#mXf

[dreamingroleplayer]

The holy trinity of describing my tastes in women

[alwayscorvus]

HONKAI STAR RAIL Masterlist:

Jing Yuan

What are lions truly scared of (x half-lion!Jing Yuan)

Forced Marriage

Gallagher

"Too grumpy to handle" How your relationships with Gallagher began (x older!Gallagher)

Blade

"Slow Burn" - Blade as your boyfriend - Part 1 (soulmate au)

"Petals of love" - Blade as your boyfriend - Part 2 (requested)

Dan Heng

"You are cute when you get worried about me" - Part 1

Bronya Rand

Is it a date?

click and go back to full Masterlist...

[gnrswife]

Izzy Stradlin XFem!reader

Words:266

Warnings: smut..duh

cmon baby one more..." he coos into your ear, nails still digging into the fleshy fat of your ass as he guides your hips up and down on his girthy cock. he was determined to get one more orgasm from you. he had to.

it felt like forever. you had been bouncing up and down on his shaft for what felt like ages. you couldn't even recall when it all had started. one orgasm to another, he simply couldn't get enough. he was addicted.

you felt that same knot in your stomach tighten again, this time it was much tighter and intense. the grip you had on his shoulders tightened, your nails engraving small crescents.

your boyfriend had noticed this, he swiftly grabs onto your waist, lifting you up and slamming himself into you at an cervix bruising pace. it was so quick you could barely could even process your own high approaching by second. then you felt it.

back arched, eyes rolled all the way back, jaw dropped, legs trembling. it was intense and heavenly. you've never felt anything so good in your life. it was so good that you didn't even notice the fluid you had squirted everywhere.

as you came back down from your high you realized your boyfriends thrusts had came to an abrupt end. "w-whyd you stop?" you ask, somewhat disappointed. but your boyfriend was looking into your eyes, a cheeky smirk plastered all over his face. "baby- you squirted on me..." he panted out, slowly beginning to buck his hips into your cunt again.you notice the tacky thin layer of liquid painted between your thighs and his lap. you let out a breathy sigh before your boyfriend whispers into your ear.

"y'think you could do that again for me pretty?"

an: the story ive been gatekeeping for like 2-3 days😭😭 SORRY FOR THAT BTW...im very forgetful and i sleep alot😁

[darkrpfinders]

20+ only ; 29y she/her looking for a FEMALE or MALE OC to write against my MALE VAMPIRE OC. Romance is the main focus, along with dabbles of smut and darker themes. I tend to keep my replies between 1-3 paragraphs, and would prefer you to keep the same ~ I love building a friendship alongside plotting and writing, as well as Pinterest boards, playlists, and whatever else we come up with ! My absolute favorite plot dynamics are Vampire Bodyguard x Human Prince/Princess ; Vampire King x Human Prince/Princess in an arranged marriage; Vampire x Werewolf ~ I have so many other ideas as well, however, I don't do modern plots. I like to keep my escapism in the fantasy world~ I write exclusively on discord ✨🔥⚔️ like this & I'll reach out ~

.

[rphunter]

‘.*—: a quick psa that it’s been several months since I last wrote due to some medical issues so I may be a little rusty but I’m eager to get back into it! now, to the ad.

🧚 I’m summoning all my medieval fantasy lovers who enjoy throwing headcanons around, plotting together, enthusiasm that is mutual, creating Pinterest boards and playlists. I really want to meet a writing partner who has the same passion for what we write, I want to completely immerse ourselves into the world we create and freak out over the couple we create. I only feel comfortable writing with non binary and women. It makes me uncomfortable to write with a cis man. I myself am a woman, in case you’re curious. I’m now 23 so I ask that my writing partners be 18+!

I’m looking for somebody who will want to stay up til late because we’re too excited to sleep, I want a friend as well as a writing partner. I’m mainly looking for mxf pairings right now, I’m fine with playing whichever gender. Truly doesn’t matter to me. I only ask please don’t just use me for male muses and expect me to constantly write against overly submissive and docile female muses. I really want characters with substance and fire and passion within their souls. I want to see personality. I want someone to world build with, plot together and create Pinterest boards and playlists, find memes and quotes to share to inspire. It really helps immerse us both and connect to each other as writers and to our world!

I’m a sucker for one human muse (even if temporarily) and the other a fantasy creature. Though it isnt required! It’s optional. I love the angst and all of that to go with it. I don’t have a particular storyline that I’m set on but I do know I want kingdoms at war, enemies to lovers and potential mates if you like Idea. I adore soulmate plots. Darker themes are allowed and triggering subjects in the background / sub-plots but those can be discussed later on, though certain elements won’t be included between our muses.

For face claims I prefer realistic, be that as real life people, realistic art or AI’s. The option is open!

If you’re interested in getting to know me better and discussing a possible roleplay, interact and I’ll message you! But please, I ask you only interact if you’re willing to give the same kind of energy back. I’m a very excitable person and to receive none of the enthusiasm back in return, will likely cause me to grow disinterested. I just want to make friends and make a beautiful story! As for pairings, I would like for it to be a wlm pairing. I’m contented to play either a male or female muse! Most of my characters are the villain / morally grey type, so please be accepting of that. It’s what I feel most comfortable with. I love all creatures and they will likely be included in as background and side characters but for my mains, it’ll probably be fae/elves, vampires, gods/goddesses, etc.

If I’ve managed to capture your interest and enchant you, interact with my ad search or you can message me directly yourself, either is absolutely fine! 🖤

.

[c1oudyxm4rs]

Fxck pretty, your gorgeous

COLLAGE UA

➳ tags ;; #bakugoukatsuki #BakugouxBlackreader #Bakugouxfemale #fluff #angest #Blackwriter #myheroacademia #mha #MxF #mha x black reader #bnha bakugou #anime oneshot #bakugouoneshot #bakugo fluff  #mha fluff

➳ wc ;; 893

➳ plot ;;  You and Bakugou have been best friends since you were both in kindergarten. You guys talked about everything and he was always one of your biggest supporters when it came to your music career because he knew it meant a lot to you. And you were his when it came to his football games, you always tried to make time when you could because you knew it made him more happy than he would ever let on. 

You both cared about each other but it would always be in a brother-and-sister manner up until recently. You had recently broken up with your ex, and you both were still on good terms and talked all the time. It wasn't until you guys were on Facetime that he changed your mind about something.

➳ a/n ;; This is my first time so any tips and any good advocate would be helpful, thanks

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“Girl you like him, just admit it. The way you all spend time together, the way you talk about him?? You like that boy” Da’von said, stuffing his face with food he had just bought.

“Da'Von no I don’t, me and Katsuki are just close that's it, it's not like I like him or anything. Plus he has a girlfriend.” You said taking off your makeup in the mirror.

“You and me know damn well, she is cheating on him. Plus I could quiz you and you would know every damn answer” He said side eying the camera. 

“No, I wouldn’t and don't say that about Crystal. I'm pretty sure she really likes him, and this is the happiest I have ever seen him.” You said wiping your face, then put your makeup wipes in the trash then put your tablet on your bed since the Facetime call was on there.

“The happiest I ever see him is with you, girl. With that crystal girl, he is only half happy trust me, now this quiz. How old is he?” 

“25”

“Favorite color?”

“Black is all he ever wears”

“Hip-Hop, R&B, Rap or Pop?”

“He listens to everything but mainly R&B”

“What is one thing he does that is related to you?”

“Skip his classes to come to mine if I'm in the building that day”

“And he doesn't like you? Girl you trippin.” Da’von said laughing 

“Even if, he has a girlfriend, Da'von, it wouldn't make any sense. You know he doesn't cheat.” You said lying down on your bed and opening your phone.

“It's not cheating if you like a person from a distance…” He said looking away from the camera

“Da’von”

“Sorry”

The rest of the call went on as normal, talking about people you didn't like, catching up with drama and then hanging up to go to bed. Did you really like him? At this point you didn't know, Da’von had really had really made you think but you put it off till the morning. 

When you wake up, clean yourself up, and get dressed by putting on some sweatpants, a black crop top, and a black jean jacket. You did some light makeup, did your edges, your braids into a ponytail then grabbed your stuff and left out your dorm. Your classes were pretty normal and boring since you had a morning schedule. After you finished up you went to your dorm for lunch to find Kat in your kitchen making noodles and had the TV on watching YouTube like he was your dorm mate. (P.S. He wasn't)

“What the hell are you doing in my dorm?” You ask about taking off your shoes and the door and shutting it behind you.

“Do you not see me making food, use your eyes before you ask stupid ass questions, mkay?” He replied with his normal sassy remark.

“Asshole”

“Whatever, you coming to my game tonight? Coach Evans said it might be the last of the season. I want you to go so you should…” He mumbled.

“Shit, the game is tonight? I can’t have an interview with Global. I can’t pass this up like my first official interview, my manager said it was hella important.”

“So is this game, you can't just slip in for at least 30 minutes to see me play?  Please. I never ask you for nothin’ and now all I'm asking for is this one little thing?.” He pleaded

“Katsuki you know better than anyone that this is a one-time opportunity, I don’t know when I'm gonna get an offer like this again. You know better than anyone that I wouldn’t miss this game on purpose come on, please. Just a reason to listen.” You begged trying to reason with him. You know you sounded shitty but it was such a big opportunity. He sighed and then clenched his fist.

“Kat please, I promise I will make it up to you. I swear.” You said taking his hand, but snatched his hand back and cursed to himself.

“Whatever, I don't care anymore. Do what you want” 

“And the food is for you…” He said grabbing his bag and leaving before you could even stop him. You felt like shit but this meant a lot to you, and if you had to hurt his feelings then so be it but you weren’t gonna let the chance slide.

You tried texting him on your way to your interview but he never answered and just left you on red, at this point you didn't know what the hell you were gonna do, he couldn't ignore you forever you knew you hurt him but you never thought it was that bad. You decided to leave it alone it seemed like the more you tried to justify your actions you sounded more like a damn jackass. You sighed to yourself and continued driving.

When you got there you were greeted kindly, the director told you and your manager Kimmy what was gonna take place during the interview, you were gonna answer the 30 most answered questions and then sing one song that was gonna come out on your next album. You were pretty nervous before everything started but once it did you felt pretty good about everything…but little did you know how bad everything was gonna go downhill.

To be continued....

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➳ a/n ; I hope you guys liked this, please be nice this is my first time writing something like this and English is not my first language. If you guys enjoyed this let me know if you want a part 2!

[classic-ambrosia]

◜ ও ﹐──────────────────── ── 𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 *!*

im looking for a 1x1 roleplay with our own plot or that has something to do with any of the fandoms below. i usually use oc's rather than canon characters, but if i am willing to play a canon character it will say so beside it. i dont do nsfw scenes although i dont mind it being implied. i can do fxf or mxf where i play the female role - although i don't mind playing a male character for platonic relations.

✢ ▍ ── the hunger games .  ˚　. canon and original characters ✢ ▍ ── yellowjackets .  ˚　. canon and original characters ✢ ▍ ── the wilds .  ˚　. canon and original characters ✢ ▍ ── harry potter .  ˚　. original characters ✢ ▍ ── maze runner .  ˚　. original characters ✢ ▍ ── the walking dead .  ˚　. original characters ✢ ▍ ── the last of us .  ˚　. original characters

▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀ ─────────────────── ও ╮ 𓂃 .

i write at least three paragraphs + dialogue, and can go up to 1k words depending on what the response calls for and i use irl face claims. i'm nineteen years old -- please be 18+ i also like to make playlists, pintrest boards, character edits and more when roleplaying with someone to develop the characters and stories further!!

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[jjkfanfic]

First one so please be kind! I also like doing little sketches of the story so here you all go! My wattpad has all my stories on JJK so give it a look!

I had always been drawn to the light, and in my world—which was often shadowed by curses and sorrows—Megumi Fushiguro was like an unexpected ray of sunshine to me. I was head over heels in love with him, but I was never going to tell him. He was serious, focused, and had a grumpy exterior that was hard to crack. Yet, I constantly found myself wanting to break through his chill facade.

Today, the sun hung brightly in the sky, the kind of day that felt perfect for picnics and laughter. I bounded into the courtyard where Megumi was training, his brow furrowed in concentration as he practiced his techniques. My heart fluttered at the sight of him and the way he moved with purpose. Beneath that serious demeanor, I knew there was a softer side waiting to be discovered.

“Hey, Fushiguro!” I called, my voice light and cheerful. “Want to take a break and grab some ice cream? I found this amazing new place downtown!”

He paused, glancing at me with an expression that was half annoyance, half disbelief. “Isn’t it a little too early for ice cream?” he snapped, his tone grumpy.

I pouted for a moment but then bounced on my heels, undeterred. “It’s never too early for ice cream! Come on, it’ll be fun!”

Megumi sighed, rolling his eyes dramatically, but I could see the hints of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’re way too energetic for your own good,” he muttered, turning back to his training.

“Just because you like being grumpy doesn’t mean I have to!” I teased, skipping in place. “Life’s too short to be all serious! Plus, ice cream makes everything better!”

“Not everything,” he grumbled, but I caught the glimmer in his eyes.

I didn’t let his dismissal faze me. Instead, I leaned against the wall, twirling my hair and putting on my most exaggerated puppy-dog eyes. “Pleeeease!” I begged, making my voice as sweet as possible. “Just this once?”

He stared at me, his expression locked somewhere between irritation and amusement. Every time I thought I had pushed him too far, he would surprise me. I had gotten used to the little moments when he would soften, even if just for a second.

“Fine,” he finally relented, exhaling as if he had just given up the greatest battle of his life. “But only because I need a break.”

“Yay!” I squealed, throwing my arms around him in a tight hug. I felt his body stiffen for a moment, unsure of how to react. I pulled away, grinning widely as I grabbed his hand, leading him out of the courtyard quickly.

As we made our way through the streets, I couldn’t help but chatter about everything from my favorite flavors to the joy of summer days. I glanced over at Megumi, who still wore his usual stoic expression, but I saw tiny cracks in his grumpy demeanor. Every now and then, he would smirk at something silly I said, and my heart soared.

“Why do you always have to be so chipper?” he finally asked, eyebrows furrowed. “It’s exhausting.”

“Exhausting is my middle name!” I quipped, and he narrowed his eyes at me. “But really, isn’t it better to focus on the good stuff? Like ice cream?”

He shook his head, trying to hide the smile that was definitely threatening to appear. I leaned closer, nudging him playfully. “You just need to open yourself up to a little more happiness, Fushiguro! Life’s too short to be serious all the time.”

“Maybe,” he replied thoughtfully, glancing at me sideways. “But I’m fine the way I am.”

That only made me want to see him smile even more. “Okay, I get it! But just think about it. You spend so much time fighting curses; don’t you want to enjoy the good things too?”

He was quiet, and I took that as a victory. When we finally reached the ice cream shop, my eyes widened at the colorful display. I could barely contain my excitement as I scanned the menu, bouncing from foot to foot.

“What are you going to get?” I asked, spinning around to face him.

“Chocolate,” he replied curtly, clearly lacking the enthusiasm I had.

“Just chocolate?” I laughed. “You’re missing out! How about something fruity? Or maybe a sundae with sprinkles? You really need to try new things, Fushiguro!”

He watched me with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “You really don’t stop, do you?”

“You know me! One hundred percent bubbly!” I teased back, leaning forward

But then something shifted in the atmosphere. His eyes softened as he looked at me, the playful banter fading into a moment of genuine connection. I hadn’t realized until that moment just how much I wanted to see him let his guard down.

“Maybe you’re right,” he finally said, a shy smile creeping onto his lips. “Just this once, I’ll try something different.”

I beamed, my heart fluttering at the sight of him smiling even slightly. “Yes! You won’t regret it, I promise!”

As we stepped up to the counter, I excitedly rattled off flavors and toppings, urging him to step out of his comfort zone. Eventually, he settled on strawberry with rainbow sprinkles—a choice that surprised me, but I was thrilled nonetheless.

After ordering, we took our treats outside, finding a spot on a bench under a big tree that offered shade from the afternoon sun. I took a big scoop of my mint chocolate chip ice cream, my eyes closing in bliss as I savored the flavor.

“So, what do you think?” I asked, watching him take a tentative bite of his strawberry. His eyes flickered with surprise.

“It’s… not terrible,” he admitted, trying to maintain his usual gruffness.

“See! It’s great!” I exclaimed, “I knew you’d like it!”

His lips quirked up, and for a moment, he looked almost happy. But then he fixed me with his serious gaze, as if he were putting up his defenses again. “I don’t get why you’re so cheerful all the time.”

I shrugged, licking my ice cream. “Because I choose to be! There’s so much negativity in the world; sometimes it feels good to focus on the little joys instead. And you know what? Being around you makes me happy—grumpy or not.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You really are exhausting.”

“But in a good way, right?” I nudged him with my shoulder, my heart racing at the closeness.

“Maybe.” He paused, looking thoughtful. “You’re different from everyone else.”

“That’s a compliment, right?” I teased, but my heart fluttered as I caught the intensity in his eyes.

“Yeah, it is.” His voice softened, and for a moment, the playful atmosphere between us shifted into something deeper. A silence fell, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was charged, filled with words left unsaid and lingering glances. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, anticipation tingling in the air between us.

As he turned to look at me, the seriousness in his gaze made butterflies erupt in my stomach. “You’re not like anyone I’ve met,” he said, his voice low and steady. “It’s… refreshing.”

I felt a warmth spread through me at his admission, but I couldn’t quite find the words to respond. Instead, I took another bite of ice cream, trying to mask my nervousness with a smile. “Well, I’m glad you think so! It’s always good to have someone like you around too, keeping things interesting.”

Megumi’s lips twitched into a half-smile, a rare sight that made my heart flutter even more. “Interesting, huh? Maybe I should stop being so grumpy then.”

“Definitely! But I’ll still love you for who you are,” I declared, my voice a mix of playfulness and honesty.

Suddenly, without any warning, Megumi leaned in closer, his expression shifting from playful to serious. Our eyes locked, and I felt a rush of warmth spread across my cheeks. The world around us faded, the sound of laughter and chatter from passersby blurring into the background.

“You’re really something, you know that?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Uh… what do you mean?” My heart raced as I tried to keep my composure, completely caught off guard.

But before I could say anything more, his hand reached out, gently cupping my cheek. My breath hitched as he leaned in, closing the distance between us. The kiss was tender yet filled with an intensity that took my breath away.

Time seemed to pause as I melted into the moment, my heart soaring. His lips were soft against mine, and the warmth from his body enveloped me, making me forget everything else.

When he finally pulled back, a hint of surprise flickered in his eyes, as if he hadn’t quite expected to do that. I blinked, still processing what had just happened, my cheeks burning.

“Did that just happen?” I asked, my voice slightly breathless.

“Yeah…” he replied, a bashful smile stretching across his face that made my heart flutter even more.

His expression shifted, looking more at ease. “You really are a pain, you know?” he said, but there was no bite to his words; only warmth and affection.

“Only because I care!” I shot back, grinning brightly, feeling like the sun had finally broken through the clouds.

As we finished our ice cream in comfortable silence, I looked over at him, my heart swelling with happiness. I had chipped away at his gruff exterior, and now I saw more of the Megumi Fushiguro I knew was hiding beneath the surface—a boy capable of both strength and softness.

“Thanks for today,” he said after a pause, glancing at me with unexpected sincerity. “I didn’t think I would have this much fun.”

“Anytime!” I replied, my heart fluttering at his words. “Just remember, life’s too short to be grumpy all the time. You can always count on me to bring some sunshine!”

“Yeah, I guess I’ll keep you around then,” he said, the corners of his mouth quirking up in a small smile.

A comfortable silence settled between us, but it was filled with an energy that felt different, electric. As I looked into his eyes, I could see the depth of his feelings—something that made my heart race. His gaze held mine, and I felt drawn in, as if we were the only two people in the world.

Before I could think, I leaned in closer, searching his eyes for any hesitation. Instead, I found resolve. In one fluid motion, he wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me in as he kissed me again, but this time, it was deeper, more passionate. The world around us melted away, and all that existed was the warmth of his lips against mine.

I responded eagerly, my hands finding their way to the back of his neck as I leaned into him, deepening the kiss, It was intoxicating, and I could feel my heart racing even faster.

As we kissed, the warmth enveloped us, and I felt an overwhelming rush of emotions. He held me tighter, as if afraid to let go, and I reveled in the sensation of being so close to him. The kiss was more than just a physical expression; it was a promise of understanding, acceptance, and affection.

Eventually, we pulled back slightly, breathless, our foreheads resting against each other. I could see the faint blush on his cheeks, a stark contrast to his usual grumpy demeanor. His eyes sparkled, reflecting something vulnerable that made my heart flutter even more.

“Wow,” I breathed, still dazed by the kiss.

“Yeah,” he murmured softly, his voice low.

I couldn’t help but smile, my heart swelling with the realization that this grumpy boy had let down his walls just a little more. “I guess you’re learning that life can be surprising,” I teased lightly, nudging him with my shoulder.

He chuckled softly, and I felt a sense of warmth at the sound—a sound I had come to cherish. “You really are something else, you know?”

“I could say the same about you,” I replied, feeling a giddy thrill run through me. “So, what do you think? Does this mean you’ll let me bring more sunshine into your life?”

He met my gaze, a small smile playing on his lips. “Maybe, just maybe.”

With newfound hope blooming in my chest, I took his hand, intertwining our fingers as we started walking back. We shared lingering smiles, and I knew this was only the beginning of something beautiful between us. The shadows in our world had begun to fade, replaced by the light that Megumi brought into my life, and the light I broght into his.

As we strolled side by side, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this moment marked a change for us both—two souls finding balance in each other’s warmth. And for the first time, I believed that Megumi Fushiguro might just embrace the sunshine I had always seen in him.

[kiivg]

.But this photo of us, it don’t have a price. 💋💕

Vs belong to @miss--river, @this-is-not-a-slow-burn, @hogboblin, @probably-not-exar-kun, @roads-rise-to-meet-me, @matapang-coffee, @bnbc, @glitchinginthegarden, and @ne0n-rust 💕 thank you for letting me borrow them for a smooch!! 🫶

[snake-eyesx]

I am the face of Love's Rage. 19+. Semi-Selective.

Hello my little devils, you can call me Jude. I’m a 22 year old F. writer on the prowl for more plots! You can find a little more information about me here but just know, if you’re looking for someone to absolutely match your freak ooc, to fangirl, share multimedias about our beloved characters, I’m your girl! 

With up to 6 years of writing experience I’m comfortable playing a variety of characters, both male & female in MxF & FxF ships, trans and NB inclusive! However, although I tend to have more ideas for male characters, please don't reach out to me solely for that- I would love to practice writing women as well! 

I absolutely adore multi-faceted plots, with dimensional/multiple characters, and would label myself as a more introspective, detailed writer. However, quality > quantity always & I'm really only looking for writers that can match my enthusiasm and love for character development !! That being said I also love brainless dynamics as well, so variety is a big aspect of my search, as well as something I strive for :).

That being said, please read my guidelines before interacting with this post! Now, onto the good stuff. Under the cut are plots/genres that I’m DYING to explore!

Medieval/Period plots. Give me warring houses. Give me arranged marriages. Give me forbidden affairs. Give me pride & prejudice yearning. I want it ALL. I'm an absolute sucker for historical plots spanning all kinds of generations from the pre-plumbing to the 90s !! Also open to incorporating multiple storylines/world building for this. Crime. Mafias, blood-stained daggers, ulterior motives, crooked cops. Give me yakuza, jopok, italian and irish gangsters, give me intensity, revenge…. And the poor detective/civilian  caught  in the middle of it all. Single muse or mumu flexible!! Vampires. Gothic, predator vs prey. I’d love to explore beauty & the beast vibes, classical vampirism, abandoned manors and the likes!  Spies/Assassins. I'd love bullet train, The Man from U.N.C.L.E-esque plots !! Give me multi-muse shenanigans, the “you shot me two years ago and I’m still offended” trope, best friends, code names,  enemies to lovers, Mr. & Mrs. Smith core PLEASE! Folie À Deux. Give me the dark & twisted, a serial killer and his muse except his muse happens to be a detective that’s  just as obsessed with catching him. Give me Bonnie & Clyde, The Glory - two strangers inflicting revenge on the same person.  Mystical/Mythical & Everything Between. Give me mermaids, witches, the accidental summoning of a deity in the modern world. Fish out of water situations, with a clumsy human involved in their world, or a shameless creature involved in ours!  Pirates/Wild West. I want outlaws. I want a small ship sailing the rockiest seas. I want swash-buckling vigilantes, sweet belles, nobles and thieving pirates. Hand them all over! Other dynamics/plots. best friends to lovers, older singles, outcasts, upper east side elitists, genuinely weird/strange characters. 

Annnd that’s all folks! Please like this post or message me if anything resonates with you! Have a wonderful rest of your day my beauties :). 

[alwayscorvus]

WUTHERING WAVES Masterlist (main Masterlist):

(mostly) male!reader x male!character (also) male!reader x female!character ☆ -means that post was made before reading character's backstory/playing their quest

Jiyan

A hug for a precious teammate (short; ☆)

Once you are gone (x memokeeper, foxian reader; Honkai Crossover)

Jiyan x scary reader

Sudden kisses (REQUESTED) - coming soon

Jiyan x reader with barcode on his neck - (REQUESTED) - coming soon

Jiyan x reader who can't express his emotions (REQUESTED) - coming soon

How to be a good soldier - coming soon

Waking up from nightmares - WuWa Characters (short; ☆)

Your little things...- WuWa Characters - Part 1

Calcharo

Till we fall apart - ((little) angst to flull)

Waking up from nightmares - WuWa Characters (short; ☆)

Yuanwu

Do not forget your place - Part 1 (short; bodyguard reader; (little) angst to fluff)

Feeling Obliged - Part 2

Bittberry Tea -(werewolf!Yuanwu)

Waking up from nightmares - WuWa Characters (short; ☆)

Mortefi

"Morning hun" - Mortefi short (short; ☆)

Waking up from nightmares - WuWa Characters (short; ☆)

Multiple Characters (separated)

Waking up from nightmares - WuWa Characters - Yuanwu, Jiyan, Mortefi, Calcharo, Baizhi, Yangyang (short; ☆)

Your little things...- WuWa Characters - Part 1 (Jiyan, male!Rover, Baizhi); Part 2 (Calcharo, Mortefi, YangYang, ...)

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feel free to request

*Yuanwu pictures that I used are made by someone else from net

[robinewe]

Two Soulmates

Prompt #22-- Doubles

My heart was pounding amid the quiet, the occasional creak of metal or far off shouting. The light was dim, I could tell even under my blindfold, but even though I couldn’t see I could sense that I was alone. My fingers worked at the knots at my wrists. I’d always been good at knots, I had a Girl Scouts badge to prove it. The rope was slick, synthetic fiber, so it came easily undone.

I yanked off the blindfold and blinked while I willed my eyes to adjust faster. The room was much as I’d expected. Cavernous, dim, no windows, light only from a flickering fluorescent bulb somewhere high above. Lots of entrances and exits to choose from. Rusting metal and clouds of dust everywhere.

I checked my wrist, still feeling the bite of the ropes, and saw that the number etched in white across the skin there read a clear 00:00:00:00:02:46. I yanked the sleeve of my jacket down over it, heat rising to my face. That was just so soon, and I couldn’t imagine the most momentous occasion of my life occurring in such a place as this, an abandoned warehouse in the middle of nowhere. Just my luck.

Seeing as I was alone, I had some searching to do. I dashed out of the room, following those distant shouts with a growing apprehension in my stomach. What happened after I found them? How were we to escape?

00:00:00:00:01:25 read the counter on my wrist. A part of the infrastructure collapsed and sent a storm of dust and debris through the corridor. I coughed, hacking into my elbow and squeezing my eyes shut.

There was now a gaping hole in the wall, and artificial light streamed through. The sounds of fighting were much louder now. They were through there.

I took a deep breath and braced myself and climbed over the metallic shrapnel through the wall. I could hear nothing but shouting, weapons firing, metal hitting metal, objects raining to the floor. I caught sight of neither combatant, only finding the evidence of their battle.

The timer on my wrist ticked down as a blast of heated energy hit the platform above me, and the supports gave out from under one side. It came swinging down towards me, and I screamed, throwing my arms over my face. The thing exploded in the air above me, but a clear glowing shield of energy surrounded me then, the debris bouncing harmlessly away. I found myself on the ground regardless.

I opened my eyes to see two concerned faces as the timer struck zero. There were warm, dark brown eyes further away, amidst curly light hair and an orange scarf covering the bottom half of his face. He held a long, thin gun that radiated heat and distorted the air around it, recently used. Much closer to me were eyes that were icy blue, set in a face with gaunt cheekbones, under dark hair, hidden with no mask. Emanating from his hand was the energy shielding me from harm.

The moment stood still, frozen, while we watched each other with wide eyes.

The villain spoke first, recovering his calculated posture and withdrawing the energy. “So it’s you.”

The hero took a second to recover, but then he took a stilted step towards us. “I-”

A look of irritation passed across the villain’s face. “This is a private moment, if you wouldn’t mind.” He snapped his fingers and a flash of ice erupted from his palms, encasing the hero’s entire body in a jagged block of ice.

I was still on the ground, and I started pushing myself backwards, away from the villain. I wasn’t sure what was happening, but I wasn’t sure if the hero was dead or not. I knew that I was afraid of the villain. I had seen what he’d done before.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said, holding up his hands placatingly. “Look.” His sleeve slipped down to reveal a timer ticking up, only a minute or so in. I quickly looked down to my own wrist, and saw a duplicate of the same number: 00:00:00:00:03:11. They counted up in tandem. They had since the moment I had first locked eyes with the villain. The notion made me feel something in my stomach, a sort of nausea, though whether it was giddiness or dread I couldn’t say.

I didn’t say anything, I couldn’t say anything, and I was worried that my soulmate had just killed someone in front of me not moments after we had met. I was afraid that my soulmate was a murderer, and I didn’t know what that meant about me. I still found myself on the ground, unable to move away further.

“I would never hurt my own soulmate,” the villain said. “I’ve been waiting an awfully long time to meet you. Haven’t you?” Cautiously, he offered me a hand, stepping closer to do so. He was tall and slight, bending like a tree to lean over me and extending a hand tipped with long, graceful fingers. I placed my hand in his, and he easily pulled me to my feet and then close into his side, wrapping an arm around me. My head didn’t reach the height of his shoulders.

“Is this some kind of trick?” I asked, once I could force my lips to move again. His face fell.

“Of course not,” he said. “How does one trick fate itself?”

“Why would I fall in love with a supervillain?”

His lip twitched. “Now that’s stereotyping. It’s rude, you don’t even know me.”

“I’ve seen what you do,” I protested.

“We don’t have time for this. Hero’s already thawing himself out,” he jerked a thumb towards his ice sculpture. Those brown eyes were still frozen staring at me, looking almost frantic, as the ice around him dripped. The tip of his heat gun had already freed itself, sticking out of the ice and a little streak of fire coming out of the end. Soon the hero’s hands would be free, and then the rest of him.

I couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. He was alive. I took a step towards him, to go and make sure that he would stay that way, but the villain blocked my path.

“Please, we can talk more about this somewhere else where it’s safer. Look, you’ve already got me begging. That’s something I don’t do every day.” My eyes drifted back up to him.

“Fine.”

He replaced his arm around my shoulder and guided me swiftly out of the warehouse, to where a car awaited us. It hovered above the ground with a gentle hum of air, and the windows were tinted entirely black. The villain opened the rounded door, gesturing me inside with a bow and a quirk of his lips. I stepped inside, and found it well-kept and clean, a newer expensive model of the podcar that I would never have expected to see in my lifetime. My friends all had the first generation, with all their faults and peculiarities, most of them full of patched repair jobs and junk filling the space.

It had an automatic pilot, so the villain needed only to duck in behind me, and order, “Drive us home.”

The ice eventually thawed to the point where the hero’s wrist was out and visible. It counted upwards in perfect synchronicity with the villain’s and mine. But he was powerless to stop as his worst enemy stole away his true love.

[d4rkthots]

夜の女王

(The queen of the night) Part one. -preview-

This story includes (mention of drugs, violence, murder, an other illegal acts -do not try at home.)

M (assassin/mafia associate) x F (Mafia Leader) seonghwa wanted you from the moment you met…

You stand staring out of your mansion window, getting where you were now wasn’t easily obtained. You wanted to become one of the most feared mafia leaders in Korea, men looked down on women, they didn’t see them as equals, you had to prove them wrong…you believed you were able to do whatever they could.

Seong-hwa was originally part of a rival gang that bullied you out of sales and becoming the biggest female dealer in Seoul. After his leader (Ryui Misano) was imprisoned for committing over a hundred murders Seong-hwa decided to help you. Seong-hwa was with Ryui when he got arrested but managed to flee and skip town.

Something about you made him want to reach out a feeling of longing, he was drawn to you before all this extra shit went down. After Ryui was arrested his other subordinate Yuto Yun received all of his properties and products, you needed to get rid of him before he targeted you. If you could get your hands on Ryui’s product you could be the biggest seller in Korea with extended connections. But you couldn’t find him.

Seong-hwa sits in a chair on his balcony, his messy black outgrown hair cascading over his forehead nearly fully covering his sharp brown eyes he stares at the scenery in front him pulling a cigarette out of its pack before dialing your number in his phone, he lights it and takes a long drag before pressing the call button and waiting.

You stare at the unknown number and answer the call after letting it ring twice. “Hello….?” You say a hint of caution in your voice.

“Hi there pretty~” Seong-hwa purrs into the receiver as he exhales a cloud of smoke.

Your eyes widen slightly and you quickly recognize the voice “…Seong-hwa…..? I thought Ryui got arrested, weren’t you with him….? How are you calling me right now?” You ask in confusion.

Seong-hwa lets out a faint laugh at your reply. “Oh dear~ you think I’m dumb?” He takes another long drag of his cigarette before speaking again. “I’ve been planning this escape for months, it finally paid off.”

You smirk slightly, flicking Your lighter a few times “so let me guess… you left town already? why did you call me…hmm?”

Seong-hwa can tell just by your tone over the phone you’re up to no good he lets out a soft sigh. “I want to make a deal.” Seong-hwa speaks plainly into the receiver and takes another long puff of his cigarette, he lets out another cloud of smoke that’s quickly blown away by the wind.

Your eyebrows raised slightly “and what might it be?”

Seong-hwa lets out a soft chuckle as he looks off into the night sky. “Ive been thinking about you…. Can’t stop. I feel like we were connected in the past life…I want to become partners with you…..Yuto’s staying at the Hyatt Regency…..Seoul bay hotel” The words came out of Seong-hwa’s mouth in a sensual way but he spoke with a serious tone of voice as well.

You scoff gently “How do I know I can trust you…..that you won't screw me like your boss did?”

“…….You don’t..” He replies back in a snarky tone of voice as he leans against the wall, he closes his eyes before taking one more deep inhale of his cigarette before exhaling and putting it out. “You’ll just have to find out for yourself~ if I’m trustworthy or not” He replies back playfully.

You wait a second before replying “…if you screw me I’ll make you regret it…” You say in a slightly threatening way “I hope you enjoy your vacation, don't miss me too much…and dont get caught…” you smirk

“Oh don’t worry dear I’m a professional~..” Seong-hwa speaks, being half sarcastic with a hint of playfulness before hanging up. The phone call abruptly ends and you hear a soft beep in your ear followed by a dial tone.

Despite Seong-hwa being a serial killer and complete psycho he acted like a genuine human he had limits when it came to assassinating (no women and no kids.)

If he wasn’t a killer he’d be a great husband.

Part two —-> (smut warning)

[darkrpfinders]

(Warning: this plot deals heavily with dub con, manipulation, religious trauma, co-dependency, and obsession. The religion in this setting is entirely fictional, and not meant to mock, demean, or belittle *anyone’s* beliefs.)

A religious zealot finds himself seeking reprieve outside familiar territory to take to prayer and fast, only to find himself an unsolicited witness of y/c in a certain state of undress. A seminarian, he touted himself to be, on the cusp of his ordination into priesthood and soon to be an elevated figure of his small community. The religion itself is something he cares little about, but finds the consequent power of such a status tempting beyond his understanding. He demands recompense with y/c on her knees for tempting one of God’s elect. No, not for prayer or confession, but for something much more sinister and far from holy.

21+ writers only. If you’re in search of experienced partners who like to tackle the twisted and depraved worlds of fictional criminals who have no one left to fall in love with but each other, flock to me, my fellow reprobate 🦢 I’m a cis woman, but have a particular fascination with writing terribly corrupt male muses who unfortunately have cocks as large as their egos. I love all manner of licentiousness and unprincipled little fucks who ruin the lives of everyone around them– sue me. I do have few expectations though, and they are to 1) please participate in the plotting, 2) understand I love communication, so if the plot feels stagnant, we can find some way to switch things up, 3) simply be respectful and know that I want you to put your outside life first, always. Now come at me with your favorite despicable muses, and let’s craft something that will drop the jaws of the government personnel spying on this message. Please interact with this post if you’re interested 🕊️

.

[tht0nesimp]

Yandere Shalnark- Darling

TW: Yandere themes, reader was obtained disgustingly, kidnapping, violence, kinda short, probably only like 1k words, drugging, manipulation, debt, kinda loan-sharks

(fic under cut)

"Bye" you got off of the phone with your landlord, "Shit" you sit on the curb outside of the apartment complex and hide your face in your hands. You sat and listened to the rain for what felt like the rest of your life

The rain was so loud, almost loud enough to block out a pair of quiet footsteps. It was far too late, the second you truly noticed the door hadnt opened was the same second the rag was placed over your face, The night sky blared in your eyes as it blurred and contorted the more you breathed in the sickeningly sweet chemical

You didnt expect to wake up, and certainly not in a dark room which seemed to inhabit just you and likely whatever creepy crawlies were sitting in the corners of these god forsaken walls. You cursed everything, you prayed that your friends and family knew you loved them and every other thing that came to mind

When instead of death, you were met with two men standing infront of you "ill be taking her now, feitan, thank you" you assume the other man just nodded because you were picked up, the man carried you for quite some time before you were dropped, the blindfold stopped you from seeing but you could hear a key jingling before you were picked up once more by the man, who dropped you on a concrete floor "im going to untie you now,ok" you dont have time to answer before the rope around your limbs was sliced quicker than you ask who he was

By the time you stood up and took off the blindfold he was on the other side of the room, sitting on a storage box in the large warehouse "sorry, i cant take you back to my place right now" You quickly back away from him, the door not unlocking as you rattle the door knob "sorry, your gonna need a key for that" The blonde man held up a key before placing it back in his pocket in one liquid motion

"Who are you?" The man seems to have a look of fake betrayal as he gasps "you really dont remember!..You were at a bank we robbed" Your eyes widen as the man "Me and the troupe that is, im Shalnark" your lungs seem to completely give up on you, it would seem so since they were unable to take a breath

"Are you going to hyperventilate?" Shalnark pulls out a small device with wings on the side "Id love to get a video" he gives a sweet smile and points the camera at you while you struggle to breathe on the cold concrete floor

"Whats going on?" A small boy comes out of the dark "Nothing, Kalluto" The boy takes one small glance at your struggling form and flicks his fan at you, A slew of air coming into your lungs as he does, You watch him leave just as quickly as he had entered the strangely tense room

"Thank you?..." you said as he quietly returned to his position elsewhere "Youll get used to it, afterall, youve got a lifetime!" he smiles and seems to be surprised when you perk up "What do you mean?!" His face returns to a near constant smile as he just looks at you like a child throwing a tantrum over something silly "I kidnapped you, i own you now..Youll never leave me" he says it as if its the most childish thing possible

"How did you find me" Shalnark laughs and gives you a glare "I didnt, your debt found me" he gets off of the box and approaches your shaking form, giggling when you tremble as his arm snakes around your shoulder "Your trembling darling! Im gonna bring you out to my..friends" his hand rests on your neck, threatening to squeeze but not quite doing so "If you act up, there will be consequences" his face gets much darker and disturbing than before, but he goes back to just being friendly as his arm returns around your shoulder as he practically carries you into another room "Hello!" he shouts out to the multiple men and women siting around the building "This is Y/N" he says as he drops you on an old couch next to the most muscular man you had ever seen "Nice to meet you" He holds his hand out and gives you a grin that showed his sharp teeth "Dont scare her uvo!" Uvogin just smiles "Just being polite, you dont mind? Right doll?" He turns to look at you once more, shalnark also sends you a look but his is a piercing glare "Well..uhm.." you shrug and the two both seemed to be annoyed at the fakely nonchalant action

Shalnark approaches you and grabs your wrist in almost an unbelievably tight grip, Another man in a black cowl seemed to take notice and smile as shalnark inches ever closer to breaking your wrist, you manage to pull your wrist away and inch away from shalnark. "darling, we'll talk about that later" he whispers in your ear while bending down to your height as you hug your knees and look around the room once more, eventually just keeping your head down

The people in the room spoke, they were so caught up they didnt seem to notice when you slinked away to explore, finding an exit quite quickly as you walk out into the surronding pavement to go down the street. You pause when you read the sign...The nearest town was 20 miles away and you were pretty sure there was just about no one around

You came back to the building and entered once more, noticing commotion in another room. You enter and shalnark practically tackles you "You left, pick your next words very wisely" his smile still remained as he stood above your form "im sorry" the smile fades and he gets off of you "You will be" he practically drags you until your behind closed doors

He pins you down on the ground, kneeling so he was in a position with your arm at his mercy "If i break your arm..you wont be able to leave for a couple weeks.." he debates his choice "if i break a leg..i could keep you here forever" he bites his lip, seeming to think about his desicion

You scream when your arm is pulled, the bone popping and dislocating "I havent even broken it yet!" he laughs as tears stream down your face and onto the floor. He pulls harder and laughs once more when your scream gets louder "Its not that bad! Maybe ill do your leg too~" he coos in your ear as he pulls until he hears a clean snap

He gets up and stretches "That really got me worked up...maybe i can help feitan out!" he smiles and waves goodbye as he goes off to find feitan. Your left with a disgustingly intense pain in your arm, You get on the nearby bed which you assumed was his and clutched your arm

Hours pass, He returns and is suprised to see you still laying down crying "I guess i overestimated you...You are just a civilian after all" he sits down next to you and hands you a bottle of pain relief pills and a gatorade "I stole them from some store nearby" he says it as if its normal as he watches you take the pills "They might make you tired" he looks at you, watching you yawn "Feel free to go to bed, i have to be out tonight" theres a carelessness in his voice as he walks out

You give into sleep, curling up under the thin blankets as the pain dies down

You wake up to shalnark leaning over you, "Your finally awake!" he smiles as the pain from your arm registers. He sits down on the bed next to you and pokes your arm "I went out and stole stuff to make this more...comfortable for you" you nod and look at the bag on the floor and a fuzzy blanket that sat next to it "I really shouldnt give them to you..but im choosing to be nice even after your little escape attempt yesterday" you give him a irritated look "it was not an escape attempt" he gives you a sarcastic glance "Sure it wasnt" he searches through the shopping bag on the floor for a moment

"i dont eat breakfast, but Fei said most people do" he puts a yogurt on the bed and smiles as you pick it up. Your about to eat it but look at him and he seems confused before you speak "did you remember to buy a spoon?" it registers "Nope!, another member might have one though" he walks out before you can ask which

Your forced to get out of bed, trying to not put any pressure on your already aching arm as you try to remember the name of the one who you met yesterday. You found him talking to who you assumed was Feitan with your yogurt in one hand as the other laid strangely against your side "Do either of you know where i can find a spoon" You yawn and stare at them as they point to the bar behind you

You approach the bar and see a couple plastic spoons, you picked one up and began eating as the two men watched you retreat back to the room you had came from and sit back down on the bed. You looked at the bag from this morning, but dont dare look inside as you lay your head down

Sleep envelopes you as you quietly shift, you placed the fluffy blanket over you along with the few thin ones that were on the bed. You would sleep until shalnark appeared again...

[extra-v1rgin]

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Your wedding is a beautiful event.

Everything is arranged just so. Although it’s a small affair, only your own family joining you, it’s a grand event. You suppose that if your father has the money to spend he can do as he pleases. You don’t feel like you’re being held prisoner, or forced, but there isn’t much you have a say in about all of this.

You decide on smaller things. Carefully selecting the flowers that line the ceremony room. The scent of incense floats through the air. Natural, slightly muskier smells complement the florals. The candlelight bathes the room in softer yellow shades. It does little to battle the cold outside, though your heavy layers of cloth do well to warm your skin.

The robe, and accompanying headdress, are made from piles and piles of silk. They are hand-painted with soft pink camellias, outlined with a subtle silver. The pale colors melt perfectly into the rest of the white fabric. Your tsunokakushi accompanies it, made in the same expensive silk. The white stays perfect and pure, though fresh flowers are helping to accent it. The uniform weighs you down and helps to keep you from squirming. Nerves would get to anyone on a day like this.

Your husband is beautiful as everything else.

His raven hair is combed back, bangs brushed out from his face. The color blends in perfectly with the dark kimono. All the black points your focus towards his pale face and crystal blue eyes. They stare forward at the priest and paintings behind the altar.

He is a complete stranger to you.

Though you’ve only met the man once there’s a strange lack of apprehension. The first meeting didn’t even count, not really. It was negotiations and talks of money while you bowed timidly in the corner.

Despite the lack of any sort of acknowledgment you have some admiration for him. Silent and solitary he carries a sense of dignity. Knowing his occupation only makes your heart grows fonder.

The first time you touch him is as you exchange saki cups. His fingers barely brush against yours as the cups get passed over. The tiny touch sends electricity racing up your arm. Eyes softly evade your own piercing look.

Warmth makes its way down your throat with each sip. The alcohol isn’t enough to do anything more than heat your blood, but it’s a welcome feeling. Glancing over at Tomioka you admire his reddened cheeks. The thought of his lips touching the same cup that yours now linger on is embarrassing.

You wonder if the same feelings pass through the man as you drink from the second cup first.

Once more the cycle goes around. Giyuu drinks from the cup, his fingers brush yours, and you linger on the taste of his lips.

As each cup is whisked away you grow more and more nervous. The ceremony rushes by before your eyes. On the table, alongside other offerings, lie your wedding rings. They’re simple woven bands, a subtle golden white.

Giyuu’s mouth opens to recite his vows. His flat and quiet voice is soothing. The words disappear in your mind the moment they’re spoken. You don’t mind that the vows are simple and standard, inspired instead by the music of his tone. He never hesitates as he speaks the pages of words all tucked inside his mind.

The rest of the ceremony holds the same kind of quiet reverence.

Everyone performs their duty exactly as instructed. It passes by quickly without you even noticing. Offerings are brought forward, rings are exchanged. Your head is filled with rushing blood. As you’re shuffled the world around you warps and rushes.

Within a few moments, you have become a married woman.

A thin band sits on your finger. You can hardly remember the hand sliding the ring onto yours. The feeling grows until it nearly bursts your heart open. It’s a combination of joy and apprehension and a million other things that race through your mind.

There is not a single moment for you to rest. Even though there is no celebration afterward, you don’t get time to focus on anything that’s happening. Once you have completed all pieces of tradition, sent offers, and exchanged every bit of your life, you are whisked away to change. The excitement of all the women around leaves no room for a proper conversation. The dress you’re pulled into is simple, less intricate though just as elegant. It’s a softer blue, a strange combination of modern and traditional styles. Finally, you have graduated to shorter sleeves that don’t weigh down your arms quite as much.

Your hair is still done up in an awful complicated mess. Pins don’t quite stab your skull, but they come close. Later tonight you’ll have to spend hours undoing every decoration on your head and skin.

There is little to keep you distracted now. The tender hands of your mother and sisters continue to run over the fabric of your dress. It stands a few inches above the floor, unlike your wedding kimono which had to be carried. There is little they can do now too.

Outside the engine of a car roars to life. Your father should have loaded most of your luggage by now. Most of it is frivolous material possessions, clothes, trinkets, and anything else deemed important enough to carry into your next life.

Your husband is already seated. He does not glance at you as you exit your home.

The goodbyes are short. Your family already spent much of last night saying everything that could be said. There’s little to do now except hug and be sent off.

You climb into the seat beside Tomioka. He does not greet you. Hesitance floods through you for a moment, but in the end, you make no effort either. His silence is unsurprising.

In fact, the ride home is silent, as equally expected. A thousand questions are racing through your mind. Despite the excitement buzzing underneath your skin your lips stay sealed shut.

Holding your hands in your lap you force yourself to gaze out the window. It’s not your first time inside an automobile, but you find it fascinating how fast the scenery moves by.

Tomioka does not hold the same kind of interest. His eyes burn holes into the headrest in front of him. The stiffness he sits with is nearly funny. The man’s spine is perfectly straight, hands folded in front of him. If he notices your eyes occasionally flicker over to trace his face, he doesn’t say anything about it.

The driver in the front remains quiet too. He’s some friend of a friend of your father’s. Which makes him a complete stranger to you. You’re still glad for the company. You haven’t been alone with a man, only boys when you were small enough to not understand the importance of anything.

It occurs to you that you’ll have to get used to it. There’s a myriad of new experiences that you’ll face within such a short period of time. You don’t know whether to be excited or terrified.

—-

The car ride passes much too quickly. Although Tomioka’s estate is a good ways away from your smaller town, the car travels over the terrain with ease. Even as you pass through rural areas and up the large winding path to his home the machine never stutters in its ascent.

Just before you disappear into the small grove of trees, you pass a small town. Several of the residents look up into the car as you go by. One small child waves to you. Though you can’t particularly focus on anything, you try to map out the businesses and homes you see. Within the blink of an eye, you’re carried into the forest, eyes shielded from the town.

The last stretch of the journey is as grand as the house itself. A long pathway leads up to the gate, lined with stones and tall skinny trees. As you grow closer the flora only grows more spectacular. Bamboo begins to rise to accompany the rest of the scenery. It shoots up and stretches backward until you can’t see where it ends.

The gate hangs open, showing off a glimpse of the estate. It’s several floors tall, balconies coming off the side. The building leads perfectly into the stone garden, intertwined with a small river. Everything is grand and perfectly groomed. It looks like something out of a photograph rather than somewhere a human could live.

The car stops just beyond the front door. You remain immobile even as the engine shuts off. Without the rumbling of the automobile, it is completely silent. It’s engulfing. Every rustle of your clothes and shift against the seats is loud.

“I can take your bags inside.” It’s the first thing Giyuu has said to you, directly to you, all day.

Your lips grow suddenly dry. No response can be mustered other than a quick nod of your head. Internally you curse yourself.

Leaping down from the car you feel the stones move beneath your feet. With only a small second of delay, you make your way to the entrance.

The door would slide open easily. Your hands rest against the thick wood. Looking back Giyuu is still unloading your luggage from the trunk. Despite the size and volume of the bags, he manages to balance everything within his arms. Hoping to be at least somewhat helpful you decide to slide the door open.

Holding yourself off to the side you let the man pass you. His eyes still don’t stray even close to your face. Looking straight ahead he slows his pace slightly, just until you perk up and follow behind him.

Giyuu is still dressed in the dark and elegant groom’s kimono. The wide legs and arms obscure his true figure. You had seen a glimpse of it during your first meeting, less hidden underneath the form-fitting demon slayer’s uniform. His broad shoulders stretched the sleeves of the shirt, visible even below his unique haori.

Suddenly it occurs to you what most couples do on their wedding night. Almost dizzy you brush the thought from your mind. The idea of his muscular body is as enticing as it is terrifying. Those kinds of ideas should be saved for when you’re absolutely alone and can’t be caught in your shame.

Tomioka opens the door to (presumably) your bedroom with such force that you nearly scamper backward. If he was surprised by the clanging of the door he shows no visible reaction.

Looking around the space it’s… empty.

There’s a bed in the corner, covered in plain gray sheets. It’s accompanied by an equally boring nightstand and matching dresser made from dark wood. They’re perfectly square with perfectly round handles.

Everything is completely devoid of personality. You had noticed the blank hallways only accented with an occasional floral arrangement but assumed such a personal place would not carry the same stale feeling. This looks like the kind of place only a psychopath could live.

“This’ll be your room. It’s rather empty now, but you’re free to do what you’d like with the space.”

Again you can only nod.

He only stays for a mere moment to stack your luggage neatly in the corner. Without a word of goodbye, he disappears around the corner. The man only acknowledges you with a dip of his head. You have the feeling that this time you aren’t meant to follow him. You close the door slowly, silently, as he makes his exit.

Down the hallway, you hear another door open and shut. It feels like the period at the end of a sentence. The action effectively marks the end of your wedding day. The large window in the center of his room shows you the dark moon rising.

Though the thick layers of makeup on your face feel like they're melting and the kimono you wear is slightly too tight, you make no action to undo anything. You move carefully, making your way to the bed instead.

It’s almost frigid when you sit on it. The mattress is stiff beneath you, a clear lack of use. There’s a nightstand to your right. The drawers you check are all empty. When you move off the bed, it’s chill clinging to you, you check the dresser drawers as well. Those are empty too, it’s clear the place has not belonged to anyone else.

Following the outline of the your bedroom you find nothing other than plain white walls and dark trim. There’s a door that connects to a bathroom. In theory, it’s as grand as your bedroom, in the fact that it’s wide and spacious. The tub is large enough for a few people, sunken into the floor, and surrounded by stone. Snooping around the cabinets you find basic amenities and not much else.

As you fiddle with the faucet it sputters before spewing forth scalding water. You’re hand turns an angry red for a minute until the temperature shifts to something bearable. Watching water cover the pebbled bottom you sigh and turn back to your room.

Opening your luggage you sort through the piles of clothes until you find a soft cotton robe. You unbutton your dress slowly. In some way, you wish you could’ve been putting on a show for someone. Underneath your kimono, you wear a sinful chiffon slip. It’s hidden below several other layers of fabric, that you slowly reveal with no one to see.

The light pink fabric casts a light shadow over your breasts. Along the edges, it’s patterned with frills and ribbons. The slip was one last gift from your mother, opened only in the privacy of your own room. Stripped down almost bare you can feel the air tickle your skin.

Making your way back to the bathroom you remain in the gentle slip. As water crashes down to continually fill the tub, steam rises to warm your chilly skin. Though the small set is beautiful, it does little to keep heat in.

The only other article of clothing remaining is your thin socks. Slipping them off you test the water again, perfectly heated. Soon after the translucent slip disappears too. You’ll banish it to the back of your drawers soon after, no reason to try it on again.

Sinking into the tub you rub at your face first. White and red and pink mix with the water. As heat and steam engulf you, you keep rubbing until your skin feels raw. You pull pins from your hair after you’ve effectively taken off a few layers of skin from your face. They scrape over the fragile top of your head, hair coming undone in tendrils. There’s an awful throbbing behind your temples, blood rushing to the tender spots on your scalp. You can hardly touch the area without wincing in pain. It’s hard to decide whether putting on the ensemble or taking it off was more painful.

You soak until the water is barely warm and your fingers are wrinkled. The soft floral scents of whatever soap was under the cabinet have soothed you somewhat. Tears, from physical pain or emotional, have fed the bath and let its line grow up to your chin. It weighs down heavily on your chest until you push yourself out from the water and take a clean breath.

The shock of cool air is awful on your way out. It strips you of everything again, shivering as you stalk back to your luggage.

You pull on a heavier robe, something to protect your wet and naked body It’s mostly plain, only accented with patterned edges. You had a softer and prettier one right on top of everything. Seeing as you’ll be bedding alone tonight you choose what’s more comfortable. You haven’t heard a single noise from anyone since you were essentially dumped into your room.

The bed is still cold. It’s a Western-style frame, lifted up from the ground and leaving you aloft. Springs seem to pierce into you from below.

As you drag yourself into bed alone you finally feel something familiar. It creeps in during the quiet night when everything is perfectly still. You’re not quite alert, but nowhere near sleep either. No matter how much you try, your eyes can’t close. They stare across the bed towards the wall, an empty side waiting to be filled.

Lying on your side it squeezes wetness from your eye. It’s not tears, but feeling the water trace your cheeks, inspires real sadness in their wake. Stubborn, you refuse to curl up into the sorrow. With a stone face, you let the pillow soak up the tears. They haven’t dried by the time you finally fall asleep.

—-

In the morning you feel no grogginess. There are no clocks within the room, but the outside window tells you that it’s later in the day. You move quicker than last night, putting on a much simpler kimono, barely messing with your hair. You still bother with makeup, making sure you look at least somewhat proper.

It’s quiet as you peer out into the hallway. With no lights on it’s painted in a dusty blue hue. There’s only a sliver of light coming from the window, which fails to illuminate the edges of the walls. There’s a light switch towards the end of the wall, which you creep out to flip on.

The hum of electricity sparks to life a row of lights. They produce a warm golden glow that inspires you to wake up further. Looking down the hall you assume one of the doors towards the end belongs to Tomioka’s room. All the spaces look the same.

Turning away you trace your way back through the route Giyuu had taken you down the way before. As you walk nearly silently you keep your ears out for the sound of another human.

Yesterday’s tour, if it could be called that, only covered the most basic of rooms. Dragging your hand against the wall you trace your way to the kitchen.

Going through the cabinets you find a pitiful amount of food. It’s mostly dried materials, beans, and rice, alongside a few fresh vegetables that already look slightly wilted. The sight isn’t completely unappetizing on its own, but coupled with the empty feeling in your stomach you wish you had something already done. You start some oats right away and chew some dry carrots in the meantime. They do nothing to fill you.

Almost immediately you’re already visualizing a list of things to buy. More veggies, fresh fruit, and probably a treat or two to try and satisfy your insatiable sweet tooth. Thinking about food only serves to make you hungrier, for now, you try and distract yourself with thoughts of anything else.

Listening quietly you hear nothing besides the sizzling of the porridge. There’s no creaking of wood down the hall. As hard as you try you can’t sense the presence of any other person. The idea that Giyuu has already left the house seems unlikely, but it also seems that you don’t know much about his habits at all.

Still, the silence remains throughout breakfast. The porridge is bland despite the brown sugar and cinnamon you’ve mixed in. Fresh fruit is definitely at the top of your list. The paste moves down your throat at a slow pace.

You barely finish a few bites of the meal before brushing it off to the side. Your stomach is still empty, but you can’t bring yourself to eat anymore. Though you should force yourself to eat more, something substantial, you can barely push the food around in the bowl.

Instead, you stumble around the house trying to find anything. Each room is blank and empty, and that’s without even traveling upstairs. It’s not anything different than what you saw yesterday, white walls and dark wood and nothing else.

You don’t bother with looking around more, expecting to find most of the same. Instead, you wander back toward the direction of your room. There’s not much waiting for you there, but you can at least busy yourself with unpacking.

You find a note stuck to the door when you make your way toward it. If it was there before you must’ve missed it.

‘Gone on a mission, will be back.’

And you suppose that’s that.

—-

He’s gone for long stretches of time. Though nothing is ever explained to you, some things become clear through observation. A paycheck comes every few days, you assume whenever he’s finished slaying whatever creature he’s been sent after. Tomioka arrives home only once a month at most, usually after long stretches of silence. If you’re lucky his crow will be sent ahead to announce his presence.

The bird ends up being a better companion than his owner in many ways. The crow, Kanzaburou, is old. He’s senile in the way an old man is, sweet and a bit air-headed. In many ways, he has more personality than your husband.

None of that changes the fact that you spend most days alone. Every single one since the first seem both eternal and yet much too quick. With little to keep you busy once things are put into place, you feel as if you’re going insane. Cleaning only takes up so much time, and there is little you can dirty on your own. The two or so dishes you use in a day take a week to fill up the sink. There’s no point in changing, not most days, but even then your laundry doesn’t fill up often. Sometimes you purposefully spill something just to have an actual purpose to your scrubbing.

Nothing changes when Giyuu comes home, not the first time or second or third. He hides inside his room. The only sign he even exists is the food that disappears from the freezer and cabinets. You always make extra meals, things with real substance, and those disappear too. Whether he actually enjoys your cooking is a complete mystery.

At first, you try to remain in common areas, with the small hope that he’ll stumble across you. You save most of your cleaning for the time he is home, simply for appearing useful. Standing outside to hang up sheets or sitting in the living room to rearrange the florals could entice him out.

Within the first few months, you give up.

If Giyuu does ever stumble upon you he’s quick to mumble an excuse and exit. Every time you feel scorned and scolded, despite the man’s gentle nature. You resign to hiding within your room. Despite your attempts to bring some color into the area it still feels rather depressing in there.

For a long time, you coexist in that quiet sort of way. You hate it more than if he just admitted to despising you, or didn’t come home at all. It’s the barest hope that something will change, keeping you strung along and nearly begging that he’ll even talk to you one day.

Not even the small town can comfort your lonely soul. Most of the typical shop owners and citizens seem wary of your presence. They conduct business and make small talk, but do almost nothing else. Your shyness engulfs you before you can even consider reaching out for company.

The weeks pass in a bit of a blur. The only contact you get is from Giyuu’s crow. He comes unpredictably, and yet somehow remains a single constant within your life besides the loneliness. You look forward to the sound of his slightly too screechy calls more than you do the paycheck he brings.

Most of the money stays put anyways. It’s more than you could ever know what to do with. Even after spending an extravagant amount, you have piles of it left. The things you do spend it on go towards brightening up your home. Collecting anything that captures your eye has become a common practice. Tapestries and paintings and all kinds of knickknacks cover the walls of your home. You buy things in bright colors to contrast the pale walls and dark ceilings. Your room is the worst case of this, crammed completely full of anything remotely beautiful.

If Tomioka dislikes the changes he again says nothing. If you hadn’t heard him speak wedding vows you’d be convinced the man was mute. Almost nothing else gives away his emotions either. No longer above spying, you try to peek and see any sort of twitch in his features. On occasion, he’ll pause his trek down the hallway and gaze at a new addition to the area. Despite this, you can’t tell if his blank eyes express any kind of adoration or distaste.

Your mental state is much more apparent. Tears become a common companion. They creep up suddenly when you’re cooking or leaving the town or just trying to sleep. It’s annoying more than anything. You’re already painfully aware of the fact that you’re not particularly happy. A reminder does nothing for you.

It gets worse when Giyuu is home. You can’t help the way your sobs increase in volume when his shadow moves over your door. Sometimes you swear he lingers there.

After that, you try to rebel, or at least do something interesting enough to spice up your days. Sometimes you’ll buy hideous decor, clashing curtains that sit in the living room, or twisted vases. You even start venturing into Giyuu’s room.

It’s the one place you haven’t entered. As you push the door open you’re surprised by how crowded the room is. The walls are still relatively blank, but they don’t feel empty. There’s a desk in the corner, it’s covered in papers that you at least have the sense to let be. On the opposite side of the room sits a bookshelf, though the stories that lie in there seem almost random. There’s an assortment of genres, action and romance and tragedies, and an assortment of styles. There are a few books even written in English, alongside one in what you think is Mandarin, though that one looks untouched. Occasionally you’ll steal one for a night or two. Most of the stories are in good condition. When you stumble across a dog-eared page or wrinkled edge you’re pleased by the touch of humanity. Still, when you tear through each book you’re left much in the same position by the end.

His closet is full of mostly extra uniforms. There are a few casual clothes, mostly in dark blues. He seems partial to the color, though the haori he wears constantly is a shocking red. In the corner, his groom's outfit has been carefully folded and stored. You suppose there’s no reason he’d need to hang it, having fulfilled its use.

There’s not much else there. Tomioka uses a futon, that sits folded up in the corner. Your room came with a Western-style bed, and you don’t care enough to push it out somewhere and replace it. His is a simple black, with no pattern other than the small grid made from the stitches.

One night you sleep on it. The mattress in your room is slightly too soft, you prefer the firm feel of sleeping over tatami flooring. With your face surrounded by fabric, you catch the scent woven within it. It’s musky and a little salty but in a pleasant way. The smell is outdoorsy, not dirty, but rather a natural tone. Underneath all of that is the scent of wisteria. All of it wound together is rather pleasant. You feel slightly less alone, being surrounded by the warm fabric that’s different enough to be new without sacrificing the comfort of its familiarity.

It becomes a habit.

You creep into his room once a week or so to cuddle in the space. Often you enter with some excuse, to dust his shelves or pick out a new book or leave any trace of your presence. Shambling around for a bit and doing much of nothing you wait until the sun rests on the horizon.

Once you notice, you pull out the futon. It doesn’t carry the same scent the third or fourth time you tuck into the sheets, but it’s still warmer than your bed. You stick your face into the pillows to try and let the smell linger.

You’re terrified of him coming home to you sleeping in that bed. It’s not the thought of him getting angry, but the embarrassment of it all. You feel like a child sneaking into her mother’s room rather than a proper wife. The feeling is mostly constant, only ebbing away as you sleep.

—-

You’re surprised that life can be this stagnant. Wallowing in your sorrow doesn’t do much other than dig a deeper hole.

There is some quiet joy to be found. Beyond the house, there are calm gardens. When the sun is out and the wind isn’t strong you find more comfort outside than trapped within the walls.

Living so far away from everything has one advantage. Not only do you have acres of sprawling forest to explore, but it tends to attract all kinds of wildlife. The chatter of birds sounds human enough to keep you company. If you’re lucky they’ll come so close you can feel the beat of their wings.

As the weather slowly gets warmer your mood lifts as well. You turn your thoughts away from your husband's absence, the loneliness slowly easing its touch on you. There are still sudden pangs of regret when you get a coin bag with no letter, or the sound of his footsteps passing you, but the days without him aren’t so unbearable.

The habit of you sleeping in his bed isn’t broken, if anything you start to spend nearly every night there. There’s a certain pattern to when he comes home, usually a week or so after his crow gifts you his paycheck. It’s a gamble if he’ll return or simply be set off on another mission, but either way, you learn to hide away in your own room.

You’re careful to leave his room mostly alone. Though you dust the few shelves and scrub the floors you strive to make your presence there unnoticed. It appears to be working, but again you’re mostly left in the dark about his thoughts.

The town remains just as wary, though more used to your presence. A few of the shopkeepers who you visit often enough smile as you sort through the wares.

Routine builds a softer kind of comfort, one that doesn’t brush away any of the other sorrows, but mutes the noise of them somewhat.

—-

And just as you settle an abrupt change knocks you off your feet. Tomioka coming home isn’t a particularly new development. You’re in the middle of preparing dinner, barely looking over as he passes by the doorway. You don’t even move until he’s out of sight, moving to peek at his back beyond the door.

As you approach you notice the spattering of blood sinking into the tatami. Looking upwards you notice his shamble of a walk. His uniform is missing a sleeve, arm wrapped sloppily with bandages. Blood has soaked through as it's slipping down his hand, leaving a trail behind.

If he hears your loud gasp he doesn’t signify it in any way. Instead, the man wanders towards his room while you retreat back into the kitchen. You stare at the pot of curry sizzling over the stove. You can’t focus on the food, although the smell of it is incredibly enticing. With shaky hands you attempt to stir the meal, even raising a spoon to taste it. You hope the spice will entice you more and attract your attention, but the combination of meat and curry powder is a beautiful deep red color that looks a little too much like blood.

Eventually, you have to force yourself away, your stomach twisting in knots. Still striving to be useful, even after months of being ignored, you instead fill a bowl with cold water and grab some washcloths. You move far too slowly, held back by hesitance. There’s a clear line of red that points you toward his room. It pulls you forward slowly. In the back of your mind, you mourn the freshly cleaned flooring.

Without knocking, slight fear in the response you’ll get, you nudge the door to the side. Barely peeking through you spot him laying in the corner of the room. He hasn’t unfolded the futon, rather leaning against the block of fabric.

As you move in slowly his eyes flicker toward you. Even from his far position in the corner, you can hear his labored breathing. Holding back a whimper at the sight of blood you approach the man more like you would a wounded animal.

Absolute silence engulfs the room, even as you sit beside him. You’re worried that you won’t be able to speak at all, throat sealed shut from misuse. Words bubble up until they finally loosen the cement keeping your lips closed.

“Can I help?”

The words are deviously simple, quiet, and barely audible. Despite the dry whisper that struggles out from out, the noise seems to take over everything else. The only other thing you hear is your heartbeat within your ears.

Giyuu seems to consider your question earnestly. As he shifts you can see the way his brows knit together, drawing closer whenever his arms shifts. “I admit that bandaging the wound was much more difficult with only one hand.” It’s not exactly a direct answer, but the way his body relaxes slightly seems to indicate a yes.

You still move a little too slowly. Watching the ground you’re careful to not let the water spill, while also trying to stop yourself from staring too hard at the crimson staining. Your sleeves are already pulled back, hands dipping into the bowl of water to grab the towel within it.

The warmth calms your nerves only slightly. It emboldens you to find the edge of the bandages and unwind. You’re surprisingly unbothered by the sight underneath, a mass of blood and flesh that is mostly unrecognizable.

The wounds are long stripes that wind down his arm. They don’t seem to be particularly deep, or even wide, but there’s a myriad of them stretching down the limb. Some of the smallest ones have already clotted. The largest are still spewing out red.

“You should get stitches for these.” It’s amazing that he even walked home in this condition. You’re not very aware of the inner workings of the demon slayer corps. Some knowledge was granted to you by your father, other things overheard in conversation. At the very least you know that they are prepared to treat injuries.

Despite your light chastisement (which receives no response) you still pull the soft cloth from the water. Fresh blood oozes out as you rub away the dirt and slightly crusted scabs. The sight gets worse to look at when it’s not hidden behind gauze.

There’s absolute silence taking over again. You’re too nervous to look up and possibly meet his eyes, instead focusing solely on his arm. Though you’re no professional you manage to wipe off most of the blood. It’s slowed down to a weak dribble, that stops when you put a slight amount of pressure on it.

You’ve piled the old bandages off to the side. They don’t look very old, but considering the state they’re in, you’re not very inclined to reuse them.

“There’s more in the bathroom.” Tomioka gestures off to the side. “2nd cabinet below the sink.”

You trot off with your head low. It's tempting to snoop, already having indulged in the bad habit plenty. Brushing the thought away, you dig through the medical supplies until you can find the roll of bandage.

He hasn’t moved a single inch in the quick minutes you’ve been gone. Tomioka’s eyes again look anywhere that isn’t where you are. Even as you hold his arm and feel the warmth of blood rushing through it, he acts more like a doll than anything.

You work slowly. Though you don’t have much experience, wrapping the gauze around his arm isn’t too difficult. At the very least it’s leagues better than the sloppy job he did himself.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” Internally you’re begging for a reason to linger. His skin is still hot against your fingers. The pale skin is deceptive, giving him a cool appearance. Your eyes are tracing his hands, imagining them pressed against your own.

As your sight flickers towards his other side, you notice the fabric balled up in his fist. It’s the two-toned haori you normally see the man wearing. You hadn’t noticed its absence earlier.

He still hasn’t answered. You dare to prompt him a second time. “Or I could clean that for you.” You’re surprised that the man chooses this moment to look directly at you. For once you can read the emotion on his face, see the surprise in his blue eyes.

“It’s fine.” His voice sounds a little dry. “I’m sure the fabric is ruined.”

It’s easy to keep talking, now that you’ve dared to open your lips. “Oh, I’m sure I can fix it! If it’s blood you’re worried about then that’s no problem.” The tone you chose is perhaps too cheerful, but you feel a bit excited and the prospect of being truly helpful.

Tomioka’s fist loosens slightly. “I’m sure it’ll be a struggle, but there’s not much that could make it worst at least.” He’s not very encouraging, which you try to not let dampen your mood.

As you pull it from his grasp you can already tell the fabric is in tatters. The soft maroon sleeve has turned into strings of fabric dyed burgundy from blood. Some parts are crusted together, other pieces are barely attached by a thread. You certainly have your work cut out for you.

With one last smile, you carefully fold the haori and leave his room.

—-

You still can’t tell if you like the change or not. Tomioka still seems set on seeing you as little as possible. You bring him dinner and on occasion rewrap his bandages, but other than that he likes to hole up in his room.

His haori keeps you busy most of the time. It takes 3 washes just to get the blood out, carefully peeling the red free from the thin threads. As you wash you ultimately decide to chop off some of the strings that barely cling on. Anything thinner than the width of your finger gets discarded, a pile to find its place somewhere else.

Weaving the salvageable pieces back together is a near-impossible task. Trying your best to make the seams invisible you carefully line up each thread. Staring so intensely at the woven pattern makes your eyes water. It’s hard work to make sure the needle punctures exactly where it needs to so the flow remains. Several times you puncture the skin on your fingers. It’s never deep enough to pull blood out, but it turns your skin a bright throbbing red.

Even with the careful work only about a fourth of the sleeve can be salvaged. It’s a pitiful sight, strings hanging from the short shoulder. Days of work and sore thumbs have amounted to only a few inches of fabric.

You try to color-match the piece so you can fix the rest. It’s a difficult color, softened with years of use and age. Even when you bring the hoari along with you all the colors you find are too bright.

It’s twice as expensive to get something custom dyed, but you don’t have the expertise to do it yourself. You certainly have the money for it, coins and bills shoved away in the back of your drawers. Though the order adds a few weeks to your small project, you can’t settle for anything less than perfect.

Tomioka says nothing about the piece. He spots you once scrubbing away the blood outside. At that moment he stays for a few short seconds, watching your hands work. They’re dry from the rough cleaning chemicals and wrinkled from the soapy water.

—-

Just as your hands stop twitching and aching the replacement fabric arrives. Tomioka leaves sometime while you’re waiting for the package. The briefest contact keeps your heart light, even as the solitude creeps back in. There’s an actual purpose to your actions now, something to take up hours of your time.

The few short yards of burgundy fabric that arrive are still slightly too bright. It’s the shine of new cloth that differentiates it from the well-worn pieces. Regardless you go through the same tedious act of lining up the woven fabric and sewing it together.

There’s a thin line that marks the transition. Once you step a few feet away it’s harder to mark where the difference begins. The work is good, but you can only scrutinize it with the patterns burned into your eyes.

Several mistakes are clear over the rest of the fabric. They’re not your own doing, more likely Giyuu’s attempts to fix earlier tears. It’s cute to see the fumbles stitches, done in a hideous dark black. In most places, it stands out clearly from the pattern, even more so with the blank side.

You decide to fix those pieces, using a gentle green or maroon when appropriate. Though the seam holding the two pieces together makes you cringe, you don’t touch the threads. It’s uneven, both in length of the stitches and space between them. The other “fixes” were clumsy too, but the lines here seem childish almost. You’re sure that the pieces of Giyuu’s haori were bound together by the man himself.

As tempting as it is to make the piece look brand new, there’s history in its torn edges and paling fabric. You wonder if he’d tell you the story behind it.

Probably not.

—-

You haven’t entered Tomioka’s room in quite some time. After he was home for a few short weeks you grew too embarrassed about the actions. In your arms, you carry his carefully folded haori. After giving it one last wash you have no more reason to mess with it. If anything, picking at your work will just ruin it.

Ultimately you let it rest atop his desk. You think for a moment about hanging it up in the closet, but it feels too embarrassing to let him know about your snooping, even inadvertently.

Back inside the room, warmed from the sun and painted in a low gold, you’re tempted to wrap yourself up in his futon again.

For some time you repeat your old routine. After over a month without indulging yourself in old ways, the process comes a little unnaturally. You dust his shelves, fingers dancing over his array of trinkets. They seem almost random, stuffed dolls and broken pieces of painted wood. You’re extremely careful as you move them to clean.

It’s hard to keep yourself busy as you did before. You entered his room earlier in the day, not expecting to be tempted again by the lull of sleeping enveloped in traces of your husband’s warmth.

Still, as you manage to keep yourself busy the sun slowly drifts downwards. It’s on the opposite side of the window, but you can see the moon rise in turn. Though the sky isn’t particularly dark, your quick to pull out the futon.

Before you tuck yourself fully into bed you draw another book from his small shelves. For a few hours, you’ll be able to keep yourself busy with stories. Once it gets truly dark you can simply slide under the sheets and fall asleep.

—-

Beyond the edges of your consciousness, there’s movement that grows steadily louder as it urges you to wake. Eyes open slowly, useless in the dark. Instead, you wave a hand in front of yourself, which is also mostly useless.

It takes a moment for you to adjust to the dim room. As your pupils dilate there’s a sudden figure standing on the edge of the futon. With your position on the floor, he towers over you, face invisible still.

Thinking through the sleep you let your hand sweep over the floor. It bumps into the man’s ankles, forcing you to pull back.

A startled gasp leaves your lips as you move further into consciousness. You don’t scream, but you’re immediately on edge. Panicking, you mostly flail around for a bit until you realize it’s Tomioka standing before you. He’s tilted his face down to stare at you, letting you recognize him even within the darkness.

Instead of the tired fear you felt before, you’re mostly filled with shame. It’s the worst amalgamation of all your fears, caught cuddled up in his sheets.

For a moment you’re unsure of how to proceed. You’re mostly frozen for now, clutching his blankets against your chest.

“S-sorry!” The word comes out quietly, muffled by the lingering sleep in your head. It’s hard to think, brain muddled by all sorts of different things. If Giyuu would speak for once it’d let you put your thoughts in order.

You don’t know why he’s still staring at you. It’s hard to find his eyes, clouded by darkness. The dim lighting masks any emotion you could hope to find on his face.

As the adrenaline leaves your body you’re left feeling tired again. Rubbing your eyes, it seemingly prompts him to move again. The situation had somewhat halted in the pauses between your words.

“I’ll leave.” There’s a certain air to his voice, not angry, but certainly not welcoming either. You’re still not fully awake, a glance towards the window tells you that it’s too early to be awake. There’s possibly a shimmer of pale blue that signals the sun's arrival, but it won’t develop into an actual light until much later. It explains the bleariness in your eyes.

You look like a ghost as you sit up, fabric wrapping around your form. Hair hangs over your head, reaching downwards.

Halting his actions you mumble a combination of words that doesn’t really make sense. There’s a “wait” buried somewhere in there, which is what makes the man pause. You have nothing to follow the sentence up with, still trying to figure out exactly what’s going on.

You’re still shocked by embarrassment. Giyuu has finally stumbled upon you hiding in his bed. The habit was bound to get you caught eventually, so of course it happens right as you start up the trend again.

The room is filled with silence as you try to jumpstart your brain. “I’m uh-“ You pause again. Averting your eyes you find the words again. “I’m the one who’s intruding. I shouldn’t have…” Trailing off you stare at the ground again.

Your chest fills up with something akin to shame. It’s slightly less painful than before, but as your hands hold your face you can feel the blood rushing to your cheeks.

He completely ignores your blubbering. “You fixed my haori.” The sudden topic change catches you off guard. It brings your eyes back to him, despite the fact that your heart is still racing.

Furrowing your brows you nod. “I said I would.”

“It was ruined.”

Your brain is working very hard. “It was hard, but I didn’t mind the work. I don’t think that excuses me being so intrusive.”

“Thank you.” His voice is hoarse, barely audible. You can see that he holds the cloak in

his hands. They grip the fabric so tightly you’re worried it might rip again. The show of emotion renders you silent.

As the room settles back down you shuffle your robes around you and move to stand up. “I can um-“ You lick your lips. At a constant loss for words, you vaguely gesture toward the door.

Tomioka moves back to the conversation at hand. Though his fingers continue to skate over the fabric his eyes turn back to you. “You can stay where you like, the house is as much yours as it is mine.”

That really isn’t true at all. Tomioka pays for everything, in money and blood. Your only contribution is decorating and occasionally throwing a fit in one of the rooms.

“I didn’t think you’d want me here. I should’ve asked but I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me either.” The truth slips through your lips easily. You can’t quite look him in the eye, but you don’t hide from his gaze either. Stepping self-consciously off the futon you shiver at the cold wood against the soles of your feet.

When you steal a glance at the man you’re surprised at the confused look on his face. Giyuu’s mouth is pulled into a slight pout, head tilted. It’s an attractive look, a distracted part of you points out. It’s times like this that you don’t mind being married to him.

Shaking off the thoughts you open your mouth again. “You gave me my own room, so I guessed that you wanted me there.” You dig your nails into your palms. “And you didn’t talk to me after or anything.” Remembering the feeling makes your heart squeeze. Tears well up in the corner of your eyes.

“I thought you hated me.” He admits it so simply. There’s no regret in his voice about the sentiment. The thought forces a whimper from your throat.

“What?” Your voice is wobbly.

Carefully the man sinks to his knees. guiding you down with him. One fist clings to his wrist. The other ends up wound in the fabric of your sleeping gown.

Tomioka at least seems softer about this bit. “You cry often.”

Calming down you try to focus on the feeling of his arm on your back. You’re glad you’re wearing one of your worse kimonos because the sleeves have become impromptu handkerchiefs. With the sudden onslaught of your tears, you’re left unprepared. You’re not sure whether it’s the result of your body begging to go back to sleep or the wave of months of emotions catching up on you. It’s probably a combination of both. Using the piles of fabric you wipe at your nose and under your eyes.

“I thought you hated me because you didn’t talk to me at all, ‘nd you made me stay in another room, ‘nd you’re always gone.” He looks a little pained, but you can’t bring yourself to stop. “And you never sent letters. So I was just stuck here all alone and I thought I would die.” The last part isn’t true, but you’re small tears have started to turn into full-on sobs.

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” Giyuu sounds much more unsure of himself. His fingers on you twitch whenever your back shakes. It’s horrible reasoning considering that he’s already married to you in the first place. You say as much to him.

Tomioka is showing the biggest amount of emotion possible. His face is twisted into an expression that suggests deep thoughts. It’s nearly enough to shock you out of the sadness, but not quite.

Under his breath, he mumbles an apology. It’s not very meaningful, but you suppose he’s at least trying. You continue to rub at your face, trying to stall your tears.

For a moment you simply sit, facing each other. Though you can’t bring yourself to look anywhere other than your lap. A hand finds its way to your back, creeping hesitantly. You can’t think of a time he’s willingly touched you otherwise.

Finally, overcome you fling yourself into his side. With the sturdiness of his uniform, it’s not particularly soft against your face, but heat radiates from his body. Tomioka doesn’t hold you particularly tight. His other arm wraps around your back, though the grasp is loose and hesitant.

Whether he cares about your tears or not he doesn’t seem to mind that you’ve seated yourself in his lap. Your crying shows no signs of stopping anytime soon, built up behind months of feeling stuck. It’s a horrible mess of wet and snot and a very ugly grimace that you’re glad is hidden.

His hands eventually wander up to your hair, ghosting over the top of your scalp. You can feel how rough they are now, covered in callouses. They’re warm against your head. Almost fiery hot they brush back stray hairs.

Focusing on the repetitive feeling of his hand, alongside the steady beating of his heart, you’re able to stop the tears. A small hiccup or gasp manages to leave you every few seconds, but it’s much less intense than before.

Not very inclined to move, you’re content to keep your face buried within the body in front of you. His hands don’t stop their gentle motions even as you stop your small noises. It’s perhaps the most comfortable you’ve felt in a very long time. Giyuu smells like his futon, but a thousand times more powerful.

As your eyes dry they also begin to drag downward. It’s the inevitable end to every single one of your emotional explosions. Your arms are drooping, their grasp loosening. Distantly you realize that you should move, excuse yourself to your room or do anything to move. Instead, you bury yourself deeper into his chest.

As he begins to move you almost pull yourself back from him. Arms flex around you and tighten their hold. Just when you muster the energy to uncurl your fingers and force your eyes back open, he lifts you up. You’re not surprised by the strength, you’ve seen it before, but it does set a little shock through your stomach.

Suddenly you’re not very inclined to do much of anything.

If he notices the way your hands dig back into his shirt, he doesn’t say anything. You’re pleased by the feeling of muscles flexing around you. Giyuu’s actions aren’t entirely discernible, not from your position, but the way he moves is slightly soothing. It’s reminiscent of being rocked to sleep, his movements graceful.

You let yourself remain in the limbo between rest and wakefulness. The edges of the world ebb away until you’re sat back down, nestled within his futon. It’s been smoothed again, rustled from your whining. It offers the same comfort it always has once you’re enveloped within the warm sheets. As his arms pull away from you, your lips form a ghost of his name.

—-

In the morning you keep your eyes shut for as long as possible. Your mind has snapped awake, reminding you of last night's events. There’s a dryness around your eyes from where your tears have evaporated. As tempting as it is to reach a hand up to rub away the grogginess you keep them in place for now.

Feeling your surroundings gives you almost no clues. All you know is that it is very warm, and you are very comfortable. Slowly you let your eyes barely peek open, a small slit to peer through.

Giyuu is lying next to you, in the sense that he is curled up in on himself at the opposite end of the futon. It’s not a very great length, but the gap between your bodies stretches endlessly in your mind. His back faces you, to which you let your eyes open almost fully. There are small imperfections to his posture, his spine shifting with his breath. It's a slow movement, a reassurance that he’s still slumbering.

You don’t trust yourself to escape without notice. Every sound you make as you settle seems to make the man pause. You’re not sure what that might accomplish either, the events from the night before too embarrassing to accept, but too poignant to ignore.

Softly you let your body relax again. For now, you’re content to watch his body move slightly with each breath. It’s convincing to reach across the gap and feel the warmth you’ve longed for more directly.

Is peaceful, the sun still low enough to not pierce through the window. It still allows faint light inside, illuminating the area.

You’re feeling surprisingly well-rested. There’s a deep calmness in your bones. Lazing about in the bed feels nice, natural. It reminds you of celebrations back home when you were free from responsibilities. There are whispers of summer streaming through the window.

For a few moments, you bask in the light starting to make its way across the floor. lt caresses your face and finally prompts you to move.

Slowly you rise upwards. Tomioka seems to rest still, unmoving. Slowly you creep out of the room, and back towards your own.

It’s chilly in your room, making the hairs on your neck stand on end. With the window facing West, no sun will warm it until the evening. The temperature makes the changing process nearly impossible. Your holding your chest, shivering before you can slip on another dress. Bouncing on your feet you shuffle around until you’re fully clothed again.

It’s easy to move around the house with a light heart. Whether Tomioka has awoken yet or not is a thought that hardly crosses your mind as you cook. Mostly you hope he’ll dine with you, tired of eating in months of silence.

Your hands move quickly as you shuffle around rooting through cabinets. Over time you’ve switched to much more appetizing meals than rice porridge. For today, with your want for a quick breakfast, you mostly work with eggs and fried rice. Throwing in a couple of diced peppers and onions your stomach growls as the sizzling veggies.

The presentation is important to you too. It feels like you’re actually doing something, being a wife. Maybe. You still don’t know if this is right, but you shared a bed last night with your husband. He wasn’t particularly close, but closer than a hallway and walls that separated you before.

So you balance the plates on your arms and move carefully back towards his room. The sense of nervousness creeps up again but isn’t as fierce as before. It at least isn’t enough to deter you from using your foot to slide the door open.

Tomioka has finally risen. His hair is sticking in all sorts of directions, sleep evident in his eyes. You’re surprised at how late he’s slept in.

“Good morning.” A blush creeps back onto your cheeks. It raises your temperature by a few degrees at least, bringing warmth to your face.

“I uh-“ Your mouth is suddenly dry. “I brought food.” The words come out a shy squeak. For a moment the plates wobble in your hold until you square your shoulders and regain control.

He regards you with a surprising amount of warmth, what you think is warmth at least. It’s not indifference, or anger, something kinder.

“Thank you.” He doesn’t smile as he talks, not exactly a frown either. The man exists in the crevices between emotions, which is how he manages to be completely indecipherable most of the time.

You manage to look somewhat graceful as you lower yourself, plates still balancing in your hands. Once you’re close enough he swipes one from your hand, instead letting it sit in his lap.

“You can eat with me,” Giyuu says in a matter-of-fact way that makes your eyebrows raise. He waits for only a second, letting the silence hang, before continuing. “I thought I should be more direct.”

His explanation forces a small light laugh from your lips. “Right, I’m glad. I’ll be sure to do the same.” The corner of his eyes curl up, even though his lips don’t form a smile quite yet. You’re not even sure if he can smile, maybe the man has some sort of disease.

He eats though. And though he’s careful there are little bits of rice stuck to his face. In the corner of his mouth is a little line of ketchup. It’s such a human sight, a clumsy eater that doesn’t know anything about romance or women. There’s some sadness too, the lack of proper social understanding, formed by a life dedicated to fighting.

Realizing the fact that you’re staring quite obviously (something that he somehow does not notice) you look down to eat your own food. The sound of chewing is slightly grating on your ears, but you cannot muster up anymore to say.

Within just a few moments, when you’ve only finished a few bites of food, his fork is scraping against the plates. There’s a decent amount of rice still scattered over his face, some on the floor and his shirt, but most seem to have made it into his mouth. It’s hard not to laugh at the sight, of crumbs sticking to the corner of his lips. Though you’re able to remain silent, your nose scrunches up, eyes narrowing as your lips tug upwards.

“I can make more if you’d like.”

Tomioka still seems half-asleep as he turns to you. “It’s fine.” Despite his appearance, the man’s voice is soft and even. “But I did enjoy it.”

Your lips move into an even bigger smile. It’s half hidden behind your hand, fear of food stuck in your teeth, but the message is still translated clearly. “Did you like the egg too? I don’t know your tastes, so I’ve mostly been guessing.”

His eyebrows furrow again, that concentrated look crossing his face. “I like salmon, salmon daikon. Though I don’t know if that’s appropriate for a breakfast.” He answers quickly.

“Dinner then,” you offer.

He shakes his head. “I’ll have to leave for another mission tonight.” Your shoulders deflate slightly. At least a warning is more than you’ve gotten before. “But I can send you a letter before I arrive back.”

The offer brings your smile back. “I’ll make sure to buy some things for Salmon Daikon. It’ll be the best you’ve ever had!”

—-

He lets you spend most of the morning bothering him. Tomioka says that there’s no point leaving for a few more hours, which you don’t really get, but he probably knows best. While you anxiously watch the sun climb higher into the sky Giyuu gets ready. He doesn’t give you any warning, or tell you to leave, before stripping off most of his clothes.

His back is covered in long strips of scar and muscle. You’ve once again tucked yourself into the folds of the futon, content to watch from there. It’s pleasing the way his shoulders move as he strips the shirt off.

As he moves to remove his pants too, you have the decency to look away. The man doesn’t seem concerned with your presence, but even the thought of seeing him mostly bare makes your eyes screw themselves shut. They don’t crack open until the rustling of fabric and movement stops.

He’s donned the common uniform once again, haori placed overtopped. Tomioka looks so normal again, like he used to every time he flew in and out of the house. You’re staring at the junction where you fixed the sleeve, wondering if he too has noticed the shift.

“I think it looks good,” he tells you. “Much better than anything I could do. I’m not very good at mending things.”

“I can tell,” the words slip from your lips easily. It’s a careless comment, meant to be taken as a joke, but sounds a little too cruel. Your eyes widen, mouth quickly covered with your hands. “I didn’t mean, I uh-“

“You’re fine.” His mouth has quirked upwards just slightly. “It’s true, but I do like to think I’ve improved over the years.”

A hand is still raised over your lips, hoping to keep another dumb comment from slipping through. Once you’re sure you’ve stopped yourself from spoiling the moment you let your hands drop back to your lap. “I’m sure you have.”

He takes sword from where it’s stood carefully in the corner. You watch as he slides the sheath into place along his belt. It completes his ensemble, making him look like a proper soldier. If it were possible (which is to say, if it didn’t put you in mortal danger) you’d like to see him in action. Maybe he’ll let you watch him train sometime.

“Are you going then?”

He nods. “It’s not too far. If I’m lucky I can come back before getting another notice. So you won’t feel so lonely.”

His concern makes your heart throb. Biting your lower lip you try not to let it quiver. “I’ll make you something, give me a few minutes. That way you won’t starve.” Without waiting for his answer you leave the room and rush to the kitchen.

The truth was that you had already prepared some onigiri earlier, tucked away inside the fridge. It’s stuffed with tuna and onions are you’re trying hard not to eat them as you tuck them into a bento. There’s plenty of extra, and you can leave the more… unsightly ones for yourself.

Tomioka comes down the hall just a few moments after you finish. It’s perfect timing. There’s a small sack on his back, which he lets you tuck the lunch into. “Don’t wait too long before eating it though,” you instruct. “I don’t want it to go bad.”

“Right.”

“And be safe!”

“Ok.”

“And-“ You have to curl your hands into fists to force the words the words out, “Iloveyou.”

You’re prepared to turn tail and hide back in your own room (and probably cry—or die—from embarrassment). Before you can even point your feet in the right direction he’s caught your wrist. Though you can barely look at him, you are welcomed to the sight of his pretty pink cheeks. He pulls you toward him, perhaps with more force than necessary, and plants a kiss on your own fiery skin.

You’ve barely registered what’s happened when he’s disappeared beyond the doorway. You don’t know if you’ll be able to drag your feet anywhere else until he gets back, scared of loosing this feeling.