#fic: the sus boy next door

[thesandsofelsweyr]

THE SUS BOY NEXT DOOR

《 PART 3/3 // READ ON AO3 // TAG 》

After coming back from a terrible blind date your asshole neighbor is the last person you want to see right now. He doesn’t have his signature scowl for you tonight, however. Tonight he seems terrified.

《WORDS》 1,484 《CHAPTERS》 1 2 3

《PAIRING》 Arkhamverse Jason Todd x Female Reader

《TROPES》 Hurt/Comfort, First Meetings, Neighbors, Pre-Relationship

《WARNINGS》 Aftermath of Torture/Violence (canon typical), Panic Attacks, Scars, Blood and Injury, Swearing

《TAGLIST》 (in replies because tags aren't working in the post for some reason)

《NOTES》

This takes place immediately after Jason leaves his failed Batman confrontation and run-in with the Joker from Arkham Knight: Genesis Part 6.

Reader is a true crime addict who enjoys red wine 🍷

I just want y’all to know that this chapter was written for you—I prefer the story ending at Chapter 2 😉

If you enjoy the read please kudos, comment, and reblog ❤️

《 ALSO ON AO3 》 (comments & kudos there are very much appreciated!)

You catch the door before it clicks shut. You don’t want to leave him like this. You can’t leave him like this, so you inhale a deep breath and creep back inside, steeling yourself for rejection or another hateful outburst.

His weeping tapers off into sniffles and the occasional cough. You can feel his eyes following you as you pad over to his couch and grab the neatly folded throw blanket, casting a furtive glance towards his gun, which is still lying undisturbed where you left it, before returning to him. His eyes have fallen away from you—his head sagging between his slumped shoulders, chin touching his chest—and you hope he hasn’t gone away again to that terrible place in his mind. When you drape the blanket around his shoulders he flinches but gives no other protest, even pulling it more tightly around himself. He doesn’t order you to leave—doesn’t even acknowledge you’re there—so you kneel down in front of him, careful not to crowd him. He looks so defeated, so beaten down by the world; an abused child wrapped up in his security blanket for comfort after another unfair punishment. Your heart can’t help but break for him.  

You sit for a moment, listening to his soft sniffles and harsh breathing until you find the right words to say. Then you open your mouth to speak but he beats you to it.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles to the floor again, his tearful eyes hidden behind a curtain of sweat-damp black hair.

For what? Passing out? Getting strangled? Knocking me to the floor then screaming at me? But you keep those questions to yourself, asking him instead: “Are you sure you don’t need to go to the ER?”

He slowly shakes his bowed head, as if it’s filled with lead, as if those awful memories of his are weighing it down.

“Then why don’t you lie down? Maybe get some rest?” you suggest. “I can bring you some Ambien…”

Your voice trails off because he shoots you a wary look. But then his face softens and he nods before muttering, “No drugs.”

“No drugs,” you echo softly, your brain jumping to conclusions again about this brooding man of few words. Perhaps he’s a recovering addict or something. You push yourself to your feet then reach out a hand to help him up. He stares at it then his eyes fall away again. He’s really not a fan of eye contact.

“I don’t even know your name,” he says.

“It’s Y/N,” you offer eagerly. “What about you?”

There’s a pause, and for a moment you think he’s going to ignore you, but then he answers, “Jason,” in a barely audible voice, as if he’s ashamed to utter the word aloud.

Heavy silence swells around you and you’re acutely aware of your outstretched arm hanging awkwardly in the air. He wipes his bleeding cheek against his shoulder, smearing more blood onto his hoodie. You pull back your proffered hand and use it to push a lock of hair behind your ear as you fumble for something to say to fill the uncomfortable silence that stretches on. And suddenly you're back at dinner with John Preston Anderson III trying to make conversation while he scrolls on his phone, pretending you don’t exist. You have to swallow down a bubble of anger that threatens to erupt.

“I’m… sorry for whatever happened to you, Jason. I… can stay with you, if you want.” Suddenly your face is afire and you’re mortified that you just invited yourself to sleep over at his place only seconds after learning his name. “On your couch, I mean,” you clarify, blushing furiously, but his eyes never leave the floor. Thankfully.

He coughs then shakes his head again. “I already ruined your night.”

A bitter laugh bursts out of you at that without your permission, and his head jerks up, startled, bloodshot eyes snapping to yours. You clap both hands over your mouth as if you can shove the rude sound back inside you. Guilt grips your heart as you see the pained expression on his pale face. It’s not anger or hurt or annoyance, but rather that same look of fear that you witnessed earlier when he was cowering in the corner, as if your laughter frightened him. 

You rush to explain, to put him at ease. “I’m sorry, it’s just that… if you only knew the night I’ve had. Anyway, I’m glad we finally got to meet. It’s nice to put a name to the-the face.” You stutter that last part, realizing after the fact that it’s probably not very nice to bring up his unmistakably-scarred face like that, or complain about your night to the guy who got strangled, so you blurt out before your mind can catch up with your mouth: “It isn’t every night that I get to help a handsome stranger in distress.”

Your face somehow turns an even darker shade of crimson. How many times can you put your foot in your mouth in one conversation? But to your surprise and relief you’re rewarded with a little laugh from Jason, a sound that seems awkward and unnatural, as if he doesn’t get to laugh very often. Some of the color returns to his cheeks as he blushes the prettiest shade of pink. When the corners of his mouth quirk up into a timid smile you realize that he has absolutely gorgeous lips, despite the swelling. Full and soft, finely laced with small silvery scars—little arrows pointing to where they need to be kissed. Jesus Christ. Again, you literally just learned the guy’s name and now you want to kiss him. No, that’s a lie. You’ve wanted to kiss him since his rude ass scowled at you the first time. What is it with you and Ted Bundy types?

“I’ll have to pass out more often,” he says shyly, fingers plucking at the blanket wrapped around his shoulders. His blue-green eyes find the floor again, as if his script is written there. “Turns out it’s a great way to meet beautiful women.”

Beautiful… beautiful… The word echoes in your mind like a heartbeat. No one has ever called you beautiful. Your chest comes alive with sudden warmth as butterflies take flight. You want to stay there with him for the rest of the night. To kiss him on his busted lips. To wrap him up in your arms. To protect him from whatever hurt him. Instead, you grab one of the discarded ice packs and hand it to him, heart still fluttering wildly in your chest. “Google says you should get some ice on that. Your throat, I mean.” Goddamnit. He just said you’re beautiful, and you reply by handing him an ice pack. How the hell are you so bad at flirting?

“Who am I to question Dr. Google?” he replies sarcastically with a smug little smirk on those beautiful lips, but still does as he’s told, accepting the ice pack then holding it against his red-ringed throat.

You gaze down at him as you grope for the perfect words to say that will turn this scene into one worthy of a romcom. You consider inviting him back to your place to share that bottle of merlot you’ve been dreaming about all night. But then remind yourself that the poor guy is traumatized, definitely in no shape for a romantic nightcap. You can’t help but find yourself wishing, as if you can will it into existence, that he’ll look up at you, that your eyes will meet, sparks will fly, and he’ll flirt with you again. Maybe even invite you to stay the night with him. But his eyes remain glued to the floor, and your heart drops in disappointment as your ridiculous delusions are dashed by his silence.

“I should… probably go, for real this time. It’s late.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure I can’t do anything for you before I go?” you ask, coming back down to earth from the high of his compliment and seeing him again as the guy who’d gotten cut and strangled then passed out cold on his floor rather than an object of your lust.

He shakes his head, then he glances up at you, those stunning blue-green eyes of his finally finding yours, sending a fresh flutter to your chest. “You’ve done more than enough. It was… really nice having someone to talk to. To… distract me from… other things.”

His kind words give you a boost of confidence. “Well If you ever want to talk again, you know where I live. Or if you need a babysitter.”

You smile at the puzzled look that crosses his face and nod towards his houseplant.

He laughs that adorable little laugh again. “I may take you up on that offer sometime. Goodnight Y/N. And… thanks again. For everything.”

“Take care of yourself, Jason.”

#sands writes #jason todd #female reader #arkham knight #arkhamverse #jason todd x reader #arkham knight x reader #jason todd x you #arkham knight x you #reader x jason todd #reader x arkham knight #jason todd imagine #arkham knight imagine #jason todd fanfic #arkham knight fanfic #fic: the sus boy next door

[peachdues]

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

[deanbrainrotwritings]

—  MY YOU

SUMMARY : part v of gimme half. the first valentine’s day with dean winchester and he is just absolutely adorable… for like the first half of this fic, the other half is filthy.

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, squirting, unprotected p in v

WORD COUNT : 1.9k

A/N : jung kook song title. my you is why I have the #my dean ✨ tag ☺️ I don’t know if I named the cat before, but the cat's name is Mona-Lisa now and he’s a boy! oh and happy birthday @girls-alias💓

When you got home from work you didn’t expect to open the door to your cat, Mona-Lisa, frolicking in a path of colourful rose petals leading up to your bedroom. You smiled at the sight of him as you stepped out of your heels and shoved them into the corner with your foot—next to Dean’s boots—to put away later. 

Mona-Lisa had a few red and pink petals stuck to his sharp teeth and some stuck to his soft, furry body, but he gladly accepted his fate when you picked him up in your arms. Dean was the culprit behind the romantic scene of your darkened home and it made you smile, your stomach jittery despite never really giving a damn about some stupid love holiday. 

Mona-Lisa’s cute paws rested on your shoulders and his nose nuzzled into your hair before he decided to take a bite out of your shoulder when you continued to carry him up the steps. It was a soft and playful bite for the most part, and it made you laugh.

When you got to your bedroom, where you suspected Dean was waiting for you, Mona-Lisa sprung from your arms to get through the barely-opened door. Dean had his back to the door and a lighter in his hand that he used to light one of the many candles he’d placed in your bedroom. 

“Wow, if there’s a fire, I’m suing you,” you teased with a grin, watching Dean turn around carefully to avoid stepping on Mona-Lisa—who was walking in circles around Dean’s feet with his tail up. 

Dean smiled shyly, clearly caught off guard. “Hey,” he greeted you, placing the lighter next to the candle he just lit. You walked towards him and let him wrap his arms around you while his lips pressed to the corner of your mouth. “Happy Valentine’s Day?” He shrugged, sounding a little unsure of whether or not he was supposed to say that. “Should I have asked you to be my Valentine? I- uh, I’ve never done this before,” he laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. 

You cupped his flushed cheeks and brought him down for a kiss that made his shoulders drop. Dean breathed softly against your lips and melted into you. His hands moved down to your hips and they flexed over the softness of your dress before he pulled you closer to him. 

“I… I don’t think you need to ask,” you smiled, kissing him softly when he dove back in for more. 

“Then… what do you think?” He chuckled, slowly sliding his hands down to your ass. He squeezed gently and you bit your lip, hesitantly looking away from his adorably flustered face to admire his work. “I’m not being cheap,” he began to explain himself, “I was just, uh- well, I didn’t know if you were the type to want to celebrate Valentine’s Day— not that there’s anything wrong with that— and I really just did this last minute for you. You know, in case you were into this t-”

“Dean,” you interrupted his rambling with a small giggle. He exhaled and forced a laugh to convince you that he was being cool. “I love it, and.. you look so cute standing right here like this, so stop overthinking it,” you reassured him, gripping his flannel to pull him down for a longer, deeper kiss to express your gratitude. 

Dean’s hands moved lower to your thighs and you felt him bend his knees just as he titled his head, parting from your lips for a quick breath. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he lifted you in his arms, and your legs squeezed his hips. 

You buried your fingers into his hair, moaning against his mouth. His hands moved along your back, over your legs, squeezing and kneading. He moved towards the bed, stopping momentarily when his knees hit the mattress. 

He held you tight and lowered you onto the bed carefully, his lips hovering above yours. His green eyes travelled over your face and you averted your gaze as if it would stop him. Your hands slipped away from his hair, your legs fell open, and you turned your head to the side, relaxing despite the nervous thud of your heart. 

Dean’s lips latched on to your neck, his stubble scraped over your soft skin. Your eyes fell shut and you shivered. Arousal began to warm up your body and dampen your underwear. Dean nipped at your skin, pressed hot, open-mouth kisses over the skin not covered by your dress, flicked his tongue over your skin. 

“Where’d you get all this stuff?” You whispered, grabbing a handful of flower petals and candy from the bed before letting it fall back down. Dean slowly turned away from your chest with a playful laugh getting muffled against your skin. 

“I stole those roses from Poppy, or whatever her name is, two houses down. And… those are the leftover chocolates from the Halloween bucket… and… well, I always have candles just in case,” he told you, nuzzling the side of his face into your breasts. You smirked at him, but then your eyes softened when he looked up at you, his thick lashes fluttering against his freckled cheeks. 

“Hunting stuff?” You asked, sneaking your hands under his warm flannel to push it off his shoulders. Dean pushed himself off you to shrug the thick shirt off his body and you bit your lip. His t-shirt stretched tightly across his chest and his jeans did the same over his taught thighs. “Are you wearing cute Valentine’s Day lingerie underneath?” You teased, hooking your fingers on his belt loops to tug him closer between your legs.

“N-no? Should I?” He teased back, teasingly letting his fingers glide along the inside of your thighs. 

“Next time,” you murmured, pulling his belt with a pout.

“Next time,” he breathed out a laugh, undoing his belt with one hand and lifting your dress up your thighs with the other. “Are you? Wearing pink lingerie underneath?” Dean hooked his fingers under the waistband of your underwear and waited for you to respond before tugging them down.

“No,” you grinned.

“Good, I would’ve ripped it off you anyway.” And he did just that, in one swift move, your underwear tore audibly, and he threw it over to the floor carelessly. 

“Poppy’s going to kill you for damaging her roses,” you mumbled against his lips—which were stretched into a mischievous smile. Dean slowly pulled away with a few final pecks to your lips  and started going down your body, his breath puffing over your glistening cunt.

“Only if she finds out it was me,” he hummed, his warm tongue licking up from your entrance to your clit. You gasped and pressed your head deeper into the mattress, your eyes squeezing shut and your hands gripping his hair. 

Dean made you come twice, once with his thumb on your swollen clit and his tongue inside your pulsing walls, and a second time with his tongue on your clit and three of his fingers inside your used cunt. 

You whined and whimpered his name as your body convulsed and your legs shook beside his head after each orgasm. Your body couldn’t handle much more, but Dean was persistent, encouraging and comforting you. 

He paused momentarily as you caught your breath. Your head buzzed and your vision was blurry, your heart pounded in your ears, and your skin was flushed. Dean bunched your dress at your waist, your nipples were hard and sensitive from his mouth and his fingers, but goddamn, you wanted more. 

You could feel Dean’s gentle fingers on your sloppy cunt, soothingly brushing his thumb around your overstimulated clit. His tongue lapped at yours and you could taste yourself in his mouth, his lips were glossed with your release, but you didn’t care.

You weakly held his taut biceps, your nails clawed at the hard muscles as they moved with every dip of his body into you. The cotton of his t-shirt brushed against your pebbled nipples causing you to shudder and moan into his skillful mouth. 

“One more,” he murmured, sucking on your bottom lip before pushing three of his fingers back into your slick pussy. You inhaled sharply and scratched his arms when he knowingly curled his fingers into that same spot inside you over and over.

“Dammit… Dean,” you sobbed, your body tensing, head turning to the side. Your stomach fluttered with excitement despite the shake of your legs on either side of Dean’s hips and the quivering of your cunt. Dean breathed heavily above you, his chin tucked into his chest as he stared shamelessly between your legs. 

He continued to thrust his fingers into you, shallowly and precise, driven by the pornographic sound of his fingers plunging into your wet heat and the breathy sounds of pleasure you made. Your hands twisting in his shirt and you cried from how sensitive you were, only partially amused because it felt so good all at once.

Your body was overflowed with so much happiness and pleasure that you completely let go as your third orgasmed seized your body. A moan of Dean’s name caught in your throat and all that left your kiss swollen lips was a strangled sound of bliss. 

“Fuck,” Dean whispered against your jaw, his eyes fixed between your legs, “that’s right, sweetheart.” His teeth sank into your jawline and you felt him slide down between your legs. He used his tongue to lap up your release from your dripping pussy and kissed your thighs adoringly.

“I…” you exhaled, eyes opening slowly to look down at Dean between the wet mess between your legs. “Fuck, d-did I..?” You couldn’t finish the sentence as embarrassment burned at your cheeks, but Dean looked more than pleased with himself as he licked his fingers clean of your fluids. 

“Yup, and it was hot,” he smirked, which magically made you feel slightly better about squirting. Dean pulled the dress from your waist, nearly yanking it down your weak legs to join your ruined underwear on the floor. 

You sat up carefully, frowning at the wetness on the bed that Dean didn’t really care about. He pulled his shirt over his head and you imagined that you literally drooled at the sight of him and his flushed skin. It was covered in freckles and scars, and it always managed to look pretty and hot. You snapped out of your trance when he unbuttoned his jeans and started unzipping them. 

“You said one more,” you complained with a laugh, watching him slip out of bed to remove his jeans and boxers properly. You changed your mind when you saw Dean’s cock, the way it throbbed and bounced as he climbed back into bed between your legs. The wet tip was glistening with smeared precum that continued to dribble out of the slit. “…But I’m glad you lied,” you grinned, pushing Dean onto his back when you kissed him. 

“I didn’t lie…” he pouted, his dimples deepening above his lips. You tilted your head and gazed down at him with an expression of amusement on your face, your eyes glittering with internal laughter. “…I… just lost count ‘cause you’re so hot.” 

Dean smoothly slipped out from underneath you and draped himself over your back. He kissed your shoulders and lifted your hips to position his cock at your soppy entrance. You moaned instantly when he pushed himself inside you, silky skin sinking easily into your wet cunt. 

“Waffles for dinner?” He panted into your ear, the grin on his face seeping into his voice. 

“Yup,” you moaned, reaching between your legs where Dean’s fingers were toying with your sensitive clit. 

➥

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[star-suh]

I Did Tell My Husband

Johnny Suh x Male Reader

cw: top johnny suh, bottom male reader, breeding otherwise it wouldn’t be a fic of mine lol, dirty talking, degrading, sir kink, y/n is a slut for johnny's dick, spitting, tummy bulge, mention of bussy but just one time, a bit of hair pulling, possesive johnny(?), cumplay ass to mouth, overstimulation.

an: this is the second part of "don't tell my husband" hope y'all like it and the bottom version of that fic is coming (not so)soon.

part I

bottom m! reader ver. of part I

—

it was the next day, y/n was in the living room watching tv when he heard a knock in his front door so he went to open it … it was johnny … "hello mr. suh how are you?" y/n asked, "hello y/n i would say i'm good but i'm not". y/n started to get nervous thinking about what he did with johnny's husband "and why is that mr. suh" y/n asked again, faking concern.

"you know, i find out my husband fucked with someone" johnny told y/n "his ass was filled with cum that clearly wasn’t mine… i have to fuck it out of him" y/n gulped and laughed nervously "mr. suh i don't know why you're telling me that… shouldn't you talk that with your husband?".

"don't act like a fool y/n i know it was you who fucked my husband…" said johhny while grabbing y/n by the collar of his shirt "...and you will pay for that, bitch boy" he pushed y/n inside his house and closed the door.

—

"so you were that horny that you didn't care fucking with a married man huh?" said johnny while spanking y/n who was naked in his lap "guess what, he told me that you didn't fuck him good that you can't compare with me, you whore", "i'm sorry mr su-" a hard spank greeted y/n's ass "shut up bitch, i'm gonna show you how a real man fuck" johnny unzipped his pants revealing his huge cock "you're so big mr. suh" said y/n worried "i don't think it would fit in my mouth", "don't worry if it don't fit in your mouth it would fit in other hole, now sit on all fours and take my balls in your mouth", "okay" murmured y/n, "yes sir" johnny slaped y/n's cheeks "yes sir" murmured again y/n and started to suck johnny's heavy balls "that's right you whore, coat them with your saliva" johnny grunted "fucking god… you look so fucking hot with my dick across your face, "i llike it sir, it's so heavy" y/n started licking the pre-cum of johnny's cock head while jerking off the rest "if you gonna suck it do it like a man, useless bitch" johnny pushed y/n's head deep down his cock making him gag "fuckkk that's what i'm talking about little bitch, swallow it all".

y/n keep sucking johnny's big cock "tell me you like my cock" demanded johnny, "umm i love sucking this cock, i love it so much sir" y/n told him "It's like my mouth was made to please you sir, this is where i belong to" johnny started to mouth-fuck y/n "i'm gonna use you as my fleshlight because i know you would like that, right horny slut?", "umm-hmm" murmured y/n "my mouth is only for your cock sir, i'm a dirty slut, let me be your dirty slut" moaned y/n. "enough" johnny pull his cock out of y/n's mouth "you gonna make me cum", "i want your cum sir" y/n begged, "and you would have it, you're my cumdump from now on" johnny kissed y/n his tongue exploring every crevice of y/n's mouth "open wide" demanded johnny and y/n complied, spitting his saliva in y/n's mouth while the latter swallow it.

—

"come here whore, now let's get to the good part", "hold on, aren't you gonna use a condom?" y/n asked "no you whore, i told you you're gonna feel a real man cock, every inch and every vein of it" he grabbed y/n's waist, aligned his cock towards his hole and started to slip it inside him, stretching his ass with every inch "fuck you're so fucking big sir… i feel like i'm gonna split in two" said y/n, eyes rolled back "holy shit i'm gonna-" y/n came all over himself "look at you, you're pathetic" johnny said to y/n "It's not even all in yet but you already cummed" johnny laughed and in one powerful thrust he slip all his cock inside y/n forming a bulge in his lower tummy making his legs tremble, johnny kissed and marked y/n's neck while he gets used to his dick "can even take a big cock inside you and you dare to tell me you're gonna be my slut? you can do better c'mon" he whispered… "i-i think i'm re-ready… sir" y/n whispered too and johnny started to thrust and moan "you're so tight bitch, you're choking my cock so good", "t-thank you sir" y/n started to ride it "my ass is yours to use", "say that again" johnny said while sucking y/n's nipple and jerks him off "my ass is yours to use, sir, to dump all your loads here whenever you want".

johnny starts to thrust hard making y/n emitt gutural moans "damn, your bussy won't let my dick go it's gripping so hard, you really want it", "yes sir i want it all day and every day i want you to break my ass and fuck me until it has the shape of your cock" said y/n while drooling with his tongue out "you want my load inside you?" johnny moaned "come while he grabs y/n's chin to kiss him and bit his lip while jerking him off with his other hand "tell me what do you want bitch, convince me to breed you" he grunted while fastening his pace on y/n's dick.

"i want your cum inside me sir, i want to milk your balls dry i deserve it please" y/n moaned "i want it so bad, put your fucking real man sperm inside your cumdump, give it to m-" y/n came for a second time while johnny keeps fucking him rough "get ready for it bitch" he says to y/n and started to spank him "are you gonna fuck married men again?" another slap "tell me whore", "no sir no, i'm not gonna do that again", another spank "are you gonna let lther man fuck your slutty ass?", "no sir no" said y/n feeling overstimulated, "who does your ass belong to?", "it belongs to you and only you sir… you're the only one who can fuck it and breed it" johnny keeps spanking y/n until his ass is bright red "i'm glad you understood what's your position bitch, you're mine now" he said while pulling y/n's hair back, kissing and biting his neck… johnny hugged y/n hard while thrusting rough and finally finishing inside him groaning and moaning "fuck yeah, now you know how a good man fucks" he whispered to y/n's tired body "and remember if you fuck my husband again i will fuck you two times harder than i fuck him… and i think you can't handle that" he laughs and kissed y/n "now let me help you get cleaned, i don't want a dirty cumdump" he positioned y/n to face his ass and started to suck the cum out of him overstimulating him more "s-stop it… please i c-can't…" when he finishes eating y/n's ass out, johnny bring his face near y/n's and kiss him playing with his cum in both their mouths "and well how does it taste?" asked the older, "tastes so good sir i want more" y/n replied, "don't worry about it whore from now on you will have unlimited cum for you but you have to share it too, remember i have a husband" both kissed and johnny helped y/n to get clean.

—

"how was it love?" asked jaehyun, "it was good jae he took it all inside him like a champ" both laughed and jaehyun grabbed johnny's crotch "is there something left in here for me?" he asked and johnny unzipped his pants and discarded his shirt "you know there will always be loads for you in these balls love" he says while slapping his hard cock on his hand "let's go to the room then" jaehyun grabbed johnny's cock guiding him to the room "you better do me harder than him, i'm kinda jealous", "i'm gonna fuck you dumb jae" johnny replied slapping his ass, "you better do" jaehyun replied and closed the door.

#johnny suh #johnny suh x male reader #johnny suh smut #johnny x male reader #male reader #kpop x male reader smut #kpop x male reader #smut #male reader smut #nct 127 #nct 127 x male reader #nct x male reader #nct smut #seo youngho x male reader

[jeongyunhoed]

As seen on my FF.net Also seen on my Ao3

Following the events of fifth year, a new adventure awaits for Norah Lee. Boys, exams, school events, common room parties, and old foes outside of Hogwarts. Even battling pensieve guardians was easier than this.

Main Pair: OC/? Genre: Adventure/Angst/Fluff (it's a little of everything, tbh)

KEEP IN MIND: Characters are aged up (even if the story's got them in sixth year) to make it more appropriate. Time period is leaning towards the modern day so in case you might find anachronisms in the dialogue or references, this is why. This may also be quite a lengthy fic too.

BE WARNED: Social anxiety, mentions of blood and injury, grief, drinking, kissing but nothing more than that, death (this is Hogwarts Legacy, after all)

P.P.S: Ominis basically reveals he likes Norah...to Sebastian. Also, ideas are forming after the repository is rebuilt.

Masterlist

Chapter 12

Unsurprisingly, the party ended with many of them in for a hangover as the morning came. Garreth took it upon himself to send everyone back to their respective common rooms with vials of hangover tonic. Norah immediately sought to drink hers on the way back, having thoroughly enjoyed herself. Not bad for a first house party in sixth year.

She saw Natty bid Henry a goodnight before leaving the portrait hole, while Andrew and Poppy walked together. No doubt Andrew was going to walk Poppy back to the Hufflepuff common room before he returned to Ravenclaw tower. Amit and Samantha were conveniently walking back together. At least they originally were, because it seemed like they weren't anymore. Amit even looked quite somber, a change from his optimistic demeanor earlier when they first arrived. Samantha also looked quite crestfallen, opting to walk back to their dormitory with their other housemates.

Norah figured she'd try to ask Amit about it when they looked for another astronomy table later that night. She turned to the two boys walking next to her, having also drank the tonic before leaving.

"I can't believe I nearly tried to climb that mantel," Ominis mumbled next to Norah as they climbed down the stairs to the Slytherin dungeons. "I can feel Nellie looking at me like I became some sort of three-headed serpent."

"That's because it's not everyday that someone of your stature would do such a thing unless it were to avoid spiders or other creepy things," Norah teased, while Sebastian chuckled at the memory. "I wonder what else might happen when the Hufflepuffs host the next one."

"Who knew Ominis Gaunt has become such a party animal," Sebastian added.

"Shut up" The blonde mumbled.

The three of them entered the common room, splitting up for a moment to shower and change for bed. Norah dried her hair with a towel, already wearing a t-shirt and pajama pants as she sat on the edge of her bed. Nerida, Grace, and Imelda were already deep asleep. She smiled to herself as she recalled the events earlier, especially when she realized who "Nick" was.

It was making her think about the letters he sent, making her guess who he was. It was something she forgot to talk to him about, since they, or she, in particular, was caught up in dancing with Garreth and everyone in the middle of the Gryffindor common room. What was with the poems? The compliments in those poems, in particular? Norah chuckled, sitting back against the headboard of her bed, legs already covered by the emerald green blankets.

She glanced at the door, wondering if any of them were still awake at this hour. They were going to have quite a time processing everything that happened in the party.

As Norah slid further into the covers to close her eyes and sleep, Ominis Gaunt was tossing and turning in his own bed. He was already trying to process his near-attempt at climbing on the mantel. While at the same time mentally kicking himself for not trying to spend more time with Norah, or at the very least dance with her, which she seemed to do the whole night.

"Go to sleep," Sebastian suddenly said.

"I'm trying to, Sebastian, take your own advice."

"I am trying to" the freckled brunette said from his own bed. Sebastian was staring at the ceiling, unknowingly thinking about the same thing the blonde was thinking. "Ominis, can I ask you something?"

"I thought you said you were trying to sleep."

"Well, now I'm wide awake and curious about something," Sebastian said quietly. "Did you summon Norah because you wanted to get ahead of Garreth and Leander?"

The question seemed to take Ominis by surprise. Was Sebastian already suspecting something about this? There seemed to be only one way to answer, and he knew he couldn't lie to him. "Yes."

"Why?"

There it was, another question that felt like a shot through the heart. "What do you mean, why?"

"Why Norah?" Sebastian doubled down. "You could've summoned Imelda, Nerida, or even Grace, or Adelaide Oakes. Why her in particular?"

Ominis swallowed hard. "Why not her?"

Sebastian rolled his eyes. "You're avoiding the question. Why Norah?" He pressed again. He knew that if he asked in the morning, Ominis really wouldn't tell him anything.

"What's wrong with me summoning Norah?"

"I don't know, you tell me, Gaunt," Sebastian replied. "Those letters you sent her, with those poems and riddles. Natty saying that the one who wrote those must be absolutely crazy about her."

Another shot in the heart. Sebastian's got him cornered, he thought. "What would you rather I'd have written? Hey Norah, you really ought to be careful whenever you attack a poacher camp?" Ominis managed to say, but what Sebastian asked next seemed to be the final nail in the coffin.

"You like Norah, don't you?"

Sebastian felt like he was about to throw up after bringing himself to ask it. It was a hard question to ask, and while he normally never steered clear from those kinds of questions, it seemed to hit him twice as hard now. To Sebastian, the worst part of this was that he already knew the answer, he just wanted Ominis to confirm his suspicions.

"Doesn't everyone fancy Norah?" Ominis replied.

That was also another thing that was true, Sebastian knew it. He was convinced Norah didn't know the effect she had on people, how she could win them over with genuine kindness. Even those who weren't sure about her seemed to warm up eventually. The wit she possessed could rival a Ravenclaw, and he needn't talk about how brave she could be as it was a given. "Does that mean you fancy her?" He asked.

This time, a small sigh escaped Ominis' lips. "I do, Sebastian. I...like Norah. It's why I've been writing to Anne a lot. I've been asking for her advice all this time. I've never felt this way about anyone, and I didn't think I could," The words seemed to come out as if the floodgates had opened.

Sebastian tried to wrap his head around what Ominis said, partly not wanting to believe any of it. Partly trying to convince himself that Ominis was just playing a practical joke. That Ominis would never try to have feelings, romantic feelings for the girl he also liked that much. But he also knew that he wanted Ominis to stop feeling so guilty, and feeling so hard on himself for what he was forced to do as a child.

"Since when have you had feelings for her?" He said.

"Since fifth year. When we looked for the Scriptorium together," Ominis revealed. "How else could she have convinced me to go through with it? At first I didn't think it was that way, but the more we talked, the more I got to know her, I realized it."

There it was. What was going to happen now? Sebastian now knew of Ominis' affections for Norah. Was he going to stand in the way so he could be with Norah instead? Or would he do the hard thing and let Ominis be the one to actually pursue her. Between the two of them, Ominis was the more cautious one, the more responsible one, the one least likely to become reckless in his decisions. No doubt Ominis would be perfect for Norah.

"So, that was when you liked Norah, huh?" Sebastian tried to sound nonchalant.

"Y-yes, so please don't tell her anything. If she asks about the letters, I'm going to say that it was all to disguise myself, to make it harder for her to know it was me," He replied, now lying on his back, his heart pounding at his own confession. "I also know I don't deserve her."

Sebastian didn't want to pry any longer. Sooner or later, he'd have to reveal to Ominis that he, Sebastian Sallow, also had feelings for Norah Lee. But, for his attempts at trying to swallow his own feelings, Ominis could still tell.

"Do you think you deserve her, Sebastian?"

-

Norah sat in the middle of the map chamber the following afternoon, the book open in front of her as she tried to study the contents. She wondered how Professor Fig and Miriam came to this, how they started their research on ancient magic. There must have been more notes than just the book in front of her. She looked up at the giant panels that made up one side of the chamber. The panels that were the portraits of the four keepers whose trials she overcame.

Those portraits remained empty. Perhaps for good reason, but perhaps for a very long time. Isidora's vacant portrait also remained that way in the Undercroft. After all, it took centuries until a new keeper came in. It might take just as long next time.

In a ledger, Norah wrote down everything she remembered from all the pensieves in fifth year. Isidora wanted to take away her father's pain from losing her brother, his son. Professor Rackham advised her against it when she was a student. Isidora was still set on figuring out how to harness this magic to take away pain, pain of an emotional kind. She would commission the goblin Bragbor to build a repository to store the strands of pain and emotion she took from her father, from others. Even Isidora knew that in the wrong hands, this would lead to disastrous consequences.

Norah wanted to learn more about it all. What kind of spell did Isidora cast on those people, including her father.

That wave of intense sadness and emotion came over her again and she closed her eyes as she tried to keep her composure. The book in front of her couldn't afford to be stained with tears if it went that far. To Norah, it was starting to feel like she was going to burst at any minute. She felt fragile, volatile, unsure. One wrong move, and Norah felt like someone or something would get hurt.

Norah wondered about Bragbor's journals. Lodgok was about to bring her one of them, the one Ranrok never should've gotten. The feeling came again, this time stronger. She wondered how much longer could she hold onto this power. She needed some kind of anchor, something that could help her focus this magic onto, a way to channel it.

And then, she realized, it might be the time to do it. Taking out a roll of parchment, she wrote to Professor Weasley, telling her that it might now be the time to return to the caverns. To that extent, she would have to tell someone else too. When Starlight came in, she tied the letter to her leg and fed her a little treat before she flew away.

Closing the book, Norah wrote another letter. This time, it was to Deek, telling him what to do in case something happened. If she ever died while rebuilding the repository, she would entrust the care of the beasts, including his Lordship the graphorn, to Poppy. Her own supply of potions would be entrusted to Garreth and Ominis. Herodiana's ensemble would be given to Sophronia Franklin, and the historian's uniform from the portrait would go to Arthur Plummly. As for the robes she found in the house chest, Norah figured Grace would be able to take care of it.

It seemed unusual for her to already think about what might happen if things went wrong. But with everything that's happened to her so far, it wouldn't be too surprising if it happened now. Amit would get his telescope back, and as for Sebastian? The book she had in front of her alone would be enough of a gift. Imelda would get her brooms, as will Everett Clopton.

But what about Ominis? It made her think of the letters again. Ominis disguising himself as "Nick," telling her how brave she was, how witty she was, wanting to go to the Yule Ball together. Did he mean anything by that?

Norah tore up the letter she thought of giving Deek. It might be too pessimistic of her to even think that she wouldn't survive, not when she was going to be around Professor Weasley, one of the teachers she trusted the most. A quick evanesco later, she wrote a note to Sebastian and Ominis, telling them that it was time for her to rebuild the repository.

"Ah, Miss Lee, you're already here. I got your owl"

Norah immediately stood up when Professor Weasley herself appeared, having come down from the stairs and entering through the doors. "Yes, Professor," She said. "I'm ready to rebuild the repository."

Professor Weasley nodded. "Well then, no time like the present. But before we go, I'd want to ask you if you're absolutely sure you'd want to go through with this."

"I am, Professor, I'm sure I'd want to."

"In that case, if Hogwarts is to be the location of this repository, then I think we might need some help from your other professors, mightn't we?"

All of a sudden, the figures of Professor Sharp, Hecat, and Ronen appeared through the doors. "We all got your message. It might be a good time to reinforce the school's defensive charms further underground anyway. If what happened last year was any indication," Professor Ronen nodded.

"I couldn't have said it better myself," Professor Hecat agreed.

Norah felt a little overwhelmed, nodding as she tried to shake off the feeling. It seemed like the first time she accepted help from people who weren't her friends. Then again, it seemed like the perfect situation, to have the people who taught her the most, be the ones to assist in rebuilding the store of ancient magic.

"We're here! We're here!" The voices of Natty, Amit, Poppy, Sebastian, and Ominis were soon heard, the five of them skidding to a halt when they saw the professors standing in front of them.

"The more the merrier, it seems, and they're all taking NEWT Defense Against the Dark Arts too," Professor Hecat smiled.

Norah looked over at her friends, who were giving her an encouraging look. Yet she could see a hint of concern on Ominis' features. She turned around and took out the special wand, made from the pensieve artifacts she collected. The tip of the wand began to emit a bright light, and the floor in front of them lowered to reveal a set of stairs and the door leading to the caverns.

"This will never cease to amaze me," Sebastian muttered.

"Well then, I believe it's a long way down," Professor Sharp spoke this time.

It indeed was a long way down for the entire group, entering the keepers' caverns and seeing the remains of the war that took place the year before. Skeletons here, broken goblin drills there, and some piles of debris that crushed trolls and other loyalists. Norah made sure to lead the way, with Professor Hecat and Professor Sharp standing by her, while Professors Weasley and Ronen were keeping watch over her friends, who tagged along.

After several transfigurations of pillars and pathways, they had arrived at the doorway, guarded by two giant pensive soldiers. Norah kept the tip of the wand held up, and the two soldiers tapped the ground with their swords, opening the doors once again.

There they could see what was once where the repository was. Even Ominis sensed the gravity of what they were about to do, and the scale of the entire place he was in. They carefully walked past the doors, some more transfiguring to turn the path they were walking down upon into another set of stairs. Interestingly, they even managed to replicate the transfiguration styles of the keepers, the ornate, blue marbling of the doors and pillars.

Norah put the wand away, and took out her own. "We will try our best to help keep the rocks from falling through," the three professors suggested, taking their places around Norah, while Professor Weasley did the same.

"Perhaps, we only need to transfigure this cavern itself, make it look similar to the map chamber," Professor Ronen suggested. "Generations from now, someone with the same gift as Miss Lee might have a better chance of accessing it without the danger of falling through, yes?"

"That's a good idea," Professor Weasley said. She turned to Norah. "Are you ready, Miss Lee?"

Norah nodded. "I am, Professor."

She closed her eyes, and pointed her wand upwards, already feeling the power, the strands of emotion and pain being willed to leave her. Norah kept her eyes closed as she tried to focus, tried to channel everything that she was also feeling. The grief, the guilt, the anxiety, using these emotions to guide her into willing the magic that she once took in, out into the open.

A strong jet of light soon emanated from her wand, and while she felt that power leaving her, she could also feel her body starting to get drained.

"For...Professor Fig..." Norah groaned, the huge ball of power soon forming above her. "For...Lodgok..."

"Keep going, Norah!" Natty suddenly cheered. "Keep going!"

"For...Mr. Osric..." Norah could feel her eyes welling with tears as she kept going. "For...Miriam..."

The familiar rune symbol that she once saw began to appear, this time made of stone. It was as if it was also forming to cover the giant entity of magic she was putting out. "For...everyone whom Isidora Morganach took their emotions from..."

A flash of blinding light soon came after.

-

The next thing Norah knew, she wasn't in the caverns anymore. She was in the hospital wing, being tended to by Nurse Blainey. Deek was also looking over her, alongside Ominis, Sebastian, Natty, Poppy, and Amit. All of them were gathered around her bed, with Ominis sitting down by her side.

"You're finally awake!" Natty said, sitting up from the chair next to Ominis.

This made the blonde tilt his head in Norah's direction. "How are you feeling?" He asked.

"I'm... feeling alright, I guess," Norah replied. "What happened to me?"

"You passed out, collapsed just after you were done," Amit replied quietly. "Your hands had that glow we saw on those loyalists when we fought them in the mine, remember? But I think it's probably because that power was leaving your body. It was beginning to show at the very end."

The rest of them looked surprised at his explanation. "This is the first time in a while we heard you talk about what you went through with Norah in fifth year," Sebastian teased.

"Well- I must admit, I've been quite preoccupied, but I've always been here for Norah, for everyone," Amit pointed out. "I might not say much, but knowing Norah, it must have been the case, right?"

Norah smiled softly. "Yeah," she looked at her own hands. The glow Amit said was gone. She must have succeeded. "what happened to the other Professors?" She asked.

"They were the ones who brought you here, Professor Weasley said it must have taken a lot out of you. They really did make quick work transforming the surroundings. Keeping everything from falling," Poppy said. "By now, that repository looks just like the map chamber."

"Oh," Norah looked at her hands again. She was beginning to wonder if it would affect her magic. Then again, she had already enhanced her own magical abilities with the hotspots she traveled to before taking on the power from the repository. "So I guess that's that."

"I suppose it is, you don't need to worry about it anymore," Ominis spoke. Sebastian noticed how his hand was close to hers when she put it down. "You'll need to rest for now."

"Oh, and good news," Poppy sat up again. "Our common room party's next month! That's something to look forward to, at least."

"Why do I get the feeling that there's something that's going to happen at the Hufflepuff common room?" Sebastian grinned.

"Well, if you must know, we might play a little game of enchanted Spin the Bottle," Poppy said, almost proud of it.

The mention of the game made Norah snort. "Does the bottle move on its own, then?" She asked.

"Why yes, as a matter of fact, it does. It's a muggle party game, but we found it interesting to have the bottle be enchanted to spin on its own to the people it wants to kiss."

The three boys gaped at her. "That's what that game is?" Amit swallowed hard, his cheeks heating up. Poppy nodded again with a grin. "Then, I will respectfully not join in."

His answer was met with groans from everyone else, Norah laughing at his reaction. "If you really don't want to, you don't have to. That's all just a bit of fun, isn't it?" She said, yet her thoughts immediately drifted to the one who made her heart race. The mere thought of having to do that, something she kind of had a feeling was going to be expected of her, it filled her with anxiety.

"You might be right," Amit said quietly.

"You get to include this in your memoir too," Natty teased, making him laugh. "But I wonder, will Professor Ronen make another assignment like what we just had again?"

It was her turn to be teased and they knew it. "Knowing Professor Ronen, he's always up for making lessons, even NEWT ones, exciting," Norah said. "Are things with Henry going alright? You two seemed incredibly close during the party."

"Merlin, you make it sound like Henry and I are already dating," Natty was flustered. "We talked a lot during the party, he even suggested we go to Hogsmeade together sometime."

Norah and Poppy gasped, while Sebastian, Ominis, and Amit looked impressed. "That sounds very much like a date," Ominis smirked. "But from what I gather, Abbott's decent. Comes from a good family, that one."

"And you should know, most of all," Natty pointed out, getting even more flustered which made Ominis laugh.

"My standards are quite sub-par when determining how good a family is. As long as they are nowhere like my own, and Carrow's."

That seemed to give Natty an idea. She stood up. "Norah, you must have found your summoner last night" She said, immediately shifting the topic. "Did you meet him?"

Norah smiled. "I did."

That seemed to light up Poppy and Amit's expressions, now intrigued as to who it was. "Well? Who was it?" Natty said.

When Norah was about to speak, Nurse Blainey suddenly stopped by. "Miss Lee, you're finally awake, thank Merlin," She said, handing her a goblet filled with some healing tonic. "If you're feeling well enough, you can be back at your common room by this afternoon or tonight."

"Thank you," She mumbled. "Is there anything else I should do?"

"Well, no, not really. Perhaps rest is a good thing to do. You've over-exerted yourself with whatever you did, you need to regain your strength. Please make sure she does?" She turned to the rest of them, and they nodded. "Well, seeing as you're all sixth years, you've got another lesson to look forward to, and it's with me."

"What do you mean? A lesson with you?" Sebastian wondered.

"Yes, given how you're all growing to be men and women, it's time for you all to learn whatever there is to know about contraceptive potions," Nurse Blainey just smiled and walked off. Norah nearly spat out the rest of the tonic she was drinking.

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fluff #hogwarts legacy angst #hogwarts legacy mc #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #amit thakkar #garreth weasley #leander prewett #poppy sweeting #imelda reyes #natsai onai #andrew larson

[saturn7162]

The invention.

What's up chat, I havn't even started the next part of the SU fic, but here's an original story that I wrote for my PT test two days ago.

For as long as he could remember, Leroy K. Johnson had always struggled with reading. Whenever he was assigned a book, or something else to read, he kept finding that it was nearly impossible to comprehend what the text said. The letters would squeeze together, grow or shrink, even if he knew that wasn’t happening. However, he was a great listener, with an even better memory. He’d sit listening to his friends' long and over-exaggerated stories or facts about their current hyperfixation. He was constantly engaged in their conversations, asking questions and nodding along. He was incredibly brilliant too, coming up with amazing solutions to common problems among his friend group. So, with all of these traits and abilities, he came up with the perfect idea to solve his reading problem.

He sat his friends down and shyly explained his new thoughts. He thought, if he couldn’t read, why not make something that could read for him?

“But, if someone else is reading for you, how will you learn?” asked his friend, Kenneth B. Clark, or Kenny, asked him, the tips of his ears twitching.

“Well, I thought that if I listen to a book, and follow along, I’ll learn what the words are saying.” Leroy responded sheepishly. So, the group of friends got to work.

Wayne I. Anthony, the youngest, brought a brand-new sketchbook to draw out the new invention. Zachary H. Franklin liked asking questions: Was it going to be big, was it going to be portable, how would we record books. Every day at school, the boys would sit together, and come up with idea after idea, after idea. They went from late 6th grade, to 7th, then early 8th. Wayne filled up sketchbooks, notebooks, notepads, anything he could get his hands on, and write.

One day, when the idea was fully fleshed out, another friend by the name of Tyrone A. Smith, or Ty, suggested they come over to his house, for he had a large garage full of parts and pieces they could use to build their prototype. That day, as soon as the dismissal bell rang, the boys sped out of their classes and raced over to the front gate. Leroy jumped on his bike, Kenny put on his skates, Wayne on his skateboard, Ty on his scooter, and Zach with his running shoes.

They made it to Tyrone’s house in 10 minutes, panting and sweating under the hot Kansas sun. Tyrone swung open the door, greeted his parents, and grabbed a few popsicles for his friends before he raced over to his garage. He opened the large garage doors and the warm afternoon light filled the garage, injecting the group with the want to work. 

On one side, sat two cars laying dormant, and on the other, was a full-fledged workshop. Half of the walls were lined with tool shelves, and the other was housing multiple manuals for all types of cars. In one corner was a blacksmithing area, Tyrone informed them that the area was completely off-limits. They laid down a tarp, set their bags on the corners, and got to work. Wayne dumped his bag onto the tarp, exposing sketchbooks, notebooks, laminated papers, and blueprints for their new invention.

They worked from 2:30 pm, to 9:03 pm. Their product was the outer shell. While it may not seem like it was a lot, it was a huge step forward. Week after week, they ran over to Tyrone’s house after school, and in early February, it was complete. 

A blue plastic shell with a metal casing around the corners. A battery slot on the back and a place to put their recorded books. There were stop and play buttons, volume buttons, and a button to open the lid to the tape inserter. They carefully set it in Leroy’s bag and raced off to his house. Leroy slammed open his front door, grabbed a short book from his living room, raced up the stairs, and skidded to a halt at his mother’s bedroom door. He pounded on the wood, trying to rouse his mother from whatever she was doing. The door swung open and his mother looked down at them in irritation, which turned to shock at the sight of the slightly unkempt and dirty boys. Before she could get a word in, Leroy fished the device out from his bag and shoved it in her face along with the book.

“Hi mom! We finished the recorder! It can play music, and, and, and!!” He said eagerly, eyes shining brightly. 

“Please let us record you reading it, miss Leroy’s Mom Johnson!!” Said the burly Zach. Ms. Johnson grimaced but nodded her head. 

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt. Go downstairs to the living room. And take off those shoes.” She gestured to their feet which, sure enough, were clad in their dirty sneakers, converse, and boots. They fled back downstairs at the speed of light and tossed their shoes by the door, exposing their paws in soft socks. They sped over to the living room and crowded around a large blue rocking chair. Ms. Johnson came down the stairs, holding onto the railing and the record and book. She sat in the chair with the book in her lap and the recorder by her snout, and began to read. 

The boys looked up in amazement as she read, spinning a tale for twenty minutes. Once she was finished, she closed the book and stood up quickly, stopping the recording and giving it back to the boys.

 “There you are, Lee” She smiled as he took it. 

“I’m going to go make dinner, you boys are welcome to stay if you like.” She suggested and walked to the kitchen, tail swishing behind her. The group looked at each other as Wayne rewound the tape. He pressed play as he gave it back and all was silent. Nobody said anything, Zach stopped breathing all together, and soon the recording began to play. Ms. Johnson’s voice came through the tape softly and the boys cheered. 

The boys were elated, and with this invention, Leroy found it much easier to read. They never stopped making inventions and whenever one of the boys had a problem, they used their combined skills to solve it. With Leroy’s ideas, Kenneth’s curiosity, Wayne’s art and design skills, Zach’s strength, and Tyrone’s garage, they made an incredible team. 

#oc #original character #writing #original story #fiction #not a fic #ocs #oc writing #oc story #story #short story #short

[kessielrg]

[Zelda] Please, Protect the Arts: Part 2

Notes: A little scared that I’ve written 3k words today- the entirety of this chapter with at least 1k for the first. This is the most I’ve written since the month started. Weird. Very sus. I’ve got 3 other fics that need to be taken care of too. It’s kinda frustrating. :’)

Rating: K

Word Count: 1,677 words

Previous | Next | AO3

- - -

At first, Zelda thought she didn’t carry an opinion of the situation. A little unnerved that the boy wouldn’t tell her his name upfront, of course, but it was only a small road bump in her grand plan. Instead, she was excited. Mysteries were something Zelda has a passing interest in- the satisfaction of piecing a puzzle together before having all the pieces in front of you. Learning this boy’s name would be exactly that. He may (would, she mentally corrected in hope) even help her defend the school’s funding if she played along. It would be a puzzle where everyone won in the end. She would almost bet on it.

“Are you sure you want to go for a drive, ma’am?” the family chauffeur asked as Zelda walked up to the car. “Now would be the time to work on that garden you keep boasting about.”

Zelda let out a laugh. “I don’t talk about it that much- you just want me to pick a bouquet for you so you don’t have to buy them for your wife.”

The chauffeur then gave a laugh of his own. “Guilty as charged.” he admitted. Once he made sure Zelda was safely in the car, he got in as well.

“Where to, then?” he asked as he started the engine.

“The Hylian School of Arts, if you’d please.”

“Oh?” the chauffeur asked, glancing at her through the rear view mirror. “Do you plan on enrolling for next year’s classes?”

“No,” Zelda said with a shake of her head, “I promised to meet someone there today.”

“Oh?”

Zelda now looked up at the chauffeur. A hint of both amusement and annoyance traced across her face.

“Not like that.” she sternly insisted. It did not stop the chauffeur from laughing at her besides.

. . .

The Hylian School of Arts was located at the border of the city outskirts and downtown. It had been declared a historical landmark some time before Zelda was conceived. The exterior was a grayish-white that only got power washed once a season, with colorful flowers that made up the quad leading to the front door itself. Above the door was the crest of the school- a bronze phoenix composed of three triangles and sprawling wings. The symbol was one that Zelda was familiar with. Many of her female family members could call the old campus their alma mater. Local stories decided that it was a female ancestor that started it back when ladies still wore wide hoop skirts, and horses could be ridden horseback without anyone giving it a second glance.

To lose its funding would be a great blow for the institution. Even if the school dissolved, the building would still be here- either empty and forgotten, or turned into something a lot more commercial. Something a lot less community driven. Something that only existed to make money.

Zelda shook her head. Now wasn’t the time to think about that. If anything, she was working to correct it.

Standing a bit straighter, Zelda walked through the door of The Hylian School of Arts. Her stop right after was with the main receptionist.

“Room 115?” the receptionist repeated once Zelda had told her the room. “It’s a floor under this one. Just take the elevator down, make a right once you get out, and follow the corridor down.”

“Thank you.” Zelda nodded. Her heels of her ankle boots clicked as she walked down the polished floor to the elevator. For a fleeting moment she wondered if it was the original flooring. It couldn’t be, she decided, not with how often it looked like they buffed this floor.

The elevator also seemed like an oddity. It was very wide, more wide than a standard elevator. Zelda was once more reminded of ladies with hoop skirts wider than the typical wheelchair. How many of those studious ladies with wide skirts did this elevator used to hold? Three? Five? Zelda was still entertaining the idea once she stepped off the elevator and made a right down the corridor. It was probably thoughts of the elevator that didn’t allow Zelda to think as she placed her hand on Room 115’s handle. She had it completely turned and about to open before she realized a full orchestra was playing on the other end.

Zelda leaped away from the door immediately. She gave her racing heart time to settle again as she cursed herself for being careless. Beside the door, she realized, was a rather wide window that could allow onlookers to observe the orchestra when they were in practice. Zelda used it to give the players a look over. There were an equal amount of both men and women, of various size and skill as they kept up with their conductor- who was positioned at the front of the room with a lectern that surely had whatever sheet music they were meant to be playing from.

Zelda soon found a familiar face in the wind section. Their gazes immediately met not long after.

The boy smirked at her.

He smirked at Zelda. He knew that she had almost unceremoniously interrupted the class. And he looked almost proud at the fact!

“Asshole.” Zelda mouthed to him. The boy’s smirk grew so wide that he accidentally missed four notes.

The rest of the class seemed to proceed as usual. Zelda had moved away from the window to not catch anyone else’s attention. She listened as the budding orchestra worked on the same piece for another hour, starting and stopping at various places in between starting from the beginning to end. As the students started to leave the room, she expected the boy to meet her outside. He did not. He remained behind even after the teacher left. Entering when no one else was in there felt wrong.

“You gave me that time on purpose.” Zelda immediately huffed regardless. “Do you hate that song or something?”

The boy gave a simple roll of his shoulder. The wide grin on his face was just as apparent. Zelda rolled her eyes. Oh, this boy had jokes alright. Those blue eyes might have seen a lot of things, but it wasn’t without an air of punkishness to counteract it.

Not once she did she reconsider that he might help her. Never even crossed her mind.

“This is a nice room,” Zelda noted as she walked around. “It’s hard to imagine it could hold so many instruments. Let alone the people who play them.”

The boy only blinked as he watched her. It felt like he was studying her. Some part of her mind wondered if he was waiting for her to show boredom or anger. If she had any, it was lost as Zelda looked over the late harp stationed near the corner where the other string instrument players had been.

“I used to play the harp.” Zelda mused to no one in particular as her fingers glided against the strings. The gently ascending notes were a comfort. “I had to stop because…”

She honestly couldn’t remember why she had stopped playing. It had been a choice made long, long ago, she knew that much. The boy broke her thoughts when he gave her a tiny nudge. Zelda had been so lost in thought that she hadn’t realized he had moved closer to her.

“What’s wrong?” Zelda asked.

The boy held up his ocarina, gestured to the harp, then to Zelda. Without saying a word, she knew exactly what he meant.

“Oh no, I can’t. I shouldn’t.”

The boy raised an eyebrow at her.

‘Why not?’ his face questioned in place of his voice. ‘It’s just us two here.’

Zelda immediately felt guilty.

“Even if I played with you, we don’t have any sheet music that works with just a harp… and ocarina.” Zelda paused. She gave the boy an odd look before saying, “Unless you had something in mind?”

The boy held up a finger before going to a bookshelf. While there, he pulled out a binder filled with sheet music. He pulled out two copies, then handed one to Zelda. She looked it over in curiosity, then a bit of distaste.

“At least it’s in a C key…” Zelda murmured under her breath.

The boy gave a wide grin in knowing that Zelda wasn’t going to back out now. He quickly pulled a chair closer to Zelda and the harp, then sat comfortably enough to hold the ocarina close to his lips. His enthusiasm almost stirred something within Zelda. She soon took her seat at the harp, trusting that it had been tuned before practice today, and sat up in a comfortable way for her to begin playing.

The boy led them at first. It was slow and careful. Zelda followed with sweeping movements that nearly made her become one with the harp. It may have been a perfect performance had she remembered to look at the sheet music more often. They worked well together, the boy and her. In another life, this might had been their entire relationship- just two strangers that played well off each other.

Zelda was disheartened when the piece finished. She had to bring her arms down to rest on her lap purposefully. When she looked over to the boy, she hadn’t expected him to have his hand out. Let alone have a little charm placed there. It was a pewter lyre.

“It’s pretty.” she noted without much thought.

The boy pushed it closer, indicating that it was for her.

“Me?” she then questioned. “Why?”

The boy smiled at her, the amusement even reaching his eyes, as he tapped his temple then gestured to himself.

“You’re really going to make me guess your name, aren’t you?” Zelda asked him, quirking her eyebrow at him.

He nodded.

“Does it have to be one piece at a time?” Zelda then questioned- the small whine etched within had been accidental. It only seemed to make the boy grin wider.

She might have been mistaken, but he even let out a soft laugh at her expense.

#writing #writing stuff #my writing #the legend of zelda #zelda fanfiction #fanfiction #fan fiction #fan fic #fanfic #link #tloz link #tloz zelda #tloz

[thesandsofelsweyr]

THE SUS BOY NEXT DOOR

《 PART 2/3 // READ ON AO3 // TAG 》

After coming back from a terrible blind date your asshole neighbor is the last person you want to see right now. He doesn’t have his signature scowl for you tonight, however. Tonight he seems terrified.

《WORDS》 2,748 《CHAPTERS》 1 2 3

《PAIRING》 Arkhamverse Jason Todd x Female Reader

《TROPES》 Hurt/Comfort, First Meetings, Neighbors, Pre-Relationship

《WARNINGS》 Aftermath of Torture/Violence (canon typical), Panic Attacks, Scars, Blood and Injury, Swearing

《TAGLIST》 @tild3ath @iiirhiane-g

《NOTES》

This takes place immediately after Jason leaves his failed Batman confrontation and run-in with the Joker from Arkham Knight: Genesis Part 6.

Reader is a true crime addict who enjoys red wine 🍷

This is my first attempt at a reader-insert fic 🙃

Please consider reblogging if you enjoy the read ❤️ (Thanks for all the support you've given my lil story so far!)

《 ALSO ON AO3 》 (comments & kudos there are very much appreciated!)

You push yourself to your feet and hurry over to his kitchen, flipping on the recessed lighting overhead. The kitchen is as bare and spotless as the other rooms you’ve seen, its countertops clear of the usual clutter you’d expect. No rags nor paper towel roll. No knife block nor coffee maker nor toaster—the appliances are the ones that come standard with the unit. No stacks of unopened mail nor candles nor cookbooks nor a sink full of empty dishes. No signs of life except for the adorable houseplant and some liquid hand soap beside the sink (which is good—you need soap).

You pull open drawers and cabinets, feeling a twinge of guilt for invading his privacy like this but it can’t be helped. Even those are mostly empty, only containing the barest amount of necessities like cups, dishes, and flatware—run-of-the-mill kitchen items that were probably provided with the furnished unit. You do manage to find some clean rags and paper towels (and a coffee maker), but nothing like sandwich bags for the ice. On a whim, you check his freezer and bingo! No food or decapitated heads but plenty of ice packs along with an unopened bottle of vodka. You arch an eyebrow at the curious yet amusing stash. Perhaps coming home injured is a typical Friday night for him.

You turn on the sink faucet then tear off a few sheets of paper towels from the roll, wadding them up and wetting them before adding a few pumps of soap then working up a lather. You can’t get the sight of his bleeding face and swollen neck out of your head. It’s hard to imagine anyone doing that to him against his will. He’s an intimidating guy, to say the least. Over a head taller than you, powerfully built with broad shoulders and thick thighs (and a nice ass). Perhaps he got jumped on his walk home—an all too common occurrence on these crime-ridden streets—and his stubborn pride was too wounded to go to the ER. Or maybe it was a gang thing… some sort of hazing ritual? That could explain the bloody letter on his cheek, too, you suppose. But then you remember his shaking hands and fumbling fingers as he tried and failed to unlock his door, and how he jumped at the sound of your voice. He was scared, you realize, your heart swelling with sudden pity. He was more afraid of you than you were of him. Afraid, and probably hurting, too. That thought makes your heart swell even more. It also leaves you a bit shaken. What in God’s name could frighten him? You can only hope that whatever it is doesn’t plan to make a house call anytime soon.

With the items in hand—ice packs, wet and dry rags, soapy paper towel wads, paper towel roll—you return to his side. He still doesn’t appear to have stirred, which is troubling, you have to admit, but you put it out of your mind for now. You set the items down on the floor beside the corpse-like body before grabbing a throw pillow from his couch. (Yes, a throw pillow. There’s a throw blanket on the couch, too. It’s the strongest evidence yet supporting your furnished unit presumption, since he definitely doesn’t strike you as a throw pillow kind of guy.) You kneel down at his side, then, ever so gently, you slip an arm behind his neck and lift his head enough to pull back his hood and slide the pillow beneath him. Next you take off his cap, revealing a mop of sweat-damp black hair. You sweep the soft locks back from his forehead so that you can place a cold rag against that warm, sweat-slick skin.

That’s when you notice the scars. You’d never been close enough to him to see that his face is absolutely covered in them. Faint white lines that cut through his features: his dark brows, his full lips, his freckle-dusted cheeks, the bent bridge of his nose. The worst one (aside from the J on his cheek, that is) is a deep gash that slashes across his right cheek and his nose, all the way up to his forehead. Another knife wound? Is this guy a masochist with a knife fetish or is there some freak out there who gets off on slicing up this poor guy’s face? Those marks on his neck imply the latter—the more sinister of the two—and that sends a cold chill shuddering up your spine.

Almost magnetically your eyes are drawn back past the (cute) cleft in his chin to those sunken bands of red ringing his throat. A thin line of blood has surfaced along the outer edge of one of the bands, where whatever was used to strangle him had cut into his skin. As you wipe away the blood with one of the soapy paper towel wads you spot several scratches on his neck, and for a moment you wonder if the assailant also used his hands to choke him. But then you feel your own throat constrict as the horrible realization sets in: those are claw marks. Gouges from his own fingernails where he desperately struggled to pry the ligature away and free his windpipe so he could breathe. Defensive wounds where he fought for his life.

You set aside the wet wad, then, driven by some morbid curiosity, you find your fingers returning to his throat. Ever so delicately, as if trying not to wake a sleeping lion, you touch one of the raw indentations in his swollen flesh, tracing it with your fingertip, feeling how the abraded skin had folded inward around whatever had coiled around his neck and tried to choke the life out of him. His throat vibrates gently against your probing fingers, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. You lay one of the dry rags across his throat, hiding the hideous damage, then place the ice pack on top, as instructed by the health article you Googled. You do the same for the back of his neck as well.

Now you turn your attention back to his scarred, haggard face. After swiping away the trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth you press the soapy paper towel to his cheek, which gradually turns from white to pink as it soaks up the blood seeping from the J carved into his flesh. Once you staunch the bleeding, you lift the towel to replace it with a fresh one, and you get an unimpeded view of what was hiding beneath the cut and the blood, beneath his hat and hood all of those times you passed him in the hallway, all of those times he ducked his head between hunched shoulders to avoid eye contact with you. You pull in a sharp breath. It’s not a J-shaped scar; it’s the letter J branded into his cheek. You can tell by how the skin is puckered around the too-precise curve of the raised letter, by its faint red outline, by how it seems to tug uncomfortably at his cheek.

Your mind rewinds to a few weeks back when you accidentally burned your neck with your curling iron. You’d shrieked like a banshee then thrown the damn thing across your bathroom. The blistered patch of seared skin had throbbed for the rest of the night, and was still sensitive to the touch for the following week. That was the result of hot ceramic glancing against your skin for maybe half a second, if that long. You can’t even begin to imagine how much it would’ve hurt to have held the infernal thing against your neck for long enough to melt a fucking letter into the flesh. And not just any flesh. His cheek; that tender skin right below the orbital bone, less than an inch from his eye. It probably felt like his eyeball was boiling in his eye socket from the immense heat. And the smell! His own flesh barbecuing like meat to be served at a cannibal cook-out…

You don’t want to think about it anymore. You can’t think about it anymore or else you’re gonna be sick. And luckily you don’t have to because a low moan slips from his lips and his lashes begin to flutter. A rush of relief floods through you at the small signs of life, and you absently begin to stroke his soft hair with your hand. Heavy eyelids strain to lift then glassy blue eyes are peeking out from between the slits. You smile down at him, your fingers caringly combing through his tousled hair, easing his way back into consciousness. You expect him to groggily ask where he is or what happened to him.

Instead his eyes snap open, and the romantic portrait you’ve painted inside your mind of this moment is ripped to shreds.

He bolts upright, sending rags and ice packs flying away from him, then that massive wall of muscular torso turns on you. Time seems to somehow speed up and slow down simultaneously as those large, dangerous hands of his are reaching for you, and in that terrible instant you know without a doubt that he means to strangle you. A tiny, panic-stricken sound—the choked cry of ensnared prey—comes from your mouth as you throw up your arms across your face and neck in an comically feeble attempt to defend yourself from certain death, and the thought that flashes through your mind—maybe the last thought you’ll ever have in this lifetime—is that you’ll never have the chance to open that bottle of merlot.

But his hands don’t wrap around your throat; they land on your shoulders, and then you’re sliding, falling backwards from the force of a violent shove, your vision flashing to black as your head bounces off the hardwood floor.

“Ow!” you squeal as a bright burst of pain rings through your skull, leaving you stunned for a split second until your fear takes over, clearing away the haze and stars. You push yourself up on your forearm, blood pounding through your ears as your eyes frantically search for your attacker, heart lurching as you find him.

The guy is scrambling backwards away from you on all fours like some frightened beast, slamming into a floor lamp in his haste to escape. The lamp reels drunkenly, throwing light madly around the room as it whirls, like a waving searchlight at a festival. Then he’s pressed into a corner, able to go no further, yet his hands and heels are gripping the floor for purchase, as if he’s trying to push himself into the walls. As the lamp settles, somehow still upright, its light illuminates the hulking figure backed into the corner behind it, and you notice for the first time that the front of his red hoodie is splattered with an even darker red.

You’re sitting up now, frozen like a deer in headlights, your fight or flight reflexes canceling each other out because you’ve realized that you’re the toothless predator, not the prey, and the guy you’re gaping at with his bloodless face and wild eyes is a cornered animal who’ll do anything to survive. Then, to your horror, that cornered animal seems to remember his claws and reaches for the gun that’s not there, and you thank the universe and every holy entity within it that you disarmed him.

His wide eyes narrow as they lock onto you, and the fear that had filled them only a heartbeat ago has vanished, replaced with a look so cold, so devoid of anything but shadows and darkness, that it turns the blood in your veins to ice. 

“Who are you? What’re you doing in my apartment? What the fuck did you do with my gun?” Some of the wildness returns to his eyes as he shouts at you with a scarred voice, wheezing between each sentence. You shrink back, shocked that the guy can speak louder than a mumble, then your attention is caught by something more unnerving than his shouting, something that clutches at your insides. His eyes… The little hairs on the back of your neck stir again as you study those pale blue irises flecked with green, barely visible beneath his blown-out pupils yet still trained on you like a sniper’s laser sights. There’s something wrong with his eyes… But before you can figure it out he roars: “Answer me!” and you can’t help but jump at the hateful ferocity, his deadly strength palpable in his tone.

Your heart’s in your throat again, and your mind is racing out his door, terrified all 200-something pounds of him are about to pounce on you, so you’re surprised when you not only find your words, but shout them back at him, just as vicious.

“Take it easy! I'm your neighbor, remember? You passed out. I was trying to help you. I thought you were fucking dying!”

You see a flicker of recognition flash over his face before a coughing fit takes him. Then it hits you, like a punch to the gut as you watch him clutching at his blood-splattered chest again as he gasps for a breath. His eyes… they’re red where they should be white. All of the binged episodes of Forensic Files come flooding back to you and you even remember the term for it: petechial hemorrhaging. Burst blood vessels from strangulation. His strangulation.

The rush of pity that wells up in your chest at the awful realization calms your fear enough that you crawl a tiny bit closer to him. “You’re hurt,” you say gently, trying to keep your nerves from shaking your voice. “Your neck…”

You trail off as his eyes snap back to you, pupils still blown wide. You try to hold onto his skittish gaze, praying he won’t notice his gun behind you and lunge, but his eyes fall away to the floor. He raises his free hand to his neck, as slowly as if his wrists were chained to the floor, and touches one of the red furrows there. Then his trembling fingers move to his brand, where fresh beads of blood have surfaced. You hear him mutter something so low and tremulous it’s barely audible, but you think it sounded like… “Plan J”?

“I cleaned it with soap and water,” you reply as he stares blankly at his bloody fingertips. “But it’s deep. You may need stitches. I can bring you some Band-Aids,” you pause, feeling really fucking stupid for suggesting Band-Aids for the guy who’s been strangled and cut and branded. You blurt out the rest: “If you need them… for the time being.”

His eyes have glazed over, as if he’s gone somewhere far away. Somewhere terrible, because his rasping breath quickens and his whole body starts to shake, as though he’s reliving something. His attack? His branding? All of the times that monster of a person cut his face? You desperately want to reach for his hand, to pull him back from whatever hell he’s been sucked into, but you’re too scared to wake that cornered wild animal again.

Finally he snaps out of it, and his eyes close as his hand drops limply to the floor. You watch helplessly as the tension drains from his body and he sags forward, like he’s been crushed by whatever was waiting for him in that flashback.

“You should go,” he mumbles to the floor, barely louder than a whisper.

“Yeah,” you hear yourself agree. As you stand you remind yourself that you can finally have that glass of wine, but the notion isn’t as appealing as it was earlier in the night.

You gather up your phone and bag. You start to ask if you can get him anything before you go but you know his answer so you turn to leave. 

“Thank you.” His small voice cracks like a little boy’s when he speaks, and you know he’s started to cry.

“Yeah, sure,” you say softly as you turn the knob and push open his door. You glance over your shoulder at him one last time. The sight of the broken boy—the boy whose name you still don’t know—huddled in a corner with his knees pulled to his chest, weeping into his hands, wrings your heart out like a wet rag, and you feel your own throat tighten up with tears. You hang your head as you shut the door softly behind you.

#sands writes #jason todd #arkham knight #arkhamverse #jason todd x reader #arkham knight x reader #jason todd x you #arkham knight x you #jason todd x y/n #arkham knight x y/n #jason todd x female reader #arkham knight x female reader #reader x jason todd #reader x arkham knight #jason todd imagine #arkham knight imagine #jason todd fanfiction #arkham knight fanfiction #dcu #fic: the sus boy next door

[alisblackgf]

Ohh I have an idea, what about Hyun-su reacting to a new girl in his class that wants to be his friend?

yes! there’s not enough hyun-su content on this platform (T^T)

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MY ONLY FRIEND

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pairing: fem!reader x cha hyun-su

TRIGGER WARNINGS: self-harm, suicide

summary: “that’s your name, right?” “you needed help getting around?”

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hyun-su didn’t have any friends, and any day that he went to school was full of dread and misery. the bullying he endured each day made him suicidal, and tainted his mind with thoughts of ending his life and feeling worthless, but you came along. you looked nice enough, but so did everyone else. and everyone else doesn’t give less of a shit about him, some of them going as far as to harm him. he acknowledged your beauty but didn’t dare to approach you, after all, he knew better than to trust random people, considering his situation.

so you approached him.

“ah, cha hyun-su? thats your name, right?” you gave him a warm and genuine smile, but he didn’t respond. he stared at you for a while, before looking back down. you took matters into your own hands and sat down next to him.

“i’m new here, actually, and i was hoping you’d show me around.” you spoke once more, hoping he’d answer this time. you waited patiently, but again, no response. you sighed and got up, ready to ask another person for help but he stopped you.

“wait! y-yes. my name is cha hyun-su. you needed help getting around?”

you turned around and gave him a soft smile, one that could almost rid you of all suspicions hyun-su had of you, suspicions like you trying to humiliate him to impress his bullies. but he knew better. and so did you. as he showed you around, you asked him personal questions, just to get to know him.

favorite color?

favorite food?

favorite subject?

no matter how distant he was toward you, you just kept trying. eventually, he warmed up to you. each day you came to school, he was always there, staring at the door waiting for you to arrive. he knew he meant a lot to you when you stood up to his bullies for him, and walked with him everywhere to ensure his safety. he couldn’t fathom how a beautiful girl like you could ever care so deeply for a guy like him. even his own family didnt care about him so why did you? you patched up his self-inflicted wounds, and he’s never felt such a strong emotion. tears welled up in the poor boy’s eyes, he deserved better. the two of you were two peas in a pod, two birds on a wire. and you wouldn’t trade that friendship for anything.

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THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING!! my first fic yay! usually i only write hcs but it’s hyun-su, i’m going all out for my husband

#sweet home x reader #cha hyun su #cha hyun su x reader #cha hyun-su x reader #hyun-su x reader #cha hyun su imagine #hyun-su imagine #sweet home imagine

[zuluc]

summary: how the genshin boys give hugs

characters: childe, diluc, kaeya, razor, venti, xiao, xingqiu, zhongli

style & genre: bulleted & written; fluff

warnings: none

notes: a self-indulgent fic for my birthday yay, i hope you guys enjoy this I just really want a hug but it’s hard to see friends right now 🤧🤧

Childe

sometimes a side hug or quick embrace; sometimes not because there are days he never wants to let you go

his outward persona is lost because he trusts you

once his arms come around you, you feel like the life is being squeezed out of you, in a good way of course

there are still traces of his past he has yet to share but he wants you to know how much you mean to him

Paimon had stayed behind to finish that chop suey Su Er'niang offered you both. You finished your share, giving some to your companion, and you left to sight-see around Liyue. 

It’s different from Mondstadt and there were quite a bit of things to get done here for your journey. Your feet take you to the stairs leading up to the Wanwen Bookstore and you hope no one has bought out the book you wanted to finish.

Before you could take a step upwards, someone grabs your wrist and pulls you into a small alley. You hand comes up to summon your sword but then your vision is obscured by a head of copper hair. You gasp when his arms tighten around your torso while he heaves a sigh beside your ear. He lets go after a few seconds and you can see the smile on his face.

“Just a recharge,” Childe winks and turns around to get back to what he was doing.

Diluc

he gives the type of hugs that hold so much emotion that he hides from the public

his body runs warm and appreciates when you snuggle further into him when he has you

his hugs are never quick and he likes to take his time, his hold tight enough to make you feel safe but loose enough to allow you to leave if you so wish

rarely initiates them but will take full control when you’re in private

You could tell when the work he had was becoming too much for the night. The annoyance tainted his handsome features and you just wanted to take it all away. Diluc worked hard, everyone knew that, but he was only human. 

You give him the letter Jean wrote out and proceed towards the door to get back to your own duties. Your name rolls off his lips and when you turn around to look at him he’s gesturing for you to get closer. When you’re mere inches from his desk he stands up and places one hand on your back and the other on the back of your head, burying his face into your neck.

The temperature outside was chilly and his naturally warm body contrasts to how you felt prior. You can feel him frown against you when he feels how cold your skin is.

“Will you be coming back tonight?”

Kaeya

he gives you many hugs, anywhere and at anytime

there isn’t a day where you never receive one and if that every happens, the next day will include even more

will almost always lift you off your feet and/or catch you off guard; he likes to keep you on your toes

even when you’re just standing around waiting for another mission or watching the sun set he’ll hold you close against his side

He’s late. Again. 

You finished off the last of the slimes around Starfell Lake with little to no damage to yourself, luckily, but someone was supposed to assist you to get the job done faster. You look around for any more enemies before kneeling down and dipping your hand into the water. It was cool against your skin, relaxing you after the day’s work. But it might have been just a bit too peaceful.

A force pushes you forward and you close your eyes to brace for the inevitable impact into the water. You wait a few seconds before realizing that you are still very much dry, but there’s something blocking you from lifting your arms. Kaeya chuckles behind you as you lightly hit his arm, hugging you tight.

“I got you,” he says with a smile.

Razor

he’s an awkward hugger, mostly because he doesn’t know how these things work as well as that he doesn’t want to hurt you

he doesn’t know where to put his hands and they usually end up against his sides before he realizes that he makes you think he doesn’t like them

when he gets more comfortable, his hugs are gentle and soft

he grew up with the wolves and these types of things just didn’t happen, but you make his heart soar

He’s taking a casual walk in Wolvendom to reflect on what Lupus Boreas had told him only days ago. He wasn’t a wolf, he was human, but he couldn’t accept it so quickly. His mind wanders and he doesn’t hear the steps, or rather running, behind him. It’s only until you jump on his back that he realizes.

You knew that he was thinking about what happened and you wanted to return as fast as you could to check on him. You slide off his back and he gives you a forced grin. Razor avoids your gaze but you place your hands on his shoulders to square them towards you.

He appreciates your presence and he wants nothing more than comfort, hands twitching at his sides. You’re aware of his little signals and smile when you hug him tightly. He closes his eyes and breaths in your calming scent while hugging you back with care.

“Thank you.”

Venti

there’s a sense of happiness once he hugs you because it just makes you feel lighter and free

there seems to always be a slight breeze about him and you can feel it brush your face when you rest your head on his shoulder

he comes and goes but never forgets to hug you before and after he returns to see you

his hold can range from very loose to holding on just a bit tighter

Venti left a month ago and you knew that’s just how his way of life was. He was never one to stay place for too long, much like the wind you would say. You yourself were someone who likes to travel around, but everything always brought you back to Mondstadt. 

You stand overlooking the city at “your usual place,” as he liked to call it, for some peace of mind. You sit on the edge of the statue’s outstretched hands and lean back on your hands to take in the view. A soft breeze passes by you and your ears pick up a quiet sound behind you. You smile and stand up, immediately wrapping your arms around him. 

His own naturally fall in place behind your back and a light laugh escapes his lips. It was nice to see you again, as always.

“Missed me?”

Xiao

he used to be so stiff when he first started hugging you as he never had physical contact with anyone

being you, he warms up and learns how to properly hug someone

will have a hand behind your head because he wants to make sure that every part you of is against him

he’s very protective of you in general and it gives him a peace of mind knowing he can keep an eye on you in this way

You’re sleeping, sitting in his lap with your head resting against his chest as he sits on the balcony of Wangshu Inn. You came to him only a few moments ago and it was clear that you took the time to clear out nearby hilichurl camps due to the small scratches and bruises you had on you.

Xiao narrows his eyes at more of the culprits across the water on the little islands, making a note to do something with them later. You mumble in your sleep and he looks down to see your brows furrowed. He cups your face gently and smooths his thumb over your cheek which causes your face to return to it’s peaceful state and you move closer to him. 

It was surprising that he fell for someone. You made your way into his life so unexpectedly and now he just wanted to take care of you. And he wouldn’t change a thing.

“Rest well.”

Xingqiu

very proper hugs because they are reciprocated in with the same energy, or even more, than the ones you may give him

he has no problem in giving you hugs away from prying eyes

he would usually whisk you away onto adventures with him with a promise of them

will get flustered when you hug him while saying just how much you appreciate him

You’re amused at the way he presents himself to others and talks to them as expected of him. Xingqiu was known to be mild- and well-mannered as his mischievous side was hidden from those not so close to him.

You both manage to escape the party, standing beside each other as you look up into the night sky. He feels less restricted with you and he takes this opportunity to lace his fingers through yours. You give him a fond smile and return to staring at the stars.

An idea pops into your head and you let go of his hand, him giving you a questioning look before he is brought into a hug. Xingqiu blushes at the suddenness of your actions but returns it nonetheless. His eyes keep diverting to the house so you have to reassure him that no one can see the both of you. 

“Let’s get out of here.”

Zhongli

he enjoys hugging, contrary to what most might think

he likes the intimate feeling and being close to someone he loves in such a sweet way that can be done anywhere

he will never deny you of the affection and if you initiate it he will go through with it no matter what

he’s always looking at you paired with a soft smile on his face whenever he has you in his arms

Zhongli’s voice pierces the quiet as you both take a stroll outside of Liyue. He’s telling you of its history and old traditions that have disappeared throughout the years, but you’re becoming tired due to the sound of his voice.

When you’re out of sight from the guards at the front gates you give a slight tug to the end of his coat sleeve. He stops in the middle of his story and sees that your eyes are growing weary. You keep your hold on his sleeve until you pull yourself to rest your head on his chest, closing your eyes and content with the sound of the night as you’re against him. 

He holds you close, making sure that you’re not actually asleep as it would make for a very interesting walk back. You tell him that you’re just resting your eyes for a few moments and that he can keep talking. That you love the sound of his voice. Zhongli places a kiss to your forehead as he continues, adoration for you clear in his eyes.

“Now, where was I...”

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact headcannons #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact angst #childe #childe x reader #diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr x reader #diluc ragnvindr #diluc #kaeya alberich #kaeya alberich x reader #kaeya x reader #kaeya #razor x reader #razor #venti #venti x reader #xiao #xiao x reader #zhongli #zhongli x reader #xingqiu #xingqiu x reader

[wolfiafuntime]

Fazbear's Technician I | FNAF X Reader

A fic for FNAF, cause the new Security Breach trailer got me excited :)

This ended up being longer than I expected, so I just split it into two parts. The second part should be up soon!

Word Count: 2,081 Page Number: 6.1 Proofread: No Publishing Date: October 31st, 2021

Key:

(R/N) - Your Roommate's Name

(Y/N) - Your Name

(L/N) - Your Last Name

Layout for the restaurant:

You were silent as (R/N) pulled into the next-to-empty parking lot. And as they pulled to the vehicle to a stop, an excited yet nervous smile came onto your face. Today marked a full year working Freddy Fazbear and Friend's Ultimate Pizzeria - the proud holder of fifty-plus human-behaving animatronics. It was also the proud owner of the world's longest name for a restaurant, but that's a lame thing to be proud of, so you often ignored it. The only reason why you weren't ignoring it tonight was because you survived a full year at Freddy's! The establishment was also known for how almost every employee that worked at night 'quit' after less than a week there. A 'fact' that made sense when the average Joe considered how horribly those employees were paid. Those who lasted more than five to seven days, would either disappear a week later, or suffer from a 'freak accident' after their shift. And no one knew why either of those things happened. But those were all lies that the restaurant's owner, Mister Johnen, told frequently. Lies that you had discovered after your first week there. Although, if you were being honest, you had already suspected something after your third day. And, while you were being honest, you would admit that, after your discovery, Mister Johnen offered to give you a five hundred dollar raise for your silence. Which was a lot, considering that you were still in college. And, if you told the truth to anyone, at any point, Fazbear Entertainment would do everything that they could to make you seem like the lady that sued McDonald's. So, for your greed and pride, you sold your soul to the devil you worked for and kept your mouth shut. That, and were no other jobs in the area, so Freddy's was kinda your only option. "(Y/N)!" (R/N) shouted, making you jump. "Gah! Don't do that." You exclaimed, giving (R/N) a wide-eyed glare. "I can and will," (R/N) replied. "Especially when I've been trying to get your attention for the past minute." "Oh," "Yeah, 'oh'. Now, will you please get out? I've got people to pick up." "Right, sorry," You apologized. After unbuckling your seatbelt, you made sure that you had your phone and keys before opening the passenger door and climbing out. You placed your hand on the outside of the door, but before you closed it, you ducked down and gave (R/N) a quick goodbye. "I wish you a good night, filled with nice to tolerable clients, and no car crashes." Your smirked when an upset look washed over your friend's face. "Excuse you, that bastar--" Standing up straight, you slammed the door shut on their face and started walking towards the only other car in the parking lot. It was in surprisingly good shape, meaning that someone had probably driven the new Night Guard here. You felt a pang of sadness hit you. The Night Guards' loved ones would always try and come to you, ask you about what their child or sibling or significant other or best friend acted like the night they disappeared. You always gave an honest description. Shaking your head, you pulled out your phone, and clocked in online. A minute later, you were repocketing your phone, and finishing your journey, you saw a man wearing climb out of the driver's seat and lock the door behind him. You felt your sorrow lighten when you saw that he was wearing the same uniform as you. It was less likely for a loved one to search you out, now. Not by too much, but by enough that you didn't feel depressed. "Hello." You greeted, taking a stop a few feet away from him. "Hey," The boy greeted back, turning to you with a small smile. "I'm Max Zaqurski, the new Night Guard." "It's nice to meet you, Max," You replied, holding out a hand for him to shake. "I'm (Y/N) (L/N), I make sure that the Animatronics and arcade machines are always in perfect condition." "Cool," Max admitted, following you as you started walking towards the restaurant. "Uh... Don't we have to wait for the manager?" "Johnen? No. He gave me the keys to the restaurant, that way he can go home earlier and spend some time with his wife and kids." You

explained, already at the FFFUP's door by the time you finished your sentence. Grabbing your keys, you grabbed the one that would let you into Fazbear's most recent pizzeria. It was easy to find it, considering that it had a Freddy head connected to the blade. Opening the door, you waited for Max to enter before reversing what you did. And as soon as you turned the bolt, your wristwatch went off, notifying you that your job had officially started. And, despite the fact that it had been nine months since the animatronics stopped hunting you, you felt adrenaline start to course through you. "It's twelve o'clock. Our jobs have officially started... Which means a few things." You announced, turning off the alarm. "What things?" Max asked as you gave him your work face. "Thing one: The animatronics are awake during the night. They behave the same way during the day - that means they get more and more active as the week progresses. Thing two: The animatronics have a glitch that only occurs at night, which makes them mistake unfamiliar people for endoskeletons. Now, this wouldn't be such a problem, if it weren't for the fact that Freddy's has a rule that no endoskeleton can be seen outside of the storage room without their 'suit' on. Meaning that if they find you, they'll forcibly drag you to the storage room. However, there are a few Animatronics who don't suffer from this glitch, and there's a way to combat the ones that do." A blaring horn sounded throughout the room, causing both you and Max to jump. With fearful expressions, you both looked at the nearby counter, which had a smiling Helpy standing on it. Instantly, Max scrambled behind you. "Gosh darn it, Helpy! I told you not to blow the air horn when I'm in the room!" You yelled scoldingly. The tiny bear simply tossed the air horn behind him, before using both of his hands to lift up the spare Freddy head beside him. You let out a tense sigh at the sight, and your shoulders dropped. "Thank you, Helpy." You said, walking over to the plastic bear and giving him a pat on the head, which made Helpy's smile widen. You then took the spare Freddy head from his tiny hands and turned back towards Max. "Now, as I was saying: There's a way to combat the glitch. If you put this helmet on, you'll look like a normal animatronic, and will be left alone by almost every 'bot in the building. Unfortunately, the Foxys' and Marionettes' are immune to this, but there are ways to combat that, too. Just trigger an epilepsy episode for the Foxys', and make sure the Marionettes' always have music playing. Got it?" You asked, walking up to Max and handing him the head. "Got it," Max replied, shakily taking the head from you. "Good. Now, there are two more things we have to touch on before I can let you get to work, both of which are law-related. Thing four: You legally have to help me clean the arcade and dining areas, and also help me get every trash bag and bring it here. Once our shift is over, we're gonna take them all to the dumpsters at the side of the building." "I didn't sign up for this!" Max exclaimed, an angry look coming onto his face. "Did you sign the contract?" You asked. "Yes--" "Then you signed up for it. Also, don't worry about having to put new trash bags in. You can if you want to, but the dayshift employees mainly handle that. Finally, I legally have to tell you about thing five: if you get hurt, or anything of yours gets broken, whether it be a bone or your phone - heh, that rhymed, you cannot sue Fazbear Entertainment. And if you go missing or die in some sort of accident, which is really likely, probably because we're not far from a college, then Fazbear Entertainment will file the proper report within ninety days. But they'll only do that if it didn't happen on the property, or if everything nearby your accident has been thoroughly cleaned, bleached, or replaced... Oh, and thing six - which I completely forgot to tell you about: If you damage one of the Animatronics, your pay will be docked according to how much it cost to repair the

dam-AAH!" You jumped again when Helpy blew the air horn yet again. "Gosh, you are so quiet! I didn't even hear you go get that!" You exclaimed, glaring at the tiny bear. All Helpy did in reply was hold out a clipboard, which had a page full of things you needed to complete before the end of the night. Wordlessly, you took it from him, and began to read over your list of tasks. Freddy, Bonnie, Chica, along with their Toy and Funtime counterparts, all had to be examined and cleaned before the end of the night. Lefty's 'only eye' fell out and broke in the middle of the day, so you needed to not only replace that, but also fasten whatever allowed it to drop in the first place. The right Fazbear's Racetrack in the arcade needed a new steering wheel. And finally, the stage lights on stage three needed to be replaced, as one was flickering. Why did you have to do so much on your one-year anniversary? A quiet grumble left your mouth at the thought, and you quickly turned and started making your way towards the storage room. But Max stopped you before you could leave the entry room. "W-Wait a minute, you can't just leave!" Max exclaimed, his voice filled with fear. When you turned to look at him, you saw that his expression was fearful as well. "I have to get to work, Max." You said, ignoring the rising guilt in your stomach. "But what if an Animatronic sees me?!" "Then put on the mask. Although, you might start to suffocate if you keep it on for too long, so be careful." You warned. "That doesn't help me! That just makes things worse!" "Max," You started, making your way towards him. Once you reached him you placed a hand on his shoulder, and looked him straight in the eyes. "As of today, I've been working here for a year. And I've only gotten hurt mildly, and that's was only a handful of times during my first few months here." "S-So I'm gonna be okay?" Max asked. "Yes," You said, maintaining eye contact. Part of you knew you were lying, while the other part of you thought you were being honest. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have twelve things to do today... Well, actually eleven, because I just remembered I have to make an announcement. Helpy, can you please get everyone in Dining Area One, one hour before Funtime Foxy's show nightly show starts?" You asked, turning to the white and purple bear. He nodded his head, hopped off the counter, and began trotting towards the first dining room. Presumably to fulfill your request. "How come that's the only animatronic that came in here? It's been, like, ten minutes since the animatronics should have activated." Max asked, his voice soft. "Oh, Helply's one of only five animatronics are allowed in here. Well, technically seven, but three of them are not only very low-tech, but they usually stick together." You explained. You then started making your way to the storage room once more, and you made sure to tell Max that he could find you there. As you made your way there, you passed Nightmare Chica and gave her a small wave. She returned it and gave you a broken 'hello'. You then went to give a wave to Toy Chica, but a frightened scream from Max made you jump. Almost all heads turned towards the entry room, and you instantly spotted Nightmare Chica bent down and standing in the doorway. "I forgot to tell him about the Halloween bots," You gasped in realization, and you could hear an amused laugh come from Bonnie.

#FNAF #Five Nights at Freddys #FNAF Pizzeria Simulator #FNAF 4 #FNAF 2 #FNAF Sister Location #Sister Location #Helpy #X Reader #Reader Insert #X OC #OC Insert #Original Character #FNAF X Reader #Fazbear's Technician

[stiltonbasket]

the late great custody debate (fic preview!)

“Child support?” Jiang Cheng goggles at him. “What do you mean, the neighbors are suing you for child support?”

“Neighbor. In the singular,” Wei Wuxian says, dazed. He’s been nursing a crush on Lan Wangji since he and A-Yuan moved into the neighborhood, so having the man march up to him in the street and say that Wei Wuxian owed him child support had been one of the strangest moments of his life. “And I mean exactly what I said, Jiang Cheng! That’s what he told me!”

“Maybe he meant it as a joke,” Yanli suggests. “You said he’s not very social, right? What if he thought you’d find it funny or something?”

“I don’t think that’s what it is,” snorts Jin Zixuan, from his place on Yanli’s other side. “Maybe you owe one of his family members child support, and he wants to collect on their behalf.”

Wei Wuxian shoots him a dirty look and keeps trimming A-Yuan’s tiny baby fingernails. “We can’t all be your father, Peacock,” he says loftily. “He can’t really be suing me for child support, since I’ve never even held anyone’s hand except Mianmian’s.”

“A-Xian,” his sister chides. “Be nice.”

“Well, Jin Zixuan did just suggest that A-Xian had a baby with someone and then ditched the kid,” Jiang Cheng grumbles. “But back to Lan Wangji--did he say he had a lawyer? Or explain literally anything?”

“No. That’s the weirdest part,” frowns Wei Wuxian. “He said I owed him child support, and then he stared at me for about thirty seconds while I tried to process that, and then he ran away.”

A-Yuan blows a confused spit bubble. “Me too, Yuanyuan,” Wei Wuxian sighs, dabbing his son’s tiny chin with a bib. “Me too.”

__

“So what about that new boy next door?” Nie Mingjue teases, while Lan Wangji contemplates a quick end by jumping off his brother’s balcony. “A-Huan said you liked him. Has he asked you out yet?”

“Haven’t you heard?” Nie Huaisang says mercilessly. “Baihua’s babies all turned out spotted when their fur came in, and Wei-xiong’s rabbit looks just like them. So Wangji-xiong figured that Wei-xiong’s rabbit must be their father, since he escaped for a week about a month before they were born. And Wei Wuxian was out walking his rabbit yesterday, so Wangji-xiong went up to him and said he owed him child support.”

“Oh,” Nie Mingjue hisses, clearly trying not to laugh. “Well, that’s definitely--what do the kids call it these days, sweetheart? A meet-cute?”

“It’s certainly a meet-something,” Lan Xichen’s voice echoes from the kitchen. “A-Zhan, why don’t you go and explain tomorrow? Your friend must be so confused!”

“We’ve already met,” Lan Wangji objects. “And there is no coming back from this, Gege. I will simply move back in with Uncle, so that I never have to face Wei Ying again.”

#wangxian #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #fic preview #my fic #lwj: wei ying you owe me child support #wwx: *kill bill sirens* w h AT #everyone else: enjoying this far too much #lwj now wants to cry lol way to wreck his chances with the love of his life

[sxfik]

Helloooo. Lemme start by saying how awesome fantastic amazing your fics are. I have a solhwi ask/prompt if it's not a problem. What would the study group's reaction be to established solhwi + bonus for prof kim and yangs reactions. Any headcanon or fic you can write about this please.

wicked love, leaves me blind

read on ao3 • masterlist

a/n: aaaa thank you so much for the kind words and the request! there's slight canon divergence in this and i decided on a more head canon format for this fic. this turned out kinda longer than expected but AAA my mind really ran with this prompt lmaooo. without much further adieu, i hope you like this <333

it's been 2 weeks since joon hwi confessed to her, running to her house in the middle of the night, panicked and afraid after the news of lee man ho hunting down professor yang

after the man had run from the scene, joon hwi was sure that he'd come back to his house, not afraid to hurt anyone on the way there. and in an instant, he started running, taking off towards her house without a second thought

by time he had reached her house, he was drenched in sweat, his heart thundering out of his chest in panic, in fear and in hope, that she was all right. he knocked frantically on the door of her house, hoping, praying that she was alright.

and to his relief, sol opened the door, her hair put up in the familiar messy bun. she yawned as she opened the door languidly, still wearing the hanguk law school sweatshirt he had once loaned her during a sleepless night of studying.

"han joon hwi? what are you doing here, it's lat-"

he lunged for her without a thought, gathering her in his arms and pressing her close to his body. she's alive, she's okay, chorused in his head as he shuddered out a breath of relief. she let out a soft oof but relaxed into him, her arms coming around his waist in a familiar way

he pulled away after what seemed like not long enough of a hug, and maybe it was the adrenaline, or the pure euphoria of finding her safe and in one piece that pushed him towards her lips, kissing her with fevor.

and after a shocked moment, she kissed him back, drinking him in, tugging him closer, desperate for more, more, more

and the rest was, well, history. it didn't take long after for the two of them to confess to each other, understanding that they needed each other in their life.

so it's been 2 weeks since han joon hwi confessed to her. really, they meant to keep their relationship secret. in the midst of their fight against assemblyman ko, the case against lee man ho and the mystery of what really happened the night of the hit-and-run case, they agreed that it was easier to keep it under wraps

after all, it was a new relationship to both of them. it wasn't like they hadn't dated other people, but what sol and joon hwi had was a carefully built friendship that was founded in trust and care for each other. and making it public, could only do them more damage as they become leverage against each other if their case goes south.

they only had one, very, very small, problem.

they were awful at keeping their hands off each other

alone time was very scarce for the both of them. with joon hwi being highly ranked, he was always pulled into every study session and every discussion in the school. not to mention, he had his own studies to maintain, alongside working at the legal clinic and helping professor yang with the mystery that had plagued the school.

kang sol's case was no different. she had to slave over her assignments, spending every spare moment at the school library, pouring over her text books. the moment not spent there was split between working to gather money for her mother and byeol, the legal clinic and assemblyman ko's case. not to mention her digging into kang dan's whereabouts as much as she could.

every single time they had together, there were too many people around for their tastes. during their busiest days, they had settled for subtle touches and stealing glances at each other whenever possible

so they spent their spare moments, huddled in the corridors, catching up on each other's days, making out and getting some time alone.

they'd make all kinds of excuses to leave early or walk each other to their dorm rooms, trying to maximize all their time with each other. every time they made to each other's rooms, they'd linger at the entrance, trying to see each other for just one more second.

and it was no wonder that when they first got caught, sol was pinned against the stairwell wall, joon hwi's lips buried in her neck. his fingers ghosted the hem of her shirt as she was pulled him closer to her and then...

clang!

the two broke apart, startled at the noise, their faces red. joon hwi's usual bangs were disheveled, sol's messy bun now loose and her hair cascading down her shoulders.

the two of them turned their head towards the noise only to find ye-beom and bok-gi, the latter's mouth gaping open like a fish. ye-beom on the other hand, stopped sucking on his lollypop, eyes wide as they looked at each other then looked back at the couple who were caught red handed.

bok-gi's hands were still frozen as the plate that fell from his hands lay at his feet and for what felt like eternity, there was absolute silence.

and then chaos.

"you two- when did you- how- what-" both of them started firing their questions rapid-fire.

the couple, who's faces were strawberry red, shushed them the best they could, looking around frantically to ensure no one else would here the commotion.

it took around 10 minutes for the boys to calm down, still reeling from what they witnessed

slowly, the couple explained that they were dating, and satisfying some of their curiosity before letting the boys go, with the stern warning of never repeating any of this information to anyone.

predictably, their whole study group knew about sol A and joon hwi the very next day.

of course, while ye-beom and bok-gi were huge gossips, they made sure the news didn't reach outside their sphere.

the next day, sol and joon hwi were the first ones to walk into the hideout, attempting to put up their "we're best friends! no relationship here!" facade up early, while the rest of the group quietly shuffled in.

they were good for the first 5 minutes (in reality they didn't last even 2 minutes) but joon hwi just can't keep his eyes off of her, especially when she's working through arguments for the case

the lovesick display lasts about... 10 minutes before Sol B stands up from her chair abruptly, causing everyone to jump in their seats.

as always, her face is neutral, but she spins to face ji ho, as the boy adjusted his glasses on his face so he could look up at her

"you own me 20 dollars" she simply stated at him, her hand outstretched

"what, no way i'm paying that" ji ho moved back, his face shocked that she even remembered

"you bet that they would take 3 months to confess, and i bet at 6 months— "

"it's been way longer than 6 months!"

"mine was closer"

"i think," ye-seul interjected as she took her seat at the table, heading back from her project work for professor kim's class, "that you both owe me 20 dollars. from what I remember, i bet that they would take longer!"

a chaotic clamber erupted as each member argued who owed who money, who bet on what,

"yah, ye-seul, how could you bet on me like that!" Sol interrupted the clamor, spinning to look at her best friend in shock and disbelief.

"sorry, unnie. it was too tempting of an offer for me to turn down" she replied, not looking the least bit apologetic.

joon hwi grinned at sol A as she looked around flabbergasted at their friends, before he grabbed her idle hand and held it up.

"just so we can fend off any confusion, sol is now my girlfriend. sorry we didn't get to tell you earlier, but to make up, we'll treat you to a dinner after all this mess is offered."

their group cheered at that, never being the one to turn down an offer for free food

it was bliss for the couple after that, and relief too. they could both agree that keeping a relationship under wraps was much harder than they could handle, with so much of this being new to them alongside the chaos of their lives

telling their friends took the pressure off, at least allowing themselves to indulge in each other without having to be extra careful of who was watching.

theirs was a blinding love. it was blinding bliss, it was peace.

bonus +1:

professor kim was a busy woman, but she always had the time for her students. taking the time to know each and every one of them was something she took pride in as a teacher.

but out of all her students, the study group lead by han joon hwi consisted of her favorite students that she taught. as a result of professor seo's unfortunate death and the reveal of everything that assemblyman ko had orchestrated, professor kim found herself around those kids more and more.

nevertheless, it was another day, another case to navigate at the legal clinic. it was a busy afternoon at hanguk law school, and professor kim's star students, sol and joon hwi huddled together trying to find the best way for the property case at hand

she had always had a soft spot for those two, ever since their class first semester when sol A blurted out a judgement and joon hwi, out of nowhere supported her. of all her years of teaching, she hadn't found a duo that was more hardworking, passionate and loyal than the two of them

Sol A was not her brightest student but she had tenacity and passion that more than made up for it. She could spot the hardworking girl, hunched over her textbooks hours after every other student had left.

Professor Kim had always found that some of the brightest students in her class would make for the worst in the field. because, being a lawyer wasn't about memorizing the codes or adhering to the rigid structure that many assumed the law to be. it was to offer kindness, compassion and understanding that they were humans first, before they could be judged by the law

and she knew that Sol A was one such girl who had that. She had watched as she defended Yang, even when the detectives and prosecutor were trying to close up the case and force him down as the perpetrator. even when joon hwi was accused, Sol stood by his side, pursing every route possible to prove his innocence. At every turn, she stood up for those who needed sympathy and kindness from the law; for those that the law would have hurt.

Joon Hwi was no different. the first time she saw him, she assumed him to be a cold, callous genius who had no time for anyone but himself. but oh, how wrong she was. Joon hwi was quiet the opposite. Even while being a generally reserved student, he had an inviting energy surrounding him that made every one like him, despite the intense competition at school

from the first day, it was clear he wasn't here for the marks or the validation of his teachers: it was passion and self motivation that drove him. it was clear that he was built to practice law, his mind was always sharp for legal terms and loopholes. but joon hwi always went the extra mile for his friends, always gave an extra hand to help, even when they didn't necessarily need it.

she could see it in him during Ye-Seul's case, eager to help her. she could see it when Ji Ho's father's suicide case came out, how eager he was to help and comfort his roommate.

but most of all, she could see it with Sol A. she wasn't sure when she had noticed their closeness, but she could see them walking the halls together, a smile spread across both their faces or them arguing across the table at the legal clinic, trying to work out the best method.

she could see it in the way Joon Hwi watched Sol, an almost lovesick smile on his face when she smiled or when she finally got the answers she was searching for. Professor Kim also knew, from her years of watching professor yang and prosecutor bae dance around each other, that it would be rare if they confessed to each other

so it was very odd when she looked across from her stack of papers to find joon hwi holding sol's hand as he flipped through the case file in front of him, both of them hyper focused into the details

maybe it was pure curiosity, maybe it was a taste for chaos that motivated her to call out "oh, are you two finally dating?" expecting their flustered and embarrassed reactions

but instead, she was met with a beaming smile from Joon Hwi that answered all the questions she had. Kang Sol on the other hand was left glaring and sputtering at her new boyfriend.

it was funny and gleeful, watching two of her favored students find a new life together, forging a new path.

and it was also pure relief for her, that she wouldn't have to deal with another professor yang and prosecutor bae situation

bonus +2:

the cold wind whipped around them as the couple accompanied professor yang back to campus. another night, another mystery, another trip to the police station to give witness statements

tonight was no different as the truth of the hit-and-run case started revealing itself, and the professor had accompanied the two students in silence, contemplative of all that has happened, the puzzle pieces slowly clicking together

professor yang was never meant to be a professor, in fact he hates the title itself. what he was meant for was to interrogate, to dig up clues and find out exactly who the culprit is and use the law to prove why they were guilty. for him, one's feelings did not matter, it was always about the evidence presented in front of him and how it could be interpreted.

it didn't mean he didn't care about his students, quite the opposite. it just meant that he wasn't the nurturing type as professor kim was. the one to always meddle in student affairs or keep track of how his students were doing outside of class

but with the two students walking beside him, they were the ones that he wanted to see succeed. they were the ones he was the most proud of as they presented their cases in public, finding their own ways to fight against injustice.

he was proud of them and in his heart, he knew it reminded him of a certain set of school mates, ones that were attached at the hip, a regret he has carried with him until he met her again on the court floor.

so maybe it was the deliriousness of all they had went through together or pure stupidity that made him pause in the tracks. his students continued on for a moment but then paused in their tracks, turning around to see what had stopped their professors.

"Kang Sol A." he nodded towards her.

"Han Joon Hwi." he nodded towards him.

"Congratulations on your new relationship"

he paused after, looking up at his students, both of them wide eyed that Professor Yang of all people, congratulated them on this.

and then, as if making it worse, he smiled.

Kang Sol's mouth dropped open, her hands reaching up to her eyes to rub them as if she was hallucinating what she saw.

Han Joon Hwi was incredulous, blurting out "Professor, have you been taking methamphetamines again?"

"Professor Yang has taken WHAT?" Sol whipped her head around, the sight of her professor expressing glee was already too much for her to handle but the news that he has taken meth just drove her head into overdrive.

the two were stuck in their positions, as their professor moved forward, brushing past them as if this event had never happened.

#law school jtbc #law school #law school kdrama #mine #ryu hye young #han joon hwi #kang sol a #professor kim #professor yang #yangcrates #jtbc law school #solhwi #my writing #kim beom #kim bum #ye beom #ye seul #kang sol b #ji ho #lee david #bok gi

[multifandomstranger]

So basically I’ve had this idea for like a one-shot on my mind for ages but I’m stupid so I’m putting it here in the hope that someone will write it or expand on it or smth idk

So basically I love fics that acknowledge how smart Thomas is- like he worked for wicked soo…. And my fav view is him as an engineer or smth maybe biological engineer so this is just him being a smart engineer (civil) basically

Story

* Thomas disspears for a bit

* Reappears with pen and paper?

* Where did he get that?? No one knows!

* Goes to door to maze to make notes- peeps overreact ( gally)

* Newts like -‘ omg didn’t we do this already? Don’t leave!!’

* Thomas like-‘what? No! I’m not leaving! I’m trying to figure out the engineering of the door!’

* Everyone else-‘ ?????? Da fuk???????’

* Thomas-‘ what’

* Newt -‘ok 🤷‍♀️’

* Thomas sits cross legged in front of door for the rest of the day

* Newt vists and is proud of his boyfriend

* Gally really suspicious of Tommy

* Miho comes out he’s like-‘why r u here’

* Thomas is concentrated

* Newt explains while trying not to laugh

* Thomas sees Minho

* He’s like!!!! ‘!!!!!! YAY MINHO! You can help me! Science blah blah blah vine strength blah blah’(*insert hand-wavy science here*)

* Minho like -‘ bitch I hv no fukin clu- but I’ll get you a sample tomorrow if u want ?

* Thomas exited like an adorable puppy

* Newt is enraptured and Minho thinks it’s hilarious

* Thomas is so excited when the doors start closing

* Then the next morning he gets up to see them open-‘ and he’s like MINHO REMEMBER MG VINE SAMPLES’

* And he’s trying to convince newt to let him go into the maze a bit just to look at the other side

* He uses puppy eyes

* Newts finding it really hard to say no

* But he manages to do it- for Thomas safety

* Gally still sus

* Everyone else is still like-‘ ?????? Da fuk?????? How he so smart’

* After the night in the maze the second he recovered he found newt and rambled ab how

* he knew how th door work after studying the opening from Yh other side or smth idk

* And newt is so impressed

* And since Thomas tells him at lunch when he gets really excited he starts talking really loud and then everyone is listening

* Even gally

* And they’re really impressed

Later

* Maybe Ava p reacting- being like ‘that’s my boy’- but evilly and minipulative thoughts?

* They tell stories at the safe haven- everyone laughs at Thomas?

* He still doesn’t know what’s abnormal ab this whole thing

* Cause he doesn’t acknowledge his brains

#tmr fanfiction #tmr thomas #tmr newt #tmr gally #tmr minho #tmr #the maze runner #headcanon #the maze runner headcanon #tmr headcanons #newtmas #ava paige #gladers #the glade

[a-monsters-love]

Hit with a quirk that turns adults to children

Shoto Todoroki x Reader

Genre: massive fluff. angst if ya’ squint

Warnings: implications of abuse, little OOC Shoto but its cannon that he smiled more when he was a kid (the gif is a perfect example) 

A/N: FIC SWAP WITH @hxwks-gf​ ILY2 SWEETS - You’ll find her fic [here] 

(Y/N) = Your name

(E/C) = Eye color

(H/C) = Hair color

[Master List]

—————

“How could this happen?” Endeavor hissed at Aizawa.

Aizawa, who looks like he’s about to explode on the man in front of him, lets out a deep sigh. “As I said before, Shoto got hit with a civilians quirk. It should wear off in the next couple days.” Endeavor scowls at you as you cross your arms and deadpan at him, your frame standing protectively in front of a now child Shoto. Shoto’s been holding on to you desperately for the past few hours since the incident, only letting go once to get changed into the smallest gym uniform the school could provide.

You offered to hold him but he chose to take refuge in the back of your legs rather than face the situation. The two of you had been working together on a project for Aizawa when you ran into villains on the street, at some point Shoto had a run in with a civilian who accidentally turned him into a child with their quirk. The face of despair and unbridled childlike tears that welled up in his eyes will haunt you.

“I don’t have time for this.” Endeavor groans, he pulls out his phone and calls Fuyumi. She’s a school teacher she should be able to handle this, right? After about 20 minutes of light bickering on the phone, he comes back. Neither of his siblings can help and his mother is ‘sick’.

You look back at Shoto’s shaking frame and take a deep breath, “I’ll take him.” The two heroes look at you with raised eyebrows. “As Aizawa already knows, I have the next few days off for personal reasons. Which means I have plenty of time on my hands to take care of a kid.” You squeak through the tension in the air.

Aizawa sighs, “Are you going to be able to handle it though? With everything going on?”

You laugh softly and rub little Shoto’s head, “I’m great with kids, and I could use the company.” You smile sadly at your teacher, who only nods in response.

Endeavor huffs and kneels down to Shoto, who hides himself further in your knees. “Contact me if anything happens.” He says looking at you.

“Of course, sir.” You had your suspicions before about Shoto’s childhood, this only brought the situation to light. Never have you ever seen the calm and collected Shoto petrified enough to have him in tears. “I will be running by your family home to pick him up a few different pairs of clothing. We don’t know how long this will last.” You tell him, you don’t bother asking. You don’t care for his opinion, he just needs to leave.

He nods in agreement and provides you the address and a vague idea on where to look. After he does, you scoop up your quivering classmate and speed walk out the door. He freezes at first but instinctually wraps his arms around you and buries his embarrassed face in your neck.

He hasn’t said a word since the incident and you don’t know how much of the man you know is still in there. As much as the idea of your crush burying his face into your neck makes you blush, protecting him is your first priority.

You quickly make your way to the Todoroki residence, well, as quick as you could. Shoto quietly asked to be put down about half way there, you walked as quickly as his little legs could comfortably take him.

When you arrived you looked at the note Endeavor gave you once more, “Alright, so, your father said there’s should be a box in the attic with your old clothing.” You squatted down and smiled at him, a small embarrassed expression was still present on his face. “Do you want to look with me, Shoto?”

He glances at you with a blush, the two of you weren’t on a first name basis outside of fact that his Hero name is his first name. Honestly you couldn’t find it in your bones to call a little kid by his last name, it felt too weird. He nods shyly, “Yes…(Y-(Y/N)…” His voice was almost a whisper.

You giggled a bit and finger combed out a few ruffles in his hair, “Wonderful, because I have no idea where your attic is.” The comment earns you a stifled laugh from the boy and he pulls you along by the finger.

After pulling down the latter to the attic you send Shoto up first, following close behind. You both cough at the dust but quickly find the boxes, after he pulls out a few outfits you inspect them for signs of deterioration. When you find no problems you both leave the attic and head down to wash the old clothing.

Shoto freezes as he passes through a hallway, the color has run from his face. “(Y-(Y/N)..” His voice shook as he stared at a door, you walk up to him slowly and offer your arms for him.

He awkwardly steps into your embrace, “Lets wash these at my house.” You say quietly, rubbing his back.

When you get home you walk in and show him where to put his shoes, “I’m home.” You say loudly to the nearly empty home. A meow is heard from upstairs and you wait as your old cat walks down the stairs to greet you. “Hello Cali, I’m home. I brought a friend.” You pet the cat who wasted no time rubbing up on Shoto. “This is Shoto, he’s going to be with us for a few days.” You explain to the cat, who meows lazily in return.

You chuckle as Shoto shyly pets the cat, “I’ve never had any pets before...” He says quietly.

You hum a bit and head to your wash room, “Well, you’ll have plenty of time to experience having one while you’re with me.” You smile at him, he slowly follows you poking his head around doors and entryways.

“Where’s your family?” He asks, noticing the lack of life in your house.

You croon at the question, “It’s just me and Cali. It’s been like that for awhile.” That was all you could manage on the situation as you made sure his clothing was set in the washer.

Regret is visible on his young face and he brought his hands to his mouth, “O-oh..I’m sorry..” He murmured towards the floor.

A chuckle escapes you, how can he be so cute? He looks up in confusion at you, “You did nothing wrong Shoto, you don’t have to apologize. Why don’t you go explore while I clean up a bit?” He nods at you and runs off, you walk up stairs and open up your little brothers old room. You move to open up the window and start dusting off the contents of the room when you hear heavy little feet making their way up the stairs. “Find anything interesting?” You ask.

Turning you see him carrying Cali, his arms scooped under the cats front legs in a manner that makes the beast look long. “You have a piano.” He says, you can hear stifled interest in his voice. Your heart breaks at the fact that a 5 year old is stifling their emotions.

“I do indeed!” You chirp while putting new sheets on the bed. “Do you like pianos?”

You can almost see the gears moving in his head. “They sound pretty.” He finally says, releasing the cat.

You chuckle as you finish cleaning up. “They do, my mom taught me to play when I was your age. She told me that music is the window to ones soul.”

It’ll be nice having him around, you think seeing him look at you in awe. “You can play it?” He asks, excitement can be heard in his voice for the first time.

“I can, I just had it tuned too.” You smile widely at him, glad his wall is coming down. “But first, we must bathe!” You scoop him up and tickle his stomach, “I think we’re both pretty stinky.”

He giggles from being tickled and then blushes at the idea of bathing with you. “Together?” He mumbles, you blush a bit at the comment.

“I-If you would prefer me being there, I su-suppose we could figure something out.” You stammer.

He doesn’t say anything as you walk to the bathroom and start filling up the bath when he pulls on your shirt, you look back at him and squat down. You tilt your head to the side, waiting for him to choose his words. “Stay?” He asks.

You smile, “Of course. Let me go grab a few things and we’ll get in.” You rush to your room and change into a bathing suit, grabbing your brothers old swim suit from his dresser. You hear a loud splash as you walk back, you see Shoto wet in his clothing from the trying to turn off the water. “Someone’s excited.” You tease.

He looks at you with a distressed pouting face, “N-No I-.” He stutters as you move to turn off the water. “I was trying to do that..”

You laugh and offer him the shorts, as he changes you move to grab a few bath soaps and bubble bath. “I appreciate all your help, Shoto.” You say walking back, helping him into the tub. Both of you let out a small sigh as you sink into the hot water, causing small chuckles between you.

You scrub off some of the slime from the day and start pouring bubble soap into the bath. “What’s that stuff?” He asks.

“Oh-Ho. Bubbles of course.” You wink at him and quickly mix the soap to create bubbles. He helps you make bubbles, he giggles a bit at the action and then blushes.

Shoto doesn’t understand what’s come over him, his mind is still all there but he has so much less control over his emotions, let alone his behavior. He hasn’t meant to say half the stuff he has since the accident. He watches you happily go along with his childish antics as if the whole situation were normal. You smile at him when you catch him staring and scoop bubbles onto his head. “H-Hey!” He whines, pushing bubbles at you.

You laugh as he falls into you, the tub is smaller than you’d like but you’re content with space you have. “Careful there.” You scoop him up, you find his eyes wandering along the deep scars all over your body. You reached for the sponge, “Let’s get you cleaned up.” You say softly.

Without realizing it Shoto found himself sitting on your thighs, tracing the scars on your shoulder with his fingers. He jumped back when he felt the soapy sponge touch his arm. “I can do it!” He said louder than he meant.

You hand him the sponge and grab another to scrub yourself. You get out of the tub to rinse off and wash your hair before he’s done. “Come here when you’re done, I want to wash your hair.” You say, he just nods with a bright blush.

He gets out by the time you start putting conditioner in your hair. “I can wash my own hair..” He mumbles, awkwardly sitting in front of you.

“I know you can, but I want to.” You say quietly, this whole situation is like a fever dream for you. Getting to wash your crushes hair and satiating the hole that was left without your family? Win-win (Y/N). “I like doing these things.” You say as you put shampoo in his hair.

“Why?” He asks plainly.

You hum as you massage his scalp, a small sigh leaves him from the feeling. “I like spoiling people I care about.” You blush a bit at the statement, blaming the steam for the heat in your face.

“Y-you care about me?” The question broke your heart.

“Of course I do, I wouldn’t have brought you to my family home or shared a bath with you if I didn’t.” A smile can be heard in your words, he doesn’t say anything.

He sat with his thoughts as you rinsed his hair of shampoo and started applying conditioner. The ‘shared a bath’ comment running through his mind, partially clarifying the fluttering in his chest when he’s around you. Maybe I can ask these questions since she thinks I’m a kid mentally.  he thinks, “Hey, (Y/N)?” You hum in response. “What does it mean when your belly flops around?”

“Hmm, in the literal sense or do you mean when you feel like you have butterflies in your stomach?” You ask, focusing more on detangling his unfairly soft hair.

“Like butterflies.” He murmurs.

“Well, it can indicate excitement, anticipation, nervousness but often times it‘s a sign of love-“ Your breath hitches in your throat are the last word, a deep blush taking over your face. You make a feeble attempt to finish your work.

You were so focused on trying to hide you embarrassment you didn’t see Shoto’s reddening face. He stood up quickly and grabbed the shower head from the floor. “I’ll r-rinse your hair.” He says, giving you no time to argue as he walked around you and started the rinsing the conditioner out of your hair.

Both of you felt like your heads were going to pop, while the feeling of his little hands in your hair provoked giggles from you. You reached back and helped him, he struggled getting out knots from your hair and elected to leave them for you to sort out. His small frame doing him no justice as his hands traced the scars on your back but froze. “It’s okay.” You said softly, letting his childishly addled mind explore. You imagined if you had children they’d would do the same thing. “Let me rinse your hair when you’re done studying.” You tease. The comment pulled him from his wonder and he sat in front of you.

After the bath you both changed into pajamas. He lets you blow dry and brush his hair and followed you around like a ducking into the kitchen. “Can I help?” He asks on his toes at the counter, watching you pull out food for prep.

“Of course, pull up a chair.” You respond pointing at the kitchen table and he does just that. He pulls up a chair and you have him washing vegetables while you prepare a pan to cook in and start the rice cooker. “How does Oyakodon sound?” You ask looking through your fridge.

“I don’t mind as long as you make it.” His tone was soft, he didn’t dare to look at you in his own embarrassment. I didn’t mean to say that, he thinks.

You smile widely and pat his head gently, “You are too sweet, ya’ know that?” You giggle softly. “I’ll get you to decide on what you want tomorrow.”

He smiles lightly as you take the vegetables from him. He pushes the chair closer to the stove to watch you cook and watches how delicately but precise each movement you make is. He knows a little about cooking but he can’t understand how you quickly made a dish that seems so complicated.

He drags the chair back to the table when you start serving the dinner, he sits down excitedly as you bring out his plate. A happy noise escapes him as he starts to eat. You smile softly at his childish behaviors, “You’ll be a good mom.” He says with after chewing.

You chuckle and pull rice off his cheek, eating it yourself. “Maybe, I’ll need to find a husband first, and I’m pretty sure boys are terrified of me.” You recall interactions with other students after the sports festival, the girls were all excited but the boys seemed to shy away.

“You’re not scary!” He says almost dropping his spoon, you laugh and roll your eyes. “You’re not! You’re so nice and helpful and smart and-and pretty!” He felt like the room was spinning as he spat out how he felt, why did I say that?! He scolded himself internally, looking down. “If I could eat your food all the time I’d be your husband.” His words were so quiet you almost didn’t hear him, but you did.

You felt like your heart could jump out of your chest, my crush just said he’d be my husband! HOW DO I RESPOND TO THAT?? You tried to keep your face passive, coughing slightly to hide the quandary you’re in. “Maybe when you’re older.” An awkward giggle escapes you, “You’d have to be my boyfriend first though.”

His face was red but he nodded and scooped the last of his food into his mouth. “Okay.” He said with food in his mouth, “I’ll be (Y/N)’s boyfriend.” He continued, more to himself than you, nodding as if he just came to an agreement. You nearly choke on your drink before you both chuckle awkwardly, “Are you gonna play a song on the piano?” He asks as you take the dishes and wash them, letting him help store the left overs.

“I can, what kind of song?” You hum.

Shoto pauses and thinks about it, he doesn’t say anything until you walk up to the standing piano. “Something for me?” His voice was almost a squeak.

You turn and look at him, he’s looking down and fiddling with the hem of his shirt. Maybe a song that reminds me of him? That’s not too tough, you hum and pat the space next to you on the piano bench. “I think I’ve got one.” You scoop him into your lap, giggling as he makes a feeble attempt to escape. “I don’t want to elbow you on accident.” When he stops wiggling around and you start playing the song, singing out the lyrics quietly as he watched your finger fly delicately across the keys. The harsher notes surprise him, but he glances at you with a slack jaw. Your eyes half lidded followed your hands across the keys, a small smile curled at your lips.

“You can do everything.” He gasps, earning himself a bashful blushing smile from you.

“Why don’t we watch a movie?” He nods happily at your suggestion.

He ended up sitting curled into you, under a blanket, you made herbal tea and put on some movie he chose. While finishing his drink it didn’t take long to get tired, he rubbed his eyes incessantly. “I’ll lay down after the movie.” He yawned a soft plea, you can’t imagine how tired his young body must be. Even as an adult, the day you had was a bit much.

He fell asleep not long after, you scooped him up and laid him down in your brothers old room. You left his door open after tucking him in and walked into your own room. You plopped on top of the blankets and dozed off quickly.

You woke up a few hours later to the soft sounds of crying, stifled and buried noises. You quickly got out of bed and walked over to the source, “Shoto? What’s wrong?” You asked softly.

He made an awkward grunt while wiping his face in the pillow, “Nothing, bad dream. I-I’m okay.” He pleas, but his childish form betrays him. “I’m sorry for waking you..”

“Well, you don’t look ‘okay’ to me.” You tease a bit, “Come here.” He instinctually follows you back to your room, you sit him on your much softer bed and wipe his face. “It’s okay to not be okay, Shoto.” You pat his scarred cheek, thumbing at stray tears before crawling into bed behind him. “Come lay down, take advantage of being little.” You say, you’re clearly still half asleep as you lift you arm for him to choose to lay with you or not.

It doesn’t take long for him to crawl into your bed, curling his sleepy small frame into your arms. The smell of you consumes his mind, calming him down. You pet his hair and rub shapes into his back until you both fall asleep.

——

“AH.” You woke to the sound of a surprised little Shoto, I thought that was a dream. He thought when he woke up wrapped in your arms and nuzzles into your chest.

You rubbed and picked at your eyes as he scooted away from you, glancing over at him. Oh yeah, “You sleep okay?” You’re far too tired to be embarrassed.

He watches you stretch out, your hair and clothing are disheveled. You’re glancing at him with half lidded bedroom eyes, your morning voice was softer and raspier than usual. A blush consumes him, I wish I was grown right now. He thinks, Wait…What? “Ah, y-yeah actually.” He rubbed his own eyes, “I slept good.” Better than he had in a long time.

You smile and sit up, quickly getting out of bed. “Good, why don’t you go get dressed and we’ll start breakfast.” You wink and smile at him as you head to the bathroom. He just stares at the door for a moment before rushing to the other room.

Shoto follows you down the stairs after you’re both dressed, noting you’re semi-casual clothing. “I have one thing I have to do today.” You tell him, “After that we’ll be free to do whatever you want.” You start reheating rice and cooking meat for breakfast, along with prepping food for lunch.

“You’re cooking a lot of food.” He comments from over the bar.

A soft smile graces your face, “We’re going to see my family today.” He notes the mild sadness in your face but doesn’t push.

“What are they like?” He asks walking around the counter to enter the kitchen.

“Oh they’re wonderful, my mom is very goofy. She loves music and weird philosophy that I still don’t understand.” You laugh talking about her, “My dad was a loud man, he’s soft and loved when he could take care of me and my brother. My brother on the other hand is a lot like the other boys in our class. A bit of a screw ball but he always means well.” Shoto quietly watches you talk passionate about your family, he smiles softly at the way you smile wide enough for dimples to show.

You set a plate down for him, you eat in the kitchen while you finish packing lunch. “You think they’ll like me?” He asks between bites.

You laugh, “They would have loved you.” Thoughts flash in Shoto’s head, she’s introducing me to her parents? He’s enamored with the idea but his current situation makes it very strange.

He loses himself in thought, not noticing you packing incense into your picnic basket. You feed Cali and start cleaning up, check the weather, and take your time cleaning up. You make a glass of fruit tea for Shoto, who’s watching cartoons. You watch him blow on it and take a careful sip when his face lights up, “This is yummy.” He smiles shyly.

“I’m glad, it was my favorite when I was your age.” You chuckle.

“What’s your favorite now?”

You hum at the question, “I haven’t met a tea I didn’t like. I’m not sure.” You stared blankly at the TV in consideration, it’s been a long time since you’ve been unsure of something so simple.

A couple hours pass before you leave for your picnic. Shoto wishes he could help you carry the basket and blanket, he fails to notice where you’re both headed until you stop. You pull out a key card and open the gate to a cemetery for Heroes, he looks up at you in concern but you smile softly back at him and pat his hair. When you finally stop you set up a blanket in front of a decorated family head stone, he just stares at you in surprise. He goes to say something when someone else calls your name. “Miss (Y/N)!” You look over and see an older man. “Is it the anniversary already?”

You wave as he walks up, “Takahashi! Good to see you old timer. It is, I can’t believe you still work here.”

He laughs loudly, “Your parents saved my life so of course I do! Who’s the tyke?” He asks peering around you.

Shoto bows politely, “I’m Shoto! Who are you?”

You both chuckle, “Polite young thing,” He says to you. “I’m Takahashi Jin, grounds keeper of this ‘er cemetery.” He smiles to Shoto, “You two enjoy your lunch, don’t get into trouble like last time missy!” He teases and turns to leave.

“Me? Trouble? Never. Not even once.” You snort, winking at Shoto who chuckles. You both chuckle further when you hear the old man huff.

Shoto lights the incense and both give your prayers before you open up lunch. Neither of you pay any mind to the strange looks you get as time goes on. Shoto doesn’t understand your happiness as you sit in a cemetery eating lunch with a classmate, you’re alone in this world. His heart aches but he’s glad you seem okay. The old man from earlier stop by again and hands you a few flyers, “You think we should go?” You ask Takahashi with knitted brows. He nods, sending an empathetic smile. You shrug and hand the papers to Shoto.

“A festival?” He looks at you wide eyed, “Can we go?”

“If you want to, then absolutely.”

“I’ve never been to one,” He whispers to himself behind the paper.

——

When you return to the house you drop the basket off on the counter and run upstairs. Shoto follows behind but waits as you head into a room he hasn’t seen yet, “Shoto, come here.” You call, he walks in hesitantly and looks around. “Face the door for a moment.” He does, only glancing over as he realizes your measuring him. “Yeah, this should fit.” Your voice was excited.

He turns to see you have a set of matching yukata’s, a larger white one with red geometric flowers on it, the smaller one was white with fine red and black lines running across it. “We’ll match?” He asks, these types of things were never something his father allowed.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” You poke at him, “Let’s get changed. It’s a bit of a ways away.”

You got him changed first, making sure the Geta sandals fit him. Once he’s sorted you make your way to your room, of course putting on a yukata alone isn’t easy, you groaned internally. It took you longer than you would’ve like to get ready, the outfit then the hair, natural makeup, the whole nine. You grabbed a small shoulder bag and your shoes as you finished.

You stared at the hair stick before grabbing it and walking down the stairs. “Shoto, can you help me with something?” You heard him run over before you saw him, he blushed and gasped at you.

“You look so pretty.” He whispered, cupping his mouth in embarrassment.

You hand him the hair pin and kneel down, “Can you put this in for me?” He looks at the hair stick and then at your hair, his expression softens as you allow him to put it where he likes. “My hero, thank you.” He blushes at the comment but doesn’t say anything. You offer him your hand to hold, he grabs your pinky and ring finger and the two of you set off.

—

“Wow.” He gasps, the streets are lines with lanterns as stalls, you hold his hand and let him pull you to everything that grabs his attention. You buy snacks as you go, you show him and a few other kids your goldfish catching skills and ended up giving all the fish away. You wouldn’t be able to take care of them anyway, the two of you stop by a mask stall. He stares at them in curiosity, the person running the stall explains them and lets him try on a few.

You look at your phone for the time and lift him up, “Look up.” You tell him, as he does fireworks go off. It’s the first time you’ve seen pure childish glee on his face since the incident, if ever. Everyone stares at the fireworks calmly as they go.

When they finish you walk over to a food stand, “Soba!” He cheers, you laugh and order him a bowl. You quickly find a bench to sit at and eat, “Did you know I like soba a lot?” He asked innocently.

“Yes I did, I thought you’d like to have some at your first street festival.”

He watches you eat Takoyaki with a content smile, he didn’t realize you heard that comment. “How long is this going on for?”

You hummed as you finished chewing, “3 more days, I think.” You wipe your mouth, “Did you want to come back?”

He chuckles softly, “Maybe when I’m older.” You smile at him, not quite sure what’s on his mind. “Is this a date?” His question caused you to almost choke on your food.

You looked away as you regained your composure, “I s-suppose i-it is.” You stammer out, your cheeks dust with blush and you’re grateful for the dim lighting. When you glance back at him you see a soft smile on his face, what on earth is going through his mind?

After another hour of playing around you both head back to your home, “Thank you.” He says, squeezing your fingers.

Squeezing his little hand back you hum, “What for?”

“Everything.” His voice was small but content.

You pat his hair with your free hand, “It was my pleasure, Shoto.” You watch the stars as you walk, “Thank you for meeting my family, it’s lonely to go by myself.” You sigh softly.

He glances up at you, “You’re welcome. I don’t want you to be lonely.” You look down at him, a sad smile graces your face. “I’m here for you since you’re gonna be my wife.” His hand quickly covers his mouth at the comment but you can see the smile he’s hiding.

The single comment broke the sadness on your face, causing you to laugh. “That’s a good reason.” You snicker as you make it back to your house.

“We’re home.” You say to the mostly empty house. “Let’s get changed and off to bed.” He nods and follows you up the stairs.

He falls asleep quickly as you tuck him into bed, when you’re sure he’s asleep you press a soft kiss to his forehead and head to bed yourself.

Shoto wasn’t completely asleep when you left a soft kiss on his skin. A smile grew on his face as he got comfortable, you curled into bed quickly dozing off yourself.

You were stirred in the middle of the night by heavy weight of a body curling into your chest and neck. You didn’t bother opening your eyes as you sleepily remembered your guest, you lazily wrapped your arms around him and found his head of hair with you hand to pet as you drifted. “Sleep well, Shoto.” You mumbled as you started to doze back off.

Shoto, now fully grown, had made quick and delicate work of wrapping himself into you. A soft happy noise escaped you as you got comfortable, “I think I love you, (Y/N).” He said softly into your chest, assuming you were asleep.

You hum sleepily and squeeze him a bit, “I think I love you too Sho…” Your voice trailed off indicating your sleep, Shoto squeezes you back as a small happy smile crept up his face.

As much as being turned into a child could have been an absolute nightmare of a situation, he was happy to have had this time with you. He never understood why he was so drawn to you but after all this he seemed to understand more. He never thought being a kid again would have its advantages. He never thought you’d let him so deep into your personal life, between meeting your family, cooking for him and taking him to his first festival. All he wanted to do was stay in your life like this, now he was certain he actually could.

#bnha #mha #bnha x reader #bnha todoroki #bnha shoto #bnha x y/n #mha x reader #mha x y/n #mha fanfiction #mha fan fic #shoto todoroki #shoto todoroki x reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto #shoto x reader #fic swap #bnha fan fic

[keity-devil]

Another one, I know. (Destinyshipping fic, spoil 'my not my never' child/teen @breathlessmorro.). But is more a fluff one. I think. Enjoy.

--

Powers, my love? - Part 1.

--

Morro and Kai have been in a relationship for a year and a few months already. They were happy with each other. The days together were amazing for them. Kai had met Morro for the first time because of Lloyd's help. They told everyone one day that his cousin was moving to town and he was excited about it. (Especially since they hadn't seen each other in years, Morro not knowing about the Garmadon family's problems until a few days after he came to town.) When he first saw him, he saw an emo and slightly shy boy, but with a tough personality, dreaded if you touched a blond hair of Lloyd's. Kai couldn't believe Morro was really Lloyd's cousin. They were so different from each other. Hair color skin, language, that's what he think until he find out it's actually adopted. They began to meet more often (because Lloyd wanted his best friend and cousin to get along), and the flame ignited. When Lloyd found out about Kai's relationship with Morro, he didn't expect his plan to have such a great result. He had agreed to their relationship, even pleased with it. Kai didn't expect that either, not to mention Morro who was confused at the beginning of their relationship, he thought it was all just a dream, a fiction, he didn't think anyone would love him and yet.. he found someone. They had kept this relationship a secret until they were quite comfortable with the idea of ​​the rest knowing about it.

But they both kept a secret from each other. Elemental Powers. Kai kept his firepower hidden from Morro, and Morro kept his windpower from Kai. They both kept it a secret, and to this day, everything has gone well with this secret concealment of power.

Kai opened his eyes slowly. The light coming from the sun came straight into his eyes. He turned his heavy head to the seat next to it. Morro slept soundly, a few strands of hair hanging down his slightly pale face. Kai turned completely to his lover, staring at him. He could feel the fire in him wanting to come out. It was hard to control himself not to create a heart of fire for his love every time he did something adorable or felt that he did not know how to show/express his love for him. But he couldn't do it. He risked his identity as a Fire Ninja, Red, Flame, he risked endangering both of them.. and he didn't want that.

Morro felt his dream slowly crumble, his eyes hard to open. When he opened them a little, he could already see a smile on someone face.

"Morning..." He said softly, feeling his throat dry.

"Morning mi corazón." Kai approached Morro's face, kissing his forehead softly.

Morro in response, approached him to warm up a little, maybe he will fell asleep. It seemed strange to him how Kai was much warmer at times, but when he asked him about it, he had received the answer that it was only because he is cold.

"Don't fall asleep again. You just woke up." He said with a smile.

Morro couldn't stop an innocent grin. "And what if I fall asleep again?~"

"I'll be forced to throw cold water at you to really wake up."

"Oh no, not at all. I'm sick of it. Do you want me to be sick?"

"N-no..?"

"Exactly. Just another five minutes..."

"Okay. Just five minutes." He had begun to stroke his thick, black hair.

------

Ninjas had to patrol the city every night. Just two. And tonight, Wu put Wind and Flame.

"Your serious now?" Wind said, rolling his eyes.

"This is the truth." Flame said, looking at the starry sky outside before he left.

"Why did Wu put me with you?" He said unfriendly.

"You say it like it's a bad thing."

"Maybe it is."

Flame said nothing more, wishing this patrol would end quickly so he could go home. He missed someone and thought of a good excuse for being late. The patrol went fast. Nothing new for the two of them. Wind and Flame were good at fighting, but in conversation and socializing, they needed work.

"Well, end of patrolling for tonight. It's late, I should run home quickly."

Wind looked at him. "Why? Parents, brother, sister?"

"Beloved boyfriend." He said calmly.

"Oh." He lowered his head. He didn't know why, but hearing him say that word, he had done it... "Mhm. Go then. Don't let him wait for you." He said in a tone with a little venom in it, disappearing from Kai's vision like the wind.

"What's with him? No, you know something Kai? It doesn't matter what's with him. I still wonder who's under the mask. Who could Wu trust to have these powers...?"

------

Morro arrived home first. The last conversation with Flame had left him in a bad mood. He wanted to make coffee, but that wouldn't calm him down, so he resorted to his father's method of tea. He went into the bedroom first, no sign of Kai. He could feel the bizarre state in him growing. He left a cold wind behind him, filling the room with a restless cold air.

Kai reached the front door of the apartment. He repeated his apology in his mind.

"Okay Kai. You can do it. Calm down, you know the words." He pressed the doorknob. When he entered, a strong mint smell struck him, with a cold wind as well. "Uh... tea?" He closed the door, rushed inside. At the kitchen table was the brunette, with a cup in his hand, frequently hitting it with his nails painted light blue and black. "Morro? Uh... are you okay?"

"Mhm.. Yes. Why? Problems? " Morro didn't want it to sound so harsh, but he was still on needles.

"Nope. None." He approached him, placing one of his hands on Morro's back. "¿Disgustado?"

"¡No entiendo cuál es SU problema!" Morro started. Not realizing what language he was in. "¡Incluso estaba tratando de tener una conversación normal con Él! Y comienza con eso y- ugh..!" He threw his head on the table, but he had hit the cup of tea with his forehead, overturned the cup, letting the mint liquid run down the tablecloth, which flowed slowly on the edge and on the floor. "Fuck this!!" He screamed, feeling like he was about to throw the cup against the wall. Instead, he picked it up, placing it violently on the table. He rose from his chair, taking a few steps that swirled in a circle walk, his fingers gripped by his disheveled, disheveled black hair.

Kai was just looking at him. Morro had rare moments like this. When he had the first one, it was from an old frustration that happens again. Then he managed to calm him down because he knew the reason, but now he didn't understand him.

"Hey, hey.. it's okay. It doesn't matter that you spilled it and stained the tablecloth. It can be washed. Calm down." Kai try to calm him down with the tea problem.

Morro wanted to scream, but he was holding him in. He didn't know how he could do that, knowing that in moments like this he would throw almost everything out of his soul. The brunette looked at him, his nails still in his scalp. He had taken a few breaths.

"Okay.. Okay.. I'm calm. I'm calm." Morro had taken a few steps to where they kept the water, putting it in a cup and drink it all in one go. "Can we.. forget about it, please? And just sit in bed, fall asleep in each other's arms...?" He said softly, feeling his hands tremble.

Kai smiled slowly. He did not want to insist on the reason for the crisis, because of the emotional state Morro was in now. "Of course. Come here."

Kai reached for the brunette's waist, coming down for a kiss that had greedily returned him.

------

The Ninjas were urgently call by Wu. Morro had not received the call, nor could he.

"Ninja, you've arrived. ... Where's Wind?" Wu knew their identities in each and every Ninja, and Ninja between them, except Wind. They didn't know who Wind was under the mask, nor Wind who they were under the mask. And they agreed with that. One day they will know about each other.

"I don't know, Master Wu." Zane replied calmly.

"Are you feeling well, Kai?" Wu asked, seeing his restless state.

Kai had muted a little, surprised by the question. "No, no. I'm fine, Sensei."

"You don't look good, Master of- "

"I'm worried!" He interrupted his Sensei. "Morro should have called me or sent me a text an hour ago and he didn't..! What if something happened to him??" They had an agreement with the call or the messages. Morro had a telecaster class after school and told him he would let him know when he went out to see him, but nothing.

"Something to happend to Morro? I think you're kidding Kai." Cole said, knowing the personality of Lloyd's cousin, Wu's son.

"I'm not kidding. It's possible. Morro doesn't know how to fight. He's not like us." That had frightened Lloyd. If he knew the truth, he would have been calm.

"I'm sure my son is fine, Kai." Wu reassured him. He was not afraid that Morro was in any danger, he knew his son. If he was in danger, he would have already announced it. "I say to- " The 'Garmadon' alarm sounds in the room.

"Attack in Ninjago by Lord Garmadon. He now seems to be attacking random places." Nya said, looking at the new target of evil.

"That's... that's where I live!" Kai said quickly, recognizing the place. "When I get Garmadon, I'll- "

"Kai... If Morro is there and that's why he didn't contact you?!" Jay suspected agitatedly.

"Oh no... we have to hurry."

------

Morro didn't care if anyone could see him. The world was in danger, and his instincts came first. When he removed the last person from the building, he turned inside, slamming the doors behind him with a strong wind, blocking them.

"Heh, now let's take care of the rats."

He was walking in the white dust with all his senses on alert. He couldn't see well, but he could hear. Suddenly Morro felt a hand grip his shoulder. He quickly reached for the stranger and knocked him to the ground. From the rising smoke, three Garmadon generals had appeared.

'Looks like I'm going to have some fun today.'

He held out his hands wide, after hitting them against each other. The wind that formed next to the three of them pushed them violently together as he clapped his hands against each other. All that was left in the air was his right hand, which had begun to control the wind that was now above the enemies, pressing against them. Sounds of pain were heard. Dust roamed the room uncontrollably. One of them managed to open his eyes despite the strong wind.

"Who are you?! A monster!? Surely a monster!" He spoke agitatedly, closing his eyes again, feeling the pressure even stronger now.

Morro's eyes gleamed in shock at the generals pressed by his wind.

"Monster! You destroyed everything! The houses, the vegetation, EVERYTHING!!"

Words from the past resound in his head. His hand had begun to tremble and his breath was short of breath.

"I'm not a monster." His tone had become harsh, both hands rising, putting them in a cage pressed by the cold wind. He was about to stop their right to breathe- "Monster!" Everything stood still for a few seconds, leaving his trembling hands to fall past his limp body.

The generals were breathing a lot, telling each other to get out of here as soon as possible, that the guy is crazy, a monster. Morro felt his legs begin to tremble, clinging to the wall with his hand.

"Everything is fine.. is fine.. What was in the past is gone..." He looked around disfigured. The white dust fell slowly to the ground. "I'd better go..."

"Morro!" A voice called his name out of nowhere.

"What the..?" Morro was amazed to hear someone call his name from afar, behind him.

"Morro!" Kai stopped running when he saw his lover. He would have arrived sooner if the door had not been locked. He was too agitated to remember what he was wearing at the moment.

"Kai..?" Morro froze in shock, feeling himself tremble much harder. Now it made sense in his head why it was always so hot and warm..

"I thought something happened to you!" He reached in front of him, taking both Morro's pale hands. Kai looked at him intently to see if he had any scratches or injures. He didn't, it was just filled with white dust and shaking body. He looked into his eyes, which were full of shock and... fear? "Morro, mi corazón, are you okay?"

Morro sat for a while, processing the words spoken by the person who had made him nervous the night before. "You're.. Fire Ninja.. Flame.. Kai, are-are you Him?"

This hit Kai directly in the soul. Only then did he realize what was happening. He knew it made no sense to deny it, it was just a waste of time and words.

"Uh.. yes. Yes I am." He remembered the fighting moves and supernatural powers the generals had feared when they left the building. "How do you know how to fight so well?" If they put the card on the table, put them all on.

The brunette, now with white dust on his head, stared blankly. "Wind. I'm Wind, Kai."

"You're kidding.."

"Not at all." He had created a small tornado with both hands. "See?"

"That explains why- Omg... Were you talking about me last night?"

Morro nodded slowly. His heart was pounding inside him. He didn't know if it was from anxiety, fear, emotions, or even all three or more, but he knew it was starting to hurt. Oh, and those damn memories. Morro now expected Kai to yell at him, even leave him. He expected the worst. He was too afraid to think of a good script. But.. Kai had started laughing.

"No.. I don't.. I don't understand.. Why.. why are you laughing?" He was confused.

"Oh! That explains MUCH better your condition last night." He slowly laughed, slowly squeezing his lover's pale hands. "You just didn't think I'd leave you for that, did you?" Morro looked down guilty. "Omg.. come here." He took him in his arms. "I hid that from you too. And you. We're even. It's nothing serious, mi corazón. On the contrary, I'm much calmer now. Calm that you'll be fine.. I had to think that Wind is Wu's son. It was obvious!"

Morro slammed his fist into his chest, looking him in the eye afterwards. "No. It wasn't. I was behaving completely differently."

"Maybe, but not always." He gripped his face in his fingers.

"I say I played theater well at times- " He had been interrupted by someone's lips on his. The kiss hadn't been a long one, but it had been a calm one for the brunette. "You'd better fly, colorful Ninja.~ You don't want the rest to suspect anything. I can feel them approaching the entrance to look for you."

Kai looke behind him, then glanced back at his boyfriend. "After you know what, I'll be back, okay?"

"Mhm.. Just kiss me already."

"Your wish is my command.~" Kai kissed him again, this time it was a longer one.

--

T r a n s l a t e :

Kai: "Upset?"

Morro: "I just- I don't understand what HIS problem is! I was even trying to have a normal conversation with Him! And he starts with that and- ugh..!"

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