#now that i know where she is on the map I do not intend to progress the plot again for a fair while | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

meadowfics · 6 months ago

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lost island, found love

hwang jun-ho x female!reader

warnings: descriptions of death, guns, angst, i added reader's background that was not in this request but I felt like it could bring jun-ho and reader together! i am not responsible for the content you choose to read.

word count: 4013

you stand in the dimly lit room, the stench of blood and decay thick in the air. the body of the salesman lies slumped against the wall, lifeless, his once smug face frozen in a grimace. your fingers tremble slightly as you lower your gun, the weight of everything crashing down on you.

mr. kim is gone, killed by this salesman who now lies dead in front of you.

gi-hun’s frantic voice echoes in your memory…his desperation when he begged you to find answers, to bring justice in order to get money. now, with the salesman gone, the trail feels cold.

you don’t want to be here. not anymore. not with everything else hanging over your head like a storm cloud. hana is missing. your little sister, your only family left in the world. you’ve scoured every corner of the city, turned over every rock, but nothing. no sign of her. she wouldn’t just disappear. not her. not without a word.

“we don’t have time for this,” a voice cuts through your thoughts, sharp and impatient.

you glance over your shoulder, your eyes meeting the man who’s been reluctantly dragged into this mess with you..jun-ho. a police officer, driven, stubborn, and entirely too by-the-book for your taste.

he leans against the doorframe, his expression unreadable.

“gi-hun’s been taken to the island,” he continues, his tone clipped.

“those people with the masks, they don’t wait around. if we don’t move fast, we’ll lose the trail.”

you grit your teeth, your mind warring between two equally impossible choices. find the island where gi-hun is being held, or keep searching for hana. it feels cruel, having to pick one over the other.

“you think i don’t know that?” you snap, your voice harsher than you intended.

jun-ho doesn’t flinch. he crosses his arms, his gaze steady and unyielding.

“then let’s go. unless you’ve got another plan?”

you hate him a little in that moment. his calmness. his ability to compartmentalize. you can’t do that. not when every step you take feels like a betrayal of your sister. you know he’s right. if you don’t act now, gi-hun’s fate is sealed.

“fine,” you mutter, shoving past him.

“but don’t get in my way.”

he follows without a word, and for a while, the only sounds are your footsteps echoing through the empty streets. the weight of your gun presses against your hip, a constant reminder of what this life has turned you into.

jun-ho finally breaks the silence.

“why’d you take this job?”

the question catches you off guard, and for a moment, you don’t answer.

“because someone had to,” you say finally, your voice low.

“gi-hun deserved that much after everything he’s been through.”

jun-ho nods, but you can feel his eyes on you, studying, prying. you don’t offer more. not about mr. kim. not about hana. not about the hollow ache in your chest that refuses to go away.

the journey ahead feels impossibly long, but you push forward, each step heavier than the last. you don’t know if you’ll ever find the answers you’re looking for.. about gi-hun, about hana, about yourself. but for now, all you can do is keep moving.

the next morning.. you’re in the small boat with a bunch of your ex-special forces mates.. gently rocking on the light waves, the rhythmic lapping of water against the hull doing little to calm the storm in your mind.

there is a map spread out on the bench in front of you that feels more like a cruel joke than a guide. you’ve traced every possible route, every last scrap of information gi-hun left behind, but it’s like the island doesn’t exist.

even though jun-ho insists that the island is a real place, and that he has been there too.

“anything?” jun-ho’s voice breaks through the silence, rough from hours of tension. he’s standing at the bow, one hand resting on the edge, the other gripping his radio.

you don’t answer immediately, your eyes scanning the coordinates again, hoping something will click. the frustration is mounting. you’re used to solving problems quickly, decisively. in the special forces, there was no room for hesitation or failure.

now, every passing hour feels like a countdown to losing gi-hun forever.

“no,” you finally mutter, shoving the map aside.

“it’s like they’ve erased the damn place off the face of the earth.”

jun-ho exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. he’s trying to keep it together, but you can see the cracks forming. five days. that’s all the time you have before the trail goes completely cold, and neither of you can afford to waste another second.

“we’re missing something,” he says, turning to face you.

“they wouldn’t go through all this trouble just to make the island impossible to find. there has to be a way in. some clue we’re overlooking.”

you lean back against the bench, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. your mind races through everything you’ve learned so far, piecing together fragments of intel like a puzzle.

“it’s not just about the location,” you say, more to yourself than to him.

“they’ve got to have a system. patterns. supply routes. something that gives them away.”

jun-ho nods, stepping closer.

“you think we’re being followed?”

you glance up at him, narrowing your eyes. the thought hadn’t occurred to you until now, but it makes sense. an operation this big wouldn’t just let two random people snooping around go unnoticed.

“probably,” you admit.

“which means we’re running out of time faster than we thought.”

he frowns, his jaw tightening.

“great. so, we’re sitting ducks out here.”

you pull your handgun from its holster, checking the magazine out of habit.

“not exactly. i’m not going down without a fight.”

jun-ho smirks faintly, though the tension never leaves his eyes.

“you really are a piece of work, you know that?”

“and you’re irritating,” you shoot back, sliding the gun back into place.

“guess we make a great team.”

hours later.. the sun dips lower into the horizon, casting long shadows across the boat’s deck. the waves lap gently against the sides of the boat, though it does little to calm your racing thoughts.

you glance over at jun-ho, standing near the bow with his hands gripping the edge. the man’s posture is tense, his shoulders squared as if bracing against some invisible weight.

he hasn’t said much in hours, and you can’t help but notice the way his eyes flick toward the horizon and back, as though searching for something..or avoiding something.

breaking the silence, you clear your throat.

“you said you’ve been on this island before,” you start, your voice low but firm.

“what did you find? if you don’t mind me asking.”

jun-ho doesn’t turn to face you. his knuckles whiten against the edge of the boat, and his jaw tightens. the way his body stiffens tells you more than his silence does. he’s holding something back.

“it’s... complicated,” he says after a long pause, his voice tight.

you frown, stepping closer.

“complicated how?”

he finally turns his head, his dark eyes meeting yours for a fleeting moment before looking away.

“it’s not something i like talking about.”

jun ho’s answer frustrates you, but you bite back the sharp retort sitting on the tip of your tongue. you don’t have time for vague responses, not when every passing hour feels like another nail in the coffin for gi-hun..or worse, for hana who you could be looking for instead.

“look,” you say, trying to keep your tone measured, “if we’re going to do this together, i need to know what we’re up against. whatever you saw, whatever you know, it could be the difference between us finding gi-hun or walking into a trap.”

the police officer’s gaze drops to the deck, and for a moment, he says nothing. the sound of the waves fills the void, each crash amplifying the weight of his silence.

“i saw the frontman,” he says finally, his voice barely audible.

“wha- huh? the frontman?” you repeat, confused.

he nods, his eyes still fixed on the deck.

“he’s the one running the show, the man in charge of the island…i never got a good look at him. he always wore a mask but he nearly killed me.”

the tension in your chest tightens like a coil. this new piece of information does little to ease your anxiety. did gi-hun know about this?

“that’s it?” you press, your frustration bleeding into your voice.

“you didn’t see anything else?”

jun-ho hesitates, his jaw clenching as if debating whether or not to say more.

“no,” he says after a moment, but the hesitation in his tone sets off alarms in your head.

“what aren’t you telling me?” you ask, stepping closer, your eyes narrowing.

“nothing,” he snaps, a little too quickly.

you don’t believe him, but you let it go for now. pushing him won’t get you the answers you need, and you can feel your own nerves fraying with every passing second.

your thoughts drift, unbidden, to hana. the anxiety creeps in like a shadow, wrapping around your chest and squeezing until it’s hard to breathe.

where is she? is she safe? the thought of her being hurt..or worse..makes your stomach churn.

jun-ho’s voice breaks through your spiraling thoughts.

“what’s your other problem?” he asks, his tone softer now, almost hesitant.

“you mentioned it before, but you didn’t tell me what it was.”

you hesitate, your fingers twitching at your sides. you’ve kept this to yourself for days, carrying the weight of it alone because you didn’t think anyone else would understand. but now, standing here with jun-ho, you feel the tiniest crack in your resolve.

“it’s my sister,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

jun-ho’s brow furrows, concern flashing in his eyes.

“your sister?”

you nod, swallowing hard.

“her name’s hana. she went missing a few days ago. no note, no sign of where she might’ve gone. we don’t have money and our parents died a few years ago, so it’s not like she could’ve just left on her own. she wouldn’t do that. she wouldn’t just disappear.”

jun ho’s expression shifts, something unreadable flickering across his face… his hands clench at his sides, he looks as though he’s reliving a memory he’d rather forget.

“maybe your sister is on the island too,” he mumbles, almost to himself.

the words hit you like a slap. your head snaps up, your eyes widening.

“excuse me?”

he hesitates, his gaze dropping.

“there’s something you need to know,” he says quietly, his voice weighed down by something heavy.

you don’t say anything, your stomach twisting into knots as he sits down on the bench and motions for you to join him. you hesitate for a moment before sitting beside him, the tension between you almost unbearable.

“the island,” he begins, his tone measured but laced with something darker, “isn’t just a place. it’s a... game. a series of games, actually. people are brought there, and they’re forced to compete. if they win, they get an obscene amount of money. if they lose...”

he trails off, but you don’t need him to finish. the implication is clear, and it makes your blood run cold.

“you’re telling me it’s some kind of... death game?” you whisper, your voice trembling.

he nods grimly.

“exactly that… and if your sister is there...”

you don’t let him finish. you can’t. the thought is too unbearable. if hana is on that island, then every second counts.

“did she leave anything behind?” jun-ho asks, his voice gentler now.

you shake your head, your mind racing.

“nothing. no clues, no messages. just... gone.”

you feel something on your left hand and you look down to see that his hand brushes yours, tentative but steady. you glance at him, startled by the contact, but his expression is soft, almost reassuring.

“we’ll find her,” he says, his voice quiet but firm.

for a moment, you don’t respond. the weight of his words, the sincerity in his voice..it’s almost too much to bear.

“thanks,” you murmur, your voice thick with emotion.

the two of you sit there in silence as the moon rises above the ocean, casting its pale light over the water. without thinking, you lean against him, your head resting lightly on his chest. he stiffens at first but then relaxes, his arm brushing around your shoulders in a way that feels deliberate.

“we’ll figure this out,” he says again, his voice steady now.

you nod, closing your eyes for a brief moment. the closeness between you feels... safe. like you’re not alone in this, even if it’s just for a night.

by the time the sun rises, the moment is over. the vulnerability, the quiet intimacy.. it’s gone, replaced by the sharp focus of the mission ahead. neither of you mention it, but something unspoken lingers in the air, a bond forged in shared fears and quiet confessions.

four days. that’s all you have left.

in the early afternoon.. the boat slows as it approaches the shoreline. you grip the semi-automatic rifle in your hands, its familiar weight a comfort despite the unease settling in your chest.

the island looms ahead, shadowed and uninviting, with dense foliage lining the shore and no sign of life beyond the eerie stillness.

jun-ho steps off the boat first, his movements precise and calculated. the police officer’s handgun is holstered at his side as he holds the bigger automatic in his hands, his posture is straight.

you follow, your boots crunching softly against the gravel as you step onto the narrow path ahead. the rest of the team falls in line behind you, their weapons raised, eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of danger.

jun-ho turns to face the group, his expression stern.

“i’ll take point,” he says firmly, his gaze meeting yours briefly before moving on.

“i can lead,” you interject, your voice steady but firm.

“no?” you say.

“yes.” he protests.

“well, mr. policeman– were you in the special forces or is this you saying that you do not tru-”

“let me just protect you, okay?” he says your name after. jun ho is clear. he shakes his head, his jaw tightening.

the words catch you off guard, a warmth creeping into your chest despite the gravity of the situation. your grip on the rifle tightens as you search for something to say, but all you manage is a curt nod.

“fine,” you mutter, falling into step behind him.

the trail is narrow, barely wide enough for two people to walk side by side. bushes and vines press in from both sides, the occasional rustle of leaves setting your nerves on edge. jun-ho’s steps are deliberate, his eyes constantly scanning the path ahead, while you cover his back, your weapon at the ready.

you clear your throat, your voice low.

“everything look okay up there?”

he glances over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. “so far,” he replies, his tone clipped but calm.

the tension between you hums like a live wire, unspoken words lingering in the air. it’s not just the situation..it’s him. the way he moves, the way he keeps glancing back at you, as if he’s making sure you’re still there.

you push the thought aside, focusing on the task at hand. the gravel crunches beneath your boots as the trail twists and turns, the thick canopy overhead blocking out most of the sunlight. the rest of the team moves in a tight formation, their weapons raised, their eyes darting to every shadow.

“trail’s too clean,” you mutter under your breath, your gaze sweeping the ground.

“like it’s been used recently.”

jun-ho nods, his jaw tightening.

“I noticed.”

you glance at him, your brows furrowing.

“so, what’s the plan if this is a setup?”

he doesn’t answer right away, his focus on the path ahead. when he finally speaks, his voice is low and deliberate.

“we deal with it. we’ve gotten this far.”

jun ho’s confidence is steadying, even if you don’t entirely share it. you scan the surrounding foliage, the weight of the rifle in your hands grounding you.

the gravel path suddenly widens, opening into a small clearing. jun-ho raises his hand, signaling for everyone to stop. the group freezes, weapons raised, as his sharp eyes scan the area.

“what is it?” you ask, stepping closer to him.

he gestures to the far side of the clearing, where another trail picks up.

“it splits. two paths.”

your stomach tightens. splitting up isn’t ideal, but staying bunched together could make you an easy target.

“we should split into two groups,” jun-ho says, his voice calm but authoritative.

“cover more ground.”

you hesitate, glancing at him.

“are you sure about that? we don’t know what’s out here.”

“that’s why we keep communication tight,” he replies, his gaze locking with yours.

“stay close to your group. and don’t take risks.”

“fine,” you say again, your voice softer this time.

as the group splits, you end up with jun-ho, a decision that seems less about strategy and more about his insistence on staying close to you. you can feel the others’ eyes on you, their curiosity unspoken but palpable.

the new trail is narrower, the overgrowth pressing in from both sides. jun-ho keeps his pace steady, his shoulders brushing against yours occasionally as the path twists and turns. the silence between you stretches, heavy with unspoken tension.

finally, he breaks it.

“you okay back there?”

“i can handle myself,” you reply, a touch of defensiveness in your tone.

he glances at you, his lips twitching into the faintest hint of a smile.

“i know. doesn’t mean i won’t worry.”

the warmth from earlier returns, stronger this time. you focus on the path ahead, unwilling to let him see how his words affect you.

twelve hours later.. in the middle of the night in the lounge area, you feel suffocated. even with the boat’s attempt at cozy decor. the low hum of the boat engine is drowned out by the relentless patter of rain against the windows.

you sit on the worn-out couch, staring blankly at the table in front of you. the rain, usually a source of comfort, does nothing to soothe the storm brewing inside you.

you feel defeated. empty.

the mission on the island earlier had led to nothing. the island turned out to be nothing more than a small, desolate beach. no inhabitants. no clues. nothing.

three days left, and it felt like you were running out of time faster than you could grasp.

your chest tightens as your thoughts drift to hana. after losing your parents, she was the only person who made life bearable. she kept you grounded, gave you a purpose and a source to keep surviving after leaving the special forces. when mr. kim introduced you to gi-hun, you found a new sense of direction, but hana? hana was always home, and now she is gone.

your eyes sting, and before you know it, tears are slipping down your cheeks. you wipe at them angrily, frustrated at yourself for breaking down when you should be focusing. however, the thought of your sister..alone, scared, maybe hurt or worse..it’s too much.

“why would she do this?” you whisper to the empty room, your voice trembling.

“why would she risk her life for money?”

your hands tremble as they clench into fists on your lap. you know the answer. it was always about survival, about getting out of the hole life had thrown you both into. hana didn’t know the cost. she didn’t know about the games, about the killings.

she didn’t know that the promise of wealth came with the risk of ending up in a coffin on some forgotten island.

a sob escapes your lips, and you bury your face in your hands, the weight of it all crashing down. the fear, the hopelessness, the anger.. it spills out in ragged breaths and muffled cries.

you don’t notice the quiet footsteps until you feel a pair of arms wrap around you, pulling you into a warm, soft chest on the couch.

“it’s okay,” jun-ho’s voice is soft, steady, grounding.

“we’ll find her.”

you stiffen at first, caught off guard by his presence, but his hand moves up and down your back in slow, soothing strokes, and you let yourself lean into him.

“i don’t know...” you choke out, your voice breaking.

“i don’t know if we can.”

jun-ho pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you. his eyes are filled with something you don’t expect.. understanding.

“i lost my brother many years ago,” he says quietly, his voice tinged with a sadness that matches your own.

you blink, your tears pausing for a moment.

“your brother?”

he nods, his gaze distant.

“he disappeared without a trace. for years, i didn’t know what happened to him. i thought he was dead. then, when i found him... he wasn’t the same.”

you can see the pain etched into his features, the weight of a story he hasn’t told anyone else.

“but you know what?” he continues, his voice growing firmer.

“i still went after him because he was my brother.. because that’s what you do for your family. and that’s what we’re going to do for your sister. we’re going to find hana. we’re going to find gi-hun, and we’re going to end this.”

jun ho’s words wrap around you like a lifeline, pulling you out of the spiral of despair. you don’t know how he does it.

you don’t say anything, but you shift closer to him, burying your face in his chest again. the policeman’s arms tighten around you, holding you like he’s the only thing keeping you together.

as the rain continues to fall outside, the world beyond the boat fades away. all you can feel is the warmth of his embrace, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the way his presence anchors you.

after a while, you sit up, wiping at your tear-streaked face. jun-ho reaches out, his thumb brushing against your cheek, wiping away a stray tear. the tenderness of the gesture sends a shiver through you.

“you’re way stronger than you think,” he says softly, his voice carrying a quiet conviction.

your eyes meet his, and something shifts in the air between you. the tension that’s been building over the past few days comes to a head, and before you can think twice, you lean in.

the moment your lips meet his, it’s like the rest of the world disappears. the man’s left hand cups your cheek and his right hand grabs your lower waist, pulling you closer, and you feel the weight of his kiss.

he kisses you back with a quiet dominance, his other hand resting on your waist, holding you steady. it’s not just a kiss…it’s a promise. a promise that he’s here, that he’ll protect you, that you’re not alone.

your hands find their way to his shoulders, clutching at him like he’s the only thing tethering you to reality. the rain pounds against the windows, the boat rocking gently with the waves, but all you can focus on is him.

when you finally pull back, your breaths are heavy, your foreheads resting against each other. his eyes search yours, and you see the same vulnerability reflected back at you.

“we’ll get through this,” he murmurs, his voice low and steady.

you nod, your fingers brushing against his jaw.

“together.”

he kisses you again, slower this time, as if savoring the moment. and for the first time in days, you feel a spark of hope reignite in your chest.

outside, the rain continues to fall, the boat drifting along the waves. somewhere out there is the island you’ve been searching for, the answers you desperately need.

for now, at this moment, all you can think about is the strong man holding you and how his lips give you the reassurance that you desperately need.

a/n: hope you enjoyed <3

#hwang jun ho #gi hun #squid game #squid game season 2 #squid game s2 #kdrama #squid game spoilers #hwang in ho #hwang jun ho x reader

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ganondoodle · 11 months ago

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totk rewrite- botw2 edition

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

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

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

okay START:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

LORE/STORY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(old concept for the krog forest/dekutree boss)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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elikajinnie · 7 months ago

Text

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How can it be worse?” Lara muttered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stick to the shadows. Avoid open paths. Survive.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Keep going, you told yourself. Ignore it.

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

Something was watching you.

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

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

“Can you run?” you asked urgently.

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

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

You didn’t look back. You couldn’t.

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

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

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

The Beast had found its prey.

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

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

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

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

But it was his face that rooted you in place.

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

Cause then he tilted his head back—and howled.

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

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

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

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

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

Don’t stop. Don’t look back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’d stunned him.

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

Your blood ran cold.

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

The collar.

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

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

“Shit,” you whispered, backing up instinctively.

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

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

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

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

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

Move. Don’t stop. Don’t look back.

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

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

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

The Beast was already leaping after you.

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

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

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

There was no time to think.

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

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

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

Keep moving.

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

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

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

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

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

It wasn’t hard for him to catch up.

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

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

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

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

A shadow loomed over you.

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

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

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

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

Your gasp caught in your throat when he leaned down.

Closer.

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

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

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

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

“You… run well.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hunter.”

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

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

Like hell that was going to stop you.

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

Your movements barely fazed him.

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

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

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

“No—wait, wait—!”

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

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

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

Fast.

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

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

Someone had grabbed his attention.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A distant, loud howl cut through the silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was quiet. Too quiet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That made you pause. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A low, distant howl echoed through the fog.

You both froze.

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

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

Your stomach dropped. He was coming.

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

But then—

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

Your blood ran cold.

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

He was there.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t care—three!”

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

The bells. You heard the bells.

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

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

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

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

He was right there.

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

He’s toying with us.

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

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

The bells stopped.

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

Silence.

Where is he?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t wait.

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

Two more. Just two more.

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

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

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

Then you heard it.

A faint jingling.

Shit.

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

A shadow.

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

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

The jingling slowed. Stopped.

You frowned.

Why did he stop?

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

No. No, no, no—

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

You didn’t think—you ran.

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

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

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

He was gaining on you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Beast stopped too.

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

And then, to your horror, he straightened up.

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

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

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

Your blood ran cold. Little bunny.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re alone,” he said simply.

The words hit you like a punch to the gut.

“What—?”

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

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

Another rumbling chuckle. “Am I?”

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

But there was no one.

You were alone.

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

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

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

And then he moved.

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

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

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

He’s still coming.

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

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

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

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

You didn’t wait to see more—you ran.

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

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

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

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

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

Everywhere you looked, the theme was clear. Hunting.

This was his map.

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

And right now, you were the prey.

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

“Run, little bunny.”

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

But this couldn’t last forever.

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

And then you saw it.

The hatch.

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

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

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

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

He’s right there.

But it didn’t matter—because you jumped.

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

And then you fell.

Everything went black for a heartbeat.

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

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

You were okay.

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

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

You did it.

You survived.

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

The first.

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

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

But rest didn’t come easily.

The dream came swiftly, vivid and all too real.

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

You ran.

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

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

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

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

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

And then—he caught you.

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

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

But then, something shifted.

He didn’t harm you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then you woke up.

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

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

But it felt so real.

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

It was just a dream…

A dream.

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

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

I need to clear my head.

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

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

But then you froze.

Two figures stood just beyond the thin veil of fog.

The Trickster and Ghostface.

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

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

Your stomach dropped. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t look back.

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

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

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

No.

No, no, no.

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

Your blood ran cold.

You were on his map.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then you heard it.

A low, deep rumble carried through the trees.

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

Bells.

Your heart plummeted.

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

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

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

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

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

“Found you, little bunny.”

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

Run.

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

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

He’s toying with you.

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

He was right there.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then you heard it.

The faint clink of bells.

Your stomach dropped.

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

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

Then he stopped.

Right in the middle of the room.

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

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

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

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

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

He stopped at the first locker.

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

A low rumble escaped him—disappointed but patient.

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

You watched as he moved to the second locker.

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

Empty again.

He chuckled darkly, the sound making your skin crawl.

Then he turned to your locker.

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

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

His clawed hand reached out, wrapping around the handle.

No, no, no—

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

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

You didn’t move. You didn’t breathe.

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

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

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

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

That was too close.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then you heard it.

A growl.

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

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

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

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

Your breath hitched.

And that included him.

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

Your eyes snapped up.

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

Your heart dropped.

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

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

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

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

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

Move. Don’t stop.

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

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

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

But you weren’t done yet.

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

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

It worked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The sound came first. Faint, but clear.

Bells.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart stopped for a second.

“Oh, shit,” Haddie whispered.

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

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

The air erupted in chaos.

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

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

“Go, go, go!” he yelled.

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

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

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

He’s looking at me.

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

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

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

But then you heard it—snap.

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

"Shit!" you gasped, clutching your thigh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s close,” he said breathlessly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were alone now.

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

But then, a scream.

Steve’s scream.

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

Steve was on the hook.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

══════⊹⊱≼≽⊰⊹══════

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Bold ones are untaggable* Wanna be in the perm taglist? Lmk <3

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gaysindistress · 7 months ago

Text

Things Minthara says

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#minthara baenre x reader #minthara baenre x tav #minthara imagine #minthara x reader #baldurs gate minthara #minthara bg3 #minthara baenre #bg3 minthara #minthara #minthara x tav #Minthara fanfic

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sheerfreesia007 · 3 months ago

Text

Talk Nerdy To Me

Pairing: Lee Know x Reader

Word count: 3,512

Content warnings: Fluff, verbal fighting, almost physical fighting

Summary: Minho’s the super sharp and intelligent assistant to your father at your family’s company that you’ve always been drawn to. You’ve always tried to keep it professional between the two, but one night at a party that you attend in your father’s stead you finally hit your limit of being a professional with Minho.

A/N: Divider was created by @bernardsbendystraws, thank you for sharing your dividers with tumblr!

You sit in one of the many chairs around the long conference table on the department floor that you’re a manager over while staring out the large floor to ceiling windows in the conference room. This morning is your weekly supervisor meeting with all of the department supervisors that you’re in charge of and you’re trying to stay awake while updating your notes on your tablet. Last night you had gone over the two new contracts that your department had been able to secure for the company, it had taken you many hours to finally get through each contract and you hadn’t gotten much sleep. Raising your hand you quickly hide a large yawn behind your hand while a few of your supervisors snickering and chuckle softly at you.

“Late night?” asked one of the supervisors with a sly grin on her face and you roll your eyes at her implication before huffing softly.

“Yeah, two contracts needed to be reviewed last night before this meeting.” you told her and she grimaced at your words.

“You always work so hard. Why don’t you act like any of the other department managers where they make the supervisors do all the work?” asked one of the male supervisors which caused a few of them to hush him quickly which made you laugh.

“Because they don’t really have anything to prove.” you say sarcastically and he tilted his head to the side at your words. “All the other managers are just that, managers. But this is my family’s company and I intend to inherit it after my father finally retires. Or when my mother finally forces him to retire.” you say causing the table to chuckle softly as they all nod their heads. “Plus I’ve worked my way up from an entry level position to manager in the last ten years. I’m used to working hard for what I want and I’m not going to stop now just because I’m in a manager position and the daughter of the company owner.” you say confidently as some of the supervisors nod their heads with nostalgic looks on their faces.

“I remember when you were just starting as the front desk clerk.” One of them mentions and a few others begin to coo softly while nodding their heads.

“You were so young and cute. It always brightened my day when you greeted me when I came into work.” someone else chimed in and you grinned as you nodded your head at them.

“Anyway let’s start talking about the two contracts I went over last night. They’re going to be two large projects that we will have to split the whole floor into two teams to handle them both.” you began to explain to them all as you stood from your chair to talk in front of the whole room.

When the meeting was finally over and all the details for the two new projects were mapped out you hung back in the conference room to talk to some of the supervisors who hadn’t been able to speak up during the meeting. You stood with them at the front of the conference room listening to their concerns with a contract that was finishing up and the two new contracts that were coming up. They were worried about how it would stretch the employees and tax them as they worked from one contract to the next without much of a break in between.

“Can we schedule vacation time for the employees who finish on the current contracts earlier and then once the new contracts start up the employees who were still working get to take vacation at that time? That way we aren’t completely without personnel to work on the contracts?” you ask as you begin brainstorming with the supervisors.

“That could work but right now both of our units are still all working on the contract.” said one of the supervisors.

“And the other units have already finished?” you asked curiously and they both nodded their heads. “Then starting next week I’ll have the other units schedule vacation time for their employees. I’ll request aide from another floor to use their advisory team to come in and double check the work that’s already done so that your units won’t have to worry about that. And once the units start coming back from their vacations we’ll schedule your units for vacation time.” you explain to them. “If that doesn’t work we can always outsource the last bit of work so that our personnel aren’t burnt out. I don’t want that to happen. But I need you to keep me updated as much as possible so that if I need to outsource the work I can make it happen quickly.” you advise them firmly and they both quickly nod their heads at you.

“Thank you. This will take a lot of load off our employees.” one of them said and you smiled while nodding your head.

“Of course, if there’s a way for me to make it less of a burden for the employees while still getting the work done I’ll make sure it happens.” you tell them. Just then there’s the soft sound of someone clearing their throat and your eyes dart over to the man standing in the conference room doorway. He’s tall and slender while impeccably dressed in a charcoal gray suit and white button up shirt with a crimson tie. His hair is styled perfectly to accentuate his sharp almost austere face while a pair of large black rimmed glasses sit on his face.

“Minho.” you greet him warmly as you smile and nod your head at him. The supervisors both smile at each other before excusing themselves from the room quickly. You frown softly as you notice their wandering eyes staying trained on you and Minho as he steps closer to you and further into the room.

“Your father would like to have a lunch meeting with you today. Are you free?” he informs you before asking softly as he comes to stand in front of you, his pretty dark colored eyes are slightly magnified behind the lenses of his glasses and you find yourself getting lost in them for a moment before you pull back mentally.

“Of course I’m free. Are you joining us?” you ask knowingly and he smirks at you before rolling his eyes playfully at you.

“Of course I’m joining you. You know your father can’t go a day without having me at his side.” Minho says teasingly and you laugh brightly at his words as you nod your head.

“He’d lose his head if it weren’t for you.” you tell him appreciatively as you smile up at him. “Let me just grab my jacket and purse and we can go.” you tell him and he nods his head at you before gesturing for you to lead the way.

Minho had been your father’s assistant for the last six years and ever since he had been hired he had managed to completely turn your father’s work life and home life balance around. He was not only very intelligent and proactive in his work but he was damn good at his job. Minho was the ultimate package as an assistant, he was quick and able to stay a few steps ahead of anything that happened during your father’s day. He was also keen on being discreet in everything that he did and the way he was able to manage a room with an almost iron fist was so impressive to you.

When you had met Minho for the first time you had been a mid level employee and on the fast track for supervisor. You had extended your help to him when he first started and while he didn’t normally take you up on that offer much when he did come to for help it always seemed to bring the two of you closer together. You both had become fast close friends and there was often talk around the office about your relationship, which you knew would most likely happen but you had tried to keep it under wraps so as not to cause any undue attention to the both of you.

You knew you were attracted to Minho ever since meeting him for the first time but because you both worked in your family’s company and the fact that you would eventually be inheriting the company you had pushed your feelings to the side. You didn’t want to mix pleasure with business and you would be damned if anyone had something to say about you because of who you found attractive. But it had been much harder than you had thought it would be to keep this professional with Minho. He was just a magnetizing person and he always brought a teasing side of you that not many people were privy to. It was intoxicating how much your relationship with Minho messed with your emotions and feelings for him and while you knew you should stop it, that was just something you couldn’t see yourself doing yet. You were playing with fire and while you were careful you knew eventually that you would get burned, you just hoped it wouldn’t be too bad of a burn.

“I need you to attend a party as a representative for the company.” your father said, sounding slightly chastised as the clinking of silverware filled the high end restaurant. You sat at a small round table with your father and Minho eating lunch while discussing things about the company. “Your mother has booked us a spa getaway this weekend before we leave for our cruise. And she refuses to let me attend this party. She keeps saying that the party will just stress me out and take all the hard work of the spa staff to relax me.” he says dejectedly and you burst out in bright happy laughter as you nod your head at his words.

“Yeah, that sounds like Mom.” you say while chuckling as your eyes knowingly dart over to Minho who’s smirking softly at you with sparkling eyes. You both knew how much your mother was adamant that your father should slow down and retire soon, it was a daily conversation that they had no matter how much your father tried to push back. “I’ll be more than happy to go in your stead.” you told him as you cut into your chicken. Minho slid his plate over towards you and your eyes darted quickly over to it before grinning widely as you spotted the onions in his dish piled up in a small heap at the edge of his dish. You moved quickly and gathered his onions before moving them onto your plate as his top lip curled slightly in distaste.

“Good, you’ll be going with Minho as your date.” your father said jovially as he laughed at the little display of the two of you sharing food.

“What?!” you asked surprised as your head whipped up to stare at your father. He was grinning at you while leaning his chin in his hand as his elbow rested on the table his eyes sparkling delightedly at your response.

“Mmhmm, Minho will be your date. The party is this Saturday night and it’s so short notice that you won’t be able to keep track of who’s who at the party so he’ll be attending to make sure you know who you’re talking to and who you shouldn’t talk to. He does it for me all the time.” your father explains while waving his hand dismissively. “Plus the two of you always look so good together whenever you both attend a party.” your father adds with a cheeky grin.

You sit there blinking at your father for a few moments. At first his explanation of having Minho there to let you know who was in attendance was fine with you but that last comment made a blush to begin creeping up the back of your neck. Your eyes worriedly darted over to Minho but he was busily cutting into his dish but when you felt your stare he looked and smiled softly trying to reassure you that it’d be fine. You nodded silently before turning back to your father who was watching the both of you in awed silence with a happy glow on his face.

The evening of the party is filled with glamorous gowns and suits, expensive champagne and alcohol, michelin star food and a live band that plays in the corner of the venue. You’re walking along the edge of the room with your arm looped through Minho’s and he leans down towards your ear so that he could be heard over the din of everyone at the party. You’re grateful that he’s at your side because your father wasn’t joking that there would be a lot of people here at the party to talk to and that you wouldn’t have be able to keep up with all of it on your own.

“This is Mr. Goo and his wife, he’s an old business associate who works with the company on the music side.” Minho whispers in your ear and you curb the shiver that wants to race up and down your spine as you nod your head imperceptibly at him before you’re turning to Mr. Goo with a happy smile on your face.

”Mr. Goo, Mrs. Goo; it’s a pleasure to meet you.” You greet the two of them and they both nod their heads at you in greeting. Mr. Goo launches into talk about the contracts that your family’s company has with his company while Mrs. Goo sidles up to Minho’s side with a soft pleasant smile on her face. You try not to pay attention to Mrs. Goo and Minho but suddenly Minho is gently touching your elbow as he leans down towards your ear.

”Mrs. Goo wants to talk to me about scheduling a meeting with your father. I’ll be right back.” He says softly into your ear and you nod your head in response before looking up at him silently. You watch as Minho walks away with an eager Mrs. Goo before you turn back to Mr. Goo to continue your conversation which he is more than happy to do.

”Do you remember the first time we met?” Mr. Goo asks you and you beam up at him happily while nodding your head.

”Of course, it was when my father had first started the company.” You tell him happily. “He had brought me along with him as he walked up and down Main Street in the music district of the city. “Your music store was the second one we visited and you let me play with some of the instruments as you held them. My favorite was the drums though, I really loved when you let me bang the drumsticks on the drum set.” You admitted to him and he chuckled softly at your answer while nodding his head.

”Those were good times.” He said softly.

”What were good times Mr. Goo?” Came a rather loud obnoxious voice that pulled your attention away from Mr. Goo who frowned at the newcomer. There stood a smug young man probably a year or two older than you dressed in a simple gray suit with a dusty rose button up shirt. His smug smirk irks you as his eyes dart up and down your body as he leans in towards you causing you to glare at him darkly while straightening your spine. The man looks at you surprised for a moment before his eye lids fell to half mast and his smirk widened on his face. “And who do we have here? The next Mrs. Goo?” Asked the man lecherously as he leaned closer towards you and you bristled at his words.

”Don’t insult Mr. Goo or Mrs. Goo.” You hissed at him quietly as your eyes sparked with anger.

”And what’s it to you sweetheart?” Asks the man as his eyes linger on the neckline of your dress. “You’re just another vapid hanger on who wants a piece of a man’s business.” He sneers at you and you feel rage fill you consuming you whole as you open your mouth to snap back at him.

But as you open your mouth and begin to respond someone dressed in navy blue suit shifts in front of you effectively cutting off your view of the nasty smug prick and getting in between the two of you. Your head whips up to stare at the back of Minho’s head and you feel your rage start to dissipate.

“You should mind your manners when speaking to a future owner of Levanter Incorporated.” Minho says calmly in a low tone that holds an edge that raises the hairs on the back of your neck. “Not only is she the future owner of the company but she also had worked her way up from the bottom in the company just so she could understand the company from the inside out.” Minho says stoically and you can see the man blanch at his words. “You better think about the next words to leave your mouth because if you think for a second I’m going to let you insult her intelligence and get away with you have another thing coming for you. Namely my fists.” Minho says in a tone that lowers causing everyone to listen in.

You stand there shocked and surprised at how effortlessly Minho had stepped in and shut down the man’s rude behavior. Your hand comes up to rest gently against Minho’s back and he turns his head to look over his shoulder at you for a silent moment.

”He’s not worth it.” You tell him softly and he nods his head in agreement before he turns to you and guides you out of the party to an empty balcony. You move to lean against the railing of the balcony taking in a deep breath before slowly blowing it out.

“I’m sorry that I reacted so ugly around you.” Minho said softly and you turned to look at him with a bewildered look on your face. “I never should’ve left your side so that he could have the chance to insult you like that. I saw red when I heard him call you a vapid hanger on. I nearly swung at him. I was so angry.” Minho began to explain and you quickly shook your head as you stepped closer to him raising your hands to grip his biceps firmly as your eyes connected with his.

”Minho, you stood up for me against an insecure bully of a pathetic man. Never apologize for that. I didn’t need air because of what you said, I was outrageously mad about him calling me stupid that I was ready to rip him to shreds.” You admitted to him and you huffed softly before smiling softly at him. “You kind of stole my shot at standing up for myself.” You tease him gently and he frowns at you softly. “But I do gotta admit it was kind of hot watching you eviscerate him.” You tell him honestly with a soft smirk on your face as your eyes rake up and down his navy blue suit covered body with the white button shirt and his dark framed glasses. Minho smirks down at you as he steps closer to you with his dark brown eyes sparkling teasingly behind his glasses.

”You’re only attracted to me because of my body and looks.” He says teasingly but you raise a hand to press it into his chest as you shake your head at him.

”No, I’ve been attracted to you for quite a long time Minho. Dare I say since you started with the company.” You confess softly and he stares at you in silent shock as his eyes widen slowly at your words. “At first it was your intelligence, your quick wit, that sharp mind of yours in damn sexy.” You say sultrily as you lean in towards him. “Your fit lean body is just an added bonus.” You tell him before winking as a smirk slips onto your face. You watch as his eyes change from sparkling to something heated that makes a pit to form in the bottom of your stomach.

”Want me to talk nerdy to you?” He asks sultrily and you grin wickedly at him as his own smirk matches your grin. You grip the lapel of his suit and pull him close as his smirk widens on his face as his eyes zero in on your lips.

”Maybe after you take me out to dinner first.” You tell him softly as you lean in close to him teasingly before you release him and side step him to start walking to the doors leading back inside. After a moment you hear his hurried footsteps following you and you smirk softly as you silently thank your father for giving you this opportunity with Minho.

SKZ Taglist: @kayleefriedchicken, @babigriin, @inlovewithstraykids, @channiesrightasscheek, @kaiyaba

@bookswillfindyouaway

#my writing #stray kids #skz #skz x reader #lee know #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #lee minho

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on-a-lucky-tide · 9 months ago

Text

Nik gets caught playing his favourite sport: Price Watching.

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

"What're you smiling at?"

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

She raised an eyebrow.

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

"The thing."

"Da, the thing he does."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I am right, you'll see."

"What else?"

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

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

"He would say no."

"To a coffee?"

"Not to the coffee."

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

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

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

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

"Da."

"I'll tell him, you know."

"No you will not."

She sighed. They lapsed into silence again.

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

"You should ask him out," she whispered.

"I am too old for him."

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

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

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

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

"Da."

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

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

"Macabre, even for you."

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

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

"It is enough."

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

"This is true."

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

"Da."

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

"He could fall in love with me."

"Jesus."

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

#nikprice #cod nikolai #captain john price #kate laswell

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 2 months ago

Note

I am very intrigued to hear your expanded thots on sub!joe and pegging! I think it adds an extra layer of vulnerability to their relationship that is super interesting. Plus as long as you don’t include it in one of the main fics, people can choose to read it as a part of that universe or not 😊

sub!joe brain dump (NSFW edition)

I'm glad others want to hear about this because!!! It's been bouncing around in my brain for weeks now!

Note: There's more discussion about how the dom/sub dynamics are started, feelings, and relationship in this too.

CW: BDSM dynamics (heavily described, D/S dynamics, swinging), 18+ content (pegging described)

want to read other sub!joe? you're in luck (please note: main fics do not have all these dynamics; this an expansion of the entire universe)

sub!joe masterlist | joe burrow masterlist | main masterlist

________________________________

It always starts with consent. And anything new is always discussed outside of sex. Always, always, always, always. It's non negotiable. I know I haven't talked about it a lot in the fics. But there's a ton more that's happening behind the scenes. Between their escapades, there's a lot of conversations about boundaries, wants, if anything's changed. Safe, sane, and consensual. Pillars that the two of them live so deeply by.

When these dynamics first started cropping up, Domme sat Joe down. She has experience prior to Joe about it, mentioned to Joe in broad strokes she was previously apart of 'the scene'. Joe took it in stride that it was her history. It intrigued him a little, and he asked all his questions but doesn't delve into specifics. Domme never forced it into their relationship either, didn’t cram it in at every turn. Just mentioned it once, let Joe ask his questions and then let it go.

But the signs feel so obvious to her. They keep cropping up, how he reaches for her in a crowded room. Sighs into her when they’re alone. Jokes about wishing he could just his brain off. So, Domme makes it a conversation. She only intends to bring it up one more time, and again, let Joe decide if he wants to press it further. She brings the conversation to his attention with a soft and sweet, “Hey, I'm noticing similar things in you and our relationship that I’ve seen in prior dynamics and I want to make sure that a) you like it and b) to discuss if you want to make it a more solid and integrated part of our relationship?”

Of course Joe asks what she means, so she lays it--all facts, all, “I’ve noticed..” or “It appears..” so there’s room for her to be corrected. Which Joe doesn't. Because everything she lays out is true, is what it seems like.

Or so Joe thinks until he asks, “What does it remind you of?”

“Dominant and submissive roles and dynamics--that’s what it reminds me of.”

“And I’m the--” He can’t say it.

“Well, you’re Joe. But if we map your behaviors onto that framework, the behaviors look like those of a submissive.”

It’s careful. Joe notices that much. She doesn’t call him a sub. Just talk about the behaviors. But he’s taking the leaps. He’s seeing where the conclusions, and summations will all lead. Joe hesitates, hadn't really considered himself a sub or anything. He wasn't oozing a super domineering personality but he took care of shit. He handled shit as it came up, when it needed to be handled. Like he was supposed to do. How could he be a sub when he's literally a leader? It's not like he lets Domme do everything.

But she's, again, so fucking smooth and soft with it, "Think about it like this. When it's the two of us together, you seem to relax a bit more. You let me do more things for you than you let others do for you. Do you like it when I step up for you in specific situations?"

“Yes.” Because it makes him feel cared for. Which is easy to answer, to admit too.

“Do you like it when I praise you? When I take a bit more of the control? Not all, but when you get to pass some of the weight over to me, what do you feel?”

“Relieved.” It’s like Joe can breathe easier. “But you feel the same right? When I help you out?”

“Yes,” she nods. “But I like shouldering that weight. I take orders all day at work. I like giving them sometimes.”

Joe is exhausted by them. He makes decisions all the time that by the end of the day he’s sick of it. “So you’re not annoyed when I call you asking for help on what to ask my chef for the week?”

“Never,” she grins. “It makes me feel needed. Like, if intimacy could go into a gas tank and is added into and taken out of. You relying on me in those ways fills my intimacy tank--to make tiny decisions when you don’t want to or are too exhausted too. Or when you say you just need to hear my voice or want me to give you the least amount of choices possible makes my whole body flutter.”

He nods, chewing at the inside of his cheek. He knows the feeling when she just steps up, when she’s just there for him--solid, unwavering, unflinching at even his silliest and tiniest of needs. “And me passing some of the smaller things onto you fills mine using that logic.”

The more Joe chews on it, the more he realizes, yeah no, he really likes it when she takes care of things for him. When she's with him at events, and she just gets it when his battery dies or when she helps navigate a conversation Joe feels himself slipping in, or when they're out shopping together and she rolls her shoulders back and strides with every step, confident and sure of herself in ways that Joe is confident, but that's full of practice and a quiet kind of internal pep talk. Joe's fought to be confident and she just is. So it starts slowly, the two of them easing into this dynamic.

The dom/sub came up near the year mark and they've been together a while now, since late, late 2021/early 2022.

Domme sits Joe down to do a 'Will Do, Won't Do, Want to Try' list after their initial conversation. She hands him a sheet of paper, walks him through folding it into thirds and then has him label each column as one of the following: Will Do, Won't Do, Want to Try. Explains that the idea is that Joe writes down what he's willing to do (inside the bedroom and inside their dynamic), what he won't do at all (hard limits), and stuff he's willing to try or maybe he's a little unsure about.

"Think of it like a stop light. Will Do is green, you're all for it. Yellow is the stuff you want to try that we'll talk through and about, make sure there's rules in place. Won't do are red lights. Hard limits, no goes, no matter what."

It seems simple enough. They work in separate rooms for a little bit but then Joe misses her and creeps out his office and kisses all over her face so it gets tabled for the day. But for the better half a week, it's swirling in the back of Joe's mind. It’s intriguing to take the plunge into all his fantasies.

They finish their lists and then comes the hard part where they have to talk it through. He sets the page down, a few lines crossed out and then nearly bolts.

But Domme coaxes him in, her voice soft and smooth, and silky, makes him feel safe when she says, "So, we can start easy. You tell me when you're most excited about from your lists." She doesn't read it, just trusts him enough to know he'll share it truthfully. Joe melts into the couch cushions right there, thinking to himself, I'll do whatever she'd fucking ask just as long as she keeps talking to me like that.

Joe's hard limits are like no visible bruises, no excessive pain (because he is a professional athlete so he needs to be able to discern a sting from something more worrisome), no tight bondage, and nothing that could cause severe harm--it's all reasonable. And Domme helps him sort of categorize and clarify as needed. But she distinctly notes there's nothing on his list about anything penetrative on his end. Like he couldn't fathom it all.

They establish safe words. His is turquoise. Hers is dragonfly. Joe's practiced in his head, Too much--use turquoise. It's the phrase Domme used with him. That if it ever became too much he could use 'turquoise'. Just over and over and over, so he makes the association.

When they first get used to the dynamic, Joe slips and uses, "Stop." And what he was trying to say was something like, "I need to catch my breath."

But the second the 'p' pops off his lips, Domme's pulling away from him, settles off to his side, her hands hover. "What was too much? Need space?"

It's the first time that Joe realizes just how much words matter and even though it wasn't his word, she's listening, she's paying attention to every little thing. Just like he does. So, any time Joe needs a breather, he's careful to use something like, "Need a second," Or "Can we take a time out?"

It may sound silly sometimes, but it works. It lets them both know what's needed. Wording is so incredibly important during their sexual adventures and even outside of the bedroom too. If Joe's overwhelmed in public or about something, he's a lot more mindful on how to communicate that. "Hey, can I take five?" or "I think I need just a second before we go out."

It's Domme that brings up pegging the first time.

They check in on the Three W list (Will Do, Won't Do, Want to Try) like once a quarter, so 3/4 times a year. Joe's pretty consistent. Literally changes maybe one thing (marks are okay during the off season or asks if something they sort of rotated out to come back around [looking at you wax play]). So when Domme parts her lips and says, "I want to try pegging,’

Joe swears his eyes are going to fall out of his head. "On me? Peg me?"

She nods. He doesn't hate the idea, but it makes his stomach uneasy, "I need more time on that one. Can we loop back around to it?" Joe stews on it for two weeks. Does he want that? Would it be strange? Would it hurt? What would he do while being pegged? Would he feel different afterwards?

On a Friday afternoon, when Domme's off from work and finished her errands, and Joe's back from his meetings, Joe resurfaces the conversation with a simple, "Can we talk?"

They talk through every minute detail. Everything. Dildo size, lubrication type, prep work, safe words, scenario (Joe has to be the one to ask for it. Even if it terrifies him, the ball has to be in his court for this)--everything, they talk about everything.

It's so strange at first, even though Joe asked for it, and Domme's being so gentle, he can't help but tense when the first wet finger traces his rim. Like is he actually about to do this? She pauses, free hand smoothing over his back, kisses up his spine. "Want me to stop or do you need a second?"

He's usually so composed, can follow through on a decision once it's made. But this feels like it could shatter him. Could totally ruin him everything he understands about himself. "Just a second."

Domme kisses at his back, a hum shaking at his spine. "Take all the time you need."

Eventually with a lot of encouragement, he lets her proceed and the push through the mental is the hardest part, because once she's in, the pad of her singular finger working at his prostate so gingerly, Joe's a goner.

He pushes back into her hand and she laughs, not maliciously, a puffy satisfied sound. "Do you like that?" It echoes the question he offers all the time, usually in jest. But Domme knows the truth, that Joe loves the praise. That Joe's keening each time she tells him just how well he's doing, how good he's making her feel. To hear it back, with the delicious twist of his stomach at the careful work--Joe's literally on cloud fucking 9.

She works slow and deliberate, eases him open with the second finger. Whispers into his skin, "Look at you. Doing so well for me. Fucking perfect. Want it that bad?"

Joe doesn't think he can get enough, pushes and pushes and pushes back on her fingers and palm. He comes apart on her fingers, a soft and easy pull over his cock, the press of her fingers in his ass. It's messy, how hard and how violently he comes, but Joe is absolutely liquid for the rest of the night. His brain is just gone. Totally gone. Utter silence. He can barely respond to Domme. Barely hold the glass of water.

He settles squarely onto her chest when she slips onto the bed later, tucks him up to his chest with the comforter. "Did so well for me. Took it so well. Made my misty eyed when you came, trusting me with that." Joe hears it, a smile ghosting over his face as he presses his nose into her breasts.

Joe does feel a little different. But not like he thought he would. He feels...so content. He wakes first and her fingers are still in his hair, he's proud of himself for actually going through with it. It's an instant classic. Joe still feels like Joe, like a man. He washes his face, pokes around in the kitchen, answers some emails, tries to ease her awake but she still jolt. He laughs at her huff of annoyance. "I know, I know,” he coos. “Mornings are rough. I'll sweeten the deal with a breakfast pastry."

"Should've started with that,” she huffs.

It just feels right as the two of them orbit in the bedroom, getting ready. But she pauses him in the closet. "How do you feel?"

"Good. Really good." Because that’s all there is to. She made him feel so fucking good. And that’s all that matters.

And if Joe thinks her fingers are magical. The strap is literally god tier.

It takes Joe a few tries to work up to the dildo. And it's just the tip, oh it's just the fucking tip and Joe's already damn near crying at how good it feels. He gets all puffy, chest heaving, begging her to keep going. "Need more, god, please."

He loves it when she pulls at his hair, bring his head up and whisper against his shoulder, "Watch yourself."

The mirror reflects back his own fucked out bliss--messy hair, puffy pink lips, red chest, the echoes of her kisses and bites scattered over his body. He wants to watch, wants to see her take him, claim him like this but it just feels so fucking good. Makes his brain go totally silent. He doesn't even know what's saying, if he's saying anything. Just becomes an absolute mess of himself. And she always makes sure the drop doesn't hit so hard, though it always sort of does.

She likes to take him hard after he gets used to it. The growl of her voice into his body as her hips snap into his, bringing him under, so far under he does not remember his name. Doesn't know it by sound, only knows her voice--can't pick out words or their meaning, just knows they're taking up space, that something is happening.

Joe is brought so utterly to feeling, that he swears he can feel the ridges in the strap, the faux veins, the divot of the tip, and he adores this space. It strips him bare. He's not the quarterback, not the head of the franchise. Joe's not a man, not a son, not a partner, not anything. He is just. He is. He's his muscles, tendons, ligaments. He is sinew. He is sweat. He is the puff. He is the labored breath. He is the begging. He is the pleading. He is the curl of his toes. He just fucking is. He exists as nothing more than the feeling of closeness between the two of them and it holds him. Fills his cup, leaves his thirst quenched.

Then she coddles him, bring him the protein shake or water, praise him with soft whispers against his ears, play in his hair, make sure his phone is on the charger, his alarm set if he needs it, pick out his practice clothes (when needed) and Joe doesn't need to ask for her to do it because he's not going to be online enough to do it.

Joe doesn't ask to be pegged often, but when he does he asks it with a shy look on his face, like he's scared she'll say no.

But Domme never does. Always grins up at him and nods. "I'd be happy to." And they still talk about the scene, because it keeps Joe at ease, but it leaves him with the thrill of anticipation buzzing at his skin. Makes him hot with glee for the time to come. He just feels so safe with Domme about it. She makes him feel so, so safe.

When he brought up how he worried about what it would mean afterwards, she nodded, didn't make him feel crazy for being worried if he'd still 'feel like a man'. "Let's walk through. You do anal and then what? What do you think happens?" She didn't discount him, didn't tell him it was stupid. She just wanted to know and walked through it with him.

"Well, I've never taken anything up the ass before, but what if it does change something? What if I realize something that wasn't there before?"

"Then you know better, baby."

"What if I like too much?” he asks.

"Well, then we either get hemorrhoid cream and use the strap more, or I get to introduce you to the world of threesomes."

"Baby, I know about threesomes," Joe laughs.

"Nah, I mean the real deal."

He grimaces at the thought. "No, I like the idea because it's you. I don't think I want an actual dick. That just-no, hard no."

Her grin is bright, arm sliding over his shoulder. "Then I don't think you have much to worry about, love. Sounds like you already know plenty about yourself."

Because they check in so often about the 3W list, they also use that time to check in about the relationship. They'll discuss goals they have for themselves in the relationship.

Joe wants to be better at staying grounded and connected during the season and he has grown in that regard ,but when they're losing he tends to retreat and sometimes it leaves Domme feeling iced out.

Domme wants to get better about not always taking over in social situations. Which is why we see in the NFL Honors blurb, she doesn't overstep, just encourages Joe. She's a social butterfly and protective over Joe. Which he appreciates when he needs it, but it's not an every time thing which can be hard for her to dial back on at times.

They can talk about everything, "Hey, a couple weeks ago you said something and it wasn't what you said, it's how you said it. It's still bothering me. Can I talk to you about it?"

To anyone on the outside it sounds like a work meeting, talking about KPI's or goals for the year, but for them it's just how it works. Because they're in the scene, it's super important that they do have this space to talk about their relationship, even if it can feel clinical.

What’s not clinical though is what happens behind those closed doors. That is all guttural, hot and biting. Just want they need, what they know the other loves.

Domme, because she was in the scene first, eases Joe into it. She has a few friends still connected to the scene and knows about a rather large party happening right towards the end of the season. Asks if Joe wants to go when she finds out about it about two weeks in advance. Joe, now more comfortable with their dynamic about a year into the relationship, agrees to go.

He’s not barred her from going previously, just asks that she abides by some ground rules: no sexual penetration, she can’t dominate anyone, but she can flirt if she wants, kissing is fine, she can sub if she wants to someone else too. So most often, Domme goes and spends her time being tied up, or goes to aide as a hostess. Helps newer couples find their footing. She still has her fun without Joe.

However, when they finally go together, it’s a private affair. They rent a car so no one can trace their actual plates. Domme guides him around. It’s really just so Joe can see more, build his repertoire more. But he’s so fascinated with the scenes, and the rooms. No one bats an eyelash at him. No one gives a fuck about who he is. They don’t go often, a handful of times a year. But Joe brings back new things to try every time. Part of him feels like a kid in a candy store again, the unbridled kind of delight at seeing the scene in action, unfolding out in front of him in real time. Knows what people are feeling as it’s happening, a visceral kind of reaction that makes leaves goosebumps across his skin.

Domme will settle into the main room and let Joe scamper about. She watches with pride when he comes back, a lipstick stain on his cheek and a mischievous grin on his face. “What did you see?”

“Follow me,” he returns with a hand held out.

It’s usually always something that shocks Domme. The first few parties she brought him she stuck close by, reiterating the rules and keeping him up to date on the lingo. But later on, towards the start of their third year Joe scurried off only to drag her back to a shibari scene. “That--I want to look like that.”

He said it with so much awe, so much tenderness that it made Domme’s chest melt. He looked at it like art. Like one would look at a sculpture from years ago, taking into the details--so much awe and wonder. Domme spent weeks practicing on herself, doing research, testing the waters with Joe in non sexual scenes. Joe tries his hand at it too. Likes it when she lets him take the reigns a little bit.

They don’t participate in the parties a ton.

Joe’s not much of a sharer. He likes to watch, and likes to go. But again, Joe’s not great at sharing Domme. There’s a couple that Domme used to play with before Joe, the couple before she met Joe. He understands that of course others played with her before. But no one plays with her now except him. He’s Domme’s. Domme is his and he doesn’t want to share that with anyone. It is possession, but not ownership. And it’s not jealousy. She’s talked freely about how she used to play before Joe. He likes hearing about it. A couple times he’ll ask her to “turn on the charm” and that gives her permission to flirt, dazzle, lure, kiss, bite, light play.

But there’s no sex. For either one of them. Joe likes to watch her work a room, select her target and reel them in. Like watching a skilled lioness on the hunt. Lethal and charming, disarming and deadly. But there’s some pieces of her that Joe can’t let anyone else have but him.

Domme’s willing to let Joe go a little further than he lets her take it. But Joe doesn’t do anything that she can’t do. If someone asks to give him a kiss, or something, he lets it slide. Knows how much Domme will light up at the mark. But the same rules she follows, he does too. Because that’s the most fair. Because in all honesty, that’s all he’s willing to give up, a kiss (rare-ish), a teasing wink (more common).

Joe has a little admirer--Scarlett, a woman in her forties, he’d guess--who fawns over him. He’s happy to accept the attention because she’s nice about it. If Joe’s sticking close by Domme, she’ll ask, “Can I cut in?”

Usually, he laughs, eyes cutting to Domme, who nods at him after he nods that he wants to go. “Go,” she laughs, patting at his chest. “Have fun out there, tiger.”

Scarlett’s never offended if Joe shakes his head no. He’ll squeeze a Domme’s palm and she’ll slide in front of him just a fraction, even if she’s talking to someone else. Scarlett grins. “That’s alright. Find me when you’re ready, sweetheart.”

Sometimes Joe does loop back to find Scarlett. He’ll spot her watching him. It reminds him just a hair of Domme, the kind of magnetism they both have in their presence. Domme’s is teasing confidence. Knows how to bait. Scarlettl’s a quiet confidence, more assured. Scarlett will kiss his cheek, pull him into the couch or next to her. “She’s treating you right?”

Joe nods. “The best.”

“Good.” Scarlett plays a little with his hair, resting against him for a minute or two. “If she doesn’t treat you, you tell me. I taught her better than that.”

“I will. Need anything?”

Scarlett always laughs. “Trying to get me into trouble. I like it.” Sometimes it’s just a kiss, and it’s nice, fun, different. But there’s always a little voice in the back of Joe’s mind that’s comparing when he knows he shouldn’t. It’s not the same. Not Domme and though he likes the dabble, he never lasts away from Domme.

Joe would seek Domme out even in the dark, pulled to her, called like sirens do to the crashed sailors. Joe doesn’t care to break the spell. Even with Scarlett in his lap, with her kissing over his neck and chest, Joe will look for Domme across the room--the prideful smile on her face makes his chest flutter. His whole body lit with fire.

Sometimes Joe doesn’t find Scarlett again, just keeps an arm around Domme, pulls her into his lap or find a little corner of the room to bury his face into her neck, kissing at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. A silent plea for her and Domme always answers it, pulling his face out.

“Want to get out of here?”

Joe will nod. “But I know we just got here.”

“Have all I need right here. Take me home. So I can have fun with you there.”

#about sub!joe #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow smut #joe burrow fic #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader #sub!joe #h writes #if you catch the easter egg question domme asks drop a egg or egg emoji in my ask!

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noiranamnesis · 2 months ago

Text

A Touch of Salt

closed starter for: @kingcenred

based on: [ HAIR ]: sender slowly reaches out to catch a loose strand of the receiver’s hair and tuck it gently and securely back behind their ear, letting their touch linger afterwards.

...

I shouldn’t be in here.

The thought flitted through her mind as she eased the door shut behind. The latch clicked louder than intended and she winced, half expecting a reprimand, but silence held. And so, she pressed on. Her steps slowed across polished floors, careful as she navigated his study but not hesitant- at least, not entirely. She’d nearly turned back once already. She wasn’t about to do it again.

Cradled in her hands was a crêpe, still warm to touch through its wrapping. The scent slipped through easily: ham, melted gruyère, a touch of thyme. A savory crêpe, rich and real. He always requested sweet ones. Always. But tonight, after hours held up in meetings, she figured he might crave something more substantial. Or perhaps she'd simply overheard someone mention he hadn't eaten since morning and decided she protocol could wait.

She found him at his desk, pen in hand, head slightly bowed. Clearing her throat lightly, she lifted one hand in mock surrender, the other still carefully balancing her prize. "I know, I know" she began, tone lilting, warm, "I’m not supposed to be in here without the steward." With a step forward, she placed the crêpe at the edge of his desk, delicate fingers brushing the grain of the wood. "But it’s warm," she added, almost conspiratorially, "and you haven’t eaten." A beat passed. "So. Try a savory crêpe.”

And before he could object, she shifted to another matter at hand. "I’ve been thinking about the banquet. The Midsummer one." She moved slowly around the desk, fingers trailing lightly over its carved edge, as if drawing a map through her thoughts. "There are always berries and lemon, of course. Safe. Expected. But what if we went with something more playful?" Her eyes lit as she spoke, fingers dancing lightly in the air as ideas bloomed. "Orange blossom and lavender. Honeyed fig with pistachio. Flavors that feel like golden hour. Like pressed flowers and heat and..." Tapping her fingers against her chin in thought tried to find the words.

"Something they can smell before they taste." She leaned gently against the desk then, caught up now, words tumbling faster. "I’ve been working with spiced cherries- steeped in wine, cloves, and just a hint of cardamom. It’s decadent. Messy." She smiled, wide and bright. "But that’s summer, isn’t it? Sticky fingers. Stained napkins. Sweetness that never quite stays where you put it."

Then there was quiet movement. His hand, rising.

Marinette felt the brush of his fingers near her temple before she saw it- steady, careful, gently tucking a stray curl behind her ear. His touch lingered. Not demanding. Not commanding. Simply there. Present. Intentional.

Her breath caught.

"Oh," she murmured, the sound barely there, even as a flush rose high on her cheeks. She blinked once, slow, gathering herself. "Well...Thank you, Your Highness. I wasn’t aware my hair was…" Her hand lifted instinctively, fingers brushing through dark locks in case there were any others. "Loose." It was meant to tease. Nearly did. But the softness in her tone betrayed her- unguarded, unsure. Still, with a sharp inhale, she offered a faint smile. "So…you’ll try the crêpe?"

#m: marinette beauséjour #p: cenred wessex #b: kingcenred #marinette x cenred: 002 #[my poor girl is so confused XD]

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olderthannetfic · 9 months ago

Note

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Help?

Ahaha. Oh god.

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

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

Disrespectful children who don't know history

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

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

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

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

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

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

As for the why do you care part...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anyone else have thoughts here?

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brokenpieces-72 · 1 year ago

Note

I READ “Reunion” AND OOOOOO

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

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

Reset

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"South Hallway." Ghost replied, voice quiet.

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

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

"Fucking hell." He said under his breath.

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

"Copy." Hunter said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You came to get me.” You said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are they winning?” You asked.

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry-“ you start to say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#john soap mactavish #cod au #simon ghost riley #task force 141 x reader #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #rudolfo parra #alejandro vargas #horangi #König #jackalope #wendigo #hybrid au #hybrid reader #call of duty modern warefare #phillip graves #lots of angst

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