#mission season: incognito

[anilovie]

My Love, My Life

Summary: You and Anakin are on a supply-run and get caught in a storm, forcing you to find shelter amidst growing tensions.

WC: 9.3k

CW: MDNI, pwp, oral (f recieving), mild size kink, shared shower, lots of fluff

AN: I swear this whole thing was revealed to me in a vision.

You and Anakin had been watching the weather closely since being sent out in the dingy little transport ship. The mission was to deliver supplies and medical aid to an incognito Obi-Wan on the planet Leaze— before the storm got bad enough where travel became impossible. 

It was a simple mission, if not complicated by the sudden turn in their seasons, bringing forth a front of strong winds and heavy rains. Anakin could have even come himself, but the two of you played up the extent of Obi-Wan’s sustained injuries so that the Council would feel the need to send a medic – you – along for the ride as well. Any opportunity for you and Anakin to spend time together, you exploited. 

Really, Obi-Wan just sprained a wrist. He was low on food, water ammo, batteries, and his clothes had been all torn up in a nasty skirmish with some bounty hunters. “A joyride,” Anakin referred to this mission as. That is, until you began the descent into Leaze’s misty, swirling skies.

In between tracking his location and watching the weather radar, Anakin’s focus was on bringing you down to the ground safely — with a little more emphasis on safe, since you were here. Thus, his hands gripped the controls with a bit more force than normal, jaw clenched and brows furrowed as he met each gust of wind with a controlled parry. He pulled the shuttle through the misty skies, stabilizing the rocking foundations through the whipping winds that threatened to toss you right out of the air.

You weren’t sure how he could even see. The rain and leaves that had stuck to the window obliterated any view– he likely wasn’t even trying to see. You realized this as he answered Obi-Wan’s incoming call without even sparing a glance out the window, fingers flying over the dashboard, weathering the elements through intellect and feeling alone. 

“Anakin, Y/n, I trust that you’ve made it here safely,” Obi-Wan’s hologram displayed before you and Anakin. He looked alright – his disguise was off, for now, and he seemed to be someplace warm and out of the rain, a complete juxtaposition to the two of you.

As soon as the words warbled through, something slammed into the shuttle, rocking the foundations with an ominous groan as you began to plummet.

Anakin swore and yanked on the yoke, flicking some switches on the dashboard. “Working on it,” he bit through clenched teeth, huffing as the inferior ion engines sputtered and popped to life, breaking your fall. The shull continued to rattle and jerk, throwing you around in your seat despite being fully strapped up. 

“I can see that,” Obi-Wan quipped. “Well, once you make it to the ground, don’t bother coming to my location. The storm is worse than the reports have indicated. Find shelter for yourselves – I can hold out another day.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. It’ll do more harm than good forcing you out there in these conditions. I am safe where I am.”

“Which is where?”

The transmission cut out for a moment, shuttering off and on again as sheets of rain pelted the aluminum roof. You caught the last half of his explanation. “--they offered a room for the night, though at a high price. I hope you brought extra credits.”

“Some,” Anakin grit. 

“Perfect. Well, I won’t keep distracting you. It looks like you’ve got your hands full,” Obi-Wan bid goodbye, his cheery tone outlandish among your current predicament. “Happy landings,” he bid, and the transmission cut off.

Your fingers dug into your armrests, trusting Anakin’s skill to see that wish through. He was still deeply concentrated, and more than a little stressed as he pulled the yoke and typed over multiple colorful buttons. 

“Well, at least he’s safe,” you offered offhandedly, trying to diffuse the tension. Another hard gust of wind slammed into the hull, this time on your side, followed by a hard sheet of rain. You flinched. 

The lights had begun to flicker a while ago, and now they shut off completely, leaving you in the pitch black. Your sharp intake of air was audible, heart dropping to the pits of your stomach as the assault on the ship heightened.

“It’s okay, I did that on purpose,” Anakin explained. You could hear the strain in his voice, the clacking of his fingers over the overworked dashboard. “We need more power to the engines and thrusters. It’ll be a bumpy landing either way, but–”

“It’s okay,” you squeaked. 

“We’re almost there…”  

Bracing yourself, you squeezed your eyes shut and gripped the armrests, anticipation swirling around in your gut. You trusted him. You didn’t have to be so afraid. It was the weather you didn’t trust. Maker forbid you land in a pit of mud, swallowed up before you could escape. 

A sudden jolt threw you forward, the sickening screech of bolts and rods fighting to hold the metal panels of the shuttle together drowning out all other senses. Inertia pushed you forward in your seat, and you would have gone flying out the windshield if it weren’t for the double straps tightened over your chest, the lap belt, and the death grip you had on your armrests.

Slowly, the sliding of the shuttle ship began to slow, the tension in the shuttle easing, parts settling back into place. Then, the sounds of the vicious rain pelting the roof returned, your body relaxing against the seat with a huff, blinking your eyes open to the pitch blackness of the hull.

“You okay?” Anakin worried, clicking out of his own seatbelt to reach for you. 

You followed suit, fingers fumbling around in the dark for the clasps that would free you. “All good,” you released one set of straps, and Anakin found the two others for you. “Thanks.”

Another gust of wind nudged the shull forward, groaning under the pressure. Some lights flickered on, and there was Anakin fiddling with the control panel overhead so you could see. 

“I don’t think we can stay here for very long, unfortunately,” he said, and you weren’t sure you’d ever seen him look so stressed. “The ship appears to be sinking. We’ll have to pack a bag and get going.”

Abandon ship? In these conditions?

Again, your unshakable trust in him erased any fear in your mind. He’d done far riskier and more dangerous things – his own fear now was because of you. You’re safety. 

But you were fine – just a little shaky as you stood and reached for the supply crates in the back, rifling through them for necessities, tossing them to Anakin to shove into a bag. You managed to get half of what you’d originally planned to drop off for Obi-Wan into two bags. Anakin shrugged the larger one over his shoulders, and you took the smaller one.

You’d both come prepared, already wearing rain ponchos, but it seemed like they’d do little good as Anakin kicked the stuck door open. The sound of the rain coming down was deafening, a roaring torrent that could easily sweep you away. 

“Hold on to me,” Anakin yelled over the sound, and you hooked an arm around his, pulling you out of the ship with him.

Mud and rain splattered your face as your boots met the ground, and he immediately took off, dragging you with him. Again, your blind faith in him came in handy. All you could focus on was spluttering around the rain for any pocket of air you could find, trying to keep upright as your heels slipped and skidded in the mud, hoping you weren’t slowing Anakin down.

Of course you were slowing him down. You were no Jedi. But you both knew that, and he didn’t mind. Just wanted you out of the wind and rain so you wouldn’t catch a cold.

After what seemed like ages of the two of you fighting through the elements, narrowly avoiding trees and branches and sharp rocks, Anakin pointed out an abandoned shed in the distance. He ran for it, pulling you under the awning with him so he could pound on the door.

“No one’s here,” he spoke after a moment as you were still wiping water out of your eyes. Something clicked in the door, unlocking so Anakin could open it up and peer inside.

He found the light switch on the wall, flipping it up and down uselessly. “Power’s out,” he mumbled, searching around in the force for some mechanism of light. Apparently finding something, he released your hand. “I’ll be right back.”

You stood shivering by the closed door, dripping a puddle of water onto the ground as you waited for him to return. With your sight gone, your other senses were heightened – you could smell the dust of furniture long forgotten, hear the creeks of unkempt floorboards as Anakin explored the shed, and feel the bone-cold chill of the storm seeping in under the crack in the door. Wherever you were, it was very old, and likely abandoned.

Anakin came back around the corner brandishing a candle, shielding the flame with one hand as he made his way back to you.

“This looks like it was somebody’s home at one point,” he thought aloud, pointing to the way he just came. “That’s a kitchen over there, and there’s a loft with a bed in the back. Pretty sure I saw a shower, too. I can probably get the pumps running long enough to make use of it.”

You wouldn’t question how he could do that– sometimes it seemed like he had magical powers, even without the force. 

“Is there a fireplace?” you wondered, shaking off your drenched poncho and stepping further in now that you could see. “Maybe I could heat up some water to use, warm this place up a bit, too.”

Anakin held the candle out before him, casting shadows over the interior of the little shed. Right in front of the door was a wooden stairway – more of a ladder – that led to what you assumed was an attic. Deciding to avoid any bats or rodents, you agreed to keep that shut and rounded the ladder to what looked like a tiny living room opposite the kitchen, separated by a thin wall.

A couple threadbare sofa-chairs sat dusty and weathered on the dull carpet, a table set before the both of them, and – jackpot – a little stone fireplace in the corner.

“The wood from outside is too wet to burn,” Anakin poked at the empty log pit. “But I could break down that table and use it as fuel…”

“Good idea,” you chirped, taking the candle from Anakin to free up his hands for the task. “I’ll go look for more candles and matches.”

The kitchen was just as tiny, standing room only and no dining table. It consisted of a slab of wood for a counter, an empty ice box that was cracked down the middle, and some drawers which were also mostly empty.

One of the cupboard up top held a few random supplies, mostly rubber bands and bottle caps and dead batteries. But amid that was a bag of little tea candles, a few larger ones made of a slippery wax, and a box of matches. Half were no good, but you only needed to light one and then share the flame with all the others.

You planted the tea candles around on various surfaces, lighting the space up as Anakin broke down the table. You threw some old papers you’d found bunched in a drawer into the fireplace for more starter fuel, scratching another match to life against the grated box once Anakin dropped a leg of the table into the fire. You tossed the match in after it, satisfied when the flame caught the edge of the papers and flared to life, enveloping the wooden leg.

“That’s so much better,” you sighed, holding your hands out to warm by the flame. 

“Mmhm,” he agreed, crouched beside you. He stared, mesmerized by the flames for a long moment before suddenly standing. “Alright, I’m gonna go look at the pipes. Will you be okay for now?”

“Yup,” you nodded cheerily. “Where are the pipes?”

“There’s a cellar out back. Should be down there.”

“Oh…” this time, your shiver wasn’t from the cold. “Want me to go with you? Sounds kinda creepy.”

Anakin huffed a laugh, running a hand down the back of your head affectionately. “No, I think I’ll be alright, thank you. Want you to stay here and warm up.”

“I’ll go get the bed ready.”

“Perfect,” he brought you toward him with that hand, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “I’ll be back.”

Now alone, you fed the fire with some more wood from the table, crouching down before the bags to get out your and Anakin’s spare set of clothes. You hung them up on the sill of the fireplace, weighing them down with the candles so they could dry. 

There were a couple of large buckets beside the fireplace, probably meant for gathering wood. You took one and set it outside to collect rainwater. It didn’t take very long at all – it filled up from the downpour within minutes, and you hung it up on the metal rod above the fire to boil for drinking water.

Then you grabbed one of the thicker candles to light your way to the back of the shed. The floorboards lifted slightly back here, half of a wall hiding the bedroom from the rest of the interior. 

The bed was quite large for such a small space, half-made with a quilted cover. It looked all dusty and gross, so you tore it off and opened all the drawers and cupboards in the space, praying for some spare sheets.

Luck seemed to be on your side. There was a set of sheets, blankets, and even a couple of pillows stowed away atop the first shelf in the closet. You had to strain on your tiptoes to reach them, but eventually knocked them down to your height. You took them to the living room and shook them out, making sure no dust or any bugs hid inside, then brought them back to the room and made the bed.

It was a lot more than you were hoping for, for an abandoned shed in the depths of the forest.

With the bed all made and Anakin not back yet, you decided to use the old dirty blanket to wipe down the interior of the bathroom. There was a shower – if that’s what you could call it. Really, it was just a spigot attached to the wall with a drain beneath, the floor here made of smooth rock rather than wood. But if Anakin could get it to work, and you warmed up some more water over the fire, you could have a real, warm shower using the soap you’d brought from the ship. 

The sound of the door opening let in the roar of the rain once more. Anakin closed it behind him, shaking water out of his hair.. “Good news,” he called, voice carrying from the door to the bedroom in the small shed. “There’s a water heater down there that I got working, as well as the pipes. I just have to fill the tank and we’re good to go.”

“Ohh,” you cooed excitedly, rounding the corner to meet him again. “I found a bucket we could use– hold on.” You grabbed the spare bucket from the fireplace and handed it to him. “The bed’s all set, I found some clean sheets and cleaned up the bathroom. There doesn’t seem to be anything useful in the kitchen or anywhere else,” you shrugged. “But I think this will do pretty well for the night.”

“I think so, too,” Anakin said, and despite the howling wind and icy rain pounding into the roof and threatening to shatter the windows, he smiled. 

He left to go fill the tank, and you laid out the rest of the supplies before the fire. The bigger bag was for Obi-Wan– those things you didn’t touch. But you and Anakin had a couple extra blankets, some food, a blaster, maps, and your medical supplies. Most of it survived the rain.

By the time Anakin came back, you were still sitting before the fire, occasionally feeding it with more scraps of wood and poking it around with a longer piece. He kicked the mud and dirt off his boots at the door before coming in, shrugging off his poncho. 

“Alright, bad news…” he started this time. You turned to look at him. “The heater is the slowest thing I’ve ever come across. It’ll take hours. I don’t think showers are in the cards for us tonight.”

You twisted your lips, trying not to seem too disappointed. “Bummer.” 

All you wanted to do was get out of these sticky, soaking wet clothes and immerse yourself in a warm shower. But at least he tried, and it really wasn’t the end of the world.

“Maybe in the morning,” you reasoned, trying to stay positive. He joined you by the fire as you tugged on the clothes you’d hung up, seeing if they were ready. “At least these are dry, and warm now. That’s better than nothing.”

“It is. Smart girl,” he tilted your face toward his with a finger, crouched before you again. His lips met yours – wet meeting dry, cold meeting warm. It took you by surprise a little bit, the intensity he kissed you with out of nowhere. But you responded in earnest, as if the simple touch of your flesh could warm him from the torrents coming down outside. 

After a long moment, he pulled back an inch, mumbling against your mouth, “Let’s get out of these wet clothes, yeah?”

You nodded silently, standing once he gave you room to take the clothes down from the fire. 

You’d been on missions with Anakin before, just the two of you. But nothing like this – so raw, so intimate, so secluded from the rest of the world. You could feel a strange tension in the air between you two, not bad. Just… different. Like there was an energy pulsing alive, waiting for something to snap.

You’d been with Anakin for a few months now, and in love with each other for far longer. But… you’d never truly been with him yet. In any way. 

He knew you weren’t ready, and explained you could take it slow. As slow as you wanted. He, of course, was already experienced, and that intimidated you. Which is why it had been months, and you still hadn’t made a move to progress things. Just the thought of doing those things with him made you impossibly nervous.

But lately, like now, you were thinking about it more and more. You couldn’t do this with anyone else, you thought. Just Anakin. You loved him more than life itself, and your ability to express that with words or innocent touches was growing limited. 

You wanted more of him. And you wanted him to have more of you.

What are you thinking? You shook the thoughts out of your head as you took your clothes into the bathroom to change. These thoughts had nothing to do with the predicament you found yourselves in. The last thing he was thinking about was sex.

In fact, upon exiting the bathroom, you found him already changed into his dried pair of pants and nothing else, sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for you with a tired, slumped look in his eyes.

He’d given you his spare shirt to wear since it was bigger and warmer than yours, and he wasn’t going to wear it anyways. You also had on a pair of shorts, the comfy ones you brought for sleeping since you thought you’d be in an inn right now. 

You approached him slowly, shadows cast over his face from the candlelight, flickering off the walls. The air was a bit chillier back here, away from the fire that you’d let simmer to embers for now. Naturally, you gravitated toward his shirtless form, slotting yourself in the space he’d opened up for you between his knees, and wrapping your arms around his neck.

“What an odd change of plans,” you muttered into his hair softly.

His flesh hand found your back, holding you close as he nestled his head against your chest. “Agreed.”

You remained like that for a moment, wrapped up in each other’s warmth and rain-damp hair, listening to the constant thrum of the downpour above, the gusting wind in the trees. 

“You tired?” you asked, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. You liked how it looked dark and burnished in the candlelight, holding the shape of a ringlet curl as you wrapped and uncoiled it from around your finger. 

“Very,” he breathed, turning his face into your neck to leave a kiss on your collarbone. “C’mere.”

Both of his wrapped around your back, securely holding you to him as he fell backward onto the bed, with you on top of him. You laughed, steadying yourself with your arms on either side of his head, ducking down to plant a sweet kiss above his brows. 

“You’re not even on the bed,” you pointed out, referring to his legs which were still on the floor. You pulled back the covers, and you both slipped under, instantly finding the spot between his chest and shoulder to lay your head. His arm wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you snuggly into his side, allowing you to slot one of your legs between his. 

This is how it always was when you and him could truly be alone, uninterrupted, with no threat of someone finding you out. It was a rare moment, which is why your skin sang with every inch it pressed against his, heart soaring in your chest as your body seemed to settle so perfectly against his, erasing any doubt in your mind that any of this could be a mistake.

Before long, and without even realizing, you slipped into a deep sleep. Despite the harsh weather outside, you’d never felt so comfortable, wrapped up in warmth and darkness. That is, until Anakin woke with a start, wrenching you out of your slumber.

“What issit?” you slurred, rubbing sleep out of your eyes. It wasn’t like when he’d have nightmares, where you’d usually wake up before him due to his tossing and turning and mumbling. This was sudden – like something had possessed him, stolen all the air from his lungs as wide eyes turned to you.

“The transmitter,” he said, throwing the blankets off of him and getting out of bed. Your head was still lagging behind, having no idea what he meant.

“What transmitter?”

“The one on the ship. The only way we can contact Obi-Wan. We left it behind.”

He was already pulling on his boots and reaching for his other shirt, sparing no time. You pushed yourself further up in bed, swiping your hair out of your face. “D’you have to get it now? Can it wait till the morning?”

“The ship was sinking when we left it. It could be buried in mud right now,” he rushed the words out, grabbing his utility belt from the sill and securing it around his waist. “I’ll be back in an hour. Go back to bed… I’m sorry for waking you.”

“No, I’ll come with you,” you were already swinging your legs off the bed too, about to stand up when Anakin put a hand on your shoulder. It was dark now, the candles having been blown out without you realizing, and you could barely see his face.

“No. Stay here. I don’t want you out there, it’s too dangerous.”

“It’s just some rain,” your argument sounded meek, even to you. “Come on, Anakin, I don’t want you to go alone. ‘S not fair.”

“Fair?” 

“You shouldn’t have to be out there while I stay here and sleep. I won’t be able to, anyway. It is dangerous, so I should come with you, in case something happens.”

“Y/n. No,” he said sternly, and you flinched. A heavy pause hung between you, where you searched for what to say among the scattered thoughts in your brain. He’d never been stern with you before. Ever. 

“I won’t be gone long. I promise I’ll be there and back as fast as I can. Okay?”

“But,” you insisted stubbornly, desperately fighting back the sting in your eyes. “I want to go with you, Anakin. I want to help you.”

You tried to stand up again, but the hold he had on your shoulders wouldn’t let you. You tried to fight back the emotion rising in your throat, threatening to spill over your eyes at his defiance. He was too strong, his word absolute– and for once, you couldn’t sway him.

The thought of him out there, alone in the dark and cold and rain… it killed you.

You grasped at his wrists, still holding onto your shoulders, and squeezed as if you could keep him there. As if he wasn’t laughably stronger than you, and could pull away from your touch without realizing you were trying.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? This isn’t like you,” his words came out hushed now. Worried. 

“Nothing’s wrong,” you sniffed, lip beginning to wobble. “Just don’t want you to get hurt.” It’s scary out there.

“I won’t. I promise… I’ll be okay. You’ll see,” he kissed the stray tear that squeezed out of your eye, collecting it with his lips before it could trail a path down your cheek. You tried to steady your breathing, shaky as it dragged in and out of your lungs, quelling the rising feeling of dread and fear.

Somehow, he’d coaxed you back into bed, on your back, tucking the sheets in around you nice and tight. Tight enough so that you couldn’t get out, perhaps. Whimpering in defeat, you felt another few tears squeeze out of your eyes, turning your head away from him to bury into the pillow.

“Don’t do this,” Anakin murmured, stroking a hand over your hair. “Please, don’t cry.”

“Fine,” you snipped, immediately regretting it. “‘M sorry… just don’t get hurt. Come back.”

“I will,” he whispered, and trailed warm kisses down your temple. 

And then he was gone.

His voice, his touch, his scent, his warmth – all of it, vanished like it had never been there to begin with.

It’s not the fact that he’d left to go do something dangerous on his own – it was the fact that he was out there all alone, in a terrible storm, fighting through the unpredictability of the elements. It had been violent for the short time you’d been out there earlier, the rain pelting your skin so hard it stung, the mud sticking to your boots, refusing to let you move, the wind nearly toppling you over if Anakin hadn’t been there to steady you.

You could have gone with him. You could have kept up. And Maker forbid anything happen to him – if he got stuck, trapped somewhere, if a tree came down over him, if he got lost and couldn’t find his way–

You couldn’t stay in bed. Half of you wanted to pull your boots on too and meet him out there, but you knew that was a stupid decision. You didn’t have his sense of direction, the built in radar that he had. And even as you peered through the cloudy window to the outside world, you knew it would be in vain. The night forest was alive with shuttering tree limbs, branches fighting each other in the sky as the terrible wind tossed them around. The rain never let up, the same suffocating sheet of water dumping from the moonless sky above.

Anakin was far gone at this point. You could only sit by the window, alone in the cold, dusty dark, until he returned.

The sleeves of your – Anakin’s – shirt had grown damp by the time you spotted his figure appear out of the trees. 

It startled you at first, worried some stranger had come across the shed in the same way you and Anakin had, and was now heading this way to seek shelter. Once he arrived, he might find you here, and maybe he’d try to hurt you.

You slipped off the ledge you were sitting on and grabbed for the water-logged blaster you’d set on the floor, shaking out some raindrops and hoping it wasn’t one of the things that got destroyed by the rain. 

Your worry was for naught - the closer the figure grew, the more you recognized the height, shape, and gait of Anakin Skywalker. The hood of his poncho was pulled up over his head, but it did little good as the wind tugged and pulled at it, letting the rain drench his face anyway.

You set the blaster down and met him by the door, pulling it open to reveal him soaked to the bone and panting. He truly had run the whole way.

“Anakin,” you started, trying to stay out of his way so he could take off his poncho and boots without spraying you with water. “Are you okay? Did you get the transmitter?”

“I made it just in time,” he explained, reaching into his belt pocket and brandishing the little metal device. Such a small thing, important enough to risk his life over. 

At least, to him it was.

“You must be freezing,” you muttered, still upset at the fact that you hadn’t shared in his suffering. You hated seeing him go through these things alone. You should have been with him. 

“The heaters have probably had enough time to warm the water up,” his attempt to distract you didn’t go unnoticed. “You wanna go check for me?”

You whispered, “okay,” and flit back to the bedroom, lighting a couple of candles inside so you could see. The spigot was stuck in place due to years of sitting unused and abandoned, but eventually you managed to wrench it to the side, almost splattering yourself with brown water.

Your face crinkled in disgust, but soon it began to run clear. You tested the temperature with your fingertips, pleased to feel that it was warm.

Anakin rounded the corner, leaning against the doorway of the bathroom with his arms crossed. “Is it working?”

“Yeah. It’s warm,” you pulled your hand away and wiped it dry on your shorts. “You should get in quick so it’s not wasted.”

“Wanna join me?”

His offer caught you by surprise.

Join him? In the shower? As in… naked?

The look on your face must have given your thoughts away. He chuckled and reached toward one of the tea lights you’d just lit, snuffing the flame out between two gloved fingers. “I can turn off the lights…” he teased.

Damn him. As if you weren’t already flustered – 

The steady trickle of the spigot remained at your back, seducing you to the warmth of the shower. It would feel so good to be able to wash up. And with there only really being enough time for one shower… it would make sense for the both of you to just do it together.

But Anakin had never seen you without clothes before. And you hadn’t prepared for that to happen today.

“Yes… no…?” he drawled, uncrossing his arms and reaching out for the other candle. Like the first, he pinched the flame out, blanketing the room in darkness. The sound of the floorboards creaking was the only way you knew he was approaching, tensing as you felt his hands tug at the hem of your shirt. “C’mon, sweetheart. I’ll behave.”

You were still upset with him being stern with you earlier. And even more upset that he didn’t let you go with him. 

But something about his honey-smooth voice reduced you to putty in his hands. Warmth budded and bloomed deep in your stomach, and a certain resolve passed over you. You didn’t want to be upset anymore. You wanted this. 

“Okay,” you whispered, fingers finding Anakin’s at the bottom of your shirt. You didn’t miss his slight inhale.

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” you tugged the hem up yourself, urging him to guide the material over your head. 

The darkness of the room was the only thing that offered you any sort of comfort, knowing he couldn’t truly see you just yet. You knew, logically, that he could fathom things in his mind without having to see them, but purposely ignored that fact.

You weren’t sure where your shirt landed, as he’d been the one to tug your arms out himself. Riding the adrenaline high, you slipped your thumbs under the elastic of your sleep shorts and pushed them down, kicking them somewhere in the corner.

And there you were, standing completely naked in front of Anakin Skywalker – your love, your life – for the first time ever.

Again, the only reason you could really do this right now was because it was pitch black in the room. You only had enough nerve to then reach for him, hand finding the soaking wet material of his own shirt as you shivered in the cold.

“Hurry up and get undressed, I wanna get in,” you pleaded. He’d gone eerily silent.

At your request, he started into motion. You could hear the sounds of his wet clothes slopping to the ground heavily, trying to fight the blush off of your face as you turned around to pull the spigot further. The water began to rain down in a warm current now, and you stepped underneath to douse yourself in the glorious heat.

“Where are yo–? oh,” you jumped as you felt his hands find their way around your waist, his naked chest pressed up against your back. The water sprayed over the both of you, trickling down his body to fall onto yours, shivering at the added heat.

The blood in your face grew warmer, trying not to think about how close his hands were to two very sensitive parts of your body. They spanned almost the whole length of your torso, tummy twisting as you realized just how big he was. Just how strong.

But he chose to be gentle with you.

Trying to steady your breathing, you reached for the soap you’d stowed away in the notch in the wall, flipping the cap open and squirting a generous amount into the palm of your hand. Anakin trailed his fingers down your arm, taking the bottle from you and setting it down again. 

You rubbed the soap between your hands, letting the excess drip down your body so it wouldn’t go to waste. Then, you began rubbing the suds all into your skin, feeling impossibly feverish at the predicament.

It just felt… wrong, somehow, to be touching yourself like this in front of Anakin. Even if you were just washing up.

His hands had returned to your waist, and you smoothed them over his own as you worked your way down your body. Wordlessly, he turned his hands over, capturing your soapy fingers in his and stealing some of the suds. You huffed a laugh, heart fluttering in your chest as he began to work that soap into the soft skin of your stomach, hips, and waist. 

You tried not to squirm too much. Forced yourself to relax, and just let him do what he wanted. He was obviously enjoying it, the way he lingered, rubbing circles into your soft skin, kissing at your shoulder blade as he brought his hands around and up your back, almost massaging the soap into you. 

The way his hands moved over your body was so different than anything you’ve ever felt before. You’d never been touched so tenderly, so unrestricted yet loving as you’d been now. And though he had free reign, he avoided the parts that might make you uncomfortable… until you grew bold enough to capture his wandering hands in your own, leading them to the soft mounds of flesh yourself. 

On instinct he squeezed, ever so gently, with your smaller fingers bracketing his own. “You can touch me,” you whispered, encouraging now that you were fully relaxed and comfortable with him.

“You’re perfect,” he replied, lips finding the curve of your neck.

What had he said about behaving?

As if he could read your thoughts, his lips released the skin of your neck with a small sound, pressing a kiss above that spot, and then one more under your jaw. Then he began to move his hands over your breasts, not quite sexual, but gentle. Caring. Washing you of rainwater and chill, so all that was left was the sweet smelling soap and the feel of him.

You sighed in relief, bones turning to mush in his hands. Soon, he reached for the soap again and squeezed more out, stepping around so that he was in front of you.

His hands found you again, your waist this time, the unpredictability of his touches making your heart hammer against your ribs. Something about it was so thrilling, not being able to see where he was or where he was planning to go, especially now that you’d given him permission to touch you. You weren’t sure where you’d draw the line if it came to that. If you’d draw the line. 

His touch remained wholly innocent, though, focusing back around on your stomach, dragging down the curve of your waist, your hips, the tops of your thighs. You could feel his breath on your tummy, butterflies flaring to life as you realized he was on his knees before you, dragging his touch up and down your thighs as his lips pressed a sensual kiss to the top of your tummy. Then above your belly button. Then one below–

You held your breath, anticipating him to keep going. But he lingered on the last kiss, and you could feel his teeth on your skin as he smiled.

“On my best behavior, remember?” his voice was deep, almost a purr. 

You could only manage a meek “Mmhm,” as he continued on, tracing his fingers down to your knee, lifting one leg slightly so he could trail kisses down your thigh, over your knee, down, down down, all the while rubbing soap into your skin in his lip’s wake.

By the time he reached your foot, you were bracing yourself with your hands on his shoulders, trying not to jump out of your skin as his lips continued. He kissed your ankle, the top of your foot, massaging soap into the soles of your feet. 

He wasn’t just washing you. He was worshiping you.

That much was clear as he released that leg and started over on the other side. 

You were almost relieved when he was done. Every inch of your skin was alive and buzzing, standing on edge with electricity and embarrassment and something else. Something deep, and smooth, and warm like bubbling molasses. You could barely breathe, glad for the moment of reprieve when he finally released you, and deposited more soap in his hands so he could wash himself. 

Your legs were jelly, afraid you’d fall down right there in the shower, completely baffled how he could just do something like that and continue on like nothing happened. Then, you heard the speed at which he was rubbing the soap over his own body – clearly, he wanted to get out to continue this elsewhere. 

You weren’t terribly ashamed to admit you were thinking along the same line.

Before the water could run cold, Anakin had urged you both under the spigot again and rinsed all the suds off your body. Then he grabbed for the single towel that you’d brought from the supply bag, turning the water off and wrapping you up in it.

“Hey– what’re you doing?” you pouted, undoing the towel just as soon as he’d tucked it into you, secure.

“Getting you dry,” he responded like it was obvious. You rubbed the towel over your skin quickly, then wrapped Anakin in it like he’d done to you. Or– you tried to, at least. You still couldn’t see, and completely missed your mark, caught off guard by the absence of the body you confidently reached for that you almost slipped, bracing yourself on the first thing you could reach.

“Woah,” Anakin chuckled, easily steadying you with his hands around your waist. Your bare chest was pressed against his, glaringly obvious with the way the cold air tightened your skin, and you blushed furiously. 

“Sorry– couldn’t find you,” you mumbled, hopelessly patting at his chest with the towel now that you had him.

“Alright, let’s get you dressed and out of here before you take us both down,” he teased, bending to retrieve the clothes you’d both discarded in the dark.

You let him pull his shirt over your head first, shielding you from the nippy air. You were disappointed with the loss of contact, but glad for the sense of normalcy. He knelt before you again and urged you to lift your leg with his hand around your calf, guiding one leg, then the other into your shorts, pulling them up until they rested comfortably on your hips.

He pulled his own pants on, the only thing he’d be wearing, and you finally reached for the bathroom door, ready to be able to see again even if it was only by candlelight.

It was like re-entering life, after being in the dark for so long. You turned to see if Anakin was following you, finding him close behind as he shut the door behind him, and just the sight of his ridiculously handsome face, gilded by the glow of the fire, set your heart aflame.

You needed his lips on yours. Now.

This time, he was taken by surprise with the intensity of your kiss. You stood on your tiptoes and captured his lips with yours, barely noticing as he fell back into the door slightly, hand finding your hip to steady you. His surprise quickly melted into an intensity that matched your own, hot lips sliding over yours, tongue dipping into your mouth for a taste, palm guiding your jaw just how he liked.

He kissed like he was drinking you in, breathing your air, as if he wished to share the same skin as you. And though you’d started it, now you were trying to keep up, head growing fuzzy from lack of oxygen as he began to guide you backward, onto the bed.

As soon as your back hit the mattress, the reality of the situation dawned on you. He wasn’t slowing down, and you didn’t want him to. His touch dragged fire across your flesh, tracing down the places he’d just worshiped under your clothes, pulling you so close to him you could feel his heart hammer in his chest.

Your hands buried in his hair, the other on his shoulder for stability, grounding as he released your lips with a gasp, wasting no time before claiming the sensitive skin of your neck with the same furiosity. 

“Anakin,” you breathed, not really sure what you wanted to say. You just wanted to taste his name in your mouth, the way the syllables sounded so pretty, so perfect between your teeth.

He answered with a short “mmm,” listening but not really. He was too deep into it, kissing and sucking and nipping at your neck, tongue laving over the small hurts that his teeth dug into you. 

Somehow his flesh hand had drifted to the elastic of your shorts. You’d missed it before, too caught up in him toying with the skin over your pulsepoint. But now his fingers teased the elastic that he’d just put on you, and despite your livewire nerves and the pound of your heart, you lifted your hips in invitation.

His mouth detached from your neck, shocked again as he breathed, “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you forbid him from asking again by pulling him back to your lips. You needed the distraction, bracketing his jaw in both your hands as he pulled your shorts down your legs, slowly. Giving you time to back out.

You kicked them off once he reached your feet, flinging them out of sight. Anakin settled back between your thighs, your knees squeezing his waist, squirming as his touch now roamed free under your shirt.

“Anakin,” you pulled away to breathe once again, lips swollen and wet, filled with the taste of him. “I– I don’t know what to do.”

His eyelashes shuttered, delicate as a butterfly wing, and he leaned back in to peck you gently on the lips. “Don’t worry about a thing,” he murmured, eyes all melted and soft. “I’ll take care of you.”

There it was again. That blind trust. 

He could do whatever he wanted to you right now, and you’d let him. Half dressed, strewn over the bed, all for his taking… and he moved down your body to recount the kisses he’d pressed to your stomach in the shower only moments before.

Your muscles clenched and unclenched, hips squirming as you felt an uncomfortable warmth, a wetness, an ache between your legs the further down he moved. You were no stranger to that feeling, or how to relieve it– but you were new to sharing it with someone else. Sharing it with him. 

Though it made you incredibly nervous to have him down there, the need for his touch outweighed everything. He kissed your stomach, hips, and thighs until he felt you relax under his palms, and only then did he slide his hands beneath your knees, pausing one last time to ask:

“Will you let me taste you?”

It felt like something exploded in your face, with the intensity that heat bloomed in your cheeks. Those bejeweled eyes shining in the candlelight, intent on you, hands clutching the plush softness of the backs of your thighs, breath ghosting over the bottom of your stomach– it was almost too much.

“Okay,” you answered quietly, nodding your head. “Y-yes.”

His responding grin was wicked – roguish. Broad hands pushed your legs up and spread them apart, baring it all for him to see.

It was quick– so quick you barely had time to be embarrassed, like ripping a bandaid off. He just… did it. And now he was looking at you, holding your thighs so steady in his strong grasp that you couldn’t even dream of closing them on him.

You threw a hand over your eyes, unable to watch him look at you.

“Baby,” he breathed, flesh hand releasing one of your legs so he could slot it between your thighs, thumb pulling you open a little. You didn’t think it was possible to be more embarrassed as he studied you, only opening your eyes to look at him when he tugged at your wrist in silent demand.

“C’mon, don’t be shy,” he teased, though when you blinked open your wet eyes to look at him, his face had melted into one of adoration. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, before pressing his lips to the swollen bud of your clit, taking you by surprise again. “The prettiest there ever was,” he smirked when he saw your reaction, pulling you open with both thumbs now so he could press a hot, deep, lingering kiss into you.

You gasped at the contact, blood rushing in your ears as your back bowed off the bed. Sparks of pleasure battled the humiliation as he continued planting sweet little suckling kisses to your clit, over and over, as if he couldn’t get enough. 

Once you’d relaxed back onto the bed, and the first pathetic whimper left your mouth, he let his tongue roam your folds, collecting your taste.

He knew this was new for you, so he went slow. Started gentle, getting you used to the feeling. And it was strange for you, just a little bit, but mostly it felt… good. So good. Indescribably good. So much so that you couldn’t believe you’d held out on this for so long.

Couldn’t believe you were letting him do this to you now. 

Your hips twitched and jumped as his tongue traced down to your entrance, teasingly licking you in circles, using pressure like he might try to put it in. The thought had you reaching for the bedsheets, needing something to squeeze in your fists. One of his hands intercepted yours, bringing it back to your thigh so he could hold you still and let you squeeze his hand at the same time. 

He licked your arousal up, truly drinking you now, allowing his tongue to lave over your clit all slow and smooth and warm. You mewled, a sweet, innocent sound that went straight to his cock. With a desire to pull more pretty sounds from you, he kept drawing circles over your clit, increasing the pressure and speed until your eyes were closed, and you were biting your finger between your teeth, unable to help the sounds escaping you.

“Fuck, Ani–”  gasped, thighs falling open by themselves now, inviting him deeper. He licked you again, closing his lips at the top of your heat to suck your clit into his mouth, pulling it between his lips with a pulsing suction. 

He didn’t let up. 

Your muscles tensed, the fuzzy warmth building in your gut, between your legs, spreading down your thighs, becoming all consuming. And just when you thought it would burst, he let go.

“Shit,” you cried, breathless as your hips rocked against his mouth. He laughed, sticking his tongue out so you could hump the met muscle, hot breath fanning over your most sensitive parts. His teeth gleamed in the firelight, dark eyes trained on you, and you had to shut your own so you didn’t cum right there.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he pulled his face away, pinching the inside of your thigh just enough to sting. You forced your eyes open, meeting his gaze again. “Stay with me, pretty girl.”

His mouth, shining with your slick, lowered to your pussy again. And you couldn’t stop from moaning, hips canting up and down even though you knew it made his job more difficult. You just couldn’t help it– it felt too good. 

And he knew that, so he was nice. It was your first time, after all. So he relaxed the hold he had on your hips and let you squirm, just a little, to delude you into thinking you had even an ounce of control.

“You gonna cum in my mouth, sweet thing?” he spoke against your cunt, sealing the words off with a loud, wet, kiss. “Gonna make a mess for me?”

You’d never appreciated the velvety timber of his voice more than right now. 

“Mhm,” you whimpered pathetically, eyes squeezing closed. And again, he let you. There would be other times to play his wicked games.

“Alright, sweetheart. Whenever you’re ready,” he soothed, returning his mouth to your clit. He licked and sucked, sliding his tongue back down to your hole and breaching the entrance like he’d fantasized about doing with his cock for so long now, carving the exact path he would take. You gasped for air, humming it out in cute helpless whines and whimpers, cheeks permanently stained in a flush.

“Anakin, I–” you wanted to say you loved him, no matter how pathetic that sounded. But it was true, it was all you could feel as his lips suctioned around your clit again, pulling it into his mouth and teasing it with his tongue in torturous circles. You loved him, loved his mind and his body, and the way his lips and tongue were pulling that glorious wave of heat from out of you now, swallowing the gush of hot slick that escaped from your pulsing hole.

He brought you down with his thumb on your clit, soothing gentle circles into it as you cried, body shaking and jerking beneath him. He watched you come undone with a small smile on his face, not allowing you to escape his attention for even a moment. 

The last gulp of air that you took to settle your shivering muscles felt like the sweetest breath you’d ever taken. Anakin climbed back up your body, hands sliding over your knees, so he could kiss you deep on the lips.

You tasted yourself – it wasn’t bad… slightly salty, but not quite. That mixed with the taste of Anakin had your brain turn to mush again, lips lazy and compliant under his.

“See how good you taste?” he hummed, going back in to flirt his tongue around yours. “Fucking delicious.”

“Anakin–” you were pushing at his chest now, the buffer of arousal no longer shielding you from so much embarrassment. He laughed as you covered your face with your hands, immediately trying to tug them away again.

“It’s the truth,” he insisted with that lover’s pur, and you pouted once he finally succeeded in seeing your face again. He traced your bottom lip with his thumb, still smiling. “You okay?”

“Mhmm,” you nodded, unable to fight back your own matching smile. “‘T was so good, Ani. Didn’t think… didn’t think it’d be like that.”

“No?”

“Mm-mm,” you shook your head, leaning into his warm palm as he cupped your cheek, thumb still stroking your bottom lip. “Thank you. Do you– do you want me to…”

It took him a second before he realized what you were talking about. His eyes widened slightly and he looked down, then laughed. “No– no, you don’t have to do that.”

“Don’t you want me to?”

“Of course I do,” he insisted, mirth and adoration oozing from his gaze. “But I can handle it tonight. Think that was enough for you.”

You pouted again, about to insist, but he kept you quiet with a kiss. “Another time, okay?” he whispered against your lips.

You nodded, complaisant.

“Good.” With a deep breath of his own, he lifted himself off of you, carefully closing your legs so they wouldn’t ache from being held open for so long. “Wait here,” he requested, and then left for the bathroom again.

He grabbed the towel you both had used, and sat on the edge of the bed. “Can you open up for me?” he asked, fingers sliding around your thigh in silent request.

Your face burned even harder than before, somehow, as you fulfilled his request, spreading your legs a bit so he could clean you up. It was a strange feeling, almost more intimate than what he’d previously been doing– but it was quick, and it felt nice now that your arousal was all cleaned up, and he could slip your shorts back on with you having to get up. 

Anakin retreated back to the bathroom and was gone for a few long moments. You had an idea of what he was doing, another burst of heat blooming in your stomach at the thought of what was going on behind that door. You had half a mind to suggest helping him again. You were more than willing.

But he came out only a short time later to find that you’d straightened all the sheets, and were now waiting by the pillows for him to come back to bed with you. He blew out the candles as he passed them by, getting into the bed and wasting no time pulling you onto his chest.

He’d never felt closer to you. And you, him.

In the morning, you’d probably be embarrassed again, recalling what you’d done. The storm outside seemed to trap you in a bubble, your own world, and everything else seemed so far away now.

You pressed your palm to his chest, letting the strong thud, thud, thud of his heart lull you to sleep. Before he could feel you drift off, he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“I love you,” he said, and you heard it in your dreams. 

divider from @saradika

[haravath0t]

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐄

𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐃𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐑 ⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

𝐓𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬, 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞,

𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞,

𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐧𝐮𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐬,

𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐬.

|| 𝐕𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐌𝐄 𝟐 : 𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐀'𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 ||

𝑾𝒆𝒍𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒅!

🦌☕📖❄ the lovely rika (@fushic0re) & i have decided to come together to create a little advent calendar! here, you will find fics posted from thanksgiving all the way up to december 26 from a mixed bag of your faves ! cozy up with some hot cocoa, sit by the fire, and enjoy ♡

☃ = beware! this forbidden snowman will lead you to works with smut

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏 || The Christmas Chronicles: the grinch’s heart grows three sizes - alhaitham x reader

⤷ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: the local intelligent but stoic scribe alhaitham is minding his own business in the house of daena, reading books and declining applications. it is only when you partake in some random antics in light of the holiday season that his eyes leave the work on his hands.

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐 || pov: shopping for christmas trees with him - 40s!steve rogers x reader

⤷ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: “City sidewalks, busy sidewalks, dressed in holiday style. In the air there’s a feeling of Christmas.”

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟑 ||  “A Husband’s Guide to Meeting the In-Laws” - neuvillette, zhongli, ayato, tartaglia x reader

⤷ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: meeting the in-laws…how does that work?

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟒 ||  pov: he’s taking you ice skating - 40s!bucky x reader

⤷ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: the most handsome man in brooklyn is here to take you to the rink.

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟓 || “A Husband’s Guide to a Noche Buena” - the forgers x filipina!reader

⤷ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬:  the night of christmas eve has come! are the dishes a pass or fail? ask anya.

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟔 || pov: the winter masquerade - royalau!loki x reader

⤷ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: the prince has his eyes on you in this winter ball, but does he know you're a mere peasant?

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟕 || The Christmas Chronicles: Rex Incognito - zhongli x reincarnated!reader, previously goddess!reader

⤷ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬:  a spin off of the tale of the lone glaze lily…zhongli is taking another walk around liyue, recalling the voice of his goddess. it is only when you come with him to dinner that he cannot shake off the sight of his late songbird. 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟖 || ☃ The Christmas Chronicles: “is santa here yet?” - neuvillette x reader

⤷ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: in which you and neuvillette can finally have some alone time…except melusines are really eager about these concepts of “presents”.

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟗 || ☃ The Christmas Chronicles: Holiday Stress - nanami x baker!reader

⤷ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: nanami comes from work frustrated, too annoyed by the recent increase of missions. somehow, he knows what to do once your pretty face greets him as he walks through the door.

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟎 || ☃ “a man’s guide to drunken confessions” - kaveh, alhaitham, ayato, wriothesley

⤷ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: you were going out christmas shopping, passing the time while he was out with friends, but you weren’t expecting such an important phone call.

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟏 || ☃ pov: mr. and mrs. forger - loid forger x spy!reader

⤷ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: for the sake of operation strix, as loid’s fake wife, you had to attend the hospital’s christmas party. how inconvenient that loid found you so attractive in that dress you wore.

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟐 || ☃ The Christmas Chronicles: “I saw mommy kissing santa claus” - dilf!neuvillette x nanny!reader

⤷ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬:  you had been sure you had tucked in neuvillette’s daughters to bed as he was celebrating a corporate party on christmas eve. however, curiosity killed the cat, and satisfaction surely did not bring it back.

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟑 || ☃ "a lover's guide to presents" - alhaitham, zhongli, neuvillette and wriothesley x reader

⤷ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: you were convinced to play a prank by your best friend to text your significant other that you are their present. how do they react? 

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟒 || ☃ The Christmas Chronicles: heated sparring - loid forger x spy!reader

⤷ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: you have the rare honor of being close enough to twilight to be your sparring partner.

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟓 || pov: a christmas festival with papamin and yuuji - nanami x reader

⤷ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: nanami had to diverge from your christmas festival ooting with yuuji to attend to a last minute mission. what a pain to be a skilled man.

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟔 || “a husband’s guide to mall santa claus” - loid forger x reader

⤷ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: anya decides to utilize santa to hint at you both what she wants for christmas.

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟕 || pov: coffee is the way to your heart - barista!remus lupin x reader

⤷ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: a cute little romance between you and lupin has began to “brew” this winter.

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟖 ||  “a husband’s guide to winter recitals” - loid forger x reader

⤷ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬:  just how will you two sit through a whole hour of…subpar performances…

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟗 || The Christmas Chronicles: “a fish out of water” - neuvillette x reader

⤷ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: the iudex has been around teyvat for quite some time, unable to properly understand humans, but he sees you every night, looking out at the skyline of fontaine with longing in your eyes.

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟎 || “a man’s guide to mistletoe” - blade, dan heng, jing yuan

⤷ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: how would they react if they found mistletoe hanging above you both?

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟏 || ☃ The Christmas Chronicles: “All I Ask of You” - jing yuan x reincarnated!reader

⤷ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: he remembers you, his lover reincarnated into a new life. he cannot keep himself at a distance anymore, but oh was he happy to know that you still remember it all.

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟐 || The Christmas Chronicles: “beautiful boy” - nanami x reader

⤷ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: it’s christmas eve, and your son is asleep, and the time to play the part of santa arrives. your husband smiles, feeling rather fond of the times that have led up to his point, with his beautiful boy.

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟑 || pov: he's a florist - florist!kaveh x reader

⤷ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬:  roses are red, violets are blue, how does kaveh show…that he loves you?

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟒 || ☃ "a sugar daddy's guide to phone calls" - sugar daddy!ayato x reader

⤷ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: he misses you. it’s only right that he picks up the phone to indulge in your wish to see santa.

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟓 || ☃ “Make It With You” - nanami x sorcerer!reader

⤷ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: the shibuya incident has finally passed, and you two finally go on a deserved vacation to malaysia. for once, he wants to be selfish.

[wordsmith30]

I am once again fixating on Avatrice’s first scene in season two.

Beatrice tells Ava off for chatting with customers because they were talking about Adriel and what happened at the Vatican. They’re supposed to be keeping a low profile.

If anything, being incognito only makes things all the more stressful for Beatrice. Eternally in Mission Mode, she’s hyperaware of everything going on around her, from the conversation in the bar to Hans coming up the stairs and looking at her and Ava. There’s so much pressure on her.

At least when they were with the OCS, she had the others to rely on, but in Switzerland, she’s responsible for anything that goes wrong, including anything that might happen to Ava. While Ava jokingly calls her “Mother”, it is like being a single parent. She just wants to keep her safe.

And hearing about Adriel’s ever-increasing presence is just a painful reminder of how unsafe they are. How important this mission is.

Beatrice also tends to fidget a lot more this season with anything that’s in her hand (in this case, the pencil). She gestures with it after Hans leaves, asking Ava what that look meant.

“You and Hans shared a glance.”

(Cue back to Lilith’s line in 1×04: “Careful around this one, Camila. She’ll pry into all your business.”)

We can insinuate it as jealousy as she’s become super protective of Ava (or perhaps just the fear that something is going on that she’s not aware of), but in Ava’s mind, Hans is jealous of them. Ava laughs.

“What do you expect? Hans has been here for three years. We’ve been here a month and you already got promoted to manager.”

Beatrice fidgets some more and even straightens her back as she says, “Well ... it’s not my fault that I’m exceptionally well-organized.”

Did I mention how much I love proud Beatrice? It may come across as a bit defensive, but outside of her being a badass in the field, it’s so rare to see her stand tall in her abilities – to take pride in them, in spite of all her self-hatred. She’s good at what she does and she should say it.

And then Ava knocks back with: “Ah, as a matter of fact, it is. Discreet, remember?”

Touché.

Beatrice bows her head and nods. You can see the breath she releases. But before she even has the time to feel awkward or embarrassed, Ava says in that gentle voice, “You don’t have to be so perfect all the time.”

Once again, Ava demonstrates exactly why they work together. While Beatrice often works to keep Ava safe physically, Ava knows just how to keep Bea safe emotionally. Despite all the teasing, she knows how Beatrice worries and steps in to calm her racing mind.

She does it as easily as breathing, head angled to look into Beatrice’s face, eyes soft and posture relaxed. And Beatrice softens with her.

That line hits on some key insights, too: the idea that it’s possible to be too good at something, and that that might actually hinder them while undercover. But more than that, it’s a reminder that they’re not at the convent anymore. Beatrice can drop the tactical habit. She can be unsure, she can make mistakes, she doesn’t have to know what she’s doing all the time. She’s already doing enough.

“You don’t have to be so perfect all the time.”

Ava thinks she’s perfect. Her. Beatrice. Just as she is.

It seems too much for Beatrice to handle. She looks up at Ava and then looks down again. At a loss for how to respond, she changes the subject: “Well, I’m heading back to the apartment.”

It’s Ava’s turn to deflate a little as she nods, but her eyes hang on Beatrice’s face as Bea tells her that she’s going to check in with Camila.

“You don’t stay out too late,” Beatrice says, back in Mission Mode. “We train tomorrow.”

“Yes, Mother.” Ava laughs again, and even Beatrice drops her head in amusement or exasperation, still fiddling with her pencil.

She looks up just in time for Ava to give her a quick peck on the cheek, the Warrior Nun swinging her shoulders like a golden retriever puppy. “I’m just messing with you. See you at home!”

Beatrice can only watch her bounce away and has to take another breath to steady herself. Ava, meanwhile, knew exactly what she was doing and can only hope that the message sticks.

[alicent-vi-britannia]

No, Kallen is not underused in R2 and has more involvement than you remember. (And CC does not have as much participation as you think)

I keep coming across tons of complaints coming from Kallen haters (who are just obsessed CC fans) that Kallen Kozuki barely had any part in R2 and that she was reduced to an object of fanservice (hell, someone even wrote it in a TvTropes article).

Excuse me, are you telling me that all you remember about Kallen in season two are those awkward close-ups? Dude, in the first season she develops as a character. True, but, if you look closely, her participation in both seasons is quite balanced.

She has a certain prominence in the first ten episodes of season one, especially in episodes 3 and 9 that are dedicated to her (the first introduces her as Lelouch's classmate who leads a double life and the second addresses her relationship with her mother and through that it Okouchi and Taniguchi tell us about the precarious conditions in which Elevens live). In episode 10 Kallen receives her Knightmare and has her epic fight against Jeremiah. Also in episode 13 Kallen gets some attention because she is reflecting on the consequences of her actions (most people only remember that this was a turning point for Lelouch, but it was also a turning point for Kallen).

After she withdraws from the main focus (in fact, episode 15 is the only one in the entire series in which Kallen does not appear; of the rest, only Sunrise gives us a few brief and humble cameos so that we do not forget that she is there), until episode 18 and 19 arrive, where she manages to stand out (in the first it is because Kallen is named captain of Squad Zero, something she feels very proud of; in the second it is because she is transported to Kaminejima Island with Lelouch, Euphemia and Suzaku and has a great dialogue with the latter).

Kallen is left behind again, we are given a few moments that alternate between the funny and the thoughtful until the last two episodes in which she regains her relevance (in episode 24 she has a fight with Suzaku and reveals herself to the Student Council and in the episode 25 Ohgi tells her about her brother's dream, something that will be important in her narrative arc, and, of course, she gets involved in the final confrontation between Suzaku and Zero, where she discovers the identity of the latter).

In R2 it is the same and now what is going to develop is her relationship with Lelouch, but she also establishes herself as the best Knightmare pilot and will influence to a certain extent Lelouch (mainly), Suzaku and Gino.

In the first ten episodes she has a strong presence. Specifically, the episodes where Kallen shines the most are episode 1 In which she is incognito on a mission to rescue Lelouch (everyone remembers the bunny suit, but no one remembers why she was dressed like that), in the next (episode 2) she has her confrontation with Lelouch, as well as renews her loyalty to him, in episode 6, in which her Knightmare receives updates and she faces off against Anya and Gino; in the 7th, where Kallen pulls Lelouch out of the dark pit where he is and tries to give him motivation, and the 9th, where, in addition to that moment when Lelouch asks her to return to Ashford Academy with him, she escorts and protects Zero during the horrible wedding between Odysseus and Tianzi (her best moment is when she shows compassion to Nina, even though she insults her). Well, in episode 5 she is around Ashford looking for CC while she is disguised as Tabatacchi.

In episode 10, Kallen once again gives another spectacular fight against Xing-Ke and is captured by him, something that reveals how special she has become for Lelouch since he gives the order to rescue her, although the Black Knights have a high probability of lose.

Even in prison, Kallen has important moments that relate to her conflict and the narrative arcs of other characters. Kallen discovers Lelouch through her conversations with Nunnally, thanks to her Suzaku reaches another turning point in his narrative arc since he is about to break his principles, her "enmity" with Luciano Bradley is born and she has a conversation with Gino that he will remember in the future.

And, again, in episodes 18 and 19 Kallen returns to the center of attention (in the first one she returns with the Black Knights, but before that she gives us two epic battles: one is the defeat of Luciano Bradley and the other is her third or fourth fight with Suzaku, I don't remember if they fought in the sixth episode of R2; in the second, Kallen is willing to give her life for Lelouch during the betrayal of the Black Knights and there we have the sacrifice and the most heartbreakingly beautiful line from the series: "Kallen, you have to live").

Then Kallen discreetly retires and from episode 22 onwards returns to the spotlight (her presence is more or less considerable: she has her conversation with Lelouch in which she tries to decipher his motivations, she has her kiss with him, she has her fight with CC and then her fight with Suzaku, later she has her moment of lucidity during the failed execution of the rebels in which she finally understands Lelouch's suicide plan and, of course, Kallen is the one who narrates the epilogue of the series).

In reality, and I take no pleasure in saying this, it's CC who has almost nothing to do in R2. In the first episode of this season she returns Lelouch's memories (implying that she knew that Lelouch was going to be captured and his memory was going to be manipulated, since what she did then was break Charles' seal: we quickly see the first kiss she gave him in that strobe tunnel) and then what?

It would only highlight three moments and it is not because she does the big thing, but because they are more or less relevant: in episode 5, CC was wandering around Ashford's territories, but beyond being a source of comic relief and telling Lelouch that Villetta and Ohgi were lovers she didn't do much; then we have that very brief moment when CC and Anya had a connection in episode 11, which was foreshadowing that Marianne was in Anya's body and she had been communicating with CC the whole time and lastly, the episode 14 in which CC approves of a grieving Lelouch wanting to massacre the Geass Cult, even if that's a terrible idea in every way.

Right after, in episode 15, the series gives us insight into her past, her motivations, her death wish, and hints at her affiliation with Charles. CC subsequently loses her memories and does not have a major scene that concerns the main story or her own narrative arc. Except for that scene in episode 16 where she motivates Lelouch to meet Suzaku (and in that same dialogue she specifies her true desire: she wanted to have friends).

And that's how things are until episode 21 arrives in which they confirm what had already been revealed in episode 15 and it realize us the horrible truth through that conversation with Suzaku: CC was using and hiding things from Lelouch all along this time to promote her own interests, at the expense of forcing him to live an immortal life and was an active supporter of Lelouch's enemy's mad plan, "the Connection to Ragnarök".

Does CC regret it? Does she take responsibility for her actions? No, all that remains is her dialogue with Lelouch in which she encourages him to continue the Zero Requiem and, finally, her dialogue with Kallen in episode 24 in which she reveals to us and Kallen what her reason for fighting is (it is the only time in which CC is involved in the main plot of the series and her role is secondary and those scenes don't make any difference, I mean, they are situations that we could do without and the plot would remain the same; considering that the CC plot is self-contained, it makes sense).

Ah! Of course, CC is the last character to speak and signs off the series with a monologue in which she acknowledges that she was wrong about Geass not isolating you, reflecting the change she has gone through (after all, the Zero Requiem was the greatest act of love towards humanity on the part of Lelouch). And that's it! And no one complains about this or points it out as a negative point of the character (very few fans of CC, precisely those who do not idealize her).

In short, her involvement decreases compared to the first season (there she has a fair share, neither greater nor less). And she could have had a greater participation in the plot.

I think this is due to she was one of the last characters to be created (in case you don't know, the reason CC exists is because Okouchi and Taniguchi didn't know how to give Geass to Lelouch; hence they created a character who could do it), so the creators didn't know what to do with her next and, since CC was never connected to the main plot of the rebellion until very late, she didn't have a place in the second season.

I also have a theory that CC was destined to go down a darker path (after all, she did a lot of questionable things), but the creators decided not to explore or delve into it for fear of her fans (that's something that It is already public knowledge), so they tried to whiten her image.

The real stars of the show are Lelouch and Suzaku, in that order (CC and Kallen come later).

Some lament saying that they would like to know more about Kallen and I would too, but I think Okouchi and Taniguchi managed well with what they could (they had to handle many characters, each with their own thing, and this was a criticism against R2) . And, as far as we know, there were plans that were scrapped for Kallen's family, not for her directly.

And, well, Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood is still the standard for model female characters for any anime, despite the fact that its narrative arcs are excessively simple. We can be okay with this.

Final thoughts? I think fans only remember what they want to remember since those complainers remember more of a somewhat important event in an episode than everything that happened in a season.

It should be noted that CC was also the subject of fanservice in R2. There are tight shots of her butt, for example; but, conveniently, no one remembers that (or they just leave it out) much less complain about it.

All the girls in Code Geass are the subject of fanservice, but only Kallen is criticized for it.

For the record, I'm not saying this because I'm a CC hater. It just doesn't seem fair to me that one girl is praised by fans in prejudice of another girl, just because she committed the horrible sins of being the second most important female character and having a romantic relationship with the protagonist most loved by everyone.

Regardless of that, Kallen and CC manage to be good characters (don't complain anymore, Larry).

[edwinspaynes]

omg omg omg omg

So KJ Charles is having TGAoFH traditionally published! It's releasing on 25 January, and the cover is lovely:

And then in July, she's releasing a sequel to it called The Duke at Hazard. It's apparently a riff of Georgette Heyer's The Foundling (I genuinely hope that it makes her roll in her grave) and the synopsis it

 The Duke of Severn goes incognito for a bet, with the nominal purpose of showing he can survive as an ordinary man. In fact he's got a mission he can't share with his family, and when he meets disgraced layabout Daizell Charnage, he thinks he's found just the man to give him a helping hand. Which he kind of has. Ahem.

But also in April she has a murder mystery coming out that's unrelated to this, in Edwardian-era Oxford. Synopsis:

Jem Kite, whose glittering career was derailed before it began when one of his best friends and fellow students was murdered. Ten years on, his life laid waste, Jem is determined to solve the crime, but that's going to involve digging up a lot of things that a lot of people want to stay buried.

Really really good news to see this KJC newsletter on my phone first thing in the morning after my cat bit my arm several times and then my head until I woke up.

I love KJC so much. Between this and Seasons of Shadowhunters I feel SO fed.

[datarevived]

Timeline (Selene); Unfinished

Year 1 Destiny 2★ Risen two weeks after the events of Ghaul taking the Traveler & the Vanguard losing their light. ★ Adapting to the resurrection, making connections with Hawthorne's scouts, learning to wield Void & Solar courtesy of Bex-9 & Cayde-7. ★ Snuck to Io twice - once on a random ship transporting supplies to Asher Mir, and once during an incognito-mission-gone-wrong upon a Guardian's (Valdourin) ship. Valdourin was heading to investigate the strange anomalies coming from deep within Io's crust (ie. Whisper of the Worm) & took Bex and Selene along with him as decoy. Valdourin drops the two back at the Tower post-mission details & disappears without a trace. ★ Came in contact with a named Eliksni in the EDZ during one of her patrols - this is the earliest of which she befriended a non-Human/non-Guardian.

Year 2 Forsaken★ Learned from Amanda Holiday about Cayde-7's passing on the Reef & suffered hard regression regarding her mental state & ability to weild the Light. ★ After some time of recovery & support from Bex & others, returns to the fray in venturing out & honing her skills. She hears stories about how several other Guardians have teamed up to hunt down & avenge Cayde-7. ★ Unable to ignore the commotion coming from the Anex, Selene gets her official greetings with The Drifter, a man playing a gamble right beneath the Vanguard's noses. With little to no interest for Gambit, this is the first season Selene dwells in Iron Banner for the first time; as well as meeting Mithrax on Titan during a patrol. She's invested in his plans to bring heart to the House of Light.

★ Continues about her own honing of skills while becoming frequent with the EDZ, non-hostile Eliksni, & duoing about smaller missions & patrols with Bex and sometimes the twin Titans met earlier in her tidyings. ★ Valdourin resurfaces mid-time to the city for matters undiscussed; Selene convinces him to allow Bex and she to team up and complete their Fireteam.

Year 3 Shadowkeep★ The Darkness is encroaching quickly. Disturbing rumors & Vanguard-Ops are heavily prioritized regarding the Moon & neighboring locations. Valdourin's demeanor has worsen from his usual-strict tones since. Selene & Bex keep their travels to the Hellmouth extremely limited & seek Eris for guidance regarding their troubled Titan friend. ★ Voices are creeping in slowly, not just from Valdourin's perspective, but now Selene's, too. They're distant -- uncomprehensive, but like hissing snakes that she cannot shake whether it's paranoia or something more. ★ They continue with traditional Ops, keeping their distance closer to Earth than other locations that seem to be coated in a fog of tension & unpredictability.

Year 4 Beyond Light★ The Darkness is here. Pyramidal ships are in every sky - and to those whose skies are black, lost in transmission. It is the first time in some time that Selene finds herself fearful for what's to come; and Bex claims he too, is now hearing the voices. They beckon him to Europa -- the Deep Stone Crypt. ★ [REDACTED].

Year 5 The Witch Queen★ [REDACTED].

Year 6 Lightfall★ The loss of Amanda stings all the same as the others, leaving Selene to pick act hastily in return. She hears about the opposing forces on Neomuna & goes there alone to help even the playing field.

★ [REDACTED].

Year 7 The Final Shape★ Selene & Valdourin are of the second wave of Guardians who make it into the Traveler to assist in the overwhelming threat of the Witness.

[irunevenus]

The branch of the precious tree

Prince Kuramochi, a very resourceful man, asked permission to leave the court, saying that he was traveling to Tsukushi for a season of treatment at the hot springs. At the same time, he sent word to Kaguya-hime, who would go in search of the branch of the precious tree.

He left the capital with all his servants, who accompanied him to Naniwa. But, from then on, the prince declared that he would travel incognito, taking with him only his personal servants and not the entire entourage that then returned to the capital. Having convinced everyone that he had indeed continued his voyage, three days later the prince ordered the ship to be returned to port.

Before leaving, the prince had made minute arrangements: six acclaimed blacksmiths had been hired; a house was erected for them in an isolated place, and a furnace was built, surrounded by triple walls. Craftsmen were installed in the house, and the prince joined them, employing the income of his sixteen domains in fashioning a precious bouquet. When finished, it didn't differ at all from Kaguya-hime's description. After completing his brilliant plan, the prince departed in secret for Naniwa, taking the branch with him.

The prince sent a message to his Palace, informing that he was returning by ship and implying that the journey had been very challenging. Many people had come to Naniwa to welcome him. The precious branch was placed in a wooden chest, suitably covered, and carried to dry land. Word soon spread that Prince Kuramochi had brought an udonge (blue lotus flower) flower to the capital.

When Kaguya-hime heard this, he thought, with a sinking heart, "This prince managed to surpass me."

At that very moment, a servant announced the arrival of Prince Kuramochi:

- the prince came straight here without even changing his travel clothes.

The old woman, impressed, went out to greet the prince.

"I risked my life to bring back the branch of the precious tree," declared the nobleman. - Please show it to Kaguya-hime.

The old man carried the trunk into the house. With the branch, he followed a note:

Itazura ni, mi wa nashitsu tomo, tama-no-e o

Taorade sara ni, kaerazaramashi.

“Even if it cost my life, I would not return empty-handed, without the precious branch.”

As the lady carefully examined the verse, the Old Bamboo Cutter hastened to declare:

- The prince brought from paradise a branch of the precious tree that exactly fits the description of what you asked for. What else do you want from him? He came straight here, still in his traveling clothes. Please accept him as your husband without further ado.

Pensive and disconsolate, with her head resting on her arm, the lady did not utter a single word.

- I'm sure that from now on there's nothing more to be said – said the prince, walking confidently through the porch of the house.

The elder considering this to be correct, said to Kaguya-hime:

- In all of Japan there is no other precious branch like this. How can you reject the prince now? Furthermore, he is a man of excellent character.

"It was my reluctance to turn down what you asked me to do, father, that made me ask gentlemen the most impossible things," she replied.

She was extremely upset with the fact that the prince had surprised her like that, bringing the branch. The old man decided to prepare the wedding room. Before, he asked the prince:

- How was the place where you found the branch? He is so incredibly handsome!

"Three years ago, close to the tenth day, on the second moon, I got on the ship and sailed to Naniwa," said the prince. – I realized that I didn't have the coordinates of the place I was looking for, but I told myself that life would only be worth it if I succeeded in that mission. So I let the ship be carried away by the uncertain winds. If I died, all my endeavors would come to an end, but I was determined to sail as long as I was allowed, in the hope of one day reaching Mount Hōrai. The ship, carried by the waves, moved further and further away from Japan. As we went along, we sometimes came across a sea so rough that I was sure we were going to the bottom of the ocean. At other times, the wind took us to strange lands, where people who looked like demons tried to kill us. In others, having no idea of ​​our coordinates, we wander blindly in the ocean. At other times, the food ran out and we survived only on the seaweed and molluscs we collected from the sea. And, sometimes, horrible monsters followed our route, wanting to devour us.

- It has also happened – continued the prince – that we have been afflicted with diseases of all kinds, in places where there was no one to help us, nowhere to seek comfort. We roamed the sea, letting the ship go as it pleased. Then, on the morning of the fiftieth day of our journey, we dimly perceived, in the distance, a mountain rising out of the middle of the ocean. We all squint to see better. It seemed impossible, but the mountain floated on the waves, tall and gracefully shaped. I thought that was the place I was looking for. But something made me fearful, so for two or three days we sailed around the mountain, examining it. One day I saw a woman, dressed like a heavenly being, walking up and down, sprinkling water from a silver bowl. I went to dry land and asked him what the name of the mountain was. “This is the mountain of Hōrai,” she replied. Happy, I asked him: “Who do I have the pleasure of talking to?”. “My name is Ukanruri,” she said, returning to the mountain.

-I have examined the mountain - she recounted, yet - but I have not found any way to climb it. Colored streams of gold, silver, and emerald poured from her; over them were bridges built with precious stones. Nearby, there were some bright trees. The one I picked for the branch was the least impressive, but since it fit Kaguya-hime's description, I picked this flowering branch.

- the mountain was incomparable, even beautiful – he narrated.- Nothing in the world resembles its charms. But now that I had the branch, I wasn't about to waste time. I climbed aboard the ship and, with the wind in our favor, returned. Perhaps I owe the Buddha's promise to save all mankind this wind that brought me back to Naniwa. I left for the capital and came straight here without even changing my sea-soaked clothes.

The elder, after hearing the whole story, sighed and recited the verse:

Kuretake no, yoyo no take tori, noyama nimo

saya wa wabishiki, fushi o nomi mishi

“For generations men have cut Bamboo in the mountains and fields; did they ever experience so many challenges?”

The prince replied:

- My heart, which for so long was the victim of restlessness, is now at peace.

And, to answer the old man's verse, he made this:

Waga tamoto, kyõ [straight sign] kawakereba,

wabishisa no

chigusa no kazu mo, wasurarenubeshi

“Now that I'm safe, I'm sure I'll forget the pain I've been through.”

At that moment, a group of six men burst into the garden. One of them displayed a letter inside a tube.

- My name is Ayabe no Uchimaro – he introduced himself – and I am an artisan at the Atelier de Artes e Ofícios. I beg leave to inform you that I served this gentleman by creating a precious branch, working for more than a hundred days, with so much commitment that I even stopped eating properly. It was a great sacrifice, but he still hasn't rewarded me. Please sir pay me now so I can pay my assistants.

He presented the note. Old Bamboo Cutter shook his head, not understanding. The prince stood there, stunned, completely baffled.

Kaguya-hime, upon hearing all that, exclaimed:

- Bring me this letter, my father!

She examined it, then read it aloud:

“For hundreds of days the prince remained hidden with us craftsmen, and in accordance with his orders, we made a magnificent precious branch. In addition to money, he promised to give us official positions. Recently, we realized that the branch was the same one that had been requested by Kaguya-hime, the prince's future wife. That's why they came to this house. To receive our just reward.”

- Yes - insisted the man -, we need to be paid!

Hearing this, Kaguya-hime, whose mood was saddened by the day's events, suddenly burst out laughing, joyfully, and called out to the elder:

- I thought the branch really came from a tree in Paradise, but it is an infamous forgery. Please send it back now.

- Now that we know that the branch is not genuine, there is no doubt that we should return it. - agreed his father.

Kaguya-hime's spirits had been completely restored. Satisfied, she responded to the prince's poem by returning the gift:

Makoto ka to, kikite mitsureba, koto-no-ha o

Kazareru tama-no-eda nizu arikeru

“Wondering whether your story was true, I examined the precious branch; but just like her words, he is a fraud.”

The Old Bamboo Cutter, embarrassed at having gone to such lengths to convince the young woman to marry the prince, pretended to sleep. The prince, uncomfortable with the situation created, waited until dark, and sneaked away.

Kaguya-hime called the craftsmen who had lodged their grievances.

- Happiness for you! — She wished, and delivered them generous sums.

The satisfied men left believing they had gotten exactly what they wanted. However, on their way back, they were intercepted by Prince Kuramochi, who, with his servants, violently attacked them. The reward received was stolen, and the craftsmen ran for their lives.

Even in possession of the money, and watching the artisans flee, Kuramochi felt defeated and lamented:

- No misfortune could be greater than this in my life. I failed to win the girl's hand and it pains me to think how the world will now despise me.

The prince left for the mountains, alone. Palace servants and his personal servants made several searches, but concluded that he was dead. He disappeared for many years, avoiding being seen by his people.

From that time on, people are said to have a "heart of stone" who tries to deceive others by passing a fake stone as genuine.

[mysteriesofmilo]

Season 2!

I feel like this season is where the writers really hit their stride. This season gave us some of the best episodes in the series, like:

Perry Lays an Egg

Gaming the System

Oh, There You Are, Perry

Swiss Family Phineas

That Sinking Feeling

Fireside Girl Jamboree

Nerdy Dancin'

Undercover Carl

Hip Hip Parade

Ladies and Gentlemen, Meet Max Modem!

The Doof Side of the Moon

As well as some of the most iconic, like:

Tip of the Day

Vanessassary Roughness

The Lizard Whisperer

Phineas and Ferb's Musical Cliptastic Countdown

And some of the best and most iconic songs in the series, like:

Mission

Perfect Day

A-G-L-E-T

Evil Love

I Couldn't Kick My Way Right Into Her Heart

Come Home Perry

Carl, the Intern / Carl, Incognito

Boat of Romance

I'm Me

Today is Gonna Be a Great Day (2nd verse)

Charmed Life

My Name is Doof

Yodel Odel Obey Me

Not So Bad a Dad

There is No Candy in Me

Tuff Gum / Regular Gum

Mobile Mammal / Alabama Bound

Izzy's Got the Frizzies

Rubber Bands, Rubber Balls

Bouncin' Around the World

I Want Nothin'

Alien Heart

We're Talkin' All Terrain

Floor After Floor

You're Goin' Down

Carpe Diem

Candace Party

And of course we can't forget the specials!

The Chronicles of Meap, Episode XXXVIII: More Than Meaps the Eye

Phineas and Ferb's Quantum Boogaloo

Bubble Boys / Isabella and the Temple of Sap

Phineas and Ferb Christmas Vacation!

The Beak

Phineas and Ferb Hawaiian Vacation

Rollercoaster: the Musical!

And of course, the king of Phineas and Ferb episodes (and songs), the quintessential Phineas and Ferb episode (and song), the episode (and song) that encapsulates what the entire series is about perfectly: SUMMER BELONGS TO YOU!

Close second goes to season 4, when I feel the writers got their second wind.

Oh, I've always wanted to ask this question and now seems like the perfect opportunity:

[kenta-rin]

Ch1-2

[I DID NOT WRITE THIS, it got deleted years ago and I’m uploading it here for posterity]

Tips For Expanding Your Business On An International Scale

013

Summary:

Twenty year old Jesse McCree is sent to Hanamura by the Deadlock Gang to broker a contract pertaining to the buying and selling of illegal arms from the influential Shimada family. He's fairly sure the first rule of negotiation is not to hit on the boss's son. That rule proves to be harder to follow than he anticipated.

Notes:

for my beloved mal. rated explicit for future chapters.

Chapter 1: in fair hanamura where we lay our scene

Chapter Text

Hanamura is the kind of place out of storybook that Jesse McCree pretends to hate and secretly loves. It’s gorgeous. All the cherry blossoms are in bloom. They must be synthetic, because he’s pretty sure it’s not the right season.

Jesse McCree is also the sort of person who dresses up like a spaghetti western cowboy and exaggerates his southern drawl and spouts one-liners before he blows people's brains out. He likes a little storybook fantasy in his life. Hanamura would be perfect for him - it would be, if he wasn’t forced to go incognito for this mission.

He’s working on negotiating with his handler from the Shimada family. Let me put my old clothes back on once I’m in the compound, he wheedles. Surely it wouldn’t do any harm. If you guys are as powerful as you say you are, there can’t be any harm in it.

There’s a reason Jesse’s the one who got sent from his weapons cartel in New Mexico. It’s not exactly that he’s a good diplomat; it’s that he knows how to manipulate. He finds weak spots and exploits them. The Shimadas are proud. An appeal to their power is guaranteed to get Jesse what he wants.

It’s not that he doesn’t like the lightweight yukata he’s been given to blend in. It’s actually very comfortable. Jesse could get used to it, really.

But there’s no drama in it. If Jesse’s gonna get what he came here for (and you know he is) he needs to impress these people. He needs to make a lasting impression. He’s not gonna manage that in a lightweight little bathrobe. He needs his get-up. His hat, his spurs, his pistols.

The low-slung, stylish black town car that ferries Jesse from the private landing strip through the streets of Hanamura becomes an impromptu dressing room as his handler finally concedes. It’s awkward changing in the close quarters, and Jesse nearly smacks the Shimada representative in the face more than once, but he feels better when he’s decked out.

The car slides like ink through the city streets, through the gates of the Shimada compound, down a significantly long driveway. The grounds of the compounds are sprawling and picturesque. They look like they came straight from a painting, with their still ponds and wooden bridges and petals gathering on stone paths.

The city was full of noise, but beyond the gates everything is quiet. Peaceful. McCree was expecting a certain amount of bustle. God knows his own gang’s headquarters back in the States is a whirlwind of chaos at all times.

Here, Jesse doesn’t see a single person until the car pulls up alongside the main house, bigger than all the others scattered around it. There’s someone standing on the path to the door, sweeping cherry blossoms rather listlessly. A girl, Jesse thinks. She’s facing away from him, but she has long black hair falling down over her shoulders.

She pushes that hair away from her face. She must be hot, Jesse realizes. That’s why she’s so listless. She shrugs her arms out of the sleeves of her yukata and ties them around her waist.

Not a girl, Jesse thinks, taken aback. Definitely not a girl. Those shoulders are dense with muscles, thick and corded, and now Jesse notices the rectangular shape of his body, and it seems obvious. The only feminine thing about him is his hair.

He must hear the car then, because he turns and looks. The windows of the car are tinted black from the outside, so it’s not possible for him to see Jesse, but somehow Jesse feels like the boy is staring him straight in the eye. Jesse realizes he’s leaning forward in his seat. He sinks back, unsettled by the sharpness of those eyes.

“Hanzo Shimada, heir of the Shimada family,” his handler informs him disinterestedly.

“The heir of the family’s out sweepin’ the front yard?” Jesse asks, raising his eyebrows. Hanzo Shimada, he knows from his cartel’s info, is one year older than Jesse. He’s extremely proficient with a blade and a bow, and if he’s good with a bow Jesse suspects he’d probably be fairly handy with a gun, too. He’d known from pictures that Hanzo Shimada was handsome, but he hadn’t expected to be faced with it like this. Hanzo’s bare chest is glistening with sweat in the summer heat. Jesse’s eyes keep getting drawn back to the sharp, angular lines of his face.

“It is strange,” Jesse’s handler answers with a hint of disapproval. “It is Genji’s duty to keep the walkway clean. Such duties are given to important men to teach them humility and restraint.”

Jesse has this funny feeling like the handler is barely keeping himself from adding, Things you would know nothing about.

The car stops right in front of Hanzo Shimada. He’s leaning against his broom, his brow slightly furrowed. Jesse wonders if he wasn’t informed that they were expecting visitors today, but it would be awfully strange to keep the heir of the family in the dark like that.

The driver scrambles out of the car and opens Jesse’s door for him. Mighty fancy. He steps out of the vehicle. Hanzo Shimada’s sharp gaze immediately sweeps over him. He has a stern expression on his face that doesn’t betray his emotions, but a good poker face can’t hide the way his eyes linger on Jesse’s belt buckle. He smirks lasciviously.

Jesse’s handler says something curt to Hanzo, and it deepens his frown. It was obviously a chastisement; Hanzo unties the sleeves of his yukata and puts it on properly again. Jesse wants to tell him what a shame it is, but he’s fairly certain that one of the first lessons of negotiation is not to hit on any of the boss’s children.

Hanzo turns away without saying a word to Jesse. He leans his broom next to the front door and then disappears inside. Jesse’s handler guides him into the house.

The Shimadas are arms dealers - the biggest arms dealers in Japan. Jesse McCree is a member of an arms dealing cartel - the Deadlock Gang - in the southern United States. Not the biggest organization in the whole country, but significant nonetheless.

The Deadlock Gang wants what the Shimadas are selling, but the Shimadas are wary of dealing internationally. Operations like that fall apart so easily these days. The myth of Icarus hangs heavy over the head of the Shimada patriarch, whose job is to balance the benefits of money and power with the threat of attracting the attention of global peacekeeping forces.

Jesse is here to convince the Shimadas that the Deadlock Gang is perfectly trustworthy and discreet.

Or at least, that’s the official story. The real reason Jesse’s here, decked out like a hero from the old American Wild West, like a character from a story, is to convince the Shimada family that the risk is worth the reward.

Because in all honesty, the Deadlock Gang is neither trustworthy nor discreet. But they sure do know how to have fun.

The first day of negotiations is all formality. They don’t really discuss business at all. Shimada introduces Jesse to the important members of his organization. Hanzo sits seiza at his right side. The younger son, Genji, is conspicuously absent, though an open space at the Shimada patriarch’s left side indicates the place he is meant to be.

Jesse is treated to the honour of a formal tea ceremony and a variety of other entertainments which he pretends to find fascinating, but his attention keeps drifting first of all to how uncomfortable it is to sit on the floor for prolonged periods of time, even when he’s graciously been given a cushion, and second of all to Hanzo, who shows no sign of discomfort whatsoever.

Hanzo had obviously ducked away after being chastised by McCree’s handler - who was finally introduced to him as Katsu, though whether that’s a family name or a given name is lost on Jesse - to change into formal clothing. His long hair has been drawn back into a tidy knot at the top of his head, emphasizing the prominence of his cheekbones, as well as the graceful curve of his neck, which Jesse hadn’t noticed earlier.

The way Jesse’s eyes get magnetically drawn to Hanzo every time there’s a lull in activity gives Jesse a terrible sense of foreboding. This may turn out to be a problem.

It gets worse, too. After the formal entertainment is finally concluded and Jesse is stiffly climbing to his feet, grimacing at the pins and needles in his legs, he looks around for Katsu. He finds Hanzo at his elbow instead, looking a little bit awkward, and still as stern and frowning as he has been since Jesse first saw him.

“If you’ll follow me, I’ll escort you to your quarters,” Hanzo says. It’s the first time Jesse’s heard him speak English. His accent is thick but his voice is confident. He doesn’t hesitate between words.

“What happened to Katsu?” Jesse asks. It’s not that he’s not glad to spend more time subtly admiring Hanzo, but he does feel like it was a little too easy to get rid of the disapproving handler from before.

Hanzo makes a pained sort of expression, which Jesse thinks is a little rude. “My father believes that since we are the same age we should get to know each other better.”

Jesse decides to ignore Hanzo’s grimace. “Sounds like a good idea to me,” he says, smirking at the way Hanzo’s brow furrows. “You’re wrong, though,” he tacks on at the end.

Hanzo’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “About what?” he asks, voice cautious.

“We’re not the same age. You're older than me.” Jesse grins.

Hanzo’s frown gets even deeper. “I do not think one year is very significant,” he protests. McCree knows that’s bullshit, because in Hanzo’s eyes his younger brother is probably still a child. He doesn’t call Hanzo on it though, for the sake of diplomacy.

“Show me to my chambers then,” he says, simultaneously changing the topic and aiming a salacious smile at Hanzo. It apparently flies right over his head, because he doesn’t respond at all before leading the way out of the front door of the house.

The grounds of the compound are dark now that the sun has set. It’s a cloudy night, no stars or moon visible, but there are floodlights lining the many snaking paths through the cherry trees. Hanzo isn’t talkative. Jesse makes one or two attempts to start a conversation, but they fall flat.

Jesse is well aware that Hanzo’s father had ordered Hanzo to get to know him as a strategy for the negotiations, but the Shimada patriarch seems to have been overly optimistic. Jesse’s going to have a hard time spilling incriminating information to someone who won’t even speak to him.

They take a turn into a dark area that looks like a garden and Hanzo stops short. It takes Jesse a minute to make out the source of the problem, but once his eyes are adjusted to the gloom he can see Hanzo’s gaze is fixed on a bench.

There’s a boy sitting on it, and on top of the boy is a girl. Jesse’s surprised at how quiet they are, but he supposes that, after all, their mouths are otherwise engaged.

“Genji,” Hanzo snaps. Jesse wonders how he can recognize his brother so easily in the dark. Then again, Jesse’s an only child. And also, there’s probably a very short list of people who would be having an illicit rendezvous on Shimada family property.

At the sound of Hanzo’s angry voice, the girl yelps, gathers the skirts of her kimono, and runs off into the darkness. Jesse wishes her well in all her endeavors.

Hanzo doesn’t seem interested in her at all. He’s still glaring at the figure on the bench.

“Hanzo,” Genji sighs, put-upon. He continues in Japanese. Jesse cannot for the life of him make out what he’s saying, but his tone is always flippant. When Hanzo replies, his words are equally inscrutable, but he sounds angry.

Genji stands up from the bench, rearranges his clothing - he’s not wearing the traditional yukata Jesse’s seen everyone else around here wearing. He looks like any other teenage kid on the street. Jesse guesses that doesn’t make his dad very happy.

Something Hanzo says seems to actually, finally, make an impression on Genji because he straightens up, alert. His eyes zero in on Jesse.

“Ah,” he says. At least, Jesse thinks it’s just “ah,” but for all he knows he could be saying cucumber in Japanese. “Our visitor from America.” Genji has a lot less of an accent than Hanzo. Jesse figures he knows Hanzo well enough, at this point, to guess that that bugs the shit out of him.

“Pleasure to make yer acquaintance,” Jesse says with a big, friendly smile and a tip of his hat. Genji laughs delightedly.

“Just like a movie star,” he says, his voice full of admiration. Jesse tries not to be too pleased about it. “If I had known my absence would mean you’d get stuck with Hanzo as a tour guide, I might have actually come to the welcoming party. But that stuff’s not really my thing.”

“That stuff?” Hanzo breaks in, his voice tight with anger. “You mean, your responsibility as a member of the Shimada family?” Jesse is mighty obliged that they’ve started arguing in English for his benefit.

“Stuff like, you know, sitting seiza,” Genji corrects, casual, but Jesse can see in the way his eyes cut to Hanzo’s face that he’s about to go on the offensive. “And following Father’s every order like a trained dog.”

Hanzo sputters in indignation. Jesse can tell he’s not very good at arguing; he’s the kind of person who gets flustered when he’s mad. If he was pushed far enough, he might even be the type to start crying out of frustration. Jesse is both intrigued and horrified by the idea. He wishes he had some popcorn to keep him company while this spectacle unfolds.

“I follow Father’s orders out of respect,” Hanzo snaps, but it lacks weight. Genji is smirking carelessly. There’s no way for Hanzo to recover enough to win this fight.

That smirk is a warning. Jesse knows full well Hanzo should get outta here before Genji lands his finishing blow. But Hanzo is too proud for that. It’s obvious he doesn’t back down from a fight, even when he’s losing.

The really cutting thing is that Genji turns away from Hanzo and addresses his final insult to Jesse.

“He’s really just mad that I was kissing that girl,” Genji says flippantly. His eyes dart to Hanzo, taking obvious pleasure in the way his brother’s face turns red. “He wouldn’t be so mad all the time if he wasn’t such an uptight virgin.”

“Genji!” Hanzo shouts, mortified. Even in the gloom Jesse can see the colour that’s spread across his cheeks and ears. Hanzo’s gaze flickers uncertainly between Jesse and Genji, as if he’s not sure who he wants to glare at more. Jesse will give him one thing - he refuses to look down. “I would never dishonour our family the way you do,” Hanzo spits at Genji finally.

Jesse thinks it would have been a better move not to address the accusation at all, because all he’s done is confirm that he really is a virgin. Jesse is fascinated.

“Oh, what,” Genji begins, practically preening in his victory, “You’re worried that I’ll father illegitimate children, or something? There’s this nifty new invention you might have heard of, it’s called a condom -”

“Shut up!” Hanzo snaps. Genji does, surprise making his mouth click shut before he realizes that he’s just conceded a point to his older brother. It makes him petulant. Jesse’s beginning to see that Genji is both a poor winner and a poor loser.

“Well, it’s none of my business anyway,” he says with a fake smile. “Have fun playing tour guide.” Rather than following one of the garden paths, he disappears between two trees.

Hanzo is still fuming. Jesse can’t stop looking at him. A virgin. He almost wants to ask it like a question. A virgin? Hanzo is incredibly good looking, as Jesse has noticed every ten minutes since he first laid eyes on him. He’s muscular. He’s rich. He’s powerful. He’s a shit conversationalist, but girls are supposed to like the strong, silent type, aren’t they?

Girls. Jesse wants to laugh at himself. He likes the strong, silent type, apparently.

Hanzo starts walking again without further comment. Jesse’s accommodations are a whole guest house to himself, with a fully stocked kitchen and a bigger bed than Jesse’s ever slept in in his whole life. Everything is Western style, including the toilet, which Jesse is extremely grateful for. Hanzo is quiet and moody but he points out everything Jesse might need dutifully.

“You are supposed to call me any time you need something,” he says finally. He seems reluctant about it.

Jesse looks around. “How?” He asks. The guest house is pretty far from the main building, which is where, he assumes, Hanzo sleeps.

Hanzo hesitates for a moment, and then pulls a phone out of a hidden pocket in his clothes.

Jesse grins. He hadn’t really pictured Hanzo owning a cell phone, honestly, but he supposes when you’re twenty-one you’re twenty-one, even when you’re the son of a Japanese arms dealer who lives in a perfectly preserved diorama of a nineteenth century village.

Jesse pulls out his own phone. Hanzo sets up a direct messaging line between them. “You should only message me if you need me,” he says sternly. Jesse fails to hide a smile. Hanzo sighs, resigned, like he already knows it’s a lost cause.

“I’ll come and meet you tomorrow morning to bring you to my father’s rooms for breakfast,” Hanzo says, standing in the doorway of the guest house. Jesse smiles at him. He looks awfully pretty silhouetted there. “Goodnight,” he says, and closes the door.

“Goodnight,” Jesse drawls after him.

The smile stays with him as he gets ready for bed in his very fine apartments. He brushes his teeth and curls up in bed and he’s at the point where his eyes are closed and normally he’d fall asleep right away when the reality of jet lag hits him.

He lies awake for a long time. His mind keeps circling back to Hanzo Shimada. His bare chest in the sunlight. The slender line of his neck, punctuated by his sharp Adam’s apple. The way his ears turned red when he was embarrassed. Virgin.

Jesse’s sense of foreboding from earlier in the day comes back with a vengeance. This is definitely going to be a problem.

 Tips For Expanding Your Business On An International Scale

013

Chapter 2 Notes:

helpful reader pointed out that my incompetent ass messed up mccree and hanzo’s ages so i went back and edited a few lines in the first chapter (along with a few typos ESP. the one that said “hanzo’s bear chest” because honestly how did i publish that sentence see once more: my incompetent ass). anyway just for clarity’s sake hanzo is 21, mccree is 20 and genji is 18.

Chapter Text

“McCree,” a voice calls the next morning. Jesse opens one eye warily. The name sounds awkward and unwieldy in Hanzo’s mouth, almost three syllables.

“Call me Jesse,” he rasps, his voice sleep-rough. He’s in nothing but his boxers and he’s kicked the blankets off of his bed in the night. He arches his back in a stretch; Hanzo pointedly looks away.

“I will wait for you downstairs,” Hanzo says.

“No need to be shy,” Jesse calls after him, unable to suppress a grin. Hanzo pretends he didn’t hear.

Jesse stares at himself in the mirror and wonders how much time he has. Enough for a shower? Enough for a shave? He decides to take his time. If Hanzo doesn’t like it, he can come up and tell Jesse himself. With that in mind, Jesse spends as much time shirtless as he can possibly justify.

It doesn’t make a difference in the end. Hanzo waits steadfast as a rock - a handsome rock - in the entranceway of the guest house. He makes no comment when Jesse finally swaggers down the stairs in a slightly different but still very theatrical cowboy outfit.

Unfortunately, the walk to the main house is as awkward as the walk to the guest house had been the night before, without any entertaining interruptions. Breakfast begins in much the same way.

Then Genji arrives, and Jesse starts to suspect that the only time anything interesting happens in the Shimada family is when the youngest son is around.

It starts when Genji breezes into the room like nothing is amiss whatsoever. His father practically jumps to his feet and begins what Jesse can only assume is a tirade, though nobody thinks to translate it for him. Most of the people around the table are glaring disapprovingly at Genji. Hanzo is still staring at his plate of food, picking at it. He looks miserable. Jesse probably isn’t meant to notice that.

Shimada’s anger seems to slide off of Genji without ever leaving a mark. Genji has this carefully constructed aloof smirk on his face, a nonchalance that must have been practiced for years to be so perfect. He walks right up to the table and sinks down beside Jesse.

Shimada suddenly turns his angry gaze from Genji to Jesse. Jesse’s insides freeze under the force of his glare. He has no idea how Genji can stand it. He also feels a little bitter about the fact that he’s being put in the middle of this father-son feud.

However, Genji’s strategy is sound. Shimada seems to remember that they’re in the presence of a guest - a guest who is definitely willing to capitalize on any weakness they expose to him - so he resumes his seat. Everyone sort of awkwardly goes back to what they were doing before: sitting in silence.

After a a few minutes a man comes in and starts speaking quietly to Shimada. Shimada makes his excuses and leaves the table. Many of the other family members follow.

Genji turns to Jesse as soon as they’re gone with a smile on his face.

Hanzo glares suspiciously from across the table, but Genji leans in close and whispers so that Hanzo can’t hear what he’s saying.

“So, I was thinking you might want to have a little fun while you’re here in Hanamura,” Genji begins. Jesse already knows that whatever he’s about to say is nothing but trouble.

God help him, but Jesse loves trouble.

“I mean, I don’t know if you can sneak away from my brother,” Genji continues, and that’s a challenge if Jesse’s ever heard one. Jesse’s looking across the table at Hanzo, who is, in turn, trying to stare a hole into the side of his younger brother’s head. He’s cute when he’s mad.

“I reckon I could if I wanted to,” Jesse replies easily, voice pitched just as low as Genji’s. “Why would I want to?”

Genji grins, thrilled that Jesse’s playing along. “How do you feel about beach parties?” Genji asks. Jesse raises his eyebrows and finally turns to look at him.

“Hanamura’s landlocked, last time I checked. How far is this beach?” Theoretically, Japan is an island and has beaches on all its sides. That doesn’t mean much in practice.

Genji laughs. Hanzo gets up on his knees and starts leaning over the table, his suspicion aroused enough to try to get closer in order to eavesdrop.

“It’s a man-made beach, right in the middle of the city,” Genji explains. He’s leaning even further into Jesse’s space now, but glancing out of the corner of his eye at Hanzo. Jesse wonders if everything anyone in this family does is a power play, or if his visit has just brought out the worst in them.

“And there’s a party there,” Jesse surmises. Genji nods.

“You could come. The girls would love you. They love Americans.”

Jesse wonders if Genji is trying to use him to get laid.

“I came here on business, you know. I can’t just go off and party.”

“One night won’t hurt,” Genji wheedles.

“Hanzo wouldn’t approve,” Jesse answers, just to see what happens.

Genji’s face falls into a fake exaggerated pout that actually reveals more of his genuine feelings than he realizes. Jesse’s good at reading people. “All Hanzo cares about is duty,” Genji complains.

“That’s not true,” Jesse responds, almost automatically. Then he slowly starts to smile. He has a terrible, wonderful idea. “What’s the dress code at this party?” He asks. “Do people actually swim?”

“Yeah!” Genji answers enthusiastically. He really thinks Jesse is going to sneak off of the Shimada’s compound to attend a teen beach party in the middle of an important business trip and subsequently help an eighteen year old get laid.

He’s not wrong.

“I’ll bring my swim trunks, I guess,” Jesse says with a grin. He didn’t actually pack any. Maybe Hanzo has an extra pair.

Katsu walks into the room, and Genji bolts. Katsu doesn’t seem surprised by that turn of events at all. Jesse guesses Genji’ll probably be back later to give him directions to the beach. Probably.

In the meantime, Shimada has finished with whatever business had called him away from breakfast and is requesting Jesse’s presence in his office.

The office is almost surprising, if only because it’s such a contrast to the rest of the Shimada compound. It’s very sleek and modern - it contains more modern technology than Jesse has seen since he’s gotten to Hanamura. There’s a desk with a very fancy and expensive-looking computer on it, and a rolling chair which contains Shimada himself.

“We should not rush our business,” Shimada says, slow and formal, with a slight smile on his face. He gestures to the chair across his desk. Jesse sits down. “Do you drink sake?”

Jesse has never in his life drank sake, and he thinks it’s a little too early in the morning for alcohol. “I sure do,” he replies, with a confident smile. Shimada pours them each a tiny cup.

It’s sort of awful. Jesse’s had worse.

“For today, I think we should start with discussing what the… Deadlock Gang… wants from the Shimada clan.” Everything Shimada says is carefully measured. Jesse’s wary of the way he says ‘Deadlock Gang’ - like it doesn’t taste right in his mouth.

“We’ve been forthright about what we want,” Jesse begins, cautiously.

What follows is a very tense game where they both pretend to not know what the other is trying to get out of this deal. It lasts for almost three hours. Jesse walks out of that office feeling like he has the upper hand. He’s also got a kink in his back from sitting so rigidly still for so long. Something about Shimada brings out an absolutely military posture in him.

He’s surprised to see Hanzo waiting for him in the hallway. Hanzo’s eyes are as sharp as always as they examine Jesse’s face, calculating. Jesse tries not to give anything away - not his satisfaction, and not his discomfort. Poker face.

Jesse’s idea of a poker face is more of a suggestive smirk. “Did you miss me?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.

Hanzo is distracted from his assessment immediately. His cheeks turn slightly pink and he scowls.

“No,” he mutters, and turns away. “I will give you a tour of the grounds,” he says. Obviously someone has ordered him to do so. Jesse suspects it was Katsu.

Jesse doesn’t mind a trip through the gardens at all. He has something to talk to Hanzo about with as few spectators as possible.

It’s a little horrifying, though, when Hanzo starts playing tour guide and explaining the genus and breeding process of the cherry blossom trees. Jesse lets him monologue for a little while, curious to know how long it will go on. He was partially right about the trees with their abundant petals being synthetic, anyway.

Hanzo stops speaking abruptly halfway across a bridge over a little pond. This is possibly because Jesse is hanging half over the railing of the bridge and sticking the tip of his finger into the water. All the koi have risen to the surface to nibble on it, expecting it to be a tasty insect.

“You’re not listening to me,” Hanzo accuses.

“What?” Jesse asks. He’s got a big, dumb grin on his face. The little fish mouths tickle.

“If you weren’t interested in the history of the Shimada compound, you could have told me,” Hanzo tells him. He sounds really offended.

Jesse pulls his finger back out of the water. “You could read me the phonebook and that’d be okay with me, as long as I got to look at you,” he says. He’s still grinning from the fish, but it takes on a different edge.

Hanzo’s mouth drops open in what Jesse is sadly forced to interpret as horror.

“You are an incredibly rude and disrespectful man,” Hanzo tells Jesse. Two things about it: first, Jesse already knew that, so it doesn’t offend him as much as Hanzo probably thinks it will; and second, he’s pretty sure he’s just saying it in an attempt to distract from the way he’s starting to blush. Again.

It’s way too easy to get Hanzo riled up. That sense of foreboding is back with a vengeance. Jesse really likes getting Hanzo riled up.

A virgin.

“So, I got this idea,” Jesse says, a little too loudly. He’s trying to derail his own train of thought. Don’t hit on the boss’s son. Definitely don’t think about fucking the boss’s son.

Hanzo raises an eyebrow at Jesse disdainfully. He obviously thinks Jesse’s idea is stupid before he’s even heard it. Jesse would be insulted if he wasn’t right.

“It’s really Genji’s idea,” he elaborates, and he watches colour rise in Hanzo’s face again - anger this time, not embarrassment.

“I would advise you not to listen to anything my brother says,” Hanzo says darkly. Unfortunately, it’s too late for Jesse to heed that advice. He’d already heard too much last night.

“He asked me if I wanted to go to a beach party with him,” Jesse says, grinning. The idea is still absurd. Jesse may still technically be young, but he’s a grown man. He’s also killed several people. It’s hard to picture himself going to a beach party. Will they have red solo cups? Will they have bad pop music?

Hanzo starts to smile a little too. “My brother doesn’t understand that there’s more to life than parties, unfortunately,” Hanzo says ruefully.

“Right,” Jesse agrees. He’s picked up on that much. Hanzo’s smile widens a little. It’s actually a little sad, Jesse thinks, how happy he is to find an ally. Jesse would be glad to be his ally. But first: “I think we should go.”

Hanzo’s smile drops abruptly. Jesse has to stifle a laugh. Hanzo looks so indignant.

“Why would you go?” Hanzo asks, his voice flat.

“It’s not important that I go,” Jesse explains. “It’s important that you go. Normally Genji would never tell you about something like this, so you wouldn’t know about it. I’m your in. You can use me as a way to follow him to this party, and then you can stop him from doing anything stupid.”

Hanzo’s brow furrows as he thinks about it. Jesse isn’t worried about what he’ll decide at all. Everyone has a weak spot, something that makes them make bad decisions. Hanzo’s is obviously his brother.

“That makes sense,” Hanzo concedes after a long moment of silence. Jesse suppresses the urge to fistpump victoriously.

So Hanzo and Jesse are going to a beach party together.

The tour of the gardens gets cut short because Jesse insists that he gets to choose what Hanzo wears to the party.

“You have no idea what people wear at beach parties,” Jesse tells Hanzo. Hanzo opens his mouth like he wants to argue, but he quickly realizes he absolutely cannot defend himself on that point. Hanzo leads Jesse up to his bedroom.

This would be a much more exciting and momentous occasion if Hanzo’s room wasn’t so bare and empty. Jesse’s heard the word spartan used to describe rooms with no decorations before, but this room is practically unfurnished, as well. The futon is put away when it’s not being used for sleeping, so the floor is wide and empty.

It’s weirdly unsettling for Jesse, whose room back home is always messy and cluttered with bedsheets and clothing and books and magazines and potato chip bags and the occasional (unloaded) pistol lying around everywhere.

Hanzo’s closet isn’t much better. He mostly owns a variety of traditional robes for various occasions. Jesse gets the impression he doesn’t actually leave the compound that often. Another strangely sad detail in a picture Jesse isn’t sure he wants to see in full. Hanzo does have civilian clothes, but -

“Why do you dress so ugly, just wondering,” Jesse mutters, pawing through weird button-up shirts with graphics screen-printed onto them.

Hanzo doesn’t answer. Jesse looks up and finds that he’s being glared at angrily.

“Do you have swim trunks?” He asks, turning away from the mess of hangers.

Hanzo pulls open a drawer. He has blue swim trunks with a dragon emblazoned on one of the legs. Jesse stares at it for a moment.

“Okay,” he concedes finally. “I guess that’s not too offensive. Do you have extras?”

Hanzo pulls out a plain black pair. “Thank god,” he murmurs, almost too low for Hanzo to hear. Hanzo is still glaring at him.

“Change of plans,” Jesse announces, snatching the second pair of trunks from Hanzo’s hands. “You’re just gonna wear something of mine.”

On the way to the guesthouse Jesse solemnly contemplates the tragic fact that Jesse has better clothes packed in one suitcase for a business trip than Hanzo has in his entire wardrobe. “What is up with the dragons?” He asks out loud, thinking of the swim trunks and at least one of the button-up shirts.

“The dragon is the emblem of my clan,” Hanzo replies tersely. He seems to be taking Jesse’s criticism very poorly.

When they finally get back to the guest house Jesse is surprised to see that someone has been in and made his bed, which he’d left a total mess that morning. He wonders if they touched any of his stuff. It doesn’t really matter if they did, because he’s smart enough not to have anything with him that he wouldn’t want touched. The thing is, he keeps getting this weird feeling about the Shimadas. Like they’re hoping that he is stupid enough to leave things out that he doesn’t want touched.

Anyway. They’re not gonna get what they want. Not from Jesse McCree, anyway. He pulls his suitcase up onto the bed and opens it up. It’s almost full to bursting with various pieces of cowboy accoutrements.

“I can’t believe you insulted my clothing,” Hanzo says.

“Excuse me,” Jesse bites back, “I didn’t say anything negative at all about your Japanese bathrobes or whatever. You don’t have any right to pass judgment on my weird anachronistic costuming choices. The only things I insulted was your awful civilian clothes, which I’m pretty sure no civilian in their right mind would wear.”

“They’re called yukata. They’re not bathrobes,” Hanzo snaps.

“Well, now we’re both upset, so good job,” Jesse answers. He moves his cowboy gear into a pile on the bed and starts sorting through the clothing underneath it. He picks up a plain grey long-sleeved henley and throws it at Hanzo’s head. “Here, wear this,” he says. To his chagrin, Hanzo catches it easily.

“Should I put it on now?” Hanzo asks.

“Sure, you might as well see if it fits,” he answers distractedly. He’s staring at his suitcase, looking for something for himself. Then he smiles and unzips his Emergency Compartment. He pulls out a lurid Hawaiian shirt.

He turns to see Hanzo slipping the henley over his head. He gets a second look at Hanzo’s bare torso. When Hanzo’s head pops out of the neck hole his hair is all mussed.

The henley looks good on him. Jesse’s almost mad at himself for being so right about it. The sleeves are a little too long. Jesse and Hanzo are both about equally broad around the shoulders, but Hanzo is several inches shorter.

“Is it okay?” Hanzo asks him. He sounds unsure.

“Yeah, it’s good,” Jesse replies. He doesn’t elaborate. Hanzo wanders into the ensuite bathroom to look at himself in the mirror.

“What should I do with my hair?” he asks, raising one hand to touch it. Out of sight, Jesse grins. He hadn’t expected Hanzo to be so vain. Then again - this is probably his first beach party.

Jesse’s starting to feel - weird. Because his brain is still unhelpfully exclaiming, ‘A virgin!’ in that inappropriately interested way, but that unsettled feeling from standing in the middle of Hanzo’s bare bedroom is also making his chest feel… cavernous. Like the inside of him is as empty as that room had been.

“Put it in a ponytail,” Jesse suggests. “A high one.”

Hanzo does as instructed. He ties his hair with something that looks suspiciously like a ribbon. Jesse would probably call him out about it if he wasn’t busy admiring Hanzo’s profile. Once again, pulling his hair back has accentuated the angles of Hanzo’s face and the line of his neck. But the ponytail is less severe than the knot had been.

Hanzo looks back at Jesse and Jesse pretends he hasn’t been staring. He looks down at the shirt in his hands. Hanzo follows his gaze.

“You are not wearing that shirt,” Hanzo says, very calmly, half an order and half a simple statement, as if it’s obvious that no circumstances would ever allow Jesse to wear that particular shirt anywhere ever.

Jesse grins. Hanzo’s resigned sigh gives him deja vu - the exact same exchange over Hanzo giving Jesse his phone number.

Jesse wears the shirt. They both wear Hanzo’s swim trunks. They wear sandals, which the Shimada compound has hundreds of. They loiter in Jesse’s guest house, waiting for some type of sign from Genji.

Just around sunset Genji throws the guest house door open. Jesse and Hanzo both jump at the loud noise. They’ve been sitting in absolute silence for almost an hour, Jesse draped upside down over one of the couches and Hanzo cross-legged on the floor next to the coffee table, flipping disinterestedly through a decorative magazine.

Genji’s face, which had been beaming with enthusiasm a moment before, drops as soon as he sees Hanzo. “What’s he doing here?” He whines.

“He wouldn’t let me come unless he came with me,” Jesse lies smoothly. “I couldn’t get rid of him, so I told him where I was going. Don’t worry,” he adds, seeing the stubborn set of Genji’s mouth. “I won’t let him kill the fun.”

Genji is evidently torn between wanting very badly to bring Jesse along like a toy for show and tell and wanting as little to do with Hanzo as possible.

“Come on,” Jesse says with a grin. “I’m sure your brother’s actually tons of fun once he’s gotten one or two - or ten - drinks in him.”

Genji looks grossed out by the idea - but also, undeniably, amused. “Okay,” he says finally. “But you’re responsible for him,” he adds sternly.

Hanzo is not happy about being talked about like a child no one wants to babysit. Jesse gives a sympathetic look in an attempt to appease him, and offers him a hand to pull him up off the floor. He doesn’t even comment on the fact that he thinks it’s unnatural for a grown man to enjoy sitting on the ground so much.

It’s obvious that Genji considers sneaking out an incredibly thrilling adventure, and he’s consequently highly melodramatic about it. He leads Jesse and Hanzo along a twisting route through the gardens. Jesse is certain they even double back on themselves at least once. A shared looked tells him Hanzo finds this as tedious as he does.

When they finally slip through the gate of the compound, which appears to be completely unguarded, making Jesse wonder what the point of all that tiptoeing around was, there’s a town car a lot like the one that picked him up from the airport parked against the curb. Genji gets into the front passenger’s seat. Hanzo and Jesse climb in the back.

One of the men from the breakfast table is driving. He and Genji talk loudly and amiably the whole drive.

Jesse shoots a questioning look at Hanzo. Hanzo shrugs. “Whenever Genji does something to anger my father, Yuri says, ‘boys will be boys.’ Whenever Genji asks Yuri for a favour, Yuri does it.” Jesse assumes the driver is Yuri. Hanzo seems baffled about why someone would enable Genji’s “misbehaviour.” Jesse thinks that Yuri probably feels bad for Genji.

Maybe he feels bad for Hanzo too. Maybe he would grant any favour Hanzo asked of him, too. Jesse wonders if Hanzo’s ever asked anyone for a favour in his life.

The man-made beach is not a long drive away from the Shimada compound. On the way, Jesse takes in Hanamura’s scenery. It’s very nice to look at. He’s also more or less given up on trying to make small talk with Hanzo at this point.

When they arrive at their destination it becomes clear to Jesse that whatever he expected the man-made beach to look like, he was way off. He supposes he would have assumed it would be like a lake dug into a plot of land with sand around its edges.

Genji leads Hanzo and Jesse into a building. There’s a sort of antechamber where there are already a bunch of teens gathered. They’re very hip. They all have multi coloured hair and piercings and their bathing suits all look like weird pieces of art.

Jesse feels very old and out of place. Hanzo subtly shifts closer to him.

Genji pays no attention at all to the people gathered, though they all turn to look at him. He breezes through the wide and mostly empty space and throws open a door. Noise comes flooding in. A lot of noise.

Jesse supposes that the biggest noise is a simulation of ocean surf. Waves washing up on shore or breaking against rocks. It ebbs and flows. Then there’s the pounding beat of a truly awful song. It’s some new wave electronica kind of thing. Mostly just discordant noises, from what Jesse can hear. Then there’s the murmur of hundreds of voices. Jesse hadn’t expected Genji’s beach party to be this well attended.

After the sound begins to settle in Jesse’s ears, he becomes aware of the smell of salt. It’s a weirdly accurate simulation of what a real beach smells like. The room is very dimly lit, with a few standing lights positioned here and there. When Jesse looks up he sees that the ceiling is inky blue and dotted with stars. There must be a projector somewhere.

The entire experience is an assault on his senses. He kind of wants to go home. He can feel Hanzo practically pressed up against his side and assumes that the feeling is mutual.

Genji either doesn’t notice or ignores their discomfort. He grabs Jesse by the wrist and starts dragging him through a crowd. Hanzo grabs his other wrist so that he doesn’t get left behind. This is weird, Jesse thinks to himself, feeling oddly detached from his body in a sea of people.

Genji shoves his way into a large group of people. They must be his friends; he starts speaking to them so fast that Jesse has no hope of understanding even one or two stray words. As Genji talks, the people gathered all turn to look at him.

Well, nothing else for it. He puts on his biggest, most self-confident smile.

One or two of them can apparently speak english, and they ask him questions that he can barely hear over the volume of noise in the room. Even the people who don’t speak english listen to his answers. He guesses that they like his accent. They keep asking him to repeat certain words. Sometimes they mimic what he says.

He feels like a bird performing tricks. This is not what he had in mind for the evening.

Genji eventually appears at his elbow with two drinks. Jesse takes them both from him.

“Hey!” Genji protests. “One of those is mine!”

Jesse gives one of the cups to Hanzo and takes a drink from the other. He has no idea what’s in it. It’s probably a terrible idea to drink it. It certainly tastes awful enough to be poison.

Genji is still whining at him about his drink. Jesse makes a face at him, at the taste of whatever’s in his cup, at this whole evening so far. He turns away from Genji and starts walking in a random direction. He realizes Hanzo is still clutching his wrist.

Jesse finds a relatively uninhabited place that also happens to be very far from the speakers. The music is nothing but a dull throb in the distance. A few other people have discovered this sanctuary and are lying in the sand, making out. Jesse carefully steps over them.

He finds himself at the edge of the water. Theoretically, he’d known there would be water, but the reality of it is still sort of shocking. He’s inside a building, but there is water lapping at the sand at his feet. When he looks out across the room he realizes that the walls are all camouflaged by the dim lighting. It really does seem like he’s at a beach somewhere.

Jesse looks at Hanzo. Hanzo looks at Jesse.

“This is awful,” Jesse says.

Hanzo starts laughing. It’s the first time Jesse’s heard him laugh. It’s weirdly endearing. Jesse starts laughing too.

“You said we should come,” Hanzo accuses, but he can’t seem to fight his own smile. Jesse’s eyes are accustomed to the awful dim lighting now. He can see that the hairs that have escaped from Hanzo’s ponytail are plastered to his face with sweat. He hadn’t even realized how hot it was until he noticed. It’s like his senses were so overloaded that he could only process one at a time.

“This place is like Hell,” he says, looking back the way they’d come from. There are so many people gathered that the crowd looks like a solid mass, and when a group of people moves through it the mass ripples and undulates.

“What’s in this cup?” Hanzo asks.

“I don’t know. It tastes awful,” Jesse says.

“Is it safe to drink it if you don’t know what it is?” Hanzo raises a skeptical eyebrow.

“I ain’t dead yet,” Jesse shrugs in reply. He takes another drink.

Hanzo stares at him for a moment. He gives the drink a suspicious sniff. Then he tilts his head back and chugs the whole thing.

Jesse almost drops the cup in his hand. He isn’t sure he’s ever been more impressed in his life.

He allows himself the small pleasure of watching Hanzo’s adam’s apple bob in his throat.

When Hanzo’s cup is empty he drops it in the sand, wiping his forearm against his mouth with an awful grimace on his face.

“You’re awesome,” Jesse tells him. His voice is sincere - full of awe. Hanzo purses his lips together in what Jesse now recognizes to be embarrassment. He wishes they were somewhere else so that he could see the way Hanzo blushes.

“We should - we should do something,” Hanzo says abruptly. His speech sounds kind of sloppy. He reaches a hand up to touch his lips. “That drink made my mouth feel numb,” he mumbles wonderingly. Jesse starts laughing again. Hanzo joins in.

“What should we do?” Jesse asks him. It sounded like he’d meant to specify exactly what they should do, and then he’d chickened out.

Hanzo drops his gaze to the ground for the first time since Jesse’s met him. It’s the first time he’s ever looked shy. “We should go swimming,” he says. “It’s hot. And it’s a beach party.”

Jesse smiles slowly. On the one hand, he’s not sure it’s a really good idea after Hanzo just drank a whole cup of mystery drink. On the other hand, you only live once.

“The water’s right there, I guess,” he says. Hanzo meets his eye again, smile still a little shy, and a little hopeful. “We might as well swim.”

A sort of awkward moment follows where neither of them knows who should make the next move. They both look at the other expectantly. They both laugh at themselves.

Jesse decides to take one for the team. He reaches up to start unbuttoning his shirt. He realizes he’s still holding his half-full cup in his hands. He looks at it speculatively for a moment, then tosses it away to the side.

He hears two people start yelling. It takes him a moment to realize that he’s just doused one of the couples making out in some ungodly alcoholic concoction.

Hanzo catches on faster than he does. He starts laughing, and tears his shirt off over his head. He drops it into the sand, slips his feet out of his sandals, and runs off into the water.

Jesse looks after him for a moment, stunned. He’s completely different from the stern-faced Hanzo that sits on the floor at his father’s side. Jesse wonders what the difference is. One drink?

A room full of people. A borrowed shirt that’s not a yukata. The anonymity of a dark, noisy room. A temporary reprieve from duty.

Shit, Jesse’s getting too sentimental. He quickly unbuttons his terrible Hawaiian shirt and chases after Hanzo. He catches him just about waist deep, arms crossed over his chest.

“I didn’t think this through,” Hanzo says. His jaw is tightly clenched. “It’s really cold.”

Jesse laughs at him. It is cold. But he doesn’t mind it. “They say you’re supposed to dunk your head so that you get used to the temperature all at once,” he advises. Hanzo gives him a disdainful look.

“You can go ahead,” he says.

“Okay,” Jesse says, grinning. Hanzo realizes his mistake too late. Jesse sweeps his legs out from under him at the same moment he pushes down on his shoulders. They both go under.

When they re-emerge Hanzo tries to get revenge by throwing himself at Jesse, but Jesse plants his feet and stands strong. He puts his height advantage to good use. They wrestle for a while.

Jesse ends up holding Hanzo against him. His body is warm. One of Jesse’s hands is curled against the delicate curve of Hanzo’s rib cage. Hanzo’s body is lithe and muscular. When he struggles to free himself from Jesse’s grip his abdominals clench and flex.

Don’t be weird about this, he tells himself.

He’s weird about it. He drops Hanzo into the water. Hanzo emerges, sputtering. His high ponytail is drooping. Hairs have escaped and are falling into his eyes. Jesse is weird about his facial structure. About his throat and neck. About his bare chest and his abs and the fact that he’s a virgin.

Hanzo stops trying to wrestle Jesse. They bob quietly in the water for a little while.

“Do you really think I’m awesome?” Hanzo asks.

Jesse is surprised by the question. He must have said that half an hour ago. He’d almost forgotten about it.

The question isn’t shy, the way Hanzo had been about swimming. But it’s blunt in a way that makes him seem vulnerable. He’s standing there, salt water up to his chest, hair a mess, and Jesse just one minute ago was being weird about him.

A virgin, the constant echo, except this time it doesn’t seem so much like a special present just for Jesse. It seems kind of lonely, like an empty bedroom, or a wardrobe that you look at and think ‘he probably doesn’t leave the compound very often.’

“Yeah,” Jesse answers quietly. Hanzo doesn’t smile. He just look at Jesse like he’s trying to figure him out.

Another moment of silence. Then: “I’m cold.”

They slog through the water back to shore. Their shoes and shirts are where they left them. They’re both coated in salt and sand.

“How are we going to find Genji?” Jesse asks.

Hanzo doesn’t have any more idea than he does. They wade through the crowd until they reach the doors. The haven’t seen him anywhere, but every face looks eerily similar in the weird lighting of the artificial stars. They end up exiting the main room just to get away from the music. They’d somehow forgotten how loud and traumatic it was up close.

Genji is leaning against the wall in the antechamber with a small group of people. He looks up at them when they stumble through the doors.

“What happened to you?” he asks. They don’t bother explaining.

“I gotta go home, kid, I gotta go to bed. I’m an old man.” Now that he’s said it, Jesse realizes he’s actually exhausted. He has no idea what time it is.

Genji makes a face. “You didn’t even hang out with me. You just wandered off with him.” He shoots Hanzo a dirty look.

“You told me it was going to be a beach party, not some hellish rave with sand,” Jesse replies evenly. He’s heading for the doors even as Genji argues with him, and Genji is trailing along behind him.

“This isn’t a rave,” Genji sneers. “I could show you a rave, but you’d probably have a heart attack and die.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Jesse agrees easily. He’s had enough of teen parties.

He notices that just proximity to Genji has transformed Hanzo back into his old, austere self. Turned him back into a pumpkin, as it were. Jesse shouldn’t have kept him out past midnight.

Yuri’s sitting in the town car with the engine off. He’s reading a book. When Genji slides into the seat next to him, they start having a conversation immediately that doesn’t end till they get back to the gates of the Shimada compound.

Hanzo is totally silent the whole ride home. Jesse reads the time on the car dashboard: 1:24 A.M. He leans his head against the window. His hair is stiff with salt. He dreams of showering when he gets home, and actually ends up dozing off.

“You really are an old man,” Genji says as they walk down a garden path together. Genji is slightly ahead, Hanzo is slightly behind. Just like at the club.

The two brothers manage to deliver Jesse safely to the guest house without killing each other. Jesse showers, but he does a bad job of it because he’s so tired. When he flops into bed afterwards, he discovers there’s still a crust of salt behind one of his ears. He falls asleep immediately anyway.

[hungrymage]

Stealing Kisses

>starter for @amnesiac-pawn

ϟ–Fingers entwining, Ilyana sticks close to his side. Warmth radiates off her little fire elemental and keeps the icy temperatures at bay. It’s a long, freezing walk from the library to the dorms—except for tonight.

Morgan readily agreed when she suggested they investigate this rumored shortcut. She was unbothered by the claims of a petty thief stealing books from unsuspecting students. (If someone wanted to take one of Morgan’s books, they’d get an angry mage on their hands.)

Free hand draws his jacket closer around her shoulders. Even after adding wool leggings and long sleeves to her winter attire, she still felt a slight chill. After shivering in the library, Morgan had silently draped his own jacket over her own, then kissed her cheek and returned to his notes.

“…I promise not to get food stains on it,” she says now. In the mostly unlikely event that it happens, she’s an expert at washing them out anyway. “Thank you, hex boy.”

For a moment the only sound is their footsteps echoing down the hall. Six months together and she’s still figuring out her comfort level in terms of spontaneous gestures of affection. They come so easily to him; slowly, she’s learning to follow his lead. Part of her hopes that he’s not irritated at her slow progress. (Silly thought. Morgan would tell her if he wasn’t happy with something.)

Raising up on her tiptoes, she presses a soft kiss to his cheek. “Ah…I had a nice day with you…”

[extenebris]

Winter’s Skeletons [Salem & Rhys]

starter for @prhyst | +1 Faith

Winter had a way of stealing the beauty of things. It stole away leaves and flowers, chased away the birds, and drained the color from the sky. Its snowy blankets were beautiful only so long as they remained pristine, but on the days when snow had not fallen, the landscape was laid bare, dead and grey. That was the Faerghus countryside. Gnarled old branches clawed for the frozen sun and, occasionally, for a sleeve as the procession made their march through the forest. Salem marveled at it though, as there were similarities between this wasteland and that of his own home, despite their vastly different climates.

Though as they ventured closer to their destination, the trees in their hibernation seemed to more and more resemble those that were, in fact, dead, and the stillness that had settled over the windless trail lent an atmosphere of eerie suspense. As if the trees were waiting. Salem drew his cloak closer around his shoulders and lowered his head as he fell to the back of their group. There was something more here, too. Something that was also unfortunately familiar.

His shoulder brushed with one of his allies and it was only after murmuring a quiet apology that he glanced up to see who it was he had accidentally walked too close to. It was that priest from the valley, from that expedition that already felt to be so many moons ago.

“Rhys… correct?” Not one for smalltalk, Salem’s expression remained as serious as ever. This was, after all, not smalltalk in his mind. Was this familiarity he felt in the air shared between them, or did this trepidation belong to him alone?

“The atmosphere is rather… tense.” He gestured with a nod toward the knights and other students accompanying them, all marching in silence up ahead. “Something does not seem quite right to me…”

[disgracedvessel]

Zombieland [Julius & Claude]

starter for @boundlesshart | [Reason +1]

The walking undead. Or the living dead. Or deadlords, or whatever they were called here, are somehow more a reminder of home than Julius had expected when he first caught sight of one of these shuffling monsters stumbling through the underbrush around their camp. They weren’t exactly common in Jugdral to begin with, but they weren’t unheard of either. Which, so far, makes them more familiar than most of what he has encountered in Fodlan.

“Let’s see if you listen to me just as easily,” Julius hums. The rest of the camp is in chaos behind him. Knights run to and fro in an effort to gather the weapons they had not yet unpacked. Others gather to create a blockade out of logs and crates at the entrance. They know demonic beasts, at least. These things look just like run-of-the-mill humans. Julius sidesteps the one he faces off with now as it half-steps, half-falls past him with its arms outstretched. It lets out a groan and tries to find its footing again.

“You really think you can catch any of us like that? Hmph.” Julius grins. The monster turns blindly toward his voice again and its jaw falls slack as it lets out another long, gurgling sound. Julius crosses his arms.

“You’re uglier than my Deadlords.” Another sidestep keeps him safely out of the monster’s grasp. “Whoever is pulling your strings must be a novice.” He raises his voice as he glances toward the darker part of the woods. “Don’t you know your minions will retain the power they had when they were alive? You can’t just use any old clod for battle.”

No answer. Julius laughs to himself.  “Well, if I can’t get you under control myself, we can at least play a little.”

There’s a sudden crash. Snapping limbs. Creaking wood. And then the heavy rumble of the earth as a tree settles lengthwise before wide eyes.

“H-how…?” Julius gapes at the shattered bark at the base of the trunk in a fist-sized dent, and at the monster that stands on the other side. Maybe they aren’t so average after all. An explosion of purple energy stops it before it can take another step and Julius smirks again.

“Still weak. W-wait—“ The monster shuffles out of the cloud, groaning and reaching for him again as if the spell had hardly hit him. Julius takes a step back. “How is that possible—“ Another step back. The monster swipes at him. He can smell its rotting breath now, see the veins in the yellowed scleras, the corners of irises rolled back in its head. Suddenly an arrow lodges through its skull with a grotesque crack. It shudders. Freezes. And with a final sigh, collapses at Julius’ feet.

“How did—“ His eyes snap toward the wielder of the bow hiding in the bushes nearby. Another student. Julius hides his shock with a haughty smile. “I just softened it up for you!” He calls. One more cautious glance for good measure. The monster isn’t moving anymore, so Julius quickly hops over one of its outstretched arms - now bent at an unnatural angle beneath its body - and approaches his competitor.

“Still, you’re a pretty good shot,” he praises through his teeth. “How about you and I play a little game? It’s so terribly boring here, and I’d like a spot of target practice.” His hands come to his hips and he puffs out his chest. “First one to ten kills wins. On the condition that you don’t cry when you lose.”

[theindigoflirt]

Sword Crimes

starter for > @radiantpriamos

     He tends to throw the word love around a lot. Family, dancing, pretty girls, sweets, flowers. What can he say; there’s just so much to love! The world without a sunshine and rainbows viewpoint is a scary, scary place. Inigo’s lived it once. Best to let that part of his life stay buried underneath a smile.

     Said smile blooms into a grin as he steps onto the training grounds. Out of the multitude of things he says he loves, the sword remains his first. Nothing like the speed, the grace of it slicing through the air, like a deadly metallic dancer.

     It’s a palpable thing as he grabs a practice sword off the rack. Amid all the preparations for the upcoming ball, Inigo hasn’t spent nearly as much time practicing his swordsmanship. A shame; he’s missed sparring with partners from all across the known world. Twirling the wooden hilt in his grip, he gives the sword a few experimental swings. Practice weapons are about equal weight to an iron one; enough to feel a burn in his forearms without exhausting him.

     Inigo finds a semi-unoccupied corner to begin his warm up routine. A few basic maneuvers meant to get his blood pumping, even if that backbend he includes is for no other reason than to show off. Springing up from the floor, he finishes by rotating his wrists to keep them loose. Eyes the practice grounds for a potential sparring partner.

     A shock of long blue hair tied back with a headband catches his attention. The man looks to be around Inigo’s age, and confident around a blade, if the lean build is anything to go by. “Hello! I don’t believe we’ve met. Inigo, from Regna Ferox. Are you up for a spar?��

[cruelsfate]

‘ spooky scary skeletons. ’  ——  marianne&byleth

Ill-prepared for the weather as you are, you manage to get lost in the forest just outside of the location you’re supposed to be investigating. Part of your group builds a fire to stay warm as the sun begins to sink, while the other sets out to regain their bearings. It’s just as dusk sets in that the trees come alive with low moaning and the sound of something being dragged through the leaf litter. You brace for a monster, but instead you find humans - around half a dozen - with ashen skin and their eyes rolled back into their heads. One swings at someone in your party and sends them flying into a tree, but unfortunately your attacks aren’t so potent. Standard weapons bounce right off of these things. Fortunately for you, Nessie of the Knights of Seiros is with you, and one strike from her gauntlets reveals the monster’s weakness: Relics. [ Grants +1 Reason or +1 Brawling ]

‎She has, of course, heard the stories of Faerghus’ winter storms, terrifying feats of nature that sweep across the land and cover everything in its icy chill. Still, it is one thing to hear the stories and another thing entirely to experience it for yourself. Even bundled up in winter clothing, the chill seeps deep into her bones, and her companions do not seem to fare much better than herself.

With a crackle and a pop, fire bursts to life before her, the orange glow a very welcome sight. Those who have stayed behind almost sag in relief as the flames burn brighter and brighter, chasing away some of the winter chill. In the distance, the sun falls; the trees come alive and a strange moaning sounds out from beyond them.

Marianne expects a monster—what else could make such horrible sounds? Yet when they break through the tree line, the figures they are met with seem remarkably...human. A step closer from these strange newcomers proves her initial opinion false as the fire’s light reveals their ashen skin and rolled back eyes.

One swings at a student, sending them flying toward a tree. Someone screams. A sword swings toward one of them, without much effect. Chaos erupts.

Somewhere in between all the disarray, Marianne finds herself by the side of Professor Byleth, the Blue Lion’s professor. She recognizes her face, if nothing else, and the unnervingly calm expression upon it. It’ll be alright, Marianne, she thinks to herself. This is what the knights are for.

Indeed, just as she thinks it, one of the knights strikes at the humans—monsters? Creatures? She is unsure—sending one stumbling back. More effective than the simple weapons that the rest of their group has, of that Marianne is certain. “I—ah...” Wide eyes turn to the professor standing next to her. “Um, professor?” Quieter. “What...what do we do?”

[halfjalar]

Symbols of the Past. ✩ Azelle & Febail

@yewfallen

A tower, standing proud yet alone on a nearby mountain. Abandoned for a long time, now it shall be turned into a place of entertainment, relaxation and recreation for the Academy’s students; so says the Archbishop, at least.

But before the rewards can be enjoyed, hard work must first be put into the project. There is cleaning and renovations to be done, furniture to bring in and set up. Students pitch in, some more, some less willingly, assisted and overseen by the Knights and Professors, Azelle among them on this day.

The Velthomer, as fate would have it, is of little help when it comes to the heavy lifting and other physical aspects of work, so he chooses instead to support the task at hand by overseeing and organizing, as well as using his Fire magic to provide some warmth and combat the winter chill. Luckily however, it soon turns out that the flames he conjures are not the only source of comfort in the low temperature available in the area; a large hot spring is discovered nearby, and many soon begin to frequent it to rest and relax the aching muscles during the breaks from work.

(And sometimes a little more often than that.)

Azelle for his part has not really utilized the hot springs personally, his visits to the spot mostly intended to make sure the students using them are safe and responsible; the same is the case this time as his steps take him there. A lone young man sits there, soaking in the spring as he enjoys his break. As there does not seem to be any need to disturb him, the Mage initially intends to simply turn back - 

 - until something he spots in the corner of his eye prompts him to pause, take a better look, and let out a gasp. He is not seeing things, is he? The diamond shape, accompanied by a symmetrical wing-like pattern...

There is no doubt about it; he would recognize it anywhere.

“You--” The word escapes him before he regains control of himself. Ah, snap. Well, he likely should ask anyway, and while this is not the best way to start a conversation, he supposes it is one in the end. So, he keeps going.

“... The brand on your back... You possess the blood of Ulir?”

[sepublic]

And here I was thinking Dana wouldn’t draw anything for Christmas, after admitting she might not be able to! What a great surprise gift...

I’m really glad Dana started off with Willow and Gus here, it seems like she’s trying to give them more attention, possibly receptive to fandom criticism about their lack of focus? Maybe Season 2B has more in store and we simply gotta wait...? And Dana is just giving us this to help hold us over, a prelude and hint for when the real content arrives? I can dream okay-

Willow looking at Hunter and vice-versa... Huntlow shippers this is the closest we’ll get to canon content, at least as far as we currently know! And maybe it even hints towards a future interaction together that Dana has in store. This is such fanfic fuel, the idea of Hunter encountering these kids off-mission and incognito, did Belos allow this??? Also we get to see Clover, Lil Rascal, and Gus’ Palisman fly as staffs- Rascal’s beating his wings so hard like Clover!!! 🥺

AND THEN LUMITY! I feel like Luz’s pins on her hat might be a reference, I can see Hooty on her shoes... HER CUDDLING WITH KING he wants warmth!!! Now I’m imagining King having to wear a jacket like pets do and being really salty about it, but it’s for his own good. Or like any kid, he insisted he didn’t need a jacket and is now paying the price, but it also means getting to hog his sister from her girlfriend so is it really a loss???

And yes, that Abomabag is real;

For a moment I didn’t even recognize this as Dana’s art! Feels like she’s experimenting with different styles and techniques here, as well as for a previous TOH art here or there. I honestly dig the way it looks and am interested to see more of this art style!

Full pics below;