#the man behind the sus- gets shot

[peachdues]

IN THE NETHERWOOD

PART I

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just like his four other previous wives.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you being pursued?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

“Where did you get that cloak?”

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

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

“How do you mean?” 

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

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

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

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

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

----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Torches.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You scowled. “He is not my fiancé,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And the two of you set off into the Netherwood.

———

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

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

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

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

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

“No.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

The journey was taking longer than Sanemi originally believed.

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

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

You hadn’t meant to stumble across it. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he had. 

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

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

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

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

“You should be,” Sanemi answered. 

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

Sanemi swallowed hard. “Perhaps.” 

You took another step. “Recently?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Perhaps. I’m quite scary.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your name.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’d as good as doomed him. 

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

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

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

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

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

You’d grown up alongside it, after all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And Sanemi told you to run.

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

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

You had to. You would.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Alone. You were completely and utterly alone. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you kill them?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At least it had not been entirely flayed open. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And Sanemi noticed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You craved that feeling — craved him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was a sight to behold. 

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

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

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

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

You frowned. “Too close for what —“

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another amused chuff. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You balked at him. “A bite?” 

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

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

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

You gulped. “Would you have to transform?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was dangerous; it was thrilling.

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

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

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

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

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

—-

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

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

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

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

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

The thought made your stomach clench painfully.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sanemi hesitated.

“Wolf?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You still did.

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

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

Sanemi hesitated again. “Wolves only mark once.”

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

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

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

He’d put you first.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And apparently, he enjoyed playing with his food.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[imagine--if]

══⋆✰* Dating Cha Hyun-Su Includes: *✰⋆══

A/N: In honour of the second season of Sweet Home, this was mandatoryyyy 😁 just started off with some relationship hcs first but feel free to send some imagine or other headcanon requests through my inbox for Sweet Home characters if you're into it! These headcanons cover season one and two. Enjoy reading 🖤

Warnings: Sweet Home series spoilers, mentions of violence

🩸• Starting from the beginning of this monstrous series of events, the most likely way you'll meet Hyun Su is at Green Home a bit before the monster outbreak and apocalypse comes along. All you'll see of the quiet, sullen young man is his weary, unfocused gaze that briefly trails up from the ground to glance up at you in acknowledgement as he bumps into you somehow while moving into his apartment in the complex. The only sign of his interest in you from first looks is his stare lingering for just a beat longer than he'd usually bother... and that's about it. Boy's too shy and broken and tired to feel like he's good enough to do much else, let alone have a shot at even being friends with someone like you, so he'll just admire you from afar every once in a while and leave you to live your life while he despises his.

🩸• HoWeVeRrR-

🩸• The apocalypse unleashes its hell before much else can happen, and before you know it, you two are out surviving in a ruined world riddled with horrifying monsters and mutations, hiding out inside Green Home as you form the group together with the rest and try to fight off the monsters inside the building along with it infecting and warping others into gruesome, inhumane figures.

🩸• This boy's absolutely damaged and drained from all he's been through before moving to Green Home, and so it takes a lot of energy for him to slowly, slowly break out of his shell and reach out to you in return. But he will. He just needs time and patience, and Hyun-Su will find himself making the tiniest amount of small talk when you're together with the rest of the surviving group in the apartment complex. Or, most likely, it'll be him giving you most of his food when you're eating by silently and gently pushing it over to you, no eye contact, no words.

🩸• Before you, he didn't have the slightest will or reason to live, and so the only idea he can think up while dragging himself around the wreck of Green Home along with the rest of the group of survivors is to follow you around and protect you. The way he wants to die is for you, shoving himself into the way of the monster or whatever else the danger is to take him instead. Hyun-Su's absolutely fine with that idea...

🩸• Until he starts falling in loveee- 😏🖤

🩸• Everyone gets used to the sight of this boy following around after you like a moon-eyed puppy, having a tall, slightly dropping shadow trailing behind your own whenever you go somewhere to find food or weapons or whatever you've been sent to find. From Season One, where Lee Eun-Hyuk tries forcing him to do everything and using his monster side as an advantage, if it involves steering clear of you or putting you in any danger, boy's had enough. Hyun-Su will defend himself in his own quiet but intense way, his dark glare bleeding into Eun-Hyuk's with a few mumbling words of a threat before he wanders off to find you again.

🩸• Hyun-Su does consider trying to completely leave you alone, since everyone's aware that he's dangerous with his monster brimming to the surface from inside of him and his other symptoms and dangerous instability being infected, but it feels like the worst form of torture. He's alone again, in a world grimmer than the last, and he has no idea what to do with himself except feel like crying and telling you everything about everything when you sit by him and ask him if he's doing alright.

🩸• I think that this guy would be mega touch-starved after living in isolation for so long after all the bullying and tragedies with his family, so having you as a comforting voice of reason and warmth is something he can't help but melt into after you've been unspoken friends during the apocalypse and doesn't have the fight left in him to reject you if you try to clean bloodstains and patch up his wounds after a nasty confrontation. After that, it's safe to say that out of the whole group of survivors together in Green Home, he'll always be naturally apprehensive and distrusting towards them all, but if it's you that's trying to point something out or is worried about something; let him go get his weapon, he's coming with you.

🩸• His general aim and instinct is to protect good people and be some source of help and comfort that's been so unfamiliar to him personally, but with you, instinct is boosted 10000000% because it's you. You're too good for this world, way too good for him, and if you die, he dies. This concept basically becomes something Hyun Su isn't even fully aware of until the point where you might almost die somehow being confronted by monsters with the others, which is where you'll witness himself having a full-on freak-out in his mind and using all his strength and darker, monstrous side to come out on top to save your life.

🩸• After the danger's gone and you're alone in a quiet room to recover and process what happened, that's all the time you need to make it official, hugging him tightly and thanking him, while Hyun-Su shakily pats your back in return before giving up and hugging you back equally as tightly, staying in a protected embrace as long as time will let you.

🩸• There's so much raw love and trust and protection in a relationship with Hyun-Su, it's unbelievable 😭 he's so clingy and sweet and ridiculously romantic in private with you until you point it out, which results in a blushing red sight and not being able to look you in the eye in bashfulness for about a straight hour before he gets over it. In public, it's still obvious that you're together, with smaller signs of affection and togetherness like holding hands, or doing that coupley thing where you whisper together in the back corners of rooms or give each other brief, subtle looks that say everything you need to understand what it means and where to run or go or something.

🩸• At first, he is a little reluctant to get too close to you because of that lingering fear of accidentally hurting you or his monster side popping out to ruin everything, but with some time and small steps, he'll eventually give up trying to be overly cautious and let him be wholly soothed by you, which was the biggest relief of all for him.

🩸• But just as you're getting properly closer and in touch with each other as romantic partners as well as best friends and survivors in this mess together, his monster alter ego personality will find it the perfect time to mess around with his head and find a way to overpower Hyun-Su, meeting you properly in the process.

🩸• Now, his monster side is a whole other story when it comes to personality, but if you think that means you'll be left alone or hated or something, think AgAiN, and then again, because no :)

🩸• Hyun-Su's monstrous side is darker, daring, dangerous, and with you, madly possessive and protective. I mean, he won't even try to hold himself back from taking things to extremes and spilling as much blood as necessary if he gets a weird vibe from someone around you, or if someone outrightly tries to attack you. Even if it's a monster like him, there's enough threat in thrashing them through a few solid walls and leaving some biting words behind before stalking off.

🩸• Monster Hyun-Su's a massive starer by the way, so those unnervingly blue eyes are going to be a sight you'll have to get used to, like literal inches away from your face when you wake up, studying you for wounds, or just studying you in general. There's something about you that's just so fascinating to him, and this side of him literally does not know what boundaries are, so he's all up in your face studying you in curiosity with a soft but dark smirk on his face, while you're just "😐"

🩸• Kind of gross but Monster Hyun-Su has the weirdest affection ever. Like, he enjoys feeding you when you're hungry, mostly questionably bloody-looking things until you get it in his head that you're not Hannibal Lecter and just want a breakfast bar or something 😭 and when this guy goes to hug you, it'll be ridiculously tight, sometimes his wing breaking out of its shell to wrap over you, which is kind of sweet. Until he goes to kiss you and it's not a kiss at all, it's more him living up to his monstrous reputation by licking at your skin like some kind of dog until you squeal and push him away, which he always finds hilarious. Meanwhile, normal Hyun-Su's mortified 😂

🩸• Normal Hyun-Su and Monstrous will most likely make an agreement between them to make sure you're kept alive and as unharmed as possible, protect you from any sort of danger, so if you thought you had a shadow following after you before the split between them, you've got a much more threatening one now, so it'd be very hard for much damage to come to you at all. And good luck if you want some time alone to wander and think by yourself, because if he doesn't straight-up follow you out with no buts like usual, he'll be watching you somewhere close at all times.

🩸• I feel like Hyun-Su's monstrous side would find it funny to make you jump, like falling down out of nowhere from a building or something right in front of you when you thought you were alone or something stupid like that. You'll give him an annoyed glare of protest, and he'll just smirk smugly and teasingly with a fake-innocent shrug of "something wrong?"

🩸• To sum up the whole. predicament you've gotten yourself into here, falling in love with Hyun-Su would pretty much protect you from ninety per cent of the apocalyptic mess of the world while being showered with all the lost love and affection and longing he thought were dead along with all the rest of his hopes and energy from the beginning. And then to keep you on your toes, you've got the monstrosity inside of his head coming out at random moments to obsess over you before Hyun-Su can come back to reality again. But whoever's at the surface, and wherever you two are, he'll always, always be there watching you and with you, one way or another.

[azrielsdove]

Longing Pt. 2: Azriel

Warnings: Suggestive

Part One Here

***

A strong body was pressed tight against your back, an arm wrapped snug around your waist. You took a deep breath of the morning air, comfortable and happy. You turned in the arm holding you to press a soft kiss to Cassian’s forehead.

Until you realized it was Azriel sleeping soundly next to you, and that it would never be Cassian. You shot up straight, feeling like you had just been doused in ice cold water. The sounds of Nestas moans replayed in your head as Azriel blinked up at you, your sudden movement waking him.

“What happened?” He asked, voice hoarse from sleep. You shook your head in response, not trusting yourself to speak right now. You slid out of the bed and walked quietly into the bathing room, preparing to take a long, sorrowful bath. You heard Azriel getting up as well, followed shortly by your bedroom door opening and closing. Yea, I wouldn’t want to stick around me either, you thought, tears pricking at your eyes.

Everything just felt too heavy.

You undressed and sunk into the warm bath you had drawn, a rather copious amount of bubbles covering you to your chin. You leaned your head back against the edge of the tub, gazing out over the early morning. Why did it have to be so hard? You had first felt the mating bond flicker when you met Cassian, and you thought all your dreams would come true. Certainly he would feel the bond as well, would feel drawn to you. You would fall in love, get married, and have ten beautiful babies. After that day there was never another option for you, not when you were so certain of your mate.

Why did it never snap for him?

Or worse, it did and he decided he wasn’t interested in pursuing that path with you.

Both options made you feel sick.

You closed your eyes and thought back to that very first meeting, the day you were so sure you had gotten what you’d always wanted.

***

“What if they don’t like me?” Your voice was full of doubt as you smoothed your dress down again, anxiety coursing through you. Azriel laughed, tugging you closer to the doors of the massive house in the mountains he had brought you to.

“I promise they will love you. Don’t you trust me?” He teased, poking your side.

You glared at him. “He is the High Lord, Azriel! My High Lord! Big, bad, powerful Rhysand! Am I not expected to be a bit nervous?” He laughed again and shook his head.

“Rhys is not scary. Do you think i’d bring you somewhere you’d be in danger?” A smile ghosted over his lips as he stared you down, daring you to ask to go back home. You sighed and ran your fingers over your dress again, sucking in a deep breath.

“Let’s just get it over with.”

“That’s my girl!” He cheered, looping his arm through yours as he pulled you into the grand house. You were quickly rendered speechless by the stunning room you were in, windows covering three entire walls to overlook Velaris.

“You live here?” You asked in amazement, still looking around the room.

“Sure do. Cassian and I reside up here most of the time. Do you like it?” There’s a strange undertone in his question, a shyness that he doesn’t usually have around you. You looked up at him with wide eyes, a smile breaking out across your face.

“I love it! I can’t believe you have never brought me here before!” You jabbed, smiling bigger at the relief on his face. Azriel had been your friend for some months now, and you occasionally wondered what it would be like to be more. That feeling crept up in your heart at this moment, standing with him in the home he had been so nervous to show you. You opened your mouth to continue before his eyes flicked to something behind you, the smile reserved for you changing to something more boyish.

“Cassian!” He called, and you turned to see a man just as large as Azriel. Right as you felt that golden tug in your chest. His eyes were bright as they took you in, white teeth showing as he smiled wide. Cassian.

Cassian.

Cassian.

Azriel nudged you and you suddenly realized you were staring at the male with your mouth wide open. You flushed and murmured a “hello” as your gaze drifted to the floor. You were thankful that Azriel started a conversation with him about training earlier that week, allowing you to steal glances up at the long-haired god in front of you.

Cassian.

The General of the Night Court.

Azriel’s brother.

Your Mate.

***

You opened your eyes, a deep frown on your face. You had always romanticized that memory, the magical moment of meeting your mate. The gentle tug you felt when you first laid eyes upon him.

But something was off about it.

You sat straighter in the tub, looking blankly out the window. You thought over the second you felt that bond twitch in your chest, the seconds before it.

When Azriel was smiling down at you.

No. No, you can’t have made a mistake like that. You shook your head as if to clear it, thinking back to other moments you felt the pull of the mating bond.

***

“Catch!” Azriel yelled, tossing a deadly sharp dagger at you. You yelped and dodged out of the way, watching the blade land point-down in the sand. You spun towards him, crossing your arms as you did.

“Are you trying to kill me?” You had agreed to come up to train with Azriel today, mostly due to knowing Cassian would likely be there. He had been on you about learning self-defense, adamant that the world wasn’t all safe like Velaris.

Azriel shrugged, another dagger in his hands. “Your reflexes are shit.” He stated, inspecting the blade he was holding.

“You gave me hardly any warning! It’s my first day!” You protested, knowing he wasn’t wrong. He shrugged again, eyes flicking up towards you. You noticed the tense in his arm a split second before the second dagger was hurtling directly towards your face.

This time you slid smoothly to the side, gloved hand shooting out to catch the handle of the damned thing. You turned back to Azriel, a wicked smile on your face.

“Did you truly believe I had never learned self-defense?” The slight surprise on his face was all he gave you before he was throwing another dagger your way. You again caught it with ease, throwing it back at him without missing a beat.

“Okay, color me impressed. You’ve never shown this side of you.” Azriel said, walking over to your side to take the other blades back. You handed them back, his fingers running over yours as he grabbed them. The same second Cassian walked into the ring, shouting about you starting without him.

The same second you felt the bond tug.

***

“No, no, no! That is not how you play!” Cassian yelled, looking down at the move you had just made on the game board.

“It’s not?” You asked innocently, batting your eyes up at him. He glared at you, hands waving in frustration at your game piece.

“You can’t move there! You are one turn away from winning, with a move like that. No chance left for the rest of us.” He sighed dramatically, looking in dismay at the board in front of you.

Azriel chuckled from next to you, leaning forward to look at the board as well. “Poor Cass doesn’t take well to losing,” he stage whispered, pulling a laugh out of you. You turned and looked at him, moving your face close to his as if you were two conspirators.

“He should get used to it if you keep bringing me to game night.” You loudly whispered back, Azriel laughing in answer. Cassian’s grumble dragged your gaze back to him, the bond pulling hard in your chest.

You missed the way Azriel was looking at you at the same moment.

***

The shot burned your throat, a welcome distraction against the sight of Cassian all over some random female. Azriel sat next to you, a pitying look on his face. “We don’t have to stay here, ya know.”

You shook your head, reaching for the cocktail you had ordered as well. “No, I don’t want to ruin your night. It’s not like he has to want me.” You looked down, hot tears sliding down your face. “Maybe he just doesn’t feel it.”

Azriel’s hands cupped your cheeks, dragging your face up to him. “Hey, hey, he just hasn’t realized it yet i’m sure. Don’t let this make you think you’re not enough.” His thumbs swiped away the still falling tears, now accompanied by little sniffles.

“I just don’t understand how it hasn’t snapped for him. What am I doing wrong?” You were mumbling, words hardly coherent. Azriel continued wiping away your tears, allowing your nonsense mumbles to continue.

“Hey,” he said soothingly, bringing his face down close to yours. “Don’t worry. He will come around, and if he doesn’t he was never worth it. Okay?” He gave you an encouraging smile, nodding for you to return it.

“Okay,” you said, sniffing one last time as you pulled away from Azriel and moving to place your glass back on the table.

The table that your drunken eyes severely misjudged the distance of.

Your glass shattered on the floor, the bright colored drink inside spraying all over you and Azriel. You blinked slowly at the mess, looking back up at Azriel’s equally shocked expression.

And then you laughed.

Loud, uncontrollable laughter.

Azriel stared at you for a second before joining in, grabbing napkins to help clean up the mess. The sound of your laughing drew Cassian’s attention back to your table, coming over to see what was going on. You looked up to him while Azriel carefully wiped the drink off of you, the bond glowing brightly.

***

Oh, gods. Every memory you went through of the bond calling to you, Azriel was there too.

Azriel was always there.

The broken pieces inside of you stirred, as if telling you to listen to your gut. You quickly pulled yourself out of the bath, unable to sit still any longer. How could you have made such a mistake?

You dried off and walked into your closet, blindly pulling out clothes while your mind raced.

Did Azriel even know?

You paused in horror, shirt halfway on. You had been going on and on about Cassian to him for gods knew how long. Had it been torture for him this whole time, trying to encourage you?

You quickly finished dressing, tying your hair up loosely as you headed to your bedroom door. You had to go find him, you had to see what he knew, you needed to explain-

Your door opened as you reached it, causing you to jump back in alarm.

Azriel was standing there, looking at you curiously. A large tray of food in his hands. “You okay?” He asked cautiously, taking in the panic on your face.

“Uh, yea! Sorry, I was just about to go look for you? What’s this?” Your voice was too loud, too bright. He narrowed his eyes at you as he stepped into the room, kicking the door shut behind him.

“What happened.” It wasn’t a question. He set the food down on your desk, turning back to you with his arms crossed.

You shook your head too quickly, hurrying over to the tray he’d set down. “Looks delicious!” You grabbed one of the pastries on the plate, halfway to your mouth when Azriel’s hand wrapped around your wrist.

“What aren’t you telling me?” His voice was softer, eyes looking over you like he was making sure you weren’t injured.

“Did you know?” You asked quietly, mouth going dry. His eyes flicked up to yours, brows furrowed.

“Know what?”

You swallowed thickly, holding the pastry out towards him. He glanced between you and it, realization coming over his face. “Ah,” he said, letting go of your wrist.

“You don’t want it?” You were embarrassed by how pathetic the question was, arm falling limply to your side.

“No, no that’s not what I mean. I just, last night you were broken into pieces over Cassian. I just,” he swallowed, looking away from you. “I just want you to be sure.”

Your heart ached at the pain in his voice. You set the pastry back down, reaching out to grab his hands in yours. “Azriel,” you whispered, “it has always been you, hasn’t it? All those times I felt the bond pull, it was all towards you.” His eyes met yours again, shinier than they were before.

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You ran your thumbs over his hands, feeling the scars under your touch.

“I thought you would be disappointed. You seemed so happy that it was Cassian, the big, bad General. The hero.” Your heart was breaking, a pain deep in your chest spreading.

“Az…” You let go of one hand to cup his face, tears of your own pricking at your eyes. “I could never be disappointed with you. You held my heart long before I knew who Cassian was. It’s my own fault for misinterpreting the bond the way I did.” You let go of him, moving to pick up the pastry again. “I want you to take it,” you said, holding it out for him.

He looked at you for a long moment before taking the treat out of your hand, raising it slowly to his mouth. You watched as he took a careful bite, eyes locked onto yours while he ate. The shattered pieces of the bond stirred again, calling back out to the male you were made for.

Azriel placed the half eaten pastry down, silently looking back at you. You took a hesitant step towards him, placing one hand on his neck. “Can I kiss you?” You asked, heart racing.

He nodded.

You leaned up, pressing your lips softly to his.

The bond sung.

Azriel’s hands gripped tight around your waist, tugging you flush against him. He kissed you like it was his dying wish, his last chance to get to do so. You put the same emotion back into him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. He nipped at your lip, encouraging you to open your mouth for him. The bond glowed bright inside of you, causing you to gasp into his mouth. You felt his lips smile against yours, tongue sliding against you like it was meant to be there.

You groaned at his taste, the sweetness of the pastry still lingering. His hands slid up your back, gripping onto your shirt at the noises you made. You arched into him, his lips pulling from yours to trace down your neck. You moaned as he sunk his teeth into you, claiming you as his own. The golden power of the bond flowed through you, whole and pure. A beautiful golden tether, tying you to Azriel.

Azriel, your closest friend.

The Shadowsinger.

The spy of the Night Court.

Your mate.

***

I hope this was what you all wanted!! Thank you so much for your patience recently, I hope you guys appreciate this as much as I appreciate you <3

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Room for Two

Sam and Dean Winchester x teen!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: Dean takes you in after your mom is killed by a monster, but it doesn’t go over well with Sam

“There, that shed.” Dean led the way along the dirt road, Sam right at his heels. “Keep an eye out for that thing, I’m gonna see if the kids are in there.”

Sam turned to scour the woods while Dean stepped up to the newly padlocked shed. He swiftly shot the lock, opening the doors to reveal at least a dozen startled kids, ranging from tweens to mid-teens.

“Who are you? What do you want?”

Dean was surprised to see one of the older ones brandishing a broken board as she stepped up in front of the other kids.

“Hey, I’m here to get you guys out,” Dean assured her, lowering his gun. “I’m here to help you.”

“Is-is that thing still out there?” The girl—you—didn’t lower your board as your eyes scanned what little area you can see.

“We don’t know, that’s why we’ve got to move.” Dean was becoming impatient.

“I can’t just let all these kids out there for that thing to pounce on them,” you argued, keeping your body firmly between Dean and the other children.

“Look, kid, I can protect them, but we can’t stay here,” Dean stepped forwards, and he deftly blocked your attempted blow, wrenching the board from your hands. “Let’s go.”

You hesitated, but this strange man seemed to be your best bet.

“Ok,” you said finally, knowing that the kids would follow your lead. “I want the youngest in the middle, we go as a group, no stragglers and no one gets left behind.” You turned to Dean as the kids began to shuffle out with the two of you at the lead. “I want a gun.”

“Excuse me?” He frowned at you.

“There’s a lot of kids, and a lot of places this thing could attack from. You defend the front, give me a gun and I’ll take the back.”

Dean hesitated, but a rustling in the woods nearby made up his mind for him.

“Don’t shoot anybody,” he said as he handed you one of his guns.

…

The group made it back to where the Impala was parked without incident, which made Dean assume that Sam had taken out the monster. But then where was he?

“Alright, there’s a gas station about a mile down this road. You’ve gotta take the kids there, and you can call for help.”

“What about you?” You were still on high alert, your eyes darting around the area.

“My brother’s out there trying to find this thing, I need to help him.” Dean turned to go, but you grabbed his arm.

“Wait! Do-do you have a phone?” Dean was surprised at the sudden change in your demeanor, and he finally saw you for the young kid that you were. “I have to call my mom.”

Dean’s heart lodged in his throat. He had known this moment was coming, but he still wasn’t ready for it.

Kids had started disappearing two weeks ago, just vanishing from their beds. All the parents were beside themselves, relying on cops who had no answers. Every parent except your mom. She had tried to go after the monster before Sam and Dean had gotten wind of the job.

She’d been torn apart.

“Kid.” You didn’t miss Dean’s transformed expression, or his gentle voice.

“What?” You asked anxiously.

“Kid, your mom, she…she tried to find you,” Dean sighed. “She didn’t make it.”

You were shaking your head, your chest rising and falling rapidly as your breathing quickened.

“That-that’s not possible. She…tha-there…” you were struggling for words, panic and grief overtaking you. “My mom can’t be-“

“I’m sorry.” When your knees gave out, Dean was right there, holding you up as you began to cry. “Kid, I’m so sorry.”

“The other kids,” you said after several minutes. You were almost standing on your own, but you still gripped onto Dean’s arms for stability. “Their-their parents-“

“All ok,” Dean assured you, surprised at the question. “Your mom…she was the only one to go after this thing. She was a genius, kid. I don’t think we could’ve found you guys without some of the research she left behind.”

“Did-did she…um…” you couldn’t seem to get the words out, but Dean was pretty sure he knew what you were trying to ask, because it’s what he would’ve asked.

“That thing is ruthless, but it…it’s fast, kid. She wouldn’t have felt any pain. Probably didn’t even see it coming.”

You didn’t speak, but Dean sensed his words had helped, if only slightly.

“Your brother,” you seemed to shake yourself out of your stupor. “These kids, they can make it back on their own. Let me help you hunt this thing.”

Dean didn’t even think about. “Not a chance.”

“Look, this thing killed my mother. I’m gonna go after it, whether I’m with you or not.”

“No.” Dean shook his head. “You’re gonna take these kids, and you’re gonna get them to that gas station, and you’re gonna call for someone to come pick you guys up.”

“I don’t have anyone to call.”

Your words silenced Dean, and you took the opportunity to continue.

“For as long as I can remember, it’s been me and my mom. That…that thing took my only family. I’m gonna help you kill it. Now you can either let me, or I’ll go on without you.”

Dean weighed his options, but it was pretty clear he had none. Those kids needed to get to safety, he had to get to Sam, and he didn’t have the time to try to drag you away.

“You stay close,” he grumbled. “And don’t shoot me.”

As soon as the group of kids had a designated leader and started their walk towards the gas station, Dean led you further into the woods to track Sam and the monster.

…

“Dang it, kid, I told you to stay close!”

“I was close!”

“I still don’t understand why you brought a child with you, Dean.” Sam’s voice cut off your argument with Dean.

“I didn’t exactly bring her,” Dean said. “She came because she’s a stubborn brat.”

“Hey, I had your back out there.”

“Yeah, but nobody had your back, because you didn’t stay close!” Dean exploded.

“It’s not that bad,” you soothed. “It might not even need stitches.”

“Oh you definitely need stitches,” Sam interjected.

“Let’s take her back to the bunker,” Dean sighed. “I can stitch her up there.”

“What?” Sam stared at Dean. “Why not the hospital? Then she can call her family and-“

“No,” Dean glanced at you as he spoke, and he didn’t miss the sudden nervousness in your demeanor. “No let’s just go back to the bunker.”

You relaxed slightly as you followed Sam and Dean to the Impala, and Dean felt his gut twist just looking at you. The kid who faced down a monster without even flinching was now trailing behind him, scared of being dropped off somewhere and abandoned without any family.

Dean slowed his pace, throwing an arm around your shoulder once he was beside you.

“You did good today, kid,” he assured you. “We’re gonna take you to a safe place, get you fixed up, and you can stick around as long as you ne…” Dean hesitated, then changed his words. “As long as you want.”

He hoped you didn’t think his offer strange, but he just felt the need to protect you. Even after just one night, you felt like a little sister to him.

He didn’t have to worry, because the hope in your eyes and the smile on your face that appeared after his words showed him that you felt the same. It showed that you were relieved to have someone to look out for you.

Relieved to have a family.

…

“And you’re done.”

Your whole body relaxed as Dean put down the needle. You didn’t even look at the stitches, wanting to keep your mind off the pain that lingered.

“Thanks, Dean.” You smiled at the man who had taken you in, patched you up, and was already starting to feel like the big brother you’d never had.

“Anytime kid.” Dean smiled back at the little girl who had seen things beyond her years, and thought about how he’d already made a promise to himself to keep you from even more harm. “Hey, there’s a few rooms right down that hallway, you can crash wherever you want.”

As soon as you were out of sight, Sam turned to look at Dean.

“Dean, what is going on? Why is she here?”

“You didn’t recognize her? You did the research, Sam, her mom was the one that got killed.”

“And?” Sam questioned.

“And she needed a place to go.”

“Ok, I get that Dean, but this isn’t exactly the best place for her,” Sam said.

“It was the only place I could think of.”

“And how long does she stay here? This isn’t a home, Dean, it barely qualifies as a place to crash. It’s a bunker; she deserves somewhere real.”

“Yeah well, she had somewhere real before that monster. Now she’s got the best I can do.”

“Dean, we can’t just take in a teenage girl! Our lives are insane!”

“Don’t I get a say in this?”

The brothers turned in unison at the sound of your voice from the doorway.

“Kid, you should go get some rest.”

“Look,” you sighed, ignoring Dean as you stepped further into the room. “I don’t want to cause any trouble. If you guys don’t want me here, just say the word and I’m gone.” You had been directing your words at Dean, but suddenly you turned to Sam. “But don’t do it because you think this isn’t good enough for me. I’m not looking for a parent, here. I’m grown, I’m raised, I’m not looking for a dad or something. I just need a place to go. If it’s not here, I’ll be fine. But I’m not privileged enough to let something like this go, if you’re ok with me staying.”

“I’m not trying to kick you out,” Sam sighed. “I just think it’s not a good idea. But it’s not my decision.”

Dean didn’t miss the way your shoulders slumped when Sam brushed past you and went to his room.

“I don’t want to be trouble for you guys.” It amazed Dean how stark the difference was between you when you were comfortable—sarcastic, strong, and quick-witted—and how you were when you were uncomfortable—like now.

“Don’t worry about Sam, he’s just…” what? Worried? Somehow it felt like more than that. “You should get some rest now, really.”

…

The next week passed quickly for everyone. You recovered quickly, and to Dean’s relief you began to get comfortable around the bunker. Sam however didn’t seem to share Dean’s feelings.

He wasn’t cruel to you; in fact he was fairly civil. But it was obvious to everyone that he didn’t want you here. Neither of you spoke about it, though. Sam seemed determined to ignore you at every turn, and that vulnerability that Dean had seen in you on the first day had gone. You spoke your mind, and for the first few days that had meant that you and Sam butted heads more times than Dean could count. Hence Sam’s current desire to ignore you.

Dean had made up for Sam’s behavior by including you in everything. He didn’t want you to feel like you had to leave, in fact he wanted more than anything for you to stay.

You noticed what Dean was doing, and you’d never appreciated anything more. But that didn’t change what else you’d noticed; it was starting to divide the brothers. With Sam avoiding you like the plague, and Dean sticking to you like Velcro, tensions were high in the bunker.

After a particularly nasty fight between the boys, you made up your mind. You couldn’t stay here. You wouldn’t repay your rescuers by being the reason that they stopped talking to each other.

You were in the room that Dean had let you claim, packing up the few belongings that you had into a backpack. It was stupid, but you began to imagine the life you could’ve had here: two big brothers. A family. People who cared about you.

You flinched when you saw a tear drip onto your hand. Once the dam was opened, it turned into a flood. The tears overtook you, so much that they quickly turned into sobs, and soon it became hard to breathe. Your knees gave out, and you sat there on the hard floor next to your bed, your arms wrapped tightly around your stomach as you cried.

“Kid?”

You were on your feet in an instant at the sound of Sam’s voice in the doorway. It was a struggle, but within a few seconds you managed to halt your tears, rubbing at your face as though you could make Sam unsee what he’d seen.

“Knock much?” Your attempt at sarcasm was half-hearted, and so pathetic that Sam had no desire to sass you back.

“The door was open.”

“I’m sorry.” You turned your back to Sam as you returned your focus to your packing.

“Going somewhere?” Sam’s voice was soft and gentle. Nothing like anything you’d heard before.

“Yeah, I-I figured it was time to move on.” You cursed both your stammer and the quaver in your voice.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Yes I do.”

“Look,” Sam sighed as he stepped further into your room, and you retreated from him to sit on your bed. “I know we haven’t exactly gotten along lately—“

“Don’t.” You felt the tears trying to return, and you blinked rapidly to keep them at bay, ducking your head to avoid Sam’s gaze. “It’s just better if-if I go.”

“I wasn’t trying…” Sam shook his head. “Ok, maybe I was trying to get rid of you. But it doesn’t have to be like that.”

“Why?” You scoffed. “Because I’m crying? Please don’t pity me, Sam.”

“I don’t,” Sam insisted. “I just think…maybe I haven’t been giving you a chance.” He stepped closer to you, and you looked up to see him waiting at the edge of your bed. You gave him a slight nod of invitation, and he sat down next to you. “I guess it’s just…it was weird, alright? Dean got on with you so quickly, and he never does that. I mean, within an hour he was acting like…” Sam stopped, shaking his head.

“Like I was his little sister,” you finished, and Sam nodded.

“And I guess that felt a little weird. Then you moved in, and it was like he couldn’t be parted from you. I guess it felt like he was picking you over me.” Sam sighed. “It feels stupid now that I say it.”

“It’s not stupid,” you said. “You felt like you were losing your family. I get that.” You found yourself unable to look away from Sam’s gaze. You’d only ever seen him annoyed before. You hadn’t realized how kind he could be. “But I’m not trying to be a threat here. I-I just thought…I thought maybe I could find a place here with you guys. Like…like a family. Kinda dumb, huh?”

“No.” You were surprised at Sam’s insistence. “No, not dumb. And maybe it’s not too late for that.”

“What made you change your mind?”

Sam just shrugged.

“I figured Dean’s got a pretty big heart. There’s room for both of us in there.” Sam smiled. “Besides. Maybe I wouldn’t mind a little sister.”

You reached forward suddenly, wrapping your arms around Sam’s middle. For a second, you were worried it was too soon; then Sam let out a low chuckle, and his big arms wrapped around you, basically burying you in his large frame.

“Welcome to the family, kid.”

[nyxiswrites1200]

This one’s a little more on the sus side buT- if you’re comfortable writing it, I’d love to read a lil fic thing with Dean W with a reader with a choking kink?

If not, dw it’s no problem. Just thought I’d shoot my shot haha

Dean just- he does things to me for real. Going feral mode for him at all times highkey

𝑫𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒍'𝒔 𝑨𝒅𝒗𝒐𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒆

Dean Winchester x GN!Reader

Warnings: NSFT, MDNI, Committed Relationship, Choking, Penetration, Lil hand fetish, Praise, Aftercare, Lil Fluff, Pet names

An: Oh I am totally fine with this 🤭 I only have a few select things I won't write. Served up for you babe <3 Hope you like it

----

"Such a pretty thing..." Dean praises into your ear as you moan in response. Dean was your boyfriend, still unsure how you managed that. Sam had gotten the memo and left you two alone.

Neither of you hesitated in making good use of the alone time.

Dean had you on your stomach, your hands gripping into the sheets. He had you stuffed full of his cock. He loved watching the way your hole tightened around him the closer you got to the edge.

It was far from over however. Dean remembered when you encountered him one day. He remembers you explaining how you want to try being choked. You did always seem a little too fascinated by his hands.

It's been a bit since you mentioned it, he wondered if you forgot.

Dean thrusts deeper into you with a groan, then stops. He's pressed right against that sweet spot making you squirm as you pant. You glance back at him, confused on what he was doing.

That was until he wrapped one of his hands around your throat, nothing to constrict you or hurt you, just enough to feel that pressure. That sense of submission that made you feel weak and tighten around his cock.

"Oh, is that what you wanted, baby?" He groaned at the sight, you can't help but nod and quiver at the touch. "Yes Dean..." You respond breathlessly as you bring one hand to wrap around his wrist.

"Good" he rasped as he began fucking you again. His hips slapping against you as the sinful sounds of sex filled the small motel room. You would have fallen back into the bed if not for Dean's grip keeping you up right.

"So fucking tight...you like my hand around you, baby?" He leaned down and rasped into your ear. He groaned as well, enjoying how well you responded to his intimacy. You moaned in response and your words came out shaky "Dean- feels so good..." You whine as you feel his cock brush against that spot again. "Right there, hm?" He teased and you nodded frantically. You swear he fucked your brain cells right out of your head.

Dean proceeds to fuck that sensitive spot inside you, over and over, tightening his grip on your neck. You couldn't help but drool as you became a moaning mess beneath the man. You never truly understood why Dean collected such a body count, besides his devastatingly good looks. Only when he became yours did you get what was so special about the sex.

Dean buried his nose into your neck from his place behind you as he groaned "Gonna cum, babe?" He rasps as you feel his cock twitch, knowing he's getting close too.

"Yes, fuck- I'm so close, Dean" you moan out into the room, feeling kind of sorry for anyone who could hear through these thin walls.

"Cum with me, baby. Doing so good for me..." He grunts, taking in your scent and the smell of sex and sweat on your skin.

Less than a minute later, he had you toppling over the edge.

You moaned and cried out into the room as he fucked your through the bliss. Dean then let out choked curses as he came, filling you up with his cum. His hand remains firm on your neck as he fucks his cum into you briefly.

The moment he lets you go, your limbs feel heavy and you sink into the bed. A moment passes before Dean gets up. He disappears into the bathroom before returning a moment later. He had cleaned himself up and tugged on a pair of boxers. He begins to carefully clean you up.

You let out a small laugh and he looks at you with a grin "You laughing at me?" He accused.

You nod "Well, I just never took you for the aftercare type until we started dating" you teased and he faked offense as he let out a chuckle "I'm hurt, babe. I may have been a flirt but I wasn't a douchebag".

"Some could disagree" you chuckle and Dean gasps "I can't believe you'd think so little of me" he playfully frowns as he finishes cleaning you and returns to your side in the bed. He tugs you in close, wrapping an arm around you. "But you're dating me, so what does that say about you?" He teases with a smirk "Guess I have bad taste" you snuggle into his chest as he idly rubs the side of your arm.

"Yeah, whatever you say. I'm dating the devil's advocate" he scoffs.

[charlesslut16]

Hai there, lurker here who loooooves your writing 🫶🏻

If you’re taking requests, would you be open to doing a fic wherein the driver (Charles/Max/Oscar, your choice) is a jealous, smutty menace?

No pressure though if you’re not feeling it!

-jealous man-

summary : you are at your graduating party and party with your freind, which makes oscar jealous

PAIRING : oscar piastri x fem!reader

WARNINGS : 18+. smut, NSFW, a bit toxish, bit angst, jealous sex, possessive!boyfriend, p in v, curse words, light spanking, dirty talk, slight aftercare.

note : i hope you like it! Love you <3 I'm on vacation that's why i hope that i can post every day.

masterlist 

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The door slammed shut behind you, only to open and slam shut again. You kept your face forward as you kicked off your heels and stomped into the kitchen to get a glass of water.

 A night that was supposed to be one to remember turned into a nightmare. To top it all off, it was your graduation party from university and the one person who was supposed to make it special was the one who ruined it.

You turned around to see Oscar tossing his jacket onto the back of the couch before he walked over to the counter you were standing by and rested his hands against the countertop. 

He kept his face down, so you couldn’t see his expression, though you had a good idea of what it looked like. You took a drink before finally speaking, you had stayed quiet the entire ride home.

“I just can’t believe you’d ruin my night like that.” 

Your voice was a quiet whisper, but there was venom behind your words. He shook his head and looked up at you, his eyes dark and full of anger and frustration. 

“Me? You were the one who was all over that guy, and when he grabbed you, I couldn’t just stand there!” he shouted, walking closer to you, but you backed away with every step.

“Oscar! You beat my childhood best friend to a bloody mess! You’re lucky I’m friends with him, or he’d be suing your ass!” You ran your fingers through your hair, wishing that there was some sort of do over for the whole night.

It had stated off good. You had bought a new dress and shoes, and you even got your hair done just for the party Oscar was throwing for you. While you were getting dressed, Oscar came in dressed nice suit and gave you a small kiss.

He led you outside to his McLaren before he drove the two of you to your favorite bar. All of your friends were there, including Liam, who you hadn’t seen in years.

After doing some celebratory shots and having some cake, you began to catch up with Liam when, out of nowhere, Oscar came up and shoved him away from you before pounding his fist into his face over and over. 

The total disaster of a memory saddened you when you remembered how nice the night was supposed to be going, but it also made you so angry all over again.

“So what if he sues me? It’s not like I don’t have the money, and I’m not about to let some prick touch my girl like that! Don’t tell me you didn’t notice how he was looking at you? You aren’t that blind, are you?”

The insult was a smack in the face, but it just added fuel to the fire. 

“Are you fucking kidding me? I haven’t seen Liam in six years. Six years. So forgive me if, at my graduation party, I wanted to catch up with him and see how he was doing. And you have absolutely no right to comment on someone else staring at me when you are Oscar-fucking-Piastri. Every girl on the goddamn planet thinks you're the hottest thing to walk this earth, and I don’t go around punching every girl you talk to.”

“It’s different, and you know that,” he said lowly, walking over to you. Frustrated tears began to fall down your cheeks, leaving cool trails in their wake.

“Oh my God! You don’t even see how what you did was wrong! Oscar! You don’t even trust me enough after we’ve been together for two years. Liam is just a friend, that’s all he’s ever been. And now, thanks to you, he probably hates me!”

 You ran your fingers through your long hair and let out a loud sigh. The previous burst of energy you had had drained away slowly, leaving you a burnt out mess.

The two of you stood there in silence for a good while. You just stared at the coffee pot just past Oscar, the night's events replayed over and over again in your head. 

After minutes past, Oscar spoke softly, breaking the deafening silence.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I don’t know what came over me. I just saw him touching you, and it drove me crazy. I ruined your night and I’m sorry. This night was supposed to be about you and I ruined that,” he apologized, grabbing your hands. 

The knuckles on his right hand were cut up, bruised and bloody, but he still brought your hands up to his dry lips to leave a small hearty kiss on your knuckles.

“Let me do something to make it up to you. Please.”

You could feel his warm breath coming out in puffs against your cheek. His hands dropped to your waist and pulled you closer to him, making your heart pound. 

Your house was really eerily quiet, only the quiet sounds of your breathing could be heard. You finally looked up at him bravely, Oscar’s eyes focused on your lips. 

The two of you stood there, timeless, neither one of you wanting to break the tension. After a moment, Oscar couldn’t take it. He pulled you even closer, smashing his lips against yours, his tongue flicking playfully at yours.

 A small groan erupted from the back of Oscar’s throat as you pushed back against him. His hands dropped to your butt as he squeezed gently, before dragging his hands back up your body to cup your face.

His lips peppered kisses down your jaw before settling on a spot on your neck. A whimper left your mouth as he bit down softly before dragging his tongue up your neck. 

He grabbed your legs and picked you up, setting you down on the counter. You tightened your legs around his waist and ran your fingers through his hair before reaching down to pull his shirt off. 

His skin was hot and sent sparks throughout your body with every touch. Oscar lifted you and began walking, or rather, stumbling, towards your bedroom down the hall.

His lips never left yours until you decided to break the kiss to bite down on his shoulder, a spot you knew he enjoyed. His hands on your butt tightened when you did, and he stopped moving for a moment to entirely enjoy the moment.

 A small smirk found its way onto your lips when he began groaning, and you stopped kissing him, resting your chin on his shoulder. He whimpered at the absence of your lips, but hurried to the bedroom.

You released your legs to stand up from your bed, once you were next to your big bed, while Oscar fumbled with the zipper down the side of your graduating dress. 

The moment it was off, his lips began ravishing the soft skin peaking out of your bra, and goosebumps erupted all over your skin. He pulled away and pushed you backwards, so you fell onto the bed.

The wet spots on your breast were cold, but you barely noticed as you watched Oscar tug off his pants and boxers. He was so desperate to feel you, he didn’t even bother with his socks.

His fingers looped into your panties and quickly pulled them off before expertly unclasping your bra. His eyes widened, and he immediately began teasing your left nipple with his tongue while massaging the other with his hand. 

The feeling was numbing, and you almost couldn’t stand the constant teasing. Suddenly, Oscar flipped you over onto your stomach and pulled your ass up in the air.

Normally you’d oppose to this position, but you were so turned on it didn’t bother you at all. In fact, it made you ache even more. You heard him reach over and dig around in the drawer in your end table, followed by the tearing of foil.

The condom wrapper was tossed to the floor and forgotten about the moment you could feel his tip pushing against you. He began rocking into you, a low growl coming from behind you as he moved slowly. 

Your mouth opened, but no sound came out as you buried your face in the sheet. Oscar stopped moving for a moment to reach and grab your hands, twisting them behind your back. 

His hands were large enough to hold both of yours with one, so his other hand reached for your hair, tugging softly. A small whimper left your lips as he began moving again, this time even harder. 

His hand released yours, and he placed it back on your hips, steadying himself as he pushed faster and faster. Small moans were continuously falling out of your mouth as he hit that perfect spot with every thrust.

 A small layer of sweat covered your body as you felt the familiar warmth growing in your stomach. Oscar’s grip on your hair tightened as he gave a particularly strong thrust, causing the both of you to cry out. 

Continuous ‘I love you’s fell out of your mouth as the pleasure began filling your body. Your toes were curling, and your fingertips were growing numb as his grip on your hip tightened, destined to leave small bruises. 

A wave a pleasure swept over your body as you came, crashing down onto the mattress, loud cries echoing throughout the large room. Your body was still twitching with pleasure as Oscar came over you, falling on top of your back. 

His heartbeat could be felt on your back, and you let out a breathy laugh, too exhausted to move. The two of you laid there for a moment before Harry found the energy to roll off of you and onto his back. 

He grabbed a tissue and disposed of the used condom before pulling you into his side. His fingers drew aimlessly on your shoulders as you listened to his heartbeat slowing down to a more relaxed pulse.

“I really fucking love you, Y/N. I’m truly sorry about the way I acted earlier,” he told you, kissing the top of your head. His hand tightened on your shoulder before continuing to draw random circles on your arm.

“What you did wasn’t okay, but you should apologize to Liam. Tomorrow. I just want to cuddle and spend the last hour of my birthday with the crazy, jealous, handsome man that I love. Is that too much to ask?” 

You looked up at him to see him resting his head against the wall with his eyes closed and smiling peacefully. Even if he was crazy sometimes, you loved him even more for it.

[megamindsecretlair]

Just One Taste

Pairing: Tyrone x Black!Fem!OC!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. FILTH! PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (fem and male receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, Dom fem, all consensual. Heavy use of n-word. Disrespectful Tyrone. Drug use. Tyrone POV. Mild Sub Tyrone.

Summary: Tyrone gets lost in a deserted town with his friends. The only place open is the library. They head inside and receive quite the surprise.

Word Count: 5,642k

A/N: Trying something new! Happy spooky Halloweek. I hope this fit the bill. It was majorly fun to shake it up a bit, do something a little new I hope! Listen, I need to go lay down myself!! Because sweet lawdt! Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! I blocked over a hundred people today for no ages!

Taglist: @planetblaque @dayjlovesromance @sevikasblackgf @melaninpov @amyhennessyhouse @henneseyhoe @honeyoriginalz @justheretostan @black-fairy3 @superhoeva @jarfulloftears @hereformiles @montysstuffs @westside-rot @blackerthings @blowmymbackout @euphoric05 @miyuhpapayuh @nicolexnight @8ttached @judymfmoody @wakandas-vibranium @soft-persephone @justabovewater20 @notapradagurl7 @mcotton0928 @soapjay @heyauntieeee @theyscreamsannii @mybonafidefeelings @eggnox @honeytoffee @thadelightfulone @tranquilfandomer

“Man, pull the fuck over,” Tyrone snapped. The car pulled over to the closest sidewalk and his friend put it in park. 

Tyrone climbed out of the car. The first thing he noticed was the chill. Burrowing cold whipped against his skin and he fought off a shiver. He sparked up, inhaling the weed and exhaling the stressful drive.

“Told ya’ll niggas which way to go and now we lost,” he muttered, mostly to himself. He was pissed. They were supposed to mob up in Vegas for the weekend, get out of the city and into something a little strange for the upcoming Halloween weekend.

But you can’t trust non-reading ass niggas. Tyrone knew it and, yet, he let them drive because he wasn’t feeling it today. He searched the area around him, noting the darkened buildings and dim streetlights. There was an eerie lack of cars around.

“Where the fuck did you take us to?” Tyrone leaned down into the open passenger side. His friend, Paul, was on his phone finagling with the GPS. 

“Ion know, nigga! I was on the 15!” 

Their other friend, Mike, who sat in the back seat slapped the back of Paul’s head. “You got us lost mu’fucka!” 

The two men got into a playful slapping match, calling each other names and cursing at each other. Tyrone stood up straight and took a hit. He rolled his shoulders and looked up into the darkened sky. He thought there were supposed to be stars and shit out here in the desert, without pollution from the light.

He scanned the area once more. It looked like some Scooby-Doo shit. There appeared to be a main street with a hardware store, general store, local restaurant, and a souvenir shop. There were buildings further beyond that, but the cruel California/Nevada night gave no indication of life.

The air felt empty yet tangible. Like there was an invisible screen just in front of his face. “Corny ass, niggas,” Tyrone muttered and took off down the street. Maybe if he found someone’s house, he could knock and get some help. He only hoped this wasn’t one of them racist in-between towns that’d shoot him on sight.

It’d be just his mu’fuckin’ luck to get shot in the boonies on his way to Vegas. Instead of getting shot back in LA. Wouldn’t that be hilarious?

Car doors slammed behind Tyrone and his friends called after him. “Aye, where you goin’?” 

“To mind my business, nigga,” Tyrone bit out. He wanted some sleep. He was so fuckin’ tired and the weed wasn’t hitting like usual. 

The streetlights overhead were spaced out so far apart that he was entrenched in shadow every time he made it past a beam of light. He sighed as he walked, wondering what the hell they were supposed to do with no service in a town like this. If they slept in the car, would they wake up to some old white mu’fucka with a shot gun?

Hell, maybe he watched too much TV. 

“Aye, what’s that?” Mike pointed a meaty finger towards the distance. At the end of the block, the streets rounded off. There was a tall, brick building on the corner with a lonely light over the doorstep. They were too far away to read the sign overhead. 

“Hopefully someone who can help ya’ll dumbasses,” Tyrone said. He passed the blunt to Paul and took off down the street, wishing he had a jacket.

This was the type of cold that sunk down into the bones as soon as you acknowledged it. And it was hard to shake. 

Tyrone made a beeline for that lonely beacon of hope, praying for someone to be inside and willing to help. Mike lumbered after him while Paul kept time with Tyrone’s quick strides. No one spoke. 

As they got closer, Tyrone noticed the sign. It was a library. 

“What’s a library doing open so late?” Paul asked. 

“Let’s just hope it’s warm. And they got food or somethin’. I’m hungry,” Mike complained.

“Yo fatass always hungry. I’m surprised you weren’t munchin’ on the car seat,” Paul said and snickered. He put out the blunt on the side of the building.

Tyrone cracked a smile. Mike pushed Paul who went jumping a few feet sideways. “Can ya’ll shut the fuck up? Damn.” Tyrone huffed and pushed into the library.

Inside, there was ambient lighting and no one at the front desk. A little bell rung from the open door and the trio whipped their heads to it, huffing quick and nervous laughs. 

“Scared, little nigga?” Mike asked.

“Nah, all I gotta do is hide behind yo fatass ‘till I can dip,” Paul said and laughed. He danced out of the way of Mike’s big paws. Tyrone stood in the entryway and raised his eyes to the ceiling. 

If he made it out of this bumfuck town, he was getting new friends. The library was decent and less cold than outside. There were tables spread out in front of the info desk, books scattered on them. There were shelves and rows of books stretching the length of the space and those little sorting carts he thought were only in movies.

There was the same sense of emptiness here that was just like outside. Perhaps the town was just that small that it didn’t have a presence or personality like in a bigger town or city. Whatever it was, it set Tyrone on edge as he looked around. He moved closer to the info desk, scanning it for anything he could use. 

Maybe it was just that kind of town. Maybe all of the doors were left open. Car doors too. Because who the fuck would steal from this empty ass town? 

Mike and Paul were still fussing at each other, slinging insults back and forth. Tyrone turned around, already annoyed and approaching irritated. “Can ya’ll shut the fuck up? And help?” 

Mike and Paul gave each other one last shove. Tyrone scoffed and took a step forward.

“Can I help you gentlemen?” 

Mike and Paul screamed. Tyrone flinched and turned to the source of the sound. To his right, a woman stood there dressed like someone’s fantasy of a librarian. She wore a button up white shirt, skin-tight black skirt, complete with a loose mini tie. The collar of the shirt was open, a few buttons loose down to show her generous cleavage. 

And she was thick as hell, straining the material of her outfit to near sinful levels. If she breathed too hard, the rest of the buttons would go flying everywhere and reveal the rest of the bra that poked out beneath the shirt. Her button down was tucked into the skirt with a skinny belt and non-flashy buckle. 

Her hair was tucked up into a high bun and she wore glasses loose on her nose. She was so fuckin’ cute and sexy at the same time. The stirrings of desire tightened Tyrone’s gut and his dick twitched. He flexed his fists at his side, trying to calm his racing heart.

“Damn lady! You fuckin’ scared us!” Paul yelled. He shoved Mike off of him, the two getting close after being so scared. Tyrone kept his eyes on the woman. She pursed her lips at the boys and shook her head.

“Have some manners when you come in here,” she snapped. 

“Yes, ma’am,” Paul said instantly. Mike and Tyrone stared at him. Paul has never said anything like that in all his life. Whatever spell Tyrone had been under looking at the woman, it seemed to have caught Mike and Paul as well. No one could resist glancing away from her for long.

The woman took a deep breath and finally turned beautiful eyes towards him. “Can I help you?” She asked.

“We’re turned around. We were heading up to Vegas,” Tyrone explained. He moved closer, wanting to be in her orbit. Nervousness crept up his spine. He scowled. The fuck did he have to feel nervous for? 

She looked at the girly watch on her wrist and then raised an eyebrow at him. “A little late isn’t it?” She asked. 

“Better than stuck in traffic tryin’ to get there for the weekend,” he said. 

She conceded the point with a twist of her juicy lips. Red lipstick drew his eyes to her mouth. There was a sudden vision in his head of kissing her and smearing it. He imagined red lip prints on his skin. He imagined licking it off of her.

The images were so vivid, he got hornier. Gettin’ bricked up by the minute. He cleared his throat and shook his head. 

“Um, we just want to know where we are so we can get movin’,” Tyrone said. 

“And get to food,” Mike said right next to Tyrone’s ear. He flinched and turned to see that Mike and Paul had moved without him noticing. They stood in a near perfect line, transfixed on the librarian. 

That comment seemed to soften her. She shook her head at the boys. “Have a seat, I’ll see if I can find something. May as well rest up before heading back on the road,” she said. “Do you want to help me look?” 

A secret smile played about her carmine lips. He took a step forward but her eyes weren’t on him, it was on Mike. Mike grinned from ear to ear and nodded his head. Swift disappointment hit Tyrone in the gut.

That was his boy, but what the fuck did she see in him and not Tyrone? He scowled as Mike disappeared down the stacks with the librarian, murmuring softly to each other. As soon as the woman was gone, Tyrone could think more clearly.

Paul shook his head and sucked his teeth. “The fuck she want with that greedy mu’fucka?” Paul flopped down into the nearest seat. Tyrone sighed and joined him, looking around at the space. 

Tyrone and Paul shot the shit as they waited for Mike and the librarian to return. While he wasn’t starving, he could eat. His buzz was faint but still there and it made his head go pleasantly funny. 

“I bet his ass eatin’ all the snacks and tryin’ to get her number,” Paul said. 

Tyrone huffed a laugh and shook his head. “Dawg, I’m just ready to go,” he said. He ran a hand down his face. How long had he been there? Thirty minutes? Forty-five? How long did it take to round up some crackers? 

“Nigga, shut up. You know fuck well you’d hit that given the chance,” Paul said. He fidgeted in his seat. He leaned forward, then back. Put his elbows behind him on the desk. Stretched out his legs. 

“Stop movin’ damn,” Tyrone said. He sighed and shook his head. He was definitely getting new friends after this. 

Shuffling near the back made Paul sit up straight, like a dog excited to see its owner. Tyrone gave him a weird look before catching the confused look on his face. Tyrone turned towards the sound. Mike had a dopey grin on his face, walking zombie-like towards them. 

The librarian trailed behind him, looking more or less happier than when she found three strange men in the library late at night. “No snacks for us?” Paul asked. “Did yo fatass eat it all?” 

Mike continued walking and sat down in the next available seat on their side of the table. Tyrone was the closest and shook Mike. He only kept the goofy smile on his face, hands placed flat on the table, and stared straight ahead. 

“Aye, what you do to him?” Tyrone asked.

“Excuse me?” The Librarian asked.

“Why he look like that?” Tyrone asked. He shoved Mike once more, but there was no one home behind Mike’s eyes. 

“Aye what the fuck, lady!” Paul yelled. He jumped up from the chair he sat in and rounded Tyrone to get to Mike. He shook Mike, pulling at his oversized T-shirt. Mike blinked a few times and looked down at his stretched shirt in Paul’s hands.

“What the fuck man!” Mike yelled and shoved Paul. 

“We thought she did something to you!” 

Mike adjusted his shirt with a scowl and shook his head. “What could she do? We had a muffin. Gonna make fun of me for that too, little nigga?” 

Paul looked between Mike and Tyrone. Tyrone trained his eyes on the Librarian who watched the whole thing like something was funny. Her lips were turned up like she and Mike knew a dirty secret.

Tyrone stood up and approached her. His head grew fuzzier as he approached, but he pushed on. Pushed past that feeling. He got into her face and stared down at her. He wasn’t a tall man but she also wasn’t a tall woman. And her small heels didn’t give her an advantage.

“We not here for games. Where the hell are we?” He demanded. 

The Librarian sighed and it was like he smelled the greatest scent in the world. It was something dark, alluring, like pomegranates. He leaned in, wanting to smell more of it. 

“You’re not far from the 15, I promise. You probably didn’t catch the turn off driving in this type of darkness.” 

“The hell you do to him?” Tyrone asked and cocked his head to the side.

“What are you talking about?” 

“What took you so long to come back out? Don’t take that fuckin’ long for a muffin,” he said.

The Librarian rolled her eyes. “I’m going to assume it’s the weed that’s making you paranoid. I asked for Michael’s help with some boxes that needed lifting. Some men like to help,” she said and pointedly looked at Tyrone. 

He caught the challenge, a burning in his chest to defend himself. “I ain’t know you needed help,” he said.

“There’s still a few things I need to move. Can you help me before you go on our way, screaming that I’m the devil?” She lifted a perfectly arched eyebrow and Tyrone looked at Mike. 

Maybe she was right. But Tyrone didn’t trust it. He looked to Paul who shook his head. Mike just stared at him blankly. The smell of pomegranate hit him again and his mouth watered. He looked back at the Librarian.

“I help you, you help me, that sort of thing?” He asked.

The Librarian shrugged. “I’m a librarian. I’ll help you anyway,” she said. “Won’t take as long as I did with Michael. I promise,” she said.

The way she kept saying his name made Tyrone scowl. He wanted to hear his name on her lips. He wanted her to scream it while he was balls deep inside of her. He blinked and shook his head. Where did that come from?

He found himself nodding anyway, following behind the Librarian. He watched her ass in that skirt that looked painted on. If he didn’t know any better, he’d swear she didn’t have any panties on. He didn’t see any panty lines as she walked. 

She moved fast, disappearing down a few stacks. Towards the back, there was a door marked for employees only. She went inside and held the door open for him. It led to a dingy hallway with a few doors on either side. To their immediate left, there was a small kitchenette with a basket of muffins on the table. 

The Librarian walked past, heading down the hallway. “I’m Tyrone, by the way,” he said.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she said.

He huffed, thinking he was going to hear his name from her voice. He followed her to an office. It was cramped, one lonely and neat desk surrounded by stacks of books and notebooks, papers, and a sorting cart. 

She pointed to a few boxes on top of a high bookshelf. “Can you please get these down for me? The last librarian was a giant and they’re too heavy for me,” she said. 

He nodded and used a step ladder to climb up and get the boxes. She was right, they were heavy. Probably filled with books and shit. He got to work, climbing up and down the ladder and moving boxes. He worked up a nice sweat in the office. A single drip of sweat slid down his neck and down his chest.

They made small talk while he worked. He learned that she was new to town and he asked her what made her move to some place like this.

“It’s quiet and the people are nice. That’s what I was looking for,” she said.

“Bad ex?” He asked. He huffed as he strained under the heaviest box yet. 

“No, just wanted a change. If that’s too heavy, don’t hurt yourself trying to move it. I can ask the shop owner to help. He’s a giant too,” she said.

Tyrone scoffed and worked even harder to scoot the box from the top of the shelf. Fuck that. If anyone was going to help her, it was going to be him. He made a sound as he got the box down and descended the ladder. Thank fuck it was the last box.

He set it down on top of the others with a smug smirk and looked at her. She returned his smirk and she leaned on one side, calling attention back to her figure.

Tyrone licked his lips and thought, fuck it. “If you need more help, we got time,” he said.

“Don’t think I’m the devil anymore?” She teased. 

He stepped closer, closer than he ought to. That pomegranate smell hit him again and he leaned in. “Never thought you were the devil. Just sayin’. I can help with anything,” he said. He cast his eyes all over her body, his fingers tingling with the urge to touch her. To see if he could peel her skirt off and lick what’s left behind. 

“Anything huh?” She asked. She laughed and trailed her long red nails across his chest. A shudder ran through him, desire spiking higher. His dick twitched, getting thicker. She moved from around him and fiddled with things on her desk.

Tyrone approached her, trying not to spook her. He pressed into her back, placing his hands on either side of her on top of her desk. He inhaled the heavenly scent of her, his nose pressed to the back of her neck. He didn’t know why he was being so bold. But he knew that if he didn’t at least try, if he didn’t shoot his shot, he’d forever regret it.

There was no way he was coming back to this town. But he couldn’t leave without a taste of her. Just one taste.

“Must get lonely in this town,” he whispered.

“What makes you say that?” 

“‘Cause you in this library instead of at home, letting some idiot fuck you to sleep,” Tyrone said.

The Librarian chuckled. “You always talk so nasty to strangers?” She asked.

Tyrone placed a kiss against her neck since she wasn’t stopping him. “Mhm, no ma’am. Just hate the thought of you here all alone,” he said.

“Why, you want to fix it?” She asked. She turned around, turning mischievous eyes to him. She laughed and for a split second…nah, that can’t be right. Her eyes didn’t flash red. Impossible.

He licked his lips and nodded, drawn once more to her lips. “Do you really want to fix it?” Her voice turned sultry and she drew her pink tongue across her lips. He followed the movement, undone by it.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. 

“Sit down, Tyrone,” she commanded. 

Tyrone’s legs bent without any thought to if there was a chair behind him or not. Luckily there was and he sank into the plush chair with a quiet sigh. 

She sank down to her knees and he was mesmerized by the way her skirt moved with her. How it didn’t rip or tear on the way down. He widened his legs and she smirked at him, running her hands up and down his solid thighs.

His dick tented his sweats, obviously showing his desire for her. He was near mad with it. Lustful. He ached to bury his dick somewhere warm and wet. She had the same idea as she eyed it. 

She moved her hands to the waistband of his sweats and started to shimmy them down far enough to free his dick. She palmed him, stroking him, and he bit his lip to keep from moaning. He was not going to bust off of a hand job. The fuck he looked like? 

She wasted no time leaning onto her knees and taking him deep. “Oh fuck,” he said and his hips jerked off of the chair. 

She took him to the base, suckling him and moaning around his dick. She played with the tip, swirling her tongue around the head and licking up any drop of pre-cum. She slurped as she released him and then ran her hand up and down his length.

“Wait, put yo mouth back on me,” he said.

“Did you like it?” She asked. 

“Fuck yes,” he said.

She did not return her mouth to his dick. She stroked him, driving him insane with the right amount of pressure and speed. But it was nothing like her mouth. He reached up to pull her head back down. He didn’t know why women wanted to be cute when he just wanted to bust.

She moved her head out of the way. “Put your hands down or I stop,” she snapped. 

Tyrone’s hands froze in mid air. His mind stuttered as her voice was equal parts erotic and scary. There it was again. That same flash of red in her eyes. She grinned but it was like a slash across her face. Still hot. Still a little scary. 

He was no stranger to a girl taking control in the bedroom. He didn’t always like it, but he wasn’t always the cool and calm mu’fucka he projected around LA. He fumbled the first time he had sex. A few times after that as well. 

He lowered his hands back to the arm rests and she ran her tongue across her teeth. “Good boy,” she said. 

She stroked him and stared at him, waiting to see if he’d try something else. When she was satisfied, she dipped her head and really got to work. Her mouth sucked him down like she was trying to eat him alive. Burning pleasure seeped into him and he threw his head back against the back of the chair.

“Won’t you moan for me, Tyrone? I like to know I’m doing a good job too,” she said and then returned to sucking the soul out of him. That’s exactly what it felt like. Like she was drinking from the very essence of him. 

“Goddamn,” he groaned, twisting his hips. Trying to push more of himself into her mouth. He licked his lips and made himself sit up. Made himself watch as his dick slipped in and out of her mouth. His hands gripped the rough fabric of the chair, dying to grab her. Hold her.

Saliva gathered on his dick. Her mouth was hot and perfect on his velvety dick. She added her hands, stroking as she slobbered. The room filled with wet suckling noises. Garbled saliva noises. She slurped him up and his climax hit the base of his spine. His balls grew heavier. The need to cum was overpowering but he did not want this to go too fast.

He wanted to stay in the moment. Stay with her mouth on him. Her hands on him. Her eyes fixed in absolute pleasure. He was used to women doing this shit as if it were a chore. As if it were something they thought he wanted in order to please them back. He wasn’t selfish. He didn’t want them to do anything they didn’t want to do.

But what a fuckin’ difference when he got with a real head hunter. He gave her all of his moans, all of his encouragement. Sweat poured down his temple. He watched and felt her work him, a near feeding frenzy.

He thought about baseball, the DMV, LA traffic, anything to keep this climax at bay. But then she sucked hard enough to sting and he threw his head back once more. “Shiiit,” he groaned.

His powerful climax hit the back of her throat. She hummed around it, swallowing every last drop. She continued to suck him, wringing it all. He fed her and wished he could cum again just to the sound of her humming around his dick. 

He heaved as she released him, inch by slow inch, and finally let him go with a wet pop. Her eyes were closed as she licked her lips. The lipstick was a little smudged and he groaned. Fuck. He wanted to go again already. But he’d never quite had the soul sucked out of him like that. He needed a moment to calm down, to get his bearings. 

“You beautiful boy,” she whispered, more to herself. He watched the emotions play out on her face as she wiped the corners of her mouth and sucked on her finger. 

“You talk about me being nasty,” he said.

The librarians didn’t do it like this back in LA. Maybe he needed to frequent the bookstore more. Find the quiet girls. Those were some closet freaks. Shy as hell though. Still might be worth looking into.

The Librarian chuckled and got to her feet. She moved away but Tyrone grabbed her hand. “Wait, lemme return the favor,” he said.

“That’s okay, baby. I got what I wanted,” she said. Her eyes were too narrow for him to catch her meaning. She caressed his face, those long nails sending arrows of lust straight to his dick. 

“Please,” he said and licked his lips. It wasn’t in him to leave a woman unsatisfied while he got off scott-free. He ain’t never begged for pussy. But dammit he wanted it. If her pussy was anything like her head game, he’d have to consider moving here. Maybe getting out of the game would be worth it. 

“That’s okay, baby. Really,” she said. She moved her hand from his face and he grabbed her again. He kissed the back of it and then flipped it over to kiss her palm. He left wet kisses on her wrist and up her forearm.

“Let me taste you,” he said. “Please?” 

She smirked at him. “What about your friends?” 

“Fuck ‘em. They ain’t my kids,” Tyrone said.

She chuckled and raised her eyebrow at him. He shook with restraint. Anyone else and he’d bulldoze his way in. Talk all kinds of nasty shit in their ear to get them to spread their legs. But she was different. She drove him wild. 

His skin was feverish. Desperate. He had to have her. There was no way he would leave without tasting her and seeing what made her squirm. What made her scream.

“Come on then,” she said. She said it like she didn’t believe him. That he couldn’t pleasure her. He wondered if some boonie fuck got to fuck her. If she was comparing them. He’d make sure she remembered him.

Tyrone stood up from the chair as she stood facing him, inching her skirt up her thighs and revealing that she, in fact, did not wear panties. He groaned as he watched her. She sat on the desk and spread her legs for him. For him.

He sauntered closer, running his fingers through her soaking folds. He dropped his head to his shoulder and groaned.

“You gon’ kill me,” he said.

She chuckled and ran her hands across his shoulders. She kissed his cheek. “Never,” she said. 

He lifted his head high enough to kiss her. The smell and taste of her made him bolder. He slipped his fingers inside of her, pumping her, seeing how much of him she can take. He slipped in with ease and he felt her clench around his fingers. 

Pride swept through him that she was so wet for him. He kneeled down, placing one of her legs over his shoulder. He kissed her pussy, inhaled the scent of her. He groaned in satisfaction and feasted on her.

He went in fast, flicking her clit. “Oh shit,” she said. Her hands gripped his shoulder. Her thighs squeezed his head and he went faster, flicking that little nub until it was nice and swollen. 

“Right there, right there,” she panted. Her voice rose in octaves. He kept it up, giving her exactly what she needed. He used his thumbs to open her up wider. Her juices coated the entire lower half of his face.

He dug in, licking and flicking, sucking, and moaning. She tasted so damn good, so damn divine. “That’s right, eat it, baby,” she encouraged. 

The praise hit him like a sack of bricks. It spurned him on, wanting to please her. He slipped his fingers back into her pussy, curling them and rubbing her spongy wet walls until she couldn’t speak. Couldn’t do anything but murmur and coo and grip his cornrows roughly.

She tensed before orgasming, twitching and jerking beneath him. He licked up what she gushed out, not ready to give up the ghost. All of her sounds were in the back of her throat. Animalistic, guttural.

He stood up, wiped his mouth, and then entered her before she could draw breath. Her eyes flashed red once more but it was just a trick of the light. He pounded into her ruthlessly.

He moaned and kept going. She was a welcome sheath for his straining dick. Her heated core felt so good, so right, that he became more animalistic himself. He pulled her by the legs to the edge of the desk, supporting her weight, and spearing her. 

He wanted to split her in half. He fucked her and her pussy gripped his dick like it had a mind of its own. He’d never met a woman like her. Will never meet another.

She only grew wetter and he slipped and sputtered as he pounded. He kept going, searching and reaching for the deepest part of her. 

“Goddamn, you feel so good. So - uh- good,” he said. 

She cried every time he went in, her face twisted in that perfect mix of ecstasy and pain. “Oh fuck, oh fuck. Deep-mm-deeper,” she moaned. 

He angled his hips and pulled her closer, giving all of himself to her. Her hand was on his chest as if to push him away. But she grabbed his shirt and pulled him close, kissing him. She licked his lips and he lost his rhythm. If she kept shit like that up, he wasn’t going to last.

“Let me cum in this pussy,” he begged. “Let me cum in it.” It was a desperate need. That same primal need to mark her or claim her. To fill her up. Humans lost their super sense of smell many evolutions ago. But he wished that anyone who came across her in the future would be able to smell him on her, in her. 

She wheezed as he finally hit a spot deep enough for her. She rocked on his dick as she moaned. Her teeth grew a bit sharper, her nails a little longer, and her eyes a wicked deep shade of red.

Her head was thrown back as he watched the transformation, watched as she seemed to swell with energy. “Fuck me, Tyrone. Fuck me,” she said. Her desk made scraping noises as he pounded into her.

His heartbeat was in tune with his strokes. He wanted to stop, needed to stop, but she felt so good bouncing on his dick. She trained those red eyes on him and smirked.

“Cum in this pussy,” she commanded.

He let go, his climax making his eyes cross. He shouted his release into her, pumping her full of his biggest load yet. He stuffed her full and it triggered her own orgasm. She squeezed his dick and he cried out, hoarse, losing his voice to her. Losing his mind to her.

He slipped out while she laughed and settled onto the desk. “Oh, I could gorge myself on you for years,” she said and cackled, throwing her hands across her chest and hugging herself.

He wasn’t tripping. Her eyes really were fucking red. He pulled his pants back up and backed out of the room. Her cackles followed him.

“Come back any time and see me, Tyrone!” 

Tyrone ran down the hallway, her cackling laughter seeming to follow him. He didn’t dare risk a look back. He flew past the door, past Mike and Paul. 

“What the fuck!” Paul yelled. No need to be told a thing, Mike and Paul raced after Tyrone. He didn’t stop running. Her laughter was in his head. In his skin. 

He ran to the car and hopped in the driver’s side. He yelled for the keys. Paul threw it to him and slipped into the passenger side while Mike just made it into the back. 

It was pitch black, not even the street lamps enough to pierce the darkness.

“Anytime.” Tyrone heard in his head. The tires squealed against the pavement as he threw the car in reverse.

Fuck Vegas! If there was one thing he knew, it was how to get the fuck home. He put his foot to the floor of the car and peeled off down the road. He was confused, still a little horny, but all around freaked out.

He swerved onto the freeway and put the night and that crazy bitch out of his mind. But the laughter still followed him all the way home.

&&&

You need some more in your life? There's more! The Secret Tyrone Files

[iiconicxpersona]

Whatever It Takes.

Javier Peña x f!Reader

Warnings: this fic features a scene from s02e03 Our Man in Madrid and that episode is a trigger warning in its own, but if you need specifics then this fic includes ANGST, mvrder, su!c!d3 attempt, depression, alcoholism. MINORS DNI & READ AT YOUR OWN RISK (I cannot stress that enough)

Word count: 3.4k

Summary: You and Javier get tagged along in a manhunt gone wrong with the return of Colonel Carrillo. After the tragedy that occurs, you look to Javier for comfort only to get heartbroken when he seeks comfort from another woman.

From the moment you were assigned the Escobar case in Bogotá, you prepared yourself for the best and the worst. You knew that once this case was finally over, and God only knew how long that would take, you would not return to Texas like the woman you were when you left. However, it didn’t seem to matter exactly how much you prepared yourself ahead of time in all aspects; nothing was ever going to prepare you for all the horrors you had witnessed and the ones still yet to come.

“We’re all in. Whatever it takes.”

Words you, Agent Javier Peña, and Agent Steve Murphy repeated to each other almost frequently to remind yourselves and each other that this is what you signed up for when you agreed to do whatever it took to catch Escobar and every single person whoever took a single dollar from him. Of course, Messina and the entire force did everything they could to keep your missions restricted, but to catch a bad guy; you must be willing to break some rules.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

Colonel Carrillo was the King of playing by his own rules. His methods were cruel and relentless, but they were effective in one way or another. But those same methods ultimately led him to be transferred to Spain. When he was brought back on the team by the Colombian government, it shook you to the core, and the only problem was that you could no longer tell if that was good or bad.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

The first mission at hand with Colonel Carrillo is to track down every spotter Escobar had hiding in the area. It seems simple enough, considering the spotters were mainly children under eighteen.

“Peña, Y/L/N, you come with me.” Carrillo orders.

You and Javier exchange looks of concern to each other and then to Steve, who's disappointed when Carrillo tells him to stay behind for radio contact.

“You be careful out there,” Steve adds as you and Javier follow Carrillo to one of the unmarked cars.

“You got your vest on?” Javier asks without looking at you.

You nod and pat your stomach hard enough to make the bulletproof padding audible. “I never leave without it.”

“Good. This could get ugly, so I want you to always stay beside me. Understand?” He finally looks at you while still walking forward.

“Jesus, Javi, this isn’t my first rodeo.” You scoff.

He rolls his eyes, clearly not amused by your comment. “Cariño, I’m fucking serious. These kids are dangerous, and the last thing I want is for you to underestimate one, and he holds you at gunpoint or worse.”

Just then, you remembered what Javi had told you the day Steve’s adopted baby girl, Oliva, was rescued, and you instantly regretted trying to be sarcastic. He never told Steve, but while they were chasing down the two men responsible for murdering Olivia’s biological family and you were in the house guarding her, Javier came close to catching one of the men until a little boy caught him off guard from behind and held him at gunpoint. Javier was sure that at any moment, the kid would pull the trigger and kill him, or worse, he would miss his shot, and Javier would have to kill the kid instead. Thankfully, once the guy he was chasing got away, so did the kid, and ever since then, Javier knew that with the right amount of money and power, Escobar could make anyone do anything.

“Always stay beside me. Understand?” Javier demandingly repeated.

You nod. “I understand.”

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

One by one, each kid that Escobar hired as a spotter was taken into custody. However, Carrillo had other plans instead of taking them straight to the station for interrogation like you and Javier thought.

Given Carrillo's extreme methods in the past, you should’ve known that this wouldn’t be as simple as you had hoped. Though you figured that because they were just kids, what could go wrong?

Everything.

One right next to the other, at least seven boys are lined up in the middle of a dark alley with their hands behind their heads and sitting upright on their knees. You stand next to Javier off in the distance while Carrillo paces slowly in front of them. As you examine their faces, it breaks your heart to see how young they are. Some look at least sixteen, but the youngest looks six or seven.

They try to keep stone-cold faces on while Carrillo attempts to scare them straight. A couple of the boys laugh at him and make insults in Spanish.

“Shut up, kid.” Javier mumbles.

You do your best to look as emotionless as possible, but mentally, you are frightened to know what is going through Carrillo’s mind, especially when he pulls out his gun and begins loading it in front of them.

One of the older boys laughs and asks Carrillo if he should be scared.

“No,” Carrillo replies.

BANG.

You stood there and watched the now young lifeless body slowly fall to the ground. Aside from the streetlights, the alleyway is pitch dark due to the summer evening, but you’d swear you could see everywhere the boy’s blood had splattered as if it happened in daylight.

It took every fiber in your being not to lose your cool or vomit at the scene. You were even too afraid to reach for Javier, who was only a couple of inches away from you, for some comfort. Although judging from how his body tensed up and the look on his face, he was just as distraught inside as you were.

What was Carrillo thinking? Even if the kid tried to be a fearless macho man about it, he was still just a kid. There were plenty of other ways Carrillo could’ve tried to prove a point to them about the dangers of working with someone like Escobar. Regardless of whether you liked it, he gave them a harsh reality check.

Carrillo then takes one bullet from his gun and hands it to the youngest boy, telling him to give it to Escobar and let him know who it is from. You watch helplessly as the boy takes the bullet with tears running down his face and stuffs it in his pocket. Then Carrillo finally sets the remaining boys free. You immediately cling to Javier once they are out of sight.

He hesitates for a moment before slowly wrapping his arms around you, still in shock from what just happened as you tried your best to hold back your sobs.

“Cariño…” Javier struggles to find the right words. How could he comfort you when he couldn’t convince himself that everything was fine? “We have to go.” He finally said.

Whatever it takes.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

This is one of those nights you wish Javier wouldn’t depend on a cheap hooker to help him forget.

About six months ago, after almost losing you during a shootout mission, Javier suggested that you move in with him “for your safety,” which you hesitantly accepted two months later. Murphy always teased how Javier always had a soft spot for you, and although you couldn’t deny you also had a soft spot for Javier, you tried to keep your crush precisely that: just a crush. Even if it nearly killed you inside when he would come home late smelling of sex, cheap perfume, and cigarettes.

While staring blankly at a pile of paperwork, your mind couldn’t stop replaying what happened less than an hour ago. Steve tried talking to you about how frustrated he was about Carrillo not trusting him to tag along with the mission, but his words only went in one ear and out of the other.

“You should be grateful.” You finally spoke up, still not taking your eyes off the paperwork.

At that moment, Steve gave up on his argument. As much as he hated feeling like an outsider because of his looks, nationality, or poor Spanish, he knew his troubles were nothing compared to what you and Javier were going through at this very moment.

You could hear Javier mumbling under his breath on the phone at his desk, which generally meant he was talking to one of his hookers. At that point, you were already two shots deep in tequila and resting your head on your arms to hide your face like the game you used to play at school as a kid.

You hated the jealous feeling that crept up inside you as he talked to her about meeting with her in the next half an hour.

Why tonight of all nights? Or if he needed a good fuck to help him forget, then why couldn’t it be with you? You were there. You saw everything happen just as he did. Did it ever occur to him that maybe you needed a night of meaningless sex to help you forget everything too? In all the years you had known Peña, he had no shame in screwing every woman in sight, but he never once offered to put his hands on you. Sure, you flirt with each other almost every day, but would there ever be more? Were you not pretty enough? Or not skinny enough? Or because you didn’t open your legs to every man in sight?

“Cariño, you all right?” Javier’s low voice startles you out of your thoughts. He places his hands on your shoulders and begins to massage you once you sit up and lean back into your chair, feeling your body relax under his touch.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You lie. Your voice is now hoarse from choking back all the tears and emotions.

Javier leans down and wraps his arms around your upper body with his chin resting on your shoulder. “Don’t you disappear on me, okay?”

You nod, and he kisses your cheek and gives you one last squeeze.

“I gotta run a few errands, but I’ll be home late.”

Desperation kicks into high gear, and you cling to his arms for dear life. “Wait, you’re leaving?”

“It’s just for a few hours. I need to clear my head. You understand, right?” He pulls away from you once your grip loosens, but you still reach for him.

“Well yeah, but…”

“But what!” He snaps at you in frustration.

Then it hits you in that very second like a ton of bricks: you and Javier Peña will never be more than just friends.

You let go of his hand when the tears build up again. “You know what? Just go. I won’t wait up.”

Realizing what he had just done, a wave of guilt washes over Javier, and he slowly steps towards you. “Shit, cariño I’m sor…”

“I said go!”

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

By the night's end, you had already downed most of the tequila. Murphy knew Javier would kill him if he had let you go home by yourself, so being the southern gentleman he is, he gave you a ride home.

On the inside, you were trying to fight off too many emotions. You didn’t dare to let Steve see you cry, especially after witnessing your little moment with Javier. For what? So that he can tell Javi, and they can laugh at how pathetic you are behind your back? Though you knew they would never do that, it was still a fear that helped keep your emotions in check.

“Thanks for the ride, Murphy.” You half smiled at him.

“Of course.” He could hear the pain in your voice, but he tried his best to keep cool. You’re already going through enough as it is. “Hey, just know I’m right next door if you need anything.”

“You’re a good man, Steve. Connie’s a lucky girl.” You lean in to give him a small peck on the cheek before letting yourself out of the car.

You dread every single step toward your shared apartment with Javi. You dread it so much that if you were stable enough, you’d walk to your old apartment two buildings over. Most of your stuff is still there, considering you had just moved in with Javier four months ago. You had only brought essential things like clothes, makeup, bathroom stuff, and a few sentimental values. But the fact that you were barely making it on your own to Javi’s front door was enough to make you rethink.

Once you stumble inside, the first thing you noticed was how quiet it is. Too quiet. Not that you and Javi were noisy people when he didn’t have women over, which thankfully wasn’t often ever since you moved in. But even then, the apartment is never this quiet. You hate the silence. It only made the events of tonight replay louder and louder in your brain.

Throwing off your coat and shoes, you let them land wherever as you make your way to the radio and turn it on to a local rock station with the volume on full blast. You swerve over to Javier’s liquor cabinet and mindlessly scan around at each of his selections. The one bottle of bourbon he saved for special occasions had caught your eye. Judging from how rich the bottle looks, it must be one of his most expensive liquors. Your conscious told you to stop, but the music and your drunk state of mind were enough to tune it out. You grab the bottle from the glass shelf and gnaw the cap off before downing the liquor like water.

You never smoked a cigarette, but once you found Javier’s carton in the cabinet, you pulled out a fresh pack and ripped off the plastic wrap. Javier was already a heavy smoker as it was, but he seemed to smoke a lot more when he was stressed out, and you wanted to know what it was like. If it helps Javi calm down, why wouldn’t it help you?

You flick the first white stick out of the small paper box as if you were already a natural to smoking. Not that you would admit it out loud, but after seeing Javi do it a few times, you were tempted and tried it for shits and giggles.

Lighting the stick between your lips, you inhaled deeply only to choke out the nicotine and smoke immediately. “I can’t believe Javi likes this shit.” You gag.

The first few puffs were disgusting, and if it weren’t for the bourbon making it easier to wash down the horrid taste, you would’ve thrown up after the first puff. But soon enough, you were already on your second and third cigarette. Each smoke is smoother than the last.

Dancing around in the living room in a tank top and panties, with a cigarette in your mouth and another bottle of whiskey in your hands, you were on cloud nine, and for the first time that night, nothing else mattered. You weren’t aware of how much you had already drunk or how you were already almost finished with the first pack of cigarettes. You even forgot you were in Javier’s apartment until the clock caught your attention. It’s 2:30 am, and Javier still isn’t home. If you were sober, you probably would’ve been worried sick about him, but his delay made you angry. He didn’t have to spend the night with another cheap hooker, and if he did feel the need to, he could’ve at least called you to let you know he wasn’t coming home.

How dare he? After everything you two had been through tonight, how dare he leave you alone? How dare he not be here so you two can try to comfort each other? How dare he yell at you in front of Murphy, embarrassing you when you only wanted him to stay? How dare he be a typical douchebag and leave you just to get his dick wet by some random bitch he barely knows? How dare he not see that you care about him so damn much? How fucking dare Javier Peña!?

At that moment, you refused to reason anymore and instead let your anger-fueled adrenaline take complete control of your body.

His precious liquor cabinet is the first item to fall victim to your rage. You push it off the wall with full force and watch it slowly crash to the ground, just like the little boy did in the alley. Then you grab every bottle that didn’t break in the fall and throw them in random areas of the living room. Only the shattering noise, your cries, and the loud music fill the void that is Javier’s apartment.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

You don’t remember how you wound up on the bathroom floor next to the toilet with more bourbon in one hand and your pistol in the other. Your adrenaline was still pumping through your veins uncontrollably, and you couldn’t feel any of the cuts that formed all over your body from the broken glass. Miraculously, none of which were too deep to leave a permanent scar.

There’s no telling how long ago your rampage began, but suddenly the radio that was once blaring rock music had gone silent. You didn’t care. You sat there hugging your knees with the hand holding the pistol while continuing to drink.

You could hear heavy footsteps slowly inching closer to the bathroom, and then he turned the corner with his pistol pointing directly at you.

“C—Cariño…” Javier mumbled in shock.

He was about to rush to you, but then he froze in place the second you extended your arm and aimed your pistol at him. “Don’t. Come. Any. Closer.” You demand.

Suddenly, every ounce of color was flushed from Javi’s face. He slowly put his gun down on the sink and raised his hands in surrender. The image made you chuckle as he slowly dropped to his knees before you.

“Baby, plea—”

“SHUT UP!” You scream, and it catches you both off guard. “All I wanted was for you to stay with me. To help me forget. But no! Typical Javier Peña; you had to think with your dick! You didn’t even care enough to call me to let me know when you’ll be home or to see if I was all right. Do you realize that I probably would’ve never made it home if it wasn't for Murphy? Thank God he’s a fucking decent human being, unlike you!” At this point, you couldn’t hold back the tears as you cock the gun, making Javier tense up in fear for the second time.

“Cariño, I’m sorry. I fucked up, and I’m sorry. I should’ve been here for you, and I know that now. But please don’t do this.” Javier pleaded.

“It’s too late.” You choke out.

Javier felt his heart stop when you pointed the gun barrel at your temple. In his mind, he had already snatched the gun from your hand, but physically he couldn’t move.

However, once you pulled the trigger, the only sound filling the apartment was a click.

You gasp at the reality of what you were about to do and drop everything in your hands. Only then did Javier find the strength to stumble over and embrace you tightly in his arms.

You hyperventilate and bawl into his shirt as Javi tries to calm you down. Once again, your hands cling to him for dear life. “I’m so sorry, Javi!” You cry.

“Shh. Shh. It’s all right, baby. It’s all right. I’m here now.” He strokes your hair and slowly rocks you back and forth in his arms until you finally fall asleep.

Javier gently picks you up bridal style and carries you to his room, where he could grab a wet towel and some hydrogen peroxide to clean some of your cuts off before tucking you into bed. He took a second to sit there and stare at you as you slept peacefully. If he didn’t feel guilty before, he does now.

Javier sometimes liked to think of himself as a sharp man, but he was blind when it came to you. Murphy often told him that anyone could see you two were head over heels for each other, but he never accepted it as the truth. He never thought you cared about him as more than a friend. And he blew it when he finally had his chance to prove to you that he was worthy of your heart.

There was no telling how long it would take you to forgive him, but he was willing to do whatever it took to regain your trust. He’s all in now, and this time, he wouldn’t make this mistake again.

[4am-enha]

pouring.

description/tags: heavily inspired by a scene from the kdrama “something in the rain” on netflix. reader is basically a coffee addict who meets someone new in the cafe on their break, but there’s a rainstorm outside. heavy on acts of service jay in this, cheesy romantically suggested gestures, rain, umbrellas, proximity, catching feelings, old fashion love.

genre: fluffy, fluff, & more fluff!

pairing: jay x reader (y/n), gender neutral reader.

warnings: none that i am aware of :P

wc≈ 2.3k, one shot format

preview: “The tension between you was so thick, you could almost suffocate. But maybe it was just you getting in your own head. This didn’t have to be a slightly intimate interaction, he could just be being friendly.”

You were on a no-caffeine streak for a while now. Almost a week. Maybe it wasn’t really that impressive, but a week of no coffee for you was never heard of before. You were actually really proud of it and began bragging to people how you hadn’t touched a drop of caffeine, and how you intended not to touch any for at least a month.

But that all came crumbling down today. You were so sluggish, it was actual torture to not drink any coffee this morning. What really did not help were the strangely dark clouds outside and the type of air that just fills you with grogginess for the whole day. Winter was approaching pretty fast this year, so that would explain this type of weather. These days, it felt like it was dark when you left for work, and dark when you returned home.

All your progress, ruined, before it had even really gotten somewhere just for one cup of your favourite pick-me-up drink this morning. Was it really worth it?

Absolutely.

To be completely honest, you did hesitate for a moment about it outside the door of your favourite regular cafe, but as soon as that beautiful smell of coffee beans hit your nose, and the warm embrace of the cozy cafe ambiance with just one-half step inside of the building hugged you- you were completely convinced it was all going to be more than just a little worth it. You actually physically felt yourself hold back an urge to skip inside with excitement.

“Please hold it for me!” A man's voice urged from behind you. Of course, you held it for him. He was quite tall and looked very neat and put together. Well, ignoring the slight panic in his eyes and the messy bundle of things in his arms.

“Thank you! I’m sorry, my bag has just come loose and I'm trying to hold all the stuff in,” he laughed nervously as he walked past you into the cafe.

“No problem,” you laughed lightly back.

You approached the pale, slender cashier who immediately recognized you, “Y/n? It’s been a while. Where have you been?”

“It’s only been a week, Sunghoon, don’t be dramatic,” you joked.

“Well, what can I get you? The usual?”

“Yes please!” You beamed.

He smiled, “Alright! Cash or card?”

You pulled out your card and handed it to the barista, zoning into empty space as you waited for the payment to go through.

“Oh, do you have another card? This one declined.”

“Oh my gosh, what?” You took the card back from him, realising you had brought an expired card with you. You were so tired this morning, you didn’t check what you had picked up before you left for your break. You felt around your pockets for a minute, but deep down you hopelessly knew you had left all other cards and cash in your bag which was sitting pretty under your work desk.

By now, there were a few customers behind you. You didn’t want to make things complicated.

“I’m sorry but I’m going to have to cancel my order-“

“Allow me,” the guy you had held the door for earlier came forward from behind you in the line and tapped his card against the machine.

“Oh my goodness, no! Please cancel that!” You panicked and yelled at Sunghoon, the barista.

“Wait, don't! Please, let me pay for it. It’s nothing, really!” The generous guy joined in with a panicked response.

“But-“

“Okay not trying to be rude here guys, but can you decide. Please?” Sunghoon pleaded. He was not paid well enough for this and other customers were already mumbling and grumbling amongst themselves in line.

You looked at the stranger with an apologetic face, but he only continued to reassure you that it was okay. He really insisted on paying. You nodded at Sunghoon in approval of not cancelling the payment after all.

Sunghoon then continued to take the man's order, leaving you and the stranger standing awkwardly beside each other waiting for the drinks to be made.

“You really didn’t have to do that you know,” you began, breaking the silence.

“I wanted to,” he smiled and paused for a moment, “what’s your name by the way? I don’t believe I have ever seen you around here before.”

“Oh really? That’s a surprise. I’m always out and about, and as for this cafe I’m kind of a regular,” you smiled.

He hummed in understanding, “I could guess by the way the barista seemed to know you.”

You laughed, “Yeah, I suppose it's a little obvious.”

“And your name?”

“Oh sorry, it’s y/n. How about you?”

“You can call me Jay.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Jay.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too, y/n,” he held out his hand for a handshake, but you misunderstood and gave him a high-five instead. It took him by surprise, but he laughed it off.

“Oh I'm so sorry I thought you were asking for-“

Jay interrupted you by suddenly shifting his hand to complete your high-five, “No need to be embarrassed, I’ll take a high-five too.”

You laughed about it together and then began some more small talk for a few remaining minutes discussing the usually boringly common topics like work, and how long you’ve lived here, except you actually enjoyed it more than you expected to. You were glad that you had made the choice to ruin your caffeine-sober streak today. Meeting new people was refreshing.

But since your job practically required you to talk to new people every day, and this was something you did daily- maybe it was just Jay that was refreshing. He was actually very intriguing, and not just because he was admittedly pretty to look at. You couldn’t really put it into the right words, but something about the way he talked and used so many unique minor expressions really caught your attention. He was so polite too. Attentive. Thoughtful. A nice outcast from the stereotypical modern type of men you were used to seeing everywhere these days.

Either way, this random interchange completely altered your day into something ten times better than it had originally been.

Coincidentally, your drinks were ready and called at the same time. Jay carefully passed you your drink while picking up his own, being cautious to not accidentally burn you with the hot cup. You thanked him once more and both headed out toward the door. Jay held it for you this time, arguing that it was only equal for him to do so since you had held the door for him on the way in.

Your smile quickly faded as you noticed the heavy rain that had begun a little while ago pouring down in front of you. You hadn’t noticed it right away because of the cafe marquee that slightly protected the street and kept the outer entrance dry. You sighed, staring in disbelief that you were going to have to spend the rest of work today in soaked clothes.

“Something wrong?” Jay questioned upon seeing your face flush with worry.

He made you jump a little because you had sort of expected him to be gone by now. You thought he had left immediately when you had exchanged some final thank yous and goodbyes at the door on the way out. When actually, he had stuck around for a minute to see you off.

“Oh no, it’s just that I have to walk in this horrible weather,” you replied defeatedly.

Jay thought for a moment, “wait here.”

You widen your eyes in confusion and surprise as you watch Jay run straight into the rain, completely soaking himself and his coffee within seconds only to disappear around the corner for a few minutes.

You kept checking your phone for the time, wondering if he was even going to come back or if you should just leave. You didn’t even know what he was doing or why he had asked you to wait here.

Meanwhile, Jay was rushing around the local mini-store for umbrellas. Finally, when he found them he picked up the closest two. One for you, and one for him. But then, he looked at the pair of them and put one back with a cheesy smile that showed that he had some sort of motive behind the peculiar decision.

Eventually, Jay returned, walking toward you in the rain, holding a single closed umbrella with floppy drenched hair, clothes tightly stuck to him, and a bright smile. It made your cheeks feel warm as you smiled shyly back.

You couldn’t help but laugh a little, “you’re ridiculous and insane. You went into the rain to fetch an umbrella?”

“It would appear I did,” he laughed lightly too, handing you the umbrella.

“Why did you only get one? You should take this,” you tried to hand it back to him but he refused and pushed it away with a frown and disapproving shake of his head.

You tried again, “Please, you’ve already done a lot for me this morning. It’s not that bad, I can dry off at work.”

“Let’s share it then,” he suggested, taking the umbrella and holding it up for the both of you, “you said earlier that your workplace was the same way as mine anyway.”

“Oh, well alright then,” you felt yourself blush involuntarily as you began walking very closely, side by side together.

At first, it was awkward and a little uncomfortable, but that feeling didn’t stick around for long. Jay made conversation here and there, making it easy to follow along and it made you feel more confident about being almost attached by the hip to someone you met under an hour ago. Sometimes it would fall silent, but it was a comfortable silence. You would both drift off into your own thoughts for a minute or two.

You had no idea what Jay was thinking about, but you wondered if maybe he was thinking similar things to you. Maybe the situation just wasn’t awkward at all to him, and you were just overthinking it. You couldn't help but be curious about what he thought of you. Hopefully, you made a good impression, and hopefully, he was as comfortable as you were right now.

It was just now that you were noticing how good he smelled for the first time. He smelt as clean and fresh as he looked. His cologne was potent through his wet shirt.

He smelled expensive.

You also noted how tall he was beside you. After some sneaky glances here and there, you saw how sharp his jawline really was. It was as unreal as it had looked from a distance.

When you went to glance over at him again, he caught you. Instantaneously, your eyes snapped forward to avoid it, but he was already softly chuckling upon catching you staring.

“If you have questions, you can ask them, you know,” he laughed.

You laughed in embarrassment, nodding.

Jay began to elaborate, “It's just because you were looking-“

“I thought I saw a bug,” you lied with rosy cheeks.

“You’re a bad liar.”

“No really, I’m telling the truth!”

“Okay, I’ll believe you,” he smiled, seeing right through your attempt to cover up your obvious stares.

The tension between you was so thick, you could almost suffocate. But maybe it was just you getting in your own head. This didn’t have to be a slightly intimate interaction, he could just be being friendly.

As if you were an open book and Jay was reading your mind, he looked over to you.

“You keep drifting out from under the umbrella. Isn’t your shoulder getting wet?”

“A little but it's fine,” you shrugged.

“Come closer, I won't hurt you” he went to put his arm around you to pull you in but he hesitated, “may I?”

You could swear that your face was painted red with blush now, but you nodded anyway and let it happen. He was ever so gentle, making sure he wasn’t pushing it too far. Keeping his arm around you but loosely just in case you might change your mind.

You continued to walk like that together with uncontrollable smiles plastered on each of your faces until you reached the outside of your work building. It was such a peaceful moment that you would surely hold onto it for a very long time after the fact. It had been a while since you felt this rush of emotion that you were so sure had left you years ago.

The rain had cleared up now, spitting slightly still, but nothing compared to what it had been. Jay walked you up to where it was sheltered so that you wouldn’t have to get a single drop of rain on you. You felt bad that he was still very much soaked, while you looked as if you hadn’t been outside at all today.

“Thank you, again, Jay,” you stood in front of him.

“No, thank you, y/n.”

You fiddled with your hands a little, looking down, “perhaps, could I take your number so that I can pay you back later?”

Jay chuckled, “You can have my number, but you’re not paying me back.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, handing him your phone anyway to type in his number.

You then both briefly waved goodbye and you began walking into your building, hiding a giddy smile.

“Y/N!”

You turned quickly to the sound of Jay yelling your name and ran back towards him.

He held out the umbrella to you, “Take this. It’s yours now.”

Without argument, you took the umbrella and waved goodbye once more. You didn’t turn back this time, but you could feel Jay’s eyes on you- watching to make sure you got in with no problems before walking away himself.

Later on, you found yourself staring at the brightly coloured umbrella leaning against your work desk.

You drifted into the thought of the umbrella and a certain guy, with a smile lingering on your lips.

note: as always, any feedback/notes are appreciated~!thank you so much for reading!! i hope you have an amazing day/night ^^ finally, i got another singular member one shot out. i kinda liked this one. let me know what you guys thought of it. also, don’t forget to tune into orange blood nov 17th! WHOS EXCITED (I AM).

[ivonhart]

the moon | steven grant x fem werewolf!reader

+ marc spector & jake lockley

— chapter four

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masterlist

cross posted on ao3

gif credit: @paper-n-ashes

summary: You've always hated the moon. Hated the way it made your body bend and break into a new form every month. Hated the way it tied you to one of the many gods of it. But you couldn't hate what the moon connected you to...who it connected you to.

!! chapter warnings !!: Previous su*cide attempt mentioned / Marc being a lil toxic :3

By the time you caught up to the area Steven was taken to, the sky grew dark and the moon rose high into the air. Despite the head start that the cultist had, you still managed to figure out where he was. The unseen tether that seemingly connected the two of you telling you where to go the moment you stepped out of his apartment.

That connection brought you and Layla to a secluded neighborhood. On the surface it simply looked like an active community; people communing within the main plaza with bright smiles as children ran around their legs with giggles of joy.

On the surface it looked like a pleasant environment…but with a closer look you took note of how their eyes lingered on any outsiders for too long, how they turned their back and whispered once they believed you were out of range…how they all shared the same scale tattoo. You finally made it to what you would say was the “main area.”

The building it was in reminded you of an old castle of some sorts. The exposed brick and chipped walls showing the wear and tear it experienced through the centuries. You and Layla managed to make your way into the building and when you got into the structure you saw Steven being surrounded by Harrow’s people. Circling him like a pack of wolves would do to a wounded deer. “Where is the Scarab?”

Adamant to get the attention away from Steven, you nodded to Layla before she raised her hand in the air and spoke. “I have it.” All eyes snapped towards Layla and the Scarab that she slowly brought back into her chest as the two of you slowly moved through the crowd. However, one pair of eyes was stuck on you. You could hear the slight skip in Steven’s heart and the hitch in his breath as his gaze bore into your soul.

Only mere hours before, the man watched as your body fell to the ground and became soaked with the blood that poured from the gunshot wound. A wound that no one would be able to walk away from. Yet here you stood…a tad worse for wear…but alive. You had to tear your eyes away from him in fear that you would break away from Layla and run to him. Wanting…needing to feel his warmth wrapped around your body to calm not only him down, but you as well.

“You couldn’t possibly understand the value of what you’re holding.” The closer the two of you got to the man, the more his people were able to surround you, making the hair on the back of your neck rise. “Let me have that, I’ll keep it safe.”

“About time you found us.” The god sneered over your shoulder as Layla turned to Steven. “Why would you bring the Scarab here…you idiot dog!” Both you and Steven flinched at his outburst and you tired focusing on Layla who pleaded for Steven to summon the suit. But, like you, he could hear the curses from the god.

“Summon the soup?” Steven’s question dripped in confusion. Why would he summon soup? What would soup do? What kind of soup? With a hushed curse you finally blocked out Khonshu and grabbed hold of Steven’s hand. “We have to run.” With Layla ahead making quick work of anyone who got in her way, you managed to pull Steven inside a storage room with Layla not far behind.

The moment all three of you were inside, you and Layla bolted the door. When you knew the door was secure you finally allowed yourself to hunch over with a groan. One of your hands grasping the area where you had been shot. Pain, phantom or not, shooting through your body from the movements. “Oh, my God. I’m going to die in an evil magician’s man cave.” The sound of Steven’s panicked voice brought you back to the situation at hand. “And you…” The man’s wide eyes eyed you up and down in terror. “Y-You got shot. You died!”

You could hear the sound of his heart smashing against his ribs as he grew more and more panicked. SMASH! SMASH! SMASH! It rattled your already unfocused mind, making your ears almost ring. “Look…Steven. I’m…I’m different. I work for Khonshu because of how different I am.” Your words came out in between heavy breaths as you struggled to find the right words. “I can’t explain it right now, but the bullet didn’t affect me like it would a normal person because of certain things.”

The sudden pounding from the other side of the storage door caused Layla to march her way to Steven. With a harsh yank, the woman pulled his attention to her. “Listen to me. Your name is Marc. There’s a suit.” You tried to intervene, but she shook the man with panic, cutting off any chance where you could butt in.

SMASH! SMASH! SMASH! You could now smell the sweat that was forming in his palms and the unsteady breathing that ripped past his throat. “Where the hell are you, Marc?! We need you to fight.” You watched as Steven’s eyes latched on the mirror behind you. Marc. You believed he was talking to him by the rate in which both his breathing and heart rate went up. Knocking your brain around from the flood of sounds and smells.

Just like you, Steven was getting overwhelmed which caused him to fall to his knees with a shout. “LEAVE ME ALONE, BOTH OF YOU!” His screams managed to break through the fog that was clouding your brain and you were quick to kneel down in front of him. Your hands moved to grasp his that were clutched over his ears. “Steven.”

His eyes were wide and distant as his breathing grew more and more frantic. He was going to go into a panic attack if you didn’t act quickly. The pounding on the door and the yells from Layla made your body grow hot as you tried to figure out what to do. The wolf scratching in the depths of your head out of anxiety. She wanted to get out. SMASH! SMASH! SMASH!

Without much thought, you smashed your lips onto his. The man’s hands dropped to his sides and yours slid down to cup his cheeks after you did. The pounding on the door grew quiet and the rattling in your head stood still as your lips molded together. What felt like minutes was, in reality, only a few seconds and when you pulled away the man softly spoke your name.

Slowly, your eyes opened and you looked at his now softened ones. “There you are…” Your words barely passed your lips with how quiet you spoke. The gentle stroke of your thumbs on Steven’s cheek slowed the man’s heart down as you continued to speak; your long nails occasionally hitting his puffy lips with each caress. “I know you are scared…confused…” The pounding on the door grew more intense, causing all three of you to tense up. Steven tried to look over but you kept a firm hold on his face. Your eyes pleading whilst looking into his. “You need to give Marc the body. Please.”

Unfortunately, before the man could utter a response the door finally gave away, allowing the Jackals to finally get in. One for Steven and one for you. What happened next was a blur; one second you were holding Steven and the next you were knocked to the ground by one Jackal whilst Steven fell from the back window thanks to the second one. With a harsh growl you looked up at the Jackal as your eyes fazed white.

-

After you managed to take care of the Jackal in the building, you found out from Layla that Steven had run off. You knew better though; you could smell Marc in the air. Him and Steven both shared the same cologne smell, but each had their own unique scent that you could distinguish.

You did a quick once over on Layla to make sure she was alright before taking down Marc. It took you a few minutes before you finally tracked the man down to find him in a vacant courtyard. “Marc…” His name came out breathless as you jogged over to him. He was facing away from you and when you got closer you took note of the damaged mirror that was there. 

“Where is the Scarab!?” The man’s hands latched onto your arms in an instant, causing you to yelp. “WHERE IS THE SCARAB!?” Marc’s eyes were wide with frustration as he shook you. “I DON’T KNOW!” You shouted back before shoving him away; a small growl unintentionally passing your lips at the harsh contact.

The man shouted in anger as he started pacing back and forth. His hands running through his hair. “Fuck, I cannot believe you!” Your eyebrows shot up as he continued. “I can’t fucking BELIEVE you let Layla get into this.”

“Excuse me?!” You snapped back with a scoff. He was angry. He didn’t mean it. What was he saying? You stomped towards him. “I didn’t do anything–”

“EXACTLY!” Marc spun to you with heavy uneven breaths. “You didn’t fucking do anything. You didn’t do the only thing you’re here for. You didn’t protect Steven.” His words felt like a punch to your gut and before you could fight back a bitter laugh fell past his lips as he hung his hand on his hip.

“And now Layla is mixed into all of this and we know she’s not going to let it go and Harrow most definitely has the Scarab.” A nasty growl ripped through the air as you barked back at him. “You’re the one that didn’t let Steven in on all of this. You’re the one that left your damn burner phone at Steven’s place for him to find. I have been doing all I can to make sure Steven is protected.” You took a step forward and shoved your finger into his chest. “You’re the one that’s too fucking stubborn and look where it got you. Got us.”

Marc’s jaw tensed up before he moved his face closer to yours. “There is no us. There will never be an us." Suddenly, the man grabbed your hand that pointed at him and exposed the scars that ran up your arm. Messy, uneven lines that bore a striking resemblance to that of a wolf’s claw.

“There is no us because you should’ve killed yourself that day.” All the air was pulled from your lungs as the words left his mouth. His grip grew tight. “Everything would’ve been so much easier if Khonshu didn’t make you serve him.” He yanked you closer with a sneer, causing a whimper to escape you. Tears formed on your lashes as you turned away from him. Like Marc’s sensitivity to his mother, you had a sensitivity to the reason behind your scars. And he knew that. “But he did and now I’m stuck with you.”

Marc could feel Steven trying to gain control…feel the way Steven was desperate to console you. Marc didn’t mean it. You were everything to him…and that was why he had to make distance from you. The kiss you shared with Steven shook him to his core. Finally being able to feel your lips on his, even if it was through Steven it made him realize just how much he cares for you. How much he loves you. So he had to do this. He had to make distance. 

“Marc…please don’t push me away.” Marc’s breath hitched in his throat at your soft words. Your broken words. Even after all he just said you still held on. Despite the sobs that came from you and your inability to meet his eyes, you still pleaded to him. Still knew him…inside and out. The man ignored the shouts from Steven as he pulled away and without another word he was gone. Leaving you to fall to your knees with sobs over the words that he said.

-

tag list: @n1ght5h4d3-24 / @sunipostsstuff / @blackholegladiator / @ajeff855 / @daughterofthequeen / @faefanatic / @dropdeadbec / @sgt-morgan / @milk-bulb / @dev-angeline / @griffinkid2187 / @mxltifxnd0m / @badbishsblog / @local-mr-frog / @khaleesihavilliard / @rmoonstoner / @thewinterv / @oscarissac2099

[iwanty0uu]

“𝐺𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑃𝑢𝑚 𝑃𝑢𝑚 𝑁𝑒𝑒𝑑𝑠 𝐺𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑆ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑡𝑒𝑟“~𝓁ℯ𝓁ℯ ✧˚ · . ✧˚ · . ✧˚ · .

pt4…

“BITCH STOP BEING PUSSY AND GET ON THE FUCKING ROLLER COASTER SASH.”

Your voice startled the ticket man at coney island who reluctantly pulled his hand back from the hole in the booth connecting him to the outside world. “FINE “ She said grabbing the man’s hand out of the small hole, ripping the tickets out of his hand, quickly shuffling in your purse for his cash you smiled apologetically and skipped over to Sasha. “Hoe you get so angry when you scared you can hold my hand baby” you teased as she tightened the laces on her shoes and purse. “ Nah i’m not scared. Momma ain’t raise no bitch” her voice cracked which had you in tears. Time flew by and it was already your turn on the amusement park’s ride. The air was hot and muggy, the thick summer heat hung over the whole park, you knew your edges would sweat out so you braided your hair into beaded cain rows the night before.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Your dark blue biker shorts reacher a little above you’re knee to prevent your thighs sticking to the chair of the rides, the simple white tank top you had on showed a small but modest amount of cleavage and your small juicy couture backpack rested in front of you. Couldn’t risk it getting snatched up, but other than that, your whole outfit was made for outdoor activities. It had been nine months since you had met Connie and it had been the most interesting nine months that you have had in a while. Connie was known by everyone, your parents loved him, since your aunts were younger and closer to you, they all told you to get with him before someone “thief your man”, which always made you laugh, but it was your intention. He was too hood to leave unsupervised

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Of course you liked him but you wanted to make sure that you weren’t thinkin with your clit. And actually, it felt like meeting him was fate. Your parents met him accidentally, your Father was an occasional stoner, and his weed-guy’s nephew so happened to be Connie, and thats when you learned he was a hustler which didn’t bother you. Money is money and a job is a job.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

The line to the ‘Slingshot’ ride was short, and you warned your homegirl Sasha that you would kill her if she ran off the ride and left you on there alone. The workers strapped you in securely while Sasha threatened them. “I swear if one of you fuckers forget a lock or some shit im suing you when i die.” Her pink acrylic waved in the faced of the workers as they laughed. “Sash stop talking to him like that before he kill us on purpose” You cackled next to her as the camera in-front of you both began to record.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You heard laughter from the crew behind you, “Are you ready?” asked a man in a Luna Park uniform shirt, “Wait I didn’t clip one of yall in I think it’s the Brunette-“ He finished “ BITCH WH-“ Sasha couldn’t get her words out because the sling shot literally knocked the wind out of her,arms flailing in the air, her hair slipping out of its pony tail now becoming a thick brown mess. She suddenly awoke screaming and panicked, holding onto your brown arm, nails digging into your skin. If she couldn’t tell, you were having an episode of your own. “GET ME THE FUCK OFF THIS SHIT” you cried.. literally, tears streaming down your face, you felt the breath so suddenly leave your lungs causing you to gasp for air, which was infinite considering the height you two currently desperate to come down from.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

The ball like ride began to bounce slowly, easing it’s way to the ground. Sasha regained her full consciousness and laughed uncontrollably, “ NAHH THAT WAS SO FUN “ looking over her shoulder, she heard sobbing “IwantMyMommaaa” you huffed pouting, slobber flying out of your mouth and snot out of your nostrils. You were quickly released off the ride as the line of people pointed and stared at your dramatics. “Now look who FUCKIN CRYING” Sasha giggled, retrieving the video from the front desk. You kneeled on the floor, squatting while holding your knees. “Bumper Carts” you said as you got yourself together, slowly standing. “but first i want to *sniffle* clean myself up”, trying to act casual was out of the question now, but it didn’t matter because you still enjoyed yourself. “Girl i don’t wanna hear shit you fainted as soon as we went up”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

The night was young and lively, Jean, Eren, Armin ,Ony and Mikasa went home in Eren’s car since they all lived in the same dorm alliance. You went back with Connie who drove, hanging his hand out the window while his long tatted fingers loosely held a blunt. Serenity and Sasha were in the back seat sleeping, and you sat in the front seat like the passenger princess you were. You got chilly with the windows down so Connie offered you his hoodie. Feet resting on dash, converse on the floor, Connie broke the almost silent car ride,lowering Summer Walker’s ‘Body’ so you could hear him. “ Y/n ima drop the girls home, i got sum planned for us.. just you n me, so pack a spendin-da-night back for like two days or so. “Two days ? Boyyy you tryna get fucked? “ you joked “ I’ll pack for three”.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

An unseen smile grew on his face, and it was because Connie had only touched you one time. Ever. He never slept with you, never fingered you, only ever kissed you, and part of it was his fault. He did really want to be with you but often times his ex’s would come back in his life trying to compete with you, and it turned you off hella, but he did end up proving that he was serious about you ,and wanted a future with you.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

About thirty minutes passed and you were now headed up to Connie’s apartment. It was always clean, so full but so empty, he spent most of his time in your dorm and only got the apartment to make his deals easier, and everyone would link up there for kickbacks. The keys jingled as they were disgarded on the counter, lights off, room dimly lit by Connie’s phone light. For some reason, he wouldn’t let you turn on the actual lights. “Boy you just dragged my ass into a wall both of us cant fit through your door frame” you said laughing at your own comment. You weren’t sure of the surprise but knowing Connie, you knew it was gonna be adorable.

+*:ꔫ:*﹤ ﹥*:ꔫ:*+ﾟ

[mj-102009]

Queen of Chaos (Gojo x oc Part Two)

Masterlist for previous parts

She was short.

That was Gojo’s first note.

Beside him Geto followed the girl with his eyes. “She’s-”

“A curse user,” Shoko said, repulse flicking around her words.

Gojo watched her with six eyes, the sheer amount of cursed energy had him rethink not bringing his new blindfold to school. “She’s tiny.”

“That’s what you’re focused on?” Shoko asked, flicking the back of his head. “Why is she here?”

“I dunno but I’m gonna find out,” He grumbled.

“She’s a student,” Yaga repeated.

“She’s a monster,” Gojo said with narrowed eyes.

The older man rubbed his head. “She’s a sorcerer just like you three, so she will learn with you three.”

The class burst into complaints. Before Geto had enough of this and stormed out. Gojo stayed until he was sure they were both far down the hall. “What grade is she?” The firm expression on his face was out of character.

“Special,” Yaga told him, leaning back into his seat with an exhausted sigh.

Gojo gaped. “You’re kidding me.”

He shook his head. “A very strong one at that.”

“I don’t get it, cursed users are-”

“She’s a vessel,” He corrected.

Gojo rolled his eyes behind his glasses. “She’s a stain.”

“She was born with it, Gojo,” Yaga told him. “She can’t help it.”

“She’s a Ren!” He exclaimed. “That family has the world’s fortune up its ass, make them send her to a private school or something.”

Finally having enough, Yaga scowled. “Give her a chance, Gojo,” he stood up and shooed the boy out of the room. “Or I’ll tell that girl to put you in your place.”

Now glaring at the door, Gojo huffed and turned to the nearest exit.

Only to pause and stare wide eyed at a small girl with the same expression. He watched as her energy rippled around her, almost like a shield.

‘Oh brother,’ He thought to himself.

“Sorry,” She squeaked, spinning on her heel and shuffling back out.

‘Some special grade she is,’ he thought amused. ‘She’s blind.’

The day after, Yaga explained that she was there to memorize the space and would be joining them the following week.

And the day of: they avoided her like the plague.

She attended the classes with the rest of the second years but sat to the side during any form of training.

Gojo took it personally. “She’s too scared of us,” He mused, picking at a piece of grass from his spot in the field.

Geto thought she was scared of herself. “The curse must be difficult to control, she could just be benched.”

Shoko was focused on her eyes, she was standing while spinning a wooden pole . “No stupid, she’s blind– how the hell is she supposed to do anything?”

“Well she’s a special grade so…” Gojo trailed off.

“Special grade doesn’t necessarily mean she knows how to use her curse,” Geto pointed out.

Just after then Yaga came out with the girl, this time she had on training clothes. “Get up Gojo.”

He huffed and lumbered to his feet. “What is she doing here?”

The girl winced and dropped her head down; her thick waves of coffee falling around her miserable expression. Yaga shot him a glare. “She’s going to be training with you three.”

Geto exchanged looks with Gojo, Shoko scowled. Even the girl flinched under the scrutinizing eyes.

“Are you su-”

“That could go-”

“Fuck n-”

“Two versus one,” Yaga announced. “I don’t want Shoko in on this.”

While she looked overwhelmed, the girl didn’t flinch.

Again the two boys made eye contact.

“Ms. Ren?” He said, looking at the girl.

She looked up and pulled her hair back into a tie. “Okay.”

Gojo hated how innocent she sounded.

“Yaga,” Geto said slowly. “I don’t want to-”

Gojo hated the way her eyes flicked aimlessly around the space. 

The teacher stopped Geto. “Geto, if you want the fight to be fair go to the line,” he scowled and walked beside Gojo. “And no cursed techniques.”

Gojo hated the way she apologized softly when bumping into Geto on her way to the other side of the sand field. 

“Whenever you’re ready Ren,” Yaga called.

Gojo hated everything about her because from the moment she stepped outside she had every expectation of winning.

Ren nodded and Geto wasted no time in dashing at speeds only capable for a talented sorcerer. Gojo ran as well but there was no cursed energy behind it.

“Let me borrow his vision,” She whispered.

Then her eyes turned hazel.

Geto watched in slow motion as she was suddenly behind him and with a hand pushing him on the ground. He sneered and spun– but it was done.

Her eyes turned black as pitch.

She heard Gojo’s now urgent footsteps and dropped low as he shot his hand out for her neck. “His arms,” She murmured.

Geto yelled out again as he whirled against his own will. “Satoru move!”

His arms swung at Gojo, he darted back as Ren brushed off her shoulder and stood. “WHAT IS GOING ON!”

She grinned and raised her head with a tilt. “Grab him.”

Geto tried to disobey but then he was rushing and his best friend. “MOVE!”

Gojo was backed into the boundary line, on instinct he summoned energy and pushed him a good fifteen feet away. “How is she doing this?” He yelped.

Suddenly she was behind him, infinity was down. A hand rested on his back. “Down.”

And he was flat on his back staring at a brilliant blue eyed girl. Victory plain in her gaze with a smirk playing on her lips.

Yaga’s voice came from behind them. “Let him go, Ren.”

“Thank you for his body,” She whispered, and both boys were free from the gripping hold. 

“Excellent job,” Yaga told her.

Her eyes had the pale blue film again, a neutral expression returned to her features. “Mhm.”

Gojo jumped up furiously. “He said no cursed techniques! You little-”

Her eyes narrowed and her fists clenched, Gojo felt a spike in her energy. “I didn’t.”

Geto wasn’t as mad, more so curious; slowly turning his arms to study the phantom grip. “Then what was it?”

She glanced where she heard his voice. “My innate technique.”

“Bullshit!” Gojo yelled again, he stalked toward her, a finger already shoved in her face. “It's that-that thing you carry!”

“What thing?” She growled. “Say it.”

He leaned down and got in her face. “I won’t say anything to a curse; let alone a curse that can’t se-”

“His eyes,” She growled, her eyes turned the same shade of blue as hers.

Infinity flew up around his body, she grinned and forced it down. “Stop that,” He told her.

“I see you,” She hissed. “Say it to my face.”

Geto stepped to intervene but Yaga moved his arm in front of him. “Let her.”

Gojo’s cheeks turned red. “A curse.”

Her lips curled into a grin. “Was that so hard?”

He flung a hand out to strike her.

Her hand curled around his wrist and glared at him. “My name is Megara Ren, remember it asshat.”

Ya'll tell me if this is going well. I got bullied into this by my friends.

Taglist:

@aish777

[abby-the-druid]

Love Language

"You're learning an entire language for a dungeons and dragons campaign?" In which Sakura is Sakura, Sasuke is an absolute nerd, and tenderness ensues. SasukexSakura CollegeAU

xoxo

“Shhhuuu…” 

A single pink brow rose on a prominent forehead as Sakura Haruno popped into the cramped common area of her best friend’s apartment. There, glaring with dark eyes down at his phone, was her best friend’s roommate.

His extremely handsome, maybe emotionally constipated, roommate.

“You piece of shit,” the Sasuke Uchiha muttered in clear agitation down at the touch screen. “That’s what I fucking said. Shhjuu. Sju. Seven. Fuck.” His mouth was clearly struggling to form around sounds he wasn’t quite familiar with.

“Uh, Sasuke?” the young man nearly jumped out of his skin, looking up in confusion, something like a blush dusted across his pale cheeks. Sakura tried to hide her giggle behind a weak cough, but the way his mouth twisted into a light frown told her she hadn’t succeeded. “What are you doing?”

His mouth parted as if to tell her, but then quickly clamped shut. He quickly turned his screen off, stuffing the offending object into his pocket as he shifted on the beaten orange couch so that he was mostly facing away from her. “I should be asking you that. You know Naruto isn’t here.”

The girl shrugged off her backpack, letting it plop unceremoniously onto the carpet. “I’m supposed to meet him and Hinata for dinner tonight. He said you were coming so I figured we could walk over to the dining hall together.”

She could see him looking at her out of the corner of his eye, and ignoring it, she stepped closer and sat beside him on the couch. She was tired from her back-to-back calculus class and general chemistry lab, and further ignoring his fetal scowl, she pulled her legs up onto the threadbare cushions and sank back into him. He didn’t verbally protest, but she felt the way his posture stiffened and couldn’t help but smile to herself.

“So, really though, what were you doing?” She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around her middle, nuzzling a bit into the fabric. Dinner wasn’t for another hour or so, she might as well get comfortable.

“It’s really not important.”

“Then you should have no trouble telling me about it.”

He was silent at her retort, and she knew he was probably kicking himself for opening such an easy avenue for her to ask again. She was starting to think he wouldn’t answer her when she felt him swallow and he answered.

“I’m trying to teach myself Swedish.”

Her green eyes shot open, baffled at the admission. She squirmed around until she was laying back into his lap, looking up into his face. A rose brow lifted again, and when he didn’t elaborate further, she nudged him gently with her elbow.

“Why are you learning Swedish?” for the second time that day a light pink appeared on Sasuke’s cheeks. “Not that there’s like, a problem with it, that’s just so random.”

He rolled his black eyes, and left his gaze fastened to a crack on the ceiling. “I-I…” he sighed and shoveled a hand through his black hair. “It’s embarrassing.” He finally admitted.

Maybe Sakura had been wrong, maybe he wasn’t totally emotionally constipated.

“So? I do embarrassing shit all the time.”

“Right, like showing up to your friend’s apartment when he’s not there to ask a practical stranger to walk you to the dining hall.”

Her smile was dazzling. “Exactly, so you have nothing to be embarrassed about.” She didn’t correct him in that they were, in fact, not strangers and that she knew him more intimately than the back of her hands. He didn’t say anything, and she pouted. “Sa-su-ke,” she held out the individual syllables in a sing-song-y way “Tell me, please?”

She nudged at his side playfully. He didn’t respond but Sakura swore she saw the corner of his mouth lift just a hair.

“Please, please, please? Ahh, Sasuke-kun!” his eyes darted to her widened at the usage of the name she called him when they were in middle school. “Sasuke-kun, I will tickle you until you release this vital information!”

“I’m not ticklish.”

She grinned almost wickedly at him and accepted the challenge. Before he could stop her, she had tumbled off the couch landing on her feet, before straddling him and gently jabbing her fingers into his sides and neck. 

“What are you, seven?” he asked as he tried, and failed, to hold back something similar to laughter as her fingertips grazed a soft and sensitive part of his abdomen, slightly below his navel. “Stop, stop, I told you I’m not ticklish!” he lied before bursting into a fit of laughter as she attacked the spot more thoroughly.

“I’ve found your weakness Sasuke Uchiha!” 

She continued to exploit his soft spots, relishing in the way that his deep laughter seemed to fall so much easier from his throat now that they were far away from his childhood home. His smile was large, crinkling the corners of his eyes, and showing off white teeth. Her heart thrummed against her ribcage, and she knew the smile on her face was just as bright as his was.

Her pink mouth fell into a small circle when he moved quickly, gently tossing her back against the couch and hovering over her. She was dimly aware that his hips were innocently nestled between her knees, and suddenly it was her turn to blush. His fingers feathered over her, and unlike him, she was ticklish nearly everywhere. Her sides, the soft skin of her neck, behind her ears, that same sensitive spot below her navel that mirrored his. She was too busy giggling and laughing at the uncomfortable but not unpleasant sensations. Her breath was clipped, tears springing from the corners of her eyes, before he finally stopped.

“Sakura Haruno.”

“Yes?” she asked meekly, wiping at the tears, and ignoring the ache in her cheeks from laughing so hard.

“Jag älskar dig.”

“What does that mean?”

His smile was small, soft, all the harsh edges of his face were smoothed out and rounded. His black, black eyes were locked onto hers, and he dipped down closer to her, gaze flickering between her eyes and her lips, before settling his mouth on hers.

Sparks crashed across her vision, dazzling, bright, ephemeral. It was tender, the most tender kiss she had ever experienced, just his soft lips on hers, soft black hair brushing along her face, and a soft hand cupping her cheek. Any air she had regained since she lost the game she initiated was gone, exhaled in a lazy sigh into his mouth. 

Before she could press herself closer to him, to open her mouth and ask to play with his tongue, he had pulled back away from her, sitting back on his haunches. His smile had turned into a smirk, and he rested his hands on her knees – which she immediately remembered were settled on either side of his hips, causing her cheeks to flame up again – and he traced lazy circles into the fabric of her skinny jeans. 

“Shikamaru is going to run a Norse mythology D&D campaign.”

The girl swallowed. “Wait, what?”

Sasuke’s smirk grew. “Why I’m learning Swedish. Shikamaru is going to run a Norse mythology-based dungeons and dragons campaign.” He shrugged, still rubbing her knees. “I had a free subscription to a language learning app, and Swedish was the only Nordic language. So, I figured I’d try not to make a total fool of myself.”

“You… you’re learning an entire language so that you can play dungeons and dragons?”

He nodded.

“You’re such a huge fucking nerd!” she said it playfully as he scowled at her, she squeaked when he tickled at her again.

“You said you wouldn’t judge me!”

“No,” she was laughing and out of breath. “I told you there was nothing to be embarrassed about, I did notclaim I wouldn’t judge you.”

Soon his fingers had given up on tickling her but pulled her closer and crashed his mouth against hers again. It was more forceful this time, almost needy in its insistence. “It’s,” he kissed her between each word. “What. You. Implied.” Her hands found their way into his hair, tangling the soft strands in her fingers as he trailed his mouth down her throat.

“What am I going to do with you, you big dork?” she said tenderly, grinning as he paused to look up at her and smile back.

“You’re going to go to dinner with me, and our idiot of a friend.” he kissed the spot on her throat pulsing with her heartbeat. “Then we’ll come back here, and I’ll show you all the other stupid shit I’m an absolute nerd about, and then… then I’m going to kiss you absolutely senseless.”

[mochiimadness]

I LOVE YOUR ACCOUNT THE MOMENT I DISCOVERED IT.

and if you're open for requests, can you maybe do a ROTTMNT Leo x reader?

It's where April(my queen) has a bestfriend who is also a mutant(which she doesn't know) A kitsune mutant perhaps? Reader went to visit April and unfortunately got into a sticky situation 😔 but ofc reader can fight.

It was when April received a message late from reader saying they got into trouble

So they went to rescue her purrr

But all they encountered was a Mutant fighting one of the member of the Foot clan

👀and Leo was amazed by her.

(It's corny I know, and if you're not interested or uncomfortable with my request. You can completely ignore it! ♥️) - from a queer reader☕

The city lights shone brightly in the night, practically lighting up every corner of New York city- well, nearly every corner. You had been on your way to meet up with your best friend, April O'Neil, at her apartment. Unfortunately, instead of enjoying the nice, chill walk to her place, you had been dragged into a bit of a tight spot.

Having decided to cut through an alley way to get to her apartment quicker, you'd rounded the corner and stopped short at the sight of a foot clan operation. A few grunt ninjas carried boxes containing who knows what from what seemed to be the fire exit of a ... paper shop?? (Ah, it was probably paper in those boxes then.) Into the back of a rather fortified looking vehicle.

Among the foot soldiers stood a bulky man, barking out orders to "Hurry up and load these boxes, we have places to be!" at the soldiers. A bright mystic flame hovered above his head, casting light onto the orange foot print in the center in his face. Had someone stepped in orange paint and kicked him??

Just as the leader looking dude started to turn his head in your direction, you dove behind a dumpster to avoid being seen- just barely hiding in time. Digging into your pocket, you yanked your phone out and shot a quick message to April saying you had gotten into some trouble. Whatever this was, you knew you would be late and did not want your friend to come looking for you and run into this. Just as you finished typing and hit send, a large shadow loomed over you. "Well, well, well, what do we have here?"

Looking back over your shoulder, you flashed a toothy grin in your best attempt to seem nonchalant. "Uh, hi? Just inspecting this dumpster here, yup- seems perfectly fine so I'm just gonna head out-" you said, cringing at the obvious lie (what- you had to say something-) and jumping to your feet to make a break for it.

A large hand grabbed you by the back of your collar and yanked you back before you could make your escape. "Hey, we got some more dumpsters back here that you need to check. Can't have any loose ends, right?" The foot leader said, snapping his fingers to get the other soldiers attention. They dropped the boxes (some looking rather relieved to drop the boxes they had been carrying), each pulling out varying weapons and stalking closer to the two of you.

At this, you reached up to grip at your cloaking device, lips pulling back into a grimace- your teeth looking noticeably... sharper compared to your grin from earlier. "Yeah, I guess you're right." You sighed, before yanking the device off, magic looking mist enveloping you in a bright flash.

~~~

"Guy's we've gotta go!" April shouted, barging into the lair with her phone held high. The turtles looked up from around the lounge, faces stuffed full of pizza. Raph was the first to pipe up, swallowing his pizza down quickly and jumping to his feet.

"What's wrong? A break in? Is Mayhem in trouble again??" The red masked turtle asked, stepping over his brothers to meet April halfway.

"What? No- look my friends in danger. We were supposed to meet up but she just sent me this message saying she got into trouble! We gotta go!" April said, shoving her phone towards the others to show them your message (which specifically told April not to come help).

"I'm sure they're fine, they probably just ran into New York's famous traffic or something." Donnie hummed dismissively after reading your message, taking another bite out of his slice of pizza. April and Raph turned towards him with a glare, to which he turned away from.

"Well, April says we gotta go, so let's go just in case." Leo piped up, rising to his feet and stretching briefly. "And if it's nothing, she can buy us another pizza." He sent a grin towards April before grabbing Donnie and Mikey to haul them up- each hurrying to finish their last slices.

April rolled her eyes at this but turned and rushed out of the lair. "Yeah, yeah, deal- let's just go already!"

~~~

When April had told them about her friend being in possible danger, Leo had expected a mugging at most. Or maybe even some minor mutant trouble- after all, there were still several mutant silverfish on the loose.

What he hadn't been expecting was several foot clan soldiers sprinting out of an alley- screaming.

"Eough boy- this definitely isn't nothing." He grimaced, glancing at his brothers and April as they each pulled out their weapons. "We should probably hurry-"

"No kidding!" April interrupted, readying her bat and charging into the alley.

"Wait- shouldn't we- oh forget it." Leo started, before lifting his katanas and rushing after April- only to skid to a stop right beside her.

There, further in the alley, was a giant fox fighting Foot Brute- and winning. There were several other soldiers scattered around the alley, most unconscious- some scrambling to get up and run away. The foot brute himself was yelling in panic, attempting to block several powerful looking hits from the fox's tails-

Multiple tails.

Mouth agape in shock at the sight, he glanced at April. "By any chance- did your friend say anything about a giant fox mutant?" He asked, turning his gaze back to follow the fox's- admittedly impressive- attacks.

April shook her head, glancing around in search of you. "Nope- definitely no fox mutant mention-" She paused, spotting your cloaking device and bending down to snatch it up.

"Kitsune." Donnie corrected, pulling out his phone to take a quick photo of the mythical creature- for documentary reasons, of course. "That's an actual real life kitsune!" The flash of Donnie's camera going off caught the attention of the kitsune and Foot Brute- both whipping their heads around to see where it came from.

Leo watched as the kitsune locked its gaze on April, freezing for a moment in what looked like a mix of surprise and exasperation, before seemingly remembering it had just been in the middle of a fight. Whipping its head back around to face Foot Brute, it dodged a rather powerful punch with ease before spinning to slam its tails into the brute.

And he went flying.

"Woah-!" Leo jumped back in shock, watching the foot brute sail over their heads and land with a loud crash. A glance around showed that his brothers and April were in equal states of shock- a single hit from those tails was enough to send a mystic powered brute of a man flying like a softball!

Looking back at the kitsune, Leo stared in a mix of awe and slight fear as it walked towards them slowly. "Uh... we don't want any trouble- just looking for her friend." He said, smiling nervously. He could actually feel his heart rate speeding up the more as the creature got closer (though, he wasn't sure if it was just out of fear).

It was beautiful- each of its tails were raised, looking as though they were flowing in invisible wind or water and seemingly harmless (he might have believed them to be, had he not just seen them literally send one of their enemies flying)

Not to mention, its fur was reflecting the city's lights- shimmering slightly in a way that seemed magical. Surely there must have been some mystic element, Leo had never seen a creature's fur shine like that naturally.

Leo snapped out of his train of thought when April waved slightly, the girl stepping back and slowly raising her bat. "Yeah uh- haven't seen her, have you?" She asked, half expecting the kitsune to charge at them.

Instead, it paused with a roll of its eyes and sighed loudly. "Yeah actually- pretty sure I told you not to come, April."

Everyone's jaw dropped at that.

~~~

Plucking your cloaking device from April's hand with careful claws, you fixed it back onto your person. Mystic mist enveloped you for a moment, before revealing your 'human' form to April and her... friends?

April sputtered for a moment, gesturing at you and blinking rapidly before throwing her hands in the air (narrowly missing a turtle with her bat). "Excuse me- hello?! When were you gonna tell me you're a fox-"

"Kitsune."

"- kitsune mutant!?" She asked, correcting herself.

You shrugged at that, chuckling nervously. "I wasn't really planning on telling you- but you weren't going to tell me you had mutant friends either, were you!?" You pointed out, gesturing broadly at the four turtles. The one with the blue mask was staring rather hard at you. Raising an eyebrow at him, he quickly looked away.

Well, that wasn't awkward at all.

April cleared her throat, "Well- uh, yeah you got me there." She admitted, rubbing the back of her neck briefly before smiling at you. "You looked cool, by the way! Where'd you learn to fight like that?"

You glanced around the alley way littered with several foot soldiers- some of them starting to stir. "I'll tell you about it later- we should probably get out of here before they wake up."

"You can come to our place!" the blue masked turtle blurted, voice a little too high. Everyone looked at him in varying degrees of surprise. He cleared his throat at this and put on a rather winning smile. "I mean, if you want to. Any friend of April's is a friend of ours, right guys?"

His red clad brother nodded in agreement. "Yeah- plus, you just took out a bunch of those foot guys no problem- and you're a mutant. That gives ya the all clear in my book!" He turned towards a manhole cover, and gestured at it. "C'mon, we'll lead the way."

You smiled at this, beginning to follow after them. "Thanks that sounds pretty good, I appreciate it."

While waiting for them to move the manhole cover, you noticed the blue clad turtle step beside you.

Waving, he flashed you a bright- slightly nervous looking, smile. "Hey, I'm Leo, by the way." He greeted, sticking his hand out towards you. "You looked pretty awesome fighting out there."

You returned the smile, reaching out to hold his hand and shake it as you told him your name. "Thanks, cool swords." You added, glancing at the katanas strapped to his shell.

Leo spun around slightly to give you a better look at them. "Thanks- maybe you can try them out sometime, if you could teach me some of those moves you were doing?" He offered.

You blinked in surprise, pausing for a moment before grinning. "Sure, sounds like fun." You agreed, taking him up on that offer. Who knows, he seemed like a chill dude- it could be fun. Plus, the smile he gave you at that was admittedly pretty cute.

With that, Leo stepped aside to let you go down into the sewer before him, reaching a hand out to help you in.

How sweet!

Hey! I hope you enjoyed, sorry for the super long wait!

This ended up being way longer than I thought it would be. I don't usually write long one shots, so I hope it turned out alright!

Updated and edited as of February 16th, 2024

[teaberrii]

Chapter 3: Getting to Know Each Other

After ending a five-year relationship, you pour all your energy into work. Your latest assignment? Staying at a popular bed-and-breakfast to gather information. It should be a piece of cake... If only the owner isn't the man you scolded on the street.

Jing Yuan/You

Notes:

Cross-posted on Ao3

Female reader

Chapter index at the end of chapter one

“Wait.”

You’re on the phone with Herta that late afternoon. You had spent the day walking around town and getting familiar with the area. Eventually, you find a running lane leading you to a beautiful view of the sea. The street lights flicker on. You have a hand in your thin jacket pocket as you update Herta about what happened today.

“You sat next to Birthday Cake Man on the plane… and he owns The Knights Bed and Breakfast? What kind of romantic comedy are you starring in?”

“None,” you deadpan. “But, yeah, I… I can’t believe he owns the place. It’s just…” You sigh. “I never would’ve imagined.”

“And you’re on good terms with his son… And..!” You stop and put your arms on the wooden railing, looking up at the red and blue hues of the sky blending together. “He invited you to dinner! Do I need to go on?”

“There’s more?”

Herta reaches over and grabs some popcorn in her bowl. “He's into you.” Then, she pops one into her mouth.

“...You’re joking, right? He has a son… with Blade.”

“It has to be a misunderstanding. I know that man is straight as an arrow.”

“How are you so sure?”

“Just trust me, okay?”

You turn around and lean against the railing. “Regardless, it’s not going to happen.”

“Why not? Jing Yuan sounds like a great guy. He’s also good with kids. That’s always a plus.” A small pause. “I know you’re focusing on work and all, but if things go well… Why not give it a shot?”

“...I barely know the guy.” You look at your watch. “I gotta run.”

“Keep an open mind!”

“All right, all right.”

You end the call, and you’re about to slide your phone into your pocket when you get a text.

General: Do you need a ride to the restaurant?

You tap your phone against your chin for a few seconds.

Jing Yuan enters his car when his phone buzzes with a message.

Corporal: Sure.

Blade gets into the passenger seat and sees the little smile on his best friend’s face. “What are you smiling about?”

Jing Yuan types something into his phone before putting it into his pocket. “Nothing.”

“You’re hiding something.”

“I’m not.”

Blade turns and sees Yanqing securely strapped in. “What do you think, Yanqing? Do you think he’s hiding something?”

“Mm… Maybe it has to do with Auntie!”

“You’re lucky she’s not here to hear that,” Jing Yuan says. Then, he shifts the gears and backs the car out of the parking lot.

“It’s better than the nickname I heard on the plane,” Blade says. “Corporal? What’s up with that?”

“She’s a corporate woman.”

Blade quietly scoffs. “So… What? Corporate? Corporal?”

“That’s lame,” Yanqing says.

“Yeah… Why not go with Sweetheart like you always do?”

Jing Yuan shifts the gears again. But, before he can answer, Yanqing loudly says, “Because she’s not like the other girls!”

"...Because she doesn’t like it.”

“Well, aren’t you considerate?”

Jing Yuan shoots his friend a look. “What’s with the sarcasm?”

A pause.

"Are you fighting?" Yanqing asks, pouting.

“No.”

Their simultaneous response makes Jing Yuan and Blade glance at each other before one looks back at the road and the other out the window.

Yanqing, still in distress, says, “Even if Dad starts dating… we’ll still be a family, won’t we?”

“Of course, kid,” Blade says. “Besides, it’s a little early to think about them dating.”

“Yeah… Dad still has to make a proper move.”

Blade hides a little smile behind his hand while Jing Yuan gives his son a deadpan look in the rearview mirror. “You’ve been spending too much time with Luocha.”

“Me?” Yanqing says, pointing to himself.

“Who else would be teaching you these things?”

Yanqing looks at Blade, which Jing Yuan notices. Blade glances at his friend and says, “What else were we supposed to talk about on that flight?”

Jing Yuan sighs as Yanqing happily adds, “It was good bonding time!”

You’re heading back toward the bed and breakfast when you see Pom come out of a small grocery. Once he puts away his wallet, he notices you and waves.

“I know it hasn't been a day yet, but I hope your stay has been to your liking so far!”

“It has. But… There’s something I want to ask.”

“Shoot.”

“...Can guests directly contact the owner? For anything?”

“No way! Jing Yuan would go crazy if he did something like that. Heck, I already go a little bonkers, but I love the guy too much. So…”

“It’s the first time I’ve heard an employee say they love their boss too much.”

“Ah… Well…” Pom looks at you curiously. “Before that, how do you know him?”

You and Pom stop on a sidewalk, and you tell him about how you met Jing Yuan. Though, you keep the ex-boyfriend incident at the bar a secret.

“That sounds a little like fate,” Pom says with a laugh. “I mean… It’s too much of a coincidence!”

“Now you know my story. Let me hear a little about yours. Seems like Jing Yuan treats his employees well.”

“Truth is, we’ve known each other long before he started this business. I… owe him a lot, so I’m here!”

Owe him? You want to ask, but you shouldn't as it sounds like a personal matter. So, instead, you say, "He must be a pretty good guy."

The light turns green, and you and Pom start walking across the street. “He is! He’s quite popular amongst the locals, too.”

Then, before you can stop yourself, you say to yourself, “I wonder why he started a bed and breakfast…”

“Ooh, getting curious, are we?”

“The Knights B&B is popular, no doubt. But, I couldn’t find anything about its owner on your website. He seems a little too mysterious.” You sense Pom looking at you, so you turn to him. He’s looking as if analyzing you. “Um, do I have something on my face?”

You and Pom are about to reach the stone villa when he asks, “Why not try taking a crack at him? He looks a little intimidating, but he’s a total softie when he wants to be. It charms all the ladies because he’s”—Pom sighs dramatically and puts the back of his hand on his forehead—“such a sensitive guy sometimes.”

“Jing Yuan? Sensitive?” you ask, not realizing that Jing Yuan and Yanqing are walking up to you from behind. “Maybe when it comes to Yanqing and Blade, I guess.”

“Talking about people behind their backs?”

You spin around and see Jing Yuan in a black dress shirt, but for the first time, you notice how good it looks. His sleeves are rolled up, and the V-neck window to his chest ain’t a bad view either. The fitted grey pants, brown belt, and black shoes make it seem like he’s attending a meeting rather than dinner.

Jing Yuan put his hand over his heart. “I'm hurt.”

“I heard my name!” Yanqing says. “What were you two talking about?”

“Oh,” Pom says with a smile. “You see…” You turn around, hoping Pom will get the hint that you want him to stay quiet, but he isn’t even looking at you when he says, “She was just curious about you, Boss.”

“Is that so?” You can hear the teasing tone in Jing Yuan’s voice. When you slowly turn around, he has a hand in his pocket. “...About what, I wonder.”

You don’t know what it is, but something feels different when you look into his eyes. Intrigue. Interest. Curiosity.

"Pom said you were sensitive."

“Dad’s not sensitive!”

You crouch so you’re on eye level with Yanqing. “He’s not? Then, what do you think he is?”

Yanqing looks up as he thinks about his answer. You can see the gears turning in his head; it’s cute how seriously he’s thinking about this. Then, as if a lightbulb goes off, he says, “Naggy.”

You bite your bottom lip to keep yourself from smiling while Pom laughs. “You heard it firsthand, folks! Boss is officially naggy.”

Jing Yuan has a hand on his hip as he looks at his son. “I’m naggy?”

Yanqing cautiously looks up at him, but you reassuringly say, “It’s okay to say what’s on your mind, Yanqing.” The boy looks at you. “Candid feedback is a gift.”

That's a corporate phrase Jing Yuan has heard one too many times.

“Why do you think he’s naggy?” Pom asks.

“He doesn’t like it when I play games or watch TV too much. But, I’m always at the top of my class! I always get the most gold stars out of everyone!”

“Oh? Then, what does he ask you to do in your free time?”

“Something”—Yanqing frowns—”productive.”

“Everyone has to take a break,” you say.

“Yeah!” Yanqing frowns at Jing Yuan. “See, Dad? I told you.”

“But… it’s also important to build good habits.” Yanqing pouts and looks down. “Diligence is just as important if not more than intelligence.” You’re not sure if Yanqing is old enough to truly understand what you’re saying, but regardless you say, “Maybe your dad will be more willing to let you play more if you dedicate an hour or so to reading or learning something.” When Yanqing doesn’t say anything, you awkwardly stand. Then, you glance at Jing Yuan who’s looking at you. “...Sorry. I didn’t mean to say too much.”

“I like that.” His calm demeanour catches you off guard. “Your suggestion.”

“Ah… Well, it’s what I do.”

Yanqing frowns and crosses his arms. “You only like it because she suggested it.”

Pom snickers and Jing Yuan looks down. “That is not true.”

“Uh-huh.” Then, a loud sigh. "I wanna eat."

Pom looks at his watch. “Oh, yikes! Look at the time! I still have some things to take care of!”

“Do you need a ride?” Jing Yuan asks.

“That’ll be nice! Do you mind waiting a few minutes?”

“Not at all.”

“Hurry, Pom!” Yanqing says, watching Pom rush into the stone villa.

Jing Yuan steps toward you just as you turn. Then, he nods toward the Rolls Royce. “Get in.”

“Don’t worry. Dad’s a safe driver.”

You slowly nod at Yanqing. “That’s very reassuring to hear.”

You take the passenger seat, and Yanqing takes the back. Jing Yuan quickly types away on his phone before putting it in the clean cup holder.

“Blade’s already there,” he says, starting up the car.

“Did he start without us?” Yanqing asks. “Dad wouldn’t do that, would he?”

“If he does, we’ll do something about it.”

Should you ask about Yanqing having two dads?

“It has to be a misunderstanding. I know that man is as straight as an arrow.”

Herta must be talking about Blade. But, if that’s the case, what about Jing Yuan? Is Yanqing his biological son? If so, who’s the mom, and—

Pom opens the door. “Sorry to keep y’all waiting!”

As soon as the door closes, Jing Yuan drives off.

You’re looking out the window as the car weaves through the town. The bright lights. The bustling streets. It oddly feels like you’re in the city with how lively it is at night.

“...Are you surprised?”

You turn to Jing Yuan who still has his eyes on the road.

“Why do you ask?”

“Because you look curious… like you want to find out everything there is to know about this town.”

You lightly scoff. “Okay, that’s taking it a little far. Yeah, I’m curious, but not to that extent.”

The car slowly comes to a stop at an intersection. Then, Jing Yuan turns to you. “The eyes don’t lie.”

And that’s when you see it again. Intrigue. Interest. Curiosity. Your breath catches in your throat, but you still say, “Keep your eyes on the road, General.”

Bzzt. Bzzt.

You look away to dig out your phone from your bag. The car starts moving again as you read the text from your friend.

Why’d you block his number??? He wants to talk…

You immediately swipe away the notification and turn your phone to silent. The annoyance that you think no one sees doesn’t go unnoticed. Jing Yuan thinks about asking but decides against it. He makes a smooth turn onto another street, and soon the car comes to a stop in front of a cozy-looking restaurant.

“Go ahead,” Jing Yuan says. “I’ll find parking.”

So, you, Pom, and Yanqing get out of the car. A short distance away, a small group of guys who look like they’re in their early twenties are talking loudly amongst themselves. Once you enter the restaurant, you see Blade at a table near the back. He looks up and waves in your direction.

“Dad!”

Yanqing rushes forward. You and Pom quickly follow him, but it’s too late. He bumps into a tall man with light brown hair and glasses who arguably isn’t paying attention as he’s so caught up in his thoughts.

Yanqing looks up and shyly says, “I’m sorry.”

“Gosh, Yanqing, what’s the rush?” Pom jokes. Then, he looks at the man and gasps. “What a surprise!”

The man nods once at Pom and then looks at Yanqing. "It's okay. To be fair, I wasn't watching where I was going either. I apologize."

Then, when he looks back up, he sees you come up beside Pom. “Sorry about that,” you say.

You aren’t sure what to think when this man approaches you, his eyes never leaving your face. Then, you hear Pom ask, “Welt? Is… something wrong?”

Wait a minute.

"Welt..." you say quietly. "As in Welt Yang?"

Welt relaxes his shoulders and pushes his glasses up. "That's right. I'm Welt Yang, a novelist." Then, he suddenly takes your hands. "And you... You're the inspiration that I've been looking for!"

Now, it’s time for you to be flabbergasted.

“Is everything okay?” Blade comes up behind Pom while Jing Yuan enters the restaurant.

Pom shrugs. “I’m just as lost as you are, honestly.”

“I’ve read your novels,” you say to Welt. Jing Yuan’s close enough that he can hear the conversation. “They’re brilliant!”

“Oh, that's motivating to hear. However, I’m in a bit of a slump with my latest book. But you… You’re the exact image of the female character I have in mind.”

“What a surprise, Welt.” Jing Yuan comes up beside you.

“Ah, hello, Jing Yuan. It’s good to see you.” Welt lets go of your hands. “Do you two know each other?”

“She’s staying at the B&B,” Jing Yuan says.

“My… This must be fate. So am I.” Welt takes out his phone and looks at you. “Do you mind if we exchange numbers?”

“Whoa.” Blade hears Yanqing whisper. “He’s more direct than Dad!”

“I’d love to spend some time together,” Welt says. “Perhaps I’ll get out of my slump.”

“Dude’s kinda smooth, too,” Pom whispers. “Didn’t think he’d be this direct just by looking at him.”

“I can hear you, you know,” Blade deadpans.

Pom smiles sheepishly.

“I’d love to,” you say, a little too excitedly.

Jing Yuan watches you take out your phone and exchange numbers with Welt. He’s only seen that smile once, and that’s the time on the plane when you told him about being single. Jing Yuan awkwardly clears his throat, but before he can say anything, Yanqing tugs at your and Jing Yuan’s pants.

“Can we eat now? I’m hungry.”

You’re on your way to the washrooms at the back when you hear someone say, “Stop! Leave me alone!” from outside. You head towards the door and look out. A woman wearing a baseball cap rudely shoves off a man’s hand. You recognize both of them. The woman is the one you saw with a friend in the reception villa. The man is one of the rowdy adults you saw outside of the restaurant.

“You’re March, right? That influencer—”

“Go away.”

When she turns, the man grabs her by the shoulders and forces her to look at him. “I know it’s you!”

You push open the door and head outside. “Leave her alone.”

The man turns his attention toward you, and the woman quickly pushes him away. He stumbles, frowning at her. “Gosh, what’s your problem? I just wanted to buy you a drink.” Glaring at you, he asks, “Who the fuck are you?”

You walk up beside her and say, "Let's go."

"Hey!" Startled, you turn when he grabs your wrist.

"What's going on out here?"

The man lets you go and steps back when Jing Yuan and Welt walk up. 

"...Do you have business with them?" Jing Yuan asks.

The man shoots him an annoyed look. "No. I was just leaving." Then, he mutters something under his breath and walks off while lighting a smoke.

As Welt asks March what happened, Jing Yuan hears you sigh out of relief. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." But, your slightly rattled voice says otherwise. You never thought you'd be so relieved and thankful to see Jing Yuan. "What're you two doing out here?" 

Jing Yuan nods at Welt. "He was worried about March, and..." You wait for him to go on. He turns back with a kind look in his eyes. "...Based on experience, I think someone would get themselves involved if they found someone in trouble."

"I have no idea who you're talking about."

Jing Yuan gives you a deadpan look, and you return it with a little smile.

“Hey.” You turn and see March. “...Thanks for stepping up.”

“I’m glad you’re not hurt.”

March puts a hand on your hip and looks you up and down. “So… Welt told me that you’re his new inspiration.”

“Uh, well, that’s—”

March suddenly hugs you. “I hope we get along!”

You awkwardly hug her back. Is this the same woman who looked like she was going to bash a man’s head a few minutes ago? Then, she lets you go and looks at Jing Yuan. “Didn’t expect to see you here… Boss.”

“Pom’s rubbing off on you,” Jing Yuan says.

She laughs. “Is he here, too? I miss my Pom-Pom.”

“He’s inside with Blade and Yanqing.”

“Ah… I remember seeing them with you earlier today,” March says. “But it looked like the three of you were so fixated on a certain someone that you didn’t even notice me.” She winks at you. “What’s your secret?”

“...Secret?”

March counts on her fingers as she says, “Jing Yuan, Blade, Yanqing, and now Welt…”

“March, don’t make things awkward,” Welt says.

“Oh, c’mon, everyone knows I’m kidding.”

“Anyway,” Jing Yuan says, “Let’s go back before they finish all the food.”

You somehow end up sitting next to Jing Yuan at the table. Pom is going on about the latest trail that opened up when you and Jing Yuan reach for the last skewer at the same time. Then, jokingly, you quietly ask, “Should we fight for it?”

“You wouldn’t stand a chance, Corporal.”

You scoff. “Someone’s a little too confident.”

“Everyone has a weak spot.” You narrow your eyes. “It won’t take me long to find out.”

Your smile catches him off guard. “Too bad I already know who yours is.” You glance at Yanqing. “Just wait until he’s on my side.”

“Hey, hey,” You and Jing Yuan look away from each other as March taps the table. “What are you two whispering about over there? Let us in on the fun, too!”

Yanqing tugs on Jing Yuan's shirt. “Dad, I want the skewer.”

“Looks like you’ll have to fight those two to get it,” Blade says.

Yanqing cutely pouts at you and Jing Yuan. “I want the skewer… please?”

Looks like you nor Jing Yuan are getting that skewer after all.

“Anyway, what a small world that we’re all connected to the Boss somehow,” March says, her elbows on the table and her chin on her hands.

“How long are you two staying?” Blade asks.

“We have him booked for the whole summer.”

Welt sighs quietly. “Hopefully, I’ll be out of my slump by then.”

“Well, don’t you have your inspiration right here?” Pom asks, looking at you.

Welt looks at you. “...Yes. She’s truly the woman that I’m looking for.”

Your face heats up at the statement. Then, Jing Yuan asks, “You’ve never told us much about your book. Care to tell us a little about it?”

“Oh, well…”

You’ve read plenty of Welt’s books. All of them are intricate detective mysteries with strong characters. This time, however, he wants to mix in a little romance. Due to unforeseen circumstances, an ace detective ends up chasing a femme fatale who turns out to be wrongly accused.

"Funny thing is…" March says, "When he was telling us about this ace detective, I said he sounds a little like you, Boss."

Yanqing looks at Jing Yuan. “Dad? Really?”

“Why not use both of them for inspiration?” Blade asks. He flashes you and Jing Yuan a look. “Have them act out some scenes, and maybe you’ll be able to see and feel the romantic atmosphere for yourself.”

Pom's face turns red. “R-Romantic atmosphere?” 

“Why are you getting flustered?” March asks with a smile.

You can see the gears turning in Welt’s mind. He can’t be serious, right? Surely, Blade is just joking.

“Is Dad going to be an actor?” Yanqing asks excitedly.

“Now, hold on a minute,” you say. That’s…. That’s a little out of the question.”

Jing Yuan puts his hand over his heart. “I’m hurt.”

“No, you’re not,” you deadpan.

“Well, I cannot force you,” Welt says, and your jaw almost drops as you can’t believe it’s something he’s seriously considering.

March chuckles. “You’d be helping him a lot, considering this guy has no experience in romance whatsoever.”

“Thank you for that wonderful comment,” Welt says flatly.

“You’re very welcome.”

Jing Yuan picks up his glass. “...If she’s ever up for it, I’d be happy to help you, Welt.”

You turn to him with a look that asks if he's crazy. Jing Yuan notices and slightly shrugs as if you’re the one overthinking things.

"Of course, I would never take too much of your time," Welt says. "It'll just be a few scenes here and there."

While no one is actively encouraging you, you can tell by the look in their eyes: Why not? Give it a shot. When your eyes land on Yanqing, his eyes are shining with excitement. From what? You aren’t sure. But, you’re sure of one thing.

“...Nothing that crosses the line.”

March gasps. “Would you look at that?”

“Boss is going to be an actor!” Pom exclaims.

Blade puts his now empty glass on the table. “A detective romance as his debut? Not bad, I’d say.”

“...Alright. Let’s drop it.”

After dinner, the group splits up. Blade takes March and Welt back while you, Yanqing, and Pom get a ride with Jing Yuan. Once again, the car weaves throughout the city. But now, Pom and Yanqing are asleep in the back seat. You're looking out the window.

Out of curiosity, you turn to Jing Yuan. “You seem close with March and Welt.”

"They stay at the B&B every time they visit." Jing Yuan glances at you. "They've become good friends." A small pause. “...I know why you’re here.” When you face forward, he says, “You’re here to research the possibility of opening a new hotel.”

“How’re you so sure?”

“Star Rails Hotel has been eyeing Xianzhou for a while, but the project kept getting delayed.”

You turn back, but Jing Yuan's eyes are on the road. When you were still new at the company, you heard rumours about a project that kept getting delayed. Xianzhou was a name that popped up, but you never probed into it as you had your work to focus on. But, the point is that this is internal information. How does someone like Jing Yuan know about it?

"If you're here, that means they've finally put their plans into action."

“...Do you know someone who works there?” you ask.

“...I used to.”

The car slowly comes to a stop in front of the stone villa. “...Mind if I ask who?”

Jing Yuan shifts the gears. Then, he looks you in the eyes. “My ex-wife.”

Tag list: @suoshiii @lordbugs @lxry-chxn @seirenspinel @nqctre @immahuman @queencybow @grimreapersscythe

[acute-scary]

Between The Ropes… a Jey Uso x Rhea Ripley fic.

Chapter 17: Up Up

It was Tuesday, September 24, 10:21 AM. The sun was just starting to warm the driveway as Jey and Jon were in the middle of a grueling workout in Jon’s garage gym. Kanye West's music blared through the speakers, filling the space with intensity. Both twins were drenched in sweat, their muscles aching as they pushed through their set of chin-ups. The garage smelled of iron and effort, with heavy breathing mingling with the bass of the music.

Jey’s mind was still foggy from the early morning flight. He and Rhea had barely gotten into Orlando at 4 AM, and all she wanted to do was crash into bed. Jey had tried to sleep in, but Jon wasn’t having it. At 9:30, Jon had nudged Jey out of his dreams for a workout, and after some resistance, Rhea, still half asleep, had playfully shoved him off the bed, grumbling for him to "just go."

Now, here they were, in the heat of it, with no sign of slowing down. As they were about to finish their set, the music cut off abruptly, replaced by the familiar ring of FaceTime on Jey's phone. Annoyed, Jey rolled his eyes, wiped his hands on his shorts, and glanced at the screen. It was Damian.

"Bruh," Jey muttered, swiping to answer. "You messin’ up the vibe, D."

Damian's face filled the screen, unimpressed. He rolled his eyes dramatically. "Whatever, man. Listen, what are you doing for Rhea's birthday?"

Jey froze mid-rep, his muscles tensing for a reason completely unrelated to the workout. His face went pale as if the weight of Damian’s words hit harder than any barbell. Jon, who was pushing himself through the last of his chin-ups, burst into uncontrollable laughter, nearly falling off the bar.

“Bro, what?!” Jon cackled. "You don’t even know her birthday?!"

Jey shot him a look that could kill. “Shut it, man!”

Damian’s face was filled with disbelief. He let loose a stream of curses in rapid Spanish, his frustration showing even through the phone screen.

Jey snapped. “Yo, ENGLISH, Damian! I can’t deal with this right now!”

Damian sighed, clearly irritated. “You’ve been with her for how long, and you don’t know her birthday? It’s October 11th, Jey. That’s like, in two weeks. Right after we get back from Bad Blood. Get it together, bro!”

Jey’s eyes widened, panic flooding his chest. He hadn't even thought about her birthday, let alone made any plans. His mind was racing now. How could he not have asked about something so important?

Jon, still chuckling, came up behind him, slapping Jey on the back. “You are in so much trouble, man.”

Jey muttered under his breath, feeling the pressure settle in. Damian, now calmer, leaned into the camera, his voice stern but supportive.

“Listen, you’ve got time to plan something, but don’t screw this up. Rhea deserves the world, and I know you want to give it to her. I’ll help if you need it, but start thinking about what she likes, where she’d want to go, and... you know, maybe ask her this time.”

Jey nodded, still in shock but grateful for the wake-up call. “Yeah, man... thanks. I’ll figure something out. For real.”

Damian gave him a hard look, then hung up, leaving Jey standing there, still holding his phone like it was about to explode.

Jon, ever the instigator, grinned and threw an arm around Jey’s shoulders. “You better start thinking fast, lil bro. Rhea doesn’t seem like the type to let a missed birthday slide.”

Jey groaned, running a hand over his face. “Man, I’m so screwed.”

—

After Jey wrapped up his workout, he grabbed a towel and headed straight for the shower. The cold water was a welcome relief, washing away the sweat and the weight of his sudden birthday realization. As the steam filled the bathroom, his thoughts were racing—he had to come up with something special, something that would blow Rhea away.

Once he finished, Jey changed into a fresh set of clothes and made his way through Jon’s house. His youngest son, Jeyce, was out with Trinity and his cousins, running errands and picking up supplies for the movie night Trinity had planned for later. The house was quieter than usual, and it gave him a rare moment to check in on his older son, Jaciyah.

Jey walked down the hallway and stopped in front of the door to the guest room where Jaciyah was staying. He knocked softly, but there was no response. Slowly, he cracked the door open, careful not to disturb his son if he was still sleeping. What he saw warmed his heart.

Jaciyah was fast asleep, tucked under the covers with Rhea’s three dogs curled up around him. The oldest dog, sitting right by Jaciyah’s side, had its head resting on his arm, and Jaciyah had draped an arm around the dog protectively, as if they were lifelong companions. The other two dogs were nestled at the foot of the bed, content and unmoving, like they had found their new favorite spot.

Jey smiled to himself, closing the door as quietly as he could. Seeing his son so comfortable with Rhea’s dogs made something inside him soften. It was a small reminder that their worlds were blending more and more each day, even in the most unexpected ways.

He made his way back down the hall toward the guest room where Rhea was still fast asleep. As soon as he entered, he stifled a laugh—Rhea had completely taken over the bed. She was sprawled out, half the blankets tangled around her legs, her arm stretched out across the mattress. Jey had grown used to her sleeping like this, but it never failed to make him smile.

He walked over to the vanity and took a seat, careful not to make too much noise. Pulling out his phone, he opened the notes app and scrolled down to the file he had been updating for months. It was simply titled, Rhea. Inside, he had jotted down every little detail he had learned about her—the things that made her smile, her favorite bands, fast food orders, what movies she loved, her favorite snacks, and random little quirks he picked up on.

His eyes scanned through the list as he tried to think of what he could do for her birthday. He tapped his fingers on the screen absentmindedly, reading through each entry.

- Favorite fast food: In-N-Out (Double-Double, no onions, animal-style fries, chocolate shake) and Pizza Hut (Hawaiian Style Pizza with Brownies)

- Favorite band: Motionless in White (but she has a secret soft spot for The 1975).

- Favorite color: Black (but sometimes she likes dark purple for her nails).

- Favorite movie: She won’t admit it, but she keeps watching The Great Gatsby. But I’ve noticed she only plays it whenever she is sad or mad, make a mental note to ask her why.

Rhea always tried to play it cool, but deep down, she had her sentimental side. And then there were the little things she did every day—how she loved walking barefoot when she thought no one was looking, or how she’d hum softly when she was thinking.

But what could he do to make her birthday unforgettable?

As Jey continued scrolling through his notes, an idea started forming. He knew she loved simple things—time with the people she cared about, music, and food. Maybe it didn’t have to be some grand gesture, but rather something personal, something that showed her he truly saw her.

He opened a new note and started typing:

- Birthday plan ideas:

1. Private dinner at the beach, somewhere quiet.

2. Rent a classic car for a day (something from *The Great Gatsby* era—she’d love that).

3. Get the family together, make it low-key but intimate—she loves being around the people she cares about.

4. Propose.

He paused, thinking about how she had lost their baby just a short time ago. It was still fresh for both of them, and he didn’t want the day to bring up too many painful memories. But he also wanted to celebrate her strength, her resilience. Maybe the best way to honor her birthday was to give her something that showed her just how much he appreciated everything she had gone through.

Jey smiled to himself, feeling the pieces slowly come together. He was getting closer to figuring out what to do, and for the first time since Damian had blindsided him, he didn’t feel completely overwhelmed.

Glancing over at Rhea, still fast asleep and peaceful, Jey knew he had time to make this birthday perfect for her. And he wasn’t going to mess it up.

Rhea stirred awake slowly, her eyes fluttering open as the soft light from the window streamed into the room. Jey glanced up from his phone and smiled.

“Morning, Button Nose,” he teased, his voice warm and affectionate.

Rhea gave him a sleepy smile, stretching out under the tangled blankets. She mumbled something incoherent before burying her face in the pillow again.

Jey chuckled. “You hungry?”

She nodded, still half-asleep, and mumbled one word. “Starbucks.”

Jey rolled his eyes, though the smile on his face never wavered. “Of course. You wanna come, or are you just gonna be lazy?”

“Nahhhh,” she groaned dramatically, pulling the covers tighter around her as if the bed was the safest place on Earth.

He leaned over, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Alright, what’s the order?”

Without even opening her eyes, she rattled it off. “Venti Apple Crisp Oatmilk Frappuccino, Ham and Swiss croissant, and… a birthday cake pop.”

Jey laughed as he grabbed his phone and quickly typed out the order. “I swear, you and those cake pops.”

Rhea just grumbled something unintelligible, half asleep again. Jey shook his head, kissed her one more time, and stood up, grabbing his wallet and keys. He made his way downstairs, the quietness of the house giving him a moment to think. The faint hum of the AC was the only other sound in the house.

He stepped outside and headed to Jon’s car, sliding into the driver’s seat. The warm air hit him as he started the engine and pulled out of the driveway. It didn’t take long to find the nearest Starbucks, and as he was waiting in the drive-thru line, his phone buzzed.

He glanced down at the screen. Dad.

Jey frowned a little, answering the call quickly. “Hey, Pops. What’s up?”

His father’s voice came through the line, calm but with a serious tone. “Jey, just wanted to let you know, some old lady dropped off a box at the house today. She said it was for you and Rhea. Looked important.”

Jey’s heart skipped a beat. He knew immediately what it was. He had almost forgotten, but now it all came rushing back. The jewelry containing the ashes of their baby. The one they had lost.

His chest tightened as memories of that painful time flashed through his mind. It had only been a few days since they lost the baby, and while they had tried to move forward, the weight of that loss was always there, just beneath the surface.

“Yeah,” Jey said quietly, his voice strained. “I remember.”

His dad’s voice softened. “I didn’t want to leave it outside, so it’s inside, safe. Whenever you’re ready, come by and pick it up.”

“Thanks, Pops,” Jey replied, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I’ll get it later today.”

They exchanged a few more words before Jey hung up, his mind now focused on that box. He leaned back in his seat, trying to steady himself as the car in front of him inched forward. He wasn’t sure how he’d bring this up to Rhea, not so soon after everything. But he knew they’d have to face it together. To be fair he had received an email saying it would be ready by Monday and he foolishly forgot that he asked for a rush on the jewelry.

He pulled up to the window, collecting her order, his mind still elsewhere. The Starbucks worker handed him the Frappuccino and croissant, and Jey forced a smile, offering a quick “thanks” before driving off.

As he made his way back to Jon’s, Jey’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. For now, he had to focus on the moment, on making sure her day started off right.

One thing at a time.

Jey pulled into Jon’s driveway and parked the car, the smell of Starbucks filling the interior. He grabbed the bag and drink tray, then headed back inside, feeling the weight of the conversation with his dad still lingering in his mind.

As he made his way upstairs, he could hear the soft, familiar soundtrack of The Great Gatsby playing in the background. When he opened the door to the guest bedroom, there was Rhea, sitting up in bed, wearing his hoodie, her hair a tousled mess but looking completely at peace. She had the blankets wrapped around her legs, her eyes glued to the screen as Leonardo DiCaprio’s voice narrated the iconic lines she must’ve heard a hundred times by now.

Jey gave a soft smile while taking a mental note—her wearing his hoodie was always a good sign. It was something she did when she wanted comfort, and right now, she looked like she was in her element.

Rhea glanced over at him, her face lighting up when she saw the Starbucks bag in his hand. "You’re my hero," she said with a sleepy grin.

Jey walked over and handed her the drink and pastry along with the cake pop she always insisted on. “Here you go, birthday girl in training,” he teased.

She rolled her eyes but took the drink gratefully. “Thanks, Button Nose,” she said playfully, using his own nickname for her.

Jey leaned down and kissed her forehead, his lips lingering just a second longer than usual. "I’m gonna check on Jaciyah, see if he’s up," he said, straightening up.

Rhea nodded as she sipped her drink. “Okay.”

Jey gave her a wink and turned, heading back to the room where Jaciyah was still sleeping. He carefully opened the door, hoping his son was awake now, but ready to see the same peaceful sight he had seen earlier with the dogs still snuggled up to him. As the door creaked open, Jaciyah stirred, blinking slowly as he woke up. The dogs, still lying next to him, perked their heads up but stayed comfortably in place.

“Hey, buddy,” Jey whispered as he stepped inside. “You sleep good?”

Jaciyah nodded, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. “Yeah I guess…The dogs were comfy,” he mumbled, still half-asleep.

Jey chuckled, walking over and ruffling his son’s hair. “Good. Listen, I was thinking… how about we take a little trip today? Head over to Grandpa’s in Titusville. What do you think?”

Jaciyah yawned but nodded, slowly waking up. “Yeah, sure I guess.”

Jey was relieved. At least Jaciyah was even talking to him. Jey figured spending some time with his dad might be just what they both needed— Solofa had a way of talking to his grandson that seemed to get through to him in a way Jey sometimes couldn’t. Plus, with everything on Jey’s mind about the jewelry, he could use his dad’s advice.

“Alright, cool. I’ll wait for you get dressed, and then we’ll head out in a bit,” Jey said, feeling a small sense of peace in the plan.

Jaciyah nodded, and Jey smiled, knowing his dad would have a way of bringing some perspective, both for him and for his son. Maybe a little time at Grandpa’s house would give him the clarity he needed to figure out how to handle everything with Rhea—and the ashes—when the time came.

—

Jey gave Rhea a quick kiss on the forehead, his lips brushing against her soft skin before he stood up. “I’ll be back later, okay? You and Trinity try to stay out of trouble.”

Rhea sighed as she watched him leave, the familiar loneliness creeping in now that he was gone. As soon as she heard the door click shut, she grabbed her phone and dialed Trinity’s number. It rang a couple of times before her future sister in law picked up, sounding upbeat as ever.

“Hey, girl! What’s up?” Trinity’s voice echoed through the line.

“Not much. Just bored now that Jey left,” Rhea replied, leaning back into the pillows and taking a sip of her Starbucks. “Where are you guys at?”

Trinity chuckled. “We’re just leaving Academy. Had to get some last-minute stuff for the kids. We’re heading home now.”

Rhea hummed in understanding but couldn’t help but let her boredom show. “Wish you guys were home already. There’s nothing to do here.”

“Girl, you won’t be bored for long. I got something at Academy that’s going to keep these kids busy for hours. Jon is gonna throw a fit when he sees it,” Trinity said, her voice full of mischief.

Rhea perked up, intrigued. “Oh? What did you get?”

“A water bouncy house,” Trinity said with a laugh, clearly pleased with herself. “You know how it is—it’s Florida, it’s hot, and the kids need to burn off some energy. And, let’s be real, we could all use some fun.”

Rhea’s eyes widened, a smile spreading across her face. “No way! That’s amazing. I might need to hop in there with them.”

Trinity laughed, knowing Rhea well enough to believe she would. “Girl, we’ll both get in there. Jon’s gonna lose it when he sees the backyard covered in water and bounce house chaos.”

The thought of Jon’s reaction made Rhea laugh. “Yeah, I can see it now. He’s gonna act like he’s mad but then end up having the most fun.”

“Exactly!” Trinity said. “But after the kids tire themselves out, we’re still doing that movie night. Got all their favorite snacks, blankets, the whole deal.”

“That sounds perfect,” Rhea said, feeling a wave of excitement wash over her. The idea of a carefree day with the kids, and then winding down with movies, was exactly what she needed. “I can’t wait. I’ll see you when you guys get back.”

“Alright, see you soon!” Trinity chimed before hanging up.

Rhea smiled to herself as she set her phone down. The idea of spending the afternoon with the kids, bouncing around in the water bouncy house, followed by a relaxing movie night, felt like a nice escape from everything that had been weighing on her. For now, she’d relax and wait for the chaos to begin when Trinity and the kids arrived.

After lounging for a while, Rhea finally decided it was time to get up and shower. She stretched, slipped off Jey’s hoodie, and headed over to her bag, pulling out a pair of comfy lounge clothes—some soft joggers and a loose tee. Before hopping in the shower, she grabbed her protective goggles to shield her freshly done lashes. As she was adjusting them in front of the mirror, her heart nearly skipped a beat when the bathroom door creaked open softly.

She spun around quickly, but her worry faded when she saw her cat, Storm, strut into the bathroom like he owned the place. “Storm, really?” she said, sighing in relief. The mischievous cat just meowed as if to say, “What did you expect?”

Rhea chuckled and scratched his head gently. “I should’ve known it was you.” With that, she closed the door properly this time and stepped into the warm shower.

The hot water did wonders for her muscles and ribs, easing the tension she hadn’t realized was still there. She let her mind wander, thinking about the upcoming movie night with the kids and Trinity, and of course, the bouncy house. It had been a while since she’d let herself just relax and enjoy something silly and fun like that. For a brief moment, she imagined bouncing around with the kids, the water splashing everywhere, all of them laughing without a care in the world.

Once Rhea was done with her shower, she quickly brushed her teeth again and got dressed in her lounge clothes. Feeling refreshed, she headed downstairs, her damp hair tied back in a messy bun. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, her phone buzzed in her pocket. It was a text from Jey.

Miss you. I’ll try to be back soon.

A soft smile tugged at her lips as she read the message. She quickly typed a reply.

Miss you too. Be safe. Can’t wait to see you.

After sending the message, she wandered into the living room. It was quiet, peaceful. The perfect time to throw on a movie and just relax before the chaos of the day kicked in with the kids and the bouncy house.

Rhea settled onto the couch, flipping through the streaming options before landing on an old favorite, Bring It On. As soon as the opening credits started, she heard the familiar sounds of paws padding against the floor. One by one, her furry crew began to gather around her. First, Storm jumped up onto the arm of the couch, curling up in his usual spot. Then, her three dogs—Barry, Bella, and Luna—came trotting over, each finding a place near her feet or right beside her on the couch. Tank and Marley soon joined her on the other side of the couch.

She couldn’t help but smile as she looked around at her little animal family. “Well, guess it’s a party now,” she murmured, scratching behind Storm’s ears. With all of them settled in, Rhea felt a sense of calm wash over her as she sank deeper into the cushions, the comforting presence of her pets making everything feel just a little bit brighter.

—

Jey scrolled through his phone, eyeing private proposal setups, his mind racing with the weight of the decision he'd finally made. He was going to propose to Rhea. The thought filled him with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. Jaciyah, his oldest, had been quiet during their drive to Titusville, where they’d just arrived at his dad’s house. Jey wanted to make sure his son was okay with everything—especially the divorce from Takecia and his future with Rhea.

“Dad,” Jey called out as his father entered the living room. “Could you talk to Jaciyah? See how he’s feelin’ about all this? I know it’s a lot for him.”

His father nodded, placing a reassuring hand on Jey’s shoulder before heading outside to the porch where Jaciyah was sitting, staring off into the distance. Jey exhaled and leaned back, his eyes drifting to the small box beside him on the table. Inside it was the necklace holding the ashes of their unborn child, along with Rhea’s ring. Jey had already his ring on him and he felt more at peace knowing his unborn child was with him. Onto Rhea’s ring, It was something he wanted to give to Rhea when he asked her to marry him, it was the perfect ring.

The thought tugged at his heart, but before he could get too lost in it, his mother walked in with a steaming cup of koko Samoa. She placed it gently in front of him and sat down across the table, her eyes full of warmth and understanding as they met his.

"You look like you got the weight of the world on your shoulders, son," she said softly.

Jey gave a small, tired smile and took a sip of the drink. The familiar taste brought a sense of comfort, but his thoughts were still tangled up in everything happening around him.

"I do, Mom," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "I wanna propose to Rhea. I’ve already made up my mind, but... there’s just so much to think about. The divorce, the kids, everything with her ex, and now... this." His hand hovered over the small jewelry box. His voice dropped to a whisper. “I don’t even know if now is the right time.”

His mother’s eyes softened further, and she reached across the table, placing her hand over his.

"Son, if you’ve made the decision to ask Rhea to marry you, then you’re ready. You wouldn’t be thinking about all this if you weren’t. But I know it’s not easy—especially after everything you’ve been through." She glanced at the box, understanding its significance without needing an explanation.

"How do you think she’s going to feel about this?" Jey asked, gesturing to the box. His voice trembled with the weight of his emotions. "About having a part of our baby with her all the time?"

His mom smiled gently. "She’ll feel what any mother would feel—connected. Even though you both lost that child, it doesn’t mean you’ve lost the love you had for them. This..." She tapped the box lightly. "This will keep that memory alive, in a way that’s beautiful. I think it’ll mean the world to her."

Jey nodded, feeling a lump in his throat. "I just don’t wanna mess it up. This has to be right."

"You won’t mess it up," his mother assured him. "The love you have for her, for that baby, it’s all right there in your heart. That’s what she’s going to see when you ask her."

Jey took another sip of the koko Samoa, the warmth spreading through him. He wanted to believe what his mom was saying—that everything would fall into place.

As his thoughts turned to Rhea, he felt a sense of determination rise in him. He would propose, and he would find the right way to do it. For Rhea. For their baby. For the future they were about to build together.

His mother gave him one last reassuring squeeze before she stood up, leaving Jey alone with his thoughts. He picked up the small jewelry box, holding it in his hands, feeling the weight of the ashes inside. He whispered to himself, as if speaking to the child they had lost, "I’m gonna do this right. I promise. Solofa opened the back door and Jaciyah walked in, completely ignored Jey’s presence. Jaciyah went to the front room and he pulled out this phone to ignore everyone. Solofa signaled for Jey to come outside.

Jey sat on the porch steps next to his father, the weight of the conversation pressed down heavily. The quiet sounds of the yard, the rustle of leaves in the breeze, and the fading light of day felt distant compared to the turmoil brewing inside him. He had known this conversation with his father was coming, but nothing could have prepared him for the emotions now bubbling to the surface.

Solofa was silent for a moment, his eyes focused on the horizon. There was something heavy in the air between them, a shared understanding that words were needed but not easy to find.

"Joshua," Solofa finally said, breaking the silence. His voice was steady but carried the weight of years of wisdom and heartache. "I’ve been thinking about everything. About you, Jaciyah, and... all of this."

Jey didn’t respond right away. He simply nodded, his throat tight. He knew his father was about to say something important, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to hear it.

Solofa turned to face his son, his eyes filled with concern. “Your son, Joshua, he’s hurting. Deeply.”

The words hit Jey like a punch to the gut. He had felt it—seen it in Jaciyah’s eyes—but hearing it from his father made it real in a way he couldn’t ignore. He swallowed hard, feeling a lump in his throat that refused to go away.

“I know, Dad,” he finally said, his voice rough. “I’ve seen it. I know he’s angry. I just... I didn’t know how bad it was.”

Solofa sighed and ran a hand over his face, as if the weight of what he was about to say was too much to bear. “He’s angry because he feels like you broke up his family, Joshua. He feels like you left his mom... and in his mind, he’s being forced to accept Rhea, the woman he thinks is responsible for all of this.”

Jey’s chest tightened with guilt. He had tried so hard to protect his son from the mess that was his relationship with Takecia, but it hadn’t worked. Jeciyah had seen more than he’d realized, and now he was paying the price.

“It wasn’t Rhea’s fault, Dad,” Joshua said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Takecia and I... we weren’t happy. Things were broken long before Rhea came into the picture.”

Solofa nodded slowly. “I know that. I believe that. But Jaciyah doesn’t. All he sees is his mom hurting and you moving on. In his young mind, that means Rhea is the reason. He’s hurting because he feels like he has to choose between his love for you and his loyalty to his mom.”

Joshua clenched his fists, feeling helpless. “What do I do, Dad? How do I fix this? I don’t want him to hate Rhea. I don’t want him to feel like he’s losing me.”

His father’s hand landed on his shoulder, a grounding gesture, as Solofa looked him square in the eyes. “Joshua, you need to talk to your son. Really talk to him. Let him be mad, let him tell you how he feels. And then... you need to tell him the truth. Explain to him why things didn’t work with Takecia, but make sure he knows it was never about Rhea. He needs to hear that from you.”

Jey nodded, his mind racing with everything he wanted to say to his son. But then, there was something else he needed to admit—something that had been weighing on his mind.

“There’s something else, Dad,” Jey said, his voice quieter now, hesitant. “After the six-month waiting period is over... I’m going to ask Rhea to marry me.”

Solofa didn’t react at first. He simply studied his son, the silence between them stretching out. Finally, he spoke, his voice calm but firm.

“You’ve made your decision, then.”

Jey nodded, feeling a mix of certainty and nerves. “Yeah. I love her, Dad. I really do. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and I’m going to propose to her. I was planning on doing it in two weeks.”

Solofa let out a long breath, his face unreadable for a moment. Then he turned to his son with an intensity that caught Jey off guard.

“Before you do that,” Solofa said, his tone serious, “I need you to make me a promise.”

Jey’s heart skipped a beat. “What is it?”

“Promise me you’ll talk to Jaciyah first. Before you ask Rhea to marry you, talk to your son. He deserves to hear it from you, to understand what this means for your family.”

Jey stared at his father, the weight of that request settling heavily on his shoulders. He hadn’t fully thought about how Jaciyah would react to him proposing to Rhea—at least, not in the depth he should have. But now, with his father’s words hanging in the air, he realized how crucial that conversation would be.

“I promise, Dad,” Jey said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll talk to him. I’ll make sure he knows that he’s still my priority, no matter what happens.”

Solofa’s face softened, and he gave his son a small, proud nod. “That’s all I ask, Joshua. Your son needs to know that no matter how things change, your love for him won’t.”

Jey felt his throat tighten again, the emotions overwhelming him. “I just want him to be okay, Dad. I want him to understand that this isn’t about replacing anyone. I love Rhea, but I love him too. I don’t want him to feel like he’s losing me.”

Solofa squeezed his son’s shoulder again. “He’ll come around, Joshua. But it’s going to take time. Don’t rush it. Let him feel what he needs to feel, and be there for him when he’s ready.”

Jey nodded, feeling the weight of his father’s wisdom settle deep into his bones. He had a long road ahead of him, but at least now he had a clearer path.

As they sat there together, the sun shining, Jey felt something he hadn’t felt in a while—a sense of understanding. It wasn’t going to be easy, but with his father’s advice, he knew he could start mending the rift with his son and build a future with Rhea.

“I’ll do it, Dad,” Jey said quietly. “I’ll make things right with Jaciyah. And when the time’s right... I’ll make sure he knows how much he means to me.”

Solofa smiled, pride and love shining through the lines of his weathered face. “I know you will, son. I know you will.”

—

As Jey and Jaciyah settled into the car for the 52-minute drive home, the silence between them felt thick and heavy. Jey glanced over at his son, who sat quietly, staring out the window. Jaciyah hadn’t said much after his conversation with his grandpa, but Jey knew there was a lot on his mind.

Jey drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, trying to figure out the best way to start. He wasn’t the type to shy away from tough conversations, but this one felt different—he didn’t just need to explain things, he needed to heal the hurt he had caused.

He exhaled softly and broke the silence. "Jaciyah," Jey began, his voice calm, "I know things have been tough lately. And I know I’m the reason for a lot of it."

Jeciyah didn’t respond right away, his eyes still fixed on the passing scenery outside the car. But Jey pressed on, knowing he needed to say this, even if his son didn’t want to hear it.

"I’ve made mistakes, man," Jey admitted, his grip tightening on the wheel. "With your mom... with you. And I don’t expect you to just forgive me overnight, but I want you to know I’m sorry."

Jaciyah finally shifted in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. His voice was quiet but edged with frustration. "I don’t get it, Dad. Why’d you have to leave us for her?"

The question hit Jey hard, but he had been expecting it. He swallowed the lump in his throat and glanced briefly at his son before returning his gaze to the road.

"It wasn’t just about Rhea," Jey said softly. "Your mom and I... we weren’t good for each other anymore. We were holding on to something that was already broken, and I didn’t want to keep hurting her or you by pretending we could fix it."

Jaciyah’s expression hardened. "It feels like you just gave up. Like you picked her over us."

Jey shook his head. "I didn’t give up, Jaciyah. I fought for a long time to keep things together, but sometimes... staying together for the wrong reasons can hurt more than letting go. I didn’t leave you, and I didn’t leave your mom because I didn’t care. I just... I wanted to be happy again. And I wanted your mom to be happy too."

The car was quiet for a moment, the sound of the tires on the asphalt the only noise between them. Jey could feel the weight of his son’s pain and anger, and it cut him deeply.

"I know you don’t like Rhea," Jey continued carefully, "and I understand why. But I want you to know this—she didn’t break up me and your mom. That was already happening, with or without her."

Jaciyah was silent, his face still set in a scowl. Jey sighed and tried again.

"Look, I love you more than anything, Jaciyah. You’re my son, and nothing’s going to change that. No one will ever come before you."

Jaciyah’s voice was small but filled with hurt. "It doesn’t feel like that sometimes."

Jey felt his heart break at his son’s words. He had always prided himself on being a good father, but hearing Jeciyah express that kind of pain made him realize just how much damage had been done.

"I’m sorry, bud," Jey said, his voice thick with emotion. "I never wanted you to feel like that. And I’m going to do everything I can to make sure you don’t feel that way again."

There was a long pause before Jaciyah spoke again, his tone uncertain. "So... are you going to marry her?"

Jey’s breath caught for a moment. He hadn’t planned on bringing it up yet, but Jaciyah deserved the truth.

"Yeah," Jey said softly. "After this six-month waiting period... I’m going to marry her. I’ve been thinking about proposing in a couple of weeks."

Jaciyah turned to face him, his eyes wide with disbelief. "You’re really going to marry her?"

Jey nodded, his throat tight. "I am. But before I do anything, I wanted to talk to you about it. How you feel about this matters to me, Jaciyah. I need you to know that."

Jaciyah’s face twisted in a mix of emotions—confusion, anger, and something Jey couldn’t quite place. "I don’t know, Dad. I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel."

Jey swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. "I get that. I don’t expect you to be okay with it right away. But I promise you, I’m not rushing anything. But look… before I do propose, I want to talk to you first. I want to know what’s on your mind, and I want to make sure you’re okay with this. I’ll wait…"

Jaciyah’s eyes flickered with uncertainty. "What if I’m not okay with it?"

Jey’s heart ached at the question, but he forced himself to stay calm. "If you’re not, we’ll talk about it. I want you to be honest with me, Jaciyah. I don’t want to push you into anything you’re not ready for."

They drove in silence for a few more minutes before Jey spoke again.

"I’m going to ask you for something, Jeciyah. Before I propose to Rhea, I need to make sure we’re good. I need you to talk to me—really talk to me—about how you feel. That’s the promise I made to your granddad, and it’s the promise I’m making to you. I won’t go forward with anything until we’ve had that conversation."

Jaciyah shifted in his seat again, his face thoughtful, but still pained. "I just need time, Dad."

Jey nodded, understanding the weight behind his son’s words. "Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere. We’ll get through this together, I promise."

Jaciyah didn’t respond, but Jey could see the tension in his son slowly beginning to ease. It wasn’t a solution, not yet, but it was a start. As they continued the drive home, Jey knew proposing to Rhea would have to wait… Jey glanced at Jaciyah again, silently hoping that in time, they would both find a way to heal.

—

Jey and Jaciyah finally pulled up to Jon and Trinity’s house, the familiar sight bringing a sense of comfort after the long and heavy drive. As soon as they parked, Jaciyah got out of the car and headed straight to the bedroom upstairs, barely acknowledging Jey.

Jey sighed, watching his son disappear into the house. He knew Jaciyah needed space, and he wasn’t going to push him right now. Instead, he stepped out of the car and lingered near the front, hearing the sound of laughter from the backyard.

Curious, Jey walked around to the side of the house and saw Jon and Trinity in the backyard, jumping on a giant water bouncy house with their kids. The sight of them having fun, carefree and full of joy, made him smile softly. It was moments like these that reminded him of how important family was, even when things were complicated.

As Jey looked closer, his eyes landed on Jeyce, his youngest, running around the yard, a water gun in his hand. The little boy was darting back and forth, his face lit up with pure excitement. Jey’s smile grew wider, watching his son have the time of his life. But it wasn’t just Jeyce that caught his attention.

There, chasing after Jeyce with her own water gun, was Rhea.

She was laughing, her hair soaked, as she playfully tried to tag Jeyce with the water stream. The two of them ran around the yard, dodging and weaving, their laughter filling the air. Jey couldn’t help but smile, his heart warming at the sight. Despite everything—the drama, the hurt, the uncertainty—seeing Rhea bonding with his youngest made him feel a sense of hope.

At least Jeyce was acknowledging her presence, embracing her in the way only a child could. Jey watched as his son’s face lit up with joy every time Rhea playfully sprayed him with water. The connection between them was natural, effortless. It wasn’t forced or complicated like the situation with Jaciyah. It was pure and innocent.

For a moment, Jey stood there, just taking it all in. The laughter, the playfulness, the way Rhea fit so seamlessly into this part of his life. He knew there were still challenges ahead, especially with Jaciyah, but seeing Rhea like this—so happy, so at ease—made him feel like maybe, just maybe, things could work out.

Jeyce let out a squeal of excitement as Rhea finally caught him, spraying him with a jet of water. Rhea laughed, scooping him up as he wiggled in her arms, trying to escape her grasp. Jey couldn’t take his eyes off them, his heart swelling with affection. It was moments like this that made him realize how much he wanted to build a future with her—a future that included moments like these with his children.

He knew the road ahead wouldn’t be easy, but for now, he allowed himself to smile and enjoy this small moment of happiness, with the ring still inside his pocket… just aching to be on Rhea’s finger.

Rhea was the first to notice Jey standing at the edge of the yard, watching them. A smile spread across her face as she lowered her water gun and nudged Jeyce gently. “Go get your dad,” she said with a playful glint in her eye.

Jeyce, always eager for a challenge, grinned mischievously and took off running towards Jey, spraying the water gun wildly in front of him. "Dad!" he yelled, laughter bubbling up from deep inside him. Jey, caught off guard but amused, put his hands up in mock surrender, backing away.

"Oh, you wanna play, huh?" Jey teased, trying to dodge the streams of water as Jeyce got closer. For a moment, Jey played along, darting and weaving as Jeyce chased him around the yard, spraying him with water. The sound of his son’s giggles echoed around the backyard, and Jey couldn’t help but laugh too.

There was something healing in this simple moment—a sense of peace that Jey hadn’t felt in a long time. It was as if, for just a few minutes, everything else melted away. No complications, no drama—just him and his son, playing under the warm afternoon sun.

Finally, Jey slowed down and stopped running, letting Jeyce catch up. "Alright, you got me!" he said with a grin, holding out his arms in surrender. Jeyce, overjoyed at his victory, ran straight into his father’s arms, spraying one last burst of water before dropping the gun.

Jey scooped him up into a tight hug, holding his son close as they both laughed. The water soaked through his shirt, but Jey didn’t care. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt a kind of peace settle over him—peace that came from being with his family, from seeing his son so happy, and from knowing that, despite everything, he could still create moments like this.

"Got you good, Dad!" Jeyce said breathlessly, his face beaming as he looked up at his father.

Jey chuckled, hugging him tighter. "Yeah, you did, little man," he said softly, pressing a kiss to the top of Jeyce’s head. "You definitely got me."

As he held his son in his arms, Jey glanced over at Rhea, who was watching them with a smile, her eyes filled with warmth. The connection between them was silent, but it was there, strong and unspoken. He could feel her love and support in the way she looked at him, in the way she was becoming a part of his life—and Jey couldn’t help but feel grateful.

In this moment, surrounded by laughter and love, Jey allowed himself to fully relax. He didn’t have all the answers yet, but he knew one thing for sure—he wanted more moments like this. Moments where his family, both old and new, could come together, where happiness could be found in the simplest of things.

Jey smiled down at Jeyce, still holding him close, and whispered, "I love you, bud."

Jeyce grinned back at him, his eyes twinkling. "Love you too, Dad."

—

After an afternoon filled with laughter and water games, the kids were finally wrangled inside by Trinity. She somehow managed to corral them into the showers, giving each of them their set of pajamas to change into. As she handled the bedtime routine, Jon took charge of dinner, pulling out his phone and ordering a stack of pizzas from Pizza Hut. It was an easy choice, one that he knew would please everyone, especially the kids after their full day of fun.

Jey, now feeling lighter after spending time with his youngest, was tasked with setting up the movie night. He rifled through the options, trying to pick something that would keep the kids entertained. Meanwhile, Rhea had happily taken over the role of making "movie buckets"—popcorn, candy, and drinks all tucked into small containers for each kid.

As she worked, meticulously layering the snacks, something caught her attention. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Barry, her dog, slowly walking up the stairs. It wasn’t just the fact that he was heading upstairs that bothered her—it was his demeanor. Barry had been acting strange lately. He hadn’t slept beside her and he seemed drawn to the kids’ room, refusing to leave sometimes.

A feeling of unease settled in her stomach. Rhea put down the bucket, wiping her hands on her jeans. She grabbed the candy bag of Jolly Ranchers on instinct and followed Barry up the stairs, her heart tightening with worry. As she neared the top, she saw the door to Jaciyah’s room was slightly ajar.

Peeking through the gap, Rhea froze. There was Barry, sitting quietly with his head resting in Jaciyah’s lap. But what made Rhea’s heart clench was the sight of Jaciyah, silently crying. His small shoulders trembled as he stroked the dog’s fur, his face turned down to hide the tears from anyone who might notice.

Rhea's breath hitched. Seeing Jaciyah like that made her heart break in ways she hadn’t anticipated. She had known this transition would be hard for him—harder than anyone could truly understand. But seeing it up close, seeing his pain so raw, left her feeling helpless and scared. She wanted to comfort him, to tell him it would be okay, but she wasn’t sure if her presence would be welcomed.

Swallowing her own anxiety, Rhea softly pushed the door open a little wider. Jaciyah looked up at her, his eyes red and puffy, but he didn’t say a word. For a moment, they just stood there in silence, the air heavy with unspoken emotions.

Rhea hesitated, unsure of what to do. Then, almost as if her body moved on its own, she extended her hand, offering Jaciyah the bag of Jolly Ranchers she had brought with her. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

To her surprise, Jaciyah’s tear-streaked face softened. A faint, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Slowly, he reached out and took the bag from her hand.

"Thanks," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Rhea gave him a small nod, her heart aching for him. She didn’t say anything else—didn’t want to push too much. Instead, she gave him the space he needed, quietly stepping back and closing the door behind her.

As she stood on the other side of the door, her back against the cool wood, Rhea took a deep breath. She had no idea what Jaciyah was going through entirely, but she hoped that, in some small way, her gesture had helped. Barry remained by his side, the loyal dog providing the comfort that Rhea couldn’t at that moment. She turned and made her way back downstairs, her thoughts heavy with the weight of everything left unsaid.