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luxurychristmaspudding · 4 months ago

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Million Dollar Baby | FUTUREPROOF

prologue

summary: you're in la, and it's time to get this show on the road.

pairing: f!rockstar!reader x actor!joel

ratings/warnings: 18+, MDNI. one minor drug reference. reader has hair and can swim.

wc: 3.3k

an: for @schnarfer, my copilot, and @itsokbbygrl and @undercoverpena. thank you for your patience while i've yapped and not written about these two <3

dividers from the glorious @saradika-graphics

series masterlist | main masterlist | follow @pudding-notifs for updates!

The sunlight is warm, the breeze is mellow, and the bedsheets smell like home.

Soft, so soft, cool against your warm limbs - every nudge of smooth linen cocooning your body against the waves of wakefulness. You stretch your legs - muscles loosening, mind empty - then your toes, and bury your face back into the pillow with a quiet grunt.

Everything feels achy today. Just fatigued - cooped up on planes, huddled in the studio, hunched over a notebook in what Jack has fondly dubbed your ‘shrimp position’. But this feels good. Spreading your legs to starfish beneath the covers, breathing in the scent of your own shampoo, before shooting your arms to the headboard and pressing your palms against it. Sinew relaxes a little more, spine crackling.

One eye winked open finds the room washed in gold, sheer curtains fluttering in the floor to ceiling windows, just obscuring the crest of the hills beyond the pool.

You close your eyes again, breathing in deeply. Your tongue tastes sour, ashy - the only blot on the morning; a reminder of last night. The whirlwind of faces and places you’d been swept through by Eimear after leaving the studio, blurred into one soundscape while you were dreaming.

You following her - a satin palm curled around your forearm, the gloss of her braids. Have you met…. Completely sober, brain ringing in your skull from ironing out kinks on the record, you’d made your excuses and escaped as quickly as possible from the glitteringly dark bar back to the house. Closed your eyes against the buzz of the Uber’s window, dragged yourself to the sofa, and shared a joint with Adie before hauling yourself to bed.

There’s a clench in your gut, a rumble. You groan, hunger creeping in, bubbling in your throat. You swing a hand away from the headboard, scrabbling about on the nightstand for your phone, squinting at the screen over the duvet.

No missed calls. No urgent texts.

But at some point in your slumber, you’d snoozed your alarm.

You drop your face into the pillow again, mouthing a fuck into the cotton. Plans of eating at the café in the next neighbourhood over eviscerated by a fuzzier head. Again.

You throw the covers off your legs, rubbing roughly at your face, and stand with a yawn. Pick up the pants and t-shirt you’d discarded on the floor last night, sling them over the chair in the corner of the room, and then move to retrieve your bikini from the balcony beyond the curtains.

A fine day out. Still warmer than you’re used to summer being, sun hot on your face even this early, but the view - the view. Spoiled by the label, high up enough to be away from the bustle, but close enough to watch the lights and the smog and the constant glimmer of dreams.

You step back into the bedroom to tug and tie the swimsuit on before swinging open the door. The landing is quiet, empty. The same as you pad down to the kitchen.

Everything is white, and where it’s not white, it’s glass and natural wood. It’s beautiful, it’s serene, and - as Eimear had said when you first arrived - very rock and roll.

The wide, clean kitchen, marble-topped island stretched all the way across the space. Perfect for hosting. The sunken living room and its floating hearth. The rugs and the throws, the cushions, the potted plants, fading smell of incense. The bifold doors thrown back so you can step straight out to the patio and then the pool - sparkling, rippling in the morning sunlight.

The doors Adie obviously hadn’t closed last night. The bottle of champagne he’d left open on the side.

You give it a sniff as you walk past, deciding it isn’t worth it as you step towards the fridge instead. You pour a glass of orange juice and poke around for something else, grabbing a tub of mango you’d picked up yesterday. Croissants from the bread bin on the counter, then your sunglasses from where they sit next to the flowers Nick had sent you.

The patio is hot underfoot, and you all but skip your way to one of the loungers set up by the edge of the pool, clutching your breakfast. You slide your sunglasses onto the bridge of your nose, settling cross-legged on the pale cushions. Orange juice cradled between your thighs, croissant and mango in front of you.

Nick Walton, Hollywood’s newly heralded genius. You’d thought he’d be wanky at first - obnoxious, loud, demanding - but the man who had introduced himself to you months ago, who had joined you in the studio over the last week, was quiet, kind. A crooked smile, an asinine sense of humour. Ready and generous with praise and votes of confidence, gentle direction offered when needed. He’d been a dream to work with, so much so that the whole band had been quick to tell him they’d love to work together again - if he wanted to. And he did.

You savour the earthy sweetness in your mouth, rip a corner off the croissant.

It was exciting. Being privy to such a project, being sent rough cuts and signing NDAs. It had been something to do on the road - a distraction from the songs you were playing every night, a challenge to fit to a brief. Something you, as a band, had never really done before. Working not just to convey a message, a feeling, but a place. A story beyond what you knew.

You lick the mango juice from your fingers, your wrist, swipe the crumbs from your lap. Finish your orange juice in great gulps, enjoying the coolness, the tartness. You wanted Nick to be confident he’d made the right choice. Confident that you respected his work, appreciated it, wanted to uplift it.

The extravagant florals that had arrived before Eimear had whisked you away last night confirmed that. The only thing left now was to get the stamp of approval from Joel Miller - co-producer, leading man.

So squeaky fucking clean you wonder whether the air around him sparkles.

You stand from the sunbed, reaching up, wiggling your fingers at the sky, before swooping low to touch your toes. Almost. You fold your sunglasses up next to your glass, leaving them to tiptoe around the edge of the pool. Moving to stand at the top of the tiled steps, up to your ankles in the water. Cool, cool, cool. The LA skyline stretched out ahead of you - concrete jungle sprawled under clear blue sky.

Joel Miller somewhere out there, getting ready to gather his thoughts on the tracks. A big deal. Critically acclaimed films, Oscars and SAG Awards, nominations up the wazoo. Something lurches in your stomach, a familiar that has tread with you since the beginning. The doubt, the worry. The almost overwhelming expectation to disappoint.

Maybe he won’t like you. Maybe he’s never liked your music. Maybe he’ll wear sunglasses the entire time and won’t speak.

Don’t be childish. You take a step deeper into the pool.

Maybe he won’t.

Maybe he’ll be everything people say he is. Unfailingly polite, sweet. Humorous, if prone to a little grump now and again. Maybe he’s heard a few songs on the radio.

You take a step deeper.

Maybe he’ll be taller than you think. You know he’s handsome. Broad, strong. Greying curls, deep, sad eyes, full mouth and scruffy beard. He’d suited the cowboy get up in the cuts of Red Sky. Not that you ever thought about that when you’d crash in your hotel room at the end of a night. Or his hands. His thick fingers, or the bulge that strained against his low slung belt -

You crouch, arms joined over your head. Feet anchored, pressure forced down as your legs extend and lift, arcing towards the water.

The dive sweeps the remnants of sleep, worries, thoughts of Joel Miller away. The water fills the conches of your ears, softening sound. You close your eyes, lost to the peace of the dark. Coolness slips past, greases joints, cradles you gently. You kick and pull until your lungs strain, pushing one foot off the floor to pop back up to the surface, wiping chlorine from your eyes, your lips.

You look back over the city, treading water, before turning to face the house. Much bigger than it needs to be - but pretty and green. There are plants everywhere - trees and flowers, grass to your right. Sweet honeysuckle on the breeze, musk of heated tarmac.

You tip your head back, and your body follows. Sound muffled again, you blink your eyes open to look up into the blue. Endless. You search for birds, letting it calm you - how small you really are. How, no matter how many people gather in crowds, there are more who simply couldn’t give less of a fuck about who you are.

It doesn’t matter if Joel Miller is one of them.

You swim a few leisurely laps before pulling yourself out and wrapping a discarded towel around your shoulders, drying off just enough to come back inside the house. You’re brewing coffee when Adie emerges - freshly showered, shirt only buttoned halfway, sunglasses on.

You smirk at him, and he flips you off, wincing as he takes a seat at the island. He rests his head in his hands.

“Morning, rockstar,” you beam, pouring the drink into mugs, and he grunts in response.

You scrub a rough hand over his buzzcut, and he grumbles out a low “Fuck off,” voice low and raspy.

You snicker, placing a steaming cup beneath his hanging head. He’s always suffered the worst with hangovers, unaided by the five years he has on the rest of you.

“Come on, dude,” you grin, sliding onto the seat next to him, rivulets of pool water trickling down your back. “You’ve gotta look sprightly. You’re seeing George today, right?”

“He’s seen me worse,” he grumbles, taking a sip. He pulls his sunglasses down his nose just enough to give you a once over. “Aren’t you seeing Nick?”

You nod, blowing steam away from your cup.

“And Joel.”

“Joel,” Adie repeats, like he’s rolling the name around his mouth. “Still want to do disgusting things to him?”

You pull a face, knocking his shoulder, and he clutches his stomach with a groan.

“Ew, Adie.”

“Don’t move me,” he gasps, “I’m not at my best.”

“Yeah, no shit,” you snipe, eyeing him over your coffee. He glances back at you once he’s taken a couple of deep breaths.

“Well? Do you?”

You wrinkle your nose at him.

“Obviously, asshole.”

He shrugs, a slow smile stretching his mouth as he curls himself over the counter. You giggle, an embarrassed little sound, and he snorts into his coffee, choking, spraying it over the marble and your arm. You howl at him - Oh, gross, dude - and then you’re cackling together, something like excitement finally rising in your gut. This is your best friend, this is the dream. And this is part of the cycle - tour, crash, doubt, do it again. You swipe your hand down your arm, holding it out to wipe on his shirt. He catches your wrist before you can, twisting so the silk is as far away from you as possible.

“Absolutely not,” he says, grappling with you, “If I have to go upstairs to change, I will literally never make it back down.”

You give up easily, knocking your forehead against his shoulder, still giggling. He smells like Adie. He smells like home.

“You, on the other hand,” he continues, pushing your head back roughly with his palm, “Could definitely do with a shower. If only for the one and only Mr Mi-”

You flick his ear, and he crows at you -

“Bastard! I’ll find some other wanker to sing!”

- as you take off, dancing around the island, edging towards the stairs.

You put your hands on your hips, tongue in cheek.

“I knew you never liked me - y’know, you were always much more made for the attention -”

“Shut the fuck uuup,” he groans, rolling his eyes, “I love you forever, kisses, kisses, whatever the fuck. Shower,” he says, levelling a finger at you.

You bite your lip against your smile.

“Will you be gone when I’m ready?”

He nods, making to cross himself. You snort again.

“God willing.”

“Alright. Have fun. Give George my love. Make sure Cam’s got nothing in his teeth.”

He smiles, all mischief, all genuine affection.

“Will do, bud. You too. Knock ‘em dead.”

You blow him a kiss as you begin to ascend the steps, and he feigns a swing to bat it away.

“Save them for Joel!”

You flash him the finger, and his cackle is the answer to your ringing -

“Fuck you, Gilman!”

Her voice is sweet, gentle down the phone. It makes his chest tighten a little, nails dig into his palms. I miss you.

“Dad, you’ll be fine,” Sarah sighs, breath of air shooting through the line. If he closes his eyes, he can see her smile. Knowing, placating. Hundreds of miles away, back in Texas for college. Sick of LA ever since they moved here.

Sometimes, Joel reckons she had the right idea.

“You’ve worked with way more intimidating people. And from what Nick’s said, she seems really nice.”

He grunts, swiping a hand across his face, scratching at his beard. She’s right.

“I know. Jus’ want it to go well. Feel like I know nothin’ about it, just gon’ be sittin’ there -”

“Dad,” she groans, “Chill out. Pick something you remember about the lyrics. Say something about the drums or melodies. Get a selfie for Ellie. That’s all you need to do. Anything else is a bonus.”

Joel casts a glance over at Ellie - all limbs sat at the kitchen counter, munching on cereal, earbuds in.

“Okay. Alright.”

There’s quiet for a moment, and he cringes at how well she can read him.

“Sure?” She checks. He clears his throat, nodding.

“Yeah. It’ll be fine.”

He can hear her smile again.

“It will. Right, I gotta go. Call me later, I want all the details.”

He chuckles, kneading his forehead.

“I will. I love you, baby girl.”

“Love you too, Dad.”

The line cuts, three beeps, and he turns his attention back to Ellie. Takes a moment to watch her head bopping, her foot tapping, before waving an arm around until she takes an earbud out.

“Ready to go, kiddo?”

She swallows comically, giving him a thumbs up before leaping off her seat, crossing the kitchen to deposit her bowl in the sink.

“Yup. Are you driving?” She asks, crossing back over to the foyer, eyeing the keys in the blue dish by the door.

“Sure am,” he grins, taking her bowl from the sink and stacking it in the dishwasher. She rolls her eyes, jamming a foot into a shoe. “Precious cargo.”

“Joel,” she groans, standing, “I am seventeen years old -”

“Ah,” he chuckles, clapping her on the back, opening the front door. “Still my kid. Let’s go.”

She’s watching him.

He can see how her eyes keep flicking this way in his periphery, her smirk from the passenger seat as he taps his thumbs on the steering wheel, chewing his cheek.

“Are you nervous?”

His eyes find hers, crinkled with a smile, warmth hidden behind the mirth. A depth of understanding that goes beyond her years.

He shrugs.

“Is it obvious?”

She looks out the windscreen, avoiding his eye, but he can still see the downwards tip of her mouth as she tries to hide her amusement.

“No.”

He grinds his jaw, feeling the beginnings of a flush crawl up his neck.

“You know,” Ellie says, turning to face him again, “She’s supposed to be really cool. Nice. They all are, even if you don’t meet the whole band. Forget about anything else you might’ve heard. And - she’s just a person. It doesn’t matter if you don’t sound like you know enough. It’s not your job.”

A single eyebrow climbs up his forehead.

“You heard that, huh?”

This time, she does smile.

“Relax,” she says, “And if you screw it up, at least get that selfie for me.”

He chuckles, eyes scanning back out over the road. Traffic, people, lights turning red to green.

“I’ll do my best.”

He doesn’t want to tell her how he stayed up late last night watching your interviews. Doesn’t want her to know how he watched the Wired Autocomplete video three times - because you’re funny. Smart and sharp, and private. He appreciates that. Knows you must have worked hard to reach a point where others have so many questions.

Doesn’t want her to know how he then went on to watch live performances, songs recorded in front of thousands of people. Wishing he’d paid better attention when she’d shown him before. Covers sung in live lounges, radio appearances - one by Sabrina Carpenter that’s been everywhere lately, another about orange blossoms, before finding his favourite. Just you, strumming a guitar - something rare in all the other footage he’d watched. Lover, You Should've Come Over.

How he’d then tapped out your name on Instagram, scrolling back through weeks of posts. Photoshoots, festivals, tour, magazine covers. Stumbled across edits, something Sarah had taught him about. Videos, compilations of you that made his face heat with shame, his heart beat faster. He’d thought he was above it all - within the same stratosphere, unaffected by such things. But he’d been proven wrong. Taken in by your voice, your words. How you looked in that dress, the sliver of stomach exposed on stage. Your doe eyes in the dark of a bathtub, a shoot for Vanity Fair.

He’s really realised, perhaps for the first time, that Ellie is right. Ellie, who’d had your posters up in her room until a year ago. Ellie, who Sarah had taken to your gig at the Staples Center. Ellie, who’d been playing your music - loud - ever since she’d first found it. Music which, he knows now, he also loves.

You are cool - so fucking cool, so fucking beautiful. Accomplished, respected, talented. And now he’s noticed the colour of your eyes, the curve of your lips, the ease with which you perform. The way you move, how electric you are.

And he’s going to be so out of his depth.

He pulls up just down the street from her school, slow halt of tires on tarmac, watching the throng of students cross the road. A jumble of bags moving along the sidewalk, and when they part, he watches Ellie grin as Dina looks up from her phone to wave at the two of them.

His daughter grabs the backpack by her feet before leaning over to kiss his cheek. He tries to smile.

“You’ve got this,” she whispers, a gentle hand on his arm. She smiles back as she pops open the door and scooches out. “Remember, selfie - and if Vic is there, tell her I’m single -”

“I’m right here,” Dina laughs from over her shoulder, giving Ellie a playful shove. Joel chuckles, returning her yelled Morning, Mr Miller. Ellie shrugs.

“Okay, tell her nothing. I just think she’s cool,” she winks, closing the door with a soft thud before throwing an arm around her girlfriend, chatting away to her as they disappear into the crowd of teenagers.

Joel waits until he can no longer see them before checking his flush in the rearview mirror. When he’s satisfied he looks close to normal, not nervous, he takes a deep breath and pulls off.

There’s someone he has to meet.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction

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dawn-moths · 1 year ago

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"No Use Crying Over A Wolf"

Werewolf!Dabi x Female Reader

part 1 * part 2 * part 3

word count: 13,000+

(After surviving your first encounter with the notorious werewolf who lured you into the dark depths of the dense forest, you unexpectedly find yourself wanting to meet him again. But things are different now. He’s different now. And although you two come from completely different worlds, you can’t help but secretly wish there was a way you could be together. You’d certainly rather be involved with the dangerous wolfman than the overly persistent hunter who never seems to give up on vying for your attention and, eventually, if he has it his way, also your hand in marriage. Although, you soon might find both Dabi and yourself will be in danger, as the hunter seems to have caught your scent and followed the trail…)

disclaimer/content warning: 18+ content! minors dni! keigo/hawks plays a pretty big role in this chapter, your relationship with Dabi is more consensual this time, mentions of the church, reader is carried briefly, possessive Dabi, smut at the end, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, some brief aftercare.

*ao3 mirror*

***

Autumn seemed like an eternity ago, the cruel, bitter chill of winter seeping into your skin, your hair, your bones, every time you stepped out the door. But, as your mother always used to tell you when you began to worry about something, things will always change, just as the seasons do, coming and going with time and patience.

Before you knew it, the last of the snow and frost had melted away and the first buds of spring had started to sprout along the thin branches of the bare trees, the promise that change was indeed on its way.

Though, as much as you looked forward to warmer days, to leisure summers spent picking berries by the steady rush of the river, your mind had been unable to evade the crunchy leaves and fog of dawn that the fall had provided.

Because, what always cut through to light your way through those dark winter evenings were the brilliant blue eyes that had shone through the thick forest, the ones that seemed to glow iridescent as they’d tracked you through the mist.

You hadn’t seen the wolfman since that fateful day— the very same day you’d received the gift of your beautiful crimson cloak, which you usually wore on your way through town, drawing many an envious eye at the saturated, fur lined fabric— yet still he always found a way into your dreams, whether caught in a daze during the day or sleeping deeply at night.

You used to fear wolves. Hate them. But now, that had also changed.

Perhaps, you thought, it had been because you’d survived one, were maybe even confident that you could do it again. Or, the more likely explanation, it was because you’d grown rather fond of one wolf in particular, even if he was more man than monster most nights under the moon.

As you trudged up the hill towards your little cottage home atop the cliff, a wicker basket heavy where it was slung over the crook in your elbow, filled with fresh bread and vegetables from the village market, you replayed that night in your head for the hundredth time.

If you really concentrated, you could still feel his rough hands ghosting over you, taste the smoky flavor of his mouth on yours.

You used it to fall asleep most nights, sometimes your own hands wandering to try and replicate what he’d done, yet it never felt quite the same.

So, immersed in your daydream, you almost thought it was merely your imagination as the echoes of a distant howl faded into your serene, early spring soundscape. After a brief pause, you left your basket by the fence and took off running. Though it wasn’t away from the sound, like you’d been meticulously taught to do.

This time, it was towards it.

You felt a laugh bubbling up in your chest as you raced through the rows of pine, the edge of the forest bordering the small patch of valley that composed your backyard, growing giddy as the howl rang out a second time, closer now.

You used to become so afraid when you heard the distant echoes of a howl, knowing how dangerous and vicious the owner of the primal note could be. But this howl, as it rang out a third time, was laced with the smoky, teasing tones of the wolf you’d met before. It was a sound you couldn’t help but be drawn towards. You’d been hearing it in your dreams for weeks now. And Dabi knew you were coming to meet his call, beckoning you further down the winding paths of the dense woods, eager to see you again too.

The winters here were usually long, but this past winter had proved to be the longest and bitterest of them all. Not as much from the unrelenting weather and so much time forcibly spent inside, but more so from the intense loneliness that had come from knowing, when the snow piled up as high as the latticed windows, neither of you could trudge through the blizzard’s banks in hopes of meeting even if you’d wanted to.

As Dabi heard your quick little footsteps approaching, he had to force himself to suppress a smile, though you thought you caught a glimpse of those sharp, glinting canines as you broke through into the clearing that the secluded little spot hidden between the thicket provided.

Dabi stood there looking pleased with himself, as if he’d tricked you into crossing his path again, but you both knew it had been deliberate. You were just surprised that he dared venture this far from his territory, or rather, this close to yours— the territory of his enemies. He was practically in your backyard, your tiny cottage house still slightly visible in the distance through the thin, silvered gaps among the many tightly clustered trees.

He remained half concealed by the shadows cast down from the canopy, those cobalt eyes shining through the dark like two glittering sapphires before he stepped out and revealed himself to the light of day. And then, well…

Then you really were surprised.

Because the wolfman had shed the first half of his title, it seemed, the distinct ears and tail of the creature that cursed him seemingly absent this time around. Nothing left to remind you what he really was under the pale, scarred flesh of the human he had once consistently been.

“You— What happened?” you blurted out, the grin dropping from your face for a moment, concern and confusion taking its place only to be replaced by naive elation moments later. “What happened to your—? You look human now!”

But before you could get too excited, perhaps thinking that his curse had somehow been broken, Dabi stepped forward and bitterly informed you that he wasn’t cured.

“Full moon was a few nights ago,” he said, rolling his eyes a bit at your obliviousness. “Cycle starts over after a full transformation…” He reached forward, slow and steady this time, hoping you wouldn’t flinch away, and ran his fingers through the black, speckled fur on your cloak’s hood for a second before flicking his gaze to meet yours, cocking his head a bit, and asking, “Remember?”

You’d been so distracted by his sudden, casual proximity to you that it took a moment for what he’d told you about those afflicted with his condition to register, the realization then spreading across your face with a warm blush before fading into a sad, soft melancholy.

“Oh…” you muttered. “Right… Sorry, I—” Your sentence stopped short when you caught sight of his wrist. As he pulled it away from you, you noticed it was marked with several cuts and bruises. Fresh ones. Ones that looked like they hurt.

“What’s this?” you asked, taking his hand back in your own before he could try and hide the injury. “These are recent…” you noted, trying to examine the gashes closer, worry tugging cutely at your brow. “Did this happen on the last full moon? Did the hunters do this to you?”

Dabi let you handle him for a moment, caught off guard by your authentic concern. How often did he allow people to get close enough to touch him? And how rare it was that they’d be so gentle. But when you looked up at him with those big, troubled doe-eyes of yours, dappled sunlight catching on your long lashes and brightening your irises, he flinched out of your reach, pulling his injured wrist into his other hand.

“‘S nothing…” he lied, averting his gaze, feeling vulnerable under your attempted care. “Don’t worry about it.”

Stubbornly— and rather boldly— you reached forward and tugged his arm towards you again, revealing the wounds once more. Dabi swallowed, a slight scowl twitching on his brow, but he didn’t pull away that time. He didn’t dare, lest you never let him feel your touch again.

“Don’t tell me not to worry about it,” you lightly scolded him, gently turning his wrist to examine how the cuts wrapped all the way around, almost like he’d gotten his hand— or, perhaps, his front paw— caught up in some sharp, barbed razor wires. Traps that hunters had set in hopes of catching rabbits and other small forest creatures, no doubt. “This needs to be disinfected and wrapped. Stay here—” You let go of his wrist and were already turning back towards your house. Dabi fought the urge to reach out and grab onto you, not wanting you to leave so soon, even if it was temporarily and also for his own good. “We have some bandages at home. I’ll be right back!”

Dumbfounded as he watched you weave in and out between the gaps in the pines, Dabi’s protests had come to him a little too late. Not that you would’ve listened to them even if he’d remembered to speak. But he just couldn’t believe how much you seemed to care for him after what he’d done.

Because you didn’t even know his name yet. He didn’t know yours. And the last time you two had been in the same vicinity, he’d intended to do you more harm than good.

But, against his own wishes, he’d reluctantly grown his own fondness for you, the roots of the bittersweet plant entangled throughout every bone within him, the flower’s sating venom clouding his thoughts, oftentimes causing him to pace his territory in hopes of spotting a flash of vibrant red through the bleak streaks of grey and white that winter had painted over the woods. He would sniff the air, wishing he would catch a whiff of freshly baked bread and plump, ripe fruits or that distinct, delicately human smell of your skin.

Through the cold and the snow and the long, dark, lonely nights, Dabi could only dream of you, the feisty girl who traveled alone through the woods with a silver dagger and the fur of a killer frothed around her neck. He never imagined that you’d possibly be thinking of him over these last few months as well. But, as he lost sight of your flickering figure amidst the trees, as much as it tore him apart inside to accept the realization, it would probably be best if you two stopped seeing each other at all.

***

The first aid kit was tucked in between your grandmother’s cookbook and the cutting board. Once you’d procured some basic cloth bandages and a glass bottle half full of what you could only guess by the horrid, eye watering smell was pure alcohol, you doubled back towards the front door.

A thought crossed your mind then that it was a good thing neither of your parents were home. How would you explain taking such precious medical supplies? That you’d found an injured deer and wished to help it? If your father had been around, he would’ve just had you lead him to it so he could finish it off and drag it home where part of it would become dinner, the remains brought into town and sold for as many coins as they could fetch.

Unable to keep a beaming smile from lighting up your face, you supposed that you were feeling pretty lucky today. First you run into your favorite wolf and next you’re actually able to help him and make yourself a little useful so—

The moment you swung open the door to exit your home, you stopped short and froze, submerged in a shadow that stretched over the flat stones leading to the home’s front entrance and finding yourself face to face with someone you’d rather not see right that moment, or ever, for that matter.

“Hello,” Keigo Takami, the village’s most infamously charismatic hunter, greeted you with a charming smile. His blonde, wavy locks caught the afternoon sunlight like spun gold and he was bundled up in a tan jacket lined with fluffy cream colored fur— the result of several successful rabbit hunts in season’s past, no doubt. “I was hoping to find you at home. I thought I saw you in the market earlier…”

Your eyes went wide, and as Keigo undeniably noticed this, his smile dropped and the corner of his mouth pulled down into a slightly concerned frown. “I-I…” you stammered, former glee replaced with a nervous grin that spread crooked across your lips. You forced yourself to swallow down the fear, attempting to hide your alarm, lest you look suspicious and let him onto the type of trouble you’d chosen to associate yourself with. So, concealing the supplies under your cloak, you shakily lied, “I was just on my way out actually. Now isn’t really a good time…”

Keigo’s amber eyes seemed to flare with confusion before narrowing a bit, considering you with a skeptical stare. It was then that you saw him for what he really was, more hunter than human. It took every ounce of courage within you not to look away instantly.

Hawks.

That’s what most people called him.

They said he never missed a shot and always brought in the biggest haul of birds every hunt, providing the village with most of its poultry.

But it wasn’t just birds that he had a habit of hunting. It was people too— those the church deemed witches or demons. He was revered by the bishops and townsfolk alike for protecting the town, preventing monsters from lurking too close to the innocents residing behind the tall brick walls.

But you didn’t view him as a hero.

You saw him more as an executioner, for anyone accused was sentenced to be crucified and burned at the stake. He’d made sure of it, and even though he wasn’t necessarily the one striking the flint, he was still the one who helped drag the victims kicking and screaming all the way to the pyre at the center of town.

Even before encountering the wolfman and finding yourself a little more sympathetic towards those the church declared as evil, you hadn’t liked Keigo much. You hadn’t always been able to describe it, but there was just something about him you couldn’t quite read. It gave you a grave sense of unease and caused you to go out of your way to avoid him every chance you got. But, of course, the hunter had caught a glimpse of that red cloak billowing behind you as you’d weaved between the crowds in town and decided to pursue you.

The other women in town would call you foolish for evading his advances, whether they be a request to escort you home or a gift of fresh meat to take to your family for dinner, but you only saw his offerings as a strategy to get closer to his next target, the bait placed in the center of a trap.

Oftentimes, the words your father had used to warn you about traveling through the woods wearing such a bright color popped into your head.

Easier for hunters to spot, he’d said, and predators too.

You reckoned Keigo counted as both.

“Is everything alright?” he asked, eyes flicking down to where your fidgeting hands gripped the bandages and bottle under your cloak, that misleading grin finding its way back onto his deviously handsome face. “You seem…” he paused, considering you in a calculated, callous kind of way, “bothered by something.”

You cleared your throat, putting your hands behind your back and giving your most convincing sweet and innocent smile, even peppering in a cute little giggle for good measure before assuring him, “Oh, no, everything’s fine. It’s just— I really should get going. There’s plenty of errands to run before the sun goes down and I’ve barely even started.”

When Keigo’s expression softened, eyes flickering from cautious back to kind, you instantly knew that had been the wrong excuse to give. “Allow me to help you then,” he insisted, holding the door further open and moving out the way for you to step outside, gesturing with his free hand in the direction he assumed— and hoped— you would start down.

You passed by him, allowing him to close the front door shut behind you, and internally started to panic. Normally, when he caught you unexpectedly, it was somewhere in town. Similar to now, you tried to be polite, though denied him nonetheless.

The other young women would watch with jealousy and scorn as he perched against the wall and conversed with you, wishing to be in your place, knowing full well that the hunter lived a pretty comfortable life when he wasn’t surviving out in the woods. The moment you’d slip past his looming shadow and meekly apologize that you were running late for something, though never specify exactly what, hurrying out of town without looking back, their envy would turn to confusion, but the disdain would only grow as they watched him try to win you over time and time again despite your endless rejections.

As elusive as you could be, however, Keigo was just as stubborn. And now he practically had you cornered, coming all the way to your little house on the hill where he knew you couldn’t escape. Because where else would you go from here, besides back into town where he could follow you? Surely not into those dark, dangerous woods that bordered your backyard. What business could a sweet girl like you possibly have out there?

“What’cha hiding under there, chickadee?” Keigo teased with a chuckle, craning his neck as he came to walk beside you as you automatically headed around to where your meager livestock was kept, hoping that you’d think of a good enough lie in between now and then.

“Hiding?” you repeated, playing dumb. Luckily for you, you were pretty enough that some people might believe there wasn’t a whole lot going on in your head. You liked to use that to your advantage when the situation called for it. “Nothing. I’m not hiding anything…”

Keigo smirked, coming to a stop in front of you before you could reach the low gate of the goat pen, barring your path. “Show me your hands then,” he challenged, raising his eyebrows as his gaze narrowed, trying to act like he was simply toying with you.

But you knew that those playful sounding words were more order than suggestion.

You glanced behind him where the steepled roofs of the village poked over the jagged, pine-lined horizon. It was quite a trek from the town all the way up the hillside to your home. He must’ve spotted you during your grocery run and followed you home. You hated that he knew where you lived. Hated that he felt like he could come up here whenever he wanted.

“It’s just some medical supplies…” you sighed, holding both your hands out in front of you and showing him the bandages and the bottle, knowing you’d lost this battle. Then, hearing the baby goats beginning to bleat, thinking they were going to be fed again upon seeing you, you conjured up the perfect lie. “One of the goats got cut on a piece of wire that broke off the fence,” you explained. “It’s nothing serious. I just thought I’d see what I could do and—”

“Your fence is broken?” Keigo cut in, looking over his shoulder to try and spot the area in question, but you quickly pulled his attention back to you, not wanting your cover to be completely blown.

“Keigo, now isn’t really a good time,” you began again. “I—”

“Let me fix it for you,” he insisted, wearing that arrogant grin as he added on, “Wouldn’t want you and your family to lose your livestock again.”

It had been Keigo who’d oh so generously gifted your family the goats about three months back. Another desperate attempt to try win you over and prove himself worthy to your parents of earning your hand the day you’d finally agree to let him have it. And as he began to turn on his heel to open the gate, you took a frantic step forward, starting to say that you could handle it on your own, but this time what cut you off mid-sentence was a gasp from your own mouth.

You suddenly found yourself falling forward, tripping over the untied shoelace of your favorite brown boots. Though, it wasn’t the ground that your body found purchase on next, but the solid, warm strength of the persistent hunter, his arms bracing you against his broad chest as he tried to help you find your footing again.

And you were so close to him.

Closer than you ever wanted to be.

If the other young women in town could see you now, you were sure their hatred would flare so bright their eyes would turn red with loathing and anyone who witnessed it would report them as possessed.

“Careful there, dove,” Keigo simpered with another one of those irritatingly patronizing chuckles. And you, feeling even more awkward than before, quickly righted yourself and pulled away from his grasp, kneeling down to tie your pesky shoelace while mumbling something passive-aggressive under your breath.

“What was that?” Keigo asked, leaning over you a little further, his shadow engulfing you again from above.

As you stood, however, you flashed another one of those fake smiles you’d damn near perfected and said with your own brand of condescending coolness, “You know, my parents aren’t home at the moment. Don’t you think it’s a little unseemly for a young lady to be spending so much time alone with a man who’s not even courting her?”

That time, when Keigo’s expression changed from arrogance to embarrassment, you felt a sadistic little victory ignite within your chest.

Try talking your way around that, you thought with petty triumph, still smiling like the innocent little angel you pretended to be in moments like this.

“Y-you’re absolutely right…” stuttered Keigo, cool, calm, and collected facade cracking as he cleared his throat and tried to slide back into that smooth, casually charming air of his. “I apologize if I’ve offended you in any way. Though, if you ever find yourself in need of any assistance,” he adjusted his jacket over his shoulders, beginning to walk past you and towards the steep slope that would lead him back to the village, “please don’t hesitate to seek me out.”

With a final nod and a muttered farewell, you watched until Keigo’s silhouette disappeared down the hill. Once he was gone, you unclasped the gold facet on your cloak and left it hanging on the little wooden bench beside your back door, not wanting anyone to be able to spot you taking off back into the woods.

But as Dabi saw you running his way that time, he retreated.

He’d snuck up to keep an eye on you, feeling his heart twist in his chest as he viewed that haughty hunter strolling towards your front door, watched the two of you migrate around to the goat pen, witnessed the way you’d smiled so sweetly for him.

He’d felt a growl rumbling in his chest as you fell into Keigo’s arms, wishing for perhaps the first time since his turning that it were closer to a full moon so his teeth were a little sharper, that he had claws to rip the blonde’s throat out with.

Because, in his absence, you’d found someone else after all, hadn’t you?

Of course she has, he thought as he swiftly wove his way deeper into the maze of pines.

How could he ever fool himself into thinking a girl like you— a perfect, pretty little human— would ever end up with a wretched creature like him?

***

“Sorry it took so long…” you began to apologize as you reentered the clearing where you’d left Dabi, a little out of breath from your sudden sprint. “Ran into an unexpected visitor… God, he’s always—!” But your complaint was cut short as you looked up and realized the wolfman was gone, the rest of your fiery explanation turning to ash on your tongue.

Straightening your posture and slowly pacing the perimeter that the pine created, you wanted to quietly call out his name, but then it once again occurred to you that you didn’t know it.

You doubted he’d respond well to, “Here, boy,” even if he were still around to hear it.

So, a little puzzled but figuring he’d had a good reason for leaving, you placed the roll of bandages and vial of alcohol down by one of the trees’ exposed, mangled roots and headed back home, all the way cursing Keigo for interrupting you.

You didn’t know how long it would be until you saw the cerulean-eyed stranger again, but the next day when you returned to the clearing to retrieve the supplies you’d left, you found them gone.

***

The tavern was rather lively at this time of night, the sounds of rambunctious laughter and drunken arguments overlapping to score its own melody over the upbeat music being played from one corner where the village bard enthusiastically strummed his mandolin.

Amidst it all, Keigo sat at the bar, his head in one hand, fingers absentmindedly combing through his honey locks as he mulled things over, staring down at his warped reflection in the rippling amber liquid that filled his glass. The look on his face was one of strained concentration, as was to be expected when one could barely even hear themselves think in the tiny, overcrowded pub.

The hunter cradled the stein in his other hand, his drink barely touched, another sign he was caught in his own thoughts, wondering what he’d done that had made you hate him so much.

Then, from the other end of the counter, a fellow hunter called out a teasing, “Oh, cheer up, Hawks! And why don’t you finish your drink, while you’re at it! That is, unless you want me to finish it for you!” before bursting out in a fit of laughter, clearly already way past tipsy from the blatant blushing of his cheeks and slurring of his words.

Even though this bit of unwarranted commentary irked Keigo, he forced himself to snap out of his brooding for a moment and throw some playful banter back at his acquaintance, saying in the same cheerfully teasing manner, “I think you’ve had enough, don’cha think? What’s the missus gonna say when I show up at her door with you slung over my shoulder and barely conscious again, huh?”

His friend shouted something back, but Keigo couldn’t quite hear him that time. So, as he was known to do from time to time, especially after a plentiful hunt, Keigo slapped his hand down on the counter and called out, “Y’know what! Next round is on me!” He pointed to the drunk hunter who howled out with the chorus of cheers, and playfully warned with a quirk of one eyebrow, “But it better be your last one!”

After that, the ruckus only built as the barmaids served out full glasses to everyone in the rickety old establishment and the bard began to play another fast-paced, jolly tune. Keigo took the jovial, drunken distraction as his opportunity to slip out of the tavern in search of a quieter place to sort through his worries and woes.

The streets were nearly empty at this time of night, the cobblestones shimmering under the dim lanterns flickering inside their sconces, ground shiny and wet from the quick storm that had rolled in and passed through the valley earlier that evening.

Keigo’s boots tapped down the empty road, wandering aimlessly towards the old water well where he sometimes went to think before a hunt. But then, as another set of footsteps echoed from the opposite side of the street, the hunter stopped and stared into the adjacent alley, watching as an unfamiliar figure stepped out from the shadows and into the dim lamplight.

He squinted, unable to identify the lanky form through the faint glow cast down from the crescent moon, and when the figure stopped to stare back at him from across the street, Keigo felt dread fill his stomach like a flood.

It was the same feeling he got right before he fired off an arrow he knew wouldn’t bury itself in the hide of an elk or the wing of a duck mid-flight, his intuition turned razor sharp after years of studying patterns between good fortune and bad.

The stranger’s eyes flashed a vibrant blue, the kind of electric cobalt that cut through the night. Keigo shifted his gaze to what appeared to be a bag of some kind in the shadow’s hand, getting a feeling the man— if he was even human— was a thief, at the very least.

“Hey!” Keigo called, taking a step forward as he reached for the hooked, serrated knife used for skinning secured at his belt. The blue-eyed silhouette remained frozen on the other side of the street, staying as still as one of the holy statues standing in reverent prayer by the entrance of the church, both of them waiting for the other’s first move.

And then, Dabi took off running, Keigo giving chase.

They wove in and out of the market stalls, Dabi jumping over the counter of the butcher’s stall, Keigo following suit. They chased each other through the town, sprinting over the uneven cobblestones, past the looming cathedral, and closer to the edge of the high wall that surrounded the village.

Dabi let Keigo gain on him, waited until the last second, then darted into the next side alley.

When Keigo turned that corner, however, breathing hard and ready to strike, adrenaline coursing through his veins, he was horrified to discover the dead end vacant.

Cautiously, he ventured further down the narrow nook, thinking the thief had some kind of trick up his sleeve and was waiting for the right moment to attack and make his real escape, but after a few minutes, the hunter came to the conclusion that he was truly alone once again.

Confused and caught off guard, Keigo backed out of the alley with caution, slid his knife back into its sheath once he was sure the threat was gone, and headed home, forgoing his original plan of visiting the well, glancing over his shoulder here and there as if expecting to see that distinct flash of blue from the corner of his vision.

He may not have been too sure about who the culprit had been, but there was one thing Keigo knew without a doubt…

Whoever it was— whatever it was— they certainly weren’t human.

***

The following week, you found yourself back in town to replenish your pantry, marching reluctantly down the hill that morning, praying that you wouldn’t run into Keigo Takami again after that awkward encounter outside your house.

As you strolled the streets, your wicker basket already half full of loose spices stuffed into linen pouches tied up with twine and a couple of apples marbled red and yellow slightly rolling with every stride, you began to feel uneasy. It was almost like you could feel someone’s gaze tracking you, the growing panic of being followed a familiar and dreadful thing.

After paying the baker and tucking the loaf of fresh, warm bread into your basket, you glanced over your shoulder and scanned the moving crowd across the street, expecting to find a pair of golden eyes staring you down or catch a glimpse of that misleading smile that disguised itself as charm. But, with the hunter nowhere in your line of sight, your imagination began to fill in the blanks with other, more favorable possibilities.

You headed further into town, noticed the traffic of people growing thinner, and when you thought no one was looking, you turned down into a vacant alley.

As your steady pace began to slow, a mischievous smile crept across your lips. Because perhaps this familiar feeling of being followed could begin to carry a little more fondness than fear. Maybe it was your favorite wolf sneaking into town for a visit. He struck you as someone who’d take the risk.

But then, hearing footsteps tapping on the cobblestones behind you, rounding the corner into the alley, you turned. As soon as your gaze met gold, the eager grin dropped from your face.

“Keigo—” you nearly gasped, taking a few steps back as he approached closer. He looked troubled, brows furrowed and the corners of his mouth turning down as if he was about to become the bearer of bad news. “What’s wrong? Why are you following me?”

You tried to hide your nerves under a giggle, but the smile didn’t reach your eyes. The hunter mumbled something, said he needed to talk to you, and guided you further down into the alley where you wouldn’t be overheard.

“It’s not safe here,” Keigo began, his voice low and dangerous as he leaned over you, shadows cast over his face and making you more wary of him than you already were. “You need to get home. Stay out of town for a while.”

“Why…?” you dared to ask, the syllable quivering a bit as it left your mouth.

“Just trust me, alright,” he pressed, avoiding your question. “I’ll take care of it, but until then…” He glanced over his shoulder at the opposite end of the alley as if expecting to see the topic of his concern peering around the corner. He let out a sigh, raking his fingers worriedly through his tousled hair, and then wrangled a reassuring smile onto his tired looking face, even if just for your sake.

“I know you’re not very fond of me,” he stated, unable to suppress the sliver of disappointment that slipped through into his voice. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to protect you. So just go on home and don’t worry about anything, ok? I’m going to take care of it.”

Before you could try and fish for more answers, he was ushering you out of the alley, repetitively telling you to go home any time you attempted to open your mouth to protest.

Eventually, you gave up. Gave in. Headed out of the town and towards the hill that led to your home. You looked back once, seeing Keigo standing at the village’s arched wrought iron gates, watching you. Making sure you continued to obey. When you were at the top of the hill, you looked back again, feeling your stomach sink when he was still there, now merely a pin dot of tan and cream and gold. He could see you even from that far off too, your red cloak serving as a beacon to him.

You clutched your basket tighter in trembling hands and swallowed hard. Pulling the cloak further over your shoulders, you turned away, continuing the rest of the way home.

Even when you disappeared around the bend, the village no longer in sight as you peered over your shoulder, you could still feel it. Keigo was no doubt still standing there. Watching. Waiting. Counting the steps he predicted it would take you to reach your front door and get inside.

***

“Oh, you’re back!” your mother beamed, coming over to take the basket from your hands. It had grown heavier with each step up the hill with all the extra anxiety weighing you down. “How did it go?” she inquired cheerily, raising her eyebrows playfully. “Did you happen to run into that nice Keigo boy again?”

You tried to hide the fact that you were, for many reasons, shaken.

“Not this time,” you lied, a nervous grin tugging crookedly at your lips. As you headed towards your room, you said, “I’m quite tired, actually. I think I’ll lay down for a bit,” before your mother could pry any further.

Her good mood faded into gentle concern, replying with a slightly melancholy, “Oh… Alright then…” before leaving you be and beginning to prepare dinner.

As your door closed behind you, the urge to sneak out your window and go running into the woods suddenly became overwhelming.

Because all you wanted to do right now was find Dabi.

You wanted to warn him, just knowing he was somehow involved in all of this, as if he didn’t already know.

But you knew you couldn’t. Not now, anyway.

The next time you had a delivery to run, however, you’d plan to find him.

Until then, you just hoped he and Keigo didn’t cross paths.

***

Five painfully long days later, your next delivery was packed neatly into that old wicker basket and slung over your arm.

The afternoons were growing warmer lately, the sun hanging in the sky just a little bit longer. The buds on the trees were slowly beginning to bloom in tiny blossoms of pink and white and small patches of green were popping up among the faded landscape leftover from the winter’s frosty kiss.

As you’d headed down the path into the woods, you tried to remember where you’d first veered off through the fog last fall, scouring your surroundings for anything familiar, but it was no use.

All you could seem to recall from that fateful day was the flash of those glowing blue eyes that tracked you through the dark and the eerie, echoed humming of your mother’s melody. After that, it all became a jumble of panic and praying to make it out alive.

So you continued on to your grandmother’s house, greeted her with a grin when she opened the door, gave her the weekly update of your daily activities, and helped her make some delicious pumpkin soup before curling up by the fire and reading one of the old fairy tales she kept on a bookshelf while she worked on her knitting.

That’s about where the calmness of your night ended, your worries worming their way into your sleep and sending you into a restless state of tossing and turning, quick flashes of Keigo standing over the bloody corpse of a black wolf pierced with arrows cutting through your dreams on the few occasions you did manage to slip unconscious.

Needless to say, as the sun shone in through the latticed windows the following morning, you cursed the day, exhaustion weighing over you like a heavy quilt. But you knew you had to get up, redress, and head out by noon in order to make it back home before dark.

The sky overhead was painted with thin, wispy clouds, a nice breeze offering a gentle reprieve from the sun’s warm rays. You strolled the path absentmindedly, head hung a little low as you began to think maybe you wouldn’t discover a way to seek out your wolf on your own after all. But then, as if in reply to your despondent sigh as you lazily kicked a rock with the toe of your boot, you heard a rustling sound from nearby.

Instinctively, you perked up and drew your knife, hoping it was just another rabbit or a deer grazing on the freshly grown grass and not something more dangerous or deadly. The moment you saw that familiar shade of blue though, you relaxed your stance and let out a surprised giggle, your furrowed brow smoothing as an expression of relief spread across your face.

“It’s you!” You declared as Dabi stepped into better view through the thick greenery, trudging over tufts of wild fern.

“Who else would it be?” He flashed a smirk, teeth sharp and glinting, but in a way that was more mischievous charm than ill intention.

He looked the way he had when you’d first met, the ears and tail of a wolf plain as day, another full moon undeniably approaching.

“I was looking for you,” you explained excitedly, sliding your dagger back into its sheath and trotting over to meet him. You then shifted your gaze to his wrist, which had healed quite nicely since the last time you’d seen it. But then your cheer began to ebb as you remembered how he’d left you during your previous encounter, causing your worry to regrow anew, the thorny vines of the carnivorous plant scraping against your heart.

Because perhaps he wasn’t as excited to see you as you were to see him.

If he was, he sure was doing a good job of hiding it.

Inside though, Dabi was using every ounce of his willpower to restrain himself. He’d been hoping to run into you too, finally catching your scent as the breeze carried sweet honeysuckle and fresh bread through the sea of spruce and pine.

“I was worried about you,” you admitted, your tone dropping down to a darker octave. “Did something happen? I mean, did you run into the hunters? Kei— I mean, one of the hunters said he’d spotted something dangerous near the town and I was afraid they might’ve seen you and—”

You were talking a million miles a minute, question after question rolling off your tongue before Dabi could even choose one of them to answer.

“Hey— Hey!” He interrupted your rambling, grabbing you by the shoulders and giving you a slight shake. “Slow down—”

“Why did you go into town?” you blurted out, distressed eyes pleading with him. “Why would you take a risk like that?” You were near tears but tried to contain them, a frustrated scowl pinching on your brow. “He saw you! He saw you and now he—”

As your voice broke, you swallowed what remained of your sentence, knowing even one single syllable more would send you into a fit of sobbing.

Dabi’s pointed ears drooped back, a strained kind of concern lacing itself through his scarred face then. He could feel your shoulders trembling beneath his palms, so he cleared his throat, swallowed, and said, “Yeah, I went into the town. I needed food. My supplies were running low and—”

“Why?” you squeaked, shooting him a look of pressing anger, your tears finally welling enough to spill over, droplets rolling down your cheeks in shimmering pairs, the small patch of dappled afternoon sunlight that shone overhead making them glitter like diamonds. “Why didn’t you just ask me to bring some to you? Why would you risk your life like that?” You were becoming more upset by the second and Dabi didn’t know what to do.

He’d never had anyone show such concern for him before. And, while he’d been the cause of other’s tears before, it had never been like this.

“I could’ve been bringing you food every time I ran a delivery to my grandmother,” you told him, words garbled with your sorrow as you tried to wipe away your tears with the edge of your sleeve. “You could’ve just asked me— I was so worried— Just ask me next time—” Your hiccuping sobs were turning into sporadic little sniffles now, and after Dabi removed his hands from your shaking shoulders, he wondered why…

Why had he chosen to withdraw from you when what you probably needed most right now was his comfort, as unpracticed and awkward as it was?

He didn’t want to leave you to cry on your own. What he wanted was to reach out and pull you against his chest, run his long fingers through your soft hair and soothe you— in his own rough around the edges kind of way— as he promised he would never make you worry like that again.

“I’m sorry…” was all he could manage at the moment, averting his gaze from you and glaring down at the ground, frustrated with himself. “I just thought…”

As you drew in a sharp breath, pulling his attention back to your face, Dabi saw you looked more angry now than you did sad. Gravely serious, you warned, “You don’t understand. If Keigo decides he wants to hunt you, he’ll find you. Keigo will kill you. God, I— I thought maybe he already…”

That time, when your emotions overtook you and sent you into a new fit of tears, Dabi didn’t waste the chance. Moving towards you slowly, as if afraid he might spook you like a rabbit that went off running upon the first sign of a threat, Dabi put his arms around you and pulled you into an embrace. It was surprisingly gentle, at first, as if he was afraid you were far more delicate than he already thought you to be and if he held you too tightly you might break. But then, when you returned the gesture, clasping your trembling arms around him, he took that as permission to hug you a little tighter, your ear pressed to his warm chest to listen to his beating heart.

“It’s ok,” he muttered, the words vibrating faintly against the side of your head. His fluffy black tail curled around your back as if to shield you, cradle you, and then he said, “I’ve gone this long without getting caught. You don’t have to worry about me so much…”

Looking up at him, so much earnest concern woven within your gaze, bottom lip still quivering a little as you attempted to hold back another hiccuped sob, you eventually were able to clear your throat and clarify, “You don’t understand how persistent Keigo can be. Once he marks you as a target, he won’t stop until he has your head. He’ll hunt you down and kill you if it’s the last thing he does. That’s just who he is. Please… I just— I don’t want that to happen… Not to you, I—”

“Wait,” Dabi cut in, one brow quirked up in befuddlement, holding you at arms length now, big, rough hands still resting carefully on your shoulders. “So you mean you two aren’t…?” When you stared back at him equally confused, Dabi couldn’t help but crack a crooked, embarrassed grin. He wouldn’t admit he’d been wrong, at least not out loud, but right about now he was starting to feel a little guilty for brushing you off for so long under his own false pretenses.

Once you realized what his unfinished question had been alluding to, you quickly assured him, “Me and Kei— Oh, no. No, no, no, no. I mean, he looks out for me and helps my family sometimes but…” You could feel Dabi withdrawing more and more with every frantic word that left your mouth. Then you said, “He might have feelings for me but I— I don’t want to be with him. I want…” To be with you.

If only you could say those words out loud and truly mean them. But, the fact of the matter was, right now, you didn’t know what you wanted.

In a perfect world, one where you wouldn’t be crucified for having relations with a creature of the night, you probably would pursue whatever had been growing between the two of you without hesitation. But you knew what would become of you, and what would become of him, and maybe even your family too, if anyone, no matter how much you thought you could trust or confide in them, ever found out you and the wolfman had even met.

Dabi seemed to recognize this too— had recognized this a long time ago and had fought against it, then fell into acceptance of it, then gone back and forth between the two until he couldn’t tell one emotion or decision from the other. Even so, he began to remind you, “You know why we can’t…”

You shook your head, feeling the ever looming threat of tears prickling in the back of your nose once more. “I know…” you muttered, burying your face back into his chest. “I know but…” But you still couldn’t help but want it all the same.

“But, y’know…” he raised, some of that unbothered nonchalance bleeding back into his voice, the normalcy of that tone putting you a little more at ease. “At least until you find another human to be with,” he rolled his eyes upon the word as if it were a casual insult, “I’ll be here for you.”

You just wanted to stay like this with him forever, swaddled in his warmth and the scent of pine and campfire smoke. You wanted to live in his world of trees and moonlight rather than your own of cobblestone streets and the deep clanging of distant church bells. You wanted him to take you back to his cabin so you could study all his knick-knacks properly this time, so you could learn about each one and its significance to him.

You wanted to learn his name.

You wanted him to hold you again.

“I can tell my parents I stayed an extra night at my grandmother’s…” you shyly suggested, sounding half-apologetic as if feeling ashamed for suddenly imposing yourself on him. “We can go back to your place and…”

And he could put his hands on your body in all the ways you’d imagined and tried to replicate over all these long, bitter months you’d missed him. You could give yourself over to him completely willingly, forget that he was a wolf and pretend that he was an ordinary human just like you.

For a second, Dabi wasn’t sure what you were alluding to, not used to you being so bold. But, again, it had been a while since you two had last really seen each other. Who knows what ways you could’ve changed, ideas you could’ve come around to, in all that time apart.

And those deceivingly innocent doe-eyes of yours were already starting to drive him crazy, making his mind go to all kinds of dirty, shameless places about his fantasies, the ones he’d concocted during his own sleepless nights, having purposely stayed as far away from you as possible during the seasonal mating urges that accompanied his condition for only the most obvious of reasons.

“Yeah?” he asked, sounding deviously confident now, trying to keep his tail from wagging in excitement about what this opportunity meant. “Alright,” he nodded, keeping an arm slung possessively around you.

You were his special little human, after all. And if that golden haired hunter wanted to try and take you from him, well…

He’d just have to become the monster your kind was so keen on believing him to be.

***

The cabin was almost exactly as you remembered it, only now, without the haze of trepidation clouding your view, you noticed a lot more details than before. Like the small collection of smooth stones lined up in order from biggest to smallest on one of the shelves, the rocks probably worn from a life spent lounging in a riverbed. You could imagine Dabi pacing the edge of the flowing path, gazing down through the layers of ridges and ripples until he spotted the little piece of condensed earth and reached down into the icy waters to claim it.

There was also an array of what appeared to be little handmade dolls, six of them braided and woven from pieces of long, dry grass in varying sizes— a whole family. It reminded you of the curses that the church warned of witches leaving behind, only, seeing them here, all you could think of was a place, a people, that Dabi could’ve come from before he’d been forced to leave his old life behind.

But, above all else, what really stuck out to you as you scanned your gaze about the place was that it was a lot neater than your first visit. Dare you consider it actually organized. It made you wonder if he’d put a little extra effort into his house chores lately in preparations for a very special guest.

He’d never admit it to you, but Dabi had been preparing to convince you to come back here for a long time now. Nearly six entire months. Making his den nicer for your return had been deliberate, intentional, yet when you made a comment about it to compliment him he just gave a lazy half shrug and an unaffected, “Yeah, it’s whatever I guess…”

He stoked a small fire in the hearth, directing you to the warmest seat nearest to the flames, while he curled up on the beat up old sofa where you blushed to recall he’d taken your virginity, the place where the shared addiction the two of you had secretly harbored for each other all this time had began.

“I can’t believe no one’s found this place yet…” you absentmindedly muttered, leaning in closer to the crackling fire while you continued to look around, even taking the time to study the ceiling, tracing the hairline cracks that zig-zagged through the old foundation like fault lines.

Then, as if forgetting Dabi was even there, you nearly flinched when he chimed in to comment, “Who says they haven’t?”

The look in his eyes was pure, white hot malice. That one expression alone was enough to answer any unasked questions, like what happened to anyone who crossed paths with the cabin? Full moon or not, Dabi was more than capable of getting rid of any witnesses. But you didn’t want to think about that. Not now. Not when you were actually trying to forget your fear and enjoy your experience here this time around.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” you announced, standing from your chair and going to retrieve something from your basket. When you returned, you were hiding it from his view within cupped hands, wearing a smile as if barely able to contain your joy. “These are my favorite! My grandmother makes them this time of year and she sent me home with a ton of extra this time!”

In your hands you held out to him some type of small cinnamon cookies, their sugary swirl sparkling when near the firelight. Once Dabi had a couple in his palm, popping one into his mouth, and you’d retaken your seat to enjoy your share, you sighed to yourself and said, “I’m really gonna miss these some day…”

Your grandmother’s health had slowly been declining over the last few months, her heart and lungs and bones not as strong as they used to be. This past winter especially had done quite a number on her. It was an unavoidable fate you tried not to dwell on but…

“Guess you’ll just have to learn to make them,” Dabi commented, thoroughly enjoying the bite sized morsels but trying not to show just how much. When was the last time he indulged in real sugar? Even during his human years, it had been a rare commodity, his family having too many mouths to feed just for the sake of staying alive to worry about unnecessary expenses like sugar and sweets.

“Yeah, I guess…” you shrugged, not seeming too thrilled with the notion. Then you sighed, “It just wouldn’t be the same…”

When Dabi noticed your melancholy smile, he paused before finishing his final cookie, realizing he must’ve said something wrong. He leaned forward, reaching out one hand to place on your knee in hopes of it offering you some kind of apology, then retracted a bit to himself when he realized he couldn’t conjure any words of comfort.

God, he sucked at this. Even when he was trying to do the right thing, as few and far between as those occasions were, he just couldn’t seem to get it right. He cleared his throat softly, trying to swallow down the lingering insecurities, then said, “We all die someday. But not everyone gets to go as the person they started as…”

Not everyone gets to go surrounded by those they love, either.

And, when Dabi’s final day came to pass, who would be there to bury him? According to the church, demons weren’t buried, they were burned, reduced to blackened ash and then scattered around the village’s perimeter to ward off any other evil creatures that lurked nearby.

But they’d tried to tie Dabi to that pyre and ignite him once and failed. You doubted he’d ever give them the chance to do it again.

“I’m sorry they did this to you…” You nearly whispered, voice airy and broken as you cupped a soft palm to his scarred cheek, gently brushing your thumb over the remnants of the burns and feeling the warped skin glide unevenly beneath your touch. “I’m sorry you have to live out here all alone. That even by going into town they might…” You felt your sympathy for his circumstances swell, threatening to bring tears to your eyes again, so you cut your last sentence short and let the remainder of it linger.

“Stop that,” Dabi said, but there was a guilty kind of smile twitching at his lips. Taking your face in both his hands, he stared you in the eyes for a moment before pulling you close into his chest. He couldn’t hold your gaze for too long when you looked at him like that— like you liked him, like you might’ve actually loved him— with such a fragile tenderness filling your eyes, and for him of all people.

After pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, he kept his lips against your hair and murmured, voice raspy and raw, “There’s nothing you could’ve done.”

And even though that was true, whether you’d known him back then or not, it still hurt. It hurt knowing no one had done anything for him back then, that no one had even tried.

“I just wish they could’ve known you like I do. Like this,” you replied, words feather soft yet still splintered with small shards of resentment for the village you came from, the people who preached love and acceptance only to turn around and torch the first thing that they thought didn’t fit in. “If they did, maybe they’d change their minds about—”

“Just stop.” He was more direct that time, a barb of harshness spiking through his words. But when you looked up at him then, you saw the loneliness he tried so hard to hide shining through all that entrancing blue, shimmering like the dewdrops that blanketed the valleys like a veil of glittering lace upon the first light of dawn.

You began to protest, “But it’s not fair—”

“Fair, unfair…” Dabi cut in, his grip on you tightening a fraction. He shook his head, a minute little motion that barely shuddered through you. “What happened is long past any of that. They’ll always see me as a monster,” and so a monster he became. “I can’t control what happens under a full moon,” so killing a couple civilians would only be expected. “The next one’s only a few days away now…” So you should probably hide from him before he ended up convincing you he was a monster too.

But, no matter what he said, no matter what excuses or reasons he or anyone else gave as to why you should keep as much distance between him and yourself as possible, you’d never see him that way. As a monster. As evil. As what could very likely become your untimely end, either by his razor sharp claws and gnashing, pointed teeth, or by the church and their ominous, sacrificial pyre settled at the center of town, just waiting for the next witch to be tied to the cross and burned all in the name of something holy.

It was like this, when you were closest to him, that you feared you’d lose him forever. You realized you had no say whether he stayed or disappeared from your life. Someone like him did as he pleased. But, as hard as it would be to feel his absence again, you thought you might be able to live a little easier with the loss if only you knew just one thing about him.

It was the question that had haunted you ever since you two had first met.

“What’s your name?” you asked, hoping he’d actually oblige you this time. Things had gotten a little more personal as of late. Plus, you didn’t want to be wolfman and little rabbit to each other forever.

He looked at you as if seeing you for the first time, as if he’d finally found the answer to whatever unasked question always seemed to be lying in wait behind his eyes. He said, “You can call me Dabi.”

He had a real name, one from before he was turned, but he’d let that boy burn to ash in the fire along with his humanity. Having to leave his old life behind, he just thought it easier to abandon his old name too.

When he explained this to you, he expected you to press him on it. But you didn’t. You just assured him that, as long as that was the name he wanted you to call him by, it was good enough for you.

“Dabi…” You rolled the syllables around in your mouth, repeating his name a few times until the acquired taste became something sweet and you were beaming that bright, carefree smile at him again.

He cracked a small grin as well. He liked hearing you say his name and he wished he’d told you sooner. And then it occurred to him…

He didn’t know yours either.

So, after you told him and he practiced saying it with his own mouth a few times, the sound of it not as angelic and tender when spoken with his rough, raspy voice as you had the ability to make his name sound with yours, you both realized there was no going back. You were no longer strangers, no longer a stray girl wandering through the foggy woods and the devil come to tempt her.

It was the most intimate moment you two had ever shared. It felt like fresh air on an autumn day, like sinking into a hot bath after walking home in the cold. It felt like home. It felt like never letting go. It felt terrifying and elating all at once.

Eventually, you two even began to laugh together, just repeating each other’s names back and forth until a giggle rose up in your throat and Dabi caught the chuckle like it was contagious. There wasn’t a moment his touch broke from you, and once the frivolity of it all had died down, his hands began to roam, slowly wandering across your soft, warm skin until he had you straddling his lap, head lolled back as he left spit-shined bruises along the column of your throat, intoxicated by the stuttering rise and fall of your chest while you gasped and whined, now able to shape your lilting little mewls into the letters of his name.

“Dabi…” you whimpered, only spurring him on more, causing him to nip you a few times just to hear another one of those adorably delectable little sounds. He could’ve listened to you moan his name all night and never gotten tired of it. And, as your hands began to explore the untraversed plane of his pale, scarred skin, feeling his stomach flinch when your fingertips lightly ghosted over that part of him, little hands eager to reach lower, Dabi felt impatience swell from within him, something dark and hungry rearing its head from deep inside his chest.

“Off,” he growled, the long skirt of your dress bunching up in his rough hands, already attempting to strip you of the garment lest he rip it to shreds. He nearly forgot he had to unlace your corset before he could pull the flowing fabric, today a pale seafoam green with embroideries of white and gold at the hems, over your head and expose your fragile human body to him.

His mouth was already watering, the desire to devour you down to your core quickly becoming overwhelming as his hands made frantic and slightly rough work at pulling the laces of the hickory brown corset sinched in at your waist loose, both of you eager to have you rid of the confining thing.

The moment you became bare to him, he dove back in, his mouth seeking out yours while his hands kneaded at your breasts, your butt, your thighs, and as he continued to leave a trail of fervent kisses across your skin, down you cheek and neck to your collarbones and shoulder, you were wrapping your hands in the fabric of his shirt and trying to pull it over his head.

When you struggled with this particular task, Dabi let out another low, impatient growl, yanking it over his inky spikes and pointed ears and tossing it aside as if disgusted with it. When he looked down at you next, the carnality of the beast inside of him seemed to settle for a moment, his fleeting humanity flickering back to life behind his dilated cerulean gaze to something more tender.

Because you were giving him one of those sinfully sweet smiles, both hands reaching for him, openly beckoning him closer. His movements then slowed, lowering his lips to meet yours for a languid kiss rather than an urgent one that time. Because there was no need to rush now. You weren’t going anywhere. He could finally take his time with you.

Your little fingers were soon clumsily fumbling with the buckle of his belt, trying to undo it but unable to get a good enough grasp whenever he shifted on top of you.

“Off…” you whined, repeating his earlier wishes back to him, only yours came out as a pathetic little plea accompanied by an adorable pout.

Dabi chuckled, going to do as you asked but only getting halfway, the belt unbuckled but still threaded through the loops in his trousers when you sat back upright to place a trail of your own gentle kisses across his bare chest, following the line of his scars like they were a path to guide you. The sensation there wasn’t as heightened as the unharmed parts of his body, but still…

The fact that you weren’t scared of them, weren’t repulsed by the marred flesh, didn’t find the injuries ugly— quite the opposite, in fact, you found that those patches of his skin probably were in the most dire need of loving attention— made his heart stutter behind the cage of his ribs.

He was starting to accept that he wanted more of you than just your body— might have developed actual feelings for you— and that terrified him more than the hunters and the church and being alone for the rest of his life combined. Before he could become too anxious over it, he went back to the distraction of your flesh, one of his hands slipping between your legs and brushing up against where you were most sensitive and aching for him.

“Wait…” you hesitated, pulling back from him just far enough to look into his eyes, the electric blues glowing through the dim darkness that flooded the cabin now, as bright and alluring as the crackling fire beside you. For a moment, Dabi was afraid you’d changed your mind. But then you requested, “Can we go to your room this time? I-I want…”

Well, honestly, you just wanted to continue this on a bed.

Dabi seemed to understand, cracking a crooked smirk and running his palms slowly up and down the dip of your waist, an affirmative hum that sounded closer to a growl rumbling through his chest as he hoisted you up, pulling a slightly started gasp from you, before beginning to carry you up the creaky staircase to where he slept.

In the short time it took to go from the couch to the mess of blankets atop the old mattress that served as the wolf’s nest, you tucked your face into the crook of his neck and tried to memorize the scent of him. He smelled unlike anyone or anything else, and part of you wondered if that indescribable, otherworldly aroma had something to do with his curse. It was addicting, intoxicating, something about it making you feel safe and turned on with just a single whiff. It was more than just the undertones of the pines and that smoky campfire scent. There was something woven throughout the entire smell that could only be described as purely and uniquely him.

Lowering you onto the edge of the bed, after wrapping one of the patchwork quilts around your shoulders as a light shiver skittered across your skin, Dabi slowly let his cock spring free from the waistband of his trousers, letting out a muffled groan through clenched teeth at just how painfully hard he’d become. He then finished kicking off the rest of the garment before climbing atop the sunken mattress to rejoin you. He made sure you were comfortable, surrounded by enough blankets to keep you warm, and pulled the quilt over his back to create a cocoon around you, shrouding you in further darkness and warmth.

Up here, there was only the illuminated glow of a nearly full moon slipping through the gaps in the curtains to see by, the rustling of the newly budding leaves brushing together as the wind swept through the treetops, the distant hooting of an owl echoing beyond the dusty glass of the window panes.

Even in the dark, Dabi could see you just fine. It was, perhaps, one of the only perks of his curse, being able to view things clearly through the cover of night, his cobalt eyes blazing through the shadows.

Until your eyes took their time to adjust to the dark, all you could perceive was the gentle huffs of his breathing and the feeling of his hands gliding over your skin, stopping to knead at the softest parts of you he loved to touch the most.

When he reached your thighs, admiring their velvety plushness between his calloused fingers and palms, you felt your little hole flutter in anticipation, tummy flinching as more arousal pooled thick and warm in the pit of your stomach and began to leak out of you.

Dabi pressed a tender, open mouthed kiss to the underside of one breast, his mouth repeating the sentiment down your abdomen, to the soft raise of your lower belly, working his way down your thighs, your skin pebbled with gooseflesh as a sudden chill skittered up your spine despite the enveloping warmth.

“You gonna be a good girl for me?” he asked, hot breath fanning over your pussy, leaving a coolness in its wake that told you just how wet you’d truly become for him. “Hm?” he propositioned, the hum playfully lilting in his throat. You could tell he was smiling even without being able to see him clearly just yet, could hear the cruel amusement in his voice when he said, “Or are you gonna make me use force again?”

You tried to swallow down the whimper that was rising in your throat but ultimately lost that battle, your voice breaking on his name as if pleading for him to say it again, to say all the dirty things he wanted to do to you, whisper them in your ear until you were begging him to follow through and prove he wasn’t all talk.

You knew he wasn’t. He’d verified that much the first time around. But still. You wouldn’t mind if he gave you a little preview of what he had planned for you tonight. Although, as you already knew, his words could never compare to the act itself.

As his long tongue lolled out to tease at your swollen little clit, your back arched instantly, overly sensitive to the foreign sensation. And, god, it felt so fucking good. He ate you out like a man starved, not missing a single crease or fold of you, his obscene slurping sounds causing a new wave of heat to surge through your blood.

With his tongue spearing into your tight, fluttering little hole, moaning against you as he felt your cunt clench around the slick muscle, Dabi wrestled your thighs still when they desperately writhed beneath his hold. Every time his nose nudged against your tender bud, you felt yourself already teetering on that dangerous edge. Threading your fingers through his tousled hair, you grabbed a fistful of course ebony and gave a sharp tug, causing another groan to simmer in his chest, Dabi’s eyes rolling slightly as the sound vibrated against your pussy, sending another shockwave of pleasure shooting through you like electricity.

When he pressed his tongue flat and ran it roughly up the length of your soaked slit, you felt yourself tip over that edge.

“Dabi—!” you cried, legs trembling and your head thrown back, mouth hanging open with a silent scream.

Your first orgasm of the night came crashing over you like a wave colliding with a cliffside, unstoppable and almost violent until Dabi helped ease you through it, his face shining with his saliva and your slick when he pulled away, murmuring words of praise to you while his thumbs massaged gentle circles into your hips, tracing the dip of your waist back and forth with nonsensical patterns until your shuddering gasps smoothed over and your quivering figure came to rest.

Your eyes were closed but you were urging him towards you again, lightly grasping his arm to make sure he didn’t stray too far. Dabi used the back of one hand to wipe his mouth, though there was still a mess left surrounding it. He didn’t care. He kept absentmindedly darting his tongue out to catch another taste of you.

“That’s it…” he sighed, planting both hands firmly on your thighs again. “Knew you were my good girl… God… Just look at you…”

You only caught about half of what he’d said, your heart beat pounding in your ears as that saccharine, post-orgasm haze clouded your mind. You were too weak to resist when he spread your legs back apart, exhaling a shuddering breath in knowing that this night was still far from over. You’d just barely recovered from round one before Dabi’s fingers were already dipping back between your soaked folds, spreading around your lingering arousal, some of it already turned sticky on your skin, to stimulate your tender little bundle of nerves all over again.

“That’s it, baby…” Dabi cooed, taking his sweet time to stretch you open in preparation, first inserting one finger to test your tightness, then a second to begin gently scissoring inside of your pulsing pussy. Then, as if only to himself, he sighed, “God… You have no idea what you do to me…”

Because the first time, as good as it had been, had been conditional. It had been selfish. It had been a hunter luring in its prey. Now, the rabbit had willingly returned to the wolf’s den, running towards the sharp teeth and gleaming eyes and ignoring every instinct that told it to run away.

His cock was aching to be inside of you, velvety head blushed a deep pink as a bead of precum glistened like a pearl at the tip. Dabi guided it in his hand to glide between your silky folds, pulling a tiny, adorably started gasp from you when it caught on your drooling little hole.

“Please…” you were eventually begging him, tortured by his teasing ministrations, a thin veil of tears misting your lashline. “Please, Dabi, I need—” A short, broken cry clawed its way up your throat when he unexpectedly inserted a few inches inside of you with a quick, sharp thrust, the sweet sting of the stretch his cock carved out in you flooding you with adrenaline and arousal.

Dabi meant to shoot back with something sarcastic, being a little mean to you a habit he couldn’t seem to entirely abandon, but what came out was a strangled, “You— fuck— Y-you really want it that badly, huh? Greedy little— hng!— Greedy little thing, aren’t you?”

You both winced as he pushed in a little further, the way your cunt constricted so tightly around him nearly knocking the next breath from his lungs. You were so tight it almost hurt him to sink in deeper, both of you trying to catch your breath and adjust to the intensity of each other’s bodies.

Dabi shuddered, pointed wolf’s ears twitching amongst all his inky tufts of hair, ribs expanding and deflating with short, rapid, panting breaths. You were gripping his biceps for dear life, nails biting little crescent moons into his thin flesh when you felt him quivering from inside of you, letting out little sounds of pain that blurred into pleasure as he finally began to move again.

“Good… Good girl…” Dabi praised you once you’d relaxed enough to allow him to sink all the way in, wincing when you felt him brush against your sensitive cervix. It hurt less than the first time, but it was still uncomfortable. However, when Dabi began to massage little circles on your puffy clit, still a bit overstimulated from the first round, it helped to take your mind off the soreness growing inside of you.

As he worked you back up, his hips moved in tandem with the pressure he applied to your little hooded nub. “Mine—” he growled, biting down on his bottom lip hard in order to resist the urge to sink his teeth into the tender flesh between your neck and shoulder. “All— All mine—”

When he sensed you were getting close again, his thrusts became more erratic, losing all rhythm until his hips stuttered and stilled, letting out a strangled moan as he filled you to the brim with sticky ropes of his hot, thick cum. You were completely spent, feeling as if your consciousness was slowly drifting away from your body, mind lulling itself into a peaceful, sated state.

You both were caught in a bout of panting in the midst of the come down, bodies covered in a thin sheen of sweat and no longer needing all the quilts that encapsulated you. Dabi pulled out and rolled over to lay beside you, wrapping his arms around your shuddering body and pulling you closer into the heat that always seemed to be emanating from his being no matter the situation or the season. He kissed you on the temple and listened to your breathing slow as you began to doze off to sleep.

As he stared at the ceiling, he was incredulous as to how he’d gotten you back beneath him, in his own bed, willingly. Especially after so much time apart. Especially after how he’d treated you the first time you’d met.

Maybe being around you caused him to recall some of his humanity. The notion half comforted, half petrified him, and as he carefully rose from the mattress to retrieve something to clean you with, part of him resented the softness you brought out in him. It wouldn’t last. The moment you were gone from his territory he’d start shifting back into the monster he’d accepted himself to be and you’d go back to being his secret little fantasy, always feeling like a world away despite the fact he could find his way to your cottage home by scent alone.

“I just wish they could’ve known you like I do…”

He pulled the quilt back over your body once he was done tending to you, sitting up to watch you sleep for a few minutes as a thousand different realities flashed through his mind. Ones where he’d never been changed. Ones where he’d become a hunter who could get down on one knee and ask for your hand. Ones where your roles were reversed and ones where he turned you so you’d have no choice but to stay by his side like he’d once done before his maker had been reduced to the decoration around the collar of your cloak.

What the hell am I thinking, he sneered to himself, shaking his head with a quick twitch as if to throw the thought from his brain. He could never damn you to the kind of life he had, burden you with this curse that would never end.

He thought about taking you and going somewhere far away, just fleeing from these woods and going to a place where no one knew you, hiding away in a village that didn’t have a pyre looming at its center, if such a haven even existed.

No, he begrudgingly countered that option, surely that troublesome hunter would follow if you went missing, based on what you’d cautioned about his relentless determination.

However, if he were able to eliminate that threat, perhaps there could be a chance you two would be able to cover your tracks. The full moon was coming. It would be the perfect opportunity to get rid of Hawks. Dabi could already imagine the way his golden curls would look soaked in his own dark blood, turning his hair black under the cover of night as Dabi watched the light leave the hunter’s eyes.

For now though, that would have to wait.

In the meantime, as Dabi lay back beside you and tried to quiet his runaway mind, he began considering what he could scavenge up for your breakfast tomorrow morning.

***

Keigo was swift and soundless as he followed the tracks through the woods. Even in the dark, the brightness cast down by the moon blotted out under the thick canopy of pine, he could make out the pair of curious and distinct footprints that seemed to travel side by side.

One set of prints were heavy and dragged a little, gait appearing lazy at times. The other, however, was much more familiar. They were boots. Women’s boots, based on the size and stride pattern they followed. They strikingly reminded him of the ones you wore— your favorite ones— with the laces that always came untied without you noticing.

Which only meant one thing.

The notorious wolfman must’ve kidnapped you, stolen you in the night like a greedy thief swiping ripe fruit from a kiosk in the market.

Keigo remembered the flashing blue eyes of the silhouette he’d seen in town that night, the man who disappeared into the shadows like he’d been a part of them.

He’d counted his arrows and cleaned his favorite hunting knife that afternoon, intending to bring you back a portion of his most recent catch in hopes of further convincing you that he could provide for you, if only you’d accept the proposal he’d been ruminating on for who knows how long now. But, when he’d made the journey up to your cottage upon the cliff to drop by, planning on earning some favor with your parents so maybe they’d pester you about “that nice Keigo boy who’s always coming to check on you” again, only to be told you hadn’t returned home on time from running your most recent delivery to your grandmother’s house, your poor mother already starting to fear the worst, well…

How could he help himself? Of course Keigo went out looking for you.

And, Keigo figured, even if you weren’t his yet, there was still time to win you over. Perhaps saving your life from a vicious monster would finally be what it took to open your eyes to just how far he was willing to go to care for you.

So, as he continued his strategic trek through the winding woods, almost scoffing at how easy it was to follow the tracks, the perpetrator clearly not paying much attention to the damp weather that had given him away, Keigo made a vow.

He’d rid the village of its oldest myth, its most dangerous legend.

And he’d do whatever it took— kill whoever it took— to get you back alive.

***

(Sorry it took me an entire year to get part two out but here it is! I hope you enjoyed it! Perhaps there will be a part 3 to wrap it all up by next halloween lol. Anyway, until then, I hope you all have a wonderful day and take care of yourselves <3)

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