A ruthless killer shows mercy. (For my best friend❣️)

Tw: blood, pain, chase, gn reader, use of “you”

Could it get any fucking worse?

This was the 4th time in a row that the entity had chosen you as a victim of the trials. The 4th goddamn time. And for the 4th time, you had shocked yourself in the wires of the generator. A quick jolt shot through the bone of your finger, causing you to flinch and gasp, more in surprise than in pain. You sighed, wiping the sweat from your brow. You weren't a mechanic before all this shit started, yet somehow you knew how to get these things running with little thought or recollection of learning prior. As soon as you knelt down by the still and cold hunk of metal, it was like working on autopilot. Several clicks and huffs before the machine began pumping in succession, whirring to life with one last pull of a lever. The light above ignited, illuminating the once dark and eerie area, signaling one step closer to an escape.

You rose to your feet, dusting the dirt from your ruined jeans. Odd, it was unusually quiet, and the peace was becoming unsettling. It couldn’t have been someone like Ghost Face or Myers, you would have felt the hairs on your neck bristle by this point. Yet if it was someone like the Huntress, you’d hear her hums from miles away. So, why was it so..silent?

You didn’t run, instead creeping with featherlight steps towards the next generator. You could see the top of the light peeking over a wooden wall, but you were too scared to bolt for it. Better to play it safe, incase it really was a stealth killer, and the lack of sleep dulling your ability to sense their eyes on you.

After a few careful steps, you made it to the wall, peeking around to reveal the generator. This was the last one, the last barrier between you, and the gate to freedom. You could practically feel the adrenaline coursing through you at the sight of it. You sighed in relief, taking one step towards it before crying out in pain. Your leg had caught in several strands of bloody barbed wire, your foot sinking and squelching in a bulging red substance. You began to panic, struggling against the hold the barbed wire had on your calf. The more you struggled, the tighter it felt, the sharp tips digging deeper into your skin.

You could hear it now, the loud orchestra of a thundering heartbeat, the sound deafening you from every direction. The only sound breaking through, was the heavy breathing approaching rapidly, and the grinding metallic echo of a massive knife. You winced and wreathed, the wire drawing blood. You watched as it trickled down, joining the bubbling red liquid beneath you.

Run, you screamed into your head. Finally, you managed to free yourself from the coils keeping you in place. Thump, your heart was hammering against your ribcage. Thump, the rhythm matching the stomps of your feet against the dirt, your legs carrying you away from the killer. Thump thump, every time you think you’ve gained distance, he’s quick to close it with each stride. You could see him picking up speed, this chase was nothing to him. You were a goner, with no where to hide and no where to run. And you were right to think so. One second you were running as fast as you could, and the next you were face first in the dirt, your body colliding harshly with the cold ground. You had been too busy looking behind you to notice the trail of torment drawn in your path. You pay the price now, tangled in the stinging barbs of your mistake.

He approached, slowly. You could hear his growls and breaths echoing off the walls of his chamber like head. With each step closer, each inch towards death, your heart deafened you with terror. You had no choice, no way to fight back. So you accepted it, closing your eyes to await the burning sensation of a fatal slash. To your surprise, it never came.

“Inumaki-kun is kind. He doesn’t want to accidentally curse others, so he speaks in rice ball components — words that cannot carry curses. Even today, he helped me out. He tried to keep me away from danger. Even back then, he was showing consideration for my anxiety, wasn’t he?”

we need to talk about this.

just imagine. this sorcerer if he wants can seduce even god.

Sure thing! I’m glad you all liked it, I was a bit worried as I’m still practicing with writing properly. Hope you enjoy this! Sorry if anything seems out of character, please let me know if I need to tweak anything.

Gn reader, one-shot, sfw, sort of swaps between his POV and yours

Tw: none, fluffy Bihan

A Moment of Respite

He couldn’t take his eyes off you, his gaze scanning your small frame as you gently sheathed your wounds in clean gauze. He was meant to tend to his own wounds, but watching you in this moment of respite made something stir within him. This feeling was foreign to Bi-han, he was the grandmaster of the Lin Kuei, he had no time for petty acts of admiration.

Yet here he was, admiring the way stray strands cascade over your features so perfectly, how you didn’t even flinch as you cared for yourself like a trained medic. You were very self-sufficient, and Bi-han couldn’t help but feel a sense of approval at how well you handle yourself.

He was conflicted, to say the least, he’s never felt such feelings before. A little voice screams in his head to reach out, try and do anything to make you feel less uncomfortable in his presence. He had a kind of satisfaction in the fear he instilled in you on first meeting, but the more time he had around you the more he wanted to keep you safe. For the first time, he was afraid. He was afraid to hurt you, scare you away, should he treat you like a wild deer? The thoughts didn’t stop rushing through his head, you never once left his mind.

The final stitch was in place, a clean bandage now draped neatly around your forearm. You let off a small smile, admiring your work, the effects of the cleaning already taking place. Setting your medical pack aside you lift your head, only to meet the icy cold stare of the cryomancer. You felt butterflies rise in your stomach, the heat rushing to your face at the sudden staring contest. You were stuck, lost in his eyes, his unblinking stare down intimidating you to no end.

You only break the connection to look down at his undressed wounds, the bruises and cuts still visibly red with irritation. You felt concerned for him, he looked lost in thought as he stared at you, why did he look so upset? Why did he have to be so damn scary? With a small bout of courage, you finally find your voice, “B-bi-han?” He snaps out of his trance, averting his gaze with a grunt of acknowledgement, “Is everything alright?” He doesn’t respond for a moment, a blank expression on his face as he fixes his eyes in front of him.

Slowly, his face morphs into his usual frown, “I’m fine.” Clearly he wasn’t, but before you could push further, he abruptly stood up, making his way to his bedroll nearby. As much as this man made you nervous, you couldn’t resist the urge to at least tend to his wounds.

You reach out and set your hand on his bicep, halting him in his tracks. You half expected him to jerk his arm away, but to your surprise, he looked down at you with a raised eyebrow. “Let me help,” you say rather quietly, gesturing your head to his battered skin. He doesn’t move, looking down at you as if registering your words. Being this close to him you feel even smaller, his form towering over yours. Your hand barely even denting the size of his arms, how good they felt under your fingertips.

As he stared down at you, he was suddenly hyper aware of your small supple hand laid gently on his bicep. He wondered how it would feel to hold them, a fleeting thought quickly shut down. A slight feeling stirred within him once again at your touch, he couldn’t decipher what it was, and this irritated him greatly. He was aggravated by how you made these feelings boil inside him, how you plagued his thoughts, how he has actually grown to care for you in his own way.

A gentle squeeze brought him back from his thoughts, he could see your determination to help dominate your expression. If he wasn’t going to let you, you were sure to fuss about it until he caved. “I am more than capable in dressing my own wounds” he huffs in annoyance, still not removing himself from your grasp despite being more than able. “I know, I don’t doubt you,” you weren’t going to let this go, “please, let me help you.” He reluctantly sat back down, a silent invitation to get to work. You couldn’t help but feel triumph in this small victory, a small smile gracing your features.

Bi-han watches intently as you set out your supplies, making sure it’s all there and neatly placed as a habit you’ve gained over the years. The scowl never once leaves his face, his eyes watching your every move with caution.

He is certainly not accustomed to caring touches, not since his mother passed away many years ago. It was…odd, it made him angry. He felt burdened with feelings unknown to him, he felt out of place and forced out of his comfort zone with such things. Yet he wouldn’t dare tell you to go away, he knew even if he did you weren’t going anywhere. To his surprise, you lifted your empty hands to an open cut, “hold still, this might sting a bit.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, your shyness evident.

You moved your hands to form a small orb of water, slowly engulfing the wound. It was soothing against his cool skin, he visibly relaxed at the sensation. Bi-Hans gaze shifted to your face, the scowl now replaced with a blank unreadable expression as you focused. He noted how you slightly parted your lips in concentration, your lips…so plump and beautiful. He wishes he could will his brain to take a mental picture of your features, imprinting your beautiful face in his mind.

He watched you catch his gaze for a split second, averting it quickly with a small blush tinting your cheeks. When he was sure you weren’t looking, a ghost of a smile appeared, quickly reverting back to his blank expression.