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#i loved so dearly and by whom i was so dearly loved in return!

sexynetra · 1 month

Note

have you ever been in love?

Honestly, I don’t think so? Or at least not in the like… deep romantic sense? I’ve been single most of my life, and I’ve only dated one guy (and I turned out to be incredibly lesbian so)

That being said!!! I love the people I have chosen to have in my life very deeply. I have no qualms with expressing love about people in my life. The one boyfriend I ever had I told him I loved him like a month in (and then I broke up with him over text to avoid meeting his family but that’s a different story — I was young and stupid 🤭) and while I certainly wasn’t actually in genuine love with him, I have no regrets about saying that and I wouldn’t take it back. I’ve fallen for people and my heart gets very invested because I have a tendency to fall hard, but I don’t know that I would go as far as to say I was in love with any of them 🤔 and if I was I don’t think I’d ever admit that to myself unless I knew they reciprocated and that isn’t happening anytime soon 😂

This sounds like a depressing answer but it’s not I promise I am happy I have SO much love in my heart and in my life and I share it with my friends and family and the people around me every chance I get like if you become my friend it’ll be like max 3 weeks before I start dropping I love you’s in the chat. and guess what. I mean it 😤

#long winded way to say I refuse to admit I’ve fallen in love unless they love me back and that’s never happened so no :)#I’m just a silly little guy bouncing around from day to day idk #I love my friends I love my family #someday I will have a girlfriend and wife whom I love very dearly and who loves me in return #but that is not this second and that’s okay!!!#this is one of the first times in my life that I have had the mental and physical capacity to extend that sort of love beyond friendship #I was too busy with my mental disorders when I was young and then in college I became disabled and almost died and I had to focus on me for #a long time #why didn’t I include that up there #anyways #I had to learn who I was after almost dying and get to a point in my life where I was doing more than surviving day to day #and it’s only very recent that I feel I have achieved that #so now that I can do that? watch out world. as soon as a hot girl falls in love with me it’s OVER for you bitches #ask #asks #ask game #sweetlikesunflowersandhoney

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peachdues · 8 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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cleakuki · 2 months

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Fluffy Trueform!Sukuna x reader 😏

tags: mentions of murder and blood. kissing, sukunas kinda oc but hes my fluffy baby. not rlly proof read

I know I introduced that one fic idea but I plan to release all chapters at once. I just wanted to feed u guys with this so I wouldn’t leave yall hanging. Thank u guys for being so patient with me!

trueform!Sukuna who finds you all battered and dirty, covered in ash after destroying your village. the curse had no remorse towards humans. in his eyes they were seen as weak and impertinent; full of desires they could never fully fulfill with their fleeting life span.

trueform!sukuna who takes you in, somehow tolerating you. he adores how small you were compared to him- how your cute face would brighten up a little when he would return from long missions. you were the only thing he looked forward to after mass murdering villages in japan.

trueform!sukuna who “doesn’t” comfort you when you have a nightmare. he can feel how you relax in his arms, his warmth coaxing the dark and painful memories that resided in your head to disappear. the king of curses refuses to acknowledge it but his heart truly does clench when he sees you tormented by your past.

trueform!sukuna who slaughtered his entire harem after he overheard them harassing you. his little precious flower, whom he treasures so dearly. the ruthless king of curses held you close, one of his four hands covering your eyes to shield you from the dead bodies of his harem.

trueform!sukuna who brings you little trinkets and presents after he returns from his trips, sometimes covered in blood. his greatest endeavor is observing the way you tear up at his gestures, your little, puny heart that is so utterly weak at handling emotions.

trueform!sukuna who sometimes accidentally makes you cry, his words can be cruel and insensitive. it angers him, and yet confuses the curse. when has he become so weak? was he always like this? he stays up at night thinking about you, and what he would be if he hadn’t come across you that day.

trueform!sukuna who makes it up to you by bringing you to a beautiful flower field, letting you braid flowers into his soft pink hair. his heart flutters when he sees you genuinely smile, and it makes the corners of his lips twitch.

trueform!sukuna who stops going away so often, instead opting to hold you close to his furnace like body, listening to your sweet voice read the dusty ancient books stored away in his library.

trueform!sukuna who finds himself staring at you all the time, and when he wasn’t, you would be on his mind. the curse who now loves to cup your supple cheeks and stroke your cheek bone with unseen tenderness.

trueform!sukuna who finally comes to term with his feelings, bringing you to that same flower field where he saw you smile for the first time. there, the king of curses held you so gently, admiring your glassy round eyes that adorned the darkest pair of eyelashes.

trueform!sukuna who kisses you for the first time, colliding his lips with yours. and to him it made him feel complete. the murders and begs of people who pleaded for their lives in the past did not compare to what he felt with you. when he pulls away, he utters the three words that you longed to hear.

#jjk fic #jjk smut #sukuna smut #jjk x reader #ryomen sukuna #slow burn #true form sukuna #sukuna fluff #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen #sukuna

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jean0farc · 8 months

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★༉‧₊˚✧ — 𝑯𝑬 𝑾𝑯𝑶 𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑫𝑺 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑾𝑬𝑨𝑲.

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: Dark fantasy, yandere, a bit of fluff.

𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: Alucard X You (the reader)

𝖘𝖞𝖓𝖔𝖕𝖘𝖎𝖘: Just a little one-shot scenario between you and affectionate, but yandere Alucard snuggled up in bed. The time takes place after sex. After refusing to cuddle with him, he spirals into a feeling of bloodlust as he gets himself ready to mark you as his.

𝖈𝖜: Blood drinking, if that counts. A bit of dubcon even though there isn’t really smut for this fic, and slight degradation (he calls you his pet).

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗’𝖘 𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖊: Hello again, readers. So I’m back with a new fic and despite not uploading for a couple of weeks due to mental health reasons and school, I’m going to post this new fic I made which is a part of a series!

YANDERE PROMPT LIST BY: @writeformesinpie

PROMPT: “I can never get enough of you. I’ll drink you down to the last sip.”

“A-Alucard….Just five more minutes…please….”

It was about nine o’ clock in the morning when all curtains were closed to prevent sunlight from penetrating through the glass windows.

….And there you were in bed, bare naked with the touch-starved vampire himself, your body shivering at the cold touch of your respective “lover.” Alucard was trying to cuddle you, to which you tried avoiding.

“You’ll take whatever’s been given to you, dear. You must lie with the beast before you who has been craving your touch for as long as a thousand years.”

“There you go again with your silly monologues, Alucard. Just let me be as I sleep, alright? I’m tired. You might as well kill some peasants outside or do your necessary duties for the day….just leave me be-”

A loud sound was heard as Alucard flipped you over.

You couldn’t believe your eyes as Alucard landed on top of you, pinning you down to the king-sized bed as his eyes glowed a bright shade of red. The look on his face intimidated you like a hungry wolf cornering its prey, his lips forming a smug smirk. You wanted to….no, you needed to run to a safe place where you could feel a bit of comfort. The look he’s been giving you was unlike his previous deed of cuddling your smaller figure.

Alucard let out a small chuckle.

“Cat got your tongue, darling? Judging by your current state, there won’t be another time where you’ll refuse my orders.”

“But, Alucard, we’re-” you attempted to protest.

“We’re not what?” Alucard asked, tilting his head. “Not together?” He laughed in retaliation to your bewildered facial expression. Leaning closer to your ear, you felt chills run down your spine as he whispered intimately. “Very well, let me clue you in. Your blood is mine, in fact, your entire being is mine by the time I’ll have myself inside you. Sir Integra has chosen you to become my one and only pet whom I shall swear to protect with my very own life. You are far too fragile to let go. Let this moment consume your soul. Give yourself to me, and don’t look back.”

“Alucard…..please…” you whimpered. “I only agreed to sleep with you because….because…..!!!”

“Such a precious, sensitive little thing.”

His mouth opened wide and bit down aggressively on your neck, drawing blood. You moaned loudly in return, trying to push away Alucard’s huge figure off of you. Your efforts to let yourself free were pointless, as he took advantage of your arms by grabbing your wrists and keeping them in place.

Alucard started to suck the blood out of your neck, leaving bruises and hickeys around it. He surely was doing all this for his own pleasure, so as to leave you aching for more. And boy, were you feeling real good.

“A-Alucard!!! I….I thought…you just wanted…a hug…..”

“Hm? I've changed my mind. From now on, what I want from you is something more sinister, something animalistic and disgusting to the untrained eye. I can never get enough of you, I’ll drink you down to the last sip. I have fallen for you, pet. Show a little gratitude for someone as powerful as I have swallowed their pride just to love and protect you dearly with all my strength.”

“I appreciate it, but….”

“Has your pride gotten the best of you, dear? After we got our freak on the previous night? I bet it didn’t. Just admit how you developed feelings for me.”

“Oh, no! That’s not the case! I-” you stammered.

“Ah, so you still refuse to admit your feelings, hm? Very well, I’ll show you how desperate of a mess you’ll be once I bend you over.”

It was too late. You and Alucard were about to spend the whole morning going at it until night, leaving you with no choice but to spend time with the creature who has lusted for you since Integra has chosen you as his pet.

There was no turning back.

It was about to be a long day.

#alucard x reader #alucard x you #alucard imagine #hellsing alucard #hellsing ultimate #alucard hellsing #hellsing #alucard hellsing x reader #x reader #yandere prompts #yandere x reader

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fairysluna · 2 months

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Helloooo, thanks for sharing your writing with us, I love all of your fics specially sinners 🤍🧸⭐️

For the short drabbles could you do Maegor + asking for his niece’s favor at a tourney

this is such a cute idea! i love this so much. Also, thank you for your kind words, I hope you like this🤍✨

tags — fluff, rhaena being lowkey a hater, reader being delulu (like all of us).

The way the whole crowd roared with excitement when the royal prince came out victorious from the tournament was deafening. You were laughing excitedly, clapping as your smile couldn't get any bigger. Eyes shining as bright as stars at midnight as you watched your beloved uncle smiling back at you from afar. Your beloved older sister, Rhaena, was sitting next to you wearing an unfazed expression on her face, completely opposite to the cheerful attitude you had.

From your seat, you saw Maegor galloping slowly towards the royal family, wearing that winning smile that you loved so dearly as he rested his lance against his shoulder. The butterflies that appeared on your belly were hard to ignore when he started to get closer and closer to you. You fixed your hair, nervously played with your fingers and impatiently waited for him to get close enough to hear his voice. At your side, your sister scoffed, already annoyed by your attitude towards your uncle, with whom you wished to marry; she had heard all of it, and she was tired of hearing that man's name coming from your lips.

But you couldn't care less about it.

Your attention was all over the man on the horse in front of you, standing proudly and looking so gallant inside that thick metal armor of his, you couldn't help but to bite your lip before he decided to open his mouth and say, “May I have the honor to ask for the princess' favor?” He didn't even have to specify which princess he was talking about, for every single person knew he meant you. They all certainly knew about the close relationship you had with him.

You slowly arose from your seat, taking with you the crown of flowers that you made early that morning, especially for him. You walked closer to the railing and looked down at him, feeling the air getting caught in your throat as you saw him more up close. He removed the helmet of his armor, wanting to look into your pretty eyes before he uttered the next words. “I'm convinced that everytime the sun rises you become far more beautiful, my princess.” He spoke slightly lower, as if he wanted just you to hear. You couldn't help but to feel suddenly shy under his mischievous stare, the heat on your cheeks growing as you tried to look away from him.

“You flatter me, uncle,” you replied, managing to throw the crown of flowers down the lance. “I feel like the most beautiful maiden in the Seven Kingdoms whenever you speak with such kindness to me.”

“Well, you are, my dear.” He winked at you. “Before I leave, allow me to remind you that this victory, as well as the ones that are yet to come, are dedicated to you. My beautiful princess.” A silly, enamored smile was drawn on your lips as he turned around in his black horse and galloped away from you. He made you feel all kinds of things in such a little amount of time, including a strange, new sensation located in your lower belly which you decided it was best to ignore.

Once you returned to your seat, you found your sister staring at you with a visible frown on her face. “Could you be any more obvious? You left a path of your drool behind you.”

“I will marry him someday,” you told her, your voice filled with the purest of illusions.

Rhaena could only roll her eyes.

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GENERAL TAG LIST — @islandfantasydream @arcielee @bucknastysbabe @zaldritzosrose @rafeism @valeskafics

MAEGOR TAG LIST — @targaryen-dynasty @hypocritic-trash-baby @mariahossain

#maegor targaryen fanfic #maegor targaryen x y/n #maegor targaryen x reader #maegor targaryen #maegor the cruel #hotd #house of the dragon #house targaryen #hotd fanfic

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jacespookiebear · 1 year

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ೃ࿐ 𝙔𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙗𝙚𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙛𝙪𝙡: 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 6

summary : you are the youngest daughter of Viserys I Targaryen and Aemma Arryn. Outlived your mother and your older twin brother, Baelon, in childbirth. You were titled as (Y/n) “The Undying” Targaryen.

pairing : jacaerys velaryon x targaryen!reader

warnings : incest, tension, sexual content, age gap (reader is about 2-3 years older), jace is about a year older in this fic, misogyny, self-harm, violence, angst, teen pregnancy, birth, meraxes is alive and thriving with vhagar :D

Masterlist

Alicent paced across the celebration hall with such eagerness. Organizing many celebrations to be held in the future. Such as your return to King’s Landing— but you weren’t returning for her. You were only returning to celebrate your betrothed’s nameday along arriving with the rest of your family. Usually, she wouldn’t give a damn to make preparations but you were also to be married under the same week as your future husband’s nameday. Alicent wanted it all to be set perfectly, just for you.

“That is not right! I had ask for lilac orchids. If you cannot fulfill your duties, I shall have you removed at once!” Alicent bitterly shouted to the tradesmen, feeling disappointed and stressed to see they had brought white peonies— flowers she clearly did not request.

Talya, The Queen’s handmaiden, arrived quietly in the hall to give her the urgent news she had just received. “My Queen, they have arrived.” Talya muttered closely to Alicent’s ear. Immediately she had stopped ordering the servants and turned her attention to her handmaiden.

“Already!?” She gasped, “I had thought they would arrive on the morrow.” Talya shook her head and within minutes, Alicent left the hall to greet the family. To greet you, specifically.

To her surprise, you all have already been greeted by the King. Although it has only been two years, he was weakening day by day, though still being able to stand on his own.

“My sweet daughters,” the King welcomes you and Rhaenyra in his remaining arm. “I have missed you both.” Alicent watched as tears streamed down your cheeks, smiling towards your father with happiness. She felt immense nostalgia from the way you dressed— you certainly did look the part as the Realm’s Beauty, wearing a dark blue velvety dress with sleeves falling off your shoulders and separate straps connecting from your dress wrapped around your neck. In her early years, she had also wore the proud colors of her husband’s house, but had only done so to appease others around her. But, she couldn’t help to feel that you only done it solely for yourself and to prove you would always state your loyalty to Jacaerys.

“It is a lovely sight to see you all back in King’s Landing,” Alicent interrupted the sweet moment and took the time to hug you. Seconds had passed, you had placed your arms around her. Alicent breathed in your existence, she missed you dearly and now you’re here, at last, just like you said you would.

She desperately wanted whatever had happened between you both two years ago to be pushed away and forget it had ever existed. She wanted you both to savor the relationship, with Rhaenyra— she couldn’t help but feel that your elder sister had probably put a seed in your mind to look at your step-mother differently.

I have missed you, my dearest, that was all Alicent thought about. Finally having you in her arms, where you truly belong.

After what felt like hours, she let go of you and cupped your face to look at you, warmly. Though, you gave her a friendly smile, you pulled away and remained standing right by Lysanna and Daemon’s side, whom looked smug right after you done so. “Forgive the King and I, we had thought you would be arriving later. If I had know you would have arrived much more early, I would have properly prepared the Red Keep.” Alicent maintained a calm composer, ignoring the sly glares that were being given from Rhaenyra and your betrothed. She had motioned for them all to head inside, the Red Keep was still being renovated, she had made sure to have some of her faith hung across the halls.

“You must rest,” she suggested, “we have much to celebrate. But tonight, we shall have a feast to celebrate upon your arrival.” The King nodding happily at the thought. He ordered the knights to lead you all to your temporary chambers.

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“She certainly was happy to see you,” you spoke to Lysanna as you unpacked from your luggages, placing gowns and capes back into your old drawers. “I could’ve sworn I saw a tear streaming down her cheek when you told her you missed her.”

Lysanna scoffed and let out a laugh as well. “She is my cousin, afterall.” that you can agree to, your step-mother was family whether you want to disagree or not. Even if she held dislike towards your sister, she held adoration for you and Lysanna.

“If only we could be in the North as we are speaking,” you spoke up, Lysanna turned to you, “your brother is lucky to live far away from the South..”

Before Lysanna could have answer back, your chamber doors were knocked and opened without even announcing themselves. You saw your youngest brother, Daeron, who was smiling ear to ear to see you. The scowl you wore for being interrupted immediately replaced with a bright smile and you ran to leap into your brother’s arms.

“Daeron!”

“Sister!”

Your brother wrapped his arms around you tightly, afraid to let go. You had not seen your brother since he was about nine, went off to be the squire of the Lord Hightower in Oldtown. You had only heard from him whenever he written to his mother, he became very strong with the sword and had the chance to bond with a dragon, Tessarion, before he left. He was always gentle and caring, more sweeter than his other brothers but still held no liking to your elder sister and her family.

“I had him return to King’s Landing to attend your wedding,” Alicent spoke, with her hands clasped, she was arrived in your chambers behind Daeron, whom was only ten-and-third but still loomed over you and your step-mother. He was getting much taller. “I wanted the whole family to be here to watch you marry under the seven.”

Oh. You felt yourself clench your hand in anger from what she had said. You wanted to scream and yell at her face. It is my marriage, not yours!

“It seems we need to discuss more of my wedding.” you coldly stated, bringing your attention on Daeron once more who continued to smile. He had no clue on your underlying bitterness towards Alicent.

“I have missed you, dear brother.” Both of you beaming with happiness to finally be reunited with one another. With swiftness, you brought Daeron towards Lysanna, “I shall speak with the Queen, you must catch up with your relative, it has been quite a long time since you both had seen each other as well.” Lysanna quickly hugged Daeron with tight grip, the two were always so rough with each other when they were younger.

“It is good to see you, cousin!” Lysanna happily chirped. You excused them to find Helaena as you stayed behind with your step-mother.

“My dearest-“

“I want all of us to meet. Now.” you resisted her touches and walked out to find Rhaenyra and Daemon. Your father was already ill but still insisted to attend the continued preparations. As you arrived in their chambers, you apologized to interrupt their resting, considering Rhaenyra is heavily pregnant but she was quick to come to your rescue, they were both very serious about your worries and did not hesitate.

You all sat in the council room, you were sitting with Rhaenyra and Daemon across from Alicent with the King sitting in his seat that was always placed in the middle end of the table. You had not planned to have Jace attend— noting he wouldn’t have arrived anyways but in moments, you were surprised when he barged in the room,

“Excuse my tardiness,” Jace announced and sat next to you, happy to see that he arrived even without being called to attend. “I had not been told to attend but I will make the effort for my betrothed.”

Alicent grimaced when he called you his betrothed but none the less, she cleared her throat and joined her hands together to begin the meeting.

You leaned to whisper in Jace’s ear, “how did you know we were meeting?”

“I’m here now. That’s all that matters.” Jace answered. You didn’t mind his explanation, his existence already reassured your feelings and helped you relax a little.

“I believe I have said this before. I shall have it repeated. They will be married under the Seven,” your step-mother stated, her joined hands planted on the table. She clearly wanted no negotiation on how your wedding would be customized.

Rhaenyra sighed, Daemon let out a scoff at her audacity, “This is a Targaryen marriage, let you be reminded, my Queen. My sister is not a believer of the Seven, she puts her faith in the Valyrian Gods.”

Alicent did not budge, relaxing into her seat a little, “My eldest daughter deserve a wedding that will have many witnesses. Her siblings were married under the faith as well. She should not have to hide in Dragonstone to wed and I have not yet accepted her marrying Jacaerys-“

“My niece does not share blood with you, let it be known once more,” Daemon seethed, his words dripping with venom, “You did not birth her, the Late Queen Aemma whom suffered long hours in labor, only to be cut open like a helpless pig. She would have wanted her daughter to have this.” That immediately shut your step-mother up. You saw how she took a big gulp after being reminded that you were not her trueborn daughter. But not only those words reached over to Alicent, it put you, Rhaenyra, and Viserys in a emotional and awkward state. You brought your hand over to your face to avoid any quivering to be seen from the mention of how your mother died.

Alicent cleared her throat— trying to recover from the sadden reality check she was given by Daemon. “I suppose it is only right for the King to make the decision…” your father slightly lit up at how Alicent let him have the right to make the decision for you all. He turned to make eye contact with you and saw how visibly upset you looked.

You were surprised on how she gave in so easily. Your step-mother had only been insufferable about your wedding for years before she gave it up to have your father finally have a choice in the matter. “If my daughter wishes for an Old Valyrian wedding then I don’t see why not.” Viserys calmly stated, coughing into his handkerchief once more. At his words, your spirits were lifted and smiled at your father. But your step-mother did not seem to be too happy, her frown was noticed from you and your sister.

Rhaenyra seeming to not be so pleased of your step-mother being upset, “I am sure we can come to some sort of agreement,” your sister offered, turning to you for your approval and you let her continue to hear what she had to say, “It would not be official but we can have another wedding under the seven— no one should be allowed to attend except our family, of course. I will only propose it if my son and sister is willing to allow it.”

It did not make you upset at the proposal but having to negotiation on your own wedding did. But from the delighted smile on your step-mother’s face from the offer, you couldn’t help but nod your head once more to agree, as you gave your answer, you felt angry at yourself for letting your step-mother have her way like always. But yet, she just looked so happy as well as your father who seemed delighted to hear you and your sister wanted to consider Alicent’s feelings even with what happened two years ago, but Daemon and Jace seemed to not be so onboard with the idea.

Your step-mother looked surprised, a grateful smile danced on her face, “I am grateful for your proposal. Thank you, Princess.” she graciously thanked and Rhaenyra gave a slight smile.

“A sweet proposition!” Viserys praised.

Jacaerys looked helpless, he’d never been reduced to a simple watcher before. You wanted to comfort him while your father began speaking about Jace’s wedding robes and which colors he should wear. It was his wedding as well and yet no one had asked him what he wanted.

“I’ll accompany the Princess on her fitting with the Seamstress.”

“My grandson should have the robes that I wore in my wedding.”

“I’m sure they wouldn’t fit him, brother.”

“I shall have my cousin, Lord Stark, to prepare Winterfell for the newlyweds quickly.”

“Will he be attending my grandson’s nameday?”

At last, they all seemed to be in a agreement with each other. It all left a neutral look on everyone’s face besides Jace. He did not look happy like everyone else. Even if he wished to speak up on his wishes for his weddings, he did not know what to say. He did not like how you or his mother had negotiated or how they continue to let the woman who used her position and power to ruin his family’s lives, to say he was angry was an understatement.

As you pardoned yourself and head to your chambers to retire, he followed you with the intention of talking with you.

You turned, continuing to walk, “You should be heading to your chambers. Are you alright?” As you finished speaking, you arrived in your chambers and allowed him to come in. You only expected him to wish you well night rest.

“You’re allowing her to have what she wants. Once again.”

You whipped your head around quickly from his words. Jace looked back with annoyance as you looked with confusion. You both seemed to be feeling alright in the council, now you felt that there was tension between you both.

“If you disagreed with the idea then you should have said your piece,” you reminded Jace, he scoffed in return. “you had only disregarded this wedding many times and now you seem to care?!”

He sighed, “Of course I had cared! I wanted you— only you to prepare our wedding. You had the chance to finally have full control of,” his words made you bite your lip, he was right. “That woman had humiliated us for years..you are letting her remain in power even in our marriage!”

You turned, facing him completely, you stepped closer to him, face now only inches apart, “What else can I do, Jacaerys?! She is close that I have to a mother. Let it be reminded that she is still the Queen.”

“Not only days ago, you held distaste for her!” He shouted, “You do not defend yourself, me, or our family when it comes to her.”

You resisted the urge to slap him, “I had done so much for us! This wedding..I thought this is what you wanted!”

For a moment, Jace was taken aback from what you had said. Utterly shocked was his emotions.

“I wanted nothing but your love.”

Your face softened from his words. Within moments, his arms sneak around your waist and hold you affectionately. “For years, Ñuha hūra qēlossās, I yearned for your love and now I was given the chance by the Old Gods to relish in it.” The memory of younger Jace wishing to confess to you in the future was running in your mind, remembering his words: “I will tell you when I am of age, so please wait until then.” Hot tears finally streaming down your face from his words. He gently wiped them off your cheeks, “You and I were meant to burn together.”

You sobbed, stepping away from him, it wounded him deeply once you left his arms but you had no choice. “Please do speak no more..” creating space between you both, it felt wrong to be apart from each other this long.

His face fell and the sight made you want to bury yourself alive for the way you were beginners to hurt him, wounding his heart all because you were not sure. “You share the same feelings as do I, do you not?”

The silence from you was furthering his heart to shatter, to break into two. The heart that belonged to you and only you. Why were you not saying anything?

“Please, my love,” Jace begged, closing the space between you both, holding onto your hands so desperately— almost falling to his knees, “please tell me that you feel the same.”

Jace’s mind was racing. He had always thought you shared love for him as well. Why else would you spur his name towards the Queen on a suitor, or how you would always call him your sun, or how you would allow him to show his affections nearly everywhere, and even when Meraxes allowed Vermax to show his love for her so loudly around Dragonstone that it became clear to Jace that they were the sign of your love for one another. Was he wrong? This whole time, he was wrong?

“Does it not bother you?” you finally asked him, “I had helped raise you..”

Is that why you are in such denial of your feelings towards Jace? No matter how much you might love him, you would still see him as the young boy you had watched over all your life and called him your nephew. But he will no longer be your sweet nephew after four days.

Your words appear to sting Jace and wound him so deeply, from the betrayed look on his face. What was the difference? His mother married her uncle, they’re happily together and inlove.

“Does it really matter?”

“Of course it matters!”

From the tone of your voice, he nodded, only bringing you closer to him. For a moment you had tried to lean away but failed once he placed his hands on your cheeks, continued to wipe your tears away. “Not once have I ever been ashamed of my love for you.”

His touch was a touch you had yearned for years. The gentleness and sweetness that it came with was reassuring, you were not used to it. From what you were used to was harsh and rough, usually received by your brother, Aegon, whom never held any sort of respect towards you but viewed you as his potential maiden he can abuse whenever he wanted. Everything you wanted in a man was standing right in front of you and yet you pulled away.

Why were you so afraid? This is what you had always wanted right? To be married to the right man and to have sweet children who will turn out right. To be married by your choice and not by duty.

“We shall continue to talk on the morrow.” With that you said nothing else. You stood your place and refused to shed more tears. You watched as Jace was hit with realization. Realizing that you weren’t going to speak anymore or return your feelings. He stepped back and his face was clearly written with hurt all over.

Jace turned to leave your chambers and once he had left, you broke down in continued tears. You broke down into messy sobs, feeling so alone and hurt. Your glassy violet eyes watching the door— thinking about chasing after him. Your eyes begin to dry, rimmed with redness and puffy, you were so conflicted and hated yourself for being so confusing, you wished you had the courage to declare how much you do care for him. But you could not, you were too late, he now thinks you do not love him.

As you continued to cry in your chambers, unknowingly to you— Jace remained behind your doors and hearing it all, salty tears swelling in his eyes. You both cried for each other, yearning for each other’s warmth with the door separating you two.

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“The design…” Alicent eyed your wedding gown, the seamstress was still needling the gown while you were dressed in it, stepping on the high stool as you were studied by your step-mother and sister, they both shared slight distaste for the gown. Lysanna was behind you with your wedding robe to be tried on.

“It is not quite finished yet, my Queen,” the seamstress announced, she placed more needles around the bottom of your gown. You were mesmerized by the gown, it was your step-mother who prepared this gown for you, you had to admit how she perfectly knew what you preferred and what not you preferred. The red lining on the white dress and golden accents were beautiful, the designs of Meraxes on your gown made you beam with excitement. You hate to admit how much step-mother knows about you even though you are still upset with her, she was the reason why you and Jace are having a rough patch.

“Let’s have you try on the robes, hm?” Rhaenyra asked as you quickly nodded, excited to see how they looked while Alicent spoke with the seamstress to have a cape sewn in on your sleeves. Lysanna helped you out of your gown before helping you into the robes. It looked gorgeous, the robes had blue and black as the main colors to represent House Velaryon and Targaryen.

You turned to face your family and they only had given you a smile. It was surprising to see Alicent cooperate and be less vicious to Rhaenyra but perhaps they put their differences aside for your weddings. “You look beautiful, my dearest,” Alicent complimented to which Rhaenyra wholeheartedly agreed. “And what of the headpiece? When will it be finished? Her wedding is in days, let you be reminded!” the seamstress moved quickly across the room to fetch the matching headpieces she had made for you and Jace, handing Alicent yours and she quickly placed it on your head.

It was perfect. Everything was perfect. Except you could not shake away the guilt that was burning inside you from what had happened last night. You and Jace have not spoken to each other since, he was off preparing for his celebration feast that was happening tonight, with Daemon and your father, Viserys. Nobody knew what had happened between the both of you but everyone in the Keep could all feel the tension.

Alicent soon became concerned and remembered, “The gown will be finished before the wedding, I hope?”

“For the heir and his future Queen’s wedding? I will have it finished before the evening,” the seamstress insisted.

You stepped down from the stool after having the robes be taken off of you. You watched as your step-mother place a bag of coins in the seamstress’ hands for her time and hardwork. While your sister graciously thanked her, you all said your farewell before leaving the room. You planned to meet Lysanna in your chambers to help each other with the gowns for tonight.

“Would you like for me to help you pick a gown for the feast?” Alicent placed a cold hand on your shoulder but you shook your head and gave her a friendly smile,

“Liz is helping me,” you answered, “she is helping with my hair as well.”

Rhaenyra nodded from your answer and placed a sweet kiss on your forehead. “I shall see you at the feast, sweet sister.”

“Thank you, Nyra.” you smiled while she scurried off to her chambers, you were standing alone with your step-mother, awkwardly. “Then I shall depart as well-“

With swiftness, you stopped your step-mother from leaving and she gave you a confused look but quickly was replaced with surprise once you shoved yourself into her embrace. Hugging her so tightly, you were scared she would be crushed. But quickly enough, she held onto you as well, possibly her grip was more tighter than yours. “I’ve missed you, my dearest love,” she voiced gently, genuinely terrified to let go of you.

“I have missed you,” you admitted, cried softly. Not caring with what Ladies or Lords around the halls are witnessing.

She didn’t waste a second to kiss your head gingerly and hush you like you were still a baby. “My sweet, miracle girl. What is wrong?”

You couldn’t answer her, instead you buried yourself deeper into your step-mother’s shoulder, the tears continued falling from your eyes, as you breathed in the scent of the Keep. You had not understand why you were suddenly missing your step-mother. In seconds, your step-mother brought you back inside your chambers, pleading to Lysanna to be excused and come back later. She sat you on your bed, helping you loosen your gown to feel more comfortable.

“We had a fight”, you confessed, you saw how she wanted you to continue about why, “about you.”

Alicent looked at you— confused, soon realizing what you had meant. Now understanding why you had looked so gloomy this morning, eye bags and a grim frown danced on your face. “Oh,” she muttered, “I am sorry.” you shook your head, not believing her apology, “No..really, my dearest, I am.”

“He is rather angry with me to know that I have gave you an opportunity to have a part in our wedding.” Her face seeming to hold some sort of guilt, “He’s seething with envious to know that no matter how much I hold hatred, fear, and disgust towards you..I will always find my way back to you, to please you, and to make you part of my life.”

To know that even if you hate her, you would always keep her in your heart. Why? Because she was there for you since you were born, had raised you like her own. You were always her little girl and will forever be her little girl. As much as Alicent despises Rhaenyra and her family, she had learned to accept that you were always apart of her family, she chooses to understand Jace’s anger.

At that you sat on the large bed with your mother, placing your head onto her lap as she soothed you to comfort, humming. You let yourself breathe in and breathe out to calm your nerves, silently sobbing while she whispered sweet nothings into your head, rocking you back and forth. You are ten-and-seventh, and yet you still loved being babied by your step-mother. Moments like this had you wishing that your mother was alive, you only relied on memories and stories told by your father and sister, sometimes your step-mother would tell you how much of a mother she saw in her when she was younger. It was sure by day that she would’ve loved you so much— you and your twin brother, you grieved for them everyday. You could only meet your mother in your dreams but that was more than enough, or that was you just lying to yourself for hope it’ll help ease your curiosity of your mother.

But it was okay, you knew you still had your step-mother, “Sweetest,” she cooed, kissing your forehead lightly, her kisses made you melt with warmth, you had missed this so dearly. “He will come to his senses soon. He won’t hold anger over you forever. He adores you.”

“That is what’s wrong, mama,” you whispered, you pinched yourself to calm your growing anxiety but it was not working, instead you twiddled with your rings, “I have led him to believe that I do not love him. He is rightfully hurt and I do not know what to say..”

Closing your eyes, breathing in the air before you spoke your truth. “My marriage has already ended before it even started.”

Alicent held your face, squishing your cheeks, your sad and heartbreaking eyes left her feeling more sorrow for you. “My dearest, you are no fool. It can be savored, tell me, truthfully, do you carry such love and devotion for Jacaerys as he has for you?”

Her question made you begin to wonder. You had always tried convincing yourself this betrothal was good for the family, for the House. It saved you from marrying your brother, loveless marriage or an abusive one with a high Lord who only wanted you for your Valyrian blood. But really, you knew deep down it was otherwise, no matter how much you wanted to convince yourself and others around you that you and Jace were always just family, it pained you tremendously. You weren’t as confident as he was when admitting his love for you— you didn’t know what to say or do. But you knew your heart belonged to him and only him, it was only right for you to make it up to your lover and it was only right to do it quick.

“I do,” you sighed, exhaustedly, leaning into your step-mother’s hold on your cheeks, “I love him with my whole heart. But I fear he may not want to hear it after what I done.” You had finally admit your love for Jacaerys.

Alicent let out a soft chuckle, getting up from her seat on your bed and straightening her gown, “Believe my words when I speak them, my sweet girl. He will be contented.” slightly smiling at the reassurance she tried giving you. You heard a knock on your chamber doors and it was Liz. To help you with your gown and hair for tonight, of course you let her in and dismissed with your step-mother.

You sat down at your vanity, quietly. Trying to think what to do tonight to apologize to Jace and express your true feelings for him. Waiting for Lysanna to start helping you, she noticed your dreary mood.

“Your eyes are swollen,” Lysanna pointed out and rubbed her cold hands over your face, it startled you which made her laugh. “I won’t ask what happened.”

Feeling a little better while she worked to braid your hair and wrap behind your head, leaving most of your hair down that were stylishly curled. “Have you ever been inlove, Liz?” you whispered, your eyes trained on her from the mirror, she looked rather stunned from your question. Worried you touched a sensitive topic but you wished for some sort of help from her, she was the closest companion you had and probably could relate to your troubles.

“Once.” Lysanna answered, truthfully. She brought over a bright red gown with gold trimming on the front of the gown and around the breast area, the sleeves reached mid arm and had fabric cascading from behind the ending of the sleeves. Though it looked magnificent and appeared to be the dress your step-mother picked out for you, you were not in love with how simple it was…or the color for that matter.

“He was my father’s squire. Much more older than I was at the time,” she helped you out of your pink gown and carefully put you into the red and gold one before starting to tie the laces for tightening. “The lad had dismissed my existence while he stayed in Winterfell, it broke my little heart. All of my hopes and dreams of marrying him disappeared when he left to arrive back to his home. My brother told me he left because his father had betrothed him to a lady from House Baratheon. That was the only time I had ever seen myself marrying for love, not for duty.”

At the newfound information, you frowned. Liz had only arrived to King’s Landing at the age of ten to be your lady-in-waiting. She has been your companion for so long and yet has never thought of marriage ever again. In a way, she was like you, the comfortable atmosphere around you both certainly helped you become more closer to the Stark girl.

“Do you long for home, Liz?”

“Most days I do. Why do you ask?”

“I long for home too.”

Your answer reached Liz’s understanding on what you truly meant. You knew she would understand. You both meant the exact same thing— not the home you grew up in, the home you had known all your lives. The home you desired for, a dream that you hoped to come true, a home that was far away from this place, a home where you could stay for the rest of your days and do whatever you wished. Where you were truly happy and safe.

You were finishing getting ready but you decided to take a few more minutes to help Lysanna with her gown, sure you both would have been late to the celebration but you wanted more time with her. Usually, Lysanna wore grey gowns with sigils stitched of House Stark but she started wearing appropriate gowns for the spring time, dark purples and flowery gowns looked amazing on her. You had her wear a pink patterned gown with much yellow accents and put her hair in a similar hairstyle to what she placed you in, but you wrapped the braids around the crown of her head to make a braid crown.

“Beautiful.” You complimented, Lysanna happily giggling at your words. You both left the chambers and made your way to the Hall where all celebrations and feasts are held. Tonight, not only they would be celebrating the nameday of your betrothed, but the celebration of your betrothal.

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Rhaenyra sat on the other end of the long table with Daemon, Lucerys, and Rhaena while waiting for Rhaenys who had came with Baela right by her side as well as her brother-in-law and her House since Lord Corlys was still at sea, in battle. Alicent and her family occupied the other end of the table while you and Jacaerys were supposed to be seated in the middle with the King, he was there but you were nowhere to be found. Nor was Lysanna.

“Where is my sister?” Rhaenyra whispered to Daemon, as if he would know where you were. He turned to look around the Hall, where many Houses with their Lords and Ladies were crowding. He did not find you but Lysanna was rushing through the crowd to be seated at the table. Rhaenyra had wanted to ask Lysanna where you were but Alicent got to her first. She whispered into her ear and after gaining a response from Lysanna, she looked relieved.

Lysanna made her way to sit next to Lucerys, the young boy quickly became flustered after receiving a smile from her. “Liz, where is the Princess?” Rhaenyra lightly whispered across, not wanting Jacaerys to hear so he wouldn’t panic, but he certainly would not react at the mention of you.

“She’s arriving soon. She had asked me to not wait on her, and went back to her chambers for something.” Lysanna answered truthfully. Rhaenyra was worried, Viserys was about to start his speech right about now.

Everyone had finally seated, once they had all sat, Viserys weakly got up and began his speech. But before he could even speak a word, you came in through the doors in a much different dress than the one you were previously wearing. A lavishing off-shouldered blue gown with ruffles lining across your collarbone, a lighter blue cape connecting around your sleeves, the patterns on the dress seemed to be in favor of House Velaryon and as well as the pearl jewelry that were around your neck and pinned between your ears. You wore the rings given by your father.

“Princess Y/n of House Targaryen, The Realm’s Beauty and the future Queen Consort.”

The knight announced your presence loudly, while everyone had got up from their seat once more to honor you. You had received the most happiest grin from the King and Rhaenyra’s family while you received a surprised look from your step-mother. Your betrothed’s eyes lit up for a moment once you had entered the hall, surely they all expected you to show up in your house colors but tonight you were here for Jace and only Jace. But he wasn’t the only one who seemed to be contented, the Queen who never was certainly pleased to see you show support to her and her husband’s House.

You climbed up the stairs and as you made your way to sit next to Jace, you placed a sweet kiss on his cheek while they all clapped. The King declared for everyone to be seated once again.

“As we all join together for another celebration. Tonight, we celebrate my grandson, the future heir to the Iron Throne, ten-and-fourth nameday.” Viserys announces loudly, to that, they all clapped once more. You gave Jace a warm smile—received nothing but a firm nod. Taking a sip from your glass, you almost felt all of your confidence drain out of you when he barely acknowledged you. “Not only we celebrate his nameday, we celebrate yet another betrothal between House Targaryen and House Velaryon, united once more. With my grandson, your future Queen’s heir— whom to be your future King, and with my second eldest daughter, your future Queen Consort. Let us celebrate!”

You gently clapped your hands and smiled towards your father who remained his eyes on you and Jace. As everyone all clapped again, music began to play, guests beginning to dig in their meals while you sat there, looking throughout the Hall until you were interrupted by a noise and saw Jace held his hand out for you.

Oh. The first dance of the evening.

Quickly you took his hand and was lead to the floor. Hesitating to take the lead, from your lover’s stance, he was much more confident to lead. As the music danced around you both, you cleared your throat and whispered towards him:

“We must talk.” you muttered as he circled you before you both appeared behind each other with your arms out.

“There’s no reason for us to talk, Auntie.” His words seethed with venom, you grimaced at the way he called you his aunt— not what you were used to. You both continued to dance away from each other and reuniting once more in the middle.

“I understand your anger, Jace,” you pleaded, you were desperate to make amends but it was not looking so good. “I realized my mistakes and I want to apologize.”

The dance was coming to an end and he harshly grabbed you, “You’re not forgiven.” He whispered down into your ear, lifting you in the air as you dropped on the floor before everyone clapped for you and Jace. He left you on the dancefloor by yourself until Lords and their Ladies crowded you. Watching him walk back to his seat without a care, you never felt so rejected and afraid until now. It shattered your heart as he changed his demeanor when he started talking with Baela. This was your fault, you must fix it. You were feeling defeated but snapped out of your thoughts when you felt a nudge on your shoulder,

“May I have a dance with the Princess?”

You wanted to politely refuse the young Lord but soon you realized it was not a young Lord, when you turned around you were facing the Lord of the North, Cregan Stark. Lysanna was watching with excitement to see you with her brother, she was so happy to hear from him that he would be attending. In a matter of seconds you begun dancing with him. Stealing glances over to him, you noticed how handsome he looked (though you could never admit that out loud.) He towered over you so easily— feeling rather short when next to him. His defined and mature looks, his furs that were draped over his shoulders made him look more masculine than any of the men that were in the Hall. The confidence in his stance was just the icing on the cake, everything about this man made you weak in the knees.

Recovering very soon from your ogling to the Lord of Winterfell, “It is a pleasant surprise to see you here tonight, my Lord,” you muttered, lifting your head after giving him a small nod out of respect, the older man gave you a light laugh from how you forgot your position. Grasping his hands around your waist, you let out a surprised gasp from how gentle he held you as he lifted you up in the air.

“It was my sister who asked of me.” He stated his reasoning, he helped you from the air to land you on the floor. That’s right, Lysanna had wrote many letters each month to her brother on any events happening and what was happening in her life, currently. It was a big surprise to see House Stark show up to any celebration that was held in King’s Landing due to them being in the North, it takes over a month to just travel here.

“Liz has always mentioned you, you are admirable, Lord Stark.” you were soon to be growing your confidence back, you were happy to be able to find comfort with a new friend you had made with the Lord Stark. Hoping he was enjoying your company as well.

Unknowing to you or the Lord of Winterfell, you were being watched not just by Lysanna but by your betrothed. Jace clenching his jaw as watched you enjoy the newfound company as you continued to dance with Cregan and laugh with him even though the dance floor was changing partners. Jace didn’t want to admit it, you looked like a divine goddess, he was mesmerized by your beauty that he almost forgot he was unhappy with you. But his grumpy mood soon came back after watching you dance with the Warden of the North while knowing he was an old potential suitor of yours.

It appeared that partners were changing soon, truthfully, you did not want to split up. You liked the friendly atmosphere you were able to make with him. “You honor me, my Princess. Please refer me as Cregan.” In awe at how he already wanted to be on first name basis. Before you could split apart, he gave your hand a kiss out of respect, “Congratulations, your betrothed appears to already be a strapping lad. Winterfell awaits for your arrival.” His manners made you shamelessly stare while being split up from the change of partners, grumbling once you realized Lord Baratheon became your partner, excusing yourself to return to your table. Happily eating the lemon cakes and toffee puddings that were offered.

“Sister! You must see the gift me and Daeron had prepared for your wedding.” Helaena quickly came up to you with Daeron by her side, holding a neatly rolled art piece that was collected specifically for you. You laid your eyes upon it with content, they knew how much you were into collecting art pieces, especially ones that were historical and ancient. You couldn’t wait to hang it up on your chamber walls with the rest of your collected art pieces.

You placed the art piece by your side and gave a genuine smile to your siblings for their sweet and thoughtful gift. “It is an amazing gift, my sweets. Thank you..”

“We had it exported from Essos,” Daeron explained, you assumed so since the paper was more softer than any art from Westeros. Your brother was explaining more in-depth with where the art piece came from. Helaena was telling you how happy she was when she got her hands on it as Rhaena asked to look at the art, handing her the paper, she looked so mesmerized by the colors.

You bid them off with a tight hug and a sweet kiss on their cheeks. Watching them sit back down at their seat, conversing with one another. Your gaze was soon locked with your young brother, Aemond. While Aegon, had run off to drink away and stare hungrily at the servant maids, making a complete utter fool out of himself. Your brother watched you from the side of the long table, your eyes began to sadden as you realized this was the first interaction you ever had with Aemond since two years ago, after the scary incident. He finally tore his gaze away from you and quickly your mood was ruined, once more. This is was a different kind of rejection, rejected by your betrothed and now rejected by your sweet brother, whom was the closest brother to you since children.

How could this night be so cruel to you? This was supposed to be a feast of celebration for Jace’s nameday but you could not hold your happiness anymore. As you’re drowning in your sorrow, Jace was drowning in his as well. He gave you a quick look before turning away once you noticed, you opened your mouth to say something but immediately closed it. Let him celebrate his nameday in peace, you thought, let him have no more worries for the rest of the night.

Your gaze was shifted to Lysanna, who was dancing with her brother and Luke, they all looked so jolly and contented.

Oh how you wished you were feeling those emotions right now.

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I made this chapter longer than the others because I felt bad for taking so long to update😔 I’m sorry! But omg we get sm angst, muahahahahaha😈 yes I love angst, it’s amazing and horrible at the same time. Anyways shoutout to Cregan writers, YALL ARE SAVING ME IN THE CREGAN X READER TAG!!🙏‼️

taglist (woohoo!): @sigynxlokiwifelover @l-3-e @audigay @urmomsgirlfriend1 @cold-v0dka @cookielovesbook-akie @theoriginalwife000 @xoxovenusquinn(would not let me tag u:( @ghalakgx (would not let me tag:( @neenieweenie @classysassynabitsmartassy @generousbearwolflight @gariben @si1versamurai @deltamoon666 @aemondssiut (would not let me tag u:( @thelastemzy @ryantryan6969 @topazy @starogeorgina @infinitleyethereal @speedypeter @dramaroomrat @potatolady189 (would not let me tag u:( @zzz000eee @parkchaeyoung1997 @jaehyunyah

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tenjikyu · 1 month

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𝘋𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘬 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦 - 𝘔𝘪𝘵𝘴𝘬𝘪 - 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘝

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ Finally, the finale! After wayyyyy too long , fluff, the ending idk how to feel about but you’re getting what you’re getting and I wanna be done with this series already + I need modivation to get back into writing , it gets pretty romantic with Freminet but nowhere near NSFW.

PART IV • GENSHIN M.LIST

Tag list - @fisbred @gimmealamp @lucianidealz @sleepdeprivedpotato @unemiart @camryn-ciel67 @aruaruru @danika-redgrave124 @bunbunboysworld @kaoyamamegami @aphxdea @red1sg0ne @sleepndacloud @squishyboo @ally674 @hoo-hoo @probablynoposts @junevtv @og-winnie @exrellian @f0th3rr @cb97s-laptop @moonjellyfishie

The familiar green bard before you took off his hat with a bow, sending a friendly wave towards the other three in the room, whom were sharing knowing glances. In the many times you recounted your story to them, the green bard remained consistent with each retelling. You spoke of him with the fondest eyes, and the siblings could almost feel the pure love the bard had for you even before meeting him themselves.

In a count of shock, you quietly excused the both of you to the fontainian siblings, before closing the door behind yourself.

The two of you went on an emotional and very much sentimental walk, reminding you of the days you would talk to Venti about your problems and your struggles. About how Diluc’s 180 change in personality once he came back from Snezhnaya was a scary turn of events. About how Kaeya’s icy attitude rivalled his vision, and how much it upset you. About how the knights and maids couldn’t seem to get off your ass, despite your best efforts at politely telling them to fuck off.

You reminisced about your time in Fontaine to the archon, and Venti only nod his head and gave you a smile as he walked alongside you, pretending that he hadn’t snuck into the nation countless times to check in on you. You spoke of your growing relationship with the Fatui member, and how the Hearth children had taken you in as one of their own. How Navia had taken you under her wing and you didn’t spend a cent whenever she was around. How you and the former Hydro Archon were each others comfort buddies whenever bad thoughts came to mind, and how you aided eachother into adapting to the new world around yourselves.

As you recited your amazing time spent in Fontaine, the more and more you realised to yourself that you really didn’t want to go home. In the moment, you wouldn’t have noticed it, but looking back on it, it was clear that was Venti’s intention the entire time. He knew you better than you knew yourself, and he could see the internal debate you had been having with yourself since the incident. And so, giving you the chance to clear your mind if the bad, you had come to the conclusion that you didn’t want to return to Mondstadt anytime soon.

“Mondstadt will always be the home of your birth, however it’s also the nation of Freedom. Freedom to fly wherever you want to go, and wherever you want to build your nest and settle down. No matter how long you stray from Mondstadt, it will always have a home waiting for you.”

Venti’s little speech had you in tears, and he opened up his arms just like all those years ago.

In a world full of uncertainty and the unknown, the arms of an angel would always be there to embrace you.

“At last, we’ve made it back to Fontaine!” Lyney practically combusts. Everyone around could see how dearly he was missing Fontaine, especially his twin sister who heard ALL about it.

“Hey (Y/N), wanna go for a dive later?” Freminet questions out of the blue, and you nod your head. You knew whenever he went into the ocean unexpectedly, in this case the second you got back from a LONG trip, that he had something private he wanted to discuss with you, and so you made sure to never decline.

As the day came to an end, you prepared your diving gear that freminet had ever so graciously bought you for your birthday (yk him being rich and all, fatui money goes hard) and met freminet at the rendezvous.

As he took your hand in his own, he guided into the water as he’d done dozens of times before. The oceans of Fontaine never seized to amaze you. Its gentle touch soothed your skin to the core, and as you descended into the depths of the ocean, Freminet never once let go of the grasp on his fingers.

The two of you enjoyed what the ocean had to offer you. Freminet tended to stick closer to the top of the water when you accompanied him, too paranoid to take you deeper as you weren’t as experienced as he was. Regardless, you continued admiring natures aquatic gifts. You found pearls, danced with domestic blubber beasts, picked flowers and located lost treasures. All the whole, Freminet was yet to let go of your hand, not because he was afraid of you running off, but because he simply refused to let go.

Freminet never wanted to let go of your hand.

Freminet never wanted to let go of you.

The skies soon turned dark, and signs of a storm were appearing, so Freminet was quick to escort you out of the water. What was originally subtle signs of a storm was now a full blown storm, and running back to the gates & all the way back to your home, all the while laughing your asses off, was having you fall further and further in love with every step you ran.

By the time you made it inside, the lighting was begging to strike & you immediately went to lighting a fire in order to help the both of you warm up. Freminet removed his cost he chucked over himself when collecting your left-behind gear, and it suddenly dawns on you how beautiful Freminet was on the outside. You always admired Freminet’s inner beauty, his charming and reserved nature, yet sticking up for himself and his own if needed, but you never really took the time to admire how gorgous he truly was. His hourglsss waist, his long golden hair, his long eyelashes, his slender thighs. His form captured your attention, and it didn’t take long for Freminet to catch your gaze.

“(Y/N), is there something on my face?” Freminet questions,

“Nah, come sit down by the fire, you just be freezing” you murmur out, patting the ground next to you.

The both of you sit in comforting silence, a common occurrence between the two of you. But for the first time, a bubbling urge rose from your stomach.

You wanted his lips.

You knew how he felt, and you had for awhile. Freminet kinda… sucked, at hiding his feelings for you, especially his ruined confession. And so, you decided to take the lead for once.

You slowly grabbed his chin, and his eyes widened in surprise. You slowly took his face in your hand, and tilted your head as you neared his face.

He didn’t take his eyes off you the entire ordeal, and as he closed his eyes, you took it as a sign to finally seal the deal.

You gently pecked his lips. It was somewhat quick and gentle, however when he leaned in and kissed you again, you couldn’t hold back any longer.

Freminet slowly moved into your lap, kissing you not with lust, but with passion. You grasped his slim waist and continued the assault of kisses on his face. The both of you continued your passionate yet loving make out session until you were both out of breath.

As you parted away from eachother, Freminet took your cheeks in his frigid hands and pecked your cheeks, before cuddling into your lap. Leaning against the couch, the both of you held eachother closley, absorbing eachother’s warmth.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to do that” Freminet giggles, before cuddling closer into your neck. You sighed gently to yourself, before shaking your head lightly.

The both of you fell asleep embracing eachother that night, and suffered the consequences of not properly washing up after being in the rain. (Lyney fussed over the both of you, cooing at how cute the both of you looked with bright red cheeks and blocked noses. Lynette, ever your saviour, made herbal tea to quench your aching throats.)

A knock was heard at the door of the Winery, and Diluc’s curiosity heightened. First, Kaeya had received a letter in scribbled handwriting to meet at the Dawn Winiry (with a cheeky drawing of a certain musician at the bottom of it), leading Diluc into letting him in. Then, the charming melody of a lyre enveloped the air, which seemingly had no bard tuning it.

Now, a knock at the door?

Kaeya and Diluc looked at eachother, and decided to open the door. After all, the person knocking is either someone else who received a letter or is the mastermind behind this little scandal.

And so, on the count of three, the opened the door.

Three…

Two…

One..

“Hey Diluc, Kaeya. Long time no see, huh?”

Thank you to my OG DWH series followers, I can’t thank you enough for the patience with me and this series. Hope this didn’t disappoint.

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin x male reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x male reader #ragbros #diluc #kaeya #freminet #freminet x reader #freminet x male reader #lyney #lynette #lyney and lynette

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velenoblu · 20 days

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“What are you waiting for?”

“Shut up!”

“…Why it had to be you?”

Day 4: Superhero x Villain - Law x Ichiji

In short, superhero “Sora the warrior of the sea”-Law falls in love with Ichiji Vinsmoke, not knowing that he also has a secret identity as villain Sparking Red. Eventually Law found out but decided to continue the relationship because he can’t bring himself to leave him. Until Ichiji (during a particularly rough fight) discovers the identity of his nemesis but, heartbroken, he can’t kill him because for the first time in a very long time he found himself scared to loose someone.

For more lore (aka the whole plot that I made up in my head around the prompt)👇👇

Trafalgar Law’s life finally seemed figured out: at 26 he has a stable and fulfilling work as a surgeon in the city’s main hospital, a group of friends that care about him dearly and sometimes even some night out with an occasional date. Everything was fine, even nice, until one night a badly injured man arrives at the urgent care of the hospital claiming to be Sora the warrior of the sea, the most powerful superhero of the area. Law (a big fan of him) doesn’t initially believe him until the man gives him a strange key and an address and tells him that someone has to take his place, just to die soon after. At first Law doesn’t really think about it but after the rumors of Sora disappearance he goes at the address and with the key he unlocks Sora’s secret lair, finally understanding that the the superhero is now dead and practically shoved his duty as protector of the city to him. Law thinks “I know a lot about him ((nerd behavior)), and it can’t be to difficult to wear a suit and fight some criminals, and I can’t leave the city unprotected, no?” So he decides to take Sora’s role and, after some initial difficulties, he starts to enjoy this double life, but with the intention of finding someone more suited to the role to take his place.

At the same time he becomes a usual in a new cafe where he meets a handsome blond man elegantly dressed, with whom everyday has a little chat. With a new found confidence, brought by being a superhero generally liked by the majority of the city’s citizens, he asks him out. He is Ichiji Vinsmoke, a young and successful lawyer from a powerful family ((damn Law you hit the jackpot)). They slowly fall for each other and start an official relationship some time later. But around the same time a group of super villains returns to the city, after Sora defeated them a year ago. They are Germa 66, and mostly work as mercenaries for powerful men who don’t want to get their own hands dirty. Law of course tries to stop them, but they are more powerful than the typical robbers he had to deal with until now. Poison Pink is subtly dangerous with her poisons, Winch Green is physically strong and has a long range and Dengeki Blue’s electricity powers are particularly insidious. But the worst is the leader, Sparking Red, because not only he is the most powerful and cruel of them, but he is also very familiar. Behind the funky red hair and the dark sunglasses his voice and appearance are unmistakably the one of his boyfriend Ichiji.

Law is afflicted, at first he doesn’t accept it but the evidences are undeniable and he doesn’t know what to do: Sparking Red and Ichiji personalities are similar in some ways, but where the former taunts him and fights without holding himself back, the latter is kind and loving with him. And Law starts to understand that he really, like really loves him and can’t help but want to be stay with him. He starts to search Ichiji in Sparking Red, and Sparking Red in Ichiji, which isn’t very healthy for a relationship. And Ichiji starts to have suspicions too for his boyfriend strange habits (that he sort of recognizes for having himself a secret identity). He knows that the Sora of the present isn’t the same person of a year ago, but he doesn’t even imagine what the truth is.

So, one day they have a particular violent fight and Sora-Law looses his helmet (that hides his face), and just when Sparking Red is ready to finish him he recognizes Law. And from Law’s expression he understands that the other knew. He finds himself heartbroken in a way the didn’t know he could be. Even when he didn’t wear the suit he wasn’t a very emotional available person, but with Law was different. He thought to have finally found a sort of safe place, far from Sparking Red, the identity that his father made him grow up with for his own benefits, modifying Ichiji’s and his brothers bodies and using violence when they tried to refuse his orders for all their life. So, now that Sparking Red has the order to kill Sora, Ichiji just can’t do it. But he also feels betrayed by Law, and can’t forgive him despite loving him still (thing that he isn’t really programmed to feel in the first place).

SO, the conclusion? Very hard times for them both trying to communicate (they aren’t very good at it) and continue their roles as enemies but also as lovers. But when things start to be even more complicated for them, as Ichiji’s father discovers what is happening to his theoretically perfect son, Ichiji and Law will have to face difficult decisions to remain together and keep the city and their loved ones safe. (Spoiler at the end Judge is dead the Vinsmoke siblings are free and they stay together happy and very much in love)

I love writing detailed plots that will never be an actual fanfics, like see my vision but don’t expect a full story because I can’t actually write it.

#vinshippingweek2024 #one piece #germa 66 #vinsmoke brothers #vinsmoke ichiji #trafalgar law #trafalgar d water law #ichilaw #sorry for eventual grammar mistakes

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gay-dorito-dust · 2 years

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Hello there! I hope you're healthy and well! And oh, I loooveee your writings! They're always great ^_^

Anyways, I would like to request. It's Wednesday Addams x fem!reader. So let's just say Wednesday has feelings for the reader. But she doesn't know how to tell her. And I would love to know how she would react if she saw the reader was being kissed by Xavier. Just love a little bit of angst 😎

That's all, thank you for reading my request!! XOXOXO

Feelings were a fickle subject when it came to Wednesday Addams, despite growing up with two parents whom were blatantly enamoured with one another and didn’t seem to hold no shame in showing their love either. However just because she was the child of Gomez and Morticia didn’t exactly meant that their affiliations for love were an inheritable trait for her to have. However despite believing herself to be as emotionally dead as the dearly departed buried six feet under their own graves, you elicit reactions within Wednesday that made her believe that she was either sick or subsuming to an early death.

The fluttering within her stomach whenever you stood close by enough for her to manage to catch a whiff of what you were wearing that morning; Lavender and and body spray, she would note later on as she found herself burning away the midnight oil one night, describing the scent of an additional character to her novel. She would remove all traces of the character but she had soon found out that she had written so much dialogue between viper and this character; So much so that the plot portrays their coming together in joining forces as a chance of fate in solving the mystery. For Wednesday to remove your insert character from her novel would be to set herself back a couple of pages, possibly chapters, because your character suddenly became a vital part of her story out of the blue and she had already advanced so far with the story that it would just seem like wasted effort.

Another thing Wednesday would always be subconsciously reminded of in her moments of silent reprieve was the way in which her cheeks would heat up whenever you smiled, laughed or outwardly complimented her. She never once cared about what others thought about her nor her personality but it seemed that the moment you started to speak of her in such high praise, that’s when she began to feel herself crave your validation. Wednesday didn’t care how you did it but she just wanted you to praise her, compliment her to high heavens and no one else. She naturally hated how she craved something she openly voiced not caring about but yet here she was, acting the hypocrite just for your appraisal.

She even often found herself actively searching for you in the quad before classes like a puppy dog looking for it’s owner. It was pathetic but recently Wednesday observed that she seemed to go against her own code whenever you nearby. She hated being craved and stalked by others yet she was subconsciously doing the same thing to you but going about it within a more subtle manner; Such as keeping a seat saved for you in the classes that you share, going so far as to threaten bodily harm on fellow students in swapping jobs with her so that she could be with you during outreach day and last but not least, participating in the Poe Cup when and only when you were participating.

Enid had her suspicions that Wednesday had feelings for you but never dared to voice them until one day when she returned to her dorm to find Wednesday awkwardly standing there, picking at her chipped nail polish. Before the blonde could speak up, Wednesday beaten her to the punch by asking a question Enid never thought she’d ever hear her ask. “What…does it mean to like someone?” Enid wanted to scream Ophelia Hall down because her intuition about Wednesday had been right. However Enid knew she’d have to save the celebration for later as she had a friend to help in navigating her feelings, so she took a deep breath and sat herself down on her colourful bedding, smiling at her morbid dorm mate. “Who’s the lucky guy, girl and or person?”

The pair talked late into the night and by the time morning had came, Wednesday felt the overwhelming urge to rid herself from pining after you from afar and instead act upon her feelings. Unfortunately, due to her lack of experience within this field, she didn’t exactly know the best way to go about conveying her feelings towards you without potentially scaring you off into the arms of someone else. Who’d knew that the one thing that Wednesday couldn’t seem to comprehend was the fact that she had actual feelings other then disgust, dismay and the obvious morbidity? Wednesday definite didn’t and she was left perplexed at her desk, her head buried in her hands as she raked her nails down her face, leaving red marks in their wake as she attempted to find a possibility in where she could express her emotions that wouldn’t require so much effort being drawn from her.

This new sensation was thrilling to the young Addams as found herself brainstorming a thousand ideas a minute, a majority of which were crumpled up into wads of paper that were then discarded to the black metallic waste bin she kept beside her desk. None of them were good enough for you, she would tell herself the more she drove herself to sheer madness within the thicket of her research. It didn’t have to be perfect, it didn’t have to be a spectacle for others to bask in, overcrowding her moment with their attendance. It just has to be enough for you and to Wednesday by osmosis. However there was one minute detail that Wednesday seemed to have deemed unimportant or intentionally skimmed over due to it’s irrelevance in her grand scheme; Xavier Thorpe.

The boy clung to you like a babe does to their mother. His arm would permanently be seen over your shoulder, drawing you into his side as he spoke to the gorgon, Ajax. Wednesday also didn’t take into account how whenever she saved you seat in class, Xavier would immediately bolt for the spare seat beside yours as he began to animate the doodles on his sheet of paper, watching as they scampered up your arm and burrowed themselves into the collar of your shirt before eventually clambering back down and retreating into the blank sheet of paper once the teacher had entered the room. Even during the Poe Cup Xavier seemed to take it easier on you then compared to the rest of your team, even going so far as to giving you a head start.

Once Wednesday had achieved victory your team, instead of moping and complaining over his teams loss, Xavier only beamed at you with pride as you celebrated with Enid and Wednesday, whom you had slung your arms over the moment you three crossed the finish line; Smiling so widely and bright that he couldn’t help but engrave your happiness into his mind that would later be splayed out on that blank canvas later that evening. Xavier’s constant need to be by your side extended to school events such as Outreach day, where he’d peak over your shoulder at the job you had been given before scavenging the crowd for someone with a matching job and then sweet talking them into trading; Sometimes he -if lucky enough- would have been assigned to the same job as you through pure coincidence.

When the faithful day where Wednesday would finally confess to you finally came, her seemingly dead heart stopped when she caught sight of you and Xavier in the courtyard, standing closely together with his hands gingerly cusping your cheeks as you melt into his touch as though you were the candle wax to his flame; He was uttering sweet nothings and you were obviously moved by them as your hands instinctually reached to grab ahold of the lapels of his blazer, tugging at him in a silent plea for him to step closer despite being pressed up against you another as humanly possible. Xavier was thriving off of your reaction whilst Wednesday was trying to cast her gaze elsewhere but found herself forced to watch as the boy pressed his lips against yours.

Xavier’s golden brown locks acted as a curtain for the both of you as it fell from his shoulders and brushed against your cheek, hiding the fact that you were very much taken by his actions as your hands gripped his lapels tighter while his hands wandered to find home at your sides. That day Wednesday Addams understood what the sound a shattered heart makes.

#wednesday addams fanfic #wednesday addams x reader #Wednesday Addams imagines #Wednesday Addams imagine #Wednesday Addams fic #Wednesday Addams x you #wednesday x reader #Wednesday imagines #Wednesday imagine #Wednesday fic #Wednesday x you #Wednesday fanfic

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kyupidos · 2 months

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04/8/24’s delivery 🏹✉️ twisted wonderland

rather melodramatic aren’t you?ヽ( ･∀･)ﾉ_θ彡☆Σ(ノ `Д´)ノ,ヽ( ･∀･)ﾉ_θ彡☆Σ(ノ `Д´)ノ ;; summary. ‘so it seems, you’ve finally found your way back home.’

characters. first years : ace trappola , deuce spade , jack howl, epel felmier , sebek zigvolt ( separate ) ;; romantic ( implied ) angst . 🖇️ tags. reader is gender neutral ( you/your ), reader is yuu, angst with romance sprinkled in i s’pose ( can still be friendship seen,, i think.. ), blah blah angst

📡 _a/n. mmmm, been listening to tv girl a lot more like i used to, ended up coming up w this. still not the best w angst but we stay rollin ( also, cigarettes out the window >> )

a. trappola

— he was always the one who kept everyone’s mind off the topic of you going home—making the mood lighter so no one would be upset again, especially you. but ace can’t deny how distraught he is, when it comes the time for you to finally, finally go. he’s happy for you, never doubt for a fact that he is. but there’s that one part of him that never wants to let you go. you’ve been friends all this time, haven’t you? then again, this school year with him has always been more of an experience for you, hm.. like an emotional rollercoaster until you make it home, and things will go back to normal, to your usual.

— he knew that much, that one day you would say your final farewells and that he would have to turn his back and go on with his life, the rest of his school year, without you by his side. without a magicless prefect who turned his world upside down, without a magicless prefect to spend his time with, without a magicless prefect whom he held ever so dear to his heart. maybe your time spent with him was just a waiting game before you could return to your norm. but his time spent with you made his heart full, as if you were everything he wanted and more.

— but he can let go, can’t he? not like he’s making lighthearted jokes here and there, about what it’d be like if you were to stick around, even if for a little while longer. he eventually holds his pinky out to you, in a moment of bitter weakness ( to him and him only ), that if the chance ever comes to fruition that it’s not a one way trip, you’ll return to night raven and stay friends, stay together with him. and it becomes a promise, pinky sworn and all. he tells himself he can swallow his bitter tears and see you off, yet he leaves deep, ragged breaths in his wake when you hug him tightly and tell him you’ll miss him, no matter how the circumstances may end up.

— you should know at least that much, left to digest it as you go back home, that he’ll miss you too—and though he may leave this out, unless he’s caught in a moment of weakness truth, you’ll always be on his mind.

d. spade

— deuce always felt such a pain in his heart whenever he comes to the recollection ( sometimes random, but then comes the times you’re forced to remind him you may not be there forever ), that you’re doomed to leave him behind as you return, to your family, to your friends of before. his hopes for you to see his graduate, to stay together being each other’s best friends, to just stay by each other’s side, he’d accept just being in your proximity. how he loved, and will never stop loving your words of kindness, words that’ll never leave the back of his mind, words he’ll never let go.

— how many times you’ve affirmed and reaffirmed your friendship and fondness toward him with those words, he can’t recall. or maybe he does; he’ll keep those memories with him until the ends of times, and whatever voice messages you may have sent him when you finally got your phone will be treasured and stored forever. oh, but how he’d like to not need that in the first place. how will he go on, without your kind words ringing delightfully in his ears? he’d never be able to bring himself to forget your voice, even if he can’t hear it in the present, he’ll hold it dearly as he looks to the past.

— he could never go against your wishes to return home, though. he knows for a fact it’s all you’ve wanted, and he’ll never say he wouldn’t want the same for himself if he were ever in your situation—he couldn’t even imagine that much, he always commended your strength to get as far as you’ve gotten now. but he finds himself asking you, if you’ll ever forget him. reaffirm him once more with your words; tell him that you won’t for as long as you live. that you’ve treasured the times you’ve spent together.

— because, let it be clear, he’ll treasure those times just as much as you, he’ll treasure them forever, and when forever ends, he’ll treasure them more.

j. howl

— he recalls all those times he shyly managed to bring himself to do little things for you, wake you up in class when you felt tired, remind you to straighten out your uniform, anything to silently tell you he respects and cherishes his friendship with you. jack recalls the times you returned the favor, watering his cacti with him, and thanking him for everything he does. just smiling at him makes him happy. but he accepts, with a heavier than he expected heart, that these times will become nothing one day. a day that’s come and approaches now.

— he’d like to send you off easily, but “easily” will never belong in the end. maybe when your friendship first bloomed he could huff and pout about how you were barely friends, and he just “couldn’t let the bad things happening around you go down the way they were”. but if he didn’t admit how much of a likening he took to the time he’s spent with you, he could never live with himself. still, he knows he’ll have to see your smile only once more before never seeing it again, anyway. he finds it difficult, actually, trying to remember how he spent his time when you weren’t there, a time before you. when in the early mornings you weren’t there to greet him, no matter the mood amongst you.

— but in his heart stays all the things you’ve done for each other, and all the things he still wishes he could do, but he knows time will never stop for that. even so, he’ll praise you for your hard work, everything you’ve done that’s gotten you so far as to return to your loved ones. there’s a part that gnaws at him though, that he’ll have to get used to a routine that doesn’t involve you. it was so often, how you’d greet him and he’d greet you, sometimes you’d eat lunch together and on a good day, maybe you’d join him on a run, even if it did end with you laying against the wall because of how exhausted you were. and he’d scold you, telling you not to overexert yourself.

— at least he’s certain you’ll take care of yourself back home, since he asked carefully about your health and you reassured him. still a shame, though, that he could never introduce you to his family.

e. felmier

— he gifted you a nicely carved apple, once. epel figured you may like it, at least he hoped you would. he’s long since found you cool, someone he saw as the confident, ever so diligent prefect to be admired. but eight’s a crowd; it’ll always be back to seven in the end. you were as beautiful as the apples he’d carve while you were on his mind during evenings, glistening in the sunset, their shine never dulling as they design came to be the longer epel worked. in a sense you were like that—except you’d built yourself up from the ground, keeping yourself strong to bear through the troubles of your time at night raven. and epel’d been your supporter as long as you’d known and been a friend of him.

— and now you bear the fruits of your success, and he’s thankful that he’d managed to bring himself to a smile at the good news that you’d managed to finally find your way back to your own world, the world you belonged to. not the world you’ve only spent a school year in. he’d never bite into a bitter apple on accident, far too acidic with a metallic aftertaste; but it feels like he did, as he thinks of how many apples will have rotten, that one singular apple you ate right before leaving, that you forgot to throw out and left on your old bedside table.

— allow him to hold onto your hands gently, as he whispers to you that he’d like, if ever even possible, for you to return, maybe one day. he’s barely paying attention to that bitter taste, a dry gulp as he tries not to make his upset audible to you, leaving his tears silent. he lets you dry those tears, not even caring that it should be himself doing it, he’ll let himself be taken care of you again just once. he wonders what the apples of your world taste like. you’ve talked about the differences between your worlds before, and how nice your world seems from what you tell, so vastly different compared to his, and he commends you for your commitment to returning. he’d want to return to his own world under your circumstances, too.

— so he clenches onto the hem of his shirt, feeling as though he might give in to his impulsive thoughts if not, his growing desire to never let you go, run up to you and hug you ever so tightly to spend eternity with you.

s. zigvolt

— you’ve always seemed to find a way to make things refreshing. sebek’s read ever so many books in night raven’s library, it’s one of his more favored hobbies after all. and ever since your friendship grew he always seemed to search for your thoughts and opinions more. he doesn’t truly understand, how a human, a magicless one at that, from another world like you managed to find your way by his side. maybe that’s just because you were doomed to leave it. humans were always trouble, right? to think you’d leave this type of stain on him. no, no—he could never blame you. as it goes, right person, wrong time. . . and place.

— he grew to be fond of your commentary, your view of things. there would always be aspects of the two of you respectively that clashed, and yet even so here you were. actually, he thinks about your informal first meeting. how he rolled his eyes indifferent to your figure, considering you just another clumsy human who he knew would stumble about. sure there may have been times you had two left feet, but you sure proved him wrong didn’t you, hm? the title of the ramshackle prefect becoming renowned, a prefect who could never be replaced or mimicked, not you, never you.

— once upon a time, you invited him over to ramshackle to read a book together, one he’d apparently not yet to have read. the evening was lovelier than he’d yet expected, having fun sharing your thoughts together and making light conversation between pages. the evenings to nights feel so much lonelier without you. in literature, it hangs in the silence of its realm, alone as some think it. he once respected it as a nice metaphor within the books he’s read—yet now he seems to sympathize with the moon, its solitude compared to others which had more moons to surround it.

— maybe some day “once upon a time” will turn into “and they lived happy ever after”, and those words will belong to him. and then, he can share them with you.

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brittscafe · 7 months

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may I request Byakuya x F! Reader that is jealous? NSFW pls

Yes, of course <3

You hated it. You hated how damn attractive Byakuya Kuchiki is. You hate the way his long, raven hair flows in the wind and how his eyes can catch anyone's attention that isn't yours.

But, they don't get to see the Byakuya you know. The naked, vulnerable Byakuya. For not having a large build, Byakuya is muscular and his cock is long, almost too long.

Those women don't get to see or feel his cock hitting you in all the right places that make you scream his name. So, why are you so jealous?

You're fiddling with your hands on the bar counter, distracted by all the distance chatter and music playing in the background. Not even hearing Byakuya calling out your name.

"Is something wrong, love?" Byakuya's soft voice pulls you out of your mind. You glance over at him and shoot him a weak smile, your eyes crinkling at the sides.

"No. Nothing," you shake your head with a dismissive tone. His eyes rake over your face and he knits his eyebrows together.

Byakuya can tell when something is bothering you. You get a knot in between your eyebrows. He slides his hand across the bar and grabs onto yours, squeezing it gently.

"Y/n, please don't lie to me. If you don't to talk about it, that's fine. I understand," he reassures you with a tender voice.

"The way those women look at you, it makes me so jealous," you sigh out with frustration. The corners of Byakuya's lips dare to curl up into a tiny smirk.

"I only have eyes for you, my darling," Byakuya reassures you with a ginger voice. You scoff quietly and roll your eyes with annoyance.

"I know that, but they don't. I know I shouldn't be jealous, but I can't help it. I just want everyone to know that you're mine and mine only," you huff out, leaning back in the chair and pouting.

Byakuya smiles to himself and stifles a chuckle. It finds you to be so cute when you pout.

"Come here. Follow me," Byakuya stands up, offering you his hand.

You take ahold his hand and stand up, following him through the crowds of the bar. Byakuya's eyes dart around before entering the female restroom.

Your eyes widen and your heart skips a beat. Thank the Soul Society that nobody else is in here, but you two.

"Byakuya! We can't be in here, especially you," you call out as Byakuya pulls you into an empty stall. He shuts the door and locks it.

Your back pressing up against the cold tile wall and Byakuya wraps his arms around your waist.

"Then, you've got to be quiet," he explains, dipping his head down and pressing his warm lips on your neck. His hand reaches down and he tugs off his captain's cloak.

It hits the ground and you moan softly as Byakuya's lips suck on your sensitive skin. His hands grab onto your black kosode and he tears it off your skin.

Byakuya tosses it on the ground and he pulls away from your neck.

He moves his face near yours, lips hovering above yours. You can breathe in the smell of the strong sake. It makes you dizzy for a moment before returning back to reality.

Byakuya roughly presses his lips to yours, like he needs your lips to breathe or even live. He rolls his hips into yours and groans heavily.

His hands fiddle around with your black hakama and he pulls them down. They pool around your ankles and you step out of them.

"You should know that I only have eyes for you, my love," Byakuya speaks gently, pulling away from your lips.

"Hm, is that what you say to all the girls?" you hum out and Byakuya scoffs quietly, his eyes darkening and glancing down at you.

"No, only to the girl I'm in love with," he comments tenderly, his knuckles grazing over your cheek. Your eyes widen and a warm smile tugs on your lips.

"Oh yeah? Who's that?" you ask and Byakuya bites back a chuckle, taking off his black kosode. His muscles flex and your mouth waters at his biceps.

"I'm looking at her. The woman whom I love dearly and I'm about to make love to," Byakuya speaks honestly and your heart skips a beat.

His pants and boxers pool down around his ankles. Your body shudders at the sight of his long length, springing out. Byakuya strokes his cock, lining it up with your entrance.

You both moan in unison as Byakuya thrusts inside of you. You lean your forehead against his and let out a deep breathe.

"Byakuya, please move," you beg him, clamping your walls around his cock.

"As you wish, my love," Byakuya speaks softly, pulling his hips back and then snapping them back. You cry out with pleasure, his cock fitting perfectly inside of you.

His hand clamps over your mouth, muffling your sinful moans that fill the bathroom. Byakuya's hips roll into yours, cock sinking back into your aching pussy.

The stall door starts to rattle from Byakuya's frequent, rough thrusting. He reaches and grabs onto your hand, interlacing your fingers.

He pins his hand above your head and you whimper, filling his cock thrust deep inside of you. His cock pushes against that sweet spot of yours, bringing you closer and closer to your release.

"F-fuck, you feel so good," Byakuya groans out, your walls clenching around his twitching cock.

"Byakuya," you moan out, feeling your release come closer. The hotness pooling in between your legs makes your thighs tremble as your body is pressed into wall.

You let out a scream of pleasure as your orgasm rips through your body, trembling and jolting. Your cum spills out onto Byakuya's cock and he clenches his jaw, trying to hold himself together.

A few more sloppy thrusts and Byakuya releases thick, hot slicks of cum inside of your pussy. The two of you pant heavily and Byakuya leans his head into the curve of your shoulder.

He releases his tight grip on your mouth and you let out a tiny whimper as he pulls out from your insides.

"Are you still jealous?" Byakuya asks, picking up your clothes and handing them to you. You chuckle and let out a deep breathe.

"No, after all you did just make love to me in the women's bathroom, Byakuya. But, if I catch another woman staring at you...I can't help what I might do next," you explain, shrugging your shoulders.

Byakuya chuckles and cups your cheek, pulling you closer. "I love you," he presses his lips to yours.

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weatheredfailnot · 6 months

Text

Please take these sections from EE3 on the Shadowkeeper (Cylva) because I love her so dearly

Transcript below:

A NAME SPOKEN IN WHISPERS

Around the time Ardbert and his comrades left Tomra, they stumbled upon evidence of the larger design. Threads linking together the disparate troubles of the realm. A name spoken only in whispers— the Shadowkeeper.

A singular force sowing chaos and discord throughout Norvrandt to an unknown end.

During Nyelbert's search for an energy source to replace the crystal he shattered, he began to suspect that the now-lost stone was not, in fact, a naturally occurring mineral, but rather had been deliberately placed under the mountain. Pursuing the truth of that theory led them to discover a connection to Lamunth, the gem counterfeiter whom Ardbert and Lamitt apprehended so long ago in Nabaath Areng. When they visited Lamunth's gaol cell to interrogate him, however, they found the man convulsing on the floor and frothing at the mouth. Ere the poison took his life, he managed to sputter the name of the Shadowkeeper. Further investigation revealed that this sinister figure had ordered Lamunth to secret the crystal in the mine shafts, and in return rewarded him with the illusory magicks he would employ in his forgeries.

They also came to learn that Tadric, the mastermind behind Voeburt's monstrous plague, had not worked alone. Research documents recovered from the court mage's laboratory mentioned the Shadowkeeper by name, the meticulous entries describing how the arcane lore shared by his co-conspirator had contributed to the completion of his transformation magicks.

The mining industry of Nabaath Areng threatened with demolition.

A scheme culminating in the death of Voeburt's royal heirs. The Shadowkeeper had plotted the downfall of two mighty nations, and Ardbert's band feared that Lakeland, the third of Norvrandt's major powers, would be next.

Lo and behold, a rebellion erupted in the home of the elves. The reigning king was deposed, and the Shadowkeeper, their heretofore faceless nemesis, took the throne.

The elven king, Lelfrey, was a passionate proponent of the arts- music and dance in particular- with his focus on such refined pursuits earning him equal praise and scorn. His was a peaceful rule, free of war and strife, but this passivity cost his kingdom dearly in matters of foreign diplomacy. A poor negotiator, he ceded border territories to Voeburt to avoid conflict, and signed an economic agreement with Nabaath Areng that put Lakeland at a clear disadvantage.

As these political blunders chipped away at the nation's authority, a sentiment of discontent among Lakeland's high-ranking nobility began to fester and grow. Traditionalists dreamed of a return to the golden age when all of Norvrandt lay under their control, and it was the Shadowkeeper who granted them the power to act. Rumors that this new player was the king's bastard child ran wild, and, true or not, served to unify the disgruntled nobles under a single banner. They indulged in treachery to undermine rival nations, while at home, their assassins targeted influential royalists. The scene was set for revolution.

The Shadowkeeper was attended by two dark-robed mages, by whose malevolent arts the traditionalists were empowered. One of their gifts was lupine transformation, a change which granted the recipient preternatural strength and agility. Thus bolstered by a company of these wolfman soldiers, the Shadowkeeper's faction stormed Laxan Loft and captured the royal seat for their leader. No sooner had the winning side declared a new age of glory for the elves than did they muster their forces and launch an invasion into Voeburtite lands.

Caption reads: The Shadowkeeper emerged amid blood and chaos, a formidable and enigmatic figure perpetually encased in stygian plate armor. Similarly clad in midnight raiment, the Shadowkeeper's forces inspired terror in all who witnessed their advance.

THE BATTLE OF LAXAN LOFT

The heroes were poised to continue their search for Nyelbert's replacement stone in Nabaath Areng when the silver-haired Cylva abruptly left the party. The swordswoman excused herself on the premise that she wished to reconnoiter the troubling situation in Lakeland, but in truth, she was hurrying back to don her black armor, unsheathe her blade, and lead the elven traditionalists in their rebellion. Cylva, the great deceiver, had been the Shadowkeeper all along.

She was, in truth, no bastard child of King Lelfrey-that was merely a fiction concocted by Mitron and Loghrif, her Ascian accomplices. Her true origin lay in the Thirteenth, where she had died young and powerless, an unrealized champion of the reflection-turned-void. The Ascians had found her in the moment of her demise, and it was they who brought her soul to the First to serve as a pawn in dark machinations.

Cylva was to insinuate herself into Ardbert's band, and guide them along the path to becoming Warriors of Light. That which they cast aside in their journey towards heroism, she would take into herself, growing ever stronger as a disciple of Darkness. And when all was in readiness, she would reveal herself as the villainous Shadowkeeper. By her hand would the Warriors of Light be slain, and despair sown in the hearts of the populace.

What the Ascians did not plan for was the Shadowkeeper's defeat at the hands of Ardbert's party. Cylva had steadily amassed her power, feeding on her erstwhile comrades' respective sacrifices of personal ambition, innocence, independence, and tradition. Yet despite her best efforts, Ardbert would not forsake what she sought to purloin- his caring heart.

Even in the midst of their deadly confrontation, he regarded her as a comrade in need of saving.

Thus denied her full ascension, the Shadowkeeper wavered and fell.

Swallowing their grief at the loss of a friend, the heroes turned their wrath towards the villains who had orchestrated this tragedy. The Warriors of Light now shone so brightly that even high-ranking Ascians could not stand against their incandescent fury. Even as Ardbert struck his final blow, fulgent power swelled in a cataclysmic wave, and the Flood of Light was unleashed upon the lands of the First.

Caption reads: In her bid to slay the Warriors of Light, Cylva turned her transformation magicks upon herself. Though Ardbert and his comrades did indeed struggle against this formidable lupine abomination, it was the necessity of striking down their former friend that presented the greatest challenge.

#FFXIV #Cyella #Cylva #My posts

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wonily · 1 year

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀🎧 ﹕ slow dancing w/ jungwon

warnings : reader has insecurities, dialogue-heavy, not proofread, probably switches between tenses

[ lily’s rambles : HEY! idk if anyone remembers me but i'm wonily (lily) ^_^ i deactivated like... a long time ago but.. i'm kinda back & this is a repost from my old blog ]

he saw it in your eyes whenever you stood in front of the mirror and nit picked at all the things you disliked about yourself. he heard it in your voice, all those times it wavered as you reassured him that you were alright. and he could feel it now, sitting next to him with a dejected frown. a sigh escapes your lips and he swears that his lips turn down into a physical form of a frowny face as he racks his brain for what he could do.

without any ideas, he simply chooses to wrap his arms around you tightly, expressing without words everything he wanted to say— you are safe, you are loved, you are enough. it’s a mark of your relationship with him that you can understand all that he conveys through his hugs, even though you don’t believe it. and he knows you won’t believe it because you simply refuse to see the good in yourself.

“dance with me.” the words are mumbled quietly, muffled as they’re spoken into your hair but they linger pleasantly in the air as you sit, listening to his heartbeat. he draws you to your feet slowly, and carefully, scared that he’ll somehow break the delicately lovely person that is you, whom he loves and cherishes with his heart. you, who his heart aches for when he sees you in pain.

his arms cradles your body gently, rocking you side to side in the silence, creating an unheard symphony of love that he so dearly wishes to play for you. he smoothes back your hair a little, his fingers brushing gently over your skin and he offers you a small smile that you can barely return. he takes a deep breath, going back to rocking you side to side, “i think that your eyes are beautiful. they express so much and i think that they hold all the stars in the universe.”

you open your mouth but he shakes his head gently, silently pleading with you to let him finish. “and i think that your nose is adorable. it’s cute and i think that it suits you just perfectly,” and he taps your nose affectionately.

“and your lips are beautiful, whether you’re smiling because you got a good grade or frowning because of a sad ending or pouting because i took your chocolate,” he plants a gentle, fleeting kiss to your lips, adding as an afterthought, “and i get to kiss them everyday too, so that’s a plus.”

a small smile tugs at your lips and he notices it, feeling himself smile a little so he lays his head on your shoulder, “and your shoulders are my safe place, no matter how much you hate them. they give me comfort because i can feel them rise and fall with each breath you take and reminds me how lucky i am to call you my lover.”

“and your tummy? it’s eaten so many delicious foods and is the reason i love to eat because eating with you and sharing the food we love together makes me so, so, so happy,” he smiles fondly, remembering how just yesterday you had cooked dinner together, with multiple dishes neither of you had ever even heard of until coming across a youtube video.

“and your legs, they’ve walked so many places with and without me. you’ve found new restaurants and new parks and you’ve pulled me to your favorite places in town. they’ve gone on morning strolls with me and maeum and midnight walks around the still bustling streets.” he brings his head back up to look at you again, never ceasing the miniature slow dancing rhythm that he had unconsciously started between your bodies.

“and you. oh, i love you so much. everyday i wake up to see you by my side and everyday i fall in love more, even when i swear i couldn’t love you more than i already do. but everything is possible with you. i love you when you are happy and i love you when you are sad. i love you when you wake me up at ungodly hours because you’re hungry and i love you when you refuse to leave the bed alone because you’re scared of the dark. i love you when you sing, even if you don’t like your own voice, and i love you when you are in front of the mirror, thinking that no one could ever love you. but that’s not true, i love you. and i will continue to love you with all that there is in me until one day, you love yourself too.”

#enhypen scenarios #enhypen #enhypen fluff #enhypen angst #jungwon scenarios #jungwon fluff #jungwon angst #jungwon #yang jungwon #enhypen imagines #enhypen drabbles #enhypen one shots #jungwon imagines #jungwon drabbles #jungwon one shots

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spacekingdoms · 4 months

Text

Swear To Me (It’s You)

Synopsis: My take on S5 E8 ending. Arthur is showing signs of jealousy after hearing Merlin was with a girl…or signs may point toward a male. To ease his own mind he makes Merlin swear to him.

Content warning/Trigger Warning: Unhappy Marriage, Potential Infidelity, Injury (leg), Jealousy.

Rating: Teen

Merlin’s leg ached, although healing, it still caused him to limp through his evening duties. That wasn’t the only thing weighing him down though. His heart heavy from the loss of a boy changed. As he prepared the evening meal for Arthur and Guinevere, the woman for whom he couldn’t bare to look in her eyes knowing that his friend was enchanted and there was, currently, nothing he could do to protect her.

In regard to other friendships, Arthur had barely even looked at him since returning to the castle. When Merlin laid their meal out, Arthur hadn’t even uttered a single expression of gratitude. Only opening his mouth to say to Gwen;

“I still can’t believe how lucky I was. I owe that boy my life…and I don’t know who he was or where he’s from.”

Then turning to Merlin, as if finally, deeming his presence worthy of acknowledgement.

“We need to make sure we give him a decent burial.”

Merlin softly responded, “I’ll do that,” turning back to the table with a hobble, carrying the final platters, “If you allow me the time.”

Merlin misses Arthur’s brow quirk, misses his indignant facial expression. Merlin does not miss the tone he uses though.

“Oh. So you can go and visit that girl again?”

Merlin lay Gwen’s meal for her, taken aback with confusion at his words. A girl? He has no time to meet a girl, or man, when he’s too busy dying in the forest or saving Arthur’s life, or more accurately pining desperately from the sidelines for a love he’ll never receive in return to even be able to look at another in a way his eyes are reserved for A-

“Girl.” Arthur states drawing out the word, eye brows cocking and he looks miffed.

Merlin is too tired for wisecracks and repartee. The grief is too thick in his blood, his leg aches and his body yearns for a sleep to cure the exhaustion laden heavy in his mind and bones. He achieves a pathetic barely heard scoff as he hobbles back to the sideboard to fetch the pitcher of wine.

“Don’t have one.” Even his voice sounds tired to his own ears.

Again, Arthur’s voice is annoyed and…something Merlin’s brain is too slow to catch.

“That’s not what Guinevere tells me.”

Merlin turns to stare at Gwen, his friend who smirks at him from the table. Merlin loves her dearly but this enchanted version of her is cruel. He knows she has always known - an unspoken secret never touched for all those years that Merlin first became Arthur’s manservant. Deep rooted insecurities shining through her enchantment. Knowing that Merlin and Arthur’s bond is unbreakable, unshakeable, a force that could never be matched. With understanding that her role in Arthur’s life has been rocky for nearly two years now. Another unspoken and avoided topic between the King and Queen.

So yes, it is understandable that kind hearted and the ever so loveliest Guinevere would present her secret depths within her evil bound enchantment. Setting a divide between the two, as if any other human being would take the place of the one he serves. Planting that seed of thought in her own husbands mind, that once again, he is always second best or not even best at all. To his father, to his sister, to his uncle, to Guinevere in place of Lancelot and now, even to the one who was most loyal, Merlin.

Arthur pushes his goblet toward Merlin, staring hard at him and he asks, leaning on demands,

“So, why don’t you tell us all about her.”

Merlin pours the wine, glancing between Arthur and Gwen. Who at the opposite end of the table smirks with mirth in her eyes. She holds up her goblet for Merlin. Merlin hobbles to her.

“Right…”

He pours her wine, her malicious smirk that Merlin has grown to hate.

“…and why you’re walking with a limp.” Arthur states.

Merlin could have spilt the pitcher if he hadn’t been gripping it tightly in frustration. And…oh. Arthur is insinuating that he hadn’t been with a girl, but rather a man. The tone…his mind screaming at him. One he doesn’t dare believe, he’s tired, he’s not thinking straight. He’s….Arthur’s jealous. Merlin turns to him. Wordless, he cannot say anything. For there is nothing to say. He cannot himself say aloud what Arthur insinuates nor can he voice if he is jealous. His mouth opens, closes, opens….closes.

“Arthur…” Guinevere begins, “Do you…insinuate?” She sounds scandalised but Merlin can hear her glee under it all.

Merlin still stares at Arthur who stares at him. Arthur who doesn’t even appear to have heard an uttered word from Gwen.

“Do you deny the truth?” Arthur demands

“I deny it. There…there isn’t anyone.” Else. Merlin replies quietly.

“Would you swear it?” Arthur stares deep into his eyes.

“Arthur.” Gwen cuts in, puzzlement now coats her words.

“Arthur.”

“Would you swear it to me, that there is no-one?” Arthur’s body is still, solid and locked as is his tone and penetrating gaze.

“That you are loyal to me, and only me?” He finishes.

“That is not the loyalty you can ask of him, Arthur.” Guinevere cuts in, standing up, “I must say you confuse the loyalty you seek with the love he is creating with someone in this instance, my husband.”

Arthur’s sharp gaze cuts to Gwen, Merlin can’t turn to look at her as he is frozen, heart pounding in his ribcage as he catches Arthur’s steely expression.

“This does not concern you, Guinevere. This is between me and my manservant.” Arthur’s eyes cut to Merlin’s before back at his wife. “I must ask you to take leave.”

“Arthur.” She laughs, but it’s shocked and confused.

“Now, please.” A sharp flicker of regret move through Arthur’s blue eyes.

Merlin can only hear her shoes against the stone floor, the creak of the hinge he needs to oil tomorrow and the boom of the heavy door slamming into its frame that makes him jolt.

“Merlin, again, I ask you. Will you swear loyalty to me and only me?”

Arthur’s blue eyes are hard, a mask slid in place that Merlin cannot uncover. He doesn’t like this Arthur, the one where he pushes Merlin out to protect his own heart. Foolish, supercilious, prat of a man.

“I swear to you.” Merlin says, scarce louder than a whisper. “I am and will always only be loyal to you.”

Arthur stares, his blue eyes shining more so but he does not speak. He only stares into Merlin’s eyes and finds what he is looking for in there. Merlin watches Arthur swallow thickly, Adam’s apple bobbing harshly in his throat before he averts his eyes to grab at his goblet for a deep swallow of wine.

“Then, pray tell, why are you limping?”

Merlin rolls up his trousers leg, showing the wrapped cloth around the wound on his leg.

“I, ah, I hurt myself in the forest. That boy…he um. He came to me to seek a physicians support to cure a family member. Upon my journey, I was injured.” Partially the truth.

Arthur stares at him, eye brows furrowed and his top lip curled in confusion.

“You left unannounced to provide healing?” Arthur isn’t that stupid, he knows that there is a missing part, “Why would you keep is secret from me…and Gaius?”

“They were druids.” Not the truth, but as close to it as Merlin could get.

“You left me, in secret, to provide healing to the Druid’s?” Arthur stares,

“Yes.”

“And this is truly what you were doing?”

“I was delayed in my return due to my injury.” Merlin tells the truth.

“Okay.” Arthur nods, picking a piece of chicken from his plate and popping it in his mouth.

“Okay?” Merlin is…confused.

“Yes. I believe you.” Arthur swallows, “The druids are peaceful people.”

“So I didn’t need to swear loyalty to you then, and everything still would have been fine?” Merlin laughs.

“Perhaps, a reminder then.”

“A reminder?” Merlin frowns.

“Yes.” Arthur looks up at him, holding his goblet away from his lips. “That you belong to me and only me.”

Arthur drinks, Merlin barely chokes out an, “Arthur?”

Arthur places the goblet back down, ignoring him completely, “You might as well have that.”

Merlin looks behind him to where Arthur has gestured loosely with one hand,

“Guinevere won’t be returning now, and saves it going to waste.” Arthur cuts into the leafy green and skewers it with a piece of chicken.

“I, uh, I know things have been strange with Gwen these past few weeks but-“

“It has been existing between Guinevere and I for longer than you say, but I really have no interest in discussing this at present, Merlin.”

Arthur stands up and moves to pulls the other chair round before then taking the meal and placing it in front of the chair next to his own, then fetches a new goblet from the sideboard.

“Now, if you wish to share a meal with me, please shut up and sit down.”

Merlin hobbles into the chair, feeling foreign when he sinks into the unyielding wood. He looks up, Arthur is staring at him, he nods at the plate in front of Merlin and pours him a goblet of wine. Arthur returns to his own seat in silence, before then stuffing the fully loaded fork of food into his mouth.

They eat in silence, sparing glances at one another. Merlin’s heart swelling painfully in his chest. His emotions threatening to spill out is tidal waves he cannot hold back,

“You don’t ever have to think I am off…enjoying the company of others, Arthur. Destiny sealed where I belonged a long, long time ago.”

“Don’t be such a girl, Merlin.”

“Prat.” Merlin smiles.

“Idiot.” Arthur grins in return.

A comfortable silence takes them both while they finish their meal. Merlin begins to reach and nearly knocks over the goblet when he feels Arthur’s foot hook around the back of his ankle, rubbing softly once, twice…a third. Like interlocked fingers and thumbs caressing over knuckles, in their own unspoken way. Merlin’s face feels warm as he flickers his gaze over to Arthur. His face is equally a similar shade of red but the small smile playing on his lips as he cuts into the meal makes a similar one pull at Merlin’s own mouth. Well, let’s just say, this is just one other secret between the men who are two sides of the same coin.

***

Authors notes: Please note I do not hate Gwen and this is not a Gwen!hate fic. This is about a couple who came together and found out that they maybe weren’t supposed to be together but still care for one another. Gwen’s insecurities and feelings present negatively due to her enchantment by Morgana. Arthur treats her poorly due to his anger/jealousy over his feeling toward Merlin. I adore Gwen but I am a Gwen/Lancelot or Gwen/Morgana lover.

#merlin #bbc merlin #merthur #arthur pendragon #merlin x arthur #arthur x merlin #merlin fic #merthur fic #merlin season 5 #merlin fan fic #no beta we die like arthur pendragon

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searchingforserendipity25 · 5 months

Text

'envy is unbecoming.'

'then you ought not to make bribes from the east so beautiful, or at least keep your brother's best steeds for yourself! you know not the treasure you have in maglor,' said fingon.

he ran his hands gently down the sides of the mare, to test her sleek muscles, see how her ears twitched fearlessly.

'maglor sent his excellent horseflesh from the gap into your stables - my stables and my kennels and all my halls are silent of brother and sister, and you sit in your great fortress gnawing at impatience because your brother wants more riders.'

'more riders, more supplies, and no armour at all -'

'you do not want to be covered in steel when against a dragon, be sensible -'

'orcs care not for these sensible precautions. and he is enjoying making battle on wyrms too dearly. he keeps challenging them to games of song and riddles - it's unbecoming.'

fingon laughed. not an excellent elder brother, fingon; fond in his great steadfast way, but it would not cross his mind to fret about the weapons and wear of his siblings - he was not enough their lord, and trusted them too well.

which was perhaps how he misplaced two of them in one mistake, and barely noticed before harvesting season.

maedhros would have gone quite mad in his position, but then he never would be in this position. he was wise enough to give his brothers realms of their own, right where he could see them.

'maglor would not bite the mastering hand and drift away into mist with an army.'

maedhros snorted. 'not for lack of wishing, i suspect. can i interest you in a binding oath sworn unto all the powers of arda? it tends to suit quite well as a bridle on wayward siblings.'

'they would not swear a thing i should believe,' fingon said.

his mouth was supple still, in the half-gloom of himring's great stables, but eyes were tight. slating amber light fell on him, gilded his ribbons and the paint on his lids, made him apiece with the dusty quiet, the straw-smells. 'not they that swore fealty to fingolfin, and broke it on a whim. perhaps i do envy you.'

maedhros had kept to fingon's back, a decorous half-step behind, making himself a warm barrier against the bitter draft. he laid a hand over his, where it was stroking the mare's mane.

in closeness, he could feel fingon's shifting thoughts, his spirits like a wind-rush, full of its own momentum always.

it had fascinated him, when he was younger - how forceful and shameless in thinking and speaking his half-cousin was, swift to laughter and tears and friendship.

it had seemed the greatest foolishness to him, to go shield-less and bold through life.

he showed it to fingon, the silver-lit memory of tirion's squares and tirion's gossip. 'then maglor would chide me,' maedhros said. 'and claim you had the greatest courage. still i think you are very foolish. you ought to stop playing favourites, o prince.'

fingon's cheek pressed against his chin, dimpling, and then growing damp. maedhros felt the sting of his grief as sharply as the cold wind seeping through his furs, for to fingon all grief as a desolation of the weather.

he came to himring only after returning to barad eithel empty handed. after scouring all the wild places he could find, singing to old oaks and firs with begging voice to betray the secrets of the lady aredhel, whom they loved - putting his ears to stone and dust, spying for his brother's tread.

he had not wept under his father's eye, kneeling in shame for his failure. harvest was finished, and vinyamar gathered sand-drifts on its high, spiraling flight of stairs, and stray lynxes came to mate and breed and fight in their rooms.

fingolfin did worry, and moreover fingolfin felt any touch of betrayal dreadfully.

fingon would not betray his father, not in anything. he did not need an oath to make it so. maedhros was not without some jealousy for his king, though not for crown and sceptre.

he could not be sorry, at least, to be himring the ever-cold, where fingon the valiant came when he was furious, wretched, and in need of some relief from the encompassing sense of cool mosaic under his knees and failure in his throat.

the mare wickered, nudging at fingon's hand. an intelligent, sensitive, as maglor's breeding tended to be - fingon smiled, and breathed deep before stepping away from him.

valiant, maglor had said, during those word-guessing games they played as youths, sharing insights on all they knew, preparing cunning songs and clever manoeuvres. do not discount him just yet! i have an ear for these things. see how he makes all the world fond of him, and gives generously, and lives as a prince ought; nolofinwë has made himself a champion. i daresay he is not apt to be anything else. i should think he must be very brave, not to flee for the wild, or go mad a little.

his eyes in the dark were all amber, glowing. maedhros could not imagine any walking away from him. were he mountain-stone and greening bush, he would have betrayed to him the secrets of any lost realm. he would have found it himself - if he were anything but himself.

'do not ask me to impartial,' fingon decreed. he touched the corner of maedhros's mouth to him, a brief warmth. he was moving already onwards, thinking new thoughts fresh and brimming over with the engine's work of his mind, making bright again the paltry sun of the stable's gloom. 'i am not king, merely the prince that remains! the lords of the east keeps paying the most outrageous weregild, and i need the horses. i am naming her for a spear or some such, i think - but my father the king will have the stallion.'

#maedhros #fingon #maglor #(sir not present but vr relevant)#silm fic #my fics #russingon #tolkien #two guys who are so normal about their siblings and their fathers as relating to their self-worth

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