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dawn-moths · 11 days ago

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"I'm So Dreadful, But I Still Need You"

Werewolf!Dabi x Female Reader

word count: 16,300+

part 1 * part 2 * part 3

(As Keigo closes in, you and Dabi dream of foreign lands, of places where you could be free to love each other in peace. But the hunter is relentless, vowing never to stop the chase until he’s claimed you from the wolf’s vile clutches, dead or alive. So the only question that remains is… who will emerge victorious in the end? The hunter or the prey?)

disclaimer/content warning: 18+ content! minors dni! title taken from “RUINED” by WesGhost, size difference, reader is called “baby, good girl”, yandere Keigo, character death, some smut in the middle but mostly plot, some descriptions of body horror towards the end, reader is choked (and not in a fun way).

*ao3 mirror*

***

Dabi sat at the tavern’s bar counter, a half drunk pint slowly warming in its stein as he abandoned the idea of finishing his drink and instead became mesmerized by you— watching, guarding, protecting you from afar while you basked in the reverie of your fourth face-paced dance of the night.

You kept up with the quick yet precise patterns of the intricate footwork, your skirts bunched in your fists and slightly lifted to allow you more room to jig alongside the crowd of boisterous patrons, some stray men lining the walls shouting hoots and hollers towards the circle of dancers as the fiddle player picked up the tempo, other onlookers clapping in time with the beat to encourage all of those inhabiting the dancefloor to continue until the end of the song. When the final note rang out, the human circle in which you’d found yourself ensnared ceased its motion, everyone turning to face the outside of the ring and clapping with their hands over their heads.

When you turned, you were facing Dabi, seeing him staring at you from the barstool a few feet away. His patches of pale, scarred skin were bathed in a low amber glow from the lanterns hanging overhead, that entrancing cobalt gaze shimmering with mirth. There were no pointed ears perched upon his inky black spikes nor was there a mischievous ebony tail swishing at his heels. Tonight was the new moon, one of the handful of nights clustered together in the month where the notorious wolfman was free to see what life could’ve been like if only he’d been granted a different fate.

And he was smiling. Really, truly smiling. It took your breath away, the way he was looking at you now, like you were the only thing in his entire world worth protecting, like he loved you.

And maybe he did.

It was just too bad he’d never be able to make himself admit it, that he’d never be able to trust in that kind of careless hope.

As you migrated closer to where he was perched, you were smiling too, big and bright and blinding him with your joy. Your forehead was shining with a thin sheen of sweat and your breathing was a little labored, as expected from how many dances you’d participated in tonight, but you didn’t care how hot or tired you became.

You knew you had to enjoy it while it lasted.

Back in your devout little town, there was only one tavern, mainly where the hunters gathered to relax on their way out into the woods or having just arrived back, a bundle of dead rabbits or ducks, or, one time, an entire deer dragged into the tiny brick building and heaped in a pile of bloody fur and mangled flesh on the floor at the foot of the counter.

Needless to say, whatever your village had to offer, it was nowhere near the freedom and frivolity this place provided, all the laughter and the lighthearted joking and pleasant conversation between men and women alike filling the room with its joyous melody.

Plus, even though the people back home also liked to talk, it was usually of scandals and gossip and suspicious speculation, so if you were ever spotted so much as peering in through one of the latticed windows to see what all the commotion was about, it was likely word would spread, rumors would start, and you wouldn’t feel comfortable enough to pass the place at night again.

“You should come do the next one with me,” you suggested to Dabi, hoping to entice him as you took his hand, his own instinctually outstretched towards you once you were within the range of his reach, still staring at you with that love-drunk grin. You even swore you could see a warm blush to his cheeks, only, you knew he wasn’t actually drunk. He’d been too intent on making sure he could stay sharp in order to protect you if anything went sideways. And, while you’d tried to assure him one night couldn’t hurt, promised you’d stay out of trouble, Dabi just wouldn’t hear of it.

“Anything could happen when we’re least expecting it,” he’d reminded you, the worry of the prey sounding odd when coming from the mouth of the predator. “And if he shows up, we gotta be ready.”

But that had been a week ago and you and Dabi had already crossed through three towns, having hidden on the outskirts of the first one, been bold enough to break into an abandoned farm house to escape the cold in the second, and then, by the time you’d reached the third— the one you were currently in— Dabi had shed all of his more obvious wolfish traits. And, though you’d had to beg him to let you explore, to actually enjoy some of what this place had to offer, he’d eventually given in.

“Tonight’s our last night…” he’d told you, hating the way disappointment filled your eyes, all the optimism in your gaze slowly dying out like embers in a hearth. He’d put his hand on your head, given it a gentle pat as you’d started sulking. Then he’d said, a new lightness to his usually dark and heavy tone, “So you better make the most of it.”

You’d looked up at him then like you didn’t actually believe him, yet still somehow hoped it were true. “Really?!” You’d exclaimed, glittering excitement refilling your gaze. “We can really go out? Oh, Dabi!” You’d flung your arms around his waist, buried your face into his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of pine and campfire smoke that always seemed to cling to him. “Thank you…” you’d murmured, words muffled by his shirt. “Thank you, Dabi…”

And so you two had tried a taste of what other young people did for fun when they weren’t burdened with a curse or kept cooped up inside a house on the hill. You ate delicious, foreign foods. You laughed with boisterous strangers. You danced until the music stole the breath from your lungs. You allowed yourself to live. Because, the truth was, neither of you really knew how much time you had left. Not with Keigo hot on your trail, knowing full well he’d hunt you to the ends of the earth or die trying.

But there was nowhere Keigo wouldn’t go, no path he wouldn’t follow, no choice he wouldn’t make, if you were somehow found at the end of it.

And so die trying it seemed to be…

***

TWO WEEKS AGO

Dawn broke over the horizon, painting the sky in an aurora of colors, a collision of amber and silver that gave way to the pale blue and gold of early morning. Among the newborn buds preparing to unfurl from the spindly twigs on the early-spring trees, Keigo sat beside the final dregs of serenity and watched the fledgling finches hopping among the natural debris gathered beneath where their nest lay.

They would be soon to leave their mother’s protection, venturing off into the cold, cruel labyrinth of the surrounding woods. Perhaps some would survive into adulthood. Others would fall into the sharp-taloned clutches of the falcons or the hawks. Only the strong would survive and only the lucky would evade a gruesome end.

The hunter stood from his perch among the open campsite he’d constructed, the small fire he’d made to keep warm for the short night stomped out before morning’s first light. He couldn’t have his mark catching sight of the smoke. Not when he was so close to his main territory. If he scared the wolf away now, he might risk losing you along with him.

Enough stalling, Keigo told himself as he tested the tension of his bow string, two calloused fingers curling around thin sinewy rope and envisioning an invisible arrow finding a new home between two flashes of sapphire. A wolf might not’ve been as fragile or easy to kill as a finch, but, Keigo felt confident, the hawk would still prevail.

Keigo began his stealthy approach towards the cabin, every step more careful than the last. He was intent to locate the wolfman, hopefully through one of the cracked windows, knock an arrow, and finish the job in one precise shot. But then something made him stop short, his next breath catching and sure footing staggering as he felt a rush of ice surge through his veins.

Because there you were, sitting at the villain’s table, unbound and of your own free will it seemed, given the carefree grin spread across your face as you shared breakfast with the beast.

Keigo could’ve been standing between those mammoth pines for six seconds, or six hours. In truth, he didn’t know. Because in that moment time seemed to flow in reverse, everything that had led him here— led you here— flashing through his mind in bright bursts of violent color.

For a while, caught in his stupor, Keigo merely observed, his hands going numb as they clutched his weapons, watching in equal horror and intrigue as the wolf sat across from you at the table, a snarky grin tugging at one corner of his lips before breaking out into a laugh, looking for a moment— dare Keigo even consider it— authentically human.

You know, so long as you didn’t spend too much time focusing on the ears and the tail.

You were barely clothed, and while Keigo perhaps would’ve been inclined to blush under less dire situations, the emotion that replaced his bashfulness was betrayal and rage.

The loose shirt hanging comfortably from your form no doubt belonged to the monster with which you’d chosen to share a bed with.

But Keigo, despite having all the evidence he needed to convict you of witchcraft or whatever other crime that having such relations with a monster and a murderer would behold, still couldn’t quite bring himself to blame you.

Because you’d been seduced, hadn’t you? You’d been lured into sin, naive little Eve who’d been tempted by the sinister snake.

He could still save you.

All he had to do was not miss.

With trembling hands and shallow breath, Keigo drew back his first shot and aimed for the back of the wolfman’s head. He let out a shuddering exhale, hesitating a mere flicker of a moment, then let the arrow go.

The arrow struck home in the back of Dabi’s chair, the resounding twang of the shot causing his wolf’s ears to perk up at the same moment you sucked in a sharp, startled gasp. Neither of you had seen the arrow fly through the open window and bury itself in the chipped wood so much as you heard it, felt it, the evidence you were under attack only revealed once Dabi turned in his chair to peer around the back of it.

His eyes followed the weapon’s path out through the dew-speckled glass and between the barricade of trees until it found the hunter. Keigo knocked a second arrow, this time looking much more focused and determined than he had before, and prepared to fire again.

Dabi’s eyes widened with dread as he stood abruptly from his chair, backing towards you as he ordered, voice low and dark with severity, “Run.”

You didn’t think. Only acted. Every survival instinct you didn’t know you had flaring to life inside you as you sprinted towards the back door after Dabi, who made sure he had secured your hand before you departed the threshold of the cabin’s false sense of safety. It was only when you were halfway down the porch steps that you realized your clothes, or rather, lack thereof, and attempted to go back, but Dabi’s grip on you was firm. He made it apparent by his strength in pulling you along alone that there was no time for that now, lest you wish to leave the property wearing an arrow through your heart.

By the time you reached the forest’s edge, two more arrows were on your heels, and as you cast a terrified glance over your shoulder, the sight of Keigo growing smaller in your vision, watching with defeat and forlorn as the wolfman whisked you deeper into the lush evergreen, a small part of you couldn’t help but feel a slight pang of guilt.

Because what would your family think once he returned to tell them the news— to tell them that their sweet baby girl was caught so shamelessly uncouth with the very wolfman himself, the successor of your baby brother’s killer?

The hunter called your name, and the way it broke with a type of vengeful promise at the end of his shriek made you want to pull away from this path you’d chosen, something about hearing that level of pain in someone’s voice cracking something inside of you, even if a part of you still knew it was selfishly motivated.

“C’mon!” Dabi urged, continuing to pull you harshly after him, the two of you soon disappearing within the piney labyrinth and leaving the distraught, vindictive hunter before the empty wolf’s den. You realized that the two of you would never be able to return there again, Dabi’s cabin full of little keepsakes, trinkets, and mementos doomed to collect dust, rot, and collapse over time if it wasn’t burned to the ground all together.

But Dabi didn’t care about the cabin right now. If the hunter so chose to strike a match, then let the cabin catch flame and disintegrate into bitter ash.

All he cared about— all he’d ever care about from that moment on— was protecting you.

***

The winds began to pick up as night fell, the dusk-tinted horizon fissured with the last wisps of pale peach as you and Dabi slunk through the last neighbourhood on the outskirts of the village’s perimeter, the sparse little homes dotting the sloping valley hosting glowing ghosts flickering in the windows, the candles placed on the sills likely to burn for only another hour or so before the residents turned in for the night.

You shivered beneath Dabi’s arm, the precursory chill warning of a long, cold night ahead, one that you and your meager means of clothing would suffer to endure.

“Just a little longer,” Dabi murmured, sympathetic, pulling you in closer to share some more of his abundant body heat. “We just have to wait till they kill the lights. Then I’ll sneak up and steal you something from the clothesline.”

In the dim dark, the breeze made the bedsheets and tunics flutter like lingering spirits. The laundry left out to dry was mostly men’s clothing, though there was one modest brown dress among the damp garments, and though it looked a few sizes too big, you supposed you’d have to find a way to make it work.

You just wished you had some of your sewing supplies with you, even just a simple needle and thread. With that, at least, you might’ve been able to tailor it to better suit your figure. Perhaps you’d be able to procure some along the way, or find another innocent clothesline to skim from, but for now, you just had to find a way to enter into the next town without being too conspicuous.

When the time came, Dabi told you to wait under the veil of shadow that had served as your cover while he skulked closer to the house. You watched him cautiously, stealthily making his way to the clotheslines, trying not to imagine a scenario where the cocking of a shotgun echoed out across the clearing before the heart-stuttering blast of two shots rang out as they tore through the thieving villain and left him twitching and gasping, his blood turning the crisp grass beneath his body black with death.

But Dabi was a professional when it came to swiping things that weren’t his. He’d survived the last decade on such methods. This was nothing new. So, in what felt all at once like too much time and the blink of an eye, Dabi returned with a bundle of brown fabric bunched in his wiry arms.

“It’s still a little wet…” he informed you as he handed it over, allowing you to unfurl the garment and hold it lightly against your form to gauge how much excess fabric you’d have to swim around in.

“That’s ok…” you sighed, draping the dress over your arm. “It’ll be dry by morning if I find a place to hang it…” You then considered him, studied those two pools of sapphire that always seemed to glow through the dark. You wanted to ask him now what? What would happen to the two of you from here?

Seeming to read the uncertainty in your gaze, Dabi let out his own sigh through his nose, pressed his lips into a firm line, then said, “I know…” He placed a soft, apologetic kiss to the top of your head, once again gently tugging you into his side. “I know, but we’ll figure it out…”

When you wrapped your arms around him, allowing Dabi to feel your weight sagging with exhaustion, he returned the gesture, more than willing and capable to carry you the rest of the way if you needed him to.

For a while now, he’d realized— at first to his own horror— that he felt more than just lust for you. He wasn’t sure if he could yet call it love. Love was still more terrifying than anything. But he knew he felt an innate sense to protect you, to cherish you and care for you and make sure you had what you needed to be satisfied.

Whether that lied with or without him, he still was on the fence about, but he was willing to fight like hell to prove to you that he was at least willing to try.

“Let’s find a place to camp for the night,” Dabi suggested, and your sleepy nod against his chest was more than enough confirmation of just how badly you needed to rest after such a long, arduous day. You worried about Keigo tracking you while you slept, but Dabi said he knew a place that not even the hunter would be able to find you.

“It’s not exactly close…” he disclosed with an apology fringing his tone. “But if we can make it that far, we should be ok for a couple days at least.” He spoke of an old boat house on the edge of the shore, a place where he and his maker used to retreat to back when things in the village started to get a little dicey. He promised to make a plan, assured you you didn’t need to worry, but the moment you stopped moving and you closed your eyes, the rest of his words and your encroaching worries were lost to you.

***

NOW

The time of tavern dances and reckless reveries was bound to come to an end sooner or later, but when just two days after your carefree night of fun and joy Dabi’s signature ears and tail began to show the first signs of his dreadful moonlit monstrosity, it was time to kiss the cheerful twang of the bard’s fiddle and the buzzing warmth of overpoured drinks goodbye.

Going into hiding wasn’t anything new to the wolfman, but for you, it was quickly becoming unbearable. You wanted a bath and some clean clothes. You wanted a warm bed and a hot meal. You weren’t built for the scarcity and savagery of what a life confined to the edges of the wilderness beheld and, pretty soon, even Dabi was beginning to become concerned for how you were faring.

But you’d found an abandoned barn a few miles off from the nearest civilization, which, needless to say, was a much better, safer place to sleep than the open expanse of the woodlands. Discovering the shelter had helped raise your spirits, even if only a little, but there was one thing neither of you could deny much longer, and that was the fact that you needed something to eat.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” you promised him after he’d finally given in and agreed to let you take a quick trip into the nearest town. You were planning on, hopefully, swiping some fresh fruit or bread from the edge of a merchant’s kiosk while his back was turned and, while you had no doubt Dabi would’ve been able to pull that kind of brazen mission off without a hitch, he was currently indisposed.

“Don’t worry,” you further attempted to comfort him. “If I see Keigo I’ll turn right back around.”

But, while you wouldn’t admit to it out loud, you both knew that if the hunter really wanted to find you, he would. Dabi wasn’t worried about you seeing him. He was worried about him seeing you first.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come?” he asked for about the tenth time. “I can just keep an eye on the perimeter, maybe see if I can sniff him out—”

“Dabi,” you cut in, sounding half firm, half contrite. “It’ll be fine, really. I promise I’ll be ok.” He wanted to remind you that you couldn’t promise that. Not really. But you were placing a peck on his cheek and telling him to get some rest while you were gone before he could.

He’d been so close to saying it as he watched you leave the barn’s lopsided embrace, so close to telling you he loved you, but he hadn’t.

Instead, he settled for watching you walk into the distance until your figure became an indistinguishable shadow amidst the trees, wishing he weren’t such a coward.

***

This town was much more intricate and lively than your own. From the outside it had been hard to tell just how hustling and bustling the inside became at the height of the day, the high stone walls that surrounded the place blocking most of your view even from the top of the cliff that served as the outlook at the forest’s edge.

Street vendors called out with booming voices at passersby with promises of fairly priced goods and wares, messenger boys ran to and fro with bundles of parchment clutched in their hands or overflowing from their satchels, busking musicians played and sang in the town square, and there were even ladies of the night already draped over the banisters and leaning in doorways of the many brothels that spotted this foreign civilization.

You had to remind yourself that you were here for a specific purpose and couldn’t afford to find yourself distracted by all the curiosities that shimmered from around every corner and turn. You hoped that if you just pretended to belong here that no one would mark you as an outsider. As a lone woman especially, that could prove particularly disastrous if you happened to find yourself in the wrong part of town. However, just when you were starting to think you’d have to approach another young woman in order to ask for some directions, you stumbled upon the market street.

The cobbled paths stretched on for what seemed like forever, the ever shifting crowd moving along like bees in a hive all with a different intention to their stride. First, before you made a move, you tried to survey your options. A little bit of fruit and bread wouldn’t get you far, not to mention you knew Dabi needed to eat too, but you didn’t see how snagging any more than that from the edge of a distracted vendor’s stand was going to allow you to sneak away unnoticed.

And if you did get caught, you had no idea how severe the consequences might be. It could be as simple as making you return it and exiling you from the vicinity of the city walls or as harsh as tossing you in a prison cell or, what you feared most, the loss of one of your hands, as you’d heard rumors of being the punishment for theft in some far off civilizations that some of the hunters frequented during the herding seasons.

You kept circling, slowly but surely studying each of the merchants until you found one that looked like your best chance. He was an old man, appearing like he was just a few more nods away from falling asleep based on how he sat back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, eyes struggling to stay open as he kept jolting back awake. His stand was mostly empty so you knew that, if you approached now, his eyes would be on only you.

So you waited for someone else to take interest in his goods.

You were just about to lose hope and move onto your next best bet when finally a mother and her three young, rowdy children stepped up to his stand. The two boys kept trying to chase and hit each other with sticks they were pretending were swords, much to the embarrassment and exhaustion of their mother, while the girl, who appeared to be the youngest, clung tightly to her mother’s skirts until her brothers inevitably began to pull her into their teasing little games too.

The old man forced himself to stay conscious as the woman looked over his fruit— most of which was bruised or close to going bad— and chose some to put into her basket after haggling the price down a little. While she was contemplating, you swept in to complete your mission.

Your heart was beating so fast and so hard you swore anyone standing close enough to you would be able to hear it, but as the smaller of the two brothers began to wail and cry, the mother and the merchant’s head turning towards the sudden noise, you quickly grabbed an apple in each hand, shoved them deep into your oversized dress’s pockets, turned on your heel, and hurried away.

To get as far away from the market street as quickly as possible just in case someone had seen you, you cut down one of the crooked, narrow alleys, hands still shoved into your pockets as if the apples would simply disappear if you let them leave your grasp. By the time the end of the alley was in sight, you felt your heart rate slow just a little. It looked like this path led back to the square, and when the musician’s guitar registered to your ears, you let out a breath of relief.

Just a couple more yards and then you’d practically be homefree.

Just a couple more yards and then—

You gasped as a hand, calloused and firm, grabbed your wrist and wrenched you back. Instantly, instinctively, you tried to pull away, but when you turned to see who’d caught you, you froze, your next breath hitching, eyes widening and limbs beginning to numb with adrenaline and dread.

“Kei—” You began to blurt, but the hunter clapped a hand over your mouth and pushed you back against the wall of the alley, being a little rougher with you than you’d expected.

“Don’t speak,” he ordered, though his voice was low and somewhat gentle given his gestures. “Just shake your head yes or no…” He paused, clenched his jaw, swiveling his gaze from one end of the alley to the other before asking, “Is he here with you?”

With tears welling in your eyes, you shook your head no. You were too startled and scared to even consider telling a lie.

“Good…” Keigo sighed, easing up a little bit and removing his hand from your face, though still kept your body caged between his and the wall, watching you carefully for any sign that you’d bolt. “I need you to listen to me,” he began, still keeping his voice low, more of that dire urgency seeping back into his tone. “Whatever this is, whatever’s happening between you two, I need you to stop. I need you to come back home with me—”

“Keigo—”

“No,” he growled, frustration swelling before gradually deflating as he recognized the fear in your eyes and that fact that he was currently the cause of it. He took a pause, collected himself, then continued, “No, listen—” He said your name and again something in his voice broke with desperation upon it. “Do you have any idea how distraught your parents are?” he said. “Do you have any idea how fucking terrified they are that their only daughter has gone missing?” When you didn’t answer in the space of silence he provided, he made you jump when he snapped, “Do you?”

You couldn’t hold back your tears anymore, pairs of them racing down your cheeks and dripping from where they met beneath your chin. Only stuttered, incoherent ramblings could escape your trembling lips.

You could imagine it, how heartbroken your family must be, how each night that passed where you hadn’t returned home was likely a sleepless, torturous one for them. It hurt you to know you were hurting them. But just going back wasn’t so easy now.

You didn’t know if you were ready to accept that you might never be able to go back at all.

You weren’t sure what to say, but it turned out you didn’t have to say anything, because after another frustrated huff, Keigo was pushing off from the wall and allowing you room to escape as he scowled at the ground and muttered, “Just tell me what he gives you that I can’t…”

And you didn’t feel sadness or fear anymore.

You felt anger.

You felt rage.

“You’re— That’s what this is about?” your voice was quiet, but the fury felt through your words didn’t go unnoticed. Keigo flicked his severe gaze to meet yours, his chin still tilted slightly towards the ground. “You’re chasing us down because you’re jealous—?”

“Of course that’s what—” He scoffed, incredulous. “Do you know what would happen if anyone ever found out the truth about all of this? You’d be tried and hanged for witchcraft. The church would drag you to that pyre, tie you down, and everyone that you’d ever known or loved would watch you burn!” He let out another growl of frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose as he huffed out a short-tempered breath. “Y’know what, no. What this is about is that you’ve been lying to my face for months. You’ve been lying to everyone around you for months. Probably even longer than that!” His expression changed from hurt to one of betrayal, one of disgust. “And all for what? To protect him? To protect some monster?”

“He’s not a monster!” you cut in. “You don’t know anything about him. Or us. You—”

“Then explain it to me!” shouted Keigo, immediately catching his outburst and lowering his voice again so as not to attract any suspicious or nosy townsfolk who might want to eavesdrop on your conversation. “Explain to me why you’re willing to risk everything— to risk your entire life— all for some— some—” He couldn’t find another word that wasn’t akin to monster in some way, so instead he opted to let you fill in the blanks yourself as he gave a defeated shrug.

You exhaled a quick, curt breath through your nose, then began “It’s not…” you paused, searching for the right words. “It just happened that way. I don’t know… I can’t explain it. I never intended to get so… involved. I— He’s changed, Keigo,” you insisted, looking up into his eyes wearing a pleading sincerity. “He’s not the kind of evil, malicious person you or anyone else in town makes him out to be. He can be… kind and gentle and…” You thought of all the times he’d been so tender with you, all the times he’d treated you like you were the only person or thing in this entire world he dared to hold dear. It hadn’t started that way, of course. It had been terrifying. Exhilarating. It had been something you hadn’t known you’d wanted until it was happening.

And then you couldn’t forget him.

You couldn’t stay away.

You saw him in every flash of blue that crossed your vision. You saw him in your dreams. When you gazed out the window of your little cottage home into the vast woods that lay beyond, you could swear you saw his figure shifting from between the trees.

He’d plagued your imagination until you swore you were going mad.

And then he’d returned.

He’d changed.

And maybe you were still far too naive to think you could truly trust him, but you couldn’t help but try.

“Please, Keigo,” you began again, voice trembling at the edges. “Please just… don’t kill him. If you promise to spare him, I’ll…” You knew that, once you spoke the words, you’d never be able to take it back. But, if it meant sparing Dabi, you thought you might be able to live with that. “If you let him go, I’ll marry you…” You hung your head in defeat, as if you’d just offered yourself up for a beheading rather than a betrothal. Then, snapping your gaze back up to meet his, a new fire blazing within your stare, you added, “But you have to swear to me that you won’t try anything. That you’ll be good on your end of the deal.”

“Does that mean,” he asked, a twinge of innocent hope to his voice, “you’ll come back with me?”

Nervously, you chewed on the inside of your cheek. You didn’t see how this could end well. Because if you chose to return with Keigo, Dabi was sure to become the hunter in pursuit of you. But if you rejected Keigo and returned to Dabi, the hunter wouldn’t stop until his prey was dead. You just wished Keigo would turn a blind eye, return to town with some story about how he’d tried but he’d lost the trail.

But that would never happen.

Not when both the hunter and the wolf were vying for your hand. One would inevitably result in a marriage you didn’t want, even if that meant you’d have a comfortable life as the prized hunter’s wife, while the other damned you to a life of running and hiding, running and hiding, your existence dictated by the cycles of the moon.

“Just let me see him one last time,” you said, feeling your window of opportunity closing in. “Just let me say goodbye…”

Keigo said your name again, and the way it came out as a condescendingly sympathetic coo made you feel that wave of dread wash over you all over again. So when he said, “You know I can’t let you do that…” you weren’t surprised in the least.

Both of you were still as stone in that alley. For a moment, it seemed like only the whistle of the wind and the distant tolling of the church bell could be heard between you.

Then, everything snapped back into razor sharp focus as Keigo darted forward with both hands outstretched to grab you.

He was going to force you to come back to town and marry him whether you wanted to or not.

But you threw yourself out of the way just in time, the side of your arm scraping against the rough brick wall before you were sprinting out of the alley like a rabbit giving chase.

Keigo was close on your heels, but not for long. You weaved your way in and out of the dense crowds, only a few people casting odd looks your way before continuing on with their business, and slipped down another short alley to discover a different way to exit the confines of the city walls.

You didn’t stop running until you’d reached the woods and beyond, your lungs burning and legs aching as you pushed yourself forward yet another wild, anxious step, constantly glancing behind you and expecting to see Keigo closing in.

Perhaps the hunter was skillfully stalking you, trying to use you as bait to lure him to his real target. But by the time you reached the valley that led to the farmhouse and saw not another soul in sight, you figured that you were probably safe for now.

“Hey—” Dabi began as you rushed back into the barn, but the moment he saw the look on your face and noticed how out of breath you were, he was coming over to your side and placing his hands on your shoulders, feeling just how badly you were shaking. “What happened?”

“I— He—” you stammered, tears beginning to sting in your eyes again as you relived the scenario you’d just barely managed to escape. Anything that came out of your mouth after that was incoherent, frazzled nonsense as your sobbing took over. You hadn’t even realized Dabi had taken you into his arms until your terror had subsided enough for some of the buzzing numbness in your limbs to fade and your breathing went from hyperventilation to stuttered hiccups.

He’d been trying to ask you what happened in between attempting to comfort you, but when nothing seemed to get through he’d resorted to stroking your hair and your back, rocking you gently as you clung to him until you’d seemed to return to yourself. Only then could you attempt to verbalize the horrible realization that, had things gone just a little differently, had you not run fast enough, you might’ve never seen Dabi again.

“Ok,” Dabi said, his voice low and quiet, but resolute. “We can’t stay here for long then. We’ll sleep here tonight…” He ran his fingers over your hair again, smoothing down some of its disheveledness but ultimately not doing much to erase the evidence of the frantic rate at which you’d fled town and went rushing through the woods. “But in the morning we’ve gotta keep moving.”

You didn’t respond. Didn’t have anything to say. You could only sag under the weight of the day’s trauma— and all the trauma you’d experienced since fleeing the cabin— and hope that you could trust Dabi to know what was right.

But time was running out.

As much as he was trying to keep the chaos as bay, Dabi knew it was only a matter of time until the hunter caught up with you and the three of your fates were set in stone.

Because whether it was Dabi or Keigo who was left at the end of all of this, your entire world would be forever changed.

***

In truth, he’d let you get away.

Keigo had forced himself to slow his pace and watch as you were folded into the crowd and swallowed behind the teeth of yet another jagged brick alley. He’d stood in the middle of the square, itching to reach for one of his arrows. To knock it. To aim. To take the shot.

To end your suffering before things got so much worse.

Because if he couldn’t have you, why should he let anyone else?

Why should he let a monster lay his claim to you?

You were meant to be his.

He’d seen you first.

He knew, if only he’d had a little more time before you’d encountered the wolfman, that you would’ve been his.

No, if he couldn’t have you, then no one could.

And if he had to be the one to end you, at least he’d know he could make it quick.

He could make it painless.

A beautiful death befitting of a beautiful girl.

And when he took your body, so small and still in his arms, back to your family— When he told them how the ruthless, brutal wolfman had sank his savage teeth into your supple flesh, had stolen your purity, had stolen your life, and by the time Keigo had arrived it had been too late…

He’d still end up as the hero at the end of the day.

He’d become even more revered in your small, pious little town despite not being able to save the life of the pretty girl who lived on the hill.

So, yes, while Keigo had let you go, while he’d lost your trail, he knew that you couldn’t have gone far. He’d find you. There was no doubt about that. But first, he had to prepare something special for when he met you next.

So he walked into the nearest hunting shop and picked out a knife.

***

The hayloft was more comfortable than you’d originally given it credit for on sight. Sure, it still wasn’t a soft, warm bed, but after consecutive nights of sleeping out in the cold, raw wilderness since you and Dabi found yourselves on the run, it was the closest thing you were going to get to some sense of comfort and home.

“Found some blankets in the shed,” Dabi announced after returning from scouring the place for any resources the two of you could use. “They’re a little tattered but should at least keep us warm through the night.”

Suddenly, for what might’ve been the first time in two weeks, you found yourself smiling and, not only that, but giggling as well.

“Dabi…” you began, an edge of sympathy to your otherwise amused tone. “Those are saddle blankets.” When he simply continued to stare at you as if waiting for you to elaborate on why that was an issue, you pushed up from your seat and said, “It’s fine. Either way, that’ll work.” You neglected to mention the fact that you two were lucky to be finding yourselves in such a predicament during the late spring and not the dead of winter, in which case those thin, handmade blankets probably wouldn’t have done much good, but overall just found his lack of knowledge on the subject endearing.

“I’ll keep watch,” Dabi stated once he’d made sure to get you all tucked in and as cozy as currently possible. “Don’t worry about the hunter. If I so much as catch his scent—”

“Dabi…” you began again, much sleepier this time. “Why don’t you just take a moment to relax. If he was on our heels, you’d sense him, wouldn’t you?” It felt like an eternity since the two of you had been able to just relax, to trust in a false sense of security like the cabin had once provided.

“I know, but—”

“Just lay with me,” you cut in, your voice laced with the softness of oncoming sleep. “Just for a couple minutes…”

Glancing over his shoulder at the wide barn doors, ears twitching, tail swishing slightly across the dusty floor, debating whether to indulge you— indulge himself— or do the more responsible thing for once, Dabi ultimately decided that a couple minutes couldn’t hurt.

Even if those couple minutes turned into an hour.

“Hey…” he murmured eventually, rousing you from where you’d very nearly drifted off into dreamland. Your eyes fluttered back open, blinking a few times until he came into focus through the dark. “So… What’s his deal anyway? Why is he so…”

His words trailed off, but you knew what he meant.

“What?” you asked, nuzzling in a little closer to him, trying to bask in as much of his warmth as proximity would allow. “You mean why is Keigo so obsessed with me?”

Dabi didn’t want to phrase it like that but, he admitted, yes, that’s exactly what he meant.

You explained that you’d known Keigo since childhood, or rather, your family had known his— the hunters who’d brought him in after finding him as a baby abandoned in the woods raising him as their own, teaching him to track, to lure, to kill. You said that you’d first met him at the church, that you’d noticed him a few rows ahead of you peering over his shoulder throughout the entire service, his golden eyes always finding yours as if he had something he desperately wanted to tell you, beseeching you with his stare.

“At first,” you recalled, “it sort of freaked me out. Every Sunday he’d be there, a few rows ahead, just glancing at me throughout the entire mass…” Keigo was five years older than you, and back then, it had seemed like much more. As a little girl, you remembered tugging on your mother’s skirts or your father’s shirt sleeve whenever his stare became too oppressive, afraid that the boy had the devil in him and was plotting something against you like the pastors were always telling cautionary tales of during their sermons.

But then, after about half a year of silent, mysterious stares, your parents had introduced you to the renowned Takami family and their prodigy of a son. It was then that you got a taste of Keigo’s more charming side, the easy smiles and polite manners, though something mischievous had always lurked beneath the surface of his laugh.

From then on, your families attended church together, standing in the same pew, breaking bread after service and helping each other out during the harsher seasons, trading your mother’s handmade coats and quilts and father’s extra firewood for the Takami’s rabbit and deer meat.

Keigo had always been enamored with you, had always tried to say and do all the right things.

But deep down, you knew, just like you’d caught a glimpse of during those six months burdened by the amber of his predator’s gaze, that there was something subtly, inexplicably, inherently wrong with him.

“And then he got the idea that he was going to marry me,” you sighed, as if the mere notion was exhausting. “And no matter how many times I tried to avoid him, no matter how many times I tried to brush him off, he just wouldn’t give up…”

Dabi blew out a low whistle, the note laced with sarcasm. Then, jokingly, he said, “So… what? Were you the only girl in your entire village, or…?”

You hummed out a short chuckle, gave Dabi a light nudge, and said, “Sure seems that way…” But then your mood darkened yet again, causing you to add, “But, I dunno… I have a feeling all of this has more to do with you than it does with me…”

The admittance had sort of just slipped out, the thought having been on your mind since your run in with the hunter this past afternoon, your intuition unable to shake the feeling of unease that came along with it.

But before you could ruminate on that unsettling idea for much longer, Dabi pulled you in closer and muttered, “Yeah, well, if he wants to marry me, the guy’s got another thing comin’.”

Now you laughed for real, body shaking with mirth, and you thought of all the ways that Keigo could never, would never, be any match for Dabi when it came to your affections. Because who else could make you laugh like this during such dark, dire times?

If it was a monster’s love that had sunk its teeth into you, then so be it.

You would accept it with open arms, even if that made others view you as a monster just the same.

As your amusement simmered down and your body once again prepared to become heavy with sleep, Dabi remained alert and awake. He knew he should force himself from your tangled embrace and assume his post for watch. And he would.

He just had something he needed to do first.

You were stirred awake yet again as his hands slowly began to wander, the shape of his palm and the press of his fingertips a familiar, welcome thing. And, while you wanted to get some much needed rest, you also wanted whatever he had in store for you as well.

Because how long had it been now since you’d had enough time to partake in these kinds of pleasures?

You were pretty sure you’d lost count.

But, this time, Dabi decided, he was going to be soft with you. If this was the last time he might ever get to have you like this, the last time he’d ever get to have anyone like this, if Keigo succeeded in finally killing the infamous wolfman like he so desperately aspired to, then he wanted you to remember him as gentle, as more than the monster that the myths portrayed him to be.

With the two of your bodies pressed close, limbs loosely entangled as you shifted slightly, as if gently turning in sleep, he nudged his nose against yours, those blazing blues at half-mast as he drank in the sight of you so vulnerable and tender beside him. When your eyes fluttered back open, slowly blinking him back into focus, you leaned forward, lazily chasing after his lips for a kiss. Normally, he would’ve denied you. Would’ve teased you until you were practically begging for any and everything he would give you. But now, tonight, Dabi was content to oblige you.

Like a dying man’s last meal, he was going to savor every kiss, every touch, every inch of your skin until there was nothing left to give. Nothing left to take.

He was going to draw it out.

He was going to make it last so, when the hunter finally came for him, he’d have no regrets if the worst befell him.

Your lips first met with a soft, chaste touch, the ghost of affection reaching out between each other in a silent plea for more. You felt his fingers flex where they gripped your waist, tugging you just that much closer to him, wanting to have you so close he could feel your heartbeat against his skin, so close that your pulse and his own became indistinguishable.

When his tongue gave a gentle suggestion for you to part your lips for him, you obeyed, melting further into the kiss as you hummed out a sated sigh, a breathy moan working its way up your throat. As you relearned the shape of each other’s mouths, rememorized the taste, Dabi’s hands began to wander some more, mapping out the familiar curves of your body as he so liked to do, his fingertips rough but the touch itself gentle, delicate.

You sucked in a small gasp when he groped at your ass, feeling his lips split into a smirk as one of those sultry chuckles escaped him. He couldn’t help but find your reactions to such things amusing yet adorable. It was like you were his helpless little virgin all over again. It made him hard just thinking about it, that first night he’d had you.

He began to strip you of your clothes, the bundle of oversized brown fabric gathered around your waist while he pressed a kiss to your hip, your tummy, then pushed up higher to expose the soft curve of your breasts to him, nipples pebbling as the cool night air brushed up against your skin, then over your head and discarded completely in a pile off to the side, Dabi pulling his own shirt over his head to expose the expanse of his chest, pale and etched deep with scars, just as lovely as you remembered him to be.

With a knee between your legs, he gave one of them a nudge as means of encouragement to open for him, his hands aiding in getting you the rest of the way there when you seemed to suddenly become a little shy.

As his head lowered between your spread legs a shiver wracked through you, a tremor of anticipation at the magic, be it witchcraft or a miracle, that he had a habit of placing upon you with his fingers and tongue. His warm breath fanned over your wet cunt, causing you to whine when you felt just how soaked you’d become, raising a palm to cover your mouth as your face grew hot with the humiliation, muffling your next precursory moan. But that was when Dabi stopped, just inches from tasting you, moments from delivering you the most divine pleasure you’d known, raising his head and appearing above you again, lightly taking your wrist in his grip and tugging it free from your mouth.

“No,” he stated, plain and simple, yet still retaining that err of gentleness that he was becoming more accustomed to displaying around you. “Don’t try to hide it. I want to hear you, understand?” Despite your face growing hotter still, you swallowed down your apprehension and nodded for him. “Good girl,” he praised you, slowly retracing his descent down towards where you were most needy for attention. Then, as if talking only to himself, he muttered, “I wanna hear you when you come for me,” and upon hearing those words you felt your little hole flutter, your belly clenching just at the thought of what you knew it would feel like once he was buried deep inside you, the sensation all too familiar yet, at the same time, always feeling like nothing could’ve prepared you for it beforehand, the ecstasy created by your two bodies becoming one stronger and more potent than any other brand of euphoria the world could offer.

You let out a broken mewl as his long, slick tongue began lightly teasing at your dewy folds, gathering more of your arousal as he made you obscenely drenched with his spit, taking his time to flick the tip of his tongue along your sensitive little bud, making you jolt and writhe, wrestling you still with his arms looped snugly around your thighs. Your melody of moans and whimpers only ever made him desperate to hear them more, engaging in the skillful dance of bringing you right up to that edge but always pulling you back before you tumbled over.

“You’re being mean—” you lightly chided, a feeble quiver to your quiet voice, the teasing soon becoming too much.

But, at this, Dabi only chuckled, placing a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh, stroking the other with the pad of his thumb as he rested his head against it. Gazing up at you with glittering eyes, he cooed, “Promise I’ll make it worth it, baby…” Another kiss, this time closer to your soaked core, caused you to flinch. “Besides…” He began to leave languid kisses up your body, shifting his position to reach your tummy, your chest, your collarbones, your neck. When he was face to face with you again, the sight of your arousal shining on his chin making your stomach clench yet again, he said, “Don’t I always?”

But he didn’t give you time to answer before diving back into his ministrations, his tongue lolling out to lav at your perked nipples, making you moan and arch further into the warmth of his mouth, Dabi lightly tugging at one of the furled buds with his teeth, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to hear you give him one of those cute little gasps again, balancing on the precipice of fear.

After he’d coated both of you breasts with his saliva, making nearly as much of a mess of you as you’d made of him, Dabi’s kisses once more made the migration towards your neck, sucking a few dark bruises into that tender flesh, your grip tightening around his biceps as a wave of goosebumps raced across your skin, your breath stuttering at the sensation.

Then he was coaxing your mouth back open for him, taking a moment to hover there, to taste each exhale that leapt from your lungs. The kiss he gave you next was sloppy and open-mouthed, and you could taste the salty tang of yourself on his tongue now, only distracted from the flavor when you felt two of his long, lithe fingers glide through the glistening petals of your pussy before slipping inside of you, pumping in and out, slow and steady, before beginning to scissor you open wider in preparation.

“Hurts—” you hissed when he stretched you a little too far a little too fast, but the feeling of your cunt trying to suck his fingers in deeper, the way your silky walls clenched around them as if in hopes of holding them prisoner, only made him that much more painfully hard. He could already feel himself leaking through his trousers. He was just as needy as you were, only better at hiding it.

“I know, baby…” he cooed, unable to keep some of that saccharine condensation from fringing his raspy tone. “But you’re doing so good for me…” Another kiss placed to your temple as he reached into his waistband and took hold of his cock, feeling it pulse against his palm when the cool night air hit the velvety length of him. He didn’t waste time lining himself up, his other hand stroking gentle lines along your hip. “You’re always so good for me.”

You half expected him to bury himself to the hilt with one harsh thrust, as he sometimes had a habit of doing, but tonight, as he’d already decided, he was going to take his time with you. So, inch by inch, he sunk deeper into your slick heat, sucking in a hiss through clenched teeth when your little nails bit into his back at the sting of the stretch, your delicate skin breaking in fragile fissures as his cock split you in two.

Once he was fully inside, both of your bare chests pressed close, Dabi gave you a moment to adjust to the feeling of him stuffing you full, but before he could move, you made a request of him.

“It hurts a little,” you said, then further clarified, “The hayloft. It hurts my back. Can we…?” But before you’d even finished your question he was carefully propping you up, helping to hold you into a position that allowed you to straddle his lap, the shift making you wince a little as his length nudged against your cervix, but you definitely felt more comfortable now than you had laying back against the rough wooden surface.

Letting out a soft chuckle as he picked pieces of straw from where they stuck in your hair, Dabi asked, “Better?” and you nodded, adjusting your position just a little bit more before you felt like you were in the perfect spot to take him. As he began, he kept a strong palm pressed to the small of your back for support, your little hands gripping his shoulders and becoming tighter the more he fucked into you, urging you to ride him to the best of your ability, and you did all that you could to match his pace. But, as always, eventually he became relentless, hips meeting yours with ruthless stamina, drinking in every cry or yelp or moan you would grant him, soaking up every clench of your cunt around his cock until, finally, he came, his body shuddering as a breathy moan was punched from his chest, filling you to the brim with his sticky warmth. But he wasn’t done with you yet. He wasn’t done until he’d made you come, made you gush all over his cock, coating him in so much of your love and your lust that he swore he’d never be able to clean it all away.

Rubbing some more of those torturously skillful circles on your swollen little clit, Dabi soon worked you over that sharp edge, feeling your body tremble and tense before your weight sagged against him, your shallow, panting breaths gradually returning to something much more even and controlled.

Normally, he’d take this time after to clean you up, to lay with you as he watched you drift off to sleep, only then daring to fall unconscious himself. But out here, in this unfamiliar and unequipped place, there wasn’t much he could do besides wipe the excess of your shared arousal that drooled in thick globs from your sore little hole with the edge of one of the blankets, murmuring promises of the life he’d create for the two of you once you’d escaped the hunter’s grasp as you feel unconscious.

He’d build you a house. One with a fireplace and a balcony and a back porch. He’d build you a bed. One with four posts and a canopy and a quilt. You’d have a wardrobe full of the finest clothes money could buy, making a living by selling your handcrafted sundries in the market of the nearest town. Your world would smell like honey and pine. You’d spend your days surrounded by the trees and the songs of the birds. You’d get married in the backyard in a wedding dress you’d made by hand, freshly picked poppies adorning Dabi’s makeshift lapel, trading matching rings carved of oak or birch or stone. He’d make love to you on that bed he’d built, on that quilt you’d sewn, every night leading up to the full moon.

You’d bake bread.

He’d hunt deer.

You’d be safe.

You’d be happy.

You’d be his.

But first, before the house and the honey and the hunting of the deer, there was one thing Dabi knew he had to do in order to make even half of that fantasy possible.

He had to kill Keigo.

He had to pave the way for a world where not a single hunter would follow in pursuit of you.

***

The blade caught the morning’s glow, sunlight on silver a burst of blinding light.

Keigo couldn’t help but admire its pristine shine, the flawless edge of its craftsmanship, the way he could view his reflection in it, the amber of his eyes cutting across the weapon wearing determination but also something sorrowful.

He didn’t want to kill you. Truly, he didn’t. If Keigo got his way, you’d finally see reason once the demon who’d tempted you had been slain. You’d come to your senses. You’d accept his offer to return with him and take his hand in marriage.

You’d choose the path that let you live, left your family pleased, and ensured that Keigo had you all to himself.

He could give you a good life.

He would give you a good life.

All you had to do was let him.

And if not, well…

Keigo had always thought you looked best in the color red.

***

The countryside by the shore was comfortingly desolate, the hills sprawling out in every direction as far as the eye could see until the rolling waves of the ocean crept up to meet them. The breeze tasted of salt and the lingering smoke from the small campfire that had just been stomped out.

The old boat house stood on the border between the sand and the seagrass, the exterior half rotted by the caress of the brine, flecks of once-white paint hanging onto the planks for dear life, the decaying wood turned a pale shade of teal.

It was so quiet out here, not another soul for miles beyond the seagulls that circled come high noon.

You’d never seen the ocean before, your little village too far inland to ever make the journey, even by horse, so you found much comfort and wonder by simply sitting in the soft sand and staring out at the froths of foam lining the waves far off in the distance, nothing but water meeting sky. It gave you time to think, to really put some things into perspective.

You and Dabi had been on the run for over two weeks now. You’d traveled so far, seen so much, and the further you distanced yourself from home, the less you found yourself wanting to go back.

“We could do it, y’know…” he’d said the first night you’d arrived, the crumbling little structure one of his maker’s old hideouts. “We could head south to the ports. Sneak onto a boat…” He’d gone from gazing at the stars to gazing at you, those half-lidded blues sparkling as if he’d reached up into the constellations and plucked down two of the stars just for you. “See where it takes us…”

You’d hugged your knees up to your chest, turned your view back to the expanse of black sky above, and tried to contemplate what that would be like.

A new country.

A new life.

No one to chase you, at least, for a little while.

But maybe then you could put down some roots, still away from the center of society, of course, but you could create a life where you wouldn’t have to live day by day, hour by hour.

Though now, as the sun rose on a new dawn, you wondered how many days you had left.

“How long have you been awake?”

You turned as Dabi’s voice registered to you. He was standing on the porch that sagged under the weight of every pace, each step surely the last one it would take to cause the whole thing to crumble as it creaked and groaned beneath his feet. He had a moth-eaten blanket wrapped tightly around his shoulders, the nights out here so much colder than what the dense forest provided.

Dragging one of your bare feet across the sand, you carved a smooth arc out before you as you sighed. “Maybe an hour,” you responded, your voice just loud enough for him to hear with the couple of meters between you. You were about to approach him but then he was the one closing the gap, coming down to join you on the soft, cool sand.

“I was worried,” he admitted, now standing before you, close enough to reach out and touch. “I thought maybe he’d…” and his words trailed off. But you didn’t need him to finish the thought to understand.

“Sorry…” you whispered, feeling the threat of tears prickling in the back of your nose. “It’s just—”

Dabi pulled you in close to his chest, wrapped you up in the thin blanket along with him, and he murmured into your hair after a shuddering sigh, “It’s fine. It’s just…” He didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to say it out loud. How he’d thought the hunter had come and stolen you in the night. But he really should’ve known better.

Had Keigo come around, he would’ve ensured that Dabi never got the chance to wake up ever again.

“Once we get through the next full moon,” Dabi concluded, “we’ll head to the ports.”

And so it was decided.

The next full moon was two days from now— you’d grown accustomed to reading its phases based on the current state of Dabi’s wolfishness alone over these past few weeks— so that didn’t leave much time.

Not for you to decide whether you were truly ready to turn your back on everything you’d ever known and plunge into the uncertainty of what a future with Dabi would hold, or decide this was all too much too fast and return to the damning familiarity of had once been your normal day to day.

You’d tasted freedom.

You were so close to grabbing it with both hands and swallowing it whole.

How could you give that up?

How could you forget all of that in just forty-eight hours?

Though, for Keigo, forty-eight hours was more than enough time to take some drastic measures.

It was also more than enough time for him to catch up.

“The ports…” you repeated, your words sounding far off to your own ears, as if you were hearing them in a dream. It seemed almost impossible to you, this plan that Dabi felt so sure would work. And Dabi, well…

He was just hoping he could convince you to cross the border before you changed your mind.

Once he got you on that boat— currently speculating that stowing away on a cargo ship would be your best bet, even if the journey could take days or maybe even weeks until it reached the next port, Dabi sneaking out at night to maneuver around watch patrols as he sniffed out any food that he could steal— and whisked you away from this place, escaped the hunter who swore he’d pursue the two of you to the ends of the earth…

Only then would he feel like he’d won.

Only then would he let himself believe that he’d be able to have you forever.

“Don’t worry,” he was telling you again, placing a kiss to the crown of your head as he stroked gentle patterns down your back, his palm warm through your clothes, a welcome reprieve from the chilly sea air. “I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to you.”

It was the only lie he couldn’t bring himself to stop telling.

He thought that, if he said it enough, it would become true.

You turned in his arms, your back pressed to his chest, so you could once again face the sea.

Those waves both beckoned and terrified you, pulling you in with every frill of foam lapping at the shore, yet pushing you further away with the hiss of its rhythmic ambience.

Once you crossed that water you’d never be able to come back. You’d only have Dabi and the moon and whatever little life the two of you could manage to make for yourselves after that.

And so you asked yourself…

Would that be enough?

“I know…” you told him, your voice so fragile, so small and trembling, when you wanted nothing more than to look him in the eyes, so firm and resolute, and give him that answer with your whole chest. With your whole heart.

You wanted nothing more than to believe that, no matter what stood in your way, as long as you had each other, nothing could break you apart.

Nothing could hurt you.

No one could take you away from him again.

Yet, every time you closed your eyes, you saw it— that flash of tawny and gold. It haunted your nightmares, crept up behind you between every shadow or sudden movement out of the corner of your eye.

You didn’t want Keigo to die. Not really.

But, you were coming to accept, there might be no other way.

It was going to be him or Dabi.

You didn’t need to take the time to figure out which one you most wanted to fall into the arms of once all was said and done.

***

When Keigo could taste the salt in the air, he knew the sea couldn’t be far. He quickened his pace, the sting of the open blisters on his feet and the pain twisting in his stomach after three days without a meal no longer registering to him once the thought that the wolf could’ve already stolen you away across the water struck him.

Or maybe he’d arrive to find your body strewn across the shore, your blood being licked at by the waves.

He thought he’d prefer the latter. At least then he’d have closure.

At least then, he wouldn’t have to do it himself.

And if he was lucky enough to discover the two of you still there, what would he do?

There would be nowhere to hide. He might be able to finish things once and for all, if he was able to knock an arrow and aim for the heart faster than the wolfman could sink his fangs into the hunter’s soft human throat.

He was so close he could feel it in his bones, this insatiable ache for something he couldn’t quite describe. Perhaps it was the thrill of the hunt calling to him, this new, intelligent prey so enticing to a man who’d pursued the same game ever since his father before him had handed the little boy a knife and a bow and taught him how to kill. He’d learned to get into the mind of his targets, able to trace the path of their steps as if they were his own. With the two of you, he’d been kept on his toes, always trying to predict what you’d do or where you’d go next but unable to get three steps ahead like he was used to.

The swish of the waves mingled with the whistle of the breeze, and when Keigo could tell the two apart, he knew he had to keep moving. He would reach the sea tonight. He would face whatever awaited him at that shore.

When the boathouse appeared in the distance, at first Keigo didn’t let himself believe it, figuring that he’d somehow dozed off and was caught in a dream. Or maybe he was delirious from lack of sleep and food and was wandering aimlessly towards some sort of mirage. But the closer he trudged, the bigger that crooked hut became and he knew it was all too real.

He drew his knife, slinking up to the side of the little house and listening for any signs of life. It was silent, so he thought fuck it and tried the front door.

Keigo winced when it opened with a creak, his body going still and he anticipated an attack. But when nothing came, he gathered up the courage to travel further into the house, going room by room, of which there were only four, and expecting to find a pair of glowing blue eyes peering at him around every turn.

But the boathouse was empty, as far as Keigo could tell.

All that was left behind was a tattered shawl and some empty crab husks.

***

The morning before the full moon, you and Dabi headed south. It would be easier to catch a boat if you weren’t running on at the last minute, and this way you could sneak on under the cover of night when there would be less people around. A few towns back, on the way to the shore, Dabi had found himself a long, stiff piece of fabric that could pass as a cloak to hide his wolfishness. The plan was, if anyone asked or seemed suspicious, you would just tell them that you were traveling with a sick relative who was, unfortunately, horribly deformed beneath that cloak, and that you were setting sail in search of a specialist overseas who you hoped could cure him.

By nightfall though, he’d be man no more, and then the cloak would be used to keep you warm as the ocean’s breeze tangled around your limbs. Dabi would curl up around you, keeping watch while you slept, and in the morning, when he looked just as human as you did though still hiding beneath the cloak to maintain your cover story, the two of you could merge with the other passengers and blend into the crowd. Depending on the length of the journey, Dabi would have to sneak off periodically once the moon became full, but somehow, some way, he’d make sure that both of you were delivered safely to a foreign shore.

He’d find a way to start over.

He’d find a way to live and not just survive.

“Look!” you’d called from where you’d ventured up a little ways ahead, the edge of the forest fading from a cliffside. You pointed a finger out at a horizon Dabi couldn’t yet view, though as he marched up the incline to stand by your side, the sight of the town’s edge lined with vessels— passenger liners and freighters and sailboats— finally revealed itself.

“We’re so close!” you beamed, and it was the first time in a long time that Dabi had seen you smile like that, heard the giddy excitement fringing on your words.

He slung an arm around you, gently tugging you against his chest before reaching forward to twine both of his long, thin arms around your waist. “Just a little bit longer…” he murmured, though whether it was more to himself or to you, you weren’t exactly sure. “Just a little bit longer and we’ll be free…”

And so you made plans to camp out on the hem of the forest until dusk. You sat by the cliff, counting the hours until the sun would set, sharing the meager stock of berries and nuts you’d collected as the sky changed from blue to a beigey gold, and when hints of lavender tinged the edges of nature’s great canvas, the two of you stood, staring out at all the little boats bobbing and swaying and beckoning you on board, hands clasped, hope high, and prepared to commence the final and possibly most daring piece of this crooked jigsaw puzzle of a plan.

Too bad you only made it a few paces before the weathered figure of the hunter appeared between the trees in the distance, causing both sides of this long, treacherous game you’d been playing for so long to stop short, the wolf and the hawk sizing each other up.

Then, just before you could squeeze Dabi’s hand, a silent imploration to him, though for what exactly you did not know, without taking his sharp gaze off the hunter he merely said to you, “Head for the port. I won’t be long.”

Before you could protest even half a syllable or a single sound, Dabi took off running, darting towards Keigo faster than you’d ever seen a living creature move.

Keigo drew his knife and gave chase.

And you, however frustrated and terrified, started in a sprint to follow.

***

With every leap and bound through the uneven path, closing in on the hunter but not quite near enough to catch him and take him to the ground, Dabi could feel the pull of the full moon running through his blood like fire and ice colliding in a burst of cruel fireworks.

His senses became sharper, his reflexes quicker, his vengeance and bloodlust flaring molten and deadly between the grooves of his ribcage. It wouldn’t be long until this curse placed upon him took control and his bones twisted into canis lupus.

But, for perhaps the first time since he’d been turned, Dabi longed to become a monster. Because, when he did, there’d be no chance for the hunter to get away. He’d rake his razor-sharp claws down Keigo’s back, drag him to the ground, and sink his teeth in deep, savor the man’s blood as it gushed into his maw and ran in thick rivulets down his throat.

Just a little longer, Dabi told himself, not slowing down a single beat as he forced Keigo back further into the woods. Just a little longer and it’ll all be over.

Only, the hunter wasn’t keen on playing the part of easy prey.

Keigo was guiding Dabi, bringing him deeper into the darkness of the green in hopes of having a chance to spare you.

He’d give you one last chance to accept his offer and return home with him once the wolf was dead.

If you still refused, well…

At least then no one from the town on the coast would hear your screams echo out across the sloshing water.

The moon became brighter still, cutting through twilight’s haze like a window opening into the silvery heavens, and with that illumination came the protruding of fangs, the curvature of claws, the sprouting of thick, black fur down the nape of Dabi’s neck and along the column of his spine. The blueness of his eyes became bluer still, glowing sapphires slashing through the shadows to pierce his target’s back every time the hunter dared to glance behind him, panic striking as the wolfman closed the gap more and more with every step.

You’d lost their trail long ago, rushing frantically through the dark woodlands in hopes of spotting the imprint of a familiar shoe tread or catch a glimpse of Keigo’s tawny hunting jacket from between the rustling pines. Your lungs were starting to ache, every breath of the evening’s cool air sucked down in short, panicked breaths stinging from inside your tightening chest the longer you went without any sign of them.

You were about to give up. To turn around and hope you could find your way back into hiding and pray that Dabi would be the one who came back to find you.

But then you heard a scream.

Not a scream, exactly.

More like a low, guttural, raspy growl.

Dabi’s tone echoed in sharp, staccato bursts from somewhere off to your left, his voice sounding pained, like he was in the throes of agony.

And so you took off running again, this time faster than you’d previously thought yourself capable of.

Just before the wolfman had been able to take hold of the hunter, an invisible force seized his limbs, an acidic suffering surging through his veins, lacing through the very marrow of his bones as they began to crack and shift inside his frame, the pain splintering through him like white hot electricity as he arched and bent with the torture of the transformation.

By the time you reached him, he had only a few more breaths left of being a man. You’d never seen him during a shift. He’d always gone away, done it somewhere privately, somewhere you couldn’t hear his misery.

And when you looked at him, even just for those few seconds he was caught in the horrible in between, he could see it in your eyes.

The terror.

And you…

You’d be lying if you said you could no longer understand why so many viewed his kind as monsters.

It was only once Dabi’s haunting hisses and moans ceased that you registered Keigo’s own groans of struggle and dread and revulsion filling the air as he panted through clenched teeth, attempting to scramble up from the ground where he’d tripped as he’d been backing away, golden eyes wide with fear of all that was holy and damned and everything in between.

You’d never seen Keigo afraid and, somehow, that in and of itself was terrifying to you.

“Dabi!” you called out to him, something more akin to concern than disgust breaking at the end of his name. He peered over his shoulder to find you running towards him, immediately swiveling to help close the gap, mindful to let you collide with him and not the other way around, as his current size might do some damage if it crashed into your fragile human form. You threw your arms around his neck, buried your face into his fur, the scent of campfire smoke still clinging to him even in this form, and he could feel your whole body shaking, trembling like a fall leaf one breeze from being shorn from the tree’s withered branch.

A short, breathy whine was sighed out through the wolf’s nostrils and you felt his massive weight sag a little further into your desperate embrace. Man or wolf, you just wanted him to be alright. You wanted him to whisk you away from this nightmare and deliver you both safely to one of those boats, the promise of a new life, a new land, awaiting you.

But, while you two were having your touching little reunion, the hunter wasn’t wasting any time. He knocked an arrow and drew back the bowstring in one swift, deathly precise motion, the sharp tip of the weapon aimed for your beating heart as soon as you parted from your beloved monster. He took one steadying breath, not a single flicker of doubt or apprehensive shudder to be found.

Keigo had no other choice.

You’d forced his hand.

You’d made your choice and now he’d follow through with his.

Dabi saw the hunter turn his aim onto you, and before he even had time to think he was springing into action, vaulting towards the hunter with his teeth bared as the arrow was set free.

The world seemed to slow around him as he dove into harm’s way, a dozen memories flashing through his head all at once, though still seeming to draw out and take their time. He remembered the first time he lay eyes on you, so enticing and vulnerable as you’d waded your way through the fog, the fur of his maker wrapped around your pretty neck, the look of terror you’d worn when he sang your lullaby back to you and you’d spotted the glow of his eyes through the trees.

He remembered how he’d terrorized you, chasing you through the woods, his cruel laughter ringing out and startling the birds from their resting branches. And when he’d caught you, he’d been even more horrible still, earning himself a bite and a cut from the knife you’d carried back then. And when you weren’t afraid anymore, that’s when things had gotten interesting.

That’s when things had changed.

Dabi no longer viewed you as the scared little rabbit, the prey that indulged him in the thrill of the chase.

You could be a wolf in sheep’s clothing, if you wanted to.

And Dabi’s curiosity of what a girl who was as beautiful as she was fierce could be like— could feel like, could taste like— had ultimately won.

And he’d grown attached.

Because you weren’t afraid of him like everyone else was, like everyone else had warned you to be.

You were compassionate and smart and empathetic and kind. You were so many things that he’d convinced himself he didn’t deserve, convinced himself he’d never experience again since damned to live by the cycles of the moon.

You’d given him a reason to live.

And now, for you and only you, he’d be happy for you to be his reason to die.

“No—!” Your shriek cut through the dark as Keigo’s shot buried itself in Dabi’s shoulder, the arrow piercing his rough wolf’s flesh and causing the beast to yelp and stagger. You watched as the blood shone on his matted fur, soaking it to his scarred flesh, and felt like something in the center of your body had been yanked clean out of you, leaving a gaping hole in its wake.

But it would take more than one measly arrow to kill the werewolf, and when Dabi turned his gaze back onto the hunter, his lips pulled up in a vicious snarl to reveal two rows of sharp teeth, he glared with every ounce of hate he’d ever felt for anyone or anything in this world. Yet, at the same time, he was relieved. Because he’d much rather it be him than you who had to experience such pain. Besides, Dabi was no stranger to the sensation. It had been a while, yes, but it greeted him like an old friend.

And now, Dabi would relish in introducing Keigo to this bitter acquaintance.

Keigo took aim once more, firing off another arrow that, that time, missed the beast by only a hair, merely grazing along its side as it lunged at the hunter. Keigo threw himself out of the way, his full weight hitting the ground with a thud before frantically rolling away as the wolf snapped its razor-toothed jaw where his neck had been just a moment ago.

You’d fallen to your knees, the cool earth curling its damp tendrils around your bare legs, creeping up and up and up until the chill seemed to seep into your brain, leaving you frozen and helpless to watch everything that was about to unfold, the cruel crescendo of these past weeks— this past year— finally coming to a close.

The blonde was springing back to his feet with another arrow at the ready before Dabi could attempt his next strike, and the following, from what you could see, was a tangle of claw and limb, black and beige caught up in a deadly, face-paced dance.

The tears running down your cheeks had stopped flowing, leaving behind salty, shimmering streaks, your eyes wide with fear and hurt and anticipation.

The hunter was holding his ground, even in such close proximity, but what Dabi didn’t know was that this was all going according to Keigo’s plan.

Just a little closer, the hunter hoped. And, with one more luring motion, he had the wolf within his circle.

Keigo drew the knife, raised it above his head, then plunged all eight inches of the silver blade down into the werewolf’s back.

The sound that Dabi let out wasn’t quite a howl, wasn’t quite a scream, but something caught in between the realms of monster and man. You felt a pain in your chest upon hearing that sound, letting out one last hiccuping sob before your body truly had no more grief left to give. You couldn’t even call out his name, to let him hear it with your broken voice one last time.

The wolf went still, sagging heavier against the blood-soaked earth, and the hunter, satisfied with finally claiming such a victory, hoisted himself up to stand using the blade’s handle as leverage, sinking it just that much further into his prize’s flesh. When he did it, he locked eyes with you, the gold of his stare suddenly a much muddier shade, rusted over with apathy and scorn.

But when Keigo looked over at you, it wasn’t with relief.

It was with contempt.

It was with the tired, heavy realization that this wasn’t over yet.

Starting toward you with a slow stride, boots dragging more and more with every step, Keigo flexed his hands and clenched his jaw, his throat working as he attempted to swallow down the final ounces of sentimentality that he held for you, to let them burn away in the churning acid of his stomach. It wasn’t until he was five paces within your reach that you recognized the danger you were faced with and began to scramble from your awkward sitting position on the ground.

But the moment you even so much as hinted at giving chase, Keigo was on you, pushing you back so that your head hit the ground with a nauseous thud and stars sparkled in your swaying vision, giving no time to recover from the rattling in your brain before he was wrapping his cold, calloused hands around your throat and squeezing hard, causing you to claw at his grip as the oxygen was wrung from you.

You couldn’t hear Keigo speaking over the hammering of your pulse in your own ears, but as your vision began to go black you saw his mouth moving, caught slivers of the murmur of his voice in between your asphyxiation

“Why are you making me do this?” he was asking. “Why couldn’t you have just come home?”

Even as he squeezed harder still, the strength of your struggle fading away more and more by the moment, Keigo’s eyes filled with tears, his chin beginning to tremble as he bit back a sob, drops of his sorrow flecking your face as your eyes rolled back and he watched as the life began to drain out of you.

Once upon a time, you would’ve been the girl he’d married. You would’ve been the mother of his children, the beloved wife he returned home to at the end of every hunt.

He could’ve provided for you, protected you, given you a good life.

But you’d gone and burned it all to ash.

And for what?

All because you’d been tempted by the monster that now lay in a heap among the shadows of the trees.

Keigo wondered how long it would take for your bodies to be found and, when they were, if Dabi’s would be that of a human or a wolf.

He supposed it didn’t matter. His job was done. There was nothing left to do now but return to your village and deliver the grim news to your family.

“I tried…” Keigo wept, his words barely above a whisper. “I loved you.”

It was only half a breath later that the hunter’s grip released from your neck, two bruises in the shape of his hands marring your tender flesh, making you wince as you wheezed and gasped for air, the final shreds of mortality he’d nearly stolen from you breathing you back to life one painful cough at a time.

Once the ringing in your ears subsided, you turned halfway onto your side, looking out at where the hunter was granted but one final scream before the wolf sank its teeth into his jugular with a sickening crunch, tearing ruthlessly at his windpipe with a rapid shake of its head to deliver the killing blow. You pushed up onto your elbows as you saw Dabi open his jaw and let Keigo drop to the dirt, his eyes still open, blood drenching his neck and down his chest, soaking dark into the fabric of his coat, running up the side of his face, staining his curls a vengeful crimson.

It was then that you collapsed, though whether from trauma or shock, you did not know. Dabi was quick to return to your side, walking with a limp on his front left paw from where the knife had yet to be pulled free. He breathed in your scent, sensed your heart still beating, and curled up beside you.

It wouldn’t be until dawn, when the moon faded away back into the pale horizon, that he’d be able to change back. He just hoped that, when he did, you’d both have survived through the night.

***

The sun was just beginning to tinge the sky with all its newborn colors when you woke, your eyes fluttering apprehensively open, the light that flooded your vision making you wince and retreat back into the dim, pinkish darkness the back of your eyelids provided.

Your head throbbed and your neck pulsed with pain, your entire being sore with the aftermath of the night previous. You wondered, for a moment, if it had all been some kind of horribly vivid dream, but when you looked further into the field, your sight adjusting into focus, you saw Keigo’s corpse still lying dormant amidst the grass, his blood congealing and his expression twisted into a sight you had to force yourself to look away from, rigor mortis settling over his once handsome features in a grotesque display of death and decay.

You went to speak, to call out for Dabi, but found you couldn’t make a sound, your voice less than a wheeze and feeling ragged and raw even upon the gentlest whisper. You feared, for a moment, that Dabi hadn’t made it either. That he’d dragged himself off somewhere far away to die. But then you glanced behind you and felt at least that part of your panic settle, finding him asleep and hopefully alive.

He was man once more, having shed all of his wolfish parts by daybreak, though was left naked and vulnerable against the earth, the blood from his wounds showing bright against his pale flesh, new scars likely to form on his shoulder his back, flaking rust still around his mouth and down his neck, all the evidence of Keigo’s attacks and Dabi’s victory staining his skin with gore.

But, as you curled back up beside him, moving closer so your two bodies could touch, wrapping your arms around him in hopes of sharing some of your warmth as he’d done for you so many times before, it was confirmed that he was, indeed, still alive.

You could feel him breathing, feel him occasionally twitch or wince amidst his slumber, you keeping watch over him this time, finally able to feel like you were the one capable of doing the protecting.

An hour or so later, when Dabi finally began to stir, it was with a hiss and a groan, all of last night’s pain resurfacing from its rest as well. The moment he laid eyes on you though, all of his suffering was forgotten, all of his worries chased away.

“Hey…” he cooed, gently threading his fingers through your hair as your eyes filled with tears. “Hey, it’s alright…” he continued to assure you, pulling you in a little closer. “We’re safe now… I’ve got you… We’re safe…”

Despite the pain, you still attempted to speak again, but to no avail. Once Dabi realized this, remembered how he’d almost been too late to pull the hunter off of you, he had you sit up, allowing him to carefully inspect the damage done to your throat.

It would take some time to heal, that was for certain, but he had confidence that you’d end up ok. For now though, he told you not to push yourself, not to speak, that he’d take care of everything and get you what you needed as soon as you boarded one of those boats.

Helping each other to your feet, Dabi instructed you to head up the hill and wait while he procured some clothes. You didn’t protest. You knew it was so you wouldn’t have to watch him strip Keigo’s body of his belongings. Because even if he had tried to kill you, it still wasn’t easy to see the corpse of someone who’d once been so familiar.

It wasn’t long before Dabi returned to meet you, now wearing Keigo’s clothes, the sleeves of the jacket and the legs of the pants a little short on him, but seeing as his garments were destroyed during the shift, he had no other choice. Keigo’s body would be left behind, whether for the vultures to begin scavenging from or some unfortunate hunter to find, that wasn’t the concern of either of you.

You had a boat to catch, after all.

A proper burial would take too long.

So, heading in the direction of the shore, passing through the last remaining town that you’d probably ever see of your home country, Dabi used the last of the coins that he’d found waiting patiently in one of Keigo’s pockets to purchase you both some new clothes and, the real shock of your entire pre-voyage excursion, two third-class tickets onto one of the passenger liners headed east.

You didn’t know what would await you in the next land you set foot on, if things would fare better or worse than the situation you’d just escaped, the family that you’d heartbreakingly left behind. But there was no way to know unless you tried.

All you could hope was, perhaps there, you could start over.

Perhaps, there, you could be free.

***

Hello and thank you so much to everyone for reading (and for being so patient in waiting for the finale). Also, happy halloween! It’s always a bittersweet feeling to wrap up a series, especially one I started so long ago despite it only being three chapters, so I sincerely hope you enjoyed and were satisfied with the way things turned out. Since going back to school I’ve been very busy and not had very much time for writing as I’m used to, but little by little I intend to continue other projects of mine that I’m still in the middle of, so please continue to be patient with me on that. Anyway, I want to say thank you again if you’ve come this far and hope you have a wonderful rest of your day/evening! See you next time, byyyyyyyeee! <3

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alexkaneinq · 7 months ago

Text

Rabbit's Greed

Rating: Explicit

Contents: Wolf/Bunny, shifters, size difference, rimming, anal sex, knotting, multiple orgasms, praise kink, prostate milking. Light belly bulge, cum inflation, scent kink.

Word Count: 7,423

As a rabbit shifter, Boyd has never been taken seriously in the village. Of course he hasn't been. He's small, barely reaching five foot two, thin as a rail everywhere except his strong legs, and barely noticeable around his brother and sister who took after their ox father. He is small, and like all other small shifters, he is overlooked by most.

And that is perfectly fine by him. No one gives attention to a small bunny darting around large rooms filled with bigger shifters as the evening of revelry starts in the tavern. The Dusty Firefly is a huge tavern, with the first level holding the main bar, the second holding a few private rooms for rent as well as the place where the high-rollers hold their games separate from the common hands of cards and dice that people get up to in the corners of the first level. And the third floor has the rest of the rentable rooms for travelers going through the city. It's a large, lively place where plenty of other creatures come for a night of indulgence, to find companionship, and gamble-- and it's a place where a small, plain rabbit can go unnoticed as he slips through the crowds and slices coin purses from belts.

He's careful, he's been doing this for six years now, and he only ever takes a few coins from each before dropping the pouch near their feet so that when they stand to leave the table, or bar, they find the rest on the floor. Usually they look startled, sheepish maybe, that something like that could happen, relieved that they didn't end up losing the thing entirely, enough so, that if they do notice a bit of money missing, they think it must have been scattered to the floor, and are mostly grateful that more wasn't lost. Boyd hasn't made a name for himself as a thief because he is a rabbit, he is small, and skittish, and incapable of being a threat-- or even an annoyance-- to most other large shifters from predator to prey. That suits him just fine. No one pays him any attention and they can go on pretending that the money he gets selling baskets at market is what lets him live in his little apartment.

Tonight, he knows, will be a good one because spring is right around the corner. Deer have grown their antlers, and everyone is awake from their winter slumber if they chose to slip into it, and they are all desperate to find someone to spend time with in the coming weeks to sate their instincts. Which means that the Firefly will be stuffed to the brim with people who are already too distracted to focus on anything other than finding a partner. He ignores his own need as he prepares for the night. He doesn't have a taste for other rabbits, especially doe, given he doesn't want children or anyone else peeking in on the little life he's carved out for himself. He still makes sure that he puts a bit of effort into his appearance for the night, wearing a loose, open top of pale olive green to make the green bursts in his hazel eyes stand out a bit more, and carefully mussing his curls so that they look appealingly tousled instead of wild, and puts on a pair of dark, tighter trousers that he tucks into his boots before tucking his shirt into the pants so that it bunches up artfully. His belt goes around his waist with his own small leather pouch that hooks with another leather buckle to the accessory, and his daggers, with their blades so small that they're barely as long as his pinky, are slipped into little bracers hidden under his sleeves. He forgoes a cloak even though the early spring air is still chilled, and heads off to the Dusty Firefly.

///

He had been absolutely underestimating how busy it was going to be at the tavern. But in his defense, he really, really didn't know that a new herd of deer would be coming through the town alongside a large pack of wolves. Having so many new faces means he's far less worried about being noticed than he usually is, and as Boyd makes his way through the bar, he manages to take a great deal more coin than he usually manages. By halfway through the evening he thinks he's gotten enough gold to live comfortably in his home for two months. Enough, that it is definitely an unwise risk when he spots one of the wolves stepping in to break up a fight between two stags, both hands away from his sides, his attention clearly away from anything else going on around him, and his purse abandoned at his table with a few of his packmates who are also trying to step in before anyone gets gored.

Boyd darts around the growing conflict and manages to get to the table. There's enough of a commotion that he just gets his hand in the bag and palms a few of the coins. He's fully intending to move away then, but he realizes, with some shock, that the shape of the coins is different. That the half-full pouch is not filled with the round gold coins with the circle in the center, but hexagonal ones with a square. Platinum. Not gold. It's recklessness that has him reaching again, distraction over the possibility of such a big score that leaves him unaware of his surroundings. And when one of the stags goes crashing through the table, he yelps as he's knocked back.

His elbow hits the floor hard and the pain sends his instincts screaming to run, but he's not the only one on the floor from the fight getting so out of hand, and he doesn't want to draw any more attention to himself. Especially not when he sees one of his daggers has slipped from its brace and is laying among the shattered remains of the table.

The two of the wolves alongside Oliver, a fox who works as a bouncer, gets the two stags off the floor and starts to get them out of the building. He's not expecting the third to offer him a hand.

"Are you alright?" The wolf is easily six feet tall. Moon and stars, he might be seven as Boyd looks up, and up, and up, at him even as he crouches down to help him. He has olive-toned skin with a shock of wavy grayish hair that blends into the fur across his ears that is a mix of blacks and browns. A Gray Wolf then, with dark eyes, a long curved nose, and high cheekbones. Pretty features, but when he opens his mouth to speak, Boyd can see the large dangerous teeth glinting behind his lips.

"Uh, I'm okay." He doesn't dare reach for his dagger, instead taking the offered hand and holding the platinum clutched in his other tight. His hand is tiny in the other man's, and as he's pulled up, he pretends that the wolf underestimated his strength and stumbles into him. "Oh!" His head barely comes up to the bottom of his sternum, and he very quickly slips the pilfered coins into his own purse before he starts to straighten up. It's not a surprise to feel the hard planes of muscle beneath the other man's shirt, but they are noticeable as he pushes away carefully. "I'm sorry!"

"It's fine, are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes, that was just startling!" He says, bringing his voice a little higher and letting his ears droop back to lay against his hair. He looks up at the wolf with wide-eyes, brings his hands in front of himself to fiddle nervously. "T-thank you for your help." Cute bunny things. A nervous prey animal who probably shouldn't be talked to any more out of fear of startling him further.

But the wolf ignores it as the others start to get their cloaks and pouches out from beneath the rubble. "I'm Nicolas. Let me buy you a drink for the trouble?"

"Oh, I don't think that's necessary-- it wasn't your fault."

"Then let me buy you a drink so I have an excuse to keep talking to you?"

He feels his face heat slightly. Of all of the people to get noticed by. He's about to decline again when he sees one of the others pick up his knife out of the corner of his eye. "Okay," He agrees.

The wolf, Nicolas, picks up his coin purse and smiles at him, a little crooked, his mouth closed to hide those sharp teeth, and ignores his packmates who are still sorting through the rubble for lost coins. "And who am I drinking with?"

"...Boyd." He gives over the name reluctantly as they start to move over to the bar. One drink. Then he'll escape before the wolf has a chance to confer with his packmates and notice the missing coins. With how much platinum he's gotten from the wolf, he'll buy a new dagger.

///

Nicolas buys him a drink, getting an ale for himself, and they find a little corner of the bar to talk in. And they do talk. The wolf seems to want to get to know him, and asks about the village, his interests, his occupation as a weaver, and anything else he can learn. Boyd does his best to give simple, shy answers as he sips at his much smaller cup. A small cup for a small creature, and one that he can tell has been heavily watered down. He could have three of these before he even started to feel flushed. But he's just a little rabbit. Surely the bartender, an owl who Boyd thinks must be filling the vacancy for Tara, is doing right by such a small animal who's been cornered by a predator like Nicolas.

The wolf, who is personable, and willing enough to give information about his life in turn. Their pack is actually three, soon to be five, consisting of his grandparents, parents, and he and his sister who both are at the age where they're going to be breaking away to find mates of their own . Hence the sudden departure from their normal hunting grounds and traveling from the wild forest and mountains stretching across this part of the country, and to populated cities. They normally don't see the other packs unless it's for a celebration like a wedding or the birth of a new pup.

"If your grandparents are expecting to see you mated by the end of the season, shouldn't you be looking for a mate, not wasting your time with a rabbit?" He offers sweetly.

"I don't think this is a waste of my time." He says in immediate response. "I'm enjoying talking to you. I hope that you don't think I'm wasting yours."

"You aren't," Just making it more uncomfortable the longer he lingers as he notices the weight of his coin purse more and more. "I just don't want to keep you from finding the love of your life. We have a pack here too, I'm sure that there's a wolf among them who could be a good match for you."

"Who said I was looking for a wolf?"

His face goes very hot as he fumbles for something to say in response. He's never been interested in other rabbits, the only partners he's ever taken were a sparrow and a gopher, both prey and both near his own size. Predators and prey are already an uncommon coupling, but the sheer size of the wolf-- well, he supposes his parents made that work, but it's nearly as whispered about as a wolf and a rabbit going to bed together would be. "I--" he doesn't know if he's going to decline the thinly veiled offer or not, and he doesn't get the chance to make that decision for himself.

"Boyd?" His brother's voice and shadow fall over the table suddenly, his tail flicking with his agitation when he sees that he's sharing it with a predator.

"Hey, Jon." He doesn't usually come to the Dusty Firefly, preferring to stay out by the fields and the bonfires there for his revelry.

"You ready to head home?" Jon says, reaching for his arm. Trying to get him away from this 'dangerous' stranger. "Come on, I'll walk you."

He bristles and pulls his arm back before those much larger fingers can close around it and take away his choice. "No, I haven't finished my drink, or my conversation, yet. I'm good." He only realizes in hindsight how bad of an idea that was. He was supposed to be looking for a reason to bail. But his brother's condescension immediately made him lose sight of his goals.

"Boyd--"

"He said he isn't finished." Nicolas tells him evenly.

"He's my brother--"

"I don't see why that means you get to ignore what he said." Nicolas turns his attention back to him. "But I have taken up a lot of your evening, and if you'd like to leave, you're welcome to."

Take the out, take the out, take the out-- "I thought you were interested in taking up all of my night too?" The wolf's ears perk up slightly. As his brother tenses further. He barely glances at him. "See you later." Unlikely. He avoids going to their family farm now that he's got a place of his own. His brother looks like he's going to make a fuss, but Nicolas growls softly, and even as big as his brother is, he's still a prey animal himself. He bristles and pales, and Boyd takes a sip of his watery drink to hide how that sound makes him tremble slightly as well. Jon gives him one last glance before he disappears into the crowd, though Boyd is fairly certain he'll be back with their sister if she's here as well, or someone else he thinks can extract him from this situation.

Nicolas watches his brother go before turning back to him. "I am going to see if there are still any rooms available. Whether or not you'd like to share it with me will depend on if you're still here when I come back. And if you're not," his voice is gentle, his grip very careful as he takes his hand in his own, "Then I had a nice time anyway." His lips press to the back of his palm lightly and he is struck again by how much smaller he is than the other man.

"Okay." He sounds a little breathless as he says it, but Nicolas doesn't linger. He smiles at him, and then lets go and slips away from the table. Okay. Get up and go. Leave right now and hope that there are so many people in here that he didn't catch his scent and won't notice when his coin purse is so light.

He stays right where he is, finishing his drink in two gulps. It's so watery it barely burns. Nicolas is a nearly seven foot tall predator, he reminds himself frantically. Not only did he steal from him, but he is a wolf on top of that, and wolves have extra features he should worry about on top of the claws, and strength, and teeth. He should leave right now. Leave, leave, leave.

When the wolf comes back to the table with a large iron key in hand, his tail wags a bit behind him as his smile returns, slow and smooth, and his eyes linger on his body. He offers his other hand and he needs to leave. He takes it instead.

///

The walk upstairs is blanked from his mind entirely. There's a constant whine in the back of his head of thin panic because he is a rabbit and this is a wolf and he should not be preparing to sleep with him. But he goes upstairs anyway. Goes into the darkened room of the inn, only big enough to hold a water basin, wardrobe, and bed, the sounds of activity still filtering up from the floors below. He hesitates as the door shuts behind him, but when Nicolas steps into his space, when he catches his chin between his fingers, and his claws just barely touch that thin, soft skin, a shiver goes through him and the other man pauses when he feels him tremble, looking worried.

He's spent his whole life with other people 'protecting' him from making his own choices. Becoming a thief had been a dangerous one that he ended up taking for himself. This one is a little more dangerous, a little more stupid, but he takes it for himself when he gets up on his tiptoes so that he can get his hands in the loose collar of the other's tunic and pulls as much as he can. Nicolas makes it easier for him, wrapping his other arm around his waist and pulling him up, until his toes aren't even touching the ground, and seals their lips together.

The dull heat of spring feels like it's gone from inert kindling to a flame spilling out across his entire body as the wolf kisses him. He shifts his grip, moving one arm to around his waist, but the other hand catches one of his thighs and uses that to hoist him higher like he doesn't weigh anything at all. Boyd adjusts his grip too, trying to hold on a little tighter as the press of their lips turns into tongues moving against one another and he feels consumed as it happens. His instincts scream at him to run when his tongue is coaxed behind such big, sharp teeth. Teeth that were made to tear into flesh. He has never enjoyed feeling small or fragile, but this-- this puts a need beneath his skin that he's never felt before.

He moans as he's easily carried over to the bed, Nicolas sitting on the edge and situating him in his lap. The blush spilling out across his face feels impossibly hot as he's forced to spread his legs so wide around the other's muscled thighs as he's left straddling him. One hand stays on his back to keep him steady, but the other goes to his tail, easily enveloping the entire thing in his palm and squeezing and stroking the soft fur and sending a bolt up his spine that has him gasping. He hears the other's tail swishing against the sheets,

"Does that feel good, bunny?" So good as he keeps doing it that his cock is stirring already. He nods weakly, leaning back in and being given a kiss immediately, this time the wolf licking behind his teeth as he keeps playing with his tail. He's not thinking as he shifts in the other's lap, trying to push his tail back into those touches, pressing back and bringing his pelvis down harder in his lap as a result and letting him feel the start of the wolf's arousal as well. Just the start of it and he already feels a big that Boyd loses any coherent thought for a moment. Nic hums low in the back of his throat using the grip on his tail as leverage to pull him even closer, until Boyd's rapidly hardening cock is doing so against his stomach, and the predator can grind his up against the swell of his ass.

"Ah," he gasps, his instincts going haywire as the scent of the other man starts to fill his nose now that they're away from the crowd downstairs. Musky, earthy, and... violent. Something in that smell that reminds him of blood even though there hasn't been any spilled between them. His claws are held carefully, his teeth never even chancing a light nip. But that smell is there as Nic noses down his neck and his tongue laves over his skin.

"I'm going to eat you up, little bunny."

That should not make him moan. It really, really, shouldn't. But it does as the wolf lets go of his tail so that he can pull his shirt from his pants. Yeah, okay, this is definitely happening. His hands tremble a little as he starts to pull at Nic's shirt too, tugging open the laces of the vest over his tunic to loosen it, but he can't take it off, not when the other's hands are so insistent as they pull his shirt over his head. He expects his ears to get tangled and pulled on-- it's happened every other time he's gone to bed with someone-- but the other catches the ends of them carefully as he pulls away the shirt. He can't resist keeping hold of one though, holding it between his fingers and stroking along the velvet soft fur along them, and Boyd shivers again at that sensation, at the feeling of the predator's large, dangerous hand against such a delicate part of his anatomy.

"Do you need me to slow down, Boyd?" Nic murmurs, his other hand resting against his chest once his shirt has been tossed to the floor. His shirt that was covering his bracers. Boyd tries to make his brain work through his lust and quickly wraps his arms around the other man's neck, undoing the buckles as he speaks.

"I'm not glass. I can handle anything you give me, puppy." It's enormous talk given that he's never had someone like Nicolas before, but it has his eyes darkening and the hand on his ears going to the base where they connect to his skull and giving an enticing, little tug that puts a delicious ache beneath his skin. He nearly forgets what he's doing, but he leans in and noses up under the wolf's chin to where his scent is strongest. To where, he's been told, they bite each other to become mates. It's incredibly reckless when he licks his skin, tasting the faint tang of sweat and that overwhelming woodsy scent on his tongue, before he skims his teeth over his skin.

Nic goes stiff under him and he thinks he's overstepped hesitating dropping the bracers off the other side of the bed in case he needs the tiny knife-- and then he has a hand around his hip and he's pulling him down against him roughly as his hips grind up so he can feel how hard his cock is now. Boyd moans, fumbling and dropping the bracers anyway, but he forgets to care as he's pulled back into another hard kiss as Nicolas shrugs out of his vest and tunic.

The muscle he'd felt beneath is curved across his chest and down his arms, the skin puckered and scraped with scars from a life, he assumes, of fighting. No wonder he hadn't blinked as he'd broken up the fight downstairs. He doesn't get a chance to enjoy the view for long because the wolf is catching his hips and pulling him up, closer, so that he can get his hand on his belt and pull that loose as his mouth seals over his neck where he doesn't have a matching scent gland. It doesn't seem to bother the wolf as he presses his teeth to his skin and sharp nips and bites make his skin tingle and him whimper in the other's lap as he's coaxed out of the rest of his clothing.

When he's naked in the other's lap, his cock is hard and curving up against his stomach, and he's never felt so vulnerable. He doesn't know if he's ever been this hot either as he whimpers and tries to get his hands into the other's pants as well, not wanting to be cowed. His cock is so big, as it presses against him, and his hands feel way too small as he gets them to his belt and button.

But he doesn't get further than that, because Nic grabs him around his hips and moves him like he weighs nothing. The wind is knocked out of him as his back hits the mattress and then the wolf is blocking out the rest of the world as he braces himself above him. "You smell so good, bunny." The words nearly a purr as they leave him, as he moves down his body, mouth first going to his neck as his hands curl around the soft skin of his inner thighs as he holds them open wider than he even knew he could spread them, just to make room for the other man. "Tell me if you don't like something." The words breathed against his skin as he kisses across his chest, down his flat stomach, along his thighs.

He whimpers when his mouth goes to his hole, his tongue licking a wide stripe over him. His mouth feels so hot as it touches him there, pleasure surging like lightning beneath his skin and making him cry out as one hand clutches in the sheets and the other tangles in his thick hair. The wolf hums approvingly and licks at him again, getting him drenched in his saliva, as his tongue moves over and around his entrance, flicking and teasing at the ring of muscles until he's moaning and his hips are trying to twitch weakly in his strong grasp to try and get more. Never had someone give him their tongue over their fingers, but as he moves he feels the prickle of his claws against him again and he supposes that he doesn't have much of a choice in it if he doesn't want to tear him open on his cock.

But Nic doesn't seem to begrudge the task. No, the way he licks at him, the soft growls and chuffs that are breathed against his skin as his tongue prods at his center, testing how relaxed his muscles are, seem pleased. Like he's getting pleasure just from being between his legs. His body opens for the other man and the tip of his long tongue slips inside, and Boyd's hand tightens in his hair as his moans pitch louder. Stars, his tongue is so big. It was already big in his mouth, but inside of his hole, fuck, he thinks he's had cocks that were smaller. His cock is drooling against his stomach steadily and he lets go of the sheets, his need so great that he has to have a touch there to go with the ones that are moving inside of him. Each little lick inside, he pulls out a bit before feeding his tongue deeper on the next. His fist goes around his prick as the other man's tongue goes deep enough to find that sensitive gland inside of him and Boyd cries out,

"Nic!" His hips trying to jump hard in his grip.

The wolf looks up at him from between his legs and sees him stroking himself and growls against his skin. He thinks, for a moment, that he's going to tell him to stop, but he doesn't. If anything, as he watches him stroking himself, the wolf eats him out more voraciously. Encouraged by the response, he gathers his pre that has dripped all over his stomach and uses that to make his skin slick, before he wraps his fingers back around himself. He strokes himself and in turn, Nicolas laps inside of him. His hand moves a bit faster along his shaft, and his nerves sing as that pressure inside his body is mirrored by the other's tongue. The wolf lets him set the pace, and soon he's stroking himself roughly, the grip on his thighs shifting to his hips, fingers curving around nearly to the small of his back, and holding him up so that he's practically riding the other's face, even while he's still on his back.

It doesn't take long for him to feel like he's going to shatter apart after that, the sounds of his pleasure so loud in the room that he can't hear the noise from the bar below anymore. His balls draw tight as he strokes himself faster, tighter, and Nic matches that by pushing his tongue in deep and moving it constantly against his prostate until everything snaps in a sharp crescendo of ecstasy that sends his release spilling halfway up his chest and leaves him gasping for breath. Stars dance behind his eyes as his cock pulses with the sensation and his insides clench weakly around his tongue. Nic licks and laps at his skin as he moans and trembles through his orgasm, until he whines weakly, his ears twitching, as it goes from good to too much in a matter of seconds as he starts to come down from the high.

Then the other man pulls back, giving one last lick to his stretched, dripping hole before murmuring, "Gorgeous, little bun."

He is too starved of breath to offer anything other than a weak moan, as the other moves up his body again, hands staying beneath him to lift his lower half higher so that his weight is easily held up against the wolves thick thighs as they slip beneath him. His mouth goes to his stomach and he licks up his release with another growl as Boyd feels his cock pressing up against the cleft of his ass. He doesn't try to push inside, but he ruts himself between his skin, and he gets even wetter as he feels the wolf's hot pre mixing with his cooling spit. Boyd moans softly, trying to get his heavy limbs coordinated enough to rock back into the motions, even as his brain starts to try and ring alarm bells as he feels how big the other man is against him. He's never had anything so big inside of him before. He doesn't even know if it's possible for a cock of that size to fit. As Nicolas kisses him, his mouth covered in the taste of him, Boyd decides he doesn't care. He would die to try it.

"Are you ready, bunny?"

"Please," he pleads, reaching back to get a hold of the headboard as the wolf's eyes flash with his want.

"Such a good boy, asking so sweetly." He presses a kiss to his cheek and that, of all things, is what he feels makes his blush go hotter again. As the sweet words also make his spent cock ache sharply with the desire to fill again. Then he pulls back a bit, enough that he can see what he's doing as he gets his hips lifted high, his legs supporting his weight, as he wraps a hand around his own cock. Fuck, fuck, he's even bigger than he'd felt, easily twice as thick as himself, nearly as long as his forearm, his head flushed dark and drooling pre, a pretty winding of veins tangled beneath that velvet skin. Definitely bigger than anything he's had inside of him before, and he wants him so badly now, that he can't possibly tighten with his nerves. The other man reaches off the side of the bed and he hears him rustle through their shed clothing before he comes back with a small bottle of oil that he smears over his length before he brings his head to his hole.

A soft whimper leaves him as he starts to push inside. The oil, his pre, his spit, all ease the way, but his muscles twitch and flutter as they're made to spread wider than they ever have before. He lets out a soft, scared chitter as he wonders if he really will be torn open around the intrusion. But Nicolas, even though he's already been so patient, even when he must be desperate for his own release, goes slowly. He makes his own soft, comforting chuffs and coos as he strokes his skin carefully with big, dangerous hands that could rend his flesh. He kisses his lips, his cheeks, his forehead. Leans in and licks along his ears.

Boyd moans loudly as his head fully breeches him, sending a dizzying pressure all along his nerves that is so intoxicating he almost forgets that the wolf is submitting to him as he grooms his ears. He can't keep it together then, his claws scraping across the headboard. His cock is so big inside of him and he forgets how to breathe as it keeps pressing deeper and deeper inside. No, it's not that he forgets, it's that there's no room left inside him for breath. All of the air is pressed out of his lings as he goes deeper and deeper until-- until--

Boyd keens as he sees a bump appear in his stomach. So big that the outline of his cock is visible through his insides. He's pretty sure that his brain melts out of his ears then. All he can do is moan and whimper, voice cracking on a sob as his cock swells again and his pleasure goes so blinding even though the other man hasn't even moved.

"Nic, Nic, Nic," he babbles, tears slipping over his cheeks. Fuck, he's never cried like this in bed before.

"What's wrong, bunny? Is it too much? Do you need me to stop?" His voice, even thin with his own pleasure, his lust, seems sincere. Really would stop no matter how much he must want more, to make sure he's not broken.

"More, more, please, Nic, please!" He begs instead. He needs it. Needs anything to make the blinding fullness change before he shatters.

And the wolf's restraint is torn away with a snarl. He pulls back halfway before he fucks into him hard. Boyd screams his pleasure as he's made so full again. His cock is so big that there's pressure against every inch of his inner walls, rubbing against his prostate, and going so much deeper inside than anything else has ever reached. Nicolas doesn't need to ask if he likes it, if he wants more, the way he's sobbing and trembling apart beneath him must be clear enough. So he doesn't stop. He pulls back even farther this time, and gives another rough thrust that makes their skin meet in a loud, stinging slap. That spark of pain against the pleasure sends his head into the stars as he feels himself getting even hotter.

He doesn't slow down after that. He curls his hands tight around him, holding his body at the angle he wants, and fucks him like a toy. They fall into a brutal rhythm that he's certain will leave dark bruises against his soft skin and he wants those. He wants to be alone tomorrow night touching the bruises on his thighs as he fists his hand around his cock and remembers how good it felt to be this full, this used, this small. Stars, he's never been so happy to be small in his life as the wolf envelops him in his bulk as he leans in to close those big teeth around his throat again, licking and biting, just this side of breaking skin, as he as he fucks him so hard and perfect.

Until he stops fucking in all the way, and Boyd chitters unhappily, wanting his full length inside again. It's not until he feels a bump starting to form, brushing against his stretched hole on each thrust, that he remembers the wolf's knot. Oh, moon and stars, how is he supposed to fit that inside? He doesn't ask to stop though, not when he's so close to his own orgasm. Neither of them are even touching his cock, but it doesn't matter. He's going to come anyway.

"Bunny--"

"I can take it," he says, not even knowing if it's a lie. "Please, please, knot me, please, Nic--!"

He snarls, catching his mouth in another rough kiss and then he's slamming that growing intrusion back inside of his body. Boyd's voice breaks; he moans so loudly as he's forced so wide, wider, as his knot finishes swelling inside of him as his insides are suddenly drenched in the wolf's cum. He whimpers as he sees his stomach swell slightly from how much is flooding his insides. And his knot. Fuck, his knot is so big and it's putting a fresh, perfect pressure against his prostate that has his own cock pulsing as his orgasm tears through him for a second time. He barely manages two squirts of cum as he feels the wolf's cock continuing to pulse inside of him and fill him with more. He can't help trembling and moaning, the pressing inside of him making him feel like he's losing his mind as it keeps coming. He can't escape his cock, can't make the pressure against his prostate lessen, and even as Nic pants through his orgasm, leaning in to pepper his face with more kisses, smearing against the tears and sweat that are spilling over his cheeks, he doesn't come down. He can't. His whole body is raw with his pleasure. When the other man stops spilling inside of him, he gives low comforting growls and chuffs as he holds him close and strokes his hair, as Boyd keeps falling apart stretched wide on his knot.

He doesn't know how long it takes for his knot to start to shrink just the barest bit, but when it does, Nic starts to roll his hips again. He's not fucking him like he did before, but he's grinding and rubbing, and he's already touching every oversensitive part of his body. It's too soon for him to get more than half hard again, but even that has him sobbing harder around the pleasure. He can't. This is too much, he can't possibly feel any better than he already does. The wolf shifts a hand to play with his tail again and Boyd whimpers, mortified, as his cock twitches and starts to dribble out a very thin stream of milky cum. Every little roll of his hips as his sore prostate is abused again, makes a little more come out. The wolf nearly purrs as he makes sure that he's gotten every drop of his pleasure out of him before his knot shrinks away and he's able to pull out.

Boyd's face is impossibly hot as he puts one big hand against his stomach as he does, pressing on the small bloat that wasn't there before as he pulls out. A humiliated whine slips from his lips as the wolf's cum pours from his body as he presses on his stomach, soaking both of their legs and the bed beneath them in a heady tangle of their scents.

He's pretty sure he passes out before he's empty.

///

Boyd wakes up with his mouth thick and stale, his entire lower half aching fiercely, and a bone-deep satisfaction everywhere else. And... curled up securely in Nic's arms. The wolf has wrapped his body around Boyd's much smaller form and appears to be sleeping soundly. Neither of them are crusting in dried cum, so he guesses that the wolf had cleaned them up after he-- he feels his blush go so hot it burns across the back of his neck-- after he'd passed out from how exhausted his body was in the wake of so much pleasure. He isn't being held too tightly, but he still shifts, turning into his full form, and more easily being able to hop out from the embrace as a rabbit. He slinks off of the edge of the bed before he turns back. As euphoric as the night before was, and no matter how sore he is, he needs to leave.

He moves as quietly as possible, retrieving his bracers and clothes and getting into them as quickly as he can manage. He's gotten his boots in hand and is starting to creep across the floor to the door when he hears the wolf yawn.

"Don't you want the rest of your payment, little bun?"

He stiffens, but he isn't doing anything wrong per say. Lots of people sneak out after a one-night stand. "Payment?"

The wolf hums, stretching out on the bed as he rolls over to look at him. "I had brought that platinum to buy a companion for my upcoming rut."

Fear pulses through him followed hotly by his indignance. "I'm a thief not a whore. If you want that, you can find it at the brothel." He digs into his pouch, furious with himself for getting caught, for being duped by the pretty smile and charming words. He pulls the platinum pieces he'd taken from his purse and tosses them onto the floor. He drops his boots back to the ground, intent on shoving his feet back into them and making himself scarce just in case the wolf decides to send the guards after him.

The bed creeks as he gets out of it and he flicks his remaining dagger into his hand, whirling to press it to the wolf's chest as he moves across the small room and into his space. Nicolas regards the small knife without any fear, but keeps his hands raised slightly at his sides. "If I treated you like a whore, then I'm sorry. That wasn't my intention when I invited you into bed last night." He reaches for him, hand cupping the side of his face. Boyd puts the blade to his wrist, but it doesn't deter him. His thumb strokes softly over his cheek. "Keep the platinum if you want it. My only hope is that you enjoyed last night as much as it seemed like you were."

He hesitates. "Why didn't you call the guards last night? I robbed you."

"You did. You robbed half a dozen other people too, if my count is right. But you never took more than they could spare. That's about as much honor as I suppose a thief can manage." His lips curl up into that soft smile again. "And why shouldn't you? When none of them will even give you the time of day? Even small creatures can be dangerous when they're overlooked." He shifts his hand, carefully brushing his thumb along the edge of the dagger to feel its sharpness. "I won't call the guards on you, and you never have to see me again, little bunny. But if you want to," he takes a step back, his tail swaying nervously near his ankles. "Then I'll be here for another three days before I find someone else to spend my rut with."

He hesitates, but after another second, the wolf turns to go back to the bed, giving him a good look at the muscle corded along his back and down to his sculpted ass as his tail swishes. He tries to shake away the little pulse of heat that puts in his veins and slips the knife back into his bracer before he finishes putting on his boots. "Don't hold your breath." He grumbles, the humiliation sitting under his skin as he opens the door.

"I may." Amusement clear in the other's voice. Boyd huffs and slinks away from the room, heading back home as swiftly as possible in case he changes his mind about calling the guards.

///

It's not too long before he's in his apartment again, stripping away his clothes so he can go take a proper bath. There are bruises against his thighs and ass, little shadows of them around his hips as well from being held in the position that the wolf wanted. They ache softly when he touches them and that little sting feels good under his skin. He tries not to think about that too hard as he goes and scrubs his skin clean of the wolf's scent.

When he gets back out of the bathroom, he dresses in soft sleep clothes, more than ready to eat and then return to bed for the rest of the day. But he pauses as he passes his purse that he'd set on his side table. He opens it back up and finds that he had really managed quite a good score the night before. Definitely enough to live off of for a few months.

The single platinum piece still sitting amongst the gold begs the question of if he'll seek out the wolf again before he leaves. Boyd moves into his kitchen as he refuses to answer until he has some distance from the night before.

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#original writing #nsft text #mlm nsft #queer nsft #shifter romance #shifter nsft #werewolf nsft #monster romance #monster fucker #monster nsft

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artemistorm · 1 year ago

Text

Avalanche Rescue Pt 2

Whumptober Day 25 continued: Buried alive -- Wolfie , Everyone

TW: mentions of blood, head injury, hypothermia, unconsiousness

(1093 words)

******

Wolfie took off, nose to the snow once more. Fast fast fast, paws pounding, sniff wide and long and deep. Searching seeking sniffing flying. Scent! Rabbit! Not a pup. Ignore! Sniff sn—wait! Bunny Pup IS rabbit! Chase! Chase! Chase the scent! Bunny pup traveled on foot! Bunny pup not buried! But Bunny Pup bleed! Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!

“Wolfie! Over here!” A voice! Special Cub!

“Coming!” Wolfie barked. “Found you!”

Beyond the trees, Wolfie found Bunny Pup and Special Cub. Bunny Pup leg bled but wrapped in cloth. Special Cub all buried except head, shoulders, and left arm.

“Hey Wolfie! Good to see you!” Wild smiled.

“Glad to see you’re alright!” Legend said. “Have you seen anyone else yet?”

“Yes! Up there!” Wolfie said and took a couple of steps uphill.

“Figures. We’re at the bottom of the mountain,” Wild said. “I bet it’s going to take forever to climb back up to where everyone else is.”

“Is everyone else alright?” Legend asked.

“No!” Wolfie whined. Wild and Legend exchanged nervous glances. Seven pups found.

One pup still missing.

Special Cub and Bunny Pup were together, were okay. Gotta go look for last pup, Smallest Pup.

Smallest Pup hurt? Lost? Buried? Cold?

Smallest pup dead?

No! Couldn’t be!

Over drift, under log, between trees, across snowpack left to right, along snowpack top to far below tree line run run run run run run sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff.

No scent! No luck! Where? Where? Where? Where was Smallest Pup!?

“Where are youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu!?!?!?!?” Wolfie howled.

Pup not found. Maybe buried deep?

Maybe escaped! Maybe shield slide too far! Maybe in mouse form! Maybe small! Maybe in a pocket!

No, Wolfie saw, Wolfie watched. Smallest pup ran ran ran, but avalanche overtook. Pup went down. Tried to swim in the snow but Smallest pup vanished.

Then Wolfie swept away too.

Smallest pup buried. Smallest pup ran out of air. Smallest pup dead.

“NNNNOOOOOOOOO!!!!” Wolfie howled. “NNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

“WOLFIE!” Old Father yelled, running down the hill. “Wolfie what’s wrong? Did you find something?”

“Noooo! Can’t find puuuupppp!!!” Wolfie whine and ran in a circle around Time. “I looked and looked but no find!!! Pup gone!!!”

“Wolfie! WOLFIE! Calm down! Be still!” Time grabbed Wolfie and hugged him close to his chest. Wolfie leaned into him.

“I know you’re worried. You’re running every which way and all over the place. Why don’t you take a knee for a moment? Switch back and tell me what’s going on?”

“Oh!” Wolfie yipped. Be still! Be still! Stop running and instead listen and smell and see! LOOK for Smallest Pup.

Wolfie pulled away from Time.

“What is it?” Time asked. Wolfie ignored him.

Channel Wolf. Be Wolf. Instinctual. Ancestral. Hunting. Wolf.

Stop.

Think.

Listen.

Smell.

See.

Hear the wind. Hear voices of found pups. Smell the ice, the coming snowfall, the brittle spruce, the faint tang of blood, the musk of elk long past. See the light and shadow, the ice sparkle, tracks, bear scraped bark.

What was that?

Heard a noise. Faint. Nearby.

Wolfie ran.

“What is it?! Wolfie!” Old Father shouted. Wolfie ignored.

Freeze! Stand still! Listen! Noise, come again!

“…help…”

SMALLEST PUP!!!

Voice weak! Where pup?

Sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff sniffsniffsniffsniffsniff SCENT!!! Blood and iron and fear and tears.

“…somebody! Help!” Smallest Pup called.

“Coming!” Wolfie answered. “Coming!”

In the trees, between the trees, downhill, downhill, downhill, THERE!

Deep deep down in tree well, Smallest Pup buried up to scruff, head sticking out of the snow. Blood in fur. Smallest Pup hurt. Smallest Pup weak.

“Wolfie!” Pup whispered. “You found me!”

“I found you! I dig you out!” Wolfie whined. “OLD FATHER! COME NOW! COME HERE! SMALLEST PUP HELP!”

Dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig—

Old Father join.

“Four! Are you alright??” Time asked, leaning into the tree well.

“Cccold... hard to breathe…” Four answered. Pale. So pale.

“He’s too deep to dig. Wolfie, back up. Wolfie, stop digging; I’m going to use magic.”

Magic? What magic?

Wolfie jumped out of the hole he was digging. Backed away.

“Go farther. Go far. This is a big spell and I can’t be that close to Four or I’ll hurt him.” Time pointed. Wolfie obeyed pack leader. Backed up far.

Time made a motion with his arms, yelled, and exploded in fire.

Wolfie yelped in alarm, hid behind tree as wave of fire passed.

Strong smell of steam and smoke and burnt wood. Roar went away, snow sizzled and Smallest Pup cough. Wolfie ran.

Fire melted deep hole, snow slick and wet and melty. Old Father and Wolfie joined at tree well.

“Are you alright?!” Time asked.

Pup’s fur was wet, slicked back, headband gone. He coughed but answered.

“I’m alright,” Four said.

“We’re going to get you out, alright? Hang in there!” Time said.

“I trust you,” Four replied. Wolfie dropped front legs into tree well, licked Smallest Pup’s face.

“Stay awake!” Wolfie instructed. Old Father pulled him out.

“Time to dig again, Wolfie,” he said. Wolfie dug.

Dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig

Smallest pup’s arm freed, first one, then other but arms too cold and weak to pet Wolfie. Wolfie licked arms, then back to digging.

Dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig

Smallest Pup’s torso freed. Just legs buried. Smallest pups eyes closed, would not open. But still breathed.

Dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig dig

“I got him! He’s freed!” Time said, picked up cold, still pup. “He’s still alive!”

Old Father opened bottle, released healing light. Light circled Smallest pup, sprinkled dust, Smallest pup grew stronger but still slept. Wolfie licked pup’s cold cheek, but pup would not wake. Old Father shed cloak, wrapped up pup, carried like babe. Time to go; Wolfie led the way—down, not up. Down to Bunny Pup and Special Cub. Safer together. Wood for campfire nearby. Old Father and pups talked, but no time to listen. Gotta help Battle Pup. Gotta help Sky Pup.

(To be continued tomorrow...)

#linked universe #whumptober 2023 #lu wolfie #lu time #lu four #lu legend #lu wild #scheduled post

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nothuman-tips-and-tricks · 1 year ago

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Hi!! i was wondering if you could give me some pronouns based off of Maned wolves, and maybe some funfacts

-anonF-

Fun facts:

1. The maned wolf is the largest canid of South America. It looks more like a long-legged fox than a wolf. Genetic studies show that it is neither fox nor true wolf, but a distinct species. It is the only member of its genus, Chrysocyon.

2. The maned wolf stands about 3 feet (90 centimeters) tall at the shoulder and weighs about 50 pounds (23 kilograms).

3. Maned wolves range through central and eastern South America including northern Argentina, South and Central Brazil, Paraguay, Bolivia and southern Peru. They inhabit the cerrado, the largest biome of South America, which is composed of wet and dry forests, grasslands, savannas, marshes and wetlands.

4. Maned wolves mark their territory with powerful-smelling urine and feces on hillocks and termite mounds along their borders. They do not howl, but instead emit loud barks or roar barks to let their mate know where they are, and to warn other wolves to stay away.

5. Maned wolves are omnivorous eaters and primarily solitary hunters. They eat seasonally abundant fruits and vegetables and are particularly interested in lobeira, whose name means "fruit of the wolf." It is a small tomato-like berry that, along with other fruits and vegetables, makes up 50 percent of the maned wolf's diet.

6. They eat small mammals such as rodents, rabbits and insects. Maned wolves rotate their large ears to listen for prey animals in the grass. They tap the ground with a front foot to flush out the prey and pounce to catch it, or they may dig after burrowing prey. They may also leap into the air to capture birds and insects. Long legs help them move through and see above tall grasses.

7. Maned Wolves are crepuscular to nocturnal.

8. Maned wolves exhibit monogamous pairings, with breeding pairs defending a territory averaging 27 km2 (17 mi2.). Despite the concerted defense of territory, male and female wolves typically only associate closely during breeding season.

9. In a zoological setting, male maned wolves have been observed regurgitating food for their young. This may indicate that the male plays a significant role in the care of young in the natural environment.

10. The maned wolf can live up to 12 years in the wild, and as much as 15 years in a controlled setting.

11. The Maned Wolf belongs to the Mammalia class with the scientific name Chyrsocyon brachyurus. Chyrsocyon means golden dog.

12. Male and female Maned wolves have no distinct names. Generally, the male is called a dog, and the female is called a bitch.

13. The Maned wolf babies are referred to as pups, just like their canine counterparts. Scientists have evidence that the adult female produces about two pups at once. These pups reach sexual maturity after at least two years of age.

14. This shy animal is harmless for the most part, flees when alarmed, keeps its distance from people, and rarely attacks only when it feels threatened. From a few documented pieces of evidence, it is concluded that the majority of Maned wolves do not pose any threat to our safety. Other unprovoked attacks by wildlife Maned wolves happened because of Maned wolves' fearlessness due to habituation.

Pronouns:

Mane/Mane’s/Maned/Maneself

Wolf/Wolf’s/Wolves/Wolfself

Fox/Fox’s/Foxes/Foxself

Tall/Tall’s/Tallself

Canine/Canine’s/Canineself

Canid/Canid’s/Canidself

Howl/Howl’s/Howlself

Bark/Bark’s/Barkself

Roar/Roar’s/Roarself

Fur/Fur’s/Furself

Fang/Fang’s/Fangself

Bite/Bite’s/Biteself

Tail/Tail’s/Tailself

Dog/Dog’s/Dogself

Bitch/Bitch’s/Bitches/Bitchself

Pup/Pup’s/Pupself

Puppy/Puppy’s/Puppies/Puppyself

Chyrsocyon/Chyrsocyon’s/Chyrsocyonself

Brachyurus/Brachyurus’s/Brachyuruself

Golden/Golden’s/Goldenself

Paw/Paw’s/Pawself

Fluff/Fluff’s/Fluffself

#alterhuman #alterkin #otherkin #therian #therianthropy #theriotype #canine therian #canine theriotype #caninekin #maned wolf therian #maned wolf kin #maned wolf theriotype #neopronouns #pronouns #fun facts

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ask-sibverse · 8 months ago

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Can we see if Swan and Reader maybe trap Swad somehow and weaken him?

This would hypothetically be set waaaay future compared to the other Swan X Reader drabbles

All this preparation, and it was finally time. So many tests and so much training, you were ready for this. You had to be.

The first step was, obviously, to set the bait. Something only you and Swan could do, the allies you'd gained being needed elsewhere to set up the rest of the plan. At least attracting Dream's attention was easy. As soon as he saw the two of you he was off like a wolf after a rabbit.

And you two certainly ran. Through the AU, putting up a believable fight, leading him from one AU to the other. Slowly, steadily towards your goal. The final AU felt neutral, and Dream didn't seem to notice the hidden negativity. Not until it was too late.

While you certainly continued to fight and support Nightmare, for once the twin Guardians seemed to be fighting on equal footing. For once Nightmare was able to hold his own against Dream, and it was impressive. He maneuvered Dream with an impressive grace and prowess right to where Nightmare needed him. Right into the final trap.

The spell activated without warning, holding Dream in place with dark tendrils of negative magic. Holding him down for you and the other magic users gathered to seal his magic. Not to destroy him. No, Nightmare worried just as consuming or destroying his apple soul would destroy what negativity remained in the multiverse, destroying Dream would do the same for positivity in the multiverse.

So instead he was to be sealed. Contained, positivity would remain but he would be unable to do anything to anyone anymore. Besides, Nightmare never truly wanted to hurt his brother. Maybe this way things could get better for them. And for everyone else.

#sd t1d #t1dreader #swapdream dream #swapdream nightmare #swapdream

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promiscxous · 3 months ago

Text

@wizardshotel asked: The werewolf was never particularly a fan of humans... or other supernatural creatures.... or anyone really. The perfect stereotype of 'lone wolf,' that is until you take in to account the fierce love he had for his family.... and all things that were small and cute. Leave it to him to have nursed an injured rabbit back to health — and he was currently rereleasing it within the hotel's garden where it lived.

Ears twitched as he heard someone approaching, snarl forming on his lips as he whipped his head back towards the direction it was coming from. Koui... he hadn't spoken to him yet personally, in fact— he made it a point to avoid him. He was too much... social for Ren's taste. The rabbit unfortunately still in Ren's hands, though. He'd been caught in the middle of this particularly soft act— and now he needed to cover it somehow.

The second the creature hopped out of his hands and into the bushes nearby, the werewolf raised to his full 7 foot height to glare down at the other. "You didn't see shit. Don't say a word. Don't talk to anyone about this." / REN ||

♡ — TEASING ONLY CAME NATURALLY FOR SOMEONE LIKE KOUI, especially when he managed to stumble upon something so... out of character for someone like Ren (or at least out of character for what many believed him to be like). Always acting as if he's so tough and cruel around the others within The Hotel, only for him to actually turn out to be someone with a big heart and gentle touch. That thought alone was enough to bring a rather mischievous looking smile to his face, slowly talking a few steps towards the werewolf until the two of them were only a few inches apart, lips parting as if he were going to say something to the other — at least until Ren stood up.

♡ — The large male's body completely towering over the blonde's, MANAGING TO PULL A SOMEWHAT STARTLED GASP FROM SLIGHTLY PARTED LIPS — uranian irises peering upward through strands of soft gold, slowly traveling over the expanse of Ren's body (quietly admiring the shape his muscles took against the fabric of his clothing) — prompting for the smaller male to lick his lips and avert his gaze away, after all... he hadn't come here to stare at Ren and all of his masculine glory (but that didn't stop the bright shade of color from taking over his features), even if he really wanted to. Curse his clear attraction to abnormally large men! Hence why he was going to do his best to address the other's demands to the best of his ability, "I certainly saw something going on here between you and that sweet little bunny. Do you handle all delicate creatures that way~? That bunny certainly is a lucky one indeed."

♡ — "Oh, but what are you going to do about me telling people about this little situation, hm~? Are you going to make hollow threats like most of the people I've met or do you intend to follow through and if so... what exactly are you going to do to me?" HIS QUESTIONS DON'T SEEM TO REALLY IMPLY ANYTHING IN THE BEGINNING, but as he continues to speak, it's made clear just exactly where he's headed with all of this. "Are you going to yell at me? Perhaps pin me against something~? Maybe even bite me~? After all, it certainly wouldn't be very hard for someone like you to have their way with someone like me."

♡ — Gaze once more lifts to stare the other directly in the eyes, THOUGH IT'S ONLY FOR A MOMENT BEFORE LARGE WHITE WINGS TRACED WITH PURPLE FEATHERS SPROUT FROM WITHIN HIS BACK (MAKING ONE SINGULAR FLAP TO LIFT HIM OFF OF THE GROUND SO HE WAS NOW ON THE SAME LEVEL AS REN), but he doesn't remain in front of the other... instead he flutters behind him; arms draping over the werewolf's shoulders as he leans his body against his, lowering his face just enough to be within the range of Ren's ear. "I wouldn't mind if you wanted to take all your aggression out on me, Wolfie. I can't say that I've been fucked by a werewolf as big as you are, so it would certainly be a new experience. We can make like little red and the big bad wolf, you can go ahead a devour me whole~." Words spoken in nothing more than a breathy moan before he gently bites down onto the tip of Ren's ear.

#.♡ ~ [ ' ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ɪ sᴀʏ; ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ɪ sᴀʏ; ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ɪ sᴀʏ; ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ��ᴀɴᴛ ᴏғ ᴍᴇ. ' ] - ✡ ɪɴ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ✡#.♡ ~ [ ' sᴀɪɴᴛ ᴏғ ғᴇʀᴛɪʟɪᴛʏ; ᴄᴜʀsᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴇ sɪɴ ᴏғ ʟᴜsᴛ. ' ] - ✡ ᴋᴏᴜɪ ʏᴜᴍɪsʜɪ ✡#{ Ren Fleur tag pending. }#{ wizardshotel tag pending. }#{ Ren & Koui tag pending. }#{ The Hotel!AU tag pending. }#.♡ ~ [ ' ᴄᴏɴғᴇssɪɴɢ ᴏɴᴇ's sɪɴs ᴡɪᴛʜɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏɴғᴇssɪᴏɴᴀʟ; ᴘᴇɴɪᴛᴇɴᴛs ʟᴀʏ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ sᴏᴜʟs ʙᴀʀᴇ. ' ] - ✡ ᴀsᴋs ✡#{ And here we finally have the ask between Ren and Koui! }#{ I was really looking forward to this one because I wanted Koui to tease Ren really badly. }#{ Especially since Koui is a very flirtatious person and Ren is secretly very shy. }#{ Ren really does fit Koui taste in men... as in being seven feet tall. }#{ If Koui wasn't married to Vincent in our hotel verse... he'd be harassing Ren nonstop. }#{ Instead that's Yuuela's job. XD }#{ But I hope that you enjoy this as much as I did. }#{ Koui definitely will bother Ren more during the time he's not married to Vinny. }#{ Cause I love how much he's gonna be messing with Ren. }

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thecatinthepurplepants · 1 year ago

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Still thinking about this and the farthest I've gotten is basically just "instead off offering a factory reset John to Arthur, Kayne thinks it would be funnier if he just Wolfed That Man in exchange for John back in his noggin" and tbh... I have to give myself credit for this one

Could you imagine??? John comes back like "Holy shit we did it, we're alive Arthur!" and Arthur has the time to maybe get in a "yippee" before his first transformation hits and his bones and shit start reforming and suddenly he's stuck inside a very large, scraggly dog that used to be Arthur with ZERO context

And he still has control over the same parts he used to. So John has to find a way to lead around a blind killing machine through the snowy woods of Northern Massachusetts with only the use of an arm and a foot to grab onto trees and shit to keep him from running off cliffs after rabbits

I still have no idea where to take the plot (if there even is a plot burried somehwere in there) with this but the beginning is so fuckin funny to me that I'm tempted to just start writing and think later

On top of all the other Malevolent fanfic plot bunnies and various Thots™ I've been having, the tma crossover fic I've been thinking of has sparked an idea from the idea of Arthur being an Avatar of the Hunt...

Werewolf Arthur.

I'm gonna let that sizzle with you for a bit because I need it to infect someone else's brain like it has mine.

I refuse to be normal about this.

#malevolent #malevolent podcast #arthur lester #werewolf!arthur lester #werewolf!au #john doe #john malevolent #john doe malevolent

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askthedarksidersfam · 2 years ago

Text

Empty Saddle

The Black Stallion

Summary: After the skirmish with the demons, you come face to face with the beast you’d charged into battle for. What are you to do now?

A/N: omg I’m so sorry this came out later than expected, but with college, writers block and personal matters I’ve been swamped. Hopefully this’ll make up for the wait!

‘What have I gotten myself into?’

It’s the only thought that swirls around your cranium like it’s caught in a lazy whirlpool, spinning endlessly. The only thing you’re able to manage is a single blink, feet frozen in place as if you’d been cast to forever be stuck to the broken road.

You’re sure there’s reason to be stock still like a rabbit caught under the sight of a wolf. You just can’t find yourself to move away, not even if your life depended on it. Not that you could outrun this absolute monster.

The stallion stands tall, but if you weren’t an expert in knowing horses aren’t supposed to be the size of a goddamn elephant you’d credit his sheer size on his breed. At least, what breed he mimics, given this is no animal of Earth. If you’d have to bet, you’re between a Clydesdale or Ardennes given his heavy, draft-like build.

He’s huge, your mind still can’t comprehend an animal so enormous as he, yet here he was before you. He bears a solid coat black as soot, yet it doesn’t hide the flex of every single muscle nor the scarring both old and new from times of unknown battles. What gets your eyes to widen in a world full of impossible creatures such as real demons and angels was the endless plume of flames radiating from each hoof, glowing a blazing orange under the molten slabs of rock protecting the foot walls.

Perhaps you were too quick to assume that was the most bizarre factor of all once you incidentally make contact with his glowing reddish eyes, framed behind a wispy lock of flowing dark gray bangs despite the lack of wind. It’s eerie how intelligently they gaze back at you, no doubt gauging your threat level given how his ears are pinned back to his skull.

The silence is interrupted when a shoulder bullies you backwards, pushing you by the hip to make a safe distance away. A familiar black spine protruding from a muscular back was hint enough to tell of your loyal savior who’s quite well aware and conscious of the still lying danger. Yes, the main threat was eliminated, but that didn’t mean that the horse wasn’t as dangerous.

Pongo pushes you back again, but this time you make a sound from the back of the throat in protest. The hound however doesn’t listen to your half attempt of resistance, instead making it his mission to act as your shield, even as you try to walk past.

“Pongo,” you try to command him, “cease, it’s okay!” He doesn’t let up, instead turning his head to growl warningly at you as if to say ‘I hear your commands and that won’t stop me because I’m suddenly deaf!’

“I know you can hear me! C’mon!” You uselessly beg, keeping an eye on the horse who seems to be warily gauging Pongo. The hound however, yaps at the order as he tries to again shove you away.

“Pongo! Sit! Heel! Something!”

The hound chuffs. The stallion snorts softly and for a second you’d assume it was a laugh.

“Pongo look at him!” You say, not thinking about the fact you’re literally talking to an overgrown dog as if it were a person. ‘They’re more intelligent then they let on,’ Grace’s voice rings distantly, ‘speaking as if they are people gives them respect and they return it in kind.’ Blessedly, either from the thought of the teen herself that pacified his frantic attitude or maybe the urgency in your tone that Pongo is ever so responsive to, he actually stops.

You place a hand in his shoulder, stroking the leathery skin as you gesture gently to the stallion again, looking far more exhausted than before. “Just look at him, he’s tired, he’s bleeding out, he’s weak. He needs our help.”

Briefly you wonder when such a beast seemed so… feeble.

“Pongo please…” please let this work, “what would Grace say if we left him behind?”

That makes the hound stop. His taut muscles that quiver with the urgency to run cease their movements, his own fire tipped tail had lessened its protective glow. Although a spark of guilt had begun to rise in you for having to use such a tactic against him. Guilt tripping an animal-demon wasn’t exactly the best thing to do.

Despite the beast being your companion, he still held an attachment for the one who saved him from an untimely death in the streets. The girl who’d patched up their wounds and fed their empty bellies comparable to the company of demons who’d kick or starve in the name of cruel self satisfaction.

A kind hand was alien to them and upon first contact of affection, the rescues had been unwaveringly smitten since.

In a sense, they’d seek her approval in return for genuinely caring for them.

Like a child to their mother.

Presently, your companion chuffs as he stares at you, but behind those bright eyes, you can see the thoughts running about his brain. The meticulous picking of the choice words you’d used to coerce him. At least, attempt.

Pleading, you stroke the fin that juts from his back, just between the shoulders, scratching the good spot that he could not reach. Pongo gently grumbles under the ministrations, leaning into your fingers to encourage you to keep going. You do oblige his request, watching the way his tail swishes as his tongue peeks out his maw.

Now to try your luck again. “Please? Just let me help him,” cautiously you glance to the stallion whose ears are pointed at you, listening intently, do you lower your voice to a whisper. “If he does try to hurt me, you’ll know what to do.”

Pongo huffs, sending an almost nod your way. Then he lifts his nose to the air, sniffing cautiously, huge ears flicking to the horse, then swiveling about for any faraway sounds. You know what he’s doing. He’s searching for any nearby threats.

Your heart picks up, a smile slowly stretching on your chapped lips. He’s done this ritual before giving the okay to pass a dilapidated threshold.

A few moments of deliberate slowness pass by at a snail’s pace with your thrumming heart. Each second feels like an eon moving at a glacial speed. One flick of the ear, a twitch of the nose.

The snort of a weakening horse.

Huff!

The okay was given. And you waste absolutely no time. Running to the untouched wagon, you push the clothes away until you could get a glimpse of the gardening supplies below. Wedged between the wagon wall and fertilizer lay the object of your needs. Wire cutters.

Snatching the tool, you keep pointed downward as you then make your steady, careful approach to the stallion, determined not to spook him. Having just been attacked you’d guess he’d appreciate not having more metal weapons pointed at his face. Pray he just isn’t wild enough to try and kick you with those monstrous hooves that can knock your head clean off.

Pongo keeps a vigilant eye as you approach, hackles raising when you reach within arms length. He offers a terse growl to the horse who hasn’t even made a move. But the threat is clear as day.

Touch them, and I’ll kill you.

As you start to enter the steed’s personal bubble, you keep your movements slow and deliberate as to not upset him. And in the time you spend nearing him, you can really take in the sheer size of this beast.

True to your assumptions, he’s impossibly tall, with your head just barely reaching the elbow. His head hangs low and you can see it’s the size of your torso, and nearly just as wide. Those eyes, intelligent and eerily aware of you, never once break away from you as you finally come to his legs where the problem lay.

The damage is far more intense than you’d expected before, barbs digging into muscle and wire choking the limbs to a painful degree. The left hind leg hung like a dead weight, blood pooling down the gaping wound that brings you to gag. The acrid taste of your meager lunch stinging the esophagus as you try to swallow down both the food and your nausea.

He must be in unimaginable pain. The pitiful thought comes to mind, and your brows furrowed as tears sting the back of your eyeballs. You blink back the tears as your jaw locks up, lip quivering dangerously. No, don’t cry, not now. He needs your help.

Though you attempt to push away the onslaught of tears that threaten to fall out of your eyes, it’s inevitable as you lift the cutter to assess the situation. The wires are messily tangled across his chest, caught in the metal of a protective chest piece that you hadn’t noticed before. They coil around his legs and trail down the chain link straps connecting to his oversized saddle and entwine into the soft- er, well, softer skin of his belly. Just a few stray cables manage to snake around to his bad leg tight enough the limb is unable to even meet the ground. All in all, a terrible position.

Before your brain catches up, your mouth opens up for you, “Oh, you poor baby,” his head picks up at the words, ears pointed to you. Impulsively a hand raises up to stroke the tiniest bit of unmarred skin just under the stirrup nearly as big as your face. Whoever rode him must’ve been enormous.

His side quivers under the touch, with a snort he leans just centimeters from your hand. A deep grumble you’d come to realize as a warning growl from the beast. ‘Don’t’ is all but he conveys. Pongo from behind snarls, sending his own threat to the two of you. You send out a placating hand to the hound, attempting to ease his mood so he won’t feel so inclined to do anything you’d regret.

“Easy boy, it was my fault okay? Just stay there.” Pongo scoffs, but obeys, the tension in his hackles lessen just a millimeter. Returning to the task at hand you take the handle of the tool in each hand, then place the metal mouth to a wire on the leg and begin to cut.

At the first, glorious sound of the cable snapping the steed grumbles, whether discomfort or elation you’ll never figure out. He does shift ever so slightly when the cutter presses flat against his hot skin to pry off the especially stubborn strands, but he makes no further fuss.

Peeling the cut cords free, you toss behind you, far away from the three of you. Thankfully it seems your efforts are beginning to shine through, although the work is far from done, your acquaintance seems to be satisfied with the slow, but steady progress. His huge head is held higher, tilted just the slightest of a fraction to watch you currently work on untangling an especially confusing knot on his chest piece.

“Piece of shit, Ugh- wire!” You mutter to yourself, using the clipper to snip away the stubborn knot. “How exactly can something get so tangled, makes no damn sense.”

Snip snip snip.

“You know, I have to say something,” the silence is unnerving and the pairs of eyes focusing on your work doesn’t make you feel the slightest comfortable. You just had to fill the silence for some peace of mind. And maybe, just maybe, the big lug might under the microscopic chance, appreciate some small talk. It could help you win him over if you’re to bring him back to Haven.

Am I actually doing this?

You stopped for a moment, thinking about what would happen if you just came in with a hellish horse trotting along into the settlement.

You wouldn’t be the first one to bring in an otherworldly creature to the tree, that title being given to several predecessors. It wasn’t the size or type of animal, but rather the type he was, most likely demonic.

Now even though there are plentiful demonic companions, it wasn’t exactly a walk in the park when they’d first step foot in. You vividly remember the absolute shitshow between Grace and Ulthane when she was commanded that her two ‘friends’ were to be separated and most undoubtedly… dispatched by the other Makers after being relocated to the Maker Tree. You’ve never seen the mild mannered girl lose her temper like that, or scream as loud as she did between the onslaught of tears.

You know the Maker would pitch a fit. He’d definitely tell you to take the beast out to the streets in the prospect of his rider coming back if he still lived, or cull him as an act of mercy. Maybe even for meat. He’d be final in his decision.

But just as stubborn as the Maker was, he was just as ironically, a pushover in the face of human begging. You witnessed the great giant turn to an absolute mush at the sight of survivors pulling puppy dog eyes or a well placed lip quiver. Perhaps, with a bit of luck and some acting if worse comes to worse, you’d be able to keep him.

“I don’t quite understand how a big old thing like you,” his ears pin back when you refer to him as a thing, but you digress, “could get all tangled up in wires like this. How did you even manage that in the middle of a city?” You clip him free of an especially irritating wire. You don’t expect an answer, but you’ve heard how some animals are just injury magnets, especially with horses. So you don’t put it above that possibility. Oh to be as lucky as he.

You wipe away the sweat that has begun to trickle down your brow, the sweltering heat from his hooves the culprit. But strangely despite the flames damn near licking your own arms, you don’t feel the sting. It then occurs that in your manic need to help him you plum forgot those fire spitting legs of his.

You decide not to question the legitimacy of fire physics and logic coming from an elephant sized horse. Lest there be a headache from picking apart the science of it. Just chalk it up to magic. Magic, as if that answer doesn’t send your head into a tizzy.

Shaking your head loose from the tizzy, you refocus on the task at hand, clipping away mindfully. You were making progress as you’d managed to clear him of most of the cable, freeing his legs and chest. The only bothersome pieces were those too far entwined into the metal saddle to properly dislodge in the dying sunlight.

It was starting to get late, far too late. Enough time had already passed that the sun was nearly behind a cover of clouds. Soon enough it’ll hide behind the horizon and leave you in the dark. The only guide would be half functional street lamps and the sight of your own eyes. Pongo would help, but you'd rather not leave it up to him to guide you in a rubble ridden city with a questionable stallion with an unknown temperament.

With time running out, and a job not finished, you looked between the horse and the hound who picks his head up under your gaze. You had to think of a plan.

‘It took me about forty five minutes, I think? to get all the way over here.’ You set your hand to the sky, palm facing you as you stick your fingers out. Lining up your fingers to the sun, you squint under the light as you adjust your pinkie just below the horizon. If memory would serve you right from time lessons with the hunters, you’d have about an hour of light at best.

Now you have two options: finish the job thoroughly, but likely risk a run-in with a hungry demon or livid Maker, or botch the job for the sake of time and get back to Haven before a search party gets to you first.

And most likely not let you get this beast to Grace so you can get her more expert opinion on what to do. Yes, you know she isn’t exactly a surgeon, but has done her work or two patching up the beasts.

Normally you’d turn to one of the people who knew how to fix up human injuries. The Makers were out of the question as they were the last person you’d turn to at the moment. You wouldn’t call them medics as no one was properly trained, but only a handful had some basic knowledge with first aid. This one is on a much more colossal scale and the “patient” might object to the prospect of surgery. He’d need a person who has more experience with handling as you have next to none, current demonic company notwithstanding.

“Pongo,” the beast lifts his head, tail thumping on the concrete as you tilt your head, “go get the wagon.” Obediently Pongo trots over to the plastic wagon to retrieve it. Leaving you to turn over to the horse and look back at the half finished job. You’ve noticed that his big head is turned more to face you, those fire red eyes flitting over you, a question hidden beneath.

“The sun’s going down, and I have to get back before dark.” Rolling your aching shoulders to soothe the strained muscles, you return to the job, eyeballing at the largest barbs, mainly the ones holding his bad leg. The salty stench of the wound is enough to make you pause, trying not to gag when you get an unfortunate closer view of his muscles. Suppressing a shudder, you swallow the urge to make a strangled sound of the grisly sight, instead taking one deep breath despite the odor.

Biting your cheek you begin to angle the cutters to his gaskin where the culprit cable coils painfully into his limb, lifting it several inches above ground. Just one last cut and this would be the end of the job for now, as you’d made the final decision that an angry Maker isn’t how you want to end this day.

Technically, this wasn’t the end to the day you’d imagined. You’d imagined returning back with your haul in tow and maybe a few moments of congratulations that would lift your spirits. Hunters and gatherers alike were given praise that they’d mostly sheepishly accept as it’s nothing more than a job to feed hungry mouths.

Maybe show off the seeds to the others so they’d get the greenhouse started, then end it with tonight’s dinner- undoubtedly a stew of sorts mixed in with savory spices and the hunks of meat from the latest kill. Definitely give Pongo a few scraps of the stew for his good work, before curling up in some undistinguished corner with a salvaged book the others had scrounged from the old stores. Then drift off to sleep.

And in the bouts of moments you wake from the dreamless sleep, drowsily wondering what tomorrow will bring. If not the same pointless, meaningless day that drones by one after the other. Isn’t that what this life had been reduced to after the apocalypse? Since you’d been shuttled into the tree? The same, wash, rinse and repeat of the day, going nowhere in a hurry.

At least in the old camp there’s been a sense of urgency, and that made the days go far quicker…

A whinny from your left interrupts whatever train of thought is running through your head, making your heart leap to your throat. Frightened that the horse sees a threat that you can’t, your head whips around in all sorts of directions, searching for a hidden predator in the creeping darkness. Pongo would’ve caught it, or chased it off, but there he was, the rope tied to the wagon’s handle in his mouth. Hauling it with little difficulty and little care to the threat the horse sees.

“What is it?” You try, turning back to the large herbivorous (at least you hope) animal, following the direction of his ears pulled back to his neck. Those big eyes pointed not at you, but the space between him and you. A sound that you can only describe as a growl rumbles deep in his throat that you can feel in your chest.

Hurriedly you follow his gaze and understand immediately why. In your daze your hands had lost their place and moved the clippers away from the cable and rested on the piece of flayed skin that hung limply. He’d thought you were going to cut him.

“Oh shit!” Pulling the cutters away as if it were to set him on fire, your brows shoot to the air as you look at the beast. His huge ears point back to you, the hard stare lessening as his tail flicks, swatting your shoulder. “Okay, I deserved that. Sorry big guy,” he tilts his head upon the word ‘sorry’. “I was just… distracted.”

Distracted isn’t even half the truth. A distracted mind at least would return from the deep recesses of the subconscious and carry in with the day, the last thoughts lingering in the cerebellum. What you’d be able to describe, at least to the best ability, was a constant never ending cycle of brain numbing thoughts that piled one after the other.

It was endless, this constant battle of the weak attempts to stave off the endless images and wonders that could be described as killing the human spirit. Like putting a resplendent bird most beautiful and free into a rusty barred cage in a corner. Slowly killing the beast with each slow, excruciating day.

It was simply best to try and cope. Emphasis on try.

Placing the mouth of the cutters to the wire, the horse from beneath it began to shift his weight, pulling himself away.

“Hey, no, no, no, you’re fine, it’s okay,” you attempt to soothe him, stubbornly following him as to not lose your position on the last piece. “Look, it’s no problem just stay-” he doesn’t simmer down as you’d hoped, but you’d take this chance as you’d expect to not be given another one.

Clip!

The result is immediate, as his leg is finally freed from the strangling hold, “-still, there see? All better!” You pry the pieces away and toss them aside, admiring the fruits of your work. At least he didn’t look so gnarled up as before. The damage however still stands, evident by the big wounds that need immediate medical attention, but for now you’d take this little victory.

Pongo huffs from behind you, his hot breath fanning on your wrist as his mouth comes to tug on your sleeve again. The wetness of his nose is cold to the touch, but grounding. He’s giving you the message, ‘it’s time to leave.’ One glance to the retreating sun and you take one moment to take in the orange painted clouds, the hue glowing so brightly against the inky evening sky.

You don’t remember seeing the sky so alive before. Not in a long time. The small tug of your lips pulls into something bigger, you don’t let it die even as you tuck the tool away in the wagon.

“Alright boy, let’s go home.” You hand off the rope to Pongo for him to bite on, giving him responsibility to pull it. The hound wags his tail as he gives the rope a playful shake of his head, accepting his duty with no complaints. Your smile doesn’t fade away when you watch Pongo gnaw at the rope, not hard enough to sever the fibers but just enough to sate his need to bite.

Upon the sight, there’s a pull in your chest almost nostalgic as you think back to the times before… everything. Images recalled by a hazy brain reminisce of scenic parks lush with spring flowers filled with the yapping of playful dogs big and small. Seated on a bench, you’d watch a German Shepherd wrestle a knotted rope toy from an especially competitive Golden Retriever.

Although Pongo was far from a fluffy Goldie, he was so alike to those dogs in the park all those years ago. Playful and lively. In this instance alone you’d thought he would’ve fit right in with those canines. You could practically hear his bark mix in with the ambience, chasing playmates and huffing greetings to the rare trustworthy stranger. Perhaps snooze in a patch of sunlight next to the older dogs after the play wears him down.

Briefly, you chuckle at the thought of a park for Hellhounds. What would it look like? And would the other demonic “companions” you’d seen be allowed to enter. Maybe giant bird perches and toys ten times the normal size would be a hilarious sight to behold.

Speaking of things ten times their size…

You make your way to the horse’s shoulder, hand brushing gently on his side as you go so as to not spook him, muscles quivering under the touch. Although he is heads taller than you at just the withers, you can get a clear view of the chain link reins resting on his thick neck. You briefly think about the weight, pondering if you’d be able to lift them as each link was almost as large as your fist. No time like the present.

Rising to the top of your toes you barely make any difference in the height that the horse holds in spades, however you’re determined to get the reins unhooked from the saddle horn. You lean an arm against him as the other strains to reach far above your head, the distance isn’t going to be closed and you know this but it won’t hurt to try. Bending at the knee, legs spring upward with a jump to offer a momentary boost, and your heart rate jumps when you actually feel the pads of your fingers just brush against the cold metal.

Thankfully the beast doesn’t spook as you noisily collide with the pavement. He does however cock his head to watch you with curiosity, ears pointing at you whilst you prepare for another jump. Tongue sticking out in your concentration, legs push off with as much strength that could be mustered, sending you several inches higher than before, yet still out of reach.

“Oh come on!” You send a glare at those towering legs that oh so easily outsize your torso. He blinks lazily with those big, glowing red eyes. It almost feels insulting to be stared at with such disinterest, as if he’s enjoying the show.

Eyeing the stirrup that’s just above your head, you begin to think of a plan. Gears whir as you try to calculate the best approach to this next idea. There’s a chance this could work and the end result of getting the reins is reached, but if it fails? Probably kicked to the face.

‘Would it hurt him with the additional weight?’ One voice whispers, wincing at the fresh wounds.

‘It won’t, it’s only for a minute at most.’ Another voice protests, more urgent than the previous. Abandoning logic in an effort to find a quick solution.

Wouldn’t be the first time.

Taking a moment to take in a shuddery breath, you look up to the stirrup that’s well within reach. Just in perfect range of the reins. Yes, this’ll do you good, now all you have to do is jump one more time.

Your hand shoots up to powerfully grip the blood flecked metal, there is very little give as it barely buckled under your probably feather light weight compared to the beast who rode this animal. Gathering strength for hopefully one last go, you push off the ground whilst simultaneously lifting yourself onto the beast. Your leg struggles to find a foothold on the saddle, but you don’t let that stop as your free arm scrambles for the saddle horn where the precious reins lay.

Unfortunately as you’re distracted, you don’t hear the panicked yelp coming from behind, nor the horse’s ears pinning back as a pair of heavy paws run in your direction.

Though you’re not completely without upper body strength, you’re not an Olympic athlete either. Which makes everything even harder when the black stallion starts to agitate beneath you, jostling you so roughly you nearly lose hold. He grumbles a warning, warning you to get down.

In an effort of strength you hadn’t performed before in your life, you pull yourself up with one arm that would’ve put gym bros to shame. Then in one fell swoop, you unhook the unbelievably heavy reins from the horn and toss them aside, sliding down the steeds neck to hang loosely. Success!

But before you can celebrate, something clamps down on your leg and yanks you down. You scream when your grip rips free from the stirrup. You don’t know if the fall won’t break anything too vital, but you know it will hurt.

If Ulthane finds out you broke a bone he’ll kill you. If he finds out at all.

That old Maker would eventually sniff out any injuries sooner or later, so hiding wouldn’t be an option. You’re so fucked.

Bracing for a hard fall,you come to a surprise when your descent falls short as you land on something cushy. The wind is knocked out of you. Although it was better than concrete, you don’t appreciate the jutting surface that digs painfully into your back. It’s just then when hands come to push you into an upward position so you feel a familiar leathery creature under you. Pongo.

He broke your fall.

If you weren’t still reeling from the breathlessness you’d be singing praise. However any thoughts you’re able to formulate are cut short as Pongo backpedals, roughly jostling you while he growls. Dizzily, you push yourself upright, but cling to Pongo’s fin so as to not suffer falling off him as well.

But was it an accident? The giant slobber mark on your pants tells otherwise.

“Pongo, are you serious?” You swing one leg over his head and soundlessly slide off his back. The hound huffs, offended at the tone. His huge ears are pulled back as he tilts his head to send a half hearted glare your way. ‘Are you serious’ is what his gaze practically screams.

Here we go again, you think mildly annoyed. “Listen, I was fine,” you gesture to your whole uninsured self, but his hard glare doesn’t break, not even as you slowly inch back to the horse. “I didn’t die right? And you’re here to save me anyway. My hero.” The Hellhound gruffs at your sardonic tone.

It isn’t until you feel the rolling heat on your back do you turn to the horse whose eyes don’t leave you. The reins dangle from his mouth. You smile, now that this whole debacle is almost over with. Taking the heavy chains in hand, your thumb runs over the tiny nicks and scratches that litter the chains. The untold stories behind every mark like a scar, you wonder what tales would be told if the beast or his equipment could speak.

What of his rider? Would he return to tell one more epic in the form of a daring rescue? You pray not, having dealt with enough drama for a lifetime.

“Come on boy,” you click your tongue, amazed when he obediently follows after a few moments of resistance, “I know someone who’d love to see you.” You then begin leading him back down the route you took, Pongo in tow.

You just hope this big beast will be able to handle the trek back to Haven. You have to get to Grace, she'll know what to do.

———

The human is odd. Ruin has come to finalize in his mind. An anomaly indeed. Though the age widened beast had no personal contact with humans in his long lifespan, he has heard about humans from his rider and all other company he’d been with.

All talk of the species had been boiled down to a few defining features: young, vulnerable and most notably, flighty in the face of danger, like prey.

But it was this young foal of a human that had the Red Horse tilt his head in questioning. In his scrap with the demons, Ruin had been taken in for a huge surprise when he’d seen the tiny creature, barely reaching his shoulder, so courageously charging headfirst into battle. It briefly reminds him of War in the visage of similar snarling teeth, but far more reckless.

You’re certainly something to keep an eye upon. That battle prowess is not exactly impressive in the company of immortal warriors, but the quick thinking left much room for desire. Under a guiding hand, who knows how well the human could turn out to be.

Typically, Ruin wouldn’t have come so willingly for anyone, but within his exhausted riddled mind, rest and recovery was a priority. In such poor shape he’d certainty perish in worse battle conditions. Though proud and stubborn to a fault, Ruin knew where his limits had been strained thin and when it was best for a tactical retreat.

Under these dire circumstances he should’ve been just as on guard with the human as he was with demons, yet he couldn’t find himself to. Since he’d first laid eyes on the tiny creature, he’d felt no ill will, not a single whiff of malice in their actions. Even the pats on his neck were delicate and soft, as if he’d break, which was rather foreign but… oddly nice. The human even deliberately kept a slower pace to accommodate his heavy limp, although it was a wound to his pride.

What he found most intriguing was the loyalty the Hellhound held for them. The beasts had only loyalty for their keepers, which were all demons. Yet this hound seemed to have known this fact and kept it to heart, not in savagery against them, but a fierce protectiveness like a mother to her pup. This strange relationship reminds him of his own companion.

War…

Ruin could not feel his connection any more, and what frightened him most was how similar this was back when he’d carried the Abomination with him. Was it possible his rider was dead-?

Yet, who could be excited to see him if he wasn’t? No one else would be except War. Maybe, in the greatest impossibilities against him, War was indeed alive and with humans? Ruin had heard one tale through the mouth of an angel of humans taking care of sick creatures outside their own species for the sake of their compassion.

Although Ruin was as practical as a horse can get, he didn’t stop the gentle rise of his head. Something ignited within his chest that left him just a slightest bit lighter.

———

It isn’t until you see the familiar winding roots of Haven do you finally feel the weight on your shoulders lift. It’s nearly sundown and you’ve managed to shave enough time before a certain Maker will begin his obligatory ‘class attendance’ as everyone liked to jokingly call it. There’s enough dying light to illuminate the winding root roads back to the impressively massive trunk.

Almost there.

Pongo can sense it too, with his tail haphazardly thumping against your leg. It hurts a bit actually. The horse too peers through heavy eyelids, attentively taking in every detail. Gently you pat him on the neck as you steadily hop onto a carved root, the beast slow to follow.

When molten hooves meet solid wood, blackened scorch marks form beneath. You grimace at the fresh blemishes, as if the giant ass horse wasn’t a screaming giveaway. You can’t even think of the nightmare of trying to sneak him in.

Oh shit.

Oh shit…

You hadn’t thought about that until just now.

There’s plenty of eyes from overprotective Makers who’re more than likely keeping an eye out of the doorway for stragglers scrambling back to safety. Not to mention the other humans who’d incidentally rat you out when you’d drag him in, clamoring to get a close look or shrieking in fright. You shudder at the thought of one of the refugee Angels finding out.

And there’s the matter of Grace’s own companions. Her winged companion, a territorial GrimHorn as they're known as, would try to chase the horse off. That is if the GrimHorn, known as Tarya, wasn't in the tree canopy tonight and out for a late night hunt.

Peering up at the expansive canopy above, you squint to get a better look through the branches to spot a silhouette, maybe even a tail poking through the greenery. So far you don’t spot the red tipped tail, or the patterned striping of the demon’s wings. Then, just as quick as you are to start your search, you end it, finding no point in trying to spot the creature that’s well over 400 feet in the air and striped in a manner that’s meant to blend in. You’d rather waste your time continuing this crazy task than play Where’s Tarya?

Your eyes do follow the flow of the monumental trunk down to where root meets concrete, lazily trailing the twisting paths they create across the city and-

Wait a minute…

There’s something that catches your attention just barely hidden behind the trunk's natural curve, it’s so subtle you’d almost assume it was a trick of the eye.

Moving along with the natural growth of the twisting wood is a flat surface of a shoddy carved out path from a rogue root that snaked up from its original spot to coil around the tree. It almost seemed too coincidental to be a chance happening, the mathematical possibilities were probably in the trillions in the chance of this stroke of luck.

But with the fact that the winding path is partly carved hints it’s been in use. So that means that it leads inside, it could be the advantage that you need. Now, all you had to do was find a way down.

Eyes trailing over the haphazardly grown roots, trying to trace a path to lead you in the direction you need. Though you had to admit it was a hell of a security measure to have a fuck ton of roots made into a maze to keep unwanted intruders out. At least those who can’t fly or just climb up.

Before you can finish your searching, Pongo pads ahead with a huff, as if scoffing for you taking so damn long to get a move on. “Hey, where are you going?” You don’t get an answer as Pongo takes his haul down a root that merges with the one you’re currently on. You actually hadn’t seen it, now that you notice it, it’s so cleverly blended in to appear as a knot or growth too thick to cut through, on top of the moss that stubbornly clings to the top, a perfect camouflage.

You’d come down this route this morning and didn’t even notice the growth. You feel like a fool for missing it, but you supposed it’s good that it’s hard to spot if you’re not paying attention.

As you watch the hound slowly slip from view as the pathway dips and follows the curve of the road before breaking off to hang in the air almost dangerously if it weren’t for its strong frame. Even though you’d spent a good while in Haven almost a hundred feet up still doesn’t make your heart lurch when you see the view below. Seemingly since Pongo knew a shortcut away from the main entrance, it was best to follow him.

With a click of the tongue, you carefully guide the stallion onto the new path, taking extra special care to ensure you wouldn’t fall as you turned around to helpfully encourage him with a gentle pull of his reins. You wouldn’t blame him since the root was without any railings or protection from a lethal fall. The hesitance was natural, so you’d allow him to take some time to adjust before resuming to be his guide. Though you have to admit, the beast, if he really shared the mentality of a real Earthen horse, was rather well mannered in the face of new and frightening things. He hadn’t spooked once, nor fought you when normal animals would.

If only you could be half as level headed as he is.

After finally getting back to a sensible pace, you finally let your shoulders relax as the comfortable silence between the three- well two of you, fills the oncoming night. Pongo was far ahead by now, tail wagging with eagerness to finally be home. “Mood.” You say to no one in particular.

It wasn’t long until the road mended with the tree and thankfully was far more safer, or rather felt safer, than dangling in the air and praying nothing goes astray. Your new companion, although new to him and his behavior, you’d recognized his own relief with his head more lax than before. A small smile worms its way on your face, gently you pat him on the shoulder, his skin hot to the touch.

That’s slightly concerning. He wasn’t this hot earlier.

It’s enough motivation to make you pick the pace, your company not too far behind with his huge strides.

“Pongo, you better know what you’re doing.” You say to him, hoping that this won’t be a disaster. You won’t waste anymore time getting this animal the help he needs.

Ahead, Pongo chuffs, and you take it as a yes. But you’d doubt putting your trust into a mysterious road from a Hellhound is the best idea. And it’s about to be tested. Wonderful.

Dead ahead hidden behind a curtain of dangling vines laden with moss is a gaping mouth of an entrance. Mushrooms and small flowers doggedly grow around the lip of the doorway. Its width is almost double your arm-span and nearly as tall as the horse.

You can only gape as Pongo’s head pokes out from the curtain and roughly barks at you insistently, it’s far from a pleasant sound, but you know there’s no malice. ‘Come on!’ He’s all but conveying.

Questioningly, you share your new companion an unsure glance that he reflects back at you with those almost inhuman glowing eyes. He tosses his huge head forward with a snort before stamping a hoof on the grassy road. You’d almost take it as a ‘get a move on’, especially when he takes a few steps forward without your lead. Clearly more confident in entering a never-once-set-foot-here door.

Jogging to get ahead of him, your hand goes out to pull at the curtain, surprised by its light weight. Peering inside, the last of the evening's dying light filtered into the dark tunnel. From what little light is provided, you can see the tunnel overall remains the same width and height. Plenty to sneak your cargo in.

Clicking your tongue, you take a tentative step forward, free arm forward to act as a guide in case of any unexpected turns. That plan however is thrown out altogether when the horse’s fire laden legs illuminate the dark hole with his warm glow.

The sound of his clopping hooves was amplified with each step, each echo felt as loud as gunshots. It’s as if the beast wanted you to get caught, but he can’t help it being as large and weak as he was. But the grimace and white knuckled grip on the reins doesn’t fade away as you traverse deeper into the tunnel.

“We’re almost there bud.” You gently say as the first signs of light stretch out from the other side. He heaves a huge sigh so powerful fire spurts from his nostrils, eliciting a barely contained shriek you have to bite down. “You’re just full of surprises.” You humorlessly joke past your racing heart. His ears pull back, sending you a half hearted glare.

As you continue deeper into the passage, you come across a most curious sight. The walls themselves shift upwards above your head, your legs bowing down to accommodate a gradually steepening floor. Just dead ahead, the source of the light, the exit, is not parallel to you, but just above your current position. It seems for a good portion of the walk, you’ve been climbing uphill, or rather, up-tree.

Thankfully after being stuffed in a cramped spot with an on fire horse for a handful of minutes, the choking heat was gone as you poke your head out of the tunnel and into a new room. The cool, fresh air kisses your skin as you take in a lungful of crisp oxygen. Momentarily you take a moment to spy the surroundings about you.

There is a plethora of junk ahead of you. Boxes and crates filled to bursting with all sorts of items. They’re stacked almost haphazardly, reaching several feet above you. You peer above the mess to further investigate the new room.

The room rises high above your heads, probably almost twenty or thirty feet at the top at most. Through the stacked boxes and other miscellaneous items that lay strewn haphazardly around the tunnel entrance there’s a multitude of stalls you spot. They’re all in different stages of being built, with at least four in the stages of completion, but they’re all empty.

‘The livestock pens.’ Your brain recognizes, this is what the Makers and survivors were planning on in their meetings. You knew about it, as did almost everyone, but you’d never seen it in further detail such as this. You’d never really concerned yourself with this project, at least, until now that is.

Behind you, a hot breath fans across your back, an aggressive snort coming from behind, impatient. Jolting from your spot, you utter an apology as you walk out the opening, carefully you help bring the big beast up, mindful of the boxes and junk that would otherwise hinder his space. You resort to pushing them aside with a foot when you’d deemed it too hazardous to keep close to open flames from his legs.

Your heart thrummed ferociously beneath your ribs, sending blood to roar in your ears as if you’d run a mile despite standing. Now that this was over, now came the hardest part of all: getting help. You decided against running around Haven looking for the girl, since anyone could stumble on the beast, or he would go wandering where he shouldn’t, but you couldn’t just sit and wait while he bled out. You in no way had the proper equipment or even basic first aid to do a DIY surgery. It was a total stalemate.

‘Maybe if I store him in a pen, it’ll be enough for me to get help.’ Yeah, as if he couldn’t tear the walls down like wet cardboard if he felt like it. But it’s worth the risk if it means it can give you the break you need.

“Stay here.” Letting the reins go for just a moment, you carefully tiptoe across the minefield of a storage area, mindful not to knock anything over lest you make a ruckus. You wonder briefly how Pongo was able to navigate this mess, wherever he is now. Once you’re at the edge, you take a moment to peer at the area with a better view, and find it to be totally empty. Excellent.

Now all you have to do is-

THUD!

Your heart absolutely lurches to your throat as you can hear what’s almost like an avalanche to your ears. In the periphery of your vision you can spot a stacked pile of plastic tubs tumbling across the floor. You don’t have to guess the culprit, as his huge head bends over the tubs to glare at them, grumbling angrily. You shush the beast, scrambling to grab his reins and stop his huge head from knocking down anything else.

Someone definitely heard that.

“Leave it alone!” You whisper-yell, not wanting to tempt fate right now as you freeze in place as you can hear distant footsteps. The muscle beneath your breastbone pommels under the bony cage, fierce as a war drum as the footfalls only got louder.

Shit, shit, shit!

In a mad scramble that your own brain failed to comprehend, you start to push the horse’s huge head, attempting to get him to move back. “Move! Come on, come on!” He doesn’t budge under your hands, but offers a glare as your hands remain firmly on his muzzle. If you weren’t so worried about trying to keep him from being kicked out or killed, you’d be very uneasy about the unnaturally sharp canines he’s currently baring under his pulled back lips.

The heavy thuds are practically just around the corner. You’re out of time, and your body feels as if it’s never been more than ready to fall apart at the atomic level.

In one last spur of the moment desperation, you snatch a heavy quilt from a woven basket of rolled up blankets and toss it over his head, hoping it was enough to obscure him. He snorts from underneath questioningly, but otherwise remains in place. Maybe if whoever is coming is going to make a quick glance, they’d assume he was a bit of storage. You’d take a lecture of not being in here or why blankets shouldn’t be so lazily strewn about to prevent damage or attracting pests to nest in the fabric.

“Who’s in there?” The voice growls, it’s deep, rough and familiar.

You turn around just in time to see the very rugged, but memorable face of Jones, a fellow survivor like yourself. He’s got his serrated combat knife in hand, unsheathed and poised at the ready to strike. His teeth are bared, gleaming dangerously against the coarse beard that frames his half shadowed face.

Before Jones is able to take another step, you beat him to it by breaking the silence, “It’s me, Y/N!” Waving a hand, you catch his eyes and watch as the tension steadily seeps out of his body, his eyes lose their protective ferocity as he realizes it’s nothing more than a friendly face.

“Kid, what’re you doing in here?” He questions, lowering the blade to fall to his side, though he doesn’t sheathe it. You don’t blame him considering, well, the Apocalypse.

“Oh, nothing really…” you draw out, shrugging too casually as if you didn’t have the crimes of the day standing behind you. You can feel the horse’s muzzle bump your back, but you play it off as merely rocking on the balls of your feet. “I’m just…” you hesitate to come up with a lie, “looking through the storage, I was just wondering if there was something in here one of the others might’ve moved.”

‘Oh fuck please don’t ask, don’t ask, don’t ask. Just go away!’

You swear if your shit acting skills don’t expose you, the beads of sweat that are collecting on your brow will.

Jones raises an eyebrow, but whether from skepticism or amusement you’ll never know. He merely cocks his head, “Well that’s strange considering no one’s really been in here, you know how this is more of an active construction zone.”

‘Good, good, he’s not completely onto me. Maybe if I can just redirect him out of here.’

“Yeah well,” you nervously wring your hands, and nearly freeze as a snort sounds from behind you, the best you can do is roughly clear your throat to drown him out.

“Since when does anybody ever really listen? You know how we all are, yeah? Giving Ulthane heart attacks and such…” Please just turn around and go away is the only thing your mind chants over the roaring of your racing heartbeat.

The silence is deafening as Jones remains silent. It’s almost as if a pin dropping would be a tactical nuke in this choking emptiness. A single breath felt like it could alter the outcome of this conversation. It explains why you’re holding it.

That is until Jones chuckles, the sensation like shattering glass, sudden, loud and scattering as you nervously join in despite the fearful jump of your shoulders. “Yeah,” he drawls, storing the knife away to its holster, “well I wouldn’t put it past you knuckleheads.”

“So uh, yeah…” you begin awkwardly, the back of your neck rippling with waves of hot embarrassment, or maybe it was the animal’s fire hooves. “I’ll just be, a few more minutes. Still gotta search. So don’t mind me.” It’s the best you can manage without outright dismissing him.

Blessedly, Jones seems to get the message as he starts to backpedal. There’s an invisible weight that lifts off your shoulders, and the stale air in your lungs scrabbles free in a sigh. Just a few more milliseconds and he’s gone.

Just as Jones is teetering between the carved entrance between the stable room and the main room, he pauses to give you a lazy glance back. There’s an easygoing smirk on his rugged features, “Anyways, don’t take too long in here, or…” his eyes widened considerably as he trails off. Those dark eyes are pointed just above the apex of your head, and hot breath fanning on your hair makes your blood turn to frozen slush.

Jones’ mouth does a wonderful impression of a goldfish, completely dumbfounded. Thankfully he doesn’t run away or pass out as you’d expect, but his frozen in place gaping isn’t exactly any better. Especially at the mouth of the door where any wandering eyes can see.

Without even thinking, you bolt forward to grab Jones by the wrist and drag him back until you two are hidden within the room. Stopping just before one of the finished pens next to the storage space, you slap a hand over his mouth before he could scream. That is, if he’s capable of doing so as he claims nothing really bothers him. But it doesn’t mean he can’t.

Jones’s hands come up to clamp onto yours, brows furrowing as his wide eyes dart between you and the horse behind the pen wall. You grimace in panic as you hear his muffled voice throwing a million questions at you. Still riding the waves of the anticipation of being caught, you shush him until he calms down enough.

“Listen, I know this looks bad at the moment,” an absolute understatement, “but I need you to calm down. I found him while I was out and he’s friendly.” Distrust glints in his dark brown eyes. You continue. “You’ve got a million questions I know, but I need some help. That’s all. Can you do that?”

Jones doesn’t respond. You gently shake his head to bring his attention back, pleading. “Please Jones?”

His lips purse under your palm, considering the question. In your opinion, he’s taking too long to come to a conclusion. Until, finally Jones nods his head, though his willingness doesn’t match his eyes. Satisfied, you peel your hand off his face, and he takes a deep breath.

“Alright fine I’ll help. But this does not mean I’m fine with it. I expect answers from you. Now.” You shake your head and he frowns.

“Not yet,” Jones shoots you an incredulous look, “this big guy needs help now. Where’s Grace? She knows how to patch up demons and such.”

He raises a bushy brow at the mention of her name. It’s no secret Jones knows where she is at all times as he’s always checking on her as she is rather reclusive. You’d say he has something of a soft spot for her.

“The kid? She’s up in her nest as usual. She’s probably out watching the world below with Tarya as usual.” The ‘nest’ as it is commonly called, is a makeshift room in the tree canopy naturally formed by a pocket of space between the branches and the trunk. Apparently, it was accessed by the winding staircases that climb the tree’s trunk, the lift and some climbing by the teenager purely by accident when she was exploring. You don’t know every intimate detail, but Grace soon turned it into a living space for when she needs some time to get away from everything as she is rather asocial. Others have been up there before for peace of mind, but not many frequent that place like her. In fact, you’re sure she snuck a mattress up there when Ulthane wasn’t looking. Either way, total hermit behavior.

It makes Ulthane worry about her with how often she won’t show her face for hours on end.

Before you can think, your feet carry you forward, but Jones grabs your shoulder and you wince. His eyes widen as you can’t stop the hiss that comes from your throat, a curse whispered beneath his breath.

“Stay here, I’ll go get her. If Ulthane sees you like this… he’ll lose his shit.” You snort humorlessly, hand protectively wrapping around the bruise whilst the other wipes at your bloodied chin. Flakes of already coagulating blood coat your fingertips, but you spot redness of fresher blood from the still open wound. Ouch. He does have a point.

“I won’t be long. Just stay here.” Jones breaks away from you, and there’s a weight that lifts off your shoulders. One burden lifted. As he whisks away into the darkness, you begin to slouch as the events from earlier this day finally hit you like a freight train. With the adrenaline finally wearing off for good and the safety of solid walls steadily putting you at peace, your whole body aches fiercely.

You’re finally aware of the full pain running through your arm that you’re suspicious of having been sliced open to a degree. If not just heavily scraped. Keeping a moment to stay in the pen, you take a small breath before peeling back the torn sleeve as far as you can to inspect your forearm. Hissing gently, you can feel the fibers separate from skin, welded together with the sticky substance that is blood.

Suspicions are confirmed. There’s a gash that runs along the outside of your forearm, starting at the wrist and fading to your elbow in a litter of smaller, less severe scrapes. Must’ve been from the litter with that scrap with those demons.

Demons. You fought actual demons.

That thought is disconcerting as it is badass. If you were a video game character and not a real, breathing person with real problems in the post apocalyptic world. But it still sounds cool.

A snort emanates from the side, drawing you to side-eye the huge culprit who peers at you most curiously, ears pointed to you. Distracted, you give the horse a weak, toothy grin as you keep inspecting the wound that is beginning coagulation. You’d have to get it cleaned soon. Surprisingly, he seems to be staring at the wound intelligently, taking in the fact that this is somewhat similar to what he is sporting.

“Heh, look boy. We match!” You give him a once over and see the further extent of his own before deflating. “Sorta…”

You can’t fathom why, either from his own pure empathy for a wound on another creature, curiosity or boredom, the beast with precision gentleness, bumps his muzzle against your arm. Though a bolt of pain shoots through the tender spot, you hold back a wince. The soft whiskers tickle your flesh as his lip carefully feels the cuts.

“Ah don’t worry about that,” you say as he continues to inspect the gash, ears flitting slowly as his hot breath fans over your skin, “it’s just a cut, nothing more. I’ll be right as rain after I get it patched up.”

Not thinking, you raise your free hand to pat him on his muzzle, feeling acquainted enough to warrant a little pet. What you didn’t expect was for him to pull his nose away from your arm and stare down at you. A bout of newfound fear shoots through you as you fear the beast isn’t taking well to the ministrations and he’s about to take a bite. You fear those fangs of his may be coming to use soon.

In those brief seconds that you are betwixt bolting and being bit, time never seems more suspended.

Until he simply huffs a hot plume of flame from his nostrils, blowing harmlessly on your face. You smile at him again, glad to have not been bitten.

——

There were many things Ruin had seen within his very long life. But yet it seemed there were still many surprises left in store for the old warhorse.

More intelligent than he puts on, Ruin had listened to the whole conversation between the human who brought him here and this Jones. Something about this Jones man sent alarm bells off in his head, even for the brief minute he was in his vicinity. He seemed… familiar. Strange considering he’s never met a human before.

Ruin would have to keep a close eye in the meantime.

After you’d peeled your flimsy sleeve back, he had been greeted with a well known sight. Torn flesh, although in this case very mild in the eyes of a great war beast like him, it was concerning on a creature like you. A young foal like yourself would’ve, no- should’ve squealed or panicked at such an injury considering how delicate you are. Instead when you inspected the laceration, you barely flinched and even smiled and showed it proudly with a grin.

Although you weren’t his own companion, he felt a twinge of pride. A small foal such as yourself showing off your marks of battle! Truly the making of a warrior!

In a moment of encouragement he’d felt your cut as to, in his own way, commend you on the new upcoming scar from your victory. When you did an unexpected move even he couldn’t predict.

You’d placed a hand on his nose and gave him the softest pats he’s ever felt. Sure, War gave him affection on the rare case of his own accord, but none had been so featherlight and foreign. It felt rather wonderful, not that he’d admit it.

But it had shocked him how openly you gave it to him. Briefly Ruin wondered if you’d continue to do so.

However, he brushed the thought aside, refocusing on the person who’d you promise would like to see him. War must be here then? Yet he doesn’t feel or sense him anywhere within this spot. Perhaps somewhere else recovering from his fight?

But Ruin can’t find himself to imagine tiny humans such as yourselves dragging his hulking form out of rubble and into this place. Not with those huge winding roads and twisting root pathways, you’d all be winded carrying him!

Just before the Red Horse could continue to rationalize his thoughts, his supernatural ears pick up the footfalls of two approaching people. One heavy and the other much lighter. His head swivels to the doorway as he awaits the approaching culprits. He doesn’t recognize them as War’s, and his mind is put in the familiar practice of going on the defensive.

“Whoa easy boy,” the human intervenes as he tries to position himself to face head on, giving his huge hooves a perfect direction for clobbering. A tiny hand shoots up to grab the reins, keeping him from fully facing the assailants. Not that he couldn’t just swing the tiny creature across the room with a sneeze of effort. Though, he doesn’t think they’d appreciate that.

“Nobody’s coming to hurt you. They’re here to help.”

———

You’ve never felt more anxious until now. Not when you fought those demons, dragged Ruin here or left Haven this morning without a word. Without warning, the horse started to fuss, ready to bolt or strike. Either way, he’d make noise and draw unwanted attention. The organ between your lungs never pounded so hard and fast as he stared you down when you’d snatched his reins in a mindless effort to stop him.

As hard as he might try to melt you with his eyes, at least he stopped.

Good thing too, for help had just arrived in the nick of time. The girl of the hour was finally here and you let your shoulders sag ever so slightly. Thank fuck, you don’t know how long you can take this.

Just as she steps into the premises, Pongo jumps to his feet, giving the girl a quick lick on the cheek as she greets him back. Wait a minute, was Pongo in the room this whole time? ‘How’d I miss him?’’ you think as Grace gives his neck a few good solid pats. Jones is right behind her as he pushes her in your direction, reminding her of the job at hand.

As her eyes land on you two, Grace’s brows nearly shoot up into her hairline as her lips pull back into a huge open mouthed grin. Her unoccupied hand shot up to cover her mouth to catch the awed gasp that leaps out of her throat.

“Oh my…! Is that fire from his legs?! Holy shit, you weren’t kiddin’!” Grace exclaims, her southern accent slipping in her awe as Jones nods, not as enthusiastic as the younger.

“Oh he’s beautiful!” The teenager says, stepping forward she begins to give him a once over, her bright expression slowly falling as she assesses the damage. You notice Jones’ grimace, a contradiction from the girl. Just before the teen could do anything else, you elect to speak up.

“I- uh, found him in the streets, he was fighting some demons when I came in to help. He was caught in some barbed wire, and I got him out. But the real problem is his back leg.” You point to the limb in question, and she hisses through her teeth as she skims past you to inspect the wound. Grace readjusts her glasses as she starts to get a closer look at the injury, standing on her toes just to get a closer look due to his incredible height. And you’re not the only one to notice.

“Maybe you need a stool.” Jones says from behind, his smile is damn near heard as he pokes fun at the girl. She sends him a sideways glance, lips curling in a smile. “Har de har,” she deadpans, Jones snorts into his hand. You can’t stop a small chuckle.

“Maybe I’ll steal your kneecaps old man, then see who’s laughing!” She retorts, inspecting the wound a bit further as Jones chortles. “That’s if you can even reach them!”

You nearly choke on air as Jones pokes at her height once again. He was strangely playful despite his earlier attitude. Jones wasn’t exactly a stoic man, but you’d never seen him do anything too crazy up close. But then again, fun wasn’t on the top of the list of important things to have in the post apocalyptic world.

“Oh, I’ll reach them alright.” Grace says, dropping back to her feet, she turns to you. “So uh…” she snaps her fingers, muttering several names to herself before Jones chimes in, “Y/N.”

“Yes! Y/N! Sorry about that, I’m horrible with names. Thank you J,” she brushes her hand through her red-dyed hair, sighing heavily. You perk up as you can finally get an opinion. “Yes?”

“There’s a lot of work to be done here. He needs a lot of stitchin’ to close the big cut. But the good thing is, he doesn’t seem to have any severely broken bones. It all appears to be skin and muscle that got nicked.” You release a huge sigh, completely floored by this good news. He wouldn’t need any amputation, or have to be put down as your worst fears had assumed.

“He’ll need a lot of time to heal, and it will be difficult. Without proper medication, I’m afraid he’s likely to have a limp. It’s a miracle there seems to be no infection.” Lucky indeed. Especially with those odds working in his favor.

“What about the smaller cuts? I cut him free from some barbed wire that he got tangled in” You press on, feeling that he’s not out of the woods yet. Grace can merely offer a heavy sigh, clearly overwhelmed with the mountain of problems. “Given that they’re shallow cuts, it’s not impossible for him to heal just fine, but I’ll go over them to ensure there’s no leftover metal that will cause infections or delay healing.”

Nodding, you hold on to each word. Hopeful that things might turn around for him.

“First thing we need to do is get this saddle off him, then get him tranq’d so he’ll be calm during surgery.” Jones tilts his head as you do as well.

“Tranq’d? But I thought you said you didn’t have any medicine?” You said, and Jones gives the girl a suspicious glare, lips curving into a scowl. You don’t wish to know the implications of that stare.

But the girl doesn’t falter much, bringing up the rusted box kit in hand, “I had some… help greeting my hands on some meds. I would’ve given it to y’all, but they’re veterinarian use.” The hesitation in her assistance sends Jones into an overdrive as his loops pull over his teeth.

“Please don’t tell me you’ve been dealing with that demon!” He spits the word like it’s rotten on his tongue, “He’s nothin’ but trouble!” Grace’s shoulders sag as her face falls considerably, “Vulgrim ain’t that bad if you’re nice to him! ‘Sides, he owed me a favor.”

Jones’ head nearly snaps off his neck at the speed he looks up, “He what?!?” The man nearly shouts, but the girl shushes him. “You can yell at me later, but I need to get to work.”

“Oh, we will have that conversation.” he says, and the girl ducks here head down under his hard stare. As the two stared the other down, you never felt so out of place. It was rather awkward.

However, she clears her throat, cutting the silence with a call of your name, “Y/n?” Your head snaps to attention, and she gives a brief smile. “Can you please help me? I need you to keep him steady as I patch him up and he might get fussy.” Although you doubt you can keep this big guy calm, more likely to be trampled under him, you nod. Grace will need all you can give her.

“Jones,” the man’s lips pull to a scowl, “I need you to help me as well,” he scoffs, crossing his arms on his chest as he cocks a hip, Grace shoots him a tiny frown. “What?! Me? I’m not going near that thing,” the horse whips his huge head around, nearly smacking you in the process as he sends an impossibly scornful glare, he snorts a plume of flames and his ears are pinned back impossibly flat to his skull.

Jones points at the beast just as he starts to pull his lips back to bare his teeth, making his point, “Hey- see?! He’s going to kick the shit out of me as soon as I get close!”

“I’d say more likely to bite you with his leg,” Grace says plainly. Even though she said it with little humor, you can’t stop from snickering. Jones’ head whips to you, offended. Your lips seal themselves shut to prevent any more of Jones’ ire.

“He won’t.” She reassures, though you doubt that genuinely despite her confidence, “Y/n will hold him. You’ll see when he’s coming for you.” ‘Likely after he throws y/n’ is the implication she gives. She’s rather… straightforward with her point.

You don’t know if that trait is reassuring or disconcerting.

Jones still only sends her a scathing look, his nose curling distastefully as the girl gives him a pleading glance. The tension between them is thick until finally, Jones cracks.

“Fine!” He throws his hands in the air in finality, tossing his head back to release a groan as Grace merely grins. “I knew you’d come around.”

Just as if a switch is pulled, Grace’s light banter is traded in for professionalism. She carried herself with a more serious air as she started to get to work, giving orders to Jones to help get the saddle off as she promised.

Together, Jones and Grace work effortlessly to unlatch the cinches, all the while you kept the stallion busy with pets so he wouldn’t freak or bite. Even if it was best to keep close to a horse so the kick wouldn’t hurt as bad, does the same rule apply to this one? You’re sure he’d lob your heads off at point blank…

The jingling of metal meeting solid ground fills the air as Jones unlatches the flank cinch, the metal compartment clattering gently on the floor. Jones then, in a complete show of impressive strength, pulls the impossibly huge saddle of the horses back with little effort. The does place it down with a gentle toss aside with a grunt, the horses flanks quiver at the sudden loss of weight.

How many pounds was it? It was nearly larger than Jones!

Grace starts to give the horse another once over, your eyes follow her as she walks all around him as her gaze rove over him. Noting each and every injury that might need her attendance

Then, after making her round she nods to herself before coming to you. “I’ll give him the medicine now, but after that can you please guide him to the stall so we can get him started. He’ll be nice and drowsy after I stick him.” She produces said medicine in hand, a small, but full vial of tranquilizer, the label is barely legible aside from the printed words “equine usage only”.

You nod, allowing her to duck under your hand holding the reins as she picks a clean needle from her kit. She sticks the needle in the vial top, and siphon the medicine into the plastic barrel.

Then, after inspecting the bottle for any bubbles to rid, Grace turns to the animal who seems apprehensive at best. You’d guess between his exhaustion and weariness from giving Jones a hard time he doesn’t have it in him to fight much. But you’re still on guard.

Quick as blinking, Grace jabs the needle in the horse's huge neck and administers the medicine. The animal startles, nearly yanking the reins out of your grip with how quickly he jolts his head up in surprise. You place a hand on his nose placatingly, distracting him from the sting. “Easy boy, it’s all over, see?”

He sends Grace a hard glare behind drooping eyes, snorting a plume of flames in your face and you sputter. You pat him on the neck, even as you try to spit out a bit of ash between your teeth.

Briefly you wonder if the ash counts as mucus, but that’s quickly brushed away as Grace gives you a direction. Obeying her task, you click your tongue and guide the big beast to follow, and he does at a very sluggish pace. Almost lackadaisical in his huge strides, the animal gives little fuss as you take him inside his stall, taking a few seconds to even eye the location with lazy interest.

But whatever curiosity within him is sniffed out as he begins to lower himself to the ground, finally on his last leg of consciousness. You keep watch over him as he slumps to the ground with a deep groan, thankfully on the proper side so you wouldn’t have to bully him into the desired position for Grace. Poor thing just seems so exhausted…

Just as you feel the weight of that huge head of his pull on the reins in your hands, you slowly slacken your grip until his head is lying flat on the ground. He stares up at you with those intelligent eyes, and now instead of a raging fire of a wild stallion, you see something gentler. Something tired and dare you say… nervous? You almost feel sorry for the poor thing.

You don’t stop yourself from lowering down to his level and plopping down next to him, gently stroking his neck as he fights the effects of the working drugs. He releases a hefty sigh as you keep close, not even giving a notice to the teenager who’s now at work fixing your little stowaway companion.

You give him a small smile just as his eyelids finally seal shut, losing the battle of staying awake. However despite that fact, you don’t stop the ministrations, feeling every scar and muscle under your fingers.

To your side, Grace is deep in her work, hands already stained with his blood and covered in a small sheen of sweat, but you don’t pay her any mind as you remain glued to your spot. Unwilling to leave him, not that you’re sure you’d even want to. There’s a conversation between the two of them, but you don’t take the time to listen as you’re only focused on the horse in front of you. Taking in the fascinating creature, you’re able to notice the tinier details about him.

You’d never noticed the markings before. So sharp and precise you’d almost confuse them for brands or tattoos. On his neck, the color of burning coals and even holds the same dull glow are unknown sigils. There’s a total of six, with the largest ones easily twice the size of your open hand. Strangely enough when you peer at the sigils closer, you swear four of the strange symbols spell out ‘CAGE’ in harsh, scrawled writing.

“Y/n?” Jones brings you out of your reverie, looking up to him with tired eyes, he stands but a few feet away, a bottle and gauze in hand. “Come on kid,” he gestures to follow, “let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

Turning back to the animal, you give him one final pat before slowly rising to your feet. You cast a hesitant glance to Jones who patiently waits at the stall door. He moves his head to gesture for you to come, and finally, you go, but not before giving some parting words, “Please take good care of him.”

The teenager offers a two finger salute from her spot, “Will do boss, go and get some rest.” Half heartedly, you chuckle as you finally find the willpower to step out of the stall.

#darksiders #Empty Saddle #ES #ES series #Ruin #reader #13K #oc #og this was probably gonna cap 15k #I tried trimming it down as much as I could #oh my tumblr won’t forgive me for this huge text ;-;#i lied i posted this at 2 am

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corpsekiller · 3 years ago

Note

Super horny right now and I wanna blow of some steam. Could you do Miruko teasing/punishing/edging the reader for playing with herself. Also could the reader have a Wolf quirk? Okay luv you, bye! 💖

𝐩𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 — 𝐫.𝐮𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐲𝐚𝐦𝐚

𝖯𝖠𝖨𝖱𝖨𝖭𝖦. rumi usagiyama x fem!reader

𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖲. nsfw, dom!miruko, sub!reader, degradation, praise mommy kink, hair pulling, pet play, spanking, fingering, edging, orgasm denial, dub-con if you squint

𝖲𝖸𝖭𝖮𝖯𝖲𝖨𝖲. after a long night of patrolling and fighting villains, rumi comes home to a rather unpleasant surprise.

𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖧𝖮𝖱'𝖲 𝖭𝖮𝖳𝖤. i loved your request and this switched dynamic of predator and prey with rumi as a rabbit and the reader with a wolf-related quirk. although this took me a little longer, i hope you still like it and enjoy this piece as much as i loved writing it 🖤

𝖫𝖤𝖭𝖦𝖳𝖧. 2.644 words

MASTERLIST

“Oh, what do we have here? You’re such a naughty puppy, it’s as if you’re begging to get punished.” Broad shoulders lean against the doorframe, muscles bulge with every movement of her arms and fluffy bunny ears wiggle curiously as Rumi tuts in faux disappointment.

Of course, she’s been waiting for this. The inevitable moment of weakness that breaks the disciplined composure of her obedient little pet and finally gives her the chance to unravel a different side of her. Perhaps it’s the thrill of power she has over someone with a quirk like yours, a quirk that gives you attributes and abilities of a wolf that lets her want to have complete control over you — nothing is more empowering to a rabbit than forcing a predator into absolute submission.

The white fabric of her hero suit is tarnished with sprinkles of blood and a bruise decorates her cheek, blue and purple like the petals of a flower blossoming on her caramel skin. If you weren’t in such a miserable situation, you would’ve jumped off the bed without hesitance and checked her for any further injuries that might need your tender care.

She always praised you for your ability to patch her up so gently, careful not to hurt her with your claws which could easily cut her delicate flesh and shed more blood. Oh, how scared you were when you exactly scratched her neck while you were making out, and once in a while, Rumi catches herself staring at the faded scars you left on her body, right above her collarbone.

Always so docile, so sweet and cautious when you stitch her up. But today, that doesn’t matter. By the end of the night, she’ll be the one to tend to your wounds, look after your sore cunt and the marks she’s going to leave all over your pretty body. And you know it, too. You can see it in the sadistic quirk of her lips and the unexpected shift in the atmosphere, how your shared bedroom suddenly grows too hot, too small, too suffocating to breathe properly while you watch your girlfriend slip off her gloves with widened eyes and a quivering tail between your legs.

“You’re not even apologizing for your mistake. Where are your manners, pet?” And so, the game of wolf and bunny is set in motion.

A whine slips past your lips, broken and desperate, but you can’t bring yourself to move the hand nestled tightly between your soft thighs, too caught up in your searing embarrassment of being found defying one of the few rules she set up for you at the beginning of your relationship.

Words of explanation don’t come easily. Your tongue feels too heavy to utter a meek apology. Maybe you don’t even want to apologize. Somewhere in the back of your foolish mind, you want to argue instead, pout your lips and stomp your foot like a spoiled child. Tell her how it’s not fair, not at all because all this time you’ve been a good girl for her and always acted on your best behavior.

Never disobeyed. Never broke a fucking rule, never did anything wrong.

Until today.

“I thought I trained you better than this, puppy, but it seems I’ve been too soft with you lately,” she remarks casually and strides through the room. Gathering her ivory hair in her hands, she ties it back in a loose bun and arches her brow, crimson gaze focused on your fingers buried deep inside your pulsing cunt and your slick glistening alluringly on your inner thighs. “We should repeat some lessons and remind you who’s in charge here, don’t you think?”

There’s an unfamiliar glint in her eyes, something you haven’t seen before and it scares you — predatory and dangerous, so fucking intimidating it triggers your instinct to escape. A sharp gasp leaves your parted lips, then your naked feet already kick the pillows to the floor in your measly attempt to crawl to the other end of your bed before she reaches you, but Rumi is quick to strike. With lethal speed she lunges at you and wraps her hand around your ankle, effortlessly pulling you over the wrinkled sheets to trap you between her sturdy legs.

“Is the big bad wolf scared of a little bunny like me? How pathetic,” she chuckles tauntingly. Her fingers wander over the length of your arms and wrap around your wrists, pinning them over your head with a smug grin that sends a surge of tingling heat down your spine.

The warmth of her other hand sprawled over your naked stomach to press firmly press your hips against the mattress momentarily calms your nerves until she digs her nails into your waist, just enough to hinder your movements and keep you from squirming out of her trap, no matter how hard you try to fight her.

She’s strong, knows exactly how to manhandle you in every position without much effort, even if you throw a tantrum and show her your teeth, growling and whining around, thus she’s quick to flip you on your stomach and bend you over her knee, ass up and the rest of your trembling body barely covered by the shirt you’re wearing.

Her shirt, she noticed earlier, but she doesn’t give a shit about that flimsy piece of fabric now. Flattery won’t ease the punishment you’re about to receive and she’ll ensure that you’ve learned your lesson by the time she’s done with you. “Now, be a good girl and count.”

The first slap is harder than you expected. Your body rocks forward under the force of the impact and you yelp loudly, hands clawing at the thin sheets to find some kind of nonexistent support. Fuck, Rumi really won’t go easy on you tonight, you realize when she weaves a hand through your hair and pulls harshly. “Count for me, pet.”

“One,” you whimper as tears pool in the corners of your eyes. The sting grows persistent, skin prickling under the strength of her palm that just struck your ass, yet your pussy throbs at the thought of receiving more. A twisted game, isn’t it? You’re so hungry for it, so greedy for more, already bracing yourself for the next spank she’ll deliver to your bum while her fingers run through a few strands of your knotted hair and let your head drop back to the bed. Rumi likes to build the pain, you remember vividly from earlier lessons, prefers to start with soft slaps that turn into bruising ones. It’s going to be difficult to sit tomorrow. “T-two, fuck!”

She snickers as she lifts her hand for a third slap. Satisfaction settles in the pit of her stomach at the sight of your reddened flesh and the feeling of your cunt gushing all over her thigh, treacherously confirming what she already knew — you enjoy this, maybe more than she does.

A pleading whine rolls from your tongue and she taps your butt cheek, pinches the forming bruises for her own amusement. Yeah, she’s going to engrave her handprint onto you, so you’ll remember to behave whenever she isn’t around to bring you to your knees herself.

“You’re such a dumb puppy,” she demeans from above you after what felt like an eternity and glides the palm of her hand over the swell of your ass as she inspects the dark colors on your heated skin. You obediently counted every slap, crying and sobbing when she delivered the last one with an incomprehensible strength and forced you to choke out the last number.

Now, she’s gently massaging the red mark plastered on your ass and soothing some of the pain. You’re so compliant for her, so tame even though you’re getting punished for a small mistake. She loves how she has complete control over you and your pussy, takes pride in the effect she has on you while you arch your back, and shove your butt in the air to meet her calloused palm like the desperate slut you are.

Only for her.

“You’re lucky you have me wrapped around your little finger,” she murmurs and follows the curve of your spine to clasp her fingers around the back of your neck. “I have enough patience to repeat our lessons if we have to, though you shouldn’t test me again.” Then, without a warning, Rumi runs her fingers through your folds and gathers your juices on her skin.

“Won’t you look at that? You’re fucking drenched and all I did was spank you,” she muses and lifts her hand to the light, carefully spreading her long fingers to inspect the strings of slick connecting her digits with a mesmerized smirk. Heat rushes to your cheeks at her blatant observation and you bashfully turn your face to stifle the guilty moan of pleasure in the sheets. Though you can’t deny the truth, can you? Because you like it.

No, you love her dominating nature that seems to take over in these intimate moments and you lust for the biting and the scratching, the rough loving that melts pain into pleasure and leaves you craving more.

“Don’t act all shy on me, puppy. I know you’re actually a greedy slut, there’s no need to hide now.” Tongue darting out of her mouth, she licks her fingers with a relishing groan and savors your taste for a moment longer as she wraps her lips around two of her digits and hollows her cheeks, though her burning gaze never leaves your face.

She’s attentively studying your expressions as if she’s waiting for something to happen. Not even the smallest detail nor the most inconspicuous changes in your demeanor go unnoticed by your girlfriend’s enhanced senses. The tip of her nose twitches cutely when you begin to squirm under her intense stare. “You know I’m right, baby.”

Popping her fingers out of her mouth, she pushes her glistening hand against your throbbing cunt and smiles condescendingly at your high-pitched mewls. The tips of her fingers stroke your folds, slowly circling your clit with teasing expertise and spreading your juices over your soaked pussy. Almost immediately you shift your hips in light motions to receive more friction, feel more of her touch even if she’s cruel and keep you on your toes with each flick of her thumb against your sensitive bud. It’s not enough.

Filled. You need to be stretched open, stuffed full with her nimble fingers, or that delicious strap she bought a few weeks ago to celebrate your anniversary. As if she read your thoughts, Rumi suddenly shoves two of her fingers into your cunt, stretching your tight hole around her knuckles and experimentally thrusting her hand.

“Don’t try to get more than you deserve. You can be grateful I’m touching you at all.” Her knees dig into the mattress and she quickly hooks your legs around her waits to spread your thighs even further and has your pussy on full display. Lewd sounds of your soaking wetness echo in the otherwise quiet room, loud and filthy like it’s supposed to be.

“I’m sorry, mommy! I didn’t...I didn’t mean to disobey,” you sob into the sheets, tears and drool soaking the thin material with every apologetic word that tumbles from your lips. “I’m sorry, please!”

“Oh, really? Well, that’s too bad. If you had used your dumb little brain before deciding to be a brat and shove your fingers up your cunt without my permission, you wouldn’t be in this situation,” she states matter-of-factly as if she’s having a normal conversation with you about something trivial like the weather and isn’t shoving three fingers deep inside your tight pussy, mercilessly hitting your sweet spot that coaxes such obscene reactions out of your body — crossed eyes and tongue lolling out of your open mouth.

“Just felt lonely because...because–,” you try to explain yourself, stammering and stumbling over each syllable while trying to make her understand, but you just can’t hold back the broken whimpers of her name. Rumi curls her fingers just right, strokes your spongy walls with a steadily growing pace and your vision begins to blur when she presses the pad of her thumb against your clit.

“You didn’t finish your explanation, puppy. C’mon, tell me why you felt so lonely?” She asks patiently. Her voice has grown softer, just a little, enough to make you wonder if she’s going easier on you, now that you’ve explained the reason for your misbehavior. Yet, her fingers abuse your poor cunt in brutal motions, reach places you never could — it’s too much, it’s too fucking much, but you crave the mind-shattering high the tightening coil in your lower stomach promises enticingly.

“Please, let me cum! Wanna cum, mommy, please...I’ll be a good puppy for you, I promise,” you whine and look up at her through a veil of tears. Your legs tense around her hips and your cunt tightens around her relentlessly moving fingers. Ears laid back, you try to grasp her wrist and give your best to convince her, but all you receive in response is a scoff and a harsh slap to your clit.

A scream rips through your chest and your eyes roll in the back of your head, body writhing and thrashing around as she delivers another rough spank to your poor pussy while she adds a fourth finger and carelessly splits your pussy. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, please! I can’t hold it, mommy, I need to cum!”

Of course, you took her punishment like a good puppy. You’re holding back your building orgasm too, Rumi feels it in the way your pussy clenches desperately around her like a vice, the strangled breath you take and the babbled sentences of incoherent pleas to distract you from the unwavering throb of your cunt.

The way you cry and quiver and fuck, she revels in the way she ruins you. Yes, you’ve been so good and she’s honestly surprised you haven’t cum yet, not without her permission. You really must be trying, she muses silently and considers her options. If she stopped now, you’ll never learn your lesson.

No, she has to break you first.

“Don’t you dare fucking cum,” Rumi warns with a growl and a pitiless pull on your tail that earns her a quiet howl. “If you cum now it’ll be the last time you ever fucking do, puppy.”

“N-no, please. I can’t hold it any longer, please just let me cum! I’ll be a good puppy for you, I promise!” A part of you hopes for a lapse of judgment, a twist or a drag of her fingers that lasts a little too long, just enough to tip you over and let it stop before Rumi could react. But Rumi is too clever for that. She knows more about your body than you do, knows exactly how long you’ll be able to hold back before you’re finally falling over the edge and she’ll be quick to pull her hand away if you get too close.

“Oh, now you want to be my good girl again. Just because you want your slutty little cunt to feel good when you were acting like a brat earlier today, am I right?” Crimson eyes study your contorted face. Your chest is heaving and your legs tense around her hips, hands clawing helplessly at the sheets as you approached the end again.

Your pussy gushes around her hand, she can feel your wetness running down her wrist and you’re getting close, too fucking close for her taste and so, she simply withdraws her fingers and smiles down at the sound of your frustrated scream. “Only good girls get to cum, pet. I’m not done with you yet and you’re gonna take everything I give you without a single complaint.”

tagging: @nokkusu @poopymagicalpants

#🔪— murderous desire #miruko x reader #miruko x reader smut #rumi usagiyama #mirko x reader #pro hero mirko #mirko x you #mirko x y/n #miruko x you #rumi usigayama x reader #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha smut #mha x y/n #mha x you #mha x reader #mha smut #wlw #mha girls

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totiredtowrite · 3 years ago

Note

444!!! Omg congrats! I’d like to ask for a bunny hybrid reader with a wolf Dabi that wants to get a date with reader but keeps scaring him away, because the reader thinks dabi wants to eat him, but then reader see’s dabi all sad n stuff and they clear up the misunderstanding- sorry if this is confusing

Wolf Hybrid Dabi - Rabbit Hybrid Reader

『4』『4』『4』

Why did you always have to go out to gather wood? Literally any other person in your sector could, there's over thirty of them.

Yet and still, you're always picked out. You bit your lip, ears twitching slightly. Every time your padded foot landed on a leaf, you winced. At first you genuinely enjoyed going out to gather wood. Usually it was at a nice time of day, the woodland scents overwhelming your nose. Even despite the sector of canine half breeds near you, you enjoyed getting to walk alone for a little while.

Recently however, you were getting more wary going out.

Sure, maybe you were overreacting. Maybe the terrifying looking hybrid that you saw around here was just...out for a stroll or something. Every other day when you were out. And, maybe he was simply staring at you because he was just socially awkward, and not because he wanted to eat you.

Those stitches and skin grafts must be from a completely innocent accident. And the menacing way his cerulean eyes watched your every move was just him being observant about his neighbours. Yeah. No other potentially life threatening meaning to it.

He never even approached you. Just stood there, at a distance, watching you like he was ready to tear your throat out. It's not like that's legal anymore, but this guy doesn't look like the type to fly with the law.

You took a shaky breath in. Just grab some wood, throw it in your bag, and get the hell out.

The bark was coarse- it always left marks on your hands. You hastily picked up as much as you could. Your walks were no longer long and enjoyable, just short and tense. Beautiful scenery and all.

You sighed with relief as you packed up the last piece of wood, turning around to rush home.

Apparently though, luck wasn't on your side today. You ran straight into him, stumbling back and almost tripping over a tree trunk. You hadn't even heard him approach you. It was like he just materialized behind you.

He had his head angled to look down his nose at your face, a frown etched onto his lips. You gulped, attempting to swallow your fear and move past his solid, lithe form.

"Wait a minute," he said before you got away, his hand now on your arm. "Where are you headed off to in such a hurry, boy?"

His eyes still kept on you. You shivered. "Home," you coughed to try and cover up the obvious unrest in your voice. The large black ears on the side of his head shifted slightly, his tongue running over his canines.

You were getting progressively more afraid, with the way his eyes trailed from the tip of your ears, to your face, to your tail, and then down to your feet. It felt like he was sizing you up. You shook slightly.

"Home where?" His grip on your arm was firm, enough to keep you in place, but not enough to hurt. He loosened it slightly.

You didn't answer, instead breaking out of his hold and dashing away as fast as you could. You expected him to chase you, though you stopped abruptly at the lack of footsteps behind you. You ducked behind a tree, peeking out slightly to observe where he was standing.

His hand was still slightly outstretched, a dejected look slowly creeping over his features. His shoulders and ears dropped slightly. He looked almost...sad? Disappointed? Some variation of it. He didn't make any move towards you, putting his free hand back in the pocket of his ragged looking jacket. You kneaded your bottom lip through your teeth.

You felt kind of bad, actually. Looking at it now, there didn't seem to be any malicious intent festering under the surface. You slowly crept out from behind the tree. He looked up, ears lifted ever so slightly. He appeared unconcerned, though his senses were standing at attention as you nervously approached him.

"Um," you stopped a good few feet away from him. "Sorry for running off- uh, I just...what were you trying to...do?"

The frown returned. "What did you think I was trying to do?"

"I dunno," you chuckled nervously. "Eat me I guess...or sell my kidney..."

He looked taken aback for half a second. "No I just...wanted to ask you out. Or something. I get that it might be weird and all. You're a guy, I'm a guy, you're prey." The words didn't come easy, no matter how many times he had rehearsed it to himself. Somehow it managed to sound like a threat rather than a profession of admiration. It was pathetic how easily he was taken apart when it came to relationships.

You stared at him with wide eyes for a second. "Oh! You just looked...rather scary."

"Yeah, I get that a lot." He reached to scratch the back of his neck, the seemingly permanent glare on his face directed towards a tree.

You hummed, fiddling with the leather strap on your bag. "Well, uh, I'm (y/n)."

"Dabi," he held his scarred hand out. You stepped forward and took it, overly conscious of how cold the staples were. "So, about that date," he trailed off, still holding onto your hand.

"I'm fine with anything," you said. "As long as I'm not the main course or anything. That's...illegal. And immoral." He chuckled. It was a hoarse, strained sound, but it was rather pretty nonetheless.

A bumpy confession sure, but it definitely could have gone way worse.

At least he got the date.

#m!reader #mha x male reader #anime x male reader #male reader #x male reader #bnha x male reader #dabi x male reader

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lesbian-deadpool · 4 years ago

Text

Saving Rosie

Part One of Two: “I’m Not A Spy.”

Rosie Betzer x Reader

Words: 5,768

Warnings: WWII (and everything that comes with that era), Nazis, spy shit, arguing, alludes to execution, sadness... I think that may be it.

Request: No.

Summary: You save the woman you have grown close to over the past few years you have been undercover as a Nazi general, and now you’re going to save her family.

A/N: Me, still broken after watching Jojo Rabbit almost a year and a half ago?? It’s more likely than you think... so, apparently I write Rosie Beltzer fics now lol

Also, just some lil notes. The reader in this is undercover as a male Nazi general, and they’re not actually German in this fic.

EDIT: I accidentally tagged this as a Natasha fic lmao. I fixed it now tho.

Ko-Fi

Commissions

(Not My GIF)

***

"It's a lovely night for it, huh?"

For what? You weren't

certain. Maybe it was the full moon. Maybe, it was the clear sky. The deserted streets, perhaps... what loomed in the following days to come.

Or maybe, just maybe. It was the woman by your side.

The woman hummed, a small sweet smile caressing her face.

"One of the better ones we've had in years. Came her strong German accent. A stark difference to yours, considering you no longer had to mask it. Around her, anyway.

Your smile mirrored hers as it brightened.

"It sure is."

"I can't believe it's almost over. And after so long..." she said, while you grunted, sitting down beside her on the small roof over the open attic window. "This unjust war is finally coming to an end."

"Okay, you're starting to sound like my commander now."

Rosie chuckled at your words, moving to softly lean into your side, keeping her head up to continue looking at the bright white stars that littered the midnight blue sky.

"Why do you always insist on meeting up here?" you grumbled, no malice in your voice, "It's a pain in the ass to get up onto the roof, from the outside, y'know?"

"You're a spy, aren't you? Aren't you supposed to be good at this stuff?"

"Oh cheeky," you laughed, lightly slapping the side of her leg, with the back of your hand. Rosie's quiet giggles following your remark, "And I'm an undercover soldier. Those are two very different things."

"Still." She shrugged.

You sat in silence for a small while. Over the few years, you and Rosie had grown close. Meeting up on her rooftop, at the dead of night, where there was no chance of anyone seeing you together, this way, becoming an almost every day occurrence.

You knew you could trust her the moment you first met, almost three years ago. After you had stolen the identity of a Nazi officer, that looked starkly like you. Luckily, there was hardly any information about this person. So, there was less chance for your cover to be blown.

Soon, the resistance that Rosie had been deeply a part of was un-earthed to you, thanks to your informant and the letter she carried. It wasn't long after that you started working with them too. Helping them better than they could ever hope, thanks to the military resources and information you brought.

"What happened to your neck?" Rosie asked, pulling you out from where you were, deep in your memories.

A hand came up to rub at your slightly sore skin.

"My informant can be cruel..."

Rosie cocked a blonde eyebrow at you, wanting an explanation from you.

You sighed, getting ready to tell her.

***

Eyes burned into the woman from all sides as her heels kicked against the polished wooden, yet stained, floor. Her light brown hair shone under the glowing lights, confidence radiating from her just the same.

"Can I help you?" a German Soldier slid in front of her, she had to stop herself from sneering at the man. For both his being a Nazi and his sweaty stench. But instead, she managed a sultry smirk.

"I'm here to see your General," she replied, in a German accent.

"Don't bother," another Soldier, this one drunk and slightly swaying, called over, from where he was pressed into the wall a few feet behind her.

"I don't think your General would take too kindly to you stealing what they paid for."

"They're gonna have fun with you," he replied, blatantly looking her up and down. Like a wolf would, to a tiny bunny, ready to devour it whole. However, the wolf was not a wolf at all, the wolf was, in fact, the bunny, and the bunny was the actual wolf.

She would tear him to shreds, given the chance.

"The General is in the usual room," the original man said, "Fair warning, though. They're not in a good mood today."

The woman began strutting down the hallway, once again. Throwing, "Aren't they always?" over her shoulder once she passed him by.

When she opened the thick wooden door you resided behind, the sounds of your continued groan began pouring through the crack.

"Sometimes I cannot believe that you got this assignment," she uttered in her original London accent, with her back pressed against the now-closed door.

You finished your groan off and took a deep breath before you uttered your reply.

"Luck-of-the-draw, I guess," you spoke from the floor where you lay on your back, with a shrug, "That, or I look strikingly alike the guy who died. The Nazi prick."

She walked over to you, one foot rising to press her heel into your neck, your thyroid resting in the open space of the shoe.

A choking noise sprang from your mouth as you flailed your limbs around gently. You knew that if she were to press any harder, she would surely manage to choke you.

"You're not suited for this job."

The brunette pressed harder against your throat before she released you. Leaving you to turn on your side, coughing and spluttering.

"Well, no shit. I'm a soldier, not a spy."

"You can tell."

"What was that all about?" You motioned to your neck. Red marks already making their way upon the tender flesh.

"We need to make it seem like we are having sex. Remember? I am supposed to be your hooker after all."

"You're a bitch, is what you are."

She scowled at you as you rolled yourself onto your stomach, sighing when you finally got to your feet.

"Where's the update?"

You hummed, almost as if you were remembering what you were here to do. Removing the crystal tumbler from your lips the whisky sloshing around inside. Reaching behind you, you pulled the file from where it was tucked into your pants and under your shirt. Handing it over to her.

"Is this it?" She asked, weighing the file in her hand, "It's very light."

"Yeah, and so's the information swimming around. Unless you wanna hear about the fish Agatha caught last weekend," you snarked back, moving to point at the file with the same hand that held your glass, "There's some good stuff in there. It's not much. But it's good."

"I'll take your word for it."

She tucked the folder into the long overcoat she wore, then you saw her eyebrows furrow.

"Aren't you supposed to take care of that?" She nodded towards the uniform jacket you had thrown across the room not long after you had entered it.

"You sneered at the fore-talked about item.

"I hate it and everything it stands for." You turned back to face her. "As soon as all of this bullshit is over, I'm burning that fucking armband. And then the rest of the fucking uniform."

"Real calm there, aren't you?"

"Don't start shit with me, Hannah." You took a large swig of your drink, almost emptying the glass. "I know that you wish you had somehow gotten this mission. But trust me, you don't fucking want it. The shit I've seen and done. The stuff that I've had to authorise, just to keep my cover. The fucking horror storied these monsters have told proudly, or as if they're fucking jokes." You were panting now. "You don't want that."

You had her startled into silence. Hannah had never expected this to come from you.

"How's the resistance?"

You grunted. Downing the rest of the brown liquor before moving to pour yourself another glass three fingers tall.

"It's going." you gave a heavy nod. "Still trying to spread the word."

Hannah hummed, slowly making her way towards you. Fingers coming up to razzle her hair, and wipe her lipstick, so it smudged onto her cheek.

"How's the blonde?"

"What-?" you were cut off when she wiped the red lipstick on her fingers across your own lips, leaving a smudge like hers there. "Ugh," you groaned, moving away from her palm, only to utter small obscenities and sounds of pain when her lipstick freehand messed up your short, slicked-back hair.

"What blonde?" you finally managed to ask.

"The one from the resistance. What's her name?" She clicked her fingers together, in realisation, "Rosie."

"Oh! Yeah, she's fine, and so are the kids."

"You seem to be taking a shine to her, from what I hear from the resistance. You and Rosie seem to be something of a dynamic duo."

Suddenly your shirt was ripped open, from the collar to your ribs. Making your eyes widen in shock.

However, you were used to this by now, so they soon returned back to their regular size.

"Yeah, we're friends."

Hannah hummed, something akin to a knowing smirk on her face. As she untucked your shirt.

"I'd keep an eye on her, though."

She opened your pants.

"She's being watched."

Breathless at what she just said, you stood stock still, watching as she walked towards the wooden door.

"Oh." Hannah stopped, her hand upon the handle, pulling some pieces of paper from her pocket and threw them to the floor, "I'll leave you to deliver the bad news."

And with that, she left.

***

You forewent telling Rosie everything from the mention of her.

Thinking it the best if she heard it differently.

"That really sounds like a spy meeting to me," Rosie said with a smirk, knowing it would annoy you to no end.

You closed your eyes before you could roll them into the back of your head. Taking a deep breath, you exhaled, "I'm not a spy."

"So, you've said," she giggled.

"You're drunk," you mumbled to yourself.

"What was that?"

"How are the kids?" you asked, clearly watching as Rosie groaned lightly. Her head down-turned, almost sad looking.

"Jojo's still obsessed with Hitler and everything. And Elsa's doing her best. But I can tell how much this is affecting her. And in what world wouldn't it?"

"She's strong." You nodded. "She'll get through it. We all will."

"And what about Jojo?"

Rosie turned to face you, hair swaying as she did. You could see the glazed look in her eye's, telling yourself to be extra vigilant with the woman upon the roof. You had to make sure she didn't fall off in her drunken state.

"Is he going to be like this for the rest of his life?"

Tears were building in her eyes now.

"Supporting evil dictators, wanting to take over the world, and fill it with hate?"

"No. No, of course not," you whispered. Reaching over, you clasped her cheeks between your rough, war-hardened hands. Wiping away her silent tears. "He's just a boy. A boy who wants to be a part of something, even if he doesn't understand what that is. What monster's he's following. He will realise one day. Trust me."

"I trust you." She nodded. "It just. It's hard. It's so hard. Especially when he plays up, like he did at dinner today."

"He did?"

She hummed with a nod.

"We're low on food right now. I had to go without to feed Elsa. But Jojo, he didn't know, obviously, so he took that too. Then he started arguing about his father-"

You inhaled sharply, shoulders tensing. But luckily for you, she didn't notice your reaction.

"-I yelled at him... we made up not long after, but I still feel awful about it. I'm a terrible mother."

"No, you're not-"

"I am-"

"No. You're not," you said firmly. Grabbing her forearm, gently moving it side to side, to get your point further across, "You're such a caring and amazing person. Your heart is so big and kind. And you're an even better mother. It's like all of that is doubled for those kids."

"Thank you," Rosie whispered, tears in her eyes once again, before she moved to wipe them away.

"Anyway, you're way better than my mother. She abandoned me at a farm. I was lucky a cow didn't shit on me."

She giggled at your little joke.

"I'm so sorry that happened to you."

"There's no need. I wouldn't change it."

Things were quiet for a few minutes when you suddenly remembered.

"Oh!" You reached into your pocket and pulled out three packages, wrapped in brown paper and tied together with string. "I guess it was just lucky that I brought these then."

"What are they?"

"Beef sandwiches, I thought you would like them."

"Oh, you're a lifesaver," she spoke in something close to a moan as she took a bite out of her sandwich.

You gave a small chuckle at the woman seated beside you, "I'd thought you'd say that. I'll have to start bringing food over to these meetings of ours because it's not like I can do it out in the open."

"People would think something was going on between us," Rosie hummed.

"You're right about that. Everyone is so bored around here. Gossip is like their life sauce."

"Would you be surprised if I told you that it was the same before the war?"

"Not at all," you laughed.

Rosie finished her sandwich, and you dreaded what was coming next.

"I need to tell you something," you almost whispered.

She bumped her shoulder against yours when you didn't continue.

"Well? What is it?"

"It... it's about your husband..."

You watched her carefully as you said that, all the while emotions, flew into her while she processed them.

She held back more tears, ones from the look on her face that she had shed more times than she could count. Face contoured into one of concealed pain. Looking away from your gentle, caring eyes while rubbing her hands together.

"He's dead, isn't he?"

"I'm afraid so." You nodded, looking out before you, into the starry night sky.

That's when you felt a tiny jolt beside you. Looking over at the blonde, you watched as a tear trickled down her cheek.

"I'm so sorry," you whispered.

With a gasp and a wet sniff, Rosie wiped her tears away.

"What happened?"

"There was a raid, some members of a resistance was there, your husband included. None of them made it... they saved the people they intended to, however."

She nodded with a sad yet proud smile.

"How long ago was this?"

You swallowed. Hating the words you were about to say.

"A little over a year ago."

You winced when you heard her sobs, ones being held in so hard just so no one could overhear her cries.

And, sickeningly so, the worst thing of all was that you didn't know how to help her.

Placing a hand upon her back, rubbing small comforting circles into her shoulder. Feeling her lean into you, face now pushed into your neck.

"I'm here. Everything's going to be alright."

You left not too long later, after already spending way too much time up on that roof.

Rosie wished you a "goodbye" with the promise that she would be fine. However, she didn't reply to you when you told her not to finish the rest of the wine. That she had been pounding for the majority of the day.

Before you arrived "home" and promptly collapsed onto the bed.

***

The afternoon sun was warm upon your face as you walked the streets of the German town. Watching as children ran around, women worked, and well, gossiped, and Nazi soldiers came and went.

Soon. You thought. This will all be over soon.

That's when you heard the murmured words from the women you had just walked past.

"Yes, the Gestapo. They're here right now."

"Who for?" the other woman asked, voice slightly higher at the aspect of such "juicy" gossip.

Sometimes it surprised you just how detached some of these people were from human lives. But then you took a step back and saw everything that was happening in the world. And you weren't surprised anymore. Just disappointed.

"The traitors wife. Beltzer."

And now you were scared.

"-They should be taking her to the square, right now."

It was like the world had slowed down as you turned to look at them, meeting their curious eyes.

The last thing you heard before taking off at a run towards the town square was a fading, "Like husband, like wife. I guess."

The people you passed by looked at you like you were insane. To see a, what they thought, General, sprinting down streets and panting like crazy, it set them on edge.

But you didn't give a damn about what anybody thought.

You just had to get to the square.

And quick.

***

By the time you got there, you had a light shine over your skin. Thanks to the sweat from both the running you had done and the worry that coursed through you.

"Remove your hands from her," came your faux German accent.

"She is a traitor to the Reich," one of the Gestapo's, seemingly the leader, replied assuredly.

"And what proof do you have of this?"

Rosie was terrified. You could see that as clear as day, no matter how she tried to keep calm. It was written all over her face.

So, you forcefully pushed their hands from the heavily breathing woman and pulling her to stand by your side and away from the group of men dressed in black suits.

"I'll have you know, we have very probable tips from some of the community-"

""Probable"?!" you shouted, causing the on edge woman beside you to jump slightly. To which you pulled her closer to you as a form of comfort. Your hand, coming to rest on her shoulder.

"Yes. Probable. We cannot have risks."

"Well, I say that it is bullshit."

"You have no jurisdiction or authority over our department."

"And I never said I did. I am saying that I vouch for this woman."

"But the tip-off's-" another man began.

"You choose to believe lonely and bored housewives over a General?!" You watched as their faces fell, and they tried to grab onto any straw they could to change your mind.

"There is still a chance-"

"There is no chance!"

"And can you be so sure?!"

"Do you really believe that I, a General, would be with her if you were right?"

"With her?" a third Gestapo asked curiously.

You knew what you had to do to get her back home, safe and away from the men trying to execute and make a spectacle of her. Just like the poor people hanging to your right.

"It means that I have been seeing her. Romantically, if you still do not fully understand, what I mean."

They didn't say anything for a few short moments, only stumbling and stuttering over their own voices.

"So, tell me. Who are you choosing to believe?"

"Uh. Y-You General."

"Good." You nodded once. "Now, I'm going to take her home. Goodbye, gentlemen," you spat. Turning on your heel, with Rosie under your arm, and walking away.

"Are you okay?" you whispered. Not drawing any attention to yourself or Rosie.

"I'm fine. Thank you for saving me," she replied in the same way.

"I wouldn't have done anything else." Your hand slipped down to the blondes dip in her lower back, helping to guide her back home. "Where are the flyers? Did you have any on you?"

"Yes. I threw them down the drain before they could see."

"Good. You did good." A squeeze to her hip before your hand returned to her lower back, just to keep up the appearance of the lie. "They're not gonna find them."

***

Rosie had relaxed more by the time you were at the bottom of her street when you saw a distinctly expensive car parked outside of Rosie's house. A car that everyone knows belongs to that of Gestapo's.

"Is Jojo home?" you asked, just stood there starring at the sight, with Rosie by your side.

"Yes," she husked.

"Shit."

And that's when you both broke out in a run.

You, being faster than Rosie, arrived at the building first. Barging through the door, with her hot on your heels.

Pounding your way up the stairs, only to come face to face with a gang of men, identically dressed to the Gestapo's, you had just saved Rosie from. Along with Jojo and Elsa, in clothes that didn't look like they belonged to her. Not to mention the demoted soldier, holding an identification book.

"What is the meaning of this?!"

"What are you doing in my house?!" you and Rosie said at the same time. Your yell angrier, compared to her more so worried one.

"We are searching the premises," the lead man, who wore round glasses, spoke. Face confused as to why Rosie was still alive. But as soon as he saw the anger chiselled upon your face. He could take a successful guess as to who had stopped the execution.

"Mama, they were just checking Inge's identification," Jojo said as his mother rushed towards him. Her hands, on his cheeks, as she checked him over.

"Oh, yes. Of course." Rosie pulled Jojo along to bring Elsa into her side, just as you had done for her mere minutes ago. "Are you both alright?"

She gained words and nods of confirmation from the two children.

"I think it's time that you all left."

"But-" one Gestapo said, looking to Rosie.

"But nothing," you continued, "I'm sure your associates will fill you in on their mistake. Now, if you are finished, I ask that you leave this house."

"We were just about to, anyway," the leader said, leading the way out for everyone. But not before the ID was handed back to the assumed Inge. With you trailing after, to slam the door behind them.

You turned, leaning your back against the wooden door, sighing deeply.

"Are they gone?" Rosie called down, leaning over the railing, to peer down at you.

The stairs creaked below you, the layer of carpet doing nothing to quiet them. You spoke your confirmation, as you reached her, "They're gone."

The kids looked like they had just been caught with their hand's in the cookie jar.

"So..." the caring woman started, "You two know about each other."

They nodded.

"For how long?"

"A couple of weeks, at most," Jojo said.

"How did you even find out about her?"

"I-I found the hatch-"

"He crawled in-"

"And I found her-"

"He was terrified."

"Was not!"

"Was too."

"Was not!"

"Was too!"

"Okay, enough," Rosie raised her voice, gaining the bickering children's attention.

Taking a breath, she ran her hands through her soft blonde hair.

"And you never told anyone?"

"No." Jojo shook his head. "I didn't want you to get into trouble..." It was at that point, he realised you were silently stood behind his mother, watching as everything unfolded and who you were.

Rosie caught this and looked over her shoulder at you.

"Don't worry," she told both of the kids, crouching down before them. Elsa's face one of mild terror.

This is when it hit you that these kids were exactly that.

Kids.

Kid's that were too scared of their mothers, or motherly figure, scolding them, than the actual, apparent danger that lurked not too far away.

"They're not going to tell anybody. They know. And won't let anything happen. To any of us." she manoeuvred to face you. "Right?"

You nodded. "Absolutely. I will do my best to protect all of you."

"Speaking of." She slowly rose to her feet, walking towards you.

The hand that Rosie placed upon your arm was gentle, almost like she was worried she would hurt you. Fingers curling into the jacket of the uniform you loathed.

"I have to speak with the General. So, you two stay up here. Understood?"

They nodded.

"Good." She pulled you through the open door, but before she could close it fully, her head popped through the door, "Oh. And we're not done yet. We still have a lot to talk about."

Then the door clicked shut.

"You're really good at that."

"What?"

"Being a mother."

"I know. You've told me before."

***

Things had changed rather quickly when you arrived downstairs.

Sat upon the blue cotton cushions of the wooden framed couch. Watching as Rosie paced around in front of you, fingertips rubbing against her full lips, worry etched across her face.

Your eyebrows shot up, and your body straightened when she turned to face you. Arms now down by her sides.

"So, we're together, huh?"

"I'm sorry," you replied, German accent dropped, "But that was the only thing that would get them to back off and drop the suspicions against you."

"I know." She nodded, completely understanding. Before her minimal composure dropped, and the worry came back. "What do we do? Jojo obviously thinks you are a traitor now. What if he tells someone?"

"He won't." You stood abruptly, taking Rosie's shoulder's into your hands, squeezing them gently. "He didn't tell anyone about Elsa when he had so many chances to do so. Hell, he had the chance, not even five minutes ago. But he hasn't said a word, purely just to keep you safe... he doesn't understand that this could hurt him and Elsa too. He doesn't know what's happening."

"But this is different-"

"Yes, it is different. It's better he thinks I'm a traitor, helping his family, than him knowing I'm an undercover soldier."

"You mean a spy?"

"Don't you start with that shit." You pointed at her playfully.

Rosie's smile dropped when a thought popped into her mind.

"Do you think they will still come back?"

"It is possible," you said honestly, "Which is why we should leave as soon as we possibly can."

"And go where?"

"Anywhere that isn't here."

"What do I tell the kids- What do I tell Jojo?" she clarified.

"The truth. You tell them that they could come back and that we all need to leave because we could all be in danger."

With her head in her hand's, the blonde scoffed tearily, "God. This fucking war."

"I know. I know."

You pulled her into your chest, letting her cry into you. Arms wound around your torso tightly.

"I hate it, For so many reasons."

"I know," you repeated again, "I feel the same."

"When will it just end? When will people be safe again?"

Deciding that it would be best to tell her the truth, you said, "I don't know. Soon I hope."

And there you sat, for a small while longer, allowing the blonde to cry into your chest.

***

You had left.

Gone to go gather some of your things, thinking it best to stay with Rosie and the kids while you were forced to stay in town.

All the while Rosie, spoke to the kids about leaving.

"I don't understand why we have to go!"

Was what you were greeted with as you entered the home.

"Because it is not safe for us here anymore," Rosie's voice came, calm but firm.

"But they won't come back."

"That's not entirely true," you spoke, entering the kitchen. Placing the leather bag you carried and the wicker basket upon the small table against the wall, you continued, "There's always a chance, no matter how small."

The young boy watched you silently for a minute. Not knowing what to say.

"Trust me, Jojo. I know how all of this works. I just want to keep you all safe, so does your mother. And this is the best way to do it.2

Jojo sighed.

"Where will we go?"

Rosie looked at you intently when her son asked this, wondering the same thing.

"We'll get out of town first. Then we'll focus on a safe place for us all to go."

"Jojo, would you. Would you go to your room, please?" Rosie asked, "I need to speak with the General, alone."

Just as the blonde boy was about to protest, he was cut off.

"Now. I also have to start preparing dinner."

He huffed and walked from the room, bounding up the stairs rather loudly.

You felt bad for the woman as you watched her grip the sides of the oven, bow her head, and give a great sigh.

"Where's Elsa?"

"She's in her hiding spot." Then she turned to face you. "Y/N, K know that Elsa isn't Inge."

"What?"

"She got Inge's birthday wrong, and he didn't say anything."

Your eye's wandered as you took in the information that was just given to you.

"Do you think he will say anything?"

"I don't know," you said with a shrug, "But I don't wanna take any chances. It's too risky."

"I agree." Rosie nodded once. "So, when do we leave."

"As soon as possible. Tonight if we can. Only pack the essentials. And not yet, we can't raise any suspicions."

Rosie's only reply and indication that she had heard you were a good few nods.

And then.

"What's in the basket?"

"Oh," you said chipperly, "Don't worry about cooking. I brought dinner."

***

Turns out "tonight" wasn't a viable option for skipping town, as with loud, almost deafening sirens of dread filled the sky came the air-raid strike.

"Wouldn't it give us a good cover, though?" Rosie had asked, preparing for bed.

You had resigned yourself to staying over, as a sort of bodyguard, while still in town. And the threat was still very much weighing in the winds.

You looked over your shoulder at her. Being spotted by her through the mirror of her vanity, where she sat. Removing her makeup and then applying some face cream.

"I'm not the only one by a window," you told her. Then moved to peer through the window, at the moving lights in the black, midnight sky. "I'm sure I heard Elsa and Jojo in the attic watching them."

"They are," she confirmed.

"See. We're not the only ones. Too many eyes. A good distraction," you admitted, "But almost impossible. And with two kids added to that? No chance."

A hum came from Rosie.

"So, what are our options?"

With a sigh, you began explaining, "People will be too jumpy tomorrow, so our best bet would be the day after."

The blonde, now ready for bed, came over to you. Moving to stand right in front of you, looking out the window herself.

"Wouldn't it be too risky, staying here that long?"

It seemed it was your turn to hum, shrugging your shoulders.

"I'd rather stay here a few more days than risk it out there. But there is a good side to these change of plans."

"And what's that?"

"Now, we can sneak stuff to the car. And won't risk being caught doing it all at night. That way, all we have to do is get in, then drive off."

"Good plan. Partner," Rosie spoke in a slight mocking about sultry tone. Which only made you roll your eyes good-naturedly.

"Yeah. Yeah. You're welcome."

"Seriously," you halted at Rosie's serious tone, raising your head to peer at her, "Thank you for everything."

"You don't have to thank me." Your lips ticked up in a small smile before you lightened the sober mood and atmosphere. "And you definitely won't be thanking me if I accidentally kick you in my sleep."

Rosie laughed at your words, watching as you said into bed beside her.

"Do not worry. If you kick me, I'll just kick you out of the bed."

"Now that's just rude."

Waking up the next morning was strange for you, to say the least.

With the bright sun shining through the thin drapes, across the cosy room, and onto the bed. Duvet lumpy above your forms.

And then there was Rosie.

The blonde pressed up against your side, head resting on your shoulder, arms curled around one of yours, still fast asleep.

Now that.

That was very unusual for you.

But then again. You were too sleepy to process anything at that moment. So instead, you just watched her breathe soothingly, looking so peaceful by your side, with your eyebrows furrowed and eyes squinted in curiosity.

It was a wonder how someone could look so contest face asleep like Rosie was, with everything that is going on in the world.

The world wouldn't be that way for much longer, you thought, it was only a matter of time before everything was over.

And the same thing could be said for the blonde sleeping by your side.

The wooden door barged open, alerting you fully awake, as Jojo strutted in. Only to stop dead in his tracks at the sight of you. In bed. With his mother.

You could see the slight anger in his eyes, purely out of protection for his beloved mother.

"Good morning, Jojo," Rosie said sleepily as she moved to sit up, looking at the boy with a sleepy smile.

You grunted as she pressed her palm into your abdomen to raise up into a seated position.

"What are they doing here?" he asked, nodding his head towards you.

Rosie looked over her shoulder at you, tired eyes evaluating you. Before she turned back to her son.

"There's something I forgot to tell you yesterday."

You watched the mother and child with slightly wide eyes, not uttering a word, just looking like you wanted to escape this situation.

"What did you forget?"

"The General here-" she patted your abdomen where her hand still resided. "-And I, are seeing each other."

It was a few good long moments as Jojo processed the words. You thought he was going to be angry. It would be natural. You would understand. He was a young boy, one who undoubtedly missed his father and would not be happy with his mother being with anyone else.

But you also had to understand that he idolised you, if only for your -albeit fake- position in the German military.

And yet, you were still surprised and confused by what he said next.

"A lion?"

Rosie smiled brightly, nodding her head, "A lion."

"A lion?"

That was the first thing you said that morning, and it was full of confusion.

But it fell on deaf ears.

Jojo nodded once at his mother before turning on his heel and walking from the room, without saying what he initially came in for.

"What?"

Rosie smiled at you.

"Come on, we should get moving."

The bed shook and bounced as she got up from the bed, preparing to get ready for the day.

"I'm so confused," you almost whimpered, only gaining a soft giggle in return.

***

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tigerkirby215 · 3 years ago

Text

5e Vex, the Gloomiest build (League of Legends)

(Artwork by Horace “Hozure” Hsu. Made for Riot Games.)

Writing this build in a dark room late at night, super tired and stuff... Stuck inside cause of this dumb virus... AFKing in TFT for a Prestige skin like a tryhard... It’s kinda aesthetic, ya know?

GOALS

Another person to kill... Shadow? Can you handle it? - You don’t need best friends: you’ve got your Shadow. He’s the only cool one, because he’s basically you.

Ugh. Can we get some rain clouds in here? - No one likes a debbie downer, but everyone loves a good scare!

Man, walking suuuucks - Nowadays even the anti-dash champion needs a resetting dash. “Do the thing, Shadow.”

RACE

I could make Vex a Harengon to justify her rabbit ears, but she doesn’t really do much “jumping.” That, and I didn’t buy Wild Beyond the Witchlight. So Halfling still works good enough for a yordle. Your Dexterity increases by 2, and while your movement speed goes down to 25 you have Halfling Nimbleness to move through people who are bigger than you. You’re also “Brave” for advantage against fears (when you hang around the Shadow Isles stuff really isn’t that scary) and of course have good ol’ yordle Lucky to reroll Nat 1s.

Halflings are normally pretty cheerful but Ghostwise Halflings are perfectly dark. You’d normally increase your Wisdom by 1 but I’d recommend increasing your Constitution instead. But I mean, it’s not a big deal if you take Wisdom instead. It is only +1. You also get Silent Speech to keep to team chat with 30 foot telepathy. I mean, they have to understand your languages but at least you don’t have to tell everyone what you’re talking about. And oh yeah you obviously speak Common and Halfling.

ABILITY SCORES

15; CHARISMA - Turns out when you don’t release any new yordles for (wait it’s been 5 years since Kled was released? Holy shit) people end up wanting them.

14; DEXTERITY - Just because you don’t like walking doesn’t mean you’re slow.

13; CONSTITUTION - Imagine dying like a normie.

12; WISDOM - Vex isn’t sad because she’s pessimistic. She’s just realistic.

10; INTELLIGENCE - You’re too cool for school. (And I needed everything else more.)

8; STRENGTH - Ughhh I don’t wanna lift heavy stuff! I’m tired...

BACKGROUND

I guess you’re technically a Haunted One, even if the black mist is the best thing that ever happened to you. You get proficiency in Arcana and Survival as well as two language of your choice to talk to your "allies.” (I guess one of them has to be exotic or whatever.) (I’d personally pick Sylvan as the language of yordles and whatever language the majority of your party knows as your second choice, but that’s just me.)

The thing that sucks about having a Heart of Darkness is that everyone keeps trying to help you, thinking that your sadness (and the living shadow on your back) is something to be fixed. I mean, at least you can get the NPC normies to help you, as long as you don’t spook ‘em. “No doctors! I told you: being sad makes me happy.”

(Artwork by @ToggleD0wnFall on Twitter.)

THE BUILD

or whatever...

LEVEL 1 - SORCERER 1

Starting as a Sorcerer for saving throws and stuff. Also proficiency in Intimidation and... Persuasion, I guess? Look, persuading people that you’re fine “no really” is a skill too.

I wonder what Sorcerous Origin we’ll pick... If only there was one based entirely on shadows and darkness... Oh hey Shadow Magic. As a Shadow Sorcerer you get Eyes of the Dark for 120 feet of Darkvision to see with your dumb Halfling eyes, and Strength of the Grave which will let Shadow take a hit for you. (As long as you make a good Charisma save.)

But of course the main appeal of a Sorcerer is the Spellcasting. You can learn 4 cantrips from the Sorcerer list and two level spells: For cantrips Mage Hand will let Shadow pick things up for you, Mind Sliver and Sword Burst will keep loud people off you both up close and from afar, and Prestidigitation will let you do all sorts of normie yordle magic. As for leveled spells Shield and Mage Armor are both kinda mandatory for some Personal Space.

LEVEL 2 - WARLOCK 1

What? Did you really think we wouldn’t get at least some support from adults? Work for that cool gloomy dude Viego and make a pack with The Undead. That’s because Undead are super dark and morbid and have a Form of Dread: as a bonus action you can turn on your Doom and Gloom for 1 minute. You get some temporary hit points, fear people when you hit them, and are immune to fears yourself. You can transform a number of times equal to your proficiency bonus and regain all expended uses when you finish a long rest.

You also get Pact Magic, which is different from normie Spellcasting because you get the cool stuff done with just a Short Rest. Anyways you can learn two cantrips from the Warlock list like Minor Illusion to have Shadow trick some normies and Eldritch Blast to Eldritch while you Blast. You can also grab some first level Warlock spells like Hex to mark people you don’t like, and Arms of Hadar if you really need your Personal Space.

LEVEL 3 - WARLOCK 2

Second level Warlocks get their Eldritch Invocations for extra stuff that you don’t have to put effort into. While Armor of Shadows does exist it’s honestly better for you to cast Mage Armor with a spell slot, so with that being said take Agonizing Blast to agonize while you blast and Eldritch Mind so you can keep your concentration around annoying people.

You can also learn another spell like Hellish Rebuke, because people just keep barging into your Personal Space!

LEVEL 4 - SORCERER 2

Now that you can agonize your blasts it’s time to go back to Sorcerer. Second level Sorcerers get a Font of Magic for Sorcery Points which currently don’t do much other than give you more spell slots. You can turn your Warlock slots into Sorcery points though, which is good because they come back on a Short Rest but the rest of your magic does not.

You can also cast another spell like Earth Tremor, to slow people down with Looming Darkness and sunder the land with your edginess.

LEVEL 5 - SORCERER 3

Third level Sorcerers finally get Metamagic! Empowered Spell will allow you to maximize your damage and retain your role as an artillery mage. Alternatively if you want to guarantee fears in your foes take Heightened Spell to give them disadvantage to resist Shadow’s influence.

If you want Shadow to stick around then Dust Devil will swirl around for quite awhile. Alternatively Shadow (Magic) also teaches you Darkness for free, and you can cast it with 2 Sorcery Points to see through it! Your friends can’t see through it, but you can team up with Shadow for some powerful combos when you can see them but they can’t see you!

(Artwork by @jpdiasarts on Twitter.)

LEVEL 6 - SORCERER 4

4th level Sorcerers get the first of many Ability Score Improvements, but I can’t take Fey Touched every time for Flash. That, and we won’t give into basic yordle society. So let’s get value out of our Halfling race with the Second Chance feat. Along with +1 to your Charisma you can also use your reaction to make an enemy you can see attacking you reroll their attack roll, potentially making them miss.

Don’t use this against an attack that you can Shield against, but if someone gets a really good roll you can use this to get your Personal Space back! You can only use this once per combat though (it comes back when you roll for initiative!) so make sure to use it when it matters to keep your spell slots in check.

Oh and you can also learn another spell, and another cantrip! For your cantrip Shocking Grasp will help you push people away if they get too close (folk tend to react poorly when zapped by a tazer!) As for leveled spells Web will keep foes from dashing around, and is also pretty flammable. Huhn; wonder if that’ll be useful.

LEVEL 7 - SORCERER 5

5th level Sorcerers get gifts from the Ruined Queen Tasha in the form of Magical Guidance. You can use a Sorcery point to reroll a d20 if needed, potentially squeezing a success out. Don’t use this all the time (even if Warlock slots means you’ll have plenty of Sorcery points to spare) but this can be very useful in an emergency!

You can also learn third level spells and hey: Fireball may be a normie spell, but it’s still pretty effective. It’s maybe a bit too flashy to be Looming Darkness but it’s a good source of AoE damage which isn’t as loud and annoying as Shatter.

LEVEL 8 - SORCERER 6

All this time being a Shadow Sorcerer and Shadow hasn’t even done anything for us! Well how about you go out there and get some work done, Shadow? For 3 Sorcery points you can summon a Hound of Ill Omen to target a foe within 120 feet of you.

Shadow is basically a Dire Wolf except he’s Medium, has temp HP equal to half your Sorcerer level, can move through stuff (but takes damage if he ends his turn in stuff), and automatically chases whoever you told him to go for. Shadow will appear 30 feet away from the person you told him to get, and will chase after him like I said. All he’ll really do is attack the target you told him to though; he won’t even opportunity attack unless it’s the person you told him to chase. But if Shadow’s near someone they have disadvantage on their saving throws, which is pretty cool. (Unfortunately it’s only against spells, not your Form of Dread.)

Speaking of saving throws: Slow is a really great way to keep normies from running around doing annoying stuff. And you don’t have to hit Shadow with it which is pretty cool.

(Artwork by @Lauriquess on Twitter.)

LEVEL 9 - WARLOCK 3

Third level Warlocks get to choose their Pact Boon: if you want a really small Shadow go for Pact of the Chain, and if you want your cool necklace go for Pact of the Talisman, but we’ll be going for Pact of the Tome because you’re mostly a spellcaster really. (And we definitely don’t have enough cantrips.)

You get a Book of Shadows (See? Books can be cool!) with three cantrips: take Thaumaturgy to be extra spooky, Vicious Mockery for some sick teenage burns, and Sapping Sting to make normies fall over when you fear them. Some might say that 10 total cantrips by level 9 is a bit overkill but look on the dark side: you’ve now got a cantrip for basically every type of saving throw in case you can’t hit with Eldritch Blast!

Honestly none of the Pact Boons are particularly important for Vex so I picked the one that made the most sense. Feel free to take something more practical since 10 cantrips is admittedly overkill.

Oh and you can learn more Warlock spells, so now it’s time to finally take Misty Step. For Flash!

LEVEL 10 - WARLOCK 4

4th level Warlocks get another Ability Score Improvement: getting more Charisma for better spellcasting is probably a good idea.

You can also learn another spell, and hey look another cantrip. For your cantrip even if more damage options are kinda overkill by this point Chill Touch inflicts Grievous Wounds, which might be useful. You can also grab another second level spell and Blindness / Deafness (which is on the Undead list) is far more useful than any of the other normie options you’d have at this level anyways.

LEVEL 11 - WARLOCK 5

5th level Warlocks get another Eldritch Invocation, and even if you’ve got a resetting dash you’re still a squishy mage. So grab Tomb of Levistus for Zhonya's Hourglass.

You can also grab third level Warlock spells now! Remember how I took Fireball and complained that it wasn’t a good replica of Looming Darkness? Well Hunger of Hadar takes your Concentration but it’s a lot edgier!

LEVEL 12 - WARLOCK 6

6th level Undead Warlocks have become Grave Touched by the mist, and can make mist of their own! Along with being able survive without eating, drinking, or breathing you can turn any of your damage into necrotic damage. If you’re in your Form of Dread however you can add one extra damage die to whatever you’re using to get people to buzz off, adding to that morbid and macabre aesthetic.

You can also add another spell and if you’re bored with Shadow being a wolf how about you make them a Summon Shadowspawn? Weaponize your Fury, Despair, or Fear (I’d honestly recommend Fury since it has good synergy with your Dreadful Aspect) and work together with Shadow to deal with all your annoying foes! I’d also suggest replacing Hellish Rebuke with Counterspell, because even if the former fits better the latter is way more useful.

(Artwork by Jennifer Wuestling. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 13 - WARLOCK 7

7th level Warlocks can finally activate Shadow Surge. Relentless Hex lets you mark a foe with Hex and then dash to them. And technically you can move Hex around after the fact to reset your dashes! And while you’re at it you may as well grab Dimension Door for Summoner Teleport.

You could also upgrade Summon Shadowspawn to Summon Aberration if you so desire, but Summon Shadowspawn is more than strong enough and far more fun and thematic.

LEVEL 14 - WARLOCK 8

Another Ability Score Improvement. Yay. Cap off your Charisma for the best spellcasting you can get out of Shadow. You can also learn another spell, but we’re going to wait for...

LEVEL 15 - WARLOCK 9

9th level Warlocks get another Eldritch Invocation: even if it’s kinda ineffective Ascendant Step is still pretty useful to have Shadow carry you around. I mean yeah it’s slow but not that much slower than walking for you, and Shadow can lift you up in the air. “Shadow; carry me...”

You can also learn 5th level spells. If one guy’s being particularly annoying Negative Energy Flood can get them to shut up and work for you. Alternatively if you want more Personal Space Antilife Shell is on the Undead List and will make sure normies keep faaaaar away.

LEVEL 16 - WARLOCK 10

Are you ever so sick of everything that you just want to explode? Necrotic Husk has two benefits: for one you’re resistant to Necrotic damage, and immune while in your Form of Dread because being around Viego for so long means you’re used to his work.

But additionally when you are reduced to 0 hit points you can use your reaction to drop to 1 hit point instead and cause your body to explode! Each creature of your choice within 30 feet of you takes 2d10 + your warlock level in Necrotic damage. You do gain 1 level of exhaustion after using this, and after using it once you can’t do so again until you finish 1d4 long rests. So I’d perhaps use Strength of the Grave first unless you really need to lash out.

I hope you weren’t expecting more spells because you aren’t getting them from Warlock: just a cantrip. By this point we’ve honestly got far too many cantrips so I dunno maybe just grab Prestidigitation again and swap it out from Sorcerer when you get the chance.

(Artwork by @DukkoArt on Twitter.)

LEVEL 17 - SORCERER 7

Finally back to our yordle roots: 7th level Sorcerers get 4th level spells like Storm Sphere for a sphere of darkness and angst. But I mean the real benefit is that you get more Sorcery points let’s be real.

Oh and you can swap out Prestidigitation for Gust I guess. Spooky winds and stuff. Either this level or next level depending on your DM.

LEVEL 18 - SORCERER 8

Your last Ability Score Improvement... You’re gonna have to ask: what’s more important to me? More Metamagic, or more Eldritch Invocations? If Metamagic is to your liking take Metamagic Adept for Careful Spell and Distant Spell along with two more Sorcery points to use on them. If you like Eldritch Invocations though Eldritch Adept has a ton of options as a level 10 Warlock. I won’t tell you what invocation to take (they’re all great boosts but none of them shout out at me as something you should prioritize) as there are plenty of options to make your own Vex now that they’re all grown up.

I can at least tell you what spell to take: none of them! Wait until next level!

Oh and you can swap out Prestidigitation for Gust I guess.

LEVEL 19 - SORCERER 9

9th level Sorcerers can learn 5th level spells which means you’ve finally caught up to your Warlock slots. And look at that: the good wish Tasha gave you one last way to weaponize Shadow. Bigby’s Hand does a bunch of cool stuff and is pretty much the ultimate way to make Shadow crush some normies. (Most literally.) Alternatively if you want to borrow from Viego Enervation will let you heal from the mist and also do some damage. Great if you’re stuck in a corner with a bunch of annoying normies.

LEVEL 20 - SORCERER 10

Our final level is the 10th level of Sorcerer for one last spell, one last cantrip, and one last metamagic option! For your metamagic it’s honestly about time you take Quickened Spell to up your DPS. For your cantrip take Mold Earth to dig holes in the sand and brood. And as for your leveled spell? Honestly I just like Synaptic Static, and there isn’t much else I want anyways.

FINAL BUILD

PROS

We’re all doomed. But you’re more doomed - 5th level spells pack more than enough punch, and you’ve got plenty of them. Warlock slots will always be at your fingertips, and Sorcery points give you plenty of flexibility too!

I can feel it: someone’s happy over there! - Along with giving you a temporary hitpoint shield Form of Dread puts a nice bit of CC on all your abilities. Keep enemies scared and sad with tons of Doom and Gloom!

Ugh. Stop copying me Shadow! - Hounds of Ill Omen are cool. Summon Shadowspawn is also cool. Bigby’s Hand is especially cool. And hey: even your lower level Concentration spells like Hex? They’re pretty cool too.

CONS

Ughhhhhhhhhh this is gonna take foreeeever! - You’ve got limited fumes, even for a coffeelock. Form of Dread has limited uses and there’s only so much spell slot melting you can do to get your magic back.

I’m dancing... Happy? - You’ve got a really boring set of really normie skills... and if you’re playing Vex the way she’s meant to be played you’re probably not going to use any of them except for Intimidation.

Yup; the glass is half empty - Half your levels are Sorcerer levels, meaning you’re squishy. You’ve also got Mage Armor on which guess what: also means you’re squishy. People who hit teenagers sure are lame but it’s really not hard to Power Word Kill you.

But I guess you’re pretty cool overall. Shadow’s an alright partner and you can spread Ruination even without Viego. Trudge around and get people to frown for once. There’s nothing wrong with being sad, and there’s nothing wrong with wanting the world to be sad. But do try to at least be happy out of character, because we play games to have fun. I mean, who’d play a video game that just makes you depressed and angry?

(Artwork by @AzzylumArt on Twitter.)

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