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marblemoovt · 2 years

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Catch Me If You Can - Griffith/Reader

Masterlist

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 7.3k

Warnings: None, just good ol’ fluff and some angst (don’t worry the ending is happy)

Summary:

As the crown princess, you're expected to behave every bit like a lady. Except you frankly don't care and live how you want much to the dismay of your parents. When Charlotte visits your kingdom, a banquet is held.

Somehow you manage to get yourself grounded a few days prior, but it's no big deal, you'll just sneak out like you always do. Except Griffith happens to foil your plans every time.

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"I am afraid your parents have ordered everyone to escort you back to your room should they discover you escaping."

"I wouldn't call it escaping," you mutter under your breath.

"And what would you call it, dear Princess?"

"I'm simply taking a walk away from my room and out of the castle."

"As far as I recall, walks don't usually involve scaling buildings."

"What can I say? I like to take the scenic route—

Note:

This was requested by @Bravo6_go_in_dark on Wattpad and I am so sorry for taking forever to write this. I've been writing this on and off for about a month and a half but it's finally done! (Note my username on Wattpad is @Parascythe- )

Request: "Can u do griffith with a fem reader who is Charlotte's royal best friend from another kingdom who is very chaotic childish bold and a trouble maker and once the king and queen of her kingdom has to drag her by the hair and keep her in her room but her multiple tries of escaping didn't work cuz griffith is outside her palace"

I will say that I do not like Griffith for obvious reasons, but I can respect who he was before a certain point in the manga/anime. I think some of my bias leaked into my writing, and as a result, this is not pure fluff. The realist in me demanded something more realistic.

I also never intended for this to be super long, but here we are at around 7k words. Maybe the long fic will make up for the amount of time spent waiting lol.

I hope anyone who reads this enjoys it. On with the fic! ( •̀ ω •́ )✧

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

You never were the ideal princess your parents wanted. Some find it hard to believe that you’re royalty and would say so if it didn’t mean treason. While your parents made every effort to raise you properly, there was always your brash attitude that none of your tutors could tame. Etiquette and grace were drilled into you. You acted like a perfect princess—diplomatic and reserved—at events and official settings. Outside, however, is an entirely different story.

“Princess! Please come back! Her Majesty says you must look presentable for your upcoming betrothal meeting!” Your maid shouts, failing to keep up with your running.

You toss your head back with a laugh and continue gleefully dashing through the castle. “If he really wants to marry me then he should accept me as I am,” you refer to your pants. “Having to dress up to impress some man I might not even like is foolish.” As you run, you pass by a familiar white knight—viscount now—and meet curious blue eyes. Griffith is here to guard Charlotte while she’s visiting your kingdom. Flashing a cheeky smile, you wave and continue on your path to meet your potential fiance, unaware of his lingering gaze.

You stand in front of the drawing-room and enter unannounced before any of the servants can stop you. “Princess! It’s a pleasure to meet—” a man immediately stands up to greet you, pausing mid-sentence when he notices your attire. If you remember correctly, he’s the prince of a neighbouring kingdom. You also recall that your parents were adamant about signing a trade treaty with them, hence the sudden need to join the two kingdoms through marriage. The slight furrow of his brow already puts you in a bad mood. “Is the princess not able to come? I must say that I have never seen such a rude maid barge into a room, let alone one dressed so inappropriately. Are those pants?” You swear you see red but the diplomatic voice in your brain begs you not to cave his face in to avoid instigating a war. Instead, your fingers curl into a fist and you can feel the sting as your nails dig into your palms. You school your expression into something neutral and not at all the seething rage boiling underneath your skin.

“You’re speaking right to her.” His face pales. “I wasn’t aware that they skipped lessons on proper etiquette in your kingdom. How barbaric.” You look at him with disdain, already deciding that you wanted nothing to do with this man. His complexion quickly flushes with colour. He takes quick, angry strides towards you and grips your wrists tightly. Where were the guards?? You glance around the room and notice that it’s only the two of you and that there’s no commotion from outside. Part of you is scared, but another part of you is furious—furious at this man who looks down on you because he thinks you’re an easy target.

“Listen here, Princess,” he spits out your title with venom, “I would watch my tone if I were you. Your kingdom needs mine, not the other way around. My parents have left the decision up to me whether the treaty is signed or not.” His other hand drifts uncomfortably low and you glare murderously. “You should smile more, otherwise you’ll ruin that pretty face of yours; after all, that is your only redeeming quality.”

“To hell with the treaty.” Deciding that you’ve had enough, you rotate your wrist and pull your arm out of his grip. Taking the efficient route, you deliver a swift kick between his trousers and he crumples to the ground like a puppet that had its strings cut. “Don’t you ever threaten me again.” You rest your foot on top of the area you kicked, noting how he winces. “Do you understand?” When you receive no response you add pressure to your foot. “Do. You. Understand?” You emphasize each word. The question of whether this man would be able to continue his family line lingers in the back of your mind.

“Fucking bitch!”

Before you can stomp your foot down, your parents enter the room.

“What is the meaning of this?!” Your father demands as your mother drags you away from your fiance—ex-fiance now.

“He started it!” You say, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

“Honey, we have talked about this,” your mother tries to soothe you, “you cannot keep making such childish excuses.”

“He threatened me! H-he tried to touch me!” you sputter, voice rising as your shoulders go rigid with tension. You whip your head and see his cocky smirk that immediately changes into a tearful expression when your parents glance over.

“She just suddenly attacked me!” He sobs pitifully, his acting even worse than that jester your parents hired. “I went to greet her and she kicked me without hesitation. What will my parents do when they hear their only son may never be able to produce heirs?” You feel one of your eyes twitch in annoyance, but the look on your father’s face keeps your mouth shut.

“We can still sort this out.” Your father sighs and turns to you. “You are grounded, young lady. You are to stay in your room until the upcoming banquet.” You open your mouth to begin protesting. “Not a single word from you. Guards!” At his command, a group of guards enter the room. Where were they when you needed them?? “Escort the princess back to her chambers.” His tired eyes look over you once more. “Drag her if you must.” The guards salute and nudge you out of the room. Eventually, they do end up dragging you because you insisted on going back and reasoning with your parents.

You spend the next day locked up in your room, grateful that you were at least allowed visitors. And so here you were, sitting with Charlotte as she listened to you over a cup of tea. She frowned when you mentioned the man’s rude behaviour, and her eyes nearly bugged out of her head when you got to the part where you kicked him in the balls.

“I mean, honestly, Lottie. How could they expect me to marry such a pig?!” you exclaim indignantly. She pats your hand as a comforting gesture. “What’s with that look on your face?” You lean back in your chair and try to analyze her expression.

“I am surprised and envious of your boldness,” Charlotte admits. She is a lot more demure compared to you, something you assumed was a product of her father’s doing.

“And look where that boldness got me.” You gesture to your temporary confinement and the noticeable increase in guards around and in your room.

Charlotte laughs, and it’s what you would expect a princess’s laugh to sound like—melodic and light. “When has that ever stopped you?” She raises a brow and her lips lift softly into a smile.

You clamber out of your seat and rush to give her a hug, adoring the way she squeals joyfully in your arms. “This is why you’re my best friend.” You grin at her, already planning an escape in your head.

There are three more days until the banquet, which means three more escape attempts. On the first day, you decide to try climbing out of the window. Your room was only on the third level and you managed to gather enough silk sheets to form a rope. During the day there were guards inside your room, so you decided to wait until the evening to put your plan into action.

Once the pale moon rises into view, you walk to your closet and pull out the pile of ‘rope’ and quietly carry a chair to your door, wedging it beneath the doorknob. This way you could give yourself more time before they realize what you’ve done. Tiptoeing to your window, you secure one end of the rope around the lantern hook next to the frame and carefully lower the rest of it. A light breeze brushes against your face and you shiver as you stare at the dark abyss below. You’ve read in books about heroes and heroines doing this countless times. How hard could it be to execute in real life?

Not as hard as you thought, but a lot harder than you expected. You never considered what would happen if you were to slip or fall before reaching the ground. But to be honest, this is a fanfic and you’re feeling fairly confident in your plot armour.

With the fourth wall broken, you begin your descent towards freedom (hopefully). Thanks to all the horse riding and swordsmanship, it takes you less than half an hour to reach the ground. You internally sigh with relief when your feet come in contact with solid ground.

“I believe you are supposed to be under room arrest, Princess?” A familiar voice shatters the small moment of victory and your shoulders immediately tense up—your back straight as a rod. Lucky for you, there’s a layer of amusement in his tone, so you’re probably not completely fucked. Turning your head, a small gasp falls from your lips. You already thought he looked handsome during the day, but the moonlight did wonders for his ethereal beauty.

“Is your hair made out of moonlight?” The words escape before your brain has time to process them. Your eyes widen and it feels like you’ll snap in half if your body becomes any more rigid. “Shit—I mean, pardon me.” Your breathing quickens and heat flushes from the crown of your head to the base of your neck.

“I can practically see the steam rising off your head. And no, Princess. My hair is simply just hair. Although the colour seems to intrigue most people.” He comes closer and makes an attempt to grab your arm. His fingers send a jolt of electricity and you jump back, the castle walls trapping you from behind.

“I’m not going back, not yet at least,” you refuse, flinching away from his touch again. His lips turn into a small frown but it disappears when you blink again. His expression is more neutral now and that polite smile is back on his face.

“I am afraid your parents have ordered everyone to escort you back to your room should they discover you escaping.”

“I wouldn’t call it escaping,” you mutter under your breath.

“And what would you call it, dear Princess?”

“I’m simply taking a walk away from my room and out of the castle.”

“As far as I recall, walks don’t usually involve scaling buildings.”

“What can I say? I like to take the scenic route—

A squeak escapes from your throat as the ground suddenly vanishes beneath your feet. Instinctively your arms cling around his neck. You glance up and notice that Griffith’s face is significantly closer to yours now. When did he get so close?

“W-what are you doing?” you ask, unsure whether to faint from excitement or embarrassment.

“I am escorting you to your chambers,” he responds in a matter-of-fact tone, carrying you with ease.

“I figured as much, b-but I’m capable of walking. Y-you don’t need to carry me like this.” You stumble through your words, oblivious to the way the corners of his lips curl up.

“I believe you and Charlotte called this the ‘princess carry’ during one of your book discussions.”

You furrow your brows and think back to all your recent interactions with Charlotte. Had he been paying attention all those times? Your heart skips a beat and you begin to sweat. If he remembers this then he probably remembers how the two of you drooled over the male leads in the romance novels you’ve been reading.

“I didn’t expect you to eavesdrop, Sir Griffith.”

“One can hardly call it eavesdropping if the entire conversation consists of loud screams and squeals over fictional men.”

“Touché.” You look around and notice that he’s walking away from the main castle. You unconsciously tighten your grip.

“Not to worry, Your Highness. I am still under orders to escort you back to your room.” He squeezes you gently in reassurance. “The length of time, however, was not specified. We are taking—what did you call it?” He flashes you a dazzling smile. “The scenic route?”

Blood rushes back to your cheeks and you turn away bashfully, hoping he doesn’t notice the dopey grin on your lips. “And pray tell what the scenic route entails?” You ask, trying to steer the conversation.

“Through the gardens. I hear the flowers are lovely this time of year.” You reach the familiar archway with ivy woven between its frame. He sets you down gently and offers his arm. “M’lady.”

You accept and hope the lighting is dim enough to hide your glowing cheeks. “Thank you, for—“ you try to find the right words “—for everything tonight.” You admire the petals of the peonies nearby. “You could have taken me straight back to my room, but you didn’t. So, thank you.” Shyly, you tuck some hair behind your ear and smooth out your blouse.

“Terribly stuffy, isn’t it?” You tilt your head at him. “The aristocrats and nobility.”

“As difficult as it is, it’s a responsibility I was born with.” You shrug. “One I hear you hope to also carry?” Your question was innocent enough but his expression falters for a second.

“I do aspire for my own kingdom.” He looks down at you with a serious gaze; there’s a fire in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. “It is a lifelong dream.”

You nod thoughtfully. “Is that why you and Charlotte…?” On numerous occasions, the two of you have gossiped over Griffith and his godly appearance. Lately, you’ve noticed the two of them growing closer.

“Charlotte is lovely but I do not care for her as a lover,” he admits without hesitation.

“Are you sure you should be telling me—her best friend—this?” you tease, nudging him playfully.

He bends down and you can feel his warm breath tickle your ear. “Perhaps I wanted you to hear it.”

“Is that a confession?” You tease him, not expecting a serious reply.

“Would you accept it if it was?” His words cause your steps to falter and you have to tightly grip his arm to steady yourself.

“In your dreams.” You try to deflect your embarrassment. Griffith raises a brow; your flustered appearance does not go unnoticed.

“Well, in my dreams I would present a flower—“ he plucks a rose from the garden “—like this and—“ he tucks it behind your ear “—and proceed to claim how no other flower is more beautiful than the one blossoming in front of me.”

The blush on your cheeks puts the rose petals to shame. “I wasn’t aware you were such a wordsmith, Sir Griffith.”

“There are plenty of things you don’t know about me, Princess.” He flashes you a smile that borders on a smirk.

“And do I get the pleasure of learning about them all?”

“That depends.” He stops walking and you realize that you’re back at the main castle. Bringing your hand to his lips, he presses a gentle kiss against your knuckles. “Goodnight, Princess.” He leaves as swiftly as he appeared. You begin to process what just happened tonight and the familiar warmth returns to your cheeks. Shaking your head, you realize the only way back to your room undetected is to climb up again. With a sigh, you begin your journey back to your window.

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

The security is laxer the second day and there are no longer any guards inside your room. So when the guards rotate for their shifts, you pull out a spare maid uniform and change into it. For good measure, you put on a wig and remove any makeup you had on. Using the pretense that you’re a maid the princess called for earlier, you manage to walk right past the guards. You tell them that the princess ordered you to pick up her favourite pastries from the capital for tea later. With a solid excuse, you are free to venture into the capital. You even make it past the gates until you’re hit with a sense of déjà vu.

“We meet again, Princess.” You don’t dare look behind you, opting instead to increase your pace into a brisk walk. He matches your speed with ease since he’s on horseback. He tilts his head curiously. “Taking the scenic route again?” The grin in his tone is evident. “A walk through the capital this time?”

“If you’re here to stop me, it won’t work,” you stubbornly say. The fabric of your skirt bunches between your fists and you force yourself to let go before any damage is done. Griffith smiles and shakes his head slowly.

“I am simply here to escort you back to your room again.”

“Like you did last night?”

“Precisely.”

“Does this include a complimentary tour on your horse?” you cheekily ask. While the capital isn’t too far, riding a horse is much quicker than walking.

He extends an arm to you and hoists you onto his horse. You sit in front of him, caged between his toned arms. The rhythm of riding a horse is unfamiliar to you, but you quickly pick it up, comfortably swaying in tandem with Griffith. He doesn’t speak for the rest of the way and neither do you. You lean into his chest, missing how he tenses slightly, and close your eyes to enjoy the warm sunlight. In your oblivious state, you remain unaware when he brings his arms closer until they hover just beside your waist.

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

This was not what he planned for, not at all. He had meant to take you back straight to your room, just like how he meant to last night. However, if someone were to ask him to explain why he didn’t, he would simply have no answer.

At first, you were just Charlotte’s friend—her obnoxiously outspoken counterpart. But something has changed during the past few weeks. It’s gotten to the point where even those around him have noticed a difference.

There was something refreshing in your behaviour. He was used to lowering his head, spewing false words of compliment to please the nobility. Despite being the crown princess, you were humble and kind, but stern and level-headed when necessary—someone fit to stand by his side. He always knew that he would need someone to rule beside, an equal if possible. However, from his many encounters with noble women, the chances were close to benign.

He honestly didn’t think there would be a woman who would catch his eye. Most of them reeked of perfume or were trying to sleep with him to bolster their husbands’ reputations. And on occasion, he would accept their advances if they benefit him enough. But you, you were different. The first time you met, you were dangling from a tree branch to get a laugh out of Charlotte, hoping to make tea shoot out of her nose. When he saw you scaling the castle wall last night with leaves littered throughout your hair, it reminded him of that time.

You’re honestly everything he would want in a partner, as difficult as it is for him to admit. Maybe it was your warm smile that sent his heart palpitating or your flustered appearance that made his chest puff with pride. Maybe it was because he found you so damn lovely that he unconsciously wanted to spend more time with you. And he didn’t know how to feel about it all. He was always in control, there was nothing he couldn’t sway in his favour, no person who could shake his calm exterior. Well, you came in and obliterated all those beliefs. Destroyed them with your sparkling eyes, the way your lips twitch when you hold back a laugh during meetings, and…

Fuck he had it bad for you.

A small movement breaks him out of thought. You were squirming in front of him, trying to match the rocking of the horse. He could have turned back and handed you to the guards. But he didn’t, and he doesn’t know why. If he moved his arms any closer, they would be resting directly on your waist. A small feeling of pride swells in his chest when he notices how you ride the horse with ease now. He tries to ignore how you’re at the perfect height for him to plant a kiss on the crown of your head. Impulsive thoughts like these scare him with their unfamiliarity.

The outskirts of the capital come into view and he decides to break the long silence.

“What brings a princess to disguise herself?” He asks, noticing how your wig is starting to slip off.

“Pastries.”

A deep belly laugh wracks through his entire body, and he feels you tense between his arms. “My apologies.” He manages to pull himself together after a few moments. “I wasn’t expecting such an answer.”

You giggle, snorting a little. The sound sends pleasant tingles through his body, and he ignores the urge to squeeze you tight. “You’ll find that my priorities are rather different than most princesses.” You turn your head back and smile in amusement. “What were you expecting?”

He shrugs and meets your eyes, mirroring your amused expression. “More scandalous novels about forbidden love and status gaps.” You let out a noise of indignation.

“I would never!” you deny, lips lifting into a smirk. “Not without Charlotte, anyway.”

“Yes, you have been a wonderful influence on her.” And he genuinely means it, but you seem to take it the wrong way when you snap at him.

“Look, I already know it’s disgraceful how my ‘unconventional’ behaviour has rubbed off on her. I don’t need another person to chew me out on it.” The bite in your tone stings, wounding him unexpectedly. Why did it upset him so much if you were upset?

Why did he care?

All he knows is that this growing affection for you will be the death of him.

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

The bakery quickly comes into view and you sigh with relief, desperate to get away from the awkward atmosphere. You feel Griffith flinch at your remark and dread instantly punches you in the gut; he meant it as a compliment. He was trying to be nice and you bit his head off after misinterpreting his intentions. You mentally scolded yourself for being the biggest idiot in the kingdom. Suddenly the space behind you is empty and you notice that Griffith has dismounted and is offering you his hand. You gnaw on the corner of your bottom lip and hesitantly accept his help, unable to look him directly in the eyes.

“Hey—” a million words go through your mind but none of the combinations you create are good enough “—I’m….” Whatever poor excuse you scraped together dies in your throat. “Shit, why is this so hard,” you grumble to yourself. Griffith remains the perfect gentlemen and waits patiently for you to say your piece. Running your fingers through your wig in an attempt to fix it, you clear your throat and flick your gaze up to his eyes. “I don’t know what else to say except I’m sorry. I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier; it was undeserved. I understand you were trying to praise me, but I misinterpreted your words.”

He smiles, although there’s now a warmth that you don’t normally see behind it. “Sometimes ‘sorry’ is all that is needed to convey what you mean.” Bringing a hand up, he hesitantly pats your head. His smile gently curves at your wide eyes. You were panicking. If you got this embarrassed with a wig on, what would it be like if he patted your actual hair?

“A-anyway. Shall we head inside?” You avert your gaze again, cursing yourself for acting like a love-struck maiden.

“Certainly, I hear that the princess is often impatient when demanding items from the capital. I hear she sometimes sends guards to storm the local bookstore to obtain new books that are popular amongst women.” His teases do little to rile you up.

“I’ll have you know that gossiping about the royal family can be seen as treason.” Your face hurts from smiling so much. “Besides, that only happened once and I would have had to wait another month if I didn’t do anything.”

“M’lady.” He offers his arm to you again. You become aware of the increasing attention the two of you—mostly Griffith—are drawing.

“I am but a humble maid, Sir Griffith.” The last thing you wanted was to have your identity exposed. Your father would most likely increase the duration of your punishment and then you would really die of boredom.

“You are a lady nonetheless.” To avoid further embarrassment, you grab his hand and tug him into the bakery. The timbre of his laughter sends your heart racing. Your hands begin to feel clammy and you release your grip, praying he doesn’t notice. “I underestimated your enthusiasm for baked goods.”

Your lips turn up into a wry smile and you wipe your palms on your skirt. “What can I say? I’m a sucker for a good tart.” You head to the owner, Sadie, and greet her. She’s one of the few people who know your true identity. When Charlotte isn’t visiting, you are often in the bakery helping Sadie. She has voiced her disappointment many times that you would be a great baker if you didn’t have a kingdom to run. While she heads to the back to retrieve the order, you tell Griffith that he can pick out anything for himself. “My treat,” you insist.

“I can’t say I’m a fan of sweets,” he admits, browsing the displays of various cakes and other desserts.

“Then how about a muffin? Or maybe some cookies?” you suggest, unsure of what he would like. “Of course, I can always offer you something else for your trouble?” Your bottom lip feels raw from the abuse it endures as you worry it between your teeth periodically. Flinching when a metallic taste fills your mouth, you swipe your tongue over the wound, hissing quietly at the sting.

“I sense that this is causing you distress.” His brows furrow and concern fills his gaze. He walks over to a shelf lined with bags of cookies and picks an assorted mix. “This will suffice.”

“Are you sure that’s enough?” There’s a tinge of doubt in your voice and the corners of your mouth tug down. Griffith ponders for a minute. You fidget under his calculating gaze.

“Then perhaps the privilege to call you by your name.” You suck in a breath; will you really allow this man to have such power over you? Your heart already nearly combusts when he calls you ‘princess’. Hearing your name fall from his lips will surely cause your heart to stop. On the other hand, you feel guilty seeing the simple bag of cookies in his hands. He offered you a ride to town and his protection instead of handing you to the guards.

“No titles?” You start biting your lip again, yelping when the forgotten wound reopens. Griffith rushes over to you and takes out a handkerchief, pressing the fabric firmly against your bottom lip. “I-I’m so sorry,” you stutter, the cloth impeding your ability to talk a little. Griffith’s face is close, his eyes are focused on your lips and you swallow nervously.

“You should be more careful, Princess.”

“You can say it.” You avert your gaze.

“I beg your pardon?”

“My name. I’ll allow you to call me by my name—but only in private. Father and Mother will kill me if they find out I let a man, especially one who isn’t my betrothed, address me informally.” Your eyes flicker back to him and they widen at the smile that spreads on his face.

And so he does. He says your name in a gentle whisper, testing it on his tongue. Hearing it sends fireworks exploding in your rib cage; your heart pounds loud enough that you’re afraid he can hear it.

“Then please just call me Griffith, I insist.” His kind smile sends the butterflies in your stomach fluttering.

“G-Griffith,” you hesitantly say. The pure joy in his expression is worth all the embarrassment you feel. Your lip has stopped bleeding by now and you stare guiltily at his handkerchief that you’ve stained. “It seems you’re always there in my time of need.” Before you can stop yourself, you ask him a question that’s been bothering you the past few days. “Why are you so nice to me?” His expression falters and the handkerchief scrunches up in his fist.

You aren’t stupid. You’ve seen how he interacts with other women besides Charlotte. Disingenuine. Similar to how all of high society socializes, where smiles hide sneers and insults are disguised as compliments. Sure you’re Charlotte’s best friend, but that shouldn’t mean anything to him. And so you tried to ignore the little voice in your head, telling you that he’s treating you nicely because he wants something from you.

He pulls away and smiles ruefully. “Indeed. Why am I nice to you?” Only one side of his lips curls up, and his tone is melancholic. You fold your arms and hug yourself, uncomfortable with the sudden shift in the atmosphere.

“I asked you first,” you whisper. The silence in the store is deafening. Now would be a really good time for Sadie to come back—

“Delivery for the princess coming up!” Sadie cheerfully strides back into the room with an elegantly wrapped box in her arms. “Apologies. I didn’t mean to take so long. It turns out that nobody packaged any of the sweets despite my reminders.” She shrugs her shoulders and sighs. “Here.” She presents the box to you and you thank her profusely—grateful for the interruption—and hand her the payment along with a generous tip. You look around and deduce from Griffith’s absence that he already left and is waiting for you by his horse. “He left a few minutes ago.”

Your head snaps back to Sadie and you smile sheepishly. “Am I that obvious?”

“Honey, you have no idea.” You consider Sadie as an older sister. When everyone scolded you for your unladylike behaviour, Sadie encouraged you to find healthy outlets to express yourself with. She is also incredibly perceptive much to your dismay.

You fiddle with a stray thread on your sleeve, unable to bring yourself to look her in the eyes. You already know that she’s looking at you with concern. “I like him—maybe a lot more than I want to admit.”

“But?” Sadie asks, sensing the hesitation in your voice.

“But I know his type and I know what he wants to accomplish.”

“And you think he might be playing nice to get what he wants?” Her blunt words sting with the truth. Your shoulders slump and she steps around the counter, taking the box from you and setting it aside. She gently grabs both of your hands and squeezes them, and it takes you every ounce of control to not break down in the middle of the bakery. You nod, unable to speak for fear of bursting into tears, and she wraps you in a hug.

“I’m worried, Sadie. I’ve seen ambition and greed corrupt souls before. What do I do if he becomes a monster? Or what if he already is one?” You feel Sadie tremble, but then you look down at your arms and see that it’s not Sadie. It’s you. When did you start trembling? These unfamiliar feelings scared you. You were always in control, the person with the highest status in a room. Hell, a few days ago you made a grown man whimper like a baby.

Sadie pulls away with a frown and her hands are on the sides of your face. “Then if you like him so much, you make damn sure that he doesn’t stray down the wrong path. And if you fail and he becomes a monster, I’ll break his damn kneecaps and we’ll run away together and start a bakery in another kingdom.”

You choke out a laugh, your vision becoming blurry. She tuts and brushes away your tears with her thumb. “I will never understand your obsession with kneecaps.”

“You don’t have to be tall to reach them.” She grins, relaxing when your mood noticeably brightens. “Listen, you don’t have to make anything official or label what you have with him.” She drops her hands to your upper arms and squeezes them affectionately. “Your decision isn’t permanent, so just see how it goes for now.” You soak in her words and nod slowly, your gaze drifting towards the door. “Hey.” Looking back at Sadie, her expression is solemn. “I mean it. I’m always available for some kneecap busting.” Her face breaks out into a grin and you start giggling. The two of you laugh until your sides ache and your lungs beg for oxygen.

“Sometimes I wonder how you’re not an adventurer or in some job that requires physical violence.”

The Cheshire grin on her face sparks some curiosity. “Who’s to say that I’ve only done baking my whole life?” Before you can ask questions, she pushes the box against your chest and steers you to the door. “Your knight in shining armour is waiting.” You stick your tongue at her over your shoulder and she returns the gesture before waving goodbye.

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

Griffith is beside his horse, feeding it a nice, shiny apple he bought while you were inside. You can’t help but notice the large group of girls admiring him from afar and the small few that gathered the courage to go up and talk to him. You lean against a wall and observe. His smile never reaches his eyes. His actions are all polite but he doesn’t go above the bare minimum. You could sense some irritation from his body language, which was so subtle that you almost missed it.

“Lord Griffith, what brings you here to town?” One of them presses up against his arm, purposefully sticking out her chest. He smirks and grabs the woman by her chin, brushing his thumb over her lips.

“To admire lovely ladies such as yourself.” You have to push down the bile rising in your throat as you watch the woman swoon and faint.

She literally passes out. It takes two men to drag her to the nearest doctor.

The group continues to gush over Griffith in hushed whispers, their incessant giggling begins to get on your nerves. Deciding that you were fed up—and most definitely not jealous—you push off the wall and walk over to Griffith. He immediately notices your presence and a more genuine smile appears on his face. “As much as I would love to stay and chat, ladies. I’m afraid duty calls.”

The group of girls glare at you. You beam a sweet smile at them, trying to convey with your eyes how little fucks you give. It seems to work as a majority of them wither under your gaze. “What would Lord Griffith have to do with an ugly harlot?” one of them says. If you weren’t holding a box of your favourite pastries right now, hands would be thrown.

“The princess urgently requires some desserts for her afternoon tea and I was sent to escort her maid to pick up the delivery,” Griffith replies, emphasizing your title. The girl pales immediately. Insulting a direct servant of the royal family was like insulting their master, and insulting a member of the royal family usually ends with someone’s head being lopped off. Without another word, he mounts his horse and helps you up. He grabs the reins and signals his horse to start walking, easing into a trot. A loud thud behind you signals that the number of fainting women today has increased by one. Although you would faint too if you thought you were surely going to be decapitated.

“Thank you,” you say, watching the scenery pass. “For standing up for me. I could have handled it—” you interrupt him before he can interject “—but I’m thankful for the assistance.”

“Well, I certainly couldn’t let them slander you like that.”

“Do you think I’m pretty, then?” you tease him, silently chuckling at how his chest tenses behind you.

“I won’t deny that you are,” he answers, his voice lilting. “I have to make sure my head remains on my shoulders.” You guffaw and smack his arm, leaning back harshly and ramming your head into his chest in hopes of winding him. He grunts and tightens his arm around your waist. “It’s dangerous to move around so much on a horse, Princess.” His warm breath tickles your ears and your face is ablaze. You simply huff and adjust yourself until you’re comfortable, trying to ignore the tingles running through your body. His arms are still around your waist, resting on them and almost holding you in an embrace.

You stare straight ahead, not wanting to see Griffith’s expression when you continue the conversation from the bakery. “You never answered my question.”

“If I think you’re pretty? I thought we already established that you’re exquisitely beautiful.”

“W-what! No, not that!” You smack his arm again out of embarrassment.

“Careful, Princess. I can’t swing a sword if you maim my arm.” You retaliate by smacking his other arm, but he grabs your hand before the blow can land. He doesn’t let go and you secretly don’t want him to, so you don’t mention it.

“I was talking about earlier when we were in the bakery,” you say

“Are you always so violent with men?”

You frown. “Why are you trying to change the subject?”

He squeezes your hand and flashes a smile. “I see my attempts to steer the conversation are futile.” He leans forward and sighs. His warm breath against your neck sends shivers down your spine. “You have become far more important to me than I intended,” he admits in a hushed tone. You struggle to process his words, the only thing grounding you is the brush of his thumb across the back of your hand.

“Is that a confession?” you squeak out, struggling to keep your breathing steady.

“That depends. Would you accept it if it was?”

The familiar response brings you back to last night in the garden. Your heart nearly leaps out of your ribcage and it takes you every ounce of self-control to not jump off the horse and run away. Could you really trust his words? Did he genuinely like you? Or is he just like that prince you nearly made sterile this morning?

“And if I did?” You turn around, looking up at him through your lashes.

He breathes in sharply and dips his head down, nose bumping against yours.

“Then I would say your standards are considerably low if you call that a confession,” he whispers. His eyes flicker from your lips and back up to your eyes. Feeling bold, you straighten your posture. Your faces are so close that you can feel his warm breath fanning against your skin.

“Then how about—” you brush your lips against his “—I show you a proper confession?” and you close the gap. He doesn’t move at first. He seems to freeze behind you and this makes you pause in hesitation. But he quickly reciprocates, moving his lips in tandem with yours.

Kissing Griffith is everything you imagined and more. His soft lips are gentle and he doesn’t try to push you further. But you want more. You want to feel more of him. He’s been the subject of many embarrassing dreams and you didn’t know if you would ever get the chance to kiss him again. Taking the initiative, you slip your tongue out and swipe it across his bottom lip. You hear him curse quietly as he opens his mouth and lets you explore. Before the kiss can get any more heated, he pulls away. There’s a soft blush dusting his cheeks and you stare. You stare until he ducks his head and buries it into the crook of your neck.

He laughs joyfully, and it sounds so carefree and happy. The butterflies in your stomach flutter in response. “You’re killing me, Princess,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss on your shoulder.

“I can’t help it. I’ve never seen you look so…” you trail off.

“Weak? Vulnerable?” he says and adds more suggestions, each word more venomous than the last. “Stupid? Effeminate?—” you cut him off with a chaste kiss.

“I was going to say lovely, Griff.” You tug on the necklace he never takes off to pull him down, resting your forehead against his. “I was staring because at that moment, I couldn’t take my eyes off of you because you looked so lovely.” The pink on his face flushes into a deep red that reaches his ears and down his neck. His eyes look over your face as if he’s searching for something. “What are you trying to figure out?” you ask with an amused grin, unconsciously watching his mouth when he licks his lips nervously.

“You,” he answers simply. “How a wonderful creature such as yourself can exist in this dreadful world.” His arm around your waist pulls you closer to him and he basks in your presence. For a rare moment, you see his mask disappear and marvel at how innocent his expression looks. A desire to protect this Griffith is born and you open your mouth, but the horse suddenly stops. You’re back at the castle.

You didn’t even notice that he had taken you all the way back to your own section of the castle. He demounts the horse and you accept the familiar offer that follows afterwards. Clasping his hand longer than what your etiquette teacher would deem appropriate, you look up at him. His expression is back to that neutral smile that’s always plastered to his face like a shield. You shuffle your feet and look down at the ground.

“Thank you again for escorting me. I really do appreciate it.” You can feel your neck straining but you refuse to look up, to look up and see the mask on his face again.

“Princess,” he whispers softly. He gently tilts your head up and cups your cheek in one hand. Out of instinct, you nuzzle into his touch, eyes wide. “Can I kiss you again?”

“Well, that depends.” The corners of his lips twitch up in amusement.

“On what?” You hum and pretend to be lost in thought, unable to stop the grin spreading on your face.

“On whether you can catch me again.” Your grin quickly becomes smug. “The banquet is tomorrow evening.” Understanding flickers across his face. “If you can catch me escaping again before then, I will grant your request and you get to be my escort for the night.”

Mischief sparkles in his eyes. “Do my escort duties end at the banquet? Or are you requesting that I be your escort for the duration of the entire night?” You catch his suggestive tone and pull him into a passionate kiss.

You leave him stunned in silence, flushed with swollen lips; it’s a good look on him.

“Why don’t you find out?” You peck him on the cheek and skip merrily to your room with the box of desserts in your hands, eager to spill all the juicy details to Charlotte over tea. You giggle and glance back at him over your shoulder. “Catch me if you can!” He’s still rooted to the spot like a lovestruck fool, but you can clearly see the determination in his eyes.

You can’t wait for tomorrow night.

And neither can he.

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

End Note:

Wasn't that a wild ride! I hope you all had as much fun reading it as I did writing. Originally, I thought three was a good number of escape attempts, but as I was writing the first one, I realized that three would end up being way too long and settled for two. The plot kinda developed on its own and became the giant fanfic you just read.

If you're ever reading one of my works and want to make a request, feel free to leave a comment! I can't guarantee I'll write or finish it quickly though if this request was anything to go by lol.

Until next time! (｡･∀･)ﾉﾞ

Reblogs are appreciated!

#berserk #griffith x reader #fluff and angst #angst with a happy ending #no y/n #pre-eclipse #reader is a princess #banter #escape attempts #bamf reader #Charlotte is a supportive friend #Griffith is psychic I swear #How else does he find you every time #Gender neutral reader other than the use of 'princess'

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kaizsche · 2 years

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holding out for a hero til' the morning light

PART OF I WAS MADE FOR LOVING YOU, BABY one shots PAIRING: padawan!obi-wan kenobi x princess!reader

SUMMARY: A Jedi saves you. You end up carrying him back to safety.

WORD COUNT: 861

NOTES: this is basically my version of ep 4 where luke saves leia but it’s obi wan and reader, enjoy!

Trust in your guards, they said.

They’ll protect you, they stressed.

And yet you’ve found yourself utterly helpless, hands and feet bound to metal handcuffs in an Outer Rim Planet without the aforementioned guards the Royal Council of your planet had decided upon to the great task of protecting you amidst the many threats against your life.

... continue reading here

#posted on ao3 #July Writing Challeng #e Writing Prompts #Writing Challenge #star wars fanfiction #sw fanfiction #obi-wan kenobi #obi-wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan x reader #obi-wan x you #obi-wan x fem! Reader #padawan obi-wan #reader is a princess #regular banter #qui-gon literally trashes the whole place #flustered obi-wan

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yandere-writer-momo · 1 month

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Yandere Head Canons:

Sacrificial Bride

Yandere Dragon Shifter x Princess Reader

TW: Yandere behavior, manipulation, Somniaphilia (suggested), delusional yandede, complacency, etc.

Feroc the Ferocious was the kind of dragon who would bring any silly knight to their knees. The kind of dragon that inspired legends and stories to be written in books. The kind of dragon that was larger than any castle human like could ever dream to build. The kind of dragon that could decimate a kingdom with a single breath of his fiery flames if he was angered… the dragon that your own people sacrificed you, the princess, to in order to save themselves from his wrath.

And so they bound you up and threw you before him. Your own father on his knees as he begged the great dragon for mercy in exchange for his own flesh and blood… the kingdom’s most prized beauty in exchange for peace. An offer Feroc quickly accepted before the king could utter another word!

Dragons collected beautiful treasures! Dragons hoarded their treasure in caves and abandoned castles fad from prying eyes… and unbeknownst to you, Feroc found you to be rhetorical most beautiful

For dragons, a sacrificial spouse was an ancient tradition and this was the first time he’d been offered such a perfect bride! How could he refuse you? Especially when your own people begged him so prettily? Would you beg for him just as beautifully one day?

And so you were scooped up in his ginormous talons and carried away in the sky to a lone tower deep in the mountains. Your new home… your home with Feroc.

You could recall how scared of him you used to be. You’d heard from many people of how this giant scaled beast before you was a man eater. Of how he swallowed many knights in his time… yet this dragon seemed so shy from your experience so far. Skittish even.

Feroc often brought you various jewelry and fine silks from his daily raids. There wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t bring you a gift of some kind. His molten eagerly studied your form despite his persistent silence. Feroc’s company disturbed you as much as it comforted you.

It took a month for him to speak to you. His accent was heavy from the olden tongue he spoke but he knew the same language you spoke. His voice was booming and low, it could easily strike terror in others… but for some reason, his voice calmed you. Perhaps loneliness has finally crept its fangs into your heart? You weren’t sure…

Feroc would bring you anything you wanted to eat. Within means, of course. He’d bring you delicacies he’d likely looted off some poor caravan if you said you wanted sweets. There was no extremes he wouldn’t go to for you, which was odd since he was a dragon who’s been around for hundred of years… why did Feroc have such an interest in a human princess?

One day, you had a nightmare of a man standing in the corner of your room. Your scream in the night quickly alerted your guardian who peaked his large eye in your room in worry.

“Princess? What’s wrong?”

“I just had a nightmare… I thought there was a man in my room.” You wiped the sweat from your forehead while Feroc clicked his tongue.

“No man could ever scale his tower. I’m the only one who can enter. I’d never let anyone harm you.” The red and black dragon grumbled, his molten eyes glanced you once over. “Why? Do you… want a human companion?”

“I do get lonely sometimes.” You admitted to Feroc . His eyes now filled with hurt. “I do enjoy your company but… I miss being able to touch another human.”

Feroc didn’t understand your sentiment. He was a might dragon! The strongest of his kind! Feroc has proven himself to be the best of mates to you and yet you were still displeased? Was it because he was a dragon? Would you be happier if he showed you his other form?

“I’ll figure something out then… get some sleep.”

Feroc now snuck in your bedroom when you slept. He ghosted his clawed fingers over your oblivious form in wonder. His clawed fingers were too sharp, he’d have to dull them more… he didn’t want to cut up his pretty princess!

Feroc’s gentle touches progressed when he noticed how heavy of a sleeper you were. His desire to see what made you human drove him to insatiable heights. No area was left unexplored with his eyes. He needed to be perfect. Feroc had to be compatible with you. You and him were going to have young one day, after all! Feroc didn’t want to harm you in the process!

Feroc was able to mold his body into a perfect man. Once that was the perfect size for you, yet still immense so you’d know it was him. Feroc now stood at a massive seven feet tall rather than the hundred feet of his dragon form.

Yet there was a constant fear within him that you’d die of old age or of natural causes… Feroc knew humans were fragile creatures so he did what he had to. Feroc shared half of his heart with you while you slept. It was a simple spell and a painless procedure for you. One that would benefit the both do you in the long run!

If one of you died, the other would! You’d never age! You now shared a lifespan with him. Feroc couldn’t wait to tell you once the two of you made everything official!

It took another month for him to reveal this perfect form to you. Feroc had to let the excitement die down from sharing his heart with you so you didn’t freak out! Humans were such finicky creatures, after all! And he’d be an awful mate if he frightened you with a subject you had no knowledge on…

All you needed was to see this devilishly beautiful form of his and you’d be bewitched.

“Look at us… we’re so beautiful together.” Feroc whispered into the skin of your shoulder as he admired your reflection beside him. “I think I’ll find you more gold to decorate you with, my treasure.”

“Feroc, I don’t understand.” You jump when Feroc dragged his forked tongue across your exposed shoulder.

“You accepted all of my gifts and you’re the only one who suits me.” Feroc hissed his obsidian eyes flashed a bright gold. “Wouldn’t you rather be by my side than in my stomach?”

You gulped and obediently rested your head on his chest which made him purr in contentment. His muscular arms wrapped around yours as his wavy black hair tickled your skin.

“I’m joking, I’d never eat you.” Feroc smiled before he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. “You’re my bride, after all.”

You didn’t need to know about how many knights he’s killed over the last few months for you. Feroc would take care of you until the day the both of you died. Every heinous act he’s ever committed over these last few months we’re all for his beautiful, blushing bride.

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bewitchedsouls · 2 months

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princess treatment with simon

warning : use of the word wife

• simon is the kind of man to tell you to sit down as he gets on one knee and puts your high heels on for you and straps them when you’re getting ready to go out for a date night

• simon who will come up behind you, move your hair to the side and gently run his fingers down your naked back and feel the goosebumps as he goes to the bottom of your dress to zip it up for you without you even asking

• simon who will open every door for you, (don’t you dare get out of that car yourself), if you even try he will gently put you back into the car, close the door on you and then proceed to open it again, because simon is a gentleman and will never be caught not opening the door for you

• simon who escorts you into a room with a hand placed on your lower back as he rubs slowly up and down to soothe the both of you

• simon who will pull out your chair for you and once he’s pushed it back in before taking his own seat he will lean down and place a gentle kiss to your temple

• simon who tells you before you even leave the house to keep your purse at home because you are his beautiful wife and he believes you shouldn’t pay for a single thing

• simon who tells you to pick anything you want from the menu, any drink, any food, don’t even look at the price because he does not care, you deserve the world and he’s slowly trying to get that for you

#simon ghost riley x reader #masked men #mask kink #simon riley x reader #call of duty #task force 141 #fluff #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #cod headcanons #headcanon #ghost cod #cod x reader #princess treatment

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bucketsofmonsters · 4 months

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A Diplomatic Error

cw: enemies to lovers, kidnapping, being tied up, manhandling, size difference, non-human genitalia, oral sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex

male orc x fem reader

Word count: 9k

You were headed to another counsel meeting. You never really stopped attending them, despite the fact that they never listened to a word you had to say.

Your father said it was good for morale. You didn’t understand how watching someone sit around and not help was good for anyone’s morale, but you knew better than to question him.

The halls of the palace were quieter than you were used to. Almost everyone had been called to the front lines, even your closest guards had gone. You weren’t used to walking alone, nor were you accustomed to the typically lively castle looking like a ghost town.

So now you walked through the castle halls, more alone than you’d ever been before, no one there to wait on you, to protect you, to watch over you. Something in you said it should have felt freeing.

It didn’t. It just felt lonely.

As you walked, moving slowly as you wallowed in self-indulgent pity between war meetings, a pair of hands reached out of nowhere, one snaking around your waist to pull you back into the shadows while the other clamped firmly over your mouth.

When the guards had been sent away, you’d been assured that you’d be safe. It wouldn’t exactly be easy for a hulking orc to sneak in undetected. At least that's what you'd been told. With a massive hand that dwarfed your face locked over your mouth, suddenly the idea didn’t seem so ridiculous.

You thrashed under the figure's unwavering grip to no avail. He easily held you in place, barely needing to put any effort in to stop your desperate bid for an escape.

You weren’t one for swooning but suddenly a faintness came over you. You reached up to grab at the only stable thing in reach, hands wrapping around the figure’s arm, trying to keep yourself upright.

Your knees began to buckle and only then, mind slowed by whatever he’d dosed you with, did you begin to suspect foul play. Maybe something on his skin that humans were weak to, maybe something in the air. Was he holding a cloth? You didn’t think so. But then again, he seemed so far away not, even pressed up against you as he was.

You blinked your heavy eyes and when you opened them, you were thrown over a large shoulder. You watched the road behind you as the creature holding you strode along, still blind to what was ahead. His hand was wrapped around your waist, keeping you firmly in place, jostling you only slightly with each step.

It took you a second to gather your bearings enough to start struggling. Once you did, you started pounding on his back. It was a futile gesture but you were nothing if not persistent. At the very least, he knew you were awake now.

His shoulder shook under you as he chuckled. “Good morning, princess,” he said, his gravelly voice carrying across the road.

“Put me down, you brute!” you shouted, trying your best to kick your feet under heavy skirts. If you'd known you'd be getting kidnapped today, you'd have worn something lighter.

He paused and for a moment you thought maybe he'd listen to you. But you knew better than that, knew you'd have no say in any of this.

“As you wish.”

Your feet were planted on the ground, although he still had a heavy arm on your shoulder, holding you in place. A silent promise: you weren't going anywhere.

You whipped around, eager to see what was in front of you instead of the increasingly distant road you'd been traveling on.

You got your first look at the front of your captor, no longer flung over his shoulder.

Despite it being part of the little information you already knew about him, the first thing you noticed was that he was massive. He towered over you, with a broad frame to match. Tusks stuck out of his mouth as he sneered down at you, marring an almost handsome face.

You’d never actually seen an orc in person and despite years of being at war with them, it struck you suddenly that they were real. They were real and in front of you, no longer threatening figures discussed in crowded rooms you weren’t supposed to speak in but instead a real man in front of you with his hand on your arm. It radiated warmth, applying a firm pressure that told you if he wanted to he could crush you underhand.

In front of you, next to your very real captor, was a camp. The sort of camp you imagined soldiers slept in. You had no idea which side of the border you were on, disputed or otherwise. You hoped you were still in your own kingdom, but you had no way to know. It all looked the same from here.

Amidst the massive canvas tents milled a dozen or so orcs. At your sudden appearance, they’d stopped what they were doing, all peering at their new guest.

As they all stared at you, you panicked. Your feet started moving before your brain did. You managed to slip out from under your captor's grasp just in time to feel his hand dart forward, pushing you into the mud before you had a chance to get anywhere.

As you lay in the dirt, you heard something that sounded like orders being barked in a foreign tongue.

And then you were being hauled to your feet. You didn’t have the presence of mind to be upset at the manhandling as you looked down at your body, the front of you almost completely covered in mud.

You didn’t even have time to protest that before he cut you off. “Come on, m’lady. We have much to discuss.”

You crossed your arms, about to demand more respect from him before you were being lifted again and all you could manage was a surprised little squeak.

You watched helplessly as you were hauled into a nearby tent, all of the towering soldiers staring at you as you went.

You were deposited less than graciously on the floor of the tent, left to flounder and find your bearing on your own as your captor moved to look at you.

The tents were incredibly spacious, at least for someone of your size, the roof towering above you.

He leaned down in front of you, tone condescending as he spoke. “Here’s what's going to happen. You’re a bargaining chip for us. We’ll get you home as soon as your father allows it, princess.” He said your title like an insult, spat it at you in a way that made you flinch.

“And in the meantime?” you asked, trying your best not to look afraid. You'd make your way out of this with your pride intact. Well, as much of your pride as you could still manage to salvage as you stood there, covered in mud.

You could barely see the deep red of your dress under the grime. You didn’t even know how much of it was from your fall and how much you’d picked up on the road.

“In the meantime,” he said, “you will sit around until we need you.”

“Perfect.” You stood, futilely attempting to brush off your skirts as you did and taking a step towards the entrance of the tent. “Well, I should go find a place to rest until I am needed.” It was a long shot but you at least had to try.

Your captor followed you as you backed slowly out of the tent. “I don’t think you understand what’s going on here.”

“What’s the harm in it? Where do you think I’m going to go?” you shouted, gesturing around you at the thick woods. “If I had a death wish, there are far better ways to satisfy it than getting lost in the forest. Attempting to kill you, perhaps.”

He nodded. “It would be more honorable, to die in combat against me.”

You groaned. “Yeah, sure, that’s what I meant. It’d be so honorable of me. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go find somewhere to rest, maybe even clean myself.”

You managed to make it about two steps before his arm wrapped around your waist, lifting you as if you were a ragdoll.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

The words were hissed into your ear as he walked. You thrashed in his grip but it didn’t matter, he hauled you along just as easily.

You were thrown into a new tent next to a massive wooden pole, staked into the ground in the center.

He leaned down next to you, grabbing your arm, easily resisting your attempt to pull it away from him. As he easily held your wrists in one hand, the other reached back to pull out a length of rope. His hands were surprisingly nimble, threading rope around your wrists and securing you to the pole at the center of the tent with little difficulty.

When he let his hands get a little too close to your face, you bit them as hard as you could, locking your jaw down on him. There wasn’t any strategy behind it, you couldn’t escape or go anywhere, but the way he hissed and yanked his arm back filled you with a little bit of self-satisfaction. That had to be worth something.

He didn’t stick around long after. It seemed you had managed to piss him off at some stage in the kidnapping process. You couldn’t imagine when.

Your first night in the orc camp was spent restlessly, pulling futilely at your bindings as you sat there on the floor. You tried not to wallow in your misery. This wouldn’t be forever. Your father would get you out of here, one way or another. Until then, you could put on a brave face.

As the sun began to rise, the orcs’ curiosity in you seemed to reawaken.

Occasionally a soldier would peek in the entrance of the tent, never for more than a few seconds, or you would see them silhouetted against the canvas, hovering nearby. When you got particularly frustrated you’d shout at them, the snorts of laughter your yelling drew from them only making you angrier.

But anger was good. At least anger felt productive.

You’d become accustomed enough to the curiosity of the soldiers that at first, when your captor returned, you didn’t notice it was him. It was only when he strode towards you and began to undo your bindings that you realized who he was.

The second your bindings were undone, you made a break for it. You didn’t make it far. Your captor held you by your ankle, dangling you upside down, your various muddied skirt layers falling to cover your face as you struggled.

“This will be easier for you if you behave,” he said, and you could hear a layer of irritation in his voice.

You would've spat in his face if there weren't layers of fabric hanging in front of you.

His attempts to right you were thwarted by your thrashing until you figured out what he was trying to do and attempted to still yourself as much as you could, if only to get your feet on the ground again.

“We’re moving,” he said as you steadied yourself when returned back to solid ground. “I can carry you or you can walk.”

You opted to walk, both to preserve your dignity and to attempt to plan an escape.

The soldiers were shockingly efficient, completely packing up the camp faster than you’d imagined possible.

And then you were on the move.

You had to move swiftly to keep up with them, none of the soldiers willing to slow for you.

Your captor stayed diligently by your side, occasionally shooting you looks that seemed intended to tell you you had no chance of escape. You ignored him.

After about an hour of moving quietly, out of breath from all the walking, he was the one to break the silence.

“You’re slow.”

“Your legs are longer than mine. Besides, it's hard to walk when you’re covered in filth” you said, struggling under stiff, heavy skirts.

“And who is to blame for that?”

You gave him a pointed look. “In fact, I think you’ll find that you are.”

“You shouldn’t have run,” he said with a grunt.

“You shouldn’t have pushed me!”

He rolled his eyes and then you were being hauled off the ground again. You yelped in protest but were quietly a little grateful as he sat you on his shoulder. If you had to keep moving at their pace all day, dressed as you were, you might’ve passed out.

It wasn’t your fault you couldn’t keep up with a well-trained group of soliders. If anything, they should be impressed you managed to keep pace as long as you did.

Your hand rested on his other shoulder as he moved, trying to keep yourself steady, but realistically, you knew he wouldn’t let you fall, his arm holding you easily in place. You were just glad you were being allowed to sit this time instead of being thrown around like a sack of potatoes.

You spent the rest of the day like that, sitting on his shoulder as they traveled. As the sun began to set and the others began to set up camp, you expected to be set down.

It seemed you were wrong.

Instead of placing you on the ground or even tying you up again, he began to pace off in the opposite direction of the rest of the camp.

Nerves began to take over you. He may have said nothing would happen to you, but you did not relish in the thought of being alone with him, let alone him intentionally dragging you away from the rest of his compatriots.

You began to squirm again and his arm tightened, holding you in place. “Settle,” he said, his voice low and calm.

You did not listen.

Eventually, he did set you down, although you did not think your thrashing encouraged him to do so.

As he did, you noticed the sound of a swift-moving river just behind you.

He nudged you towards the river. “Clean. You’re too slow.”

“What?”

“You wanted to be clean,” he said, nudging you again. "You should clean”

“It’s a river.”

He looked at you like he was worried you’d hit your head. “It is.”

“And you expect me to wash in there? It’s full of dirt!”

He chuckled and you considered biting him again. “You’ll survive, princess.”

You groaned but decided that anything was better than the mud you were caked in. It was running water, at the very least. You weren’t certain why, but it did feel a little cleaner that way.

You considered bathing fully clothed but you’d heard too many stories of women drowning, weighed down by layers of dresses.

You began to pull at your dress, stripping off some of the upper layers, glaring at your captor as you did. It was too much to ask to be left alone, you knew that much, but it was still humiliating to get undressed in front of him like this.

You only took off as many layers as you needed to ensure you wouldn’t drown. You were almost fully covered but still, you felt exposed.

At the very least, he seemed largely disinterested in what you were doing, only sparing you the occasional glance.

You covered your chest as you moved towards the water. He looked down at you as you did, head cocked to the side. “What are you doing?”

“The skirts are heavy, I can’t wear them in the water or I could drown.”

He scoffed. “Little weakling. That’s not what I asked though, why do you hide? You’re covered.”

“I’m being forced to strip to my underwear, of course I’m covering myself.”

He stared back, clearly still confused, and you realized as you looked at him that the idea of being properly dressed was probably not the same for him. He was covered, but largely in leathers and furs, with far more skin exposed than you would ever have, even now in your underskirts.

“Listen,” you said, trying not to be too antagonistic, as it seemed he was truly trying to understand. “It’s different for us. Especially for me, I’m supposed to be covered perfectly at all times. Maybe you should give me new clothes.”

“Why would I do that?” he asked dismissively.

Any patience you’d been trying to put on for him snapped. “Sorry, I forgot you’re a heartless brute, I don’t know why I asked.”

And with that, you stormed off into freezing cold water.

The mud caking your skin began to wash off as soon as you touched the water and you let out a sigh of relief. The river looked to be snow runoff from a nearby mountain, it certainly felt cold enough for it, but for now all you wanted was to be clean.

You looked down as you scrubbed at your skin and your skirts and as you did, you realized the whites of your underthings had become translucent in the freezing water.

You turned and caught him staring, both looking away as soon as your eyes met. You turned your back to him immediately, feeling tears pricking at your eyes, trying to cover it up with the water that was rushing over you. It felt like you had nothing left, like this was the ultimate humiliation.

When you turned back to look at him once more, he was gone, not making so much as a sound as he left.

You weren’t foolish enough to think he’d truly left you alone, but you appreciated having at least the pretense of privacy. It was shockingly… kind?

No. You pushed the thought out of your mind as quickly as it occurred to you. You would not start thinking like that, not about the man who had kidnapped you.

You finished bathing quickly, the chill starting to set into your bones.

As you waded out of the river, he was still missing. It was evident where he’d been, massive orcs weren’t exactly built for stealth, but still he was nowhere to be found.

In his stead, you found a pile of clothes lying on the bank of the river. As you lifted them, the first thing you noticed was while they were far too big for you, they were too big by human standards. It was an old shirt, well worn, and a pair of pants you’d have to find some way to tie to keep up properly. They were slightly torn and upon closer inspection, you found speckles of a dark rusty substance splattered across the shirt.

Someone’s blood. From who’s side, you’d never know.

You tried not to dwell on what had happened to the owner of these clothes to leave them in the orc’s possession. They were yours now.

They were far more practical than your fine skirts had been, even if they didn’t quite fit properly.

As you pulled them on, you hesitated, holding your skirts. You didn’t need them any longer, but it felt like a waste to just leave them here.

But you had no time for sentimentality right now. You cast them aside, opting to forgo your shoes, despite the lack of new ones. Your shoes from the palace were not exactly built for forests and rough terrain. They’d only slow you down.

As you finished dressing, situating yourself in the unfamiliar clothes as best you could, you looked around nervously. You could find no sign of your captor amidst the unfamiliar foliage, but you had more than enough reason to doubt yourself. You felt lost amidst the thick trees surrounding you, it was hard to tell where you stood. You didn’t know what to look for or how to orient yourself, trapped in a foreign landscape.

You did what you could, checking for any onlookers, peeking through the trees, and once you’d made your decision, taking off.

You had no idea where you were, or where you were running to, but anywhere was better than here. There were surely search parties looking for you and even if you were on the other side of the border, orc civilians or soldiers who were unfamiliar with your status were a better bet than your current captors.

As your bare feet pounded down on a floor of sticks and rocks, you tried to ignore how cut up they were getting.

You were faster this way. That was what counted.

You focused on moving as fast as you could, the determination drowning out the pain until suddenly, the sharp rocks and twigs were underfoot no longer. Your brain took a second to catch up, feet still moving down to try and push off of a ground that was being pulled further and further away.

“Predictable little thing,” said a familiar voice beside you. “What happened to attempting to best me in combat? I didn’t take you for a coward, princess.”

A frustrated scream escaped you, cutting through the peaceful quiet of the forest.

Despite your protests, he continued to haul you back towards the camp, tying you up as soon as you reached your tent, a practiced routine for the two of you by now.

You had the night to sleep off your anger before morning came and you were on the move again.

Your captor did not wait before lifting you onto his shoulder and this time, you did not fight him. It was preferable to running to keep up with them, especially on newly damaged feet.

It felt strange to sit there, without struggling or screaming, just moving in silence. So instead, you spoke.

“Do you have a name?”

“Drakar,” he said. His voice was low but with your position atop his shoulder, it was easy to hear him, even over the bustle of moving soldiers.

“Thank you for the clothes,” you tried again, wanting to start up any sort of conversation to break the silence.

He didn’t even grace you with words this time, giving you a simple acknowledging grunt in return.

His answers remained brief, with no apparent interest in engaging in conversation. Eventually, you stopped trying.

When you came to a stop and the soldiers began to set up camp around you, you waited for your chance.

The second Drakar turned his back to you, you were off.

Another orc caught you in a heartbeat, hoisting you off the ground until Drakar could come fetch you.

He dragged you off with a huff, scowling at you as he set you down. “Why do you continue to fight and run? I’ve told you of our plans to trade you, you’ll fare better with us than on your own in the wilds.”

“I have no desire to be a bargaining chip against my own people. Besides, I’m no fool. I know good things don’t often happen to soldier’s prisoners.”

He scoffed. “Your soldiers, maybe. We have honor, unlike them. And you call us the monsters.”

“Monsters? Maybe. Uncivilized at the very least.”

“I assure you, your soldiers in my country are living in no more luxury than we are here.”

So you were still in your country, not yet over the border. If you could just get away, your chances were good. “Well, then they’re uncivilized dogs just like you,” you spat.

He never seemed to find your outbursts anything other than vaguely annoying or passively amusing. Right now, he seemed inclined towards amusement, despite your latest escape attempt. It was for the best, that tended to work out better for you. It was irritating nonetheless. “Perhaps.”

Your enlightening conversation was cut short as a horn sounded, a familiar announcing horn. The sound of one of your people. Drakar’s head perked up and before you understood what was happening, your legs were being bound together, untethered but severely limiting your movement. You might be able to move like this, but you couldn’t get far.

He did not feel the need to explain this to you or threaten you with hunting you down, trusting you to come to your own conclusions as he strode off in the direction of the horn.

You might not be able to run, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t do anything. The least you could do was try to gather information, so you could be useful when you were saved.

If you were saved.

You managed to scoot your way towards the back of the tent Drakar had retreated to, out of sight of any of the soldiers, just close enough that you could peek under the thick fabric of the walls.

Drakar’s back was to you. You could barely see the messenger from your spot on the floor, his body blocking your vision. You could just see the tip of a feather, presumably stuck in a hat, bobbing as the messenger spoke.

As you got close enough to listen in, you caught Drakar mid-sentence. “- does your king think about our terms for his precious daughter?”

You held your breath, trying not to get your hopes up. This was a war. They couldn’t just be giving in to the first demands given. This could be a long, arduous process. You understood that, would never blame him for it. The country came first.

“The king rejects your terms.” You tried not to let it get to you. You knew this would probably happen, could understand exactly where your father was coming from. The messenger continued on, unaware of your quiet heartbreak. “Furthermore, he would like to close negotiations on this matter.”

You could not hold in the gasp that came at his words. You saw Drakar stiffen and knew he’d heard you, knew he’d figured out exactly what you’d been doing. A moment passed and he untensed his shoulders and continued on. You silently thanked him. You were in no state to face anyone right now.

“What do you mean close negotiations?” he asked, and you choked back tears.

You cursed yourself for putting yourself in such a tight spot. You didn’t think you could manage a quiet escape, at least not without being noticed, not in your current state, so instead you sat, a captive audience to a discussion of why your family had given up on you.

The messenger cleared his throat. “We do not negotiate with beasts.”

“So he chooses instead to abandon his daughter with them?”

The messenger disregarded his words entirely, his voice squeaking as he cried out, “You creatures will pay for the loss of his daughter.”

“She is not lost yet. He is choosing that fate for her, not I,” he hissed out.

“I have said all I was bidden to say. Do you have a message for the king?”

“Tell him if I see him or any of his scrawny little messengers again, I’ll rip them in two.”

With a little yelp, the messenger retreated. Drakar stood for a moment, the sound of his heavy breathing filling the tent.

After a moment, the canvas of the tent was lifted and your hiding place was revealed. You sat, crumpled, on the ground, bile rising in your throat.

That was it. There was no one coming.

He hauled you to your feet, undoing your bindings.

“What did you ask for me?” you asked as he undid the ropes, keeping you propped up on him as he worked.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does!” you snapped. You needed to know what was so much more important than you, what you’d been given up for. “You will tell me. I’ve earned that much.”

“A full retreat. It never would have been taken, it was just supposed to be a start to the negotiations.”

“Hmm.” It was a ridiculous ask, obviously so. But to dismiss you completely? To not even try?

Drakar pulled you out of your thoughts with a question. “Would you even want to go back now? If I let you go?”

Your brows furrowed. “You can’t let me go. It would show weakness, show you’ll roll over if your terms aren’t met.”

“I know, it was just a question. So what do I do with you now?”

You shrugged. “You could kill me.”

“No. We won’t be doing that. I should have killed him, though. The audacity of them sending a little snot-nosed fool to tell me negotiations were over. I should’ve gutted him.”

“Why didn’t you?”

He spared you a look that said more than you were sure he wanted it to, rage and concern both written across his face. “I had other things on my mind.”

He tried to speak to you again but you’d begun to shut down. It was all too much, you could do no more.

It didn’t seem too unreasonable a reaction. Your life had just ended, severed by your father without even a real rescue attempt.

But even if you’d shut down, the world had not.

And so it continued. Drakar seemed to have decided you were still useful somehow because every day you were hauled along with his troops, and every day you were given your own little tent.

He didn’t keep you tied up anymore. It wasn’t because you’d become docile, you’d attempted many escapes and he’d found you and brought you back every time. You weren’t entirely sure why you were no longer being tied up. Maybe it was because you weren’t valuable anymore.

You didn’t fully understand why you hadn’t been killed yet. What more could you do for them?

As days passed, the grief lessened to more practical thoughts, thoughts about your future. What was there for you now? Why were you still here? What else could they want from you?

You wanted answers.

You stood and stormed off. Several of the soldiers around you went to grab you until they realized that you were not headed out, but instead towards Drakar’s tent, letting you continue on your warpath.

You started to shout as soon as you entered the tent and he whipped around to face you. “You should kill me. Why won’t you kill me? What do you want from me? Whatever it is, I won’t give it. I have nothing to give. I don’t understand what’s wrong with you.”

He watched your outburst with a level of amusement on his face that made you want to attack him. “Are you done?”

You ran at him, trying to claw at him, bite him, anything. He restrained you easily, pinning you against him, but still, it fed something in you, trying to do something.

You felt him chuckle behind you and if you weren’t pinned down, you would have attacked him again.

“See,” he asked, and you felt the rumble of his voice through his chest. “You’ll be fine. You’re a fighter.”

“I will not fight for you,” you spat.

“I don’t expect you to. But you will fight for you. Nothing is over.”

He released you from his grip and before you could decide what to do with your newfound freedom, someone came crashing into the tent, armor shining a bright silver. He stood, ready to attack, sword in hand, but the second he saw you he froze. “You’re dead,” he choked out, words muffled through the metal of the armor.

You didn’t have a chance to respond before Drakar had thrown him halfway across the camp, orc soldiers rushing over to finish him off. He didn't stand a chance.

You stared at the spot he had just been in, processing his words, before slowly turning to Drakar.

“What was that?”

“An attacker. A foolish little man.”

You shook your head. “No not… why did he think I was dead?’

“Princess, the whole world thinks you’re dead.”

You head snapped up to look at him. “Why?”

“Because I told them.”

You reeled back. “Why would you do that? I didn’t ask you to say that.”

“Your people didn’t seem to care.”

“Oh, thank you so much then. As long as they didn’t care, then it’s fine. You speak of honor and then do this. Why? To torture me? Make sure I have nowhere to go and ensure that I know I am not loved?”

You’d had enough of this conversation, turning heel and storming off without another word, set on putting as much distance as possible between you and them.

You vaguely heard orders being barked to follow you, but that didn't stop you from running.

It didn’t change anything. No matter how far you ran, you had nowhere to go.

Drakar didn’t follow you himself, instead sending someone else to do his dirty work. A few orcs stood behind you, easily able to keep track of you and match your pace.

You weren’t even given a full hour of feigned freedom before one of them had picked you up and started pulling you back towards camp. You fought them the whole way.

You were set down in front of him, the whole process embarrassing. You straightened your ill-fitted pants as you desperately tried to regain any ounce of dignity.

Despite your appearance, he didn’t seem amused. “You shouldn’t run.”

“So you saw fit to have me kidnapped? Again?”

“I had to tell them you were dead,” he said, pushing past your outburst.

You scoffed. “You didn’t have to do anything.”

“I have orders to kill you. The negotiations failed, my people wanted you dead. It was the only way out of this for you.”

Oh. There was no reprieve for you on either side. You’d known your father had signed your death warrant with his refusal to negotiate but now the orders had been given.

“Then why am I still here?” you asked, your voice smaller than you would’ve liked.

“It is not just. I will not kill you.”

“So what now?”

“No one knows what you look like,” he said, his voice soft and low. “It doesn’t have to be over.”

It didn’t matter. Both sides had condemned you. You had your life, but nowhere you could live it. “I have nowhere to go,” you said, sounding braver than you felt.

“You’ll find somewhere. Until then, there’s always room for you in my camp. I displaced you, the burden of this wrong falls to me.”

You rolled your eyes. “And none of your men will send word that you’ve kept me here?”

“As long as they get to keep staring at you, I can’t imagine they’d mind.”

Your nose wrinkled at his words. “These are your honorable men? Letting me stay for the right to keep ogling me?”

“It’s not so odd. They’re fascinated by you, such a strange little thing.”

You supposed you were strange and foreign to them, as they were to you. But surely you weren’t the first, not with the combat they must’ve seen. “You’ve seen humans before.”

“Some of them haven’t. At least, not living ones that aren’t trying to kill us.”

“Who said I’m not trying to kill you.”

He snorted. “Well, you’re doing a piss poor job of it.”

“And if I stay? I won’t fight my own people, even if I was trained in combat. You’ll just carry around dead weight?”

“You’re hardly dead weight. I don’t even notice you up on my shoulder half the time.”

“You know that’d not what I mean.”

“I do. There are towns over the border where you could stay.”

You looked up, curiosity gleaming in your eyes. “They’ll take me? A random human?”

He nodded solemnly. “They will, if you wish to depart. If not… I am the reason your people forsook you. I do not regret it, I did what needed to be done, but I regret what has come to pass to you because of it. You’ve faced this better than I ever thought a human would. They’re cowards to have cast you out, I will not follow in their steps. It may not be what you’re used to, I am no prince and we are no humans, but you’re welcome to stay at my home. You will never be a princess again, that was taken from you. I took that from you. It is only fair to give what I can in return. It is not much, but it is what I have.”

You smiled, swallowing down the lump in your throat and willing away the misty feeling in your eyes. “Thank you. I’d love to stay, if you’ll have me.”

It was no great concession from you, you weren’t exactly drowning in options, but it felt like choosing it all the same. It was no less of a choice than your last home had been, born into it and forbidden to ever really leave.

This was being offered to you. You were being given the opportunity to say no. To run.

As much as Drakar had angered and frustrated you in the past week or so, you weren’t sure you’d ever been given this much respect. Real respect, not the fake respect of being placed in war rooms and told to be silent.

You gave him a final nod and a smile, adding a curtsy that you pulled yourself out of halfway through when you thought better of it, tripping over your feet a little as you did.

His eyes crinkled as he smiled at you and you wondered how you’d never noticed it before.

You went to bed that night feeling lighter, freer than you were used to.

As you left your tent the next morning, you almost tripped over a deer carcass left in your doorway.

You backed away slowly, rushing over to Drakar’s tent.

He was barely dressed for the day, the sun having only half risen past the horizon, and gave you a smile and a nod as he saw you rush into his tent. “Good morning, princess.”

You barely let him finish his sentence before you blurted out, “Someone left a dead animal outside my tent.”

He froze, his shoulders tensing.

You watched, waiting for a response and getting none, before adding, “Should I be concerned? It felt like a threat. Maybe they don’t like that you lied for me, that you're protecting me. Maybe they don’t like me like you think they do.”

“It’s not a threat,” he said with a swift shake of his head.

“How could you know?”

He explained it through barred teeth. “It’s an orchish courting gift. You’ve caught someone’s interest.”

Your breath caught in your chest. “Oh.”

“Oh indeed.” None of the tension had left him and he made no attempt to hide his irritation. “It’s odd, an orc taking an interest in such a frail little thing.”

You rolled your eyes. He was clearly upset that one of his soldiers had become distracted with you, maybe even disgusted at the prospect of one of them taking interest in a human of all things. Clearly your bonding the day before hadn’t taken you that far.

“I don’t know, I’ve heard I can be quite charming.”

He ignored your statement completely, shifting closer to you as he spoke. “You should stay close to me until I can find out who left it and tell them off.” He was being strangely protective almost, the disgust you’d assumed would be there instead entirely absent.

“Why would you tell off my suitor? Surely I should do that myself. Besides, why do you even ca-”

Oh.

The reality of why someone courting you would make him protective set in and you looked up at him with wide eyes

You couldn’t help the shit-eating grin that plastered itself across your face. “Well, maybe I’ll accept it. I’ve got no future now, it couldn’t hurt to have a big, strong orc husband.”

He stood a little straighter as he understood the implication. “You seek protection?”

“Hm, I do, thank goodness I’ve finally found a suitable option, I was really starting to worry.”

Frustration flashed through his eyes as he realized what you were doing. “Fine, we should go find this suitor so we can tell him how graciously you’re accepting this courtship. I, for one, will be glad to be rid of you. Now you’ll be someone else’s problem.”

“We should. Unless there’s something you’d like to say?”

His nostrils flared as he glared down at you. “Nothing.”

“Are you sure? Nothing on your mind? Nothing like, I don’t know, having feelings for the, what is it you keep calling me? The weakling you kidnapped?”

He avoided meeting your eyes as he spoke. “Your force of will is admirable. The odds were against you but still you fought.”

You fought the urge to coo at him, at how flustered he looked and how it seemed like he was forcing out every word. You had no doubt he would rather have left you an animal carcass. You preferred it this way.

“I’m going to need you to be more direct than that.” Your voice was patient and kind and you could tell it was making things a hundred times worse for him.

“I had intentions to look into human courting, to find something familiar for you amidst so many new things you’ve been forced into. But given the situation, I suppose I can just tell you.”

“Tell me what?” you asked. You were going to make him say it, you didn’t care how long it took.

“About my intention to court you.”

You giggled at his pained face and he relaxed a little, looking down at you with fondness in his eyes. You wondered when that had begun. You wished you’d been paying attention enough to notice.

“What now?” he asked. “How do your human courtships go? I will do what I must.”

You thought about it, amusement flickering through you at the thought of Drakar trying to uphold the proper etiquette required while courting a princess. But the courting process was long and strained and if you were being honest, you preferred the brutal honesty you’d been given here at camp. “Frankly, I’ve had just about enough of how humans do it. What about you? We can skip the dead animal bit, but what comes next?”

He looked you up and down, some gears turning in his head that you were not privy to.

“I will have to be gentle,” he said, before hauling you over his shoulder and bringing you over to his bed of furs on the floor.

Your eyes widened as the implication set in. You’d been far from the perfect princess, having your fair share of trysts with guards and servants over the years, but this was a different beast.

And then he kissed you and you stopped thinking altogether.

It was desperate and urgent, his lips figuring out how to move against your smaller ones and you reached up, pulling his face closer as he set you below him on his makeshift bed.

He ground down on you, clothed hips moving to meet yours. Your disparate sizes meant to do so while kissing you he was contorted at a strange angle but he certainly wasn’t complaining.

He stopped kissing you, rushing to pull off his off pants, and his cock slapped against your stomach, thick and hard and hot and you wanted him inside you now.

But when it fell against you, it hit just above your belly button and you thought that perhaps your eyes were a bit bigger than your stomach.

He seemed to realize the impracticality of it at the same time you did, a hearty laugh escaping him. “Don't worry, princess, I'll get you nice and stretched out.”

You chuckled nervously. “I don’t know if stretching will be enough.”

He slid down, hitching your shirt up and pressing a gentle kiss on your stomach. “I won’t hurt you. If you’re not ready, that’s fine. There are other things we can do.”

He shifted both of you with ease, pulling you to sit on his chest as he laid back on his bed. You looked down at him, brows furrowed. “What about your traditional orc courtship.”

That pulled another laugh from him. “What part of this do you think has been traditional? The closest we got to traditional was when you bit me.”

You flushed red, recontextualizing the memory and wondering how many of the things you’d been doing to anger him had also been part of traditional orc courtship.

While you were busy blushing, he’d set to work on your pants, wrestling them off of you as he easily manhandled you. You barely helped, halfheartedly kicking them off. You remembered how much you hated being picked up by him when this had begun and how much that had changed. You were loathe to admit it but every time he lifted and moved you so easily, something stirred inside you.

As soon as he got your pants off you were pulled roughly forward, his hands wrapping around your thighs as he pulled you onto his mouth.

He ate you out with just as much urgency as he kissed you with, wasting no time before sliding his tongue through your folds.

His grip was unforgiving, pulling you down so all of your weight was on him.

His tusks dug into your inner thighs and he seemed to pull you impossibly closer as his tongue thrusted up inside of you.

Even his tongue was almost too thick, you walls stretching to accommodate it. You hands grasped at his hair, needing something to hold onto.

His mouth locked over your clit, sucking hard before moving back to thrust inside of you again, hands rising to play with your sensitive bud of nerves as he did.

As you began to fall apart above him, writhing against the onslaught of sensation, he only doubled his efforts.

You arched your back, your thighs clamping down on either side of his head, hips shifting with the waves of your orgasm that suddenly overcame you. He was content to let you ride it out, grip loosening to let you have your control as you moans filled the tent.

You came down slowly and it took a few moments to realize you were still sitting on his face.

You moved to sit beside him on the furs as soon as you did, your face warming.

You shifted your head to rest against him, staring down at his cock as you did. It was impossibly hard and practically pulsing with need, and you made a decision you hoped you wouldn’t regret.

“You know, it can’t hurt to try.”

He sat up immediately, eagerness evident in his face. “You’ll stop me if it’s too much.” It wasn’t a question but a statement.

You gave him a knowing look. “Of course I will.”

He shifted you, lifting you over him and you were happy to give over control. You trusted him.

It felt even bigger pressed up against your entrance than it had on your stomach and you took a deep breath. You waited but as nothing happened, you realized that Drakar was waiting for your signal.

No nodded and he began to lower you, incredibly slowly. As it pushed inside, you knew the girth was more than anything you’d taken before, but it was manageable. The stretch bordered on painful but it was slow and careful enough that you had time to adjust.

And then, as it went further and further, it became too much,

You winced long before he’d bottomed out, about half of it inside you. It was bordering on too painful and you pressed your hands against his chest, shaking your head. “No more,” you said quietly, already weak from your last orgasm.

He didn’t seem to mind, holding you steady as he pressed you close to him, muttering quiet praises to you.

You slowly adjusted, not ready to take more but more than happy with what was already inside of you.

You shifted your hips a little, pushing it against a perfect spot inside of you, letting out a quiet moan as you did.

He put a stop to it fairly quickly, holding you still. “I think I’ll just keep you there. You’re perfect, taking me so well.”

You writhed, trying to get the stimulation you were becoming desperate for but he held you steady easily.

So you tried a new tactic. “Want more,” you said, voice soft and sweet. If that didn’t work you’d try yelling at him, see how that fared.

“Careful, I promised I wouldn’t hurt you. You damn humans, so fragile.”

“I’m not fragile, you’re just too big.”

“Excuses, excuses.” Despite his words, he began to slowly move, shifting out of you before pushing in again, careful to not push past the point where you’d stopped him.

He moved you up and down like it was nothing, careful even as he began to speed up, hips shifting a little to meet you, chasing after your warm cunt as he pulled you back up.

His breathing grew shaky as he did and despite feeling overwhelmed with sensation, you fought to keep your eyes open, to watch him come undone.

As his grunts became more and more unruly, your walls clenched around him at the sight.

He immediately pulled you up, leaving just the head of his cock inside of you as he filled you with thick ropes of come.

His breathing was ragged and his grip on you tightened slightly, pulling you even closer to him.

He looked down at you, eyes softer than you’d ever seen them, before pulling you off of him and settling back with you resting on his chest.

You made an absolute mess of him as he did, with no chance of keeping the frankly absurd amount of come inside of you.

He didn’t seem to care at all.

“We’re making a mess,” you said, despite suspecting the objection would fall on uncaring ears.

“You said you wanted an orcish courting, the mess is traditional.”

You weren’t sure if you were cut out for a traditional orc courting, already squirming as your thighs were coated in his spend.

But his chest was warm and his breathing steady and you couldn’t help but settle into the comfort of it.

“I'm gonna fit all of it someday,” you said, meaning it fully.

He laughed. “Brave little thing, aren’t you? Dreaming big.”

You snorted.

“What happens now?” you asked as you snuggled further into him.

“You reject that fool's advances.”

You hummed happily. “I will. I guess I’m lucky I caught your eye, don’t know if I would've survived this if I hadn’t”

“I meant what I said. I wouldn’t have let them kill you. It wouldn't be right. And you would’ve managed even without me. You wouldn't be the first human to sneak away to our side.”

That surprised you. “I wouldn't?”

He chucked, hands running through your hair. “You wouldn't. We're a more accepting group, I've found. Although you are a weak little species, we don’t have much use for you. You’re lucky you're pretty or I don't know if we'd put up with you.”

You scrunched up your nose. “You didn’t decide to court me because you thought I was pretty though.”

“No,” he said, like you both already knew the answer. “I decided to court you because no matter how many times we stopped you, you never stopped trying to run, to fight.”

You sat up with a sudden urgency. “If I said I wanted to go home, to my father, would you let me?”

You watched the panic flash across his face and some selfish part of you hoped it was panic over losing you and not panic over the consequences that could come if you showed up alive after his order to kill you.

He sat with it for a while and you let him, in no rush to pull an answer from him.

Finally, he seemed to find whatever he'd been searching for. “I would.”

“Good,” you said, a smug feeling welling up in your chest, right beside the warmth that had begun to fill you at his answer. “Then I'll stay.”

He tried and failed to hide his smile. “Good. Does that mean you’re done running from me?”

You grinned, knowing full well it didn’t. What would be the fun in that? “We’ll see.”

“I’m sure,” he said as he shifted the two of you, wrapping you up in furs to protect your modesty before picking you up once more, with one arm under your knees and the other below your back, keeping you close to his chest. “Now, let’s get you cleaned up, princess.”

#orc x reader #orc #terato #monster bf #monster x human #monster boyfriend #monster x reader #orc boyfriend #orc romance #Bridal carries are also called princess carries and I think it’s so cute that that’s how he picks her up at the end #This wasn’t even the prompt that won the orc poll lol #This is not a democracy apparently

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viviaj · 9 months

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toji fuckin u so good that u js go limp <3

TRUEEEEE i have smth inappropriate to say abt this 😵‍💫

with one of his big hands on your hips, toji watches you try to move up and down on his cock. he just smiles at your attempt, a pathetic one, but he thinks it’s cute. “struggling?” he slides his thumb over one of your nipples, watching your body respond to him.

“help me, please,” you’re begging as your hips slide back and forth, just anywhere for a sense of satisfaction.

“you’re a dirty fuckin’ girl, aren’t you?” he doesn’t look away from you, doesn’t give you the opportunity to hide from him.

toji feels much, much, much better as he’s pounding ur cute hole while you grapple for his arm— or anything to hold on to.

he loves watching you twitch and moan when he changes pace, waiting for you to buck your hips forward for him.

“cmon, princess. be patient,” he taunts. his cock is all consuming. he’s shamelessly watching it disappear into your cunt. you’re reaching for his arm but can’t find it in you to move; the way he’s fucking into you, treating you like this, it’s too much.

“yeah, that’s good. atta’ girl,” your body goes limp when he’s fucking you like this, all control and sense of consciousness disappears so easily with him, “just lay there like that. let me use you.”

and you’re not sure if it’s your far-gone mind, but toji looks like he’s smiling at you.

#toji smut #jjk smut #jjk men #toji fushiguro #fushiguro toji #toji x y/n #toji x you #jjk toji #toji x reader #toji zenin #jujutsu toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro x reader #tw degradation #size k1nk #tw size kink #tw size difference #HE CALLS YOU PRINCESS 😊😊😊😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

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ribbonprincess · 2 months

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⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

thinking about Rafe finally knocking you up and taking you for a little vacation to the Bahamas house.

You're sitting in a reclined beachbed, sunglasses on the tip of your nose as your pretty black bikini hugs your new curves,tits basically spilling out of the material. "Rafey, help me with the sunscreen?" Looking over him as he stands up,squirting some of it in his palms before rubbing the product on your arms and chest,making sure to leather your round belly.

"hi little angel" He mumbles,pressing a kiss to the stretched skin receiving a tiny kick against his cheek. "she loves you already..." "yeah,of course she does- she got the best dad" Smiling as you run a hand over the prickly hair on his head,you sigh.

"can I have some water,please? I'm thirsty" "water for the mama" Bringing the bottle up to your lips as he tilts your head back,helping you drink before closing the bottle and putting on the tiny table between the bed chair. "thank you" Smiling Rafe returns to his chair,fixing his sunglasses before rubbing at your belly again "I wanna go shopping later,get some cute clothes" "yeah...I like that"

#rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #outer banks x reader #rafe cameron thoughts #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #🎀princess

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alrightberries · 5 months

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*heavy sigh* barbarian bkg kidnapping the princess from the neighboring kingdom as a strategic move to lure out your father's knights and slaughter them as revenge for the warrior your people have killed, but it's been two full moons and neither the king nor his knights have come for you

and you... you've been the freest you've ever felt, with no knights guarded by your doors or tutors drilling politics in your head while your father pretends that you, the bastard daughter, has never existed and kept you either busy with extracurriculars or locked in your room so he never has to face you

and bakugou... watching you play wrestle with his tribe's children, pick the loose scales off his dragon's back, read the scrolls to learn his language, chew out the elders when they mentioned your name and the word 'sacrifice' and bakugou's never laughed harder in his life at their stupid dumb founded faces

and that was— that was all you were to him. a sacrifice, he reminds himself. a pig waiting for slaughter while he rethinks his strategies and reorganizes his plan to get revenge at your tyrant of a father who killed his men.

...but later, of course. not now. not when you're dancing around the fire with his people, in his home, singing the songs of his tribe and looking every bit like the woman the oracle described to be his future queen, while his parents share a knowing look

#bkg slowly falling for the pretty princess with a smart mouth that he swears up and down is nothing but a political prisoner #and moons later he bows to no one but you #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #drabble

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 8 months

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call my name and i’ll come running ; satoru gojo

synopsis; satoru can be irritating, at times. but even if you push him away, he’ll always, always be there for you when you need him.

word count; 8.7k (this was supposed to b a short drabble but i was possessed by the devil halfway through)

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, reader n toru have a fight, mild swearing (a couple fucks here n there), hurt/comfort, satoru has communication issues but he’s trying his best, depictions of stalking (reader gets followed by a random creep but satoru comes to the rescue dw), uhh implied thoughts of violence? (satoru wants to Maul said dude but doesn’t), literally just me being in love with satoru gojo for 8.7k words straight

a/n; no thoughts head empty only gojo running through the streets like a wild beast looking for u <33 im normal about him yeah.

“you’re so annoying sometimes, you know that?”

satoru smiles. the sentence isn’t one he’s unaccustomed to hearing.

usually, the words are soaked in an undeniable fondness, as they spill from your lips. rich with exasperated love. one that never fails to have the corners of satoru’s lips curling up, a mellow kind of joy blossoming in his chest.

but now, that fondness is nowhere to be found.

you sound thoroughly exasperated, and a little bit fatigued. more than anything else, there’s a vague irritation behind the tilt of your voice, something almost cold. it makes all the difference in the world.

and yet, despite that, a certain someone chooses to pay no heed to the bad omen.

“aw, c’mon. you know you love me, baby.”

satoru is grinning. lighthearted, awfully sweet. there’s a certain smugness to it, though, one he couldn’t wash away even if he was aware of it; you wouldn’t do so even if you could. that smugness is a part of him, one that you’d usually find endearing.

but right now, it only seeks to further your frustration.

it was a stupid fight, truthfully. completely meaningless. satoru had forgotten to pick up after himself for, like, the fourth consecutive time, and so you grew annoyed. not by a lot, but enough that you felt the need to be firm when you reminded him not to make the same mistake over and over again.

but satoru had only grinned, in that self-satisfied fashion of his, and apologized in a way you couldn’t possibly call sincere. then he did what he usually does — promises to work on it. to not do it again. he never follows through, though.

but even that thought wasn’t anywhere near enough to make you truly angry. what really began to irk you was the fact that satoru wasn’t taking you seriously, even in the slightest.

that’s how he always is, when it comes to this kind of thing. and you try to be patient, you do. you try to be understanding. sometimes you even appreciate that he keeps the atmosphere light, but other times, you just can’t help but feel irritated by it.

and the current situation happens to fall into the latter category.

you don’t care if satoru leaves a candy wrapper or two out, every once in a while. of course you don’t. it’s a silly thing to argue about. but would it hurt for him to just listen to you? to try to put himself in your shoes, for once? it’s not about the wrappers, or the undone dishes. it’s about the way he treats you when you complain about it — like it’s no big deal, like it doesn’t matter. even if it obviously does, to you.

so, gradually, the topic of your little argument began to shift, into a conversation about satoru. about the fact that he so adamantly refuses to talk about the things that bother you in a serious fashion. about the fact that he so adamantly refuses to take you seriously.

and he just keeps proving your point, with every word that falls from his lips.

at this point, you’re genuinely beginning to feel a little angry. but satoru doesn’t see that as the warning sign it is — he just thinks it’s cute. he’s just been cooing at you, this whole time, despite your numerous attempts to actually explain how much his behavior affects you sometimes. it feels a bit like talking to a wall. satoru keeps on teasing you, even as you try to be firm about your point, and only brushes you off with empty promises to do better and more unneeded comments about how much he wants to hug you when you pout like that.

and you falter, a little. of course you do. you’re weak to satoru. weak to his words, that sweet voice of his, that pretty grin. but that only makes everything worse, because if you let yourself look even a little bit flustered at his comments, he sees that as his cue to continue.

you don’t even know if he’s doing it on purpose, at this point. is he doing it because he knows it’ll annoy you, or does he genuinely not understand that you’re upset? you’d like to think that there’s no malicious intent behind it, but can’t he see how troubled you are? you don’t get it. you don’t get him, and that frustrates you most of all. satoru can be so goddamn convoluted, sometimes.

so you simply can’t help but feel annoyed. angry, even. how long have you been arguing for, at this point? you’re not sure. but you feel the frustration inside of you grow, as the minutes tick by, into something you know will eventually explode.

a sigh falls from your lips, deep and exasperated. a little bit exhausted. “i’m serious, satoru. you’re not even listening.”

“i am!” he protests, stubbornly. childishly. “you just look so cute when you’re all mad. not my fault you’re so distracting.”

satoru smiles, voice sugar sweet, but all you can do is frown. does he really think it’s cute that you’re upset? the thought makes you somewhat sad. but you can’t show that, can’t let that part of you win — you don’t even want to think about the possibility of you crying, because of this. yeah, no way in hell.

so instead, you channel it into anger. as the blood inside your veins comes to a boiling point, you dig your nails into the skin of your palms, gnawing at your bottom lip and shifting from one foot to another.

”satoru, i’m —” another sigh, sharp and vexed like the blade of a knife. ”i’m trying to have a serious conversation, here. can’t you see that i’m upset?”

satoru takes a moment to look at you, from behind the black glass of his shades.

he can. of course he can see that. you’re frowning, and there’s a crease between your brows, and you keep huffing and sighing every three seconds — you’re obviously, undoubtedly upset. and satoru wants to take you seriously, he does. it’s just that the part of his brain that only ever wants to coddle and tease you keeps persuading him not to.

he’s not lying, either; you do look cute. almost too cute to take seriously, when you’re pouting so sweetly, a little red in the face from all the frustration bubbling inside your chest. you look so small, glaring up at him like an angry puppy.

satoru can’t help but smile. it’d be impossible not to.

and he will listen to you, will take you seriously. he knows you’re angry, knows you’re upset, and he intends to deal with that properly. but he doesn’t need to do it right now.

just a little more teasing, before he has to stop beating around the bush. satoru dreads it, a little bit, dreads having to genuinely be serious, be open and apologetic. it always feels so strange, so discomforting.

all that stuff can wait until later. for now, he just wants to see you blush a little more, huff and puff at his limitless affection, that he knows you love deep down. where’s the harm?

(and therein lies the problem. satoru is observant, and typically good at seeing the line that he shouldn’t cross when it comes to you. but there are times when he slips up, times when he doesn’t realize that his words have begun to sting. times when the line becomes blurry, because he knows some part of you enjoys the way he babies you, and sometimes it blinds him to the part of you that doesn’t.)

satoru is smiling. it’s the same as always — big, bright, glazed over with honey-sweet adoration. smug and teasing. it’s such a satoru-like smile that it makes your breath hitch, sometimes, makes your heart race with wonder. but now all it does is annoy you. everything you love about satoru is annoying you, right now.

in your eyes, that pretty smile of his seems almost taunting. like he’s trying to pick a fight with you, trying to make you even more upset. you don’t want to blow up over something like this, you really really don’t — but for some reason, you feel dangerously close to. it’s not like you at all.

you bore into his eyes with a cold glare, even though you can’t exactly see them with his shades in the way. posture straight and rigid as you try to make yourself look bigger. you must look at least a little bit menacing, like this. right?

“i’m seriously angry with you,” you say, hoping your voice sounds as austere to his ears as it does to yours. “don’t you get that?”

satoru coos, unable to hold the sound back. he doesn’t notice the flicker of hurt in your eyes, only focusing on how the sunset rays frame your figure, kissing your skin with sun-soaked fervor. you look so pretty. and that angry look on your face is too tantalizing not to tease.

“aww,” he croons, inching closer to you. there’s a teasing glint in his eyes that you can’t see, unmistakably fond. “is my little baby that upset?”

you blink. his voice sounds even more sugar-sweet now, obviously exaggerated. there’s amusement there, too — like this is just one big joke to him. you think he must be doing it to belittle you, to embarrass you. speaking to you like you’re some kind of grumpy toddler, and not a grown adult trying to have a serious conversation with their partner. your blood boils, boils, boils.

— and so the cup overflows.

“oh, go fuck yourself.”

it’s almost in a hiss that the words fall from your lips, cold and harsh; they leave the confines of your throat before you have a chance to reconsider them, sudden and sickeningly heavy. crude, too. you’d never be so crass with him under normal circumstances.

but you’re overwhelmed, thoroughly and completely, and satoru is being particularly infuriating. you genuinely feel hurt by the way he’s disregarding your feelings, and that realization stings more than anything.

so you can’t help but say the words, louder than you meant to, before turning on your heel swiftly and walking out of the room.

you don’t even have time to register what you’re doing, legs moving on their own before your mind can catch up. brisk and heavy steps carry you to the door, all while you furiously attempt to blink away the tears of frustration that begin to form in your eyes.

it only takes a second for you to grab your jacket — then you’re out.

satoru hears the front door close, echoing off the walls of your apartment. you don’t quite slam it shut, but you close it with more force than usual, and he can’t help but inwardly wince.

a moment passes.

then, he flops down on the couch, lanky arms and legs dangling uncomfortably off the edges. the groan that slips from his lips is muffled by the soft cushion as he burrows his face into it, while replaying your interaction inside his mind.

satoru can’t help but feel uncomfortable, with this conclusion. a little bit irked. a vague something rests inside his chest, something he doesn’t quite want to admit to feeling. it makes him feel a little bit sick.

(”oh, go fuck yourself.”)

he can’t recall you ever raising your voice at him like that. when it comes to him, you’re usually so patient; soft, understanding, gentle. for you to have snapped in such a way — to have stormed out of the apartment in your anger — he must have pushed you pretty far.

satoru sighs.

he really pissed you off, huh?

(he can never quite seem to get this right, can he?)

it was never his intention to make you genuinely mad. he just lost sight of the line, for a second. that’s all.

and maybe he was also trying to avoid the issue, trying to avoid actually arguing with you. because he hates it. he hates it more than anything. satoru would much rather see you smile and blush than act all serious and sad.

he just wanted to make you laugh.

was it insensitive? yeah, probably. he just can’t help but fuck this up, it seems. now he’s gone and made you angry — and as much as the sight would usually thrill him, as cute as you look when you’re irritated, a pit of anxiety settles in his gut. everything just feels wrong.

more than anything, satoru feels restless. because, right now, there’s nothing he can do. he can’t chase after you, even if just to apologize — that’d make you even angrier.

he knows he needs to give you space. you were obviously overwhelmed; some fresh air will do you good.

it irks him, though. satoru wants to fix it. he always wants to fix everything, before it even breaks. and even now, all his mind can do is spin in circles, wondering how he could possibly cheer you up.

he’ll just have to apologize, when you get back. and hope you forgive him. maybe he can get you something sweet to munch on, or a bouquet of flowers. would that make everything okay again?

satoru doesn’t know. so he just scratches his head, and tries his damndest not to think of how defeated you looked before leaving.

your steps are heavy, dragging you forward, leading you somewhere you have no knowledge of. it’s chilly out, and the sun is already setting.

everything in the world feels so wrong. like it’s tilted slightly to the left, like the earth stopped spinning around its axis. like everything suddenly lost its saturation.

you just needed to get away from him, for a while. away from that smug smile, that patronizing tilt of his voice. you couldn’t even stand to be in the same apartment as him. it’s not often you feel that way, not often at all.

and it only increases your growing frustration.

you are beginning to calm down, though — you know you are. the crisp evening air and the pleasant mingle of people soothes your muddled senses, smoothing down the crease of your brow and the ache in your chest.

a heavy discomfort, and a growing guilt. that’s all you can feel, as the anger slowly seeps out of you, turning into vapour with every exhale of your breath.

you hate arguing with satoru. you hate it more than anything. the guilt clawing at your chest barely leaves any room for anger — you almost yelled at him. just the thought of doing that to satoru makes you want to cry.

because you love him, at the end of the day, even when he’s being absolutely insufferable. he’s a sweetheart, your sweet boy, always trying to lighten the mood and make you smile. maybe you should have been a bit more understanding; you know satoru’s bad at this stuff, bad with emotions and vulnerability. and deep down, you know he’d never hurt you, not on purpose.

he probably just didn’t realize that you were genuinely upset. it’s a mistake that anyone could make.

but it just makes you feel so frustrated. like he’s not even looking at you. always hiding behind those shades, never opening up. never letting you see him wear anything but a smile. you want him to take it slow, open up to you at his own pace, but that doesn’t make the wait sting any less.

it’s not like you were asking for a lot. first, you simply asked him to pick up after himself. the way you do, the way anyone does. then, you simply asked him to treat you with respect.

a sudden pang of bitterness runs through your chest. sure, you could’ve handled it all better — but he could have, too.

every step you take hits the pavement with an irritated kind of decision. whatever. whatever. for now, you don’t want to think about it — all you want is to walk around and take in the sights, enjoy the peace and quiet.

so that’s exactly what you do.

before you know it, the sun has set, and the moon has risen — shining down and painting the streets in a mesmerizing blue, ephemeral and tranquil. it’s enough to give you some peace of mind, as you lurk around familiar streets, soaking in all the open space. so different from that suffocating apartment, and the man inside it, with that shit-eating grin and those breathtaking eyes.

(he’s called you, a couple times. you haven’t been gone for long — an hour or so, you think, maybe two. some part of you wanted to answer, just to hear his voice through the phone, but the part of you that’s still awfully irritated shut that down immediately. so, stubbornly, you just let it ring.)

the streets are empty, and the sky is dark. the light of all the lampposts illuminate your way, along with the soft flicker of the moon and stars. an endless galaxy stretches out before your eyes, little pale dots of stardust shining like jewels.

an ever-lasting, never-changing sky, that continues on for infinity. limitless. all the space you could possibly want, and then some.

for a moment, you can only look at the glittering stars in wonder, soaking in the feeling of absolute solitude.

— it doesn’t last, though.

“you alone?”

a sudden voice calls out from behind you. close, discerningly so, enough to make you flinch. you curse yourself for not noticing anything sooner, caught up in looking at the starry sky, in angling your phone to take a picture of it.

hesitantly, you turn your gaze towards the sound — wincing under your breath when you see the man a couple steps away from you. he looks a little crazed, you think, shifting from foot to foot and hunching over.

oh fuck no.

great, just what you needed. that’s just your luck, isn’t it? your brain can only spin in circles, trying to get your body to react, to run. to do literally anything except just stand there like a deer caught in headlights.

in your nervosity, all you manage is a painfully awkward laugh, as you stutter out a halfhearted response.

“oh — no, i’m just waiting for my boyfriend!” you smile, unconvincingly. your face must be soaked in unease. whatever he wants with you, it can’t be anything good.

at least you said that one word clearly — boyfriend. you can only hope it’s enough to scare him away.

but the man only shifts a little more, emitting a gruff kind of hum, not saying anything else. your spine tingles with apprehension. every cell in your body wants you to leave. he seems a little intoxicated, you think, and the thought only stirs the anxious feeling in your chest further.

god. why does this have to happen to you? why now?

thankfully, you’ve got your phone in hand. as your mind scrambles for solutions, your fingers tap at the screen, urgently scrolling through your contacts. in such a frightened state, your acting must be positively awful, but you make a vague attempt. not like you’re getting any oscars for this, either way.

“sorry — he’s calling me now!” you stammer out, taking a step away from the man. he doesn’t make a move to follow you, so you take your chances and press your phone to your ear, feet carrying you forward with haste.

in your fear, you don’t think twice about calling satoru — but you can’t help but internally wince at the decision, as the anxious patter of your own heart resounds in your ears.

how are you supposed to talk to him, exactly? what are you supposed to say? hey, i know i just told you to go fuck yourself, but will you hear me out? i need your help.

and you do. you do need his help. all you want is for him to swoop in, to take you in his arms, your knight in shining armor.

satoru’s said it to you, before — that if you need anything, anything at all, you can come to him. that you can always, always lean on him, without exception.

you know that he likes helping you. likes it when you open up to him, when you put your trust in him. when you aren’t afraid to ask for his help.

so despite everything, you hold your phone to your ear, walking away with brisk steps and praying that he’s not petty enough to ignore your call like you did to his.

back home, satoru is still resting on the couch, tapping his feet and trying to distract himself.

he’s a little anxious. it’s dark out, and you’re not answering any of his calls. when you’re out of sight, like this, he can’t help but feel a little helpless — worried about everything that could happen to you. but it’s not like he can force you to pick up.

you’re probably at a friend’s house, or something. telling them all about what an asshole your boyfriend is. as much as the thought stings, satoru hopes it’s true; it’s all he can comfort himself with. anything is fine as long as you aren’t out walking alone, in the cold, in the dark.

entirely caught up in his spiralling thoughts, satoru almost flinches when the phone rings. laying on the table in front of him, just within arm’s reach. it only takes a second for him to react as his gaze flits to the bright screen, and he sees the contact name, the many heart emojis littering it.

with a start, satoru jumps up. his back straightens out, and his hand flies to grab the phone — he’d feel embarrassed at his own eagerness, but right now he just can’t help it. even under ordinary circumstances, he wouldn’t let the phone ring more than twice, always giddy to hear your voice whenever possible.

this time, however, he does falter slightly.

he takes a split second to simply stare at the phone in his hand, at the affectionate contact name. what is he supposed to say to you, exactly? how is he supposed to act?

satoru doesn’t know, but as if afraid that you’ll change your mind and stop the call, yourself, he opts to simply answer. he’ll just have to figure out what to say on the fly.

(unfortunately, satoru’s instinctual response to anything is either smugness or playfulness.)

“well, well. look who finally decided to pick up.”

you’re the one who called him, not the other way around — but satoru can’t be bothered with small details like that right now. he only hopes you don’t notice the faint nervosity in his voice, the stiffness as he tries to sound unbothered.

you don’t notice anything at all, mind far too muddled, too clouded by fear. all you can do is take a deep breath, desperately trying to grasp control over your wavering voice.

“— satoru?” you call out, voice meek and frail. the man in question notices it immediately, sitting up a little straighter, but before he can say anything you continue. “i’m sorry, i just — are — are you still at home?”

there’s an anxious tilt to your voice, one that’d be impossible for satoru to miss. your words are a little breathy, spoken in a fast tempo, and he feels a sudden dread crawl up his spine.

something is wrong, his senses alert him.

“yeah,” he hums, trying to hide the turmoil in his own voice. “why? is everything okay?”

the line is quiet, for a second. “it’s just —“ an exhale, as you once again attempt to steer your voice in a less nervous direction. “just… some creepy guy tried to talk to me. i told him i was waiting for my boyfriend and now i’m walking away from him but he’s still following me.” another exhale, as you worriedly sneak a glance over your shoulder. ”i just — i don’t know what to —”

“where are you?”

satoru cuts you off, voice eerily serious. his gaze turned cold the moment he heard creepy guy, legs moving him towards the coat rack by the front door as if on autopilot.

he’s already left the apartment by the time you answer, looking around you meekly.

“i… don’t know,” you sigh. “i’m not far. i walked past that one crêpe stand by the park but then i, like… continued up that street? and now i don’t really know where i’m going.”

you continue, a little exasperated as your gaze flits around the dark street. attempting to recall your steps, a difficult task with how on edge you feel. “i’ll try to look for a sign, or something,” you gulp. “… i’m sorry. i just wanted to get away from him.”

satoru’s voice is comforting, when he speaks, eager to console you. grounding and soft. “hey, it’s okay. i’m heading there now, alright?” he smiles, hoping you’ll hear it in his voice. “i’ll be there before you know it.”

you do hear it, and his words ease a little of the anxiety in your chest, despite your fear. “okay.”

the line grows quiet, again, and your brows furrow in worry. “can — can i keep talking to you?” you ask, uncertain. a little pitiful. ”please?”

“of course,” satoru answers, instantaneous. he’s already making his way towards the crêpe stand with decision in his steps, mentally scanning the area ahead. despite his own anxiety at the situation, he attempts to sound as secure as he can possibly manage, desperate to soothe the worry in your voice.

“try to relax for me, okay? nobody’s gonna hurt you. not while i’m here.”

his words are absolute, as he consoles you. he sounds so sure of himself, so much that you can’t help but believe in his words. so you nod, emitting a weak hum when you remember he can’t see you.

“can you tell me what you see, baby?”

“uhh…” you look around, blindly, trying to find some sort of meaningful hint around you. “there’s like… some toy shop?”

satoru only hums. “can you check your location on your phone?”

you blink.

of course. why on earth didn’t that cross your mind before?

“oh — yeah — fuck. i’m sorry. i don’t know why i didn’t —“ you sigh, heavy. “hold on.”

following satoru’s instructions swiftly, your gaze scans over the screen. he waits, patiently, already heading past the park and up ahead. as soon as you succeed in finding the name of the street, you echo it to him.

satoru sighs, a little relieved. “okay,” he hums. “i’m not that far away. i’ll be there soon.” he only hopes his words can soothe your fear, even a little. “is he still following you?”

you glance behind you, and meet the gaze of the stranger. just like you were afraid of, he’s still following you — if anything, he seems to have gotten a little closer. with a jolt, your heartbeat picks up.

“yeah,” you gulp.

satoru’s chest tightens. he emits a low hum. “just hold on. i’ll hurry.”

focusing only on the tilt of satoru’s voice, you try to calm your breathing. you just want to see him. the thought of doing so is the only thing keeping your trembling ribcage intact, at this point.

you swallow a shaky breath.

“thanks, toru.”

a sudden pang of ache sprouts in satoru’s chest, like thorny vines curling around his ribcage. his heart hurts. you sound so scared, so very small.

this is all his fault, he thinks. all of it. he got too careless; none of this would’ve happened if he had only been more considerate. if he had just stopped you from leaving and apologized, or hadn’t upset you in the first place. then he wouldn’t have to hear that scared little voice, wouldn’t have to imagine your body shaking like a leaf in the cold night. so far away from him.

but satoru can’t beat himself up over it, not yet. there’ll be more than enough time for that later. for now, he needs to get to you — that’s the only thing on his mind.

so he lets his feet carry him forward, running towards your location with bated breath. he’s sure you can hear it, through the phone, even though he tries to contain it.

the sound consoles you, if anything. it reminds you that satoru is there, that he’s on his way. that there’s no need to be scared.

but you can’t help but freak out, a little, when you hear the man call out from behind you.

“hey!” he slurs, stumbling towards you with unsteady steps. his voice is loud, angry, and it sends your mind reeling into panic mode.

a flinch overtakes your body, before you stumble forward, walking even faster than before. you’re almost running now, breath hitching as you gulp. satoru hears it all — your panic, the echo of the man. his own tempo picks up.

“baby, calm down, okay?” he consoles you, voice concerned and honey-sweet. “just keep walking. i’m almost there.”

“sorry —“ you squeak out, between flurry breaths. breathing uneven, laboured and anxious. but you try your best to calm down. “‘s just scary.”

it almost feels physical, the way it irks him. satoru wants to pull you close, more than anything, but he can’t. and that just makes the calamity inside his chest grow, clawing at his ribcage as if trying to escape, to go to your side.

(he never, ever wants to hear that kind of fear in your voice again.)

“i know,” he soothes. “you’re doing good, honey. listen — he’s not gonna touch you. i won’t let him. you have nothing to be scared of.”

you nod, even as you exhale a shaky breath. ”i know.”

and you do. you know there’s a truth, to satoru’s words, one that’s never failed you before.

because satoru is your safe space, at the end of the day — he can be annoying, outright insufferable, and sometimes he’s bad with emotions. but he tries, you know he does. and, more than anything else, you know that he’ll always, always be there when you need him. he’ll always be there to protect you.

and a part of you is sure that everything will be okay, as long as he’s around.

(it’s easy to forget how trustworthy satoru really is, how much he cares. how dependable he is. and how serious he can get, when he truly needs to be, despite his childishness. it’s moments like these that remind you of that.)

but it’s still scary, at the end of the day. you can’t help but feel uncomfortable, a little lost in the world. because you and satoru just fought, you just told him to go fuck himself, and yet here he is. running to your side, in the middle of the night, because you’re scared and alone and you need him.

the man continues to shout, behind you, muttering curses you can’t quite make out. you look over your shoulder nervously, steps hurried.

and satoru runs like a man possessed, through the moonlit streets, gaze scanning the area like a wild beast. his most visceral instinct is screaming at him, tugging at his flesh and bones, desperate to protect you. to comfort you. to wash all your worries away.

as he makes a sharp turn, he momentarily stops the movement, halting to look around. he thinks he must look a little crazed, with the moonlight illuminating his eyes, but he couldn’t care less.

especially not when his gaze lands on a certain person, further down the street — small and alone.

your eyes meet his.

with the darkness of the street, it’s hard to make anything out, but the light of the lamppost helps. though even without it, satoru’s sure he’d know it was you, just from the sensation that unfurls in his chest as his gaze lands on your figure.

an audible sigh of immense relief falls from his lips, and his tense shoulders relax, eyes softening just a tad. he hears a similar noise coming from the phone in his grasp, and he assumes that means you recognize him too. not bothering to end the call, he puts it in his pocket, walking over to you with brisk steps.

you stumble towards him, yourself, the worried crease between your brows now smoothed away. the closer he gets, the faster you move, until you can see the blue of his eyes. two pocket-sized moons.

satoru swoops you in for a hug before either of you can say anything.

he cradles you close, awfully close, so close you can hear his heavy breathing against your ear. it tickles your neck, along with his soft hair, and you shiver. his fragrance envelops your senses, a blend between fresh laundry, strawberries and some expensive cologne. your favorite scent in the world.

and suddenly, the world is devoid of danger. nothing can get to you while satoru’s there. all that exists is you, and him, and the soft flicker of the moon.

satoru squeezes you tightly, ensuring himself over and over again that you’re safe. he might be squeezing you a little too tight, but he can’t bring himself to think about that just yet.

finally, that growing calamity inside his chest is satiated. winding down at the feeling of you pressed up against him, the indisputable proof that you’re okay. with you in his arms, satoru feels like everything is alright, again.

the fear inside his chest, so foreign it leaves him shaken to the very core, finally begins to dissipate too. he doesn’t think there’s anything that makes him feel quite as hopeless as the thought of not being there for you when you need him. he never wants to feel that fear again. it’s suffocating. it crushes his lungs.

all he can do is hold you close, his big palm smoothing down your hair, the back of your head, your spine. warm and comforting. keeping you steady against him. he can feel your heartbeat, rapid and anxious, so fast that his heart aches. satoru is eager to soothe you, eager to make it go away.

”i’m here, baby,” he breathes, rubbing his cheek against the side of your head. ”you’re safe now.”

the words are spoken softly, right by your ear, and you exhale a shaky breath. you’re bundling up his clothing with your fists, anchoring yourself to him. after a little while, you let go, opting to wrap your arms around his midriff instead. nuzzling into his broad chest, you try to blink away your tears and contain your sniffles.

you nod against him, and satoru kisses the crown of your head.

and, finally, his gaze strays. it falls farther down the street, until it lands on a certain man — shifting from one foot to another. watching you both in silence.

the calamity inside his chest rouses from its slumber, once more.

satoru makes sure to keep his hands on you, still rubbing your back with one steady palm cradling the back of your head. keeping your face hidden in his chest, safe and secure.

then he raises his head, back straight, full height on display as his eyes meet the stranger’s. he can tell they do, even with the distance, the darkness of the street.

and satoru knows he looks menacing. he knows the light of the lamppost illuminates his figure perfectly, framing his tall stature and broad shoulders. and he knows the moonlight caressing his skin illuminates his face, his cold eyes — blue and uncanny, glowing even brighter than the moon. staring daggers into the man’s soul. if looks could kill, there wouldn’t even be any remains left to find.

the man stiffens, visibly, and satoru delights in it. he doesn’t leave, though, and for a second satoru wonders if he’s really intoxicated enough to come closer —

but, sure enough, all he does is stagger a little. then he walks away, grumbling under his breath, hands in his pockets.

and satoru isn’t satisfied, with this conclusion. not in the slightest. he wants to run up to the man, wants to hold him up by the throat, wants to tell him off. because he has the nerve to terrorize someone like that, stalk them with intentions he knows can’t be anything but revolting. the nerve to do that to you, of all the people in the world —

satoru doesn’t know if he’s hated anyone quite as much.

and a part of him wants to make him cower. make him fear for his life, just to make sure he never does anything like this again. leave him with a fear so great it’ll linger for as long as he’s alive.

(and a more animalistic side of satoru, one he doesn’t want to acknowledge, wants to do things that are much, much worse.)

— but you come first. without question, and without exception. he refuses to leave you alone, and refuses to make you look at the man for even a second more.

so he’ll focus on you, entirely.

he can tell you’re still shaken up, heartbeat pulsating against him, little flutters of life prickling his skin. there’s a desperation in the way you hug his waist, like he could disappear at any moment. like he’ll slip away if you don’t keep him close. the sight tugs at satoru’s heartstrings.

his first priority is to soothe you, always and forever. so that’s exactly what he does.

satoru smiles. it’s small, in the wake of the situation, but awfully sincere. fingers reaching down to trace over your jaw, he gently urges you to look at him; when you do so, hesitant, he cups your cheek with his palm.

your teary eyes feel like daggers to his heart, an unmistakable proof of his failure. his failure to protect you, to keep you safe and happy. but at the same time, he’s glad, from the bottom of his heart — that you’d let him see you like this. even after everything.

you look very meek, blinking the tears away as you look into his eyes. they’re bright, and comforting. you wonder if he left the shades at home, if he rushed over here so hurriedly that he didn’t think to bring them with him. you’re happy, in any case — the effect they have on you is undeniable.

you can’t bring yourself to look away, consoled by the flickers of white inside his irises, like fluffy clouds in the blue sky. ever-lasting, never-changing.

satoru tilts his head, smile sweet and understanding. ”that was scary, hm?”

his voice is tender, somehow so mature. like he’s some older, wiser being, comforting a scared child. it’s so soothing, so very grounding.

squeezing your eyes shut, you can only bring yourself to nod, as you nuzzle back into his chest.

”you’re okay now, honey,” satoru coos, smoothing down your back as you sniffle. an immense softness seeps through his whisper. ”i’ll always be here to protect you.”

there’s a truth to the statement, heavy and pious. like an oath, a pledge, something for you to believe in unquestioningly. you allow yourself to soak in the words, knowing them to be true.

you’re safe, now. there’s nothing to be afraid of anymore. satoru’s here, and he’s hugging you, pressing kisses against your shoulder.

but you just can’t stop crying.

when you speak up, your voice is weak, barely above a whisper. close to breaking apart at the seams. too tired after everything to resist the guilt inside your veins, you sniffle, and part your lips.

”i’m sorry i yelled at you.”

satoru stills.

then, his gaze softens, considerably. he hears himself coo, softly, palm smoothing down the back of your head.

his sweet angel. apologizing to him, when he’s the one who started this whole mess. when you’re still so shaken up. because he let you leave the house angry, because he made you angry in the first place. because he didn’t see how important the discussion was to you.

(“you’re not even listening.”)

yeah. he wasn’t. he didn’t really want to.

an acute sense of shame. an intense guilt. that’s what he’s been trying to push down, all this time. that’s the unnamed something.

it’s hard for him. to be as sincere as you, as open with his feelings and emotions. as mature. because even in a situation like this, you can swallow your pride and frustration, and apologize. even when you aren’t in the wrong. you’re always the bigger person, always the one to give in first, because he’s too stubborn to do so himself.

next time, satoru pledges, he won’t let you. next time he’ll be the one to swallow his pride.

because, yes, being vulnerable and admitting that he was in the wrong makes him feel a little like he’s being skewered alive — but you’re important to him. he loves you. and he wants you to know how much he trusts you, how special you truly are.

if he can show you that, by being a little sincere, a little serious, then any discomfort he feels in the process is a small price to pay.

satoru’s lips meet the crown of your head, as he encircles your smaller frame, arms reaching around your neck to pull you close. he rests his jaw lightly on the top of your head, breathing in your scent. ”you have nothing to apologize for, baby.”

a pause lingers between the words he’s already said and the ones he yearns to say, but can’t seem to pull out from within his throat. it takes effort, to squeeze them out; but every time he replays your own apology in his mind, it gets a little easier. he squeezes you lightly before opening his mouth, as if to give him strenght.

“i’m sorry.”

you blink.

for once, satoru sounds sincere when he apologizes — almost painfully so. bordering on something you think may be nervosity. you try to look up, to catch a glimpse of his expression, but he keeps you hidden in the crook of his neck.

”i was being immature,” he continues, sighing. you don’t know if you’ve ever heard satoru sound so uncomfortable. ”you know how bad i am with this stuff. but i never want to — you know.”

he makes a gesture with one of his hands, as if that will say the words for him.

“— i didn’t mean to upset you. honestly.” satoru inhales the cold air, in hopes it’ll make him more honest. “you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

you listen. intently, not missing a word, not a single tilt of his voice. it all sounds so genuine, almost foreign on his tongue. satoru seems to be trying to find the right words, grumbling a little under his breath.

he’s cute, like this. kind of awkward, but that only makes him cuter. you nuzzle closer to him, comforted by his very existence.

”… i’ll work on it,” he whispers, at last. “i’ll listen to you. i promise. i really, really will.”

you think satoru’s voice wavers, just a little, when he says his final piece.

“so please don’t cry.”

this time, satoru doesn’t stop you when you attempt to lift your gaze, loosening his arms around you and raising his head from where it rests on top of yours.

your eyes meet. satoru is smiling, weakly. he tilts his head, looking at you with something you could only ever describe as love.

”okay?”

such a lovely smile. so painfully genuine. his eyes are on full display, shining in the dark of the night, like splotches of moonlight. like someone stole the moon down to earth, and carved out little pieces to put in his irises. an ethereal hue.

he’s so gorgeous. hair just a tad messy, tousled from all the running he did to get here. cheeks a little red from the cold. when he smiles, his eyes crinkle. but he looks almost pained.

(he was so, so worried.)

blinking away the tears clinging to your lashes, you simply stare, entirely mesmerized by the sight. satoru’s thumb goes to wipe at your glassy eyes, smoothing away the drops that threaten to fall. you want to engrave his expression into your memory, so you can never forget it. but it’s just a little too much.

so you hide in his chest, once more. the word that falls from your lips is tiny. “okay.”

satoru smiles, kissing the top of your head with a relieved exhale. bathing in your presence, still reeling from his show of vulnerability. he feels a little like he just cut himself open, let you peek inside his ribcage. the night air stings his skin.

but you’re so warm, hugging him tightly, breathing and heartbeat finally relaxed.

(he doesn’t mind it, not if it’s you — having you look inside his chest. if you asked, he’d let you build a shelter there. right between his fourth and fifth ribs.)

now that the words are out of his throat, they don’t burn at all. satoru feels a little silly, for being so scared to say them out loud. he knows you’d never use them against him.

all you do is snuggle closer, as if silently conveying your forgiveness.

you stand there for just a little while longer, wallowing in the tender atmosphere. finally, satoru makes a move to leave, and you begin to walk back home.

“sure you’re okay now, baby?”

you nod, exhaling a flurry breath. it turns into vapour in the cold of the air, drifting up and dissipating in the expanding starry sky. “yeah. thanks for coming so quickly.”

“of course,” satoru only says, choking back a yawn.

your hands are intertwined, and he’s halfheartedly swinging them back and forth. it soothes your anxiety, and satoru’s protective instincts. you know neither of you will slip away, like this.

you shiver a little, subconsciously inching closer to satoru to protect you from the harsh bite of the midnight breeze. he notices, giving you a glance and a tilt of his head. “you cold?”

“just a little,” you mutter, smiling weakly as you look up at him. ”i’m fine.”

satoru huffs. did you really think he’d be dissuaded by such a weak retort? there’s no way he’s letting you walk around all cold and shivering.

so you come to a standstill, as satoru begins to shrug off his coat. he refuses to let go of your hand for even a second, making the process slower than usual — your heart flutters a little, as his fingers curl around yours, delicately.

when he finally gets it off him, he wastes no time in draping it over your shoulders. it’s big on you, warm and soft, shielding you from the chilly air. satoru can’t help but giggle sheepishly, as he always does at the sight — you look so cute.

“c’mon. let’s go home,” he grins, ruffling your hair teasingly.

satoru doesn’t feel cold, not in the slightest, as he holds your hand tightly. just your presence is enough to warm his bones to the marrow.

the silence between you is comforting and soothing, as you continue to walk. hand in hand, admiring the starry sky. you’re both too tired to speak — but satoru does so, anyway.

“i meant it, y’know.” satoru sounds sleepy, but earnest. ”i really will work on it.”

he doesn’t look at you when he says it, yawning softly and stretching his free arm. gaze fixed on the morning star.

“oh.” you pause, squirming a little. sheepish. “thank you. i’m sorry that i — i mean.” a sigh. “i probably overreacted a little.”

satoru shakes his head, waving off your guilt. “nah. you’re right. i never want you to feel like i’m not taking you seriously.”

his gaze meets yours, tentatively. his eyes shine like wedding rings. “you mean a lot to me.”

the sincere words manifest themselves as a heavy pressure to your chest, closing in on your heart as if crushing it. it’s a pleasant sensation, though, overwhelming as it is. you’re a little scared that your knees will buckle if he keeps this up, but even if they do, you wouldn’t want him to stop — satoru’s love is terrifically overwhelming when there’s nothing to hide it, when it’s just love and nothing else.

but you’d never reject it. you’d let it crush you to death with a smile on your face.

all you can do is avert your gaze, afraid that you’ll fall into the blue sea of his eyes if you don’t. heavy thumps of blood resound in your ears as your heart beats, warmth spreading throughout your entire body.

“… you mean a lot to me, too.” you echo, holding his hand just a little tighter. warmth rises to your cheeks. “i just felt really frustrated, i guess. like you were looking down on me. i know you weren’t actually, though.”

satoru chews at the inside of his cheek, almost anxiously. “i know i can be a little much sometimes,” he says, tasting the words on his tongue. “and i appreciate you for putting up with that. i’m sorry i let it go too far. i’ll be more considerate.”

your heart stutters in your chest. you’re not sure what to say — the way he forms his words makes them feel so absolute. and you believe him.

“i’ll be more considerate, too,” you echo, looking down at the pavement. “i shouldn’t have blown up like that.” a pause. you mumble, quietly, a little embarrassed. “i shouldn’t have told you to go fuck yourself.”

satoru breathes out an amused huff, chuckling lightheartedly. his eyes carry a teasing glint when they meet yours. “i probably deserved that. no worries.”

“still,” you pout. satoru giggles.

“we’ll both work on it, then,” he hums, tilting his head to find your gaze. “right?”

you blink. a small smile breaks out across your face. “right.”

satoru swings your hands back and forth, looking awfully happy with himself. you’re proud of him. really.

“oh —“ he says, breaking the sleepy silence once again. “and i’ll stop leaving wrappers around, too.”

this time, you’re the one who huffs out an amused breath. “thank you,” you grin, looking up at him. he thinks the sight is terribly precious.

a yawn leaves your lips, drowsiness sneaking its way into your bloodstream. you’re not sure if it’s due to the dark, or if you’re just a tad exhausted after all the arguing and panicking.

satoru notices, and gets an idea.

“you tired, baby?” he coos, eyes teasing but soft around the edges. “d’you want a piggyback ride?”

when you give him a look, sleepy and kind of exasperated, satoru grins. you huff out an amused breath, just a tad embarrassed, but it only spurs him on.

so he crouches down, one knee meeting the pavement, letting your hand slip from his. you blink, tiredly, at the loss of contact. you can’t see his face, but you know he’s wearing that lovesick, smug little grin of his.

”c’mon. your big, strong boyfriend’ll carry you.”

satoru’s feeling playful, you can tell. that’s usually a bad sign — but you can’t deny that you’re tired. and the prospect of getting carried all the way home is eerily tempting.

your gaze falls on his back, and his broad shoulders. silently, you walk towards him, and wrap your arms around his neck. satoru holds you up by your thighs, and then stands up, jostling you a little; he does so without a hitch, and you’re reminded of how strong he really is. his grip is secure, and you trust him not to drop you, no matter what.

you let out a content sigh, basking in the chill of the midnight air as you nuzzle your cheek against his soft hair. satoru chuckles.

”my sleepy lil’ sweetheart,” he coos, voice a tad raspy. ”lucky thing you’ve got me, huh?”

there’s a softness to his voice, despite the teasing tilt obscuring it. you can only huff out a breath, somewhere between a chuckle and a scoff, and cling to him tighter.

satoru will get you home safe. he can be annoying, outright insufferable, and he can be bad with emotions — but you can always, always trust him on that.

so, with his coat shielding you from the chilly air, and his back warming you up as he carries you back to your apartment, you allow your eyes to flutter shut; enjoying the cozy feeling his presence brings you.

he’ll always be there when you need him.

#NOBODY LOOK AT MEEEEE i was having a gojo moment ok.#i just think hes. the perfect man. a silly goofy princess 98% of the time but when u need him to be there hes so comforting n secure.#i Need him.#also obsessed w the idea of gojo only calling u ’honey’ when hes being particularly sincere like that does smth to me man.#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojo x reader

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