay?” he asked, concern evident in his eyes.

Before I could respond, a familiar figure stepped into view. The air seemed to thicken around us as Jungkook made his entrance, his confident stride drawing attention. His sharp suit and slicked-back hair.

He didn’t notice me right away, but when his eyes finally landed on our table, they locked onto mine.

The moment Jungkook’s face came into view, panic surged through my fading consciousness. He couldn’t get my company, and now he had to come after Namjoon’s? My mind spiraled, and the pounding music faded into the background. My vision blurred, and before I could process what was happening, my legs buckled beneath me.

The world tilted, and everything went dark.

When I came to, faint voices surrounded me. My head pounded, and the bright lights overhead stung my eyes. Slowly, I began to piece together what had happened. I was lying on the floor, my body weak and heavy. As my vision cleared, I saw three men hovering over me.

Yoongi was the first to catch my attention, his face etched with worry. His hand rested gently on my shoulder, his voice calm but firm as he whispered, “Y/N, stay with us. It’s okay. You’re safe.”

Namjoon was on my other side, his brow furrowed in concern. “Breathe, Y/N,” he said, his voice steady but tinged with panic. “You’re going to be fine. We’ve got you.”

And then there was him. 

Jungkook.

 The one person I never expected—or wanted—to see like this again. His face was pale, his hands trembling slightly as he checked my pulse. His eyes, usually so confident and cold, were filled with something I hadn’t seen in years—genuine fear.

“Someone call an ambulance!” Jungkook’s voice cut through the noise, sharp and commanding. “Now!”

I blinked slowly, my vision flickering in and out. I could feel Yoongi’s grip tighten protectively, as if shielding me from the man who now knelt beside me.

“Y/N, wake up,” Jungkook pleaded, his voice softer now, almost desperate. “Please.”

Why was he here? Why was he acting like he cared? The questions swirled in my mind, but my body betrayed me. I was too weak to push him away, too drained to tell him to leave.

The last thing I saw before the darkness swallowed me again was Yoongi glaring at Jungkook, his jaw clenched, as if silently telling him to back off.

But Jungkook didn’t move. He stayed right there, holding my hand, as if he had any right to.

The ambulance raced through the city, its sirens blaring as it made its way to the hospital. Inside, tension was thick in the air as Yoongi, Namjoon, and Jungkook all hovered around me, waiting for any sign of movement. The nurses worked swiftly, checking my vitals and preparing me for transport.

One of the nurses, a woman with a no-nonsense attitude, looked over her shoulder at the three men. "So," she began, glancing between them, "what are your relations to the patient?"

Namjoon spoke up first, his voice steady but tinged with concern. "Uh, I’m her best friend. Kind of like a brother, but we’re not family... just very close."

Before the nurse could respond, Yoongi interrupted, speaking with an air of calmness that didn’t match his inner turmoil. "I’m her... partner. We’re not exclusive," he said, his eyes still on me.

The nurse raised an eyebrow, but she nodded, jotting something down on her clipboard. Then her gaze shifted to Jungkook, who had been unusually quiet until now. "And you?" she asked, her voice neutral but probing.

Jungkook hesitated, his eyes flicking to me before he finally answered. "I’m... her ex." His voice faltered just a little, but he didn’t look away, clearly uncertain of how to explain himself.

The nurse gave a quick nod, her expression unreadable as she continued her work. "Alright, noted," she muttered

Yoongi, Namjoon, and Jungkook all nodded in unison, their faces still drawn with worry.

As the nurse made her way to the front of the ambulance, muttering something under her breath, it was clear she wasn’t too keen on this complex situation. "Tough," she mumbled, not entirely directed at them but loud enough for all of them to hear.

The other nurse cleared his throat, breaking the awkward tension. “We’re almost at the hospital. Just hang in there, alright?” He gave a reassuring smile before turning his attention back to the equipment.

at the hospital

"Okay, it seems like her vitals are stable," the doctor began, "but it appears there may be an underlying issue—more psychological than physical. I suggest she undergoes a check-up with her psychiatrist."

He paused, looking from Yoongi to Namjoon, then to Jungkook. "Does she have any psychiatrist or—?"

Before he could finish the sentence, Yoongi spoke up, his tone calm but firm. "Yes, she has a psychiatrist, and a therapist as well," Yoongi added, as if it was no big deal, but the words seemed to hang in the air, carrying an unexpected weight.

The doctor nodded in acknowledgment. "Good to know. I'll make a note of that," he said, before turning back to the charts.

Meanwhile, Jungkook's eyes narrowed, shooting Yoongi a quick glare.

Is he trying to rub it in on me that he has her or what? 

Jungkook thought, feeling the subtle sting of jealousy. But he kept his thoughts to himself, watching as the others focused on the doctor.

The doctor continued, "I'll send the nurse in with the medication and a prescription."

Namjoon, who had been mostly silent up until now, spoke up, his voice tinged with concern. "Is there anything she should avoid or...?"

The doctor looked up, his expression softening slightly. "Avoid stress, skipping meals, too much screen time, excessive caffeine, and salty foods. That should help, at least for now," he advised. "She will be discharged tomorrow once she wakes up. We’ll keep monitoring her overnight."

Yoongi and Jungkook, both clearly anxious and equally invested in my well-being, bombarded the doctor with questions at the same time.

"When should she take the medication?" Yoongi asked, his voice urgent but trying to remain composed.

Jungkook jumped in right after, his tone sharp with impatience. "And how much should she take? Should we be worried about any side effects?"

The doctor looked between the two, raising an eyebrow at the sudden competition for answers. It wasn’t lost on him how the situation was unfolding. "It’s really up to her, but I recommend following the instructions on the prescription. If you’re both helping her, make sure she stays hydrated and follows a good routine," he said, handing over a piece of paper with the details. "Just keep an eye on her mental health. That’s the priority right now."

Namjoon, who had been standing back a little, exchanged a quick glance with Yoongi. He couldn’t help but chuckle lightly under his breath. "I think the doc's right, you guys. She needs care, not a competition," he joked, trying to break the tension.

"Where am I?" I mumble, still feeling dizzy.

And then it hits me, my confusion turning into full-blown panic. I sit up quickly, my head spinning, my eyebrows furrowing in frustration. "what the fuck is happening?" I yell, completely freaking out. My heart is racing as I try to slap myself, muttering under my breath, "This is a dream. This is a dream." I say it enough for them to hear me, hoping I’m just imagining this whole nightmare.

Before anyone can respond, I hear the doctor’s voice, soft and nonchalant. "Alright, I think it’s time for me to go out," he mumbles, and the door clicks shut behind him.

I stare at the empty doorway for a moment before scoffing bitterly. My emotions are spiraling out of control. I turn my attention to Jungkook, the rage bubbling up inside me. "Wow. Just—just wow," I say, pointing a shaky finger in his direction. "You! You took two, three and a half years to finally show up in my life again?? Are you trying to ruin my life or something?" My voice is shaking with anger, every word feeling like it’s tearing me apart.

"Y/N," Yoongi tries to calm me down, but I don’t want to hear it.

"No! This is all stupid!!" I yell, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on me. My hands cover my face as I try to stop myself from breaking down. I can’t hold it in anymore, and I let out a frustrated yell. "Fuck! You guys should’ve let me die there!" The words slip out before I can stop them, too raw, too real, but they’re there, and I hate myself for saying them.

"I’m sorry, Y/N..." I hear Jungkook’s voice, but it only makes things worse.

"No. Save your fucking sorrys," I snap, cutting him off, my heart pounding in my chest. "When you can finally man up and tell me why the fuck you left me, and what was your reason for it, then maybe I’ll listen to your sorry. Until then? You won’t be hearing a fucking word from me."

"fine!" I watched as Jungkook stormed out of the room, his blazer in hand, his anger vibrating through every movement.

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[threepandas]

After The War: Foxx Hunting (Prev <-)

"Commander."

On anyone else, the tone would suggest simple statement. But there was a lilt. A slight inflection, I had long learned to spot, at the end of the word. That made it a greeting. A call. Monotone filled with subtle, near untraceable mocking.

"Tired of running yet, Commander? Or do you want to struggle more? You can, if you want. I can let you. We have time. After all, it really won't change much. There's no where you can go."

Head tilted ever so slightly, at an almost an invisible angle. Posture, military perfect, impossibly so. That perfection bought with pain, torture, born out of brutal necessity. His lips quirked, in an amused curl. At just that same, impossibly slight amount. Too small and indistinct for his tormentors to notice. To take from him.

Just enough to stay human, I had thought. Too stay sane, I had hoped.

I was wrong.

My biggest mistake hunted me. Had all the power in the GALAXY now, to hunt me. All the time he could ever dream, in which to do so. And it was all my fault. Me. It had to be. I... I was the only thing that changed. Tried to make things... things BETTER!

How arrogant. Hubristic. Who the fuck was I? To think I had the RIGHT, to shape and change the fate of an entire GALAXY to my whims? I didn't even know the story. Had been GUESSING, based off STAR WARS. So... so fucking confident. A-and what did that get me? Oh god. O-Oh god!

The blaster burns on my arms and legs screamed, as I forced myself up, one more time. Always, please god, always! J-just one more time! Don't give out on me yet. Not.. not until we are safe. Then. Then! We can cry. Howl and weep, break down and scream.

(My fault. My Fault. MY FAUL-)

None of the characters were an exact match. People were and weren't where they should be. Plots happened out of sequence or not at all. So why? WHY? Did I believe so hard in the Clones? IS it because I loved, still LOVE, the Vode? Did that trust transfer? That emotional connection? Was I tricked? Or was I just a fool? Does it MATTER in the end? If the result is the same?

I brought a monster, straight to Power.

Now they're dead. All my brothers, my sisters, my mentors and friends. Dead, dead, DEAD! Glowing weapons on the ground and a temple filled with DEATH. D-Did the nurseries get out? Please, oh god, let the children have survived my mistake.

Blood stains my robes. Only a tiny fraction of it, is mine.

Sticky and slick, oily and so many colors. The blood does not mix. Too many species, too much ash from the air. If I do not clean or remove it soon? I am likely to get chemical burns, from the reactions developing on the cloth. But again and again. My mistake finds me. A pursuit predator. Intent on wearing me down.

"How long will you try, Commander? You know just as well as I do, that I can afford to wait you out. You'll drop eventually." His tone was so mild, even as his words were horrifying. Overhead, a transport kept steady pace, as I desperately ran from commandos on the streets. "How many days has it been without proper rest? Rations? To stop and think? We've survived far worse then this, Commander. For far longer. We can endure, can you?"

I pull my magic around me, through my screaming legs, to fling myself across a jump they shouldn't be able to make.

Despair surges, as behind me... I hear jetpacks. Ah. They've gotten better gear, at long last. E-Everything I've ever wished for them. Gear and food and safety, at long last! A-At long last. I have to laugh, hysterical and afraid. I just... I just never thought my wish? Would be fulfilled for the purpose of hunting me down.

(I'm so tired. Please, god. No more. Let it stop. Let this nightmare END!)

Jumping, I land in a roll on a level several floors down. The impact is ugly. Agony on my burns and bruises. I may have not taken any direct hits? But those glancing strikes? Still leave marks. Trails of seared, blistering, blaster burns. Like tiger strips. As though you hade been struck, by whip made of fire. Not to mention the concussion grenades.

Yeah, half way through the attack, the Clones had stumbled. Either broken free of the Not Sith's control or come to their senses, deciding to switch to non-lethal weapons. Probably trying to go for the capture instead of the kill. But given the sheer variety of the Knights? One Being's sedative was another's lethal toxin. And the gas attacks...

I... I'm still not even sure if... if Master Rim'Llahiy survived long enough, to get to the healers. The seizures were BAD. He... he didn't deserve that. All he'd ever done, was keep the gardens. Live a quite life. T...Try to defend his home.

Around me, as I run, screens light up. Somehow, I'm the focal point. I... I don't know how he's doing this. It has to be Sketch or Gear, one of the Slicers. Who else could hack into so many systems so easily? The... the knowledge that they're helping him? That everyone of the Guard is HELPING him hunt me? I feel sick.

Was any of it real? Was I friends with ANY of them? Or... Or was I just them happy little slave master, patting myself on the back, because I didn't beat them, unlike the others? Aren't I gracious. Don't you just love me? Say thank you for my grace. Let me feel good about my self! My pretty little charity of the day! Before I skip back off to fairy land! Leaving you all in hell.

Do I deserve this? I... I have to deserve this... right?

Even though I tried. Even though I fought and fought and FOUGHT. Even when that Not A Sith BASTARD tried to kill me at every turn, just to shut me the fuck up, and I WOULDN'T. Because they deserved to be free. Because it was WRONG. Because we took VOWS, remember? Days and days, convincing and campaigning.

I have to... to somehow, deserve this. Because? B-because if I DON'T?

Then What Have I DONE?

City levels and blocks blur together. I couldn't tell you where on this god forsaken ecumenopolis I am anymore. But the others! The others have gotten off planet by now. Surely... surely! They have escaped! Right? They HAVE too. I-It HAS to have been worth it. Becoming bait. M-making myself a target. This... this one last time?

It.. it was WORTH it. Right? Right?!

Please! Please god! Let it have been WORTH IT!!

I skid around a corner. Too tight, not judging it right in my panic, my shoulder clipping the wall hard. Scraping flesh through my robes. Just more bruises and hurt to add to the pile. I don't slow. Can't slow. Feel it but push the pain away. The crash later will be ugly, when I release the magics flowing through me. When the adrenaline fades. But... but either I will live to endure it? Or it will not matter at all.

Too late, though, I see the trap.

I have been corralled. Like a a sheep from my first life, harried by dogs into a pen. Tricked into a corner. No where left to go. The platform I thought was a street? Was an alley between two buildings, leading to a third. A perfect little killbox with only one way out. I stumble, horrified, as I register the truth too late. Spin, already knowing it's too late to double back. But hoping... HOPING....!

Jetpacks. The commando squadron of the guards, touching down at the entrance, a solid line of armor and skill. Better weapons, jet packs, upgraded armor. They... they even seem rested. For the first time in years.

A stark reversal. Now it is I, who is barely holding on. Now I am the one, who has been ground to dust, by the exhaustion of fighting without end. Of running and running. No real food and no real rest. No medicine. No help coming. I want to laugh, scream, weep. So it's to be poetic justice, is it?

But I can not give in.

Forgive me. But I can not, WILL NOT give in. Body exhausted, I draw my blade. The plasma humming as the magics charge. The alleyway fills with light. I took Vows. Owe my soul to the Galaxy and it's people. Regardless of Regime, I have service I must complete. And to do that? I have to be alive.

(I don't care, that they took over. Let them have it. But how could you? How COULD YOU?! The Temple was my home. I am a hypocrite. Here, at the end, I must face that. And now I know it to be true.)

The ship over head dips lower, kicking up a hurricane of wind. My robes whip around me, but I do not move from my opening stance. Ready, not ready, but resigned to it none the less. The Commandos are a silent wall as, from above, a rip cord descends. Clipped to it? Marshall Commander... no, Supreme Commander Foxx.

The Clones newly elected Emperor.

A man I THOUGHT was my friend.

He looked nothing like Commander Fox of the Vode. Hair too long and curling. Face deceptively young looking and boyish. Non regulation piercing hidden under the helmet all Guards wore, day in and day out. They hadn't been able to customize their armor like the others. So they customized themselves.

He wasn't in armor, now. It was somehow worse. The dress uniform an affront, a reminder, like a curse of broken glass. I... I hadn't even known he owned such a thing. It made sense, given his old position. Yet, somehow... somehow? I doubted this was the uniform he had been given. It looked... looked Regal.

"Are we done, now? Got it out of your system? Or should one of us put you on the ground first? Grind your face right against the filthy floor?"

His voice was mild as ever, as he calmly unclipped himself, let the cord retract. He tucked his hands behind his back. Strolled forward with measured steps, assessing eyes, like a general examining untested troops. Picking me apart for weakness, looking for openings in my stance. Injuries on my body. I had seen him do this before. Just... just never thought... it'd be used... a-against me. (How arrogant, I had been.)

"This can stop at any time, Commander. All you have to do? Is stop running. You don't have to worry anymore. I'm not going to hurt you. We're not going to hurt you. You've struggled long enough, don't you think? It's time to be done. To come home. Be taken care off. That's all we want to do, Darling. Commander."

"Surely you can see, that it's BETTER this way? No more war. No more Knights on sabotaged missions. Diplomats to war zones. Children where they shouldn't BE. The Order can be SAFE now. YOU can be safe now. Loved and precious as you always should have been. It's okay now, Commander. Come here. It's okay..."

Foxx's eyes blazed with conviction. They had been brown, like his brothers. They... oh god, they SHOULD have been brown. But as I stared into his face, at those unfamiliar eyes on what should be so familiar a form? Red stared back. The red, Red, RED, of the Fallen.

Foxx had been... had been Energy Sensitive. The Cloners had fucking LIED, when they said it wasn't possible. I had always suspected. Didn't dare bring attention to it. Didn't want my friend to be... to be KILLED. Experimented on. I should have trained him. Done more.

Desperate people will reach for anything, to stop themselves from drowning. And the Dark offers such tempting things. Vengeance and Power. Freedom, no matter the cost. It pays sweetly then corrupts slow. There is always a cost.

I can not risk it.

Shifting my weight to my front leg, in preparation to surge forward, I never get the chance. A two fold thwip! And sharp pinch in my upper arm. I got the first. But the second... a? Dart? No. NO! Panicked, I flood my body with the magics meant to purge drugs and... instantly the world spins. I have somehow just made it worse. W-what?

"Confiscated from slavers, 'bout five months back. It's a high end drug." The Commando with the dart gun said, as though commentingon the weather. "Fairly new, too. Made to react specifically to the Cosmic Energies. Our esteemed Chancellor, may he rot as he deserves, had them developed through several shell companies."

"Really wish you hadn't done that, Commander. Cause, see, the side effects? Are pretty nasty." Foxx commented. Various helmets nodded, the guards body language sympathetic but lacking any remorse. What ever it took to bring me in. To make me Safe.

"Now you're going to be sick for a while. But on the other hand? You are a stubborn one. So maybe this'll give you time to think, hmm? Time to enjoy the pampering a bit. You'll get used to it, learn to be good for me. I know you. You're a smart girl."

My legs couldn't hold me anymore. Despite struggling, I couldn't keep my blade at the ready. Helplessly, I watched as he watched forward. Used a single finger, on the hilt, to push my blade to the side. The lightest of tugs, stealing it from me entirely. At long last, the tears came. I... I was scared. Really, really scared. P-please... Foxx, please...

"Hunts over, Commander. It's time to stop running. You've lost."

"But, that? That's okay. You can lose now. Be weak. Wretched and pathetic and flawed. You don't have to be perfect any more, Commander. I've got you. You're Mine. Ours. Perfect, just the way you are. And today?"

"Today is the start of the rest of your new life, Commander."

"Welcome to the Empire."

[local-lamppost]

Initial thoughts cause it's 4am

Spoilers

First off, wow... it's really good. I've been saying that if season 2 is as good as season 1 Arcane would be my new favorite show and we are on track. Anyway, just gonna list stuff until I can process/rewatch a billion times

Mel lived! I was so certain that they would just kill her off, make that Ambessa's motive (give Jayce a reason to keep fighting the Undercity) but it's much more interesting keeping her involved in the narrative. Love her trying to bother understand and undermine her mother. Those Black Rose guys best not have hurt a hair on her perfect head.

Speaking of. What in the Utena are these Black Rose magic people? I love the look of their magic. I wonder how they can corrupt people. Is it a spell? Do they slip them something?

Love how the divide of Jayce and Viktor was done. Jayce betrayed Viktor's wishes of destroying the Hexcore. Last season, Viktor wanted to forget about using the core to save himself after Sky and begged Jayce to destroy it when the core wouldn't allow Viktor himself to do it. In Jayce's mind though, the core is the solution to Viktor's problems. He didn't know it killed Sky or that it can influence Viktor, but all Viktor can comprehend is that Jayce didn't trust him. Didn't keep his promise. And this is fresh off of Jayce's season 1 antics against the Undercity, so Viktor's faith in his partner was already shaken. Viktor's also comfortable in his mortality/death, even though he wants to prolong it like every other human, but Jayce can't fathom loosing Viktor-the man who saved his life and made his dreams reality.

(Side note: Am I a JayVik shipper? I never considered myself one, but after writing this...)

JINX HAS A KID! I love this choice. Give Jinx a kid so she is able to learn what Silco and Vi had to go through with her, that no matter how big or dangerous a scheme to take this child into account. The confrontation in ep 3 really showed what Jinx will have to consider now that this kid's decided to adopt her as an older sister or something. Especially nice detail of how Vi-who has always had to consider the kids in her life-immediately stops fighting and starts looking for ways to keep the kid safe.

I was wondering how Jinx would loose a finger and Caitlyn shooting it off to save Vi is just- The fact that the only way these two can show they care about Vi when it comes to each other is by hurting the other.

Sevika's new arm is fantastic. It's a peace offering from Jinx, but also a way for Jinx to feel better (it was something she could fix). The mechanics of it are really fun. It reminds me of Kite's weapon from HxH with how it didn't always work/give her what she wanted in the fight. I especially love the victory rockets and built in theme song.

Ambessa is so interesting. Between her character song to the introduction of just what she is fighting against, I am very intrigued. She reminds me of Cersei Lannister, except she loves her kids as more than just extensions of herself (as of what we've seen, but I think that'll stick). Her using Salo to establish herself-which also keeps Mel safe by distancing her-but also dropping him in order to prop up Cait at her first opportunity is such a clever move. She truly is the fox and the wolf, but she is above all a mama bear.

Not much to say about Heimerdinger or Ekko yet, but I am definitely curious to see what they do about the wild runes with Jayce. The three of them have a fun dynamic, what with Heimerdinger still being peeved about magic/being ousted, Ekko hating topside and having a new reason to do so with them poisoning his tree, and Jayce being recently seperated and divorced from both his partners.

Vi is an enforcer. I didn't know how they were gonna handle this, but they did it so well. Of course she wants to fix things for the people her sister hurt. She feels responsible. She can say she doesn't blame herself, but how true is that? Why else would she be wearing a badge if not for her guilt? She is desperate to do something right and being an enforcer seemed to be a way to make Cait happy, get her gauntlets (what she believes is necessary to make any kind of change), and be first in line in the hunt for Jinx. She says that her sister is dead, that Jinx is a desecration to Powder's memory, that they are not sisters but isn't it supposed to be 'nothing is going to change that'? How much of all this is just something Vi is telling herself to keep going? Cait is her motive right now, but after ep 3 I definitely see why she starts spiraling.

(2 Side note: Her new best friend/drinking buddy is such a real one. They have a bender in the gutter together and now he's following her into and out of the enforcers. I wonder if he knew Vander? In any case, he is a delight.)

Cait and Vi kissed... CAIT AND VI KISSED! Then NOTHING HAPPENED AFTER! NOTHING! No immediate break up, nope.

So Cait. I love Cait and I am hyped for her arc this season. I am ready to fight tooth and nail for her. I am a Caitlyn defender. So what she's being manipulated into leading a military state due to her grief/unresolved anger/guilt/Ambessa being better at this than her, she looks amazing in her cape. It balances.

Seriously though, the writing for Cait especially is so solid. She is desperate to hold herself and her family together, to protect her city. She still wants to protect the innocent, to heal the Undercity, but her anger at a select few of those she wants to help is clouding the greater image for her. Vi seems to be acting as her better half, the side that cares for the innocent-the protector. Ambessa is the agressor, encouraging Cait to take drastic military action against the Undercity as a whole. Vi's disillusionment with Cait is due to the fact that Cait desire to heal, not harm, is what caused her to fall for Cait to begin with. To see more than some privileged topside enforcer, but a woman who genuinely cared and was willing to abandon her peaceful naivety to learn for the greater good of strangers.

I'll also point out that they separate when Cait starts blaming Vi for them loosing Jinx. Before, everyone but Cait put responsibility on Vi, she was supposed to be the one to help lighten the load and absolve some of the guilt. Now Cait is becoming another one of those who slam the blame on Vi. She changed. Why does everyone around VI change?

Can't wait for the next batch of episodes.

[utilitycaster]

I said this morning I could write more but there isn't actually a ton more to say. Essek serves as an example of like, someone who was on a Ludinus-like path to an extent (pursuit of knowledge to the exclusion of caring about mortal costs; isolated and arrogant and selfish; frustrated with the people around him and specifically with their religious beliefs getting in his way) but he was never quite as disconnected as Ludinus seems to have been; even before the Mighty Nein showed up he seemed to have a handful of trusted connections in the form of Verin and Uraya, as well as a very faint glimmer of a conscience that, thanks to the Mighty Nein, was fanned into fullness instead of eventually dying out or being smothered. Keyleth serves as an example of someone who actually permits herself to grieve, and she has never been alone even after Vax's death, and her pursuit of leadership was always about teamwork and caring about others, so even as she agrees with Ludinus that Exandria belongs to its people, she isn't driven by vengeance or violence in the same way.

Will note. If you want to make this a weird shipping thing about Liam's characters you can but I'd rather you didn't here, as I find that weird and off-putting. I think the point is "Liam's characters are drawn to powerful people who could have gone down dark paths and even might start down one, but ultimately choose to turn back"; this isn't like, about Keyleth and Essek themselves being terribly similar because they reflect different aspects of Ludinus (Essek the arcane, Keyleth the political, and both the non-religious). Though it is interesting that Liam's long-term characters all ultimately fall for people born into positions of high expectations and expected power. but yeah man until it's explicitly stated otherwise I personally will forever headcanon Ludinus as, as one of my mutuals said, ace but would marry a man for tax evasion purposes and not a woman.

I think the two most obvious foils for Ludinus Da'leth across all of Critical Role are Essek and Keyleth, which is both fascinating given how different those two characters are from each other (Essek being a foil in terms of isolation, single-mindedness, harm in the name of ambition, knowledge, and other such wizard themes; Keyleth being a foil in terms of people who have lost something at a young age to the gods and bear resentment for it, political leadership, belief that the world belongs to mortalkind, and longevity) but also it's extremely funny that they both are the partners of Liam's character.

[meeludrawz]

New Rehab Program - Pt 4

A/N: Hey if you wanna get tagged, just tell me! Cuz life makes me update slow, rip

Warnings: Mention of blood, mention of you being badly injured, mention of death, also you hate the Twilight saga

During the next couple of days, Shigaraki was oddly 'clingy'. Not physically, but he was always following you around like a dog or cat.

You were watching tv? He was there, sitting on the lazyboy, playing on his phone while sometimes, looking at what you're watching too.

In the kitchen? He was there, sitting on the kitchen island, still doing his own thing though.

The only times he wouldn't follow was when you were in the bathroom, or your bedroom. During those moments, he'd stay in his room. WITH HIS DOOR OPENED. He never closed it now!!

You didn't really understand that sudden switch in him until you decided to examine his behaviour.

From what you had observed, he was clearly grateful to be freed from this collar. That was an easy guess though because the day when you removed it, you put it on the counter. Guess what? Next day there was only a pile of dust left there.

It made you smile, because in all honesty, you would never put it back around his neck. He wasn't a wild animal or caveman with rabies.

You quickly realized that, him following you around, was his own way of saying that he appreciated your presence. Though, knowing his personality, you knew he'd tell you the opposite.

He was still quite silent but at least he didn't ignore you when you asked or talked to him.

You were more than glad to see all this progress when all you did was being kind and patient to him. Even if there was still lots of work to do.

"She should dust them both" Shigaraki hissed at the tv.

You had been bored and had decided to rewatch Twilight. Tomura was still on his phone but he was clearly more focused on the movie. You didn't like this saga but you watched it to see his reaction, to see if he disliked the franchise like you. Was it some kind of therapy? Not really, it was more like bonding time. So far, his reactions were hilarious but you kept your laughs inside.

"Why does Jacob has screen time? He should be a background character only" The white haired man hissed again.

At this point, your show wasn't Twilight anymore but Tomura.

"Why does Jasper keeps staring like a fucking moron? I want to kill him." He went silent for a few seconds. "Is Bella a fucking zombie? She has no emotions" He growled before adding. "If she's a zombie, that would fucking explain why she smells weird to them"

Your laughs escaped your mouth without your consent but you couldn't stop them.

Shigaraki snapped his head in your direction and raised a brow. "Why are you laughing?"

"Sorry it's you- You're just funny, 'cause I agree with you" You wiped your eyes, sighing with a smile.

"Was this a therapy?" He growled in a very low and menacing voice.

"No, I was bored and thought it could be fun" You chuckled and shrugged. "I like judging that saga with my friends"

"I'm not your friend" Tomura frowned.

"Maybe, but it's still fun, right?" You smiled.

Tomura narrowed his eyes as he stared at you, probably trying to decipher how the gears in your brain worked.

After that, he stayed silent for the rest of the movie. Even if his mouth was shut, you could read his body language. He hated that movie and that was an amusing sight.

During the week, All Might, Eraser Head, Tsukauchi and some of your bosses showed up.

You were all sitting at the dining table. Shigaraki and All Might sitting at both ends, right in front of each other. As if they were kings of some kind. Well, Tomura was trying to look intimidating but All Might? He probably just took the first chair he spotted.

As a normal civil, you'd think that everyone was pissed at each other but as a therapist or as someone very observing, you knew how to decipher people. All Might was nervous, Eraser Head was on his guard, even if he hid it quite well, your superiors were angry, Tsukauchi was calm but intrigued while Shigaraki was fuming. He hated those people.

What about you? You were nervous, sitting there in the middle of this silent war. And also because you removed Tomura's collar without anyone's permission, oops. Oh and with the help of All Might on top of that….

Tsukauchi spoke first. "I will ask some questions to begin"

You nodded and dared a look in Shigaraki's direction, he was glaring at Tsukauchi. He knew he couldn't lie, because he knew the cop's quirk and that must be pissing him off.

"Have you two been manipulated to remove his collar?" The officer clicked his pen, turning to you and All Might.

"No" You and All Might shook your heads and Tsukauchi wrote something down before turning to the 'ex-criminal'.

"Have you manipulated them?"

It took a few seconds before Tomura only shook his head, clearly pouting at the officer's quirk. Tsukauchi could detect lies.

"Were you trying to hurt your therapist before your collar reacted?"

"Yes" The white haired man narrowed his crimson eyes.

Tsukauchi didn't seem surprised. "Why?"

"Because they were pissing me off"

Ha, yes, Tomura's famous excuse over anything really.

The inspector noted something before turning back to you. "Has he tried again?"

You shook your head.

Tsukauchi nodded before looking at your superiors, telling them that his part was done.

One of your employers sat down in front of you with a menacing frown. "Now, why did you remove his collar? Do you know the risks?"

Ah, there it was. The one million dollar question. You gulped as you felt everyone's eyes on you but not Tomura's. He was glaring at your superior. But why? Wasn't he interested into what you were about to say?

"Because it's inhuman, because he is NOT a wild animal with rabies. He is NOT a do who has to be put on a leash. He is HUMAN. No one should treat a human like this, it's unfair and cruel. Sure he probably did-"

"Nah, I never put a fucking collar on anyone. I just used handcuffs on that young brat and even removed it from him before he fucking decided to attack me."

"We're not talking to you, Shigaraki" Eraser Head frowned at the man.

Shigaraki only raised both his hands in a 'defensive' way and scoffed.

You decided to continue.

"Yes I know the risks. He can be dangerous, he has free will, like any of us. But I strongly believe that for example, forcing someone to eat when they don't want to is a very bad idea. Just like how you guys forced him into this therapy and forced him to wear the collar."

Everyone stayed silent as they registered what you said.

Oh fuck-

Maybe you spoke too much?

But before you could worry, a huge hand was softly put on your shoulder, All Might was smiling at you with pride and comfort in his eyes.

He was probably thinking that you were the perfect therapist for Tomura. That choosing you was the right choice.

You had only under 5 years of experience and yet, people liked you because you made the therapies different. And for some reason that you ignored, people had started talking about you and it had eventually landed in All Might's ears.

So when he showed up at your workplace, you were speechless. He had asked you, THE symbol of peace, had asked you to help him.

That day, you led him to your office, thinking that he needed therapy. He wasn't there for himself, but for Tomura Shigaraki.

At first, you honestly couldn't understand why he wanted to save the 'apprentice' of his now deceased, arch nemesis. Well no, All Might was known to help countless of people no matter who they were. But then he had revealed you something intriguing. Nana Shimura. Tomura's biological grandmother. Who was no other than All Might's mentor.

Again, you were speechless so you had let him continue. The way he spoke about her, she was a mother figure to him. It clicked in your mind. He wanted to save Tomura because he was family to him, because he felt a mountain of guilt on his shoulders for not being able to be there for the ex-villain.

Frankly, you weren't supposed to let your feelings decide as a therapist but this case touched your heart. You wanted to help. But also, if a criminal as bad as Shigaraki was open to get into therapy, wouldn't that mean he wasn't as bad as we think? Plus, that meant you could help fixing society, right?

You sighed with a smile and glanced at the white haired man.

The villain was staring at you as if you had just confessed that you were an alien sent on Earth.

You chuckled. How great would that be? No more crimes. Just peace and happiness. Sure it probably sounded like an impossible dream but hey, if you could save THE Tomura Shigaraki, you would be saving thousands of people, right?

Your superiors and the Pro Heroes discussed together about this whole 'collar removed' situation.

They weren't really happy with this but the heroes (mostly All Might), had taken your side. You were quite surprised that Eraser Head and Tsukauchi seemed to believe in you too. Again, hella surprising, but much appreciated.

You watched them leave with their cars as you stood in the doorway. Once they were away, you walked back inside and closed the door.

Tomura was still sitting at the table, staring at nothing.

"Are-" You remembered that he disliked being asked if he was okay. "Tomura? You're staring into the void"

He didn't react.

Hm, what could you do?

Ah right! He was obsessed with video games, from what you observed. Hell, you didn't even need to be a therapist to find that out. You decided to speak his 'language'.

"If you keep doing this, you'll start glitching and crash the game"

Tomura finally glanced at you with a scoff. You smiled, happy to see that it worked.

"Never been this close to Eraser Head.." He mumbled.

"Are you a fan?" You genuinely asked.

Shigaraki's face scrunched up as he frowned. "No"

You nodded, you weren't going to ask more so you only headed to the living room.

And just like the past few days, he followed a few seconds later. He plopped on the couch and grabbed his phone while you turned your favorite console on. You picked a new game.

After an hour, you weren't far into it but it had piqued Tomura's curiosity as he often looked up at the TV screen. You were struggling with a boss.

"Don't"

You didn't listen, you were stubborn when you had an idea.

"Dodge! Just- Damn it! What the hell are you doing??"

"I AM dodging!" You replied back.

"No you're not, hand me that!" He leaned towards you and reached for the controller. But you stubbornly refused and stretched both arms away from him, while still holding it.

Did you forget that he was also stubborn? Yes, yes you did. He almost climbed on top of you to snatch the god damn controller.

"Tomura! I can do it on my own! Go away!" You tried pushing him back to his place with your foot but as you both stretched further to keep, (or grab) the controller, you dropped it on the floor.

"HA! Dibs!" The white haired man jumped off the couch to snatch it.

"No!" You quickly grabbed his shirt and he fell on you.

It hurt, you both groaned then immediately froze when you realized, with wide eyes, how close your faces were from each other. You both stared at the other for what seemed like an eternity. He leaned his face closer and closer until your lips were just an inch away. You were short circuiting and shut your eyes hard, panicking a little.

Suddenly his weight was gone.

You opened your eyes, letting out a breath that you'd been holding. Your heart was also pounding, ready to break your ribcage while Tomura was sitting on the floor, in front of the tv, like nothing happened. He didn't seem to give a shit either because he had snatched the controller when you closed your eyes.

But- What happened?

Your cheeks were red and you felt like the room had suddenly become warmer.

Seriously- What the fuck just happened??

Blood

Everywhere

All around you

Shigaraki was holding you tightly against him, screaming in rage and agony. But why?

It was your blood

Your stomach had been shot and you were unconscious… Or dead? In his arms.

He was in pain too, but not physically. He only had small scratches. But his heart? It felt like someone had stabbed it

The young man closed his eyes as he cried. But why was he crying?

And when he reopened his eyes to look at you, the first thing he saw was his pillow that he was clutching against him. It quickly vanished into dust so the villain sat up, confusedly looking around. He was in his bed, right next to his gaming desk. He was back home, but how? Oh right, a dream. The white haired man glanced at the dust on his bed. He didn't care about his pillow right now.

He stood up, Tomura couldn't understand that weird dream. Why was his heart pounding in his chest? Why was his eyes felt itchy? He didn't like you. Did he? No, no he didn't. It was just a stupid dream. Maybe it was that weird werewolf vampire saga that messed up his brain, nothing else.

And yet, even if it was 2 am, he instinctively walked to your doorway. It was never closed for some reason, so he looked at your silhouette sleeping softly.

The bloodied scene came back to his mind and his heart restarted to ache. He couldn't understand, you were there, safe and sound. Sleeping peacefully. Nothing bad happened to you.

He decided to go back to sleep, but first, he needed to clean his bed.

Why did he needed to check up on you? It was only a dream so of course you were fine. His feelings were dumb, he frowned.

What the fuck did you do to him?

A/N: OOOOOOOH THE FEELINGS HAVE STARTED TO SHOW HEHEHE >:3

Pt 3

[notreallythatlost]

DIMENSIONS OF HOPE

➴ halbrand/sauron x female!human!reader

summary: he was the only person that gave you hope. until you were finally able to see his darkness.

warnings: 18+, MDNI, fluff, unprotected sex, p in v, fingering, slight dom!reader, riding, mentions of war and death, angst, character death (or not? who knows)

word count: 3k

note: i’ve been not feeling so good lately (it was a very stressful week), so i wrote this and well, it made me feel so much better. i wanted to rewrite my favorite scene from season one — there was this picture in my head and i NEEDED to write that down. hope you’ll love how it turned out as much as i do. enjoy! xx

THE RINGS OF POWER MASTERLIST

Hope. It is the strongest feeling we can have. It is stronger than fear, stronger than pain — stronger than love. Even when we got nothing left, we still have our hope. Because it will never let us down.

You always believed that hope would save you. From falling, from giving in to the darkness.

When you met that one person who felt like hope — you gave him everything. Your body, your soul, your heart. You were ready to let yourself fall because you knew he would save you. But instead, he wanted to let you drown in the darkness.

The sun was just about to rise on the horizon as you let your gaze glide over the roofs of the city and endless expanse of the sea behind them. Númenor was beautiful, there was no doubt about that.

Whether it was the different scents that reached your nose whenever you walked through the streets or the taste of the wine, a little sour but at the same time so sweet that you could never get enough of its taste.

Everything felt so familiar. Just like... home. Even though it wasn’t, not really.

A smile crept onto your lips as you felt someone step behind you. But there was no discomfort, even when his rough hands slid over the delicate skin of your arms, only covered by the soft material of the dress, that was almost transparent — revealing the shape of your body to his gaze, the light of the first rays of sun falling down on you.

You leaned back and could feel his naked chest against your back as you closed your eyes with a soft sigh. You could practically hear his smirk and shivered as he exposed your neck by pushing your hair over your shoulder on one side.

Seconds later, his soft lips touched your skin, knowing what he was triggering in you with that. You hummed as his fingers reached your shoulder. Slowly he let them wander down your sides now and put his lips to your ear, pressing his chest harder against your back.

“What exactly are you watching?” he asked quietly and the sound of his deep voice made you shiver again. “I... was just enjoying the sunrise,” you answered quietly and his hands came to a stop on your hips. “And that is why you got out of bed?” he asked with an amused undertone.

You opened your eyes again while turning to Halbrand, who was looking down at you with a look full of desire. You could see how much he wanted you — and that after he had had you all night already. “Seems like it,” you replied quietly and put your arms around his neck.

Your body pressed against his and you could feel the heat of his skin through the thin fabric of your dress. You stood slightly on your tiptoes, your lips brushing against his in nothing more than the hint of a touch. “What do you intend to do about it?” you asked quietly and bit your lower lip seductively.

That was all he needed. Without another word, he lifted you up so that you were lying in his arms in bridal style. Just like this, he carried you back inside the room and laid you down on the bed.

You couldn't suppress a giggle as he leaned over you and buried his face in the crook of your neck. He ran his finger over your collarbone, further down and finally over the curve of your breasts. The touch drew a gasp from you and your fingers dug into the bedsheets, as they had so many times before.

He made you feel things no one had ever made you feel before. He touched you in places no one had ever touched. But most of all, he gave you hope. Hope to save not only Númenor, but yourself too.

If only you knew that this was not what he wanted.

Halbrand raised his head and smiled as he saw your body react to his touches. He moved his face down to caress your nipples through the fabric with his lips and teeth. You could feel his hand wandering down between your leg and hear his growl at the feeling of your arousal, sending electric shocks through your body that made you arch towards him.

“So needy, so wet,” he murmured softly so that you could barely hear him. But his voice was there as were his touches. And his finger which slowly, almost painfully, slid inside you.

You bit your lower lip, knowing it was pointless. You hadn't been able to hold back before, so why should it be any different now?

“You'll never get enough, will you?” he whispered in your ear, his voice vibrating through your body. Again, you stifled a moan, much to his displease. “Come on, love. You haven't held back all night, don't start with it now,” he warned. And when he added a second finger to the first, you moaned desperately.

Halbrand placed his other hand on the side of your head and studied your face with an intense gaze as he worked you with his fingers. Nothing else could be heard except the smacking sound of your arousal and the longing noises which escaped you.

“You are so beautiful…,” he growled, running his thumb over your lower lip before taking possession of your mouth. His tongue swept over yours as he tasted you deeply. “…all at my mercy.”

With that, he pulled his fingers out of you, eliciting a whimper from you. You opened your eyes, pupils blown and saw Halbrand bring his fingers to his lips and lick them clean.

A tremble ran through your body when he met your gaze and you could see his hunger. He was just about to bend over you again when you stopped him by placing a hand on his chest while you slowly sat up, pushing him back.

He frowned slightly, but his confusion disappeared when you knelt on the bed in front of him, your upper body straightened. Your hand glided over his skin, feeling the heat under your fingertips. His breath caught as you reached the waistband of his pants and a faint smile spread across your face.

With one single movement, you pushed him onto the mattress on his back and now you were the one who leaned over him.

He looked up at you and ran a hand over the back of your head and through your hair until he stopped at your neck. “Like I said... beautiful,” he whispered, running his thumb along your jaw as you leaned down to kiss him.

His other hand slid to your shoulder and he pushed his finger under the fabric of your sleeve to slip it down slightly and expose your bare skin.

When you pulled away from him again and slowly straightened up, the fabric slipped even further down, exposing part of your breasts to his gaze. He looked at you as if you were a star, fallen from the sky, so full of light.

You smiled and started to work on his pants until you pushed them down, freeing his already throbbing cock. After you had thrown the fabric to the side, you took him in your hand and moved it up and down his length. A low groan escaped him while he closed his eyes and your insides clenched painfully around nothing.

“Halbrand,” you whispered as you positioned yourself over him. At the sound of his name, green eyes met yours again and you knew that he wanted it just as much as you did. Without breaking eye contact, you guided the tip of his cock to your entrance and then slowly lowered yourself onto him.

A moan escaped you, so longing that Halbrand trembled beneath you. His eyes were shut, as were yours, and the fabric of the transparent dress brushed against his skin like a feather.

The first movement of your hips made you both moan in pleasure again and he placed his hands on your hips. His fingers dug into your skin so hard that it hurt and you had to whimper softly. With that your movements became more intense as he filled you to the hilt, satisfying all your desires.

Your gaze lowered and you watched as he disappeared inside you, which was so hot that it made your muscles tighten around him.

“Look at me,” he gasped and you obeyed. With that he started moving his hips up and met your movements perfectly. You quickly found your rhythm and a short time later all that was heard were your moaning and the smacking sound of your union.

You were just about to lean down to kiss him, when Halbrand suddenly sat up, but without slipping out of you. His chest pressed against yours now and his hand rested on the back of your head.

His lips found yours in a short but deep kiss, making a little moan escaped you. When you parted again, you leaned your upper body back slowly and moved your hips against his again. This time his cock hit your most sensitive spot from a different angle, which elicited a high pitched whimper from you.

You were getting closer to your climax, you could feel it and you wanted nothing more. You wanted to let yourself go, like so many times last night.

“Look at me,” he growled, his hand coming to your jaw. “I want you to look into my eyes while you come,” he added, and began to rub your clit with the thumb of his other hand. “I want you to scream my name, so that everyone here knows who you belong to.”

And that was all it took.

The orgasm crashed over you like a wave and you did as he said. You screamed his name and you looked into his eyes as your body shook violently. Halbrand ran his thumb greedily over your bottom lip, then you felt him twitch inside you and a heavy gasp escaped his lips as he emptied himself inside you.

You sank down together, your body nearly melting into his, while his fingers glided through the soft strands of your hair as you looked each other deep in the eyes feeling the deep devotion for each other.

The day you found out who Halbrand really was, should change everything.

Galadriel had asked to search through all the old writings that had something to do with the royal line of the Southlands.

And when the messenger returned and handed Galadriel the papers, she turned to you. “I think you should look at it first,” she said, taking your hand to place the scroll in it.

“Why do you distrust him so much?” you asked the elf quietly, but she didn't answer. Instead, she just put a hand on your shoulder before walking past you and leaving you alone.

Some time later you found yourself standing by the waterfall on top of the cliff, far from Eregion. The sound of the falling water was supposed to calm you down, but your heart just wouldn't stop pounding against your chest. Your gaze was fixed on the scroll in your hands, but you couldn't open it yet.

If Galadriel was actually right and Halbrand was not the rightful king of the Southlands, there would be the question who he really was.

And why he had lied — why he had lied to you.

But you trusted that he had told the truth. You trusted him. And you held on to that thought as you opened the scroll with shaking hands.

“Y/N?” his voice suddenly sounded behind you as your gaze slid over the family tree of the kings.

In that very second you realized it and the truth hurt terribly. It took your breath away, as well as all your hope that he would be your salvation.

“Darling, I've been looking for you everywhere. Is everything okay?” he asked as he stopped a few steps away and reached out his hand for you. But before he could touch you, you flinched back and closed your eyes while turning your back to him.

“You lied...” you whispered and clenched your hand into a fist so tightly that your nails left small crescents in your palm.

“I fear I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” Halbrand said and you turned around to face him.

You had raised your hand with the scroll slightly, so that his gaze fell on it. “What I’m talking about is, that there is no King of the Southlands. The line is broken, since many centuries by now,” your voice trembled and you threw the scroll on the floor in front of him.

“You've been lying the whole time. You've deceived everyone...” you continued while Halbrand examined the paper at his feet. “But the worst thing is, you lied to me, Halbrand.” He raised his gaze. “Tell me, was it real? Or was I just a toy for you?” There was a tremble in your voice, which you tried to control with all strength while you looked him dead in the eyes. “Tell me who you are, who you really are.”

His eyes were still fixed on you, but his expression had hardened. However, he made no move to answer.

“Tell me who you are!” you screamed at him and then everything happened very quickly. Much too quickly for you to have been able to do anything about it.

Halbrand was suddenly standing so close to you that you could feel his breath and it made you shiver. “I have been walking this earth longer than you can imagine. In that time... I’ve had many names,” he said quietly, causing goosebumps on your body.

“No...” you breathed and felt a tear come out of your eye and run down your cheek. “That can't be. You... you convinced Míriel to come with us to Middle-earth. You fought with us...” you murmured, but his expression remained firm.

“Galadriel convinced her. And I fought against your enemy... and mine,” was his answer, and a small smile appeared on his face.

You shook your head in disbelief and took a step back, unable to bear his near any longer. “I trusted you. I loved you,” you breathed, and Halbrand's expression softened a little. “And you still can,” he replied, but you frowned.

“I'd rather die,” you finally said, your voice only a whisper.

With these words, you turned your back on him again, but the second you turned around, you were no longer in Eregion.

Everything around you was on fire.

The trees, the houses, even the sky. There were the lifeless bodies of humans and elves laying all around you, while ash fell down burying them beneath it.

Tears ran down your cheeks, even though you knew that none of this was real. It was an illusion, but it showed you what the future would bring.

You slowly lifted your gaze and your breath caught. In front of you was a woman who looked exactly like you. It was as if you were looking in a mirror, and yet she seemed completely different. Her hair was blowing in the wind and she wore a beautiful dress but it was more like an armor. On her head was a fine band made of silver that looked very similar to a crown.

Suddenly, black smoke appeared out of nowhere, it was more like a shadow that enveloped your reflection and made it close its eyes. It felt strange to watch you enjoying the darkness, surrendering to it.

In that second, the shadow formed into a figure that stood behind you, putting his arms around your body. It was also wearing an armor and a crown that seemed all too familiar to you.

And suddenly you knew what he was showing you.

Frightened, you took a step back, Halbrand's firm chest behind you stopping you. “Do you see what we can do together?” he asked in your ear and you squeezed your eyes shut, hoping to wake up from this nightmare as quickly as possible.

“See what I can give you?” he continued, but you just shook your head.

“Look at me,” he asked gently, but you couldn't move. “Please, look at me, Y/N,” he said more firmly now and you turned to him avoiding his gaze.

His fingers cupped your chin and pushed your head up so you had to look into his eyes.

“I see you. I see who you really are. Not a mortal woman, with no real home or family, but a warrior. Who will stop at nothing to get what she wants,” he said and you felt his other hand stroke your arm. “Give yourself to me and you’ll see where it brings you.”

“You would make me a tyrant.”

“I would make you a queen. Fair as the sea and the sun. Just as you deserve. You bind me to the light and I give you a live that will last forever. At my side.”

With that, he moved your head so that you have to turn around again. Your gaze fell on your reflection and you saw how you cling desperately to the man behind you while he kissed your neck — and you could feel his lips as Halbrand kissed you there.

“And so much more...” His voice seemed to come from everywhere as his reflection turned back into a shadow that enveloped you completely.

“Together we are invincible. Together, we can save Middle-earth,” he continued and you turned back to him before looking around you. “Is that your idea of ​​saving? All I see is ruin. We would rule Middle-earth, not save it.”

“I see no difference between that,” he whispered, looking expectantly into your eyes. “I can help you to true greatness. No one will ever look at you again with doubt, as if you were just a weak human,” his hand found its way to your cheek and he used his thumb to wipe away the trace your tears had left there.

“Come with me and we will redesign this world. Just the way we want it,” he whispered and came closer to your face, so close that his breath brushed your lips.

And you wanted to give in. You wanted to let yourself be carried away by his darkness, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t let this shadow swallow you.

Slowly you raised your hand and let your fingers slide over his lips. Something flashed in his eyes that you thought was triumph, but his expression changed as you took a step back, closer to the cliff.

“I can’t.”

The illusion around you disappeared and the last thing you saw was Sauron's horrified look as he watched you fall into the depths like the waterfall a few meters away from you.

He tried to stop you, tried to catch your hand — but it was already too late.

And as you fell, one thing became clear to you. He had never been your hope.

All your life, it was yourself.

2024 notreallythatlost

[obsessive-reylin]

TW: heart disease, operation, forced operation, hospital and doctors

The yandere content that I’m writing is absolutely in no way me promoting this type of behaviour. I do not romanticise it; this is just a way for me to explore the more darker side of my writing. If you do relate to these characters or think that it’s romantic, please seek help.

You are welcome to send asks/requests about my existing characters or others. Just make sure to read my rules.

A couple of months ago, it felt like your world fell into shambles. You didn't really understand what kind of sickness your sister had, but it was explained by the doctors that she needed her heart replaced. You visited her every single day, talking to her and supporting her, and then crying your heart out on your way to work. It felt wrong to be giving up on her sister, but then again, what kind of monster you would be, wishing for someone else's death to die, for her to survive ?

In the end, you didn't have to do that for her, since one of the doctors that were treating her found a legitimate donor. You were overjoyed by the news, even as far as hugging the doctor in question and crying into his shoulder. But it seemed as though he didn't mind, dare say even enjoyed it. Either way, you didn't pay attention to that, nor the joyous stare that he was giving you.

After your sister's operation, everything seemed to go back to how it was, that was until the doctor, Liam as he presented himself to you, asked you out on a date. At first, you weren't really into the idea, it felt like he thought since he saved your stater, you owned him something. But your sister convinced you that it probably wasn't anything of the sort, telling you that you should just give him a chance. Worst case scenario, it doesn't click between the two of you during the date, and you just part ways.

You had to admit, it was a good argument on her part, since you asked around and his female coworkers never once uttered a displeased comment about him. And also the fact that you were pretty desperate for someone to be your other half, so you finally decided to accept his offer.

Soon enough, you and Liam officially started dating. You were never too interested in that aspect, but with Liam it felt ecstatic. For you, he was the picture-perfect boyfriend. Scratch that, the embodiment of romance, that's what he was to you. He would always make sure that you were taken care of in every way possible. He asked for your consent to everything, listening intently to everything that came out of your mouth, taking you out on dates, and buying you everything you wanted and more. 

Meaningless to say, it didn't take long for him to convince you to move in with him. And it might have been his worst mistake, because soon after, something in you just clicked. Everything just felt too perfect, for your licking, something was definitely not right. You knew that you had a bad habit of becoming paranoid and tried to brush it off, but at the back of your mind, you couldn't just ignore this inner feeling of uneasiness. That's why you decided to rummage through the house, since you figured Liam wouldn't have a problem with it. 

Not even ten minutes in, you find yourself standing in front of the door heading towards the basement.

“I didn't know we had a basement…”  You thought to yourself as you opened the door and headed downstairs, bracing yourself for what you were about to find inside. At first, everything seemed normal, everything was tidy, like Liam usually liked. That is until you went further and discovered MRI machines, CT scanners, sedatives, opioids, and a bunch of other stuff that you were pretty sure were not legal to keep at home, even for a doctor. 

You didn't really know what to do. On one hand, you wanted to call the police, but it felt a little too extreme, you were dating the guy after all. So you decided the next day to go to the hospital and ask one of his close colleagues, so that one of them could shed some light into the situation without taking any legal actions. 

But just as you were about to do that, you felt a familiar hand on your shoulder. Turning around, you find Liam smiling down at you. But this didn't feel like his usual smile, for some reason it felt creepy and unsettling. 

“Honey, are you alright ? What are you doing at the hospital ?”

“Yeah… I brought you lunch, that's all.”

You quickly handed him his lunch that you thankfully prepared in case you would run into him, hands slightly trembling as you did so. You started to regret not calling the police. Looking at him now, knowing what he hid in the basement, you felt really uneasy being around him, knowing that he could be doing literary anything with that equipment.

“Oh honey, how sweet of you…” You could practically feel the sarcasm dripping from his voice, and it made you ten times more anxious, making you question if he knew that you entered the basement.

Not long after, he insisted on taking you home, since he would finish his shift soon enough. Through the entire car ride, you couldn't help but anxiously fidget, waiting for what would happen once you're home. Liam didn't show any signs of anger or anything of the sort, but that didn't stop you from feeling like the day wasn't going to end on a happy note. As soon as you step into the house, you are hit on the back of your head with something hard, and you feel your body collapse on the floor. 

The next time you woke up, your head was throbbing, and you couldn't focus on anything, or remember what had happened, until Liam came into the room, a wide smile on his face.

“Darling ! You finally woke up, that's good.”

“What happened ?”

“Well you see darling, I haven't used the basement for quite a while, so imagine my surprise when I noticed yesterday that the door handle wasn't dusty.”

He sat beside you on the bed and took your hand in his. He had the same smile that he always showed you, and yet you couldn't help but be afraid of him, afraid of what he might do to you.

“By the way, your phone has a tracking app, so I knew you wanted to snitch on me to my colleagues. And you know what they say, snitches get stitches, so that's what I did !”

You were utterly confused by his words, until he started lifting your shirt up and to your horror, you discovered actual stitches. Your body completely froze at the sight. You finally understood what this monster of a man was doing down in the basement with all of that medical equipment. 

“I took your liver out. I remember you telling me that wanted to donate your organs, so consider this a start.”

He then grabbed your chin, and made you look at him. His grip was so tight you almost started crying, or maybe it was because you didn't want to be close to him. Either way, you were hurt, inside and out.

“Now listen darling. You have two options. One, you forget everything that happened. Two, you make me upset like you did yesterday, and you're going to be a frequent visitor of the basement.”

And with simple threat, he gently kissed your cheek. Never once you thought you would go from craving his touch to despising it.

Thank you so much for reading ! Why don't you spend some more time on my blog and look through my navigation ?

[corazondebeskar-reads]

no more runnin'

demon!joel miller x f!reader

words: 468

summary: joel comes to collect what you owe him.

warnings: dead dove do not read, major character death (reader), implied suicide, christian concepts of life and death, description of a self-inflicted wound, I wrote this because I needed a good cry and I was processing some feelings that I needed to feel even though they were painful.

PLEASE MAKE SURE YOU READ THE WARNINGS.

viewer discretion is advised. you are responsible for the media you consume.

If you or someone you know is in crisis Call or text the 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline at 988 (para ayuda en español, llame al 988). The Lifeline provides 24-hour, confidential support to anyone in suicidal crisis or emotional distress.

dividers by @saradika-graphics

He found you there. He had a habit of being places he shouldn’t, seeing things he wasn’t supposed to see. Of finding people who didn’t want to be found. 

That was why he was there, after all. He had come calling for what he was owed. And you were finally ready to pay up. 

“No more runnin’, huh?” Joel asked, crouching down. He reached out, brushing your cheek with the back of his knuckles. 

“No more runnin’,” you rasp. 

“Coulda just told me,” he said, picking up your limp hand and inspecting the weeping wound below it. “I never said it hadta be painful. Coulda gone in your sleep.”

You manage a half shrug. “Maybe I wanted to say goodbye.”

He sighs, looking down at the damp concrete. “I would have given ya that, too,” he says. 

You close your eyes, not wanting him to see the tears, but they slip free anyway. He brushes them away with a swipe of his thumb. 

“Ah, shit,” he mutters. “It’s alright. I got ya. You’re not alone.”

He sits down beside you against the brick wall and pulls you into his arms. “This is why I don’t give extra time,” he murmurs into your hair. “It’s always harder, sweetheart.”

“My own damn fault,” you say, a shaky laugh through tears. “Goin’ and fallin’ for the fuckin’ demon I sold my soul to.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t exactly discourage ya, did I? But you know I can’t… I don’t…”

“I know,” you whisper. “No heart. Part of the whole arrangement. I don’t believe it for a second.”

“You’re a foolish girl,” he says, but there’s no heat behind it. “I was gonna give you a pass. Gonna risk my fuckin’ neck to send you off to someplace better. But you’ve gone and condemned yourself, darlin.’ Why would you do this?”

“You’ll be there,” you admit. 

“Ah, darlin’,” he said, voice strained. “You ain’t gonna remember me. I’m sorry.”

“Will you remember me?” You ask, voice cracking. Your breathing is shallow, unsteady. 

He knows it’s almost time. He tilts your chin up, pressing his lips to yours. It’s slow and tender, nothing like the rushed and frantic clash of flesh and teeth that you’re used to.

“I could never forget you,” he assures. It’s true, but you can’t be sure. Like he’d say anything else right now, give you anything other than what you need to hear in this moment. 

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, cradling your head to his chest. “You can close your eyes. I’ll stay with ya.”

“Okay,” you whisper. Your lids are heavy, burdened by tear-laden lashes and too many years, too many losses. You relax against him, feeling the press of his lips on the top of your head once, twice, thrice, until you feel no more. 

[amourningcrow]

Late game spoilers, particulary about Varric! I wasn't able to put this into words before, but now that I've had some time, I think I can actually talk about it. It's a little long though.

I tried to start a new playthrough three times now, but I can't even make it to the ritual side without breaking down. It is, frankly, embarrassing.

But Varric means so, so much to me. I knew deep down that he wouldn't make it out of this alive - that he even survived past DA2 was a surprise to me. The man's got tragic death written all over him! But I still wish we had gotten some more out of him. Some more interactions with the companions, more banter, more relationship dynamics. We never even found out what he would have called the others! (Aside from Neve, who was 'Slick', apparently.)

This isn't even a criticism of the writing! I think it makes sense and fits his character, sadly. (Though it's also the first time they actually managed to make me hate Solas, which is quite a feat.) It's just me being heartbroken about one of - or maybe even my ultimate - comfort character. I played DA2 (and the others, too, but DA2 holds a special place in my heart in this regard) during a time in my life where I was very much just... lost, I guess. God. I think I actually felt physical fucking grief when I went through the Fade prison scene? I was shaking and sobbing the whole time and I don't know if I have it in me again.

I'm a bookseller by trade and Varric loving stories always resonated with me. He's often reduced to being the sarcastic sidekick, but I love all his aspects and complexities so very dearly.

The son who didn't ever quite fit in with the society he grew up in, who couldn't hold up to his parents expectations and so instead refused to be tied down by them, but still had a deep love for his family.

The man who was so tragically in love with a woman he couldn't have that he made her his little secret, keeping Bianca's identity even from his best friends. Who probably still didn't let go of his yearning all those years later, maybe because it was easier than opening up and getting hurt again.

The one who was always bickering with Cassandra, this steely woman he was always at odds with, but still wrote her a continuation for his romance series he didn't even think was good because beneath all of his veneer, he still cared.

Who was presented with this half-spirit half-boy and saw just a squirrely kid who needed some help to find his place in the world. (And yeah, this is special to me. Because god damn it, I never had someone like that growing up, and I would have given all my limbs and a kidney for it.)

Who was so, so full of compassion himself, despite all the shit the world had already thrown at him.

I don't know. Maybe I just have a thing for people who try to lock their hurt away so not even they, themselves, have to confront it. (Maybe because I'm a little like that myself and maybe that's why I like Lucanis so much, as well. Damn you, Mary Kirby.)

But anyway. Sorry for the vent. I just needed someplace to share this, I guess. I don't know what to do with this hole in my chest, but props to Bioware (and damn you again, Mary Kirby) for putting it there, because it's definitely not normal for me to care this much. I wasn't even this sad when I had to leave my Hawke in the Fade. Maybe they'll finally find each other again, wherever they are now 💔

[microwavedice]

Hello! Thanks for responding! Before my little comparison attempt here’s a quick disclaimer that I am not saying Curly is innocent, nor excusing him of his inaction. The entire Mouthwashing fandom has been frequently debating Curly and how he is not free of blame (heck it’s almost every text post here) but I was confused to see Swansea put in the same boat as Daisuke and Anya, when I saw him in game to be in a similarly morally grey area as Curly. Though just so everyone knows I love all four of the Mouthwashing characters! (Jimmy can burn in hell-) I mostly want to see more Swansea debate because I love the nuance in his character - how he stays at arms length and seems untrustworthy throughout the game but is actually ready to sacrifice himself for Daisuke, a mirror image of how Anya mentions he secretly loves cake at the surprise party when his distant and gruff attitude make it seem like he doesn’t! I want to explore all of the characters deeper complexities with the same thoroughness the community has shown to be capable of and I’d love to spark more debate about the less considered aspects so imma see if I can mirror what you’ve pointed out about Swansea with what I can gather of Curly’s side of things to compare!

When Curly learns of Anya’s situation they are still over one hundred days of space travel into the middle of nowhere, so from the moment Jimmy did it there were no space police around for Anya to call on and nowhere for them to land (probably terrifying). All of the rooms lock from the inside, so there’s nowhere Curly could have imprisoned Jimmy, though he could have probably used that nylon rope to restrain him somehow (only seems extreme if you don’t know what Jim did) though, in the same way, after learning about it Swansea could have done any of these things. He can clearly physically overpower Jimmy and take the code scanner which is as simple to use as a torch, rendering him and his self-proclaimed captain role obsolete and decidedly doing more harm than good. As for the next point, of course I’d argue that Anya is not safe at any point but to specifically address the sleeping, Jimmy never sees Anya asleep in her bed (as far as I can find) and her bed is always perfectly made, either showing her to be a meticulous person or (what I find more likely since every detail exists for a reason in this game) she sleeps elsewhere (likely in the medical bay since she asked about it specifically having locks in the Dead Pixel scene) away from Jimmy, since I doubt Anya would feel comfortable enough to sleep a foot away from him willingly (she could have moved her bed anywhere in the lobby, hell Swansea’s on the other side of the room! So why are all the rest bunched up like that??). Onto the next point, Jimmy unofficially appoints himself captain - the code scanner is not thumb print operated and the gun would be hard to conceal, also Swansea could snap him like a twig (top ten AUs) Jimmy wouldn’t stand a chance without the gun, so I don’t think Swansea was in any was threatened by Jimmy nor respected Jimmy enough to think his input was worth the harm. Diasuke’s death is bloody tragic, he lost his life for bright eyed naivety and even pushed through the broken vent to open the door, though neither him nor Anya survived (god this game is so sad but also so meaningful), in the moment Swansea seems to have been shocked to his core, complete shutdown. He says “it’s over. End of the fuckin’ line” and tells Jimmy to knock himself out with the cryopod, as if Daisuke’s death chipped away the last of his will to live on. Then, as Jimmy leaves to “fix everything” and “save everyone” with the ultimate friendship saving power of A Gun, a switch flips to the manic setting in the narrative and suddenly Swansea is furiously charging at Jimbo with the axe, a switch I attribute to him having taken that minute to process what Daisuke said about the cocktail, figuring out that Jimmy had yet again managed to manipulate someone into sacrificing themself for him to fulfil his hero complex, effectively having murdered our precious intern.

The start of this next paragraph implies that you thought Swansea factored Anya into his reason to get violent? Throughout the game, Swansea never takes much notice of Anya, calling her a “so-called nurse” and only bringing up the fact that she told him about it because Jimmy accused him of scheming, talking to her being involved in his paranoid list of potentially suspicious things Swansea’s done. Additionally, there’s a large difference in how Swansea and Curly held their inaction on Anya’s sexual assault: Swansea, in the same conversation that she told him, declined helping her, being a self aware and brutally honest foil to Jimmy’s emotional manipulation and inability to take responsibility for his choices and actions. The conversation ends with Anya saying “if that’s how it has to be” while crying, (probably due to offloading such a horrific topic, not necessarily because of Swansea’s response but it would certainly perpetuate her despair) indicating that Swansea has decided not to take action - at least not under their current circumstances. While he may have thought about it, Swansea was clearly not motivated to action by Jimmy’s sexual assault on Anya, as she told him 2 whole months before he decides to axe the bastard. Curly’s approach was almost the opposite situation, Swansea’s being that he already had reasons to dislike Jim, had plenty of time but wasn’t motivated to take action against him just by hearing about the SA, instead Curly had a trust of some kind with Jimmy (though Jimmy has shown to be very capable and prone to emotional manipulation as he did with Daisuke and Anya) but only had two days to come up with a plan, one being spent panicking about Anya potentially hurting herself with a gun and the second spent being blown to smithereens. There is no evidence, as well, within these two days that Anya was still sleeping in her quarters. There’s every chance that after telling Curly this and asking about the medical bay locks she decided to sleep in their until the crash (perhaps even after), since every lock is manual and locks from the inside she wouldn’t need to tell anyone in order to sleep in there. I don’t know what you mean Curly “helped Jimmy” after Anya told him? The only events after the Dead Pixel scene and before the crash are Curly searching for the gun, having Jimmy trying to push the sexual assault blame onto Curly in true Jimbo fashion, Jimmy then telling him “I’ll take care of it” and then Curly finding out that “it” was not in fact the child support. Anyhoo this is getting to be a really long post so I’ll wait to add anymore just in case anyone has any questions, cheers for reading! Sorry if I misspelt anything!

Hot take: Curly is more innocent than Swansea.

Mouthwashing fandom, who have shown to consistently disagree with this, what have I missed that makes you all unanimously excuse Swansea but debate Curly?

In short: Prove me wrong

[terapsina]

Ask Game: Agatha All Along:

Fandom: 1, 17

Ship: Agatha/Rio (Vidarkness): 7, 10

Character: Agatha OR Rio: 6, 7, or 8

(from this ask game)

Fandom:

1. ...the moment in the story that I started shipping my OTP from this world.

That whole scene where Rio blows in the door at just the most dramatic moment and the following throwdown fight made me pay attention. But this sentence? This sentence was a direct hit to alllllll my weaknesses.

It immediately gave me so much delicious information. Like, despite all that 'I want to see you burn... or hang... or drown' aggression? that this woman clearly was utterly gone for Agatha.

*be still, my beating heart 😍*

17. ...the world-building aspect of the story I have the greatest admiration for.

That SONG. I adore the way they used The Ballad of the Witches' Road in this show in so many ways. The way we kept getting different versions and the way they were so slightly and significantly different based on the purpose behind that particular version.

Like how the Sacred Chant version was all about the community of witches (and the way that hid the trap Agatha had used for centuries).

The way Lorna's version was full of a mother's unconditional love for her daughter and the lengths she'd go to for that love.

The way Nicky and Agatha's version was about their coven of two (and how even while Nicky was alive, the way Agatha had already kinda corrupted it even as her love for her son remained the one true thing about her).

Just. The way the song informed every aspect of the story... it's frankly incredibly impressive.

Ship:

7. ...the scene that I like to point to as proof that they're perfect for each other.

I could probably choose literally ANY of their scenes to make that particular point but I really like this one.

Like. Agatha has been angry and avoiding Rio for centuries. Rio has recently made it clear she wants Agatha dead (though admittedly knowing her nature this is basically at least 70% her wanting Agatha back).

But despite that, as soon as they know they have to do this particular ritual both of them know THEY are going to be the ones exchanging the brooms. They don't need to talk about it, or discuss it, or consider it, it's just... instinctual.

They are just always on the same wavelengths and it's both beautiful and really tragic.

10. ...rate the level of stupid they reach in their pining.

I mean... *murder threats* followed by...

*Agatha trying to claw Rio's face off* followed by...

*Rio painfully reminded Agatha she's never going to get her son back, a day ago* followed by...

*Rio saying she HATES ghosts* followed by...

(obviously not... no, she took a calculated risk on being able to continue irritating Rio for the next eternity).

Also just... we have one case of a dum-dum who fell in love with the literal embodiment of death. And another case of a literal embodiment of death who turned full dum-dum because she met a very pretty witch.

They're SUCH dumb. I love these pining idiots SO MUCH.

Character:

6. ...the scene that I think shows just how awesome they really are.

(I'll answer this one for Rio)

This is really boring of me maybe, but like.... how do you top a badass show-stopping moment like THAT?

Rio Vidal. Full Lady Death, everyone! *cheers and applause* *CHEERS AND APPLAUSE*

7. ...the scene that I think adds depth to their character or the relationship this character has with someone.

(...and this one for Agatha)

This scene just... shows that Billy doesn't just remind Agatha of her son... he reminds her of herself.

At the end of the day Agatha is a survivor, and so is Billy. And that both connects and differentiate them. And I just find that very interesting.

8. ...a headcanon I have about this character.

(...and Rio again)

Rio absolutely lied about being pulled onto the Road by their summoning spell. She's Death, she could have shaken that thing off with the flick of a pinky but was she really going to waste an opportunity that good?

[ravennaortiz]

Hate Me, Love Me: Angels Story-nov

As always 18+. TW:DV, character death

Summary: You two were a match made in heaven. Lovers from the moment you two locked eyes even though your parents had already chosen for you.....or so you thought. When EZ is released from prison a family secret comes to light. You were always to wed a Reyes ....it just wasn't suppose to be Angel. Can you convince him your love is still true and defy your parents wishes? Will EZ let you two be?

Word Count 2k+

“We should have a baby” murmured Angel as he pulled you closer to him voice heavy with sleep still as he grinded against you making heat pool in your lower abdomen as your arousal dripped onto your thighs. “Morning to you as well” you giggled as your hand travelled down his bare chest and onto his thigh making his breath hitch. “and to him” you added as your hand gently stroked his hard cock. Your thumbnail carefully dragging the precum around his sensitive tip.

Angel groaned before quickly repositioning you under him his mouth sucking and nipping at your neck as his head notched at your opening. Instinctively you wrapped your legs around his waist, letting him slide into your slick heat easily. “Fuck” moaned Angel into your neck as you fluttered and clamped down around him. “So wet and tight already mi amor” he grunted as he slowly thrusted in and out of you making you moan and whimper.

A knock at the bathroom door had your mind ripping from that last morning you and Angel had been together. That day your lives had changed forever. Another knock had you scooping all the tests on the counter into the trashcan as you flushed the toilet and washed your hands. Opening the door you came face to face with the monster you had been living with for the last almost two months.

“Everything okay?” inquired EZ as he leaned against the wall. His dark eyes roaming over you in a way that made you ill. You gave a meek nod before holding out you hand to him and letting him lead you back to the table where your parents were sitting. The four of you were having a dinner to celebrate something EZ and your father had done. You could care less honestly. The only reason you were here was because EZ no longer trusted anyone to watch you when he left you at home. His patience was dwindling and he had been very clear this morning that he would only allow his denial between your legs for another night. Tomorrow he would just take what was his seeing as how you were now his wife.

You were pushing your salad around when you noted Bottles walk up and whisper something to EZ. Your stomach flipped and churned as you felt his gaze fall on you. “Mi Amor. Why didn’t you tell me you suspected you were pregnant?”

You swallowed hard as you willed yourself to meet his gaze. “You have been so busy, I didn’t want to worry you “ you started before EZ waved you off.

“Never too busy for you. I’m sorry they were negative though.” He offered before turning to your father. “I’ll be sure to fix that though tonight” he joked as he elbowed your father playfully who laughed as well as your mother.

Your eyes darted to Bottles who gave a slight shake of his head before disappearing back into the shadows. Why had he lied? You thought to yourself as you looked back to EZ and your father both of who were still chuckling as they went back to their discussion. A red dot on EZ’s chest caught your eyes right as he looked at you. EZ frowned at your wide eyes right before looking down. The next thing you knew a boom filled the air as your mother screamed and EZ slumped forward as your father ducked under the table.

Two months prior

You felt like the ground was crumbling out from under you as your father spoke. The air thick with tension,hurt and anger. Tears burned at your lash line as each word hit you in the gut. This couldn't be true. Couldn't be happening. Fanatically you searched the faces of your parents, Felipe, Angel and Ez, who sat around your kitchen table.

Only Angel's face mirrored how you felt. His grip on your hand tightening painfully as your parents tore your fairytale apart. Felipe had the decency to look ashamed and remorseful but offered no defense for you and Angel against your ever stoic and emotionless parents. You swallowed hard and shivered at the dark smirk you got from EZ.

EZ couldn't help the smirk that played across his face. The monster lurking beneath the golden boy scout mask, taking a quick peek at his beautiful prize. If he was being honest he didn't want you....well not exactly. He wanted you so Angel couldn't have you anymore. He wasn't interested in love or any of that fluffy bullshit. He wanted something to sink into whenever he needed, something to own.

“You mother and I understand this is hard. To have been with one man for over ten years then told you are being given to another” stated your father trying to pretend to be remorseful but you saw through the façade like you always had. “EZ is Presidente and the only reason I am agreeing to this change is because of his higher status than his brother.” continued to explain your father before Angel interrupted.

“He hasn’t even prospected. He can’t be Presidente” snapped Angel his fist slamming onto the table as his anger started to get the better of him. Ignoring his fathers quiet plea of calm Angel continued. “So you all just think you can barge into our home and tell us our marriage, our love and life we have built is just over? Null and void? That It doesn’t matter because this snot nosed golden child whined about it not being fair that he missed out because he killed a cop like an idiot.” Ranted Angel as he slammed his chair back sending it flying as he over turned the kitchen table.

“How come no one mentioned that they were suppose to be an arranged marriage until today? Let me and her get together and just never say anything all these years? How come he fucking knew but not her or I?” demanded Angel as Felipe restrained him against the fridge as you cried and you mom cowered behind your father.

“Boys like you deserve no explanation from men like me and your brother” spat your father as EZ just sat laughing before standing up and tossing some keys to the floor at Angels feet.

“Those are the keys to the trailer by the clubhouse. Effective in an hour that is where you live brother. This house and her are mine.” He stated before heading out of the kitchen.

Gillys House

Gilly and Coco sat in stunned silence as they listened to Angel go over what had happened earlier that day. The club had been dismantled to a degree. Bishop excommunicated and other brothers missing or had quit.

“She didn’t even say anything. I might as well hit the road. I don’t wanna see my girl getting dicked down and shit” stated Angel defeatedly as he slumped onto the table.

“Probably best she didn’t. The violence your brother showed earlier at the clubhouse can very easily be put on her.” Stated gilly as he exchanged a look with Coco.

“She loves ya too much to give up on you” offered Coco as he took a drag of his cigarette.

Next Day

“Stop” you screamed voice almost hoarse as you grabbed onto EZ’s leather. Trying your best to get him off Angel.  “Please EZ! I’m begging you. I’ll do anything please don’t hurt him!” you sobbed as he tossed you off him to the floor of the clubhouse.

This was your fault. If you had only held your tongue last night then EZ wouldn’t have beaten the shit out of you. Leaving you with bruises, cuts scrapes, a busted lip and black eye for Angel to get pissed about.

Panting EZ spun around on you making you skirt along the floor to get away. “Good girl. I knew you would see things my way” he growled as he yanked you up to him making you flinch. “Kiss me” he demanded in your ear as he gripped your neck. With tears in your eyes you did as he demanded as Angel watched from the floor.

For the next two months you pretended to be a good little wife. Keeping you and Angel safe from EZ wrath. You were lucky he was so distracted in gaining power that he didn’t pay much mind to your lack of letting him in your bed. He had tried but you had pushed back and a small part of him still wasn’t fully evil enough to just take what he wanted from your body.

Angel though didn’t see it that way though. In his mind you had moved on. Replacing him and giving up on the love and life the two of you had built. No reassurance from Gilly or Coco could make him see reason. No sneaked letter from you was read or when it was believed truly.

Present Day

Angel was sipping a beer as he sat on his patio overlooking the ocean. The crash of the rolling waves the only sound as he lay in his hammock. He had fled to Mexico a couple of weeks ago after a particularly bad blow up with his brother, the whole club was coming under fire and Angels loyalty had long ago left. Valuing his own life he had disappeared across the border with Coco, Letty and Gilly. Looking up at the clear night sky his mind drifted to you. Wondering if you were looking up at the same time. While he had given up on the idea of you two ever being able to reunite or that you still actually loved him he couldn’t help but ease into the comfort of old memories.

He still wore the ring. Bore the shared tattoos, had your photo as his background and framed portraits of you hung in his bungalow. He had managed to smuggle a poem you had wrote him out and your wedding album out  of the house as well as a shirt you had brought him and a pair of panties he had always kept in his leather. On the especially lonely nights after not being able to stomach bringing another woman to his bed. He would turn the lights down and use them to get off. His mind full of you as he talked out loud, moaning and calling your name.

Glancing at his watch Angel sighed before making his way inside. Calling it for the night as he tossed his bottle into the trash and turned out the lights. Angel had just drifted off when the knocking started. “What the fuck” he grumbled as he saw it was four in the morning. “Someone better be dead” he called as the knocking continued as he stumbled to the door. “What?” he snapped as he flung the door open.

“Hey” you murmured as you met his eyes. You watched as Angel went through every emotion. Irritation, shock and surprise to disbelieve and happiness. Within moments he had you pulled into the house slamming the door as he watched through the windows for anyone else.

“How?” he stated as he turned to you. You looked rough. Pale, hair a mess, makeup trialing down your cheeks as if you had been crying, dress torn to shreds and shoes missing.

You shook your head not sure how to be honest. “Someone shot EZ and then they dragged me into a van. I was blindfolded. Then a tunnel, it was dirt and wood. I remember a hospital? Then another van and then I got dropped off a couple blocks away and told to come here.”

“Why?” demanded Angel as he turned to you.

“Because I love you” you replied puzzled by the question. You were not a hundred percent sure what he was asking. Having known him for so long though you knew his mind would have been trying to paly tricks on him. That he would have talked himself into believing what your parents and EZ had said, That he was not worthy of you, that he could not provide for you and that you never truly loved him.

The silence between you two was loud as Angel took in those four words. Within seconds his lips were on yours as he pushed you against the wall. You parted your lips letting his tongue snake into your mouth as you moaned. Hands sliding down his bare chest to his boxers as his hands cupped your ass prompting you to jump and wrap your legs around his waist.

“Pregnant” you mumbled as Angel quickly ripped your panties off, flingers sliding through your wet folds making you whine.

“What?” stated Angel as his fingers stilled inside you. His eyes searching yours as you cupped his face.

“We are pregnant Angel. I” you started before his lips were back on yours as he carried you to his bed. Tears spilling from his eyes as he laid you down before pulling back and caressing your stomach as his hands travelled to your dress. Bunching it up his eyes landing on his name above your mound before yanking his boxers down just enough to free his hardened length.

“I just need to be inside you mi amor. After this I’ll make love to every inch of your body like you deserve.” He murmured as he carefully pushed into your slick heat making you back arch. Angel kept your his hands firmly on your knees as he watched himself disappear into your depths before pulling back out his cock glistening with your arousal.

“Angel” you whimpered as he slowly thrusted in and out of you. The head of his cock dragging along that sweet spot over and over. Angel moved over you, caging you in with his arms as his mouth found yours. Sucking down every sweet moan as he kept up his pace. He groaned as yours hands scratched his back and pulled at his hair, urging him on until he was pouring himself deep within your soft walls.

“I thought I had lost you” you murmured as he lay on top of you. “I love you so much Angel. No one else holds anything to you” you continued as he kissed your forehead and gently wiped at the tears that slipped down your cheeks.

“Shh. I know baby girl. I’m so sorry forever making you think I doubted the truth of your love. For leaving you behind, I will never forgive myself for that.” Murmured Angel as his tears mixed with yours.

A few months later

Angel was tearing home after his father’s call. His words still ringing in his ear. “I’m sorry I couldn’t kill him that night. He knows where she is and is coming for her”. Letting his bike crash into the driveway as he hopped off he took in the suv and bolted for the stairs just as he heard gunshots ring out. Taking the stairs three at a time he busted through the already broken door and slipped in a pool of blood, his own gun flying under the couch.

“No” he screamed as he crawled through the warm crimson river that flowed from around the corner. His eyes taking in the dark shape on the floor as tears poured down his face. Grabbing onto the arm he pulled you to him only to stop as he caught sight of movement by the nursery.

“I….I… killed…..” you stuttered as you dropped to your knees still holding the gun in both hands. Eyes wide as you gasped for breathe and your body trembled.

Angel glanced down at the empty eyes of EZ before slowly making his way to you. Once he had the gun out of your hands and the safety on he held you tightly to him as you sobbed. “It’ll be okay.” He soothed as he closed his eyes as your daughter started to cry. “We will all be okay” he continued as he heard the faint sounds of sirens.

The End