#BUT I WAS DETERMINED TO GET THIS DAMNED THING OUT OF MY DRAFTS

[honeybeedrabble]

Dangerous Desires (ix) - Home Coming

CW: spanking/brat taming, hair pulling, biting, licking, breast play, marking, unprotected piv (dont be stupid), rough sex, slight fingering, degradation, choking, cream-pie (DONT BE STUPID), probs some shit editing, LMK what i missed !!

word count: 10K 💀💀

18+ MDNI !!!!!

You stood in front of the hokage, heart beating out of your chest. You were nervous, that much was obvious. However you couldn’t wrap your head around why you were summoned. Lady Tsunade finished writing her last few words into her notes, stapling them together and setting them aside to address you.

“You must be wondering why I’ve sent for you,” she started, sitting up in her seat. Her face was somber.

“I can’t say you’re wrong.”

“What I’m about to tell you is something only a very select few know about.” Tsunade started, hands clasped together on the desk. “We’re about to go to war.”

You were shocked- was Kakashi really telling the truth?! Was he right all along?! Your emotions were everywhere and it was evident on your face.

“I know, I know it’s a lot to take in. I myself am not sure if I’ve taken it in yet.” She seemed stressed, you could see the worry behind her soft brown eyes.

“Lady Tsunade… who are we at war with?”

“My dear who aren’t we at war with?” She sadly laughed to herself. “Truth be told we’re fighting against a greater force than we know. I hate to say this but we’re looking at a fourth great ninja war.“ Your eyes widened, body filled with anxiety.

“A fourth great war? Are you serious?”

“I’m as serious as death. In fact, there’s going to be a five kage summit soon and I’ll need to attend to talk about said war.”

“So… The war isn’t with the other nations? I mean… if there’s going to be a summit with all five nations, doesn’t that mean neither is the threat?” You asked, still confused.

“Exactly.”

“Then who’s the threat?”

“I can’t discuss that with you.”

“Then why have I been summoned Lady Tsunade? If you can’t tell me who the enemy is tell me what I’m here for.” You were starting to get angry, worried for what you’d been told previously.

“You need to fight in this war.” Tsunade said plainly. “With medical jutsu like yours we would be idiots not to use you. I’m telling you now that we’re not asking you to enlist, but rather we are drafting.” Kakashi was right.

You couldn’t believe him, it was impossible to. How could this be happening? It wasn’t long since you’ve been here and already you’re being drafted in the war. It was exactly how Kakashi had told you, no denying it. This is your job, what you were sent to do, the only thing you know how to do, so damn right you’re going to use your blessing to help all you can.

“I’m well aware of my capabilities my lady, and in fact I find it a great honor to be drafted by you personally.”

“You’re taking this a lot better than I thought you would, I must thank you for that.” She sighed a relieved breath, hand clutching her chest.

“I have no other choice but to. This is what I signed up for when moving to Konoha. I decided the day I learned my first medical justu I would help the world become a better place. If you hadn’t drafted me I would’ve signed up myself. It’s my duty, this is my home.” Your words moved Tsunade, she smiled softly at you. Her face dropped suddenly.

“I’m glad you believe that, and I’m glad to have someone like you be so ready for whatever is to come, really I am. But because you’re going to be in the war I need to to preserve your chakra. Because of this, I forbid you from working at the hospital.” She looked away from you, knowing she didn’t want to see the determination wash away from your face in real time.

“Are you… are you firing me?”

“I’m afraid so. I cant have you waste any of your precious chakra on a few sick patients when we are going to have armies full of injured shinobi on the front lines. We have enough medical personnel at the hospital already, so with you being as high ranked as you are we must save you for the battlefield. You understand don’t you?”

“Lady Tsunade what more do I have other than my job? How long will it be until we are in war? I-I can’t be out of work that long.”

“I’m sorry but my hands are tied.” Her voice was almost as sad as yours, she worriedly watched as your eyes started to well with tears.

“Please my lady. Don’t do this to me.” She got up from her desk and walked over to you, hugging you tightly against her.

“It’s going to be alright, I promise. I just need you to rest up. We’ll be destroyed without you, please just trust me.” You hugged eachother until you could calm down, you wiped any tears that fell and stepped aside.

“Lady Tsunade I have a request to make.”

“What is it dear?”

“I want to go home. Back to my village and see my parents one last time before I go to war. I think it’s only reasonable to see them one last time, as me coming home alive and well is uncertain.” Tsunade stepped back and looked at you, a hand draped softly on your shoulder.

“I accept the request. How long will you be gone?”

“Probably under a week.”

“Then so be it. You’re dismissed.”

You walked out of the office and back home with an intense sadness inside of you. You gave up on Kakashi because you loved your job. Now your job has been stolen from you and it was all for nothing. Everything that had given you value- that had given you purpose- is now gone. You wondered if you should even return home or not.

You decided it would be a good idea if you told your friends Machi and Gale you’d be gone for the next few days, back at home until you decided you needed to come back. They understood and wished you well on your journey.

Kakashi was a mess, thinking about how poorly he treated you during your sexcapade, saying he hated you and fucking you so roughly he wasn’t sure if he had hurt you or not. Who care if he did? You hurt him worse. You hurt him in a way nobody else has. How could you treat him like he was somebody only to leave him like he was nothing? At least, that’s how he saw it.

Business at The Poison Sandwich was slow today, maybe the sadness was in the air. Kakashi ate his BLT, thoughts of you racing through his head. Even up until he heard your name uttered by the two girls you held dearly as friends.

“So she went back home.” Gale said to the cook behind the counter.

“I’ve been thinking about visiting a few of the sandwich shops in her village for a while now actually.” Percy smiled from behind the counter.

“Wait… she went back?” Kakashi interrupted, unsure if he heard right.

“Yeah, yesterday. Said she’s be back in a few days.” Machi said, looking over at Percy. “He said he was going to go the her village pretty soon to try out the food there.”

“Is this true Percy?” Kakashi asked his friend, who nodded as he discarded his white apron.

“Yeah. Why?”

“Can I come?” Kakashi asked, cursing himself. What was he thinking?

“Well as long as you don’t have any other plans for the rest of the day, I see no problem. I’m heading off now, so get ready.” Percy said, untying his apron and tossing it on a nearby countertop. “Ladies, you don’t mind closing shop for me, do you?”

And of course, as enamored with the man as they were, had zero issue and took care of business as he and Kakashi took off.

_____________

Kakashi was shocked to see the strange motorized bike that Percy had built, looking it up and down in shock and awe at the mechanism.

“What is this, if I may ask?”

“Well I’m not a shinobi like you so getting around to long distances isn’t easy for me. I built this myself as a way to make the trips easier.” Percy said, tossing Kakashi a black helmet. Kakashi caught it and reluctantly adorned it, his silver hair peeking out from underneath.

As Percy started the machine Kakashi sat in the back behind him, pondering why he had felt the need for such an impromptu visit to your hometown. He didn’t know why he felt this way, especially after the way you had treated him. Once again he felt alone, abandoned by your heartlessness and eager mindset to go fight off in a war that he felt would mame and kill you the second you had your back turned to the enemy.

“Kakashi… what’s been going on with you?” Percy asked, snapping Kakashi out of the trance he found himself in.

“I’m sorry?” He asked, puzzled at his friends sudden questioning.

“Listen... Gale, Machi, and I all know about your secret affair. And we don’t care- we support it honestly. But ever since you two have had a falling out… we’ve noticed a change.” Percy’s voice was somber as he drove throughout the thick forest, focused on the destination while his heart was stuck in the conversation. Kakashi was silent a moment, his mind was racing. Was it safe to tell his friend the truth? To let the secrets of his beloved lay out in front of someone who was only watching from the outside?

“I’m not sure I understand,” he replied monotoned. His outside demeanor was cool, but anyone who really knew what was going on inside his mind could tell the intricacies of his tone, picking up the way his voice would lilt anxiously as he declared this inquiry.

“Well I’m sure you do, so don’t play dumb with me Hatake,” Percy snapped, he wasn’t playing games- Kakashi was sure of this now.

“Well what do you want me to tell you? Sometimes people don’t work out the way they meant to, we don’t have control over these things. All you need to know is that me and her are… we’re complicated.”

“Bullshit.” Kakashi was taken aback.

“What are you talking about?” The wind was blowing through his hair, headband threatening to blow off his eye. He held it tight, looking at his thighs for avoidance.

“I’m talking about your seriously psychotic desire for control. You’ve wanted her from the moment you met her, haven’t you?” Percy asked, revving the engine of his bike.

“More than anything…” Kakashi admitted, vision still remained on his thighs.

“And ever since then, what have you done?”

Kakashi thought about it for a moment. What had he done? He had fucked you on his desk, broken into your home and stolen your underwear, touched you while you slept, fucked you at work, fucked you on missions- gods... the list could only go on.

“I’ve done all I could.” He clutched his fists, hating how horribly his stomach churned. “And yet it still wasn’t enough.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that my love for her has consumed me, my body, brain, and soul. She’s all I think about- ever. She’s everything, and everywhere. No matter what time of day or night, I can feel her down to the very air I breathe. I’ve tried for what has felt like forever to have her all to myself.”

“Why all to yourself?”

“Because the thought of her with anyone else makes me violent,” Kakashi said, regretting his words the very moment they spilled past his lips.

Percy remained quiet, Kakashi wasn’t sure if it was so he could talk more or not. He stayed silent for a while too. He wondered wether Percy was judging him, then again he didn’t care too much, it wasn’t him who was worried about public appearances.

“Sometimes I can feel my blood boil when I see another man talking to her. She makes me feel at peace, not just in my mind but in my soul. I love that woman down to the marrow in my bones and to think that some other man could see her and only see her for her beauty, only see her for something to use makes me sick. I can practically feel the bile in my throat just thinking about it.”

“So she makes you feel calm?” Percy didn’t seem to be turned off by the way Kakashi spoke of you, it was as if they were having a conversation so casual it was comparable to one about the weather.

“It’s beyond that,” Kakashi felt his heart flutter as he thought of you, his mind running with excitement just at the opportunity to talk about you.

“Sometimes I think about my past and all the people who have left me. Some of them chose to, some of them didn’t. Regardless, whenever I’d get attached to someone they’d leave, I didn’t have any control over it. Maybe it was because I was weak, or too young to have any real say in the matter. But now it’s different. I’m stronger and I’m older, no matter how you look at it I’m ten times the person I was all those years ago.” Percy remained silent, listening intently to his friend. Something he wouldn’t do to much of as Kakashi wasn’t the type to open up easily.

“When I met her, I knew instantly I loved her. It was a fact just as true as the sky is blue. I don’t think about all the horrible things from my youth whenever she’s around, not when all I can think about is the possibility of my old age spent with this wonderful woman. And the only way to have a future with her is if she doesn’t leave. I’ve grown beyond a simple lust for her, I've realized I can’t escape these feelings. I learned about her past, her favorite flowers and I’ve showered her in as much affection I can show without being too much. I’m sure I’ve crossed that boundary already but I can’t help it, I have too much inside to not let go of.”

“So you want something serious with her?”

“Yes.”

“Why call it quits now? After everything you’ve gone through, why give up?”

“Because she’s going to leave me,” He ran a hand through his silver hair, holding back a tear that was heard through the slight crack in his voice.

“She told you she doesn’t want to be together anymore?” Percy asked, wondering if what his girlfriends told him about you was true or not. He remembered hearing how you liked Kakashi too, but was afraid of ridicule, yet still craved his love beneath it all.

“She wants to fight in a possible deadly battle. I cant disclose much but that’s all I can say.”

“But she’s strong isn’t she? Plus she’s a medic, so wouldn’t she be able to heal herself if anything happened?” Percy asked, unsure about the severity of this “battle”.

“You don’t get it,” Kakashi sighed, leaning his forehead against Percy’s back. “I can keep her through affection and intimacy, that’s one thing we both know we have for each other, it’s apparent. But I can’t keep her from getting herself killed. Death is around every corner for people like me and her.”

“Shinobi, you mean?”

“Exactly. I don’t want to be in love with someone and yearn for them every second we aren’t together just for them to leave and die. It’s not fair to torture myself like that. I’d rather call it quits early before I’m doomed to live a life of suffering. I couldn’t deal with it.”

“Kakashi, you already are.” Percy didn’t care to tiptoe around the fact, he was tired of all the beating around the bush. Kakashi sat there a moment, his head still resting against his friends back.

He closed his eyes, occasionally catching himself to hold onto the bike better as they jostled over small rocks and bumps along their path. Kakashi didn’t have much to say about that, but it did prompt a lot of thinking, not that he could do much with Percy being such a chatterbox.

“You need to hear me out with this, okay? Love is like a sandwich-“

“Good gods, spare me the metaphors…”

“I’m going somewhere with this trust me!!” Percy yelled defensively, his volume mostly washed out by the breeze blowing by. “You can have all the amazing fillings you want: intimacy, shared experiences, passion, romance, all that is great but without the bread that keeps it together it’s just a bunch of things slopped together. What makes a sandwich a sandwich is the bread that keeps it together- a solid foundation, trust. And sure, it’s going to be messy at times, but that just comes with that delicious journey we all sign up for.”

“Is there a point to this analogy?”

“Obviously, dumbass. You have all the makings for a great relationship except for the bread… the trust. The bread you’ve got is thin- real thin. Meaning it’s not able to keep all that great stuff inside. The only way that meals gonna end is with everything falling out. Do you know why your bread is thin?” Percy asked, dodging a large rock in the middle of the path.

“Because of my insecurities…” Kakashi admitted, his face heating up.

“Bingo.”

He sat with this realization, mostly because he was metaphorically eaten up alive by one of his best friends. That aside, he looked at the bigger picture. Was he really that insecure about his trust in you? He knew you were strong, but was he actually just insecure you would rather die than be with him?! Was he really that codependent on you? That wasn’t possible, not with war being such a great threat. Percy didn’t know that though, so that’s another thing to factor in. Regardless, there still was valid food for thought presented to him.

“Well how far away are we now?” Kakashi asked, looking around at the new environment.

“Wont take longer than a few minutes, bud. Relax, we’ll be there in no time.”

___________________

Percy was right of course, only a few minutes later and the two were parked outside the large wooden gates. Sounds of children’s laughter and music could be heard just beyond, as well as the smell of amazing food clouding their senses. Kakashi and Percy walked in, delighted by all the new sights and sounds, it seemed like a festival was taking place, although they had zero clue what it was for.

While it did seem magical at first glance, Kakashi knew the truth behind this villages facade. When he truly looked around beyond the vibrant colors and fun attractions, he saw very sick people lurking around the streets, some even begging for spare money. He sighed to himself, judging all the men who walked by with their expensive robes who were laughing at the sick and elderly.

“Kakashi! Over here!” Percy called to him from beyond the crowd.

Kakashi looked over to where his friend was and saw a small shop next to some sort of brothel-esque building. He tilted his head in curiosity at him, raising both arms in a shrugging position.

“No- come over here! This is the place I came here for!” Percy called louder, holding open the shops door to signal he was about to enter.

Kakashi jogged over there, still overwhelmed by all the excitement going around. When he caught up with Percy, he suddenly felt something very familiar. It was that calmness in his soul he had described to Percy earlier. He spun around, trying to see what it was and if he could follow it.

“Something the matter?” Percy asked, shutting the door.

Kakashi turned his head and saw a small staircase on the outside of the establishment that led to a second story door. He furrowed his brow looking at the door, feeling a strange calling towards whatever was just beyond it.

“No… I guess it’s nothing.” He said, turning towards Percy as he opened the door and walked inside.

It was a small restaurant, a few tables here and there as well as a large island that a middle aged man stood at.

“Hi, welcome in fellas! Take a seat anywhere you want, I’ll get you both a few menus to look at!” He said cheerily, ducking behind the island to grab two menus.

Percy sat at the island in front of the man, Kakashi followed and took the seat next to him. The older man gave them their menus and went in the back to give them some time.

“Are you hungry at all?” Percy asked, skimming the drinks side.

“I could eat,” Kakahi responded, suddenly craving a sandwich more than anything.

There were quite a few options to choose from. Some vegan options, some vegetarian, and some sort of dessert types with various different fruits, custards, and cream fillings. Kakashi was in the mood for something more traditional and hearty, deciding he would ask for a grilled chicken sandwich.

The man reappeared with a small notepad and pen, leaning against the countertop.

“You two ready to order?” He asked, looking at Kakashi first.

“Yeah, may I please have the grilled chicken sandwich?” He asked, pointing to the menu. The man wrote it down and then asked for Percy’s order.

“I’ll have this breakfast sandwich,” Percy said.

“A little late don’t you think?” The man laughed, taking both menus.

“Well you know… breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Why not have it anytime of day?” Percy laughed. The man furrowed a brow and Percy grimaced, embarrassed by his joke falling flat.

Kakashi couldn’t help but feel that comforting aura getting stronger around him. He looked around, maybe it was the environment? Just then it became much stronger, as if all this muscles had relaxed in just that moment. It felt less like an aura and more like a chakra. He quickly looked behind the man and towards the curtains that led to the back. What he saw he couldn’t believe.

You emerged from beyond the curtains, holding two cups of water in your hands. When you looked up you immediately locked eyes with him. You must’ve felt the same muscle relaxation as Kakashi, you suddenly dropped both cups catching the eyes of the room.

“Kakashi…?”

_________________________________

You had arrived to this hometown of yours not too long after you left Konoha. You watched as children ran around happily through the village with their prizes from games going on throughout the streets. You sighed, walking down the paths of the place you once called home, knowing the happiest of people were just tourists in this living hell your family and community was trapped in.

You approached your families restaurant, smiling at the nostalgic feeling it filled you with. You grabbed the handle and walked in, your father standing just behind the island. He called you name excitedly, rushing over to you to hold you in a tight hug.

“You’ve come home! What are you doing here? You didn’t get kicked out, did you?” He teased, letting you go to get a good look at you. You nervously laughed.

“No, it’s not that.” You said, rubbing the back of your neck.

“Well whatever the reason is, it’s nice seeing you again.”

“Um… can I talk to you upstairs for a moment? There’s something I need to tell you… it has to do with me being here actually.”

He nodded and held the curtain for you to walk through. Beyond the kitchen in the back was a small door that led to a staircase, that staircase led to the small flat you and your family grew up in. When you both had settled down in the living room, you had assumed your mother would be there, however she was not. Puzzled, you two sat on a nearby couch and you faced him to ask.

“Did mom go out somewhere? I mean… I didn’t see her in the restaurant or kitchen and it’s a little late to still be in bed…” Your fathers face fell, looking at the carpeting.

“Your mother is uh… well there’s no easy way to say this. Your mothers in the hospital.” You felt your heart drop.

“What’s wrong with her? Why didn’t you send a message?! I could’ve come home to help her- what’s going on dad?!” you asked, voice shaking.

He sighed deeply, rubbing his temples with one hand anxiously.

“We aren’t sure what was wrong with her but… we knew that with the big move and that new job of yours you’d have some real stress. We couldn’t put that on you, so we made the decision to send her to a nearby hospital to get her checked out.”

“Fuck…” you sighed, holding your head in your hands. “You need to take me to her, I can heal her… or fix her or… something- anything! Gods dad, what the hell?! Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“Sweetie it’s fine, your mothers going to be okay-“

“Dad that’s a lot of money! For crying out loud, how are you going to afford the hospital bills?”

“We’ll be fine! as long as you’re okay we’ll be just fine.”

“Here, let me see if I have any extra money on me,” you reached into your pockets for your wallet. Your father quickly nudged your arm away.

“Please don’t, you have enough on your plate already. Why don’t you tell me what you needed to say earlier, okay?” He asked, putting on a small smile.

You frowned.

“Well, since we’re getting everything out in the open…” You took in a deep breath, letting it out with a shaky breath. “I’m going to war.”

You felt your heart shatter the way you watched your fathers face drop again. It was as if he was being told his only child was about to be killed right in front of him.

“Dad, I know how it’s sounds but I don’t have any other choice. There are people who need me, I signed up for this- this is my job.“

“I understand.” He said softly. You frowned, pulling him into a hug.

“I wanted to see you and mom one last time before I left… I know it’s a worst case scenario but… if anything were to happen, I wanted to tell you both goodbye.” You heard your father sob in your ear, holding you tightly. You couldn’t help yourself from crying either and wept with him on the sofa.

“I know you’re strong, and I know you’re valuable, but I’m still so worried,” he sputtered, you patted his back to comfort him but it did next to nothing.

“I know, but I promise you I’m not going down without a fight. I swear to you and mom I’m not going to let myself be weak.” You said sternly, almost as if you weren’t choking back a rivers worth of tears.

After a few more minutes and you and your father had calmed down, you sat there and discussed the situation of war. What it meant for you and your family. You said that with the money you had, it’ll all go to them if you died and they’d be able to move far away, to a better village and have a good financial place for themselves. Your father wasn’t pleased to hear about this and almost cried again. To get his mind off of it, you told him about your job and all the people you met at Konoha.

“Machi and Gale, huh? They sound quite nice! You even have your own students, sounds like you’ve adapted pretty well,” you dad smiled, tears drying on his cheeks.

“I have,” you smiled back, a blush forming in your face when you remembered Kakashi was one of the first you grew close with, even if it started out so riske.

“What’s that look for, hmm?” Your father asked, teasing you for the small blush across your face.

“It’s nothing,” you replied, putting a hand to your cheek and feeling the warmth on your skin.

“Don’t lie to me, I know that look pretty well. You must’ve met someone who isn’t just a friend or a student to you, so tell me!” He laughed, playfully swatting you on your arm.

“I mean, yeah there is someone,” you smirk, shortly after your face fell.

“Um… is everything alright?”

“Yeah, It’s just… things are complicated right now.”

“Oh,” you father said sadly, crossing his arms.

“But he’s a really great guy!” you perked up.

“He?” Your father asked. You nodded. “Does he have a name?”

“He might.”

“He might? What might it be?”

“It might be Kakashi.” Just the your fathers arms uncrossed, his eyes widening.

“As in Kakashi Hatake?”

“Oh great,” you sighed, hating this conversation immediately. “Yeah, why?”

“Because that’s the famous copy ninja! I’ve got to say I’m impressed.” You groaned, holding your knees to your chest now.

“Please stop embarrassing me.”

“I’m not trying to, I’m just suprised that a man like that can be in a relationship with you.” Immediately you grew defensive.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Your brows furrowed.

“Woah, I didnt mean it like that! It’s just… he’s known for being such a hardened shinobi. Who knew there was a heart beneath the mask?” He nervously laughed.

“I knew.” You added. Your father frowned, nervously fidgeting in his seat.

“I’m sorry, " you sighed. "I didn’t mean to be so snappy. It’s just that we’ve spent a lot of time together and he means a lot to me. I’ve seen a lot of his sides and even though he drives me crazy I can’t help but love him regardless. He makes me feel seen, and appreciated. No matter how bitchy I am he keeps trying, nobody else has ever been this patient with me. And what makes things even crazier, is that I feel so drawn to him. It’s like my whole life has led up to the moment we’d meet. Oh, what am I saying? This is starting to get weird, I’ll stop while I’m ahead,” your face felt extremely hot, you avoiding looking at your dad.

“No it’s fine, I get it.” He said, patting you on the back.

“Yeah, thanks.” Silence.

“So what makes things so complicated?”

“‘What isn’t complicated’ is a better question,” although you knew that answer was something entirely too inappropriate to say.

“It’s that bad?”

“Yes and no. It’s a long story, I couldn’t get into it.”

“Well whatever the case may be, you sound like you really love him. In fact, I caught onto you saying that,” he smirked.

“Please stop.”

“Fine.” he raised his hands defensively, then stood up from his seat at the couch. “Now we can sit here moping all day or we can spend time together like we used to. What do you say?”

“Moping sounds good but we can’t afford that right now so let’s work the restaurant like we used to.” You smiled, following him down that stairs.

___________________

“Kakashi…?”

So that’s what it was, it was you all along. He should have known better. Kakashi stood up, uttering your name back to you. You weren’t sure what to do. Truth be told you didn’t forgive him for putting you out on the spot like that, but you also knew there was no real reason for him to forgive you either.

“I’m sorry but would you excuse us for a minute?” Kakashi asked Percy as he motioned to speak to you outside.

“No.” Percy said, fidgeting with his napkin. Your father shot you a concerned look, finally putting two and two together. You patted him on the back reassuringly.

“It shouldn’t take long, we’ll just have a chat upstairs.” You reached into your pocket for a set of keys, walking out the front door of the establishment, Kakashi on your tail.

You two walked out in silence and he followed you up the outside stairs, staying quiet as you unlocked the door and stepped inside. He looked around and it appeared to be your old bedroom, posters and ribbons hanging on the walls. It felt homey to him, more so when he noticed preserved flowers laying on your desk, jasmine to be exact.

“So did you follow me here or did you-“ he cut you off with his lips against yours. Your eyes grew wide in shock. But the moment he put his hand on the small of your back you felt entirely different. Your eyes closed softly and your hands tangled in his hair. You felt a familiar fire burn in your chest, your heart fluttering as his beat in tandem with yours.

“Kakashi,” you sighed, his grip on you becoming tighter. He pushed you against the door, keeping his grasp on you impossibly firm. “Now’s not a good-“

“Stop talking, damnit.” he huffed, his breath hot against your skin. Immediately you shut your mouth, only opening it again to allow his tongue to brush up against yours.

You locked the door while you were still up against it, then resumed pulling on his hair. You also pushed your body against his firm chest, feeling your loins flutter as his breathing became heavier and his kisses more desperate. Kakashis tongue prodded into your mouth, caressing your own as if it lost it, rejoicing in the feeling of finding it again. His body language spoke the same dialect, his arms tense while they wrapped around you, legs locked in place as they cornered you against the wooden door.

You grabbed onto his vest, yanking it off of him and it was only for a moment when his arms left your body. His vest sliding off of him and landing on the floor, he swiftly kicked it away and then resumed his primal grip against your body. He pulled you into him, a breath of air escaping your lungs the moment he ripped your body off the floor. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, head falling to your shoulder while his teeth sunk into your neck, you let out a small grunt from the pain that you couldn’t welcome enough.

“Kashi?” you whispered heavily. He cut you off with another sloppy kiss, the rough smack of his lips against yours had you digging your nails into his back through his body con long sleeve. “What are you doing-“ another kiss “here?”

“What does it look like?” He huffed, hands sneaking past your shirt as he caressed your back with his long fingers. Your breath hitched at the feeling of him touching your bare skin, hair on the back of your neck raising while the tickling sensation of his calloused fingertips roamed your skin.

“I know what you’re doing, but why?”

“I needed you,” he rasped, fingers digging into your skin, his own nails now dragging down your skin. You shuddered in his grasp, thighs clamping down tight around his abdomen. “Must I need any other reason?”

“No…” you knew this was rhetorical, but the gratification you gained from answering him regardless heightened your arousal, giving into him just like you always did. “Needed me for what?” you asked, your chest rising and falling as you struggled to gain your composure.

“I just needed to see you,” Kakashi muttered licking the slight teeth marks that curved along your neck. “I missed this… the way things were before. Y’know I thought about inviting you over the other night?”

“To your apartment?” You were suddenly curious. He nodded, his hands now rubbing down your back, causing you to shiver once again. “What would we do?”

“I don’t even know. I was just so empty without you, even you being in my presence would be enough for me. However, I’m sure we’d find ways to entertain ourselves,” He leaned in closely to your ear “Wanna know how exactly?”

When he said this he thrusted himself into you, his hard package pressing right up against your clothed cunt. You moaned, grinding down on the new stimulation the moment you could, completely void of embarrassment or shame.

“Y-yeah,” your heart was practically in your throat now, however you felt the heartbeats much, much lower.

“Well, I had something in mind,” he hummed, his hands now on your asscheeks, gripping them harshly.

“Ngh- Like what?”

“I was thinking about how bad you’ve been lately,” his breath was almost burning the skin of your neck, you wanted him to so badly rip your clothes off of you and take you to bed. His hair smelled so good, you kept digging your fingers inside of the fluffy mass, gently pulling at it while it tangled between your fingers. He grunted slightly.

“Just like how you are right now,” it came out a purr, vibrations coming up from deep inside his chest. “You’ve been a bad girl. Sometimes I can barely recognize you.”

You didn’t know why you felt so ashamed about his words, a wave of regret crashing hard against you.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, unsure why the apology came so easy.

“So you admit you’ve been a bad girl?” he asked with amusement in his tone, his voice hoarse as he spoke deep into your neck.

“I’m as bad as they come,” you admitted, legs wrapping around even tighter. He chuckles softly.

“Oh? Well then I think we both know what that means,” his cock twitched underneath his pants, you had to sink your nails into your palms to avoid getting handsy. “I think you need to be punished severely.”

The hair on the back of your neck stood up, goosebumps rising on your skin immediately. He carried you over to your bed, tossing you down on it. You crashed against it, a loud squeak echoing through the room. You blushed, hoping to whatever god there was that nobody downstairs could hear.

“What are you going to do with me?” You asked, your hands rubbing where he bit you on your neck.

“You want to know your punishment?” An amused smile spread across his face. You nodded. “Well that’s for me to know and you to find out.”

You felt frustrated, already wanting him to lash out on you, it felt like torture the way he stood over you, patently keeping his hands to himself.

“Please?” you whispered, one of your hands moving south of your body, he watched as your sunk your hands under your waistband, eyes blowing wide when your mouth fell open.

He grabbed your wrist and yanked it back out, pinning it down and above your head.

“I think you need another spanking.” You bit your lip, trying to hide your excitement, your panties already wet when he increased the pressure of his hand.

He sat down next to you, letting go of your wrist and instead using his hand to grab your hair into a tight pony tail, causing you to sit up.

“Should I bend over your lap?” it came out as a mewl, your desperation evident on your face.

“How funny that you just want to jump straight into it,” he smiled in your face, shiny teeth gleaming back at your from beyond his perfect lips. “Sweet girl, maybe you do know how to behave,” he kissed you softly, then had you bend over his lap.

With one hand still firm in your hair, the other pulled down your pants, your panties coming down with it. You clenched around nothing as the cool air hit your wet cunt, a shiver was sent up your back.

“Such a slut, excited for her spanking.” He caressed your soft globes, you hummed excitedly, almost moaning at the delicate touch. “If I hadn’t done this previously I would’ve assumed you didn’t know what this was. Is that true? Are you a stupid girl who doesn’t know what a spanking is?” he cooed, his hand grabbing you hip harshly, fingers digging into your skin.

You grunted, knowing with this much pressure he would leave bruises along you skin for days, weeks even.

“It’s not pleasant, at least not the way I do it, remember? It’s gonna hurt, way more than a few soft taps.”

“I’m hoping for it,” you replied back, surprised by your own response and enthusiasm.

“Oh yeah?” he also seemed surprised, pleasantly surprised. A wicked smile was plastered on his face, searching your eyes with his own. “How long have you been wanting this for? I mean, you’re so obedient. I cant help but assume you’ve fantasized about this ever since last time,” his grip of your hair tightened, you smiled up at him devilishly.

“I’ve been wanting this since I last saw you.”

“Good answer,” he smirked. “Are you ready?”

You nodded quickly, arching your back as the tension builds up in your body.

“An even better answer." his fingertips glided againsty the curve of your back. "I don’t care if you scream or cry, in fact it would make this more enjoyable,” he hummed, pulling on your hair. “Now sit still.”

Kakashis hand came down hard on your backside, a loud slap echoed in your ears. You let out a depraved moan, biting your lip as the stinging starting to settle on your asscheek. He took a moment to take in the look on your face, ogling the flush of color across your cheeks. Quicker, and much harder this time, he struck you again with his ever-so-firm hand.

You whined, squirming in his lap until he spanked you again. After his next, you dug your nails into the mattress beneath you, huffing deep breaths in and out. Kakashi laughs softly, watching your soft ass turn a bright pink as he punished you.

“How many can you handle? You want me to get creative?” he asked happily, softly rubbing circles on your abused skin.

“Y-yesss…” your voice was trembling.

“If you say so. But it makes me wonder… how much pain can this pretty little ass take?”

“I deserve it, we both know I’ve been bad,” you mutter, nails coming out of the mattress as you slowly began to get less tense with each rub of Kakashis hand.

“Yes you have,” Kakashi exclaimed amused. “Do you know how bad? Answer me.” He smacked you again, and all you could muster was a string of whimpers and groans, no real words coming to your mind.

“Answer me properly. I don’t want to hear your little moans. I want a real answer. Tell me what you’ve done.”

“I… I’ve kept you a secret…” you whispered, your hand stroking his knee. “And the worst part is I’ve been fantasizing about you this whole time.”

“Interesting. For how long, give me a number.” He pulls your hair, tilting your face upwards so your eyes are locked.

“8 weeks,” you confess, looking away to avoid his strong gaze.

“8 weeks? How filthy have you been? What’s the most inappropriate thing you’ve fantasized about me doing?” He pulled your hair tighter, forcing you to look back at him.

“I’ve thought about you defiling me.” Kakashi raised an eyebrow.

“That’s all? I’m not going to lie, I expected more from you.” His hand move from your ass to your hip, once again squeezing it tightly. You winced.

“I-I’ve thought about you waking me up just so you can use me to get yourself off,” you blurted out. Kakashi perked up, much more interested.

“Anything else? You’ve had 8 weeks,” clearly he was having fun toying with you. It felt like torture dumping your fantasies onto him, but you couldn’t help spilling your guts.

“I’ve thought about pleasuring you.”

“Go on.” His grip became looser, yet still firm.

“I’d use my mouth.” He smirked.

“Is that all?” You wanted to melt into his lap, escape his massive presence.

“And my hands…”

“Well, don’t you have a plethora of talents,” he teased, bringing his hand back and quickly down his to your ass. You flinched, but before he could make contact he stopped himself, laughing softly. Your face burned hot.

“Anything else? I mean, 8 whole weeks is a looong time,” he raised his eyebrow again, looking directly in your eyes.

“Well…”

“Spit it out, don’t be a tease. I know you can say more.” His words made your skin tingle.

“I’ve thought about how mad you were at me, ignoring me all the time at the office. So I thought about trying to rile you up, get you even angrier. Just so maybe you’d snap and use me without holding back.” He loosened his grip on you.

“You really want that? For me to take my frustration out on you?”

“Yes.” You gripped his knee tighter.

“You really are a bad girl, aren’t you?” He smirked, grip getting firmer in your hair again.

“I am.”

“Do you have no shame? Ass in the air, panties off, pussy soaking wet, and looking me in my eye while you tell me about all the filth you’ve imagined about me. Sweet girl, you’re more perverted than I thought.” He pulled your hair back further, his mouth connected with your more a quick kiss.

“I bet you’ll say anything at this point if it’ll make me happy, huh? You’ve completely given yourself to me, isn’t that right?” With lidded eyes you nodded looking up at him.

“Are you mine to use?” Amused curiousity lingering in his voice.

“Yes.” Right after you confirmed this, another rough smack was right up against your ass. You yelped, once again digging your finger into the mattress.

“You like that, don’t you? You like getting hit by me.” You nod. Another rough smack. “Say it.” he practically barked.

“I- I like it! I like getting hit by you!” You wanted to curl up in embarrassment, once again hoping nobody could hear you. Kakashi had a wicked look on his face.

“I wonder how many times can I hit this ass of yours before you cry? Are you a tough girl?” He asked condescendingly.

“Yes…” He hit you harder, producing a loud moan out of you. He laughed.

“Are you tough or what? You seem to be enjoying this more than I expected,” this time he struck you lower, so that his palm was right up against the back of your thigh. You desperately squirm again, breathing shakily. He hits you there again, smiling to himself.

“Oh? Am I hitting a sensitive spot?” You almost shrieked when he smacked it again. “So I did find a sensitive spot,” he leaned down closely so that that he was almost in your ear.

“I’m going to keep smacking you, riiight here until your crying and begging me to stop.” And that’s what he did. Over and over again, watching as you rubbed your legs together, slick coating the feverish in-between of your legs.

“How many more spanks can you get before you cry? 10? 20? I know you can take it,” he kept spanking you, each one lighting you up until your ass was red. As he spanked you, he enjoyed watching your eyes roll back, your whimpers echo softly in your room, and your body spasm after each moment of contact.

“You must nearly be at the edge, huh?” Your eyes rolled back to normal, welling with tears. “Awww, is that it? Is that all you can take?”

He delivered the final blow, you moaned loudly, tears flowing down your cheeks. You felt lightheaded, pain and pleasure circulating inside of you. The erotic sensation making it's way up your spine, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up.

“Aww… did I do that? Did I make the tough, pretty girl cry?” You nod, unable to verbalize a single thought. “Such a good girl, taking it like a champ. I have to say, I admire how well you kept your composure… well at least most of it.”

He pulled your hair back, your head coming closer to him and he placed a soft kiss on your forehead. You shut your eyes and bit your lip, your heart melting at his sudden tender affection.

While still having a good grasp of your pony tail, Kakashi slung you over to the side, trapping you against him and the bed. He had you pinned, your wrists above your head. When he towered his large form over you his lips brushed against yours, his scent was everywhere. You closed your eyes again, and felt how his eyelashes fluttered against your cheek as he bent down lower and licked up your neck.

You smirked, a sudden tickle causing you to slightly spasm, Kakashi laughed softly when he saw it. He instead turned to biting you, the feeling of his teeth in your neck filled you with the most euphoric nostalgia. You sighed, legs bending so your knees could squeeze his waist. He rutted his hips into your core, and you shuddered as the wet juices pooled in your cunt and trickled down your legs.

Kakashi looked up at you, lips curled into a cocky smile, pressing softly against your own. You parted your lips, his soft tongue dragging along your plump lip, before his teeth gently trapped it and he bit into it possessively. You never started the day thinking he'd be showing up at your old home, about to fuck you senseless into the mattress you've spent countless nights on. It seemed to you like Kakashi's fate was to always appear, and so was your passionate desire for him.

Kakashi's kiss could make your loins ache like a wildfire, yet it could also make your breaths slow and your heart melt. Maybe it was fate?

I am safe here. His arms are open, his tongue is tender, and I don't need to struggle anymore.

Its all you could think about, really.

Two fingers circled your drenched clit, Kakashi watched your hole clench around nothing. He licked his lips watching your pretty cunt swallow his didgets shortly after, curling up as he pumped in and out.

“She’s so pretty…” he hummed, his knuckles now shiny with your arousal.

Your toes curled the more he pumped you, his fingers working fast. You roughly grabbed his wrist, stopping his movement. He looked up at you, a single brow cocked.

“Something wrong?” his voice was smooth, eyes soft as they watched you with adoration.

“T-that’s not what I need…” You murmured, breathing in and out as if you’d pass out.

“Tell me, what do you-“

“Cock. Yours.” You demanded. Kakashis eyes grew wide, a sinister grin plastered in his face. He retracted his fingers from your cunt, a silent moan escaped your lips when he moved.

“I never thought I’d have you so needy, sweet girl.” Kakashis hand traveled to his waistbands and pulled them down, hard cock slapped against his body con shirt, precum making his tip glisten.

“I can’t help it.” You admitted, your eyes breaking away from his to stare at his erection. Your legs spread wide, and you wriggled excitedly.

Kakashi ducked down to kiss you, cupping your cheeks as he rutted against you, his length rubbing up and down against your clit. You moaned into the kiss, a smile on your face as your pleasure spread. You wrapped your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck, getting even closer as you two enjoyed eachothers embrace.

Kakashis tongue made its appearance in your mouth again, the soft tip of his tongue swirling with yours, just to retreat and wetten your lower lip.

“Don’t tease me…” you whispered, breaking the kiss only to resume it quickly. He laughed gently, his hand moving south to grab the base of his cock and align it with your entrance.

“Well, aren’t you one to talk?” With one swift motion he went balls deep inside of you again, a shiver running up his back as he bottomed out, his public bone flush with your clit.

You both grunted, then began to lock lips as his hips drilled into you. You both knew you didn’t want to waste any time, each time he bottomed out you grounded down on him further, feeling his warm precum coat your walls as your own arousal spilled out and onto the sheets.

“Always wet for me…” he smiled, kissing down your jaw.

His cock was heavy, stretching you perfectly and throbbing each time it hit that tender spot inside of you that made you digs crescents into his back with your nails. He loved watching your lashes flutter when your eyes rolled back, and he devoured your lips whenever they opened to produce a guttural moan.

“I love you…” Kakashi cooed, a finger of his now playing with your clit.

“Love you- haaah- too…” you replied with a whine between words.

Kakashi pulls your shirt off of you, then quickly grabs both your wrists in one hand. He pins you down, and you’re unable to move. He retracts his hand from your clit and presses his forearm under your tits, pushing them up and drooling at how pretty they sit. He ducks down and sucks a nipple, his soft tongue spreading hot spit over your sensitive tits. He moans, cock throbbing as you pulse around him.

He looks up at you, your face red and forehead slightly sweaty. Fuck, you look so sexy. He groans your name, biting your tit, sucking a hickey into the soft flesh in his mouth. You’re seeing stars, vision blurry as your orgasm comes washing over you. You’re whimpering his name, shaking and yet unable to move under his massive presence. He lets go of your tit in his mouth and watched over you. You were his own personal porn star, cumming for him- cumming on him. Whimpering his name as you choke his girthy cock and take him while he resizes your cunt.

“Filthy… you’re making such a mess.” His pace was quicker now, your cries of pleasure louder as he beats your pussy into the mattress. “Bad girl…” he hums low, almost a growl.

You can’t fight back the violent euphoria, your poor cunt wants more of him, regardless as to whether or not you can take it.

“S’ good…” you mewl, erotic and soft squelches filling your ears as he continues to stuff you with his member, his own orgasm on its precipice.

“You really are a slut of this cock, huh?” he teased, thrusting hard, keeping his dick stuffed deep inside you as he pressed his pelvis against your clit. His nails dig into your wrists, your fingers try to grab onto him but you just can’t reach.

“No more playing games,” he grunts, a hand letting go of your wrists to wrap around your throat firmly. You gasp, your air running thin. “You want me?” His hips retreat, then slam harsh inside of you. You wince, eyes snapping shut when you moan.

“Tsk tsk, look at me.” you follow his order, your brows knitted tightly together, looking up at him through your lashes. His teeth glimmer as he grins mischievously, his grip on your neck tightening. “Nah, you need me.”

You feel like you’re about to pass out again, legs shaking viciously and you felt light headed.

“My body always misses this pussy… fucking made for me.” He nips at your jaw, railing you at the one pace he knows you and he both like it. “Mine.”

He wants to mark you up, leave you purple for everyone to see. So when he notices how hard it is for you to breathe he lets go, and takes delight in how you choke for air. He sucks deeply at your neck, throbbing inside you when he imagines how it’ll look after.

“M’gonna cum again…” you almost plead, hips tilting up to meet his own, welcoming his gorgeous cock back inside of you where you knew it belonged.

“I bet you want me to cum inside you,” he mutters, letting go on your sensitive skin before he sucks another purple bruise into your neck.

“Please.” Is all you manage, your slick now running down your ass.

“Always a slut for my cum…” He bites your shoulder, his tongue licking at the red skin underneath. “Can’t fuck you once without you begging for a creampie.”

You cum for a second time, begging for his hot cum to fill you up and pour out. Kakashi complies, a few more rough thrusts and he’s pumping you full of his burning seed, you feel impossibly full as you throw your head back. Kakashi moans heavily, still pumping you with his cock, loving the way you squirt on him with your own spend.

“You can play with yourself thinking about this tonight,” he says low, kissing you hard while he continues to shoot ropes into you. You twitch, legs spasming as your orgasm refuses to subside.

“N-no. I wanna be with you tonight! I wanna do it again!” You beg, wrapping your legs even tighter around him. His eyes widen and he licks your neck playfully.

“My sweet girl, if I bring you home with me tonight I won’t stop until the sun comes up.”

“I’m prepared to lose a few hours of sleep if it means I can spend them being your whore.” You respond shamelessly. He lets go of your wrist and you grab the back of his head, fully making out with him as you play with his silver mess. “I love you. I don’t care anymore.”

Kakashi hums in delight, pulling out of you, your shared cum sticking to his own thighs now.

“You mean you’re all mine?” He knew the answer.

“Mmhmm… And I’m sorry about the way I was acting before…” You admitted, hands running in his hair.

Kakashi rested his face against your tits, his arms wrapped around your waist.

“What do you mean? I should be sorry. I shouldn’t have been such a scummy person to make you choose me or your career, especially when I knew how much you love it.” His voice was soft and somber, you kissed the crown on his head.

“We both messed up, yeah?” You slightly giggled.

“Yeah,” he laughed back. “If you’re sure about going into this war with me I want you to know something.” He picked his head up, towering over you again. His palm rested against your cheek as his eyes looked deep into yours.

“I don’t care who we’re facing or what we’re up against. I don’t care who’s getting hurt but I do know one thing,” His brows furrowed. “I’m not leaving your side once. I’ll cover you, I’ll fight for you, I swear I’ll kill for you- I already have and I will again if I have to.”

He softly kissed the tip of your nose.

“That goes for me too,” you sighed, one of your hands caressed his shoulder. He grabbed that hand and kissed the back of it, then pulled you off the bed.

You two got dressed, although you chose to change into a turtle neck, and went downstairs. The restaurant was more packed and there was chatter all around, the nerves you may have been heard upstairs disappearing completely.

Percy turned around when Kakashi approached the seat next to him and reclaimed his seat. You walked around the counter and began to wipe it down. Your father came out from behind the curtain that led to the kitchen.

“Here’s that sandwich,” Your dad said, handing your boyfriend the plated food. “Enjoy, son.”

“Son?” Kakashi asked, taking a look around to see if people were watching him. When the coast was clear he quickly lowered his mask for a bite, then put it back on.

Nobody could see the smile underneath he had while he chewed, but you noticed the crinkle underneath his eyes.

“Not bad,” Percy said, polishing off his meal. “What’d you think, Kakashi?”

“Yeah,” he looked up from his plate, watching as you walked around the restaurant, taking orders and handing out drinks. “It was good.” It tasted like home.

A/N: after a much needed break/hiatus i’m finally back RAAAAHHHHH !!!!!!! for everyone asking if i plan on continuing the mafia AU yes i do but i feel like it’ll be a small mini series.

[uncsukuna]

never make him love me

tldr: you’re determined to confess to teen!gojo, but your chances of success are literally 0.

cw: angst/no comfort... sorry? reader is a bit very delusional n kinda weird, gojo may be a bit ooc, no curse au, gender neutral (i think) but reader is wearing a skirt, and im p sure this is not very accurate to the actual japanese school system. not beta read btw

a/n: this has been in my drafts for too long... whoops! trying a different divider but i don’t rlly like it. also does reader count as a girl/boyfailure here or not? they kinda strange tbh :/ idk lol, hope yall enjoy getting rejected by gojo n can yall guess who hes already in love w

you’re in love with gojo satoru.

which, to be fair, a lot of people are. he’s a pretty face: soft, snow-white hair with bright cerulean eyes that draws anyone and everyone in. a big, gorgeous smile, and long, muscular limbs that you just know would feel so good wrapped around you.

plenty of people have confessed to him, and all of them have been rejected. that should be enough to put you off, to make you face the reality that gojo may not be madly in love with you, but it just makes you more determined. he’s just rejecting everyone else because he’s waiting for you!

that has to be it, right?

definitely, you think as you skip to gojo’s classroom. you can feel the weird stares from students (and even a teacher or two), but they don’t matter. you’re going to confess to gojo satoru, damn it, and nothing’s getting in the way.

it’s lunch period, thankfully, which means he’ll be with geto and ieiri. that’s good — his best friends will be there to watch him declare his reciprocated love for you.

you slide the door open, love letter and two packs of kasugai gummies in one hand. a few students in the room glance up at you, including gojo!

the two of you lock eyes — well, you think you do. it’s a bit difficult to tell, but his head is facing your direction, so he’s totally looking at you. he’s noticing you!!!

you bite your lip to stifle the giggle bubbling up in your chest and walk up to the perfect trio (hopefully, soon to be quadruple). “hi, gojo,” you say, a nervous yet giddy smile on your face.

“... hey?” he exchanges looks with geto before focusing back on you. “do i know you?”

okay, ouch. you literally sat behind him in chemistry, but, whatever. don’t focus on the little things!

“um, probably not, but!” you hold out the envelope with a heart sticker as the seal. “i have something to tell you.”

“uh... okay.” gojo scratches the back of his neck, then takes the letter. he slides his finger under the seal, tearing it open, and pulls the letter out. he unfolds it, and both geto and ieiri lean in to also read it.

a frown tugs at the corners of your lips. the words were meant for just gojo, not those two. although... does it really matter? you’re just proving that you’re a good fit for their best friend.

after a drawn out moment of silence, gojo chuckles, albeit awkwardly. “wow, uh... this is a lot.”

you nod. “yeah!” you also hand him the packs of gummies, which he takes a bit more eagerly than the letter and sets them on his desk. “so, um...”

your heart has been hammering in your chest this entire time, but now it feels like it’s trying to escape. sweat accumulates on your palms, and you resist the urge to wipe them on your skirt.

this is the big moment.

you hope and pray and plead to whatever being that’s out there for gojo to accept and reciprocate your feelings. with all the manifesting and ‘love spells’ you’ve done, it should work. gojo satoru is most definitely in love with–

“this is nice, but, uh, i’m not interested.”

...

what?

you blink down at him, and now you’re the one chuckling nervously. “i’m sorry?”

maybe you misheard. that had to be it, right? there’s no way he isn’t in love with you. you bought him gummies, you wrote him a letter, you spent countless hours researching and trying different manifestation methods, you prayed at the shrine, you learned his schedule so that you could pass by him on the way to class, you did everything for him.

he scratches the back of his neck again before refolding the letter and putting it back into the envelope. “i’m not really interested in a relationship right now. you’re probably really cool and stuff, so don’t take it personally.”

no, no, no, no. this isn't how this was supposed to go! he was supposed to say yes! what happened? what did you do wrong?

now you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of his friends. his best friends. how are you supposed to come back from this? thank god no one else in the room is paying attention right now.

heat creeps up the back of your neck and spreads to your face. sweat is drenching your palms, blood is roaring in your ears, and you really want to melt into the ground never to be seen again. you’re pretty sure your heart just shattered into a trillion pieces and a shard pierced your lungs, because you cannot breathe.

you then feel a hand on your forearm, and you jolt. it’s ieiri. “hey, are you–”

“i’m fine!” you blurt, and a few heads turn in your direction. you take the envelope back from gojo, spin on your heel, and rush out of the classroom.

damn it.

you’re pushing past people to get to the restroom, and you slam the stall door shut before locking it.

you’re so stupid. how could the gojo satoru be in love with you?

the tears finally spill from your eyes, running down your cheeks, and you let your face fall into your hands as you sob.

idiot, idiot, idiot.

you should’ve known you wouldn’t be any different. he wasn’t waiting for you. he’ll never be waiting for you. you never had a chance, and in your defense, no one did.

gojo’s heart has already been claimed by someone else, and if you were a little smarter, you’d know exactly who it is.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Chad defending you from a guy who touched his girl at halloween party. I love protective boyfriend chad!

This was in my drafts and I forgot to post it...oops

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Chad wasn’t the jealous type. He was protective and liked to show others that you were together in every small way possible — wearing his Blackmore hoodie on game days, having subtle matching things like shirts or jewelry, setting a cute selfie of you two as his phone background, resting his hand on a part of your body in casual intimacy —, but he never shouted at Ethan for giving you a friendly hug or sent any threatening glares at Trevor, the guy that worked with you at the library.

‘’You’re staying with me all night tonight. I’m not letting you out of my sight,’’ Chad declared as you walked to the frat house the Halloween party was at, struggling to take his eyes off you in your cowgirl costume.

Getting matching costumes was cringy according to Mindy, but you and Chad decided to ignore her. It was cute and reminded people that you were together. Quinn had helped you with your costume, letting you borrow a shirt from her closet to match with your cow print skirt and cowboy boots.

‘’I could say the same about you. You’re not even wearing a shirt! You’re flashing those abs and muscles to everyone.’’ You ran your hand over his toned chest, catching yourself smiling knowing it was all yours to touch and kiss and lick. ‘’Just last week at your game, I caught three girls gawking at you. I was wearing your jersey with your damn name on it. Was it not clear enough that you were already taken?’’

‘’Y/N’s right,’’ Tara chimed, catching up behind you in her pirate costume. ‘’Those college girls are worse than high school ones. They don’t care if a guy has a girlfriend, they’ll still flirt and try to get in their pants.’’

‘’I’m not stupid enough to fall for their shit though,’’ Chad reassured you, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you in.

You hugged him back, feeling lucky to have a faithful man.

Half an hour after arriving, Chad finally agreed to let you wander around. Although it sounded like that, you didn’t need his permission. You just wanted Chad to understand that you would be alright on your own.

‘’Don't accept drinks from anyone and don’t let your cup out of your sight. And don’t drink the punch — you never know what’s in it. So many horrible college stories start with a spiked drink at a party.’’

‘’Yes, dad,’’ you replied, pecking his lips before disappearing among the other party-ers in search of Tara. Maybe she would be down to have some shots with you?

Just two, you told yourself as Tara poured vodka into small shot glasses. Two turned into three, and then you got enrolled into a game of beer-pong with some guys from your film class. You were kicking their asses, throwing the ball skillfully into the cups.

A few meters away, Chad was looking at you proudly. His girl was bruising these guys' masculinity and it was hilarious to see their embarrassed faces. One of them had a very poor aim and knocked a cup down, causing it to spill on the floor. Amateurs.

‘’Come on, Tara, you can do it!’’ you cheered, encouraging the petite brunette.

The shots you had downed earlier were messing with her concentration, but she was determined to get the ball in the last cup.

Unfortunately, she missed.

She pouted and the guys played their turn, getting only one ball. Tara offered to take the drink and you placed yourself in position, but just as you were about to throw the ball, the fake cop put his hand on the small of your back, dangerously close to your ass, and you completely froze. He whispered something in your ear, but you didn’t hear.

All you heard was Chad’s voice when he pulled the guy off you and shoved him against the wall, snapping you out of your frozen state.

On your left, Tara gasped, not expecting such violence from her friend. ‘’Chad!’’

‘’Don’t ever touch my girl like that,’’ he hissed at the guy, the altercation getting a few people’s attention. ‘’Got it?’’

The fake cop laughed, feeling cocky. ‘’Oh, come on! We’re just having fun.’’ He glanced at you and you shifted uncomfortably in your cowgirl costume, still feeling the ghost of the guy’s hand on your ass. His mouth curled into a smirk. ‘’With a perfect little ass like hers, I couldn’t help myse—’’

Utterly disgusted, Chad didn’t let him finish his sentence — he couldn’t — and shoved his fist against the fake cop’s chest to shut him up…which only reeled him more. He shoved Chad back by the shoulders.

As much as you appreciated Chad taking your defense, the situation was escalating and unless you wanted the night to end with a broken nose — for the other guy —, you needed to stop the fight.

You stepped in and grabbed Chad’s arm before he could shove the guy another time, but before you could say anything the fake cop shoved Chad back harder, causing him to stumble back into you. He steadied himself on his feet easily enough and you grabbed the table to stop you from falling. 

Tara rushed to your side, asking if you were okay. You nodded.

''Chad, stop!'' you called to him, grabbing his arm with a stronger grip. ''This idiot is not worth your time.'' His jaw was clenched when he finally glanced at you. ''He's just looking for a fight, let's go.''

—

Scream taglist: @misfityanii @beautybyfire @iluvscream191 @mariposa555 @bella7866 @o638 @lulubelle14 @luvvtxinityy @frasersgf  @Eddiefrickenmunson @jasperr-the-friendly-ghost @ghostf4cee @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @wandaswigglywoos @xjennyx2 @jennasslut @thatonesblog  @mikaelsonsstuff @icarly23 @tcddszn  @bt.oliana  @skyesthebomb @a1mzcruml3y @red1culous @iluurmom @popeheywardssecretgf

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs  @gillybear17  @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade  @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn  @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713  @marzipaanz  @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889

[venus-haze]

Rip 'Em to Shreds (Mickey Altieri x Reader)

Summary: Mickey’s your boyfriend, and he’s not cheating on you. At least, you don't think so, until your roommate plants the seeds of doubt in your head. While sneakily trying to find out the truth for yourself, being in the wrong place at the wrong time lands you as suspect number one in the Ghostface killings at Windsor College.

Note: Gender neutral (mildly fem-coded) reader, but no other descriptions are used. I think Mickey was a fun Ghostface, and I’m a sucker for Timothy Olyphant, so this is the result. I rewatched Scream 2 recently but obviously took creative liberties with some things. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Descriptions of violence, paranoia, and emotional manipulation. Do not interact if you're under 18.

You stared at the blinking cursor on the library computer screen, silently cursing yourself for letting procrastination get the better of you. As much as you loved going to Windsor College, you were beginning to suspect that declaring a Literature major would be your downfall, especially the paper you were supposed to be working on. You already knew what you were going to write about, having notes and a weird-looking outline ready to go. It had just been a matter of sitting down and actually writing the paper that was due the following week.

It didn’t help that Mickey and his friends were exceptionally good at dragging you into more ways to procrastinate a paper that could easily segue into a grad school application. Perhaps the importance of the paper impacted your attitude toward it, not wanting to face the behemoth that would determine your academic future. 

Just as you were halfway through a sentence on the second page of your paper, everything went dark.

“Mickey, c’mon,” you whined.

“Give me some credit, you’ve been hard to track down,” he said, moving his hands from over your eyes.

He pulled up a seat next to you, leaning on the stack of books piled next to the computer. 

“What’re you writing about?”

“Sexuality in 19th century gothic literature—dark corridors, bodice ripping, ghosts, rape, incest, vampires, mad women, all that fun stuff.”

He grinned, tugging on the hem of your shirt. “You had me at bodice ripping.”

“Later, lover boy,” you smiled. “I have to finish this draft before the library closes.”

He tapped on the computer screen. “Dining hall closes in about an hour. Don’t skip dinner for this paper.”

“I hate not having a kitchen,” you lamented. “It makes no sense the dining hall closes at eight when night classes go until nine and the library’s open until ten.”

He gave your shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Next year we’ll get an apartment, then you can cook at two in the morning all you want.”

You couldn’t help the adoring smile that spread across your lips. “You wanna move in together?” 

“Yeah, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.”

“Good,” he said, his smile matching yours. “Come over whenever you finish that. The roomie went home for the weekend so–”

“So I should plan to be there all weekend?”

“It’s like you can read my mind.”

You laughed. “Shut up before I change mine, jerk.”

“Look, I’ll be late getting in, I have to work on that short film for class, but I’ll leave the door unlocked for you.”

“Okay, see you later. Love you.”

“Love you too,” he said, giving you a kiss before getting up from the chair. “Don’t skip dinner.”

It wasn’t until you were six pages into your paper and your stomach rumbled that you remembered to glance at the clock in the corner of the computer. A quarter to nine. Damn. You took a chance on one of the vending machines in the library, getting a chocolate bar and a bag of chips to tide you over until you could eat a real meal. 

You made incredible progress on your paper, though. The promise of spending the weekend with your boyfriend was a good motivator to at least bullshit your way through the first draft. It was only a draft, after all, it didn’t need to be perfect. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

By the time you reached the end of page seven and had typed up your bibliography, you felt like your vision was blurring as you tried to proofread what you’d written. Rubbing your eyes, you hoped to shake off some of the screen exhaustion to at least catch any glaring typos. Finally, at about half past nine, you’d printed your paper and had packed up, heading back to your dorm to get what you needed for the weekend.

Usually when you walked around campus at night, there weren’t many people out and about. Windsor College was a sleepy liberal arts school for the most part, which you appreciated. The groups of people ambling around finally clicked when you noticed Greek letters on various t-shirts. You hadn’t been all that interested in getting involved in Greek life, turning down an offer from some of Mickey’s friends to join them at the Delta Lambda Zeta party that night. 

You weren’t surprised, however, to return to your dorm and find your roommate Kim lounging on a beanbag chair, her eyes glued to the small TV on top of her dresser.

“Hey,” she said, barely glancing at you as you walked in.

“Did you go to class today?” you asked as you set your backpack down, unzipping it so you could shove your pajamas and a change of clothes inside.

Kim finally answered when you walked past the TV to get to something in your dresser. “What? Yeah, I went to one this afternoon. I slept through the morning one.”

“Seriously? I woke you up for that before I left.”

“I fell back asleep,” she shrugged. “You going to Mickey’s?”

“Yeah. I’ll be back Sunday night, or Monday morning,” you said.

“Are you seriously bringing your books with you while you’re sucking and fucking at your boyfriend’s for the weekend?”

“First of all, gross. Second, he’s filming tonight. Might as well be productive while I wait.”

“Isn’t this like the fifth time in the past two weeks he’s been ‘filming’? Interesting how that’s happening while all the sororities are having their bullshit pledge mixers.”

“I know the air quotes around filming. I don’t wanna hear it.”

“I’m just saying!”

“Kim, he just asked me to move in together next year. I don’t think he’s cheating.”

“Maybe he’s just deflecting to keep you off the scent.”

“Of what? He’s been working on a short film that has a lot of night scenes. He even asked me to be in it, and I said no. You watch way too much daytime TV instead of actually going to class.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t come crying to me when you catch him six inches deep in an Omega Beta Zeta or whatever.”

You shook your head while shoving the last of your toiletries into your backpack. “Whatever. Bye.”

One more reason to live with Mickey the following school year, no more dealing with ridiculous roommates. Kim wasn’t that bad in comparison to the horror stories you’d heard about other people’s roommates, but she always had a knack for making an ass of herself. 

As you walked across campus to Mickey’s dorm, you tried to shake Kim’s implications from your mind. Mickey wasn’t cheating on you. You trusted him, and the two of you had so many mutual friends all over campus that if he were, someone would have told you by now. Despite your attempts to reassure yourself, you found your mind racing, and you became the type of partner you swore you’d never become.

If you happened to divert your walk to his dorm to go past where he was supposedly filming, he couldn’t blame you for the coincidence. The clear, beautiful night was perfect for frat parties and leisurely walks in the moonlight. You passed by a few of your friends from your major, stopping to talk with them for a little bit before continuing on your way.

It seemed like in the fifteen minutes or so you’d spent walking around, you saw less and less people. Mickey said he’d been filming near the sorority houses, but you didn’t see him around. Your heart sank to your stomach. Could Kim have been right? No. You wouldn’t jump to that conclusion so quickly. Instead, you kept walking, hoping to find him a little farther up.

In the distance, you could see a girl standing on the front porch of one of the sorority houses, phone in her hand as she looked around frantically. Weird. She retreated inside, and against your better judgment, you decided to get a closer look of what was going on.

You noticed a gleam of silver out of the corner of your eye and stopped in your tracks upon seeing a black-robed figure with a stark white ghost mask that stood out in the darkness, stalking up the brick pathway across the grassy quad. Whoever was beneath the costume didn’t notice you, and you wanted to keep it that way, hiding behind a nearby tree as you watched him approach the Omega Beta Zeta house. 

Clamping your clammy hand over your mouth, you tried to make as little noise as possible so as to not catch Ghostface’s attention. A cold chill raced across your skin. Someone was about to die. There wasn’t enough time to run to a phone and call the police or campus security. It’d take at least ten minutes for either to arrive, and then, it’d be too late. For a moment, you considered running after him, but quickly realized that without a weapon, it wouldn’t do any good. 

You watched helplessly as the masked killer slipped into the open door of the sorority house. Just a few moments later, the door shut as a girl left for you assumed one of the parties that night, but it wasn't the same girl you'd just seen outside. Unsure of what to do, you waited, but it didn't take long for a faint yell to tear through the silence of the night.

Fear froze your limbs, keeping you in place as you heard the terrified screams coming from inside the house. Your heart racing, you swore you were going to pass out until you saw the balcony doors swing open, a girl tumbling onto it, followed closely behind by Ghostface. As soon as the knife pierced her, your body finally went into panic mode, and you started running. 

More screaming and a loud crash came from behind you. Looking back, you saw the splintered balcony and a body splayed on the ground below. Ghostface slipped out from the front door, and seemed to be heading in the same direction you were sprinting off too. Oh shit, had he seen you? Was he following you? 

Tears clouded your vision as you ran, and your shoe caught on a loose brick in the walkway, sending you to the ground. The contents of your backpack crashed and rattled against each other on the impact, and you groaned at your skinned wrists. Still, you pushed yourself off the ground with determination, not bothering to look behind you and see if Ghostface had noticed your fall or was now tailing you.

Slamming the door to Mickey’s room shut, you threw your backpack aside and immediately climbed into his bed, pulling the covers over your head, as if that would shield you from Ghostface. What the fuck was taking Mickey so long? Your breath caught in your throat. He probably had no idea Ghostface was running wild across campus. Burying your face in his pillow, you screamed into it, releasing the pent up anxiety and frustration over not being able to do anything about the situation.

You weren’t sure when you’d fallen asleep, but the sun had already risen when you were woken up by the phone. Shoving the covers off of you, you hastily picked up, almost expecting to hear Ghostface’s unsettling voice on the other end of the line.

“Hello?”

Relief swept over you when you heard Mickey’s voice instead of the one you were dreading. “Hey baby, it’s me—“

“Where are you? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m at the police station. Everything’s—well, everything’s not fine. I am, though. I’ll explain later. Have you been in my room all night?”

You hesitated before answering with a weak, “Yeah.”

The other end of the line was silent for a moment. “Alright, I’m leaving now. I should be there in like, 15 minutes.”

“Okay, see you soon. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

The other end of the line went dead. You looked at your discarded backpack on the floor, and decided to at least freshen up and change out of yesterday’s clothes before Mickey returned. Each article of clothing that fell to the floor felt like evidence piling up. You hadn’t technically done anything wrong, but the previous night's events, your complacency, made your limbs feel abnormally heavy as you changed into fresh clothes. Before you knew it, you were face to face with your boyfriend, who looked almost shocked when he saw you.

“What happened to you? Your wrists–” He gently tilted your head up, inspecting your chin. “You’re all scraped up.”

“I tripped and fell,” you said.

“You’re sure that’s all that happened?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You know Cici Cooper, from my film studies class?”

You nodded. You knew Cici. You also knew she was an Omega Beta Zeta. 

“Some Ghostface wannabe stabbed her and pushed her off the balcony of the Omega Beta Zeta house, and then showed up at the Delta Lambda Zeta party.”

“Cici’s dead?”

You sat on the edge of his bed, your head in your hands as you let out a pained whine.

“Baby, what’s going on?” he asked, putting his arm around you as he sat by your side.

“I saw him.”

“Saw who?”

“I saw Ghostface. I saw him run into the Omega Beta Zeta house, but when I heard screaming I–I got so scared I just came back here. That’s when I fell.”

“Y/N, why didn’t you call the police?”

“I was terrified, Mickey! I wasn’t thinking straight and I—if I call now they’re gonna think I had something to do with it. Isn’t that what Randy says? Everyone’s a suspect! Oh my god, they’ll think it was me.”

“No one will think that.”

His paltry reassurance was no match for your word vomit, because before you could help it, you blurted out, “Are you cheating on me?”

“What? No! Why would you even think that?”

“Why did the police question you if you were shooting your movie?”

He sighed. “Derek was running late to the Delta party. He asked me to stop in and check on Sidney. I was at the party for maybe ten minutes before the police found Cici’s body. After Ghostface showed up, they questioned everyone who even looked at the place that night.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. Kim—“

“Is about to be on academic probation because she watches soap operas instead of going to class.”

“Yeah. Maybe I should go ahead and call the police, let them know what I saw.”

“No, like you said before, with the timing and everyone being on edge, I don’t think it’d be a great look right now.”

“So what do I do?”

“Let’s just keep this between us, okay? No more secrets unless it’s with each other.”

“Okay,” you agreed. 

He took your hand, turning it over to look at the damage to it. “Jesus, are you sure you’re alright?”

“I should probably go to the student health center, huh?”

“I’ll walk you.”

“You probably haven’t slept. I’ll be fine.”

“Just let me do this. I don’t want you to be alone right now.”

You smiled, giving him a kiss that he quickly escalated, laying you back on his bed. Making out with Mickey was nice, it was normal. For a few minutes, you let yourself forget about Ghostface as you parted your lips for him, letting him slip his tongue inside your mouth. When his hands gripped your wrists to pin you to the bed, however, you hissed in pain, and he quickly released them.

“Sorry, sorry. I forgot,” he whispered, pressing apologetic kisses to your lips. “We should get going.”

Reluctantly, you agreed, remembering that his roommate wouldn’t be back any time soon, and you had the rest of the weekend to yourselves after you went to the health center, and got something to eat, too, since you were thinking about it.

Mickey kept his arm securely around you as the two of you made your way across campus. You spotted Sidney, Randy, and Hallie speaking among themselves at one of the tables outside, and Mickey made a bit of a detour to go talk to them. You couldn’t exactly read their expressions when they saw you until Randy spoke up.

“You sure missed a lot last night. Convenient,” he said, not bothering to hide his accusatory tone.

“Cut it out. I already told you guys they were working on a paper,” Mickey said, holding you closer to his side. “You can check the computer logs in the library.”

“Wh-What happened to your arms?” Sidney asked, her eyes fixed on your scraped wrists. For a split second, you thought it was out of concern, but then quickly realized the suspicion in her voice.

“Look, I’m really sorry about what happened, but I don’t know anything,” you said. “After I finished my paper, I went back to my dorm and then I tripped and fell on the way to Mickey’s. There were plenty of people who saw me last night.”

Hallie gave you a tense smile. “It’s okay, Y/N.”

“Yeah, I’m taking them to the student health center so nothing gets infected. We’ll see you guys later,” Mickey said.

The varying looks of distrust on the group's faces made you want to cry. As you and Mickey resumed your walk to the dining hall, your brain worked overtime to come up with worst case scenarios, as if somehow the Ghostface killings could be pinned onto you, even the ones in town despite you being with your friends during that whole incident.

“They all think it’s me.”

Mickey’s silence was more than enough of an answer to make you panic.

Stopping in your tracks, you grabbed his arm. “You don’t think it’s me, do you?” 

“I know it’s not you,” he said, his voice soft and reassuring. “They’re just on edge after what happened last night, especially after Derek went back into the Delta Lambda Zeta house after Sidney saw Ghostface—“

“Oh my god, is he okay?”

Mickey shrugged. “He got cut, but not fatally. Not the best look on his part.”

“What? No way, Derek would never—Seriously?”

“C’mon, Y/N, why would he go back in there?”

“So what, since he happened to get cut and I happened to trip, now they’re all thinking Derek and I have been secretly scheming to chop everyone up? Where is he? Maybe I can talk to him and—“

“Why don’t we just get to the health center before you run across campus to find the other top suspect in this whole thing.”

“Don’t say that. Please don’t say that.”

He nodded. “I’ll drop it. I’m sorry, baby.”

The rest of the walk to the student health center was silent, though Mickey kept his arm wrapped around you. 

“If you don’t have anyone else, you know you have me,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“I know,” you said, though you didn’t exactly believe yourself.

[solisaureus]

how do you write a fic and make it like

long?

ok actually i did give a brief workshop in a fandom server on this once. Here’s the sparknotes:

Stage 1: brainstorming

- decide the topic of your story. write down the idea that sparked your inspiration and start there. this is your core concept from which everything else arises. write down everything that you come up with when thinking about your story, even if you don’t end up incorporating it.

- if you don’t have ideas, most of my fic ideas arise when talking about my fav characters with friends who also love them.

- pin down a few essential aspects of your core concept. is it an AU or canon compliant? ship vs gen? is it going to focus on an overarching plot or a particular character’s personal journey? what ao3 rating do you expect it to be? what trope tags do you think you’ll add?

- make a pinterest board and a playlist for your fic concept. i’m serious this helps you solidify the tone, setting, and mood of your story and can provide more inspiration

Stage 2: outlining

- now that you know what your fic is gonna be about, it’s time to break down the story and make it a complete narrative. Your outline can be as detailed or as bare bones as you want. some writers don’t make an outline at all, but i cannot even begin to comprehend their power, and if you’ve never written a long work before i highly recommend starting with an outline.

- the two most important things to keep in mind during this stage are PACING and STRUCTURE. Characterization is secondary in this stage but still important. Now is the time to establish the setting and the major plot beats.

- decide the narrator, point of view, and tense during this stage

- if you’re stuck for ideas, here’s a cheat for pacing — come up with just 3 things: a goal, a time limit, and stakes. What does your protagonist want to accomplish, how long do they have to do it, and what are the consequences if they don’t achieve it in the time limit? Character A is in love with Character B and wants to be with them (goal), but Character B is moving away at the end of the summer (time limit). Character B risks rejection, and losing their friendship with Character A (stakes). Boom, you already have the skeleton of a story. Try to identify these elements in your favorite stories, it helps you practice this and can give you ideas for your own story. Frodo has to deliver the Ring to Mt. Doom (goal) before Sauron’s armies overwhelm Gondor (time limit) or else the world will fall into shadow (stakes). Obviously, this is just one plot formula among a wide variety and there’s no one right way to write a story, but it can get you started.

- Another way you can start is by detailing some exposition events, some rising actions, a climax, and resolution. If you already have a climactic scene in mind, you just need to figure out how your characters get there and what they do afterwards.

- once your outline is done, you should have a general feel for how long the project will be

Stage 3: drafting

- now it’s time to write the damn thing. sounds simple but it’s not

- practice getting into Da Writing Zone. when it’s time for me to get serious, I have a few video game soundtracks i’ll put on through my noise cancelling headphones, i’ll make myself some tea, and i’ll light a candle. i have basically conditioned myself to write when i hear the journey soundtrack or when i smell my pomegranate candle.

- Each scene that you write should serve a purpose in the overall narrative. I personally determine whether each scene contributes to at least one of the following: worldbuilding, progressing the plot, or characterization. a good scene will accomplish two or even all three.

- consider the voice, whether you’re writing from first or third person. are you telling the story with stern reverence, poetic wonder, snarky indifference? consistency in voice strengthens the story.

- keep suspense in mind, too. you dont want the protagonist to know everything right away — be intentional about what information they learn and when. what the protagonist knows and what the reader knows can differ, too — this is the source of dramatic irony. or you can keep the reader ignorant and have them discover plot elements at the same time as your protag. the intrigue!

- take your time. pace yourself. writing is hard and you don’t have a deadline when it comes to fanfiction. if you’re in a rut, something that i do is that i force myself to write 200 words — if i do that and i’m still not feeling it, i stop there and try again in a few days, but a lot of the time i just keep writing once i get past that hurdle of just starting.

- beginnings are always hard. keep in mind that this is just your draft — whatever you write doesn’t have to be the final version. just start at a point that seems interesting to you.

- as a general rule of thumb, if you’re bored writing something, it’ll be boring to read, too. you may tell yourself that you HAVE to write this dry section about worldbuilding or write how the characters get from one place to another, but do you really? how much would it affect the story if you skipped that? can you approach it another way, or work it in in another scene?

stage 4: editing

- kill your darlings. if something you wrote is out of place or unnecessary for the story, but you like it anyway, get rid of it. save it in another document for outtakes, but don’t give into the idea that a section is valuable just because you spent time on it.

- having a second set of eyes on your draft is a game changer. if you can get a friend (ideally another writer) to beta read your draft and make comments, it can make a huge difference. i always like to thank my beta readers when i post a fic because i appreciate their input so much!

- now is a good time to decide whether you want to post chapters as you write them or write everything first and post it all at once (or on a posting schedule). there are benefits and drawbacks to both but you know yourself best!

- once you are happy with your draft, post it! :)

stage 5: stamina

- writing is hard, and writing a long fic is really hard. even if you’re super passionate about a project when you start it, you will probably lose steam at some point depending on how long it is. at times you will be discouraged and unmotivated. it helps to have a friend who has volunteered to be your designated hype man for this fic. i like to have at least one person who i KNOW is awaiting my next chapter.

- the fact that you don’t get paid for writing fic means you have to balance your writing time with your life and responsibilities. you might have to take a hiatus. coming back to the project after a while can be hard — this is where those pinterest boards and playlists you made back in stage 1 come in. they help get you back into the groove of the story when you’ve lost inspiration!

- when all else fails, try reading books or fanfiction. it counts as writing. words in > words out. bonus points if you journal/leave ao3 comments about things you noticed and enjoyed about it (or, if you didn’t like something, what about it left you dissatisfied. don’t write this in an ao3 comment though keep it to yourself), it genuinely helps you get better at writing. like it makes writing easier

- believe in yourself!!! believe in me who believes in you!!!!

[sydsaint]

More of my fav NXT himbo <3

Summary: Adam Pearce tasks the reader with making sure that Bron is ready to sign an exclusive Raw contract instead of signing with his rival Nick Aldis on Smackdown.

"So you're all set for tomorrow night?" Pearce has a chat with you at the end of RAW. "I set it all up and let Shawn know that you'd be there." He adds.

"I've got it down boss." You assure Pearce. "My flight leaves tonight. I'll be in Orlando in a few hours and sleep it off at the hotel. Then tomorrow night Bron Breakker is all mine." You grin to yourself, a smile that slightly worries poor Adam.

Pearce rubs the back of his neck and grabs your arm. "You're there to get the kid to sign to Raw before Nick Aldis can get his hooks in him, YN." He reminds you. "Not scare the poor guy into Aldis' arms."

"Adam! I've got it." You laugh and pat Pearce's arm. "Trust me. I'm going to make that unsuspecting hunk an offer that he can't refuse." You flash a wicked grin.

Adam sighs and shakes his head but lets you go anyway. You scare the poor man sometimes. But if there is one thing that Adam is sure of. It's that you are damn good at your job, despite your youth.

You catch your flight out to Orlando and game plan on the trip over. After some quick chats with a few of your girlfriends from NXT you've made the determination that Bron and Cora have been broken up for a while. And you've also been informed that Rick Steiner's ridiculously hunky son is back on the prowl for a new girl as of late.

The next afternoon you head into the center where NXT is filmed and swing by Shawn's office for a quick chat. Pearce let Shawn know you'd be coming by, and that you're out scouting new talent as well.

"Shawn! It's good to see you again!" You greet the NXT executive when you arrive. "And Ava! Congratulations on the promotion to GM!" You notice Ava Raine is present as well.

"It's a pleasure seeing you again, YN." Shawn shakes your hand. "Adam Pearce let me know that you're here to scout some of our talent?" He asks you.

You nod and shake hands with Ava as well. "Yes. After Mr. Aldis went ahead and scooped up Miss Straton, Pearce didn't want to wait until the next draft." You explain.

Shawn nods and you talk with him and Ava for a bit. Shawn dismisses himself to take care of something a bit later and you're left alone with Ava.

"So, do you like the GM job so far?" You ask Ava.

"Yeah!" Ava nods. "It's nice to be in charge of stuff. Plus the pay is great!" She jokes. "So, who do you have your sights set on?" She asks you.

A hint of a smile plays on your face at Ava's question. "Don't tell Shawn, but I've actually got my eyes on one man and one man only." You inform her.

"Oh?" Ava replies with intrigue. "Who?" She asks you.

"Bron Breakker." You answer Ava's question with a grin.

Ava giggles and nods her head. "Good choice." She compliments you. "He's got his own locker room just fyi." She adds suggestively. "I can show you where it is if you want?"

"I like the way you think, Ava." You laugh and nod.

Ava shows you down to the locker rooms and down to the one with Bron's nametag stuck to it. The two of you stop a bit down the hall and turn to one another. "Well, good luck." Ava wishes you luck. "He's scheduled for a match at the end of the show so you've got about two hours with him." She adds. "Oh, and a piece of advice? Bron may seem all mean scary. But he's all bark no bite, trust me." She offers you some last-minute advice.

"Oh, really? My favorite." You grin. "Thank you, Ava. And good luck with the GM position." You shake hands with her again before Ava heads off.

You turn toward the locker room door and stride up to it. You knock twice sharply on the door and wait for an answer. You can hear rustling on the other side of the door for a moment before the locker room cracks open.

Bron answers the door wrapped in a towel and dripping wet from the shower. "Oh, well aren't I one damn lucky girl." You muse.

"YN?" Bron stares at you with a dumbfounded look on his face.

"Heya, Bronson. Miss me?" You ask with a grin and step over the threshold of the door.

Bron instinctively takes a step back as you approach him. You take the chance and kick the door shut behind you. "Umm, yeah sure. What are you doing here?" He asks you.

"Oh, I'm on some business for Adam Pearce from Raw." You explain.

"Well, yeah." Bron replies. "I kind of meant what are you doing in here?" He asks you. "In my locker room."

You meander around the locker room with a shrug, making Bron watch you curiously with every step. "Well I guess that I'll get right to business then." You stop back in front of Bron. "Rumor is Nick Aldis has been sniffing around you as of late. I'm here to make sure his sniffing ends here and now. Because you aren't going to waste your time on the B show Fridays." You speak matter-of-factly.

"I'm not?" Bron asks you, still clearly confused.

"Oh no, baby." You shake your head. "You and those insanely distracting broad shoulders of yours are coming with me to Raw."

The bewilered look plastered on Bron's face makes you smile and you have to stifle a laugh You were expecting the guy to at least put up some sort of fight. A little verbal sparring at least. But you've got Bron caught like a deer in headlights.

"We-I-Umm, alright." Bron stutters as you step toward him.

"Atta boy, Bron. That's what I like to hear" You pat his chest. "Now as for the rumor that you and Cora Jade aren't together anymore. Is it true?" You ask him.

Bron nods, clutching onto his towel for dear life. "Yeah, we've been split for a while. I've actually been back in the game for a few weeks now." He adds."

"I heard." You nod. "Well, you're in luck Bron. It just so happens that if you were to sign with Raw instead of Smackdown, you get me as a signing bonus."

"You?" Bron replies.

You nod again and your hand dances up Bron's damp chest. "Mhm. And we both know that you've always had a thing for me, Bronson." You insist. "So really it's a win-win situation for both of us." You explain.

"Right." Bron nods. "I mean...I really can't argue with anything you've got going on here, YN." He admits."

"I know!' You giggle. "Isn't it great how easy I make things?" You tease him. "Now! Get dressed and enjoy your last night as a member of the NXT roster. You'll find an email waiting for you with all the travel information you'll need forr Raw. And I will see that adodrably perplexed face on Monday night." You lean up and kiss his cheek. "Chau, handsome."

Speechless, Bron watches you turn on your heels and exit his locker room as swiftly as you come in. He walks over to his phone and sure enough, there's the email you mentioned. Sent over an hour ago. Bron laughs to himself at the confidence of the move. But he likes it. You're right, he's always liked you. And to have you show up to his locker room and insinuate that you're just as into him and he is in you is all that Bron needs to know he'll for sure be on Raw Monday night.

[annab-nana]

a/n: this was actually the first thing i have ever written for eddie and it has been sitting in my drafts for almost a year now and i totally forgot about it so here it is!

warnings: not proofread, reader's on her period, bleeds through a little bit, being picked on/made fun of, use of pet names (sweetheart)

❀ masterlist ❀

you should've known it was coming. all the signs were there: acne around your chin and along your jaw, a little more tired than usual, slightly more emotional or sensitive, the damn cramps that were tormenting your lower abdomen currently as you waited for mrs. click to finish her spiel on the causes of world war one so you could leave for your locker for some medicine.

as soon as the bell rang, you were up. you were the first one out actually, but you didn't pay the laughter coming from behind you any mind. you had a mission and you were focused. get to your locker. get some medicine. go to the bathroom. maybe skip the rest of the day depending on if the medicine helped any or not.

your locker was in sight. you could see it and you had never been so happy to see that metal cabinet. you were almost there, nearly seven steps from it, when someone's hands landed on your waist, pulled you towards the wall, and spun you around.

to say you were surprised to see that it was eddie munson would've been an understatement. he usually stayed in his own lane for the most part, other than his occasional rants in the cafeteria. he was normally all over the place too, but right now as you studied his expression to figure out why he had pulled you aside, he appeared rather focused, determined even.

since he didn't seem to be speaking, only looking at you with an almost uncomfortable and unsure face, you asked him, "can i help you?"

"um." his eyes left yours before looking at almost everything else, trying to think you assumed. you watched an idea pop into his head and he start to shrug off his jacket. "here."

now, it was you who was unsure and confused.

"what?" you didn't take it. you weren't cold. the offer was nice, but you didn't understand the meaning behind it.

he sighed, seeming a little fed up, and stepped closer to you. he leaned down a touch and started to wrap his jacket around your waist. you didn't stop him but did again question him.

"eddie, what are you doing?" you inquired as he tied the sleeves securely. he looked up at you before standing to his full height and leaning towards your ear.

"you've got a little crimson situation going on," he whispered in explanation and pulled back to see if you understood what he was hinting at. at first, your brows furrowed together, but he watched your face morph into realization and then embarrassment. they were laughing at you as you walked out of class earlier and as you looked around the hall, you could see a good amount of eyes on you with amused smiles just below them.

"hey," eddie's voice called to you, bringing your focus back to him, "don't worry about them." he saw your eyes falter back to them and turned to see who exactly you were looking at. "stephen still says 'pacific' instead of 'specific'. jennifer threw up all over steve harrington in front of everyone at a party a couple weeks ago. cynthia had the same thing happen to her last year and it was way worse than what you've got. it looked like a murder scene and yours is like the size of a quarter maybe. they have absolutely no room to be laughing at you at all. they're just upset that this is as high as they're going to get. after high school, nothing will be better than this to them which is sad, but it's their funeral."

you appreciated his words and they definitely made you feel a little better about things. you had never really paid attention to eddie. sure, you had noticed his confidence and pride, but you never saw how kind he was nor how thoughtful he could be either.

"thank you, eddie. i'll get your jacket back to you tomorrow, i promise."

he returned the smile you sent him but noticed you lean to walk the way opposite of your locker towards the exit. "you leaving?"

"yeah?" you responded in a questioning tone, wondering what else he wanted to discuss.

eddie knew where you lived—it was a few houses down from gareth's—and he knew that it was a good walk away on a normal day. he didn't feel right letting you walk there as you were now. "let me drive you home."

"eddie, you don't have to. you've already done plenty for me."

"i want to," he mentioned, waiting to get your okay which came in the form of a nod. "you need anything else from here?"

"other than the bathroom, nope." you could get medicine at home.

"alright then," he started with a grin growing on his lips that brought an unfamiliar warmth to your chest, "i'll wait out here for you and then we'll go."

you nodded to him once more. "thanks eddie."

"no problem, sweetheart."

remember to support writers & reblog :)

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[chrollohearttags]

not even to wake up in a haterrific mood on such a beautiful morning but I feel like I gotta say something. Especially when I’ve been seeing a multitude of posts critiquing black writers and seeing so many of amazing moots leave. (and reminder that the anon button is OFF so you will argue with the wall or get that ass cussed out publicly, your choice. And if you feel brave enough to come to my DM’s, I got something there for you too 🤗 so feel free) but I am so so so SICK of seeing these very unnecessary and annoying standards being placed on black writers. I’ve said this once and I’ll say it again that the goalpost keeps moving for us. It went from the toxic, plug, sneaky link, etc fics are harmful and damaging to us as black women to now I’ve had the displeasure of seeing that modern AU’s in general are problematic and we should write more canon AOT stories (I wish I was making this up). Don’t know about you but I want no parts of that depression fest. Especially because the ONE black person was basically observed like some type of mystical being. I’ll pass on the whole ‘why does your hair feel like that’ and a handmade’s mammy tale of tending to a war criminal’s wounds in a jail cell. Regardless, all of this is rooted in a respectability and projection issue. Because as I’ve said before, none of these critiques started until the TikTok girls started publicly bashing black writers and using them as a ploy to get views because doing it to other groups who write the SAME tropes with a “digestible” packaging would’ve gotten them backlash. So as does everyone on this hellscape of a planet, they use black women as a punching bag and laughing stock to garner engagement. Now you’ve got an influx of people regurgitating these same things and making others feel bad for what they write. I’ll be honest, a lot of these tropes/stories that I see, they’re not exactly my niche, mainly because I don’t smoke, I don’t do parties and stuff like that so I can’t resonate with it (don’t come at me, I got asthma and social anxiety, bitch 😭) but that doesn’t make me love/wanna read them any less. I love seeing different perspectives and being in another set of shoes for a while. There’s nothing wrong with that because as long as black women/enbies are happy and confident in what they write and it’s not causing harm, I’m going to support ten toes down because we need representation, we need that community and I’ll be damned if I turn my nose up in the air at anyone just trying to express their creativity. What I WON’T support is a bunch of hateful, nasty spirited shrews parading around in clean girl cosplay and bashing others to be seen as acceptable and ‘one of the good ones.’ Not liking smut doesn’t make you a better reader/writer, not liking modern AU’s and ‘overused’ tropes doesn’t make you some prophetic, divine person and sitting up in anons and on the dash, reporting fics because YOU personally don’t like them doesn’t make you superior. And running everyone else off of here won’t make your writing any better. What does it make you is a loser, a cornball ass bitch and a lazy bum. Because the energy you exert into being haters, you can simply open a Google doc or draft on here and write what fulfills you. Be the change you want to see in the world or whatever they say. Also, a lot of us ARE writing these very scenarios you all are claiming you want to see. We can also see the notes count in comparison to the ones being deemed so horrible so again? You as the consumer determine what’s popular and not. We’re only going to write what’s going to be seen. Anyways, black women/femmes/enbies, I love you. I love your stories, I love your portrayals of our favorite characters whether they’re a drug dealer or a doctor, I love seeing y’all on my dash and I hope that you continue to grow in your writing journeys. I hope that you write what brings you joy and block out all the bullshit. Stay safe and have a wonderful weekend! 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

[tashacee]

You said you’d made aspect of grace to be a lot whumpier at first

*Looks right*

*Looks left*

You uh, you still got that whumpier version?/j

Genuinely though, what was it originally like?

Let me look through my drive, see if i can find the rough draft lmao

Okay, turns out i still have the entire original chapter and DAMN it is whump. OOFT.

Also originally the lizalfos that killed Wild was straight up Dink. I forgot about that.

Anyway, I'll put it under the cut if you're interested :)

Wind knelt beside wild, numb, his mind refusing to process, refusing to accept the terrible truth in front of him. Around him he could see movement, hear his brothers shouting, feel someone grab his arm and try to jolt him out of his stupor, but he didn’t pay them any heed.

It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. The world had stopped turning and all the colour had been drained from the world around him

Because wild was dead. 

It had been a normal day, like any other. No, scratch that, it had been better than that. It had been a great day. The sun had been shining and despite the cool autumn morning they had all relished in it, stripping cloaks and coats and enjoying the rare day of quiet sunlight. They were crossing a wide expanse of wetlands, the sunlight reflecting off of the water as all of their boots and socks were soaked through, but despite a few token complaints, no one much minded. 

It was a good day. They were all happy and high spirited, cracking jokes and grinning and messing about, Wind most of all.

Any other day he wouldn’t have grabbed the slate from wild’s hip. Any other day he wouldn’t have cackled and dashed off, waving it in the air in the world’s most childish game of ‘keep away’ he could manage.

Wild had yowled in protest and dashed after him, but fast as the cat man was, wind had a head start and was determined to mess about in the way that only a little brother could. 

The others had joined in. When wild had been about to catch him, wind tossed the slate to wars, who nimbly caught it and took over running away, laughing all the time. Wild had been laughing too, yipping in amusement as well as giving the rumble that Wind was pretty sure was his version of swearing.

If he had really been mad, wind would have stopped. None of them would have gone on. But he was laughing. He was having fun. 

Wars three the slate to Hyrule, who threw it to Twilight, who wind feared for a moment would give it back to Wild. But the Rancher just threw it back to Wind, sticking his tongue out at his brother while the others crowed in laughter, and wind bolted off again.

It was a good day. 

And then it wasn’t. 

The lizalfos had seemed to come from nowhere. It must have been hiding in the space between some rocks, waiting for them to approach. That was the thing about black blooded monsters, they were so much more clever, so much more intelligent, and this one seemed so much more than most.

It sprang out, teeth bared, jagged blade drawn. Its eyes glowed red against the oily black of its scales, and it radiated a dark magic so thick that wind could taste it in the air. He shouted in surprise and tried to leap out of the way, but his foot caught on a submerged root and he stumbled.

He went sprawling, dropping the slate in the mud as he fell and landing face first in the water. He barely rolled over in time to miss the next blow from the lizalfos’ blade. He tried to scramble to his feet, to get his bearings. He needed to move, to defend himself - he reached for his sword but he was of kilter, his hands were shaking and he fumbled. The lizalfos swung-

And it’s bland was blocked, parried away as a massive shape dove in front of him. Wild, his sword drawn as he repelled back the creature’s blade, teeth bared and growling.

Where were the others? Where they really that far behind?

There was no time to stop, no time to think. Wind finally got his grip on his sword and shield, ready to dove in and help his brother, but it was too late.

The lizalfos swung again. Wild blocked him again with his sword, but it was an old, worn thing from his own era, and it couldn’t take the strain. The blade shattered, and seeing the opportunity, the lizalfos lunged again.

And it’s blade met fur and flesh and bone. And wild made a sound, small and breathy and pained, his eyes widening in shock.

Wind surged forwards, kicking the lizalfos backwards and swinging at it wildly as the others finally reached their position. Wars, legend, and time leapt into battle with him, pressing on the beast as behind them Hyrule rushed to wild’s side.

It was only one lizalfos. Even black blooded, it shouldn’t have been as fierce, as intelligent as it was. It shouldn’t have looked like it was smiling. It shouldn’t have cackled when time finally ran it through, and rather than dissolving to dust like a normal monster, fading away like a shadow in the sunlight. 

Something told wind that it wasn’t gone for good, but it was gone for now and that was good enough for him. Shuddering, he dropped his sword and spun around, running to where he had left Wild. He would be fine, they’d all been stabbed before, but wild was strong! He was hardy, he would be fine-

He was lying in the water, limp and unmoving. Twilight has pulled his head and shoulders onto his knees and was bent double over him, his face screwed up and sobbing. Beside him, Hyrule sat pale faced and horrified, his hands at his side. Why wasn’t he doing something? Why wasn’t he healing him? 

The fur on wild’s torso was matted with blood, the water around him stained a horrible red. He wasn’t breathing. He wasn’t breathing 

“Wild!” Wind ran forwards, grabbing his hand. “Hyrule help him! Do something!”

Hyrule just shook his head, tears beginning to slip over his cheeks. Wind knew why. He could see it plain as day, could see the gaping wound through Wild’s chest, knew that it was not an injury anyone could survive. Still, even as all of his brothers knelt around them, saw the terrible sight and understood the horrible truth, Wind could not accept it. Would not accept it. 

So he knelt there, staring at his unmoving brother, holding his hand and not caring as the frigid water soaked into his trousers.

Wild was dead, and he just couldn’t accept it.

-

After Wild’s first adventure, the gifts given to him by his fellow champions had faded. His old friends had moved on, after all, their spirits finally getting to rest after so long in limbo, and one by one their gifts left the space where they had rested in his soul.

Wild was okay with this. Much as he missed them, much as he missed the powers they gave him, he was glad that they were finally at peace. 

Mipha was the last to linger, and he wasn’t really that surprised. Her caring instinct had always been strong and she had always wanted to help. 

Then the weeks turned into months. And the months turned into years. And somehow, although he couldn’t quite feel her presence, there was still a sense of… something. Something that felt like gentle healing and and glowed a soft blue. Not the presence of a spirit, but the tender touch of a blessing.

know this: that no matter how difficult this battle might get... if you—if anyone ever tries to do you harm... Then I will heal you.

Zelda theorised that it was the final gift of the Zora princess. That even though she herself had moved on, the healing power of her Grace had remained, in one form or other. Even with the scant few memories of Mipha that Wild had, he was inclined to agree.

This said, he had never been particularlykeen to try it out. Mipha’s Grace had only ever activated when he had been injured badly enough to be at the point of death, and funnily enough he wasn’t overly eager to get to that point. It was enough to feel her blessing, however strong it may be, and to know that she had found peace.

Now, though, Wild floated in a limbo.

He wasn’t entirely clear on how he had ended up in this foggy, dark place. Someone had been in danger, someone important to him, and he had acted on impulse to save them. He had saved them, this important person, he was certain of that, but in the process he had gotten himself badly hurt.

He was dying. He knew that. And something about that was familiar.

He floated there, in that dark limbo, neither warm nor cold, neither feeling pain nor comfort, neither seeing nor blind, and he wondered vaguely why he was still here. He was no longer in his body, of that he was certain, but neither was he moving on.

Why was he not moving on?

Maybe something else had to happen first.

He waited, and inside of him something soft and blue began to pulse and itch. Around his chest, he felt something begin to come together.

This was also familiar, but he was sure that whatever it was used to be faster, stronger.

Huh.

He waited, patient in the darkness, and then all of a sudden hhis awareness came back to him with a terrible clarity. He was Link - wild! - and he had been trying to save Wind. He had taken a sword to the chest to save his brother and he was dying, should be dead already - 

But swirling around him, in the soft darkness of death, was a ribbon of blue energy, oh so softly knitting his wounds together. Mipha. Her grace, her final blessing, still saving his life so long after she had left hers behind. It would take longer, without the strength of her spirit to guide the healing, and it would not be as complete as it had been in the past. It would, he knew now, save him from death.

He couldn’t believe that he had been given such a gift. If such a thing was possible in this strange, limbo space, he would have wept.

Instead he waited for an indeterminate amount of time for the healing to be done.

And then he opened his eyes.

-

Every ounce of him hurt.

It wasn’t really the nicest feeling to wake up to, but given that he was waking up at all, he didn’t really feel as if he had the right to complain. In the past when Mipha had healed him he had come around almost instantly, his wounds fully healed and his energy restored, but it didn’t look like that would be happening any more. He was saved from the brink of death, but he still had plenty of wounds that needed healed.

And damnit, they hurt.

He wanted to groan but he wasn’t quite there yet, wasn’t quite ready to fully control his body. Everything felt so heavy. Instead he focused on grounding himself, on figuring out his surroundings, on what was happening around him.

He was lying on his back, on the ground. No not quite on the ground, someone had laid out a blanket underneath him. One of his softest blankets, if he was feeling it right. Aw, guys! He couldn’t help but feel touched that they had done that for him even when-

Oh. Oh right. They probably all thought he was dead. There was no telling how long he had been out while Mipha healed him. Shit.

Well, at least he hadn’t been buried yet. He really didn’t fancy climbing out of his own grave.

Again.

He focused on more of his surroundings. He could feel someone clutching his hand, their head pressed against his knuckles as they sobbed silently. Against his other side a small figure was curled up and also crying, less silently. WInd? And maybe Twilight?

This wasn’t good. He needed to move, to tell them that he was okay. He tried to put some strength into his aching muscles but he was still too groggy, his mind felt like he was swimming through a haze, his body not obeying his orders.

In the background, he could hear the crackle of a fire, but no one was speaking. He thought that he could hear a few more people crying, and someone moving something metal, was that a ladle on a cookpot? They weren’t trying to cook, were they? It was bad enough that Wild had died, now they wanted to give themselves food poisoning?

Wild tried to move again and was not successful, but did manage to push a low whine out of his throat.

THe hand holding Wild’s tightened and the sobbing stopped abruptly. To his side, the small figure that he was certain was wind sat up, moving close to his face.

“Wild?” Wind’s voice asked, horribly rough and choked with tears.

Wild was still too weak to move, but he whined again and managed to get his eyelids to flutter, his vision blurry but just about focusing on the tear stained faces of Twilight and Wind. Hylia they looked awful, their faces pale and drawn, their hair a mess. They were both covered in blood, both red and black, and looked like it had never occurred to them to clean off.

WIld whined again, and Wind shot to his feet.

“HYRULE!” He all but screamed. “Hyrule hurry up! He’s alive! Wild’s alive!”

There was a commotion at the other side of the camp as several of the chain shouted in disbelief. Wild focused on Twilight as the rest of his brothers rushed over, managing to tilt his head to butt at his brother’s knee and rumbling softly.

Twilight’s face crumpled into a smile and he began to cry again, throwing his arms around Wild’s shoulders and burying himself into a hug. Wild couldn’t lie, it hurt, but he didn’t mind and leaned into it as best he could. On his other side, Hyrule had all but thrown himself on the ground beside him, tear-streaked and breathless, his eyes wide with hope and amazement.

Wild looked around and met his eyes, purring weakly in greeting. Hyrule gasped and covered his mouth and then set about looking over Wild’s wounds.

“Twilight.” came Warriors’ voice, thich with emotion, “Come on, you can still hold his hand but you need to sit up so Rulie can look over him.” the Captain appeared in the periphery of Wild’s vision, gently peeling the Rancher back and helping him sit up.

Twi sniffed in an extremely undignified manner and knuckled the tears from his face, laughing weakly as he took Wild’s hand again. He squeezed it, and Wild squeezed back, rumbling softly.

He could see the rest of the chain hovering around the edges of his vision, watching and waiting with baited breath as Hyrule looked over his injuries. The slash across his chest was still there, though no longer so deep, and the myriad smaller cuts and bruises across his body were still open and burning.

The familiar pulse of Hyrule’s magic began to wash across his chest, slowly closing the wound and easing the worst of the pain. While no longer life threatening, it was still deep, and clearly too much for Hyrule to heal all at once, and with the main injury more or less closed he sighed heavily and flopped down next to Wild, exhausted. He turned to look at him, his eyes heavy with exhaustion, and buried himself into his side, sobbing.

Wild purred and carefully lifted his arm to stroke Hyrules hair as the Traveller burrowed in closer to his side.

“I think.” Came legend’s voice from beside Hyrule. Wild looked around and was surprised to see that even the bitter, caustic Veteran had tear tracks down his cheeks. “I think that means that Wild is well enough for us all to give him hell for that shock.”

Wild whined softly - the slash in his chest may have closed, but he still felt sore and exhausted. But Legend was smiling as he spoke and reached down to ruffle Wild’s hair. “Glaad to have you back. Don’t know how we would have broken the news to the citizens of cat island.”

Wild snorted and shook him off. Legend cleared his throat and looked away, looking suspiciously like he was blinking back tears.

“Come on, guys, give the idiot space. He’s just come back from the dead, he doesn’t need us climbing all over him.” Legend smiled and moved away, cheeks flushed with emotion. He pulled some of the others with him, Warriors and Four and Sky all pausing to squeeze Wild’s arm, shoulder, to tell him how glad they were to have him back before retreating to the campfire. At Legend’s urging, Hyrule stumbled up too and let the Veteran guide him over to his own bedroll where he could rest properly.

Almost immediately, Wind threw himself back into Wild’s side. Wild squealed as he jostled his wounds and Time, still in his full armour, still dishevelled and battle-worn, put a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, Sailor, go easy on him.”

Wind squirmed and pulled back a little, his face tearful as he looked at Wild. “I’m so sorry.” he whispered, gently setting a slightly muddy sheikah slate next to Wild. “If I hadn’t stolen it I wouldn’t have tun on ahead and you wouldn’t have - you wouldn’t have gotten hurt-”

Wild whined and turned slightly out of Twilight’s grip to nuzzle at the sailor, ignoring the pain that flared up through his chest as he moved. Rumbling softly, he disentangled his arms from his brothers’ grips to try a shaky sign.

“All good. Not you. Me. My-” dammit, he didn’t know the word for ‘choice’. Ugh, whatever. Moving on. “Wind. Brother. Family. Safe.” that would have to do, he didn’t know any more sign and he was getting exhausted.

“The only person at fault was that damn lizard.” Time repeated soothingly. “Go and get some water, will you, Wind? WIld probably needs a drink.”

Wild nodded and gave a thumbs up, and glad to be useful, Wind dashed off.

Now alone with just Time and Twi, Wild exhaled heavily.  He understood why his brothers were so emotional, he was feeling pretty emotional himself, but he was really too tired to taake it all in.

Time sat down beside him. “You really were dead, weren’t you cub?” he asked. On wild’s other side, Twilight shuddered. Wild nodded. “But you came back. Did you know you would? Or do you know how?”

Wild shrugged weakly and then nodded. He didn’t know for sure it would happen, hadn’t even thought about it when he dove in front of the lizalfos, just acted. But he knew exactly what it was. Who it was.

Time’s face softened and he squeezed Wild’s hand. “Well I’m looking forward to you being able to explain, but for now let’s just get you comfortable. Okay?”

Wild mewled as Time began to pull out and set up his bedroll and myriad blankets next to him. Wild shuffled as Twi helped him to sit up, scratching at his scars. They itched like hell, and he had never been more relieved at how easy it was to unclasp his prosthetic and dump it on the ground beside him. Ah, sweet relief.

He let Twilight help him into his newly made up bed and happily collapsed into it, barely able to draw up the energy to knead with his free hand. Twi curled up beside him, unwilling and unable to leave him alone after the day they both had had. As they settled down, Wind came  trotting back over with a cup of water and wide, anxious eyes.

Wild sipped at the drink and then seeing that Wind was still shifting nervously from foot to foot, held out an arm in invitation. Well. He tried. It was his right arm, which he had recently discarded, so he was actually just wiggling his stump. Still, Wind understood the invitation and immediately dove in beside him.

“I’m really glad you’re not dead.” he whispered, and both Time and Twilight snorted.

“I think we can all agree on that one.” Time replied. “Get some sleep, Wild. Boys, go easy on him, yeah? Hyrule wouldn’t appreciate you wearing him out. Nor would Wild, i’m sure, for that matter.”

Wild chuffed and burrowed down into his blankets. Wind curled in tighter, curling his legs around his brother’s.  Wild wanted nothing more than to sleep, to get some rest, but there was one last thing to do.

He rumbled and leaned into twilight, nuzzling at his hair.

Brother he was saying brother. Okay. safe. Brother.

Twilight sniffed and looked up at him, smiling. He gently butted back. Idiot brother. Scared! Sad! He burrowed in closer, digging his hands into his fur.

Wild rumbled and pulled him in. Safe brother safe. Safe nowSafe. Twilight repeated, safe. Brother. Family. Safe.

[ncsdlr]

Hit List

The Unfulfilled

Marvel

Warnings: Angst, making out, death, implied trauma, emotional pain, grief, crying, killing, failed love(?), unrequited love(?), mutual pining, manipulation

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4501

A/N: This has been in my drafts for literally almost a month. I literally finished it then sent it to my friend for proofreading then thought I might add some more stuff, so now here I am after adding said stuff. The added stuff was not proofread.

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

"Your next assignment." Natasha scanned the nearly blank page with her earthy green eyes, reading its contents with pure curiosity and determination. She was the best of the best in her high ranking, and she would be damned if she let that title slip through her nimble fingers. Natasha walked out of her workplace with a pep in her step with the things she would need in her purse. 

Namely, chapstick. 

As Natasha drove to your home, the energetic music of Sia playing on her car radio. The redhead opted to listen to the great Sia when on missions, seeing as she offered her strangely calming vibes. Natasha judged the way your Czech Republic home looked. It definitely needed some upgrades. The crack in the walls seemed so unsafe and the peeling paint too? So unfashionable. Natasha grunted at the hideous design of your building. It was so outdated. You surely could have done way better. Natasha wished on every existing dandelion on earth that you would, at least, be her type. She needed to have fun while working. 

****

"So what do I have to do e-exactly?" You rubbed at your chest as it began to tighten around your heart. This gorgeous woman could be the death of you. Literally. The two of you walked up the seemingly never-ending stairs of the Fraternity she worked in. You don't even know if you were roped into this job by her eyes or the promise of becoming better, but honestly, you sort of didn't even care. 

Sort of.

In a world where what you can become is very limited, this was a bright opportunity for you. You thought of Natasha's proposition as something that can open new doors for you. All you could think of was the prospect of doing something good in this world while having fun in return, that and the part where you were going to be trained too. 

"All you have to do, for now, is get trained. Then, once you're deemed ready by yours truly, you will be given an assignment that you must complete." Natasha walked around a table and you followed suit only to realize that the two of you walked in a circle around it twice before a man with whitened hair in a black suit with his arms behind his back revealed himself. "Then after that, you get more assignments, more targets, more responsibilities-"

"Wait, wait, targets? What does that mean?"

"She means you will be one of us. A killer taking down other killers." The man in the black suit says looking completely unbothered by the whole occurrence.

"Wha- a killer who kills kille- hold on." You raised both your hands and basked in the silence they allowed you to have and thought about everything going on at the moment. After a solid few minutes, the only thing you could come up with was, "So a hero?"

The pair before you sighed, one of them pinching the bridge of her nose and the other raising his eyebrows to his hairline while his eyes squeezed tight, both in an attempt to gather their bearings with how...slow you were. This is going to take so long, she's lucky she's pretty, Natasha thought. 

"No, Miss Y/L/N, not a hero. More of a vigilante with a twisted morale."

The way Natasha said so nonchalantly made your eye twitch, the glint of your eyes showing both confusion and understanding at the same time. Then, all of a sudden, you find yourself in a knife battle with a butcher who seems to have it out for you in a room full of hanging gutted pigs. He used his knives against you rather carelessly to the point where you were actually bleeding from three knife wounds. One on your side, one on your arm, and one on your back.

You were going to pass out. 

****

After two months' worth of on-and-off dedication to this new thing Natasha offered you, your decision is finally whole. You were in. And you celebrated that with Natasha by way of completing a mission and going for dinner afterward. It was all so much fun to hang out with Natasha in such an intimate way while still keeping it professional. She was such a lovely soul to get to know. Anybody would be lucky to know her wholly. 

"So how do you feel?" Natasha eyed you through the burger she was taking a bite of as she asked you her query. She was so adorable.

"Honestly, fulfilling, but still kind of mixed. I just don't know what these people did, if they were bad people, if they were involved in the wrong kind of business, or if they had families. I mean, how do we know for sure we're doing the right thing here?" 

Natasha chewed and swallowed before she spoke again. "The work we do has a questionable judgment, yes, but how we see it is that by taking out one person, we save possibly a million. The result is what we put our faith in, not the work itself." 

"That's beautiful." You smiled at Natasha gently as the night dragged on. When the two of you were walking back to the Fraternity, you could swear that Natasha's hand kept brushing yours, but with how closely the two of you were walking, you dumbly let it slide and deemed it to be a coincidence. 

It really couldn't be anything, right? I mean, you just killed a guy- very skillfully, might I add -so, surely this soft moment can't be happening. Plus, Natasha Romanoff is just a very flirty all-work type of gal. She didn't exactly strike you as the type to commit, so you figured it's best to hold off on that... stuff.

What a fucking day.

****

Another month flew by and now you were three missions deep into this Fraternity including your first "celebratory" mission. It was all exhilarating, to say the least. Everyone on the team had their special talents and reasons for working with this Frat, and everyone got along with everyone. They were all good people, especially Natasha. She had such a golden heart with a thick, strong glass barrier. 

Truly, you've grown fond of this team over the past three months, and to call them your extended family would be a rightful title for them. They were all so caring. They treated each other like brothers and sisters, born with the same blood, and protected each other even if it meant losing their own lives or getting hurt themselves. 

You saw that for yourself once, and to say that you were honored would be the greatest understatement of the fucking year. It happened on a mission where all of you were required to fight the same battle as one. You were fighting one of the enemy goons and you were too busy to see that one guy was aiming at you with a rifle. One of your peers took the shot for you, using his body as a shield for you while simultaneously shooting at your perpetrator. 

Your bond with them solidified after that day. Gone were the many trust issues you had with them because now, you had a reason to trust them with your life. You couldn't think about that right now though. Right now, you are a little too preoccupied with planning how to carry out the latest mission assigned to you.

It was a pretty simple mission, one that required you to assassinate one of the guys in a well-renowned company. They were supposed to have a meeting in two days, according to the details you were given, so that's when you were going to make your move. The days passed by rather quickly with you simply moping around the Fraternity and training when you felt like it. You called it "strength preservation".

****

You stood on a moving train with Natasha sitting comfortably parallel to you with your gun in hand. You were checking if your gun needed anything more while you waited for the right moment to shoot your victim. You playfully aimed your gun at Natasha who merely smirked back at you. You thought it was sadistic, how being held at gunpoint made her reflect a toothy grin. It filled you with butterflies.

As your target's building came closer, you made no move to aim away from Natasha. You wore a sinister smile, one that was reflected beautifully by Natasha, and when the time was right, you pulled the trigger. With the way you were trained in the Fraternity, you learned how to bend the bullets you shot. Therefore, when you brought your arm back, and swung it back at Natasha, your bullet went straight through the window of the meeting room where your target was located, hitting him right in his stupid heart. Perfectly untraceable. 

As opposed to Natasha's previous position on the roof of the moving train you stood upon, leaning back on her hands while one of her legs rested and the other was propped up, now, she was applauding you for your successful mission. You looked at her with a bright shy smile weaving your fingers through your hair while you calmly walked closer to her and sat down. 

"Learned from the best." You stated proudly.

"Yeah, you did."

"Way to ruin the moment."

A blissful silence befell the two of you, leaning back to watch the sunset over the horizon of Russia. It was beautiful. You had just killed someone and now you were watching the day slowly end. It was somewhat peaceful as opposed to the chaos happening in the meeting room where their dead boss lay limp in his chair. You would have laughed if you saw the people running around in a panic. Meanie.

It was a moment where two assassins, you and Natasha, got to pause the world on a moving train. It was unsafe, but the thrill of it gave both of your hearts the flutter it needed. As you looked at the setting sun, Natasha's eyes, unbeknownst to you, turned to your side profile. She could get used to staring at you, your sculpted nose, your voluptuous lips, and the subtle shine in your pretty eyes. Gosh, you looked so beautiful, ready to be ravished by way of flowers and chocolates and surprise dates. 

But Natasha knew she couldn't. With her initial agreement with the Fraternity leader and how you came about, she just couldn't. Not even if she tried.

****

Another day, another mission for you where Natasha was monitoring. She wasn't really required to monitor you, you both knew that, but it just felt right to be near each other so neither of you ever mentioned it. As opposed to the other places you went to with Natasha after missions, this time the two of you laid upon a random blanket the two of you found in the park. When you found it, Natasha insisted on shaking it off before taking a seat on it, saying that there could be bugs on it for all you knew. 

You complied, of course.

The two of you watched the stars, occasionally pointing out constellations you would see in the sky or stars that formed a funny shape- the latter was your doing most of the time. It was calming to both of you how the stars just twinkled above your bodies while you gazed into each other eyes- when did that happen?

At the moment, the moon hosting and the stars watching, the two of you held a silent conversation, one that was had through your eyes that have seen many troubles before each other. As you looked at each other, the world simply faded, quietly and stealthily, leaving only the two of you on a random blanket in the park. 

Suddenly, -you don't know how- Natasha was on you, straddling your lap while cradling your face in her hands so gently. It almost seemed like she feared your head would shatter if she handled you incorrectly. It felt so nice, so right, so meant to be. It was like you only knew each other and nothing else like the two of you existed in a void where you were each other's light in the dark. The warmth between your bodies grounded you enough to keep you both reminded of the place you were in, not that the two of you paid any attention to that. 

Then it happened. In the blink of an eye, the two of you lip-locked. Your soft lips on Natasha's plump ones. It felt so good to finally have each other like this. This was the moment the two had been waiting for; a moment where hands wandered over each other's bodies, feeling each other up as if it would be the last time. 

That night, no intercourse was had, but rest assured, love was made. Love was made in the form of soft gliding hands, gyrating hips, connected lips, shared warmth, and hands held tight. Love was made in ways of fingers running through hair, whispered praises, eye contact, and hugs. More kisses were shared throughout the night. Stolen or not, they were most definitely shared.

No word was muttered after that soft moment. Neither of you expected anything to happen too, but you did hope. The two of you hoped that one day, you could work something out, talk about the things that the two of you needed to talk about and get together. Because that's what the two of you wanted; to be together. It didn't matter how long it took, all you knew, at that moment, was that you wanted each other. 

And that would be enough until it wasn't.

****

How did we get here? 

Ah, yes. 

It all started when you were on another mission and your target had a loose mouth. He flapped his tongue and sputtered out nonsense about the Fraternity you worked for and your MIA father. Frankly, you didn't care about your dad's whereabouts, you'd gotten over that years ago in therapy, but the fact that your target knew of your father's gambling and his drinking, and his abusive nature when he was around, struck a nerve. Other than talking about your sometimes dad, your target also spoke of your beloved Fraternity friends. You, honestly, would have been offended for them if not for the way that things panned out.

"You think they're all good? You think they're all clear skies and glitter?" Your target fell on his back as you kicked him in his chest in the dark alleyway. The way he was gasping for air told you you were doing a pretty good job in defeating him. 

"No, I don't, but it's the result that we put our faith in and not the work itself." Natasha stood proudly behind you with her arms crossed over her chest, the smirk she wore shining with success in bending your morals to be more aligned with them. "Of course, there's always something bad in the things we do, but by taking those people out, we might be saving millions of other people."

You held your target down by his throat, cutting his breath off to the point of death before he tried to speak up again. You meant to taunt him, but his next stuttered words tickled your malleable heart. "...they lied to you. They were the ones- *cough* who had your father...killed."

Your grip loosened at the last second- or so you thought because the second you let go, your target's eyes made its final close. You slowly blinked, your thought process going a mile per minute. Little bits of information and your own opinions tossed themselves around in your head effectively sending you into overdrive. This was it, Natasha thought, the Fraternity's downfall. You were their best asset and their worst enemy, even she could admit that, and now was the time she finally completed her mission. 

Natasha aimed her gun at you, seemingly unbothered. The love she held for you, the love she put aside, the love she wished she could express was raging inside her beating heart. Tears threatened her stoic eyes at the thought of having to be the one to kill you. You were her one true love, you both knew it and now she had to be the one to kill you. It was her mission. You were her mission. She had to complete her mission. 

In some twisted way, she did. Natasha completed you wholly. When you were with her, everything felt right. It was like the world was suddenly a paradise where problems did not exist. With her, the world was a place where nobody knew what the word trouble meant. Natasha made you want to express your love for her, by way of holding her hand, kissing her cheek and her forehead, dancing in the rain with her, crying with her, hugging her, and doing everything good with her. You wanted to take her out on a date in the park, painting each other's portrait or the starry sky, in the fair where you would win her the biggest teddy bear, in a museum where you would only look at her because her beauty topped those of the ones hanging on the walls. 

But that could never happen, right? It was only in your wildest dreams. It could never happen in real life. This world was not a place where your 'I love you's' were said aloud. This was merely a world where it was observed from afar how you cared for each other. This was only a world where stolen glances and stolen kisses were thrown around, hopeless pining was the only way to go, a world where longing eyes met eyes of sorrow and pain. It could never happen, not with the way the two of you were brought into this world. Maypahs if everything happened differently, if the two of you met under different circumstances, it could have happened. 

"Is it true?" 

"Yes."

****

Natasha staggered her way through the Fraternity's gates, clutching at her bag of items limply as she focused on her goal. She wore a solemn look on her face, a look that matched her dirtied clothing, dust and splatters of blood decorating her otherwise white tank top. "We trained her well." Muttered the woman in question as she passed her boss. 

In the bath, Natasha wallowed in her own sorrows, the loud silence enveloping her whole while she soaked in the cold water. In the end, she couldn't do it, not to you. She loves you too much to lose you to her own hands. If it were any other person, she would probably be fine, but this was you we were talking about. You were the person she would love, and no hands will ever be able to hold her down. You were the kind of person she would risk her work for, her life, and her achievements, and that was when she realized.

Natasha loved you too much to kill you. It was like gravity was working in your favor to make her fall in love with you every time she looked at you. Natasha loved the look in your eyes when you finally learned how to curve your bullets. Natasha loved the way your eyes shined when she first held your hand in that crowd when the two of you went undercover. The two of you were partners in crime, and the two of you secretly wished to be partners in real life. So she spared you because she knew that she would never be able to kill you.

----

Your next goal now that everything was out was to go on a rampage. You'd gotten a list a few missions back where one name was particularly questionable. You asked your boss about it, but all he offered was a "Go finish your mission." So you did, but you chose not to kill the one person on the list. You could not kill Natasha Romanoff, not even if you were fully capable of defeating her. 

You loved her too much to kill her. It was almost like love at first sight, how you fell in love with her. Your heart just felt like it skipped a beat and even you could feel the way your eyes dilated fully. She became your everything so quickly that you experience whiplash, but if you were being honest, you would go through it all again if it meant you get to be with Natasha. In the little time you spent with her after missions and the stolen glances you sent her, you fell in love.

You fell in love with how she carried herself with so much confidence. You fell in love with the sparkle in her eye and the way she looked at you like you were the only two people in the world. You love her in soft looks and cuddles, you loved her in ways that only meant the gentlest of love. You loved Natasha in tight hugs and kisses that made you want to do a cartwheel. You love her so much that you spared her of the fate the Fraternity gave her. You loved her too much to lose her to your own hands. 

****

Your plan was set into motion and the Fraternity members' fate was coming to fruition. You got through the building, going higher each time you completed a floor. You shot through men and women alike, these were the people you used to call your friends, family even, but now it was like a switch went off, you didn't know them anymore. You made a war cry through the pain of losing your friends to your own hands, having lost all sense of sensitivity to their pain. 

You don't care, you couldn't care. You haven't cared since the moment you found out it was them who had your father killed through you. You hadn't cared even when you were coming up with this plan to kill all of them and escape with the love of your life so that you could live what could be and what should be between you and her. Your plan was well-thought-out, you were certain nothing could get in the way of its impending success. But with how things are going down right now, you, surrounded by all of the highest ranking assassins you worked with and called your family, on the top floor of the Fraternity. 

Natasha was among the circle, one of the friends pointing their gun at you. She was using your favorite gun of hers too, an M16. She always looked so hot using the gun. And right now, she looked especially hot with that black tank top paired with army green cargo pants - the two of you bought together after one of your missions - and the brown holster around her small waist, the waist you so desperately wanted to wrap your strong arms around. 

"You are all each other's mission. Wanda, and Bruce are spared and recruited by Tony, Natasha, spared and recruited by Clint, Sam, and Bucky, spared by Steve, and Yelena, was spared by Kate. Now, you were spared by Natasha. All of you are supposed to be dead if not for me! If I had not started this Fraternity and made a place where all of you could be protected, you would all be dead!"

The lot of you remained silent as the man you surprisingly saw as a father preached about how he was the all-mighty one for saving all of you and giving you a home. I mean, yes he did do all of that, but was it really necessary to use all of you for reasons such as 'he saved you'? The answer was a hell no.

"Well, now since you're all grown-ups, I'll let you go and let you decide for your own fate." None of them, in the circle, stood down, holding their positions while contemplating how they were going to decide between killing the newest, best, and brightest and sparing you like they did each other. Apparently, none of them had to decide because Natasha beat them all to it. None of them deserve the life they were born with, trauma-filled childhoods, and painful coming-up stories. Everyone in this room deserved something better, something greater. 

As Natasha swung her arm back and shot a curved bullet, she smiled at you. The few memories the two of you created together swam her head like a slowed-down timelapse. The man beside her went down first, and then the next one, then next, and the next. While her bullet was curving in a circle, Natasha tossed her gun to you, and you caught albeit fumbling before it settled perfectly in your hands, and you thought all would be well. 

As the Fraternity members realized their fate, they stayed put in their spots, concluding that the life they had led was the best life they had ever had. They were thankful for all of their flaws and perfections, they were thankful for all of the decisions they've made leading up to this. Natasha thought of you, only you. Natasha thought about the drive she spent going to your workplace, she thought about the months she spent convincing you and training you to be the best you could be in the Fraternity. Natasha thought about all of the sunsets she watched with you sitting atop moving trains. Natasha thought about what could have been, the life she could have lead with you. 

As the last man fell, you held Natasha's gun in your hands and aimed at the oncoming bullet only to watch as the aforementioned bullet lodged itself into the love of your life. You wailed as you saw your mission fail. No longer could you run away with Natasha because now you ran to her limp and bleeding body. You held the love of your life in your arms, offering her your warmth and showing her the love you kept hidden from her for so long. You held her head against your chest, letting her listen to your heartbeat while your thoughts ran wild with the thought of what could have been with her. The love you held for each other died out with her and you sobbed, wailed, and cursed the land you lived upon. 

With no emotions left in your heart and a stoic face, you marched down to where your boss was, blinded by the rage and the pain you felt for losing your lover. With no more thought, you shot him, right in his shiny, half-bald head and watched him fall to the ground with a thud. You felt no remorse as you left the building, ready to live your life with incurable pain and guilt.

Your days passed knowing you could have saved her had you been quicker. 

In pain, you were born, and in pain, you died, next to your lover's grave two weeks later. "I love you." You muttered as your last dying breath devoted itself to Natasha Romanoff, the love of your disgusting life. 

[jgmartin]

CROOKED ANTLERS

I sit down, pop a piece of spearmint gum and watch the woman across from me. She’s nervous, her hands are fretting in her lap and her eyes are bloodshot. 

“Long night?” I ask. 

She looks up, timidly. Her face is awash in anxiety. She doesn’t understand what’s going on here. She doesn’t understand what she’s doing sitting inside an abandoned warehouse with an asshole twice her age. 

It’s fine. I’ve seen it before. 

“Look,” I say, loosening the tie around my neck. “It’s just like I said. I only want to ask you a few questions, then you can go.”

“Why here?” she says, in a small voice. “This looks like the kind of place you’d take me to… I don’t know, murder me.”

I crack a smile. She isn’t wrong. “You don’t like it? It’s private. Besides that, it’s probably the safest place in the world for you.”

“Why? Do you have snipers on the rafters?” There’s sarcasm in her voice, but her eyes flick to the steel walkways lining the walls. She pulls her sweater tighter around her, shivering at the draft. “Or is this some secret government fortress?”

“No, and no.” I lean back in the wooden chair, and it groans under my weight. Damn. Not as slim as I used to be. “It’s much simpler,” I say. “This warehouse is the safest place for you, because I’m inside of it.” 

It’s not a lie. At least, not entirely. Still, she gives me an incredulous look. It’s the sort of look one reserves for blowhards and narcissists, and I probably deserve it. Time to change gears. “Tell me about the Event.”

She studies me for several moments, and then shakes her head. “On second thought,” she says, picking up her purse. “I think I’d prefer talking to the police.” 

She stands up, makes to leave and I don’t stop her. Her footfalls echo across the empty warehouse, the haphazard lighting casting her shadow in every direction. I hear her mutter something beneath her breath, but I can’t make out the words. I probably don’t want to.

Then, she stops. They always do.

“What’s an Event?” she asks.

I click my pen, and reach down for my clipboard with a groan. The last job did a number on my ribs. “An Event,” I explain. “Is a paranormal phenomenon, most commonly characterized by contact with a sentient entity. To use a more common turn of phrase, it means you stumbled across an urban legend.”

She swallows. At this distance, I can just barely make out her expression, but I already know I have her. I bring my pen to my clipboard and clear my throat. “You said your name was Amanda Haynes, correct?”

“Yes.”

I scribble it down. “And the Event occurred two nights ago, just outside city limits in the Cascade Mountains?”

Her sneakers patter across the concrete floor as she returns to her chair. Her expression shifts; gone is the nervous shyness, the small posture and the darting eyes. She’s staring at me now. She’s deciding whether she’s in or out.

“Yes,” she says at length. “It was in the woods. We were camping.”

I check three more boxes on my clipboard. “Stupendous.” So far the location matches up with previous sightings of the beast. I sigh, resting the clipboard and my lap and place my pen on top of it. “Why don’t we start from the top?”

“Before we do,” she says, narrowing her eyes. “How do I know I can trust you? This feels so... “

“Bizarre?” I offer. 

“Dramatic. Like I’m in an episode of the X-Files.”

“Fair point. You’ve seen my badge.”

“Badges can be faked.”

I bring a hand to my face, tracing along deep scars. “How about these? You don’t get these working for television.”

She’s quiet, skeptical, and her eyes drift down to the clipboard on my lap. She’s analyzing it. Determining if it’s a real government form or not. All things I’ve seen before. She wants to believe, but she isn’t ready yet.

“Let me ask you this,” I say, handing her the clipboard. She begins looking it over. “When you told the search and rescue team a monster attacked you, did they believe you?”

Her eyes meet mine, and I see it: the surrender. She knows as well as I do that I’m her only shot. What she doesn’t know, is she’s my only shot too. I’ve been looking for this legend for close to forty years now. 

One might say it’s been my life’s work. 

“I see your point,” she concedes. “Let’s get this over with.” 

She passes the clipboard back to me and I click my pen, bringing it to the box labeled ENCOUNTER. “Alright. You said that you were camping. Who was with you?”

“Just Rachel,” she says. Her eyes are filled with something. Guilt, maybe. “We’d been friends since elementary school. We hiked together pretty often.”

“Ah,” I say, noting her name on my clipboard. “Rachel Tully, correct?” 

The victim.

Amanda nods. “We went up to get a break from the doldrums of city life. Rachel just got out of a pretty serious relationship, and I didn’t want her cooped up in that apartment, stuck with all those memories.” 

Her voice cracks. Emotion spills into her words. “I suggested we take the weekend and go for a hike into the Cascades. There’s an old trail we spotted the last time we were up there, just off the main path. I said we could follow that, see where it leads us.”

She brings a sleeve to her face, wiping at forming tears. “Rachel didn’t want to. She said she was too depressed to shop for groceries, much less go on such a big hike. I convinced her eventually, though.”

“I see,” I say quietly. “How long was the hike?”

“I don’t know. It was a really old trail, overgrown in parts. There weren’t any mile markings.”

“Ballpark it.”

“Eight miles, maybe? We left early that morning, and it took us seven hours to get up there.”

I whistle, scratching at my gut. “That’s quite the walk.”

“It’s not that bad, honestly. We’d both done longer hikes, on harder trails. We actually didn’t go as far as we intended.”

“Why’s that?” 

“We came across an old cabin. It was run down, with shattered windows and it looked like it hadn’t been lived in for decades.”

My breath catches. I swallow the excitement before it has a chance to leak into my voice. 

“A cabin?”

She nods.

I’d gone looking for that cabin a hundred times. It was never there.

"What sort of cabin?" 

Her eyes leave mine, they’re gazing off at some distant point on the ground, transfixed. She’s replaying the memory. “We figure it must have been an old ranger cabin, which would explain the overgrown trail that led us there.” 

She pauses, her mouth hanging open, words struggling to break free. “Rachel suggests instead of using our tents, we could just stay inside of it. I remind her the windows are busted and it’s the middle of November. Plus, it’s probably filled with spiders. She says all the better. Let’s set up our tents inside the cabin. Double the protection.” 

Amanda gnaws on her bottom lip, her voice growing smaller and smaller with each passing sentence. “There’s dark clouds above us. It was supposed to rain, but it looks worse than that now. A lot worse. It looks like a storm’s coming, so I agree and we head inside to check the place out.”

“What did it look like on the inside?” 

"It looked like... a nest. We spend some time walking around it. It isn’t very big, there’s only a handful of rooms, but there’s… branches and leaves all over the floor. Every step we take, there’s a snap of a twig. 

"The entrance leads through a small kitchen alcove, with a wood stove and dining table, past that it opens up to a living area with some rotting chairs, and at the very end is a bedroom filled with splinters from a broken bed frame. The place is a mess."

The layout sounds familiar. I can almost smell the cedar and feel the toasty warmth of the wood stove burning during cold December evenings. 

“I check out the bedroom first,” she says. “I spot a couple of shattered picture frames. Call it the millennial blogger in me, or call it dumb curosity, but I’m drawn to them. One is old, yellowed and faded. It looks like it could be from the thirties. It’s a picture of a young man and woman, dressed to the nines. Probably their wedding day.” 

She smacks her lips, and then looks up at me. “Do you have anything to drink?”

I nod. “Of course.” I reach down and unclasp my briefcase, opening it up to reveal a stack of documents and three water bottles. Two filled with water, one filled with a black grime. I grab the two filled with water, crack them, and pass one to her. We both take a sip.

“Thanks,” she says, wiping her lips. "All this talking works up a thirst.”

"Sure," I say. "And the other picture?"

“The other picture is more recent. I mean, still old, but not ancient.” She laughs, but it’s a nervous, self-conscious laugh. “It’s a photo of an older guy, and a young kid with this mess of black hair. The two of them are standing outside the cabin holding rifles.”

“Interesting.”

“Yeah, I figure it’s probably the ranger that lived there, back when the cabin was operational. Before I can check out anything else though, I hear a snap. It sounds like wood cracking in half, and then a crash. I drop the picture frame and Rachel starts screaming from the other room.”

“Screaming?” I lean forward, my pen scratching at the clipboard. It feels too early for the Callous Man to appear. Certain criteria haven’t been met. Still, if the work of my late colleagues has taught me anything, it’s that legends can evolve, and I keep an open mind to that.

Amanda nods. “Yeah, she’s screaming bloody murder. I storm in there, my bear mace in hand, expecting to see a wolf or cougar or bear, but I don’t see shit. I don’t even see Rachel. I call out to her, and she calls back, but she’s whimpering. The sound is coming from the pantry, just outside the kitchen alcove.”

“I look toward it, but I don’t see her there. I jog over, wondering what the fuck is going on, when I catch sight of the floorboards inside of it. They’re busted. Splintered and shattered. There’s a dark hole in the ground, one big enough for a man to fit through. I almost have a heart attack when her arm reaches out of the blackness.”

Amanda closes her eyes, takes a deep breath. “She shouts at me to get her out of there. I tell her to give me a second, and I take off my jacket and put it over the jutting pieces of broken floorboards, because I don’t want her getting impaled on the things, and then I reach down and pull her up. She’s bawling her eyes out, hyperventilating and once she’s firmly out of the pit, she’s pointing to her foot. I ask her if she’s hurt, and she tells me thinks she twisted her ankle.”

Pieces of Amanda’s Event are beginning to connect in my mind. The twisted ankle. The panicked friend. They’re all familiar ingredients, and the end dish is anything but delicious.

She keeps talking. “Rachel says we need to get help right now, and I’m a little thrown off by her panic. I mean, it’s a twisted ankle, not a death sentence, right? Still, I pull out my phone and check for service. Predictably, there isn’t any. I ask Rachel for hers, and she can hardly speak. She’s still pointing, but this time it isn’t at her foot. It’s at the hole in the cabin floor.

“She keeps whimpering about dead things. Over and over. Dead things. Dead things. Dead things. I’m wondering if I just became a party to my best friend having a psychotic break, but I give her the benefit of the doubt and check out the hole. It’s dark enough that I can’t see the bottom, so I flick on my phone’s light.”

Her fingers play at the tips of her hair. Tugging at it. “It takes me a bit for my eyes to adjust, but once they do, my blood goes cold. There’s bones littering the ground. Deer bones. Rabbit bones. Then there, at the edge of my vision, I catch sight of a human skull.

“I’m swearing up a storm, and my imagination’s going haywire. Rachel’s hysterical, and I’m feeding into it, both of us are repeating the words ‘what the fuck’ like it’s a personal mantra.” 

Amanda takes a breath, holding it for a few moments. There’s goosebumps on her arms. Even reciting the account is beginning to work her up. She exhales. “Then I remember I’m not living inside of a horror movie. I remember what I thought Rachel was screaming about in the first place. I tell her to relax, that it’s probably just a mountain lion, or a grizzly's dumping ground.”

“In the basement?” I ask. 

“Sorry,” she says, hastily. “I probably should have mentioned it earlier, but the cabin’s raised off the ground on these wooden stilts. Where I’m at, it helps thing’s avoid getting trapped beneath snow. There’s a crawl space beneath it. I figure an animal was probably using the crawl space as some sort of shelter.”

I check a box on my form. The story matches up, so far at least. The cabin is identical to the one in my memories. The question is, did she really encounter the Callous Man, or some rabid wolf? A human skull is a promising detail, but it’s not like predators don’t occasionally snack on hikers. 

“A logical conclusion to draw,” I say. “Does it calm your friend down?”

“Yeah,” Amanda says with a nod. “Rachel starts to breathe a little slower. She relaxes a little. Eventually, she’s ready to try standing, and she can — but just barely. She limps over to a dusty wooden chair near the fireplace and sits down in it, grimacing. She tells me she doesn’t think she can make it back down the mountain.

“There’s a crack of thunder in the distance. I walk over to the windows, and see the sun turning a blood red, setting over the tree line. Storm clouds are rolling in. Rain starts pitter-pattering on the cabin roof. Rachel’s groaning in pain, and she shows me her phone. It doesn’t have service either.”

“You were picked up by a search and rescue team, weren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“How’s that, if you had no way of contacting them? You weren’t gone longer than anticipated.”

Amanda sighs. “I was just about to get to that, actually.” There’s an undercurrent of annoyance in her tone, she clearly doesn’t care for interruptions once she gets going. I lean back in my chair. All the better for me. 

“Like I said, Rachel and I go on these sort of hikes pretty often. Me more than her, but still. I come prepared. All-weather clothing, bear mace, flint and steel. You name it, I got it. I don’t cut corners, so I made sure to pack my GPS locator beacon. It sends a one-way distress signal.”

“Ah,” I say, noting it in the report. “A survivalist.”

The fire in her eyes falters, and she pauses. A moment of silence stretches between us, and when she starts talking again her voice cracks. “Not as much of a survivalist as I should have been. Rachel wants me to use it, but I tell her no.”

Odd. 

“Hear me out.” Amanda’s eyes connect with mine, and there’s a pleading expression on her face. A desperation to be understood. “Rachel wasn’t in any immediate danger. Not then. Neither of us were. Plus, a storm was rolling in, and it looked like a big one.” 

She takes a shuddering breath. I know the look. Memories are clawing at her mind. “My father was a search and rescue technician. He was killed trying to rescue a couple of teenagers who got themselves trapped in a cave.”

Ah, there it is. 

The tragic backstory. I was wondering when it’d squirm its way out of her mouth. Somehow, all the human stupidity in the world can be traced back to our emotions overriding our will to survive. I scratch her reasoning down on the clipboard.

“I didn’t want anybody risking their lives when we had food, shelter, and weren’t in danger. I told her no. No way. I— I couldn’t have that blood on my hands if something went wrong and…” She trails off. 

“... And Rachel understood.”

Amanda gets quiet. She’s staring at me, and there’s that same look I’ve seen a thousand times before. 

I want to roll my eyes, I want to spit in her face for being such a naive idealist, but I hold it down. Instead, I plaster an understanding smile on my lips, and nod my head sagely. “You made the right choice. It was the only choice you could have made, knowing what you knew in that moment.”

It works. She perks up. “Yeah, I suppose.”

“So the two of you decide to stay inside the cabin then? You’re not worried about the bear or cougar using it as a snack bar might swing by?”

“At that point, we don’t really have another choice. I’m the outdoorsy type. I’ve seen storms, and I know that the one coming our way is going to be a big one. We decide the cabin’s our best bet, but we take precautions. I keep my bear mace close by, and we close all the doors. A cougar isn’t going to open a door, and a bear might break it down, but only if it feels it needs to. It’s far more likely to wander into the crawl space, safely away from us.”

“Sure. Makes sense.”

“I decide to put an extra layer between us and the front door though. Just in case. I clear out the busted bed frame and sweep the splinters from the bedroom floor, then I get to work setting up the tent.” Her voice dies. Memories are calling to her again. Difficult memories. 

“What happened?” I ask, the hairs on my arms rising. “Did you see something?”

She nods. “Yes. Animals were running through the clearing outside of the window. They were running past the cabin. Deers. Rabbits. Then a whole flock of birds burst through the tree tops and started flying over us.”

I lick my lips. Yes. This is very promising. My pen scratches at the clipboard in excitement. The Callous Man has a defining characteristic, one unique to him in the realm of legends. He always comes from the same direction. Always.

“Which way were the animals running?” I ask.

Her voice is small. Brittle. I barely hear it over the sound of my pounding heart. “South,” she says. 

I write the word, and underline it three times. My fingers are shaking with excitement. My mind’s racing. After so many dead ends and broken threads, so many killed and missing, it’s finally coming together. I’ve found one. A survivor, and not only that, but one that might still have the Link.

“How many animals were running?” I ask. I know the answer, but I need to hear her say it. 

It takes her a second to get the words out. They’re uncomfortable for her. Disturbing. “All of them,” she whispers. “It was like... an exodus of life.”

My heart hammers. My breath quickens. All of it, each detail of her story means one thing.

The Callous Man is coming.

I take a breath and stand up from the chair, stretching my legs. My back feels like it’s been crushed between two boulders, and sitting for any length of time always turns it into a pin cushion. Still, I couldn’t be happier.

“Everything alright?” she asks.

“Peachy.” I pick up the clipboard and clear my throat. “What happens after the animals flee the tree line?”

She opens her mouth to speak, but stops. Her eyes glance down to my open briefcase, staring at the manila folders and the crinkled old water bottle, filled with grimey black fluid. “Why do you have that?” she says, wrinkling her nose. “Its label is… yellow. It looks like it’s twenty years old. What’s that gunk inside?”

I scowl, kicking my briefcase closed. “An experiment. It’s nothing to concern yourself with. Now then, if you wouldn’t mind continuing, I’d like to hear what happened following the exodus.”

There’s a moment of shared disdain between us. She feels like I’m hiding something from her, and I feel like she’s putting her nose in places it doesn’t belong. Thankfully, it doesn’t last long, and she continues her account.

“Rachel calls my name from the main area, then she limps into the bedroom, leaning against the doorway. She looks really shaken up. She asks if I saw all the animals taking off, and I tell her I did. Her eyes are getting wide and I can tell she’s throwing herself into another panic attack, so I… I tell her that they’re probably just running from the storm.”

“Do you believe it?”

“I don’t know. Maybe? It seemed like the only logical reason, but at the same time the whole scene felt so eerie. So wrong.” She opens her water bottle and takes a drink. “Either way, it’s not like I’m gonna start feeding into Rachel’s paranoia. One of us has to be calm, right?”

I shrug. “Sure. You said the sun was setting when the animal’s made a run for it. Is it dark yet?”

She nods. “Mostly. I mean, the last rays of sunlight are just barely peeking over the treetops. The storm’s making it worse. The clouds are blocking a lot of the light. I get a move on with finishing setting up the tent, and we set up this LED lantern that Rachel brought. It… feels weird.”

“In what way?”

“The silence.” She pauses, shakes her head and then mutters something. “Sorry, that’s the wrong word. It isn’t silent. The wind is howling and the rain’s coming down pretty hard, but there’s no sounds of life. No crows cawing, no squirrels chattering. I don’t even see any bugs in the cabin, despite a whole shit load of spiderwebs.

“I brush it off though. I keep telling myself one of us has to be calm. So we close the bedroom door and settle ourselves into the tent. Neither of us have much of an appetite, so we eat a couple of protein bars for supper and pull out our books. We don’t talk. I don’t even know if we actually read — I know I don’t. I stare at the words but my mind’s a million miles away, too wrapped up in the feeling that something is wrong with this place. Something’s wrong with this scenario.”

She sighs, running a hand through her blond hair. “I chalk it up to the darkness. Things always seem scarier in the dark, you know?”

I nod. The dark has always had a powerful effect on human beings. It makes it more difficult for us to see our enemies, and in my line of work, easier for them to see you. It’s a lose/ lose environment. Unfortunately, it’s often a necessary one.

“You don’t talk at all?” I ask, sitting back down in my chair.

“Not at first," Amanda says. "After ten, maybe twenty minutes, Rachel breaks the silence. She asks if we should use my rescue beacon, since it’s getting pretty bad outside. I know that’s not why she wants to use it, though. Not the real reason. I remind her that we can weather the storm in here, and call for help in the morning once the storm clears.”

Amanda screws up her face like she’s holding back a wave of emotions. “I manipulate her. I remind her my dad was killed during a botched search and rescue job, all because some teenagers couldn’t exercise a little bit of common sense.”

I study her. Perhaps she’s more cunning than I thought. Naive though. Still so naive.

“Rachel lets up. She agrees we can call in the morning. I can tell she’s scared, and honestly, so am I, and I know what we’re both thinking so I blurt out that there’s no such thing as monsters. I tell her we’re…. Fucking adults, and we’ll deal with this.” Amanda chuckles, it’s a small thing, full of disbelief and regret. “I promise her we’ll laugh about it in the morning.”

The woman’s not bad with a story. I idly wonder how popular her blog is. Unlike the gum in my mouth, her words have flavor. I dig in my jacket pocket and pull out my pack, popping a fresh piece free. Spearmint. It’s not a cigarette, but it’s the next best thing.

“Famous last words,” I say with a grim smile. “What’s Rachel think of your peptalk?”

“She… she’s fine with it, at first. I think she might even be on board. She doesn’t want to spend the night terrified anymore than I do, so anything that makes that fear a little smaller is a welcome distraction.”

Amanda swallows, and her expression goes blank. “It seems like everything’s going to be just fine, like it's just another overnight hike. At least, until we hear the footsteps outside.”

Here we go.

“There’s a creaking sound — like old wood straining under something’s weight. It’s hard to hear over the roaring wind, but given of our mental states, it’s practically unmissable. Something’s outside. The footsteps are slow, gradual. Whatever’s out there is taking its time, and both of us are frozen in fear.

“Rachel grabs the lamp and turns it off, and I suddenly realize just how dark it really is. It’s pitch. I can barely see Rachel, and she’s sitting close enough that we’re touching. It’s just us, the storm, and the sound of footsteps now. I whisper to her that it’s probably a deer, or maybe a mountain lion or just some kind of animal looking for shelter from the storm.”

Amanda's eyes are glazed, her hands picking at the fabric of her jeans. She’s lost in the memory.

“I don’t believe it myself. Something inside of me is rioting and telling me that we’re not safe. We haven’t been safe since the moment we walked into that cabin, and we won’t be safe until we’re far away. Still, I take a breath. I repeat that stupid internal mantra that one of us needs to be an adult. One of us needs to be rational.

“So we wait. I whisper to her that all the doors are closed. No animals are going to get inside. We’re safe. We’re safe. I keep repeating it, like if I say it enough, I’ll start believing it too. I do my best to reassure her and stave off another panic attack.”

Amanda uncaps her water bottle and takes a quick swig. Her hands grip it, squeezing, and the plastic crinkles. “It works. Maybe. I can’t see her, but I can’t hear her either. She’s not screaming. It’s good.” She swallows. “Then I realize things are bad. Really bad.”

“Why?”

“We hear this sharp whining sound — like rusty hinges, and we recognize it. It’s the front door of the cabin. Something opened it. The next second, the sharp whining is followed by dull thuds, like heavy footsteps. The floorboards groan, and we hear it, whatever it is, moving through the kitchen and into the main area.”

I remind myself to keep writing, but it’s hard. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for, the moment when I can finally determine whether or not she’s actually encountered the monster I’ve been chasing my entire life.

“I’m clutching my can of bear mace to my chest, and Rachel’s whimpering beside me. I’m hissing at her to be quiet, to shut the fuck up, because I know that if whatever’s out there hears us, it’s going to come in here.

"She listens. Neither of us move, we just listen for the footsteps. Thunder’s crashing outside, and the weather’s screaming through the busted window, but somehow in spite of it all those footsteps are clear as day. I couldn’t tune them out if I tried."

Her fingers find the armrests of her chair, and she grips them. They scratch against the tattered wood. “I pull the safety tab on my bear mace, ready to blast something if that's what it takes. Rachel grabs my arm, and I feel her hand trembling, her whole body is. Something smells like piss, and I realize it’s her. She’s losing it.

“The footsteps get closer. They’re halfway through the living area now, and they’re approaching the bedroom door. Whatever’s out there is close enough that we can hear this… snickering sound. Like really fast, short breaths. Nyeh nyeh nyeh. It doesn’t sound human, but it doesn’t sound like any animal I’ve heard either. It sounds like a nightmare.”

I circle a box on my clipboard, identifying the sound as CORRECT. According to more recent eyewitness encounters, the Callous Man snickers before engaging with his prey. An evolution of his mythology. In my memories, I recall only the screaming.

Amanda keeps talking.

“Rachel’s squeezing my arm so hard that it hurts. Her nails are digging into me and I can feel her warm piss on the bottom of the tent, it’s soaking through my jeans but I don’t care. I don’t do a damn thing. I can’t, because as soon as I make a sound or a move, those footsteps are going to get faster, and something’s going to open the bedroom door and then I don’t know what happens.”

She stops talking. Tears are forming in the corners of her eyes, and she grips her sweater sleeve and dabs at them. “Rachel… Rachel can’t take it anymore though. She reaches across me, hissing at me to give her the rescue beacon. She’s begging me to activate it, and I’m trying to get my hand over her mouth and shut her up but she’s desperate and she’s fighting me.”

“The footsteps pick up their pace. They’re walking toward us, these heavy thumps on the creaking floor. I whisper to Rachel if we send the distress call, the beacon’s going to start beeping.”

Tears slip down her cheeks and Amanda stares, transfixed at the concrete floor. There’s something swimming in her eyes, and I think it’s self-loathing, but I can’t be sure. All I know is it’s familiar. “Continue,” I say.

“Rachel gets hold of it. She hammers at its buttons, and it works. It starts beeping. The signal’s sent.” Amanda’s voice trembles, her lips quiver with the onset of her next words.

“The bedroom door opens. It’s this long, drawn out screech and both of us freeze. It’s just the rusty hinges, and the beacon beeping. I want to scream. I want to run. I think we both do, but we’re too afraid. We’re paralyzed.”

She swallows. “I get my finger ready on the trigger of the bear mace. I don’t want to use it inside. It’ll probably fuck us up just as bad as whatever’s standing in the doorway, but I’m ready to if I have to. Moments pass, and all we hear is the beacon beeping, and the rain and thunder outside.

“Then, there’s that snickering again. Fast and raspy. It’s followed by footsteps, and now that it’s in the room with us it sounds big. The tent shakes, the whole room shakes. It’s dark enough that we can’t see so much as a shadow through the canvas of the tent, but soon we don’t need to. The footsteps start circling us, and then a finger presses to the wall of the tent and begins tracing around it.

“Whatever it is, it starts sniffing. Softly at first, then louder and with more intensity. I realize it isn’t a man, it’s some kind of animal. It sounds beastlike. Feral, and hungry.”

Amanda closes her eyes, putting her head in her hands. She takes a moment and groans. When she looks up again, her eyes are hollow. “Rachel can’t stand it. She screams. She screams to leave us alone. She screams we have a gun. She turns on the lantern and tells it to fuck off, go to hell, die in a fire, you name it.”

“I’m going to assume that didn’t go over well.”

She rubs her arm anxiously. “I don’t know. It didn’t seem to hurt things. It left the room— walked into the living area, but then it stopped. It didn’t leave the cabin.” Her voice trembles. 

“What happened after he — after it walked into the living area?”

“Rachel hisses at me that we should run,” Amanda says. “I remind her that her ankle’s fucked. She barely limped into the bedroom, how far does she think she’s going to get in the woods, over uneven ground that’s slick with rain? She tells me if we stay here, we’re both going to die.”

Amanda shivers. “I know she’s right. I know it, but I can’t bring myself to leave. It feels like the tent’s the only thing keeping that thing away from us. Like, as long as the canvas is between us, it can’t see us and we can’t see it. It doesn’t exist.”

It takes everything I have not to roll my eyes. Still, I flip a page on the clipboard and keep a neutral expression. Her perspective is not unlike a child’s. People often approach terror with irrational and sometimes nonsensical methods of survival. Of course, there’s nothing magical about her tent. There’s nothing about it that will save their lives.

“Continue,” I order.

“It starts with a creak of a floorboard. We hear it walking again, but it’s not coming toward us. It’s pacing back and forth, out there in the living area, and it’s snickering faster than before. Soon, the snickering gets heavier. Violent. It starts grunting, then growling.” She takes a breath, and chokes back a sob. Tears race down her cheeks, and her eyes are alight with terror.

"Then it goes silent. No movement. No grunting. No weird fucking snickering. Just the thunder outside, the howling wind, and the rain on the roof. I’m sitting there, clutching the bear mace and Rachel’s crying, and both of us are praying it’s gone. We’re praying it’s just given up. Decided to move on. And… and...”

“And what?” I press.

She meets my gaze with her own, and a hopeless horror swims in her eyes. “... And then the entire cabin shakes. Footsteps pound on the floor, and there’s this hateful, agonizing sound, like a hundred human screams mixed together and poured out of a single voice. Rachel and I lose it. We’re shouting, crawling over each other trying to unzip the door of the tent and get the hell out of there and then our world turns upside down.

“It’s like we’ve been thrown in a washing machine. My head cracks off her knee and we’re rolling around, bouncing in this cacophony of sound and fabric and then I realize the tent's been lifted off the ground. Above me, in the light of the LED lantern I see two crooked, broken antlers piercing through the canvas. That monster’s throwing us around, bucking like a damn deer.

“Soon the tent canvas tears and we fall free, crumpling to the ground in a painful heap. Rachel’s scrambling over me, holding the lantern in her hand and in the madness of it all I see her make a break for it toward the window. As she does, the light passes over that… that fucking monster.”

Amanda chokes back tears and sniffles. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I just need one second.”

“Of course.” I reach into my jacket pocket and retrieve a set of tissues. I pass them to her. “Here, blow your nose.”

She does. When she’s finished, both of us sit in silence for a moment. Her bottom lip quivers. “It must have been eight feet tall. It was crouched over, humanoid except its chest was covered in fur and its legs were scaly, like a bird’s. It had a long tangle of black hair and… and its antlers jutted out from its eye sockets.”

I mark the details down in excitement. Yes. Good. It’s a near-perfect description. It’s missing only a few key things. “The antlers,” I press. “Can you describe them?”

“They were crooked,” she says, slowly. “They came out at odd angles, both different, and around them was a halo of eyes. Tiny black ones.” She closes her own eyes and takes a stuttering breath. “I almost missed them except they all blinked in unison, and I remember thinking it was the most terrifying thing I’d ever seen.”

“The fact that all of them blinked?” I ask.

“No. The fact that all of them were looking at me.”

“Did it attack you?” I have to know. The defining characteristic of the Callous Man is his method of attack. If she nails it, then I’ve got her. I’ve got my Link, and I’ve got him.

She shakes her head. “No. I thought he might, but then Rachel makes a racket. She’s throwing herself up onto the window ledge, and then she falls over the other side. The creature turns toward her, snickers, and launches itself at the window. It seems like it should be too big to fit, whatever it is, but it isn’t. It’s like a snake, the way its body contorts to fit itself into the window frame. It perchs there, and I see at the bottom of its scaly feet are these thick claws, and the hands it uses to grip the window have thin, impossibly long fingers. It drums them on the wall, before it launches itself after Rachel.”

My pen races across the form, filling in details and circling boxes as the information presents itself. This is very good. I’ve waited my entire life for this moment.

“I sit there for a second, in too much shock to move, and then I realize my friend is out there being chased by some… some fucking monster. I get to my feet and turn my phone’s light on, and in the distance, through the rain and swaying trees, I can see Rachel’s light, bobbing in the darkness.

“I call out to her. I shout her name, but she either doesn’t hear me or she doesn’t care. I scan the area for the monster, but I don’t see a thing. I lean out the window, looking around the cabin, using my phone’s light to illuminate as much as I can, but it’s not there. The monster’s vanished.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t take your opportunity and run,” I say. “The creature was clearly more interested in Rachel.”

Amanda glares at me. There’s a stubborn defiance in her eyes, and I have to remind myself that most humans have a perverse obsession with self sacrifice. Maybe it’s the Hollywood brainwashing, maybe it’s the fact that they just haven’t suffered enough, but they can’t get enough of it. Before she even speaks, I see it in her too.

“I couldn’t leave her,” Amanda snaps. “I was the one who dragged her out there on that hike. I was the one who suggested we follow that stupid, overgrown trail. I was the one who refused to use my locator beacon before it was too late. All of this was my fault. If I walked away from her then, I could never forgive myself.” Her voice breaks. “I still can’t.”

Time to get a move on. “You went after her then?”

“Yeah… I clambered through the window and took off, following her light as best I could. I had the bear mace in one hand and my phone in the other. The light from my phone wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep me from tripping on roots or running into trees. I kept calling Rachel’s name. Kept telling her I was coming.”

“She can’t have gotten far with a twisted ankle,” I say. “Then again, adrenaline can do incredible things.”

Amanda shakes her head. “She wasn’t moving that fast, at least compared to me. I was gaining on her. I could just barely see her silhouette ahead of me, and the LED lantern bobbing up and down as she limped away. Then the light drops. Rachel’s silhouette vanishes, and I hear her scream.

“I double over, running with everything I have. My lungs are burning and my feet are slipping on the mud but I don’t care. I’m not thinking anymore. I’m acting on pure instinct, and my instincts are telling me that if I don’t get to Rachel soon, that creature’s going to kill her.”

The words stop. Amanda’s body trembles, and she breaks down. She can’t hold it in anymore. The torrent falls out of her, and her face gets ugly as she sobs into her hands. It doesn’t take long before her palms are glistening with wetness, but to the girl’s credit, she forces herself to keep going. She doesn’t quit.

“Rachel’s screams stop. I can’t see anything really. The lantern’s on its side far ahead of me, and I can just barely make out a shape in the darkness. It’s the sound that still haunts me though.I think it always will.”

“What sound?”

“This wet, tearing sound. Like skin being ripped, and blood splattering the ground. It’s followed by a dull crunch, and then I hear slurping. Swallowing. I charge forward and I’m basically just adrenaline at this point. I hold my phone up as I close the distance and I see… I see it.”

She takes a sobbing breath. “I see the man with crooked antlers. He’s crouched over Rachel’s corpse, and one of her arm’s has been torn in half, dangling by a thin strip of flesh. It’s missing her hand. Blood is everywhere, and it’s still spurting out of her torn limb. I’m too stunned to move. Too shocked at seeing my friend, dead on the ground in front of me, being eaten by this thing.”

Her voice trembles, and she launches into another fit of tears. She brings a tissue to her nose and blows a thick wad of mucus into it, before throwing it unceremoniously onto the warehouse floor. She wipes her face with the back of her sleeve. “Then the thing rears back its head, and it tears what’s left of Rachel’s arm off. It starts to chew it.

“It’s… it’s more gruesome than anything I’ve ever seen. I don’t think we’re wired to deal with seeing that shit, as human beings, you know? Like nothing in my programming knew how to deal with that. Once it finishes chewing, it swallows the arm, and it opens its mouth again.

“Its bottom jaw falls all the way to the forest floor, its gaping maw large enough for a grown man to walk straight into. It sits there in front of her corpse for a second, and then that uproar of screaming starts again, like a hundred anguished voices stitched together.

"A flurry of human arms reach out of its mouth, clawing toward Rachel’s limp body. They clutch at what’s left of her torn limb, her hair, her jacket. They clutch at anything they can reach. Then they start dragging her into the monster’s mouth.”

There it is. It’s just as I remember.

Amanda loudly blows into the tissue again. “Then… I hear Rachel whimper, and my fucking blood goes cold. I realize the entire time I’ve been standing there, watching this thing eat her, she’s been alive. I was watching her get eaten alive.”

“My mind goes blank. I point the bear mace and let loose a blast toward the monster, shouting at it to get the fuck away from her. It recoils, howling in that symphony of screams and shuffling back into the bushes. I take my chance and press the lantern into Rachel’s hand. I tell her she needs to hold that for us, and she nods weakly. Her face has lost all of its colour, and I know she’s not long for this world.

“I get her good arm over my shoulder, and keeping a grip on the bear mace, begin putting some distance between us and that monster. She’s groaning. She keeps saying my name. ‘Mandy.’ Over and over again, but I tell her to be quiet. She needs to save her energy, and I need to hear that thing.

“We don’t get far before I hear it’s thunderous footfalls pound against the forest floor. It’s running at us. I wheel around, and Rachel’s lantern illuminates the monster for only a split second before I let loose another round of the mace. It snickers in pain and brings those long-fingered hands to its eyes.

“I don’t wait around for it to recover. I keep going. I don’t know where. All I know is I need to get away from this thing, because it isn’t going to stop until it finishes what it started. Again, I hear its footsteps pound and the dirt, and again I wheel around and blast the monster. It shrieks in pain and shies away, but only a few moments later it charges again.”

Amanda keels over and starts bawling. She grips her hair, then starts pulling on it so hard I half-expect her to tear a chunk from her scalp.

“I realize,” she says, choking out the words between sobs. “I realize Rachel’s too heavy. I can’t carry her. I can’t get away from this thing because I can feel the can of mace is almost empty and every time I hit it with the mace it affects it less.”

She shakes her head, her eyes are bloodshot, her cheeks tearstained. She sniffles and wipes mucus onto her sleeve. “I have to leave Rachel. I have to. If I don’t, it’s going to kill us both. You understand, right?”

For the first time in her desperate recollection of the Event, I do understand. “Yes,” I say. “Life isn’t easy. There aren’t any real heroes, just people who pretend to be. You made a difficult choice, but a necessary one.”

Amanda stares at me, she stares at me for a long while like she’s searching my expression for something. Finally, she nods, slowly. “Yeah,” she says, wiping more snot onto her sleeve. Her voice evens out, the tears no longer coming in torrents

“I did what I had to do. I put her down, apologizing. I apologized over and over again, and I heard that thing coming and I took off. I ran, full tilt into the woods. Behind me, I heard that screaming. All of that awful, horrible screaming.”

She swallows, and her voice stutters. “I listened to that familiar sound of tearing flesh, and then the dull crunch of snapping bone. I listened to the creature chew on Rachel. I tried not to. I tried to just focus on running, or the sound of the rain, or the thunder, or the wind, but I couldn’t. All I could hear was my friend being eaten alive.”

Silence stretches between us. I clear my throat. “Is that it? You got away, ran into the SAR team on your way down the mountain?”

“No,” she says, closing her eyes. There’s a look of resigned regret in her features. “I hear another sound. I hear a helicopter. A moment later, I catch sight of its search light, beaming over the forest. I know this might be my only chance, so I start waving around my phone’s light, trying to make as much of a scene as I can.

“It works. The helicopter swings over, and it lowers a ladder with a rescue technician. He straps me to a line and asks me if I'm alone. I'm hysterical, shouting a mile a minute. I shriek that a monster attacked my friend, and I point toward Rachel’s lantern, faintly visible in the distance. I tell him it killed her.”

Amanda gulps, wiping at her eyes. “He radios in to have me brought up, and says he'll go look for Rachel. I tell him not to. I know if he does, he'll die too. It'll kill him just like it killed her, but over the wind and rain he either doesn't hear me, or doesn't care.

“I'm pulled into the helicopter, and a few minutes later I hear the man’s voice over the radio. It's desperate. Full of grief. He says he needs a stretcher down there. He says he found the other woman, and that she's still alive.”

Jesus.

“Have you spoken to Rachel since?” I ask quietly.

Amanda shakes her head. “No. She um — she’s in a coma. Both of her arms are missing, the wounds are infected and she’s developed serious pneumonia. Doctor’s aren’t sure if she’s going to make it.”

She brings a hand to her mouth and chokes back a sob. Her eyes are wide, and her body quakes. “I… I left her there to die. If I had just stayed with her a couple minutes longer then the rescue chopper would have found us. It would have scared that fucking thing away and Rachel…”

“Would still be gravely injured,” I finish. “You can’t blame yourself. You didn’t know the chopper was around the corner. All that you knew was something wanted to kill you, and it was winning the battle for your life.”

Her shoulders wrack with silent sobs. “I could’ve stayed with her.” She breaks down all over again, and this time I give her all the time she needs. I’ve scarcely seen somebody so grief-stricken in all my years of doing this, and it's almost as bizarre to me as the anomalies I’ve spent my life hunting. To hate yourself for something as simple as wanting to live. It’s inhuman.

“I’m sorry,” she says finally. “That’s… that’s everything. Can I go now?”

I lean back in my chair, frowning. It’s not that I don’t empathize with her, but such messy reactions only serve to get in the way of actually fixing problems. In her case, getting revenge for Rachel.

She stands up, sniffling, then answers her own question. “... I’m gonna head home.”

“Wait,” I say. 

She stops in her tracks. “What?”

“Can you take me there?”

She stares at me with red, puffy eyes. Her face is a mask of confusion. Disbelief. “Excuse me?”

“The cabin, I mean." I lean forward in my chair. "Can you take me to the Callous Man?”

_____________________

​

I’ve never been a fan of the woods.

Call it a bad childhood experience. Call it being an out-of-shape asshole. I’m even less of a fan when I’m stuck hiking through them for work, and yet it seems like work has a sick sense of humor, because I find myself in these fortresses of shit and sticks more often than I’d like. Which, for the record, is never.

Well, except for today. 

It’s a long time before we reach the cabin. The girl said it took her and her friend eight hours. Well, it takes us twelve. My best days are behind me, unfortunately, but luckily I don’t need to be very fit for what I’m about to do. 

“I still don’t understand why you couldn’t have just followed the map," Amanda says. " I told you exactly how to get to—”

“Because,” I say, still breathless from the hike. “This cabin doesn’t exist on a map. You can point it out to me all you want on your iPhone, but unless you’re right beside me, I’ll never see it. It’s just the way the Callous Man works.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “You keep saying that name. Why do you call him the Callous Man?”

I pull open the door of the cabin, and instantly it smells like shit and dead animals. 

Great. 

“I call him the Callous Man,” I say, strolling across the creaky floorboards, “because that’s his name. It’s the name the first person that ever encountered him coined him with, and so it is the name with which I refer to him.”

“The first person?”

“Yeah,” I say, stepping into the bedroom. “Me.” 

The floor is a mess, covered in what’s left of Amanda’s tent. A small device lays a few feet away, and I figure it’s probably her locator beacon. 

“Hang on,” she says, appearing in the doorway behind me. “You’re the first person you saw the crea— the Callous Man?”

I nod, bending down and picking up one of the shattered photo frames she’d mentioned. Dusting it off, I hold it up to her. “This is my grandpa and I, showing off our rifles before going deer hunting.” 

She looks shocked. Stunned. Her eyes gaze at the picture, then back at me. “On second glance, you two really do share a resemblance. You and he look so much alike.”

“Yeah, I suppose we do.” I toss the frame onto the ground.

“You lived here?”

“Visited. My grandpa lived here.”

“You're kidding.” She shakes her head, incredulous.“This whole thing is so bizarre. It has to be a nightmare. It can’t be real.”

I flip the water bottle full of black grime in my hands, catching it with a smile. “You’re preaching to the choir, lady. If I had to guess, I probably hope I wake up from this even more than you do.”

“Unlike you," she says with a glare. "I don’t have any… secret agent training, or whatever.” 

“Unlike me, you’ve got my gun. The only training you need is to point and shoot, and not hit me with the bullets.”

She taps my revolver, strapped to her thigh. It was the sole condition of her joining me on this little woodland excursion, that she gets to be the one who carries the gun. I told her that’s fine, with one stipulation:

“Remember," I say. "Don’t fucking touch that thing unless the Callous Man’s already pulling you into his big mouth. I don’t need you shooting me before I finish my business.”

“What if he's attacking you?” she asks. 

“I’ll deal with it.”

“You’ll deal with an eight foot tall monster with nothing but your bare hands?”

The water bottle crinkles in my grip. “Just trust me on this. I’m a professional.” I place my hand on the windowsill and look out over the clearing, out past the treeline. The sun’s turned a golden red. Soon, it’ll be night. 

“Nervous?” I ask her.

“What do you think?” she says. “I hope you're as good as you say you are.”

The way she moves, the way she speaks and the way she keeps touching the revolver on her thigh tell me everything I need to know. 

She’s terrified. 

“Relax,” I say. “Save the anxiety for when our friend shows up.” 

Amanda pulls one of the chair’s from the living area into the bedroom with me. She sits down on it, rigid and straight. I’m almost proud of her. Sure, she was only willing to accompany me with a revolver strapped to her thigh, but she still chose to do it; she chose to get revenge for what thing did to her. 

What it did to Rachel. 

“Almost there,” I mutter. My eyes follow the sun as it slips behind the treeline. Shadows stretch out, engulfing the cabin in thin strips of darkness. “He’ll be here soon.”

Seconds pass, then minutes, and then things begin to change. It starts with a crow taking flight, and I already know he’s coming. I can feel him. A family of rabbits follow, bounding through the clearing. Soon, the entire forest is fleeing past us, far away from the Callous Man, and the death he represents. 

I pop a piece of spearmint gum and start chewing. It helps me focus. “You ready?” 

“Why?” she says, shooting up from the chair. “Is he here?”

“Does it make a difference? You're either ready or you're not."

She scowls at me, but her body relaxes. “I'm ready. Are you sure you can kill him?”

A mad mixture of impatience and nervousness flutters in my stomach. I toy with the idea of lying. It’d put her at ease. Then I decide it doesn’t matter anymore. Both of us are in too deep. “No.”

“No?” she repeats, hysterical. She rises from her chair, rounding on me. “You said you were professional!"

“I am.”

“You told me you’ve dealt with a hundred different monsters!”

“I have.”

Her mouth opens, but no words come out. She stares at me with something between stunned disbelief, and absolute loathing. She thinks I’ve signed our death warrants. 

“I’m not going to lie to you,” I say. “I’ve dealt with a lot of creatures. Some bad, some worse. I know this job inside and out, and I don’t plan on dying today, but the Callous Man is different.”

“How?”

“He’s—” I catch myself. We’re on the precipice, and there’s no going back, but there’s still words that can upset the operation. I exercise some tact. “He’s powerful. He can distort this world, and manipulate dimensions. It’s why I needed you here, it’s why I needed your Link. He chose you. The Callous Man gave you the key to his world, and only you — but he never said you couldn’t bring visitors.”

She shakes her head. She’s trying to piece it together — bless her heart she’s trying her best, but there’s not enough pieces to make sense of it, and that’s intentional. It's by design. I need her obedient, not unruly. Everything hinges on her cooperation. 

“I don’t understand. Why did he choose me?”

The sun finishes its descent, its red-orange rays fading to darkness. I flick my flashlight on, holding it up to the window and watching the clearing with bated breath. The Callous Man is coming. 

“He chose you because of the life you live," I explain. "The values you represent. It means something to him.”

“Values I represent? What, like honesty and integrity?" She snorts. "What do values mean to a monster like that?”

I smirk. “They mean you taste good.”

The night is still. Silent. Just as she earlier described, there’s no sounds of life, except this time there’s no storm either. It’s a cloudless sky, without so much as a breeze, and I can almost hear Amanda’s heart beating out of her chest.

“Ha ha,” she says sarcastically. She’s close enough behind me now that I can feel her breath on my neck. She really is terrified. “What do those values actually mean to it?”

“To him," I correct. "Believe it or not, that monster really is a man. When you become as powerful as he is though, food stops meaning what it means to you and I. It’s less about calories and more about filling a void. It’s trying to supplement its diet with concepts, ideas that it’s missing.”

“Why?”

“To become better. To cure itself.”

There’s movement in the clearing, and my breath catches as I see it: a set of crooked antlers. They rise from the bramble, soon revealing a face covered by matted black hair, one with a tiny snout and a halo of dark, beady eyes. The dots glimmer in the beam of my flashlight. 

“It wants to stop being a monster?” she asks, her voice thick with disbelief. “It’s eating people to save itself?”

“Shh!” I hiss. My eyes are wide, and my mouth is split into the largest grin I’ve worn in years. “He’s here.”

I sense her tense up behind me, but to her credit she doesn’t unholster the revolver on her thigh. She keeps her cool. I grip the water bottle tighter, reaching a hand to its cap. 

No. 

I pull my hand away, reminding myself that I need to keep my cool too. It’s still too soon. The Callous Man can still make his escape. Fade away. I need him committed. 

At the edge of the clearing, the man rises to his full height. I can see clearly now his dark fur chest, and his long, thin fingers resting on the ground. His bird-like legs begin a slow march forward, their claws digging at the loamy earth. 

“He’s coming,” I say, taking a step back. “Stay behind me. Directly behind me.”

She doesn’t speak, but I know she’s nodding. I hear her feet creak on the floorboards in concert with my own. My fingers play at the cap of the water bottle. Everything comes down to this. Forty years of horror and misery have led me to this moment. 

A snickering sound pierces the air. The man’s moving faster now, each footstep coming at the pace of a light jog. There’s hardly any time left, but still I wait. 

“He’s coming,” Amanda hisses from behind me. She’s panicking. Her hand clutches at my shoulder and I grunt, shaking her off. 

“Don’t,” I tell her. “Relax. We’re almost done here.” My heart races. Seeing the monster again after all these years is dredging up old memories, and the little boy threatens to take hold inside of me. My palms are thick with sweat. 

It doubles over, sprinting on all fours. Its armada of eyes connect with my own, while its crooked antlers sway in concert with its powerful body. Clouds of earth burst out from behind it, its long fingers tearing at the ground with each stride. “Nyeh nyeh nyeh,” it snickers. “NYEH NYEH!”

It leaps at the window. 

For a moment, time seems to stop. I stare, transfixed at the creature I used to know so well. Its horrifying, inhuman face gazes back at me and inside of it I see an insatiable hunger. A need to feed. 

My body freezes, my blood goes cold. Terror grips me as its fingers reach outward, passing through the window while its vocal chords chitter in anticipation. It wants me. 

I lunge to the side. 

It collides with Amanda, its antlers piercing her stomach and showering the bedroom in blood. Her body crashes against the wall with a sickening crunch, and lays there in a broken, whimpering heap. 

I stay as quiet as I can. The Callous Man shakes his tangle of black hair and looks around, reorienting himself. First to me, then to her. 

Then back to me.

Fuck. My fingers begin untwisting the cap of the water bottle. It’s too soon. I need him distracted. I need him feeding and committed, but I don’t think I have an option anymore. It steps toward me. The floor groans. My mouth feels dry, my limbs twitchy. Fear takes root in my chest, and the little boy inside threatens to take hold. 

No. I have to hang on. I open the water bottle, and my mouth begins stuttering the words. “T-Thu Val Nolar…” 

The Callous Man lowers himself. His back arches, and his tiny snout begins to open, growing larger and larger. Screams of a hundred souls echo from the void inside of him, their arms reaching toward me, desperate to draw another into their nightmare. 

“Gal Nush Alza…”

I continue the words, but there’s no time. They’re so close. He’s so close. I press myself as far against the corner as I can, but still I feel their cold grip on my leg. They pull. They’re strong. My balance goes out from under me, and I fall on my ass. “Yust val kulna…” 

It wasn't supposed to happen like this. She held the values he needed. Her. Not me.

I keep speaking the incantation. I keep moving my lips, but now my body’s acting on instinct, on learned behavior. I can’t so much as think as I slip further and further into the abyssal darkness of the Callous Man’s jaws. I keep speaking the words, but my voice is drowned by the pleas of the dead. Screaming. Howling. Begging. The incantation is all I have left. It’s not enough. It’s taking too long.

A deafening bang rings out, interrupting the chorus of screaming souls. The Callous Man recoils, its jaw sliding across the floor and its body writhing in agony. It stumbles to the side and then two more gunshots pierce the night. It falls to its knees. 

I can see behind him now. I can see Amanda’s bloody, mangled heap. One of her legs is snapped backwards, and her white shirt is torn at her stomach, with pieces of her falling out of the hole. Blood spills from her mouth like a fountain, and in her trembling hands she holds the revolver. 

“Thank you,” I breathe, rising to my feet on shaky legs. “Thank you, Amand—”

Another blast of the hand gun, and this time my ears are ringing like church bells. I stumble to the side, and in the dim light of my lantern, I see a bullet hole in the wall beside me. I barely have time to look back at her before agony rips through my thigh, and I collapse onto the bedroom floor. 

Fucking bitch! My hands clutch the wound instinctively. I don’t need to look at it to feel the warm wetness of blood seeping through my fingers. I gaze up at her, and she steadies the gun at me. I was so close. So goddamn close. Forty years of this shit and I’m undone by a blogger. 

“Do it,” I growl. Death by a bullet isn’t a bad way to go, all things considered. “Do it before he takes us both!"

She lowers the revolver, and tears fall from her eyes. She’s choking on a word, but all that’s coming out is a torrent of blood. It’s fine. I know what she wants to say. 

“I did it because it was the only way,” I explain through gritted teeth. “One of us always had to die, but if it was me, then it meant we both did.”

Her body’s twitching in shock. She’s still moving her mouth, but it’s just blood now. No words. Only blood. Her face is pale and glassy eyed, but I only see it for another moment before the Callous Man begins to rise. Nyeh nyeh nyeh. He’s snickering, but it’s violent. Angry. 

His eyes gaze at me. The antlers are casting twisted shadows in the light of my lantern, and it’s making him seem even more unnatural. More inhuman. Nyeh Nyeh. He turns away from me. He turns to Amanda. 

“Fel guz rea…” I whisper. “Morath un gre’ shan.”

His footsteps groan on the rotting cabin floorboards. I don’t see Amanda, but I hear the gurgle of blood. I hear the desperate shuffle of her body, pushing itself against the wall. I hear a gunshot ring out. Then another. 

The footsteps march forward, and so does my incantation. The water bottle’s shaking in my grip now, the grimey fluid swirling in a murky maelstrom. “Grea yulia.”

Another shot. 

“Thel ra dua.” 

A cacophony of screams. 

“Set kil ona.”

Amanda lets loose on the hand gun twice more, and then the firearm clicks impotently. She’s burned through every round that it has. It wasn’t enough. It never could be. My lips keep moving even as I hear her body being dragged across the floor. 

The ancient language flows out of me, and I’m deaf to the sounds of her flesh being ripped and torn, her limbs being devoured inch by inch. She needs to hang on. Her role in this isn’t over yet. 

I speak the final words.

“Set rindas!” The water bottle jolts from my grip, the murky fluid inside exploding into a dark cloud, twisting around the room like a tornado of smoke. I hear the screaming falter, then I hear the Callous Man lurch around, snickering in confusion. I hear Amanda groan. 

She’s a fighter. Good. 

It takes the cloud only a handful of seconds to coalesce into the greatest monster I’ve ever seen, but in that moment it feels like a lifetime. Its form snaps and cracks with bolts of electricity. Its twelve eyes glow an impossible blue. Upon its six muscled arms are heavy chains, linking to a choker on its neck and its face roars in fury. 

“This time I’ll have your soul, little man. I’ll enjoy it over a glass of your misery!”

I let a grin slip across my lips. For the first time since the Callous Man appeared, I feel my sense of humor returning. “Sorry to disappoint, Dreighar, but I summon you by means of an offering.”

The genie’s brows furrow and his mouth opens to reveal a row of jagged teeth. “I see no living humans here, save for one.” He’s smiling. He reaches an arm out to grab me, but as soon as his fingers brush my throat, they hiss and steam. He recoils, snarling. 

“She’s your offering,” I say, pointing past the Callous Man, to Amanda’s mangled body. “Now obey my command.”

A legion of screams interrupt us. The Callous Man’s jaws have opened, and once more a hundred arms reach from the maw — this time toward the newcomer. They grasp at the genie, phasing through the gaseous image. 

Dreighar scowls, his voice dropping to a low growl. “Very well. The words are spoken. A soul for a soul.” His body splits in two, circumventing the Callous Man and reforming in front of Amanda. She’s nearly dead. She’s confused. She doesn’t understand what’s happening. 

I’ve given her a mercy. Dreighar will treat her soul better than the Callous Man ever would. The genie’s hand reaches out to touch her, and in the next instant, her body is gone. Only the bloodstains remain. 

The Callous Man looks back to me, its jaw scraping along the floor. It recognizes there’s nothing in the genie to consume. It wants what’s inside of me, though. It wants the memories of its humanity. Revenge. 

It takes a heavy step toward me. Then another. The screams are deafening, but I know I don’t need my voice to be heard. A command is a command. 

“For her soul, I want His.”

The pale hands reach out from the abyssal maw, grasping my legs, and I let them. My body falls to the floor. It inches toward the jaws of the beast. Toward damnation. 

Then, light fills the room, and the cabin shakes with the low bass of eternity itself. The screaming fades to a whimper. Then, after a loud pop, it’s gone. 

Everything’s gone.

The Callous Man. The cabin. I’m alone, laying in a dark field, my lantern illuminating a clearing of grass, with tall trees surrounding it. My thigh aches, my mouth is parched, and my conscience is in tatters. But I’m alive.

I’m always alive. 

“Soon you’ll have fulfilled our contract,” says a hissing voice, scraping along my inner ear. It’s everywhere and nowhere. “I’ve taken ninety three souls for you. Only seven more to go.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard it before,” I say with a groan. “Now, hand over my soul.”

There’s a swirl of smoke, and the frowning genie appears before me. He snaps a finger on one of his six arms, and produces a vial filled with murky purple fluid. “The man never deserved this,” he says. “He was your own blood.”

“Don’t lecture me,” I say, reaching for the vial.“You and I both know he was never supposed to turn into that.”

The genie pulls back, gazing at the vial. “What is meant to be and what comes to pass are two different things. You shield yourself in the delusion of intention.” 

He encircles me in a snaking ribbon of smoke, his face materializing near my ear. “You forced that destiny on the man. He had no desire to participate in your war.”

“Yeah, well none of us do. And yet it’s coming anyway.” Something takes a seat in my gut. Regret, maybe? Remorse? It’s an ugly feeling, whatever it is. I blame it on the woman. Why didn’t she just kill me?

No, I think to myself. Shake it off. I've got more important things to worry about.

"The vial," I growl, holding my hand out.

"I think I may have miscalculated," Dreighar mutters, staring at the vial with curiosity. "A soul for a soul, such is the terms of our contract, and yet..."

I swallow and it feels like sandpaper. When's the last time I had something to drink? "You got your soul, now give me mine." My voice cracks. Fuck. My voice cracks. 

The genie's twelve eyes swivel their gaze to me. A smile slips across its lips. When he speaks, his voice is quiet. Unsettling. "I count over a hundred souls in this vial."

My heart slams against my ribcage. Damnit. "That's not fair!" I shout, trying to rise to my feet, but my thigh screams in pain and I fall back to earth. "I only asked for his soul! I never asked for the souls he devoured."

"And yet, they are still a part of him."

"Please…" It can't end here. "Be reasonable."

"Reasonable?" the genie roars, and his form becomes massive. Lightning sparks around him, and the wind whips into a gale threatening to unseat me from the ground.

"You chain me to this earth for decades, turn me into a common reaper for your own ends, and you confine me to a plastic bottle! You speak of reason to me?"

"I did what I had to!" I bellow. "A war is coming, and we need these souls! We need an army!" 

"Your petty war means nothing to me." Dreighar points a long finger toward me, and a red aura swirls around it. Sparks crackle at its tip. Then slowly, reluctantly, he curls it back into a fist. "I am, however, a reasonable being."

My breath hitches in my chest as I hang on the monster's every word. 

"You have broken the terms of our contract, but I have also willingly fulfilled your wish. For that, I will give you a compromise, little human."

Compromise? That's good. Better than nothing, at least. 

Dreighar's eyes glint. "One month."

"One month?"

"Settle your affairs. Prepare for your war. One month from now, I'll take the soul I've dreamed of for decades. I'll spend the next century picking you out of my teeth."

I sigh, falling back onto the grass. It's better than I could expect, all things considered. I'm surprised the cosmic asshole didn't just scoop me up right then and there. 

Fucking fine print. 

"Okay," I say. "Can you get me out of here?"

He smirks, turning into formless smoke. "A soul for a soul. No more, no less." He begins swirling like a mad tornado of shadow, howling and roaring and a moment later he’s gone, vacuumed back into the water bottle.

Asshole. 

Looks like I'm finding my own way down. Once more I try to rise to my feet, and once more I wince in pain and fall to the earth. Damn. The revolver did good work on my thigh. 

No, she did.

The woman tugs at my thoughts. Her resolve. Her strength. Her blog. She could tell a story, Amanda Haynes. She's gone now, but there's still a story that needs to be told, and I'm running out of time to tell it.

I spot a mess in the corner of my eye. A pile of canvas, torn and bloody with tent poles poking out. 

That should do.

I crawl toward it, and a moment later I find what I'm looking for: a black device laying a few feet away — just like it’d been in the cabin. 

The beacon. 

I reach out and grab it, and click the button. It beeps.

Good. 

It beeps. 

_____________________

​

You don’t need me to tell you that the search team located me, and you don’t need me to tell you that they had a lot of questions, but that the Facility stepped in and took care of it. You also don’t need me to tell you that I’ll be walking with crutches for the rest of my short life.

What you need me to tell you, is why I’m sharing this. You need to know why I’m telling you this story, and why I need you to tell it to others. Your friends. Your family. Everybody. 

The reality is, a war is coming. It’s a war that humanity isn’t outfitted for, but we’re doing the best we can. Strictly speaking, everything I’ve just said is classified, and yet it’s critical this information be spread far and wide. What’s coming for us can’t be stopped by missiles and guns. It can’t be overcome by men and women. It has to be through other means. 

Legendary means. 

The folks at the top don't want to admit that. They don't want to sow chaos and uncertainty and admit our hourglass is dangerously low on sand, but it is, and chaos is coming one way or another. 

We're doing what we can at the Facility, but it isn't enough. Not even close. They'd skin me alive for telling you this, but my time's already up, so fuck 'em.

I’m asking you —all of you, if you see a creature that defies explanation, or a certain something that goes bump in the night, share your experience. Make it known. Against the eldritch abominations coming our way, those monsters might be our only chance. 

And honestly?

We need all the help we can get. 

[heliads]

Leave It

Based on this request: "male reader gets hurt and try to hide it, but nikolai sees it and is worried about him, so he tries to help the reader, and it ends with confession of their feelings"

masterlist

The wind whips cold and dark above the battlefield. This close to the Ravka-Fjerda border, the air is always gray and thin, cutting to the quick. The Fjerdans should be pleased to know that their climate will kill you even if their soldiers cannot.

You won’t be under attack for a while, though. You shouldn’t, at least. You’re still on the Ravkan side of the border. That doesn’t stop some of your fellow soldiers from stalking back and forth in the snow, all but daring the enemy to materialize and shoot you where you stand. They are blustering idiots in need of a scare, but you get the feeling they’ll get that soon enough.

After all, they’re not truly without fear, not really. You are soldiers drafted to protect your kingdom. There is no way you will leave this fight without shedding at least a little blood. If you do not die, then it will be one of your friends, and that is both better and worse depending on how strongly you let your heart speak for you.

A commotion of boots stalking through permafrost signals that you’re no longer alone. You don’t have to turn your head to recognize the pattern of footsteps nor the rhythm of the walk.

“My prince,” you remark by way of greeting.

Nikolai Lantsov rolls his eyes. “Always so formal, Y/N. Can’t we skip to the part where you’re threatening to steal my rations because I didn’t shine my boots to company standards? It’s what everyone else has done.”

You grin to yourself. “I’m not everyone, Nikolai.”

“Don’t I know it,” he says, although judging by his tone, he’s quite pleased with that.

So you managed to befriend a prince in your time serving in Ravka’s troops. It came as a shock to you as well, to be sure. You had already been in the 22nd Regiment for about three months before Nikolai came along. It wasn’t a whole lot of time, but it still gave you a bit of superiority in address that he didn’t have when he was still as green as the grass he left behind in Os Alta.

Nikolai rose up quickly through the ranks, though. He has this way of winning anyone over, even the most hardened of the captains and generals. You suppose that’s a sign that he would make a decent king, or at least be able to try his luck at politics if Vasily doesn’t die before Nikolai grows too old to ascend to the throne.

In all his time of regaining status, though, Nikolai only seems more determined to make you like him. Any advantage you had over him regarding leadership favoritism is long gone now, but that doesn’t seem to matter. Nikolai still chooses your company over that of any other soldier. Even now, when he could be off messing around with the other servicemen, he’s out standing in the cold with you.

He’s been like that since the beginning, actually. It’s as if Nikolai marked you out as a primary target the day he arrived at camp and won’t give up until he’s crossed some imaginary finish line of friendship in his head. 

He’s damn good at it, too. You were dead set on not letting him charm you as quickly as the others, but Nikolai found his way into your head regardless of what you decided. He did it slowly, carefully, a master bluffer playing his cards just right. He signed up for the bad watch times with you, so it wasn’t just one boy up at dawn watching empty fields but two. He always chose you as a partner for those awful training drills, even if it would have benefitted him more to keep switching out people to network as much as possible.

Maybe, if Nikolai were to have one political misstep, he would be content with letting it be you. He always seemed to have more fun that way, at least. And when is Nikolai ever pleased if he’s not going about things his way? Stupid boy, to enlist as infantry instead of letting his royal lineage rise him to an officer’s established and bloodless spot. Brave would-be king, to give his people one fewer reason to hate him.

No, you suppose you couldn’t ever hold him back. Not forever, at least. Nikolai seems to know this and appreciate it, too, so you gave up that battle long ago. Now it’s just the two of you against the world, or at least it will be until his tour of duty ends and you’re alone again.

That, at last, is what made you fear friendship with him the most. It’s one thing to become as close as brothers with another village craftsman or scholar, someone you have a decent chance of finding again once you’re done slinging guns in the name of Ravkan soil.

Nikolai, though? Prince Nikolai? He will leave you behind in the icy dust and never think of your name again. In your place, he will meet a thousand princesses and noblemen, and if he ever muses over past war memories, it will only be that of long-gone days and misplaced faces. He is yours for a very brief time now, and then never will be again.

Nikolai doesn’t have to know that’s what you’re thinking, though. He just has to entertain your friendship now while he’s got it, so both of you can pretend that it isn’t going to end just as abruptly as it started.

So you force yourself back into the present moment, the snow, him looking back at you. “Got any exciting plans for the day?” You joke to him.

Nikolai chuckles. “Oh, tons. I think I’m going to start out my morning with some light meditation, then maybe a few rounds of intellectual discussion with my fellow man. In all honesty, though, I’ll probably just be watching those idiots get in trouble.”

Nikolai jerks his chin towards the soldiers still goofing around near the border. Their shouts are loud, too loud for what is supposed to be a peaceful holding of the line. If they’re not careful, they’re going to get themselves killed.

Killed. The word echoes around your brain for a touch too long, and you stare around the snowy forests, wondering what’s suddenly got you feeling so uneasy. It’s not just Nikolai’s laughing comments getting to you, it’s something else. Something like the sensation that you might not be alone any longer.

Shots ring out seconds later. Nikolai grabs for you, pushing you down to the snow and behind cover. His breath is hot over you as he scans the white hills for any signs of the sudden attackers. “I take it back,” he whispers in gasps, “I shouldn’t have said a damn thing about trouble. We’ve certainly got it now.”

You nod, trying to keep your breathing steady. Your gun is in your hand seconds later, and one glance towards Nikolai confirms he’s done the same. You can make out three figures of Fjerdan soldiers moving through the snow. One of the Ravkan men is on the ground, but you think you see movement. The other is screaming for aid. You pop up quickly from behind the snowdrift and take a shot at one of the moving shapes. You see a spray of red, but he doesn’t go down. Not yet.

“Good shot,” Nikolai whistles after you come back down, “nailed him in the arm, I think.”

You shake your head, murmuring swears under your breath. “Would have been better if I could get him in the heart.”

“Let me do that for you,” he grins, cocky as ever even when you’re under imminent attack.

Nikolai stands up, taking careful aim. You peer over the top of the snowdrift and see the Fjerdan you’d hit go down in a flash. One of his comrades comes out from behind a stand of trees and you fire at him, too. This time, you don’t miss.

“We’re tied, then?” Nikolai challenges.

You grin even as you take aim at another enemy soldier. “That’s two,” you say, pulling the trigger. It isn’t a lie, and the Fjerdan collapses in an untidy heap of limbs.

Nikolai pivots slightly, chasing something to even the score, and while he targets a man to his right, you see someone else to his left. He’s already raising his gun, and you only have time to push Nikolai to the ground before the shots rattle out. Several strike the snow in front of you, but one hits you.

You don’t think Nikolai saw it, because he’s still firing even from his reduced vantage point, but you can feel the gunshot like a firebrand forced against your shoulder. Saints, it hurts like death itself. You try to clamp an arm over the wound to stop the bleeding, but you can tell that it will only do so much.

Nikolai notices you shift slightly and frowns. “Y/N, are you hurt?”

There is nothing he can do right now, so you shake your head. “Focus on the fight.”

Nikolai’s brow furrows, and he stares at you further. “No, you’re hurt, aren’t you? I can see blood in the snow. Y/N, show me.”

You hesitate a second longer, and his eyes grow wide with imagined fears of lungs shot out and hearts pierced. “Show me,” he repeats.

You relent at last. It’s not bad, just a wound to the shoulder, and the bullet only clipped you. So you tell him, at least, but Nikolai doesn’t seem all that inclined to let you go that easily.

“We have to get you back to camp,” he says, “come, you can lean on my arm. I’ll get you to the medic.”

You shake your head firmly. “We have to get rid of the threat first.”

Your fingers are still tight around your gun, and you move to straighten up and fire again, but Nikolai stops you, pulling you back down beside you once again.

He’s frustrated, one hand clawing through the pressed gold wire of his hair. “Why won’t you just let me help you?”

You let out a harsh breath. It ends up as a sigh. “Because–”

Because he’s a prince and you’re not. Because, at the end of the day, your entire damn regiment is there for one purpose and one purpose only. It’s not to defend Ravka, it’s to defend him. You’ve never had a problem with it before. In fact, the only one who seems to want to challenge that is the very Lantsov you’re meant to be saving.

You cannot say any of that, of course, but you think Nikolai gets it anyway. His jaw is set. “I’m not letting you get hurt again.”

“Then help me kill the rest of these soldiers,” you plead.

Nikolai still looks like he’d rather drag you back through the snow to base by himself, but you’re just as stubborn as he is, so he caves at last and joins you in taking out the rest of the Fjerdans in quick, efficient shots. The moment the last of them are gone, he grabs you around the waist and helps you to stand.

“Healer. Now,” he says. You don’t exactly have a lot of other options, so you let him help you out. You’ve lost a fair amount of blood by now, and the amount of scarlet staining the snow makes Nikolai’s first step almost as wobbly as yours. He manages to pull himself together in a second, though, and you’re at the camp medic before you know it.

Nikolai doesn’t leave the whole time they’re stitching you up. His brow is furrowed, and he denies every single soldier who tries to come up and talk to him. His attention will not be dragged from you until he knows that you’re going to be alright.

He waits until the last of them are gone to finally say what’s on his mind. You can tell that he’s been stewing over it for a while, what you didn’t say back there on the battlefield.

“Let me love you,” he says, “Please.”

Princes aren’t meant to ask for things. They demand and they are satisfied. Nikolai is not asking you this as a royal, though. At this moment, he is a boy, a bastard, and he wants to be loved. He will love you regardless of what you say back to him. All that he can gain from this is someone else’s opinion of him, and Saints know he gets enough of those already.

You exhale slowly. This isn’t going to last. Of course it won’t. Still, you have just enough time that you think you’d like to try.

“Alright,” you say, “I can do that.”

When he smiles, you think you can do just about anything. It’s a good thing that you’ll have Nikolai there with you to make sure of that.

grishaverse tag list: @rogueanschel, @deadreaderssociety, @cameronsails, @mxltifxnd0m, @story-scribbler, @retvenkos, @thatfangirl42, @amortensie, @gods-fools-heroes, @bl606dy, @auggie2000

[delopsia]

delgateau 💕🩷💕💖💕🩷💕 

if i could send you this 💐🍰 for real on the 13th (omg!!) i would, but for now i’m sending a handful of these🪻via pigeon post to (possibly regretfully) ask for some rhett abbott angst with the lyric i’m no good, not even when i’m trying as title inspiration…

and a basket of these 🌻 via pony express with one miles miller…

and, since i deal in entire bouquets, no matter how small, i think i’ll send this🌷taped inside the most aerodynamic paper plane of all time to ask you what you think the hawthorn hotties favorite sex position(s) are? 

Thank you for all the flowers 🥺🌷 I'll be real honest, I don't know if my ramble counts as angst or not 🧍‍♂️ but here goes nothing Join my Birthday Bouquet Event! 💐

💐 pigeon post: "i’m no good, not even when i’m trying"

Wind squeals in your ears as you tear through the front door. Droplets of frozen rain pelt your skin like a million tiny bullets, biting at every expanse, determined to break through, unhindered by the thin material of your dress. But you can't feel it, not when you could have sworn you saw him. 

That big idiot you call your boyfriend. Fifteen minutes late. On the one day that you asked him to be early, all for this special fucking thing called dinner reservations. He even called to make the damn arrangements, and yet here he is. Late again. 

But in the dark of the night, you can't see a damn thing. Giant chunks of something glitter across your sidewalk, crunching beneath your shoes. Glass. But none of your windows are broken. You would have heard it. Christ, you're turning around, but you don't see anything different about your house in the slightest. Except...

"Rhett?" You don't know why you ask it. You're there before his head can lift. Knees digging into the dir. Hands darting to curl around his frozen cheeks, wet with rain and something dark. 

"No, no, no," his head jerks, cracking back against the porch. But there's more of that dark substance pouring out of his lip and his neck and his—

"You're bleeding," blurting. Fuck, it's everywhere. Gashes in his arms and scattering across his jeans, patches of his mauled thighs peeking through shredded jeans. You don't understand. How did...how did...

That wateriness in his eyes isn't from the rain.

 "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm," cut short by a jerky inhale, "I'm sorry, I tried, I tried, I, I—"He doesn't get to finish. Not when his chest jerks with a barely contained wail. 

Your mouth is moving, but nothing is coming out. How long has he been out here? Where did all of this glass come from? 

So many questions, and yet all you can do is pull him into you. Don't give a damn about the way he stains your white dress with crimson tears or how he falls into you hard enough to knock your ass into the mud. 

"First 'm late an'—an'" his bottom lip wobbles against your neck, "I broke your goddamn present."

You see it now. The sparkling glass that cascades down your porch steps and onto the concrete sidewalk. Remnants of a figurine that you can't make out. Fuck, it's even on the back of his neck. A thin dust that slices your fingertips as you brush it away. 

"It's okay." You know it's not going to remedy the hot tears that stream down his face, but it's the only thing you've got. "You're okay." But his head shakes back and forth. A feeble 'no' falling from his mouth. 

It's not okay. And out here in the pouring rain, you can't glue him and your present back together again. 

🌻 My random Miles Miller headcanon: (This was meant to be only one sentence. I don't know what the hell happened)

The draft plucked Miles from his teenager phase way too early, and now, as a traumatized adult, he's stumbling through the growths he should have had years ago. But unlike teenagers, Miles is above all the age minimums that usually keep the youth from doing something irreversible.

Which is exactly how he woke up in the back of his car with a horrible hangover and a new tattoo. A little sunflower, perfectly placed over top of an old bullet scar.

🌷 Paper Plane: Hawthorn hottie's favorite sex position(s)

As a whole? There's a serious obsession with being bent over things; the hood of Rhett's truck, the kitchen table, the edge of the bathtub, hell, they're even happy with the plain ol' bed. It's particularly fun with three because someone can always settle down in front of whoever's getting fucked.

But also? Missionary. Blame Bobby for this one; he loves sneaking up behind Rhett while he's fucking the Reader. The Reader always gets a smug grin when they realize what's going on, and Rhett's so damn loud when he realizes that Bob's looking to fuck him, too. It's the only time you'll ever see his arms start shaking, struggling to keep himself up.

Though there's something truly special about having two of them on their knees, looking up at the third...

[reneesbooks]

wip intro/masterpost - the raedoran cycle

hi hello here it is. my baby.

genre: fantasy

pov: third person limited, with various narrators throughout

status: a series of 4 novels/stories, in various states of drafting

summary: in one night, Raedora is thrown into chaos. the royal librarian murders the queen and her youngest daughter with magic and flees, leaving behind the king and the crown princess to pick up the pieces. the princess spirals slowly into madness as her sworn shield tries to save her, terrified of her dead sister's prophecy.

two thieves in the capital set their sights on the crown jewels after attending the queen's coronation. but when one gets a little too reckless and catches the attention of the Mad Dog of Morbhard, their plans quickly go off the rails.

when their parents are killed in the Dragon Purges, two shapeshifters must hide amongst their killers to survive. one, a talented healer, tries to build a life that will be safe for them, but her little brother has his sights set on avenging their parents by murdering the queen that ordered their deaths.

a young witch is raised alone by her father, always in hiding, with strange dreams and visions of the future. when he dies of an illness even her magic can't heal, she must strike out on her own, searching for answers to the prophecy that has followed her for her whole life.

tag: the raedoran cycle

so originally this was one novel following multiple characters, but thanks to a minor plot bunny that greatly spiraled out of control (lacuna) it has become something much more. many of the four novels' events occur simultaneously, with their stories overlapping and intertwining as the character's lives do the same.

the knight of lacuna lake

Keelan: baby boy war criminal. he narrates the story as he tries to save Maura from herself.

Maura: the golden queen of Raedora. she lost half her family in 1 night and handed it incredibly well all things considered (no she didn't)

status: first draft finished(!!), shelved while it marinates and i work on the rest of the cycle. likely going to come back and edit it at some point but for now it is what it is

tag: lacuna

the thieves of morbhard

Arthur: master lockpick and ball of anxiety. he narrates his attempts to get Jack to notice him while also trying to steal the crown jewels.

Jack: cursed damned street rat. born on the night of the triple new moon and condemned to a life on the streets, he's got his sights set on stealing enough to get both him and Arthur out of Morbhard for good.

status: just barely starting to draft. fully outlined.

tag: thieves

the dragons of kiltide

Emilia: the only voice of reason around here. a talented healer fighting to protect her baby brother from both the persecution they face in their homeland and the Purges that killed their parents.

Fabin: teenage ball of rage. his parents died in front of him when he was 13 and he has been supremely chill about it since then and doesn't everybody sleep with their sword under their bed?

status: outlining with the occasional scene.

tag: dragons

the witch of the west

Birdie: a talented witch born under and blessed by the full silver moon. raised by her father in the woods after fleeing the witch trials, she is determined to understand and fulfill her prophecy. her strange dreams of dragons, thieves, and knights lead her to a search for the people who she believes will help her in her journey.

status: it's complicated. this where all the original material lives for the most part so it's outlined(sort of??) and i've been writing scenes for it but idk what the actual timeline of events is and i've changed a LOT since i started. so it's a frankendraft mess. we'll get there eventually.

tag: the witch

and that's it! that's my baby! i think about Them a lot these days.

taglist: ask to be added <3 @k--havok @theharpywrites

links:

lacuna wip intro/masterpost

salt and brine (in the same world but not necessarily relevant)

i will add more as things get posted but for now you can find everything for each story/character through the linked tags up above. i am always available to scream about my children :)

[kmlaney]

WIP questionnaire

tagged by @coffeewritesfiction and I am so sorry to take this long on a reply. Thanks for the tag!

Tagging @fallenscintilla (if you want! No pressure!) and @waywardwizzard and anyone who wants to!

1. What is the first part of your WIP that you created?

The very first line was: “D’ya think I care how it tastes?” I posted an edited version here. There's a snip of the original here.

For the record, it started as a character background for a TTRPG. In fact, it wasn’t even going to be the character I was going to play. Harrowed (undead/revenant) gunfighter? *eyeroll* Too cliché. I even made a homebrew archetype to play: a “spiritualist” in the late 1800’s sense. But that first line kept bugging me so I figured, okay. Fine. I’ll write this one scene and then work on my spiritualist. 

Yeah. No. I never played the spiritualist.

2. If your story was a TV show, what would the theme song/intro be?

I did all the fan stuff for Phil and Skyfallen, like playlists, faceclaims, all of that. I never did that before. I selected music for the theoretical TV show: main theme, a rotating list of outro/credits roll music, pieces for certain kinds of scenes. So if Skyfallen were a TV series, this would be the theme:

3. What are your favorite characters that you made? Why?

That’s like asking which of my pets was my favorite. I love them all. I guess I loved Phil enough to make them the viewpoint character. They’re a more-mature version of the kind of character I wrote when I was a kid, now with serious problems I can explore as an adult. I like Phil’s father, whom I was determined to fridge in the beginning because fridging is usually a female character. Ha Ha! Then I went and gave him a character arc that could only end in his death so he’s not fridged after all. 

I like Travelling Sam for being a conniving, money-grubbing jerk, but he’s fun to write. I like Eva as Carnival Mom; Maury for being a flamboyant, fun-to-be-around person hiding a serious drinking problem that everyone knows about. I like Doc Butcher for his name, for actually being trained as a vet but caring about everyone, and trying to do his best when he’s in over his head because he can’t do nothing. 

I like Maker Lewis for his change of heart, though he was already on the fence and just needed a shove. And I like Miss Warren for being a nosy reporter whom Phil doesn’t want to like but ends up liking anyway. She also lets me play at muckraking reporter. Choosing words to specifically slant a piece is a load of fun.

4. What other pieces of media do you think your fan base would share?

Skyfallen has its roots in Westerns, so people who like cinematic westerns are a potential fanbase. I include horror, steampunk, and gothic elements, so if your venn diagram of interests includes those things then it might be for you. 

Things I like that influenced or feel like this story: Silverado, The Magnificent Seven, RIPD 2 Rise of the Damned (movies. I hate to admit that last one but it was fun). Deadlands (TTRPG game. I created Phil for this setting). The Dark Tower novels--primarily Wizard and Glass but any of the parts dealing with Roland’s world. 

There is zero romance. Phil’s ace, there is no main love interest, and anyone who gets together does so very off-screen. 

5. What has been your biggest struggle with your WIP?

When writing the draft, the individual scenes flew out of my brain. I could hardly write them fast enough. In deep editing, though, it’s the big-picture stuff I find challenging. Which themes do I want to emphasize and which are less important? Do I really need all this buildup or should I start later? I need to show certain things so the later ones make sense, but that makes it even longer. It’s already very long; shouldn’t I be cutting things down? Argh. It's frustrating.

6. Are there any animals in your story? Talk about them!

There are animals. Most are utilitarian: Horses, dogs, cats, chickens, cows. There are monsters also (for certain values of “monster”) all along the continuum from “non-sapient animal” through to “self-aware human intelligence.” 

The way they figure into the story is more interesting. In life, Phil liked animals in general and had a special fondness for horses and mules. After dying and coming back reanimated, animals can’t stand to be around them. Phil doesn’t figure it out right away, and it hurts when they do.

7. How do your characters get around? (Ex. Trains, horses, cars, dragons, etc.)

For the area the characters are in for the bulk of the story, most people walk, ride horses, or ride in wagons, carts, or coaches pulled by horses or teams of horses. There are a couple of trains but they are rare. In other areas, trains are common, as are ferries and lake boats. Airships exist; they are novelties and considered simultaneously luxurious and dangerous. In larger cities, along with the horse-drawn vehicles, people have bicycles, rickshaws, pedal-powered rickshaws, and palanquins. Automatons in a variety of configurations may be subbed in for horses or people in any of those conveyances. 

8. What part of your WIP are you working on right now?

I’ve identified some specific foreshadowing that needs to happen. So I need to add that in. There are a few names that aren’t consistent; they’re flagged so I can fix them. I need to put in a few encounters so later ones make sense. It’s not exactly foreshadowing so much as worldbuilding. So editing stuff.

9. What aspects (tropes, maybe) of your WIP do you think will draw people in?

I have a hard time identifying tropes in my work, probably because I’m in the trees, so to speak, and can’t see the forest. Or groves, to push the metaphor. Having said that, here’s an attempt:

Portal/isekai

Found family

Unlikely group of heroes

Humans can be evil; monsters can be sympathetic

Religion, Magic, and cults 

Monsters dwelling among humans

Enemies to not-friends (don’t push your luck)

Things get worse

Everyone has secrets

Lost memories, memory tampering

Weird West

Steampunk and Gothic Horror

Gunslinger/trick shot

Noble Demon/antihero

Good is not nice

I did come up with one of those taglines that you might see on the bottom of the cover of a book: 

“Every Skyfallen has something they want to forget. And everyone in the Mistlands is Skyfallen.”

10. What are your hopes for your WIP?

Originally I was hoping for traditional publishing. I might still try to go that way. I’m also looking into self-pub, and websites that host serial stories. I think this story fits better into a serial format than a traditional book format. I need to make it more coherent (hence editing phase)

[shhh-secret-time]

I was going through my drabbles and WIPs and found my first rough draft on Craig’s Soulmate fic. I didn't wanna share it at the time because I was afraid of the backlash I would get with it, but I think part of the "Finding fun in writing" again is to stop caring and just doing it. So here's the snippet! It'll probably stay in WIP hell, but I'm glad I didn't delete it.

Warning: Angst, Strong Language

'Come back to this when you're ready, don't push yourself okay?'

Craig reads the scratchy handwriting over and over again. The ink bled into the napkin long ago, coffee stained the corners. It's lost the scent of whatever brew it was, but he thinks he still remembers the smell.

How could he forget the smell? It was on his shirt almost every day. On his lips when they kissed. Sometimes grounds of the brown powder would be in his hair, Craig would spend hours picking out the little bits.

"You don't have to do that." He'd tell him with a feeble attempt to swat his hand away.

"I want to." Craig would say back.

Now, all is left of the bittersweet memory is the napkin in his hand. Craig presses his thumb into the napkin, grimacing at the texture. He sends a shiver down his spine that's far too uncomfortable, but he doesn't stop. The material is old, likely to tear at any moment. It wasn't designed to be kept this long. Or at all, for that matter. But he can't bring himself to get rid of it. It's the last thing he has of him that he hasn't thrown away or given back.

Tweak Tweek had a soulmate. And it wasn't Craig Tucker.

Craig Tucker did not have a soulmate. Born without one.

Funny how that works.

Except it wasn't. It wasn't fucking funny, it was cruel. That life would determine such a thing for people. What gave life the right to decide who falls in love and who doesn't?! And how come it saw fit to keep him out of the loop? Why didn't he get fancy ink on skin, stupid flowers growing out of his face, or a damn counter that counts away at the moments until you finally meet your so called forever partner?

Tweek had turned sixteen when it happened. A clock on his wrist began to count down, at first he panicked, because of course he did. It was the first time in years he had actually managed to pull his hair out. Of course Craig was there to calm him down, to put his hat over his head so he could pull the strings instead. Did he still have that hat?

After calming the blond down, they worked together to find out what it meant. Mr. Tweak explained it to his son with Craig sitting right there. Right in front of his partner, the man explained that Tweek had a soulmate. That the timer was going to keep ticking away until he found his soulmate. When it hit zero, they were destined to meet.

Four years, eleven months, twenty-two days.

That was how much time he had left. How much time Craig had left before he lost Tweek to destiny. Stupid fucking unfair destiny.

The whole town had made a spectacle about it when they heard the news, of course Richard Tweak couldn't keep his mouth shut. His gay son was going to lose his boyfriend, because Craig didn't have a timer on his wrist. The only other thing he could say about the whole situation was that the breakup was going to be bad for business.

Craig was determined to prove him wrong, that Tweek wouldn't leave him because of some soulmate bullshit. And at first he was right. Four more years went by and they were still going strong, hell Craig would have said it only brought them closer. Then on the twenty second day of the eleventh month, Tweek met a man who swept him away.

It's been almost a year since that day and he can still smell the coffee in his hair, he can still feel the tears on his face. Those angry defiant tears that came with words that shouldn't have been said. Things he could never take back. No matter how many times he drove his fist into the dirty brick wall, it wouldn't bring him back.

Fuck it.