#i was just lighting up the plants in hidden forest :(

[crystallisedcat]

HELP I NOCLIPPED THROUGH THE FLOOR

AAAAAAAAAHHHH-

[amberautumnfaebrooke]

i think i could design a better death arena for children than those hunger games amateurs.

the whole premise of the games is all pageantry. every year you get a crop of 24 candidates around whom the entire state media apparatus dedicates an entire year to building celebrity narratives. this candidate is the younger sibling of last year's winner - these candidates are young lovers forced to compete - he's smart - she's fast - root for them, care about them, watch them, form opinions on them, bet on them. and then they stick them all in an arena to kill each other, which is a great entertainment premise, except that they make the arenas themselves really boring and generic. ooo, they're in...a forest.

it's not even an interestingly designed forest. imagine if the game designers treated their arena like an actual video game designer treats level design. discrete zones with multiple paths between each room, creative use of lighting to guide players to points of interest, points of interest scattered across the map, discoverable resources hidden to encourage exploration. instead they just have a generic outdoors location and if you get too close to the edge they throw a random fireball at you.

the 75th games are especially bad about this. the arena is laid out radially into 12 wedges, and each hour one wedge becomes especially dangerous in a 12-hour loop. as a mechanic, this is genius. it forces everyone to keep moving, making "survival by hiding" an engaging and tense viewing experience instead of someone sitting in a tree for three days. plus, it encourages players to return to the center of the arena, where travel time between wedges is short, which creates a high-value zone for players to regularly return to and conflict over. in other words, it's a mechanic which incentives players to adopt dramatic, dynamic, exciting behaviors which are entertaining to watch (not to mention it communicates geography to the audience well). but it only incentives those behaviors if the players understand what's happening, and they go out of their way not to tell the players anything! when they figure out what's going on, the showrunners spin the arena to disorient the players, like they're intentionally trying to get them to just. randomly wander the jungle instead.

this isn't even to mention how often they create undramatic, boring deaths. they plant poison berries around the arena. they supply no fresh water and no way to get it. they roll poison clouds over sleeping victims. these happen to work out in the books themselves but you have to imagine that extremely often these just result in players dying unexciting deaths.

the cardinal sin though, of course, is that nothing is done to personalize the arena for the crop of contestants that year. if i'm designing the 75th hunger games and two of my most beloved contestants famously had to cancel their wedding because of a return to the games, i would OBVIOUSLY give them a trail of, i don't know, wild game which conveniently leads directly past a well defended wedding chapel. will they hole up there for a while? hold a mock ceremony for themselves? do or receive ironic violence here? stare wistfully and move on? any of it is better television than getting attacked by generic attack monkeys. you should have a dozen of these things on the map for every single candidate. but the game makers are more interested in doing the same thing every other game has done than in telling a compelling story.

it makes me second guess enjoying the children's murder arenas at all.

[iris-qt]

𝚒𝚗𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐

🗝️ ᴛʜᴇᴏᴅᴏʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴛ x ʜᴜꜰꜰʟᴇᴘᴜꜰꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

🗝️ ��ɢ ᴍᴜꜱɪᴄ: ᴄʟɪᴄᴋ!

🗝️ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ

🗝️ ᴀ/ɴ: ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇꜱᴜʟᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴘᴏʟʟ ʜᴇʀᴇ ɪᴛ ɪꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴘᴏᴘᴜʟᴀʀ ᴅᴇᴍᴀɴᴅ. ᴀʟꜱᴏ ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛ ɪ ᴀʟᴛᴇʀᴇᴅ. ɪ ᴅɪᴅɴ’ᴛ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴀ ᴛʏᴘɪᴄᴀʟ ꜱᴏᴜʟᴍᴀᴛᴇ ᴀᴜ ꜱᴏ ɪ ᴛᴡɪꜱᴛᴇᴅ ɪᴛ ᴛᴏ ꜰɪᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴᴠɪꜱɪʙʟᴇ ꜱᴛʀɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇᴏʀʏ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀ ᴡᴇɪʀᴅʟʏ ᴘʜɪʟᴏꜱᴏᴘʜɪᴄᴀʟ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ

🗝️ ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: ᴛʜᴇᴏᴅᴏʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴇᴇᴍ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀꜱᴀʟ ᴜɴᴋɴᴏᴡɴ ꜰᴏʀᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴ ᴛᴏ ʀᴜɴ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏꜱᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴠᴇɴɪᴇɴᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴠᴜʟɴᴇʀᴀʙʟᴇ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ…

Did you believe in fate? 

No.

That may be silly, I mean, you live in a magical universe where anything is possible. Magic defies the muggle laws of nature; it’s something undetectable yet very much alive. Anything could happen. Anything you can imagine. Anything you can imagine besides being in a relationship with Theodore Nott.

Yet for some wild, unbeknownst reason, the universe seems adept in proving you wrong. 

No, you didn’t believe in fate. Until you became acquainted with him.

It started off slow and undetectable. Yes, you were aware of Theodore Nott, but you tried to stay unaware of your feelings towards him. It all started in the dingy little Potions classroom, when you were seated next to him. At first you were a bit uncomfortable as he was a popular guy and popular boys weirded you out. Always so judgmental. But Theo was quiet and calm. Always so sure of every action; every dice of the ingredients, every stir of the brew. You were a pretty sociable person and so, once you decided Nott was not so off-putting after all, you began to share a few words with each other. You treasured those little conversations in the shrouded back row of the Potions room. 

“How was the DADA test for you, Nott?”

“Hey, Nott, Is it just me, or does Snape’s hair look extra greasy today?”

“HELP THEODORE MY POTIONS ON FIRE!”

That last one was not a very fond memory, but one you could not escape. Truly, you two being the only Slytherin and Hufflepuff sat next to each other, as there was an odd amount of students from both houses in that class, was the real beginning of the universe’s meddling behavior.

With all this in mind, it was painfully obvious Theo was not interested; he never quite talked to you unless you said something first. That is why you would never delude yourself with the thought of being in a relationship with him, He was an unattainable, rare flower, such as the tiburon mariposa lily that only grows in the Ring Mountain region of California. That flower is quite vulnerable to extinction due to natural and man-made disasters. That part didn’t really apply to Nott. He wasn’t the vulnerable type…

Theo, however, fell hard and fast from the moment he first spoke with you. How could someone so passionate and awkward not catch his eye?

“It was honestly a rough test. Actually, I need a tutor for DADA..”  

But you didn’t take the hint.

“Perhaps if I gave Professor Snape my hair care routine…?”

But that didn’t earn him any hair-related compliments.

“AGUAMENTI! HOLY SHIT you’re really on fire today, huh y/l/n?”

That earned him an elbow in the rib.

The series of events that the fed up universe concocted began in none other than a little grass meadow.

As usual, you had woken up at the most ungodly hour of 5 am for the sole purpose of taking your morning stroll to a hidden meadow within the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, just behind a thicket. You were walking with your sketchpad and graphite in hand, ready to capture those jewels of the earth in the faint morning light. In your opinion, the crack of dawn is when the wildflowers shine the brightest. You sat in the grass, leaning against an old oak, beginning to sketch a particularly beautiful periwinkle flower. You were sure no one else knew about this meadow; it seemed untouched by anyone’s harsh footsteps.

Imagine your surprise when you heard the plants rustle to unveil a sleepy Theodore Nott: brown locks askew and dark circles tinged red against his pale skin, a cigarette dangling from his sleep-swollen pink lips. His light eyes slightly widen at the sight of his talkative ex Potions partner.

The silence was awkward and extended; you weren’t used to engaging in conversation in your quiet haven, but of course it was you who broke the silence anyway.

“Good morning, Nott,” you say quite hoarsely, slightly clearing your throat in embarrassment. Those were the first words you’d uttered that day.

His lip twitches, ghosting a smirk at the sound of your voice.

“Morning, y/l/n. You come here often?”

You nod saying, “It’s my morning ritual at this point.”

You nod in reply, eyes ghosting over his tired appearance as he continues, “Funny. I come here every night.”

He lets out a puff of smoke into the pure air of your precious haven, and you can’t help but subconsciously glare at the wisp of smoke. Of course, he notices and lets out a small chuckle.

“Don’t like my smoking?”

“It ruins the fresh air for the flowers and plants, Nott.”

He nods thoughtfully, finishing his cigarette.

“Don’t tell me you litter your cigarette butts all over the grass,” you frown.

“Of course not, I’m not a brute,” he laughs and fishes out a portable ash tray where he neatly tucks his cigarette remains away. After another awkward silence, he walks up to you and sits down next to you, peering at your sketch but quickly shifting his gaze away when he realizes you never gave him permission to gaze upon your works of art. You laugh as you assure him, “You can look, it’s just quick sketches.”

“Looks frame-worthy to me,” he shrugs with absolutely no hint of sarcasm or doubt in his eyes. It makes you feel flustered to the point you had to look the other way.

You decide to move the conversation over to him.

“What do you do here every night? Smoke?”

He shakes his head, saying, “As much as I like to smoke at night, I don’t here.” He pulls out a book. “I read under wand-light.”

You glance over and your eyes widen as you notice its a story you had just recently finished reading.

“The Turn of the Screw? A literary masterpiece, I just finished reading it, like, a week ago.”

He smiles, eyes warm and inviting, “I was just about to say your drawings remind me of Audrey Benjaminsen’s limited edition illustrations for this book. I’ve been trying to get my hands on a copy.”

Your eyes widen even more.

“The limited edition would be a gazillion galleons, but I suppose you’re filthy rich,” you tease.

“I mean, what better thing to spend my money on?” He smirks, pushing back a stray lock of his hair that had escaped.

“Solving world hunger, ending wars, funding cancer cure research…” you smirk.

“Ok, I’m not that rich.”

You both laughed at that and talked all morning up through the first 15 minutes of your guys’ first lessons. Laughing, you both jog to your class, the dandelions in the field spreading its tufts as you both run past. Little did you both know, it was the mutual fascination with a trail of dandelion tufts in the breeze, one in the sunlight and one in the moonlight, that brought you both to discover the meadow years ago.

While this universal push succeeded in temporarily bringing you and Theo closer, the two of you fell apart as you stopped showing up to the meadow as often due to school stress and you no longer were seated with Theo in any classes. The autumn leaves floated down and shriveled up; leaving the trees bare. The cold winds carried snow through the Hogwarts air, swirling around the iced windows. 

It was time for the winter trip to Hogsmeade and you were bundled up and ready to go with 3 jackets, long socks, leg warmers, and snow boots as you braved the cold. Your scarf tucked against your face, you walked down the snowy pathway, laughing and talking with your friends as you strode through the ice.

Theo was also walking down the pathway with his friends; zoned out of their conversation while quietly observing the falling snow. 

Fate had it that you both got distracted by a reflective light in the distance at different times, and so you both left your friends group for a second to observe this flash of light.  

You were the first to separate, and when you looked back, your friends were long gone; enveloped into the icy mist.

You shrugged and began trudging through the snow, wondering where they could’ve gone off to. Suddenly, you stumbled across a little book shop that you’d been wanting to visit, but never got time to. You slowly walked up the creaking steps and into the warm embrace of the cozy shop. It was lit by yellow candlelight, dancing over the spines of rustic books. A Christmas tree in the corner shone brightly. You began getting lost in the page-riddled haze…

Theo, likewise, separated from his group a moment after you left. He bent down to find the source of the reflective light and found nothing. He raised an eyebrow annoyedly and glanced back to find himself abandoned in the snow; not a student to be seen in this blizzard. He decided to just walk in a straight line and suddenly saw a warm glow in the muggy snow. He approached a bookshop he had never noticed before. How could he overlook such a gem? Walking in, he was met with the faint smell of cinnamon and a warm atmosphere.

After a couple minutes, you laid your eyes on a particularly gorgeous spine with engraved flowers. Of course, you’d judge a book by its cover if its cover was an absolute masterpiece. You reached out to pluck it off the shelf when you felt a force pulling it back from the other side. You furrowed your brows as this turned into a game of tug of war. 

Theo had seen that this particular book had artwork painted onto its pages. He was intrigued as to what this book could be about when suddenly he was hindered from grabbing it. Refusing to let up this competition, he pulled the book to his side, but, ultimately, failed. You and Theo’s eyes met through the hole where the book had originally been, his shining eyes crinkling as he grinned at the familiar irises of y/n. 

“Brains and brawn? Could you get any better?” He joked walking to your side of the shelf and smiling.

You laughed as you handed him the book.

“Feel free to take it, Nott”

“Don’t worry, I was just admiring the painted scene on the pages.”

 You both glance at the gorgeous book for a bit when Theo breaks the silence.

“You haven’t been to the flower clearing recently.”

“Yeah, school has me fucked up… I study too late and can’t wake up that early.”

He nods thoughtfully, glancing around at the shop.

“I think this is my new favorite place.”

“I agree..” Your eyes widen as you glance at the shelf behind him. “No way. Theodore look.” You excitedly point at a limited edition copy of The Turn of the Screw with illustrations done by Audrey Benjaminsen.

Theo looks stricken as he freezes at the sight of the copy he’d been chasing for months now. It was right there, before his eyes, tucked between other worn books. He would never have caught it in this dim light.

“Am I dreaming, y/n?” He breathes out, jaw dramatically dropped at the sight.

You playfully pinch him, laughing, “I don’t think so, Nott. Call it an early Christmas miracle.”

It was as if you and Theo shared the same safe spaces. First the meadow, now this book shop. He couldn’t help but ponder how there was always something leading him to you. Something that connected the both of you. First it was the flower field, and now this book. It was if every good thing in his life was somehow connected to you…

Theo gently holds the book and observes it in the light, but he found his new revelation of you far more fascinating. He always knew he adored you, and it just so happened that fate agreed. They were constantly being pushed together; given every oppurtunity to confess their feelings. Their fear overshadowed them. Maybe it was time to stop being so fearful. 

Theo noticed you gazing at the book in awe, and smiled gently.

“Would you like to look over it with me over some butterbeer?”

Your eyes snap up at him, surprised at his question. This was the first time Theo had shown any interest in going out of his way to spend time with you. Despite the lingering cold, you blushed down to the roots of your hair.  

“I’d love to..”

He grinned, shadows dancing on his carved face. The invisible string was brighter now, wrapping around their very beings, no longer neglected.

“It’s a date.”

[ddejavvu]

Animagus reader and Sirius playing in their animal forms and Sirius accidentally being a little too rough since his form is obviously a lot bigger? He’s super apologetic and while the damage isn’t a big deal at all, reader is like “… I guess this means you owe me a lot of sweater cuddles and to carry me in your bag..” to milk it LOL

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8

--

Sirius curses the fact that he'd chosen to bound over the grounds with you instead of staying hidden in the shadows of the forest. It means that when his massive form crashes down on top of you after you nip at his front paw, that neither of you can immediately transform to assess the damage. You're in full view of the castle and the accompanying grounds, and he has to fight every urge in his body not to give himself away and shift back at your pained yelp.

He panics, cycles through fight and flight and decides neither will do, then ever-so-gently takes the scruff of your neck between his teeth. He's painstakingly careful, whining apologetically in his throat as he secures you in his maw and bolts for the forest. You haven't made any further outcries, not even when his grip on you had shifted your position, and Sirius takes it to mean that he hasn't maimed you too badly. He still doesn't feel good about it, though, and his paws beat roughly over the earthen forest as he searches for a place to hide.

When he's carried you well within the sprawling confines of the forest he lowers his head to the ground, setting you gently on the mossy dirt.

When you don't immediately transform back, your eyes scanning the trees for potential onlookers, he nudges you with his wet snout, snuffling softly against your fur. It's safe.

You let your transformation seize you, limbs cracking though there's no accompanying pain, and fur retracting and morphing into soft, smooth skin. You wind up splayed over the forest floor and quickly right yourself so that your back is against the tree, and Sirius completes his own transformation only seconds later.

His eyes are round and shining with worry, and you marvel at how he's able to pull such perfect puppy dog eyes even after shedding his canine form. He scans you for visible injuries, lips trembling slightly as he asks, "Darling, are you okay?"

"My wrist hurts," You observe, voice pinched in pain as you raise it. There's a slight ache there, nothing that a day of use won't shake away, but Sirius takes it between his fingers like it's shattered glass that he's afraid might cut him.

"I'm sorry!" He gushes, inspecting the skin there like it might just give up and split in two, "Darling, I'm sorry, I didn't- I didn't mean to hurt you. Are you- is it okay? Do we need to go to the hospital wing?"

You flex it in his grip, once, twice, and already the slight pain eases. You shake your head, but he perceives it as an answer for the wrong question, and his eyes light further with a flaming worry.

"No, I'm- it's okay, Sirius." You assure him, brows still furrowed together at the middle, "I don't need the hospital."

"Are you sure?" He verifies, a nervous glimmer still sullying his handsome features. You nod, twisting your wrist in his grip to take hold of one of his hands, squeezing it reassuringly.

"Yeah, I'm sure," You nod, shifting your legs to plant your heels against the ground, "Help me up?"

He scrambles to fulfil your request, hauling you to your feet and right into his arms. He holds you against his chest, touch excruciatingly gentle against your skin.

"You're sure you're okay?" He asks, and for a third time, you nod.

"Yes, Sirius," You laugh, planting your face into the seam of his button-up, "Yes, I'm okay. It only hurt for a second. I just twisted it or something. It's fine, I'm fine, we're fine."

"Okay." He smooths a hand up your back, nodding along to your repetitive reassurances, "Okay. I'm sorry."

"It's alright," You hum, wishing you were back in your feline form as you press your face into his chest. It's more soothing then, and you can hear the beat of his heart much clearer when you're a cat.

"You gotta make it up to me, though." You muse expectantly, and his arms stiffen around you, "Three whole days of carrying me in your bag without complaining."

"Three?" He asks incredulously, "One! Two, if you're lucky. Three is for hospital wing patients."

"Ah, my wrist," You feign injury, slumping against his chest as he fills the forest with the sound of his deep laughter, "Sirius, hospital wing, stat!"

[sonamytrash]

Temptress

An: As usual, I don't have anything to say for myself. I started this off quite enchanted and romantic, and it turned to filth pretty quickly.

Warnings: Pure smutty filth, public sex, outdoor sex, poor tree, fingering, dirty talk, multiple orgasm, squirting, creampie, unprotected sex, name calling, dom Levi, daddy is used, female anatomy described, porn with plot, but mostly porn. MDNI.

The air was thick with the musky scent of damp earth and the crisp tang of pine needles as Levi made his way through the dense woodland, the sunlight filtering through the canopy above, casting long, dappled shadows over the forest floor.

A light breeze rustled the leaves, carrying with it the sweet scent of newly bloomed flowers. In the distance, the gentle murmur of a nearby stream provided a soothing background score to this picturesque scene. It was in this serene setting that Levi Ackerman found himself, taking a shortcut through the woods as he made his way back from a nearby town where he'd been to buy tea. Suddenly, he heard a rustling in the bushes nearby. Curious, he carefully crept closer, peering through the foliage. There, hidden among the undergrowth, he spotted you, one of the scouts' medics. You were clad in a blush pink dress, your hair loose and flowing down your back, catching the golden rays of the sun. You seemed to be engrossed in your task, humming softly to yourself crouched down, carefully plucking plants from the ground.

You smiled to yourself, your hands expertly weaving through the dense undergrowth. The woods were your sanctuary. You knew every nook and cranny, every hidden path and secret grove. It was here that you found solace from the chaos of the world beyond the trees.

Having studied medicinal plants since you were young, and now, as a member of the scouts medical team, you were able to put your knowledge to good use.

The fabric of your dress was cool against your skin, a welcome relief from the muggy air. You bent down to pluck a particularly plump-looking leaf, your movements graceful and fluid.

You paused for a moment, listening intently to the sounds of the forest. The rustling of leaves, the chirping of birds, the gentle sigh of the breeze. It was a symphony that only nature could compose, and you found yourself lost in its beauty.

Levi cleared his throat, making his presence known. Startled, you looked up at him with wide, expressive eyes. "Ah, Levi," you said, her cheeks flushing slightly, "I didn't hear you." You glanced back at your collection, clearly torn between finishing what you were doing and attending to the stoic, dark-haired figure standing before you.

"What are you doing out here?" Levi asked, his voice low and curious. He leaned against a nearby tree, crossing his arms over his chest. You stood up, brushing the dirt from your knees, straightening out your dress as you smiled sheepishly. "Just collecting some medicinal plants," you replied, gesturing to your collection.

Levi arched an eyebrow, amused by your reaction. "I couldn't help but wonder what kind of strange animal might be lurking around in the bushes." he teased, stepping closer. A smirk crept across your lips. "Oh, you know, just the type of weird animal that spends their day's off in the dirt."

There was an awkward silence as you both took in each other's presence. You felt your cheeks flush again, remembering the flirtatious banter that you often shared. Always tethering on the edge of something more. But never had you been alone like this before, away from the eyes and ears of the scouting headquarters.

Levi, on the other hand, couldn't help but notice the way the sunlight danced across your shoulders, and your breasts filled the dress you had chosen to wear highlighting the soft curves of your body, a welcome change from the usual scouts uniform. He cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "So, did you find everything you needed?"

You nod, your eyes not leaving his. "Yes, I think so. Thanks for asking." You shifted your weight from one foot to the other as you tried to climb back up the rockery, not entirely sure how you managed to get down there in the first place. "You're not out here just to chat. Are you, Levi?" You gave him a playful smile, trying to break the tension.

Amused, Levi didn’t return your smile, but his expression softened. "No, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You know, in case there were any other weird animals around." He teases, reaching his hand out to you for assistance.

You felt a thrill run through you at his touch as he effortlessly pulled you up. "Nope, just me," you teased, your voice a little breathless. Your final step closed the small distance between the two of you, as you laid a hand on his chest for support. The contact sent a wave of heat through your body, and you could feel the strong muscles and steady beat of his heart beneath your palm, "And I'm fine." You assured him.

Levi looked down at your hand on his chest, his own hand curling gently around your waist to support you. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. You raise your eyes to meet his, your gazes locked, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The air between them seemed to crackle with an almost palpable energy, and time seemed to stand still.

No, you were not okay. You were never okay around this man.

Levi's grip on your waist tightened ever so slightly, drawing you closer still. Your heart racing. You could feel the warmth of his body, the strength in his arms, and it made you want to be even closer.

"I'm sure," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the rustling leaves. You could see the desire flickering in Levi's eyes. It was a look you had seen many times before, and it sent a shiver down your spine. You knew what was coming, and you wanted it. You wanted him.

He took note of your features. Delicate and beautiful, but there was something wild about you, too. Something untamed. You seemed to be waiting for him, and he could feel his heart racing with anticipation.

"You've been waiting for this, haven't you?" he asked, his voice low and steady despite the pounding of his heart.

You smiled at him. The expression on your face was both mischievous and enchanting. "Maybe I have, haven't you too?" you replied, tilting your head to the side. His hand reached out, gently brushing against your cheek, and you instinctively leaned into his touch, closing your eyes for a moment. "Tch, don't get cocky, brat." his fingers further ghost along the side of your face as he tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "I may be a man, but I still have control over my urges." his gaze smoulders with a hint of barely restrained desire. "Though I admit. You make it damn difficult sometimes."

With a gentle nudge, he guided you backwards until your back was pressed against the rough bark of a tree.

He leans in, your breaths mingling as his lips brush against your own.

You gasp, your hands finding their way to his shoulders. Your lips were soft and yielding beneath his, and he could feel you respond to his touch, your body moving in time with his. He deepened the kiss, his tongue darting out to explore the sweetness of your mouth, and you moaned in response, your fingers tangling in his hair.

He reached around, his hand finding the softness of your backside, and he squeezed, pulling you closer still. You arched your back, pressing yourself against him, your hips grinding together desperately.

You broke the kiss, gasping for air, and looked up at him with eyes that were now dark with need. Your hands moved over his chest, his shoulders tracing the lines of his muscles, feeling the tautness of his skin. "I want you," Levi rasps, his voice thick with desire. His hooded eyes roam hungrily over your form. "Right here, right now." His calloused hands slide down to caress your curves, igniting sparks of pleasure. "I can't wait any longer." He kisses your neck and nips his way lower until he reaches the valley between your breasts. With a growl, he pulls the fabric loose, freeing your flesh from the confines of your dress. He cups your breasts in his hands, feeling the weight of them, the warmth that emanated from your skin. He takes one nipple between his lips, sucking gently, teasing it with his tongue while rolling the other one between his fingers. You arch your back, hips grinding against him, your fingers tangled in his hair. "Levi," you moaned, your voice dripping with desire.

He watched as you lowered your eyes, taking in the hardness of him through his pants before meeting his gaze again. "Then take me, Captain." You reply, and with a slow, deliberate motion, reaching down to free him from his trousers. You let out a moan at the sight of him, his gorgeous cock, hot and twitching in your hand.

Levi's breath hitches as you free his throbbing erection as his grip on your waist tightens. "You're a fucking temptress, you know that?." he growls, pressing you harder against the tree. He reluctantly leaves your nipple and captures your lips in another hungry kiss, his hips instinctively bucking into your touch. One hand continues to caress your plump breast while the other slides beneath your dress, teasing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

Pulling away briefly, he murmurs against your lips, "You're going to be the death of me," His voice is thick with want. "Humanities strongest soldier, reduced to this by a fucking siren. Tsk." With that, he spins you around, pinning you firmly against the tree, hiking up the skirt of your dress, his hard length presses insistently against your backside as his nimble fingers work to divest you of your undergarments, a satisfied smirk painted accross your lips the entire time. "But what a way to go." He relishes the feeling of the heat of your skin and the dampness between your legs. You gasped, your hips moving restlessly against his hand.

He bunches your dress up around your waist, revealing the curve of your rear. "And what a tempting sight," he murmurs, his hands caressing your supple flesh, parting your folds with his fingers, teasing you and circling your sensitive bud. You cry out, hips bucking against his hand. He presses one and then two fingers inside you, feeling your tight, wet cunt. You were so ready for him, so desperate for release. He slides his fingers in and out of you, in time with his thumb, circling your clit, as you moaned and writhed beneath him, your hands gripping the bark of the tree. Levi's fingers curl inside you, stroking all of the right spots. A guttural groan escapes his lips as he feels your silken walls clenching around his digits.

Your body arched, your back bowed as his name spilt from your mouth, and then you came, your voice shattering the tranquillity of the woods. Your muscles spasmed around his fingers, and your breath came in ragged gasps as the pleasure coursed through you. Levi's eyes flash with wicked delight at your wanton display.

"You have no idea what you're in for, pet." He growls, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your neck as you catch your breath. "I'm going to ruin you for anyone else."

Slowly, inch by agonizing inch, he sinks his cock into your slick heat, stretching and filling you deliciously. Your body still sensitive from your first orgasm. His hands grip your hips tightly, holding you in place as he hilts himself fully. "Levi!" You cry throwing your head back.

"Fuck, yes," he groans, pausing momentarily to allow you to adjust to his impressive girth. Then, with a sharp snap of his hips, he begins to pound into you relentlessly, "That's it, let me hear those delicious sounds."

A guttural moan escapes his lips at the sensation of your velvety walls enveloping him. He fills you completely, stretching and satisfying your aching need as you moan loudly for him.

Bracing his hands firmly around your hips, he begins to thrust into you with deep, powerful strokes, his hips snapping forward with a primal urgency. "You feel so fucking good," he growls through ragged breaths mingle with your desperate moans, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the air around you. "So hot and tight around my cock."

He sets a hard, relentless pace, pounding into you against the tree. His mouth latches onto the delicate skin of your shoulder, sucking and nipping, determined to mark you as his. One hand snakes up to knead your heavy breast as they bounce and slap one another from his assault. His other hand clutches your backside, pulling you flush against him with every powerful thrust.

"Levi...it feels so good," you mewl, He leans forward, his chest pressing against your back as he grunts with each powerful thrust. "That's right, keep saying my name with that pretty little mouth." he commands, his voice rough with lust.

His hand snakes from your breast to your clit, stroking it in time with his ruthless thrusts.

"You feel so fucking good, taking my cock like this," his breath hot against the back of your neck. His teeth graze the sensitive skin there, no doubt leaving his mark. Levi's pace becomes increasingly frantic as he drives into you, his hips snapping sharply. Each powerful thrust elicits a wanton moan from your lips, driving his lust even higher.

He slams into you with bruising force, his hips snapping against your rear with each powerful thrust. The pressure and friction is delicious, and he can feel your walls fluttering around his throbbing shaft.

You arched your back, crying out his name as you came, your body shuddering with release. He continues to thrust into you relentlessly, feeling your body relax and then tense again with each thrust, your wet heat enveloping him as he continues to apply pressure to your clit expertly allowing you to ride out your orgasm. And then, just as you thought it couldn't possibly get any better, you felt it building again as you allowed the overstimulation to consume you, a second wave, and with it, the rush of hot liquid that trickled down your legs leaving you breathless and astonished as you moaned breathlessly beneath him, you inner walls desperate to milk his cock. Levi felt the fluid spill over his hand and smirked, bringing his fingers to his lips to taste your essence, "Dirty fucking girl," he says with a groan of pleasure, "I don't think you even knew you could do that." He comments seductively as he his thrusts grew more frenzied, his hips slapping against your ass with an urgency that left you both gasping for breath. "Give daddy one more." As he reaches down to rub your clit again, you mewl at the contact of his wet, slippery fingers returning to circle the already sensitive nub. He feels your body quickly contract around him, your muscles gripping him in a vice-like hold again. You felt yourself losing control, tears of pleasure streaming down your cheeks, "Don't stop, daddy please" you mewled, the words effortlessly rolling from your lips. With a loud cry, your body convulsed, your muscles tensing as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. "Fuck, that's it. Milk my cock dry." His thumb circles your swollen clit as he chases his own release. Consumed with feral satisfaction at the sight of your debauched state. "You're such a good slut for daddy." With a final few deep thrusts, Levi buries himself to the hilt, spilling his seed deep inside, moaning your name as empties himself into you.He holds you flush against him, painting your walls with his hot, thick cum.

Levi's chest heaves as he catches his breath, his grip on your hips unwavering. "Tch, look at the mess we've made," He gazes down at you with a glint in his eyes. "But I have to admit, it's a sight I quite enjoy." 

You blush furiously at the events that have just unfolded. Your sweat-slicked bodies pressed together, hearts racing, and your breaths coming in ragged gasps. Your grip on the tree had turned your knuckles white as you turned to meet his gaze. "Guess I'm not the only animal around here."

[threepandas]

Bad End: Royal Red

Have you ever seen blood BURN like the sun?

I'm not even sure "burn" is the right word for it. Writhe? Scream? HATE? Like a standing on a cliff, staring down at a valley consumed in flames. Old forests full of life... burning. Dying. Wrong.

The sky choked with thick black smoke. Tar-like and staining. The ROAR of it. Moisture ripped so utterly from the air, it hurts to breathe. Heat so absolute as it rises... you can not imagine there was ever, EVER life here.

But there was.

And it was once beautiful.

Ancient and green, bird song and morning mist. Moss beneath bare feet and the gentle quiet that is no quiet at all. A thing ALIVE. Breathing. Whole. Now gone beneath the flame. The carnage and hunger. As animals flee for their lives and your men die, desperate to hold back the all consuming spread.

Nothing but FIRE remains.

But have you seen BLOOD burn? The weeping wounds of a soul? The... WRONGNESS inside a man, catch light? A shade of ever overlapping crimson. Drying blood somehow just as fluid as the fresh. Old wounds and new. Somewhere, the depth of scars...

BURNING.

I have.

I do.

I wish I did not.

There is something... WRONG with his Highness. Now, the Crown Prince. He... He HAD brothers. Some were awful, others indifferent. But all of them? All of them are gone. Terrible accidents, allegedly. One after another. And they were NOT the only one's. Consorts, lovers, mistresses and supporters. Allies and anyone unfortunate enough to be in his Highness' way.

But of course, I can prove nothing. And to SUGGEST such a thing? That would be Treason. Defamation of a Royal. That it is TRUE? Holds no bearing. Is utterly irrelevant. Even if I HAD had the proper training, even I'd my Gifts WERE formally recognized, ultimately? Politics is King.

It's not supposed to be. But when has life ever been so kind? When has "supposed to" EVER won the day? No. Such talk gets men killed. And dying once? Was quite enough for me.

Though I HAD to wonder...

How does a Protagonist fuck up SO BADLY, that they somehow send their Hidden Route target, into an empire conquering, murder spiral? That's not "a few bad choices" levels of making a mistake. THAT'S? Damn near deliberate sabotage and I just wanna talk. Violently.

I WOULD too, if I wasn't pretty certain they were either on the run or in exile.

All I had wanted? ALL I HAD EVER WANTED?? Was to just be set dressing. Soldier A, the unimportant background gaurd. A nice, faceless, grunt. Maybe chat with my equals of plot significance, a potted plant and yonder chair. Then? I could take my pay, go home, and live quietly.

But NO!

I get stationed following the Seventh prince. Mr. Hidden Route himself. Which? Okay, fine. Was HOPING for gate duty, cause NOTHING happens on gate duty, but FINE. But THEN? Half my co-workers are ASSHOLES. Like... child abusing assholes! The FUCK?!

So? Oops. Accident on the stairs! Whoops! Lemme help you there, man. Oh? Did I ACCIDENTALLY crush the hand you used to hit that kid? Golly! Gee, I sure hope the healers can fix that for you! (I fucking know they both can't and wouldn't if they could. You can't afford SHIT.) Lemme HELP you there, AGAIN, BUUUUUDDY~☆!

Threatening you? Why I would NEVER! That's illegal!

You know... like hitting kids.

And OTHER shit they try to pull. Never DID get around to updating my Gaurd Forms. Whoops. Turns out being able to literally SEE the malicious intent on a fucker? Makes it pretty easy to know who to watch. DID get jumped a lot though. Stabbed a few times.

I just? Wanted to watch my favorite Otome game play out, you know? Get payed while doing it. Sunk cost fallacy kicked in. I've been here since I was a PRE-TEEN. Signed up for training, a ten year contract, and everything! I can LEAVE now... but like? Go WHERE? And honestly... I'm not actually sure I CAN.

Things are... Tense.

Or maybe they're just tense for me? 'Cause... Cause something isn't right. It's that burning blood color. The way it fills a room. Reaches, covetous, like staining hands. Writhes and drags itself against everything. Something unholy, between a lustful grind and the dragging of the wounded. It's not even demonic. No... somehow? It's WORSE for being utterly human.

There is something deeply wrong with the man I am sworn to obey, and I do not know how to escape him.

Because I definitely SHOULD.

I'm not stupid. He's been... been keeping me, SPECIFICALLY, close at hand, since becoming Crown Prince. The SECOND he was able to assign his OWN gaurds? I am suddenly honor gaurd. Yet not. I have basically no job but to stab just behind and to the side of him and look pretty. (For the given quality of THAT.) And...? Even the other gaurds are looking nervous.

It's NEVER a good thing when powerful people suddenly pay attention to an individual gaurd, servant, or maid. They tend to end up... hurt. Dead. Worse. And given recent behavior? Well... I've been getting offers to quietly arrange an "accident" for me.

Not so sure it won't get everyone involved killed.

He wasn't always LIKE this. Yeah, he was... different, but it wasn't BAD. Just... off. A bit weird. A color I hadn't seen before and couldn't for the life of me figure out. It had been... well, nothing. Not even grey. I KNOW grey, it's apathy or depression. Emotional flatness.

But his Highness? Like mist. The lite distortion of water droplets. Colorless and near weightless, drifting gently along. It was as though he DIDNT have emotional responses to anything. Not even flat. Just... non-existant. Which? If so? That's okay! Really. Takes all types. Something to NOTE, yeah, maybe accommodate? But fine.

It's not like there were psychiatric meds or doctors we could get for him. If he was different, so be it. We just had to work around that. Plan accordingly. Worst case scenario, maybe keep him away from small breakable things. But? He seemed benign. I shrugged and moved on. Accepted him as he was.

Maybe went out of my way to explain things with logic more then feelings. Even when I WAS explaining feelings. Ethics. Pretty much anything else he asked. Which... wait a second...

Fuck.

A nameless gaurd SHOULD NOT know that much about psychology or politics. Economics on the macro or micro scale. Oh god DAMN it Wikipedia! You betray me a lifetime away?! Et Tu random research binges!?

Okay. Okay! So maaaaybe? THATS why he's keeping me close? Cause yeah, I'm pretty stacked these days. No internet kinda leaves nothing BUT time to train and read... and books are kinda hard to get, at my level. So like? Maybe a second set of eyes?

....doesn't feel right though. Close but missing the obvious mark-ish.

I try to think of my interactions with the prince. BEFORE murder-spiral kick-off. He sought me out a lot. I interfered so many times when his Tutors crossed lines, they got me kicked out of the main building. He started skipping lessons to self-study. I got put on patrol? He learned my patrol schedule. Would invade the gaurd mess.

Got punished for that, I think. Vicious cycle. I get punished, he gets upset, wants to make sure I'm okay, I get punished for his basic empathy and being a kid. They kept reassigning me. I got stabbed that first time. Sent too...

Wait.

I try to pull up what I know of the Game in my brain. The Hidden Route and the other Routes. We are.... WAY off script. Not off GENRE... just...?

Mentally I set the Game aside. Shifting in my guarding position at the Crown Prince's side. He continues to work. The soft rustle of papers and the scratching of his pen, filling the silence along side the clink and shift of my armor. We are in the sun room, surrounded by flowers, supposedly for the better light.

To be honest, I hadn't ever BEEN in this room until I was basicly expected to tail the Crown Prince like a glorified, armor wearing, pet. And too be honest? Given that the REST of his honor gaurd were ACTUAL KNIGHTS? It was well beyond ridiculous at this point.

I was a club bouncer surrounded by elite special forces, in fancy little armor, that I could in NO way, have ever afforded on my own. Oh, and I wasn't really allowed to talk to them. So... WHY? Why, EXACTLY, was I here? There was no realistic way anything could get PASSED all those knights. I certainly wasn't PROTECTING the Crown Prince from SHIT.

And... and he hadn't attacked me, thank God. No touchy hands "service to the crown" shtick. Demanding things I couldn't refuse him. So THAT wasn't it...

Right?

My brain insisted it wasn't. That I should keep going over the list of possible reasons. Consider This or That. But... Something in my gut? Rang like a struck bell. Some non-physical part of me. That peice that twined, like gentle golden ivy, up through my body, too wrap around my eyes from the inside. Not enough, maybe, to get me into some high and mighty school or apprenticeship... but ENOUGH.

Because Magic was, is, and always has been? Divine. For all that HUMANS fail while using it. For every MORTAL error in it's implementing or understanding. It's a drop of the Divine. And? You can not LIE to the Gods. Hide, perhaps, but not LIE. Even then, you'd have to know what you're hiding FROM.

Kinda hard to hide from "using past life knowledge to deduce motivation" when that's not exactly a thing people can easily guess I HAVE. I get away with shit. Know things I really shouldn't.

Am.... am desperately trying to convince myself that the twinge I just felt? DOESN'T mean what I think it means. Even as a cold sweat breaks out over my skin. As I desperately keep my expression placid and my stare straight into the middle distance. Ha ha.... oh god. No no no, oh god, no...!

Okay. OKAY! Lying to yourself will NOT keep you safe! We can do this! Nothing is happening. We just... just have to play it cool. NOT. PANIC.

He DID want us for sexual reasons.

But... more? More, maybe. I poke at the feeling. Try to frame my thoughts as absolute statement as see if I get a twinge again. To get a feel for the edges of whatever is happening. I can not protect myself, if I do not KNOW from what I protect AGAINST. Just sex? No. Was I a convenience choice? Also No. Revenge for something? A sudden certainty that I'd be DEAD if it was.

Oh, THATS not concerning at ALL!

Okay, keep prodding. Uuuuh... He has a thing for big muscle-y dudes with scars? Strong yes. Okay! Getting somewhere! Kinda thought he liked the petite, girly girl-ish typ-? Weirdly hollow No? Strong. Okay, what the FUCK. See THIS? THIS is why I wanted to be a fucking GAURD. No weird Protagonist of any adventures bullshit! Just a 9-5 with a paycheck at the end!

Uuuugh. Okay, soooo... likes? Strong dudes.... and I was the closest? No. Okay! Getting somewhere! Other strong dude... isn't available? Yes, but I am looking at it wrong. Great. At least I know what that feeling MEANS. Still wish it would just follow up with a "and btw, here's the answer~☆" but, fuck no! Why would life make anything EASY for a guy?

Fuck it! Random shit at the wall time. He's definitely in love with the Protagonist? No. Wait, really? Then why...? No. Stay on track. He's in definitely in love with ME? I wait, utterly expectant, for the twinge that will mark a negative. Half cursing myself for not checking with the Divine sooner. There had been no excuse. Distractions, yes, but no excuse.

It feels like getting sucker punched in the gut. HARD.

Takes everything in me, not to wheeze and double over. That... that wasn't a "yes". That was so FAR beyond "yes" I'm not sure there are spoken, written, or even conceptual WORDS for it. As absolute a CONCEPT of Yes as I have ever felt or probably ever will.

It... It did NOT feel good.

That was a WARNING.

Like the Gods them selves had taken me by the back of the neck, stepped close, to whisper in my ear as they drove their fist into my gut. "Pay Attention To This. RUN. You Need To RUN. There Are Monsters Here."

My eyes feel like they are burning. Like I haven't blinked in too long. Colors a bit too bright, details too sharp. The edges of reality cutting like splintering, glittering, glass. Everything has a GLOW to it. It's never done that before. Is... is this panic? Fight or Flight forcing me to draw deeper then I ever have before?

Or are the Gods paying attention? Displeased by what they see?

The room around us is... is so quiet. Beautiful. Rare flowers, teeming with life. Decorative and pampered little song birds, flitting from roost to roost. The rich scent of rare tea and expensive cologne, mixing with armor polish and the scent of green, living things. Sunlight makes his Highness' hair glow like it was made of it. Pale gold and filled with light.

If I could not SEE... his Highness would be beautiful.

But I can, and instead? He's terrifying.

I think I'm shaking. I don't understand. The room around me picturesque. Peaceful. Golden and filled with gently beautiful things. Light. It feels mocking. Paper thin. Like some cruel trap laid out over a pit of tar. As though, like in the cartoons of my old childhood, the INSTANT I become aware... acknowledge the reality of my ACTUAL surroundings?

The paper thin veneer will rip, no longer able to hold my weight, and I will be plunged into the horrors just beneath the lie.

How.... HOW did-?! I... I CAN'T-!

I put everything I am, into letting nothing show. E-Everything is FINE. Do not turn around. Please. Please, Gods, do not notice me or turn around! I breathe. Breathe. Can't do nothing now, but breathe. Panic is the mind killer. I remind myself of that. People do stupid things, when they act in panic. Think. THINK! Plan. THEN act! Breathe.

How? HOW did this happen? Trace it back. Find the source and we can... can maybe unhook the noose. Fix this? Escape? Run and keep running. Find the edge of the map and keep going. Where did it...? My brain, maybe my magic, finally takes pity. Connects the wires that have long been JUST missing each other. My mental list of Genre Troupes. My history with the Prince.

The blood drains from my face.

Oh fuck. Shit! Oh fuck, oh SHIT. Yandere. He was a YANDERE hidden route character! Wasn't he!? It's the only thing that makes sense with the-! No, no, he should still-! But, wait. No. No, no, NO. Oh god! I pulled a combo attack. "Childhood best friend" even though we WEREN'T. I was basically the closest in age to him! AND the only non-asshole! So that's "Different From The Others"!

Oh mother FUCKER, I pulled a "Only One Who Cares About Me" while SERVING him! His fucked up little squirrel brain would have taken that as "belonged to him" only to have me "taken away" when I was assigned elsewhere! Every time I kept someone from ABUSING him, I was making it WORSE. Every time they reassigned me, somebody was "trying to take me away"!

Oh sweet merciful FUCK, I got STABBED!

No WONDER he lost his absolute shit! He was unhinged to begin with! But instead of latching on to Protagonist and being HER problem, he latched on to ME! Why did no one warn me he was-!? Actually, I have no idea. Non-Just-Straight?! That! One of the THAT! Like FUCK I'm asking! He'd think it was an invitation, probably!

Because he NUCKING FUTS! Squirrels in the brain! Def Con OH SHIT!!

Yandere! Shit! I'm gonna di-!

"Something's upset you." The crown prince's surprisingly deep voice says, breaking the silence. I flinch. "I can feel your magic moving. An attack, perhaps? Or is someone saying something they should not."

He... oh, great, amazing! He can FEEL my magic. The magic INSIDE me body. That magic. Yeah, I don't feel stripped naked and on display AT ALL. Thanks! Definitely not invasive, your Highness! Still, I have to answer. Carefully. Very, VERY carefully.

He hums, disbelieving, as I reply. Lifting his pen and setting it aside. A graceful hand lifts. The mere flick of his fingers. "Move" it means. "Come where I can see you". Imperious and royal. Casual in it's assumed control of me. Why would he believe anything else, after all? He IS a prince. The CROWN Prince. Future KING.

He DOES own me.

I keep my breathing even. Keep my hands from visually shaking by tightening my grip on my spear. Even, professional, steps. Forward. Turn. Face your ruler. Your BETTER. No eye contact. Even breathing and eyes to the horizon. You are a statue. Just... just be a statue. No thoughts. You can do this.

It doesnt help. I can FEEL those pale, pale eyes. Striking and blue. Rare flower petals or glacier ice, they have been called. Compared to all sorts of haunting things. The Crown Prince is a beautiful man. That dangerous sort of pale beauty, that make for excellent portraits, of bright and holy things. That fools the eyes into thinking surely, SURELY the soul before your is Good. Trustworthy.

How could anything so beautiful be DANGEROUS?

Be corrupted and insane? A killer. A madman.

A MONSTER.

I stand at attention. Where he can observe me. His little toy soilder. Kept like a PET, I know realize, and try not to feel like I am being picked apart. Like a mouse in some tigers cage. The far wall sure is fascinating. Mmmmhmm. Very... very wall-like. Glass and artfully arranged flowering vines. Very pretty. What a wall! Ten stars for wall-ness.

The near silent shift of fine fabrics. A tap. Nail on high grade armor alloy. Just the smallest of sounds that nonetheless seems deafening. I barely stop myself from jerking back in alarm. Can't prevent my gaze from snapping downwards. To the arm outstretched, the elegant hand curled, the well manicured finger nail on the single outstretched finger... that has placed itself right over my heart. I freeze, utterly.

"You're getting nervous, aren't you? Growing uncertain. I've been so busy planning ahead, I've forgotten the here and now, haven't I?" He muses. That finger I should not be able to feel, that somehow feels like a knife trailed along my skin, glides slowly down. A meandering path down towards my belt. "I've neglected you."

The finger hooks into my belt. I am dragged forward a few stumbling steps with a deceptively strong tug. There is significant muscle, hidden by the almost waifish cut of his Highness daily wear. The eyes watching for my reaction are predatory. Intent. It was as though there should be fangs, in that pleasant, politician's grin...

"My steadfast knight, warrior of my heart, you've been so patient for me... so LOYAL." He rolled the word across his tongue as he said it, eyes locked on me with the sort of interest hunter keep, more a sigh then a word. Somehow.. Somehow the concept became OBSCENE, once in his hands. "So good for me. Even after all this time. Soon, Dearest. Soon we won't have to hide. I promise."

I had NEVER been a knight. Not even CLOSE to qualified for the training. Not even a single branch, magical or otherwise. Worse? I knew for a FACT? We had never, not ONCE, been lovers. No stolen glances. No fumbling youthful hands. No "hey, let's explore this closet!". Nothing. I? Had been studiously professional, if a decent human being.

This was ALL him.

What narrative had he painted in his head?

My heart pounds. My brain somehow both gibbering hysteria and unnatural calm. I... I think I may be disassociating. But all I can think, all I KNOW, is that I can NOT, Under ANY Circumstances, break the illusion. Do NOT argue. Why YES, deeply insane FUTURE KING, I DO love you so VERY much! Hey, don't mind me, just left the phone running. Gonna go for a walk. Buy some milk.

I watch, pleasant service industry smile feeling plastic on my face, as he leans forward. Rests his head against my armored chest, as though we were lovers. Just stealing a quite little moment alone. His hand slides along my belt, fingers hooked into it, the brush of his knuckles feeling far filthier then any groping hand. I can HEAR him breathing me in.

Obscene. How is he making such chaste contact so deeply obscene? He let's out a pleased hum and I want a shower.

"Kneel for me?" So soft I almost don't catch it, it takes a moment to register the words. This time, I can not stop myself from tensing. I know he feels it, but can not bring myself to care. "Shhhh shh shh, none of this, my Darling. To your knees before your King. Sweetheart, my dearest. You're going to be serving me there for the rest of our lives. It's okay. Your King won't rush you. He knows how shy you are. How nervous."

W-Well THAT wasn't treason! At ALL! Ha ha...! Oh god.

Hands at my waist. When did the other one-?! I'm shaking. Smile. D-dont set him off. This is fine. I... I shouldn't be ABLE to feel their heat, through my armor. Somehow I do. I want to back up. If I got to do this? At least let me-!

But, no. Pressure. Hands on my hips dragging me down, watching eyes expectant. In stops and starts... like a seizing automaton, my knees bend. Down I go... I guess.

Almost instantly, there are hands unbuckling my helmet. Sliding it off. Stealing it away. Fingers slide through my hair. Cup my cheek. A thumb running itself across my mouth. The prince seemed to loom. Hungry as he stared down at me.

"Beautiful. My loyal knight is so, SO beautiful. I am going to give us the world. Take what is ours. No one will EVER hurt us again, Dearest. I will keep you forever. Dress you in armor and roses. Mine and mine alone."

There was madness in his eyes. Obsession. Is...is that what that color meant? That burning, terrible blood? It's too late. Oh god, it's too late for that to help me. I smile. Do not argue. Fear and fear and fear. I have to get out. On my knees, it is a terrible view of what's to come, should I fail. The Games's utterly fucked. I no longer care.

I have to get out.

The King, after all, has gotten sick lately.

[sparkly-scales]

My name Sounds so good rolling off your tongue -Tav (Reader) X Gale

My name sounds so good on your lips

ObsidianRose96

Summary:

Gale stumbles upon Tav during some "Alone time"

Notes:

It's not a super long story but I think it'll sate those smutty cravings you guys have. Besides, we need some more smutty Gale content. Enjoy!

Work Text:

The night is quiet as you sneak away from camp. The thought of having a private moment to yourself excites you as you go to your new favorite little spot, hidden beneath the veil of foliage that covers the woods. It’s your new sacred place. A sanctuary amongst the turmoil that you’ve recently been thrust into. A place where you come to think, to vent, to cry, and more recently, a place where you come to indulge in pleasure. 

And that’s what you would be doing tonight. It had been a while since you had gotten the chance to slip your hand between your thighs and the thought excited you. So much so that your body was trembling just thinking about what was to come. You were eager, perhaps a little too eager, as you crept through the woods, far away from your companions so that they wouldn’t have to hear the lewd cries that would most certainly escape from your lips. 

It isn’t long before you come across your spot. It’s absolutely beautiful tonight. Fireflies dimly light the surrounding area as they buzz around, the flowery smell of a nearby angel trumpet plant permeates the air with a most delightful scent, and the night sky, while not fully visible under the canopy of foliage, is incredible. The northern lights dance in the sky amongst the stars and planets in the most beautiful shades of greens, blues, and violets. It’s as if this night had been created solely for you. 

You begin to undress yourself before laying on a soft pillow of grass. And then you begin, slipping your fingers between your thighs, softly trailing your fingers around your sensitive little clit, teasing yourself before you begin to rub the pads of your fingers in slow circles around that sensitive little bud of nerves. You had no idea how lovely you looked like this as you began to unravel yourself. The sound of your soft little moans and sharp breaths filled the air with the most beautiful ambience. You were so lost in your craft that you didn’t notice you were quietly being watched. 

Gale hadn’t meant to stumble upon you in such a compromising position. He had also been taking a moment of reprieve not too far away, sitting beneath the night sky and reflecting on what Mystra had tasked him with. He was actually considering it, blowing up with the orb in his chest that he had so foolishly acquired. Of course, he didn’t want to die but gods how he wanted to relinquish the fear of harming others if the orb ever so happened to detonate against his better judgment. But seeing you there, completely bare and sprawled out in the middle of the forest as you stroked your bare sex was making him have second thoughts. 

 He had been pining for you, ever since the day you had pulled him out of that portal. He was a hopeless romantic, someone who often dreamt of a blossoming love, usually between he and the goddess of the weave. But when he had seen you there, standing before him as his savior, for a moment Mystra had ceased to exist. While he was a romantic, he never really believed in love at first sight. But you were different. When he had the opportunity to be in your presence and fight alongside you he felt something unlike anything he had ever felt before. Something so powerful that when he caught himself staring at you after a battle, something carnal ignited within him. A blaze that couldn't easily be doused. The way your sweat and the crimson blood of enemies gleamed off your skin and the way your hair find itself out of place made him want to take you right then and there. But he found he just couldn't muster up the confidence to tell you that, especially when Astarion and Wyll also yearned for your attention. He ultimately decided that he would admire you from afar. 

He just didn't think he'd ever get the chance to admire your completely bare body as he did. 

He wanted to be a gentleman so badly, to look away from what was taking place in this little clearing but this was possibly a once in a life time opportunity and gods, were you a sight to behold. The way the moonlight reflected off your skin, the way your hair spilled around you in dark waves, the way he could actually see the curves of your body now that it wasn’t covered by your armor. You looked so ethereal as if you belonged somewhere among the stars with the most divine beings. Your beauty rivaled that of Mystra. Hells, what was he thinking? Your beauty far surpassed hers. 

As he watches you from a distance he can feel himself straining against his trousers, his cock begs to be released from its leather restraints. But he keeps himself composed as he enjoys the show you unknowingly put on for him. He wishes he had some sort of spell that could capture this moment so he could look back on it another time. He sits there for a few more minutes before he finally turns to leave. That is until he hears something that sounds a lot like his name spill from your lips. He isn’t sure if he’s hearing things so he stays still, trying to hear you better. 

And he’s absolutely shaken when he hears his name again. And again. And again as you stroke yourself. He feels somewhat ashamed for what he's about to do but gods, he can’t take it anymore. That deep carnal urge within him awakens and he can no longer hold himself back. He unsheathes his cock from his trousers and begins to pump it into his fist, stroking his hardened length as he watches you pleasure yourself. Every breath, moan and sigh that escapes you beckons him. How badly he wanted to pop out of the bushes and show that he was there with you. How he longed to thrust himself into your sopping wet cunt, to feel the velvety walls of your cunt clench around him as he pumped himself in and out of you. But he could never bring himself to do something so rash. Much like how he admired you from a distance, this would have to do for now. 

“Gale, gods gale. Yes, like that. Just like that!” You say breathlessly as you continue to stroke your swollen clit. You wish it was the actual wizard instead of your fingers. You wish you could make better use of his mouth instead of listening to him use it to ramble on about things you didn't quite understand. Gods, how you wanted to feel the warmth of his body against you, to feel his cock deep inside of you as the two of you made love beneath a starry sky. How you yearned for him during these nights that you spent alone chasing your arousal.

If only you knew how much he yearned for you as well.

He continues to stroke himself as he listens to your pining for him. His name sounds so good coming off of those plush lips of yours. Lips he wanted to kiss so badly right now. How would they feel? How would your mouth taste as it clashed with his own? The questions circled around in his mind as he continued to pump his cock into his fist, doing his best to imagine that it was you he was thrusting into. 

You were close. So so close and after a few more strokes to your clit you succumb to your orgasm, teetering on the waves of pleasure until it finally overtakes you. Watching you writhe and wiggle beneath your own fingers, crying out his name as you come completely undone, is enough to send him over the edge, and he follows suit shortly after you finish. He bites down on his sleeve as hard as he can to stifle the sounds that threaten to escape him as he spills his spend into his fist. He’s a breathless mess as he watches you get up off the ground and redress yourself. You soon disappear into the woods making your way back towards the camp with your mind clear and your sexual hunger temporarily satisfied. Once he’s certain you’re far enough away, he walks out into the clearing where you had just lain. This would be the perfect spot to declare his feelings for you and perhaps take you as you so very much desired. And now that he had heard and seen how you cried out for him in your most vulnerable of moments, he had the confidence he needed to do just that. To the hells with Mystra and to the hells with blowing up just to right his wrongs. He had something to look forward to now, something to live for. And he'd be damned if he'd condemn himself to his death just to appease the Goddess of the weave. A goddess that would never value him as much as you did. 

[officialdaydreamer00]

Flowers of a summer day

in which your significant other finally agreed to go outside with you for an impromptu picnic.

pairing: idia shroud x yuu/reader

contents: short oneshot, this is just angst with a happy ending tbh, idia might be ooc pls don't shoot me (^-^; ), reader is referred to as yuu, gender neutral reader and narrated with you/yours, reader has powers to manipulate plants (mainly flowers) to a certain extent

★ the daydreamer speaks — my entry for @cloudcountry's sweet shroud summer 2024!! this is literally an excuse to stimulate the brainworms hehe. also i was braiding my hair and my brain went "gasp. idea!! :D" and there you have it ^-^

do i tag? yes, i do. my main idia liker: @edith-is-a-cat, others: @identity-theft-101 @ferris-the-wheel @xen-blank @twistwonderlanddevotee @loser-jpg @lemonchuu

remember to reblog if you enjoy my work!!

"Is all of this really necessary?"

A chuckle.

"Well, yes, it is."

Summer was just around the corner.

The sun was shining brightly, accompanied by clouds bracketed to the clear blue sky. Flowers glimmered, blooming under the sunlight like jewels. The summer's breezes picked up their faint yet comforting scents, carrying them to distant lands. It was hot out in the flower field, indeed, but the forest surrounding it and a pond nearby helped cooled the air down. Birds took places hidden in the trees, singing a special harmony only they could do, tying every pieces of details together for a lovely summer day.

... It was also how Idia found himself sitting under a tree looking towards his beloved's flower field, having his hair braided and played with.

"You're killing me with the sun, Yuu-shi..."

You only chuckled at his incessant mutterings under his breath as your hands skilfully wove through his fiery long hair, braiding in flowers you grew with love and magic every now and then as you saw fit.

"But how can I refuse Ortho when he personally asked for my help?"

"That's—... Fair enough..."

He grew quiet as you continued on with your little mission.

If it was several years ago, someone told him that he'd have someone who loved and cared for him for his entirety, he'd malfunction and dismiss it as a cruel joke one would say to him. Until you came into his life, what with the ruckus in the opening ceremony.

He still didn't exactly get why you chose him. Him, of all people.

Every time he looked at you, you always shined, as bright as the sun, and as serene as the moon. Even in the drkest times, after every trouble you faced during your time on campus, you would still shined, as if nothing could diminish the light of your aura.

And he envied you for that.

Compared to you, he was no one special, a strange individual even, and not in a good way. Seven, he would agree if you outright said that to his face. He hope you didn't think of him so low like that, however, since it's not like you befriended him if you thought so, right?

... Right?

Oh, who was he kidding? Would you still be with him if you saw how weird he actually was? Would you get tired of him? Would you leave him one day? He would understand if you do leave him behind one day, but by Seven, would it hurt so much and he would never leave his room again if you—

—The sound of you humming tore through his suffocating thoughts, saving him from sinking even deeper down that rabbit hole.

'Right... No point in dweling into that anymore...' He thought, focusing on the soft hands threading through his hair.

You chose him. You stayed by his side, willingly. And even after everything he did, you forgave him. And you loved him for who he was.

"And... Done! There we go."

He looked so different in the mirror that you carried along, with his fiery hair cascading down his back, and the peonies and violets woven in the intricate braids. A lovely product of your creative mind.

Perhaps going outside once in a while wasn't as bad as he thought it was.

He felt himself smiling, his hair glowing a soft pink shade. It was a comforting thought, knowing he could live with moments like this. For eternity, if you would agree.

[pearl-blue-musings]

Okay so like…I have this cute little headcanon for alhaitham and it’s kinda selfship coded but oh well

If sunflowers existed in Teyvat or in ancient times of Teyvat, his partner would become obsessed with them. The mere idea of their color, their size, what they represent, it all just fascinates you. So much so it intrigued Alhaitham. He would often find you doodling them and has seen the evolution of their design.

So without your knowledge, he took your designs, notes, and books on sunflowers and sent them to Tighnari, hoping the Amurta scholar can help him out. Tighnari was absolutely intrigued and by this simple demand alone, he knew how much Alhaitham loves you. It took months, but the forest ranger was able to splice some stuff together to come up with the flower you’ve been dreaming about.

It’s a strangely rainy day when Alhaitham comes home with his hands full. You give him a curious look as he holds a covered pot. He walks over to where you’re sitting in the kitchen and places the pot in front of you, a small bag sitting next to it. He removes the cover and your eyes go wide with excitement. Your jaw drops as your extensive vocabulary goes out the window. Bright yellow petals with a full brown middle, and rich green stems and stalks. It’s the sunflower, with seeds to grow more.

Happy tears fall from your eyes as Alhaitham hugs you from behind. His smile is hidden from your view but he knows you can sense it. You turn around in his arms to face him and wrap your arms around his waist. You cry into his chest out of pure joy and he hugs you back. Alhaitham breathes calmly and whispers in your ear. “Look in the bag.”

You wipe your eyes and speak through a choked throat. “It’s the seeds right? Wh-where can we plant them.” You take the bag and put the seeds in your hand. You look down at your cupped palm and feel some metal. “What? Alhaitham…”

Your body turns around and behind you is Alhaitham on one knee. The seeds and ring almost fall out of your hand as you want to cover your face in shock. His face is full of contentment and love. “I had looked through your notes and remembered how often you talked about them. Sunflowers, a concept that seemed unreal and far fetched, was something you found to love. And that’s how I feel about you loving me. You are like the sun in my life. It took me and Tighnari months to come up and create this moment. Your light,” he falters a bit with a hint of nervousness, “stands tall and brings joy to so many others. Just like how sunflowers bring you joy, you bring me joy, and not only me but everyone around you.” He takes the hand that’s holding the seeds, his fingers delicately picking out the ring to hold it in front of your face.

You smile and sniffle, shaking your head in disbelief while also nodding before he asks you anything. “Sunflower, will you stay with me forever, be my partner for life?”

[writeriguess]

Riding Logan in the forest pleaaaaseeeee 😭

The sun was beginning its slow descent, casting a warm, golden glow over the forest. The air was thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, mingled with the soft murmur of rustling leaves. You walked along the narrow trail, your footsteps muffled by the thick carpet of fallen needles and moss. The forest was alive with the subtle sounds of nature—birds chirping in the canopy, the distant call of a deer, and the occasional snap of a twig underfoot.

You paused for a moment, taking in the serenity of the forest. Your heart felt light, carried by the gentle breeze that wove through the trees. This place had always been a sanctuary for you, a place to escape the hustle and bustle of everyday life. It was on these solitary walks that you felt most at peace, most connected to the world around you.

Today, however, was different. The forest seemed unusually quiet, as if holding its breath. You shook off the feeling, attributing it to your imagination, and continued on the path. The deeper you ventured, the more the forest seemed to envelop you in its embrace, its shadows stretching long and deep as the sun continued to sink.

As you rounded a bend in the trail, a figure emerged from the shadows. Your heart skipped a beat. Logan Howlett—Wolverine, as the world knew him—stood there, his rugged face illuminated by the fading light. His presence was both commanding and comforting, a stark contrast to the serene landscape.

“Logan,” you called out softly, your voice tinged with surprise and pleasure. “What are you doing here?”

He looked at you with those intense, amber eyes of his, a small, almost playful smirk tugging at his lips. “Just taking a walk. Didn’t expect to run into anyone out here.”

You couldn’t help but smile. The rugged, brooding man before you seemed so out of place in the gentle surroundings of the forest, yet he fit perfectly, like a lone wolf in its natural habitat. There was an undeniable magnetism about him that drew you in, an unspoken promise of adventure and connection.

Logan’s gaze softened as he took a step closer. “Mind if I join you?” His voice was a low, rumbling growl that seemed to vibrate through the ground beneath your feet.

“Not at all,” you replied, your heart fluttering with a mix of excitement and curiosity.

The two of you walked together in companionable silence, the forest stretching around you in a lush, green expanse. Logan seemed relaxed, his usual guarded demeanor melting away as he followed your lead. Occasionally, he would point out a particularly interesting plant or animal, sharing bits of knowledge that made you appreciate the forest even more.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the forest took on a magical quality. The last rays of sunlight filtered through the trees, casting an ethereal glow over everything. You and Logan found a small clearing, its grassy floor dotted with wildflowers. The space seemed almost enchanted, a hidden gem in the heart of the forest.

Logan looked around and then back at you, his expression thoughtful. “This is nice,” he said, his voice softer now. “Haven’t been out here in a while.”

You sat down on the grass, patting the spot beside you. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Sometimes it’s like the forest has a way of wrapping you up in its own kind of magic.”

Logan settled next to you, his proximity sending a pleasant shiver through you. The warmth of his body against yours was both reassuring and exhilarating. You could feel the subtle vibrations of his presence, a reminder of the strength and vitality that lay beneath his rugged exterior.

As the first stars began to appear in the night sky, you found yourself drawn to Logan, his presence both comforting and electrifying. You turned to him, your eyes meeting his in the dim light. There was a moment of stillness, an unspoken understanding passing between you.

Logan reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. His touch was gentle, yet firm, sending a tingle through your skin. “You know,” he said, his voice low and intimate, “I didn’t expect this to turn into something special.”

You smiled, leaning into his touch. “Sometimes the best moments are the ones we don’t plan for.”

Logan’s eyes softened, and he leaned closer, his breath warm against your cheek. “You’re right about that.”

His lips brushed against yours, a tender, lingering kiss that seemed to echo the magic of the forest around you. The world seemed to hold its breath as you kissed him, the connection between you both deepening with each passing second. The kiss was a melding of passion and tenderness, a beautiful contrast to the ruggedness of Logan’s usual demeanor.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your hearts racing in unison. Logan looked at you with a mixture of admiration and affection. “I didn’t expect to find someone like you out here,” he said, his voice filled with genuine warmth.

You reached out, taking his hand in yours, feeling the rough callouses against your skin. “Sometimes the best things are found in the most unexpected places.”

Logan squeezed your hand gently, a contented smile playing on his lips. The forest around you seemed to glow with a newfound warmth, the stars above twinkling like tiny beacons of hope. In that moment, you knew that whatever the future held, you had found something truly special—an unexpected connection in a place that had always been your sanctuary.

The night continued to unfold with a sense of timelessness, the forest a silent witness to the bond that had formed between you and Logan. As you sat together under the stars, wrapped in each other’s arms, it felt as though the world had fallen away, leaving only the two of you and the magical embrace of the forest.

And in that serene, moonlit clearing, you knew that this was just the beginning of something extraordinary.

As the kiss between you and Logan lingered, the forest around you seemed to fade into the background, becoming a mere blur in the wake of the intense connection you shared. The initial softness of the kiss gave way to a more passionate fervor, a mutual exploration that spoke of longing and desire.

Logan’s hands moved to cradle your face, his touch both tender and commanding. His fingers traced the contours of your cheek, his thumb brushing against your lips as he deepened the kiss. You responded with equal fervor, your hands sliding to his shoulders, feeling the solid strength beneath the fabric of his shirt. The world outside this moment ceased to exist; there was only the shared sensation of closeness and the electric spark that ignited with every touch.

The kiss grew more insistent, his lips parting slightly to deepen the connection. You could taste the faint hint of his breath mingling with the fresh scent of the forest, a heady mix that only heightened the intimacy of the moment. Logan’s kiss was passionate, a blend of gentle caresses and fervent presses that made your pulse quicken.

You leaned into him, your body aligning with his as if drawn together by an invisible force. The warmth of his body against yours was exhilarating, each shift and movement adding to the charged atmosphere. His hands roamed to your back, pulling you closer, as though he wanted to be as near to you as possible.

In the midst of the kiss, you could feel his heart pounding against your chest, mirroring the rapid beats of your own. His grip tightened, his fingers pressing into your back with a possessive, yet gentle pressure. You could sense the raw intensity behind his touch, the unspoken emotions that he was pouring into every caress.

Your hands moved from his shoulders to the back of his neck, fingers threading through his hair as you deepened the kiss further. Logan’s breath hitched slightly, a soft groan escaping his lips as the kiss became even more heated. His arms wrapped around you more tightly, pulling you into his embrace with a sense of urgency that spoke of a deep-seated yearning.

The forest around you was bathed in the soft light of the moon, its glow casting a silvery sheen over the two of you. The leaves above rustled gently, as if whispering secrets to the night. The cool breeze kissed your exposed skin, heightening the warmth and closeness you felt with Logan.

As the kiss continued, you found yourself losing track of time, lost in the sensation of his lips moving against yours, the way his touch made your skin tingle with a heady mix of pleasure and anticipation. Every brush of his lips, every gentle bite, spoke volumes of the passion and desire that had been simmering between you.

Eventually, you pulled back slightly, your foreheads resting against each other, breaths mingling as you both panted softly. Logan’s eyes were dark with desire, a fiery intensity that matched the heat of the moment. He looked at you with an expression of awe and longing, his fingers gently caressing your face as if trying to memorize every detail.

“You,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion, “you’re incredible.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with affection. “So are you.”

The connection between you was undeniable, a blend of passion and tenderness that felt both thrilling and deeply comforting. As you gazed into each other’s eyes, it was clear that this moment was something extraordinary—an intersection of hearts and souls that went beyond mere attraction.

Logan leaned in once more, his lips capturing yours in a final, lingering kiss that spoke of everything that words could not. It was a kiss filled with promise, with the hope of a future intertwined with the present magic of the moment. When he finally pulled away, his eyes never left yours, the silent understanding between you both conveying a depth of feeling that words could scarcely express.

The forest, once a backdrop to your solitary walk, had transformed into a sanctuary of romance and connection. As you and Logan sat together, enveloped in the gentle embrace of the night, it was clear that this was a moment that would linger in your memory—a beautiful beginning to something truly special.

As the night wore on, the moonlight cast a silvery glow over the clearing, accentuating the intimate atmosphere that enveloped you and Logan. The closeness you shared was palpable, an almost tangible connection that had grown with each passing moment.

Logan’s gaze remained fixed on you, his eyes reflecting a mixture of admiration and desire. His hands continued their gentle caress along your arms, his touch warm and reassuring. The intensity of the moment, combined with the serene beauty of the forest, created a sense of privacy and safety that allowed you both to fully express your feelings.

Feeling a rush of vulnerability and closeness, you decided to take a step further in deepening your connection. With a slow, deliberate motion, you began to unfasten the buttons of your shirt. Each movement was purposeful, a way of symbolizing your trust and openness. Logan’s eyes followed your actions with a blend of awe and tenderness, his expression softening as he took in the sight of you.

When your shirt was finally removed, you laid it aside on the grass, the cool night air brushing against your skin. Logan’s gaze lingered, filled with appreciation and a deep sense of connection. He reached out, his fingers lightly tracing the contours of your bare skin. The touch was gentle, almost reverent, as though he was cherishing every inch of you.

Encouraged by his reaction, you looked at him with a mix of excitement and vulnerability. His response was immediate; his hands moved to the hem of his own shirt, pulling it over his head in a smooth, fluid motion. The sight of his bare chest, defined and strong, was both thrilling and intimate. His body was a testament to his strength and the life he led, but in this moment, it was also a canvas of shared experience and trust.

Logan closed the distance between you, his skin warm against yours as he pulled you into a gentle embrace. The connection between you was more than physical; it was a melding of emotions and trust, a shared vulnerability that went beyond mere attraction. He leaned in, his breath warm on your neck as he whispered, “You’re amazing, you know that?”

You smiled, your heart swelling with affection and warmth. “I feel the same way about you.”

As the night continued to unfold, you and Logan remained in each other’s arms, wrapped in the soft glow of the moonlight and the gentle embrace of the forest. The connection between you was profound, a beautiful blend of passion and tenderness that spoke of something truly special.

The forest around you was alive with the sounds of the night, the rustling leaves and distant calls creating a soothing backdrop to the intimate moment you shared. You could feel the beat of Logan’s heart against your chest, a steady rhythm that matched your own. It was a moment of deep connection and shared trust, a testament to the bond that had formed between you.

His hands moved slowly, sliding up your sides, the roughness of his palms a contrast to your soft skin. When he reached your breasts, he cupped them gently, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, sending jolts of pleasure through you.

A low growl escaped his throat as he leaned forward, his lips capturing one of your nipples. The warmth of his mouth, combined with the gentle flick of his tongue, made you gasp. You could feel his growing arousal beneath you, the hardness pressing against you as you instinctively began to move your hips, seeking more contact.

Logan’s other hand slid down your back, encouraging your movements as he continued to suck and tease your sensitive nipple. Your breath hitched, a moan escaping as the pressure between your legs built. Each movement of your hips against him made your heart race faster, the tension between you reaching a fever pitch.

His mouth left your breast, his lips brushing up your neck, leaving a trail of warmth as he kissed his way back to your mouth. When he captured your lips with his, it was with a passion that stole your breath away, his hand still firmly holding you against him, guiding your movements.

The heat between you was becoming unbearable, a burning need that demanded more. Logan's eyes darkened with desire as your fingers traced down his chest, feeling the muscles beneath his shirt tense with anticipation. You could feel the hardness pressing against you, a silent plea for release.

With a deliberate slowness, you reached down, undoing the buckle of his belt and then the button of his jeans. Logan's breath hitched, a deep, rumbling growl escaping him as you unzipped his pants, freeing him from the constraint. The sight of him, hard and ready, sent a wave of heat pooling low in your belly.

You wrapped your hand around his length, feeling the weight and warmth of him in your palm. Logan's head tipped back, eyes closing as he groaned, the sound vibrating through you and making your own arousal grow. You began to stroke him, your thumb brushing over the tip, spreading the beads of moisture that had already gathered there.

His hips jerked slightly in response, the hand on your back tightening, pulling you closer. "You're driving me crazy, darlin'," he muttered, his voice thick with need.

Smiling at his reaction, you leaned down, capturing his lips in a heated kiss as you continued to stroke him, feeling the tension coil tighter between you. Logan's free hand gripped your thigh, pulling you against him, the friction making you moan into his mouth.

His patience was wearing thin, the raw need in him evident as he broke the kiss, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "I need you. Now."

You bit your lip as you guided him to your entrance, feeling the tip press against your wetness. The size of him was overwhelming, stretching you with just the slightest push. Logan's eyes locked onto yours, his expression a mix of concern and desire.

"Are you sure?" he murmured, his voice gravelly, but tinged with care.

You nodded, breathless with anticipation, and he began to ease himself inside you, slowly at first, giving you time to adjust. The sensation of him filling you inch by inch was both intense and exhilarating. You gasped, the stretch almost too much, but the pleasure of it made you crave more.

Logan groaned as he pushed deeper, his jaw clenched in restraint, trying to go slow despite the urge to thrust harder. "God, you're so tight," he growled, his voice thick with need.

You clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders as he continued to fill you, the feeling of his cock stretching you almost unbearably. But the fullness, the way he fit so perfectly inside you, made you shiver with pleasure.

When he was finally buried to the hilt, you both paused, your bodies trembling from the intensity of the moment. You felt so full, so utterly connected to him, that it took a moment to catch your breath. Logan pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his hands caressing your sides as he waited for you to adjust.

"You're incredible," he whispered, his voice filled with awe and affection.

You began to move, slowly at first, feeling the delicious friction as you lifted yourself slightly and then sank back down onto him. The sensation was overwhelming, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge. Logan’s hands gripped your hips, guiding your movements, his own control slipping as you both gave in to the raw need between you.

As you rode him, the pleasure built rapidly, the pressure of him inside you, combined with the way he touched you, making it impossible to hold back. The cabin filled with the sound of your shared moans, the intensity of your connection driving you both to the brink.

Your bodies moved in perfect sync, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. The sensation of Logan's cock filling you, stretching you, was almost too much to bear, yet you couldn't get enough. The heat between you was building, reaching a fever pitch as you rode him, your nails digging into his shoulders as you chased that final, overwhelming release.

Logan's grip on your hips tightened, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he thrust up into you, his control slipping away. "I'm close," he growled, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. The way he filled you completely, the friction of his cock against your inner walls, was pushing you to the edge.

You could feel the tension coiling tighter in your core, the pleasure mounting until it was nearly unbearable. And then, with one last thrust, everything unraveled. Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, your entire body tensing as the pleasure crashed over you. You cried out, your muscles clenching around him as the sensation overwhelmed you.

Logan's response was immediate. With a deep, guttural groan, he followed you over the edge, his hips jerking up as he buried himself deep inside you. You felt the warmth of his release, the hot rush of his cum filling you as he came, his cock pulsing inside your tight heat. The sensation of him spilling into you, the way his body shuddered beneath yours, sent another wave of pleasure coursing through you.

For a moment, neither of you moved, both of you catching your breath, the room filled with the sound of your heavy breathing and the crackling fire. Logan's hands stroked your back gently, soothingly, as you both came down from the intense high. The feeling of his cum inside you, mixed with the afterglow of your shared pleasure, left you feeling completely sated and utterly connected to him.

Logan pressed a tender kiss to your lips, his voice soft as he whispered, "You're mine, darlin'."

[galamalion]

⚔︎. 𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐉𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐘 (𝐢)

summary. you join mizu on her quest for vengeance, discovering more about yourselves on the way towards her ultimate goal.

⤷ contents. mizu x fem!reader, blue eye samurai spoilers, violence, mention of suicide, themes of racism + misogyny, slight slow burn, slight enemies to lovers // wc. 10.6k

⤷ notes. i don't have name for this series yet, i just really wanted to write something for mizu lol idk if i want it to be reverse harem? probably won't see any taigen or akemi x reader, or x mizu for that matter (mizu only has eyes for you <3) anyways i hope you enjoy this story and what's to come!

chapters. [i] [ii] [iii] [iv] [v] [vi] [vii] [viii]

Pure, untouched snow crunched beneath your worn-out sandals as you trudged behind Mizu, choosing each step carefully to avoid shoving your foot deep inside a snowbank and ruining your shoes further than they already had.

The weather hadn’t been great, all things considered. The wind was a tad too harsh, nipping bitterly at your cheeks and nose, letting the falling snow melt into your kimono and dampen the fabric slightly.

Despite your light-hearted complaints, Mizu insisted that you keep walking. Mizu was nothing if not determined to reach your destination in a day, not wanting to waste any more time than you already had. And so you trekked across the white frosted forest, following the hidden path that was completely buried in snow.

“You really think the man you’re looking for will be here?” you asked, side-stepping a thick layer of snow.

Mizu hummed in response.

“And if he’s not here?” you pried.

“Then I’ll find out where he went from here,” she answered curtly, not bothering to turn around.

You sighed, pulling your hanten tight over your chest. In addition to shelter, you’d also like to stop by a town, a busy one, if you were able. Clothes weren’t a necessity—you could walk a couple more miles in your sandals, and your kimono was at least still fairly new. But on account of Mizu’s proclivities, you were in desperate need of more bandages. You still had a few bundles of herbs and plants you picked before the snow fell, but you were fearful those would eventually rot or decay inside your inro.

“Just try to keep the bloodshed to a minimum,” you sighed, “or at the very least, your bloodshed.”

“I make no promises,” she stated plainly.

You just rolled your eyes.

After a few more minutes of walking, your thin trail ended, leaving you in the midst of a ramshackled town. Mizu continued walking through it, not sparing a glance to anything except for the building that lay straight ahead. A noodle shop, or so the sign said.

You walked ahead of Mizu to get a closer look at the dilapidated building, dodging more snowbanks to reach your goal. As you got closer to the shop, you noticed Mizu had stopped in her tracks, standing still behind you. 

Spinning around to see why she paused, you immediately saw three children, the leader holding a small rock and preparing to throw it at Mizu. She turned her head slightly, not quite looking at the children, only just enough for them to catch a glimpse of her unamused expression.

The children quickly ran back to their homes, dropping their stones as they fled. Mizu resumed her stride, stepping up beside you in front of the store.

You lightly poked Mizu’s shoulder, “Are we here strictly on business, or can I get something to eat?”

Mizu grumbled, fishing some coins out as she slid the door open and stepped through the loose fabric that hung above the entryway.

The two of you made your way to a table in the corner, Mizu obscuring her face with her hat and you keeping your head down. As a woman should, or at least in public. Mizu wanted to keep a fairly low profile, and so you were willing to make at least some sacrifices on her behalf. The slight jabs and insults you received on account of your gender, after all, were nothing compared to the ones Mizu received. 

“Welcome, sir and madam,” a portly young man said, sitting down beside your table, “I'll bring you some tea. It's not good tea, but it's hot, and you're frozen, and I'll bring you a rag because when I'm frozen, my snot drips. Then a nice big soba. We make the best soba. Honest. Bad tea, great soba. Okay?”

Mizu gave a polite nod in response, while you just stared bewildered at the talkative man. You managed to muster out a ‘thank you’, doing your best to put a kind smile on your face.

The man smiled back and rose to his feet, marching jovially back to the kitchen to prepare your tea and noodles. He was stopped at the next table, however, as the scrawny man sitting there jutted his leg out to stop him.

“Stumpy!” the harsh voice crowed, “more noodles, fast.”

The lanky man sneered as the waiter-cook obliged, returning to his station in the back. His upper lip curled as he turned to the two young women next to him.

“I paid your fathers good money for you,” he snidely remarked. “The brоthеls will pay me even more once you get some curve on, you skinny country nothings. Eat!”

Your nose wrinkled at his loathsome behavior. It was the one thing you were never able to stomach, the gross maltreatment of women, like meat being prepared for eating. Mizu’s perceived appearance as a man earned your envy, knowing that she wouldn’t be viewed in the same way you were. But you knew that you both weren’t accepted in the circles you wanted to join, and that just because Mizu looked like a man, didn’t mean she would be accepted with open arms.

The bald young man returned with two bowls of noodles and tea, setting it down gingerly before you. Mizu, suspicious as ever, sniffed before diving into her meal, while you greedily downed the bowl entirely, placing the empty container down before Mizu could finish her last bite.

“It’s good, right?” he grinned, swiping your dirty bowl away from you while you took your cup of tea.

He left your table momentarily to deliver the tray of noodles to the old man, standing before him with the fresh steaming bowls.

“Finally!” he barked, snagging the face of the poor girl sitting closest to him. “Eat up, girls. Eat it all!”

The fearful girl swatted his hand away, causing it to crash and spill one of the bowls of hot noodles across the lap of the old man, who angrily stood up and slapped the poor man.

“What are you, a dog?” he growled, turning to point a finger at the cook who had just run out. “You let a dog serve food!”

You clenched your fists beneath the table, keeping your head down to avoid exploding. If only by his boisterous attitude, you assumed this was the man Mizu had been looking for. All the men Mizu searched for were similar, fitting into two categories: loud and overconfident. There was often overlap between the two.

“F-Forgive my son,” the man laughed nervously, bowing to the furious customer. “Can’t go a day without breaking dishes.”

The cook turned to his son, anger in his voice, “Ringo, clean him!”

“I’m sorry,” Ringo said, attempting to walk towards the man, only to slip on the noodles he had just dropped, causing the tray to drop the other bowl of noodles onto the man’s lap.

You wished you were anywhere else right now.

“Agh!” the old man cried out, reaching for his chest. You were unable to see his movements as his back was towards you.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Ringo repeated, desperately trying to salvage the situation by picking up the mess below.

The old man’s hand retracted from his chest, pointing straight towards Ringo. The gasps around the room told you what you couldn’t see. And as the room swiftly grew quiet, you could barely make out the weapon grasped in his hand when he shrugged.

“Ah…I should put down this lame dog,” he growled, bringing the gun back up to point at Ringo.

Ringo stared unflinchingly, as if confused by the man’s words, “I’m not a dog,” he said confidently, yet with a twinge of fear present in his voice.

“Did you just bark?” he chuckled darkly. “Do you know who I am? I am Hachiman the Flesh-Trader, and no one messes with Hachi!”

Ah. So it was him. You turned to take in Mizu’s reaction, only to see her staring straight down at the table beneath you. And, in a moment that made you wish you were deaf, Mizu pushed the table forwards, causing a shrill squeak to echo throughout the room as it scraped against the floor., earning the attention of Hachiman.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” you hissed under your breath, praying that Mizu wouldn’t be dumb enough to goad the man with a gun. She’d threatened and bribed men for information in the past, some merchants, and some fellow samurai. They could be dangerous, and they often were, refusing to give up the necessary information without a fight. But they hand knives, swords. Not guns.

Mizu stood from the table and slowly strode over to Hachiman, keeping her eyes trained on his gun as she moved to stand in front of him.

“Impressive,” she hummed, taking small steps towards him, “I’ve never seen a gun like it.”

You grabbed the tea kettle and poured some into your cup, taking a deep breath in an attempt to cool your nerves. Mizu had gotten into worse situations before—none involving a gun, of course, but equally as dangerous. Those samurai that refused to give up, those merchants who feared for their lives, they all died like dogs beneath Mizu’s blade. 

‘He’ll be no different,’ you thought, bringing the cup up to your lips. Looking down at your hands, you realized they were shaking ever so slightly. 

She placed her hand on her chin, tilting her head to gaze down the barrel of the gun, “Front loading, not a Japanese pistol,” she remarked, grazing her finger across the weapon. “A European design, isn’t it?”

Remaining silent, you sent a sharp glare towards Mizu, who had not yet disobeyed your one request of her, but was getting real damn close to it. Her eyes flickered towards yours in acknowledgement, although whether it was her trying to tell you that she understood your concerns or her telling you that she had it under control was a mystery. You just assumed the latter.

The other customers fled the building, leaving you as the only patron still inside, although you weren’t exactly eager to stay, not wanting to get caught up in the ensuing firefight. Your eyes darted to Mizu’s hand, noticing her middle and index finger were pointing straight down, which was Mizu’s signal for you to leave.

You rose from the table and quickly walked outside the store, not bothering to look back at the standoff behind you. Mizu could handle herself, especially against a crotchety old pervert like that man. All that was left for you to do was wait, and hope that your patient didn’t get herself killed.

It was spring—not early, though. All the snow had melted and it was beginning to pour into summer, the sun becoming hotter with each passing day. You were out in the woods, a couple paces away from your small town, but not far enough away as to have to worry about bandits. 

You were on a mission to fetch medicinal supplies, both for your own collection as well as for your fellow villagers who had paid you for your efforts. Mixing and making salves and herbal blends was your specialty, and it had earned you a pretty penny. 

On account of being an orphan and lacking family to support, you had to become resourceful. Your former village lacked a structured orphanage, leaving you to wander the underdeveloped streets as a scavenging rat. It was hardly a life, but you made do. Learning that people would pity a poor, starving girl was the greatest weapon in your arsenal, though you knew it could easily lead to your downfall.

Joining a wealthy household would be effortless, but it would come with dreadful and unpredictable consequences. A daughter would only be accepted if there were a son, one you would have to marry once you came of age. Or at least, that was your thought process. Perhaps a family could, would take you in and expect nothing of you. But you were a talentless orphan, one who could give nothing even if nothing was needed of you. 

And so, you left your village, moving in the dead of night along the dirt path in search of a new home.

Your travels brought you to a new, ever so slightly smaller village, and yet there seemed to be more people, more faces. At first you simply watched, trying to get a feel before sinking your teeth into anyone here.

And your patience was rewarded, finding your long-awaited prize.

You’d discovered an old man, a doctor, judging by his customers and conversation you’d picked up. One night you knocked on his door, begging on your knees for a place to stay and promising everything you could give. And so, under the guise of being his doting attendant, you began keeping an eye on his carefully guarded work. Over the years you began assembling your own guide, making improvements upon his recipes and even crafting a few of your own. Once he died—natural causes, of course—you lacked any competition. 

You weren’t allowed to practice medicine, at least not directly, but you were easily able to play into the role of a concerned woman with old recipes generously shared by your master when you were ill. 

And nobody was any wiser, praising you for your teas and ointments and whatever the hell else you managed to conjure up. You could heal sore throats, rejuvenate women’s skin for the pleasure of their suitors and husbands. Who wouldn’t buy from you? 

In the end, you were alive, happily unmarried, and had a stable income. It was the dream of so many young girls, and you were living it.

You’d already collected enough to meet your quota, but you were after your own batch of herbs. It was important to start prepping medicine early, as once the first frost struck, everything would wither and die. But as you discovered a rich cluster beneath a tree, you heard an anguished groan nearby, causing you to whip around.

The sliver of an arm poked out from behind the tree, clearly not wide enough to hide whoever was sitting before it. You took a deep breath and carefully circled around to the other side of the tree, keeping a fair amount of distance between as you looked upon the unknown being.

Lying beneath the tree was a man, one you hadn’t recognized. Most, if not all, of the men in your current village were rather hairy and brutish, whereas the stranger was lithe and clean, a pair of shaded glasses covering their eyes. But what really caught your attention were his obvious wounds, clearly injured from some sort of weapon, though you’d need a closer look to really assess any kind of damage.

“You’re bleeding,” you noted, marching up to the injured man sitting before you.

If he was startled by your presence, he didn’t show it, but perhaps his injuries were making him delirious. His side had a small cut, light bleeding and probably didn’t require stitches. The shoulder, however, was in far worse shape, blood seeping out through his shirt and down to his forearm. You couldn’t know how bad it was until you looked at it, but the man seemed apprehensive.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, pressing a thin piece of torn fabric to his shoulder.

Your head nudged towards the sword at his waist, “You’re a samurai, not a doctor. Let me see it.”

“You’re not a doctor either,” he said, pressing his back further against the tree, and  away from you.

“Well, I’m the closest thing you’re going to get,” you glared at the stubborn man. “Unless you want to let the old bastards in my town drain your blood.”

The stranger glared back, clenching his fists and chewing his cheek in thought. It was a bluff on your end, knowing that not a soul in your village had any kind of medical knowledge. You could feel in your heart that he was a stubborn soul, and he’d certainly bleed out if you tried to bring him back to your town. Or maybe he’d just be chased out, on account of his strange and mysterious getup. 

“Please,” you implored, “I can help.”

He grunted, looking down at the wound on his shoulder, moving a shaking hand up to it before turning his eyes back to you.

“Fine,” he mumbled, gritting his teeth as he pressed on his shoulder. “Just make it quick.”

A deafening shot rang through your ears, bringing you out of your thoughts, but the strident cry that followed it eased your on-edge nerves. It was a garish noise, one that Mizu would never make, especially not in combat. She was more of a grunter.

It was fairly quiet until Mizu came out, another scream echoing behind her as she slammed the door closed.

“Successful?” you asked, trying to gauge her reaction at what had transpired.

“A name,” she responded, walking ahead.

You followed her, a pout forming on your lips, “It’s always another name.”

“This one has a direct connection.”

“So did the last one.”

Mizu didn’t respond, only continuing her determined walk out of the village.

The wind hadn’t let up at all, still blowing snow across your face and freezing the tips of your fingers. But gradually, as you followed Mizu on the path, the wind began to die down, only the snow falling from the sky was left to land on your skin, leaving a tingling feeling as they melted away.

And cold weather aside, the environment that surrounded you was beautiful, from the cliffside view of the water below to the towering bamboo that stood proudly, if only slightly disturbed by the snow and frost that covered it. You took time to marvel at these sights, while Mizu continued to keep her head down, head covered by her conical hat, keeping the snow away without any effort on her part. Perhaps there was more you envied about her than you thought.

Your peaceful journey was interrupted by the sound of heavy footsteps, though they were still some ways away. Both you and Mizu had turned around, seeing no one in the immediate distance behind you, either. She put a hand on your shoulder, gently pushing you behind her as she drew her sword, walking on the path of which you came.

“Stay here,” she whispered, prowling towards the sound.

You shrugged and grasped the knife that was tucked inside of your kimono, watching as Mizu left you alone, though she wasn’t gone for long. Returning with her sword sheathed, Mizu continued walking right past out, resuming the journey.

“Did you find anyone?’ you asked, ever so slightly curious.

“Yes.”

“...Did you kill them?”

“No.”

The lack of explanation in her single word responses clued you in to stop asking questions.

Slowly the bamboo grotto you found yourself in transitioned into small trees, crowded around one another in entangled root systems and branches above. The trees grew sparser and sparser with each step on the path, though they were growing larger, thicker. Soon the trees towered far, far above you, holding up heavy batches of snow with their needles, branches bowing down under the weight of the thick white blanket that coated them.

After another ten-or-so minutes of walking, the two of you encounter a small, decaying temple. It was in better condition than any of the buildings in the village you had come from, standing out among the lonesome path and soaring trees. but it seemed to grab Mizu’s attention, as she began walking up the broad stone steps.

You stopped at the base of the stairs, looking up at her, “Would you like some privacy, Mizu?”

Mizu stopped amidst the stairs, looking down at you below with an expression of pleasant surprise.

“That…would be nice,” she took a few more steps up to the entrance, turning back to you one last time. “Thanks.”

Brushing some snow off your self proclaimed seat, you leaned against one of the short stone pillars, doing your best to find comfort against the rough and uncomfortable material. Mizu shouldn’t be too long, unless she was planning on spending the rest of the day praying for her vengeance. In the past you’d believe that, but you were more in tune with her personality now. 

You’d been traveling without a lead for so long, passing through rain, wind, and snow for days without rest. Name after name after name perpetuated the eternal journey you found yourself on, leading you on a wild, unending chase to find a single man. This was the guidance she needed, a direct path to the man in question, creating a new opening for her to walk upon in search of her goal.

Mizu had finally found the spark to reignite her self-righteous fury, and she was going to let it burn for as long as possible.

“You need to be still, moving can lead to the wound opening,” you hissed, tying off the last bandage.

“It’s my arm that’s injured, not my legs. I’ll be fine.”

“Listen, samurai,” you reached for his hand, “you can’t just—”

Before you could get close to even touching his palm, your wrist was caught tightly within his hand, squeezed uncomfortable as he stared deep into your eyes, past them, into your soul.

His free hand, the injured one, shakily went to his tinted glasses, tilting them down to the tip of his nose, giving you the first real glimpse of what laid behind them.

Your eyes widened ever so slightly, but no noise would exit your parted lips.

They were blue—not like the sky, they were brighter than that. And yet there was still so much darkness within. He had distinct eyelids, different from everyone you had ever known or seen. And there was beauty in that, but it was a shameful beauty. A beauty that screamed his difference to the world, proclaiming for all to see that he was not like the rest. That a white man had aided in his creation. But to blame a creation for the faults of its creator was a cruel decision, wasn't it?

And yet you could not conceal your shock at his mere existence.

His straightened mouth briefly twitched into a frown before returning back to his cool facade, releasing your wrist and walking away, a hand clutching his shoulder.

“That wound is bound to get infected,” you called out, stomping after the samurai. “And those stitches in your side will need to be removed, not to mention those bandages will need to be changed out with the amount of blood already seeping through them.”

He continued his gait, not bothering to look at you, “I can take care of it.”

“You need me,” you insisted, pacing right behind him. “If you wanted that wound fixed up, you wouldn’t be lying against a tree like you were.”

“I need no maid nor nurse.”

“I have money.”

Although he tried to keep it contained, you could see the way his shoulders tensed up at your words. Or perhaps his injuries were worse than even he thought.

“Let me care for your wounds; I’ll pay for any medicine and accommodations until you’re fixed up. Then we can part ways.”

“Have you nothing better to do?” he pried, a mixture of annoyance and genuine curiosity within his question.

“The only people that require my services here,” you gestured behind you, “are old people knocking on death's door, and women who are constantly pregnant. You are the freshest breath of air I have ever had in my years of living in this shitty village.”

You took a deep inhale before continuing, “Like I said, once we’re done and you’re fully healed, I’ll leave you be. You get a free, temporary doctor, and I get a nice story to tell my future children.”

He stared through you once again, piercing eyes contemplating your offer. From your perspective, at least, it seemed flawless. Doctors were expensive, and as a samurai he clearly lacked any stable income. A free, mobile doctor guaranteed him at least some financial security, although having a companion could potentially lead to unfortunate situations if he were to land himself in danger. Which begged the question: did he have reservations about your safety, or his?

“Fine,” he sighed, head falling in resignation. “But I make the rules, and you’ll stay out of my way.”

He moved to sit on a nearby rock, carefully moving the lower half of his shirt out of the way, giving you access to the injury on his side.

“I can take care of my shoulder later,” he muttered.

You shrugged, moving to inspect and apply your salves.

“Does the samurai have a name?” you questions, dabbing an ointment into his cut.

He growled as it entered his wound, “Mizu,” he hissed, clawing at the boulder beneath him.

“I’m ____,” you said, carefully wrapping bandages around his side. “Pleasure to meet your acquaintance, master Mizu.”

“...Don’t call me that.”

“Let’s go,” Mizu announced as she hiked down the stairs, joining you at the bottom and continuing the path before you.

“Any specific destination in mind?” you probed, leaning forward to see Mizu’s expression.

“Kyoto,” she answered, face unchanging. Truly an envy to statues everywhere.

“You said you got a name from that old geezer, so what are we looking for? A place, a person, a thing…”

“I’m looking for a man.”

“So, nothing new,” you sighed, tucking your icy hands inside your hanten.

The walk wasn’t much longer, the constant crunching of snow beneath your feet filling the void of silence between you two, though its calming effect soon dissipated, leaving you annoyed with each step until you reached Kyoto.

Soon enough you were standing in line before the towering gate, guards standing in front and above the entrance. You’d never been to any kind of central hub before you met Mizu, only knowing less than a hundred people, and that’s after combing from the two villages you’ve lived in. One thing you did know, however, was that women weren’t allowed to enter without an escort. Women in your village would complain about it whenever they had to go out and sell their goods and products, though you never had to leave for your business. Perks of being a monopolist, you supposed.

“Don’t speak,” Mizu leaned into your ear, voice a hush whisper. “Stay behind me, and stay close.”

“Not my first city entering with you, Mizu,” you shot back, folding your hands in your sleeves. 

“Next!” the front guard called out, beckoning the next person forward.

A woman and her child stepped forward, showing their travel pass to the guard who sneered at it.

“This travel pass is invalid,” he declared.

You peeked over Mizu’s shoulder to get a better view at the situation taking place.

“My husband is dead. I made the baskets, he only sold them,” the woman begged, “please, or I can’t feed my children.”

The guard rolled his eyes, “You know the rules. Women can’t travel without a chaperone.”

‘Barbaric,’ you thought, sinking your nails into your forearms. Stupid rules written by stupid men. How lucky you were to have a chaperone on this trip.

“Next!” he shouted, not giving the sobbing woman another glance.

Mizu stepped forward and you followed closely behind, keeping your head down to conceal your rage.

“Travel pass,” he said boredly, his eyes briefly flickering to your form before looking back at Mizu.

Reaching into her clothing, Mizu withdrew a couple of coins, flashing the glimmering pieces to the guard who eagerly swiped them up, looking at the next people in line.

You shared a quick look with the daughter who was comforting her distraught mother, wishing there was something you could do to help. Looking up at Mizu, you saw her also gazing at the child with far less emotion on her face. Only a second had passed before Mizu looked away, marching her way past the gate and into the city, leaving you to catch up.

“Are we really not going to help her?” you blurted out as you followed Mizu through the busy streets.

If Mizu heard you, she didn’t respond, just looking at the tall snow-covered buildings lining the streets, colorful banners adorning detailed walls.

“Mizu—”

“There was nothing I could do, ____,” she scolded, turning back to look at you. “It would have caused more trouble than it was worth. I can’t afford to bring two more girls into the city, and there was no way anyone there would have left me.”

You exhaled shakily, clenching your fists and taking deep breaths in order to calm down.

“It’s just not fair,” you muttered, looking down at your feet.

Mizu sighed, placing a firm hand on your shoulder, “I promise I will try to do something for them.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, bringing your head up to look at her face, those kind and thoughtful eyes hiding behind her glasses.

She stepped away briefly, attempting to approach strangers for directions with little results. It almost caused you to feel embarrassed for her unfruitful efforts, if not for the three horses barreling straight towards her.

“Mizu, watch out!” you shouted as Mizu caught sight of the incoming horses, shooting backwards in response.

“Watch it, asshole!” the lead rider yelled, pulling on the reins of his horse.

You ran up beside Mizu, glaring at the pompous man. Mizu stuck and arm out in front of you, a silent message to contain your anger, lest you get the both of you in trouble.

“Apologies,” Mizu said, mouth pressed into a straight line, “I’m looking for something, but Kyoto is quite large. Do you know where I could find the Shindo Dojo?”

“Shindo?” the man to his left scoffed, peering down at the two of you. “That’s our dojo, and you think you’re going to apply?”

The man to his right laughed, “You look like a blind beggar!” He took his riding crop and slapped Mizu’s glasses off.

All three chuckled, pleased with their actions, one nodding his head at you.

“Are you really traveling with this guy, lady?” He extended his hand to you. “Hop on and I’ll take you for a real ride.”

Your lip curled in thinly veiled disgust, “Thank you for the offer, sir, but I’m quite pleased with my current situation.”

Mizu let out a long sigh, putting on a smile, “If you would please show me how to find your dojo, I would be grateful.”

“Sure,” the left man said, “follow the road to the shrine. Once you go around the gates, you'll see the sign across the puppet show.”

“Good luck!” they called back, laughing as they rode. You spit on the ground they had been as their horses galloped away.

Wiping off the snow that had been kicked up onto her shoulder, Mizu began to follow the directions given to her, leaving you to do most of the talking, as per usual.

“Bastards,” you growled, “pissants, the lot of them.”

“Calm down,” Mizu ordered, searching for your destination.

“Calm down? Calm down? Those cocky dickheads deserve every misfortune they come across.”

“Keep your eye out for a puppet show.”

“And the way he thought I’d just crumple to my knees and get on his stupid horse! Can you believe that?”

“Around the gates…”

“Not even mentioning the way they treated you, as if you couldn’t kick their asses with one arm tied behind your back. Shindo Dojo my ass.”

“There are consequences for attacking without consent of a duel first, and the last thing I want to do is be sent to prison for something as foolish as defending my honor,” Mizu said, turning the corner.

“Would you defend my honor?” you smiled, waiting for an answer.

“No.”

Well, it was an answer, at least.

The bustling city around you left no room for conversation, only the need to dodge passersby and merchants attempting to sell you goods that you had no use for. As you walked further and further into the city, the traders trickled away, only peeping men lined the streets now, peering inside the countless brothels.

“Why would a dojo be in a red light district?” you pondered aloud, trying your best to not make eye contact.

“For once,” Mizu answered, nose scrunched up, “we’re having similar thoughts…”

Your destination was only a few buildings down, and judging by the lewd ongoings within, was certainly not the Shindo Dojo.

“You two look lost,” a sultry voice cooed, arms stretching out to grab you and Mizu.

Standing in front of the brothel were two very dressed up women, crimson dusting their cheeks, matching the vibrant red that decorated their lips and eyes.

“We were just leaving,” you asserted, shaking out of their hold.

The woman laughed, going over to hug Mizu’s arm, “Why don’t you come inside, lost boy? Rest a while…with us.”

You found it difficult to conceal your revulsion, not eager to picture Mizu having relations while you had to wait in the other room. Though judging from Mizu’s shocked face, she didn’t seem too fond of the idea either.

“I’m looking for the Shindo Dojo—” she began, quickly interrupted by an old man being thrown out of the brothel. A naked, old man.

“Which, I can see…” Mizu grimaced, “this is not.”

“You think?” you snorted, earning a dirty look from Mizu.

“It’s better,” the shorter prostitute said, smiling. “It's the Shindo House. If it’s sword skills you’re wanting to show off, you can do it here.”

The taller prostitute grinned, “We can polish up the tip for you…”

A shudder went down your spine at the sight of their flirtations, giving you the strength needed to put an end to this conversation.

“We’re terribly busy, and have urgent business at the Shindo Dojo,” you insisted, trying to pull Mizu away from the women.

“Oh, are you sure, little pearl? If you wanted to join in, all you had to do was ask. Jealousy is a painful vice,” the tall one purred, snaking her arm around your shoulder. “And there’s no fee for adding a third…unpaid party.”

You could feel the heat flooding to your face, unable to even sputter in response to her offer.

A hand suddenly struck out between you and the woman, grabbing her wrist and gently removing it from your shoulder. Mizu glared at the woman, watching coldly as she shrunk away from you.

“You’re serious, huh?” the short woman smirked, nudging her coworker to step away from you. “Alright, love birds. Walk east to the Kamo River. Take the bridge to the temple with the thousand creepy statues. It's on the hill just past.”

Mizu’s head swiftly dipped into a bow, not looking up at you.

“I wish you a successful day of business,” she muttered, covering her face with her hand as she began raising her head up.

Interrupting her bow, however, was a loud crash from the puppet stand behind you. Looking at the show, or rather, what remained of it, revealed a portly young man standing above the wreckage. The same young man from the noodle shop.

“Hey, Mizu, isn���t that—”

“How much for one night?” she quickly asked, noting the price given to her.

“...How much for three.”

.

.

.

“Mizu,” you began, “would that man, by chance, be the person following us on our way here?”

“I didn’t think he’d get out of those ropes,” she groaned, walking across the expansive bridge.

“You tied him up?” you gawked, staring in shock at her nonchalant attitude.

“I could have killed him,” she pointed out, bringing a hand up to crack her neck. “I was merciful; he would have disrupted my quest.”

“And I don’t?”

“You provide a service.”

“Don’t make me sound like your pocket prostitute,” you half-heartedly teased.

Mizu sputtered, her collected facade briefly crumbling after hearing your words.

“I—ahm, hadn’t meant to imply—”

“Make way for Princess Akemi!” a voice rang out some distance behind you.

Traveling down the bridge from where you had just come was a gold accented palanquin being carried by an assortment of attendants. Those walking alongside you quickly made their way to the sides of the bridge, bowing before the royalty before them.

A tug on your sleeve by Mizu pulled you out of the way, standing beside her as the palanquin passed by you. Through the bars of the carrier you could see its passenger, the Princess Akemi, or so they announced. Perhaps you could have quipped about her status, the fact that she probably looked down on everyone around her. Or maybe her vanity, refusing to use her own feet to walk anywhere, relying on servants to carry her to and fro.

But a single glimpse of her face left you wordless—breathless. The makeup she wore only enhanced her best features, though it looked like all her features were her best. One look at Mizu confirmed you felt the same, her lips parting slightly as the palanquin continued down the bridge.

“She’s awfully pretty,” you sighed wistfully, watching the palanquin disappear into the city.

Mizu cleared her throat, regaining her wits, “Beautiful women can be found everywhere. It is our status that defines our beauty to the world.”

“It’s alright, Mizu,” you shrugged, “jealousy is a normal emotion, even for samurai.”

“I am not jealous,” she swiftly defended herself.

“Denial is an even worse look,” you sang, following her along the final stretch of bridge as you made your way up to the dojo.

It stood atop a hill just above the city, a single lone temple amidst a barren field it was laid upon. A lonely dojo, in your opinion, although the path to it was rather serene.

“If I have to walk up any more stairs, Mizu,” you groaned, approaching the temple, “we’re gonna have a problem.”

“Air your grievances now, then.” she curtly replied, moving to hit the door knockers. “Walking is only a small part of this journey.”

“Then why is it all we do?” you muttered, crossing your arms.

A small slit opened after a couple seconds, revealing the judgemental eyes of a man.

“No new students, find another school,” he barked, shutting the opening.

“Pretentious, aren’t they?” you snickered.

Mizu rolled her eyes and banged on the door again, the man appearing quickly.

“I’m not a student,” she said, annoyed, “but I do bring a message for the master of this place.”

The opening shut, only for one at the bottom to reveal itself, a hand sticking out expectantly.

“I must deliver it personally,” Mizu muttered, eyes narrowing.

The man vanished from the slit, shutting it behind him. Only a few moments passed between you and Mizu before the grand entrance began to slowly open, revealing the incredibly vast courtyard to you.

Mizu began walking forward to join the sentry, only for him to raise a hand towards you.

“Women are forbidden from entering the dojo,” he said solemnly, taking up a cold expression as he refused you entry.

You tightened your shoulders, standing straight and giving the man your best smile, tilting your head ever so slightly.

“Oh, sir, I must beseech you,” you pleaded, running up and clinging to his robes. “For he is my husband, and I would loathe to separate from him even for a single second! I fear what may happen to me if he were to disappear from my sight, for he is my protector, and I his perfect blossom. That is why I beg you, do not allow us to be apart!”

The sentry turned to Mizu for a response, raising an eyebrow.

She cleared her throat and you could immediately tell she would be giving you a dirty look if she had not been so surprised by your improvisation.

“...Yes, I would be most pleased if my wife were to accompany me. She is rather…frail and weak, and it would break my heart if anything were to happen to my…wife…” she said, her less than convincing acting leaning heavily on your own performance.

“Fine,” he grimaced, peeling you off. “But you are not permitted to speak in this place, keep your head down and your mouth shut.”

You smiled in response, walking over to join your ‘husband,’ looping your arm into his beneath his shawl, smirking internally at her pink-dusted face.

Arm in arm you walked up to the main room of the dojo, passing by different groups of men training. You could tell that Mizu was alert, noting each and every person you passed on your way to meet the head.

Upon entering the sweeping room, you kneeled beside Mizu, keeping your head bowed so as to not cause any disturbance during her negotiations. Though the man in front of you seemed unconcerned with your behavior, if interested in you at all.

“You may leave any message with me,” he spoke, not pausing his calligraphy.

“What must be said must be said to the master directly,” Mizu pressed.

“I assure you, what is for the master is for me,” he continued, “as I assure you the master does not meet with messengers.”

“He will for me.”

Her blatant disrespect caused the man to pause, setting his brush down and looking directly at her.

“​​You stand before the Shindo School.” He stood from his table. “For 200 years, we have taught here the Shindo-Ryu, secret methods passed down from Priest Soto, taught to him on the peak of Mount Kurama by the mystic Tengu themselves,” he snarled. “Show your respect!”

Mizu continued to stare at the floor, unaffected by the man’s long speech.

 “I must insist,” she said.

The man’s mouth pressed into a thin line, looking at the samurai standing behind you both.

“Escort them anywhere you please that is far from here,” he ordered.

One man, a part of the group that harassed you when you arrived in Kyoto, stepped forward and reached an arm out, “Come on, you blind beggar.”

“You are bound by hospitality to feed a traveler within your gate,” Mizu said hurriedly. “My wife and I came very far, and we’re very hungry. Or has the Shindo Dojo done away with etiquette?”

His lip curled in annoyance at Mizu’s demands, “Feed them,” he sneered, “then throw them out.

The samurai surged for your arms, dragging you down hallways and into a cramped storage room with a single barred window.

“Eat,” one said, chucking a bowl of rice (if you could even call it that) onto the small table, “then take your whore and get out.”

They laughed heartily at their insults, taking their leave and slamming the door shut behind them, leaving you and Mizu alone.

You chose to sit on top of a barrel while you waited, observing Mizu’s face as she watched the training going on outside, a tiny smile finding its way on her lips.

“Daydream all you want,” you spoke up, “but you’re the one who’s gonna have to come up with a plan.”

She broke away from her view, turning to look at you with a glint in her eye.

“I already have one.”

.

.

.

“Move it, you two,” the samurai ushered, pushing you forward as you walked through the turning halls.

Mizu stopped in her tracks, remaining still despite their threats.

“This will be much simpler if you allow me to speak with your master,” she said slowly, not bothering to look at them.

“Mizu,” you hissed, “don’t make this any more difficult.”

“You heard your wife, beggar boy. No one sees the master, least of all you.”

One stretched their hand out, aiming to grab your shoulder, only for Mizu to step in between the two of you.

“I cannot leave here until I speak to the master of this dojo,” she pressed as he attempted to dislodge her, unable to do so.

“Oh, good,” the men chuckled, drawing their swords. “We get to kill you.”

Mizu’s fingers extended, pointing her middle and index downwards. You smiled, giving a polite bow before continuing the path out of the dojo, arriving at the entrance to the main room. Stepping out into the thin snow and leaning against a pillar, you removed your inro, unpacking the supplies you might need after Mizu’s activities.

You could hear the events going on inside, a mixture of yelling and screaming, of rage and pain brewing within the fighters. Not a peep from Mizu, however. Soon enough, the old samurai from earlier—perhaps he was second in command, though you didn’t exactly care—came running outside, nose bleeding and with a nasty mark spanning diagonally across his face. It seemed that Mizu was getting excited.

“See you later, samurai,” you cooed as he sprinted out of the dojo and through the gates, leaving you alone to laugh at his cowardice.

You hadn’t expected him to return, however.

Entering through the wide open gates, followed by the older man, was a much younger one. He wore a green kimono decorated with the symbol of the dojo, hair tied back into a tall bun with stray pieces framing his face.

“You come to fight, pretty boy?” you teased as he approached, still fiddling with your supplies.

He scoffed, raising an eyebrow at your words, “You? I was told—”

“Inside, dumbass. Does it look like I’m a warrior?” you sneered, rejoining your inro to your obi.

The old man’s eyes widened at your disrespect, “How dare you, a woman—!”

“You got your ass kicked by some country boy. Come back and correct my attitude after you’ve killed him, you shitty old man.”

It seemed impossible for his eyes to get even bigger, but after your words they seemed to be the size of plates.

He attempted to march up to you, only to be stopped by the young man.

“We can deal with this after the samurai is dealt with,” he reasoned, giving you a dirty look.

You laughed to yourself as they entered the dojo, leaving you alone outside once again.

The familiar sounds of fighting broke out shortly after the man’s entrance, joined in harmony by the harsh sounds of breaking wood, undoubtedly caused by Mizu’s quirk of using the environment around her to fight. It was fun to watch, until you had to pay the bill for a duel inside an inn. 

Eventually, the noises began to grow louder—no, closer. You caught a glimpse of the chaotic symphony as Mizu and her enemy, the young man from before, fought their way into the main room. Before you could even blink, Mizu had been thrown across the room, a wooden sword hurled right at her. 

“With a naked blade,” he scoffed, “you’d be dead.”

You immediately stood up and ran towards her, picking up her fallen glasses as you made your way over. She brushed you aside, however, turning her neck to look at the young man, not bothering to shield her eyes. 

A small gasp left him, his cocky demeanor quickly vanishing the moment he laid saw her.

“You had a name for me,” she stated, rising to her feet.

“Taigen, you cannot allow that to dishonor us or you,” the old man commanded, fuming at Mizu. “Kill him.”

The battle quickly changed to a formal duel as the two young samurai made their way outside to take the other’s life. You followed Mizu, standing a fair distance behind her to give her space to butcher the man. Taigen, or so he was called.

He drew his weapon first, discarding the sheath onto the fresh snow below and pointing it directly at Mizu.

“Are you afraid to fight with steel?” he asked, brows furrowed in determination.

You snorted at his comment.

Mizu just chuckled softly, “Thank you,” she said with a smile. “No one has yet deserved my blade.”

She slowly removed her sword from her sheath, drawing the magnificently crafted blade and wielding it with two hands, taking a stance before Taigen.

“You have a blade by Master Eiji?” he gawked, only serving to change Mizu’s smile to a snide grin.

A tense moment was shared between the two, and all you could do was stand by and watch. You knew Mizu was smart, least of all capable. She wouldn’t throw her life away in some stupid duel, not when she still hadn’t gotten her revenge. This was just a simple stop on the way, something to remind her of what was at stake.

Mizu wouldn’t lose, not here.

Taigen was first to act, running up to Mizu with his sword at his side, prepared to strike. She reacted unusually, however, breaking in a crouch and swinging her sword at the ground, kicking up a flurry of snow. Taigen hardly faltered, only spinning around to avoid blinding himself and swung his sword across to hit Mizu. His maneuver was a short-lived victory, as Mizu ran her sword beneath him, the blades moving across one another and letting sparks fly. 

Mizu had made the first wound, slicing a shallow cut into Taigen’s neck, crimson drops of blood blotting the pure white snow beneath them.

The next strikes were harsh, as Taigen hadn’t so much as flinched at his injury, striking with the same vigor he had before. Despite Mizu’s skills, Taigen found a hole in her defense, using his strength to his advantage to press his sword into her shoulder and throw her to the ground, knocking her blade away.

You felt your body grow cold as Taigen stomped over to Mizu, angling his sword to her neck. Was it really going to end like this? All that traveling, killing, and plotting, just for Mizu to die at the hand of some low life samurai?

“Death comes for everyone,” Taigen spat, bringing the blade closer to her. “For you, today.”

He turned around and gave a nod to his fellow samurai behind him, giving Mizu one final look before sending a hard kick into her chest as a final blow to her and her ego.

You attempted to rush to her side, only to receive a scowl from Mizu, stopping you in your tracks. From your current viewpoint, she looked relatively uninjured, at least nothing terribly deep. She was clutching her shoulder, but the cut looked shallow. The doctor inside begged you to ignore her scornful face and help her, to put your work to good use, though you knew her anger would be twofold what it was if you were to intervene.

You watched intently as she brushed a fistful of snow across her face and swept her lingering strand of hair out of the way, those sapphire eyes shining with anger as they shot open.

She reached for her arms, pulling a string and releasing the weights that had been wrapped around her forearms. Repeating the action to the other arm, as well as her ankles, Mizu made eye contact with Taigen who turned around to witness her revitalization.

Reaching for her sword with lightning fast reflexes, she charged towards Taigen and side-stepped his attack, disarming him without a second thought and dealing a brutal slice to his calf. Disoriented and in pain, Taigen was easily lifted and tossed, skidding across the snow and meeting the edge of Mizu’s blade.

The two were panting heavily from exhaustion, whereas you were releasing a breath you’d been holding for the past minute. Mizu had bested her opponent and lived, earning you another day of employment.

“Stop!” a strong voice bellowed, their cry echoing across the courtyard of the dojo.

Your eyes darted to the new figure, one dressed more elegantly than his fellow samurai, a dark kataginu worn over top of his burnt orange kimono.

Mizu joined you in gazing at the man, still out of breath, “You, are the master of this school?” she panted.

He gave an affirmative hum.

“Your students need better training,” she quipped, withdrawing her blade from Taigen’s throat.

“You have a message for me,” he said, the command of a leader in his voice.

“A question,” she corrected, putting strong emphasis on her next words. “Where may I find your brother, the black market merchant Heiji Shindo?”

You felt your eyes go wide at her words, unknowing of her plan during your travels to Kyoto. All this? Just for the name of another man? You had to clench your teeth in order to stop yourself from interrupting their conversation.

The man was just as shocked as you, a myriad of expressions moving across his face all at once, finally arriving to dwell in his voice as he spoke, “You did all this to find my brother? Why?”

Mizu’s blade returned to Taigen’s throat, a silent threat to prevent any more prying questions.

Clearing his throat, he answered with an air of mustered strength, “Heiji Shindo is in the fortress on Tanabe Island, protected by the Genken Clan,” he said, beginning to narrow his eyes. “Whatever business you have with him, you will never reach him.”

Without another word, Mizu sheathed her sword and gave a mockingly polite bow to the head before walking to your side. 

“You're still…a dog.” Taigen groaned, attempting to gain his bearings from the ground.

Helpless and unwilling to stop Mizu’s righteous anger, you simply watched as she whipped around and slid across the ground, not even bothering to unsheath her sword for an unworthy opponent such as Taigen. The blade made its purchase, swinging just inches above his head and decapitating his top knot with the talent and skill of an unrivaled barber.

His golden hairpiece clattered to the earth, softened by the lingering snow it landed upon. Mizu scooped it up and tucked it into her shirt, continuing her pace without sparing a look towards the countless wounded samurai behind her.

The glimmering hairpiece was tossed into your hands as Mizu walked past you, stepping past the towering gates with you in tow, finally making your exit from the dojo she had undoubtedly made a fool of.

.

.

.

“Heiji Shindo, huh?” you said, breaking the silence as you both descended the path down the hill. “Can we buy horses this time around?”

“No,” she immediately responded, “we need to be careful, at least while leaving this city. I have made enemies of many men here.”

“Well, I’m assuming you’ve fully removed their ability to ride a horse, though I don’t really care to hear how you did it…” you trailed off, trying your best to not imagine the horrors Mizu inflicted on those pitiable samurai. “Could we buy horses in the next city? We’ll be farther by then, putting more distance if there are people after us.”

“If you can afford it, then we can buy two. Until then, we walk.”

“Two? Why, my dear husband, we only need to buy one!” you sang, reveling in the way Mizu’s body briefly froze up at the intimate word. “Unless you want your useless, obedient wife to ride alone.”

“...I have no comment for your unending teasing,” she finally replied, crossing her arms.

“If you want to see teasing, you should turn around.” You finished securing her conical hat to your head, tying the last knot just as Mizu turned around to see you, letting you see the newly-formed pout on her rosy face as she saw you in her hat.

“Enough,” she ordered, stopping in front of you to reclaim her headgear, standing at least two heads above you.

“I think it suits me,” you whined while copying her pout, unable to stop her from reclaiming her hat.

She adjusted her hat and quickly tied it beneath her chin, continuing the walk through the cold, empty streets of Kyoto. The wind had kicked up since your time at the dojo, blowing harshly through the streets and depositing snow onto the roofs above. It made you wish you held onto Mizu’s hat for just a little longer, if only to escape the snow falling into your hair.

The gates at the front of the city opened for your exit, letting you step out onto the path leading into the forest. You stopped, however, noticing the mother and daughter from earlier, from when you first arrived in Kyoto. They were freezing, icy puffs of air pulled from their lips as they huddled close together for warmth. Your heart tugged towards them, clenching your fists in a moment of helplessness. The hairpiece gently pricked the walm of your hand as you squeezed, and you reopened it, looking at the expensive decoration and dropping it near their huddled forms.

You did your best to remain quiet as you walked away and down the path, into the sparse woods alongside Mizu. The trees did not grow in number as you walked, only growing in age, becoming thicker and taller, framing the night sky above. Mizu stopped in the middle of a clearing, causing you to stop behind her, trying to give her some space. You could tell she was looking up to the cloudy sky, and although you could hear her mumbling, you couldn’t catch the words in full.

You were, however, able to catch the familiar red droplets of blood that landed and melted into the snow below, reminding you of Mizu’s forgotten shoulder wound.

“You couldn’t have reminded me?” you hissed, stomping over and throwing her arm across your shoulder, which she brushed off.

“It’s my arm, not my leg,” she reasoned.

“If you didn’t want me to play doctor, you shouldn’t have brought me.”

“You brought yourself,” she snorted, turning her head in a different direction. “There’s a hot spring that way, you can ‘play doctor’ when we get there.”

You rolled your eyes, following her as you made your way to the hot spring. It was more impressive than you thought, multiple spouts of water differing in intensity spilling into the warm pool below, life barely blooming amidst the freezing conditions surrounding it.

Mizu began removing her accessories while you removed your inro, gathering your needed supplies to care for her wound.

“You need help with your bandages?” you asked, gesturing to her chest.

“I’ve got it,” she said, giving one last look around before letting her hair down.

She slowly removed her clothes, unwinding the bandages that bound her chest tightly. You did your best not to look, giving her much needed privacy as you began to undress yourself, folding your kimono nicely and resting your inro on top.

“Mind if I take a look at it, Mizu?” you politely requested, sinking your body into the warm spring. 

Mizu hummed, joining you into the water. Her body wasn’t entirely covered by the water from where she was standing—as well as her height, leaving her to stand awkwardly as you inspected her wound. It was both worse than you thought and better than you expected, long but not deep. The wrapping would be awkward, but infection wouldn’t be a worry, especially after this short bath.

It took all the strength you had to keep your eyes trained on her upper chest, though, luckily, her lower chest was being covered by her arms. Her very strong arms, that is. Her whole body was a surprising wonder, no doubt in part due to her constant wearing of those weights. She was able to throw Taigen a fair distance, she could probably pick you up with no problem. No problem at all…

“...You alright down there?” Mizu interrupted your thoughts, and immediately you could feel your face heating up.

“Yeah, ah—I can take care of it afterwards, just try and clean it out a little bit,” you stammered, moving further into the water.

Her gaze lingered on you for a moment more before she moved closer to one of the low water falls, climbing atop the stone beneath for some brief meditation.

You spent your alone time cleaning up, rubbing off any dirt and deep cleaning your hair, the buildup of grease and who knows what else disappearing into the water below, leaving you to grab your needle and thread from your inro.

“I’m ready when you are, Mizu,” you called out, waving your needle for her to see.

She begrudgingly moved to the side by you, biting her lip as you gently applied the stinging ointment to her wound. You’d done this song and dance with her before, and as time went on Mizu had grown used to the bite of your medicine, her howls and cries dying with each new injury.

“Need something to bite on?” you asked before continuing your work.

“I’ll be fine,” she exhaled, shutting her eyes tight.

And so you began, weaving the needle in and out of her wound, carefully pulling it closed and tying the string off.

“Alright, good as new” you muttered, cutting the string. “Don’t touch, don’t scratch, don’t—”

“Not our first time, I know the drill,” she chuckled.

“Well, feel free to relax now,” you sighed, slouching down into the water and shutting your eyes in bliss. 

You enjoyed the time you had in the spring before leaving, reveling in the brief relaxation. Your eyes remained shut while you laid down, hearing her eventually join you in laying down. 

Loud footsteps caused your eyes to shoot open, and you saw that Mizu had already risen from the water, rushing to the ground and grabbing her sword. You scrambled for your kimono, searching for the small dagger tucked on the inside, planning to defend yourself, or worse if the situation called for it.

The figure stumbled through the shadows and into the clearing, meeting Mizu head on and shrieking loudly. You peaked from the spring, seeing Mizu pointing her blade and Ringo, the noodle maker’s son from long ago. He tilted his head, staring with wide eyes at Mizu and finally landing on your frightened expression.

“...Peaches?”

The dojo master prostrated himself before the man seated in the opulent chair, the dimly lit room illuminated only by the moonlit and roaring fireplace.

“Forgive me for giving your location, my brother. He was unstoppable,” he apologized, slowly rising into an upward kneel as his voice began to trail off. “He defeated my every student…” 

The man released a displeased hum, “Your students need better training,” he sneered, turning his head to the old face that walked in.

“The samurai, he's not human,” the old man—Hachiman—said, a mix of fury and bewilderment crossing his face as he recollected. “I saw its eyes.”

“A lone samurai, then?” the man asked, flickering his gaze between the two men before him.

“He had a companion,” the brother spoke, raising his head. “She had no weapon nor joined his fighting.”

The man scoffed, resting his chin on the palm of his hand, “So, a lone samurai with a useless woman.”

“The Four Fangs,” a rich, yet rough, accented voice spoke up, clearly bored by the conversation taking place right next to him. “Send the Four Fangs after this samurai and his girl.”

He grabbed an apple and twirled in between his fingers, “Double their price and be done with it.”

A sickening grin formed on the man’s face as he took in his companion’s words, rising from his chair as he left to distribute orders.

Alone in the room, the Irishman stared at his reflection in the apple, tilting his head as he questioned aloud.

“I wonder, lonesome samurai,” he cooed, taking a bite of the fruit, “why carry a whore ‘round with you when you have so much to lose?”

He tossed the unfinished remains of the apple behind him, turning his head to the window beside him.

“Ah, who gives a shit,” he laughed, snatching another apple. “They’ll both die anyways.”

[refiwrites]

i loved your tsu’tey proposal fic! i love your writing style - could i request another tsu’tey x reader short fic? <3

aa thank you my luv!! of course you can!! this also made me miss tsu'tey ngl :')

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

When he finds you singing.

Wc: 0.5k

GIF is not mine, credits to the owner!

Moving your eyes shut as you breathed in the forest air, you soon exhaled through your mouth after a few moments. Your ears flickered as you heard the noises of nature surrounding you.

You were sat on the grass, your fingers skimming over the ground.

There was a beautiful river by your area, the rustling of the waves acting like white noise as you could spot some fishes swimming through.

Deciding to take some time to yourself today, you always find yourself in this spot, often times you would do your hobbies here, including weaving.

But now, you haven’t got anything with you except your dagger strapped to your side, in case any unwanted scenarios happen. You sigh.

Then you remembered another hobby of yours that you just mainly kept to yourself, soon enough you started humming.

Shortly after, you were singing. For the most part, you didn’t really consider yourself a great singer, but singing had also become a way to relieve any kind of stress you had, whether it be a horrible day or you just wanted to sing your heart out.

You closed your eyes, getting to the middle part of the song, feeling the vibrations in your throat.

Without your knowledge, there was a pair of eyes looking at you from behind, hidden behind a tree.

Alas, you continued, smiling as you were nearing the end of the song.

The hunter watching you was taken, as if he’d never heard quite a voice like that before. It was like he was being blessed by the spirits.

Its like the tensions he felt in his body was suddenly lifted off.

Then you finished, deciding to hold the tone out for a few more seconds.

Letting out a deep breath, you smiled.

The Na’vi could feel the edge of his lip curling into a smile, shaking his head. Then he made the move to approach his mate.

Once you were preparing yourself to stand up to return to the village, you heard a twig snap from behind, making your ears perk up as your head snapped towards the direction of the noise.

Seeing his face had your eyes widen and your mouth dropping open in surprise.

“Tsu’tey?” You utter.

“I did not know you could sing that well.” Was the first thing he said, coming closer to you.

You suddenly felt little. You looked down, avoiding his gaze. “You heard all of that? I thought you were out for a hunt—”

“I was. But I heard this voice singing, never thought it would be you.” Tsu’tey admitted, moving his fingers to your chin, he slowly lifts your chin up, making you look at him as he retracted his finger.

“Why did you not tell me?”

“I have never really told anyone.” You said, looking at his sharp features.

His face scrunched into a light confusion before nodding. “But you are good, ma (Y/N).”

Your heart spiked at his compliment.

“Thank you.” You reply.

Tsu’tey softly places his hand on the small of your back. “I see you are headed back, why won’t you sing for me as we walk, yawntutsyìp? (darling?).”

You opened your mouth but you felt your cheeks rush with warmth.

“How can I not say no to that?”

Tsu’tey gives you a warm grin as he leans in to nuzzle his forehead to the side of your head, planting a feather-light kiss.

Finding satisfaction in his showing of affection, you find yourself holding onto his arm as you two stroll back to the village, with Tsu’tey in awe as you sang for him.

[mikaela-the-slut-expert]

*knocks the door* Hello there! 💙 I hope you're doing great, because an idea came to my head again!)))

I apologize in advance, because my post will be long and it will be about my OC and his city, so the request will only be at the end. And here's the idea...

I was thinking of a story where my OC would finally be able to feel helpless again and learn to appreciate more that Hualian is around, and at the same time learn to ask for help. A old and basic idea came to mind, BUT... I like it. My OC, a demon and the god of Quiet death, manages his city as your OC and Hua Cheng do. Only for me his city at first looks like a large dark forest with lights of blue flame and animals whose fur is highlighted.. You know, like in Avatar, if you've watched it, or in Skyrim, there are such animals in one of the missions (google the "skyrim vale deer" and that's it)). And then the main part of the city is hidden under the arches of a cave in a huge mountain, where plants and tree grow thanks to magic. And plants highlighted too. It looks like an elven town in the Lord of the Rings, only in Chinese style. A very quiet place where demons and souls come to seek peace, a life they might not have had before death.

The main palace in black and blue tones, dark wood, elegance, expensive, but not fancy things around... HUGE collections of fans and poisons...

And of course, a temple for Xie Lian... It is not big, but extremely cozy, quiet, almost personal, as if the person who created the temple did not show how much he is ready to give to his god, but rather is ready to give extremely little, but no less valuable... His own heart...

So, near the city, an unknown creature began to rage in the village and my OC went to deal with it. Alone. Because, why not actually. Nobody wants to put loved ones' lives in danger, even if they are much stronger than you. And he defeated this creature... But he was cursed and turned into a child. Like... A newborn baby... (If you are not comfortable with children, then you can make him a kitten, small, white fur, frightened eyes and trembling from any rustle)

And just imagine, Hua Cheng and Xie Lian are worried that their beloved has disappeared, and then snakes come to them (pets of my OC, you can change it to birds if you feel comfortable) and bring them their beloved under a curse...

And I wonder how you see Hualian care and how they will remove the curse from their beloved reader X))

Cursed headcanons

Hua Cheng x M!reader x Xie Lian

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorryyyyyyyy 😭🙏 I was taking a small break from writing so plz don't get impatient with me guys. However he's I love that so much? Like the detail? The settings? The animals? I love it wtf? You are I fear. Anyways I hope you like this and I hope it makes you for the long wait😭

And I really, really, really hope you don't mind that I wrote him as a toddler 🫠🙏🖤

Also you said like, how your OC was giving his heart? So I used ashes instead.

Also I rlly am not liking my writing rn so I'm rlly sorry if the quality is awful

____________________________________

When Hua Cheng and Xie Lian saw you again they did not expect to see you as a toddler. As in a little boy. As in not your normal form. . .

You were all supposed to meet up at Puqi shrine, just to hang out, cuddle. You know normal lover stuff.

It seems you didn't make it peacefully, in fact it doesn't even look like you remember them.

Your snakes had apparently led the way.

They knew it was you because of the snakes of course. Also not just any little boy would be okay with snakes roaming over his arms, and neck

Hua Cheng and Xie Lian take you inside and start doting on you immediately

They've found nothing out. You don't remember them, or what happened

Sigh

Xie Lian is worried, initially he doesn't know how to fix it. They don't know anything so how can they fix it?

Hua Cheng is worried but more so angry. Who did this? Was it a heavenly official or maybe a ghost? Whoever it was he'll track them down and take care of them for you

The important part is getting you back to normal first though

Xie Lian asks Ling Wen about what curses it may be

Hua Cheng is trying to think if this might be like the time he turned into a kid too but they crossed that out

At the end of the day they come up with. . . Nothing. Yet.

Xie Lian decides for the three of you that maybe rest is what you all need

So that night in bed a toddler lies between the two of them.

You look comfortable in their arms so at least you aren't crying from fear

Hua Cheng was very happy when you were not scared of him.

The next day Xie Lian and Hua Cheng decide something different.

They know you were at your abode so maybe the problem happened there?

Soooo that's where they go, of course with your snake's help, seeing as you don't remember anything

The whole time you're either in Xie Lian's arms or clinging to Hua Cheng's legs.

They're actually having fun with this whole, you being a toddler thing. Not forever though.

All of you get to your city with no problems. . .

Except when they get to the "city" it's a cave.

At first Hua Cheng is debating to tie your snakes together by the tails but Xie Lian calms him down.

Then they both panic because suddenly you're missing.

The little you ran into the cave!

They give chase and then suddenly are wowed when they see your city.

It was hiding in the cave the whole time. Huh, no wonder.

They also find you petting some strange deer with highlighted fur, like literally glowing.

Xie Lian and Hua Cheng have never seen something like this before, they've never had the chance to see your city.

You're always too embarrassed to let them in

They quickly pick you up and Hua Cheng keeps you in his arms this time.

After admiring the city they follow the snakes again.

This time they've been led to a temple.

Who knows what's going through those snake's minds but apparently they're giving your lovers a whole tour

Because the next stop was a temple.

It's not gaudy but not out of shape either. It's elegant, definitely meant for a well loved god or goddess

Xie Lian and Hua Cheng find out who it's for when they see Xie Lian's statue in the temple.

They look around a bit, surprised there aren't many offerings at all. But they notice why when they look at statue Xie Lian's hair.

A hair pin

It's the only thing that isn't a part of the statue, it's not the same material or anything. So what is it then?

Hua Cheng and Xie Lian carefully look at it. After a few minutes Hua Cheng confirms that the hair pin is made of ashes.

Your ashes.

A hairpin, in Xie Lian's hair, you gifted, your ashes

Oh my

Xie Lian is flustered and puts it back where it was. Hua Cheng is smiling at toddler you

You don't know what's going on just yet but they know what a hairpin means

Once they're done appreciating all the fine details you've made for Xie Lian they're led away once again.

Finally to the spot where you were cursed

Xie Lian guess by the dead creatures carcass you must have been cursed by it.

This won't be a hard curse to get rid of, just destroy the creatures body and get rid of the ashes. Then you should turn back to normal.

So Xie Lian hopes.

Hua Cheng does all of it though he wouldn't dare let Xie Lian touch something so dirty. He places you in the safety of Xie Lian's arms so he can do so

After that's all gotten rid of, toddler you poofs and turns big again

They catch you up to speed pretty quickly, then you get ganged up on by kisses and teasing.

They want to see more of your city before you guys leave

____________________________________

Bro

I'm so sorry if it's bad

just tell me in the comments I might try writing something better. I love you guys 🥰🖤

[girlkisser13]

artemis cabin headcanons

the hunters of artemis

• when a hunter join the hunt, they no longer get periods as a blessing from artemis. (another reason to become a hunter?? jk i love women WAY too much).

• obviously, they’re all feminists.

• most of them can't take sexist jokes, so be careful unless you want to get shot with an arrow.

• they keep in touch with the girls that have left the hunt.

• when two hunters fall in love, artemis usually shows mercy, knowing the vow spoke of leaving behind the company of men not women.

• they’ve definitely bumped into the valkyrie on more than one occasion. artemis doesn’t like them very much because she doesn’t want her hunters to become einherjar.

• she’d rather they have the peace and calmness that they deserve.

• much like the camp half-blood necklace beads, the hunters have charm bracelets. they get a charm in the shape of a moon once they arrive and then a star shaped one every ten years they serve artemis.

• trans girls are ALWAYS accepted into the hunt.

• but if a trans guy wants to join the hunt (pretransition), artemis will straight up refuse to take them, subsequently kicking of their gender crisis.

• she’ll also do this with pretransition trans women (to their great confusion).

• the minimum age to become a hunter is sixteen, unless there are special circumstances (it just doesn’t sit right with me that most of the hunters are in their preteens).

• this is a big decision and shouldn’t be made at such a young age. let these girls go through puberty and find out whether they really want to forsake men forever.

• plus, it’d actually benefit the hunters to be more physically mature; they’d be a lot stronger and therefore faster due to the muscle development.

• they have a hotline number that women can call if they feel extremely uncomfortable or fearful in a situation.

• they'll discretely escort her out and then beat the shit out of whoever is scaring her. <33

cabin exterior

• the cabin is primarily made of wood, with vines and ivy creeping up its sides, blending seamlessly with the surrounding forest.

• the cabin's roof is adorned with silver tiles that shimmer like moonlight, casting a gentle glow at night.

• carvings of various wild animals, such as deer, wolves, and bears, are intricately etched into the wooden walls, symbolizing artemis's connection with nature and wildlife.

• during the day, the cabin appears almost invisible from a distance, thanks to its natural camouflage of leaves and branches, making it a perfect sanctuary for the hunters.

• the entrance is flanked by banners with the symbol of the moon and arrows, representing artemis's hunting prowess and her role as the goddess of the moon.

• hidden paths and trails lead from the cabin into the deeper parts of the forest, allowing the hunters to come and go without being seen.

cabin interior

• the walls and floors are made of polished wood, giving the cabin a warm and rustic feel. the wood is adorned with carvings of forest scenes and animals.

• soft, silvery lanterns hang from the ceiling, casting a gentle glow reminiscent of moonlight. at night, these lights give the cabin a tranquil, otherworldly ambiance.

• the bunks are arranged in a circle around a central hearth. each bunk has a curtain made of light, airy fabric, providing privacy while allowing the occupants to feel connected to the room.

• the decor includes tapestries and rugs featuring scenes of forests, wildlife, and the moon. the cabin is filled with plants, flowers, and small potted trees, making it feel like an extension of the forest outside.

• each hunter has a personal space to store their gear. this includes a rack for bows and quivers, hooks for coats, and shelves for other hunting equipment.

• the central hearth is always burning with a controlled, magical flame that provides warmth and light. it's surrounded by comfortable seating made of logs and animal pelts, perfect for gathering and sharing stories.

• a section of the cabin is dedicated to practicing archery and other skills. it includes targets, dummies, and plenty of space for physical training.

• one corner of the cabin has shelves filled with books about nature, wildlife, and mythology, along with maps of various hunting grounds and sacred sites.

cabin traditions

• they have an annual remembrance day on the first full moon of june where they honor the fallen hunters of that year. artemis always ensures that there is a beautiful strawberry moon lighting up the sky.

• when they visit camp half-blood, they to have archery contests with the apollo kids (and other kids that have archery skills). they share their advanced skills and techniques, often leading to informal training sessions where the campers learn new tips and tricks from them.

• they hold special training sessions particularly focused on survival skills, hunting tactics, and self-defense. these sessions are a blend of physical training and imparting the wisdom of living harmoniously with nature.

• the hunters hold workshops on making traditional hunting gear, such as bows and arrows, and other crafts related to their way of life. these workshops are hands-on and give campers a tangible connection to the hunters' lifestyle.

divider by @strangergraphics

[kotias]

South Downs cottage - Our Eden

Okay, I've decided to create the cottage that I envision for Aziraphale and Crowley's final retirement at the end of the story.

I have used the Sims 4 game, meaning that I have been a bit limited on a few things, but here it comes, the vision I have for it.

Anyone looking for references, for inspiration, whether it is for drawing or writing, is very welcome to use those pictures.

In a story being worked on together with @daneecastle, called Our Eden, here is the full description:

Our Eden

(2836 words)

It felt like it had been two hundred years in preparation. And in a way, it was; the universe had so kindly presented him to the suicidal girl who had made it all possible, after all. It had so kindly given him a way to help her that would change her so dramatically that the effects of it still rippled through current days. His hands started shaking, and he pretended it was the strain of the walk. He had received the rights to that land in 1884, as Elspeth expired in her farm near Fulking, leaving a will addressed to him. He had spent years and years preparing it, honing it to perfection. He had build a proper garden out of the enormous fields, made it something his. Something theirs. Back then, he thought he may have lost Aziraphale, and yet receiving the land had sparked something new in him. He had spent an ungodly amount of time, only planting his trees, giving them time and space to grow into the luscious beauties they were today. He guided him through what felt almost like a forest, infused with his attentions. The apples had started showing- he grabbed one on the way, gave it to the angel. Anxiety spiked as they approached and were about to come into the final view. He pushed him against a tree, blocking his path, and kissed him, passionately, desperately, with all his love pouring out. He was shuddering. He wanted him to- He kissed him, again and again. The tree above them glowed a golden sheen.

"Cro-" more kissing. "Crowley-" Even more kissing. "Mm!" Aziraphale couldn't break away. So he pushed hard. "CROWLEY! What is going on?"

Crowley pursed his lips. Fuck it. He took his shades off, pushed them down into the pocket of his vest. He had never been good at hiding his emotions, his eyes betrayed them all. His anxiety, mixed with unfathomable excitement, was shining through them, he knew that very well. But Aziraphale knew what taking them off meant; he trusted him, he trusted him entirely, and he wanted him to know. "Just... just a little bit longer." He grabbed his hand again, and they were back on the path. Very quickly afterwards, he opened a little garden door, they passed another set of weeping willows, and there they were. The old farm had been rebuilt entirely into a cottage. A ground floor and a first floor, hidden under a dark tile roof. Maroon bricks, intertwined with regular touches of beige on the rims. Big, white windows all around it, giving more than sufficient lighting to the entire place. Large, teal shutters were attached to the walls. The entire garden around it had been fournished as to compliment its outdoor colours, and deeper into it, an enormous greenhouse had been installed, and was already almost exploding with greeneries. "... well. That's-" He forced himself to breathe. "That would be ours, if... if you would like to."

[...]

"Wanna visit the property properly, angel?" While he was swimming in his relief that his companion loved what he had created, and could stay there for days, he saw the looks he gave to the place, and of course he would be more than happy to show him what he had built for them.

Crowley took the hand and heaved himself up, cradled Aziraphale's hands into his own and kissed them. "Come on." He guided him back through the weeping willows, through the little garden gate, and they lost themselves into the near-forest he had taken the time of erecting for a century and a half. The trees who were welcoming them into the orchard were none other than apple trees of various types, blessing them with reds, greens and yellows. They were sheltered under gigantic mirabelle plum trees whose branches were hugging their little siblings, mixing their tame golden with the reds of their counterparts. The wind -or so Crowley pretended- was passing through the leaves, shaking them slightly as they passed below them. Like a finely-tuned music, nectarine trees, mixing their blonde and crimson colours into perfectly round and juicy fruits. Extending lower on the ground, several mulberry trees were offering a dark shelter from the sun and from any external view.

With a few steps, Crowley leaned down to pass under them, and leaned against the trunk of one of them, pulling Aziraphale against him. He gave him a kiss and brought him out of the leafy shelter, opening his view to a little vineyard he had managed to put together in the last decade. The vines adorned themselves with the blush colours of the setting sun, and opened their arms to the view of Devil's Dyke below. The never-ending greenery, the valley and the hills were battling for a chance to be seen by their two pairs of eyes, demanded the full spotlight and, in doing so, enhanced each other even more. Far into the horizon, beyond the curves of this landscape, glittered the shadow of the sea, reflecting the Heavens above like the Sun dropping into it burned like Hell below.

[...]

In his estimation, fifteen minutes passed before he nudged Aziraphale forward in their tour. They circled the orchard, until they reached the peaches and the pears that were hanging proudly from their trees. He guided him back into the small forest, and quickly, they were entirely covered with foliage above their heads. "I wanted to have more than one originally, but... they just don't know when to stop taking all the space. I thought it safer to just leave the one." This one was a fig tree, whose trunk was large, almost veiny with small craters all over, and its leaves and branches were extending so far beyond it that it had made itself a proper clearing. No other trees were allowed in its protection, and its roots were merrily swimming just below the surface of the ground, peeking through in a few spots. "But, strangely enough..." he brought him to the other side of the trunk and pointed to a large bush whose sharp-looking leaves were climbing up the fig tree like a praying Saint. "It seems to have gotten well acquainted with the strawberries. I don't know how they even appeared here, I for sure didn't plant them, but they've been clinging onto it for about ten years, I'd say." He leaned over the bush and picked one of its fruits, offered it to the angel. "Their taste really is unique, it seems that they've taken a bit of inspiration from the figs above them."

He brought him further into the orchard and back out the other side, and they were back into the garden around the cottage. Bushes full of fruits and vegetable patches were trailing their way around the back fence and contained to a single, rather large area, hidden behind rhododendron flowers. Crowley snapped his fingers for a basket, and did that a second time to collect the never-ending stream of growing zucchinis that were trying very hard to take over the entire area. A few pumpkins were starting to show, and the carrots and potatoes were just about to be ready- only a few additional weeks. Snap. The basket was sent into the kitchen directly. The sun was almost entirely set now, and the light was getting very dim. "If we enter the greenhouse now, I don't think you'll be able to see much. How about we go tomorrow morning, and I show you the house?"

"Yes, I'd like to see the greenhouse with the light, I believe thats where I'll find your best handy work so ..." He gestured toward the cottage. "After you?"

Crowley wrapped his arm around Aziraphale's and led him to the cottage's front door and unlocked it. He couldn't help a deep breath before opening the door, feeling his heart race again. That was it. Everything else would mean nothing if he didn't like the inside. The entry was a short corridor where a thin, dark brown table had been placed for usual end-of-the day clutter; it was open in a way that gave some space for the shoes of the hosts and visitors alike. By its side on the wall, a few hooks had been placed for any coat that needed taking off. It was quite simple, with walls painted yellow and a maroon ceiling. On the left, there was a bathroom as Crowley showed, rather large for the use they may have of it; a toilet, a sink, and, behind a semi-clear curtain, a grand bathtub, with enough space for two people to bathe without feeling the tiniest bit cramped. "I figured that you may appreciate visitors. There are a few families around here, and the kids get easily curious, I'm sure they'll pop by eventually. So... thought I'd furnish it properly, with the toilets and all."

[...]

He opened the door on the other side of the corridor, showing the living room, with one mahogany bookshelf taking over the wall in front of them, entirely empty except for two plants crawling their way up to the ceiling and showing off their vibrant green leaves all around the shelves. On their right was a large, arch-like window that would fully lit up the room during the day, in front of which were two armchairs and a small side table. In front of them, he had placed an off-white oak table that would comfortably host six diners, eight if they were feeling generous, but at the moment, a wooden bench and matching two chairs were surrounding it. On the far left of the room, a large couch and a low table were facing a grand chimney. Just before the couch was an archway that gave a hint of the kitchen hiding behind the wall.

Aziraphale wandered into the room, touching the furniture and looking at all the details of the room, a big smile on his face as he explored the living room. "This is so cozy! I love the chairs." He came to the arm chairs and leaned against one. "Do you prefer to have one or the other? Or is it 'whatever closer'?"

Crowley smiled tenderly at the angel. "You seem to have chosen yours already. Go on, try them out- I think you'll like them."

Aziraphale smiled, glad to see that Crowley noticed which one he favored. He sat in the armchair and leaned into it. It almost felt like he melted into the chair. "It's so comfortable and yet not too much so, I can definitely see myself spending a long time in this chair." He got up and walked over to Crowley, "next room?"

He nodded when it was time to get to the next step, and guided him through the archway and into the kitchen. Compared to the other rooms, it was rather small, but, Crowley thought, rather well furnished. It also was entirely Aziraphale, he hoped. Its soft, pastel colours, mainly beiges and teals, were lighting it up quite nicely, particularly considering that the window in this room was not quite as impressive as the one in the living room. It had a small folding table placed against the nearest wall with two high stools, where his basket full of almost overgrown zucchinis was resting. All over the right corner, facing the door leading to the entry, were a large set of counters and cupboards, an oven and a stove. In one of the cupboards, he had hidden as many kitchen appliances as he could find, enough to make the angel's life easier whatever the task he set himself to do. On the left side of the room was the stone staircase leading them upstairs; before it was a glass door bringing them back outside, behind it was one last door to be opened- and that was the big one. His library.

Aziraphale examined every drawer and cupboard. He pointed out the appliances he knew and questioned and investigated the ones he didn't; he was on an adventure through the kitchen, really getting to know everything. He knew this was his place. He had not really gotten too much into cooking,as he usually only made things for himself, but this time was different. He wasn't just cooking for himself. He was cooking for Crowley too, even if his demon only drank alcohol and coffee; he still got to share that experience. He hurried over to Crowley like a little kid. "Apologies dear, I couldn't help but explore. What's the next room?" He tipped his head ever so slightly in curiosity.

"Oooh, I think you'll like it." He really hoped he would. He took his hand, brought it to his lips for a gentle kiss, looking straight into his eyes. "And please, tell me if you would change anything." He brought him to the door, and opened it. While it had not been filled with books yet, the library was covered, on every wall, from the floor to the ceiling, with book shelves. That was a very round and rather high room, crawling all the way up to the end of the first floor, almost eating into the roof of the cottage, and every bookshelf had been designed to embrace those facts. They were accompanying the walls, hugged them perfectly all the way up to the roof. Three more of them, thinner and shorter, had been placed closer to the middle, creating a visual guide to the large window on the left side, mirroring the one in the living room. In that place, he had installed a wooden resting place, with plenty of cushions and plaids to keep it comfortable. Under that bench, he had created a large space to confine all sorts of blankets, tartan covers, pillows and other comfortable fabrics that would prove incredibly useful during the winter period. Covering the ground, he had chosen soft, dark blue carpeting, and placed more ottomans and footstools in the middle of the room, and a small, low metal table had been fixed on the floor for stability. Aziraphale did love drinking something with his reading, it would be a shame for it to stupidly fall on the floor due to a bad movement making the table tumble. Crowley gave plenty of time to the angel to discover his space, sat on the wooden bench while he was looking around, anxiously watching his reactions.

Aziraphale's reaction was bigger than any of the other rooms he was so overjoyed that his wings burst out and stuck to him as he ran around checkout every detail of his library. He would chatter on and on about what books he wanted to stack where, what he wanted to do with which area during which time of year. He even joked about letting Crowley sleep in a little area for him to cuddle with his Angel when he wanted to read. Then he came running back, floating when he leaped, his wings assisting, then pounced Crowley kissing him. "Thank you! This is absolutely wonderful, my love!"

"Well, as you'd have it, that was the plan-" He kicked into the bench's sides, and a little door to its hidden space opened, revealing the overflow of covers. "I know how much time you'll spend in here, angel, and I'd hate for either of us to get cold. Now, since you're already floating- if you go up to the next floor, you should be able to see your study. I made it so it felt part of the library." It was a little space he had created with a desk full of drawers and a few shelves, usually accessible by going up the stairs, and facing the open space of the library with only a fence separating them. Two windows circled it, giving it a fair bit of light.

Aziraphale paused and looked behind him, and giggled, let his wings vanish. "No, I think I'll go up there the human way. Care to show me?"

[...]

He chortled against his mouth and grabbed his hands, dragged him towards the bedroom's door, opened it with a kick and brought him in. It was a great room, he thought; full of warm colours, albeit on the darker side of the spectrum. The walls were burgundy, with large beige accents all over them, and the lamp above them was adorned with golden colours. On their right, the wall was comprised of a large, retractable door, with large mirrors attached to it, opening to what he knew was an enormous walk-in wardrobe, big enough to host all the clothes they had amassed during the last centuries. There were two little, dark side tables with small lamps attached to them. But the main piece was the bed; perfectly outraged with the tiny thing that Aziraphale dared call his resting place in the bookshop, Crowley had taken it upon himself to make it a proper King size, which had been covered with white and teal bed sheets on which slithered a red bedspread.

[tojigasm]

I’m crossfaded right now but I need diff Jake x pregnant reader a combination and angst, fluff and smut I literally don’t care what it is please !! It will make the wake and bake hit

I'm so fuckin deranged. In so sorry for this. This is so evil. I went down an angsty route with this one. I wrote this to be a sequel to "Who am I to Love you"

It rots within him. A thorny, prickly weed burrowing itself in the thick of his mind. It pricks and prods at his thoughts, trickling down his spine in a sickly plague.

He bides the long days with time in the ocean. Learning the ways of the metkayina and spending time with his children. He's braiding seagrass when his mind crawls back to the metkayinas soul tree. The tree where he'd seen Neteyam soon after his death.

He wonders if you're there too.

"Daddy, you're not braiding it right." Tuk scolds from beside him, taking over the thick weed and finishing the fishtail with a knot at the end.

"Sorry, Tuk," Jake doesn't go to the tree.

—

"I know you're thinking of her." Neytiri speaks through a sigh, cutting pieces of fruit. She places her knife down to rest a hand on Jake's back.

"Thinking of who?" Jake hardly acknowledges her, finishing a thread of grass, cinching the dried weed into a fold.

"Dont–" Neytiri takes a sharp inhale through her nose. "Don't even."

Jake drops the padded grass to turn to her, "what?" He shrugs, "what do you want me to say?" He stands up to pace around the length of the hammock.

"My Jake," she speaks softly, massaging the skin of her arm in an attempt to comfort herself.

"You want me to go talk to her?" He points outward to the ocean, and Neytiri drops her head in defeat, braids swaying side to side. "You want me to go pour my heart out to my dead mate–

"Our." She chokes under her breath.

It's begin to rain.

"Y-you want me to attach myself to her again? Attach myself to the one thing that I can't come back from? If i go there, i won't leave." He shakes his head solemnly. "God only knows how hard it's been fr'me to not take a knife to my fuckin' throat." Jake's voice croaks and blubbers.

Neytiri looks up at him under her lashes. A deepened blue shadows her features, and her honey eyes run an amber heat to them. She stands up and meets him eye to eye.

Jake's crying.

"She was my mate too, Jake." There's a sickly hiss to the way his name is spit from her tongue. "Not just yours," her ears flatten back and her canines bear, "you suffer in silence, but I will not."

He watches her leave.

—

It's late past eclipse when Neytiri returns home. Wet footsteps make their way into the hammock and a breeze pulls him from his light sleep before she slots herself against his back.

Neytiri presses a kiss to the base of his neck, thumbing his braid gently.

"She misses you."

She knows he's awake. He knows that she knows. Even so, he doesn't say anything.

—

He waits along the surrounding rocks of the tree of souls for hours. Fiddling with sheets of rock and coral that spots the ground as though it were weeds.

He thinks about going back to the clan. Back to his children, back to his mate, and back to his home. And a part of him thinks back to the forest and the years before neytam had been born. He thinks back to you.

It's not a long swim to reach the sprouting limbs of the tree, making the bond with shaky hands.

There's a moment of darkness before the forest surrounds him. He walks through the heavy brush and thick plants, running the tips of his fingers over the small flowers that litter the forest. He remembers the flower crowns you'd made for him. He wishes that the petals would live forever. Instead, they rot away, trapped in a chest hidden within the hammock. They lost their color long ago.

"Jake?" Your voice calls to him near the pond, and he can see you as he rounds a thick tree.

"Hi, honey," he whispers. His voice is quiet and soft. He thinks he might cry.

You're glowing under the rays of sun that glitter along the forest floor. Capturing you in their wake and painting an almost infinite image of you.

You run to him, jumping into his arms so quickly he doesn't have time to react before the both of you fall to the floor. "I missed you!" You squeal through a giggle.

"Woah," Jake chuckles lightly, "missed you too, kid." He kisses your temple, wrapping his arms around you loosely as you laugh into his chest.

Rolling off of him with a giggle, you land on your back beside him, arms and legs outstretched through the thick blades of grass that tickle your thighs.

Jake props himself onto an elbow beside you, tracing over your soft features, taking in the glow of your excitement with a warm smile.

"I never see you anymore." You say, lifting a hand to trace your finger over the outline of a few clouds thay scatter the sky. "Are you mad at me?"

Jake physically recoils at your question, scoffing at the idea that you could ever do anything wrong, let alone lead him to be cross with you.

"No, I'm–I'm not mad at you," he follows it with a laugh, brows furrowing. He watches you roll to your side, meeting his eyes.

"Then why don't you see me?"

"It's not–"

"Neytiri comes to see me all the time. She's made bracelets with me, and she's so excited to have another baby!" You scrunch your nose in glee.

A lump crawls up Jake's throat and plants itself there. He nearly chokes on it.

"M'sure she is–"

"Do you not want another baby?"

The genuine innocence in your voice makes Jake want to scream. He wants to rip his hair out and bite his lips until they bleed and choke on his tongue and sit at the bottom of the shallow water until he just falls asleep there.

You don't know about Neyetam.

"Jake," you stroke the soft of his jaw softly, and his eyes fill with tears. "Are you okay?"

He doesn't even realize he's crying until you're cupping his face in your small hands.

"M'so scared, baby." Jake's voice shakes under the weight of his fear. It cracks, and it bubbles over.

You aren't quite sure what's happening, settling on pulling yourself closer to your mate, letting him hold you to him.

There's a long while of quiet, only filled by the soft strokes of Jake's hand along your stomach as he presses kisses to the back of your ear.

"Thinking of any names fr'the little squirt?" Jake asks, voice hoarse as he massages his thumb over your belly button.

You shake your head. "I was hoping you and Neytiri could figure something out. Maybe a mix of both of you guys' names?" You pull at your bottom lip.

Jake nods, eyes falling from your own to your lips. He kisses you gently, stroking a hand over your cheek and the other at your hip.

When you pull apart, he holds you in his lap again. "I like that idea," he offers, kissing your shoulder.

You nod, "what did you mean earlier?" You fiddle with your anklet, tracing the engrained 'J'.

"What do you mean?" Jake shrugs through a hum.

"When you said you were scared."

"Oh."

—

Jake tells you about Neteyam. He tells you about the metkayina. He tells you about the forest and the sky people and your ikran that still follows him around like a lost puppy.

He tells you about the ocean and the pretty talkun that come in waves and about Ronal and how the two of you'd be friends.

He tells you about how big Tuk's gotten and how much trouble Loak still causes. He tells you about Kiri and Eywa. He doesn't tell her about how Tuk braids exactly like you do, or how Kiri's picked up on your mannerisms, or the fact that Loak subconsciously still leaves extra pieces of food for you.

Jake sits with you for hours, letting you trickle and trace lines with the tips of your fingers over the stripes that litter his arms and ribs.

He lets you sing to him, and he hunts with you for the night.

And it's only when he's completely certain that you've fallen asleep that he pulls himself from the root of the tree.

He does so with a heaviness as he makes his way back to the clan. Back to the hammock and back to Neytiri and back to the rotted petals and braided flower crowns.

He knows you won't remember when he comes back to visit — if he comes back at all.