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peachdues · 7 months

Text

IN THE NETHERWOOD

PART I

KINKTOBER 2023 ♤ WEREWOLF!SANEMI X RED RIDING HOOD! READER

A/N: did I get carried away? Yes. Do I care? No.

Part I is plot + smut. Part II is minimal plot and a lot of smut. Like a concerning amount.

Forgive the pace/editing errors. This was supposed to be a one shot that turned into a two part fic lmao.

CW: violence/some description of gore • mating • knotting/discussions of knotting • biting/mating • feral/protective Sanemi • virgin!Reader who is a big time monsterfucker • oral sex (F!receiving) • Sanemi makes a mess of his breeches • implied murder/other violence by Douma, but left purposefully ambiguous • brief description of another human being eaten

This honestly could be a multi-part fic that continues after Part II, given how much I leave open — but I’ll let you all decide if you want that. For now, enjoy the ride, monster-fuckers. Happy Kinktober!

You’d known Douma’s band of acolytes had been pursuing you for at least a quarter of a mile through the dark wood, and you’d only grown more and more desperate as the excited titter of their voices drew nearer.

You were panicking; with every moment that passed, your legs grew heavier as the weariness of the last day and a half of your journey became a weight you could no longer ignore.

Find the huntsman of the Netherwood! Your grandmother had pled as she’d fastened the thick, scarlet cloak around your shoulders. He guides those in need to far-away villages. He will take you somewhere safe — where Douma cannot find you.

Grandmother did not dare let any of the tears sparkling in her eyes fall as she looped her hands behind you and pulled the hood of your cloak up over your head, concealing your hair from sight. Head north until you come to the river and then head west. You will find his cabin. Go!

Granny had all but pushed you out of her small cottage — the cottage you had come to regard as your home — and off into the chilly, autumn night.

You hadn’t questioned the urgency, though the realization that you would likely never again return to your grandmother — or even see her alive — hadn’t stung any less. But you knew, as well as the old woman who’d raised you after your parents disappeared in the Netherwood, that if Douma got his hands on you, you would never be seen or heard from again.

Just like his four other previous wives.

The last woman he’d taken as his bride had been a dear friend of yours — Kotoha — and she’s arguably lasted the longest, though perhaps that was because she’d been pregnant when the frost lotus containing his marriage demand arrived at her parents’ hut.

The eclectic village worship leader hadn’t apparently minded that Kotoha had been pregnant with another man’s child — she was unmarried, young, and beautiful; it was all Douma required.

The tension among the village women had dissipated once Kotoha had survived the first week of her union with the rainbow-eyed monster. After all, the other three wives had barely lived to see the next morning, never mind seven.

Kotoha had lived several more months — even giving birth to a beautiful, healthy baby boy whom she’d doted over, and even you thought that perhaps the rumors swirling through the village had been wrong. Perhaps those other three women truly had run off into the night with various lovers, leaving Douma alone in his mansion in the eastern wing of the village.

The last you’d seen her, your friend had been smiling and bright, happily making her way back to her marital home, baby Inosuke happily snuggled against her chest, as she’d cheerfully waved you goodbye.

Kotoha was never heard from again. Though the village elders had dispatched a recovery team to search for her, no trace of either her, nor the precious baby boy whom she’d loved so dearly, could be found.

A week later, your grandmother opened the front door of her homely cottage to find a single frost lotus resting on her doorstep.

No one turned down Douma’s marriage proposals; but neither did anyone survive them.

And so, your grandmother had packed a small satchel with what meager provisions she could scrounge, wrapped you in her heirloomed scarlet cloak, and pushed you out the door, begging you to find the mysterious huntsman of the Netherwood so that you would not become the village’s newest ghost.

Douma had surely slaughtered your beloved grandmother by now, having learned of her insolence.

You clamped down on the mournful sob building in your throat, knowing if you allowed yourself to give into your grief, it would only slow you down even further, and make it more likely that her sacrifice for your life would be in vain.

Though, in fairness, it might all be for naught anyways; the Netherwood was not a humble forest with only the occasional gray wolf or hungry bear to fear.

For centuries, your village had stood on the outskirts of the dark, ancient wood which divided it from the nervous system of villages and bustling little towns that made up the region. That isolation meant your village had become largely self-sustaining, though a few brave souls managed to make a yearly sojourn across the Wood to trade with establishments on the other side. The forest stretched for miles, encompassing small mountains and rocking ravines that were difficult enough to navigate on their own, especially in disagreeable weather.

But rugged and often temperamental terrain was child’s play compared to the horrors which lurked within the shadows of the Wood.

To start, as you’d come to realize over the last day and a half of your trek, the Netherwood was nothing but shadow. Though you’d surely traveled through the night and well into the following day, not a trace of daylight had pierced the thick canopy of leaves and twisted vines which loomed overhead. Your only indicator that day had, in fact, arrived, had been your sighting of a few songbirds quietly fluttering from tree to tree, as their songs swallowed by the deafening silence of the forest.

But the eerie quiet of the Wood was nothing compared to what you knew prowled within its depths.

You’d grown up hearing tales of the various beasts and cryptids that made the Netherwood their home – and made any unsuspecting traveler their meal. Your own parents had embarked on a dangerous trek into the Netherwood, seeking out a village on the other side rumored to have much-needed medication for your ailing grandfather, only to never be seen or heard from again. Your grandfather had succumbed to his illness not long after, though you’d often wondered whether his guilt and heartbreak hadn’t hastened his demise.

And so the Netherwood had taken your parents and your grandfather, leaving you with only your cherished grandmother as your family. Over the years, those who dared venture into the Wood often did not return, the dark of the forest swallowing them whole and leaving no trace of them behind.

Now, it was through this very Wood that you found yourself running, clinging to the desperate hope that perhaps you’d find this mysterious Huntsman and be saved, though the sluggishness that had entered your exhausted limbs seemed to suggest that you were more likely to be caught by your pursuers. And that was assuming you didn’t end up as something dinner’s before then.

You continued to stumble through the trees, ducking under various branches and batting away stringy spiderwebs, trying not to allow your frustration to get the better of you. After a while, the voices tracking you grew more and more silent, before the walls of the forest swallowed them completely, leaving you utterly alone.

As you shoved brush and thorns out of your way, the forest opened to give way to a small river, though it was barely more than a creek. It bubbled merrily, as though completely unaware of the horrors lurking behind the shadows of the ancient grove of trees.

Several lengths ahead, you spotted something crouched beside the water. Your first instinct was panic, thinking you’d stumbled across one of the nefarious creatures of the Wood, a meal being offered to it on a silver platter, but as your vision adjusted, you realized it was only a man, splashing his face with the creek’s cool reserve.

“A-are you the Huntsman?” You hated how timid your voice was, but truthfully, you’d been running for what felt like an eternity, and each snap of a twig in the Woods around had you on edge. You deserved to be frightened, dammit.

The man snorted before rising to his feet. “I am a Huntsman; whether I am the one you seek, I cannot say.”

He was taller than you and well-built. His tunic boasted a deep v at the chest exposing a vast swath of the man’s sculpted chest, the skin as scarred as his broad forearms. His breeches were by no means skintight, but it was clear his legs were also made from the same, sinewy muscle that covered the rest of him.

Idly, you wondered whether he was as scarred beneath his clothing as he was out of it.

He was handsome, there was no doubt, but his appearance was striking. He had a mop of silvery-white hair, parted slightly to cover the criss-cross of scars etched into the right side of his forehead. Below a pair of startling lilac eyes, you could just make out another jagged scar that extended from his right ear to the bridge of his nose.

He turned back to you, mouth pulled down in an annoyed grimace. “What is your business in the Wood, girl?”

His eyes roamed the crimson cloak draped around your shoulders, and you swore for a moment there was something akin to amusement glinting in his eyes, despite the severe set of his mouth.

You shuddered at the sharp intensity of his lilac gaze. “I seek a guide through the Wood — I need to get to one of the villages on the other side.”

Something in the forest snapped and you flinched, though it did not bother the Huntsman, who only narrowed his eyes at you.

“Are you being pursued?”

You nodded, your fingers tightening around the folds of your cloak and wrapping it tighter around your shivering frame. “I do not know how many, but they have dogs.”

The Huntsman nodded, stroking his chin in contemplation. “I can get you to the other side in two days; three at most, should your followers pose a problem.”

You were floored at how easily he accepted your request, even with the additional threat of being hunted like animals by Douma’s men, but you were grateful all the same.

“I have payment,” you started, hands shooting to dig through the small pouch fastened around your waist, but the wild Huntsman only shook his head.

“I do not take payment. I will escort you and then I won’t have to worry about any creatures of the Wood sniffing out your bones and getting too close.”

Charming, you groused in your head, though the implication nestled in his words sent another shudder down your spine.

“What is your name, girl?” The Huntsman’s voice pulled you back to him and the forest, his face expectant.

You gave him your name and felt a warmth spread through you as he repeated it, mouth mulling over each syllable like it was wrapped with velvet.

“You can call me Sanemi,” the Huntsman said, reaching for the hand-axe lying on its side by the riverbank. “Follow me.”

---

The Hunstman led you through a winding path that would have been untraceable had you not been watching the way Sanemi’s eyes marked certain landmarks — an errant tree branch here, a particular thorn bush there.

“Since you are being tracked, we need to move right away,” Sanemi had explained as you stumbled after him, your feet snaring over the various bumps and snarls of tree roots that jutted out from the forest floor. “But I need to gather a few things from my cabin. It’s just a little ways off, and then we will leave.”

Sanemi had largely ignored you for the rest of the trek, though he’d only cut his eyes back to you to ask a single question.

“Where did you get that cloak?”

You fingered the heavy edge of the ruby wool that your grandmother had fastened snug around your shoulders, its thick folds providing you protection against the biting chill of the autumn wind. “It is an heirloom. My grandmother said it would keep me safe.”

The Huntsman hummed quietly to himself. “That is one word for it, I suppose.”

“How do you mean?”

Sanemi slowed his pace so that you could catch up and walk beside him as he spoke.

“That cloak is enchanted. Have you not noticed the strange stitching along the hood?”

Your hands flew to grip the edge of the hood drawn over your head. Sure enough, beneath the pads of your fingertips, you could feel the odd swirls of thread forming some indiscernible shapes along the outermost portion of the cape’s top.

“I’d not; this was not my cloak to begin with. It was my Grandmother’s.” You did not know why the Huntsman’s tone made you feel self-conscious, as though you’d been too stupid to notice such an obvious variation in the cape snugly fastened around you. It wasn’t as though you’d been afforded a great deal to time to look over it, in those hurried moments before Grandmother had shoved you through her front door and into the Wood beyond.

Sanemi only shrugged as he continued on ahead, putting distance between you once more, but he called back one final time. “Red is a symbol for many things, girl. I hope your Grandmother at least warned you of that.”

----

Sanemi's cabin was small, but homely. You'd been waiting uneasily near the unlit fireplace at the center of the single-room cabin, unsure whether it would be considered ill-mannered for you to drape yourself across one of the overstuffed armchairs pointed towards the hearth, as the Huntsman milled about, gathering various supplies.

"Have you any preference for which village I take you to?" He called as he rifled through a sparsely-stocked cabinet, scooping up dried provisions into a small leather pouch.

You shook your head. "No, I wish only to get as far away from the Wood as possible."

Sanemi nodded, stalking past you to open another cupboard. Glinting against the dimming light outside, you saw the curved blade of an axe, sharp and polished.

"I can make do with that," the Huntsman said simply. "Though should we run into any weather, it may take longer than three days to reach the other side of the Wood."

You picked nervously at your nails. Any response you could have given him was cut off by the faint cacophany of voices somewhere in the distance.

Brow furrowed, Sanemi crossed the floor of his cabin to a small window and squinted through the fogged glass. Over his shoulder, you could spy the faint glow of fire making its way towards the cabin.

Torches.

You did not need to guess whose torches they were; there was only one reason for a band of men to be in the Netherwood at this hour.

"It's them," you whispered in horror, your heart sinking to your stomach. "The man who is after me -- they're his -- followers. I hesitate to call them men."

Sanemi's eyes narrowed as he glanced back out the window, and you swore you saw his nostrils flare, as though scenting the air.

He gripped you by your forearm, tugging you further into his cabin. “We don’t have much time until they come knocking. I think I can hold them off — but you have to trust me.”

You looked over the wild man, from the thick, silvery scars seared into the rippled muscles of his forearms to the thinner, more delicate scars which crossed half his face, swallowing down any fear you’d had of the huntsman upon first stumbling upon him by the river.

You’d been scared of him, but you feared the fate awaiting you at the hands of Douma and his cronies far more; and so, you were desperate enough to place your life in Sanemi’s rough, calloused hands.

“I trust you,” you vowed, though your voice trembled slightly. “Please just don’t let them take me.”

Something in Sanemi’s eyes tightened as he looked over you, but he nodded, hands reaching for the small pouch strapped to his upper thigh.

“I’m sure you’re going to protest what I’m about to do,” he said quickly, producing a small hunting knife from the pocket. “But I need you to believe me when I say this is the only way.”

“Take off your cloak.” Sanemi ordered, standing tall before you, hand out in waiting.

Your hands flew hesitantly to the metal clasp resting just below the hollow of your throat. “But my grandmother said —“

“I know what your grandmother said, girl, but I’m telling you, that cloak will do you no good indoors. It is only effective out in the Wood.”

You could tell the huntsman’s patience was wearing thin, but still, you hesitated.

Sanemi huffed impatiently. “I swear to you I will return it the moment they leave, but you must remove it now. They will use it to track your scent.”

You shuddered as your fingers quickly freed the small latch, and the crimson wool draped around your shoulders loosened. With some hesitancy, you held your cloak out to the huntsman, who balled the fabric up tight before crossing the floor of his cabin, shoving it into a small armoire and behind several hung pelts and well-worn leathers.

Sanemi was before you once more before you could blink. “Turn around,” he ordered, twirling the knife in his hand to motion you to spin and put your back to him.

You complied without protest, hands twiddling nervously before you, until you heard the unmistakeable sound of fabric tearing at your back.

The corset worn over the cotton layers of your dress loosened and fell to the cabin floor, it’s ribboned ties neatly severed where they’d been laced at your back.

“What in the devil —,” you began hotly, arms jumping to cross over your unsupported chest as you twisted to glare at the huntsman.

A warm hand firmly pushed your shoulder, keeping you facing forward. “Hold still, woman,” Sanemi barked, and the heat at your back disappeared for a moment as you felt him kneel behind you.

To your horror, you felt the outermost layer of your dress lift up and away from you as Sanemi rose, bringing the garment up over your head.

“I asked you to help me, you dog!” You squealed, your attempts to squirm away from the mannerless huntsman at your back futile. “Not strip me bare to do with as you please!”

Behind you, Sanemi gave a great snort. “Helpin’ you is exactly what I’m doing, if you’d shut up for one second.”

Left in nothing but your thin, cotton shift, you silently wondered whether you should’ve taken your chances and continued your trek through the Wood. Surely, being eaten by one of the Netherwood’s more nefarious creatures of horror was preferable to being stripped nude by a half-wild brute in his isolated cabin.

Your musings were cut short, however, as a firm hand wrapped around your forearm and tugged you towards the back of the cabin, where a small doorway closed off the hut’s only other room.

Sanemi kicked the door open revealing a surprisingly large bed, draped in blankets made of the furs of several different animals.

“N-no —mmph!” Your protest was cut off by Sanemi’s free hand as it clamped over your mouth as he hissed at you to shush.

Over the sound of your thudding heart and hard breath as you planted against the huntsman’s palm, you heard the faint but unmistakable sound of male laughter and jeers, cruel and cold.

“They will be here any moment,” Sanemi said lowly, and he removed the hand from your mouth in favor of shoving you none too gently into the small bedroom. Before you could speak, the huntsman gripped you around the waist and tossed you effortlessly onto the bed, your body bouncing slightly against the soft plush.

“Get under the covers and lay face-down in the pillows. Let your hair cover you.”

Scrambling up against the headboard, you looked back to your savior or your villain — you’d not yet decided under which category he fell — but saw that he was already standing back in the doorway, jaw tense and his eyes trained on the front door of his cabin.

He glanced back to you only once. “And move that thing off to your shoulders. Make yourself appear as though you’re indecent.”

With that, the huntsman quickly shut the door to his bedroom, just as a fist pounded against the wood of the door outside.

You kicked your way under the many pelts adorning the bed, savoring their warmth against your chilled skin. Remembering Sanemi’s final warning, you tugged the sleeves of your shift off your shoulders, concealing it and the rest of your body below the soft fur blankets.

The front door of the cabin opened, and you buried your face into one of the pillows resting against the headboard, begging the comforting scent of forest pine and cedar to calm your raging pulse.

“How can I help you gentlemen this evening?” Sanemi called, and you almost laughed at how cordial he sounded, as though he hadn’t just cut your dress from you like a brute.

Any smile you had was immediately wiped from your face at the cold, steely voice which answered him. “We’re searching for a woman. She belongs to someone who is eager to get her back.”

You balled the pelts below you in your fists, teeth grinding. Of course, you’d never actually agreed to marrying Douma, and yet the beast felt entitled to claim ownership over you, as though you were no better than a piece of furniture.

Though, you supposed that wasn’t quite an accurate comparison. Furniture survived Douma; women did not.

“Is that so?” Sanemi’s hardened tone sent shivers down your spine, and you wondered whether his face matched the stony, scathing cadence of his voice. “Well unfortunately for you boys, it’s just me and the wife here. And you’ve interrupted us.”

“Our apologies,” the scout said, though it did not sound as though he was sorry at all. “But you won’t mind us taking a peak? Just t make sure you and your wife don’t have a visitor.”

Sanemi’s answering snarl was soft, but it did not conceal the deadly threat contained within. “Surely you understand why I cannot let a number of strange men into my home, while my wife is indisposed.”

You had to give him credit; Sanemi sounded every bit the dominating, over-protective husband he was pretending to be.

There was a beat before Sanemi sighed, his irritation almost convincing. “Make it quick. And do not enter the bedroom.”

There was a shuffle of feet, heavy and booted, that crossed the threshold of the cabin, and the hair on your skin rose at the charge of violence which filled the air. Breath caught in your throat, you buried your face deeper into the huntsman’s mattress and prayed his ruse would be successful.

The door to the bedroom banged open, startling you with a squeal as you ruched deeper below the pelts.

“I told you to stay out of the bedroom,” Sanemi’s voice almost sounded bored, but it was thankfully close. Your eyes slid closed as you willed your heart to slow its drumbeat against your sternum as the resulting silence hung thick in the air.

“Our apologies,” the apparent leader of Douma’s band of henchmen bit out, his tone acerbic, and his frustration evident. The bedroom door slammed shut once more, and the heavy footsteps quickly made their way back through the cabin and out the front door.

All remained silent in the huntsman’s cabin for several, long moments, and you did not dare to rise from the bed that had become your sanctuary.

After what felt like an eternity, the door to Sanemi’s sleeping chamber pushed open, the light from the main room of the cabin flooding in.

“They are gone,” the huntsman said simply. “It is safe for you to come back out.”

You turned over and rose from his bed, quickly tugging the sleeves of your thin shift back up over your bare shoulders, if not to preserve the last shred of your modesty that the huntsman before you hadn’t cut away.

You were startled by his appearance in the doorway. Though his eyes remained fixed on the wood floor of the cabin, you saw that the man before you was nearly as stripped as you were.

Somehow, in the few precious seconds between him throwing you onto his bed and Douma’s men barging through the cabin door, Sanemi had discarded his lined shirt, leaving everything from the waist-up bare. The only garment which remained on him were his deerskin breeches, and Sanemi had somehow undone its front laces, loosening their fit around his hips. Between the undone cords, you spied a thin trail of silver hair that begun just below his navel and disappeared below the seam of his pants.

It was admirable the dedication Sanemi had shown in perfecting your ruse. To the untrained eye, it truly looked as though Douma’s men had indeed interrupted a husband and his wife as they’d been engaged in acts you’d been told were reserved for the marital bed, the disheveled state of Sanemi’s breeches giving the distinct appearance of having been just barely tugged over naked hips.

The thought made your mouth run dry, and something hot flared in your belly.

Sanemi ignored your apparent ogling of him, as he produced his discarded tunic from the floor where he'd tossed it and shrugged it back over his head.

Wordlessly, he gathered the shredded remains of your corset and handed it to you, keeping his gaze averted to allow you to redress. You managed to pull on your outer skirts back over your shirt, but you fingered the torn strap of your corset.

“You ruined it,” you said, nose wrinkling as you punched it between your thumb and index finger. “I cannot lace it when you’ve torn the stays.”

Sanemi frowned, and if you hadn’t known better, you would have thought he looked slightly apologetic for the state of your outer-corset.

“Corset woes aside, we need to go now, if we are to have any chance of getting you to another village before your fiancé’s men catch up to us.” Sanemi grabbed the leather satchel he'd been packing before Douma's men had interrupted and began filling it once more.

You scowled. “He is not my fiancé,”

“Your keeper, then.” Sanemi amended. The Huntsman stalked back over to the armoire in his sitting room and wrenched the worn doors open, pulling out several pieces of cloth.

“Here,” he said gruffly, tossing you a balled wad of crimson wool. “As promised.”

You accepted the cloak with a small, uttered thanks, and fastened it quickly around your shoulders. The Huntsman then turned to dig through a small cabinet, returning before you with a small spool of sturdy, leather cord.

He held it out to you. “For your corset,” he said gruffly, his cheeks slightly pink. Feeling your own blush creep up your neck, you accepted the offering. Picking the torn garment up once more, you slid it over your shoulders and used Sanemi’s cords to lace the front together.

Truthfully, the finished product wasn’t half bad; the cord was long enough to cross all the way up to the top of the corset, with enough leftover to allow you to pull it and secure it in place around your bust. You tied off the cord with a pleased nod, before looking back to Sanemi in gratitude. Before you could properly thank him, the Huntsman thrust a small basket into your newly freed hand.

"Provisions. For the journey." He said by way of explanation, and you nodded, nestling the handle into the crook of your arm.

Without so much as a glance around the cabin, Sanemi wrenched the door open and allowed you to pass through the entryway first, pausing behind you only to tightly latch the door shut.

And the two of you set off into the Netherwood.

———

You were no time-keeper by any means, especially in a place like the Wood where daylight was hard enough to find; but it felt like hours had passed since you last spoke to the Huntsman, and the silence was pressing heavily upon you — especially the deeper you ventured into the dark of the Wood.

Though Sanemi had been walking ahead of you, you took it upon yourself to increase your pace, until you walked astride with him.

“How long have you been guiding others through the Netherwood?” You asked lightly, hoping that some — any — conversation you could have with the stoic woodsman would distract you from the odd growls and noises concealed within the forest’s shadows.

“A while.” Sanemi’s answer was as brisk as his pace, and you struggled to match it.

“Have you lived here your whole life, or are you from one of the villages nearby?” You pressed, scanning your memory as you tried to recall whether there had ever been a boy with white hair and a scarred face in your village.

“No.”

You waited for him to elaborate, but Sanemi offered no further explanation. You sighed and fell back behind him; if this was to be his attitude the entire journey, you were in for a long few days.

The pair of you had traveled for what felt like several more hours without a word before the silence began to irritate you. You sped up your pace until your stride matched the Huntsman’s, walking with him side by side.

“Why do you live alone in the Netherwood?” You twirled the basket around your hand as the pair of you walked, the nerves you’d felt upon first starting the journey through the Wood having long since abated, in no short part due to the presence of the Huntsman and his axe by your side.

Sanemi did not turn towards you, his eyes remaining fixed on the bramble ahead. “Why did you venture into the Wood alone?”

You groaned. “Is this how our entire journey is to go? Either you give me mono-syllable answers, or every time I ask a question, you avoid answering by responding with your own?”

“That depends, do you intend to keep asking me questions?”

You barely resisted the urge to whack the sullen Huntsman with your basket. “Unbelievable,” you grumbled. “Your time here in the Wood has turned you into a curmudgeonly hermit.”

Sanemi snorted. “You assume I wasn’t one to begin with.”

“I can’t imagine someone who helps travelers cross the Wood was always so churlish and miserable.” You shot back.

The Huntsman remained quiet for a moment, though his air did not carry the same cold standoffishness that you’d come to understand meant he was ignoring you. Rather, Sanemi seemed to be in thought.

“It has been nearly four years,” he said after a long while. “Since I began helping travelers cross the Wood.”

Your eyes widened. “Four years?” That was an awfully long time to risk one’s neck for the sake of strangers — some of whom, you realized, may not have been all that good.

Sanemi nodded and you whistled. “I’m sure you’ve seen many kinds of people attempting to traverse through the Wood.”

“There are only two types of travelers,” Sanemi disagreed. “Those who live to make it to my door, and those who do not. I try not to pry into the privacies of those who do manage to find me.” He cut his eyes at you, accusingly. “And usually, they aren’t so eager to pry into mine.”

You ignored the jab, though it bruised your ego more than you wanted to admit. “You don’t like people, yet you’ve crafted your entire existence around serving them.” You could not stop the amused edge in your words. “It is quite ironic, you have to admit.”

Sanemi refused to dignify you with a response, and so the first leg of your journey continued in relative silence.

The stifling quiet that extended between the Huntsman and you finally subsided once Sanemi announced you’d be stopping for the night and making camp. He’d been quick to notice your unease as you’d cast your eyes nervously around the shadowed trees of the Wood, assuring you that you all were in an area less-frequented by the various terrors that called the forest home.

“I will sit and keep watch,” Sanemi said as you’d curled up against the leaves of the forest floor, your red cloak pulled tight around your frame to block out the autumn night’s chill. “So try and sleep.”

“You are asking me to put a great deal of trust in you, Huntsman,” you said softly, but in truth, you did not feel nearly as afraid of him as you perhaps had earlier in the day.

He snorted, dismissively. “I’ve had you in my bed already, have I not? If I was going to harm you, girl, I would’ve already done so.”

Something tightened in his eyes as he dropped your gaze. “And I would never do such a thing to a woman.”

There was a quiet pain in his vow, such that you did not think his words were entirely meant for your ears. But they comforted you nonetheless, and so, still facing the handsome and mysterious Huntsman, you allowed yourself to relax enough to drift off into a dreamless sleep.

---

The journey was taking longer than Sanemi originally believed.

Three days into your travels with the Huntsman, and you’d barely reached the halfway point in the Wood. Though, that was not due to any fault of Sanemi’s; there’d been a few times when he’d stopped mid-stride, eyes narrowed on some unseen thing deep within the forest that you could not see, but concerned him enough to change course. When you asked, the Huntsman had only grumbled that he’d heard suspicious movement ahead, and that he knew whatever it was, it likely wasn’t human.

You didn’t bother to question his judgment. After all, it was Sanemi who was the expert in traversing through the Wood. You, however, had spent the better part of three days understanding how utterly helpless you were without him.

You hadn’t meant to stumble across it.

You’d only meant to go relieve yourself behind a tree — a simple evergreen, that had looked innocent and unassuming enough.

As you’d quickly learned, however, upon squatting near the tree’s base, it was anything but innocent. For no sooner had you moved to pull your skirts out of the way had you felt a spiny hand close around your forearm, its knife-sharp fingers digging into your flesh.

The withered, bony had was connected to a sinewy arm, covered in ridged, black skin that made up the panting, salivating bat-like creature that had managed to camouflage itself against the bark of the tree.

You’d taken one look at the rows of sharp, yellow teeth and screamed loud enough to startle the dead.

Loud enough to bring a certain Huntsman crashing through the brush, axe clutched tightly in hand, his eyes wild and bright.

“Duck,” he’d barked once, and somehow you’d managed to wrench yourself to the side of the devil as Sanemi’s weapon buried deep into the creature’s face, the beast releasing your arm and stumbling back with a pitiful gurgle before it dropped to the floor.

You’d hardly had the chance to collect yourself before the Huntsman was stomping over to you, yanking you up by your bicep and dragging you away from the nefarious little tree.

“A goddamned hidebehind,” he furiously spat. “Of all things to provoke, you choose a fucking hidebehind.”

Sanemi ignored your slight protests at being manhandled back to the path he’d identified as leading out of the Wood, too lost in his own raging assessment of you.

“How the devil a pretty little thing like you managed to make it to my door in one piece is the only thing that makes me consider there may be a higher power, given how foolishly reckless you act in the Woods where there’s no shortage of creatures that would want to devour you —“

The Huntsman continued his rant, but your ears only picked up on a single fragment of his ramblings.

“You think me pretty?” It was silly, yet the notion that the devilishly handsome Huntsman accompanying you found you worth looking at made something in your stomach flutter.

Sanemi shot you a withering glare. “You may think me a miserable recluse, girl, but even I have eyes.”

You didn’t know why, but the comment made you smile for the rest of the night, a curious warmth blooming in your chest.

----

You settled for the night among a small circle of trees. Sanemi had helped you shake down a bed of pine needles from a nearby tree, allowing the fragrant nettles to form a soft bed for you against the forest floor.

You watched him repeat the process to make his own bed, your eyes curious. "You seem to have a great deal of experience with this," you mused.

Sanemi produced a single apple from his pouch and sliced it in half with a small hunting knife he kept strapped to his hip. He tossed you one half before he stretched out on his pine needle bed, propping up one cheek on his fist as he faced you. "I s'ppose sleeping outdoors is something of a family trait."

That piqued your curiosity. Though Sanemi had not divulged any details of his personal life with you, you'd assumed he'd been a true loner in his cabin in the Wood.

“You speak as though you still have family,” You bit into your half of the fruit, chewing slowly as you thought. “Do you?”

Sanemi nodded. “No parents to speak of, but a younger brother — a few years younger than you. Still a boy, though in a man’s body.” He scowled. “The little brat has outgrown me.”

You smiled at the obvious fondness belying the irritation on his face. “A boy bigger than you? I find that hard to believe.”

Your gentle praise had the intended effect of making the Huntsman look slightly smug, before the same sour look passed his face. “He has grown slightly taller than I, and by all accounts is still growing. I have a feeling he will try and hold it over my head the next time I see him.”

You wondered if Sanemi’s younger brother would literally do so, and the thought made you smile.

“You said the next time you see him, but you’ve said you have no parents — where does he live, if not with you?”

Sanemi grimaced, chucking the last of his apple core behind his shoulders. He remained quiet for a long moment before answering.

“He lives with a friend; he can take better care of him than I can right now.”

Something about the Huntsman’s tone made it clear the topic was a sensitive subject for the young Huntsman, and so you elected not to press the matter further.

“And what of you?” Sanemi said gruffly, surprising you with his willingness to engage in conversation as the two of you continued your trek. “I know you said you had a Grandmother, as she was the one to give you that.”

He nodded pointedly at your cloak, and you saw that curious heat enter his eyes once more at they combed over the scarlet wool draped around your frame. But the mention of your grandmother caused a lump to form in your throat that took you several moments to work around, the damning prickle of tears stinging your eyes.

“I do,” you said hoarsely after a moment. “Though I do not know if she survived after helping me escape Douma. Even if she did, I know I shall never see her again.”

Though your vision had become blurred by your tears, you could have sworn you saw Sanemi’s hand twitched towards you at the sound of the wobble in your voice.

“Douma,” he repeated. “Is that the person you’re fleeing from?”

You nodded, exhaling a shaky sigh. “He claims to be my fiancé but I accepted no such proposal.”

Sanemi leaned against the wood of a tree opposite from you, arms folding across his chest. “Then he does not know what it means to be a fiancé,”

You gave a watery chuckle. “No, I suppose he does not.” You chewed on your lip for a moment. “But Douma does not ask; he demands and he expects. His offer was not really a request for my hand — it was a warning that he would collect me to do with as he pleased.”

Sanemi tensed. “What do you mean by that?”

You combed your fingers through the tangled tresses of your hair, and anxious habit you’d had for as long as you could remember. “In the last three years, Douma has taken four young women from the village to be his wife; every one of them has since disappeared.”

The Huntsman sucked in a shocked breath. “What has happened to them? Has anyone searched?”

You smiled ruefully. “I do not know; no one does. Search parties were dispensed each time, but those who looked came back empty-handed.” Your eyes remained fixed on the small, flickering flame of the campfire. “He claimed the first three ran away into the Wood; said they’d left him to be with a lover.”

You wrapped your arms tighter around yourself, seeking comfort in your grandmother’s cloak. “Quite the coincidence, is it not?”

“Quite nefarious,” Sanemi remarked darkly, shaking his head. “And what of the fourth wife?”

Your head dropped. “My dear friend, Kotoha,” you felt the tears begin to gather in your eyes once more. “She was pregnant when Douma demanded her hand, but he did not appear to care. She gave birth a few months later — a beautiful baby boy named Inosuke.”

“She seemed happy for a while after that, and I thought perhaps Douma had been telling the truth; by all accounts, he was kind towards her,” you continued, fighting the shiver trying to lick its way up your spine. “But then Kotoha disappeared, and Inosuke, too.”

Sanemi stiffened at that. “When was this?” He asked suddenly, his tone urgent.

You looked up at him, startled. “Just a week before I found you.”

Sanemi swore lowly, his hand dragging over his face. At your questioning look, he continued.

“A few days before we met, I was leaving to check on a series of caves that I frequent in the east,” he began. “I was half a kilometer from your village when I —,” he hesitated. “Spotted a few men, dragging something through the trees. They seemed to come from your village.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach. “Did you see —?” Your question choked off as your voice cracked.

Sanemi shook his head. “All that was left was a pile of bones. Just one person’s. But there were shreds of cloths mixed in,” Sanemi’s mouth twisted down in a snarl. “Clothes belonging to a young child. But no sign of their bones among the adult’s.”

A cold, clammy sweat broke out across your forehead. “But Kotoha was hardly missing a week — surely that’s not enough time for her to be reduced to bones?”

Sanemi opened his mouth but closed it before he spoke, his eyebrows knitting together as he struggled for words.

“I have seen things in the Wood that are capable of stripping flesh in a matter of minutes,” he said carefully, eyes trained on your face. “It would not be unheard of.”

You felt the blood drain from your face as nausea wracked through you. “Oh gods,” you moaned, arms shakily coming to rest upon your knees to brace your head as it fell into your hands. “Oh gods — Kotoha.”

You remained like that for several moments, viciously fighting against the roiling of your stomach, desperate to keep down what meager rations you’d managed to eat.

Sanemi called your name, soft and gentle. You waited a moment, focusing on taking several, steadying breaths before you lifted your head to meet his gaze.

“So that is to be my fate once he catches me,” you whispered in horror. “To be reduced to nothing more than a pile of bones and tossed into the Wood like garbage.” You shuddered as another wave of nauseous dread sluiced through you. “And I cannot even fathom what will be done to me before then.”

“It will not,” Sanemi’s answering snarl was soft but vicious, and it broke through the cold terror threatening to knock you off your axis. “I will get you out of this forest and you will be free. Mark my words.”

“Do not make promises you cannot keep, Sanemi.” You warned, your eyes still wide, haunted. “If he catches me, he will do worse to you; death will be a kindness he will withhold.”

Despite the solemnity of your words, Sanemi only scoffed. “I assure you, he would do no such thing.” He looked to you, eyes serious. “And I would kill him before he had the chance to so much as look your direction.”

You wanted to dismiss his words as nothing more than the bragging of an overconfident, idiotic man. But something in both Sanemi’s tone and the way he was leaning against the tree — one foot resting causally against the bark, the other stretched out before him, supporting his weight, with his arms folded across his chest — made you think perhaps Sanemi’s confidence was more than mere bravado.

Even though you knew you shouldn't, you took comfort in it; in him.

"You're a good man, Sanemi," you said quietly. "Better than most."

Sanemi scoffed, shaking his head, but the shadow over his face betrayed his own internal turmoil. "I am not half the man you'd like me to be."

You quirked an eyebrow at him, head tilting in question. “Do you care what I think of you?” When the Huntsman did not answer, you pressed. “You worry that I think ill of you — why?”

Sanemi, at best, was confusing. Maddening. He spoke to you gruffly, as though his years in the Wood had made him forget all semblance of decorum and basic human decency.

Yet, there was something else, too; though you hadn’t much experience being desired by men, Sanemi had shown you a particular level of care. He always handed you your dried rations first, ensuring you’d eat your fill before he; he always offered a hand to help you over a particularly tricky stretch of terrain, carrying your basket for you without so much as you having to ask.

Then, there’d been the way he’d cradled you close earlier in the day, when you stumbled upon the poor man whose body had been mangled and half-eaten by one of the Wood’s inhabitants. He hadn’t needed to tuck your head against his chest like he did, holding you tight as he spun the two of you out of range, to avoid joining the lost soul whose entrails were strewn across the forest floor; he hadn’t needed to comfort you and wipe your frightened tears.

But he had.

The realization hit you like a boulder. “You feel protective of me,” you murmured in awe, your eyes locked onto him even as he shifted under the weight of your stare.

Sanemi tried to scowl, but it came off as more a wince. “I feel protective towards any woman who is being treated as something to abuse. What your fake-fiancé has done is abhorrent.”

His voice quieted. “You do not deserve that fate. You deserve to find something good — something that will make you happy.”

You hummed, pretending you were in thought as you began to slowly close the distance between you. “I would like to be happy,” you conceded.

“You should be,” Sanemi answered.

“I have felt happy here in the Wood,” you continued. “Have you, Huntsman? Felt happy here in the Netherwood, I mean?”

Sanemi swallowed hard. “Perhaps.”

You took another step. “Recently?”

“Recent enough,” Sanemi watched you warily, his voice like gravel.

You clicked your tongue. “Have you enjoyed our time together? However brief?”

At this, Sanemi rolled his eyes. “You have certainly kept things interesting, when you’re not desperately trying to become a meal for some hungry beast.”

When you did not answer, Sanemi looked nervously back to you, and his voice softened. “Yes. I have enjoyed it.”

You felt like you were stripping him back, peeling back layers of sarcasm and steel that he’d carefully erected to keep himself from getting close — from caring.

But you were doing it; and he was letting you.

“And you think I’m pretty,” you added, taking another step towards him.

“Aye,” Sanemi croaked, his eyes fixed on your face, the the flicker of the small fire only adding to the heat blazing in his lilac gaze.

You drew up before him, the toes of your boots just touching his. “I find you quite pretty as well, Huntsman.”

Sanemi’s eyes closed, his shoulders tense. “I am to deliver you safely to the nearest village.” Lilac irises opened to meet yours and he looked at you gently; apologetically. “We cannot do this.”

You did not balk. “And if I wanted to stay with you?” You whispered, fingers coming to toy with the folds of his tunic. “What would you say then?”

Sanemi breathed out a soft sigh of your name, the syllables dripping like honey from his lips. “It is not possible, I’m afraid.”

You looked up at him through lowered eyelashes and noted how his gaze flicked down to your lips before back to your eyes. “Why?”

Sanemi’s hand gently brushed a few loose strands of hair back from your face, tucking them behind your ear, and you leaned into the warmth of his touch. “Because you are a beautiful, little lamb, and I am a wolf in a forest of beasts. You do not wish to spend your days here, in the darkness.”

“You cannot speak to what I want,” you challenged, your fingers rising to clench around his wrist, to hold his hand in place against the side of your head. “My life is my own now; I have no set path.”

“But I would like to travel down yours,” you added quietly, after a moment.

“It is not one open to transients,” Sanemi warned, though his other hand rose to rest against the dip in your waist, holding you against him.

You only shook your head. “I do not intend to be temporary, Sanemi. I wish to stay with you. I wish to help others as you have helped me.”

“I’ve yet to help you,” Sanemi said wryly. “Our bargain was that I deliver you to one of the villages on the other side of the Wood. We are still making that journey.”

You stretched up on your toes and boldly pressed your lips against the hollow of his throat, savoring the skipping pace of his heart beneath your mouth.

“A new bargain, then,” you offered. Sanemi said your name once, as though in warning, but when he did not levy any threat, you only continued, moving your lips up under his jaw.

“You get me to the other side of the Wood. If I still want to stay with you, then you will let me. If I don’t, we will part ways at the first village we come to.”

You’d kissed your way to his lips, but held back, allowing that final line to remain in place between you even as your resolve wavered against the force of your desire for him — for this Huntsman of the Netherwood.

Sanemi’s eyes fell to your lips, hovering so very closely to his own. “You assume I want you to stay,” he murmured, though he made no move to push you away. “You assume I want to look after a lamb forever.”

You smiled softly. “Even a lamb can help take care of a wolf.”

Sanemi’s eyes were full of a wariness edged by the faintest trace of hope. “Aye, I suppose that’s true.” The hand against the side of your head fell to caress your cheek. “And as infuriating as I find you to be,” he leaned in close, his lips just barely touching yours. “I do think you quite beautiful, little Lamb.”

You surged forward with a breathy gasp, lips feverishly meeting his as you begged the Huntsman to consume you whole.

Sanemi responded with equal fervor, his arm locking tightly around your waist as the hand against your face tilted your head slightly to the right, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

You’d shared a few stolen kisses here and there in your youth with some of the village boys, but never before had you been kissed like this. Never before had you known the passion and all-consuming vigor that the Huntsman poured into you, as he walked the two of you back over roots and loose stones to press you against the roughened bark of a nearby tree.

No, those kisses had been child’s play. For the way Sanemi’s mouth moved against yours was enough to make you feel as though you’d been dipped in lantern oil and set aflame, and yet you could not find it within yourself to care that you were burning. Not when he molded you against the rigid planes of his body as though to absorb you into his being; not when his thigh slotted between yours, its muscle brushing against a sensitive spot between your legs that had you gasping and Sanemi groaning into your mouth.

As quickly as it began, it ended, Sanemi breaking away from your lips with a strangled pant as he leapt back, as though scalded by the inferno he’d lit within you.

There was something untamed in his gaze as he regarded you, his breath choppy as he collected himself. Still stunned by the ferocity with which he’d kissed you, your fingers jumped to your lips, noting the slight swelling now there.

“I was wrong about you,” Sanemi said breathlessly, his cheeks tinged an alluring shade of pink. “You may not be a lamb after all.”

Your fingers dropped from your lips as you raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying I am a wolf?”

Sanemi shook his head, that wildness still blazing in his eyes. “No, not a wolf.” His voice dropped to a purr as he regarded you with a look that made your thighs clench. “You are temptation given physical form.”

——-

Neither of you spoke of what transpired against the tree for several hours, though you’d managed to brush aside any lingering awkwardness with light conversation about Sanemi’s time in the Netherwood.

And, despite any lingering doubt as to the sincerity of your words he may have had, Sanemi seemed to naturally gravitate towards you, his hands never straying far from your form as you walked.

Truthfully, it made you giddy. You’d never experienced the thrill of another man’s touch while in the village, though Kotoha certainly hadn’t spared you any details. Vivid descriptions furtively whispered behind hands, however, were nothing compared to reality. Even Kotoha’s most blush-inducing tales paled in comparison to the electric flash you felt each time Sanemi’s warm hand gripped yours to steer you back from a particularly darkened corner of the woods, or the flutter in your stomach when he lifted you easily up and over unsteady ground, his hands always lingering for a spare second on your waist or the small of your back as you settled.

It became harder to imagine leaving him once you reached the end of the Wood. With each passing hour, your conviction that you would remain alongside the mysterious Huntsman grew all the stronger.

The pair of you were resting near a blackberry bush, you perched on a small boulder while Sanemi sharpened his axe, his hand running the small whetting stone against the curve of the blade with precision.

“Have you ever been in love?” The question broke the comfortable silence before you could think better of it.

Sanemi’s sharpening stone paused briefly before continuing along the curve of his axe. “Once,” he said, gruffly. “Though we were so young, I don’t know if you could properly call it that.”

You sat up, your curiosity piqued. “Where are they now?”

The Huntsman hesitated. “She is long-gone. Died here, in the Wood.”

Your heart clenched. “I’m sorry. I cannot imagine that grief.”

Sanemi did not respond, instead refocusing his attention back to his blade. “It was around four years ago, now.”

Four years ago. Around the time Sanemi had begun escorting lost souls through the Netherwood.

“Have you been in the Wood since?” You asked gently, trying to focus on a loose thread handing from your cloak so that he would not feel pressured by your stare.

Sanemi nodded. “I think,” he cleared his throat. “I think I started helping others as a way to honor her. She was kind that way.”

You smiled at that. “She sounds wonderful; and you do right by her memory.”

The Huntsman said nothing more, his silence more contemplative as he finished sharpening his weapon.

By the time the pair of you set back off on your path through the Wood, the morning fog had somewhat subsided, though it’s mist lingered in the denser sections of the forest.

“Is it normal to not have encountered many of the Wood’s creatures?” You bit down on the shudder you felt at the memory of the partially-eaten corpse you’d encountered a few days prior. “I feel as though we only see the aftermath of the beasts, rather than the monsters themselves.”

Sanemi smirked quietly to himself, though you did not know what he found amusing about your question. “I suppose that cloak is keeping them at bay, Lamb.”

You rolled your eyes, knocking your shoulder playfully against his. “Perhaps they’re frightened of the big bad Huntsman,”

“Perhaps. I’m quite scary.”

Your hand found his. “Not at all. In fact, I find you quite —“

Your thought was cut off, however, as Sanemi tore his hand from yours to hold an arm out before you, stilling you. You’d traveled with the Huntsman long enough to know he was telling you to be quiet while he listened, his ears far more discerning amidst the silent noise of the forest than yours.

Only it was not silent; in the distance, you could hear raised voices, yelling, and the distinct howls of several hounds.

Your eyes found Sanemi’s, and you were certain yours were as wide as his, as your heart began to thunder against your chest.

There was a strange melodic chant rising above the cluster of voices some distance through the trees, and you both turned back and strained to listen.

As the jeering voices and barking of dogs drew nearer, it became clearer what was being said — what thing those voices were loudly whooping and mocking amidst the excited titter undercutting their bloodlust.

Your name.

Douma’s men had picked up your trail, and they’d caught up.

“Run.” Sanemi ordered, tearing the leather satchel from his shoulders and looping the strap around yours. “Do you remember which direction north is?”

Eyes wide and limbs trembling, you nodded, your breath hitched in your throat as every instinct within you was overtaken by sheer terror. Sanemi placed his hands on your shoulders, squeezing firmly to get your attention back on him.

“Run north,” he repeated. “Follow the river and do not stop. It is against the wind, so it should be harder to track your scent,” Sanemi’s eyes darted up over your shoulder, narrowing as the unseen force drew nearer. “I will catch up to you. Do not drop that satchel.”

Your mouth opened and closed several times as you gaped at him, fear, so deep and primal, engrained in your every nerve as you realized he intended to send you deeper into the Netherwood. Alone.

“I cannot — Sanemi,” you begged, your hand gripping his forearm in a desperate attempt to stay close to him, your protector.

Gently, Sanemi removed your hand from him. “Y/N, I promise I will find you soon. I need to get them,” he jerkily nodded backwards to the voices and dog howls drawing closer and closer to you in the distance. “Off our trail.

You shook your head, only trembling harder. To separate surely would mean one, if not both of you would die, and you could not bear to leave him to deal with the onslaught of Douma’s men alone.

“I promise,” you’d not realized Sanemi’s hands had cupped your face until you felt the press of his forehead against yours. “I will find you. Now go.” He urged, and with a slight shove, Sanemi sent you stumbling in the direction you assumed was North.

With a great deal of reluctance, your legs began to move as you hurried over fallen branches and twisted roots, every pump of your legs growing stronger as your fear intensified.

You hadn’t known how many men were in pursuit of you, and you’d left Sanemi alone with only an axe to protect himself.

You’d as good as doomed him.

But you kept running in the direction you thought was north, eyes frantically trying to track the watery sunlight filtering through the trees.

The moment you’d chances scanning for the sun meant you did not see the thick, twisting root that had broken across the forest floor, not until your foot became entangled and you were sent sprawling across the dirt.

Moaning slightly, you scrambled up, refusing to acknowledge the faint bruising pain you felt in your ankle as you moved to keep running.

A snap of a tree branch froze you in your tracks. As stupid as you were, you turned towards the source of the sound, dread coiling in your gut. A shadow emerged from behind one of the ancient trees of the Wood, clutching something shiny.

A sword; long, wicked and cruelly sharp, and yet somehow, the blade frightened you far less than its wielder, for his face was familiar.

You’d grown up alongside it, after all.

“Well, well,” the boy — man — cooed at you. “We’ve been looking for you for quite sometime, you know?”

You took a step back, eager to put whatever distance you could between yourself and the smirking village boy who looked at you like you were his next meal.

“K-Kaigaku,” you stuttered in disbelief. “What are you doing? We were — we were friends.”

The boy’s laugh made your blood curdle. “Don’t mock me,” he shifted his sword to rest against his other shoulder as his free hand twirled a small dagger. “I only align myself with the strong, and you are nothing but a weak and pathetic little mouse.”

“But Lord Douma,” Kaigaku mused, his grin offset by the malice alighting his eyes. “Lord Douma is strong; powerful. I am loyal to him, not you.”

“Lord Douma?” You repeated, your voice as sharp as the blade glinting in the faint daylight as the boy before you tilted it back and forth. “Is that what he’s told you to call him? What, pray tell, is he lord of — being an egomaniacal, fatuous, greedy murderer?”

Kaigaku’s smirk unfurled into an ugly sneer as he shifted to point his sword at you. “Watch your mouth, girl.”

“And what of Kotoha?” You demanded, your anger an untamable fire that burned in your veins. “You were sweet on her once — did she deserve her fate?”

There was no sign of that fondness in the cruelty which lined Kaigaku’s face as he spat, “She spread her legs for some man like a whore and bore his bastard. Lord Douma only made sure she met an end befitting of her filth.”

“You vile, wretched creature,” you swore. “Damn you! Damn him!”

That hair-raising smirk reappeared as Kaigaku stepped towards you. “I cannot wait to see what Lord Douma has planned for you. You should’ve seen what he did to your beloved Granny, the hag.”

Your blood turned cold and a stone like lead settled in the pit of your stomach. You’d assumed, of course, that your grandmother had paid with her life in helping you escape, but you could not bear to hear the ways she’d suffered in exchange for your life.

Somewhere, in the depths of the Netherwood, a wolf howled.

“Shall I tell you all about it, Y/N?” Kaigaku taunted. “Shall I tell you how your dear Granny screamed as Lord Douma flayed her alive, piece by piece? How she sobbed for your grandfather? For you?”

Tears burned, as hot as acid in your eyes as you shook. “Stop,”

“It was quite pathetic, really,” Kaigaku sighed. “She went rather quickly. I suppose that’s what happens when you play with old crones — their pathetic little hearts can’t withstand the fun.”

You were at a loss; part of you wanted to lunge for the boy, to sink your nails into his eyes and rip, to tear him limb from limb as you screamed with rage until even the beasts of the Netherwood could not tell whether you were human or kin.

But on the other hand, you were just a woman, who’d spent the last five days in the Netherwood and didn’t have so much as a dagger with which to defend yourself.

And Sanemi told you to run.

You remembered as a boy, Kaigaku had been slow; always the last person to finish a race or outrun the seeker in hide and seek.

You, on the other hand, had always been faster; you could outrun him.

You had to. You would.

There was a roaring in your head as your mind disconnected from your body and you turned to flee.

“Don’t you run from me, bitch!” Kaigaku thundered after you, but you did not slow; you hurtled over root and rubble, adrenaline pumping hot and fast to your legs as you ran.

You’d thought, for one blissful moment, that perhaps you had a chance of evading him, when a silent whirring cut through the silent forest air.

Pain, blinding pain, exploded somewhere from the side of your thigh, bringing you to your knees as you cried out. Rolling over, your stomach dropped at the unmistakable sensation of blood dripping down your leg, hot and fast.

Behind you, you heard the thud of Kaigaku’s knife cluttering to the forest floor.

“Hn, I missed,” the boy scoffed, eyes roaming over you as you bled. “No matter, you can’t run on a wounded leg, can you little girl?”

Ignoring the dizzying lash of pain that flared in your leg, you scrambled backwards in a crawl, desperate to put some — any — distance between you and your captor.

“Lord Douma only said to bring you back alive,” Kaigaku hummed, drawing his sword once more. “He did not say to bring you back unscathed.”

Kaigaku put the tip of his blade right at your chin, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. You glared defiantly up at him, though your show of courage was a mere facade as you beheld the salacious glint reflected in his beady eyes.

“I think I shall take my time with you,” Kaigaku decided, using his blade to tilt your head back and forth. “After all there is no one here who shall care if you scream; in fact, I prefer you do.”

Your eyes widened, what remaining fight you still had wavering.

Alone. You were completely and utterly alone.

Sanemi had not come; either he was still fighting the other men sent by your cursed fiancé, or he’d been slain, and now the others were making their way to you, to take you back to Douma and let him do as he pleased.

You were going to die; but you would not die by his hands. Your eyes lowered to the blade still pressed under your chin, its tip grazing against the delicate skin of your throat, teasingly.

Kaigaku’s blade was sharp, even if it’s wielder not; it would not take much effort to slit your own throat on its edge, and it would take even less to bleed out upon the Netherwood’s earthen floor.

Before you could move, however, Kaigaku’s sword lowered, its tip teasingly tracing along the front seams of your dress.

“Perhaps we could make this interesting,” Kaigaku smirked, tracing up the valley between your breasts. “He said only to ensure you were untainted for him; he did not say we couldn’t have a taste.”

Your stomach churned with a toxic mixture of both rage and dread as the sword cut through the first stitch of your bodice. You tried to gather your feet beneath you, enough so that you could launch yourself forward and impale yourself on his blade, when a low growl sounded from behind your assailant.

Kaigaku, too enthralled by his slow torture of you, did not see the mass of white fur and bloodstained teeth leap from the shadows of the Wood; not until it was too late.

You looked on in horror as a large beast lunged for the boy from your village, tackling him to the side, his sword arm severed at his shoulder from a single swipe of the monster’s mighty claw. Kaigaku only had time to scream once before the nightmare’s massive maw clamped around his neck and tore, spraying his blood and bits of gore across the forest floor.

Your breath caught and died in your throat, helpless from where you were still splayed pathetically across the dirt as you watched the animal paint the Netherwood with remnants of Kaigaku.

The monster turned on its haunches towards you, its maw dripping with blood and bits of sinew and flesh, its lip curled back in a snarl. You whimpered as the creature’s silver-lilac eyes settled on you, every inch trembling in abject terror.

Though overcome by your fear, your brain was able to put together the sight before you that was sure to be your last. The beast slowly advancing towards you was a wolf, though it was much larger than any wolf you’d ever seen, and its brawn rivaled that of an ox’s.

The wolf boasted a thick coating of silvery-white fur that seemed to glow, as though it bore the essence of a full moon, though its brilliance was dampened somewhat by the smears of crimson saturating it. Under the dim light of the forest, you could not tell whether the blood was that of the wolf or another.

One colossal paw stepped hesitantly toward you again, and you felt yourself nearly go faint. Weakly, you tried to scramble back further into the wood, but your left leg had gone slightly numb from its wound, and the blood loss was starting to make you feel dizzy.

It seemed the Netherwood had answered your silent plea to not be sent back to be killed by Douma; instead, you would serve as the next meal for one of its monstrous residents.

The wolf drew short of you and watched you closely for a moment. With a great shudder, the wolf began to tremble and shake, and your horror melted into wide-eyed disbelief as you watched the wolf shrink and contort until all that was left was a man, blood-stained, naked, and panting on his hands and knees, fingers dug deeply into the dirt below. The man convulsed as began heaving up bile stained with blood and gore.

The sight of scarred forearms and snowy-white hair broke you out into a cold sweat.

“S-Sanemi?” You croaked, equal parts relieved and terrified, even if another part of you desperately hoped that you were simply hallucinating the image of the nude man wretching up blood before you.

“Aye,” Sanemi grit out between great, shuddering breaths as he spat one final time at the dirt. “It is me.”

He rose, bloodied and naked, from the forest floor and looked to you, his eyes back to their familiar, lavender hue, though they still retained an otherworldly glow.

There was a loud ringing in your ears as you stared at him, though you weren’t sure if it was from your panic or your blood loss. Sanemi took a cautious step towards you and it sent you scurrying back, a whimper of fright building in your throat.

He faltered, something like pain crossing his face. “Perhaps you should be afraid,” he said quietly. “And you can be — but I need you to throw me that satchel.”

It took you a moment to recollect yourself long enough to register what he was asking. With shaky hands, you unlatched the leather bag from your shoulders and weakly tossed it towards the Huntsman.

Sanemi was quiet as he dug through the bag, producing a fresh pair of breeches and a clean tunic. With a deftness that seemed as supernatural as his wolf form, Sanemi dressed, concealing his muscular, scarred form from sight once more.

He said your name once, quietly. “Are you alright?”

You trembled, hand clutching weakly at the front clasp of your cape. “He killed my grandmother,” you whispered. “H-he tortured her.”

Sanemi approached you slowly, and when you did not flinch away from him once more, he knelt down beside you. His hand came up to gently stroke your hair, and the touch startled you out of your trance, blinking back fat tears as you looked up at him.

“We need to go,” he said gently and you closed your eyes, nodding.

You’d known, of course, that your Grandmother had been killed; made peace with it, even. But you had not foreseen that she would be tortured for trying to secure your freedom, and the very thought made something inside your heart wither and die.

“I know,” you murmured quietly. Sanemi straightened, extending a hand to you to help you up when your fingers closed around his wrist, your eyes urgent.

“Did you kill them?”

Sanemi grimaced. “Yes, Lamb. I killed them all.”

You nodded. “Good.” You released his wrist and slid your hand into his. “Good.”

Your shock had dulled the sharp, burning throb in your leg while you’d processed the fact that Sanemi was not a mere huntsman, but a wolf of the Wood. But now that the shock had worn off, the pain slammed back into you with full force as you tried to stand, your leg collapsing uselessly under you as you cried out.

Sanemi’s nostrils flared and there was a murderous glint in his eyes as he crouched down beside you, eyes locked onto your left side, fingers clenching around the torn folds of your dress and lifting it up.

“S-Sanemi!” You squeaked, batting his hand away but no to avail. The huntsman — the wolf — managed to pull back the skirts of your dress to reveal the torn flesh of your thigh.

“Was it him?” Sanemi’s voice was low, his head jerking back over his shoulder in the vague direction where he’d left Kaigaku in pieces.

You nodded, eyes wide as you watched him inspect the wound. “A knife. He threw it.”

The huntsman exhaled harshly through his nose. “We’re too vulnerable in the open like this — especially because you’re bleeding.”

Sanemi sat back on his haunches and pulled his small hunting knife from the leather satchel strewn on the ground. Silently, he leaned forward and wound some of the bottom fabric of your dress around the blade and wrenched, tearing a sizeable scrap cloth from the skirt in one clean stroke.

Sanemi then reached under your skirt and tugged the shorter end of your linen shift down. “It’s not ideal but it’s cleaner than your outer skirt,” he said by way of explanation at your raised eyebrows and hitched breath. “It’ll do until I can get you somewhere safer. We’re sitting ducks out here. Your scent is bound to attract something.”

You nodded, gulping. Words were still far too difficult to come by, so you settled for watching your handsome guide as he worked, mouth set in a firm, hard line.

Sanemi tore another strip of linen from your shift and laid it delicately over his knee. His eyes flicked to yours, once, and you felt slightly ashamed at the way your breath hitched, as though waiting for those lilac irises to bleed silver once more.

“May I?” His hands were stilled above the exposed flesh of your shin, and you knew he’d need to lift more to bandage your thigh. You nodded after a moment, though your hesitation did not stem from any fear you held for the scarred man delicately sliding his hands up the length of your wounded leg; rather, the heat that crept up your neck came from the way goose flesh erupted over the skin beneath his roughened yet gentle touch.

Sanemi’s fingers were steady as he gently guided your leg to the side, rotating it in his palm so that the gash was perpendicular to the forest floor.

At the sight of your bloodied, torn flesh, Sanemi growled. “I should’ve made the little bastard suffer far more.” He said darkly, reaching into his satchel to pull a small skien of water to clean off the wound as much as possible.

At the first splash of water against your ragged skin, you flinched, hissing through clenched teeth as the cold fluid chased away the spare bit of blood. For a moment, you could see that the cut left behind the blade was deeper than you’d thought, though not so much so that it required more than a good bandaging and perhaps some stitching.

At least it had not been entirely flayed open.

The hand Sanemi had braced on your knee to keep your leg steady rubbed soothingly at your skin as he repeated the motion once more, letting the water cleanse the wound once more. “Atta girl,” he praised softly. “It’s done. I just need to wrap it.”

It amazed you that such a hardened, rough Huntsman — Wolf — had such a gentle touch. His hands were like feathers as he wound the clean strip of linen around your thigh, the only pressure stemming from the knot he’d fastened to keep it secure around your leg. Sanemi then wrapped the other torn fabric from your outer skirt around the makeshift bandage, knotting it in a similar fashion to the one beneath.

“To keep the one below from becoming dirty,” he offered plainly at your raised eyebrow. “Can you stand?”

Now that the adrenaline of yojr earlier encounter had worn off, the throb in your leg had become all the more pronounced. Teeth clenched, you gripped the Huntsman’s hands tightly as you rose from your seat on the tree stump, eyebrows furrowed in determination. Sanemi did not remove his hands from you, but kept them out and ready as you tentatively shifted your weight to test your wounded leg.

It was no good; the pain shot through you like an arrow and nearly buckled the knee on your good leg. With a cry of frustration, you stumbled back against Sanemi, the Huntsman’s arm looping easily around your waist to help lower you back down against the stump upon which he’s sat you.

“Damn it all,” you cursed, wincing at the angry throb in your leg. “It cannot bear weight.”

Sanemi pursed his lips as he looked over you, considering. “Allow me,” he said after a moment, squatting down next to you, motioning for you to wrap your arm around his shoulders.

You hesitated; you were not scared of the Huntsman, even after witnessing his terrifying true form, but your apprehension lingered, a primal fear baked deep within your core that told you you should be scared of the predator beside you. That, mixed with your blood loss, made you pause, even though you’re traveled alongside the fearless Huntsman for nearly a week.

And Sanemi noticed.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured, his arm locked steadily around your waist as he lifted you to your feet, your weight pressed against his chest.

You did not trust your words so you only nodded. Despite the remaining wariness you felt, you longed for his comfort more. You lifted your hand to cup the side of his jaw so you could tilt his face down, bringing his forehead against yours.

Sanemi whispered your name and your eyes lifted up to meet the smoldering heat of his gaze.

A knuckle brushed against the curve of your cheek. “Are you frightened of me now, little Lamb?”

Your fingers gripped the collar of his tunic, a desperation wracking through you at the thought he might pull away and remove the steadying warmth of his arms from around your frame.

“No. It is not you that frightens me; it is him.”

The arm around your waist tightened. “He will not get to you; I swear it. I will not allow him to lay a finger on you.”

Your breath shuddered and your eyes squeezed tight. You felt the discomforting press of panic building in your lungs, threatening to choke the air from your throat until a warm finger curled under your chin, followed only by a rugged whisper of your name.

You opened your eyes and there he was; the only person left alive who you could count on; who had proven, time and again, that your welfare mattered to him. Who treated you like you meant something.

You craved that feeling — craved him.

“Kiss me, Sanemi.” You murmured, your lips separated by a breath. “Please.”

Sanemi did not hesitate as he gently brought his lips against yours, the hand under your chin moving to cup the back of your head, holding you steady against him like he was the only real, solid thing in the world.

Your hands, no longer shaking, unclenched from where they’d been locked around the collar of his tunic and slid behind his neck, fingers tangling in his hair.

Sanemi sighed against your lips, allowing himself to get lost in the way they moved against his, just as you did. Against the solid rock of his body and under the spell of his soft mouth, it was easy to allow yourself to forget the danger that threatened to creep in from the shadows.

Lost in your kiss, you made the mistake of trying to shift your weight from your good leg to the bad, causing both knees to buckle. At your small whimper of pain, Sanemi broke away.

“You’re too injured to walk,” He murmured against your lips. “So I shall carry you.”

He broke away with a final peck, stepping back and reaching behind him to haul his tunic over his head. “Unless you would like to see all of me, little Lamb,” Sanemi’s smirk was devilish. “Then I suggest you close your eyes for a moment.”

The heat his words sparked in your veins dulled the throb of your wounded leg. “And if I desire to see you?”

Sanemi only shrugged. “Then I suppose I shall have to put on a show.”

The huntsman held your eyes as his hands went to the hastily tied laces of his breeches, tugging the strings open with ease.

You fidgeted against the broken stump he’d perched you on, just as Sanemi shrugged down the soft suede of his breeches, revealing that damnable v-line that made your head spin. A few more inches lower, and there was his manhood, hanging thick and heavy between his muscular and scar-speckled thighs.

He was a sight to behold.

“Is this your first time seeing a man, Lamb?” Sanemi’s voice broke you out of the reverent trance you’d been in whilst admiring every rocky plane of his body.

Your mouth had turned dryer than a summer drought, and so you only nodded your head, unable to tear your eyes from the immaculate form that made up the huntsman of the Netherwood.

To your dismay, Sanemi stepped back from where you sat, again and again until he was several lengths back. You opened your mouth in protest, but he only shook his head.

“Don’t want you to be too close, my sweet.” He called from a distance.

You frowned. “Too close for what —“

Your question was cut off by a small scream as Sanemi leapt forward, that silver fur exploding forth from him as a large wolf landed only feet from where he’d once stood.

Now it was clear why he’d put such distance between you; had Sanemi been any closer when he shifted, one of those mighty claws embedded in his law — nearly as long as your hand — would have surely ripped you clean in half.

Your heart hammered in your chest as Sanemi’s wolf form drew closer. Now, without the weight of terror and the pressing conviction that you were about to die, you allowed yourself to fully appreciate the wolf before you.

His scars were still visible, though less so in contrast to his human form, his thick fur providing a fair degree of cover. In this form, you could see that were you to stand, your head would barely reach his shoulder.

Sanemi grunted as he crouched out, the puff of air from his considerable snout warming over your legs. He looked up at you expectantly, an amused twinkle in his wolffish eyes.

You gaped at him. “You want me to ride you?”

Another amused chuff.

“And how, great and mighty wolf, do you suggest I climb onto your back with a half-severed leg?” You dramatized. “Shall I flop?”

You couldn’t be sure, but it seemed that the Wolf rolled his eyes. Sanemi pressed his large body against your good side, nudging you with his great shoulder to signal for you to grab his fur.

You took a handful of the silvery coat, surprised at its softness. “Do not bite me just because you think I pull too hard,” you warned, half serious, and Sanemi huffed in annoyance.

Using the wolf as leverage, you heaved yourself up, Sanemi pressing steadily into your side as you found your footing against him. Slowly, and with less grace than you were willing to admit, you managed to climb atop Sanemi’s back, awkwardly swinging your injured leg over the opposite side.

Once settled, Sanemi rose beneath you, rising to his full height. Sat atop him, you were willing to bet he was taller than most horses back in the village.

The great wolf sniffed at the air once before lowering himself into a crouch, and springing forth into the Wood.

————

Riding atop Sanemi had been the most exhilarating experience of your life.

Though, you also could not recall the last time such a ride had left you more frightened, given that you’d spent a great deal of it crouched low against his neck, fearing that if you rose your head even a fraction of an inch, some low-hanging tree would embed itself in your face.

You supposed you would have kept riding longer, had your stomach not given a great gurgle after an hour or so atop the wolf. With a growl that you thought sounded suspiciously like a laugh, Sanemi paused in a small clearing near a rocky, moss-covered cliff, disappearing behind the lip of the rock once he’d situated you upon a felled log.

A few moments later, human Sanemi emerged, re-dressed, but his face was severe.

“They will keep coming,” Sanemi’s frustration was clear as he shrugged the fresh tunic over his head, the delectable ridges of his abdomen and the alluring dip of his hips concealed from your sight once more. “So long as they can track your scent, they will keep pursuing you.”

You did not need to ask to whom he referred; the very same fear had gnawed at you even despite the exhilaration of riding Sanemi’s wolf form.

Your appreciation of the huntsman’s physique stalled as fear bubbled again in your gut. “What can I do?” Your whisper was shaky and it made Sanemi pause, his hand twitching towards you. “I cannot change my scent in the middle of the damn Wood—“

“You can,” Sanemi said quickly, and to your surprise, the tips of his ears turned pink. “Or— rather, I can help.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Because you are a wolf? Should I call you that now, instead of ‘Huntsman,’ or ‘Sanemi?’”

“You can call me whatever you desire, so long as you allow me to protect you.” Sanemi retorted evenly.

You tried to keep your voice steady even as you blushed. “And how would you do that, Wolf?”

There was a dark glint in Sanemi’s eyes at your new nickname for him. “A bite from a wolf can change your scent.”

You balked at him. “A bite?”

“Aye,” the Huntsman said casually, as though he was merely discussing the weather. “It would leave a small mark, but that mark would alter your scent enough to make you harder to track.”

You thought for a moment, the blush on your cheeks deepening. “Where would you bite me?”

It was Sanemi’s turn to turn pink. “Likely your neck,” he fidgeted with a stick he used to poke the dying campfire.

You gulped. “Would you have to transform?”

Sanemi’s small smile was handsome, even if it looked a little feral. “No, Lamb. I can stay in this form.”

You watched your protector for a moment, weighing your options. “Come here, Sanemi.”

His eyes snapped to yours, a bottomless heat turning his lilac gaze molten. Slowly, with the grace of a predator silently stalking its prey, Sanemi made his way over to where you sat, drawing short once the tips of his boots grazed yours.

“Do you swear it? It will keep them from being able to track me?” You asked, voice trembling slightly as you peered up at the Huntsman.

He nodded, slowly. A hand reached out to caress your cheek, and your breath lodged in your throat as you found yourself leaning into his warmth.

You managed to exhale around the lump that had formed in your throat. “Then I will allow it.”

Your heart skipped like a rabbit’s against your sternum as Sanemi leaned in close, the warmth of his breath chasing away the chill of the Wood’s air.

“So delicate,” Sanemi murmured, his nose skimming along the slope between your neck and shoulder. “So soft.”

“W-wolf?” Your voice was high, your hands trembling as they jumped to clutch at Sanemi’s forearms, nails digging into his skin in anticipation. “Will it hurt?”

He huffed a laugh against your skin, the gentle tickle of his warm air sending goosebumps along your exposed skin. “No, little Lamb,” his lips danced along your shoulder, back towards the sensitive spot connecting with your neck. “You will feel a prick and then you will feel warm.”

You nodded, the ends of Sanemi’s cornsilk hair tickling your throat. “I’m ready. Bite me — please.”

Sanemi’s groan was followed by a cold, sharp sting that sunk into the tender flesh between your shoulder and neck that was quickly chased away by a soothing warmth. The huntsman’s mouth latched to your neck as he buried his teeth in you, his tongue stroking soothingly around where he now bit.

It felt like someone had poured warmed honey into your veins. It spread, thick and sweet from your neck throughout your body, making you feel like you’d sunk into a hot bath on a cold day. That warmth coiled in your belly and ignited something fluttery and pleasurable between your legs as you tilted your head to the side, exposing more of your neck to the wolf caging you in against the tree.

Your submission evoked a low growl from his chest, deep and rumbling as Sanemi pressed harder into you, his hands bunching your dress at your sides as he continued to suck at your neck. The feeling of his body molded tightly against yours and the way his mouth worked at that delicate spot made you moan out, the sound finally jolting something within the huntsman as he gave you one final kick, before tearing himself away.

“Dear gods, woman,” he heaved, breath coarse. “Are you trying to drive me wild?”

You flushed as you panted, staring at him with wide eyes. Whatever you’d been expecting, it hadn’t been that; you’d not foreseen that the act of Sanemi biting you could feel so intimate, could make you long for him to run his hands under your dress, to touch you in your most sacred places until you begged for him.

He was dangerous; it was thrilling.

“Kiss me again,” you breathed, and Sanemi obeyed, his mouth moving fervently against yours as his tongue caressed your lower lip. Sensing the silent request, you opened for him, and Sanemi’s tongue swept into your mouth, licking at yours as his teeth nipped along your lower lip.

You thought he might devour you; you wanted to let him.

But Sanemi suddenly pulled away from you as though he’d been burned, eyes wide and breath hard.

You blinked in surprise. “Sanemi, what —,”

“We need to go,” he said firmly, his cheeks flushed red. At his sides, his hands curled tightly into fists.

—-

The rest of your journey was oddly strained. Despite having grown closer with enigmatic Huntsman over the last several days of your travels, you suddenly felt as though you’d been catapulted back to square one.

Though he still allowed you ride upon his back in wolf form, gone were the amused chuffs and snorts that he used to signal he was listening to your mindless chatter. Instead, the wolf below you remained tense, a cord pulled tight that was liable to snap at the drop of a hat.

As much as you wished it made you angry so that you could snipe at him, Sanemi’s sudden introversion stoked an uncomfortable self-consciousness within you, and you found yourself desperately grappling for an explanation.

Had you tasted badly, when he’d bit you? Did he suddenly no longer find himself drawn to you, now that your scent was different?

Or, even worse, had he realized that perhaps he did not want you to stay with him in the Wood after all, and was now attempting to put distance between you so that you would be more willing to leave him once you reached the edge of the forest?

The thought made your stomach clench painfully.

Sanemi’s distance did not abate even by the time he slowed to a stop for the night. He’d brought the two of you to a clearing in the Wood that bordered alongside a winding river, crested by a waterfall. Sanemi finally lowered himself to the pebbled ground of the riverbank, muscles twitching as though to hasten you along in sliding off him to balance yourself against a mid-sized boulder, before he stalked back towards the trees, his leather satchel in his mouth.

He avoided even your gaze as he stalked into the shallows of the river, spearing two fish with a sharpened stick he’d fashioned. Sanemi hadn’t so much as thrown a word your way as he’d started a small fire, apparently relying on dusk to conceal the small smoke billowing up.

Despite the coolness of the evening air, you noted Sanemi was sweating as he’d flung out the stick bearing your flame-cooked fish dinner towards you.

In accepting the spear, your fingers accidentally brushed against his and Sanemi recoiled — hard.

“What is wrong with you?” You snapped. “Why will you not touch me? Why do you flinch whenever I am near?”

“I do not,” Sanemi answered hotly through clenched teeth, though the muscle that ticked in his jaw betrayed his frustration. “Am I suddenly required to touch you?”

You folded your arms across your chest, eyes narrowed. “You certainly had no objection to it earlier — especially not when you threw me up against a tree.”

“Threw you —“ Sanemi choked off, his returning glare both indignant and enraged. “As I recall it was you who kissed me.”

“And as I recall, it was you who started doing that — that thing with your tongue,” you accused lamely, though any bite in your words was tempered by the blush creeping up your face.

Sanemi scoffed. “You cannot even speak of it without blushing like a little girl, and yet I am the one acting strange?” He leaned back on the piece of driftwood he’d claimed as his seat, arms folded across his chest, head turned pointedly away from you.

As you mulled over a number of insults to call the temperamental Huntsman sitting across front you, the last remnants of the sun faded from the night sky, and overhanging clouds briefly parted to reveal the moon — nearly full, its silvery glow illuminating the riverbank.

The moon’s rays reached where you and the Huntsman had set up camp when suddenly your hand jumped to your shoulder as you cried out.

Sanemi startled forward with a worried growl of your name. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

You grit your teeth, fingers digging harshly into your shoulder as you winced. “Something is — is burning, but I do not know what.”

You were certain the only injury your sustained had been the wound to your thigh by Kaigaku’s knife. But you’d spent enough time in and around flame to know what a burn felt like, and it felt as though something had been branded into you, its throb almost crippling.

You cried out again and Sanemi quickly crossed the dirt and took you into his arms, though you felt him flinch as he did so. “Where?”

You gestured wildly to your shoulder, too distracted by the way his presence made the burn now pulse, sending lashes of heat throughout your body, though there was a maddening edge of pleasure blooming from every part of you that was pressed against him.

Sanemi’s fingers grasped the collar of your dress and wrenched it to the side, swearing softly as he beheld whatever it was he saw.

“What is it?” You managed to grind out, your fingers digging into the muscles of his forearms to keep him anchored to you, as though he were capable of keeping the flames licking at your skin at bay. “Kaigaku did not touch me there — at least, I don’t think —,”

“It was not that boy who did this,” Sanemi said severely, his finger gingerly caressing the spot where your neck met your shoulder. You moaned as his touch extinguished some of the burning fire which had ignited your skin, too lost in the temporary relief to note the way Sanemi’s hands tightened around you. “It was I.”

That stilled you. “What do you mean?” You turned your head, peering up at the Wolf with wide eyes. “From when you changed my scent?”

Sanemi, for once, looked discomforted. “I think —,” he swallowed once, avoiding your gaze as he stepped back. You almost cried out at the loss of his body against yours, as the burn returned once more.

“I think I marked you; but I-“ Sanemi stuttered, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion as he stared at the ground, his weight shifting uneasily from foot to foot. “But it shouldn’t be affecting you — not like this.”

“You marked me?” Your hand fluttered to the fleshy juncture between your shoulder and neck. You gasped as your fingers brushed against a curious raise in your skin that hadn’t been there before, the strange curvature burning a few degrees warmer than the area around it.

The huntsman’s eyes remained resolutely fixed on the ground of the forest. “I told you I would cover your scent.”

You stroked the the mark, fingers tracing the odd curve, like that of a crescent moon. “What does the mark mean?”

Sanemi hesitated.

“Wolf?”

“It is a mating mark.” Sanemi admitted after a long moment, hand jumping to his hair as he ran his fingers anxiously through his silvery-white locks.

A stunned breath blew past your lips, your eyes wide. “M-mating mark?” You repeated, hand freezing where the telling crescent was emblazoned upon your skin.

Sanemi looked equal parts apologetic and scared. “I swear, I did not know it would affect you — wolves have to accept the mating mark to feel it, so I did not think —.” He ran a frazzled hand through his hair, his anguish apparent. “I thought I would be the only one to feel its call. I swear it.”

In the back of your mind, it registered that the mark perhaps was the reason for Sanemi’s sudden change towards you, but the incessant burning you felt would not allow you to question him on it.

“What does this mean?” You cried out again as the mark surged, the pain reaching all the way down between your legs, making you gasp. “Are we — are we m-mated?”

Sanemi’s eyes flashed. “No,” his voice was firm, urgent. “You still have to accept the mark for us to be mated — that’s why I thought it was safe. It was supposed to change your scent enough for us to avoid those men.”

“I swear to you I do not plan on acting on it; I meant only to help protect you. I fully intend on escorting you to the nearest village, as promised, and then I will leave. That mark does not have to mean anything to you.”

You believed him. The slight panic in his eyes as you winced at the mark’s repetitive flare once more could not be faked. Furthermore, you knew Sanemi would have no reason to bind you to him; not when you’d already made it clear that you wanted to stay.

You still did.

Sanemi’s earlier words echoed in your mind. That mark does not have to mean anything to you.

“But it will mean something to you, yes?” You demanded, drawing yourself up tall even as you sat perched upon the driftwood. “The mark?”

Sanemi hesitated again. “Wolves only mark once.”

He did not offer any further explanation, nor did he need to; you understood well enough.

The Huntsman had marked you, knowing full well he’d never be able to claim another as his mate. He’d done that, knowing that if another came along that won his heart, he could not be with them completely — not in the way his nature would desire.

And he’d done it nonetheless; all for the sake of giving her a chance to escape Douma’s clutches and to be free.

He’d put you first.

You hadn’t doubted the sincerity of your offer to him earlier, but now, there was no way he’d get rid of you. You would not allow it.

“And what would you do if I said I accepted it — accepted the mating bond?” You asked, voice as soft as a feather.

Sanemi snorted, pulling away from you to busy himself with stoking the small campfire. “I would say that you are an innocent, little lamb who does not understand what it means to be claimed by a wolf.”

“I understand well enough,” you replied, indignant. “I know what it means for people to give into their carnal desires.”

“You know nothing, you’ve never even seen a man before today.” The huntsman shot back, tossing another piece of kindling into the small fire. “You have never laid with another, much less a wolf.”

“It cannot be all that different,” you pouted. “You appear before me man enough.”

Sanemi closed the gap between your bodies then, coming to sit beside you on the rock, fingers curling under your chin to tilt your head up.

His eyes glinted with a sudden predatory heat. “It is quite different, little lamb.” He murmured. “I may now stand before you a man, but I am very much still a wolf. I would not take you like an ordinary human.”

There it was again — that heat, so foreign and yet so enticing, flickered to life once more in the depths of your belly, and the urge to rub your thighs together suddenly became overwhelming. With bated breath, you watched as Sanemi’s nostrils flared softly, his pupils dilating as the grip under your chin tightened ever so slightly.

“Then how would you take me, wolf?” You whispered, eyes not wavering from his. “How would I accept the mating bond?”

Sanemi’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, opening only after a shaky exhale of his breath. “You would have to take my knot.”

Your gaze dropped to his lips, the warmth from your mark spreading across your skin along with the sudden urge to feel them move against your own. “Your knot?”

“My knot,” Sanemi repeated, “and that is precisely why I cannot mate you, little lamb.”

You tugged your bottom lip between your teeth, a movement Sanemi’s eyes followed, his tongue flicking out to wet his own lips.

You pressed your chest flush against his front, hands seeking out his in the dark. “And what if I wanted it?”

Sabemi groaned, fingers latching onto your waist, though whether he sought to push you away or keep you anchored in place, you could not say. “Christ, woman. One would almost think you enjoyed torturing this poor wolf.”

You leaned into him, head tilting as you sought the knowledge of his soft lips against yours. “Not torturing,” you whispered, a hair’s breath separating your mouth from his. “Willingly offering myself to him.”

Your lips brushed against his and Sanemi moaned, his hands reaching to snare in your hair as he moved his mouth desperately against yours, teeth nipping and sucking on your lower lip, like he was hungry to consume you. But before he could, your pulled your head back, breaking the kiss.

“Do it, wolf,” you whispered. “Take me. Claim me as your mate.”

Sanemi grabbed you by your jaw, cheeks squishing beneath his firm grip. “Do you know what that would mean?” His voice was rough, his eyes burning with his desire. “If I did, we would be bonded. Permanently. For life.”

He said it as if you had not guessed it to be true; as if you weren’t prepared.

You gazed up at him through your eyelashes, eyes round and full of the innocence he claimed he could not taint. “Would you have it be another?”

Sanemi took the bait, a feral growl tearing from his chest as he crushed your body against his.

“No,” he snarled, and his mouth descended upon yours once more, his hot tongue sweeping into your mouth to swallow your breathy gasp as you threaded your fingers through his soft, moon-kissed hair.

You moaned into his mouth, hands greedily roaming the rocky planes of his chest, nails scratching lightly along his skin.

“You will be the death of me,” the Huntsman breathed against your lips. “You truly want to accept the bond?”

You moaned, nodding vigorously as Sanemi trailed his lips across your jaw and down your neck, his hands beginning to roam up your sides, tugging you down with him against the boulder so that you straddled his sides.

“Very well,” he murmured. “But I will not claim you here,” Sanemi said gruffly against the delicate skin of your throat, lips pressed against where your pulse fluttered. “I cannot.”

You whined and ground your hips down against his thighs, savoring the way the steely firmness of them pressed against something between your legs that made you feel electric.

“I must take you to my den,” the huntsman clarified, pulling back slightly in spite of your small whine. “When wolves like me claim a mate, we…do not like to be disturbed.”

Sanemi’s fingered the front laces of the stay secured around your bust, slowly undoing the careful lacing as he spoke, though his eyes did not leave yours. “And because it will be a full moon when I mate you, I will go into heat. It will last a very long time.”

“How long?” You fought to keep your head from falling back as you watched Sanemi work, the warmth of his hands seeping through the cotton and linen layers of your dress, making your breasts pebble with every loosened tie of your corset.

Sanemi hummed as he leaned forward, tracing his lips over the exposed skin just below your collarbone as his fingers worked the last of your stays. “At least a day; perhaps two. Other wolves have claimed it lasts shorter when one has a mate, as opposed to having to weather it alone.”

The top swells of your breasts were exposed as Sanemi finally freed you from your outer corset, allowing it to fall to the ground beside you.

The huntsman skimmed his nose over the top of your shift where the tops of your soft mounds peaked over, letting his tongue peek out to follow the trail. The feeling of the hot wetness of his mouth made you fidget in his lap, a whine building in your throat, desperate to have him touch more.

“A-and will you — ah,” you moaned as Sanemi tugged the bodice of your dress and shift down your shoulders, exposing your peaked breasts to the night air. “Will y-you mate m-me the whole t-time — oh god, Sanemi,”

“I could get used to you saying my name like that,” The huntsman chuckled, bending to take one of your breasts fully in his mouth, sucking and rolling his tongue over your stiffened nipple. The contact made the mark on your shoulder burn with a sensual heat that you felt shoot straight down between your legs, and you ground against his thigh, mewling for more.

Sanemi looked up at you as he swirled his tongue over the fleshy skin of your mound, his pupils blown wide. “Perhaps,” he muttered in response to your question, in between light sucks. “It depends on how well you take my knot, you sweet thing.”

You moaned again as Sanemi moved his mouth across the valley between your breasts, taking the other mound between his lips and teeth, his hand rising to keep the other warm. He suckled at you for a moment until you were a whimpering, trembling mess atop him, before he pulled off with a lewd pop!

“But no matter,” You shivered as Sanemi’s teeth grazed your ear. “I promise I will make you feel so good, little Lamb.”

“Why must we wait,” you asked impatiently. “I am ready to be your mate now — I promise I can take your knot right here.”

Sanemi snarled against your skin, but it was not in warning. Rather, your words seemed to stir something deep within him, as the bulge between his legs hardened even more, and the building friction between it and demanding ache in your core intensified.

Sanemi shifted your hips in his lap so the apex of your thighs was no longer pressed flush against his hardness.

“You, my flower, smell far too tempting for me to risk having you in such a vulnerable way in the middle of the damn Wood, without any cover.”

Sanemi, lips traipsed along your jaw as he hummed. “There are many creatures lurking in the shadows that would see my mating you as an opportunity to take a bite for themselves.”

You tugged on his hair, trying to get him to meet your eyes. “I thought my scent was alluring only to you?”

“You don’t just appeal to me, little Lamb,” Sanemi said pointedly. “You have a rare scent that attracts all sorts of creatures here in the Wood.”

“But it is different now?” You pondered, fidgeting in the Huntsman’s lap until the ridge of his thigh pressed against that spot between your legs that made you want to sing.

You hummed and used your grip in his hair as leverage to tilt his head to the side, your lips caressing down the side of Sanemi’s neck, savoring the faint, salty taste of him on your tongue as his fingers dug into your hips.

“Yes,” he said hoarsely. “Your scent has changed, thanks to your mark.”

You pulled away from your assault on his neck to pout at him, lower lip jutting out in a way that made Sanemi’s eyes darken. “So I do not smell as good anymore? To you, that is?”

With a low growl, Sanemi stood, hands gripping under your thighs as he lifted you before he laid you out against the river stone. “Quite the opposite, Lamb,” he quipped, voice low and heady. “To me, there is no finer perfume. Your scent calls to me; it nearly sends me into a frenzy.”

You found yourself incapable of coherent thought — much less speech — as Sanemi’s hands slid up your legs, bunching the skirts of your dress with every inch of skin he passed over until you felt the night air delicately brushing the heat between your legs.

Your legs spread and supported between his grip and the smooth of the rock, Sanemi leaned forward and kissed you, his tongue sliding past your lips to lick teasingly at the roof of your mouth before he broke away, imprinting his kiss down your exposed torso.

You watched him, enthralled by the way your body seemed to come alive under his touch. Even in the dark of the Wood, you could make out the lilac swirls of Sanemi’s eyes as he watched you, noting every gasp and sigh he pulled from you as his hands and mouth explored the planes of your body.

“What curious eyes you have, Wolf.” Your breath was short, choppy as Sanemi’s lips descended past your breasts, caressing the soft of your belly.

“The better to see your pretty face, my sweet,” Sanemi murmured, pressing a sweet kiss right below your belly button, the fire within your gut leaping like oil in a hot pan.

“W-what — oh,” you moaned as you felt his lips press against your hip, the broad expanse of his hands smoothing down over your thighs, pushing the last of your skirts up, and allowing the searing heat of his hands to meet your untouched skin. “What large hands you have.”

“The better to feel you — to caress every inch of you,” Sanemi’s voice was husky as his fingers trailed up the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, spreading them wider so he could kneel. One hand gripped the back of your knee and gently tugged your injured leg over his shoulder, so your foot rest against the middle of his back.

His hot breath danced teasingly along your inner thigh as Sanemi’s mouth drew closer an closer to where you ached for him, the night air cool as it licked at your tender, heated flesh.

The feel of his mouth drawing nearer to to the most intimate part of your body made you feel as though you’d been set alight. “Such soft lips you have, Wolf.”

Sanemi chuckled, the sound so dark and rich it sent a shiver up your spine. “The better to taste you with, little Lamb.”

Your breath hitched as you felt something warm and hot flatten against your folds and drag up, Sanemi groaning into you as he repeated the movement, again and again.

His tongue, you realized as a strangled cry fell from your lips, your head falling back against the creek stone. He was exploring you with his tongue.

“Sweet,” Sanemi groaned in between wet, sticky laps against your folds. “So fuckin’ sweet.”

Every nerve in your body felt as though it had been set alight, the mark between your shoulder and neck burning deliciously.

Sanemi’s tongue flattened against your core, his nose pressing sharply against the pearl between your legs as he rocked his face from side to side, smearing your juices all over his maw.

“O-oh gods,” you cried out, hips bucking against his ministrations.

Sanemi’s hot tongue circled your entrance once before dipping inside, his teeth grazing your most sensitive spot as he buried the wet appendage inside your core.

His name fell in a breathy scream from your lips as you bowed up off the creek rock, hands shooting to anchor themselves in his hair as Sanemi began moving his tongue in and out of your fluttering core, his nose bumping and pressing against that delicate pearl at the apex of your thighs as he moved.

“My gods,” Sanemi grunted into your folds. “You are heaven on earth.”

You bucked against him once more, though you could not tell whether you sought more of his tongue or whether your body was trying to squirm away, too overcome by the pleasurable sensations Sanemi bestowed upon you as he worked his mouth against you. It did not matter either way, however, for every time you twitched away from him, the Huntsman’s hot, silky mouth only followed you, your cunt this predator’s dinner.

And apparently, he enjoyed playing with his food.

The frequency of your moans increased as the sounds of Sanemi feasting between your legs grew louder and ever more lewd, his own sounds of pleasure muffled by the repeated wet smacks of his mouth against your dripping folds as he sucked you between his lips and teeth and continued fucking you with his tongue.

“S-Sanemi! Oh — oh gods,” you cried as something coiled tightly behind your navel, making your thighs clench around the Wolf’s head as he worked.

Sanemi only responded with another groan, his hand leaving the supple flesh of your inner thigh to stroke against your folds, making you buck all the more against the stone as his roughened fingers brushed delicately against the spot that made you see stars.

His tongue pulled out of you in favor of flicking the bead at the apex of your legs, his fingers moving to your entrance and deftly pushing in, the wetness leaking from your core ensuring that they slid in without much resistance.

You cried out then, utterly overwhelmed by the way Sanemi’s finger began to work inside you, curling and pumping and stroking along your innermost walls until your entire body vibrated below him.

The hand supporting your thigh over his shoulder tightened as Sanemi resumed his oral assault on that small nub above your entrance, sucking and licking at it until the only sound leaving your throat were feverish cries of his name, your hips involuntarily jerking against him. With each passing moment that Sanemi spent feasting between your legs, something began to mount behind your navel, like a coil being steadily wound tighter and tighter.

You thought it should concern you, this foreign feeling, but as that feeling intensified, so too did your desire to see what would happen when it — you — came undone.

You left one hand gripping harshly at the Wolf’s hair, in some pathetic attempt to keep his face locked against your core, and lifted the other to pinch and roll your breast. You jolted at the stimulation, feeling yourself grow even wetter despite the fervor with which Sanemi lapped and suckled at you.

This appeared to please him, as Sanemi’s free hand moved from your thought to grip at your hip, pressing you even closer to his face until you wondered whether he could breathe. If he could not, the Huntsman did not seem to mind; his groans and growls against your cunt only intensified.

Sanemi slid a second finger into you, and then a third, and the resulting stretch made you see stars, your toes curling in your boots.

That thing in your stomach seized even tighter and your entire body tensed, as though you were on a precipice merely awaiting a slight force to tip you over and sending you hurtling to the depths below.

Whatever was happening to you, the Wolf seemed to anticipate it; for the moment that tight coil within your belly unwound, Sanemi’s fingers pulled hurriedly out of your opening only to be replaced by his tongue, his teeth pressed against your pearl. He lapped up every drop of release that spilled forth, humming and growling as you rode his tongue through the waves of crippling pleasure coursing through you.

As you came down from your high with a breathy sigh of his name, Sanemi shuddered beneath you, a strangled groan lilting out from his mouth between lazy slurps at your cunt. Though your vision was hazy, you could see the faint whites of his eyes peeking through his lids as they rolled back into his head, his fingers tightening their grip on your thighs until it was painful, before releasing once more.

The mark on your neck burned but it was no longer in agony; instead, it felt warm, like a part of your body left too long in the summer sun. but the heat was not entirely unwelcome, especially as Sanemi untangled himself from you, allowing the chill of the late autumn wind to sweep in and lick at your exposed skin.

“That should hold us both over until tomorrow,” Sanemi said after a moment with a throaty chuckle. “Though I will be hard pressed to keep my hands off you, little Lamb.”

Sanemi’s hands eased your skirts back down over your legs. Once your nether region was covered, he helped you sit up, allowing you to cling to him for warmth as he refastened your stays and helped you lace your corset back up the front.

Gingerly, Sanemi brushed your hair back from the shoulder bearing his claim on you. You followed his line of sight, twisting slightly and saw what he did: the crescent-shaped mark, which had burned a violent lavender only minutes prior, had faded back to a pale silver, its ache apparently soothed for the time being.

Sanemi leaned forward and brushed his lips against your mark, his tongue flicking out to caress it as you felt that warmth flood your veins once more. With a moan, you tilted your head, exposing more of your neck again to him, begging him to repeat the action again and again, but Sanemi only drew back.

“Apologies, Lamb,” his eyes were dark once more, and his hands fidgeted at his sides. “Seeing that mark pulls at something within me.”

You allowed your hair to fall back over the crescent bite mark and in an instant, Sanemi’s eyes lightened and a sheepish grin spread across his face. “Wolves are territorial. Seeing your mark makes me want to claim you, even without regard to the danger surrounding us.”

You frowned for a moment. “Are you only drawn to me because you’ve marked me?”

Sanemi’s gaze softened. “I am drawn to you, you vexatious woman, because I find you brave, kind, and at times, even a little charming.”

His hand lifted to caress your cheek, tilting your head down to meet his for a gentle kiss. “The mark is only a physical manifestation of what I already feel towards you. It is simply a way to display our bond to the world.”

Sanemi’s face turned grave and the way he said your name was serious. “You do not have to accept the bond if you’ve changed your mind.”

You shook your head hurriedly. “I want the bond — I want you,” the sincerity of your words resonated with Sanemi, as he pulled your hand to his lips, pressing soft kisses against your fingers. “This is all new to me; I just wanted to know you were sure.”

Sanemi’s soft laugh made your heart thrum, and a blush spread across your cheeks. “I am certain, Lamb, that I would not want anyone else to cause me stress apart from you.”

With a quick peck against your lips, Sanemi rose, stretching his arms high above his head. The moonlight, coupled with the residual flames of the small campfire allowed you to rake your eyes over his lithe form, appreciating every scar and swell of muscle dotting his mouthwatering physique.

But your eyes snagged on a dark stain that had spread across the front of Sanemi’s breeches. “What —?”

Sanemi did not look embarrassed, but he did turn away from you nonetheless. “I told you, Lamb,” he said causually as he dug through the satchel, pulling out a spare pair of pants. “The mark affects me far more than it affects you; at least, for now.”

“That is because of me?” Your eyes trailed his form in wonder, and the sight of the stain made your thighs clench together though you knew not why. “Is that — is that your pleasure?”

Sanemi’s lopsided grin widened, a faint snicker on his lips as he regarded you once more, spread out atop his own traveling cloak. “Yes, Lamb. It is my pleasure.”

You looked up at him, head slightly cocked in question. “But I did nothing to you — not like you did to me.”

Sanemi removed his soiled breeches and re-dressed before returning to your side. “You did not need to; as I said, the mark affects me more than you right now. My body knows I have marked you as my mate, and it is eager to make you mine.”

You shivered at the possessiveness in the words and sat up as he leaned against the small boulder, reaching up over his shoulders to tug his tunic up over his head.

“So it was only the mark?” You asked slowly, eyes dropping down to where you knew his manhood lay under his clothing. “The mark brought you pleasure?”

Warm fingers gripped gently under your chin, forcing you to look back up and meet his piercing stare.

“No, sweetling,” Sanemi said, a low growl tinting his words. “It was not merely the mark. I took pleasure from giving you pleasure.” His thumb stroked the underside of your jaw. “A great deal of it, it seems.”

You shifted until you were on your knees before him, and even the dark of the night could not conceal the way Sanemi’s eyes darkened at the sight.

“Shall I give it back to you, my Wolf?” You whispered, leaning forward to graze your lips against the crotch of his breeches. “I should like to taste you as well.”

To your surprise, neither growl nor groan rumbled from the depths of Sanemi’s chest as you poked your tongue out between your lips and gently dragged it up the seam of his pants, just as he’d done to you. Instead, what fell from Sanemi’s lips was a low, breathy whine, the wolf’s head tipping back slightly as his eyes squeezed shut.

Below the barrier of his clothing, something between his legs began to stir. Curious, you brought your hand against it, palming him slightly through the material.

“Fuck,” Sanemi hissed, and the hand around your jaw tightened, forcing you to rise to your feet.

Sanemi cracked an eye open to glare at you, but he melted at your answering pout, his thumb running over the bottom lip you’d jutted out.

“I promise you, Lamb,” he said gruffly. “I will give you plenty of my pleasure once the full moon rises; so much so, you will not know what to do with it.”

Your curiosity disrupted your self-pity. “From your knot?”

“Aye,” Sanemi confirmed, his voice like gravel. “Speaking of which,” Sanemi then tapped your rear, eliciting a small yelp from you as you separated from him.

“If you’re truly committed to taking my knot, you will need your rest, you tempestuous woman,” Sanemi scolded, and before you could protest, he bent low, wrapping his formidable hands around the backs of your thighs and hoisted you up, forcing you to lock your legs around his waist with a small gasp.

Gently, Sanemi laid you out atop his traveling cloak, bracing himself on one steely arm next to your head as he lowered himself down, allowing one quick press of his lips against yours before he pulled away, stretching out on his side.

“We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow, and an even longer night.” There was a wicked gleam in his eyes that made you rub your thighs together, even as you scowled at him.

“I don’t suppose you will give me another taste of what to expect,” you sighed, resigned as Sanemi moved his head so that he could lazily dance his lips down the side of your neck.

“I’m afraid not,” his answering smirk was smug as you began to squirm beneath the hand idly fondling your breast. “But I shall make the wait worth your while.”

Your breath lodged in your throat as Sanemi leaned in close, his breath tickling your ear. “When we get to my den,” he promised, tone mischievous, yet you knew he meant every word that followed. “I am going to fucking devour you, little Lamb.”

Devour he will. Part II is fucking filthy. Stay tuned if you want to see her take his knot (again and again).

#demon slayer #sanemi shinazugawa #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #kny #kimetsu no yaiba #kny x reader #kny fanfic #kny sanemi #sanemi x reader #monster fucker #werewolf fucker #sanemi shinazugawa x reader #sanemi smut #kny smut #demon slayer smut

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genderlessdude92 · 24 days

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A CLEAN MIND

NSFW Fic (MDNI) [First part >.<]

PAIRING: Alastor x Wife!Reader

SUMMARY: After a long night of doing Lucifer’s Tango with the infamous Radio Demon, limbs sore to the brim, Alastor decides that it’s best to give his darling some proper aftercare. Of course one thing had led to another, but what would they do once they were caught in the net with a knock on the door?

WARNINGS: Fem!Reader, reader is sensitive, shower sex, mentions of terrible soreness from the night before, Alastor is a little bit of a rascal 🤓☝️ *snort* (apologies), Nifty almost catching them in the middle of it, sexual content in general, mature language, dubious consent, power dynamics, violent language (not too degrading though), unprotected sex, Exhibitionism, relationship dynamics. LMK if i missed anything!!!

Please do not steal or translate my work <3 thanks for liking it, though!!

WORDS: 1.2k (not including the bonus fic at the end)

Y/N was awoken by the weight shift in her shared bed. Slowly, she sat up, stretching the soreness out of her, to see Alastor getting up from bed and walking over to his dresser. Y/N sighed and laid back down in the red silk sheets, but then felt a hand on her forehead one moment later.

“I see you’re awake,” Alastor said, smiling. “How do you feel?”

Y/N groaned and turned her head away. “Not good…”

“Ah, well, I figured so.” Alastor chuckled, running his fingers through her hair. “But I will fix it for you, as always.”

He grabbed her arm and helped her stand up, but Y/N protested. “Just a couple more minutes, Al,” she stated, “I’m sore as a dam’s log…” Alastor laughed softly when he heard her say one of the old sayings from their time.

“Alright… But you need to get up soon, honey. It’s not healthy staying in bed all day…especially without a proper cleaning after last night.” He smiled more softly and leaned down to kiss her lips, then went into the bathroom. Y/N lay back down again, welcoming the feeling of the twisted sheets once more.

After about two minutes, Alastor came back out with a warm washcloth. He bent down next to the bed and gently swipes the cloth on her face, wiping away old sweat or…anything else that might be there. Y/N blushed at the thought, but still let him cleanse her face.

…makeup- he’s wiping off makeup.

When he finished, Alastor tossed the wet rag into the hamper and walked back towards the bedroom, leaving the door open. He stopped right beside the bed. “Get up, sweetheart. We need to take care of your sore muscles and such.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and got off the bed, walking into the bathroom. Alastor followed behind her, closing the door. She stood in front of the mirror as Alastor started the water in the shower. Y/N inspected at herself.

Damn, i looked better when i was alive.

Seeing that Alastor was taking off his unde rgarments, Y/N decided to do the same.

After they were finished with that, Alastor moved his head to the side to look at her, “Let me help you get cleaned up, yes?” Alastor grabbed her shoulders and turned her around.

“Okay.” Y/N nodded and stepped under the showerhead, letting the water pour over her body. Alastor stepped inside, grabbing some body soap and pumping it into his claws.

Alastor ran his hands slowly across her back. He continued to caress her skin until she reached forward, grasping her shoulders and pulling him closer. His hands were still moving, but now against her breasts. He squeezed them lightly, knowing how much it would turn her on.

Y/N gasped, “Alastor!” She looked up to meet his eyes, blushing profusely.

Alastor let out a laugh, “apologies, darling.” he continued to rub soap onto the contents of her body. After washing her front, he washed her backside. Then, he began to massage her neck and shoulders. She moaned in pleasure, causing him to smirk. “Enjoying yourself, love?” he asked teasingly.

Y/N laughed softly, “Does it not show?” she asked sarcastically. Alastor grinned, stepping closer and pressing his lips against hers. Y/N wrapped her arms around his waist, holding him close.

Alastor broke the kiss, resting his forehead against hers. “I want you,” he whispered. Y/N smiled, leaning in for another kiss. Alastor moved his hands from her shoulders to her hips. He pushed her against the wall, using his strength to hold her there.

Alastor pulled back, looking down at what was happening. His cock was fully erect, sticking straight out like a sword. He smirked and rubbed the tip against her slit.

“Alastor…I’m still a little sensitive from last night…” Y/N worried.

He scoffed, “You’ll be okay darling, I’ll be gentle.” Then, Alastor pushed his cock inside of her in one thrust.

Y/N slapped his shoulder, hissing, “You said you’d be gentle!”

He hushed her, kissing her collarbone, “We just need to be quick dear, yes?” He then suckled on her collarbone after pulling away.

“Wait…why?” Y/N asked.

He groaned and pulled away once again, beginning to thrust slowly, “Because Nifty is supposed to come in and clean in about…” he looked at the picket watch on the counter, “…hm, ten minutes? maybe less.” He smirked and sped up his pace slightly, causing her to grip tightly onto his forearms.

Alastor kissed along her jawline, then made his way back to her lips. The sound of the running water drowned out any sounds that may have been coming from their mouths.

As if on cue, there was a knock on the bathroom door. “Sir?” Nifty called from outside. Alastor pulled away quickly, cursing harshly under his breath. “I have to clean your room early because Charlie is beginning an activity soon…should i give you time in the shower, Sir?”

Y/N groaned, burying her head into the junction of his shoulder, “You can’t be this fucking old to forget Charlie’s plans-“

“Of course, Nif, I’ll be out in a jiffy!” Alastor immediately shoved himself back into Y/N, thrusting violently.

She gasped loudly, gripping tighter onto his forearms. Her legs wrapped around his waist, locking him in place.

Catching her volume, she moaned pathetically quiet, grinding her hips into his. “Faster, please..faster…” she whimpered. Alastor obliged, slamming his cock deeper into her cunt. Y/N groaned, arching her back and hoping for the best the shower’s water was muffling her noises.

Alastor, although, was practically overjoyed could hear her cries even through the sound of rushing water. He picked up speed, pounding harder and harder into her. Y/N squealed, digging her nails into his arms.

He grunted, “Darling, you’re going to leave marks.”

She moaned, “You wanna talk about m-mine?”

His thrusts became erratic as he neared his release. Y/N wrapped her legs tighter around his waist, squeezing every muscle she had left in her legs.

“Shit.” Alastor cursed, thrusting deeper and deeper into her. He slammed into her cervix once more, causing her to squeeze around his cock tightly. He held himself deep inside of her as he filled her womb with cum, groaning in ecstasy.

After a moment of catching each other’s breaths, both failing miserably, he pulled out, “That’s better.” He patted her cheek, setting her down on the ground after seeing that she would refuse to stand on her feet, and turned to turn off the water. He dried himself off and put on his robe, quickly ruffling his hair in a towel and tossing it.

He turned to see Y/N sitting in the shower’s tub, rubbing her hips, “Darling? You need any help getting out?” Alastor walked over to her and bent down, titling his head to the side like talking to a mindless toddler.

Y/N took a moment and sighed, switching the water to go through the bath faucet, and turned on the water to the hottest temperature, “just tell Nifty to skip the bath tub while she cleans.”

Alastor chuckled, “will do.” and turned to leave the bathroom

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　

BONUSSS~

✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

300 words

Nifty hummed to herself as she tidied up the bedroom, her cheerful demeanor contrasting with the unknowingly steamy scene that had just unfolded in the bathroom.

As she finished straightening the sheets, Nifty heard the sound of the bathroom door opening. She glanced up to see Alastor emerging, fully dressed in his signature attire, with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Good morning, Nifty,” Alastor greeted her with a smile.

“Morning, Sir,” Nifty replied, eyeing him curiously. “Is everything alright? You seem, um, a little off today?”

Alastor chuckled, a playful twinkle in his eye. “Oh, everything’s just fine, my dear Nifty. Just had a little… unexpected delay in the bathroom.”

Nifty raised an eyebrow, but decided not to pry further. After all, she was used to Alastor’s cryptic comments and eccentricities. “Well, if there’s anything you need, just let me know.”

“Actually, there is one thing,” Alastor said, his smile widening. “Could you do me a favor and skip cleaning the bathtub today? Y/N is… not done with her bathing. A little sore. I’m sure she’ll clean up after herself so don’t bother to wait or come back for when she’s done.”

Nifty’s eye widened in understanding, and she couldn’t suppress a giggle. “Consider it done.”

“Thank you, Nifty. You’re a gem,” Alastor said with a wink before sauntering out of the room, leaving Nifty to finish her cleaning with a knowing smile.

As she worked, Nifty couldn’t help but feel a sense of amusement at the antics of her eccentric employer and his mysterious guest. It was just another day in the Hazbin Hotel, after all.

NOTES: This is even more rushed but do i give a fuck? Heck’s nah. Guys ty for the support in my past posts and thank you to people who have already sent WRITING REQUESTS!!! (I love y’all). Stay tuned, yah??? Notes, Submissions, and support in general is always appreciated :3 And credits to @alastorssimp for requesting this lovely fic!!

-Genderlessdude92, Kiki

MY MASTERLIST!!! (Click me :D)

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor smut #alastor x wife reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #hazbin alastor x reader

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roosterr · 8 months

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love you from afar

note: this has been in my drafts since MARCH. can't decide whether i like it or not lol. @wetsocksinbed angsty fic is up next >:)

pairing: john 'soap' mactavish x gn!reader

wc: 9.5k (oops)

summary: you receive a series of mysterious gifts from a mysterious admirer.

warnings: longing, yearning, pining, best friends to lovers trope, idiots in love, heavy on the idiots part, tooth-rotting fluff

ao3

over the last two weeks, you’ve noticed some odd things happening around you; a good kind of odd, the kind that left you thoroughly confused, but was heartwarming nonetheless.

after going back and forth with it in your mind, you've come to the conclusion that you have a secret admirer. it was odd, and a little hard to believe, but it was the only option that made any sense to you. in all honesty, it was probably just your hopeless-romantic heart clouding your mind with optimism, but one can dream.

the first incident was harmless enough, a small inconspicuous gesture that was so subtle, in fact, that you barely paid it any notice at first.

it was the dead of night, and you’d just returned from a particularly gruelling solo mission, uninjured but bone tired and desperate to collapse into your bed and finally sleep. before you could fall into the blankets, however, you noticed through the darkness of your room something strange.

resting neatly on your pillow, illuminated by the dim light of your phone screen, was a single bar of your favourite chocolate. you didn’t remember buying it, and certainly didn’t remember leaving it there, but it was exactly the kind of pick-me-up you needed after the day you’d had. at the time, you’d chalked it up to you simply being forgetful, devoured the chocolate in record time, and promptly knocked out.

over breakfast the next morning, you'd recounted to the others the mysterious appearing chocolate as a funny anecdote; the five of you had laughed about your terrible memory, and you'd moved on. but now you weren’t on the verge of blacking out, you couldn’t help but think of it as weird.

for the life of you, you couldn’t remember buying the chocolate bar, and it didn’t make sense that you would leave it on your pillow like that. what did make sense, however bizarre it may seem, was someone else leaving it for you – but you had no idea who would do that for you, or why. either way, you didn't imagine that anything else would come from it.

the next incident happened three days later.

during training that afternoon, you were in the middle of running laps around base, when you’d – stupidly – tripped over a ditch in the ground and rolled your ankle pretty badly. it hurt too much to put any weight on it, so you’d sat there in shame with no choice but to wait for a few minutes until gaz and soap caught up to you.

as they rounded the corner, you'd reluctantly waved them over with a grimace at how your ankle was throbbing in your boot. johnny was immediately crouching by your side, abandoning the idea of training to focus completely on you.

"christ, what happened?" he fussed, worry creasing his face and making your own heat up under the attention.

"i tripped…" you mumbled, dragging a hand over your embarrassed expression. it was bad enough that you'd made such a simple mistake, but now the man you were crushing on, hard, was lifting your leg so gently and untying your laces and you were certain you were moments away from cardiac arrest.

he'd ushered gaz away to continue his run, telling him he'd accompany you to the infirmary with a tone that left no room for argument. not that gaz would've, the knowing look he sent you as he jogged away told you he knew exactly what you were thinking.

after making sure nothing was broken, soap had pulled you to stand with an arm around your waist, supporting you with his solid frame when you stumbled.

"sure y'don't want me to carry you?" he'd teased, earning a laugh from you as you wobbled in his arms. as you chuckled though, you noticed a hint of what seemed like sincerity in his eyes. you'd felt your face burning again at the implication that he really would carry you, if that's what you'd wanted, and quickly started dragging him along with you in an attempt to hide your flustered state.

he'd kept his arm around your waist the entire way to the medical wing, only releasing you when you were sat in front of the doctor, which did absolutely nothing to calm your racing heart. to your dismay, he couldn't stay with you – you were still in the middle of training, after all.

"you sure you'll be alright by yourself?" he'd asked as he left, and the concern in his eyes almost finished you off. you were almost glad he didn't stick around to see the effect he had on you.

luckily, after a quick inspection, the doctor concluded that you only had a minor sprain, and you'd be good as new in a couple of weeks. she'd sent you on your way with an ice pack, a crutch, and strict instructions to stay off your feet.

you would've gone back outside to watch the boys (mainly soap) finish the rest of their exercises, but honestly, the embarrassment of what happened had you wanting to curl up with a pillow over your face for the rest of the day; so that's exactly what you found yourself doing.

you must've drifted off to sleep at some point, because once you finally sat up again, the sun had painted the horizon a bright orange, and your stomach had begun to rumble.

as you went to walk out into the hall, you heard the crinkle of plastic under your boot, pausing you mid‐step. when you looked down, you were stunned to find a bundle of three beautiful white flowers – gardenias, you'd found out after googling them later. an incredibly warm feeling blossomed in your chest, and despite your best efforts, your eyes had welled up with tears. you couldn't even think of the last time someone bought you flowers. there was no note attached, meaning you had no way of knowing who had left them for you, which sent your mind back to the chocolate bar from a few days ago.

so i'm not going crazy, you'd thought to yourself, someone really did leave it for me. but still, you had no clue who this mystery gift-giver could be.

you'd carefully picked them up, being mindful of your ankle, and turned back around to put them in your room. there wasn't really anywhere to put them, so you just set them on the ledge of your windowsill and made a mental note to find a vase for them at some point.

when you eventually made it to the mess hall, there were very few people left, leaving the room unusually calm. ghost was sat by himself at one of the far tables, so you hobbled over on your crutch to sit with him while you ate.

you sat down opposite him, and he'd looked up, gave you a subtle nod, and gone back to eating with his eyes fixed on the table in front of him. the two of you ate like that for a while, sitting quietly in each others presence.

ghost had been the first to break the silence, asking you, "how's the ankle?" as he pulled his balaclava back down to cover his mouth.

"just sprained," you'd replied, looking up to meet his eyes. another beat of silence fell over you, before you continued, "did you see who left me those flowers?" you'd asked him; it was worth a shot, you figured not much gets past ghost. to your dismay, he simply shook his head, standing and mumbling a goodbye as he left.

you were only more confused now. if ghost didn't know who it was – and, granted, you wouldn't actually be able to tell if he was lying, but you trusted him – then who would know? the next day, you'd asked the other boys, but they'd all said the same thing, even the captain. so you were left with nothing to do but wonder who on earth could be leaving you these gifts.

after that, it was another four days until your secret admirer struck again.

you'd been in and out of briefings and debriefings and meetings all day, your mind was beginning to numb with all the information that had been unloaded. you were tired; not quite the same exhaustion you'd felt coming back from your mission earlier in the week, though, this time you were at the end of your rope mentally. there hadn't been a moments peace since you got out of bed, and once that excruciatingly long day was over and you were relaxing in the common room, you'd had no energy to actually engage with your friends.

you were nestled into one end of the sofa with gaz next to you, ghost on his other side, and soap in the armchair with a small book in his hands. they were all chatting, with you occasionally saying a thing or two, but you were mostly just zoned out with their conversation serving as white noise in the background.

occasionally, you'd look up and catch soap already watching you, but he'd quickly turn his gaze back down to his book. his attention caused you to be equal parts flustered and confused. if you'd been any more awake, you probably would've asked him if something was wrong, but you were already having trouble keeping your head up as it was.

once you felt your eyes slip closed one too many times, you'd decided it was time to turn in for the night. with a quick 'goodnight' to the others, you'd made a beeline straight for your room – but it was more of a hobble, since your ankle still required you to walk with a crutch.

that night you'd slept like a baby, waking up early the next morning feeling well rested, and thankfully your ankle had even started to feel better. though you still couldn't join the team's training sessions, you had other responsibilities to fulfil, so unfortinately you did have to get up at some point.

you'd just finished lacing up your boots when you noticed it; a single sheet of paper on the ground by your door, folded once in half so you can't see what's written on it. from where it lays, you conclude that whoever left it must've slipped it through the gap under your door while you slept. you'd picked it up and sat back on the edge of your bed to unfold it, your curiosity certainly piqued. it make you wonder, though, what reason someone could have for leaving you a note.

except, when you'd lifted the page it wasn't a note at all. on the slightly wrinkled paper were a number of beautiful pencil drawings – drawings of you. the surprise of seeing your own face staring back at you nearly stopped your poor heart.

the jagged edge on one side of the page indicated that it must have been torn out of a sketchbook, which had interested you even more. you couldn't think of anyone you knew who could draw, let alone who would have a sketchbook dedicated to it.

whoever made this, it was clear that art was a passion of theirs – these drawings were really good. your hair, your eyes, the subtle expression on your features, every line was expertly crafted. it was incredibly flattering, and admittedly boosted your ego a little with how good those sketches made you look.

as you sat there smiling to yourself, you'd glanced up to the three flowers blooming on your nightstand. like the gardenias, the drawings were from your secret admirer, there was no other explanation; and an admirer they were, it was abundantly clear from these sketches that this person had an appreciation for you, if only from afar.

the drawings had been your favourite so far, but unfortunately, it was almost a week until your admirer made another move.

it had been long enough for you to start walking properly on your ankle again, and so you'd been slowly easing back into your workout routine, starting with your morning run. you'd taken it slow with lots of breaks to rest your muscles, but still decided to call it early, which had you back at your locker earlier than usual. as you were rounding the corner to the locker room, you'd heard the door slam closed and a set of heavy footsteps racing down the corridor. you'd only caught a glimpse of whoever it was as they dashed around the other corner, quick enough that you weren't able to see who it was.

you'd been concerned at first, whoever it was had been in a terrible rush, but you'd quickly shaken it off – it wasn't uncommon for people to be rushing around base, especially first thing in the morning. with your own meeting to get to, you'd decided not to dwell on the strange almost-encounter, and carried on with grabbing your towel from the bench and showering.

as you opened the door to your locker to fetch your clean clothes, sitting front and centre on top of them was something you definitely hadn't left there; a bag of your favourite hard candy, unopened, in the space that had been empty not half an hour before. how did these get here? you'd asked yourself, and you stood there confused for a moment or two before the answer came to you.

of course, your secret admirer. you'd felt the familiar giddy excitement bubble up in your chest at the revelation. it had been a while since the page of drawings had been slipped under your door, and it pained you how the gardenias had begun to wilt already. honestly, you'd been slightly worried that they'd given up, or something had happened to them. thankfully though, they seemed to be doing just fine, and you were too with such a pleasant start to your day.

it wasn't until you were sat in the meeting room, munching on your sweets and waiting for the others to arrive, that you realised.

the person, the one who'd been in a hurry as you got back from your run, it was them; that person was your secret admirer. they had to be, you'd concluded, the sweets weren't in your locker when you'd been in there earlier, and you did cut your run short, so they probably hadn't expected you to return so soon – that's why they'd been in such a rush to get away.

the revelation had butterflies swarming in your stomach, the idea of being so close to finding out who it was that held such fond affection for you sparking giddy excitement in you; but at the same time, it filled you with a sickly apprehension.

the problem was that you already knew who you wanted it to be – you had from the beginning – and you worried that uncovering their identity would only lead to disappointment; because there was no possible way john mactavish could feel the same way you felt about him.

soap had always been nothing short of kind and respectful of you, never stepping over the unspoken line if being your closest friend. sometimes, you can fool yourself into thinking he treats you differently – when he checks in on you after missions, when he always saves you a seat next to him in meetings, when he'd practically carried you to the infirmary, all of it ignited a warm feeling in your chest. but then you think about it a little more, and remember that all those nice gestures, that's just who he is. he wormed his way into the heart of ghost, for fucks sake, it was almost impossible not to like him.

you'd been so lost in thought, that gaz sitting in the seat next to you had startled you back to reality.

"gonna share with the class?" he'd asked with a teasing smirk, gesturing to the sweets sitting on the table in front of you. he'd reached out to grab one, but you'd pushed his hand away and snatched the bag to your chest.

"no way," you'd said with a playful glare, sending a quick smile to soap who'd taken the seat on your other side, "these are from my secret admirer, get your own."

gaz paused. "...your fucking what?" he had an incredulous look on his face, and you'd forgotten that you never actually told the others about it. "soap, you hearin' this?"

soap looked almost panicked when you'd turned to him, but he didn't have time to respond, as that was the moment price had walked through the door and announced the start of the meeting.

"i'll explain after," you whispered to gaz, who gave you a pointed look that said 'you better' and turned his attention back to price. you'd stifled a chuckle and looked back at soap, expecting him to have a similar expression, but he was already facing forward. you'd frowned at this; you and johnny would always whisper back and forth during meetings – a way to keep eachother entertained, as well as an excuse for you to sit close to him – but today his face had an odd air of seriousness to it. oh well, you'd thought somewhat downtrodden, just have to talk to him after.

and that's what led you to the present, where you'd been explaining to the boys everything that has happened over the last two weeks. well, you were mostly telling soap and gaz, ghost honestly didn't seem that interested, though the captain did have a rather amused expression as he listened.

"so you have no idea who it could be?" gaz had turned sideways in his chair, leaning forward slightly with his eyebrows raised. he looked to be in disbelief, and you were almost inclined to feel the same.

"nope, not a clue." you sighed, turning from gaz to look at the others around the table. price was standing with his arms crossed, giving you a similar disbelieving look, and ghost had that familiar unreadable look in his eyes.

"someone went in your room while you were gone?" ghost's low voice caught your attention, "bit creepy, innit," he grumbled, his gaze darting between you and somewhere next to you. he did have a point, you supposed, it was a bit weird.

"well… maybe a little, yeah…" you trailed off. perhaps he had a point, but you found yourself not wanting to believe it; all of the mystery person's gestures had been so sweet, thoughtful, it was hard to think they had any ill intentions.

that, and your heart has already made up its mind about who it should be.

"don't be like that, lt., whoever it is meant well, didn't they?" gaz chuckled, the grin evident in his voice.

"christ…" ghost mutters, shaking his head in exasperation.

"it may be a slight invasion of privacy…" you begin; and it's true, but after the first incident, it didn't appear that anyone had been inside your room again. "but it was only once. and it was just a chocolate bar, it's harmless. besides, are you really telling me you've never been in anyone's room when they're not there?" you continued, earning only an eye roll from ghost.

"and you haven't tried to figure out who it is?" price asks from his position standing opposite you, across the table.

"no, i wouldn't even know where to start, it could be anyone…" you try to think of anyone to suspect, but your optimistic mind only draws one name; the object of your affection, who happened to be sitting directly next to you. unfortunately, the two of you were strictly friends – no matter how much you longed for something more.

"i think you should investigate," gaz's smile makes you think for a moment that he knows something that you don't, but you brush it off. he didn't even know about your admirer until you told him, how could he? it wasn't like they were leaving any hints. "whoever it is obviously really likes you."

"you think?" you unwrap another sweet and pop it into your mouth as you consider his words.

"yeah! and, we could even help you investigate," gaz gives the others a hopeful, if slightly suspicious, smirk.

"speak for yourself…" ghost leans back in his chair and folds his arms over his chest, the picture of uninterested, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes.

"could be a good bonding exercise," price had the same entertained tone in his voice as he looked between the four of you, "any thoughts, soap?"

you hadn't realised until the captain brought attention to him, but soap had been uncharacteristically quiet during all this; since before the meeting, actually. he hadn't said a word to you yet today, which had you a little worried. usually the two of you couldn't shut up when you were together. you turn to look at him, and find him looking wide-eyed back at price.

"i don't– ah, maybe…" he stuttered, looking between price and the table rather than meeting your concerned eyes, "...they're just shy? don't want to be known yet?"

"oh, y'think, mate?" gaz fully laughed at that, sharing a look with both ghost and price that held something you couldn't understand. now you're thoroughly confused.

"well, maybe he's right," uncertainty laced your voice, their reactions throwing you for a loop. "if they wanted to be known, they probably would've shown themselves by now, right?" you turn to soap, who looks like he'd rather be anywhere else – but he meets your gaze with a tiny smile.

"so you're not going to investigate?" you look back at gaz, who has that incredulous look back on his face, and from the corner of your eye you see price and ghost both shake their heads.

"they can show themselves when they're ready, i don't want to push them." your mind was made up; if your secret admirer wanted to reveal their identity, then they would, it's as simple as that.

"but–" gaz tries to argue, but price quickly interrupts him.

"right, enough, you lot, clear out, you've all got work to be getting on with." he gestures for you all to stand, and after grabbing your sweets, you follow the others out of the room.

for the rest of the day, you endured endless amounts of teasing from gaz, and he even got some of the people from other units in on it. it had your face burning when they cooed over how romantic your 'mystery lover' was. you could only pray that they got over it soon, in the back of your mind you were slightly worried the attention might scare off your admirer, and you certainly didn't want that. but although you told the others you'd wait for them to reveal themselves in their own time, you'd be lying if you said you weren't practically dying to know who it was.

✹✹✹

"hey sarge," a voice sounds from beside you, drowning out the din of the mess hall around you. turning your head, you see it's a private; one you don't really know, but you give her a polite smile anyway. "i've got a message for you." she continues, producing a folded piece of paper from behind her back.

"a message? who from?" you ask, taking the paper from her when she holds it out to you.

she giggles, giving you a sly smile, "a secret someone," and with a suspicious wink, she turned around and left.

with the note in your hand, you look to gaz and soap, a baffled expression on your face. "does she mean my… admirer?" they both shrug at you, sharing an equally perplexed look between themselves.

"go on then," gaz says, "what does it say?"

you unfold it, and scan the neat handwriting of the message. soap and gaz watch as you read it, their curiosity overwhelmingly present in the way they leaned forward to try and see.

your face falls, and you frown. the note was signed – 'your secret admirer' – but you couldn't ignore the sinking feeling in your heart.

"what's up? what does it say?" gaz notices the change in your expression, standing up from his chair and leaning fully over the table to read the note himself. you hand it to him, your good mood from this morning completely soured.

"apparently it is from my admirer," you begin, not bothering to hide the dejection in your voice, "telling me to meet them outside in five minutes."

the pair don't say anything, too stunned to form words as they continue to frown at the words in front of them. this can't be right, it just can't be, your mind laments, if johnny is sitting here, that that means he's not–

"seriously? just like that?" gaz interrupts your thoughts. he sounded annoyed underneath his shock, and you find yourself feeling the same way. "sorry, but i find that hard to believe – they didn't even leave a card with the flowers, did they? it just doesn't feel right to me."

you look to soap, who has yet to say anything on the matter. he doesn't meet your eyes, boring holes into the table with the anger in his gaze. your frown only deepens at his expression, the look on his face so unlike him it almost has you forgetting all about the cause.

"who knows," you sigh, plucking the note back out of gaz's hand. "this probably won't take long, i'll–"

"wait, you're going?" soap interjects, the frown on his face set much deeper than your own. his sudden question caught you off guard, paired with his irritated expression, and you almost thought he was angry with you.

"yeah, i mean, what's the harm, right? might as well just get it over with." you stand as you respond, folding the note back up. even if you were setting yourself up for disappointment, you still wanted to at least hear this person out; even if it wasn't him.

"what's the harm?" johnny scoffs – at you or at very idea of all this you aren't sure – and joins you in standing up, throwing his arms out with such annoyance, it catches you off guard. he gestures sharply at the paper in your hand, "this– whoever that is, it's pure shite! you can't see that?"

now it's you who scoffs at him; where is this hostility coming from? yesterday he seemed as though he couldn't care less when you were telling everyone about it, and now all of a sudden, he thinks he has all the answers?

"how would you know?" you shove the note into your pocket, your earlier sadness quickly morphing into annoyance.

as you move to walk away, johnny looks like he wants to say something more, to stop you, and you hesitate. you want him to; whoever your admirer was, whoever that note was from, none of it meant a thing if it wasn't him. all you wanted was for him to look at you the same way you look at him. gaz is looking at him too, subtly gesturing for him to do something, but he doesn't speak, doesn't meet your eyes as your face drops again.

"exactly, you don't. i'll be back in a minute." you huff, and without another word from either of them, you turn on your heel and make your way out of the mess hall.

it's safe to say your mood had swiftly and effectively been ruined. the disillusionment of realising that your secret admirer was someone other than johnny was one thing, but his sudden attitude towards you was the final straw. your face was decidedly sour as you trudge through the corridors, still with a slight limp which was only fuelling your annoyance for how your day was going.

the cool air of the courtyard makes your skin bristle as you push the door open, taking a moment to survey the area as you stand in the entryway. to the left stands a lone figure, and you recognise his face, but – like the private from earlier, who you assume is his friend – you can't remember ever having spoken to him. with a deep sigh, you blink away bitterness in your expression and make your way over to him.

his grin is wide as he shamelessly checks you out while you approach, and you instinctually cross your arms over your chest. you come to a stop in front of him, frowning in a look that you hope screams uninterested.

"hey, sarge." he has an overly confident air to him as he speaks, shuffling closer under your scrutinising stare. of course he wouldn't take the hint.

"so it's you, then?" you ask, your voice flat and void of any emotion. you just wanted this to be over with, but it seemed luck just wasn't on your side today.

"it's me," he confirms, the blinding grin still plastered to his face as he inches even closer, "you surprised?"

"yeah, actually. i didn't know you were an artist." you reply, voice flat, and you watch him blink once in surprise. you raise a brow at his bewilderment, your patience already wearing painfully thin. he chuckles awkwardly in an attempt to hide how you so obviously caught him off guard.

"ah, yeah i uh–" he stutters, but you cut him off before he can make too much of a fool of himself.

"in fact, i don't actually know you at all. i couldn't recall your name even if you held a gun to my head." the hiss in your voice reveals just how over this whole situation you are. he opens his mouth to spout something else you have no interest in hearing, the sleazy grin falling from his face, but you hold a hand up to silence him. "so i'd really appreciate it if you left me alone."

"but–"

"and stay out of my room, and my locker, too. if it happens again, you're getting reported." you spit the final words at him, and turn on your heel to leave. before you can take another step, he grabs your elbow and spins you back around to face him, causing your ankle to twist awkwardly, which sends a fresh jolt of pain up your leg. you hold back a groan and fix him with a deadly glare instead.

"hey, c'mon, don't be like that!" you wince as he practically demands, getting much closer to you than was necessary, even with you arching backwards to put some space between you. "at least gimme a chance,"

"just leave me alone." you hiss, pulling your arm out of his grip and before he has the chance to do or say anything else, you hurry back the way you came, your limp noticeably more pronounced than earlier. thankfully, the private – jackson, you’d just about been able to read on his jacket – didn’t follow you back to the mess hall, which proves that he has at least half a brain. you hoped that he’d take the hint to stay away from you, but somewhere in the back of your mind you were preparing yourself to be hassled by him in the coming days; he certainly seemed the type.

you were gone less than ten minutes, but in that time most of the lunch crowd had cleared out, leaving the room a lot quieter than it had been. as you shuffle towards soap and gaz, still sitting at the same table, they both turn to look at you, and you can tell by the way both their expressions drop that they sense something is off.

"what happened?" gaz asks as you take your seat across from them, trying to hold back a wince when you put too much strain on your ankle, "your face says it didn't go well."

you sigh, looking between both of them, lingering on soap who’s already watching you with an intensity that has your face heating up. "it didn’t. it was just some private who can’t take no for an answer." you grumble, resting your cheek in the palm of your hand.

"your ankle okay?" soap asks, holding your gaze until you relent and look away first. you want to tell him not to worry, but you find it's impossible to lie to him, not when he's looking at you like you're the only person in the room. "what happened?" he presses, his voice taking on a dangerous tone.

"its nothing, he just– i just twisted it a little." you trip over your words under his stare, looking to gaz for help, but you find that he has a similar – albeit less intense – look of concern on his face. the silence hangs between you for a moment as you wordlessly try to convince them, but they see through you. "alright, fine. when i was leaving, he grabbed my arm and pulled me back, and i pulled my ankle."

if johnny had been pissed before, he was furious now; his eyes were dark underneath his furrowed brow, his lips turned down in a frown that looked more like a snarl. to see someone usually so easygoing with such a threatening look on his face was almost worrying, the only reassurance being that you know it's not directed at you.

"that prick… who was it?" gaz isn't nearly as affected as soap, but he's clearly annoyed by the audacity of the private. you shake your head, urging them to just let it go; he wasn't worth the trouble, after all.

when johnny says your name in that deep, gravelly tone, your heart skips a beat and your eyes snap to meet his. "who was it." he asks, but it's not a question anymore, and every fibre of your being is telling you to just give in to him.

"jackson. i don't know his first name…" you mutter, slightly flustered by the way he's acting. the tension in the silence that follows is nearly suffocating. from where his arms rest on the table, you notice johnny repeatedly clenching his fists, seemingly having some sort of internal battle with himself.

"what a bellend…" gaz grumbles, pausing for a moment to shake the disgust from his face. "so, what about the whole 'secret admirer' thing then?" he leans back in his chair, eyes darting to soap's profile then back to you.

"i don't know…" you sigh, "didn't really seem like something he was capable of, but i guess i don't really know him, so–"

"yeah, he doesn't seem the type, does he?" gaz interjects, with a newfound energy at your words. you narrow you eyes, sensing an ulterior motive, but let him continue. "i mean, buying you flowers, sweets– seems a bit too thoughtful for such a twat."

his jab coaxed a laugh from you, "maybe; i guess i was pretty disappointed when i saw it was him, though."

"oh yeah? expecting someone else, were you?" gaz has a grin on his face, one that has you worried that he's clocked on to your true feelings.

"something like that…" you clear your throat, suddenly feeling a little too seen for your liking. "anyway, i'd better get going, desk duty is no joke," you slowly stand up, making sure to be careful of your newly irritated ankle, and adamantly avoiding eye contact with either of them.

"yeah, me too, cap said he needs my help with something." gaz stands as well, giving soap a pat on the back and a suspicious wink as he walks off, which you willfully choose to ignore.

"you gonna be okay?" johnny comes to your side as you shuffle around the table, his hand brushing over your back to support you. butterflies begin to flutter at the feeling, and you scold yourself for being so easily affected. he seems to have calmed down a lot, the anger from earlier overtaken by his concern.

"yeah, i'll be fine, i think i'll just have to grab my crutch," you smile at him and take a step forward, wincing as you shift your weight from one foot to the other.

"c'mon, lemme help you," he tilts his head to meet your eyes, his worry evident within them. his hand is warm on your back, you have to hold yourself back from leaning into him. "cannae have you hurtin' yourself any more."

"you sure? don't you have work to do too?" you have every intention of taking him up on his offer, but you couldn't help feeling guilty for needing his help like this.

"i'm sure lt. can survive a few extra minutes," johnny gives you a reassuring smile, already ushering you out of the mess hall.

"well, don't blame me when has your head," you grin back at him, relishing in the comfortable feeling of being so close to him. distracted by his proximity, you momentarily forget about your injury and without thinking, you put too much weight on it as you take a step. with a pained gasp, you wobble on your good foot and pause to give your ankle a break.

johnny moves his arm to sit securely around your waist, gently pulling you to lean fully against him. "you sure you don't want me to take you to the infirmary?" he asks, lifting your arm to wrap around his shoulders.

"no, no– they're just gonna tell me to rest, and i'll be sitting down all day anyway," you move to continue on your way to your room, but he stays put.

"you should still get it looked at, might be–"

"johnny." you stop him with a hand on his chest, "i'm okay."

you watch his adams apple bob as he gulps, his eyes flickering to where your hand is touching him and back up to your own, almost too fast to notice.

"right, right. sorry." he dips his head, breaking eye contact. you pull him gently, and the two of you start walking again. "you know jackson well?"

you scoff, frowning as you recall the events of earlier. "what? no, before today i didn't even know his name. he seems like kind of an arsehole, to be honest."

"really? made that bad of an impression, eh?" his lopsided smile feels oddly smug, but you decide not to overthink it.

"like i said, can't take a no." you grumble, pinching the bridge of your nose with your free hand, "i doubt this is the last time i'll have to deal with him…"

"he's not gonna bother you." johnny states, with a finality that is as stunning as it is comforting.

"...if you say so." you don't press any further, wanting to simply move on and forget about the whole thing. you'd gladly never think about that arrogant private again.

before you know it, the two of you are standing in the hall outside your room. his grip around your waist loosens as you push open the door, and you're all too aware of the cold feeling left behind as he lets go.

"thank you, for helping me." you shoot him a grateful smile, grabbing your crutch from where it leant against the wall, propping it under your arm.

"course," johnny pauses, looking past you to something in your room. "you… kept the gardenias?" he asks, his voice quiet, almost disbelieving. you tilt your head, a silent question, but he's still staring at the flowers.

"yeah, they're…" you begin, but his words have you pausing too; he didn't seem like the kind of person to be interested in floristry, you'd certainly never heard him say anything about it before. but somehow, he'd identified the flowers on your end table with no problem. "...they're nice. i like them, even if they do look a little sad now."

when he finally meets your eyes again, there's a distinct redness to his face that wasn't there before, and you feel your heart beginning to race with renewed hope. it could be that he just likes flowers, but if he already knew they were gardenias, maybe he…

"right, i, uh– i should get going, or ghost might actually kill me." johnny's voice had a dazed quality to it when he spoke.

"alright, i'll see you later then," you give him a small smile as you step back into the hall next to him. the two of you look at each other for a moment before you speak again, holding back a laugh, "you gonna go, or just stand there all day?"

your words seem to snap him out of the trance he’d been in, and he shakes his head in an almost comical manner, "right! right, sorry, bye!" he sputters, waving over his shoulder as he jogs away. you chuckle to yourself as he goes, and start walking the opposite direction to get started with your own work.

✹✹✹

you didn't see soap again until the next day, considering that he was strangely absent from mealtimes both last night and today. thankfully the incident from the day before hadn't done any further damage to your ankle, so you were up and about without the need for your crutch after a good night's rest.

you'd just dropped off a folder of paperwork in price's office – which you'd completed in fairly good time, thanks to being stuck behind a desk for nearly two weeks – but as you descend the staircase, you're almost knocked over by someone flying around the corner. you caught yourself with a hand on the railing, blinking away your surprise and glaring at whoever had carelessly bumped into you.

much to your chagrin, it was jackson, and you feel your face naturally falling into a frown at the realisation. you’d been expecting him to try and change your mind about yesterday, but true to johnny’s words, he had yet to bother you about it; actually, you hadn’t seen him at all since then, not even at breakfast or lunch, but it's not as if you were complaining.

though, as you stare down at him from the step above, you notice a deep purple bruise decorating his cheekbone that definitely wasn’t there yesterday. your frown turns from malice to confusion as you wonder how he could have gotten it in the span of less than a day, it looked like he’d taken a serious punch. you couldn’t say you felt bad for him, but it did look painful.

"listen, about yesterday… i- i lied,." jackson mutters, eyes glued to the floor to avoid your own. he was shuffling in place, as if he was preparing to bolt at any second. your eyes narrow as you process his words.

"what?"

he clears his throat. "i lied. it wasn’t me, i just said it was because one of the guys bet me i couldn’t get you to go out with me." he admits. the way he keeps avoiding your eyes, glancing around like he was waiting for someone to jump out at him has you a little suspicious, but your heart still soars when you realise what he means.

jackson wasn't your secret admirer, so your hopeless romantic heart could still dream that it was johnny. the flutter of butterflies even distracts you from the insulting notion that he only wanted to go out with you for a bet.

"seriously?" you ask, your shock evident in your voice as you stare him down. finally his eyes land on your own, an embarrassed grimace overtaking his nervous expression. it's a stark, satisfying difference to his arrogant overconfidence from before.

"yeah. i’m sorry, okay? i don’t want any trouble, it was just–" he cuts himself off, but when you give him a questioning look, he can't tear his eyes from the space behind you, and only mumbles what sounds like a ‘sorry’ before scurrying off back the way he came. you watch him go, thoroughly confused by the whole interaction, but not a moment later a voice from where he was staring brings you out of your thoughts.

"y’alright? little shit wasn’t botherin’ you, was he?" soap's voice cuts through the quiet, and you turn to see him descending the stairs to stand next to you.

you shake your head, "no, no, he just–" you hesitate, your mind going back to yesterday and the gardenias. "he lied, it wasn't him."

"really?" he asks, but his voice doesn't sound surprised at all. you're not sure if you imagined it, but for a moment his expression changes into something like satisfaction.

"yeah, he was about to say something else too, but he just ran off," you sigh, walking down the last few steps. soap follows close behind, a hand hovering near your back. "did you see that bruise on his face? wonder how he got it…"

"looked nasty, eh?" a laugh escapes him, and you admire the way his lips curve, the creases around his eyes as his smile reaches them. "maybe he finally got what was comin' to him."

his face was close to yours, a lot closer than you could reasonably handle without losing your nerve and making a fool of yourself. realising you had yet to respond, you clear your throat and start walking down the corridor, your eyes to the floor and a burning in your cheeks.

"if he never speaks to me again, it'll still be too soon…" you grumble, willing your heart to calm down as he comes up next to you in a few long strides. "anyway, what have you been up to? i haven't seen you all day." with a quick glance, you see the easy smile he has falter slightly.

"i was, ah–" he avoids your eye as he stops himself, a beat of silence passes before he continues "nevermind, i– i was… looking for you." your heart skips a beat, but you scold it for being so eager; the two of you were teammates, friends, he could be looking for you for any number of reasons.

"looking for me? what's up?" you turn your head to face him as you walk, a curious tilt to your brow.

johnny comes to a stop, and so do you a moment after. he looks at you, fidgety and shifting on his feet, with his hands stuffed in his pockets. the look on his face is unsure, uncomfortable, like he was debating running off like jackson had done a minute ago.

he's nervous, that much you can tell. but despite the slightly awkward tension, you you wait for whatever it is he's struggling to say.

"i… uh– y'know what, i actually forgot." johnny hangs his head, pulling his hands from his pockets and scratching the back of his neck.

at his words your heart sinks, and you can't help the disappointed look that takes over your expression. "oh? are you–"

before you can finish, he drops a hand on your shoulder and steps ahead of you, turning around so you're face to face. "listen, ghost is waiting for me, so i gotta run," he smiles again, but it's weaker this time, almost forced as it doesn't quite meet his eyes.

"right… better not keep him waiting."

"right," his reply is short, and the tension between you only grows every moment he avoids your eyes. "i'll see you later though, promise." he flashes you another false smile, gently patting your shoulder, before turning on his heel and swiftly escaping down the corridor.

"bye, johnny." you release a sigh, from longing or exasperation you're not sure, watching his form disappear through the doors.

✹✹✹

despite his promise, once again you don't see soap for the rest of the day. at dinner you'd questioned ghost on his whereabouts, but he only told you that he had no idea either. this time however, you got the strong feeling he was lying to you.

still though, you couldn't find it within yourself to be annoyed with him. you could see clear as day that something was going on with johnny, and if he didn't want to confide in you about whatever it is, then you certainly won't be the one to push him.

having finished today's obligations, you decided to head straight to your room once you'd finished eating. you open your door, a sigh escaping you as you prepare to collapse for the night, and stop dead in your tracks.

a folded sheet of paper lays in front of you, standing out against the emptiness of your floor, crumpled like it had been screwed up and flattened out again. a sense of déjà vù overcomes you, for last week, when you'd received the sketches of yourself in the same way. for a moment all you can do is stand there, staring at the paper, processing.

eventually, you do step into your room, shutting the door quietly behind you and picking the paper up from the floor. you keep it folded until you're sitting on the edge of your mattress, hands shaking ever so slightly with the anticipation.

you're not sure what to think, as you sit burning holes in the paper with your stare. after yesterday, you thought you were done with the idea of your secret admirer; but then again, jackson had admitted to you earlier that he'd lied when he met you yesterday, and the whole reason you weren't as interested after that was because your pipe dream of the mystery person being johnny had been shattered. but now that the identity of your admirer was once again a mystery, you couldn't help but want to dream like that again.

with a defeated groan, you decide to just rip off the bandaid and read the note. you unfold it, immediately noticing the scratchy handwriting – the opposite of the note jackson gave you, so thankfully it couldn't be from him.

you hear your heartbeat in your ears as your eyes scan the words in front of you.

i stayed up all night trying to write this note, but nothing i came up with felt good enough, so i'm just going to say it. i'm your secret admirer. i know you probably won't believe me after that bastard yesterday, but i need you to know anyway. i used to think that love just wasn't my thing, that i'd never find someone i wanted to spend my life with, but that changed when i met you. i didn’t realise it at first, but it's always been you. you're my person, and i can't hide it anymore. i love you. maybe i'm a coward for giving you a note instead of telling you face to face. but if you don't feel the same, you can throw it away, or burn it or something, and i'll never bring it up again. your heart, johnny

the silence in your room borders on deafening as you sit completely still, reeling from what you'd just read. you didn't realise you'd stopped breathing until you release a shaky breath.

all this time, it was johnny.

every longing glance, every touch that lingered just a little too long, the racing pulse every time he says your name; it was all reciprocated.

every time you thought you could never have him as anything more than your best friend, you were wrong.

he cared enough to leave you a pick-me-up after a hard mission, buy you flowers when you got injured, draw you the way he saw you, gift you things he took the time to notice you like.

all this time… he'd felt the exact same way you do.

you set the note down next to you, bringing a shaky hand up to cover your mouth that had fallen open in shock. there was only one thing to do, in your mind, and that was to run into johnny's arms and make up for all the lost time you've spent pining over him.

in seemingly no time at all, you find yourself standing at johnny's door, your fist poised to knock. theres a moment of hesitation, but before your apprehension can cloud your mind, you let your knuckles rap on the wood once, twice, three times, and take a step back as you wait for a response. after a second or two – which felt a lot longer than it actually was – you hear the sounds of footsteps from inside.

another moment passes, and you assume johnny is standing on the other side with his heart in his throat just like you, short-lived before he finally swings the door open.

he looks at you, eyes wide and like a deer caught in headlights, the way he holds himself uncharacteristically shy as you stare each other down.

"the note," you finally murmur, and johnny almost flinches, clearly fighting the urge to look away from you. "tell me you meant it." you continue, taking a miniscule step closer to him. you hear his breath catch in his chest.

"every word." he whispers, gaze flickering down to your lips and back up to your eyes again, and your heart misses a beat.

with no hesitation this time, you hook your arms around his neck and pull him towards you, crushing his mouth against yours in a desperate kiss that's as much teeth as it is lips.

johnny groans into your mouth, his hands flying to your waist as he turns and walks you backwards into his room. the door gets kicked shut behind him once he's got you inside, neither of you breaking apart more than enough to draw a single ragged breath before meeting in the middle again. with another needy whine into you he pushes you up against the wall, caging you in with his broad shoulders and his arms around your waist.

the weight of his arms around you, the feeling of his stubble prickly against your face, the softness of his lips against yours; it's everything you've been waiting for, and now you finally have him, he tastes sweeter than you could've ever imagined.

the two of you stay like that for moments that feel like hours in each other's embrace, only pulling away when your lungs are burning and your lips are swollen. leaning your head back against the wall, his eyes meet yours with such adoration it sends your heart fluttering all over again.

"i'll take that as a good sign," he mumbles, a lopsided grin lifting his features. his joy is so infectious you can't help but mirror his expression as you drop your head to rest on his shoulder.

his chest rumbles with an airy, disbelieving laugh and he tugs you impossibly closer, resting his cheek against the side of your head. standing chest to chest now, you can feel the hammering of his heart against yours and the way his skin burns under your touch.

"you’re my person too," you murmur into him, one of your hands moving up to tangle in the strands of his mohawk, "always have been."

johnny's arms wind tighter around you as he releases a deep, content sigh. he's hugged you countless times before but somehow, this feels different while still staying exactly the same. the heat radiating from him is soothing like it always has been, the knowledge that your feelings are reciprocated only making it that much sweeter.

"why'd it take us so long, eh?" he utters, tender and loving in the way he runs his hands over your back and sides.

"we're just idiots…" you reply, "gaz is gonna have a field day with this."

johnny laughs again, pressing his lips to the side of your head so you can feel his smile. "oh, he clocked us a long time ago, bonnie."

you can't help but groan as you imagine how gaz will tease the both of you for how oblivious you've both been.

he lifts you up by his grip around your waist, carrying you over to his bed and flopping down onto his back with you on his chest. a satisfied groan escapes him as he settles, burying his face into your hair and inhaling a deep breath.

you're enveloped by the scent of him – gunpowder, and the faint smell of something burnt, but it's pleasant and familiar nonetheless.

"yer stayin' with me tonight, non negotiable." he murmurs, running a hand up and down the length of your spine.

"fine by me." you tilt your head up to meet his eyes, and find them already locked on you. "so, about jackson…"

johnny scoffs, lightheartedly frowning in response. "yer gonna bring his name up while yer in my bed?"

"he looked really spooked when he saw you earlier," you begin, smoothing your hand over his chest. his eyes widen at your words, his hand freezing as he looks away from you with a distinctly guilty expression on his face. you narrow your eyes, holding back the amused smirk pulling at your lips. "johnny… did you…"

he clears his throat, and by the way he can't hold your gaze for more than a second you can tell he knows he's been caught. there's no stopping the laugh that bubbles up from your chest at his reaction.

"...i may have, uh– potentially put some fear o'god into the little bawbag…"

"soap!"

#soap x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #mw2 x reader #cod x reader #141 x reader #call of duty x reader #mw2 #cod mw2 #call of duty #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #roosterr writes #releasing this into the wild like an injured bird

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toomanystoriessolittletime · 30 days

Text

Mine

Summary: A speeder ride with you gets Din more worked up than he anticipated. Good thing there's no one around and he could just... take care of his little problem.

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem. reader

Wordcount: 1.5k

Rating: E

Warnings: established relationship, smut (public sex, unprotected sex), feelings, Din is just really horny for his girl, marriage proposals

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The heat was slowly killing you.

You still weren’t sure why Din insisted you had to come with him to visit Cobb Vanth. Not that you didn’t like spending time with Din. Especially one on one time with Grogu staying behind with Peli.

But hourlong rides on a speeder through the hot desert were something you very much did not like.

No matter how close you got to sit in front of Din while he piloted the speeder back towards civilisation. It would be a couple more hours before you would reach the gates of the city and you allowed your head to rest back against Din’s chest, the Beskar of his chest plate surprisingly cool to your heated skin.

You had pulled a linen cloth over your head after getting sunburned so bad once before, only bacta helped, your head and body now shielded from the sun. Maybe you could sleep. Din wouldn’t let you fall from the speeder.

Din on the other hand was slowly dying.

You were constantly wiggling against him, trying to get comfortable. He heard every single sigh you released, could practically hear your thoughts.

He knew how much you hated being out in the heat and on a speeder.

You had told him about the accident you had with your father when you were younger, how only sitting on a speeder now made you uneasy. And he knew he should have left you back in the city. Maybe pay for a more comfortable room at an inn so you could enjoy some relaxing quiet time now that you were all free.

But the selfless part of him wanted to have you with him on this little expedition. He had planned to ask you to marry him last night when you had smiled at him in the moonlight, but the words had been stuck in his throat, overwhelmed with how lucky he was to call you his.

You continued to wiggle in front of him, most likely trying to figure out a position that would be comfortable for the next few hours.

Which was fine. He wanted you comfortable.

The problem was all your wiggling against his crotch made him hard.

See, last night he had many plans for you, plans that involved celebrating you hopefully saying yes to his proposal, but you ended up being so exhausted from the day long travel that he had to carry you to your bed where he watched over you all night instead of making you scream his name.

It was insane to travel back today but Cobb hadn’t even been there for their meet up and you both decided it was better to travel back and then leave the planet.

Somewhere colder.

Somewhere he would finally ask you to marry him.

„Din?“ He heard you ask. He tilted his helmeted head towards you, feeling you shiver as the cold Beskar rubbed over your skin, the linen cloth falling from your face.

„Can you find a spot for a quick break? Somewhere with shade?“ You asked.

„Of course,“ he promised, already looking around, the many sensors in his helmet looking for a spot, finding one only a few minutes later.

You hummed satisfied as you saw the spot he was approaching with the speeder, a mountain formation with some dead trees in front of it.

Din groaned when you pushed your body back against him and he could hear your gasp of surprise when you felt him hard against your ass.

The speeder slowed down until he parked it right under one of the old trees in the shade and he took a deep breath, enjoying the little shade the mountains and trees were providing.

The spot looked like a dried out waterhole.

You closed your eyes, pulling the fabric that covered your face down completely to take a deep breath, your body resting against Din’s.

He brought one of his gloved hands down to rest on your thigh, squeezing it lightly. Biting your lip you pushed your ass against his crotch and you felt him tense for a moment before his other arm wrapped around your middle, pulling you even closer against him.

„All your wiggling made me hard,“ he groaned and a small smile came to your lips.

„And you driving this made me wet,“ you said and his fingers on your thigh tensed.

„What are you gonna do about it?“ You challenged and you could feel the deep breath he took, his chest rising against your back before his hand dropped down between your legs, cupping your clothed pussy.

„I’m gonna fuck you on this speeder. In the middle of the desert,“ he said and you hummed.

„Yes,“ you gasped, his fingers rubbing against you. Your lips parted, your head falling back against his chest.

The next moment he was off the speeder, turning you around so you were sitting with your back towards the handlebar, his hands protectively keeping you up as he stood between your legs. His helmet tilted, looking down at you and you sucked your bottom lip in, letting go off his hands, to take your top off, hearing him groan through the modulator of his helmet as you exposed yourself to him.

He ripped his gloves off, his hands cupping your tits in his big palms.

„Such a good girl for me. Letting me fuck you out in the open, huh?“ He hummed and you nodded eagerly, and he pinched one of your nipples, making you moan.

„Lay down for me,“ he whispered and you slowly let your back lay down on the worn leather of the speeder, your hands coming to rest behind you, holding onto the handlebar.

Din’s hands ran up your thighs until his fingers hooked into the waistband of the pants you were wearing,

„Up,“ he hummed and you obeyed, arching your back first so he could pull your pants and panties down before you raised your legs and he took them all the way off, leaving you laying completely naked in front of him.

„Maker, you’re beautiful,“ he said in awe and you smiled up at him as he stepped closer, his hands parting your legs, his finger slipping through your wet pussy, humming as he found you wet and ready for him.

Biting your bottom lip you watched him as he unbuckled his belt, followed by the sound of his zipper and finally his hand pulled his beautiful cock out of his pants, his fingers closing around his length, pumping it slowly as his helmet tilted down to look at your pussy.

Your eyes closed as he used the tip of his cock to play with your clit, circling it before he slipped it through your pussy, pushing into you just so the tip filled you before he pulled out again, playing with your clit again.

„Always so wet for me,“ he praised and you whined, one of your legs hooking behind him, wanting him inside of you.

„Please Din,“ you whimpered, looking up at him, „Fuck me,“

And finally he did, pushing his cock into you in one deep thrust, pushing the air out of your lungs as he filled you completely.

„Yes….“ You moaned and he slowly began to move at first, letting you stretch around him, getting used to his girth, because no matter how often you took him, it was always a stretch. His hands pulled at your legs so they were laying over his shoulders before he took hold of your hips, fucking into you faster, harder, making you cry out.

„Wanna make you mine,“ he grunted, his fingers digging into your skin as he fucked you harder.

„I’m yours. Always will be,“ you whined, already feeling close.

„Yeah?“ He asked and you nodded.

„Fuck yes,“ he groaned, changing the angle of how he was fucking into you, hitting that one spot that made you see stars, and you moaned his name.

„There it is,“ he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

„You gonna be my good girl and cum for me?“ He asked and you only nodded, your lips parting, gasping for air every time his cock hit that spot. It only took another couple of his thrusts for you to cum, body shaking as he fucked you through your orgasm.

„Always get so fucking tight for me. Gonna make me cum,“ he groaned and you nodded.

„Please Din. Please cum inside me. I wanna feel it,“ you whimpered, clenching around him as he continued to fuck into you, a small smile sneaking to your lips as you felt him twitch, inside of you, pumping his cum into you moments later, groaning your name until he stilled, his cock still inside of you.

You let go of your grip around the handlebars when he reached for you, letting him pull you up against his chest, shivering when you felt the cold Beskar against your skin.

Your eyes were closed when you saw him reach for his helmet, pulling it up just so he could kiss you softly, his lips moving over yours.

„Marry me,“ hummed against your lips and your lips parted in surprise, your arms crossing behind his back, wanting to be even closer.

„Yes,“ you smiled, shrieking when he pulled his helmet off to kiss you properly.

#my fic #Din Djarin #Din Djarin x fem. reader #Pedro Pascal #din djarin fanfiction #Mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian #pedro pascal fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction

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satorusugurugurl · 1 month

Note

i love ur work sosososisoso much <33 thank y for sharing ur writing ahh!!! could i request a satosugu fic where toru gets punished by sugu and reader??! maybe for like.. getting off alone or flirting w someone else?

Summary: You and Geto went to a local bookstore, leaving Gojo to fend for himself at home. It’s not like the two of you didn’t invite your boyfriend to join you on your outing. But shopping for books, of all things, didn’t spark his interest. But as the boredom of being alone settles in his bones, he decides to do the only thing that sounds remotely fun. Beating his meat.

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x FAB!Reader x Geto Suguru

Word Count: 2,876

Warning: Masturbation, cursing, oral sex, degrading, edging, smut, creampies, holy

A/N: Anon thank you so so much for the sweet words! I'm glad you're enjoying my stories! ❤️❤️❤️🥹This gave me brain worms and I just had to write it! Two of my weaknesses are SatoSugu x Reader and masturbation.

Lazy Sunday Afternoon

”Are you positive you don’t want to come with us?” Suguru questioned, cocking an eyebrow at his white-haired boyfriend. “We were thinking about stopping for lunch after.”

”Nah.” Satoru is leaning against the wall, watching as you tie your tennis shoes. “The idea of a crowded bookstore makes my skin crawl. Plus, that's you guys’ thing. Books and reading.” He shrugged his shoulders lazily.

You hooked your arm through Suguru’s, leaning your head against his upper arm. “Okay, do you want us to bring you anything home?”

”Nope, have a good time. I’ll see you when you get back.” He waved his partners off with a smile before heading back to the living room to enjoy his Sunday afternoon.

The first hour was fun, trashy reality television, and the cupcakes you had made the previous day. Thirty minutes later, he groaned, flipping through Netflix to try to find something, anything to watch. Two hours into being alone, all by himself, Satoru groaned as he started to regret his decision to stay behind.

The apartment was so quiet and lonely with you or Suguru there. The room wasn’t as bright and full of the life it usually radiated. Jeez, was this what his life had been like before the three of you had gotten together two years ago? He was so used to going on dates, cooking food, and just existing in each other's presence now. What had he used to do in his tiny dorm when he was alone?

He would eat take-out, play on his phone, and jerk off to porn videos on Twitter.

Satoru sat up straight, a grin slowly tugging at his mouth. Yeah, he used to jerk off constantly. Since you three got together, he didn’t need to please himself. Seeing as either you were sucking him off, or Suguru was giving him a handy in the shower. It was like heaven, being able to experience pleasure with the two of you.

But thinking about wrapping his hand around his cock, going at his own pace, had him throbbing with excitement. You and Suguru wouldn’t be back for a bit. When you two shopped for books, you shopped—going down each aisle, flipping through pages, geeking out over your favorite series. He had plenty of time to jerk off and recover in case things got heated once his two partners returned home.

Leaning back onto the couch, Satoru turned the television to some random movie on Netflix. Mostly for background noise, and if you two were to come home in the middle of his solo session, this might cover him until he could readjust himself. With his eyes on the screen, Satoru slowly began rubbing his cock through his gray sweatpants. Up and down, just warming himself up.

Gojo was surprised that he was as hard as he was already. Was it the excitement of possibly getting caught or just that he hadn’t pleased himself in so long? Whatever the case, maybe he could care less. All that he could focus on with the warmth that was beginning to settle in his groin as he pushed his sweats down to his upper thigh to free his cock.

It was so hard, standing at attention with a slight twitch. “Oooh fuck.” Satoru pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. “Fuck, I’m so hard.” He spit into his hand before wrapping his bare palm around his shaft.

His hand slowly began moving up and down, coating his length with spit. He squeezed himself harder with each stroke. He was imagining it as you or Suguru’s hand. Both are so warm but different. Suguru’s hand was larger, more calloused. Y/N’s hand was smaller, more delicate, and her manicured nails always looked o pretty around his cock. The faster he moved his hand, the more the television sounded like white noise as his mind swam around his two partners.

Satoru found himself mimicking the movements you and Suguru would do. He gripped himself tight, like Suguru, stroking fast and hard. When he reached his tip, his pointer finger would tease his slit that beaded thick droplets of pe-cum, as your smaller hand would do so gracefully. Imagining his two partners worshiping his cock, was better jerk-off material than any porn video.

“Mmm, ooh fuck me.” Satoru’s hand squeezed his thick length hard, his hand moving faster. “That’s it, Y/N, just like that, Sugu.” Looking at his cock through his lashes, he gritted his teeth. His tip was leaking pre-cum, his balls were tightening as he felt himself getting closer and closer to cumming. “I’m so fucking close, so close, don’t stop.”

Grabbing his shirt, he placed the hem of it between his teeth. The last thing he wanted was to get cum all over it. Having a new shirt on when you two got back would be hard to explain, seeing as he stayed home alone. It would be much better to paint his stomach. It would be easier to clean up that way.

“Nnngh, fuck.” Satoru’s muffled moans grew louder, his cock twitching harder under each stroke of his hand. “Fuck yes, fuck yes.” The familiar burning coil in his abdomen tightened, and he never heard the door unlock. “Fuck, gonna cum—“ And tightened as his partners called his names. “Gonna cum, gonna cum!” And tightened before it snapped as Y/N and Suguru walked into the living room. “Cumming fuck! Fuck!”

Satoru jerked his wrist frantically. Ropes of hot cum coat his hand, stomach, and chest. His pace finally began to slow as his cock started to soften in his hand, his white seed shining under the sunlight flooding the room. Fuck, he didn’t realize how much he missed jerking off. Especially since he had the two hottest people starring in his dirty mind.

In the afterglow, Satoru lazily looked towards the end table in search of a tissue. To his horror, he found the two of you watching him. Your jaw dropped, cheeks flushed, as Suguru ran a hand over his mouth, dark eyes glued to the cum on his stomach. The three of you basked in the silence before Satoru quickly wiped at his cum.

“W-Welcome home!” He shouted, doing everything he could to avoid eye contact with either of you. “I didn’t hear you guys come in.”

Suguru chuckled darkly, his eyes narrowing. “Yeah? Maybe that’s because we were too busy listening to you cumming.” All attempts to finish cleaning himself came to a halt at Suguru’s words.

”I well, I gu—“

”There’s no denying it, Toru.” You joined in; faux sadness etched onto your features. “We caught you red-handed.” Your pout was adorable as you looked up at Suguru. “This is why he didn’t want to come with us Sugu.”

“Mhmm,” Suguru gently stroked your Y/H/C, “and to think we felt so bad for not including him. We stood in line for forty minutes at the cafe to get him the chocolate cake they're famous for.” Gojo swallowed as you lifted a bag with the cafe's name to emphasize Suguru’s words.

Slowly getting up on noodle legs from his orgasm, Satoru started walking towards you both. “It wasn’t like that. I just got bored. It’s not like I plotted to stay here to jerk off without the two of you.” The annoyance on both of your faces made him cringe. “I appreciate you guys thinking of me!” His hands reached for the bag, only for you to yank it away. “Oh, come on!” Satoru Gojo pouted, his eyes darting between you and Suguru.

“Huh, funny you did cum, on yourself.” Suguru barked out a laugh at your words. “And you didn’t even let me lick it off. I think that’s what hurt the most.”

”Y/N has a point, Satoru. You cleaned it all off right in front of her.” Suguru took the bag from you and placed it on the breakfast bar. “You know how much she loves our cum. My poor Princess.” You sniffled as Suguru pulled you tight against his side. ”Satoru has been a very bad boy, hasn’t he Y/N?”

”He has.”

Gojo ran both his hands through his hair with a sigh. “I’m sorry, guys. Is there any way that I can make it up to you?” Instant regret settled over him like cold rain. Both you and Suguru’s eyes darkened as sinister smirks tugged at your mouths. “Oh, oh fuck, please wait, have mercy.” He held both hands up, but he wasn’t fast enough to stop you from pouncing on him like a spider monkey.

Hours later, the automatic timer on the living room light came on. Illuminating the lewd scene in front of Satoru. You were facing him. Your back firmly pressed against Suguru’s chest as you rocked back and forth on his cock. Suguru’s hair was falling out of its bun, dark strands sticking out here and there, clinging to his skin. His lips were against the crook of your neck, biting and sucking at your skin. His actions made you whimper softly as you rode him faster.

Satoru wanted to join in, to get onto the floor and drag his tongue up Sugurus length, all the way to your clit. He hated being in the recliner across from you, his hand jerking at his cock. Fuck, you guys didn’t even let him get completely naked. He still had his sweats on and spit-damp shirt clenched between his teeth. He understood this was a punishment for jerking off and getting caught. He had to watch you two, and he'd already cum three times. But this was getting to be just cruel at this point. He wanted to join in!

Instead, you watched him, smirking at the flush dusting his cheeks and neck. The tears that formed in his oh-so-pretty blue eyes, and the way he fisted his cock to another orgasm. Arching your back, you gasped, Suguru’s tip hitting your G-spot as he bit your shoulder. Your arm reached over your head, fingers fisting in his hair. The sight of you getting closer to the edge made Satoru want to join in even more. If he could just get his lips around your clit, he knew you would squirt all over his face.

”Guys, pwease!” The cloth muffled Satoru’s words in his mouth. “I wanna help!”

You chuckled in between soft moans. “Sugu~nngh oh shit,” You watched as Suguru reached a hand around your waist, palming your thigh. “He wants to help~!” You laughed breathlessly as Suguru hummed, his voice vibrating against your sensitive skin

”Satoru,” your white-haired boyfriend perked up, “you wanted to jerk off so bad when we were gone. So you’re going to keep jerking off until we say otherwise. Dirty man whores don’t get rewarded.” Suguru’s hand, which Satoru wished was around his cock, slowly slid up to your clit. “Good fuckin’ sluts, like our sweet Y/N here, they get what they ask for.” You whined, your hand tugging at his hair. “Mmm fuck, baby tell me what my good girl wants~ yeah, be a good example to Satoru?”

”I wanna cum Sugu.” You whimpered, turning your head to face him.

He grinned, pressing a heated kiss to your lips. “You wanna cum?” You nodded your head, kissing him harder. “Go ahead, sweet girl, cum for me, Y/N.” His fingers rubbed circles around your cock. “That’s it; I feel you clenching cum on. Let it out, princess.” His gaze darted down, watching as you squirted hard.

“No, no, no,” Satoru whined like a spoiled brat. “I wanted to taste her cum!”

You were trembling, still coming down from your orgasm. Once you could form words, you tilted your head to the side. “See why we were so disappointed in you?” Suguru slowed his pace, his still-hard cock gently sliding into you. “I wanted to clean you up, but you used a tissue. I think I’ll clean up my mess the same way slut.” Suguru groaned, his cock twitching at your dirty fucking words.

“No! Please don’t. I’ll clean it up!”

”Oh, will you?”

”Yes.”

”And how will you clean up Y/N‘s cum Satoru?” Suguru asked as you slowly began rocking back and forth on his cock.

The two of you watched as your partner stood, his cum coated chest and stomach heaving as he looked to the floor. There was a dark, needy look in his eyes, one a person would only see in a feral animal. You didn’t know what to expect. For him to grab tissues to clean it, like he had done to himself. Him dropping to his knees was something you nor Suguru had anticipated. With bated breath, you watched Satoru slowly slide onto his stomach, his eyes on yours as he stuck his tongue out.

“Holy fuckin’ shit.” Suguru’s cock throbbed harder inside of you as he watched Satoru lick and suck at your cum off the floor. Like some kind of desperate animal. Never once did he break eye contact. His tongue and lips kept moving, cleaning Y/N's essence off the floor in the most vulgar way. “T-That, fuck, Y/N wh—“

“Such a good boy.” You finished for Suguru. Your tight cunt twitched at the sight. “Cleaning up my cum like the horny dog you are.”

Satoru sat on his knees. If he had a tail, it would be wagging at your praises. “Yeah? I did good. Am I forgiven? Do I get to join in now? Please!” He watched Suguru’s face scrunch up as Y/N bounced faster and harder onto his cock.

”Hmm, Suguru, what do you think?” You asked, feeling another orgasm coming close as Suguru's hands gripped your hips, thrusting up into you.

”Let that dirty slut help. I wanna watch him lick your clit like he just did to the floor.”

Before you could change your mind, Satoru leaped into action. He was positioning himself between both of your legs. His tongue immediately went to work, sucking and lapping at your clit like a madman. The sudden added friction had you rocking faster, trying to feel more of his mouth on your sensitive sex. While Geto slammed up into you, chasing his release while driving you to your own.

Watching you both with lust-filled eyes, Satoru started jerking his cock once more. Fat and hard tugged as he took your clit in between his lips, suckling the bud as hard as he possibly could. That was all you needed to send you tumbling over the edge. You screamed so loud you were sure the neighbors would file a noise complaint against you again. Not that you cared as you felt Suguru’s chest heave as he buried his cock inside of you as he filled you to the brim with cum.

Thank fuck Suguru had been right against your g-spot. Because Satoru was bleed to have you squirt in his face. The sweet, tangy taste of you flooded his mouth. He sucked at your lips, tasting both your sweetness and Suguru’s slightly salty bitterness. Like a well-crafted treat just for him. The taste of you both combined had his hand stroking his dick, desperate to cum for the fourth time that day.

In the afterglow, Suguru grunted, kicking Satoru’s thigh with his foot. “Idiot, don’t forget what we just told you.” His best friend slowly smirked as you stuck your tongue out in between pants. “Don’t waste your cum.”

Not needing to be told twice, Satoru jumped to his feet, stroking his cock in front of your face. Only his hand was swatted away, replaced with Suguru’s. The sudden change of hand and pace had Satoru whimpering like the horny fucking dog he was.

“That’s it, Satoru,” Suguru purred, stroking faster, “cum on her face like a good boy.”

That sent your white-haired boyfriend right over the edge. Tears ran down his cheeks as he watched his load, which would most likely be his last for today, spurt over your tongue, chin, and the tip of your nose. You looked so pretty, cock drunk, glazed in his cum. It had him crying out in pained pleasure.

When the last waves of his orgasm faded, Satoru stumbled. Both you and Geto grabbed his arms, slowly easing him to rest on the couch next to the two of you. He gasped, his eyes shut, in post-orgasm bliss. You couldn’t help but smile, gently stroking his hair. Suguru kept himself inside of you, kissing your neck lovingly and putting the footrest up. You and your boyfriend relaxed in the silence until Satoru’s soft snores could be heard.

It's a perfect way for you to end a wonderful Sunday.

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wlntrsldler · 2 months

Text

bad for business | luke castellan

warnings: loser!luke agenda is strong with this one, insecure!luke because of reader's judgmental siblings but they get over it later on, suggestive content but nothing explicit, luke being happy and in love (we need more of this; i'm pointing the finger at myself, i need to write happy luke fics) aphrodite!reader x luke, in an alternate universe where the betrayal didn't happen

based on bad for business by sabrina carpenter

i. he's good for my heart, but he's bad for business.

"she's probably going to dump him soon, anyway."

"she's just doing it for the tradition, obviously."

"she's too good for him."

sometimes luke just wanted to tell them to shut up, but he's already on thin ice with-- well, everyone at camp. they weren't a fan of the smell of cigarettes that lingered on his clothes, or the ugly scar on his face (this, wasn't his fault though. if anything, they should hate his fucking dad for giving him the quest in the first place), or the fact that he's somehow dating the most popular, gorgeous, and brilliant girl at camp.

you, y/n y/l/n, the favorite daughter of aphrodite. at first luke thought that you'd be just like the rest of the aphrodite girls (he's not one to perpetuate stereotypes, being the victim of it all his life, but the aphrodite kids always turned their noses up at him so he didn't feel too bad dishing it out), but then you smiled at him with your pretty, pink lips and luke knew he was a goner. he didn't stand a chance (not like he fought it too hard anyway)

you made an effort to remember his name, say hello to him when you passed by him, and you even went as far as asking him for his opinion on things.

"what do you think of this strategy, luke?" you asked, staring at him directly. the entire blue team was arguing loudly (luke thought their strategy fucking sucked and was a sure way for the ares cabin to, once again, demolish all of you, but he was going to keep that to himself) before your soft voice broke the noise. everyone stopped in their tracks because why the hell were you talking to him? asking him for his opinion?

he blinked, even looking behind him in case there was some other kid named luke that he didn't know about. when he finally realized that you were talking to him, he managed to stutter out that the plan was fine. you looked at him skeptically, penetrating the persona he put up with everyone, but decided not to push him anymore and simply nodded.

when the red team, led by the ares cabin, of course, handed your asses to you on a silver platter, you found luke at dinner and sat directly in front of him. chris, who was just as starstruck as luke that you were sitting with them, immediately scrambled off his seat and mumbled some half-hearted excuse to leave the two of you alone.

"so, spill," you said, planting your tray of food on the table. "what did you really think of the strategy?"

your conversation went from strategy to your life to his life to everything and anything until you two were the last two people left. he was glad when people finally got tired of gawking at you and him. (many in disbelief, all in jealousy that you decided to sit with him) you didn't seem to mind the stares, though, luke figured it was because you were used to it. it was hard not to stare at you.

luke thought that dinner was just a glitch in the matrix, that it was just some weird anomaly that would never happen again. he was just thankful that it happened; but then the next day, your perfectly manicured hand knocked on the hermes cabin door and you stood in front of luke with a timid smile on your face to ask him to train you in sword fighting.

luke got dressed at record speed. chris woke up after the third time luke hit his head under his bed when he was trying to find a semi-decent shirt to wear to your sparring session (maybe one that didn't smell too much like cigarettes). chris sat up on his bed, eyebrow quirked, with a teasing smile on his face.

as luke was racing out the door, he looked at chris, "don't start.''

chris threw his head back laughing, "i didn't say anything."

luke threw a pillow at chris with an oomph before rushing out to meet you.

the training sessions slowly morphed into sitting next to each other daily during meals, then into hanging out at campfires, until it got to the point when there wouldn't be a second of free time where the two of you wouldn't be together. luke could feel your siblings shooting daggers at him whenever he was alone, like a warning to stay away from you, but it's not like he was the one initiating things.

sure, he would follow you around the ends of the world if you asked (or even if you didn't, let's be honest here) but luke didn't want to test his luck so he just went with the flow. sometimes, he just wanted to talk to your siblings to set the record straight.

"look, i'm just as fucking confused as you are," he would say, "i don't know why she's hanging out with me either."

as much as he enjoyed your moments together, a piece of him still worried that you were just being nice. maybe you were this way with everyone. maybe he just likes you so much that he's making up these scenarios in his head.

he tried to talk to chris about it, but that proved to be the wrong decision because it's not like the boy had any experience either; he was pining over clarisse. the blind leading the blind, truly.

and then one day, while you and luke were sitting beside the water, after a long day of training, you looked over at him with an unreadable expression.

panicked, luke immediately straightened his back and twisted his body to face you. he wanted to reach for your hand to comfort you, but decided against it. he didn't want to make you uncomfortable. he cleared his throat, "what's wrong?"

"why haven't you asked me out?"

you would've thought percy summoned a cold wave to crash into luke with the way he was sitting there frozen. luke was looking at you blankly, like his brain was short-circuiting. it was a habit of his to blink and tilt his head to the side whenever he was shocked.

"huh?"

you were frowning now, "do you not like me? i'm sorry, i guess i was just reading the situation wrong."

"woah, pause," luke leaned in closer, inspecting your face to see if there was a punchline about to drop like it was a gotcha! moment and all of your siblings would come out from behind the trees to laugh at him. he found no sign of such a thing. "do you like me?"

"luke, i've been so obvious," there was a hint of embarrassment in your voice and luke wanted to kiss it away. your cheeks were dusted with the lightest shade of red as you chewed on your bottom lip. "i thought maybe you liked me too, but i guess it was all in my head. i'm sorry-- forget i even said anything."

"yeah, i don't want to forget it," luke shook his head, now stumbling over his words. his brain was working again, sort of. "i like you, too. like really like you. sorry, you just caught me off guard for a sec."

"you do?"

"gods, i really really do."

you beamed at him and luke was so thankful that he was sitting because his knees would've buckled at your reaction and humiliated himself by falling face-first in the water if he was standing. he was especially thankful that he was sitting when you climbed onto his lap to make out with him until both of your lips were bruised.

ii. i'm mad for you, it's sad but true, and you know it. you're on my mind, you stole my life and it's showing.

word traveled fast after that. when you walked into breakfast with luke's arm around your waist, the whispers started. luke thought the staring before was bad, but this was on a new level. he felt the other aphrodite kids following his every move, poison in their eyes.

when you sat next to luke, impossibly close to him, chris' eyebrows rose in glee. he motioned to the both of you with his spoon, flicking drops of milk with the motion, "what's going on here?"

"i'm luke's girlfriend now."

luke nearly choked on the apple he was eating when he heard the words leave your lips. yes, he knew that you were dating now (his pathetically hoarse voice saying, "will you be my girlfriend?" after the hours-long makeout session the night before haunted his dreams last night; he wanted to keep his cool so bad, but it just wasn't possible when you were sitting on his lap, all pretty with your thighs on either side of his, lips glossy with his saliva instead of your typical lipgloss), but it was the first time he heard you refer to yourself as his girlfriend. his girlfriend.

"nice," chris raised his hand up for a high-five, which luke was about to complete, but chris pulled his hand away, "not for you, dude."

you giggled and high-fived chris, making luke look between the two of you in bewilderment.

"what the fuck was that?" luke asked. when did you and chris get close?

"this is embarrassing," you started, looking down at your plate of food. you were dragging your spoon across the blob of oatmeal, "but i talked to chris about you last week because i was so sad that you haven't made a move yet. i just wanted to hear his opinion on things in case i was just being stupid."

"why didn't you tell me this?"

"i tried!" chris argued, laughing a bit when luke's face turned red, "plus, i didn't want to tell you that me and y/n had a conversation because i had faith that you'd make a move! i obviously bet on the wrong horse, though, because y/n made the move."

"oh my gods, i'm a loser." luke groaned, tossing the apple on his tray. he lost his appetite. "you mean we could've been together this entire time?"

you placed a hand on his thigh, making him turn his attention to you. you gave him a comforting smile that he quickly reciprocated. you gave his thigh a soft squeeze, "it's okay, luke. we can make up for lost time."

luke smirked at you, "tonight?"

"dude, i'm trying to fucking eat."

luke threw up the middle finger to chris' face before connecting your lips.

to luke's surprise, your relationship didn't really change much after putting a label on it. (the changes that did occur were that now he can kiss you freely, which he was thankful for, and that you were even more touchy with him, which he was extremely thankful for because he loved having you next to him at all times. he was so smitten with you.) he realized then how blind he'd been the entire time because you were so very obvious about your feelings for him, he was just too stuck in his own head to notice it.

he started being outwardly affectionate with you, gaining more confidence while he was on your arm. his favorite thing to do was to wrap his arms around your torso and bury his face into the crook of your neck. he loved hearing you erupt in giggles when his curls tickled your skin. he was drunk on you and you didn't mind one bit.

you even said that you were more attached to him than he was to you (he looked at you like you had three heads because it couldn't have been further from the truth.)

he took you on little picnic dates and made you jewelry that you wore proudly, and you wore his clothes (he would be lying if he said that his heart didn't skip a beat when you walked out of the aphrodite cabin sporting his hermes sweater) but above all, luke loved the way he could talk to you about everything. he told you about his mom, his dad, his doubts and his insecurities, and you listened. you would sit there, hands in his hair, while he laid on your chest. he didn't know the last time he felt safe, but with you, he always did.

iii. all of my friends think i've gone crazy, but they don't know me like my baby.

luke tried to ignore the fact that there were running bets from campers about how long you two would last, but it was getting to him. he'd heard it all; a week, two weeks, three months. he fought the urge to roll his eyes when he heard the jingling of drachmas being passed around when you and him were seen together after someone lost their bet.

it's been two months but people still believed that you two were going to break up soon. the idea of it made luke feel sick. he couldn't imagine a life without being yours anymore. truth be told, he was wholly yours the minute he met you, but after every kiss, every hug, every second with you, he was just falling deeper in love with you.

it was a little scary.

"hiya, baby," you greeted him, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders.

you started calling him the pet name a few days into dating and luke actually whimpered when you did it the first time. you loved getting these reactions from luke and his little sounds (both innocent and not-so-innocent) only spurred you on. when he's with you, luke turned into this mush, always wanting to be held by you or touching you in some way.

"hi," he mumbled, leaning up to place a quick kiss on your lips.

you hummed happily before resting your hands on his back, "baby, you're tense. are you okay?"

"yeah," luke replied, but his furrowed eyebrows said differently.

"no you're not," you walked in front of him, wrapping your arms around his torso, "what's going on?"

luke sighed, "everyone thinks we're gonna break up-- or more specifically, everyone thinks you're gonna break up with me."

"do you believe that i'll break up with you?" you frowned, loosening your hold on him. "did i do something that made you think that?"

"no, no," he said, quickly. he pulled you closer to him, not wanting you to let go of him. "i just-- i dunno. everyone says i'm not good enough for you, and i know i'm not, and it's getting to my head a little bit."

you looked up at him, removing your hands from around him to reach for his face. you brought his face down closer to yours to pepper kisses all over it; his cheeks, his lips, his scar, his jaw. "i think you're perfect."

"you have to say that 'cause you're my girlfriend," he playfully rolled his eyes, but he couldn't stop a goofy smile from forming on his face due to your kisses.

"yeah, i am your girlfriend," you reminded him, placing a longer kiss on his lips now. your lips moved together, making luke's hands wander to your lower back to push you closer to him. you pulled away, breathless, "listen to your girlfriend, baby. i'm not going anywhere so don't worry your pretty little head about it."

there were still moments when the voices of the other campers bounced around in luke's head, but you were always there to quiet them with your reassurance and your love for him.

eventually, people stopped talking about you and luke and accepted that you two weren't breaking up anytime soon (they were about six months too late, in luke's opinion). he even managed to win over your siblings later on (kind of; they still don't talk to him unless they have to but they smile at him now, but luke isn't picky; a win is a win)

luke was happy and in love and it was all thanks to you.

#frances writes #frances song fics #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson #pjo fanfic #pjo series

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cryptidghostgirl · 2 months

Note

Hey so uhh, it said requests are open so I'm gonna shoot my shot ig. I have this fic idea but I'm a shit writer so here it goes.

Alastor x reader but the concept is that the reader is Alastor's shadow.

Now, hear me out: Alastor is said to be a powerful demon since his manifestation in hell, we know that it takes demons quite some time to accumulate their power before they become overlords.

If "The Radio demon" was an alias was that operated between more that one person, then it would make sense as to why and how he rose to the top very quickly (assuming we ignore the fact he made a deal with someone).

That and Alastor's black appendages and shadows seem out of theme for a demon who's primary power is based on Radio.

As for how they met, it could go two ways. Either with Alastor, a man hungry for power, strikes his first deal with Shadow!Reader to get them to do his bidding. Or Shadow!Reader offering Alastor their services after realizing that he has a lot of potential. Either way, their partnership blooms into a sort of kinship between the two of them.

Do with this concept whatever you want with it, I just wanna get this concept out in the world in the hands of someone much more capable of writing than I am.

Enjoy!

A/N please always shoot your shot. this is such a fun idea,, thank you so much for entrusting it to me. I've decided just to write their meeting for now but may continue it later on. I hope you like it!!

The Thing (Alastor x Gn!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: Mention of cannibalism and the Donner party. I think that is it.

Word Count: 1,752

Master Lists:

Master Lists

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Click here and leave a comment if you want to be added to any taglists or send me an ask about it.

There was a secret, one that no one knew, one that would tear the demon realm apart at its edges if anyone found out. The illusive Radio Demon and his shadow were, in fact, just that: the illusive Radio Demon and his shadow.

Y/n was master of the immaterial, shifting forms and shedding skins the way others change their clothes. When Alastor arrived in Hell, they had long since been established as one of the many demons to be aware of.

Rumor runs rampant everywhere but especially in Hell where in controls, combines, and divides. Y/n was just that, a rumor. Never the same face twice, never in the same place twice. No one even knew their name, simply referring to them as the thing or the hunger. They snatched sinner's souls from their grasps and devoured them whole. An urban legend, a ghost story only here, all the ghosts were real.

Alastor was as observant in death as he had been in life, it didn't take him long to catch sight of the shadow. Though he had only been in Hell a few days when it had first appeared, he could tell it had nefarious intent.

The thing was a good actor, almost good enough to fool him. It lay in the reality of his own shadow, following his moves perfectly. However, no one is perfect and every once in a while, there would be a little slip. The first one which had caught Alastor's attention was when he had taken a step forward and it had gone the wrong way, quickly righting itself and following after the mistake.

Alastor pretended not to have noticed, but he remembered. He lay in wait for another such occurrence. It was not until two days later, when his shadow gave him four hands rather than two with no apparent explanation such as an odd angle to the sun or another body near him, that his thesis was confirmed. There was, in fact, something following him.

It stuck like glue to the heels of his shoes. Alastor was quiet, Alastor schemed. He had trapped it in a pure white room which he had fixed lightbulbs in from all sides. When he had turned on the lights, he had turned on them, arms crossed and foot tapping expectantly.

The shadow had looked this way and that, searching for a place to hide. When they realized it was no use, they had pulled themselves from the floor into three dimensions and faced him head on.

"Who are you?" Alastor had asked before quickly reevaluating his question, "What are you?"

It moved like liquid in the air, twisting and dissolving at its edges. Bubbles, or what was almost bubbles, what looked like bubbles, rose to the surface of it's body and as they popped, a demon began to take the shadow's place.

"I am everything."

They were many voiced. When they spoke, it sounded like a crowd of people saying the same thing in unison. Alastor stared at the demon, unamused. They were a full person now, about a head shorter than him and seemingly very calm considering he had them trapped. Then again, Alastor had only been in Hell a few weeks by this point, not nearly enough time to work up the sort of reputation he was hoping for.

"Is that a bad pickup line?" Alastor asked, "Am I supposed to ask what you mean and you'll say something like 'I could be everything to you?'"

The demon raised their eyebrows, shaking their head.

"It is the truth."

A tense silence fell between the pair. Alastor broke it with a sigh, rubbing his temples in irritation. He hadn't really known what to expect from this endeavor save an event to break up the monotony of his days. The demon was not delivering.

"Yeah, alright."

"Who are you?"

"You've been following me for what, two weeks? And you don't know?"

The demon shrugged.

"I was trying to be polite. It has been a while since I have spoken to anyone."

"Sure. Well," Alastor turned to the door, pulling a skeleton key from his pocket, "this has been interesting. Enjoy eternity alone in a well lit room."

Alastor opened the door. The demon made no move to follow him out of the room, no move to escape. They simply watched him in curiosity, their head tilted slightly to one side. Alastor hesitated, his body blocking the exit and his back towards them. He watched them over his shoulder as a thin black smoke seemed to emanate from the outline of their body.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

An empty threat, barley even a threat to be honest. Alastor stepped out of the room, closing the door firmly behind him. Once he was sure it was locked, he slipped the key back into his pocket. He made to leave, intending to go out on the town in a desperate attempt to find entertainment. Barley two steps forward, and shadows began to pool on the floor before his feet, blocking Alastor's path.

He watched in a mild interest as the demon pulled themselves from the shadows, taking on a different face than they had worn in the room. Now they were broader, taller, stronger. They looked mean.

"I told you."

"Is this what you meant when you said you were everything?"

The demon nodded once. Their wide eyes were unblinking, unchanging, as their form mutated again. A spider demon now with many arms and a lanky figure. Alastor raised his eyebrows.

"So, you let me catch you."

"I was bored. No one ever notices me until it is too late, except you."

"I find that hard to believe. You were easy to spot."

The demon's eyes widened slightly at this, something similar to surprise but halfway to fear.

"Like I said, Alastor the interesting." they mused after a moment.

Alastor bowed his head slightly in recognition of the title.

"I could take your soul, destroy you. Why were you so willing to risk all that? Surely a bit of entertainment can't be worth that much to you."

He was trying to get a gage on the creature, and he knew they could tell. It was a mild threat, one he couldn't follow through on even if he wanted to. Sure, he could maim the creature, cause it great pain, but beyond leaving them formless for a few days tops he was powerless. He knew that, but he didn't know if they did. Either way, the situation would play out to his advantage. It would either give him more information, or the upper hand.

They considered the situation for a moment before answering. Alastor couldn't figure out if it was because of their interest in him, for fear of him, or some third, other undefined motivation. No matter what it was, he didn't care. This was the most engaged he had felt in weeks.

"You aren't an overlord. You can't make a contract."

"And you are?"

"No."

"Too weak?" Alastor teased and the demon glared at him.

"Far from it. I don't like being seen."

"But you're letting me see you."

"I am allowing you to see a face. It is not mine."

Alastor fell silent. He had figured that the demon before him didn't have a true form, or if they did, that it was shadow. Things were becoming curiouser by the second. He was no longer regarding his attempts to trap the demon as a waste of time.

"So, you want power but anonymity. Those things don't go hand in hand."

"I know. You want fame and lack the power. Another unmatched set."

Alastor's ear twitched at that, displeasure running through his veins and clouding his sight. His hand tightened where he held his microphone.

"I have power enough."

"What use is a Radio Demon with nothing to broadcast?"

"Are you suggesting a deal?"

The demon smiled a smile that was too big for the face it wore. Alastor had to admit, they were unsettling. He understood the rumors.

"I've heard of your... reputation shall we say? But if you think I will trust someone who's face I have never even seen, you are dead wrong."

"Was that a joke?" the demon tentatively asked after a moment.

"Not on purpose but I supose so."

The thing seemed to roll the idea over in their mind as their form changed once again, this time becoming a demon with the body of a shark. They seemed not even to notice they were changing as their eyes flicked back to Alastor's.

"You want information. Then you will be open to the idea of a partnership."

"This was your goal all along, a partnership as you put it."

A statement, not a question. The demon smiled, their eyebrows slightly raised.

"Oh, was it now. At least I had an end goal to this little... situation."

Alastor scoffed, looking away. They were right. He had come up with no ideas past capturing the thing that had been following him. He was in the dark. They had everything figured out.

"Show me your real face. Then we can talk."

"Alastor Hartifelt. Died 1933. Louisiana famed radio host and serial killer cut down in his prime by a hunter who mistook him for a deer."

"Are you trying to intimidate me?"

"Not at all."

The demon shifted once again. It took them longer to find form this time, remaining as a black cloud for a few moments before at last settling on an almost human body. They were shorter than he had expected, smaller too and decked out in what seemed to be colonial dress. They held a hand out to him.

"Y/n L/n. Died 1846. Newly wed and member of the Donner party."

"Cannibalism." Alastor mused, gently taking their hand in his.

He had expected them to be cold, immaterial. He had expected his hand to slide right through theirs. Instead, the demon, Y/n, was warm and solid to the touch, just like anyone else. They smiled, mouth full of needles.

"We all take what we are given."

"I suppose."

Y/n dropped his hand and crossed their arms. Despite their stature, they radiated authority and poise. It was almost impressive.

"If you will be the face, I will be the force."

"No soul binding."

"I couldn't if I wanted to. Not an overlord."

Alastor looked them up and down. His smile grew.

"Not an overlord yet."

----

tags:

@willowshadenox @i-love-jafar @elfyeet @reader3 @lazygirlfanfic0-0

#hazbin hotel #x reader #hazbin alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x gn!reader #gn reader #gender neutral y/n #gender neutral reader #gender neutral pronouns #they/them reader #alastor x reader #the radio demon x reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x gn reader

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daemonsversion · 3 months

Text

Hightower Girl | Daemon x Reader

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Female (Hightower) Reader

Summary: Sometimes it seems like Daemon has made it his life's mission to annoy you as much as possible. However, when he learns that your father has practically arranged a marriage for you, a long hidden desire comes raging to the surface.

Content etc: profanity, slight masturbation but not really, smut (fingering, loss of virginity) I never know what to put here tbh. Sorry for any mistakes, I only read back through it once or so.

Word count: 6,935 (my first fic on this page was NOT meant to be this long help)

The air held a chill as you turned your gaze up to the sky. You were standing at one of the large windows, looking out over the courtyard as the morning light continued to grow. It was beautiful to look at, yet the chill felt similar to the one that ran through your heart.

With a sigh, you turned away and retreated down the corridor. Last night your father, Otto Hightower, had told you of his plans to marry you off to one of the lords on the small council. You would, quite frankly, rather eat your own head but when you tried to protest all he'd done was get upset with you and tell you it was long overdue that you wed.

So you had been in a downward spiral ever since, trying to decide what - if anything - you could do to get out of it. It was a feeling of powerlessness that had you in its grip as you lamented that there might actually be nothing that you could do about it. Unfortunately, in many ways, you were seen as your father's property. To effectively sell off as he saw fit.

You didn't see him at first. Your eyes were fixed firmly ahead as you walked but they were not really working as they should. You had tunnel vision, moving mainly on autopilot. It wasn't until you'd walked right into Prince Daemon and trodden on his foot that you realised he was anywhere in the vicinity.

"Ah-careful!" He hissed, though not out of real anger, just a bit of surprise and pain because you'd really stomped down on his toes without meaning to. His hands had shot up to your shoulders, pushing you away from him, holding you at arms length.

Your gazes met at the same time and he blinked, abruptly letting go of you and stepping back, his eyes looking you up and down. "Oh." Hightower girl.

You frowned at his reaction but you were not in the mood today to get into an argument with the prince of the city, though some days you almost lived for it. "Forgive me, I was not looking where I-"

"No. I daresay you were not." Daemon smoothly interrupted, causing a flash of irritation to go through you. As much as you tried to conceal it, it did not go unnoticed and his lip curled into an amused smirk.

He leaned in slightly, his eyes now full of mischief as he saw the reaction he'd drawn out of you. Very similar to the ones you often drew from him, merely by the circumstance of your birth. He had not the stomach for Hightower cunts, after all, but he had absolutely found some use for you - getting to make you scowl and want to stomp your pretty little foot was the highlight of his day sometimes.

"You know, if you wanted to be close to me, all you had to do was ask." He purred, a hand coming up to brush a stray lock of hair from your face.

Your own hand immediately came up to slap his away before he could even touch you. Daemon chuckled, straightening up and letting his eyes roam down your form once more, from head to toe. This time it felt like there was something more than just derision there... and a sort of heat started to creep through you. Once his eyes met yours again, he gave you another one of his irritating smirks and then turned on his heel and vanished as quickly as he had appeared.

With a glare, you watched him leave, ignoring the deep ache that started to gnaw at you somewhere within and then you turned away and continued about your business.

Idiot.

Hours later, your frustrated footsteps took you through the keep, away from your father's office, out into the fresh air. The expression on your face was anything but happy, the argument you had just had with Otto fresh in your mind. You had, of course, gone to him intending to have a very levelheaded conversation about all of this but as usual it had descended into madness.

'It is high time you wed and start a family of your own, I have coddled you too long. Grow up. You will marry him.'

The words were spinning in your mind as you exited and stormed out to the Godswood. Not for any reason other than the fact that you knew it would be empty of people and your main desire was to be alone.

You didn't even want to talk it out with your little sister right now because you knew Alicent would only try and defend him. Ever the little appeaser, she would probably say that Otto was only doing what he thought was best. If he wanted to do what was best for you, why not let you marry someone you wanted, when you wanted?

A large pair of hands suddenly gripping you by the waist from behind and pulling you backwards, flush up against a hard body, startled you from your web of thoughts.

"You know the Gods aren't actually listening, don't you?" Daemon's lips grazed your hair and his breath was hot in your ear.

With a squeal, you scrunched in on yourself, squirming out of his grasp, twisting around to shove him away by the chest. "Daemon!" Your tone was scolding.

He only chuckled, leaning against the nearest tree as he looked back at you. "What?" He asked innocently.

You could only frown. Usually you had no problem giving back what you got but you simply don't have the heart for any of it today.

"Oh, what?" Daemon practically sneered, his lip curling as he stared at you. "Cat got your tongue, Hightower girl?" He knew your name but he never bothered to use it, simply out of a desire to further annoy you. You only ever called him by his name and he never called you by yours.

You rolled your eyes and gave him a look but there was not as much fire in it as usual and he found that this disappointed him a little.

"I saw you leaving your father's office." Daemon continued, watching the way your jaw tightened just slightly. He smirked. "Is it your cunt of a father that has upset you, hm?"

Where he expected to see a scowl at his insult against Otto, perhaps even a little fight, you instead huffed a humourless laugh and threw your hands up in a defeated manner. Upset was an understatement, you felt so far beyond just upset.

Daemon frowned, his expression becoming more serious. Well, teasing you was no fun if you did not react in the way he had become accustomed to. It seemed that he might have hit the nail on the head here without even really meaning it - he thought your mournful look was due to his presence, though now that he thought about it you had stormed out here in something of a temper. He had followed you all the way from inside, after all, so he'd seen the swiftness of your steps.

"What has he done now?" He asked then, studying your face with a look you rarely saw on him.

"Nothing." You mumbled, looking down at the ground. The last thing you wanted to do was pour your heart out to Daemon fucking Targaryen.

"It does not look like nothing." Was all the prince said in response.

Just that, not a hint of mockery in his tone, and you lifted your head to frown at him again. He did not look his usual level of cruel amusement. He looked almost like he... actually just wanted to know. That couldn't be right.

However, something about that made you just blurt the words out. Your father had basically sold you off to one of those stupid, stuffy lords on the small council. You had no choice and you felt like you were suffocating!

After you finished venting, Daemon's expression changed again. It was subtle, barely noticeable, but you caught the slight narrowing of his eyes as he stared at you in silence. The smugness seemed to have been wiped completely from his face. You couldn't remember the last time you'd seen him without it.

"What?" You asked, confused now as well as frustrated. Why was he not making fun of you about this? Why was he not taunting you with your looming fate?

Daemon gave the slightest shake of his head, his gaze dropping away from your face slightly. He opened his mouth as if to speak and then he closed it again as if he'd changed his mind. His tongue darted out to wet his lower lip and then he turned his face, looking away over the trees.

Your gaze had dropped to his mouth but you ignored the feeling in the pit of your stomach that the glimpse of his tongue gave you and tried to focus.

"What?" You asked again, a little more firmly this time. Daemon's silence was setting you on edge.

"What do you mean, what?" Daemon practically hissed as he turned his face back towards you.

Your glare returned at his tone. That was more like it. More familiar. "What do you think I mean? What is your problem?"

"You are my problem!" Was his furious reply as he took a step towards you.

"I have never done anything to you!" You exclaimed back. It was always him! Starting an argument or saying something snide in passing. He'd started this whole thing! If you were such a problem, why did he keep seeking you out just to bother you?

"Oh, do not act as though you are blind!" Daemon said, exasperated.

"What are you talking about?" You could not understand how a discussion about your predicament had spun so out of control. Why was he so angry? He was the one who'd asked! You were the one who was being given to some random man! "This is typical Daemon Targaryen. Everything is always about y-"

"You know very well that I have desired you, do not try and deny it!" Daemon snapped.

The silence that followed was absolutely deafening. You stared at him, your expression now one of shock. He stared back, his one of anger and also regret for speaking the words aloud.

"You..." Was all you could get out before you fell silent once more. This did not make sense.

In one of the most surprising moves he had ever pulled on you, Daemon closed the remaining distance in an instant. Taking your face in between his hands, he held you in place for a moment as his dark gaze burned across your features, and then his mouth descended upon yours and you were thrown so far into shock you were not sure you would ever come back from it.

His kiss was hot and passionate and his tongue was in your mouth before you knew what was happening as you... kissed him back, the desire that had been fighting for attention inside you for years now taking control.

His hands moved from your face and took hold of your waist as his mouth continued to explore yours, guiding you backwards towards the tree and pressing you gently up against it. You would have expected him to be rough and quick but he was not. His touch was gentle and soft and your heart was practically flying in your chest.

His body pressed up against yours as he deepened the kiss and you couldn't stop a soft sound of desire leaving you. It spurred Daemon on as a hand moved up from your waist, sliding up over your dress. He groaned into your mouth at the shape of you and you felt like you were on fire.

Only when Daemon's fingers began to fiddle with the lacing at the front of your bodice did you come back to your senses, turning your face to break the kiss and the hands that had moved to grasp his shirt began to push him away. "Stop... stop..."

The kiss stopped but Daemon did not immediately move away, his nose grazing your hair and his breath now hot against your ear as he fought to get his lust under control.

Eventually, he pulled away, his hands leaving you, stepping back to put distance between you both.

You were in an absolute whirlwind. Had that actually just happened? You had kissed Daemon. Daemon had kissed you. He'd been desiring you? For how long? Why? He hated you, did he not? You had so many questions and a moment later you turned your face back so you could see him.

Daemon stood where he was for another few moments, breathing heavily as he stared at you, his expression unreadable. Then he suddenly turned on his heel and started walking off.

"Daemon!" You called, stepping after him in surprise. What? He was just going to leave? This was not finished!

The prince said not another word, nor did he turn around, simply picked up his pace and disappeared.

The night was quiet.

The hour of the wolf had come and you had still not managed to fall asleep. It was not just your marriage predicament playing on your mind this night, it was also the moment with Daemon in the Godswood.

His hands on your waist. His tongue in your mouth.

You would be lying if you tried to convince yourself that you had never imagined it before. Despite the way he often spoke to you, and the remarks or looks you sometimes even gave him back, you had always had that funny feeling around Daemon. Try as you might (because he was a complete bastard, there was no denying it) you just hadn't been able to shake it. That desire.

Desire. He'd said he had desired you. How long had he felt that way? Why had he never said or done anything? To be fair, you knew why, and it probably had everything to do with your father.

Otto Hightower was the snake in Daemon's boot.

You thought about the way he'd looked at you when you'd told him about Otto's plan to marry you off. The speechlessness you had never witnessed before. The way his anger had risen quite quickly, causing him to just blurt out these apparently hidden feelings he'd been harbouring.

Your thoughts began to wander, wondering what would have happened if you had just let him continue what he'd been doing. If you'd let him pull at the laces of your dress and go further. He'd already had you up against the tree, what would it have been like if you'd just... let him take you?

As you imagined it, an ache began to grow steadily down between your thighs. Sighing, you squirmed. It was too late for this! You needed to sleep... yet it would not go away and your thoughts would not quiet.

With a frustrated noise, you shifted and your hand slid beneath the sheets. You couldn't believe that you were about to do this. Touch yourself to the thought of Daemon fucking Targaryen. That rude, arrogant, self-centred...

Your eyes drifted closed as you pulled the hem of your nightdress up and moved your fingers where you wanted - no, needed - them.

The lightest of touches was all you were afforded before you heard the sound of soft knocking at the door. You flinched, eyes flying open again as you sat up on your elbows and stared at the door with a frown.

The hour was so late. Who could that possibly be?

"Who is it?" You eventually called out, in case it was Alicent or maybe a guard informing people of a problem - though you had not heard any activity in the halls.

Instead of receiving a reply, your heart leapt into your throat as the door was simply pushed open upon hearing you were awake and a figure slipped into the room. It took you a moment to realise it was not any old intruder.

"Daemon!" Your heart rate slowed again, though not by much. The fact he was here at all was very improper.

He did not speak but stayed standing by the now closed door, staring at you through the darkness.

His silent, lingering presence in your dark chamber unnerved you slightly. "What are you doing?" You hissed.

Daemon blinked, seeming to snap out of whatever reverie he'd found himself in. He had been staring at you in the bed, not having been prepared for the sight even though he'd known logically you would be in it. "I thought that we should speak." He said, taking a step away from the door.

You sat up even further in the bed. "At this hour? In my chambers? You should not be here."

"I could not sleep." He said simply. Even through the darkness you could see the way his gaze flickered very quickly over your sheet-covered form.

"What has that got to do with me?" You asked even though you were pretty sure you already knew the answer. Had he been thinking about it too? Had it kept him awake as it had kept you?

Daemon's slight smirk returned as he took another step towards the bed and slowly moved to sit down on the edge of it. He wanted to touch you but he refrained. You were right, it was late and inappropriate but he just hadn't been able to rest. He had been pacing a hole in the floor of his own room for the past few hours.

You shifted in the silence that followed, refusing to be the first to break it. Your eyes were glued to him.

"I would say sorry about earlier," his voice came again. "But I would not mean it."

"Why are you here, Daemon?" You asked, ignoring what he'd just said completely.

He smiled a little wryly and his gaze dropped briefly to the low neckline of your nightdress and back up to your face. The moonlight streaming in through your window was the only thing illuminating the room.

"I think you know why I am here." He murmured, lifting a hand as if to reach for you face.

As earlier in the day, you lifted your own hand and lightly smacked his away before he could touch you. "I am not one of your whores!" You snapped, offended.

"Give yourself to me and I will never take another whore again, I swear it." Daemon said simply, his voice low as he leaned in slightly, his eyes never leaving your face.

"What?" You leaned backwards but the pillows didn't let you move too far from him. You could feel that ache again... the closer he got, the more he spoke.

"I mean it, I am being serious." He stated, lifting his hand again to graze the backs of his fingers down your cheek. This time you let him. "You do not wish for your father to marry you off to that stuffy idiot." He whispered, shifting closer. "Well, neither do I." His tone had darkened a little on that, taking on an almost possessive quality that made your heart somersault. "I presume you are a maiden." It tended to be something of a good bargaining chip for arranging unions between houses, after all.

Daemon's touch travelled slowly down your cheek towards your jaw and he eventually curled his long fingers under your chin, his thumb brushing your lower lip. "Give yourself to me," he repeated. "And I will deflower you and make it known... the marriage will be over before it is even begun." He knew this particular lord well and he knew he would not want a wife who had been sullied.

You stared at him in stunned silence for a long moment, trying to ignore the tightening in your belly and the racing of your heart at his proximity and his words. "To what end?" You asked in a helpless little whisper. "I would not have to marry this lord, no, but then what? I will surely be...-" Unwanted by most, seen as ruined perhaps, used. And gods the fury of your father when he found out...

As much as you desired him you did not want to be just one of Daemon's conquests, especially when it would leave you ostracised with no options while he continued to swan around doing whatever he wanted with no consequences. Oh, to be a man, you thought bitterly.

However, you did not get to finish your thought as Daemon interrupted, with a frustrated little frown on his face as if he'd expected you to piece that together on your own. "You would marry me."

A silence followed in which the two of you simply stared at each other. You were stunned. Did he mean that or was he being annoying? Despite the frustration on his face, which was also kind of born from his lust, you got the feeling he wasn't making fun of you. Not this time.

"What?"

"I said you would marry me, Hightower girl, are you deaf?"

A small scowl appeared on your face at his response and you pulled your face from his grasp. No, you were not deaf, but it was a bit of a bloody shocking thing for him to say, wasn't it?

"I have a name you know, you arrogant-!" You cut yourself off before you could say something too terrible but the irritation remained on your face. He had never in all the years you'd known him told you off for not using a title with him, yet he had also never called you by your own name from what you could recall. No doubt he had probably long forgotten it!

Daemon smirked at the sudden rise of fire in you. You had been off for most of the day due to wallowing in your misery and fighting with you had not felt quite as satisfactory as it usually did.

"There she is." He muttered, reaching for your face again. This time he took it with both hands like he had in the Godswood and he stared directly into your eyes, amusement shining on his face as he said your name.

Something about it falling from his lips, the way his mouth moved as he spoke it, coupled with the slowly growing desire in his eyes made you cave. Something flickered in your eyes. Daemon saw it and he immediately took it as a yes and leaned in. You did not object, tilting your head slightly once his mouth came down on yours, kissing him deeply.

A moment later his hands left your face and he was tugging at you to get you to lie back down. You shifted, still reeling slightly, and lay down again in the bed. Your heart was racing. You should not be doing this.

Any further thought was momentarily ceased as Daemon slid over top of you, hovering for a few seconds as his eyes seemed to take in as much as they could of you through the dark. "You are beautiful." He mumbled, so quiet that you thought he'd probably said it accidentally. His mouth immediately descending upon your own to prevent any response strengthened this thought.

You kissed him back right away, not in the state of mind to fully think on it anyway. Your desire was rising and the ache that had kept you awake was growing once more.

You made a small sound into his mouth which made Daemon press his body down against yours a little. The contact just made you feel hotter.

His hand slowly moved up to the neckline of your nightgown and this time you did not try to stop him. You let his fingers tug at the little ties, feeling it loosen with each one he pulled free. Your heart was now hammering so hard in your chest that you wondered how you had not passed out.

This is wrong, your mind was screaming.

But if it was wrong... then why did it feel so right?

Your thoughts ceased again when Daemon's fingers touched the bare skin of your right breast, having gotten the laces at the bust undone while you were kissing. You made a sound into his mouth and then he broke the kiss, pulling back so he could look down at you, wanting to see you properly.

The light in the room was dim but his eyes were keen enough and he groaned at the sight of you, gently pulling the rest of the fabric aside.

Again, Daemon continued to surprise you. Earlier, in the Godswood you remembered expecting his kiss or his movements to be rough and demanding yet it had been soft and gentle. In bed, you had imagined (yes, shamefully, you had imagined) Daemon ripping clothes off impatiently and taking what he wanted, yet he was taking his time undressing you and he was looking at you like you were something special, not just a body he wanted to use.

There was a funny, fluttery feeling in your stomach that you ignored as Daemon's eyes met yours again. He just held your gaze for a few seconds and then his lips were on yours once more. While his tongue explored your mouth, his fingers roamed your breasts - pinching, rubbing, tweaking, caressing - until you were squirming and whining.

You felt the beginnings of one of his trademark smirks and he broke the kiss with a chuckle, pulling back and looking down at you with amused eyes. Before you could complain about his teasing, a hand reached down and began to pull the skirt of your nightdress higher up your legs.

Briefly, you tensed. You tried to hide it but Daemon, who had been watching you very closely, immediately stopped his hand.

"Tell me to stop..." He said quietly. "And I will."

You could have. You could have told him to stop. You could have pushed him off. You could have told him to get out of your room. You could have stopped this whole insane plan right there and then.

But you didn't.

Because you wanted him.

You shook your head and Daemon raised an eyebrow, still not moving. He needed more than that.

You wriggled in frustration. "Please." You muttered, a little embarrassed to seem like you were begging for it, but Daemon did not mock you. His gaze seemed to darken with desire and his fingers clawed at the fabric once more, pulling it all the way up your thighs, wanting access to you. He might not seem it but he was growing impatient. He could feel the proof of it straining against his breeches, practically screaming to be let out.

But he would not be selfish and greedy. Not tonight. Not with you.

His fingers reached your most forbidden area and your mind immediately went blank once more, a gasp catching in your throat as he began to touch you there. His eyes did not leave your face once, wanting to see every little expression of pleasure that passed across it.

Daemon let out a groan when his fingers slid up and down your centre, feeling how wet you already were for him. He could scarcely believe his luck, it took everything not to just hold you down and finally make you his.

It was all he had been thinking about for months, probably even longer. Every whore he'd fucked to try and banish the thought of you from his mind had only succeeded in lodging you deeper into his heart.

He circled your clit a few times, drinking in the way you writhed at the sensation and then he slipped a finger inside of you. Your breath caught in your throat and he felt you tense slightly once more, an involuntary reaction. He'd felt such a reaction many times before. This was not his first deflowering.

"Shh.." He soothed, leaning in to press soft kisses to your cheek and jaw. "Shh... relax."

Daemon began to move his finger slowly, to allow you to become accustomed to the feeling. He felt you relaxing in response to his kisses and his gentle movements and soon it felt nice and you were making those sweet little sounds once more. He swiped his thumb over your clit again and then inserted a second finger, moving them both in and out with a gentle rhythm.

His lips came back to yours and he stayed like this for a little while, tongue exploring your mouth while his fingers worked you, slowly increasing speed. Your body felt hot, you were shaking and moaning... and Daemon was growing more and more turned on.

When he finally drove you to climax, he could take no more and he grunted, pulling his mouth from yours and leaning back to watch you come undone on his fingers. You were almost dizzy from the stars he'd just made you see but your eyes reopened as you felt him move away, whimpering slightly as his fingers left your heat.

You heard the sound of his belt being unbuckled and your heart started to race.

His fingers were starting to becoming impatient as he freed himself of his bothersome clothing and then moved himself back on top of you. When he kissed you this time, you felt something pressing up against you that was certainly not his hand. You shuddered and moaned into his mouth.

Daemon's lips left yours and began to trail down your jaw to your neck. He let them linger there, kissing and licking your skin as his hand moved back down your body, caressing your breasts and familiarising himself with the shape of you. He gently nudged your legs apart with his knee, trying not to rush too much because the last thing he wanted to do was go too fast and ruin the experience for you, but he wanted you to badly by this point it was almost painful.

Your body was on fire and your mind was focused on nothing but him, him, him. If there had been any lingering doubts anywhere inside of you, there wasn't any longer. You wanted this. You craved it. You had craved it for a long time, though you had not fully let yourself think it.

Daemon's hand took hold of his length and he gave himself a lazy stroke as his teeth gently grazed against your neck. The scent of you and the way you were responding to him was driving him absolutely mad. He wanted nothing more than to be inside of you. For you to finally be his.

He guided himself to your cunt and began to slide himself through your wetness, not quite pressing in yet, teasing you over and over as he got you used to the feeling of him.

You whimpered desperately.

Daemon groaned, his breath hot against your neck. "Gods, I want you." He muttered. He was frustrated, almost guilty, that he had not the patience to spend more time on your body. He wanted to taste you, but he told himself next time.

"Please..." You whispered, once more practically begging him. The feeling of his cock gliding through your slick was too much, you needed more, you needed to feel him. "Please." You said again, in a whine that caused Daemon to groan again in response.

He pulled his head back and looked down at you. "Say you want me."

"I want you." The words fell from your lips easily. They were true. They had always been true.

"I want you too." He whispered, leaning back in to kiss you one more time before he pulled away again and then shifted slightly. He kept eye contact with you the whole time as he began to press himself into you, your arousal making it so easy for him to slide himself into your heat.

Gods, the slick between your thighs made you feel like such a wanton little thing. He almost growled.

Another few seconds and he was buried inside you. He gave a deep moan as he pressed his face back into your neck, dizzy on the feeling. He wasn't so far gone that he didn't feel the tension rise in you once more though and he leaned back up, his lips pressing gentle kisses to your face and jaw again.

"Shh..." He soothed once more as he heard your breath catch in your throat when he shifted his body. He had gotten you ready for him and been as gentle as he could but he knew you were hiding the fact it still hurt a little.

"Look at me." He murmured, pressing a kiss to your lips and then looking down at your face. "Good girl." He purred when your eyes met his, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. The praise awoke something inside you and you made a soft sound. He smirked slightly, having felt the fluttering of your walls around him. "Mhm. You liked that." Daemon teased.

If your face was not scarlet before, it was when he said that. Still, all panic had left your body as you were now just focused on the pleasure of the moment. When Daemon tested the waters by shifting his hips a little bit, a soft moan left you and he could tell it was feeling better for you. So he moved again. Then again. And again.

Soon, he had built up a steady pace, thrusting in and out of you. The room filled with lewd sounds and you could do nothing but revel in it. The burn had faded and now each thrust of his hips gave you a jolt of pleasure. Daemon was good at this. You supposed it was to be expected with all the experience it sounded like he had.

He wanted to last. He really did. But he had wanted you for so long and he felt like he was about to burst with each little sound that left you, each little wriggle you made underneath him, each time your nails gently bit into his arms as you clung to him.

His movements began to get quicker and you whined as he rubbed repeatedly against a certain spot inside of you. He grunted hard as he realised the reaction you were having. Daemon, however, was slightly unhappy with something. You were not reaching release quick enough and he was worried, with the way things were going, that he would before you did. He would be damned if he left you unsatisfied.

He moved his hand back down between your bodies and found your clit again, circling the little bud with skillful fingers. It was not long after that you were trembling and then shattering as he pushed you over the edge once more.

The sounds that your release pulled from you were so hot that he pretty much fell apart there and then. He groaned helplessly and buried his face back into your neck, breathing heavily as he moved his hips a few more times, his movements becoming a little less controlled as he felt himself nearing completion. With a harsh moan, Daemon then spilled himself inside of you and collapsed on top of you.

For a few minutes, the room was filled with nothing but heavy breathing as the two of you lay there like that, tangled together, all hot and sticky. You felt utterly boneless. Your eyes were shut and your breathing was ragged, your heart racing, your body limp beneath his weight.

It was perfect.

He was perfect.

"I will speak... to my brother to... tomorrow." Daemon muttered against your neck, slowly coming back to himself. Even if Otto held any reservations after what happened, Viserys would no doubt smooth them over somehow and convince him that you marrying Daemon was the best (and only) option to come out of this.

You could only hum in response, delighting in the kisses he began once more pressing against your skin. You felt warm and content and when he eventually moved and rolled off you, you couldn't hold in a sound of disappointment. Immediately you felt embarrassed but Daemon's arms coming around you and pulling you to him distracted you from it.

Opening your eyes, you blinked at him. "You can't stay."

"We are to be married." He said simply, a small smirk on his face. "I have taken you. Everyone will find out anyway." He reminded you. That was the plan after all.

"Yes, but..." Your cheeks felt hot but hopefully he would think you were just still coming down from the high because you partly were. The idea of being caught with a man (Daemon Targaryen of all people) in your bed was too scandalous. A step outside your comfort zone. "...you..."

"I will go, do not worry." Daemon purred in your ear, flicking his tongue out lightly over the outer edge, smirking as he felt you shiver. "I only want to hold you until you fall asleep. Does that not sound nice? Hm?" He did not say that he simply could not stomach the thought of just rolling out of bed and leaving you lying here all by yourself after your very first time. He did not want to leave you alone in the dark.

You sighed, acting bothered, but it did sound very nice and you were already so comfortable. He was very warm... so you were quick to relent. "Fine. But as soon as I am asleep..." Your voice held as much warning as you could muster.

Daemon chuckled softly, nodding as he adjusted slightly, getting more comfortable in the bed and pulling you up tighter against his body. "Yes, my lady." He said it as if you had given a command and he liked the way his teasing tone made you giggle.

It did not take you long to fall asleep. Indeed, you were so exhausted, you were out in a few minutes.

Unfortunately, Daemon was also so exhausted that he fell asleep mere moments after you did.

When Alicent entered your chambers the next morning, she got quite a shock... and quite an eyeful, as Daemon had kicked himself out of the covers at some point during the night, giving the poor girl an unfortunate glimpse of his backside that did not leave her memory for the rest of her days.

Her shriek was what caused your father to come running into the room. You were not sure you had ever seen Otto quite so angry in your whole life. After the initial shock wore off, you thought he might actually be so angry he would lay hands upon the prince but he managed to somehow hold himself back.

The look of disappointment was clear as your father turned his gaze on you but Daemon, now standing, shifted in front of you the second he saw it and blocked Otto's view.

If anyone would take Otto Hightower's anger, it would be him.

"What's say you and I go and have a talk with my brother, hm?" Daemon muttered, his eyes narrowed.

Otto stared at him with barely concealed rage. The last thing he wanted was his child linked to a man like Daemon Targaryen. He had been a thorn in his side for years. And now he had... defiled one of his daughters! He tried to look at you again but Daemon cleared his throat.

Otto glared at the prince. "You may wish to put on some clothes first." Was all he said before turning and sweeping from the room, dragging Alicent out by her elbow, letting the door slam behind them.

You would have burst into tears if you were not so shocked. You watched Daemon turn to pull his clothes back on. When he looked up at you, he was smirking.

"It's not funny!" You exclaimed.

"Oh, come on." He teased, sitting down on the bed and leaning closer. "It is a little bit funny."

You turned your head so he couldn't kiss you, frowning. You had never felt so embarrassed and ashamed in your whole life. Though it would have come out anyway when Daemon told his brother and you confirmed but to have been walked in on by your father and sister was another thing entirely!

Daemon sighed, lifting a hand to your chin and gently turning your face back towards him. "I'm sorry."

"You said you would leave!"

Daemon blinked, feeling a little bit guilty because he could see this actually had been difficult for you. "I did not do it on purpose, I fell asleep!"

You scoffed. "Right."

"Hey. I mean it." He said and he looked and sounded so serious that you did believe him.

There was a brief silence and then Daemon smirked again.

"What?" You asked, half snapping at him.

Your tone did nothing to rid him of his smile, the smirk turning into a bit of a grin. "When I return," he said as he leaned in again. "You and I will be betrothed."

You could not stop your face from breaking into a smile of your own. "You seem very confident in that fact." After what he'd just walked in on, you were pretty sure your father would be vehemently against this, perhaps simply out of spite and anger.

"Don't you know by now, Hightower girl?" Daemon's eyes glinted with mischief as he closed the distance and kissed your lips once more. When you parted, he was smirking again. "I always get what I want."

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen fanfic #house of the dragon fanfic #hotd x reader #daemon targaryen fanfiction #daemon x you #daemon targaryen x you #house of the dragon x you #hotd fanfic

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versadies · 1 year

Text

next time (alhaitham x gn!reader)

SALUTATIONS. next time

ADDRESSED. alhaitham (w/gn!reader)

STAMP. in which you feel distant from your lover, who busied himself with the akademiya for reasons you’re unsure of until it’s too late. (loosely based on tightrope from the greatest showman)

CONTENT. angst/no-comfort, spoilers to sumeru archon quest (3.2), neglect, hint of kidnapping, hint of violence, azar is a bad person as always, grammar errors, ooc!alhaitham (this was written b4 3.4 was released)

POST-SCRIPT. alhaitham didnt come home so i decided to post this questionable fic and prolly plan to make a series about him out of pure pettiness. enjoy. (will make a part two soon and its him groveling <33)

LINKS. masterlist \ taglist \ part two

How long has it been since you’ve last been with your lover?

You could hardly recall, and you’re afraid to admit that you’ve given up trying to. Despite residing in Alhaitham’s place for months, it feels as if there’s a wall between you two.

Whether or not it’s Alhaitham’s wall or yours, you could not find a hammer to break it.

It started a month ago – you feel a bit saddened when you realized how long this went on – when he started acting weird.

He started being a little late than usual, staying in his office all day until he realizes that it’s 3 am or such, would only hum in response whenever you say “I love you” to him, refusing to come to bed until he’s done with his work in his office, only taking a few bites of his breakfast that you took time and effort to make for him before rushing out to go to the Akademiya — sometimes he wouldn’t even say his farewells to you — and come back for only Celestia knows when,

And the very thing you noticed most from this recent change: he stopped reaching out to you.

Of course, he’s willing to talk to you when you speak to him first, but his responses were rather short and swift, as though he wanted to get this conversation to be over and do other things.

When you asked Alhaitham why he’s always away these days, he claims he’s been in the Akademiya fixing something, and that was the end of your conversation.

You knew he was lying though.

In reality, he hasn’t actually been as in touch with the Akademiya as he was before due to a “mission” assigned to him by the Grand Sage, something you found out from the General Mahamatra, Cyno.

You understand that your lover had to keep secrets from you as some of his business with the Akademiya are confidential, but you just wished that he took the time to reassure you that this is just him being busy and not something that will go on forever.

“I’ll see you later.” He says, standing up from his seat before coming towards the front door without as much as a goodbye kiss. He always made sure to give you a kiss before he leaves, he claims it’s good luck.

You didn’t utter a response to him, nor did you bother finishing your meal anymore. It seems you’ve lost your touch if you could no longer find yourself eating your favorite dish that you’ve loved for so long.

You’re thankful Kaveh, your dearest best friend and your lover’s roommate, is away in the Akademiya at the moment. If he were still here eating breakfast with you at this very moment, he would’ve noticed the way your form has been trembling ever so slightly from thinking too much of what’s going on between your relationship.

You could already imagine what he’d say if he were here.

“What did that brainless buffoon do again?” Kaveh would say in an angry tone, yet his eyes show concern towards you. “Just say the word and he’ll have to deal with me, I got you.”

Nothing, you’d say. He’s just… far.

So far, so out of reach.

You always tell yourself that Alhaitham’s simply just too busy from his projects in the Akademiya these days – he’s the Scribe after all – but this is Alhaitham, the same man who you’ve worked out with about making time for your relationship and each other’s works, the same man who’d always spare time for you even when he’s as busy as he can be and the one who would always hear you out when you call for him.

He’s a man of many things, but never one who’d ignore his own lover and act as though they’re nothing but a stranger — not without warning in advance about it, that is (which never happened at all, mind you).

You then thought that you must’ve said something that upsets him, but you could hardly recall the last time the two of you had a conflict, nor could you recall what you said that could have offended him. Besides that, he wasn’t one to ignore you for such a reason.

So… what was it? What was the one thing that made your relationship as it is now?

Was it… you?

You accidentally let go of the plate you’re washing as a result of that thought, the sound causes your thoughts to cease for just a moment.

Surely, if there really was something wrong, he’d tell you… right?

You then decided that it’s time for you to try and reach out to him once more and hope that this time he’d listen to you.

The day was nothing but a blur, and fortunate enough, your lover came home early for the first time just as you were about to lie down on your shared bed.

“Alhaitham…?” You called out his name softly, looking at the doorway to see him. “You’re home..”

He glances at your way with an unexplainable look on his face. “Were you expecting me?”

You started fidgeting your fingers nervously. “Can we… Can we talk?” Just this once, please talk to me.

He opens his mouth to say something but immediately stops himself.

“…” He thinks for a moment.

Just as you’re about to ask if there’s something bothering him, he lets out a sigh and turns away from your direction.

“Let’s talk about it next time when I’m… done with my work.”

Your eyes widens for a bit, wanting to ask him to stay–

But he’s busy… He’s too busy with matters that are more important than you. You thought to yourself bitterly, stopping yourself from reaching out to him once more.

There’s always next time… Whenever that may be.

“...Very well. Goodnight, Alhaitham.” You said quietly, tucking yourself in your bed as your back faces his direction. You didn’t notice how he finally looked back at you with a longing look on his face, only to walk away towards his office without another word.

Next time ( Name ). Alhaitham thought with a soft sigh. I’ll come back to you as soon as I get rid of the Akademiya’s schemes.

He just needs time to execute said plan.

–

Currently, everything goes according to plan.

Soon enough, Lesser Lord Kusanali will be free and ( Name ) can be safe when Azar gets punished. Alhaitham thought as Azar continued on talking about how he knew Alhaitham’s plan all along.

“...Heh, you'll see me as a traitor regardless of what I say, no?” The scribe said, crossing his arms. “Even if you impugned me, it would have little effect on you all.”

Azar shakes his head. “You misunderstand. Losing our Scribe would irreparably damage the Akademiya's regular operations and the development of Sumeru's future academic systems…” Something flashes through the Grand Sage’s eyes, his lips twitching upwards. “For that reason, it’s for the best if someone does it on your behalf.”

The scribe almost lost his breath for a second.

He narrowed his eyes. “And what exactly are you implying?”

Azar lets out an amused huff. “You know exactly what I’m implying, scribe.”

The scribe dared not to think of the worst, until the next words that left the Grand Sage’s mouth almost made his facade falter.

“Your lover is quite an exceptional person and fought well for someone who doesn’t wield a vision, but it was all for naught it seems.” He can’t help but chuckle to himself. “It’s just a shame that they have to pay the price for your betrayal.”

“Lover? You have a lover, Alhaitham?” Paimon whispered, shocked at the turn of events. This wasn’t a part of the plan at all!

Meanwhile, Alhaitham slowly starts regretting not taking you with him from the beginning. He should’ve been more attentive, he should’ve warned you about the Akademiya instead of being so focused on the plan to the point where he’s basically neglecting you, he should’ve taken you to Aaru Village instead of leaving you–!

It was only then when Alhaitham realized his mistake.

This mistake isn’t something that’s from the mission, but it involves something that’s more important than this plan,

He made the mistake of unintentionally neglecting you.

Suddenly, he remembers his last conversation with you.

You started fidgeting your fingers nervously. “Can we… Can we talk?”

He opens his mouth to say something but immediately stops himself. He wanted nothing more than to drop everything and listen to what you have to say, but he knew he needed to prioritize the mission to save Lesser Lord Kusanali, not when he has to go back to Aaru Village to talk about the plan with everyone tomorrow.

He lets out a sigh and turns away from your direction. “Let’s talk about it next time when I’m… done with my work.”

If only he knew there wasn’t a next time after that.

Alhaitham tries to compose himself. “You said that I betrayed the Akademiya, but you, Azar... You've betrayed all of Sumeru, betrayed its archon!” He said.

Just you wait, ( Name ). I will make up everything once I come for you, wherever you may be.

Azar remains composed. “Hmph, so flight has turned to fight at long last. Guards!”

The scribe notices how all the guards position themselves, pointing their weapons at him and his allies. He just needs to finish this swiftly so he’ll be able to focus on finding you.

He lets out a deep breath before he begins the next phase of his plan.

I just need to deal with those who dared to lay a hand on you before I find you, ( Name ).

part two

PENPALS. @scaraslover @saving-for-xiao @dawgimsohot @kazu-topia @chiruru @aqualesha @renamichii @mrkamisato @shenhesl0ver @serami00 @serenareiss @hiqhkey @emperatris-rinaka @bystander36 @irisxiel @ladycoleigh @034ven @dear-dairiess @owozi8 @hadesaedes @chiro-chiro-kun @hersscherofyatta @mariusvonhangme @yuzuricebun @hoshikistarlette @solaaresque @crowbird @lordbugs @flowersforayato @headintheclouddd @estelwrld @giyusimpsassemble @irethepotatosblog @moonlightaangel @alice0blog @shotosbrainrot @sniffoat @chihawari @mxsomn @kuni-kuzushii @jiminscarmex @mitsukii14 @nejibot @ylimeprive @sachispet @loreleis-world @sn-owo @starforecasts @someonetookmynamelmao @ceylestia @astrequa @ymikkos @reallysporadicarcade @melodyyamino @dudufodd @somberrock @yevenly @lemontum @nghing

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #alhaitham x reader #al haitham x reader #genshin x gn reader #genshin impact x gn reader #alhaitham x gn reader #al haitham x gn reader #genshin angst #genshin x reader angst #genshin impact fanfiction #alhaitham x reader angst #alhaitham angst

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h4ndwr1tten · 4 months

Note

HI omg this has been eating away at me,, could i request an angsty (but with a happy ending) fic where the reader has been in love with kento ever since they were classmates at juju high and she always flirts with him but he rejects her every time up until the present day at shibuya where she saves his life by using a technique that gives him her life force and allows him to regenerate ig or take the blow of the hit and that leaves her on the brink kf death and kento realizes how much he's actually been in love with her the whole time and somehow she survives and he literally g r o v e l s and confesses and UGH this is too long i'm sorry but feel free to change some details to your convenience, TYSMM 🫶🫶🫶

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞.

characters — nanami kento x reader

note — i'm genuinely sorry i dont post requests on time :( anyways i didn't know how to end it so if i have time to i might rewrite it? i'm just trying to get this out bc i feel bad for leaving anon hanging.. (CORNY AHH TITLE)

cw — anxiousness, unrequited love (or so it seems) in the first half, violence kinda?, reader gets hurt and ends up in the hospital, kissing on the hand, confession ish, shitty ending might rewrite, not proofread. lmk if i missed any.

synopsis — you've gone through years and years confessing your feelings to kento, but this mission might be the scariest thing you've gone through. even for kento.

goosebumps covered your skin as worry churns in your stomach. on every other mission, you had felt worry and fear regarding the mission, but it was a normal thing that almost every other sorcerer experienced. those feelings, however, weren't the nagging, unrelenting ones you were feeling right now.

no, this was a gut feeling. of what, you couldn't decide. you knew it was a gut feeling because of the way it couldn't be diminished through encouragement and reassurance, and the way it came crawling back to you every time you were able to get your mind off of it. despite knowing you weren't going to be alone in this mission, you couldn't help but feel uncomfortable and fearful for not just yourself, but everyone involved as well.

especially kento.

kento was going on this mission, alongside a few other sorcerers, and the thought of going into this with you provided some solace for your troubles. you felt safe with him, you always have.

ever since your high school days as a student at jujutsu high, you've always been drawn to kento. he was one first friends there, and despite not being exactly best friends, you always cherished his company.

that is until a year later, you began seeing him in a different light, one that was more romantic than platonic. you started noticing the little details that made kento, kento. how he liked to keep his blond hair swept to his right. how he would subconsciously hum to himself when he was focused on something. how he always made room for something sweet after dinner. you began to crave his presence more than you usually did. you started seeking him out in classes and in crowds. you tried your best to impress him, whether it be working hard in class, giving your all during practice, or fighting hard on a mission. you even began flirting with him, starting off subtle before becoming more obvious. you did everything you could think of just so he could see you the way you saw him.

you remember the first time he rejected you. you remember how at first, you were in denial because you really thought you had a chance. you cried to shoko about it, and somehow satoru and suguru as well (they were eavesdropping and jumped into the conversation). then you cried more by yourself, eventually falling into a deep slumber after exhausting yourself.

~~~

"hi ken!" you greeted your friend, a little more eager than usual.

you were up last night, convincing yourself that it was time to confess your feelings and that he would feel the same, or at least give you a chance. you had been keeping your feelings to yourself for a little over a month now, and you felt like you couldn't wait any longer.

now here you were, standing in front of the teen you had a massive crush on, who was sitting on a bench under a tree, with a book in his hand and his favorite sandwich lying on the space next to him.

kento sent you a small smile in acknowledgement, before slightly scooting to the side as if to make room for you.

you blushed at the gesture then took a seat on the bench, watching kento as he flipped a page in his book.

"what're you reading?" you ask. to be honest, you weren't really interested in his book. you just wanted to start a conversation before confessing your feelings for him.

"a biography," he answered briefly.

"about who?"

"some warrior."

then, setting the book down, kento turned to you with a curious look on his face. "did you need something, y/n?"

his amber eyes found yours and a sudden wave of nerves came over you. where had your determination and confidence gone? your heart probably grabbed them both and chucked it out of your body and across the nation. then its beating increased, as if taunting you for being so confident.

"um," you started slowly, breaking the eye contact and looking down at your lap. "i... you..."

"take your time," kento hummed. was it obvious how anxious you became, or was he just that good at reading people?

you began fidgeting with the hem of your skirt while trying to find the right words. a simple 'i like you' wouldn't suffice, because what you felt seemed stronger than just a 'like'. this was so much easier in your head. with a deep breath to prepare you and shifting your gaze back to him, you finally spoke.

"nanamikentoihavefeelingsforyou."

"huh?"

"i have... feelings for you," you spoke more slowly this time.

his brow quirked up, and as he opened his mouth to respond, you cut him off.

"i like you."

so much for not saying 'i like you'.

"oh."

oh? what oh? was that a good oh or a bad oh? you thought to yourself. kento grew silent and looked down at the grass, and his silence worsened your nerves. you were squeezing the end bit of your skirt now, while your mind was playing every other scenario you could have been in right now.

"kento?" his name leaving your mouth in a barely there whisper.

he turned back to you with pink cheeks and ears. you would've thought he was flattered if it wasn't for what he said next.

"i'm sorry, y/n. if you mean romantic feelings, and you like me in that sense, i don't feel the same way."

the whole world stopped. the distant chatter and bird calls faded into silence. the rise and fall of your chest paused as you felt yourself stop breathing. your cramped fingers finally stilled a against your skirt. your head kept replaying those words again and again, and your shattered heart dropped to your stomach, bringing a sick feeling with it.

"oh," you whispered. "i see."

you couldn't bare to be in this area anymore, or anywhere near kento. you were so sure that he'd at least want to see where things go with you. had you become so delusional and forgotten to think that being rejected was the other half of all possible outcomes?

a gentle hand then laid on your shoulder, while a face came into your peripherals. you couldn't bring yourself to look at him, knowing it would only bring you more shame.

"but we can still remain friends. it won't be awkward, to me at least," kento suggested politely and, what he might've thought, comfortingly.

but it only worsened your humiliation. he just had to use that term, that wretched word. as if his rejection wasn't enough, he really thought it was a good idea to say the damned f-word after confessing he didn't feel the same.

you knew kento only had good intentions in mind when he said it, and you understood that he never meant to hurt you with his words. but that simple sentence made it clear to you that that was all he saw you as.

a friend.

you could feel your throat closing up, your nose burning, and your eyes beginning to prick. kento already felt bad, it was clear, and you didn't want to make him feel worse. so you decided that it was time to leave, and maybe never leave your bed again.

"okay, well," you sniffed, wiping a stray tear and standing up, "thank you for being honest and telling me how you feel."

upon seeing your crestfallen face, kento frowned. "y/n, i'm sorry—"

"no, don't apologize. i understand," you smiled sadly.

after mumbling a broken and half-hearted 'have a wonderful evening', you left the bench under the tree and cried the rest of the day.

~~~

despite being rejected and so, so hurt, you quickly came to realize that your feelings weren't fading any time soon. they continued to linger, like someone who couldn't take a hint and conversing with another who just wanted to get through the day. you yourself got the hint, the message—kento didn't reciprocate your feelings. but your heart didn't quite get the memo, as it refused to let go of the man.

over time, your feelings grew stronger and so did the urge to confess once again. so you confessed, and once again, you were rejected. this time, however, you cried a little less. moved on a little quicker. and you tried again.

this grew into a cycle, an unhealthy one, for the rest of your high school years. it was predictable and pathetic, but with feelings for kento as strong as yours? you were determined to get him to see you as more than just his good friend, hell, to even go out on at least one date.

and now, present times, nothing had changed. you were still in love with nanami kento and he... well, he was still not in love. you were still confessing and he was still rejecting. you might've seemed desperate, but your feelings never went away and kento never ended his friendship with you, so it had to mean something. right?

right now, however, your feelings were the least of your worries. your brows were furrowed, your bottom lip was tucked in between your teeth, and you were wringing your wrists over and over. despite going on this mission with the man you trusted above all, you felt that things wouldn't turn out the way they should.

"are you alright, y/n?" kento quietly asked you, having noticed your silence and body language.

"hm? oh, yeah. i'm just," you paused, then whispered, "scared."

you felt kento's hand gently lay on your shoulder, feeling his eyes on your own as he spoke, "it's going to be okay. i'll be there with you the entire time, and i will do my best to keep you safe and unharmed."

smiling up at him, you nodded and thanked him. he nodded once back, then led you two out the door and onto the mission.

you could barely function at this point. your vision was clouded with dark fuzzy spots, you could barely move your sore and numb limbs, your ears were ringing as though an alarm were blaring in them. your head was throbbing as blood trickled down your face from the gash above your brow, and your heart was racing faster than it ever had before.

the mission had gone horribly wrong; the curse was far more dangerous and powerful than expected. it could birth weaker clones that were still enough to cause damage, and the only way to stop the multiplication was to eliminate the main curse.

which had set its dark, blood lusted eyes on you for the past half hour. and in that time, you felt your life flashing before your eyes. you didn't know where kento had gone—the last you saw of him was taking on an army of the multiples.

your delayed movements weren't helping much. all your energy had been depleted whilst trying to fight survive the curse, making it almost impossible to use your cursed technique. if you thought fighting was exhausting, then trying to stay conscious felt much worse.

as you tried (and failed) to focus on executing technique, the curse came out of nowhere and violently hurled you into a nearby destroyed building. you broke through the remains of a wall, the only thing breaking your fall being a mound of ash and dust. chunks of the wall surrounded you, while a larger portion lay on the rest of your body below your shoulders. .

"y/n!"

despite the ringing and your heart thrumming in your ears, you could hear his distant yell for you. he must have finally gotten rid of the multiples when the main was focused on you, or held them off long enough to find you. whatever he did, though, you couldn't focus on right now. all you could really think of was the excruciating pain and fear you were experiencing.

the impact from you hitting the wall had knocked the wind out of you and the wall fragment on your chest made things even worse. your lungs felt tight on the inside, while they were being crushed on the outside. you could barely get in any air, the most you could take in being a mere gasp. you were beginning to panic now. were you going to die? is this how you were going out, because you were unable to defeat a curse? where was kento?

you didn't realize it but tears had begun to fall from your eyes. a reaction caused by the emotions and physical pain you were overwhelmed with. you were scared, so fucking terrified to meet your inevitable end.

what you also didn't know was that kento was fighting his ass off trying to murder the curse. it felt a bit easier because of all the anger he was feeling towards the creature for absolutely wrecking you. all rationality left his body the moment he saw you be carelessly thrown like a rag doll, and now he found himself brutally attacking the curse with no remorse. even satoru was shocked at his behavior, as he thought this curse would need more than one person to defeat it.

it took a few minutes longer, but kento had defeated the curse. he had sliced up the lower body and saved the stupid, ugly head for last, cutting it in half through the eyes and another half through the side. and in exactly 5 seconds, the curse had let out a final whine before it's dismembered body and quartered head disintegrated into pools of foul-smelling acid, but kento could care less about it.

he sprinted to where you were laying, not caring that satoru was calling after him, not caring that civilians were hurt or scared. you were the only thing on his mind and his body burned with the sickening fear that you were—

no, he couldn't bare to think of it. you were strong, persistent, determined. you didn't give up that easily, he would know. kento knew you would put up a fight, and a good one at that, before you'd let death win over and welcome you. but the question was, how long did until that fight was over?

luckily enough, kento could see your dust-covered body underneath the rubble. your skin was losing its color quickly and he could see you trembling, hear you crying fearfully and painfully calling for help. he rushed to your side, immediately but gently lifting the broken debris off your frail body.

"k-kento," you wheezed, tears pouring out of your eyes and leaving trails through the dust. "i can't—i can't b-breathe, it.. hurts."

kento's hands were shaking violently, panic settling in and his mind wondering darker thoughts. with one hand, he gently cupped your face and looked into your glossy eyes.

"it's okay, y/n. everything will be okay, i'm going to get you out of here, and we'll get you help, i promise. just stay calm for me, okay?"

his reassurance was enough to quell the some of the anxiety gnawing at your insides. despite trembling badly, kento hastily continued to uncover your body from the wall. the larger piece took more effort, and though his hands were burning an angry red, kento continued to lift and push, then threw it somewhere away from you.

kento felt sick at the sight of your battered frame. your natural skin color was barely visible as bruises covered almost the entirety of your body. cuts and gashes so deep they would scar marked your torso, and blood was seeping out through them. he was a strong man who'd seen enough gore to make even the coldest people faint, but seeing you in this condition made his eyes sting and burn.

"kento," you sobbed, the pain becoming too much to bear.

not wasting anymore time, kento gently scooped you into his arms, but despite his best efforts, the winces and cries you let out let him know that even the slightest touch hurt like hell. he began to speed walk to satoru, yelling out for the man while trying not to bounce you too much.

his heart was racing faster than it ever had before. a kind of fear he had never felt was consuming him, tightening around his entire body and squeezing his lungs. he could barely breathe, barely think properly.

meanwhile, you could slowly feel yourself begin to drift out of consciousness. was this death opening its gates to you? welcoming you in the worst way possible, having the life leave your body in the arms of the man you were in love with? everything began to feel numb. you weren't crying anymore. you were feeling a little sleepy.

"y/n, don't you dare close your eyes!"

kento's loud and firm voice abruptly knocked some consciousness into you, keeping you awake for a little longer. he gave you a gentle squeeze on your arm, a whine escaping you at the ache.

"i'm so sorry, i don't want to hurt you. we're going to get you help, alright? satoru!"

you couldn't process what happened after that, as the ringing in your ears returned. your vision became fuzzy, but the last thing you remember was a mess of snowy hair, teary hazel eyes, and the world around you spinning.

you fell asleep.

the sound of steady beeps sounded throughout the area you were in. consciousness slowly making its way back into your body.

you were tired, so exhausted. you just wanted to sleep for a month, but as memories began to flood your mind, the desire to sleep seemed harder to achieve.

the last thing you recall happening was kento pulling you out of the remains of a building, carrying you bridal style away from where you had laid, and satoru placing a hand on both you and kento. anything after that, you had no recollection of.

the incessant beep coming from your left prompted you to open your eyes. you squinted right away, your pupils slowly adjusting to the change of brightness. above you were fluorescent lights and around you were clean, white walls. the room had little to no decoration or color and it felt sterile. physical feeling had come back to you, and you felt your body wrapped in thin sheets, laid on a firm mattress. tubes ran up and down your arms and you could feel them underneath the gown you found yourself in.

you hadn't taken too long to figure out that you were in a hospital room. what you didn't realize right away was the blond man sitting next to your bed, his head buried in one arm and the other holding your hand. he wasn't in his usual blue dress shirt and slacks. instead, he was in a plain black tee and sweats. you figured he must have changed during the time you were unconscious, which you still had yet to find out.

your mind was running slower than ever today, because it had just clicked that nanami kento was holding your hand. he was the last person you saw when you passed out and the first person you see when you awoke. had kento been here by your side the entire time?

wanting to see more of him, you shifted your weight onto your elbows, trying to prop yourself up and painfully failing. sharp stabbing-like sensation ran through your right shoulder, a burning one across your left arm, and your back felt stiff and extremely sore.

a loud wince involuntarily escaped your lips, tears rushing to your eyes at the overwhelming aches. immediately, kento woke and snapped his head, looking confused for a second, then realizing what was happening next.

"heyheyhey, y/n, don't move too much. you're still recovering, so just lie down, alright?"

he had stood from his seat and helped slowly lower your body back into the bed. he held you so firmly yet so gently as if not to hurt you or you'd break. he then pulled the thin sheets over your lap to keep you warm, then adjusted the bed so that you were slightly sitting up with support.

then, carefully cupping your face, he wiped a stray tear with his thumb, then lightly stroked across your cheek. his eyes were so full of concern as he scanned your entire face, as if making sure you were really here. the emotion radiating off of him and the way he held you with such delicacy made you feel so safe and cared for.

"how are you feeling?" kento whispered, brows slightly furrowed.

"it hurts," you whispered in response. a frown crossed kento's face and he genuinely looked so broken to know you were in great pain.

"i'm so, so sorry, y/n," kento apologized, breaking eye contact and bowing his head, almost shamefully. "i should have been there, by your side. i should've just let gojo take care of the clones, hell, the actual curse itself. i should have been there—"

"kento," you cut him off. you couldn't handle hearing him blame himself for your near-death experience. he couldn't have saved you while defending himself, and if there was a choice to be made, you would've rather he lived.

"please... don't think this was your fault," you requested, voice raspy from not talking and the incident. "it was not your fault the curse decided to come after me. it was not your fault i wasn't strong enough to fight it alone—"

"but that's the thing, y/n," kento argued. "you couldn't have taken that thing on alone. i should have been there to aid you and help take it down."

in an attempt to lighten the mood, you exhaled a laugh through your nose and joked, "what, you don't think i'm strong enough to fight a special-grade?"

kento gave you a pointed look, unamused at your quip. you smiled apologetically back before looking away from him, any trace of humor leaving your face.

"it's not that i don't think you're strong enough," he sighed. "i feel like i let you down."

"i should have stayed by your side. i shouldn't have let us get separated, i should have followed you, but i didn't. and now, look where we are."

he gestures to your frail figure, gently holding your arm and avoiding your eyes out of shame. boldly, you reached for his hand held it in both of yours, the action bringing his eyes to your own.

"kento, this wasn't your fault. i mean it. don't say anything of it again, or i'll purposely get your orders wrong when i'm bringing lunch. you were trying to save yourself, as was i. maybe i could have used some help, but that only means i need to improve my technique and combat. which also means, you could help me with that. maybe i could have died, but i'm here now, aren't i?" you rambled, not bothering to stop when kento opened his mouth to rebut. "let's not dwell on what's already happened and move forward, please?"

he fell silent, pressing his lips together in a thin line. it seemed as though there was more he wanted to say, and you knew there was, but this conversation would never end—he wouldn't be relieved of his guilt.

a sigh passed through kento's lips, more pigmented after pressing them together tightly. he nodded and as he rubbed gentle circles onto the top of your hand, he whispered an agreement.

you smiled at him, squeezing his hand to reassure him. kento kept wordless for another minute, head hung low and eyes shut. it was visible to anyone that his guilt was swallowing him whole, but he was fighting it for you. he covered your hand with his other, both hands now encasing your own. taking you by surprise, kento brought your hand up to his lips and placed the gentlest lingering kiss atop the skin. his lips, so soft and so warm, left a light buzz on the spot they laid on, and one throughout your body.

"when everything gets cleared up—your health, the reports—i'm taking you out."

what?

"seeing you hurt and in this state made me come to my senses. it confirmed something i had held back for so long, and made me realize that i can't wait."

"kento... what are you saying?" you mumbled slowly, confusion evident in every word.

he sighs, treading carefully. it's clear he's figuring out the right words to say, how to express how he's feeling.

"i'm saying that... in our line of work, developing close bonds with people can be dangerous. we can never be too sure, we can never be too close to someone because in the blink of an eye, it might be gone. what we do is dangerous. but, i think that not taking a chance is even more dangerous."

he sighs shakily, "and i am guilty of not realizing this sooner. but fate seems to be on my side, because even if i don't take them, chances keep coming back to me. and i think now, i'm ready to take it."

kento kisses your hand and brings his eyes to yours, finally declaring,

"i'm ready to take this chance with you."

and you smile, nodding as fireworks go off throughout your being.

after all these years, he finally likes you back.

note — sorry for the corny ending, i just needed to get the request done 😭 and sincerest apologized to the anon who requested, i really have no excuse other than writers block and busy schedules :(

m. list

#.h4ndwr1tten #nanami kento #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #nanami x you #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #nanami angst #nanami fluff

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