#team ♤

[amiizuki]

it amuses me how RWBY Beyond was advertised as "see what was happening in Remnant during V9, while RWBYJ were in Ever After", and yet the 2nd episode out of 4 of the series is about what Jaune was doing after V9. yeah, he talks about stuff that happened during V9 (or, technically, before, since it's about events from when he was with Alyx and Lewis), but the whole thing still takes place post V9, with him telling all those stuff to Oscar.

and then there's the 1st episode, which, while indeed taking place during V9, is just comedy filler, that supposedly continues with detectives joke from RWBY Chibi (I never watched RWBY Chibi, I only heard from other people that that show also had Sun and Neptune act like detectives) with no actual relevant info about what was happening with Vacuo, or the Atlas and Mantle refugees, or how people and the ruler of Vacuo were handling a whole ass nation of people just suddenly dropping onto their doorstep, or anything like that. the only sort of plot relevant info was showing that Summer Maiden is in Vacuo, but then again, her identity was still hidden from us and Kerry quickly jumped off from that plot point as soon as it was introduced with his """hilarious""" "nuh-uh, no more new characters lmao XD" line.

this 2nd episode isn't really that bad, it's kinda alright, certainly better than the 1st one, but, again, when I read that the series will be about what people of Remnant, who aren't RWBYJ, were doing during V9, I kinda thought it'll be about Atlas and Mantle citizens trying to get used to their sudden new life in Vacuo, or Oscar/Ozpin talking to Theo and all 3 maidens to figure out what to do next, or, hell, maybe even focus on Tai's feelings on everything that happened, with him thinking if he did the right thing by letting Ruby and Yang leave, since now he doesn't even know if his daughters, his last remaining family, are even alive, assuming he knows about the fates of Vale, Atlas and Mistral. (yeah, Tai's still at his house I think, but the description did say that it's about "what was happening in Remnant", not just Vacuo. yeah, Vacuo is a more important location right now, with everything except Menagerie and Mistral literally getting nuked just so the writers wouldn't have to go back to those places, but then change the description to "see what was happening in Vacuo during V9" if your only gonna focus on that location).

but no – the 1st episode is basically useless (and also very unfunny, but that's just my opinion) and the 2nd one, while okay on its own, takes place after V9 and doesn't focus on other people of Remnant, focusing on Jaune instead.

if the next episode is gonna be about bumbleby going on a date in Vacuo and telling everyone about how they got together in Ever After I'm gonna eat my own chair

and if the last episode will be the only one with any actual plot relevance, useful into or big reveal I'm gonna eat another

[crybaby-writings]

thinking about team star meeting penny for the first time. like, "hasta la vistar cassiopeia, and hello penny", are you kidding me??? 😭

[roses-dreams-andthorns]

I had a headache but its okay because now I'm playing Sonic Team Racing and absolutely slaying

[peachdues]

IN THE NETHERWOOD

PART I

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just like his four other previous wives.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you being pursued?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

“Where did you get that cloak?”

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

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

“How do you mean?” 

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

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

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

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

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

----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Torches.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You scowled. “He is not my fiancé,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And the two of you set off into the Netherwood.

———

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

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

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

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

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

“No.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

The journey was taking longer than Sanemi originally believed.

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

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

You hadn’t meant to stumble across it. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he had. 

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

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

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

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

“You should be,” Sanemi answered. 

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

Sanemi swallowed hard. “Perhaps.” 

You took another step. “Recently?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Perhaps. I’m quite scary.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your name.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’d as good as doomed him. 

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

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

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

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

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

You’d grown up alongside it, after all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And Sanemi told you to run.

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

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

You had to. You would.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Alone. You were completely and utterly alone. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you kill them?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At least it had not been entirely flayed open. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And Sanemi noticed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You craved that feeling — craved him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was a sight to behold. 

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

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

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

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

You frowned. “Too close for what —“

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another amused chuff. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You balked at him. “A bite?” 

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

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

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

You gulped. “Would you have to transform?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was dangerous; it was thrilling.

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

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

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

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

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

—-

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

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

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

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

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

The thought made your stomach clench painfully.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sanemi hesitated.

“Wolf?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You still did.

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

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

Sanemi hesitated again. “Wolves only mark once.”

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

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

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

He’d put you first.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And apparently, he enjoyed playing with his food.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[raguiras]

TWST Olympics AU #1

Part 1: Heartshackle trio designs!

Reblogs are hella appreciated!! I'm likely shadowbanned 😭

As the Olympic Games are officially starting in a week, I decided to finally sketch some of the designs for my Twisted Wonderland Olympics AU! Next up are Riddle, Trey and Cater.

Everything about the AU below!

AU rules

Feel free to add your own OCs to this AU!

Fan content is obviously allowed! Just tag me in it, please.

AU summary

This is a magicless AU where all of the TWST characters are Olympic athletes in the real world. Some win medals, some barely qualify — but all of them live in the Olympic village. The students are aged up here (usually early to late twenties) while the faculty members have no set age and work as sports reporters.

♤ Character introductions ♤

ACE TRAPPOLA — A 21-year-old Italian prodigy basketball player. He's considered to be his team's ace (pun intended) and is great at tricking his opponents, making tons of baskets for the Italian team, and efficiently assisting his teammates.

DEUCE SPADE — A 21-year-old Japanese track and field athlete competing in various smaller disciplines falling under the "track and field" term. He's extremely average at most things other than sprints, often ends up in the bottom 3, and is secretly incredibly insecure about not being the best at anything.

ALLEN ALAGONA (YUU) — A 21-year-old Japanese-Italian gold-winning figure skater competing for his current home country, Ireland, along with his best friend and sports partner Alcestris. He gave up on his original dream — becoming a musician — and is now working hard to be the best male figure skater in the world, hoping to kickstart a career as a musician later on.

♤ Relationships ♤

ACE & DEUCE — Their friendship originally started when Ace posted a picture of himself watching a sprint competition while Deuce made a grimace in the background, causing the photo to go viral and become a meme. Deuce originally DMed Ace to take the picture down and got teased for it, but this teasing slowly developed into a friendship. While they get along well, Deuce is secretly a bit jealous of Ace for pretty much being a prodigy.

ACE & ALLEN (YUU) — Ace is a fan of Allen and views him as a fellow gold medalist. Being open-minded and "eager" to make new connections, Ace simply DMed Allen one day and the two became unlikely friends. Nowadays, Ace also functions as a matchmaker, being the only person to know just how much Deuce likes Allen...

DEUCE & ALLEN (YUU) — Deuce knows Allen as the most famous figure skater in the world and is absolutely stunned by both his appearance and humbleness. The two accidentally meet at a coffee shop during the games one day, decide to have a drink together, and strike up a conversation. Deuce is fanboying on the inside and trying to hide his surprise that Allen genuinely recognizes such an average athlete as him. Allen, however, already knows Deuce due to closely following all Japanese competitions, and has also noticed how incredibly ambitious Deuce is. Knowing Deuce's pain of carrying other people's hopes and never being the best at anything all too well from his teen years, Allen wants to get to know him better... and what starts off as mutual admiration and a celebrity crush on Deuce's side develops into full-blown love.

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

If this post/AU ends up being well-received, I'll introduce Riddle, Trey and Cater next!

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

More about the Deuce x Allen ship in the canon lore:

part 1 // part 2 // part 3

Friends who participated in the original AU development some months ago 🫶

@althea-and-alcestris @miss-atena @vanrouge13 @spookyavenuestreet @heyhellohihowareyou @nyx-of-night

[2-dsimp]

Hitman Team Ask:

Since they’re okay with it, what would it be like to peg Ossian and Yujin? ( separately since Ossian doesn’t like sharing Darling ).

Like would the boys be loud? Quiet? Or somewhere in between?

Do they “finish” when just being pegged or do they need more?

Questions, questions🤔

---☆ • ♧ • ♤ • ♧ • ☆ ---

𝙲𝚠: 𝙼𝙳𝙽𝙸 𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆! 𝙶𝙽 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛! 𝙿𝚎𝚐𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚈𝚞𝚓𝚒𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚝, 𝙾𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚊𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚋𝚘𝚢,

---☆ • ♧ • ♤ • ♧ • ☆ ---

🅾︎🆂🆂🅸🅰︎🅽 🆃🅷🅴 🆂🅽🅸🅿︎🅴🆁

---☆ • ♧ • ♤ • ♧ • ☆ ---

𝙾𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚊𝚗 𝚋𝚎 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚙𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜. 𝙷𝚎’𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚖𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚋 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚖. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚗𝚒𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚋𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚙𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚐𝚛𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚜𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑. 𝙰𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚐𝚛𝚒𝚙 𝚘𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢. 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚜𝚢 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚏 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚗. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚗 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚞𝚕𝚞𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚑𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚜 𝚓𝚎𝚛𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚌𝚔 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚜. 𝙵𝚘𝚛𝚌𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚛𝚒𝚙𝚜 𝚊 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚊𝚜𝚖 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚑𝚒𝚖. 𝙼𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚋 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚞𝚖 𝚜𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚞𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚕𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 ��𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚒𝚖.

---☆ • ♧ • ♤ • ♧ • ☆ ---

🆈🆄🅹🅸🅽 🆃🅷🅴 🅷🅰︎🅲🅺🅴🆁

---☆ • ♧ • ♤ • ♧ • ☆ ---

𝚈𝚞𝚓𝚒𝚗 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚊 𝚝𝚘𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚎𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚍. 𝙷𝚎’𝚍 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚘𝚗 𝚙𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚏𝚊𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚙𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚝 𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚖. 𝙷𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚢 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚙𝚎𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚕𝚎 𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚡. 𝙷𝚎’𝚜 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚟𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚜. 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚋𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝙰𝚜 𝚑𝚎’𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚒𝚣𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍, 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚌𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚢 𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚔𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚕𝚢 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚕𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚠𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚗 𝚋𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚜. 𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚢 𝚍𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜. 𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚜𝚕𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜. 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚎𝚟𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝙻𝚢𝚗𝚡 𝚑𝚢𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚜𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍.

[jiarkives]

julia’s favorites ! (iv)

♡ - fluff ; ♤ - angst ; ♕ - nsfw ; ☆ - series

jujutsu kaisen

☆ snapshot - gojo satoru

↳ @stsgluver-archive

♡♤ sincerity - geto suguru, gojo satoru (poly!)

↳ @justauthoring

♕ the best teacher - nanami kento

↳ @nanaslutt

♤♡ heaven’s fury - gojo satoru

↳ @chuluoyi

♕ drabble - gojo satoru

↳ @makismei

~

criminal minds

♕ spencer’s favourite meal - spencer reid

↳ @slightlypossessed

♡ aaron finds you putting jack to bed - aaron hotchner

♡ the bau team meets spencer’s secret girlfriend - spencer reid

↳ @claypgeons

♡ drabble - spencer reid

↳ @inkdrinkerworld

♡ mrs doctor reid - spencer reid

♡♤ “i don’t know anything about dinosaurs” - spencer reid

↳ @vivwritesfics

♡♤ safe - spencer reid

↳ @rynbutt

♡♤ cross my heart - spencer reid

↳ @januaryembrs

♡♤ bulletproof bonds - aaron hotchner

♤♡ through the years - aaron hotchner

♤♡ calming storms - aaron hotchner

↳ @thewulf

♡ the parentals - aaron hotchner ft. bau team

↳ @ssahotchnerr

♡ drabble - spencer reid

♡ drabble - aaron hotchner

↳ @luveline

♤ i need to be excused - aaron hotchner

↳ @ynscrazylife

♡ your relationship with hotch and the influence on his son, jack - aaron hotchner

↳ @ginkgo-phyta

♤ alive and breathing - spencer reid

↳ @zvdvdlvr

~

marvel

♤♡ the script - peter parker

↳ @waitimcomingtoo

♡♤ medusa - avengers

↳ @arlana-likes-to-write

~

marauders

♡♤ our baby has four feet? - regulus black, remus lupin (poly!)

♡ animagus!reader - james potter, remus lupin, sirius black (poly!)

♡ introducing their first child to the marauders - sirius black

♡ sirius’ arch nemesis - james potter, remus lupin, sirius black (poly!)

♡ what’s one more? - sirius black ft. marauders

♡♤ the winner takes it all (i) - james potter, remus lupin, sirius black (poly!)

♡♤ the loser has to fall (ii) - james potter, remus lupin, sirius black (poly!)

↳ @ellecdc

♡ uncle padfoot’s motorcycle - remus lupin ft. sirius black

↳ @empress-simps

♡ begin again - james potter

↳ @pretty-little-mind33

♤ the one with the blouse (i) - remus lupin, sirius black (poly!)

♤♡ the one with the blouse (ii) - remus lupin, sirius black (poly!)

↳ @super-clearlysaltybouquet

~

genshin impact

♤♡ scenarios - neuvillette, wriothesley, zhongli ft. pregnant!reader

♤♡ when you sleep on the couch after an argument - alhaitham

♡ lady ragnvindr and klee’s day out - diluc ragnvindr

↳ @lunargrapejuice

♡ mischievous streak - neuvillette ft. wriothesley

↳ @chastiefoul

~

call of duty

♤ the price of protection - john price

♤♡ lassie - john ‘soap’ mactavish

↳ @thewulf

~

top gun: maverick

♡♤ lost and found - jake ‘hangman’ seresin

♡ bumblebee - bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw

↳ @thewulf

~

shameless

♤ black and blue - lip gallagher

↳ @jesswriteswrongs

~

twilight

♡ forever yours - paul lahote

↳ @thewulf

♕ divider — @bunnysrph

[spidybaby]

SPIDYBABY MASTERLIST

♧ sensitive topic

♤ angst

♡ flufl

Kylian Mbappé

Not Important ♤

You get jealous at the new PSG intern and how much she's trying to get the attention of your boyfriend, but he makes sure you know he's all yours.

Be quiet, please ♡

Kylian got a little too drunk and decided to share some information he isn't supposed to.

Now you be quiet, please ♡

After the events of last night, Fayza chooses to make Kylian pay for his words.

She | part I

You can't put the pieces of a broken plate back together and expect it to be alright.

She | part II

A long talk and a match can be the start to a change between Kylian and you.

Tea Party ♤♡

All it takes for you to fix your problems is a tea party.

Gold Digger ♤

A lost item at the airport and a miscommunication can be the end of your relationship.

Gold Digger | Part Two ♤

A broken plate can't be fixed.

Gold Digger | Part Three (Ending) ♡

Feeling fearful and insecure about the future after a downfall is what kept you away.

Stressed ♤

When he's stressed and worried about work, that's the only thing on his mind.

I do... do I? ♤♡

The stress of planning a wedding makes you re-think everything.

Flowers ♡

Who would have thought some flowers can make that much drama.

The "A" Team ♡

Kylian needs your help to get out of an awkward situation.

Dull Shine ♤♧

The circumstances might have dulled the shine she had. Feeling empty even with his company.

Dull Shine | Part Two ♡♧

An advice and looking into the mirror makes Kylian understand why you left.

Mama's boy ♡♤

Kylian convinced himself that his mother liked you, but when she openly rejects you in front of him, he has to choose which side to be.

Blubs:

ONE

PEDRI

New Streets ♡

Trying to find your way into the streets of Barcelona by yourself for the first time is harder than you expected.

Family Night ♡

Homemade pizza and a uno game are the perfect combination if you want to meet your in laws.

Begin Again | Part one ♤

Secrets can't be held forever. Specifically, not the one you keep from him.

Begin Again | Part Two ♤

After your son was born, your friend made you realize how much you were wrong for hiding him from Pedro.

Begin Again | Part Three ♤

Back to the start to fix the broken pieces just to find that you can get what you always dreamed.

Begin Again | Part Four ♤

It's all about the hating, the loving and the healing... but in that order?

Begin Again | Part Five ♡

I've been spending the last few months thinking all love ever does is break, burn, and end, but when I look at you shining eyes, I watch it Begin Again.

B.A - Extra (one shot) ♡

Pedri takes Polo to a Father-Son day with the team.

Party Killer ♧

A girls' night gone wrong while your boyfriend is away.

Pedri the type ♡

A compilation of the type of boyfriend I think Pedri would be.

Baecation ♡

Your boyfriend family loves the way your relationship is, always taking care of each other.

The Tour (part II of Baecation) ♡

A glimpse of the little moment you share with your boyfriend while on Tour.

Golden Child ♤

You're Pablo's older sister. Even tho you don't have a good relationship, you help him during his injury and find yourself getting involved with Pedri.

Golden Child | Part Two ♤

Your brother finds out about your relationship with his best friend, while everyone learns the truth about your family..

Golden Child | Part Three ♡

As your relationship with Pedro progresses, the relationship you have with your brother is in a limbo.

Bad Kind of Butterflies ♤

Pedri let the insecurities of his friend become his own. Ruining his own relationship and friendship.

Bad Kind of Butterflies | Part Two ♡♤

Pedri regrets his actions and tries to get back to you.

Not The Romantic Type ♤♡

You tried to give him as many chances as you could. But when he keeps choosing other people over you, you are done.

NTRT | Part Two ♡♤

NTRT | Part Three ♡

Water girl ♡♤

The team doesn't know you're Xavi's daughter until Pedri and you begin a relationshp and everything comes to light.

Sad Beautiful Tragic ♤

Pedri is the picture-perfect boyfriend in front of the cameras and others, but not everything that shines is gold.

We Never Go Out Style ♡

Pedri agrees to let you be his stylist for the day and change his wardrobe for the better.

Blubs:

ONE

TWO

GAVI

Gavi the type ♡

A compilation of the type of boyfriend I think Gavi would be.

Our song ♡

Gavi surprise you after your win at the vmas.

Valentine's Day through the years ♡

A little late Valentine's Day gift from me to you

Forgive you, for what? ♤♡

After the release of your new song, people start to make rumors about your relationship, making Gavi feel uncomfortable. (Singer!Reader)

Footnote ♤

Love doesn't always go both ways

Footnote | Part Two ♤

After you close the chapter of him in your life, he will open your chapter to keep writing on it, hoping you would let him do it.

Footnote | Part Three ♤♡

After you moved out of Barcelona, you returned to find yourself again. Pablo finds out and wants to make amends with you.

Birthday Twin ♡

Pablo and you share your birthday date, and you two plan a surprise for each other.

Last updated: 08/12/24

[list0k]

----BIG UPDATE ON THE " LAСKADAISY" FAN GAME---

·‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥· ✦ As you can see, the games are still in development. However, it is worth noting that its development is carried out on a regular basis. It takes a lot of effort just to draw a few frames of animation or do some coding.

✦ But, we can safely say that during these few days of break we have managed: ╰┈➤ The first page of the game's main menu

╰┈➤ Write a couple of songs for the game ━━━━━━♡♤♡━━━━━━

━━━━━━♡♤♡━━━━━━ ╰┈➤ Draw a new mouse cursor separately

╰┈➤ Draw 3 models of buildings that are supposed to be in the game.

✦ We also have the following tasks that we want to do next:

╰┈➤ Make a model of the characters: Rocky, Ivy, and Freckles.

╰┈➤ Make a complete street with new characters.

╰┈➤ Add new heroes and render their models.

━━━━━━♡♤♡━━━━━━

━━━━━━♡♤♡━━━━━━

╰┈➤ Make a model of St. Louis.

╰┈➤ Make character sprites for dialog.

✦ As you can see, we still have a lot of work to do. Therefore, if you want to help us with the development, we will gladly take you to develop the game! If you can: draw and animate well, write compositions, do coding (game engine - Godot), then write me in private messages! We will be very happy to see more people in our little team!

·‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥·

[wandafiction]

You Stupid, Stupid Idiot

Warnings: Angst, Injury, death, No Happy Ending

“We have a mission.” 

It’s all Steve said as you and Natasha entered the kitchen, sleep still fresh in your eyes as you stand behind her with your arms wrapped around her waist, and your chin on her shoulder. You raise your brows at the man in his blue, white and red spandex who claps his hands a few times in front of the both of you and you shake your head quickly trying to wake yourself up as the reality of his words hit you.

“Wait a mission? But it's Sunday?” You groan, Natasha holds in a chuckle as Steve sends you a glare. 

“Yes, a mission like Hydra is going to take a day off. Everyone is coming so please go get yourself mission ready.” 

“Yes boss man.” You give him a fake salute as you drag yourself and Natasha back to your room to get changed into your mission gear. 

"What do you think the mission is? Steve seems pretty stressed." Natasha turns to you as you put the finishing touches on your suit.

"That man's always stressed, baby." Natasha chuckles, gently slapping your shoulder at your response.

"I'm serious dorogaya, he hardly stresses about missions and he said everyone is involved. Whatever it is, it must be serious." You turn to look at Natasha using your finger and thumb in her chin to tilt her head to look at you. 

"Steve is a stresser, but you're right it must be big for the whole team to be involved. So let's not keep them waiting." You lean down pressing a gentle kiss to her lips before tapping her butt earning a chuckle that breaks the kiss apart. "Let's go."

"Yes boss woman." Natasha gives you a fake salute smirking as she turns around and heads towards the door. 

"Oh you're gonna regret that." She squeals as you start to chase her out of the bedroom.

♤♡◇♧

"So everyone knows the plan?" Everyone looks at Steve from their seats in the quinjet all giving a small yes or thumbs up. "Good because we are five minutes out." 

“It's a quick in and out with hardly any agents, they think they are moving out of the base. Yeah right. So tell me now, miss romanoff, why do we need the whole team?” You ask quietly to the red-head sitting next to you, curling a brow at your question.

“He isn’t telling us something.” You nod at her response, both your eyes darting to the star-spangled man who is standing by the door of the jet, reading from the tablet in his hands.

“I wonder what it is he is hiding from us.” You look back to Natasha who is trying to get a read on the man, his body language showing he is hiding something by the way he shuffles on his feet, clearing his throat unnecessarily, looking around to make sure no one is looking over his shoulder.

“We could always ask Wanda.” You both look in the young Sokovian’s direction, the brunette looking down at her hands as she fiddles with her fingers as Vision does his best to calm her down, but his logical thinking makes that difficult. 

“She looks terrified.” Natasha states the obvious as you both take in the way Wanda’s complexion is rather pale, muttering to herself as she glances at Steve every now and again.

“She knows.” That’s all Natasha needs to hear from you to stand from her seat and make her way over to Wanda, kneeling down in front of the girl and placing a hand on her knee; you were quick to join sitting in the free seat next to her. Vision sees the look you give him, understanding enough to leave the three of you alone.

“What is he hiding?” Wanda looks at you and Nat wide eyed.

“I-I-I don’t know what you mean.” Natasha raises a brow and Wanda sighs knowing there is no use in lying. “Hydra managed to get one of Tony’s nanotech suits and are experimenting on it, him and Tony don’t know what to expect when we go in. They don’t think all of us will be coming home.”

“All of us always come home Wands, don’t worry about that. Just worry about fighting the bad guys and let Tony and Steve deal with whatever they are here for.” You wrap your arm around the younger girl's shoulder pulling her into a half embrace as Natasha squeezes her knees; the actions allowing Wanda to relax slightly.

“Okay, everyone, let's get this done.” The three of you look to Steve who is pressing the button to open the door and you are met by what seems to be an abandoned building, all of you cautiously make your way out of the jet. 

“I will see you in a minute.” You smile at Nat’s saying, turning your head to look down at her before leaving a soft kiss on her lips.

“I will see you in a minute.”

♤♡◇♧

“Y/n, shit! Stay with me.” You watch as Wanda slides onto her knees, almost colliding with your tired body that's slumped against a wall, her hands moving to cup your cheeks moving your head so you’re looking at her. “Hey, hey. You’re going to be fine okay. Let's get you out of here, back onto the jet and you and Nat can finally get married.”

“Wanda.” Your voice is weak, as a small amount of blood starts dribbling from the corner of your mouth.

“No, don’t you dare Wanda me. You and Nat are getting married next week, and I'll be damned if I don't help you get to that altar on time. So you keep your eyes on me, and I will get you out of here.” You don’t miss the tremble in her voice, the panic in her eyes, not believing her own words as she puts her finger to the coms in her ear. “Natasha, you need to get to the east side of the building, 3rd floor at the end of the corridor.”

“I’m a little busy with these Hydra goons right now Wanda, get Y/n to help you.” Wanda looks to the ceiling blinking away her tears, looking at you as you shake your head trying to stop her from saying what she is about to.

“I can’t, I need you here because it’s Y/n.” You hear the coms crackle in your own ear, the silence is deafening as you wait to hear a response.

“I’m on my way …  Cap?” 

“I got it, go.” Wanda looks back at you, using her free hand to wipe up the blood that is still leaving your mouth, and her eyes finally look down to the cause, taking her fingers off the com.

“I might be able to save you. I mean I’ve healed vision before, I should be able to heal you.” Her voice cracks with the emotion she is holding in, her hand moving down to your abdomen before brushing against the steel bar that you’ve become impaled on. 

“He is a literal walking microwave Wanda, wires and a powerful universe gem thing. This, this is something only a surgeon can fix.”

“So let's get you to doctor Cho, or Bruce. Yeah Bruce will know how to save you.” You shake your head, your bloodied hands grabbing a hold of Wanda’s frantically moving ones as she tries to come up with any ideas.

“Wanda, if we move me off this thing I’m dead.”

“And if you stay here, you’re dead.” The realisation seems to hit her and the tears start to flow down her cheek as she shakes her head in denial, her bottom lip quivering as she lets out a small no. “You can’t die, you and Nat are all I have left.”

“And you will still have Nat…” Before you can say anything else you feel another set of hands on your body and turn your head to see Natasha searching you up and down frantically, her panicked state not allowing her to see the obvious.

“Come on, up.” She says like she is talking to a child who is screaming and crying over simply having tripped over their own feet.

“I can’t.” You cough, a splatter of blood leaving your mouth, marking Wanda’s clothes and the floor. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise, nothing a little seltzer water and lemon can’t fix." You chuckle before coughing, Wanda using her sleeve to clean the fresh blood. 

"Sure thing Wands, that should work." Wanda gives you a pressed lip smile, trying her best not to completely break down in front of you. 

"What happened?" Natasha's soft voice causes you and Wanda to turn back to look at her, you wincing when the metal bar shifts slightly with your movement and you notice Natasha's eyes glued to the sight of it. 

"I was trying to get into the archive room and grab the blue prints and the plans and any intel I could. I didn't notice someone sneaking up behind me and Y/n jumped between me and him as he shot off his weapon. It was like Stark's blasters but in gun form and her shields weren't enough to stop her flying across the room." Wanda rambles desperately trying to make sure you don't die on her as she speaks.

"Where is he?" You see the flash of the old Natasha, the bloodthirsty assassin, as her voice drops an octave. 

"Dead." You weakly lift your hand to her cheek, rubbing soft circles along her cheekbone with your thumb and see the look that was there one second disappear at your words. 

"I may or may not have thrown him from the window." Wanda says shyly, earning a small chuckle from you and Natasha. "And yes I checked the body Nat, I couldn't let him get away with this."

"Nat what's your status?" The coms crackle once again in your ear at Steve's voice. "We are all done here, the three of you need to get back to the jet. We can't risk reinforcements coming."

"Steve." You hate the way Natasha's voice wavers, her normally strong but soothing voice gone and in its place a broken croak that once again silences the coms. 

"How long do you need?" Tony's voice is next and at his question Natasha looks at you, the color slowly draining from your face as more blood is coughed up by you; Wanda once again wiping your face clean of it. 

"I don't … I don't know, but just …. Please just wait for us." Natasha swallows harshly as she watches Wanda sandwich one of your hands between the both of hers. 

"Maximoff?" Tony seems to be taking over the command, which doesn't surprise you as Steve was never very good when it came to the death of someone he knew. You could imagine him sitting in his seat with his head in his hands as Bucky tries to comfort him.

"Yeah." You and Wanda both reply at the same time, earning a small chuckle down the coms.

"The older, not so good looking Maximoff." You can hear the smirk on Tony's face and you chuckle but wince in pain as the bar shifts again as your body slumps more as you struggle to keep yourself up.

"Rude." Is all you say but smile as you hear the chuckles of the other teammates and the two people in front of you. "I'm only 27, not that much older."

"That's 7 years sestra. Quite the age gap." You move to hit her, but a strong pair of hands on your shoulders stops you from moving and you give Nat a questioning look.

"The metal, don't move." You scrunch your brows as you follow her eyes and gasp when you see the metal poking out of your abdomen covered in blood.

"How did that get there?" You goofily smile as you move your free hand to the bar, your fingers poking the end. "And whose blood is that?"

"Nat…" You look back to Wanda, whose eyes are filled with fresh tears as she watches the delirium from the loss of blood take over. 

"Why are you crying Wands? Did someone die? Who died?" One of Wanda's hands moves to wipe her tears as Natasha takes your other hand in hers. 

"No one yet sestra. No one, I'm just happy to see you." You scrunch your brows.

"Well that's silly because we see each other everyday. So who's gonna die if no one has died." Wanda's bottom lip quivers her eyes saying it all and your head drops down to look back at the metal bar, as everything seems to hit you at once the delirium no more as it's wiped out by the reality you are in. "Oh."

"I love you." Your head moves to look at Natasha, a wide smile on her face as she sees you practically melt at the words. 

"I love you too Tasha. I'm sorry, but I don't think I'm going to make it to the altar." Natasha lets out a small sob, turning her head to look away from you as she tries to compose herself. 

"Hey Y/n." You hum, your head flopping to the side slightly as you look at Wanda, forcing your eyes to stay open. "When you see Pietro, tell him I said hi and that he needs to behave until I get there. I don't want to get to the afterlife and see you've murdered our brother because he was annoying you."

You let out a small laugh, no longer feeling the pain as the metal bar shifts your eyes nearly closed as your breathing slows down. You can feel that the inevitable is coming and there is nothing anyone can do, but you know you have to fight until your last breath so you force your head up leaning the back of it against the wall. Clearing your throat and opening your eyes as much as you can to see the two women in front of you, tears staining their cheeks as they hold your hands up theirs. 

"I promise not to kill Peitro, that's your job. He is your twin after all." Wanda nods with a laugh leaning forward to press a kiss to your forehead before leaning her own against yours. "Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone, and look after Nat for me. She is going to need you more now than ever."

"I promise." You gently rub your forehead against Wanda’s, something you have done since you were kids as your way to make a promise instead of making a pinky promise. 

"And you, my love, you look after my sister. You are both going to need each other." You swallow harshly, feeling your eyes starting to get heavy, unable to keep them open as you feel your throat dry, slapping your lips together and leaning into the touch on your cheek as Natasha places her hand on it. 

"I love you dorogaya." You smile weakly, your eyes staying closed as you take a shaky breath trying to use the last of your energy for her. 

"I love … love …y-y-ou too." Natasha feels your head fall more into her hand, your chest not rising as the last of your breath leaves your body as you allow the darkness and the inevitable consume you. 

"Natasha." Natasha clears her throat at the sound of Tony’s voice, placing her finger on her coms. 

"We are on our way." That's all she says as she moves closer to your body, wrapping one arm under your legs and the other around your back slowly pulling you off of the metal bar. 

Wanda keeps your hand in hers as she stands with Natasha, the both of them walking in silence. The only sounds that can be heard are the soft cries of the young Sokovian and the two women's footsteps in the cold snow as they step outside and towards the quinjet. 

They ignore the looks of sympathy from Tony and Steve, stopping themselves from saying anything as they spot Wanda's glare; her eyes glowing red. They both look away from two women who are cradling your body as they sit down, Natasha running her hand through your hair as your head lays in her lap. Wanda still has not let go of your hand, feeling that if she does it will make it all too real and she can't say goodbye to another sibling. Wanda looks at you shaking her head as her mind flashes memories of watching you fly into the wall as you save her life and she can only think of saying one thing to you now that you can't hear her.

"You stupid, stupid idiot."

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

[laterosal]

♤ Blind Heat | Chigiri Hyoma x Reader

▽ featuring: chigiri hyoma x fem reader … no repost on any platforms © laterosal 2024 … a female track student who jokingly confesses to (shitty? personality) chigiri … word count: 3.4k

��� AO3 | one-shot

Sprint race, straightaway. 100 meters… Your eyes wandered down your lane. Lane 5.

“On your marks!”

You stretched out your arms, your long, wavy hair tied into a high ponytail. Another day, another run with the wind. Your spikes dug into the synthetic rubber, and you positioned yourself in the starter position on the starting blocks.

“Set!”

Your eyes are full of a fiery passion as you pull into a complete set position, with your teammates next to you. You held in your breath—

As the gun went off, you felt a sense of rush in your head, a thought to reach the end. Your legs were burning by the 50-meter mark—Were you wanting an extra boost to the end..?

You felt your steps falter, a realization that most of your teammates were in front of you now. A final push, and you made it to the end.

“15.39, L/N.” Your coach nodded as he clicked a button on the stopwatch. Your breathing grew sporadic as you stood in front of your coach, trying to catch your breath. “Consistent timing, though. Not bad.”

“Thank you.” First year in high school, and for practice, you were put in Varsity with the other girls who have trained for two-three years. Not many female students enjoyed Track and Field, after all, since most of the students only joined due to their talent or passion. For you, the latter.

“Nice job, Y/N-kun. You’ve improved since the first practice.” Your friend, Nori Ayaka, the captain of the Girls Track and Field team, fist-bumped you. “You just need a final push at the end. Overall, your form was great, so no need to worry about that.” She gave you a warm smile.

“Thank you, thank you.” You inhaled a deep breath, turning to the stands in the school stadium. “Oh—Who’s that?” You pointed at a boy wearing your school uniform with reddish-pink neck-length hair, with crutches laying on the stands next to him.

“Ah. You don’t know anything about the football people, hm? That’s Chigiri Hyoma—pretty cocky on the field, until he tore his ACL recently.” You cringed at the mention of an injury, since you often thought how an injury could ruin your life, your career on the track as well…

“Is he alright?” Ayaka stared blankly at you when she heard you murmur the words.

“What’s that about?”

“He looks…” You scrunch your eyebrows together. Sad. That didn’t seem like it fit his aura—his eyes that looked like his sole purpose of life was gone. “Defeated.” You nodded slightly, thinking that the word best suited Hyoma Chigiri’s spiraling emotions.

“I guess. I mean, yeah.” Ayaka shrugged knowingly. “It’s like for us; if you tore your ACL, it would be more difficult…” To continue your life on the track. “I pity him, honestly.” Your friend sighed dramatically. “Enough with this sad talk. Go finish up your cooldown with the others, and you can head out after. See you tomorrow, Y/N.”

“‘Morrow,” you murmured. “Ayaka-kun.”

You finished up your cooldown workout with the other girls, ending practice with a fistbump between each other. You turned your head around, noticing Hyoma Chigiri still on the stands, his eyes peering at each one of you guys. You made your way to the stands, plopping next to him, a towel wrapped around your neck as you brushed off the sweat still dripping down your face.

“Hey. You’re Hyoma-san, right?” You cocked your head to the left as he noticed you next to him. His dull, magenta eyes were visibly annoyed, as if he didn’t want to hear any more words coming out of you. You suppressed a sigh, knowing that it would be difficult to talk to Chigiri Hyoma.

“Are you also here to dramatize how my talent is wasted? Save yourself a breath.” Chigiri hissed angrily. You sat up straighter, your interest piqued.

“‘Also?’ Hyoma-san, are you being bu—” He shoved his hand on your mouth.

“Don’t. And I don’t need another one of you guys pitying me.” He released his hand on your mouth.

“I wasn’t even going to bring up your football career. Not that I even know anything about that.” You murmured as you saw Chigiri going for the crutches.

“Then what?” He stared at you intently. “I’m sorry, I’m not interested in being in a relationship with you.” Chigiri Hyoma huffed. “So? What else do you need, if you still aren’t budging?”

A smile tugged on your lips. “Well, I was going to ask you why you were so interested in sitting here on the stands alone.” You shrugged. “And you’ve been here for a while, since most likely before my last 100-meter dash practice to after practice.”

He frowned, his magenta eyes dimming.

“I have my reasons.” He dragged a hand along his face. “And stop bothering me.”

“If you didn’t want to be bothered, you didn’t have to say anything to me in the first place.” You retorted. You winced at the slight sharpness in your voice. “Sorry.”

He clicked his tongue, before half-heartedly waving at you.

“Later.”

He maneuvered down the stands with his crutches, and you were tempted to help him. Though, you assumed that Chigiri Hyoma would most likely refuse your assistance and call you bothersome again.

The rest of the day passed by smoothly as you rushed back home, stepping into the shower to feel the warm water trail down your skin. Chigiri Hyoma… He seemed like a pretty blunt kid. Even after you tugged on your pajamas and stuffed your dinner into your mouth, as you shut off the lamp light to go to sleep, you still thought of his words. “I’m sorry, I’m not interested in being in a relationship with you.” You kick your feet under the bed cover as you giggle yet again. He thought you were going to confess to him.

“I’m surprised you’re here in the library. You don’t seem like the type of studious person.” You grinned at Chigiri Hyoma. “Is this seat empty?”

“Rejected. Stop bothering me, dumbass.” Chigiri Hyoma didn’t even look up from the book he was reading from. He flipped to the next page, not bothering to look at you. His crutches seemed to have disappeared, too, as you noticed that nothing laid beside him.

Your mouth dropped as he called you a dumbass.

“‘Dumbass.’ Dumbass? Excuse me? And do you think I’m even trying to confess to you?” You feigned being shocked. “Oh, maybe I should pretend I’m confessing to you. Oh, my, Chigiri. Can I, like, have your phone number? You’re so cute~” You mimed gagging. “Bleh. You’re not even my type.”

Chigiri frowned as he closed his book shut. You heard him murmur for a second.

“... a first.”

You grinned at him again.

“Well, then I’ll stop. You continue on with reading your book, Prince Panther.”

He scowled as he heard the nickname, then swiveled to you, getting a better glance at you. You had your hair up in a bun; on one side, some strands that you braided were carefully tucked behind your ear.

“I’ll confess to you another day, then.” Your grin was more wide this time, full of mischief. “I’ll just continue bothering you, Prince Panther.”

“I hope that was a joke, dumbass.” He returned to his now-shut book, a loud sigh escaping his mouth.

“Okay, okay. See you later on the track, maybe?” You leaned in more forward to see what Chigiri Hyoma was reading. You crinkle your nose as you see unfamiliar—foreign words on the pages. “English? What the… English freak, Prince Panther.” You rolled your eyes as you slung your backpack on one of your shoulders again, heading out of the library. Behind you, Chigiri Hyoma looked up from his book and stared at you again. A dumbass who didn’t even look at Chigiri Hyoma romantically. A first, really. His heart fluttered as he saw your figure disappear into the crowded hallways.

A daily routine turned into a weekly, then monthly routine. Everyday after school, you would catch Chigiri Hyoma staring at you as you tried your best to improve your 100-meter times. After practice, you would tease him relentlessly and pretend you were trying to confess to him again. He would roll his eyes, tell you that you were a dumbass, and the day ended there. You noticed that instead of being so blunt like the first time you’ve met him, he seemed to speak a little more gently towards you. Although sometimes, you would let him know the day before about another track meet—so there were days you and him never met up together.

Now, it was almost summertime, the heat finally catching up to you as you trudged to school early in the morning.

“Mornin’, Ayaka.” You waved at her as you lifted up your droopy head. “It’s too hot, and I just want to jump into the swimming pool…”

Ayaka burst into laughter.

“At least the track season ended yesterday, yeah?” Ayaka folded her arms as you both walked into the school. “No more running under that demonic Sun trying to kill us. The heat, really, is unbearable.” She fanned herself with her hand to cool down.

You stared dead into her eyes.

“What? Track season ended? I thought we still had practice…” You blinked in confusion.

“You really weren’t listening yesterday, hm? I can probably tell you why.” Ayaka’s eyes twinkled in mischief.

“Oh, yeah? Why might that be? Is it because of summer? Or am I just really, really exhausted… Oh, it’s the heat. The heat is catching up to me. For sure.”

“Neither, actually. You can be so clueless sometimes, Y/N-kun.” Ayaka’s smirk creeped up her face. “You’re always so bright and full of energy every time Coach announces that practice is over. Actually, I take that back. The heat, to some degree, is catching up to you.”

“Huh?” You scratched your head. “Wait, so I wasn’t listening to Coach because I was so excited that practice would end? And what ‘heat, to some degree?’”

Ayaka rolled her eyes.

“Uh-sure, I—” Ayaka started.

“Wake up, dumbass.” Chigiri gently smacked your shoulder, then walked right past you to his homeroom class.

“Oh—Hey.” You saw Chigiri strolling past you, his reddish hair now halfway to shoulder-length.

“Speaking of the devil…” Ayaka’s grin grew wider and wider. “Man, you two have really gotten closer than ever. You’re probably his only friend in the school, you know.”

“Huh? He doesn’t have any friends from football?” You snapped your head up.

“Do you guys not text and talk about these things?”

“I… didn’t even ask him for his phone number.” You cackled as you realized that your past interactions all started because you were “pretending to flirt and confess” to Chigiri Hyoma.

“Pfft—” Ayaka raised her eyebrows knowingly. “Oh well. I mean, no, I guess, since he being the cocky bastard from before—Well, you know. Most people looked up to him and envied his talent but didn’t want to be friends with such a blunt person.”

“Oh. I didn’t…”

“Oh well. He looks a lot happier when he’s around you, you know that?” Ayaka sighed dreamily. “I’m envious of you, Y/N-kun.”

You smacked her head playfully.

“That’s enough teasing me, Ayaka-kun.” Your face was blushed, the tips of your ears reddening. “Plus, he doesn’t even like me.”

“Uh, uh. And now you’re really, really—”

“No more teasing me, Ayaka-kun.”

Both of you walked to your separate homeroom classes, waving at each other with Ayaka casually mouthing: “I’ll root for you no matter what, Y/N!”

You rolled your eyes and swatted in the air as if physically dismissing her words.

His phone number… His phone number….

During lunch, you found Chigiri Hyoma yet again immersed in another English book. His reddish hair was easily spotted in the library, and you casually slid into the seat next to him.

“So, Hyoma-san—Your phone number, please.” You batted your eyelashes at him, who still continued reading. “Hyoma-san, your phone number!”

“I don’t know if this is another half-assed attempt on your joke-flirting or not anymore.” Chigiri scrunched his eyebrows together. “So? Rejected, for every joke-confession that you have ever uttered to me…”

“Wait.” You paused suddenly, staring at Chigiri blankly. “What did you just say?” Your mouth dropped open as you processed his words.

“That I’m going to reject each and every joke-confession you’re going to..?” You grinned at him as you mouthed: “That was not a confession.”

His face flushed, and he put the back of his hand to his face.

“You thought that was meant to be another confession? No, I was genuinely asking you. Plus, what do you think will happen if I actually confessed to you?” You smiled at him, batting your eyelashes.

“Then I’ll drop you.” You groaned as he returned to his book.

“You’re no fun, Hyoma-san.”

“Neither are you. Let me continue on with reading, since you disrupt me every lunch period to bug me.”

“Whatever.” You left the library with a silly grin on your face. What if you confessed to Chigiri Hyoma, someone with the shittiest personality?

“Were you waiting for someone?” You tip-toed to get a better glance at Chigiri Hyoma. “You don’t seem like the type to wait for anyone.”

“And you don’t seem like the type to question everything I do.” Chigiri Hyoma rolled his eyes. “But you are, and you do.” The end bell had just rung, and you were tempted to run back home to get started on the anime and k-dramas you wanted to binge-watch, with microwaved popcorn and blankets surrounding you in a cozy environment. Chigiri Hyoma stood in front of the school gates, folding his arms as he noticed you with the same mischievous grin.

“Who were you waiting for?”

“You. Who else, dumbass?” Chigiri Hyoma frowned as you cocked your head to one side.

“What, are you here to bring me on a date~” You teased Chigiri Hyoma.

“Yeah.” You choked on your spit as you stared at him in shock. You froze in your step, widening your eyes.

“Okay then, date it is. Where are we going?”

“My house.” You coughed some more, inhaling a fresh breath in.

“Are you just casually inviting me to your house?” You smacked him in the shoulder, leaning against his arm. He walked a few steps, hesitated, then reached for your hand nearest to his—locking them together. You didn’t breathe the whole way you walked to Chigiri Hyoma’s house, with you nervously padding on the sidewalk. “My house…” His house… Your palms felt sweaty as you arrived at his house, hearing a cheerful voice from inside the house.

“Ma, Hyoma-chan is back! Oh, and with a pretty girl, too!” A girl, with the same reddish hair below her shoulders, smiled warmly at you. “Hyoma, is this your girlfriend?”

“Stop it, nee-san,” Chigiri Hyoma’s face was flushed when his sister teased him. “She’s just a friend.”

Your step faltered as you followed behind him. Just a friend? You suppressed a sigh, staring at his flowy hair. You seemed to want more, even after all those joke-confessions. Maybe… you didn’t just want to confess to him jokingly.

“Y/N, are you alright?” You snapped your head up as Chigiri Hyoma his hand up to your forehead. “You don’t seem to have a fever… or anything.” He stared at you intently.

“I’m alright, really.” You forced a smile, the familiar eccedentesiastical manners you often showed to strangers in the school hallways. She’s just a friend. Boundaries, Y/N. Boundaries.

“Okay.” He linked his hands with yours. “Come on in. Ma made some food—and some extra, since you’ll be our guest.”

“Ah, no, it’s alright. I don’t want to disrupt—”

“Don’t be shy now, Y/N.” You snorted and finally accepted his invitation to eat dinner with his family.

The food Chigiri Hyoma’s mother made was delish—the warm miso soup and sushi she had made by hand—followed by karinto manju for dessert. Chigiri Hyoma’s eyes lit up like a child receiving a Christmas gift when he saw the plate of karinto manju on the dining table as his mother asked us all to dig in.

“Thank you for the dinner, Mrs. Chigiri.” You smiled at her after stuffing a karinto manju into your mouth, then adding: “Oh, I’ll help with the dishes.”

“No-no-no,” Mrs. Chigiri shook her head. “Hyoma, take care of Y/N. Oh, that is your name, right?” You nodded. “No need for cleaning up. You’re our guest, after all.” Mrs. Chigiri leaned in close to you. “Plus, it’s been a while since I’ve seen Chigiri Hyoma make new friends and invite them over. He seems really happy now, with you here.”

After some waving off from his mother, you finally gave in and followed Chigiri Hyoma to his room. Happy… with you here.

“You’re persistent, huh.” Chigiri Hyoma raised his eyebrows at you. “Though I’m glad you’re willing to help.”

You shrugged, taking a look at Chigiri Hyoma’s room. Everything was organized, as even the blankets were folded neatly on the bed. The window blinds were slightly tilted downwards, the sunlight seeping into the dark bedroom.

“I’m used to doing things alone, anyway.”

“Oh.” He sat on the ground, leaning against the side of his bed. “Here, sit down next to me.”

You hugged your knees to your chest as you stared at his eyes full of energy, contrasting the eyes you noticed when you first met him. You instinctively reached for his hair, then started braiding it. He didn’t seem to mind; rather, he stared at you as you continued on with your intricate work of weaving strands of hair together.

“Would you ever get into a relationship?” You murmured as you unclipped a hair clip from your hair to clip his braid together. “Aw, look at you.”

He snorted as he touched his hair gingerly, as if viewing a valuable work of art.

“Maybe… someday.”

“I see. Waiting for the perfect girl, yeah?” A smile tugged on your lips as your eyes were laced with pain.

“... clueless.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re a dumbass, that’s all.”

“What would someone say as a confession… for you to accept?” You asked quietly, fidgeting with the loose strands.

“Who cares about that?” Chigiri Hyoma drew his eyebrows together as if annoyed. “I mean, it doesn’t even matter what words they use to confess.”

“Okay. Even if the confession sounds far-fetched?”

Chigiri Hyoma shrugged, responding with: “Sure, I guess.”

“I… like you, Hyoma-san.” Blush crawled onto your face as you averted your eyes, fidgeting with your hands while feeling your heart pound against your chest. Done. And that’s all. You shut your eyes together, bracing for the worst.

You felt his hand slip under your chin, lifting your head higher.

“May I?”

Your eyes met, his soft pink eyes that gazed at your lips, a desire for a gentle kiss. You nodded gently as he leaned forward, caressing your flushed cheeks, then pressed his lips firmly against yours. Surprised, you pulled away, feeling the soft breaths between you two. The electricity of the kiss sent a shiver down your spine as his eyes longed for more.

“Waiting for the perfect girl?‘” His voice softened. “It’s you, Y/N. I already know it’s you.”

“How would you not think that my confession was a joke?” You murmured as you leaned against his shoulder in the bedroom, closing your eyes shut.

“Because… you’re you. And you never directly confessed to me like that.” He put his hand over yours as you fidgeted with your clothing. “Your eyes tell me a lot, too.” You pop open your eyes, staring at his grin. “You always seem full of energy every time you leave practice, too.”

“Oh, Ayaka also mentioned that.” Your thoughts wandered to when both you and Ayaka were walking into school, talking about Chigiri Hyoma.

“It’s not unnoticeable. Your feelings, I mean.” Chigiri Hyoma chuckled as he kissed your forehead, your cheeks heating up.

“Then why did you tell your sister that I was just a friend?” Your voice tightened as you fiddled with his hand, eyes wandering up the walls as if viewing a beautiful artwork.

He hesitated to answer.

“You’re not. I just didn’t want my sister to tease me any further. She’s… very observational.”

“So she knew you liked me?”

“Yeah. Did you not?” He stared at you in surprise, his dark pink eyes twinkling in the shadows of the bedroom. “I thought…”

“Maybe I am a dumbass, then.”

“Then, dumbass, do you want to go on a date with me tomorrow?”

[everalii]

Random Hogwarts Legacy Boys Headcannons

Just bc I wanted! I'll post one for the girls later

♤ Sebastian Sallow ♤

• doesn't play quidditch, but was very good at it, much to Imelda's dismay. She fought hard to blackmail convince him to join the team, with no success;

• Is a night owl by heart, and if it wasn't for Ominis at Hogwarts, and Anne at home, he would lose much of the morning. However, feels he lost the day if he wakes up around midday;

• Has an expansion charm on his trousers pockets, makes it easier to smuggle some books from the restricted section;

• He'll never admit his feelings for MC, but still didn't realized his feelings for her are way too explicit. He can't shut up about how brilliant she is, Ominis can't stand to another night of his rambles about her. MC and Sebastian are clearly the only ones oblivious to his feelings;

• He and Solomon had a good relationship before he went to Hogwarts. His uncle taught him fishing and gardening, and that it a very fond memory for him. Another reason of why he resents his uncle so much;

• Hates the fact he is the spitting image of his father. Despite having a good relationship with his uncle before, Sebastian truly believes that his uncanny resemblance of this father is one of the reasons his uncle can't stand him;

• Is a fiery Sagittarius, his birthday is on december 14th.

♤ Ominis Gaunt ♤

• Plays piano like a god, almost like the keys are an extension of him. He pours his soul when playing, and makes everyone fall in love with his skill;

• His mother is desperately trying to stay close to him, sending many letters, begging to professor Black to ask Ominis to talk to her. But he couldn't forgive her for forcing him to torture muggles, and she's not sorry for it;

• Is hopelessly in love with Poppy, but doesn't know how to even start a conversation. Sebastian finds out and they make a bet on who will marry first (remember this is 1890-1900);

• Despises crowded spaces for obvious reasons, he can't distinguish the sounds and he gets dizzy, might even throw up. Someone must save this boy and bring him to somewhere peaceful, please;

• Is a romantic by nature. You may think Sebastian is flirtatious, but Ominis' simply a natural! The first date with Poppy, arranged by MC, ended with "It is much of a regret not being able to admire your face right now" Poppy turned red as phoenix feather;

• Has a sweettooth. You'll find him in the kitchens stealing cakes and candies, and he always have one in his pockets for when he gets anxious or overwhelmed;

• Is a lovely Gemini, born in May 30th.

◇ Garreth Weasley ◇

• His love for potioncrafting begun when his mother fell ill, and a St Mungus' potionist crafted a potion for her in front of Garreth. When his mother recovered, he knew that was exactly what he want to work with;

• Is a social butterfly, and is on for any gossip you may hear. Him and Cressida always have the hottest gossips;

• One may think that professor Weasley favours her nephew, but is quite the contrary. She demands and exceptional behavior from him, and grounds him for literally anything. But he loves his aunt very much;

• Adores to sing, but is very keen about it. His Gryffindor friends always get him drunk enough to sing. Garreth is the life of the parties;

• Is very aware of the uncanny resemblance with Sebastian, and boy they do take advantage of it. Isn't uncommon for them to trade school uniforms and transfigure their haircolor to avoid detention or enter locked spaces such as the restricted section or Sharp's office. Garreth even saved Sebastian's pittyisome grades in Potions once, and ever since, professor Sharp begun suspecting;

• Secretly fancies Anne, and may Merlin forbid anyone to discover. Was very preoccupied when she didn't showed up in the 5th year, asked his aunt casually and he's trying to figure it out some potion that might cure her curse;

• The boy is a proud Pisces, born on april 3rd.

◇ Leander Prewett ◇

• Oh, he's a bullied bully. Being the 4th son of the Prewett family, he tried to find a way to get attention, and unfortunately, it wasn't the best way. But he has a good heart, trust me;

• And he's trying! He's not an excelled student, but he tries very hard, he just haven't found what really makes him shine;

• Was once very close to Amit, but in his quest to become popular, being friends with the boy obsessed with the stars stained his record (in his mind, because no one actually cared). Amit was very sad for their strained friendship;

• Is incredible at linguistics, the boy can speak any language possible, and secretly loves to study foreign languages. Professor Ronen always praises him for his perfect pronunciation in Charms;

• His older brother is his greatest inspiration, as a very famous auror working abroad in France. Leander trully wants to excel in every subject that will make him a great auror, just like his brother;

• He did apologized to Zenobia for his bullying in his 7th year. Little did he know that she found that way too adorable for her own sake and pride;

• He despises astrology, as the good Aquarian he is. Leander was born in february 9th.

◇ Lucan Brattleby ◇

• the mind behind Crossed Wands is a highly skilled duelist. Before MCs arrival, he and Sebastian held the second and first place respectively. Their rivalry and friendship was well admired;

• His greatest dream is to become the head of the auror department, just like his grandfather once was. He thinks that he will eventually fight with Sebastian for that post, little did he knew that his friend is not interested in the auror career;

• Oh, if Sophronia knew how much he fancies her... He's the only one that truly listen to her trivia for hours. Lucan actually studies for her quiz, only to make her proud of him;

• Is definitely Professor Hecats favourite in his year. She decided to tutor him by the end of the 6th year;

• Loves creatures, you can see him petting the Puffskeins and Kneazzles in Creature's;

• Here comes another problem for Madam Scribner... Out of the 5 times he broke in the restricted section, she caught him twice. "I was just looking for a book about offensive spells", she swears she heard that before...;

• This is one a spicy Scorpio, born in october 30th

♧ Amit Takhar ♧

• We know he's interested in gobledegook, but after Lodgok, he never touched a book of the language. Poor thing;

• Much yo Everett's dismay, Amit owns a broom! And he's a very good flier, despite his insecurity. MC and Everett are helping him to trust his own skills;

• Still misses Leander very much, but wouldn't accept his apologies, he's very proud and knows how to stand his ground when needed;

• Amit's family came from India during the Regency Era, and he visited the country a couple of times. He's not very fond of the heat, but the night sky stole his heart, the many stars he has never seen... Breathtaking!;

• He follows rules, but breaks into the Astronomy Tower way too many times for professor Shah liking. However, she was very torn to send him to detention or not. She did, twice, to make him learn to follow the rules. Needless to say it didn't work until she threatened to lock him away from the astronomy tower;

• Loves to watch quidditch matches. He considered the tryouts for the Ravenclaw team, but he was way too scared of the bludgers (and I totally agree with him);

• He's a sweet capricorn, born in January 16th

♧ Everett Clopton ♧

• The best flier in the school, sorry Imelda. But since he doesn't own a broom of his own, he never got the chance to beat the Slytherin captain;

• Professor Kogawa pity him, and considered gifting him anonymously with a broom, but she's too correct. If he gets a broom, she must give one to every child in the school!;

• Is a prankster by nature, but can be cruel sometimes. Teamed up with Ominis once to lock Duncan in the Puffskein cage. A very gruesome friendship between him and the Slytherin was formed that day;

• He's an incredible artist as well, every single one of his parchment is covered with drawings. The professors tend to scold him for it, but secretly adores to see his drawings thriving. Professor Weasley encourages him to keep with the hobby;

• Was the first to perfectly cast a corporeus Patronum in DADA during the 6th year, besting Sebastian and MC. His Patronus is a deer. (SORRY, he's my Hogwarts Legacy version of James);

• Still tries to get Imelda off her tracks with his pranks and teasing, and she loses every time. He loves to have her attention, and understood why close to their graduation. Officially started courting her a few months after Hogwarts;

• Another Sagittarius, but this one was born in december 2nd.

Another boy to make headcannons? Lemme know :)

And sorry for any mispronunciation, english is not my first language

[natashasdetka]

Team Black Masterlist

main masterlist // faq & rules

♤ — angst | ♡ — fluff | ◇ — smut | ♧ — suggestive themes | ꩜ — dark | ☆ — recent

please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work. reblogs, likes, and comments are always welcome. i do not own any of the characters.

✧ Lovestruck Rhaenyra (Incorrect Quote)

✧  Modern!Rhaenyra (Incorrect Quote)

✧  Being Daemyra's Daughter (Incorrect Quote)

✧  Modern!Young Rhaenyra Inviting Closeted!Young Alicent (Incorrect Quote) ♤

✧  Drunk!Y/N Crying About Rhaenyra (Incorrect Quote)

✧  Modern!Rhaenyra Teasing Y/N (Incorrect Quote)

✧  Rhaenyra Roasting Overconfident!Daemon (Incorrect Quote)

✧  Modern!Rhaenyra Trying to Flirt with Oblivious!Y/N (Incorrect Quote) ♧

✧  Modern!Rhaenyra & Easily Flustered!Y/N (Incorrect Quote) ♧

✧  Rhaenyra Suggesting Something to Y/N (Incorrect Quote) ♧

✧  Modern!Young Rhaenyra and Alicent (Incorrect Quote) ♧

✧  Dark Orphan Jokes with Modern!Rhaenyra (Incorrect Quote) ꩜

✧  Random Questions from Modern!Rhaenyra (Incorrect Quote)

✧  Being Modern!Rhaenyra's Bottom (Incorrect Quote) ♧

✧  Being Roommates with Modern!Rhaenyra and Alicent (Incorrect Quote)

✧  Blood or Loyalty (Oneshot) ♤

✧  Y/N Trying to Describe Rhaenyra (Incorrect Quote) ☆

✧  Girlboss!Rhaena (Incorrect Quote)

✧  Modern!Targaryen and Velaryon Children (Incorrect Quote)

✧  Modern!Luke Fell Off The Motorcycle (Incorrect Quote)

✧  Roasting Modern!Aemond (Incorrect Quote)

✧  Y/N Trying to Describe Rhaenyra (Incorrect Quote) ☆

✧  Modernized Sassy!Daemon (Incorrect Quote)

✧  Supportive Dad Moment (Incorrect Quote)

✧  Being Daemyra's Daughter (Incorrect Quote)

✧  Protective!Daemon (Incorrect Quote)

✧  Modern!Daemon & Aemond Hating Each Other (Incorrect Quote)

✧  Not Really A Chef Modern!Daemon (Incorrect Quote)

✧  Rhaenyra Roasting Overconfident!Daemon (Incorrect Quote)

✧  Modern!Daemon Pulling a Pick-Up Line (Incorrect Quote) ♧

✧  Modern!Daemon and His Knives (Incorrect Quote)

✧  Being Jace & Luke's Older Sister (Incorrect Quote)

✧  Modern!Targaryen and Velaryon Children (Incorrect Quote)

✧  Modern!Luke Fell Off The Motorcycle (Incorrect Quote)

✧  Roasting Modern!Aemond (Incorrect Quote)

✧  Jacaerys's Birthday (Incorrect Quote)

✧  Y/N Trying to Describe Rhaenyra (Incorrect Quote) ☆

✧  Being Jace & Luke's Older Sister (Incorrect Quote)

✧  Modern!Targaryen and Velaryon Children (Incorrect Quote)

✧  Modern!Lucerys Teasing Aemond (Incorrect Quote)

✧  Modern!Luke Fell Off The Motorcycle (Incorrect Quote)

✧  Roasting Modern!Aemond (Incorrect Quote)

✧  Y/N Trying to Describe Rhaenyra (Incorrect Quote) ☆

✧  Modern!Targaryen and Velaryon Children (Incorrect Quote)

✧  Modern!Luke Fell Off The Motorcycle (Incorrect Quote)

✧  Y/N Trying to Describe Rhaenyra (Incorrect Quote) ☆

[hoe4rairai]

《 ♤ Scenario 3 ♤ 》

Shivering S/O in a cold night, Raian being considerably gentle and mindful or NOT 😈

〰️ Let's Gooooooo 〰️

🔸️🔸️🔸️🔸️🔸️🔸️🔸️🔸️🔸️🔸️🔸️🔸️🔸️🔸️🔸️🔸️🔸️

This is unorthodox Raian version ...

S/O is a hit woman. Both sometimes merge missions together, though Raian hates to be with her on missions. She has the power to distract the assassin. The only human who has that power . S/O is a fun sized girl whom he enjoys manhandling, and she loves it when he does.

A mission was assigned to them, both finished their part but something complicated their exit, and they were stuck in the lower deck of the corrupted millionaire yacht where they assassinated him and his entire crew. No electricity, it was one of those cold winter nights. The deck was cold and pitch black, Raian's vision is as sharp as a wolf in the dark but that's given being a kure, S/O settled next to her boyfriend's massive body frame. The cold started to creep up on her, and her teeth started chattering. She thought Raian was in a hibernating mode since his breathing is very steady and low, and that also is a kure survival technique. She moved closer, almost squeezing herself into him. She is cold, and he has a deep heat body machine. He didn't budge a muscle and she is trying to find any source of warmth to keep her going till the clan sends a rescue to pick them up, they are literally in the middle of the ocean.

A few hours passed, and she probably fell asleep. When she opened her eyes, she was positioned like a baby between his arms. Her head was resting on one arm , face snuggled between his arm and chest, legs curled up , his arms around her to offer her some more warmth.

They heard noises coming from the upper deck of the yacht.Raian and the rescue team usually have a sign code they communicate with. These ppl aren't them. Raian gestured to keep quiet. He literally glided on the floor, hard to believe such heavy man can be this light. The door cracked open, guns shooting , sound of bones breaking, blood splattering everywhere. Raian and his S/O teamwork and synergy is a top notch because they read each other's minds and work stimolysly.

No one left alive. Raian peaked at the horizon and spotted 2 boats approaching boats that didn't belong to the clan. Raian knew if they did not move now, they were doomed. He knew they would bomb the yacht. He grabbed S/O without a word or a second thought jumping right into the freezing water. The water was like daggers piercing her body, the coldness numbed her, Raian is trained and done that few times. He was ahead of her, breaking his way through the waves , she started to drown, Raian was calm , he knew the outcome and reminded himself : ( That's fuckin WHY I hate going on hits with you .. What a fuckin burden.) He pulled S/O, swam to the a nearby shore , fell on his back and she was unconscious laying next him, cold as ice. She was going through hypothermia obviously, he pulled her body quickly into a hidden spot, took off her clothes and his and basically used his entire body as a blanket to heat her's up.

A few long minutes till she opened her eyes, the heat she was immersed with felt so good, the chest moving ever so slowly against her's, Raian was literally wrapped around her like a skin cover. She strongly felt safe , warm, and kinda funky 😈. S/O made the slightest move to let him know she is awake and okay, thanks to him.

A low, hoarse lazy voice demand: stay put don't move, his cold breath was hitting her forehead. She wanted to warm him up, too, but she could only do this much. S/O started to run her hand gently, over his hairless chest and arms. He didn't mind, she then started rubbing his back slowly and gently creating warm fractions, he kinda enjoyed it, WHAT A FUCKING WEIRED COUPLE I SWEAR 😏...Her feet is warm now so she started to rub his thighs and Bingo ... ... WDF ...

His head titled downwards looking at her, black eyes piercing her soul, a deep voice comes out as a low growl : ( see da fuck you did, now ?? ) S/O blushed when she felt his hard errection tickling her abdomen. Both naked , both turned on and both in the middle of nowhere.

Raian, for the first time in his entire life, spooned. He hates the position because he thinks it's for old lazy bustards. He was lazy, though, trying to gain warmth and regenerate strength again. Raian, when he is vulnerable, can be without any arguments, the sexiest man alive.

Raian shifted his S/O body to the side her back facing him, her ass pushed backwards, allowing him to enter her from behind, hand grabbed her waist not too firmly but steady enough to control her body. He could not control his own growle when he met her heat its cold outside but fucking damn oven from the inside the feeling blew his mind, suddenly eagerness with each powerful thrust , suddenly Raian is back again fully charged. Fuck the cold , he is not getting out of her, he will knot her like a fucking beast time and time again till she collapses .

The next thing she knows, she is their bed again cuddled by her boyfriend,feeling cosy, safe, and probably pregnant.

** fanart belongs to the rightful owner

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

Hi! Can I pls request dating headcanons for Bale Batman with a female reader who used to works as his assistant but now helps Alfred with batman related work? Like reader is not a superhero but helps Alfred with his duty? Also reader is a very sunshiny person, kind and loving? Thank you ❤️

Thank you so much for requesting, anon! <3

A/N: This is a warning, I got carried away. I blinked and suddenly two hours were gone and I had this. Also, let's pretend Bruce took over Wayne Enterprises before he came Batman.

Enjoy!

~ Fi🪻

Part 2 ♡ Part 3 ♡

Dating Bruce as his assistant ♤

◇ You'd been working for Wayne Enterprises even before Bruce took over, under the supervision of William Earle.

◇ Your parents always told you what good people the Wayne's were, helping the ones less fortunate. Naturally, you wanted to work for their company, hoping to help keep their legacy.

◇ Once you started working there, however, it was different than you'd expected. This Mr. Earle didn't seem to respect the Wayne's wishes of helping the poor people of Gotham.

◇ It did pay well and you really needed this job, so you reluctantly kept your mouth shut, doing as your told.

◇ Which was refilling coffee cups and occasionally taking notes during meetings.

◇ Once Bruce took over, your faith had been restored. He was his father's son, and actually seemed like he wanted to help.

◇ Now, you were way more involved in the inner workings of Wayne Enterprises, working closely with Lucius and Bruce.

◇ You still handled most of the paper work, but you were allowed to voice your ideas and suggestions, which was heavily encouraged by Bruce.

◇ You were on coffee duty, but because you actually wanted to. You enjoyed bringing Bruce his coffee and being rewarded with a gently thanks and a smile that made your heart flutter.

◇ Bruce had moved your desk directly into his office, saying it was more convenient that way, for the both of you.

◇ Which was true on one hand, but he secretly liked having you around him. Your presence put him at ease, watching you calmly look through a bunch of documents for him to sign.

◇ Your bubbly and bright personality contrasted him so well, you were always humming a tune or doodling on some expired documents.

◇ He loved when you hummed, it made him able to concentrate better on what he was doing.

◇ You two just clicked. In more ways than one. The company was thriving thanks to your teamed efforts, and he was... happier.

◇ Little did he know, he made your heart sore. Being around him so often made you happy too, always engaging in pleasant conversations between the workloads.

◇ Eventually, he asked you out, making your brain short circuit. It left you unable to focus on anything for the rest of the day, as a stupidly wide smile sat on your face.

◇ You hit it off from there.

◇ The first few months you could not stop talking. About anything, really.

◇ You told him about everything, always bubbling over with excitment and joy.

◇ The fact that you could always find something positive in life made him smile and potentially have made him a little more optimistic as well.

◇ You did have your doubts about whether or not this could work since he was your boss and you were working together all the time.

◇ It did work.

◇ Maybe a little too well, you ended up moving to Wayne Manor.

◇ And Alfred became your best friend immediately.

◇ You helped him around the Manor, it was a huge house after all, although he insisted you didn't have to.

◇ You wanted to, you enjoyed it.

◇ Alfred sharing funny and cute embarrassing childhood stories about Bruce while you were doing mundane household tasks was your favorite part.

◇ He talked about Bruce's parents as well, you wished you could've met them.

◇ Then, things changed.

◇ Bruce would come home bruised and limping, which he would always dismiss as some sort of bar fight.

◇ You weren't stupid. Bruce didn't get into meaningless bar fights. You worried, but refrained from questioning him about it since he had to have a reason not to tell you, right?

◇ You worried your ass off the more he came home bloody and beat up.

◇ You couldn't take it anymore, it broke your heart to see your lover come home hurt.

◇ You confronted him, he tried to play it off somehow but eventually he caved and told you everything.

◇ He was the Batman.

◇ You had to sit down after he told you.

◇ And that is how you got here.

◇ You still worked at Wayne Enterprises but much less frequently.

◇ Lucius had taken the main reigns now, as Bruce was occupied otherwise.

◇ Your main purpose was now in the Batcave together with Alfred, helping with whatever basically.

�� Gathering Intel, talking to Lucius about more Bat gadgets, and most importantly, patching him up after a rough night.

◇ You were so gentle with him, Bruce could've sworn your touch and kisses immediately healed any ailment he had.

◇ He looked at you with the most loving eyes as you stitched up the giant gash on his arm. Your brows were furrowed in concentration and you mumbled out a quick apology everytime he winced.

◇ Bruce will spoil the shit out of you.

◇ You've done so much for him, and he just needs to give you something back.

◇ Doesn't matter if he buys you whatever you want or hold and praise you at night.

◇ Will not keeps his hands off you.

◇ Like ever.

◇ The second he gets back from patrol he's wrapping you in his arms, kissing your forehead.

◇ Doesn't matter how hurt he is, if he's dripping in blood or barely able to keep himself on his feet.

◇ You are and forever will be his priority.

◇ You, of course, scolded him everytime he did this, telling him he could shower you in his love and affection when he wasn't bleeding out.

◇ He doesn't listen to you, stubborn as he is, and continues to do whatever he wants.

◇ Which is loving you, no matter what state he is in.

◇ You two have gotten into several arguments about his behavior, but you always talked it out in the end.

◇ You held eachother at night, whispering praises and compliments until you eventually drifted off to sleep, both with a content smile on your face.

◇ He absolutely loves waking up with you. You always tell him about the dreams you had, talking and laughing about a time traveling cow with a briefcase.

◇ Your laugh is his favorite sound.

◇ If he could listen to it 24/7, he would.

◇ Now that you were also helping Batman when you're not in the office, you were obviously on the black list.

◇ Something was bound to happen at one point.

◇ After staying late and finishing some blueprints with Lucius, some wannabe villain got his hands on you.

◇ When Alfred told Bruce, he lost his absolute shit.

◇ All rational thoughts were thrown out the window, the only thing that mattered was you. And getting you back.

◇ He almost went in as Bruce, absolutely enraged, but Alfred managed to talk some sense into him.

◇ You were tied to a chair in an abandoned warehouse, mouth taped shut.

◇ How original.

◇ Once Bruce had found you and seen how tightly your hands were bound, the rope digging into your skin, and that absolute fool of a leader roughly grabbing your face, waving around a gun in front of you, he went ballistic.

◇ He was so ready to burn this place to the fucking ground.

◇ That was the only time he almost actually killed someone. He beat that fucker into the next decade.

◇ He only stopped when he heard your muffled cries, snapping out of whatever enraged trance he was in.

◇ Bruce whisked you away so fast, you were back in the Batcave in the blink of an eye.

◇ Immediately checked you for any injuries.

◇ Your face was slightly bruised, your lip split and rope burn was sitting on your wrists.

◇ He had to take a moment, his fists clenching.

◇ You assured him again and again that it wasn't his fault and that the minor injuries you had sustained were nothing.

◇ He never really forgave himself for this, he never told you, though.

◇ Took the next two weeks off Batman duty to be with you.

◇ Held you for those two weeks straight and took care of your wounds.

◇ He promised you, more himself really, that something like that would never ever happen again and that he would protect you with his life.

◇ Will kiss you all the time, especially after the incident.

◇ He will become so clingy, but you love it.

◇ You moved on with life after what happened, and seemingly so did he.

◇ But there was something you didn't know.

◇ He went back, tracked that bastard down and finished the job.

◇ That was the only time the Batman has ever killed someone.

◇ It was more Bruce Wayne than Batman when he did it.

◇ He would do it a hundred times over if it meant protecting you.

Some bonus NSFW hcs

♤ Is smitten with you the second he meets you.

♤ has fantasized about bending you over his desk and fucking you.

♤ After you started dating and made things official, he fulfilled that fantasy.

♤ basically lives between your thighs.

♤ would stay there all day if you'd let him.

♤ You don't. (because you would be sobbing by the end of it)

♤ he's so pouty about it, very upset at you.

♤ so loving in bed, he has made you cry simply from telling you how much he loves you while he fucks you into oblivion.

♤ You sucked him off from under his desk once and he fucking loved it.

♤ I'm gonna say it again

♤ PUSSY EATING KING

♤ just loves eating you out so much it's ridiculous.

♤ You've woken up on more than one occasion with his face buried in your cunt at 8 in the morning.

♤ after you got kidnapped, he fucks you so hard and rough.

♤ he needs those emotions to go somewhere and you happened to be sitting there so pretty, he couldn't help himself.

♤ he feels really bad about it after, you deserve nothing more than to be made love to.

♤ You tell him you actually liked it and wouldn't mind if he did it again sometime.

♤ fucks your brains out the second that statement left your mouth.

♤ the best at aftercare, will love on you to your hearts content. Always draws you a bath and kisses your neck and shoulders, he's so sweet.

♤ He loves you like he has never loved anyone before, and he would give you the world if he could <3

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I hope you liked it, anon!

[veenus777]

◜𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐬 & 𝐒𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐬◞

          ┊ ᝰ﹕For a long time, I’ve had this playlist about Jason that I created based on some specific universes and scenarios, and now I associate all of them with him and specific situations. Anyway, I decided to share a little about it with you.

          ┊ ᝰ﹕The following words were written by a woman with insomnia during an anxiety-filled and obsessive night about Jason Todd.

♧ Electric Love

This song makes me feel like I'm in a specific scenario where Jay and the reader are just riding a motorcycle on one of their outings through Gotham, without any specific destination. I imagine the sun setting and giving way to the city lights at night while they just speed off towards nowhere.

♤ Go To Hell

This one is a bit more specific to the Vigilante universe. It happens right after they meet again following Jay’s death and all the drama of Red Hood vs. Batman. Jason rejoins the team, but the reader has already moved on or at least tries to, despite Jason's constant presence by their side. So, after a successful mission, they decide to have a happy hour with some of the older team members like Babs, Dick, Luke, and Kate. The reader ends up meeting one of their flings while Jason ends up drinking too much. I feel this song is exactly what’s going through his head the whole time.

♧ End Game

First of all, I’d like to make it clear that this song is definitely the song for Jason and Vigilante. There simply isn’t a better definition of them than this. Okay, just imagine Jay alongside another vigilante with a turbulent past and questionable morals, who is equal to or worse than him in ruthlessness. They simply become the royalty of Gotham’s underworld. Criminals would shudder just hearing about them because they know how bad they were separately, but together, they are completely unbeatable.

♤ Adiós

This one is short and quite similar to Electric Love, but different at the same time. In this, Jason and the vigilante are riding a motorcycle through Gotham, the reader on the back while Red Hood pops a wheelie on the wet asphalt of rainy Gotham. That night, there was a small breakout in one of the smaller prisons, nothing as serious as Arkham but still dangerous. So, the whole team spreads out across the city looking for the criminals. The adrenaline is strong while shooting at criminals at high speed, and Jason’s hand on your thigh to congratulate you on a job well done.

♧ Love Me Harder

This one is extremely specific and also takes place in the Vigilante universe. Jay and the reader were sent on a mission to Tokyo, which wasn’t uncommon as they had to travel frequently. They end up staying in a cheap hotel that served as a great hideout for them. By this point, they are already a couple. In fact, I feel this is where things change for both of them in their relationship. The mission ends well and ahead of schedule, but they decide to stay and enjoy the beauty of Tokyo, going out at night, trying foods, or buying silly things at fairs, just being young and in love on a trip without any external worries.

♤ Harleys In Hawaii

This story happens when Jason, finally, after much insistence from the reader, decides to take a vacation. And nothing is better than a hotel in Hawaii, in which Bruce is one of the partners, far away from Gotham and vigilantism. So, the next two weeks are summarized by boat rides along the coast, diving, hiking, and romantic seaside encounters with a tanned Jason, with his sculpted and tattooed body under the Hawaiian sun.

♤ Dark Paradise

This story takes place in two scenarios at the same time, where the reader is a classical dancer. The reader is in their dance studio, rehearsing late at night to relax and relieve the weight of their feelings. "Dark Paradise" plays on the sound system while they spin and leap around the mirrored room, but their mind travels to the previous night, where another Wayne gala took place. All the pomp and candlelight created an ethereal atmosphere with Jason there. He hated balls but knew the reader would be present. So, there he was, in a well-tailored suit, his eyes fixed on the reader as they entered the ballroom, almost hypnotically. The rest of the night was filled with tension and small "accidental" touches everywhere.

♧ Valentine

This is a simple yet extremely cute story, where Jay takes the reader to a carnival that was passing through Gotham that weekend. And it is nothing but intoxicatingly cute. They go through all the rides, and Jay makes sure to win the biggest teddy bear at the shooting gallery. They eat junk food and laugh idiotically as they walk, with Jay’s strong arms around the reader’s shoulders. They end the night on the Ferris wheel, having a perfect view of Gotham's lights. When they head back home, their hands are full of prizes and photos taken in photo booths.

♤ Marry You

This story came about because of a one-shot I read here once and simply could never get out of my head (I really don’t remember the author’s name, but if you know, please leave the name of this heaven-sent angel in the comments). The scenario is basically this: Jay and the vigilante are on a mission in Vegas, and things almost get out of control, but it ends with a "if we survive, will you marry me?". And they do survive. They look for a chapel the next day, wearing simple clothes and nothing but each other and an Elvis-dressed officiant. For them, it is simply perfect. Everything happens with lots of smiles and loving gazes. Afterward, they just enjoy the Vegas gambling and casinos (let’s completely ignore the song lyrics, okay? Just feel the vibe).

.˚｡  💋 .˚｡ 💌