#what the hell am i supposed to do with only 1400 words

[stray-somnium]

so i am on a mission to get my animation degree with 1sts while writing every essay i possibly can on homestuck

we are on our way boiiiiii

[mostly-marvel-musings]

Hi, Thor with make up sex prompt

Miss J - Part 1

A/N: We love angry jealous, make-up sex always! Thanks for this request.

Pairing: Thor x Reader

Warnings: 18+ angst.

Word count: 1400+

Requests & Challenges

Thor Odinson Taglist – @raspberrymama @bitchycherryblossomlove @jennie22feona @innerpaperexpertcloud @thorfanficwriter @darklydeliciousdesires @longlostinanotherworld

Everything Taglist – @godofplumsandthunder @ladyacrasia @agustdowney @swaggysposts @littlegasps @suchababie @another-stark-sub @supraveng @kahlanmars @disappointmentofthefam @pandaxnienke @tom-hlover @just-the-hiddles @fyreball66 @asmigurub @avantgardium-leviosa @imerdwarf @gladiosamicitias @fanofalltheficsx @ladyburberry @chickensarentcheap

Tags are open folks!

.

You couldn’t care less about the formal affair though. All you wished for was to kick those uncomfortably high heels off, pull on your favourite pair of sweats and cry yourself to sleep, like you’d been doing for the past week.

A week of the big green monster of jealousy trapping your rational self in its ugly tentacles. A week of drowning your sorrows in alcohol and ice-cream, wallowing in your misery.

Agent Hill had a small mission lined up for you tomorrow which you thought would be a welcome distraction.

Getting a few good punches in and kicking a few arses would definitely help the pent up anger to fizzle out.

.

“Allow me to introduce you to the world-renowned astrophysicist, Jane Foster.”

You smiled politely and shook your current live-in boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend’s hand, whom Thor had introduced you to with such pride and delight.

It was supposed to be a quiet dinner date at your favourite place when Jane showed up with Eric Selvig and Darcy, spotting Thor immediately because it was obvious not to, in any given situation. Cordial exchange of pleasantries later, Thor thought it’d be a good idea for them to join you at your table.

You didn’t mind, not at first anyway, somewhere around your second drink of the night, it got difficult to keep up with the conversation. Not being a part of the ‘gang’ felt like high school all over again.

You tried your best not to let it show, even made attempts to join in them reminisce old stories but it was proving rather difficult. There is only so much one can take, so by the time dessert arrived, you had retracted back into your shell. The only person who showed genuine interest in you the entire night was Darcy.

Needless to say, the ride back home was silent. You didn’t see the point in bringing it up with Thor since you knew he wasn’t at fault, not really, he was too kind and seeing his old friends had made him happy. You didn’t wish to spoil his evening, even if it meant your pre-planned date was.

.

Days turned to weeks as your mind pushed away that incident and chose to focus on other things. Thor knew something was up, but didn’t bring it up, assuming you would be over it.

There wasn’t a mission to keep you busy but an upcoming Stark party you were looking forward to.

An easy evening with your boyfriend and the team with great food was something you needed. Little did you know it would turn into a dinner party from hell.

The Avengers Compound was abuzz with polite chatter, dignitaries and fellow colleagues dressed in their finest, enjoyed an elegant evening of expensive aperitifs and exquisite hors d'oeuvres.

You arrived alone after Thor mentioned he had to pick something up for the party and had left the house early. That ‘something’ was actually a someone you were hoping to never run into.

Jane Foster.

A pleasant conversation you were engaged in with Steve was cut short when they arrived, standing too close to each other before she took his arm and walked in.

“Are you okay, (Y/N)?”

Steve frowned, following your gaze until he understood the cause of your reaction.

“What does it look like?”

He raised his hands up before taking your empty champagne flute and going over to the bar for a refill while you took a few deep breaths to keep calm and regain your composure.

“There you are, my love.”

Thor’s warm greeting failed to warm your heart as the man wrapped his arm around your waist and pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek.

“Here I am.”

You managed a small smile, eyes flitting between the two of them as if waiting for them to make some announcement.

“I thought you’d gone to pick up that bottle of scotch we wanted to give Tony.”

“I was going to, but then Jane suggested we try this different one and I think Stark will appreciate this more.”

Thor showed you the bottle they had purchased but you didn’t give it a glance, you were busy glaring at the man who’d preferred her choice over yours.

“Oh (Y/N), Jane is being considered for a Nobel prize in astrophysics for her study of the Convergence.”

Thor beamed down at the woman before meeting your glare that quickly got replaced with a faux grin.

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you (Y/N).” Jane smiled at you kindly.

“If she wins, which I’m certain she will, I have offered to accompany her in Sweden to receive the award.”

“Oh.”

“O-only if you’re okay with it.” Jane interrupted, quickly catching on your reaction to his statement.

“Why won’t I be okay? Looks like Thor’s decided everything by himself. Excuse me.”

You hurried to get away as fast as you could, not really sure where you were going, leaving Thor frowning after you and an exasperated Steve Rogers holding your drink in his hand.

The bathroom seemed like a good idea to collect yourself or let a few angry tears escape, you chose to do both.

Thor was standing right outside the door when you stepped out, arms crossed over his velvet-blazer clad chest.

“That was rude.”

“Are you serious right now?”

“You march in here with your ex hanging on your arm, buy a gift of her choice and then tell me you’re planning a fucking holiday trip with her!” You snapped, not bothered about causing a scene at the party.

“Don’t raise your voice here.” Thor warned but you were too pissed off to even listen.

“Don’t you fucking tell me what to do! This was supposed to be a nice evening with the team, you and I were supposed to spend time together but I see you clearly prefer her company over mine.”

“There is no reason for you to be this angry, my love.”

“Maybe you’re too blinded by Miss Brains over there to notice. Have a good evening.”

You glared at the man one last time before storming out, more angry tears spilling from your eyes and blurring your vision as you walked out.

.

Back at your place, you had showered and changed into your sleepwear, all while glancing at the wall clock every now and then, waiting for Thor to get home and apologise.

Leaving you alone with your obsessive thoughts was never a good idea, Thor knew this. You’d always assume the worst and get self-critical.

You were making some chamomile tea to calm yourself before bed when Thor knocked on the open front door before stepping in.

He found you in the kitchen, hunched over the counter with your back facing him. He could tell you had been crying, your choice of pyjamas was always the same when you were upset, a loose-fitting T-shirt that once belonged to him and your comfy shorts.

“What? You didn’t drop Jane home?”

Thor was expecting you to be this upset, he didn’t see anything wrong with the decision before Steve pulled him aside and opened his eyes.

“Look (Y/N)—”

“Do you not want to be with me Thor?”

Your voice cracked in the end as you spoke, still not facing him.

“Why would you even think that, my love?”

“Oh I don’t know. When you walk hand-in-hand with your ex at a party meant just for the teammates, when you spend an entire evening laughing and chatting with her and her friends on what was supposed to be our date night? When you decide to go to Sweden with her to celebrate her achievements?”

Thor stared at his feet before cautiously walking closer to you.

“I realised I was wrong, if you’ll forgive me—”

“Maybe you should get back with her.”

Your statement made him stop in his tracks, his heart shattering as you finally turned around to face him.

“What?”

“Clearly you prefer her over me. Who am I next to the great Jane Foster? I don’t get nominated for Nobel Prizes, I don’t have all those fancy degrees..”

You said bitterly, crossing your arms over your chest while Thor remained silent.

“I realise I’ve upset you, my l—”

“I think you should leave.”

You murmured, turning your back to him once more.

“Please don’t do this.” He begged.

“You should go with her, Thor. I think we have a lot to think about when you get back.”

We need these two to fall in love again. Help!

[thewritetofreespeech]

Words: 1400+

Rating: NSFW

Pairing: Aomine Daiki x Reader

Summary: Aomine’s girlfriend leaves him out in the rain and has to be punished for it.

It was a peaceful, rainy evening. The kind perfect for binge watching and snuggling under the covers.

Classes were over for you today. You had already done your post course work of organizing your notes and finishing any homework assigned. Now you were just laying on the couch, enjoying the quiet, until your boyfriend got home to start dinner. Aomine had practice tonight. So, he would be at the university until later that day.

You flip through the channels, vaguely looking for something to watch, but something was bothering you. This nagging feeling that you had forgotten something kept picking at the back of your brain. You couldn’t figure out what it was though. You’d gotten groceries after school. Thrown in a load of laundry when you got home. You had enough milk to get you through the week. But still, this nagging feeling wouldn’t leave you alone.

‘Oh well, I guess it wasn’t that important.’ You think to yourself.

Your channel surfing ceases when you hear someone banging at your door. Loud enough to make you almost jump off the couch. “Ok! Ok! I’m coming!” You shout angrily through the door at whoever was trying to bang it in. You were fully ready to give them a piece of your mind when you opened the door, only to find an angry looking, soaking wet Aomine on the other side. “Daiki?!”

“Where the hell were you?!” He growled back at you. Suddenly you remembered what it was you had forgotten, and your hand flew up to cover your face.

“Oh my God! I’m so sorry!” You were supposed to pick him up after practice. You both shared a car, since the expense on a dual student income was all you could afford eto split and public transit was enough to get you basically anywhere, but you had taken it to run errands that afternoon after school. He must have had to run from the gym on campus, to the bus station, then from the bus station to here to get home. All through the down pour that was going on outside.

“Why didn’t you call me??” You scold. Running to get him a towel while he waited in the entry way as to not track water all through the apartment.

“Because my phone fell in a puddle!” Aomine snapped at you. Taking the towel and beginning to dry his hair. “I thought about going inside to use a regular phone, but then I was worried you’d show up and think I left, so I waited there like an idiot!”

“I’m really sorry Daiki.” You apologize. Knowing you didn’t have a leg to stand on. “I really didn’t mean to forget. Honest! I wouldn’t just leave you out in the rain on purpose. I’ll make it up to you. I promise! I’ll do anything.”

The basketball ace stopped mussing his hair, and looked up at you through the towel. “Anything?”

Uh oh……

The rain continued to beat down outside. The soft tapping on the glass in your bedroom drowned out only by your moans and whimpers as the only other sound.

He’d been torturing you for what felt like hours. First it was kissing you until your lips were sore. Leaving you squirming and begging for more. But that was just another torture tactic as Aomine had moved to your breasts to fondle them thoroughly. Those hands that were made for basketball caressing them with the skill he used on the bright orange sphere. His lips and tongue joining in to suck on your nipples. Nipping now and then to hear you yip. Now, it was fingering you. He’d sat back on his ankles. The only part of him touching you now was his hand working at your apex with precision dexterity. Watching you, and every reaction, with a satisfied smirk as two fingers pumped inside you while his thumb slowly caressed your clit.

“You know, it’s not really fair that you’re enjoying this. I’m the victim here. You’re supposed to be being punished.”

“Daiki…..!” It was all you could get out before your back arched. Fingers twisting in the sheets.

You want to tell him that this was punishment. You still hadn’t cum yet, and you know Aomine is keeping you from climax on purpose. He knew exactly what he was doing with that shitty, sexy smirk. God it would be so easy to hate him if you didn’t love him so much. “Daiki….please….”

“Please what?”

You let out a groan at his continued superiority. He was going to let this go on forever if he could. Shifting a little, you move your legs to get your foot in between his knees. Lifting it up carefully to caress his erection and causing him to shiver. “Please fuck me.” You reply, in a sex drenched voice after licking your lips that were dry from panting, and Aomine snapped. Game over.

“You asked for it baby girl.” He said, warned, before he grabbed your leg and lifted it up against his shoulder. The position a sudden shift that was startling, but not as startling as him suddenly thrusting into. The wind was knocked out of your lungs for a moment, and refill only to have you scream in ecstasy the moment they do at having him so deep inside you so suddenly.

Aomine gave you a moment, and perhaps himself, a moment to collect yourself and adjust before he continued thrusting into you. It’s hard, and deep. You’re still apparently being ‘punished’ because it’s a lot harder and faster than he normally does it when you’re fucking. Not that you were complaining in the least.

“Cum for me baby girl.” He told you. Growled, really. That’s all you needed as you tumble over the edge around his cock. You’ve cum embarrassingly fast, but it was all Aomine’s fault for working you up so much from the start. He doesn’t stop though. You’ve barely finished cumming before he was thrusting into you again. Putting your leg down, but not stopping his hard thrusts you were definitely going to feel in the morning.

“[Y/N]…” He breathed out against your lips before he kissed you again. Now that he was close to them again, he doesn’t seem to want to let them go.

You moan and whimper against his mouth in the kiss. Letting out and equally breathless, “Daiki…” when he let you go. “I’m gonna cum again.”

“Do it. Cum for me baby girl.” He repeated, and again it’s like a secret, magic phrase because you were cumming again. Your juices leaking out on the sheets for sure now as your walls seize around Aomine’s cock.

“D-Daiki…!” You whine as his thrusts don’t stop. “I-It’s too much. I-I can’t take it!” You’re finding it hard to speak as your body was becoming one live-wire bundle of nerves. Your entire focus of being on pleasure, and Aomine, and his wonderful warm body on top of you.

“One more.” He replied. Voice low and strained. You know that voice, and apparently, he was at his limit to. But you also know that voice means that he was determined to make it happen. Whatever ‘it’ was. All you could do was whimper and hold on to his shoulders for dear life as he tried to fuck the life out of you.

He doesn’t last much longer. Hips sputtering soon enough as he buried his cock deep inside you. True to his word, he got you off one more time; reaching down to rub your clit with his talented fingers. It wasn’t that hard. With how sensitive you were at the moment, a strong gust of wind could have made you cum right now. Stated, and worn out, Aomine rolled off from on top of you where he had collapsed for a moment. Trying to catch your breathe before you both curl into each other.

“Bet you won’t forget me now.” He said, after a beat. Holding you, but still seeming to have a pout about being literally left out in the cold earlier today.

“I said I was sorry.” You told him. “I didn’t mean to forget to pick you. And I could never forget you.” You lean up to kiss him with what strength you can muster. A soft peck in comparison to your passionate kisses earlier. “I love you. I really am sorry.”

“I love you too. Apology accepted I guess.” He replied. Giving your shoulders a squeeze. “I’m gonna go take a bath though. Need to wash up, and also need to make sure I don’t catch a cold from being stuck out in the rain.”

“I’m never going to hear the end of this no matter what I do, am I?”

“Not for a couple days at least.”

[bakugohoex]

reader confronting katsuki about his anger issues and how he bullies deku too much and they scream "don't u wanna be a hero?!" or smth like that and it strikes a nerve but also makes him Sad bc he wanna be a hero don't call him a villain :((

“you’ll never be a fucking hero if you keep acting like a dick to midoriya”

pairing: katsuki bakugo x female reader

cw: language, bit of angst bit of fluff

word count: 1400+

a/n: hey guys, hope you enjoy this little headcanon thingy i dont know what it’s called lmao

summary:  in which after seeing bakugo continue his bullying with midoriya, you take it upon yourself to stick up for the boy and bakugo get’s a lot more than he expected, finally realising that his act cannot go on for any longer

↞ back to my hero academia masterlist

Another day, another Bakugo shouting at Midoriya.

You could see in Midoriya’s eyes how much he looked up to the boy, you may have only known the two for a couple months now but seeing Bakugo scream at the boy again.

It was too much, the anger in explosions, the way Midoriya tried to hold him back.

He was extra pissed today and was taking it out on the green haired boy.

Being close friends with the boy, the shouting of Bakugo had made your instincts act out.

You left your own partner, Kirishima, and marched past everybody. They could all see your own anger; you were going to protect the boy and they were not going to stand in your way.

You grabbed Bakugo’s collar and this boy was in shock, nobody had ever done something like this.

His actions stopped as you dragged him out kicking and shouting for you to let go of him.

“Y/n, what the fuck? Don’t fucking ever do that shit again?” He scowled outside of the training rooms.

You tapped your foot lightly, but you were pissed, fucking annoyed even. He looked angry at you but kept it under wraps. If someone was to analysis Bakugo they would realise how he had a soft spot for you after both of you fought against each other at the spots festival. Hell he even remembered your name and quirk, he may have been nicer to you but his anger that he had suppressed for you needed to be let out somehow.

“Bakugo, you’re going to listen to me, oh so help me God, I will make you look like an idiot inside.” He took a sharp breathe only nodding at how easily you had shut down his frustrations.

“What the fuck do you think you’re playing at? Leave Midoriya the fuck alone, you don’t need to be so fucking rude to the boy. You might think it makes you look all powerful but all I see is a bully.” You took your own deep breath, “you’ll never be a fucking hero if you keep acting like a dick to Midoriya.”

He stood taking it all, all the anger you felt from how he acted towards the boy, he took it all in. The last thing he had ever wanted was to hear the words you had said and worst of all, it was you who had said it. The girl who had nearly beat him, the girl who had always been so kind and nice to those around her. The girl he had almost become infatuated with, you were the one shouting at him, telling him he was the one in the wrong.

“Get a fucking grip, Bakugo.” With the final words you left him speechless outside, he couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. But anger filled him, the sound of his explosions arose from behind you, but you didn’t turn around shaking your head to let him have his tantrum.

You had spent time with him, even studied with him. He never acted the way he acted to Midoriya to you, he always seemed nice and a lot calmer. But watching how hurt Midoriya looked, it hurt you to see your friend upset.

“You don’t get to fucking say shit Y/n.” You stopped in your steps, you were half way inside before his words caught up to you. He was shouting at you, his eyes filled with sadness, you were close enough to see it. But the rest of the class who were watching the scene could only see anger.

“Bakugo…”

“No, Y/n, you can’t say that shit and leave like that.” His voice seemed weaker and his arms may have been out towards you. But no yellow explosions were coming out from it, he just had anger within him. He hated you protecting the young Midoriya, but he knew that you shouldn’t care as much, that you had never stopped him before. So why now?

You didn’t meet his gaze, instead looking to the side, “fucking look at me.” Your eyes flickered to his own and he was about to speak when a much angrier Aizawa stomped towards you. He looked pissed at the two of you not training.

“You two stop talking now.”

“Yes sir.” You both spoke in unison, before you left to go back to Kirishima.

The words had repeated through Bakugo’s head since the encounter outside, he respected you for saying what you said. To stand up to him, but he could see how it had ruined your friendship.

Whenever you’d be in the elevator going up to your rooms, you’d stay on your phone, refusing to talk to him, or if you both were waiting for Aizawa to come in. You’d leave your seat behind him and go talk to Midoriya or Todoroki, he hated it so much.

This is how he ended up doing something entirely rash and a lot more unexpected. It was the end of the day and you were about to leave to go back to the dorms. A hand had grabbed your wrist however, “Y/n.”

Bakugo’s voice was hesitant, but you turned to meet his gaze. He let go of you, scratching the back of his head before speaking again, “I want to prove to you that I am he…hero material, so just umm wait here.”

You were hesitant at first, but you stayed outside, you noticed him walk towards Midoriya who at the sight of seeing Bakugo looked timider than ever. Bakugo gestured you to come over, which you did waiting to see what he’d say to the young boy, “I…I’m sorry.”

Midoriya looked more confused than ever, “are you ill Kacchan?” Midoriya began to try to inspect Bakugo’s face.

“Let go me stupid nerd.” He got out of Midoriya’s way and looked at you.

“An apology won’t just fix a relationship Bakugo.” You had not been impressed with what you had seen, and you wanted to hear more.

“Okay, okay.” Bakugo looked back at Midoriya, “we’ve never been friends and I know we never will.”

You stared blankly at what he had said, that was not a good start, “but I shouldn’t have put all my anger on you, to be honest, all the niceness I give to y/n, I have left over anger that needed to go somewhere. It shouldn’t have been to you, I’m not trying to be nice to you, I’m still 100% better than you and your little nerdy friends but I won’t put the excess anger I have onto you.”

“Okay.” Midoriya had grown over the months, he didn’t need Bakugo’s approval for anything, he had grown to have other friends. Move past the boy from his childhood and you were glad about that.

Bakugo came to meet your gaze again, “yeah, yeah we’re fine now.” He grinned at you walking with you back to the dorms. “So what’s this about being nice to just me.”

“Shut up shitty woman.” He growled as you laughed.

“Hey, you’re supposed to be nice to me.” You pouted to the boy.

“Y/n.” He stopped you in your tracks, even with the acceptance he had gotten back from you, he was still upset about what you had said. “About me not being her…”

You interrupted him, touching his cheek. “It was rash, and I shouldn’t have said it.” You smiled up to the boy, your thumb caressing his face, “you’ll be an amazing pro hero one day and you’ll protect us all.”

“Even you.”

You laughed at his statement, “only if I’m in trouble, but I doubt I will be.” Just as you had let go of his face, he grabbed your arm bringing you closer.

Your faces only a mere inch apart from one another, he had bent down to reach your face. And he was happy, content even, he hated having you ignore him. Having you shut him down every time he tried to talk to you, but you had given him another chance and he was taking it.

His lips finally reached yours and you gave a low whisper, “do it future number one hero.” The command was all he needed to encase his lips against your own. The softness between one another and warmth that the boy brought was filled in the lustful kiss, his tongue guiding your own and the heavy breathes you both took after. It had been careless but soft and he had even more of a reason to become the number one pro hero and that was you.

i’d really appreciate if you guys could leave a like, reblog or comment, thanks x

if you guys want to be a part of a tag list, just reply to any post and i’ll add you xx

@samusimp @alainarose13 @crispychannie @underratedmage @jennammaee @cathy8taffy @sugacious @moonlightaangel @kat-sukis-hoe @effmigentlywithachainsaw @swankiifiied @maat-the-prescriptive @missmultifangirl @tvwhoresblog @kuroos-world @chrrylevi @ukaisgratefulwhore @answer-the-sirens @animexholic

[schnitzelbutterfingers]

"Come here, i need to hug you" for ethan x abby?

Here!

Mirani’s Confession

Book: Open Heart Book 3  Pairing(s): Dr. Ethan Ramsey x f!MC (Dr. Abigail “Abby Chacko) || Past Dr. Zaid Mirani x Dr. Ines Delarosa) Word Count: 1400 Warning(s): tons of angst in the beginning, a bit of fluff in the end. Premise: Ines’s wedding reception , featuring Zaid’s emotions and lost love, Abby’s advice and Ethan’s promise.

Prompt(s): 

#17 from fluff: “Come here, I need to hug you.

Zaid’s POV

He stays seated, watching the reception sail away. It’s probably the first time a wooden chair is comfy to him. Well, it is white cushioned.

Everyone is grinning. Everyone is chortling. His twin brother, Baz, just fell down in his butt.

But he can’t bring himself to array any emotion. He is numb.

Zaid knows his heart is supposed to be full of life. Of joy. That his best friend is finally married. Ines Delarosa.

He won’t show it. Everyone understands how he shows delight through his moody behavior. It is very rare to see him smiling, even more rare than Ethan. Yet, he can’t move. If she’s happy, then he’s happy. That’s what he is supposed to do if he is Ines’s friend.

Friend.

“Zaid? Hello?”

A familiar voice interrupts his train of thoughts. At this moment, he effortlessly sports a scowl. Looking up at the voice, he realizes that it’s Dr. Abigail Chacko.

She’s beaming goofily. “Welcome back to the land of the living, Zaid.”

He softens his scowl and puts on more of a stoic face, looking at her straight through the eye. Dr. Abigail Chacko.

‘What is it?”

“You look grumpy.”

He sighs. “I always am.”

She sits next to him. “Fine. You look more grumpy. More than Ramsey.”

“Well, Ethan has been jolly-looking lately.”

She grins, most likely in acceptance, and a snug quiet overtakes them as they see Tobias and Harper walking into the photo booth. In the corner of his eye, he can see Ethan gazing at Abigail. Once she notices, she offers him a genuine-looking beam, to which he returns.

Zaid won’t admit it, but he wishes he had the same relationship as them with a special someone.

Ines.

Who is now enjoying her new beginning with her wife. She deserves it. She deserves everything.

Abigail furrows her eyebrows. “Alright, what’s wrong, Zaid? You know you can always talk to me...”

“Why would I want to tell you anything?” he snipes back.

“Because I care about you, believe it or not.”

They both have a mini staring contest. Abigail doesn’t give up, and he finally blinks once the wind starts blowing in his direction.

He sighs dreadfully. “Fine. Have you ever had this feeling where you fall in love with someone but that person marries someone else? And they’re happy with it?”

She appears to be demented. He doesn’t blame her.

“What are you talking about? I don’t...”

“Oh my-”

Instantly, her eyes showcase a light bulb turning on.

“You... you’re in love with Ines?”

Zaid suspires and reluctantly nods his head.

“Yes.”

A tense still overtakes their surroundings, with Abigail looking at him in a new light. He starts to regret everything he said.

“Look, don’t spread this around like wildfire. The hospital has enough rumors to destroy a doctor’s reputation, and I don’t-”

“Why didn’t you tell her you have feelings for her before?”

“...We dated for a while.”

Pin-drop silence between him and Abigail, other than the raucousness from the reception.

“And... I take it that it didn’t go well.”

“Well, you’re right about that.”

He sighs as his memory wanders to that unfortunate night in his townhome.

Flashback

“Zaid, I don’t understand. One day you want me in your apartment, and the next day you don’t!”

He has heard that the worst day of the week is Monday. While everyday is dreadful for him, Ines had made it more superior for him.

However today, it’s even worse. It actually fits with the rain pounding on his windows.

Zaid takes deep ragged breaths as she has tears clouding her eyes. He can see her trying to hide it.

Trying to mask her pain.

“Why do you push me away every time? It’s me! Ines Delarosa! Just let me in!”

“It’s because I DON’T WANT TO LET YOU IN!” he roars back.

Huge mistake.

His eyes widen.

Zaid tries to undo it. Every time he opens his mouth, however, no word comes out. He is shocked into silence. His feet is firmly rooted to the ground and makes no plans to move towards her and bundle her in her arms.

Ines stares at him blankly. No emotions splits across her face. 

Except her eyes. They turn light pink, misty, and a teardrop fails to hold on. 

It’s when she starts moving towards the door that he is fully conscious. He scrambles to hold on to her hand, not letting her go.

“Ines, I am so sorry...”

The latter takes in a shaky breath. “It’s okay. I... understand. But our relationship is not.”

His eyes widen. ‘What are you saying?”

Her eyes are filled to the brim with tears. “I am so sorry... but we’re over.”

And it’s then when his whole world begins to crash down.

Flashback ends

As the not-so-exciting story ends, Zaid has sentiment written across his face. And when he turns to look at his unexpected companion, so does she. Abigail clears her throat and finally speaks.

“And... how did you both move past it?”

“We didn’t talk for about a month. Obviously, we both needed space. We decided to stay friends, bust the best of it. We always hang out, always talk to each other. Hell, I was there when she came out as bisexual to her parents and friends.”

A puff of air sticks in his throat. “I was there when she told me that she finally found the love of her life. And I was, no, am so happy for her. Even if I’m not happy in the end, she’s happy. That’s all I really cared about. I love her, always have and always will. Nothing can ever stop me from doing that.”

“Is that why you were crying while you were reading your speech?”

“I was not-”

She gives him a look that silences him.

“...I was emotional. There.”

Abigail wipes her eyes at the drops that fell onto her cheek earlier. She then smiles.

“You know, you remind me of Ethan.”

His eyes broaden. “Really?”

“Yes, really. He has the same trouble opening up towards everyone. Ever since we started dating, he’s beginning to work on it.”

She sighs and turns to Zaid. “I know it is hard to believe, but somewhere in this world, a person is looking out for you. Your soulmate. Jest let them in. Open up. It’ll do you wonders, even if it’s hard to believe.”

“Alright... Thank you, Abby,” he gives her a nod and a heartfelt smile.

“No prob- wait. Did you just call me by my nickname?”

“Oh, for the love of-”

“Okay, okay! I’m leaving!” she chortles as she walks away from him, leaving him alone.

“Oh, and Abigail?”

She stops walking at his calling, turning her head around.

“Yes?” she asks.

“You and Ethan have a very unique and, dare I say, beautiful relationship.

And for the first time, he believes Abigail’s words.

Abby’s POV

Her mind is on Ethan and Ethan only.  The story left her reeling behind the remnants of heartbreak, and she does not want that to happen to her and Ethan.

She bumps into people and apologizes profusely, the piercing noise of music blaring through her ears. Finally, she sees him.

“Ethan!”

She doesn’t know how heard through the crowd, but he turns around and, giving her his signature smile, walks towards her.

“Abby. Finally,” he sighs in relief. 

Without responding, she drags his hand and follows her out of the party and into the hallway. His questions of confusion are ignored as she takes the elevator up one floor. Taking her key card, she opens the door to her lavish suite.

“Abby? What’s wrong? Is everything alright?”

“Come here, I need to hug you.”

Instantly, he does. She is burrowed into his secure arms as she wraps her own around his waist. He kisses the top of her forehead and gently grabs her head, bringing it to his eyes.

Her own is full of turmoil.

“What happened?” he questions in concern.

“Nothing! I love you but...”

Quickly, Abby grabs his hand and brings it to her head, placing it there. 

“Swear on my head that you won’t carry anything on your own, that you will let me in no matter what. Swear,” she requests with passion.

Ethan wraps one arm around her waist and brings her to him. “I swear that I won’t carry anything on my own, and that I will let you in no matter what.”

His reiteration of his words are enough. Slowly she brings his head down to hers, kissing his lips slowly, but surely.

As he reciprocates the motion on his own, but with fiery passion, she feels trusted and coveted. She feels needed. Loved.

And she knows that her love story will be everlasting, unlike the heartbreaking ending of Zaid’s and Ines’s.

Under the moonlight, she knows it’s true.

Author’s note: This is probably not what you wanted oop- At least it has fluff in the end

Author’s note: Aight, that took a different route but I loved the heartbreak couldn’t help myself. Hope I did this justice, and I’m sorry if this wasn’t what you wanted :(

Tags:

Perma: @potionsprefect​ @gryffindordaughterofathena​ @maurine07​ @missmiimiie​ @mom2000aggie​ @natureblooms24​ @parkdoesthings​ @parkbarks​

Ethan x MC: @rookie-ramsey​ @starrystarrytrouble​ @sophxwithers​ @lucy-268​ @udishaman​ @ohchoices​ @ariandrine​ @mayatrueman​ @takemyopenheart​ @obsessedrookie​ @estellaelysian @sunsetsparade @xxtraord1nary @aleynareads

@openheartfanfics​ @choicesficwriterscreations

[waynewifey]

The world on my wrist —

soulmate!au

Pairing: Oliver Wood x Slytherin!fem!Reader

Summary: When your soulmate’s favourite thing appears on your wrist, it can become a big confusion.

Warnings: fainting, oliver being a sweetheart, fluff

Words: 1400

A/N: Hello lovely people! I’ve worked so hard on this one, I intend to make it a series with multiple characters. Let me know if you’d like it! Oliver is my favourite character so I loved writing this. Anyways, good reading!

The myths about soulmates are known for thousand of years in the Wizarding World. It's told that the day a person turns 16, a word appears on their wrist. That word is their favourite thing and it's written on your soulmate's handwriting. By the day it appears, the person shall search for their soulmate everyday until they find it, or it would be considered a rejection and it could be fatal. I've always dreamed about meeting my soulmate. I couldn't wait to find out who my second half was. So when I woke up on my 16th birthday, the first thing I did was to roll up my sleeves and check the word "Quidditch" on it. Strange, there were so many possibilities. But I immediately thought of my teammate Scot Fearn. He was my left hand as I was the Slytherin Quidditch Team captain, of course, but I never thought of him as more than it before. The feeling was odd. My friends told me I was supposed to feel a very strong random emotion, but I didn't feel anything extraordinary. Maybe that was my random feeling: numbness.

"Hey, Fearn! Can I get a word?" I said by the end of that Saturday's practice. He followed me outside the changing room with a bag filled with a bunch of badly folded uniform. I stared at his eyes for a moment. He was indeed a good friend, maybe I always knew we completed each other.

"First of all, happy birthday. Second of all- Well, I don't know, you haven't said anything yet." Scot said, brushing a hand through his light brown hair. We both giggled. I took a deep breath and tried to say something.

"I’m sorry but um- What... What does it say on your, um, on your wrist?" I stubbled myself through the words, looking down at our feet. He didn't say anything for a second, but then gasped for air.

"Quidditch." His wrist was showing. The calligraphy wasn't exactly like mine, but it looked similar. I showed him mine.

"Mine too. Do you think we are think we are...?" I glanced at him, biting my lip trying to hold my anxiety.

"I think we are..." He smiled widely at me. I could feel the fresh breath against the top of my head. I smiled at him too, as he took me around his arms. I've found my soulmate, but something felt strange.

—

The month went by. Me and Scot were officially dating and almost everyone in Hogwarts knew about it, as it usually happened when soulmates met. I got sick at the first week of the second month, one day before our first game against Gryffindor. I spent the day in bed, trying to get better for the next day. Scot stayed with me the whole day, of course. He seemed sick too.

The game was about to start. We flew to our positions on the pitch while Madam Hoch prepared herself. I needed to greet the Gryffindor captain. I looked at the team: the beater twins on the right, the chasers: Angelina, Alice and Katie around the captain, the seeker Harry Potter was higher than everyone else, and Oliver Wood right in front of me. I stared at his eyes waiting for the game to start. As I continued to stare into his dark orbits, I started feeling dizzy and suddenly everything was a blur.

"... I think cinnamon? But strawberry tea is great too." I heard a feminine voice speak. I opened my eyes a bit, looking around. I was laying down a bed in Hospital Wing, two persons were sitting a bit far from me. I recognised Katie Bell and my boyfriend in their Quidditch Uniforms. I didn't had the strength to talk yet. "Um, do you want to go to the kitchen or something? I don't think they'll wake up any soon and it's kind of getting late." She continued and he only nodded once, grinning widely at her. I watched them leave, slightly uncomfortable. Their hands were interlocked.

"What?" The word left as a whisper from my mouth, as I tried to get up.

"Oh, you're awake." A Scottish accent filled the room. I then noticed Oliver Wood in the bed in front of me. "I've been pretending to be sleeping for a couple hours. It's good to finally have someone to talk to. Though I don't have good news."

"What happened? Why are we here?" My voice, again, failed me, too low that if there were a single noise in the room, he wouldn't hear me. He got up and walked to a chair beside my bed. The moonlight that entered from the windows reflected on his brown hair.

"You don't remember either? Well, I spent some time trying to figure this out. I remember seeing you fall from your broom and then I felt sick and fell from mine too. I've been sick all week, actually." His gaze followed my motions as I got up and stretched a bit, feeling much better.

"Me too..." I furrowed my eyebrows a bit, hoping he wouldn't notice in the lack of light. "Are you feeling better now? Whatever Madam Pomfrey did to me, it worked. I feel like I could run a marathon."

"I am, actually. That woman is unbelievable good at her work. By the way, they replaced us and Slytherin won. Katie told me they played really well, I've always admired you." I smiled at him, as the realisation crossed his mind. "As- as a captain, that's what I meant."

—

Me and Oliver bonded throughout the following month. It felt good being around him. It made me feel more alive than I've ever felt. I only saw Scot during meals and our relationship was great, I just happened to make friend just like he became friends with Katie Bell. I was studying for potions exam with Wood, when I remembered I needed new strategies as the next game was near. I searched for a new piece parchment and dipped my quill on the ink. I started writing.

"Hell's bells! What's this?" Oliver exclaimed slamming his hand on my parchment.

"Stop! You'll stain it!" I slapped his hand, making him back away. "These are my strategies, which, by the way, you're not supposed to see. We're still rivals."

"No, no. The title." He pointed at the word 'quidditch' and raised his hand to me. "Look. It's the same calligraphy." He showed me his wrist and the word in it. "We're soulmates Y/N!" I laughed at him until I realised he was being serious. It couldn't be.

"Are you out of your mind? I turned 16 last month, we would be dead by now! It's just a coincidence, I'm sure Katie's handwriting is exactly the same as the one on your skin, mine is just similar." I explained to him in a quiet voice, since the other students at the library were already looking at us.

"Are you rejecting me?" The emotion in his voice made me shiver. Oliver seemed devastated for a second. I could tell he truly believed that.

"No, of course not! I can't reject you because we're not soulmates, Wood."

"I've been wanting to tell you that for a long time. Since that day in the Hospital Wing, I knew I liked you. I thought it was impossible and that my feelings were messy because I shouldn't be able to fall in love with someone else but this is it. You are my soulmate and I know that deep down you think I'm yours too."

"I don't th-" In a fast movement, his hand held my neck, pulling me into him. I couldn’t think fast enough to deny it nor I wanted to. Our lips met quickly as a electric current stormed inside my body. It was like every cell of mine was exploding at the same time, but in a very good way. From the top of my head head to the point of my toe, I was automatically euphoric. He broke of the kiss, staring deeply into my eyes, hands still on me, I noticed his pupils dilate as I saw my on reflect on them.

“Oh, so we actually are.” We laughed, kissing again. And again. And again. And many more times that evening and the following years.

[all-of-the-imagines-for-eve]

Stay Safe ~ Embry Call

A/n: Lol the amount of Embry requests of recent have me rolling. Yall KNOW I'm a slut for him PLEASE. Side note, I AM SO SORRY this took me ages @vernonvsblog. I hope you enjoy it and can forgive me. I know there wasn't a lot of your request in here but I couldn't think of too many reason reader would have been in trouble if they were human... sorry for that as well. Tried to still make it fluffy and cute for you :)

Word Count: 1400+

Request: Part 1, Part 2

MASTERLIST

Bella Swan was swarmed.

Usually she was the one being the mother hen when it came to family. She had to be so with her own mother, and had all her life. Then she'd met Edward Cullen and suddenly the little problems she ever brought to the table became so many they were impossible to count. Especially after Edward had left Bella in the woods where she'd almost died, surviving only to become comatose and then self destructive until he came back, things had really made a full 180. Now, even as a vampire and with a daughter of her own, Bella's sister Y/n was still in the habit of worrying too much and hovering too often.

Edward was the one who appreciated it the most. Y/n had been Bella's shadow before this whole thing. A year younger, Y/n had depended on Bella for everything until the two girls had moved to Forks together and Y/n and Bella swapped places almost immediately. Jacob Black and Y/n had spent lots of time together. Y/n had gotten her license as soon as possible and visited him often, as she preferred the rez and the beach and Jacob and his friends over Forks High and the kids there. Specifically, she liked Embry Call more than anything... even if she refused to admit it. Then Embry had left and Jacob and Y/n had really bonded through it. When he'd left too, Y/n had turned to school and made friends there.

It didn't stop her from coming back when Embry imprinted on her, but it did teach her independence. She had a life outside of Bella, and had gotten far too used to her sister depending on her instead to fill the void Edward had left. He came back eventually, but with Y/n being the only one other human Bella really trusted who knew what was going on, Bella still clung to her younger sister in a way that reminisced exactly how Y/n used to cling to her. The relationship had gotten rocky when Bella had married Edward and gotten pregnant, but Y/n could see that Bella wouldn't be convinced and needed someone to support her over someone trying to save her life. So Edward and Y/n made an agreement: Edward would protect her and Y/n would support her and together they'd do their best to keep her alive and happy.

The habit still hadn't died even when Bella needed neither comfort nor protection.

This resulted in Y/n hovering around Bella- even when it meant she was in the middle of serious danger. Which let Embry Call about to blow his top.

"Are you insane? You're going to get yourself killed!"

"She's my sister Embry!"

"She's a vampire! She can take care of herself! It's not your job anymore."

Y/n grunted in frustration, looking like she was about to deck him across the face. Not that she would- it would cause her far much more pain, and the thought of acting in violence against her boyfriend was a strict no for her, even if it wouldn't hurt him. "What if she dies, Em? What am I supposed to do?"

"Mourn her with the rest of us." She went to yell again but Embry put his hand over her mouth. "Do you remember when my alpha told me to kill her and you begged me not to and I left Sam's pack because he was compelling me so much that I couldn't decide which to do? Remember when it almost destroyed me before Jake stepped in and suggested I join his pack just so I wouldn't lose my mind?" Y/n stopped, her mouth shutting closed. "I understand how much she means to you, because you have never since or before then put me in such a situation as that. Not unless it comes to her. I know how much she means to you and how much we all mean to you. We're as important to you as those bloodsuckers are important to your sister." He paused, his eyebrows coming together. "As the Cullens are to your sister." Y/n smiled weakly. With all his exposure to the Cullens and their friends he'd finally learned to be cordial with them, even though it went against his very nature. Y/n appreciated all he'd been doing for her. She knew what it was like to care about someone who threw themself in front of danger at every chance. Bella was her sister after all.

"I'm sorry Em I just..." Her eyes watered.

Embry pulled her into his arms. "Just promise me you won't be there. Promise me you'll stay at the Cullens' house like we planned and just worry and not do anything about it."

Y/n stayed quiet for a long time, but she finally nodded. "Yeah okay." She leaned away, her hands resting on his arms as she looked into his eyes. "Just promise me that... that you'll come back. Even if you can't promise me anyone else." Embry went to reason with her but it was her turn to cover his mouth. "I might lose my sister, Embry. I don't know what I'll tell my dad. I might lose my family. The other wolves, and even the Cullens who have... slowly become important to me as well, even if they all put my sister through hell and back." She closed her eyes, shaking her head. "Not true," she reminds herself. She knew that they were trying their best to keep her safe. She knew what had happened last time Edward had tried to cut himself out of Bella's life. She knew how much Rosalie had vouched for Bella to stay human and away from them. She knew how good Alice and Emmet were to her. How good Carlisle and Esme were to her. How much Edward had changed even to be his best self for her. After Y/n had lost her mind on him, cussing him out for all he'd done, he'd crumbled and gone off on a rant about how much he didn't deserve Bella, begging for one way to leave her without destroying them both. It had woken Y/n up to how much Edward genuinely cared about her sister, and the two had become very good friends over it. The Cullens meant well, even if Bella was an idiot. "Just-" she looked at Embry. "Promise me that I won't lose ou too, at the very least."

Embry rose a hand to brush his thumb along her jaw. "I really will try my best, Y/n. But..." He sighed, growing sad. "I won't promise you that I won't get in there if my pack needs me. If one of the Cullens needs me even. If it comes down to me or Bella, I might not be able to resist doing something." He shrugged. "I know how much she means to you."

Y/n pulled him closer, her expression intense. "I know you're a hero, Em. I know you want everyone to make it out and that it drives you to be reckless. I know it because you and Jake are similar like that, and he almost got himself killed protecting Leah in the last battle." She chuckled, shaking her head again. "I'm just saying, please keep in mind that you matter to me just as much as Bella does. Yeah?"

There was a softness to Embry at hearing her words that was rare but... beautiful. "Yeah."

"I love you, Embry Call. And you can be as protective as you want, but don't for a second think that I won't be just as much toward you."

Embry gently took her face in his hands, pulling her into a kiss. "I love you too," he whispered when they broke away. Their foreheads rested together for a second before he added, "So you'll stay safe and at home then?"

"Not a chance," Y/n joked.

Embry moved his hands to her side, ticking her instantly. She squealed and he grinned. "Promise!"

"Embry stop!" She screamed."

"Promise!" He repeated.

"Okay okay!" She relented. He paused, letting her catch her breath. "I promise."

He smiled. "Good."

Even though he didn't make a promise, it turns out there was no fighting. Alice pulled through and scared off the Volturi... somehow. And everyone came home alive and safe. Even Y/n, who nearly cried when she saw them all in tact and coming home again.

I guess you could say they all lived happily ever after. The end.

-

Forever Tag: @bitchyseawitch @alexa-playafricabytoto @chipster-21 @captainxmikaelson @justanotherdaydreamersoul

[bearsace]

the tale of yukimura, kami-sama, and the impossibly long year

Summary: “It’s the boar woman!” were the four fateful words spoken when Sanada Yukimura found himself offending a literal goddess. A life debt’s some pretty hefty business when someone's patiently awaiting their chance to kill you.

In her defense, patience is a virtue— she totally should have smote him for that.

Author’s Note: So basically this turned out a lot longer than it was supposed to be, but that’s probably no surprise to some of you. This was such a pleasure to write; I really enjoyed world-building and all the character development, as well as the romance, humor, and touch of angst. I hope you enjoy it! Special thanks to my beta for this fic, @juminly. You can also find this on AO3 here.

Pairings: Yukimura/MC

Genre: Romance, adventure, hurt/comfort

Rating: T

Word Count: 15k+

Read Time: 30+ minutes

Like all great legends about all great spirits, it began with a single sentence.

Well, something like that. If you asked Yukimura, it would definitely have begun because she provoked him, dammit! She started this— not him.

At least that’s what he’d say. But the history textbooks beg to differ because, as this humble author opines, any goddess would be offended if some hooligan selling women’s clothing came out of left field and said those Four Fateful Words:

“It’s the boar woman!”

—

Dear reader, perhaps I should take this moment to backtrack.

Meet our hero: Sanada Yukimura, modest merchant and part-time warlord. In this rewind, our beloved Yuki has found himself in quite the predicament. You see, he is atop a woman, atop a cliff, atop a heap of very, very bad luck.

She was quite lovely, he noted, because he was after all a man. Her skin was soft like a leaf, her lips prettily shaped like a flower petal that frowned up at him.

But also her hair looked like dirt and she appeared as if she woke up from a long nap. It was not a fetching look.

“You run like a boar,” he said.

Her nostrils flared like one.

“How insulting,” she proclaimed imperiously. “I should smite you for that, but I follow the old laws. Know that that is your first warning out of three.”

“Smite me? What is this, the 1400s? This is 1582. Stop using outdated language.”

“I swear, you’re really pushing it for warning number two.”

One thing to know about spirits (which Yukimura obviously did not know she was) is that they are particularly testy when it comes to their items of worship. This particular spirit had just had a spat with the actual spirit of boars who was, ahem… 

A bit of a swine, so to speak.

So to be called a boar woman? Yukimura might as well have burned down her shrine.

—

“Oh, now you’ve done it!” Yukimura yelled in front of the burning shrine.

Commander Yudai was objectively one of the worst that the Uesugi-Takeda forces could “boast.” This was made clear as the Uesugi-Takeda lords (and Yukimura and the brave, awesome Sasuke) took in the sight of the blazing shrine, wood screeching and popping like firecrackers.

It had been many months since Yukimura had last seen the strange woman. After a rustle from the leaves in which she simply got up and walked away (and also threw him a select few haughty glances), she sort of just… disappeared.

Like, into a tree.

That was weird.

Honestly? Yukimura tried not to think about it. Very much like you and me, his head hurt if he tried to think too much, but specifically if he thought about tree/boar women it would hurt A Lot. Unlike you and me he had no access to Excedrin Migraine Geltabs.

If he did, he’d be taking them by the spoonful right now because again: Commander Yudai could fall off a bridge and Yuki would not miss him.

Lord Shingen in particular seemed appropriately handsome-slash-irritated. Tall, proud— like an aspen— he stepped onto the charred grass in front of the shrine with his jaw tense.

Yukimura realized that of course Lord Shingen would take particular offense to Commander Yudai burning down this shrine. His best friend got his temple burned down by Oda Nobunaga.

Yukimura turned a scowl onto Commander Yudai and opened his mouth as if to scold him...

And then, a spectre in the distance— covered only in a dress made out of leaves as if she had grown it herself, barefoot, tear-stained—

It was her.

“What the hell?!”

Attention caught, two gazes— one charcoal, one mismatching— turned upon him. It was Lord Kenshin who spoke first.

“Be quiet, Yukimura. You’re spoiling my fun.”

The firelight was a crusade in her eyes. When they met his for a moment, his lips parted in time to call after her before she bounced back into the woods as if she were a doe in human form.

Lords Kenshin and Shingen turned to look, and Sasuke adjusted his glasses, looking pretty cool.

But Yuki was already in a sprint, leaving them behind and chasing after the willowy figure as she retreated deeper into the forest.

—

Never let it be spoken that this author has a particular bias for or against Yukimura, because it can safely be said that he’s totally about to deserve the branch to the face that’s going to happen in three… two…

“Ow! What-”

The branch was leafy and heavy and hurt bad. Like a poor sport at a limbo party, Yuki smacked his forehead right into it and fell to the ground.

“How dare you?!” Her eyes were flaming and she looked just as aggressive as she did the night that he first met her.

“How dare me ?! You’re the one who hit me! Hold on… you’re definitely her! What are you doing all the way out here?”

“My trees were crying because the land was aflame. And I discover when I get here that it was… it was… you! ”

“What was me, Boar Woman?”

Yukimura deserved the kick that came after. But in the spirit of bias neither for nor against Yukimura, one must admit that she could’ve at least waited till he got up.

He brushed himself off, scowling.

“What’s your problem anyway?”

“My problem is men like you who think it’s okay to desecrate my shrines like this. That worm didn’t even offer coins before praying to me! And you know what he said to me?”

“I don’t even know who you are.”

“He said, and I quote, ‘oh wow, I sure do hope that Lord Shingen promotes me!’ And right after? He set my shrine on fire.”

Yukimura winced. “Aw, man. I’m actually really sorry about that. I didn’t condone it. If it helps, we don’t like him either. I think that Lord Kenshin’s probably actually going to kill him.”

She crossed her arms and sniffled, and Yukimura actually felt bad. She was obviously distressed over the loss of her shrine. If there was one thing that Yukimura was not good at, it was consoling crying women. Or consoling women. Or women.

Gruffly, in some attempt to make her feel better, he grumbled, “So you… what. You live here or something?”

“You’re getting awfully close to warning number two.”

“I’m just asking! Jeez, don’t mind me trying to make you feel better. I didn’t even realize that boars like you hung around shrines like this.”

“That’s it! This is your second warning!”

—

If I may interject: there is a key feature to note about the spirits to which our beloved non-boar woman belongs. 

You and I would call it the “three-strike system,” but these spirits would call it the mercy-and-honor system. You see, as opposed to “three strikes and you’re out,” these benevolent spirits believed in “three insults and you’re smote.”

That is to say, Yukimura was really, really pushing it if he didn’t want to be turned into a lump of moss.

—

“Second warning,” Yukimura grumbled as he trudged back to camp, brushing dirt off his armor. They had quite a fight, and she had quite a swing. “Second warning my foot. Who does she think she is? Some kind of spirit or something?”

Here, I ask you to share a knowing glance with me.

“Ah, Yuki!” Lord Shingen waved at him from his spot at the campfire. “You’ve finally returned. What caught your eye? A fair maiden in the forest?”

“I’ll kill you,” Lord Kenshin said and sipped his alcohol.

Yukimura bowed his head to Lord Shingen. “Fair maiden… something like that.”

The brilliant and cool Sasuke handed him a portion of dried rice, and Yukimura thought that maybe he should ask his clever friend about the strange woman. People really were crazy these days.

—

“SANADA YUKIMURA… AWAKEN!”

And awaken he did. As most people would when feeling hot breath on their face and looking up to find a giant, grotesque woman with tusks around a leather belt, a white moustache, a gigantic bone-spear, and the head of a pig, Yukimura definitely, definitely awakened.

He also let out a scream that Sasuke would’ve teased him about, if he’d heard it.

“A-are you a ghost?! Are you here to kill me?”

“FOOLISH BOY!” The thing boomed. “I AM THE GODDESS OF THESE ROLLING HILLS, OF THE EARTH BENEATH YOUR TREMBLING FEET. I AM MOUNTAIN WHALE!”

(It’s a literal translation.)

“YOU HAVE PLEASED ME, SANADA YUKIMURA, BY BURNING DOWN THE SHRINE OF THAT wench WHO SHALL NOT BE NAMED. SHE WHO BELIEVES THAT THE TREE IS MIGHTIER THAN THE BOAR, WHO THINKS TO STEAL MY POWER FROM ME.”

Silently to himself, Yukimura reasoned that if a boar ran into a tree, it would surely have at least a headache similar to the one he was having right now. Was it necessary to speak so loudly?

“YOU HAVE MY FAVOR AND SHALL BE MY IMMORTAL CHAMPION. NEVER AGAIN SHALL SHE LAY A HAND UPON YOU AS SHE HAS TONIGHT.”

And then— oh, God, and then— Mountain Whale leaned her pig nose down toward Yukimura and Yukimura actually whimpered — and she ordered,

“KISS IT, BOY.”

It should be noted that Yukimura was still trying to wake up. No— he hadn’t even woken up at all. He had been very rudely dragged back to the world of the living and frankly none of this comprehended. From his understanding:

There was… a whale? Of some kind?

The unnamed “wench” angered Mountain Whale… who now wanted Yukimura to kiss her?

Where was Lord Shingen when you needed him?

“S-sorry, but I don’t t-think I really wanna kiss you tonight— I-I’m sure you’re a very nice woman outside of my tent but I’m just not feeling the c-chemistry—”

“YOU THINK I WOULD ALLOW YOU TO LAY YOUR MORTAL LIPS ON MY DIVINE SELF? THE SPEAR, BOY. KISS THE SPEAR.”

His eyes flashed to the bone-spear in her hand. That wasn’t much better.

But Mountain Whale had this look in her eyes like she would absolutely be content to fry Yukimura over drinks and campfire songs, so with another whimper, he pursed his lips.

Chu-!

It wasn’t that bad, actually. The spear, despite being made of bones, didn’t invoke some dormant, loudmouthed half-pig within him. He felt a warmth spread from his lips to his chest and limbs.

Mountain Whale reared her head back and cackled.

“MY CHAMPION, MY IMMORTAL CHAMPION!” She cried. “FOREVER WILL YOUR OFFSPRING WORSHIP ME. COME, BOY, BE THE FIRST TO SING MY PRAISE.”

“??????” Yukimura said.

“IT IS WELL ENOUGH.” It appeared that even Mountain Whale also realized that this was about as good as it got when it came to Yukimura. “WHEN YOU NEED ME, BOY, LOOK TO THE SETTING SUN AND PRAY.”

With a flourish, she nodded at him and bopped him on the head with her bone-spear. She probably should’ve disappeared into thin air in a flurry of boar hair and tusks, but instead she whipped her ragged cloak and lumbered out his tent, across camp, and into the woods rather anticlimactically.

Yukimura sleep-stumbled like a drunken man to the tent flap and watched her wade clumsily across the river. The night guard at the campfire stared at him in horror.

“Don’t say anything,” Yukimura snapped. “I’m just as confused as you are.”

“I wasn’t,” the guard said, shifting uncomfortably. “But if I may, you certainly have an interesting taste in women, Lord Yukimura.”

—

“Oh, you mean Yama Kujira!” Sasuke looked very handsome in the early morning light, and Yukimura wondered if he woke up like this every morning or if he was just blessed.

They were on their way back to Echigo, the battle won and the shrine repaired as best as Lord Shingen could manage. The rest of the troops and their bosses had gone ahead while Sasuke and Yukimura decided to stop by a little teahouse in a town on the way there.

Yukimura didn’t particularly feel immortal, and he wasn’t entirely sure he believed Mountain Whale when she said that he was. If he was, it would kinda be a huge inconvenience, considering he didn’t particularly want to spend the rest of his life with only Mountain Whale for company. He imagined living life so desperately lonely that he relied on her for friendship— shaking the disturbing thought away, he addressed Sasuke.

“Yama Kujira? With the head of a pig?”

“And a bone spear?”

“Yeah, that’s her.” Yukimura affirmed. “Not that there’s any reason for asking, but I thought it was, uh… Mountain Whale?”

“That’d be the literal translation; the Japanese boar, ‘Yama Kujira’ literally means Mountain Whale. One of the famous nature spirits who cannot age, but can die like any of the rest of us. Fun fact, one of our soldiers actually claimed that he hunted down, killed, and ate Yama Kujira for dinner. Why do you ask?”

“Alright, first of all, that soldier was definitely lying. Second of all…”

Honestly, why did Yukimura ask? He was still somewhat in denial and figured that maybe if Sasuke looked at him like he’d grown a second head, it’d reinforce the idea that it was just a dream. Even if it was a legend, that was too close for comfort.

He glanced warily over his shoulder as if expecting to hear “BOY” and the clinking of tusks on a leather belt. 

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

—

For the months following, Yukimura was way too scared to look at the sunset just in case he’d accidentally summon Mountain Whale back to him.

So he made it a habit to begin packing up his shop a little earlier, then went back to the inn for some tea and dumplings before heading into the woods to report to Lord Shingen’s scouts. It was during this routine that he, for the third and final time, insulted that one weirdo from the cliff.

By now it had been nearly a year since he saw her last, and this was the first time he had ever seen her in daylight. On the outskirts of Azuchi, she looked just as surprised to see him as he was to see her.

“Aren’t you-”

“It’s the boar woman!”

And these, dear reader, are the Four Fateful Words at which we left off when we first began our story.

The humble author would like to take a moment to emphasize that Yukimura does not particularly know how to speak to women, boar or otherwise. But one thing that he did learn was that boars were particularly scary, and when her eyes flared with anger, he felt his soul regress back into the Paleolithic era.

The phrase slipped out of his lips before he had the chance to remind himself that there were, indeed, boar women out there who were, indeed, waiting to be summoned.

“That’s warning three,” she said softly.

(Somewhere in the distance, Lord Shingen furrowed his brow, his brush pausing above the parchment of a missive.

“What is it, cousin?” Asked Lord Yoshimoto sitting across from him.

“I don’t know. I feel… a disturbance. As if someone, somewhere, is disrespecting a woman.”)

“That’s not fair!” Yukimura could not help but gnash his teeth in frustration.

“How is it not fair?” She snapped. “I warned you twice before this! Did your mother never teach you stories of spirits? The mercy-and-honor system? What did you think I was gonna do, go tattle on you to your lord?”

“Well, I definitely didn’t think you were a spirit! You look like a-” Wisely, he snapped his mouth shut. “Look— people don’t really believe in the old gods anymore. I didn’t even believe in them until a couple of months ago. And I dunno, you do run like a boar. Can’t we just start over?”

“No can do. Unfortunately, I began the process of mercy when I gave you your first warning. If I don’t deliver honor, then I’m a liar, unless you offer me something of equal or greater value. And you can’t. So hold still, please. I’ll try to make this as painless as possible.”

And then she closed her eyes, and her hands began glowing. She was a sight to behold as the trees seemed to sigh inward toward her, the setting sun silhouetting her against its harsh glare as willow vines lifted her towards him. As he drew his sword to fight back, the vines effortlessly disarmed him and sank his weapon deep into its foliage.

Oh God, he thought, a breath leaving him as she came closer, and he backed away. This is the end, isn’t it? Please, don’t let Lord Shingen suffer too deeply when he sees my corpse…

“SANADA YUKIMURA!”

—

...wait. He knew that voice!

He opened his eyes to find vines wrapped around his wrists, his legs, and the spirit glaring at something over his shoulder.

“Mountain Whale...?!” Yukimura groaned.

She was absolutely as ridiculous-looking as he remembered, but more importantly, the spirit drew Yukimura closer to and behind herself as the glow of her hands focused elsewhere. Her eyes narrowed on him.

“You know each other?”

“Yeah, I met Mountain Whale the day that our ex-Commander Yudai burned down your shrine-”

“RIGHTFULLY SO!”

“-and she showed up in my tent and made me kiss her staff. How do you know Mountain Whale?”

As he spoke, a certain… wrath lashed around the spirit’s splendid features. It was eerily beautiful, the way she seemed to blaze with furious light. It was like watching somebody realize something they desperately, desperately wanted to be untrue. She ignored his question in favor of a voice that boomed,

“Please don’t tell me you actually kissed her staff.”

“Well, what would you have done?”

“Not kissed it!”

“She was going to kill me, dummy!”

“I TIRE OF THIS CHATTER. wench, WHAT BUSINESS DOES YOUR WEAK AND PATHETIC SELF HAVE WITH MY CHAMPION?”

The spirit groaned. It took a second for it to click for Yukimura, but when it did—

Oh, God.

Oh, God.

“You? You’re ‘wench?’”

“Ignoring the sheer offense I take to that, yes. You must be her champion… figures. Mountain Whale, old friend,” she implored, her voice grated sweet. “It seems to me that there’s been a bit of a misunderstanding. You see, you’ve claimed this man as your champion, but I’m afraid that I claimed him first.”

“I don’t belong to anyone-”

“Remember a year ago, Whale, when you and I had that little spat about whether Lake Biwa should be used as a breeding ground for your wild boars or turned back into a forest? I met him right after that, long before my shrine on the Usui Pass burned down and you found him. I think we can both agree that his life is in my hands, yes? Perhaps if I could humbly ask you to release your claim?”

“HMM… HMM…” Mountain Whale stroked her moustache. “AN INTERESTING PROPOSAL, wench. I AM AFRAID THAT I CANNOT HONOR IT, HOWEVER, AND MUST KILL YOU.”

“You cannot kill me. It is lawfully impossible.”

“SILENCE!”

“No, Mountain Whale, I mean it. You can say what you wish, but the old laws will not allow you to kill me.”

“NOR WILL THEY ALLOW YOU TO KILL MY CHAMPION.”

“You’re right. They will not— it seems we’ve reached an impasse. Unfortunately, if I kill this man, I will be murdering your champion. However, he’s reached my three warnings. If you keep him, it will be dishonorable. Both of us are a bit stuck.”

Yukimura had not thought it possible for Mountain Whale to actually be quiet, but for now she was, keeping her beady glare trained on the spirit whose jaw seemed to be working on instinct.

“I propose a deal,” she said.

“I object,” Yukimura interrupted. A warning glance from her was barely enough to shut him up as he scowled at her.

“As I was saying,” the spirit snipped, “You enjoy the hunt, yes, Whale? For longer than I can remember, you have enjoyed it. I propose that you hunt your champion for, say, a year, during which time I will protect him as my own and keep him at my side. If I fail to keep him alive, not only will you have a tasty warlord snack, but I will also allow you to kill me-”

“I ACCEPT!”

“-I’m not finished. I will also allow you to kill me, and you will be rid of me forever. However, if you fail to catch him, you will release him into my care where I will kill him as honor dictates. You will also personally build me a thousand new shrines across Japan.”

“...BUT I WILL GET TO KILL YOU?”

“If you succeed.”

“THEN WE HAVE A DEAL, wench. YOU HAVE SEVEN SUNSETS, AND THAT IS WHEN MY HUNT BEGINS.”

As the odd rivals shook hands, Yukimura couldn’t help but be impressed at how good of a deal-maker she was. Either that, or Mountain Whale just really wanted to kill her, in which case Yuki could kinda relate. On the other hand, though, he would likely not be human if fear did not grip him at how casually the two bartered whether or not Yukimura would be Mountain Whale’s dinner in a year’s time.

Yukimura happened to be human, so unfortunately he found himself quite troubled by his predicament and also irritated at how it came to be.

“Are you serious?” he growled as Mountain Whale lumbered back into the forest. “Are. You. Serious!”

“Don’t give me that,” the spirit sniffed. “Trust me, I pretty much just saved your life.”

“... how ?!”

“If Mountain Whale and I continued to fight over you, our Creator would have just smote you to keep the peace, and I’d still be dissatisfied because I was not the one to do it. I’ll be protecting you this next year, so you don’t have to worry about Mountain Whale killing you.”

“Oh, jeez, thanks. That’s one less thing off my plate. Now all I have to worry about is you killing me.”

“I did say I’d make it painless, didn’t I? Now, come on. We only have seven sunsets. I’ll say what I will about her, but she is a brilliant huntress; we need to get going this instant if we want to outsmart her.”

“Like hell I’m going with you!”

The spirit closed her eyes and exhaled through her nose like a high-schooler who had just won the senior superlative for “Least Likely to Strangle Yukimura on Instinct (Don’t Give In Now!!).” When she opened them again, she tossed him her sweetest smile.

“Yukimura,” she explained patiently. “Mountain Whale is not the spirit of boars. She is the spirit of the hunt. You will not survive even a day with her hunting you if you don’t come with me. Think about it this way: you would have died regardless.”

“Not if you just gave up this stupid three warning thing.”

“For the record, it’s not stupid. It’s how the old gods have kept promises for many years. Only a promise can break a promise. And you think that, what— if I’d just went on my merry way you’d have lived the rest of your life in peace as Mountain Whale’s immortal champion?”

His silence was rather telling.

She scoffed, “Right, obviously. Okay, here’s the run-down. Technically, you became immortal when you kissed that staff. The only person who can take it away is her. And the reason for that is because she wants you to essentially become her immortal boar for her to hunt. Unkillable. Always running. Forever. Think very long and hard as much as your sweet little mind allows; is that really what you want?”

Yukimura scowled. No, it was not what he wanted.

But on the other hand, at the end of this year it seemed that he would die no matter what— either by the hand of the spirit, or the hand of Mountain Whale. And perhaps if he had a year’s time, he could try to find a way out of this arrangement before it came time to kill him. Assuming the spirit could actually do as she said and protect him. He gave a frustrated yell and kicked at the ground before turning to face her.

“I have three conditions,” he said finally.

In this author’s opinion, it was a bit greedy of Yuki to demand, because she was the one protecting him and not vice versa. She thought the same thing but was a good soul nonetheless, so she waved her hand in a gesture to continue.

“First,” Yuki huffed, “You have to remain open to finding some way to forgive me for my three offenses. Only a promise can break a promise, right? You have to give me the chance to make a different promise you can accept that’s worth my life. Second, you don’t go making deals like that again! It’s not fair that I didn’t even have a say. Maybe I would’ve been down to being Mountain Whale’s immortal punching bag, you know.”

“I doubt it, but this seems reasonable so far. Your final request?”

“My final request...” Yuki took a deep breath. “My final request is that you find some way to heal Lord Shingen.”

She raised a brow. “Who?”

“I’m his vassal. And he’s… he doesn’t have a lot of time left, okay? He has trouble breathing, and coughs too much, and has some heart problems, and, look, I hardly even know who you are, or what you do, but you seem like you have the resources to find some way to make him better. I just want to see his goal achieved so that he can go home again. You do that, and I won’t argue for the whole year we’re together. And when it’s time to kill me, I won’t even make things hard for you.”

For a moment, the spirit seemed disbelieving before her lips pursed with something akin to a grudging respect. “I see… very well. I agree to this exchange of services, provided you hold up your end.”

And, gracefully, she knelt toward the earth and laid one lithesome hand upon it. Between her splayed fingers, stems sprouted, and they wrapped upward around her palm, her wrist, like a playful serpent. She stood again, the greenery uprooting itself to follow her, and turned her palm to Yukimura— from it, one brilliant silver flower bloomed.

The author has it on good authority that if Sasuke were there, he would have found it quite hilarious how Yuki’s mouth hung open. He looked like one of those wall plug outlets or something.

“Make a milk tea out of this flower, sweetening it only with honey,” the spirit instructed, plucking it from her hand and tucking the stem into Yukimura’s armor. “Make sure he drinks the whole thing then eats the petals. Your lord will find himself healing by the time we are hidden, and should he survive the next year, I will allow you to say goodbye and give him enough flowers to live a long life comfortably before I kill you myself.”

Yukimura gently touched his fingers to the delicate petals of the flower, then raised his eyes back to her— her gaze seemed almost sympathetic, and he scowled under the sincerity of it.

“Thanks. I— I’m gonna go—”

“We don’t have much time. Give it to someone you trust, and we will be on our way shortly after. I will meet you in your room when the moon is above the treeline.”

—

In the end, Yukimura gave the flower to Sasuke. Milk tea, honey, petals— he had been reciting the instructions in his head like a mantra and relayed them to his best friend, whom he knew he would not see for a year.

Of all people, it made sense that Sasuke so easily believed him. He informed Lords Kenshin and Shingen of the predicament as Yuki watched from the shadows while Lord Shingen sipped at the tea. He almost seemed to heal before their very eyes, each breath becoming lighter— heart and mind soothed, Yukimura made his way back to his room, where the spirit was already waiting for him.

“Hello, Yukimura. Are you prepared?”

“As I’ll ever be,” he replied, voice thick with emotion. “Let me just pack.”

“No need. I’ve done so already. I hope you’ll forgive me that.”

She was far pleasanter now than she had been before, nodding at a bag on his bed. If Yuki had been anyone dumber, he might have even forgotten how desperately she wanted to kill him. He gave her a wordless nod and slung the bag around his shoulders. It was an interesting texture— he realized that it was made out of woven branches.

“So, what?” He gruffed as they left the castle and approached the stables. “You going to ride too?”

“No, but your horse knows where to go. I’ll be with you the whole time; keep in mind that we have to reach a safe haven before Mountain Whale sets out for us, but we can afford a few rests if you need them. Just stop the horse and lay your hand on the ground, and I’ll be there.”

All this “look to the sunset” or “moon above the treeline” or “hand on the ground” stuff was really starting to grate on Yukimura’s nerves. Didn’t these people know how to send smoke signals or something?

He mounted his horse and watched, fascinated, as she took a step forward, and as easily as if she were swan-diving into water, leapt into the rocky ground and disappeared.

Moments later, his horse turned his head as if beckoned by an unseen force and began to gallop.

—

During this brief interlude, the author would like to thank you, dear reader, for putting up with the shenanigans of Yukimura and the spirit thus far, because both would be too stubborn to thank you themselves. Rest assured that our hero will spend the next seven Gregorian days kicking at the ground in anger, chowing down on tasteless rice, and overall bemoaning his situation that any theologist would be happy to find themselves in.

Aside from that, he had to warily hand it to the spirit; the horse really did know where to go. Many times was Yukimura nearly thrown off his mighty steed because it would suddenly change directions unbidden.

Every now and then, he would look at the ground and it would seem to ripple, or at the trees that seemed to point their branches and laugh. He figured that that was the spirit travelling beside him with the wind. He’d scowl down at her sometimes and could have sworn the leaves chuckled.

The days and nights that he travelled were both fairly uneventful aside from these, and so, because you are not here to listen to this respectful-yet-much-obliged author wax poetic about Yuki’s grumbling, we shall move on with our tale.

—

“Uh… this is it?” Yukimura asked groggily an hour before the seventh sunrise.

“Excuse you,” the spirit said, materializing for the first time in many days. As Yukimura dismounted his horse, it bowed its head as if in deference to the spirit then cantered away into the trees, disappearing into a thick veil of fog. The spirit walked up out of the ground, the soil parting for her as if she were a tree reaching skyward. He was a bit irritated at how perfect she looked literally rising out of dirt when the only bath he’d gotten was her pushing him into a river.

“Well, didn’t you say safe haven? This looks like a cabin or something.”

“It is. This is my home— one which Mountain Whale does not know the location of, nor will she know it for the next year at least. Until then, my home is yours. It has many wards set on it, so even if she does find it, she’ll never find you. You’ll be safe as long as you don’t cross the boundary of the pond. Come on, now; let’s go.”

The little cottage was situated atop a clear, pebbled pond with many types of fish and lilypads, the shore upon which he stood pleasantly overgrown with cattails. The pond itself was not much larger than what the little plot demanded, and wisterias intimately hid what the cattails did not. A bridge led into what Yukimura assumed was the main part of the home— from it, little floating bridges extended onto different platforms upon the water. One, a garden with all the growable plants and livestock one could need; another, a little space with a ladder dipping into the depths— perhaps for swimming or fishing? Then one more platform, where a small table and futon overlooked the dense forest beyond the water, a sheer canopy shading them from the sun.

The whole unit sloshed a little bit as Yukimura and the spirit padded across the main bridge. She swept aside a heavy cloth and beckoned him inside with a murmured, “Welcome to my home.”

Yukimura wasn’t entirely sure what he’d expected. Whatever it was, it definitely wasn’t how… normal it appeared. A futon pushed against a wall. A comfortable kitchen near the back, the door open to invite in fresh air. Handmade, clashing quilts littered the bed, the floor, the comfortable seats. Everywhere were trinkets that seemed to mismatch— a little satchel of konpeito by the hearth, a little iron dagger haphazardly tossed onto a desk. There were traces of many hobbies throughout many years, hobbies that a bored deity might pick up: half-finished paintings, flowers that were pressed and forgotten, books lying upside down on their spines.

Overall, it was difficult to make something out of it.

As if self-conscious, she scowled and turned her nose up.

“It’s no castle, but it’s done the trick. The futon inside is yours. Obviously I didn’t prepare for you, so… just sit down or something. Help yourself to some stew while I go wash your blankets.”

True to her word, she gathered up a lump of quilts in her arms and left through a door to the side of the house.

Yukimura meandered awkwardly to one of the large pots in the kitchen where an aromatic hunter’s pot was simmering. He could smell traces of venison, cinnamon, pears— the scent of it was so tempting he couldn’t help himself— he dipped a small ladle into it and took a tentative bite.

Delicious! His eyes watered at how flavorful it was, and he went in for another, before deciding it might be impolite to just eat right out of it and hunted around for a bowl. Her array of dishware was rather similar to the rest of the house.

By the time he chose a copper bowl that literally looked like she’d punched a sheet of metal until it would hold a shape, she had returned with a different set of warm-looking blankets.

“Set out a bowl for me, would you?”

Yukimura did as she asked; he supposed that, despite the situation, it was the least that he could do. They settled into chairs at the table by the window, and in the first moment of tranquility in days, Yukimura asked,

“So, where exactly are we?”

“Technically, we’re at one of my shrines in Northern Japan. In actuality, we’re in a world that floats independently of the world you know, a world created by the network of shrines that I have throughout the region.”

“Right. Obviously. Can’t believe I didn’t realize that before.”

“I don’t like your sarcasm, but I get it. It’s probably too much for your mortal mind to grasp. Just know this— the only ones who can enter this domain without my express permission are other kami, and if you leave, you will not be able to return unless I allow you. And you do not want to leave while Mountain Whale is hunting you.”

“Well then, what am I supposed to do during this year then? Just sit here?”

She actually appeared a bit sheepish for a moment, clearing her throat.

“I live a simple life. I understand that. But please try to find some happiness in it during your time here. In a typical day, I fulfill the prayers I receive at my shrines. Then I spend the rest of my time by visiting Earth taking care of the shrines I have left.”

“Huh? You do it yourself? Don’t you have followers to take care of your shrines for you?”

By now she looked horribly embarrassed, and Yukimura could not help but feel sorry for her as she stood and cleared her throat. “You have better things to do than to listen to me talk about my duties. Just… stay out of my way, and when you can, try helping me by taking care of things around the house. Gardening, cooking, cleaning… you’re not my prisoner, and I won’t harm you until the year is up, so do whatever you please.”

She took his empty dish and busied herself washing it while he looked around his temporary home a little bit longer. There was a small stack of prayers on a desk by the front window— he wondered why she didn’t have more, as he assumed a deity would. 

—

Life was rather uneventful with her. Aside from the bickering that they commonly found themselves embroiled in, she was easy enough to get along with and oftentimes downright friendly.

During the day, she left— apparently to take care of her shrines, and Yukimura would have the house to himself. He’d take a dip in the pond and float around, wondering how Lords Kenshin and Shingen and his best friend Sasuke were doing.

After his daily morning swim, he’d head into the garden and familiarize himself with all the plants she’d grown there, or he’d sit on the back porch and let his feet hang into the water while he watched the forest. Sometimes a deer or two would flit between the trees, and he passed the time by counting them. He’d also think— usually about a promise that might be able to convince her not to kill him when his year was up, or maybe some loophole that one of them had missed.

When she was home, she’d sit at that little desk and write in black ink on parchment that disappeared once she filled the page. Then she’d reach for another in her stack, and later, she told him that that was how she answered prayers.

It never took her too long to get through it.

Besides how terribly he missed his friends at Kasugayama, it wasn’t too bad. Her company was not intolerable; in fact, he found himself actively enjoying the nights when she came home from Earth, or even the days she didn’t have to leave at all. 

Over time, though, he found himself growing curiouser— oftentimes on war campaigns, he ran into zealots who told him that they were on their way to one shrine or another for their preferred deity. They usually carried with them brooms and pails to clean, and then flowers and coins as gifts. Why did she clean her shrines herself?

—

Around this time at Kasugayama Castle, rumor had begun to spread that Sanada Yukimura was spotted smooching a lovely young lady at the stables before his disappearance.

Sasuke wisely informed Lords Shingen and Kenshin of Yukimura’s unfortunate situation, and among them were quick to dispel rumors of Yukimura being some sort of deserter. But Lord Yoshimoto pointed out that if Yukimura actually was currently spending his days relaxing with a pretty woman, odds were that he’d be wooed off his feet in no time.

On an unrelated note regarding Yukimura’s love life: if Lord Kenshin had simply followed  Sasuke’s advice and agreed with Lord Yoshimoto, then maybe he and Sasuke would not have lost so much money to him and Lord Shingen.

—

But this author will admit that it was not yet quite time for that, because frankly, right now bickering was more common between the two of them than the moments of bliss where they could lounge together on the futon outside. Since he was sleeping on her futon indoors, she claimed the outdoor one for herself, which would have bothered him had she not smacked him for inadvertently suggesting she’d fall in the pond.

Birds and seasons flitted in and out of the little bubble in which her pond existed. This, for her, was good news, as she was excited for the company, and he felt a little sympathy for her that she was so lonely that she considered birds or autumn leaves “company.” Nevertheless, she wanted to make their guests feel at home, so on a day where she finished answering prayers early, they went onto the deck behind the house to build some birdhouses and feeders and baths for her to set up in the garden.

He was not a particularly incredible craftsman. Her bird feeder was supremely well-made, and frankly his looked kind of dumb next to hers. It was made all the more embarrassing by the fact that birds flocked to hers over his. He was attempting to set the walls of a birdhouse together when he asked,

“Can you tell me a little bit more about this whole promise thing?”

The sounds of her hammer against wood stopped, and slowly she set down her project, suspicious. “What would you like to know?”

“I wanna know a way out of this deal. Don’t think just ‘cause we’re getting along okay that I’ve forgotten you’re gonna kill me in ten months.”

“Ah, yes. I truly do look forward to it.”

“See?! See, that right there is so confusing. One second you’re totally reasonable, and then the next you’re actively wanting to kill me.”

“Look, Yukimura,” she sighed, leaning back on her palms. “I don’t actively want to kill you. I suppose the way to look at it is that, because I’ll have to anyway, there isn’t much to be done about it.”

“Except there is. You said that a promise can break a promise; you promised to kill me after three offenses, but can’t you just make a different promise?”

“Theoretically speaking, yes. But in order for me to maintain honor and respect befitting my station, it would have to be a promise of equal caliber to taking your life. Tell me, what can you offer me that matches your literally endless value on this Earth?”

She had a point. More importantly, he felt his face growing hot at the odd compliment. On one hand, she thought he had endless value… on the other hand, she had to kill him for it. But maybe she meant that he was valuable to her…? No, no, idiot. Don’t read into it.

Yukimura sighed, defeated for now, and cast his gaze out into the silent indigo forest before turning back to her with a wry, sour smile.

“Tell you what, I can finish making you this birdhouse. Then after that let’s talk.”

She tipped her head to the sky and laughed a brilliant, delighted laugh. Her eyes were sparkling when she looked at him. 

“No, I would say you’re worth a little bit more than that.”

“Just a little?”

“Just a little.”

—

Tonight she was teaching him how to make a boar stew, because the weather outside was freezing and they both agreed on some extra-comfort food. She’d decided that she’d had enough of venison and cleaned out their stew pot. When he said that he already knew how to make boar stew, she’d said “Not yet” and left it at that as if he was supposed to know what that meant.

If he were being totally honest, he’d gotten used to how vague she could be by now, and actually found it— though he’d never admit it, not even to himself— he found it a bit cute. He’d long since realized that it was simply a common habit among deities like her (see: Mountain Whale making him immortal in the middle of the night and literally not elaborating on the fact). It didn’t bother him as much as he thought it would. Aside from the topic of her shrines or the small amount of prayers she got, she was openly forthcoming with any information he asked for.

“I’ve been making boar stew since I was a kid,” he said. “I’m pretty sure I know how to make it.”

“Not in the way that I do.” Her response came between the tap of her lips on the spoon, taste-testing their handiwork.

“Oh, yeah? Have you been living off boar meat since you were four?”

“Have you been alive for hundreds of thousands of years?”

“...no.”

“Ah. I see.”

Her smile, puckered and amused, was not condescending— almost teasing, and his heart did a little ba-dum! at the sight of it. 

“Yeah, well,” he couldn’t hide his dopish grin no matter how hard he tried. “Just ‘cause you’ve been alive for so long doesn’t necessarily mean you’re good at everything. For example, deal-making? You’re terrible at that!”

“Ha! If my deal-making skills are terrible, then I’m sure you wouldn’t mind if I threw you out of our home right now, see you deal with Mountain Whale.”

She dangerously held up the spoon and whacked the back of his hand with it as he barked a laugh, swatting her away.

“Is it too late to ask for mercy?”

“You ask me for mercy everyday— ‘ooh, please, please consider wrecking your honor as a goddess in order to spare my life at the end of the year!!’”

He couldn’t even bring it in him to be all that irritated with her for the horrible impression of him, or to be upset at the reminder that he might not find a way to barter himself out of her deal— he couldn’t be upset, not when she was smiling like that.

“Oh, yeah, whatever, you dummy. Guess I’m pretty lucky to have you then, huh?”

“Very much so.”

Here, Yukimura was incredibly lucky that he was not at Kasugayama Castle, for if he was, both Sasuke and Lord Shingen would have stood up and applauded, probably asked for an encore. Lord Shingen would have mockingly dabbed at his eyes with a handkerchief. My little boy Yuki has finally flirted! And with an actual goddess, no less! he might’ve said as Sasuke solemnly bit his knuckle whilst on the verge of proud and manly tears.

Unbeknownst to Yukimura, he definitely did flirt just now, and it was even— dare it be said— well-received...?! The spirit threw him a coy smile over her shoulder and ooh, the way that Yukimura’s face turned red would’ve been absolutely HILARIOUS to see in person.

However, the only person around to see it was the spirit, whose attention was returned to the stew while our valiant hero, like, clutched his chest and hyperventilated in the corner or something.

“Here,” she said, politely ignoring the very obvious cupid’s arrow sticking out of his chest and the way that he was desperately trying to somehow both pry it out and ignore it. (Figuratively speaking, of course.) 

She held the spoon to his lips with her other hand below his chin as she fed him a taste, and at this point one must wonder if she knew exactly what she was doing to him.

If the venison stew was good, then this was… heaven. Yukimura made a noise of pleasure that would’ve made an elderly woman sweat in church. “That’s delicious!”

“I told you that you didn’t know how to make boar stew. Let’s have dinner by the fire tonight.”

So they settled in for some pleasant company while snow layered upon the pond, and in Yuki’s defense, he wouldn’t have started choking on the conversation halfway through if he hadn’t belatedly realized that she’d said “our” home instead of hers.

—

Ohohoho.

This is where it gets good.

Because there was only one bed.

To backtrack: it was so cold that night that the spirit’s futon outside (also, why was she the one sleeping outside when she was the one who lived here first?) was literally too cold to sleep in, and also ironically, this was the same night that Yukimura realized she was pretty damn cute when she was teasing him.

The author is well aware of how hilarious this is, and believe me, reader, that we all later had a good laugh at the way everything in the world seemed to be against our dear hero.

Yukimura barely even recovering from the revelation of him maybepossiblyprobably being more interested in his captorsaviorcrush than he’d first thought, and then that exact same night not even being allowed to have the bed to himself to think about it? Comedy gold. 

“Just— stop padding around like a lost donkey and go to sleep!” he croaked, face heated and hidden by the dim light. Small mercies.

“Fortunately for you, I can’t start your three offenses again. Fortunately for me, it appears I have been upgraded from boar to donkey. Perhaps I should stay up longer to celebrate.”

“You—!” He groaned. “Don’t keep me awake, please.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you you have somewhere to be tomorrow? I didn’t notice.”

With that snarky remark, she smoothly slid between the sheets, and with a wave of her hand extinguished the fireplace and nestled herself into the many pillows and blankets. Buried in the sheets, she sort of looked like some sort of adorable rice bowl, Yukimura realized as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He aggressively turned his back to her with a flustered huff. Before long, her breathing was deep, even, and when Yukimura turned back to peek, she was completely passed out.

What the hell? How did she fall asleep so quickly? It surprised the author, as well, because one would assume there would be some sexual tension there. Maybe some longing eye contact before both parties bashfully looked away. Maybe even… some under-blanket hand-touching?

But nope. She koala’d up to an oversized pillow that she placed between herself and Yukimura and was out like a light, leaving the boy to his many, many thoughts.

—

They slept beside each other the next night, and the night after that. By the time a week had gone by since they started sharing the indoor bed, Yukimura was five months into his sentence and up to his skull in frazzled thoughts.

Because God, was she pretty.

At around this point, for the sake of his own health, Yukimura grudgingly accepted that he really liked it when she smiled and especially liked it when he was the one who made her do so. He also liked the way her wrists looked so graceful and hold-able, and also how she looked like a cute little pastry when she bundled all the way up whenever she went back to Earth to take care of her shrines.

But it wasn’t a crush. Nope. Just a friend admiring a friend, is all.

He didn’t even realize when he’d begun calling her a friend— somehow, she stopped being the woman who held his life in her hands like a fragile bird. Somewhere down the line she became the woman who— for some reason— he got the feeling she’d find a way to spare him.

There was no basis to this hypothesis, is what Sasuke would have told him if he were there. One-sided puppy love was not a good enough reason for her to break the old laws, thereby losing the respect of an entire religion and also probably with many more consequences than the ones she told him.

And also, at the end of the day Yukimura was just a blip in her life. Even if Mountain Whale did actually make him immortal, he was probably just a pet to the spirit in the grand scheme of things… it was a real bummer to think about.

Tonight he had decided to maybe try making the stew himself, and oh, how pleased she had looked when he said that. He had begun simmering it in the morning, and now it was evening, so he was in the middle of adding last minute touches to it. At least, he would be, if he wasn’t so easily distracted by the sight of her on the floor, leaning against the loveseat by the fire, the tip of her tongue sticking out as she painted, hair in relaxed disarray and looking like it could be combed out with his fingers…

Oh, hell!

With a fierce clatter, he accidentally knocked the bowls out of the cupboard. All of them. Like, fifty. A home video of the moment would’ve been so good.

She looked up—had she always looked this good in the firelight?— and they made eye contact for a moment before he dipped beneath the table to pick up the dishes. When he reemerged, he chanced a glance at her. She was respectfully stifling a flattered, knowing smile, a pretty blush on her face, before she turned back to her art.

Ahh, that smile alone probably could’ve fed Yukimura for the next year… ahem. ABSOLUTELY not a crush. Once again, just a friend admiring a friend…

...and a friend’s lips that looked like they’d be so sweet...

...and the long, long legs of a friend sticking out through the slit of her sleeping kimono as she reclined in sensuous relaxation…

Dammit!

We want her reeeeeaaaal bad, don't we? sang his heart cheerfully.

Shut the hell up, he thought grouchily. It disobediently, delightedly thump!-ed before settling cozily into some lovestruck little corner of his chest. 

If she noticed anything of it, she did not say anything. Instead she remained as respectful with him as ever and went to sleep just as quickly as she always did and went about her day.

The snow had thawed out many weeks ago, but it seemed that neither of them were particularly in the mood to set out the outdoor futon again. So a shared bed it was, and eventually the deep and even sound of her breathing was like a lullaby.

For the past month or so, she had been home more and more often; Yukimura, bless his heart, was simply so secretly elated that he got to spend more time around her that he did not realize that this was very, very bad.

—

These past few months she had been much happier, and perhaps that was one of the reasons that it was difficult at first to spot her declining health.

It was something small at first; hardly a soul would be able to notice it, much less Yukimura, who didn’t necessarily know the signs to look for. But they were gardening together one day, their conversation as easy as it had so recently often been. She loved to hear about his mortal life, so he was regaling her with stories of Sasuke— when she froze.

“Is something wrong?” He asked.

When he finally looked away from the tomatoes he was planting, her left hand was limp in front of her, her face crumpled in anguish as she stared at the back of her hand. He hated to see her like this. Gently laying a hand on her shoulder caused her to jump and look at him.

“O-oh. What?”

“Are you okay?”

He was far too familiar with all the heartbreakingly lovely ways those lips of hers knew how to upturn. When she smiled at him, he knew it was not genuine.

“I’m fine. I think you need to mind your own business.”

She nudged him with her shoulder in an attempt to emulate their usual banter, and he mercifully let it go and played along. She kept glancing at her hand in dismay, however, and later that night he could have sworn that it took her longer than usual to fall asleep.

—

It became obvious by the time the seven-month mark rolled around:

Something was wrong with her.

It began with her hand, a small gray vein like the ripples in a marble statue. At first he thought nothing of it, but when it became painfully obvious that she was trying to hide it from him— that was when he became suspicious.

That vein made its way up her arm, and before long, another had appeared at the base of her throat, and another right behind her knee. The way those veins curled and wilted along her soft skin— they looked like desiccated roots.

Still she would not tell him the matter, even when, at the eight-month mark, the veins started appearing exponentially. Whenever a new vein appeared, so did a new problem. She began to lose control of her hands, her legs, and eventually, she could not even get out of bed.

She assured him that it was fine— it was nothing more than a god’s equivalent of the common cold. But the way her voice rasped around the lie— it was like watching Lord Shingen falter all over again.

On and on it went, Yukimura insisting that she tell him and her flat out refusing to. At one point he had even yelled at her, frustrated that he could not help… she had simply smiled a sad, sad smile, which Yuki decided was the one smile of hers that he never wanted to see again.

It was nearly summer when he began to hold her hand as he slipped beside her in bed, afraid that he would lose her.

One week after that, he woke up, and she was not breathing.

—

“No, no, no, no, no!” He stormed through the kitchen, leaving a hurricane of bowls and silverware and fruits and vegetables in his wake. “She has to have one…”

The flower. The flower that she had given to Lord Shingen— no way was she dumb enough not to keep one here! He already had milk and honey heating up on the stove, and if he had to force it down her throat then he would, dammit!

Not having any luck in the kitchen, Yukimura ran outside to the garden. It was so overgrown that in his time here he hadn’t managed to explore the sheer variety of it. He lifted up roots and vines and—

—oh, God, there it was—

—and, like a savior clad in silver, a full grove of that brilliant flower was hidden there within the tulips beneath the peach tree.

Yukimura snatched one up out of the ground, already tearing the petals off it in preparation.

Milk tea, honey, petals— the mantra that he had so religiously repeated to himself for Lord Shingen’s sake felt so long ago. But now it was for her, and the sight of her as the milk tea came off the stove at last was almost too much for him to bear. He strained the petals out and crawled into bed, taking her between his legs and propping her back against his chest.

“You’re going to have to drink now, okay? Oh, God, please drink…”

For one moment, he felt a piece of his heart die as he thought that she would not.

And then she stirred against him, and her throat bobbed weakly. Encouraged, he tipped the cup farther back, and when she was finished he placed the petals between her teeth and had her swallow them.

The effect was not instantaneous like it had been with Lord Shingen. Her head lolled backwards onto his shoulder as he hugged her around her waist from behind her, burying his face into her shoulder and trying not to let the tears fall. She was breathing again— that was all in his life that mattered right now.

“I hate you,” he muttered into the fabric of her kimono, holding her tighter. “I hate you so much.”

“How rude,” she breathed. “Saying such a thing to me warrants a smiting.”

“I don’t get how you can be joking at a time like this.” He extracted himself from behind her to cradle her in his arms at her side, pushing the hair out of her face. To his dismay, the flower did not seem to do much aside from immediate aid. “I’m going to get you another flower—”

“Stop.” Her hand darted out to grasp his kimono, the most movement she’d been able to manage in weeks. “Don’t. Stay with me— another flower won’t do anything. We don’t have much time left.”

Gingerly, he returned to her side. “You… what do you mean by that?”

Deep down, he knew what she was trying to say. Those gray, dead roots that had buried themselves in her skin— they had not released their hold.

But memories of her laughing, swimming in the pond, lazily twirling a vine in her fingers, settling in with a good book… the way she swung her legs when she was impatient, how she pointed out different types of plants… those memories hadn’t released their hold on Yukimura. Not yet. Not ever.

Those lips of hers— he’d once thought they might taste like honeysuckle. Now they parted weakly, and she said,

“I’m dying, Yukimura.”

Tears welled in his eyes as he gripped her hand tighter, pulled her closer. “Stop.”

“No. It’s true, and I’m sorry— I didn’t want you to worry. Lie down. Hold my hand. I’ll tell you everything.”

—

She spent the afternoon telling him of her many years. She told him of her many sisters, her many friends, her many once-great allies whose shrines had fallen into disuse, and eventually were reclaimed by the Earth.

She was one of the last few old gods left— her and Mountain Whale, and only a few others. The once-proud goddess of the land, her small pond was once a lake, her cottage once a castle. She once had followers across the Earth.

For the old gods, it was their followers and their shrines that were their lifeblood. And as their followers died and their shrines fell into disuse, so too would they. She told him of how she watched, helpless, as her friends faded away into the dead shells of what they once ruled, and once even those shells were obsolete, faded into nothingness.

And she— one of the last few— had no one but herself to care for her few standing shrines, no one to pray to her. Now an obsolete deity, she was forgotten like so many before her, and now it was her turn to die and let the energy she once embodied return to the universe and be reborn elsewhere.

“It doesn’t hurt,” she said peacefully, although her labored breathing suggested otherwise. “I should have told you sooner. But there was nothing to be done.”

“You said that about you killing me too. Don’t you even try fighting?”

“Oh, Yuki. I would never have lived long enough to kill you—” she broke off into a coughing fit while he quickly moved to action, tilting her head to pour some tea into her mouth. “I- I’m only sorry that I wasn’t able to live long enough to protect you.”

He couldn’t help himself— he pressed his lips to the top of her head and squeezed his eyes shut. “I don’t understand,” he murmured into her hair.

“This place— I told you it existed as an embodiment of the power of all my shrines combined. That was true. But when I die, my shrines will be nothing more than interesting pieces of architecture on the side of the road. Mountain Whale is probably bored by now and not trying so hard to find you. She will continue to look for me first— my scent is more potent. Take a bath when you get home, and do not leave the castle for the next four months, and I doubt she will find you. This place will not be safe for you anymore— you must run.”

“Absolutely not. I’m not leaving you.”

“Well, that’s too bad, because you have to. I’ll live until the end of the summer at most— the wards around the pond will fade before then. if you’re still here when Mountain Whale comes, she will kill you.”

In a watery voice, Yukimura whispered, “And you… you were never gonna kill me, huh?”

“Not after the deal was made. I would have died before I could, and I was already dying anyway, Yuki. Protecting you from an immortal life of being hunted by Mountain Whale seemed like a worthwhile use of my time. What’s one last good deed?”

“It’s not your last good deed. I won’t allow it. I’ll never, ever leave your side.” And he kissed her jaw, her brow, watched how she closed her eyes and sighed happily before he kissed her knuckles, letting his lips linger there.

“You say that,” she said gently, “But I’ve seen this happen before with so many late friends of mine. I rolled my eyes at them and said I’d never follow their path, but I already know I will— at sundown, I’ll wave my hand and you’ll be home. I’ll go to sleep and won’t wake up, and before autumn, my heart will stop. You’ll meet someone, fall in love, and forget about me; I’ll be nothing more than the spirit who was a dream.”

“You’ll never be that.”

“But I will. Please allow me the courtesy of falling asleep peacefully in your arms. Just until sundown.”

He released a shaky breath and looked into those eyes that once held so much joy and curiosity. How could he deny her— deny the woman who so secretly helped him, who refused to worry him so that she might spend those last few months of her lonely life with somebody, anybody else? He tucked her into his chest, closing his eyes and drowning in the sound of her ephemeral heartbeat. 

“Just until sundown.”

—

When he opened his eyes right before sunset, he was alone in his bed at Kasugayama, taut fingers clutching the stem of a silver flower.

—

Dear reader, it is with the sincerest apologies that I continue to put you through this experience, for this author personally believes in relaying the story with utmost accuracy. I will spare you the particular details of how the castle was alerted to Yukimura’s return by the heart-wrenching sobs that came from his room, or how even Lord Kenshin was especially gentle for quite some time whenever he was faced with Yukimura’s tear-swollen eyes.

From what she had told him, she would be alive till the summer ended. So that meant another four months of her suffering before she died alone.

That thought hurt even worse, and following Yukimura’s return, it was tragic to sleep in a room near him and listen as his heart broke repeatedly.

Out of respect for Yukimura, I will not delve further into how he mourned, for that is for him and him alone. There are so few moments in life that one can keep to oneself; two of these are when one is in love, and when one mourns a loss. Yukimura experienced both of these so closely that the depth of his grief should be better left unsaid.

—

It had been a month without her, three months until the end of his sentence, when Yuki went to his first war council since return. The dark circles beneath his eyes were politely left uncommented upon.

It seemed wrong to return to life as he’d known it. She’d asserted that he’d move on… what a load of garbage. How could he ever move on from someone as amazing as her?

He hated the way that everyone seemed to be walking on eggshells around him— as if saying the wrong word would set him off. It was half-true, considering he knew that somewhere out there she was dying alone, and there wasn’t even anything he could do about it.

He had not left the castle in a month. With Mountain Whale still out hunting for him and the fact that he could hardly even drag himself out of bed, there was not much reason to. He hoped that wherever she was, she was asleep and not suffering— it wasn’t fair that someone like her had to live so long alone, and then die alone too...

“Yuki?”

Yukimura jolted, realizing too late how miserable the look on his face must have been. It had been Lord Shingen who’d called out to him, dark eyes clever and searching as he nursed a teacup.

“Are you alright?”

He almost wanted to tell Shingen everything right then and there. But, almost greedily, he wanted to hold her close to his heart, afraid that she might fly away if he spoke of her too often. So instead, he said,

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“Well, I am fine.”

The conversation had caught Sasuke and Lord Kenshin’s attention by now, though they carried on with their own in consideration for Yuki’s privacy.

“You’re not. I know that look, Yuki— it’s the look of heartbreak. What happened?”

Yukimura scowled down at the ground. Lord Shingen was far too perceptive for his own good— but he was also not malicious. He cared, he really did, and the look on his face was so concerned that just as Yukimura decided it might be better to tell him—

Lord Shingen finished off his tea—

—and ate the silver flower that had been resting at the bottom.

 Yuki was so floored that he forgot his words for a moment, and when they came, his voice was raw around them.

“W-where did you get that flower?” he rasped.

“The flower? There’s a little pot of them growing in the kitchen, you didn’t know?”

“Yes, but where did you get it?”

“Where…? Well, one of the maids, of course. I suppose you wouldn’t know her— she started here a little bit after you left and planted those, then started making milk tea out of them. It’s done wonders for my health. Speaking of, has anyone seen her lately?”

It was difficult to listen as blood rushed to his ears, the grief as fresh as the day he’d left her. It had been Lord Yoshimoto to answer Lord Shingen’s question, but Yuki didn’t stick around to hear the answer— he already knew it, and was fleeing from the room.

—

“Hey… hey, Yuki?”

By the time Sasuke arrived to knock gently on Yukimura’s doorframe, the room appeared to have a hurricane torn through it. Clothes strewn across the floor, a chair knocked over, and in the center of it all, Yukimura had already donned his armor, a determined look on his face as he stuffed various items into a bag.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you? You’re going to go help that girl,” Sasuke observed wisely, though by now he and the others already knew that they would not see Yukimura for a while.

“I am. And you can’t stop me.”

“I wasn’t going to try. And neither were Kenshin or Shingen; in fact, I’m here to say goodbye.”

“Sasuke, you dolt. I’m going to come back when I’ve saved her, and you’ll all meet her, and she’ll finally have friends and be happy again. I never should’ve let her send me back in the first place!”

“I see. We all figured that it had something to do with a girl.”

“She’s not just a girl,” Yukimura snapped like the disgruntled lovesick idiot that he was. “She’s just… amazing. And kind, and smart, and she put up with me for so long. And she’s really funny, and apparently she was helping Shingen this entire time and— and she saved my life, too, without wanting anything in return—!” He broke off, his face crumpling in devastation.

“I understand,” Sasuke affirmed, “And we all support you one-hundred percent. I won’t pry, but I have to ask: Yuki, what exactly happened?”

“I’ll let her tell the story once I save her. But what I will say is that I found myself in a really bad situation a long time ago, and she was the one who helped me without me even realizing it. I can’t just let her die alone— or even die at all. I have to do something. I have to at least try.”

“And try you will. In fact, Kenshin and Shingen wanted me to give you this.”

“I— what is it?”

“It’s a missive that declares you’ve cut ties with the Uesugi-Takeda forces— it should allow you safe passage even through Oda territory, though obviously standard disclaimers apply in that you should keep a low profile. Sure, it’s bending the truth a little bit, but this seems more important than that. Think of it like a passport of sorts.”

“A… paaaash-part?”

“Never mind. And because I’ve always wanted to say it,” Sasuke cleared his throat, adjusted his glasses, and like an absolute unit, said, “It’s too dangerous to go alone! Take this.��

With a bow, he offered the missive to Yukimura, who frowned but snatched it up anyway.

“You’re so weird. I’ll miss that while I’m gone.”

“How long will that be?”

“Well, hopefully before the end of the summer. Actually, no— it will be before the end of summer, because I’m going to save her, and that’s that. I don’t care about Whale hunting me, or about any stupid expiration date she set for herself, ‘cause I’m going to fight for her.”

“Once again, I have no idea who you’re talking about, but we’ll all be your cheerleader. Best of luck, Yukimura. Go get her.”

—

Yukimura had absolutely no idea what he was doing. He’d never cleaned a shrine in his life. He’d taken his horse and a cart— she’d seen to it many months ago that the horse had made it back safely— and headed in a general direction where he figured one of her shrines might be.

She’d mentioned that they mostly existed at the side of the road, so he decided to stick to the better-worn pathways, and after a full day, he stumbled upon a shrine with her tenets written down the side of it. Finally! Now what?

He figured that maybe refilling the cleansing basin was as good a start as any. He emptied it of dirty rainwater and replaced it with some freshwater from his own basin, then found an incense burner hanging from the ceiling, which he brushed the old ashes off of and lit a new stick. He polished and lit the hanging lanterns, too.

Next, overgrown vines had wrapped themselves around the walls and railings, and as small as the shrine was, he figured it didn’t have any business looking as run-down as it did. Not if it was hers.

When he was done removing the vines, he realized that the dust buildup wasn’t all that attractive. He’d borrowed a cleaning cart from the Kasugayama maids, so he took a broom and started sweeping away, reaching up to get the corners of the ceiling and swat away the cobwebs. And then, he decided, she might appreciate a clean floor, so he emptied some water and soap into a bucket and began to scrub away, then used the remaining mixture to polish off the archways.

It was pretty good, if he did say so himself. And didn’t she say that she’d become obsolete and die without any followers to care for?

Well, she wasn’t obsolete, and he definitely wouldn’t let her die. He found a patch of wildflowers nearby and placed it by the entryway before gently slipping some coins into the offering box. He knew it wasn’t protocol, but he had always wished he’d picked some flowers for her. Following two bows, two claps, and one final bow, Yukimura prayed silently— or rather, he asked her how she was doing, let her know not to worry about a thing, because he was going to be taking care of her shrines from now on. Maybe he’d even pay someone in the nearby village to keep this one safe and tidy, wouldn’t that be nice?

One shrine down. Who knew how many more to go?

—

It was pretty rough, especially because as time went on, it became painfully obvious that Mountain Whale was still a danger. He almost got gored to death by a boar once, and another time he swore he heard tusks rattling from a bone-spear while he was cleaning his fourth shrine— freezing, he hid behind the entryway, and his prayer went from him telling her about how much he missed her, to him desperately pleading that it wasn’t Mountain Whale.

The third boar he saw on the journey, however, froze and simply stared at him before scampering off into the distance. It was the middle of the night, but Yukimura did not want to risk the boar being a messenger for Mountain Whale— he packed up his things and rode through the night to the next town, where he got only a bit of sleep before hunting down another shrine.

Mountain Whale wasn’t the only danger. Many times he almost had run-ins with one or two Oda scouts, which was when he showed the missive and was fortunately let off the hook— for now. He tried to stay away from the heart of Oda territory when he could help it, but their hold on Japan was simply too massive. When he thought of that, he could almost hear her amused voice wryly whispering, “Well, I suppose there’s nothing to be done about that.”

And obviously, travelling by horseback across all of Japan in the dead of summer was sure to take a toll on a person. His journey was slowed when he had to stop in every town to hydrate and buy some bare necessities. One benefit to this was that innkeepers could often direct him to her next shrine, though many were curious as to why he was worshipping an old god at all. That kami, they all said, abandoned us long ago.

Bitterly, he couldn’t help but think that maybe they were the ones who abandoned her. She was the one who would religiously sit at the table and look so focused and thoughtful as she answered each and every prayer. She was the one who so vigilantly wanted to help others.

Despite the treacherous nature of his journey, Yukimura considered it his mission to help her and resolutely forged onward. It was in direct defiance of her command to stay put in Kasugayama Castle. She’d scold him for it later. He’d welcome it, in fact.

Ten months into his sentence and two months before he could stop worrying about Mountain Whale, bandits snuck into the stables of the inn he stayed at and took all the horses there— including his. Fortunately, his cart of supplies was safely tucked away in the mill, and the coins he was using to offer to her were always kept on his person.

That meant, though, that he had to spend precious change on a mule to haul his cart, and that the rest of the journey would have to be made on foot. He didn’t even think for a moment about stopping— he would go to the ends of the Earth for her, and if that meant blisters and sunburns, then so be it. He’d complain to her about it once he got to see her again. He wondered if she’d roll her eyes at him and tell him that he was lucky she let him step foot on one of her shrines at all.

Three months. Ninety-two shrines. Each one painstakingly restored by Yukimura himself. At one point, he’d written Lord Shingen and finally fully explained the situation, and despite the response politely implying that he was crazy for doing this alone, Lord Shingen assured that he would send a small group of men to go hunt down and restore some as well. That was another sixty-four shrines within only a month.

Often, Yuki would tell her about his day. Sometimes he would also tell her stories of his childhood— he knew how much she loved to hear about that. He assured her that she’d meet Lord Shingen, and that she better stay away from him, because she was so beautiful that he was bound to flirt with her. If Lord Kenshin found out she was a goddess, he’d surely want to test his fighting skills against her, and he figured that she and Sasuke and Lord Yoshimoto would get along famously.

“And also,” he added, voice hoarse from disuse. Prayers were supposed to be made quietly, but this one he felt the need to say aloud. “I’ve got an idea for a promise that can replace that stupid one that you made. You know, the one to kill me? But you’ll have to be alive to hear it, so I better be seeing you soon.”

He bowed once, straightened out the incense burner, and left the now-immaculate shrine.

That made ninety-three.

—

It was the final day of his sentence, and every shrine he’d come across in the past week had already been restored, either by himself or the small task force Lord Shingen had set aside. And then, in a correspondence with Sasuke, the brilliant and awesome ninja reminded him that the shrine that ex-Commander Yudai had burnt could probably use some TLC (Yukimura had to clarify, and Sasuke explained it meant “tender, loving care”).

That had been a week ago. Since then Yukimura had assembled new beams for the roof, polished off burn marks on the metal, reconstructed the floor, and bought some new incense burners and stain for the wood. It was practically brand new again, which he figured he owed her, considering it was his side that had burnt it down in the first place.

An hour till sundown. He was bowing his head to pray, though his heart was particularly heavy today with how achingly he wanted to be at her side again.

There were footsteps. Yukimura heard her before he saw her.

“THIS IS FINE WORK YOU HAVE BEEN DOING, BOY. MY SOUL CRIES FOR YOUR LOSS.”

—

He did not need to look, but he did anyway. He had long ago accepted that to save the woman he loved, he might be hunted down and killed, himself.

“Hello, Mountain Whale.”

“HELLO.”

Despite the ever-present volume of her tone, there was a pity in it that he had never heard before. That face looked sorrowful and sullen— as if she, too, had aged as much as Yukimura had in his grief.

“Are you going to kill me now?”

Mountain Whale did not respond. She lumbered up beside Yukimura and sat down on the stairs with a heavy thud, leaves huffing around her at the impact. She patted the spot beside her with one weathered hand, and Yukimura sat down there.

They watched the sun as it dipped closer to the horizon as she allowed Yukimura to come to terms with his impending death. This particular shrine was built near a cliff— it had quite a pretty view, and it reminded Yukimura of the first time he had ever met the spirit. Boar woman, he’d said, and his lips fondly quirked up at the irony of it. Together, Mountain Whale and Yukimura sat in contemplative silence.

“I HAVE MANY GRIEVANCES WITH YOUR LOVER,” Mountain Whale said at last. “SHE IS IRRITATING. SHE CARES TOO MUCH. SHE IS NOT HALF AS BEAUTIFUL AS I.”

“Oh, no, definitely not.”

“HA! YOU HAVE HER WIT. FOR MANY CENTURIES HAVE SHE AND I BATTLED WITS, AND BATTLED PHYSICALLY OVER LAND UPON WHICH OUR FOLLOWERS MAY BUILD MORE SHRINES. BUT WE MOURNED TOGETHER WHEN OUR FRIENDS FADED FROM HISTORY. AND I WILL MOURN HER WHEN SHE IS GONE.”

“Then why did you want to kill her so badly?”

“FOR… FOR SURVIVAL, BOY.”

He looked at Mountain Whale’s sorrowful face, melancholy understanding dawning on him. If there were more shrines to the spirit he’d fallen for, then there would be less to pray to Mountain Whale. He wondered if her life had been as lonely as the spirit’s.

“For what it’s worth,” he said, gruffly, voice thick, “I think that you deserve some followers of your own, too. I think I’d be okay with restoring some of your shrines if I come across them.”

“BOLD WORDS FROM MY PREY.”

“Mountain Whale, if you’re going to kill me, just do it. Enough with the talk. I’ll even make it a good fight for you, if you want.”

She observed him with a critical eye, then leaned back on her palms. She seemed to have come to a decision.

“I DO NOT HAVE TO KILL YOU QUITE YET. AS PER THE DEAL, I HAVE UNTIL SUNDOWN. I WILL SIT HERE WITH YOU— JUST UNTIL SUNDOWN.”

“Right. Just until sundown.”

So together they waited, and waited, and waited— and by the time the sun had dipped well below the trees and the moon had been hung from a string in the sky, Yukimura almost considered Mountain Whale a friend.

And by the time soft footfalls padded across the repaired wooden floor and a barefooted woman seated herself quietly, gracefully beside him, Mountain Whale had long since gone on her way.

—

The world was quiet as their eyes met, and the spirit laid her hand over his.

She looked reborn, in the same way that he was a weary traveler who could finally rest. She was just as exquisite as, if not more so than, she’d been when he’d last seen her four months ago. But this was the first time he’d seen her outside the pond in a year— her ethereal beauty, despite blending in perfectly with the surroundings of their home, was otherworldly in the halo of the mortal moon. She seemed to glow in the light of it, and he caught a lock of her hair and let the silkiness run over his palm— it felt like holding starlight. Tenderly, Yukimura turned his hand to lace their fingers together.

Words were not necessary. Though they always spoke, they never quite needed to. Every teasing moment, every playful remark, every lighthearted insult was little more than make-believe compared to this one simple truth:

Being alive together was enough.

And how well they knew each other, how well they moved in harmony to meet their lips along the threads that tied their souls together. She tasted like honeysuckle the way he thought she might— and she tasted like laughter, and prayer, and merciful hidden kindness.

“I missed you,” he whispered into the intimate space between them.

“And I you,” she murmured, the words brushing sweetly over his mouth. They kissed once more— twice more, before she pulled back enough to observe him as he settled his arms around her. “You disobeyed me.”

“You would’ve done the same. You did do the same.”

“The difference between you and me is that I did not actively put my life on the line to traipse around Japan, pointlessly restoring shrines while being hunted by a boar spirit. I was meant to die. Why could you not leave well enough alone?”

“It’s not pointless— it healed you, didn’t it? You’re here with me now. Anything’s worth that.”

She gave a frustrated little groan.

“Hey, dummy,” Yukimura teased softly. “You’re ruining the moment.”

“Oh, I am?” She may have tried to frown, but the mirth that danced in her eyes betrayed her. “Who’s calling who a dummy?”

She nuzzled her nose beneath his jaw, and he sighed in contentment, drawing her closer as a cool breeze roused the celestial silence.

“Why couldn’t I see you sooner?”

“Because I was asleep for four months— imagine my surprise, falling asleep nothing more than a tangle of withered roots, then waking up completely refreshed with prayers literally overflowing off my desk. It was our dear friend Mountain Whale who broke into the house to let me know that her champion was restoring my shrines like a madman. Oh, and by the way, we need a new front curtain.”

“Glad you enjoyed your nap,” he quipped with an amused little grin. The sight of Mountain Whale ripping their front curtain off its hooks to yell at her sure would’ve been a good one. “And, hey, I don’t think I’m Mountain Whale’s champion anymore, huh?”

“According to the deal, no, you are not. Which technically means that I am supposed to kill you, but I took a moment to read through some of those prayers, most of which were from you… it seems, Yukimura, that you have thought of a promise that might be worth the value of your life. I am here to listen if you did.”

“I did,” he said, eyes twinkling with mirth. With the back of his hand he caressed the contours of her face. “And wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I’m sure it is the only thing I care about.”

He chuckled and pressed his mouth to each corner of her serenely closed eyes, the tip of her nose, her soft jaw and the hollow beneath her cheekbone. “What if I promise always and forever to devote my life to loving you, teasing you, laughing with you... and when the incense goes out at any of your shrines, I can promise to be there to light it again. I’ll always be at your side to make boar stew and stupid remarks that make you want to hit me with a spoon, and if you ever need me to garden or clean or whatever, I’ll be there in an instant. Anything you want. All you have to do is ask.”

Her eyes finally opened, and he wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his days reveling in the adoring warmth that steadfastly lighted them.

“Well, look at you. You escape being the immortal champion of one goddess only to find yourself becoming that of another one.”

“I can’t say I mind.”

“Very well, then. I accept— as your life is the most valuable thing to me, it only makes sense to allow you to remain at my side for however long you please.”

“I was hoping you’d say that. So are deals typically sealed with a kiss, or was that just some rule that Mountain Whale made up?”

Her laughter was a salve that healed the darkest corridors of his heartache. “She is odd, yes, although you are correct in that typically immortality is granted through a kiss. There are many other ways, but that seems to be a reasonable approach.”

“I can’t wait to get started.”

The world has a brilliant way of showing love to both the gods and mortals upon it. Tonight, it was in the way that time had seemed to still around them, the way that the birds were quiet. It was in the rustle of the dancing leaves, or the way that the wind breathed a sigh of happiness. It was the way that the spirit drew him closer with an enticing smile on her lips— the way that he cradled her face in his hands as he leaned in to accept her invitation.

And as Yukimura felt that familiar warmth course through his veins as their lips tenderly found each other once more, it is with a content heart that I leave our two lovers to their quiet, reverent solitude. May you, dear reader, live a long, happy, and prosperous life— one filled with love and joy— as our tale of Yukimura and kami-sama comes to its moonlit and timeless end.

finis.

[vintagevalentinex]

Decode, V

Whew!  Here we go.  I hope you guys like it!!  Please, please, please  let me know what you think!

xoxo

Decode, V by vintagevalentinexx Mycroft Holmes x Reader ~1400 words

For someone who appeared as though he could spin a story, Mycroft Holmes was fairly quiet.

You sat across from him in the small café on the corner of where the hotel was located.  You swirled your spoon idly in the tea that Mycroft insisted you drink, trying to think of something, anything to talk about.  This felt like the most awkward date ever.  Did he think of this as a date?  Do I think of this as a date?  Do I want this to be a date?  Oh for the love of God…

“How do you do it?”

You were snapped out of your thoughts by his simple question.  You furrow your eyebrows, slightly tilting your head.  “What do you mean?”

He placed his hands on the table, leaning in.  He made the table seem so very small, and the space between you was instantly shrinking. As much as he was infuriating you, something about him made you disgustingly curious.

“How is it that you’re able to decode those ciphers so quickly?  I must confess that my brother and I were unable to solve it at first glance, and my employees are still running algorithms on it…”

“Employees?…Just what is it that you do, Mycroft?  How did you know that I solved more than one coded message?”

He pursed his lips, staring intently at you, making sure you realized he was making eye contact.  “I maintain a minor position in the British Government.  It just so happens to make me privy to certain pieces of information.”

You maintain eye contact, narrowing your gaze.  “Minor position?  Privy?  I’m sorry but someone with your obvious intelligence would be completely wasted in a minor position.  If you’re going to lie to me please make it more interesting.  I do teach children, I’ve heard just about everything.”

Mycroft looked at you as though it was Christmas.  His lips barely turned upward but his eyes were definitely amused, as if you pleasantly surprised him.  You took a sip of your tea, trying to keep your tough front up under the scrutinizing gaze of Mycroft Holmes.

“As much as I’d love to continue this line of conversation, I’m more interested in your answer to my question.”

You looked away wistfully, shrugging.  “To be honest, I don’t really know.  It’s always kind of been that way…”  You chewed on your lip.

“For whatever reason when I see a puzzle, especially one that involves letters and words, my brain has the uncanny ability to rearrange the letters or symbols so they make sense. It’s like they automatically rearrange themselves.  It’s almost automatic at this point.  I suppose that’s why I take to languages so quickly…”

You were instantly brought back to when you were young, and didn’t understand what an incredible gift you had.  School had been absolutely tedious and sometimes terrible for you.  As a child you never understood why the teachers would tell you to put your hand down, or clearly make eye contact with you and call on someone else.  It became conditioning for you; hide your intelligence, blend in with those around you, or be completely alienated.  This worked for a while, but it naturally didn’t last.  It something unavoidable and you had learned to keep to yourself.

“Penny for your thoughts, (Y/N)?”

You shook your head, feeling yourself becoming flushed, embarrassed that you were so completely unfocused.

“I’m sorry; I was lost there for a moment…”

“He was not telling the truth, (Y/N)…Sherlock.  Well…not completely…”

“What are you talking about?”

“There is nothing wrong with you.  Quite the opposite, actually…”

“How did you know—“

“What you were thinking about?”  The determined, amused look bubbled back into his eyes.  He shuffled his seat over to the side, motioning with his hand at the empty space.  “Bring your chair over here; I want to show you something.”

You looked at him warily as you slid your chair over, the proximity of his form something quite new. It was almost unnerving, but you weren’t sure if it was in a good way or a bad way.  It was…different.  Mycroft looked straight ahead, motioning for you to look at the couple across the café.

“I have a knack for being able to deduce information out of people merely by observing the mannerisms, the way that they interact with others, and other factors, of course.  Now these two for example…actually…”

He looked at you, lips upturning only slightly.  “You tell me. Tell me all you can about them.”

You furrowed your eyebrows.  What the hell were you supposed to be able to know about two random people?!

“I…um…?”

“Start with the things that are obvious and see what you can infer from there.”

“Um okay.  Well they are dressed up so perhaps they are on a date…?  Am I doing this right?”

“Keep going.”

“Right.  Okay.  I don’t see wedding rings on either of their fingers…um…they don’t seem fairly awkward around each other so maybe they know each other?”

Mycroft nodded, his lips forming a small smile.  “Very good. So far you have observed that they are indeed on a date, their body language suggesting that they are at the very least acquaintances.  Now look deeper, look at the man’s fingers.”

You take another look, trying to understand what Mycroft was talking about.  You turned back to him, looking at him to explain.

“His ring finger.  There is a significant tan line where a wedding ring should go, or in his case, is supposed to be.”

Your eyes light up, whipping your head back around at the couple.  You try to keep your voice down, but the sheer lasciviousness of it all was exciting.

“He’s having an affair. With a good friend…maybe a friend’s girlfriend…?”

“A friend’s wife…you did quite well, (Y/N).  I knew you would.”

“This is exactly what Sherlock did to me.  You…you do this too?”

“Who do you think taught him how?  However, I certainly did not teach him to be so rude about it.  For that I deeply apologize.”

You nod.  “He seems like he can be a handful…”

Mycroft snickers, “(Y/n), you truly have no idea. This is not the only reason I wanted to meet with you, however…”

Before he could continue his phone began to ring.  You sat there, wringing your hands as he spoke softly on the phone.  Moments later he was putting his phone back into his pocket.

“I apologize for that interruption.  As truly enjoyable as this has been, I have just been informed that your presence is about to be requested down at Scotland Yard yet again.  It seems that they have just received another envelope and could use your expertise.”

You almost pouted. You were actually enjoying yourself and now your time with him had to end.  He stood up as you followed suit.

“Allow me to escort you there, (Y/N).  If I know anything about my brother he is probably already there causing a scene.”

The car ride was quiet, yet it was not at all awkward.  It was a calm kind of quiet that you really enjoyed.  It gave you an opportunity to gather your thoughts and prepare for whatever was going to be at the precinct.  As the car slowed down, Mycroft’s hand paused at the handle.

“(Y/N)…it is quite rare as I navigate the world that I come across a mind as astute as yours.  Would you do me the honor of perhaps meeting me for dinner tomorrow night?”

A smile slowly found its way to your face, nodding.  “Yes. Yes Mycroft that sounds lovely.”

Pleased with himself, he cleared his throat.  “Well then…right.  I will text you the details.  Let’s get you inside, shall we?”

Mycroft led you into the precinct, nodding a “hello” to Lestrade as you made your way over to the desk with the envelope.

“Really Mycroft, are you here to make everyone’s night miserable?”

You rolled your eyes as you heard Sherlock’s low baritone, not even bothering to acknowledge his presence.

“Brother mine, I am quite certain that everyone is really not in the mood for your petulance.”

“I second that.”

“John!”

“He does make a good point, Sherlock.”

You deciphered the code easily enough, becoming perturbed as you turned around.  It took them a moment to remember you were in the room. Lestrade spoke first.

“What’s it say?”

You swallowed hard, your eyes darting around, finally resting on Mycroft’s.

“It says,

“She’s next.”

Next Part!

[darkkitsuneprincess]

FIC: Masamune vs. the Pineapple [Masa x OC / Nobu x OC]

I’m baaaaaaack...... okay, sort of. The real world has kind of stomped my ass a little bit lately. This is the first thing I’ve finished in over a month now. I’m trying. I really am. Thanks for sticking with me, guys. And welcome to all my new followers! 300 of you out there now! Wow!

Title: Masamune vs. the Pineapple Rating: G Pairing: Nobunaga x OC (Mira), Masamune x OC (Mira) [it’s pretty much EVERYBODY x OC in this AU nonsense that is absolutely not being written in any kind of order] Length: 1400 words Summary: The Portuguese missionaries come bearing gifts. Gifts which absolutely confound Masamune. This is silly, fluffy nonsense that makes me giggle.

Notes: I’m not particularly happy with this piece, amusing as it was to write, but I can’t really say why. It may not be finished. Something else might happen. I just don’t know what yet. Also, Mira is not Japanese. She has a whole backstory that will eventually come out of my head and go onto paper. None of it is particularly relevant for this story because this is absolute silliness. The only mildly relevant factor is that in my head, the IkeSen universe is very much a reverse harem and she frequently enjoys the company of all of her men. Not that any of that is happening here.

Tags: @choi-jiyu, @kisara-16, @puffpuff300-blog

~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~

It was not unusual for Nobunaga to call all of us into the great hall when one of his various guests delivered a gift or tribute of some sort. In the five years I’d been in the Sengoku, I’d witnessed all number of amazing “discoveries” from foreign missionaries that were, in fact, commonplace in my time. Having the advantage of not being Japanese meant I could share my knowledge with him in a way that satisfied us both.

Often I’d sit with Nobunaga on his dais late into the evenings after the guests had retired to explain the items and their purposes. He’d had me read to him from texts written in the Latin alphabet. His appetite for knowledge was…well, voracious was an understatement. The man loved to learn almost as much as he loved to make love.

And that was saying something.

It was a sunny afternoon in late March when an envoy of missionaries—always Nobunaga’s favorite visitors due to their exotic gifts—appeared with a selection of books, artwork, and, strangely enough, food. Crates of foreign fruits and vegetables were opened and placed before us, and the missionaries were not only thanked, but invited to stay for a banquet to celebrate.

The crates of fruit were sent to the kitchen along with Masamune, who was more than ready to dive in and start playing with it. As much as I wanted to follow him and help, my services as Princess Mira of Azuchi were needed in the hall. I enjoyed the visitors’ stories and songs, but…but damn it, I wanted some of that fruit. I also didn’t trust Masamune not to mutilate it in a fit of confused anger.

Nobunaga, sensing my displeasure at not being in the kitchen for this new adventure, brought my hand to his lips and kissed my knuckles.

“Gentlemen, if you will excuse my lovely Princess…she would like to oversee banquet preparations. Her knowledge of foreign produce is needed in the kitchen.” He turned his carnelian gaze on me and I nodded, offering a tiny smile in thanks before rising and bowing to our guests.

“Excuse me, please,” I said, echoing Nobunaga’s words, and ducked out of the room. No sooner were the doors closed behind me than I ran for the kitchen, shoes in hand. With Hideyoshi otherwise occupied in the council room, I didn’t have to worry about his scolding. The burst of speed felt good; I spent too much of my time sitting around being adorable at Nobunaga’s request.

As I neared the kitchen, I slowed to a stop and placed my shoes back on my feet. It was strangely quiet inside as I walked the last few steps, which worried me.

“Masamune?” I called out, “Are you in there?”

“Mmm-hmm…” came his distracted reply. I took a deep breath and peeked around the corner to find…

Chaos. Absolute freaking chaos.

The three crates of fruit had been emptied and were littered across every available surface in the kitchen. Some had been cut. Some were piled in various pots and bowls. There were peels and piles of fruit pulp everywhere. There were oranges, cherries, strawberries, apricots, and the thing that had Masamune’s undivided, if not frustrated, attention. He glared down at the thing with his arms crossed, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

“What the hell is it?” he asked as I moved to stand beside him.

“It’s a pineapple.”

“A what?”

I bent down and picked the fruit up, bringing it to eye level. “A pineapple. It’s a sweet, tangy tropical fruit. Nobunaga will love it. You will too.”

Masamune frowned. “I get all the others—they actually look like fruit. But this damn thing looks like…”

“A porcupine?”

“I was gonna say it looked like Ieyasu, but yeah.” The corner of his mouth quirked up into an annoyed half-smile. “It’s about as friendly as he is, at any rate.”

I turned the fruit over in my hands, enjoying the rough, prickly feel of its surface. “Pineapples can be tricky, but trust me, they’re worth the work.”

“It doesn’t taste very good, so what the hell do you do with it?”

“You have to peel it,” I explained. “The inside is bright yellow and really sweet.” I continued to turn it over in my hands, and as the back side of the thing came into view, I nearly choked on my tongue.

There were teeth marks in the skin, just below the leaves. I looked over at Masamune who scowled at the pineapple, and then I doubled over with uncontrolled laughter.

“Masa…did you…did you really try to bite it?!” I choked out, holding my belly as it ached from my laughter.

“They said it was a fruit…” he muttered. “Stupid pineapple.”

I wiped my eyes with the sleeve of my kimono and tried to rein in my laughter…but this was just too good.

“It’s not that funny,” he added with a snort.

“Yeah…yeah, it really is,” I answered, gagging in a breath and trying to stop laughing. The pineapple, still clutched in my hand, dangled from my fingers. Masamune alternated scowling at the fruit then at me. “I’m supposed to be cooking these things.” He pointed to one of the crates, which had five more pineapples inside. “But I have no idea how.”

“Well,” I said, wiping my face as I knelt and placed the pineapple on the table, “the first thing we need to do is peel it so you can taste it. Hand me a really sharp knife and I’ll show you how.”

I laid the fruit on its side and held out my hand, only to receive the hilt of Masamune’s sword. I rolled my eyes and turned to glare up at him. “Really? REALLY?”

“What? It’s sharp.”

“Your head’s not. I can’t cut up a pineapple with this!”

With a dramatic sigh, he knelt next to me and produced a very large, very sharp knife. Step by step I walked him through the process of peeling and coring the pineapple, explaining that if we kept the tops, we could grow our own. Masamune let his annoyance fade in favor of learning about the new food source, and when I held up a piece of the juicy meat, his eyes lit up. He bit the end off the fruit straight out of my hand with a suggestive smirk—classic Masa—so I ate the rest. The bright, sweet flavor exploded over my tongue. I didn’t realize I’d moaned until Masamune’s eye went wide.

“I’ll admit that it’s good, lass, but I wouldn’t go that far.”

“I didn’t think I’d ever get pineapple again!” I replied. “Don’t be a jerk.”

“That thing is the jerk,” he muttered, petulant.

“You’re just mad because it outsmarted you. Now watch.” I quickly cut the remainder into thin slices which Masamune arranged on a platter with the various other fruits. Masamune picked up where I left off, following my example to prepare two more of the remaining five pineapples while I started slicing vegetables and sorting ingredients for the dishes on Masamune’s list.

“What else can we do with it?” Masamune asked as he placed another tray of fruit to the side.

“Well, we can make rice with it. Do you have any coconut?”

“Yes…” he drew the word out, raising his eyebrow at me skeptically. “What are you going to do with coconut though?”

“I need the water from the coconut and I need some of that pineapple crushed up. Oh, and I need to you shave some of the coconut pulp and toast it for me.”

“I’ve seen you do some weird things, Mira, but this one might be at the top of the list.”

“Just shut up and get me a coconut.”

Forty-five minutes later, I lifted a spoonful of steaming, sweet rice concoction to Masamune’s mouth. He smirked as he allowed me to feed him, and his indulgent, ridiculous expression turned into one of satisfied glee.

“That’s really good,” he admitted.

“Are you willing to forgive the pineapple for being mean to you earlier?”

Masamune smiled that cocky smile I loved so much. “I’m still mad at the pineapple, but I’m willing to let it have the win since it means so much to you.”

“I’m so glad. Now let’s go feed everyone. I’m sure they’re hungry.”

“Yeah, okay. But first…”

Masamune caught me by the waist and pulled me close to place a sparkling, fruit-sweetened kiss on my lips. I didn’t think anything could make me enjoy pineapple more, but this…this did.

[legionmaster001]

My first and maybe last post, as editing in the Tmblur app is hell. A little way to express my love for @bl00dalchemist's beautiful, funny and dark characters.

I know this is not the kind of story that fits with them, but is what I can do with my history knowledge and poor writing skills.

I hope you all enjoy it.

"A dense mist engulfed the town of Sicily as a withe chariot aproached from the Northside one morning of October. The horses that pulled it looked sick, with their whinny resounding through the souls of those who first saw them like the pleads of a dying men.

—Aye! Aye! —exclaimed the driver, coughing and whipping his horses.

The mist stopped as the chariot did. Near the entrance of the town its passager got out, saying not a single word to the poor looking driver before giving him a fist of herbs and a small sheet of paper.

—I owe you my life, sir —claimed the driver, thankfully.

—You shall pay me soon, then... —whispered the young man as he turned around, willing to go to his destination on foot.

Soon, only the sound of footsteps and the clicking sound of a wooden cane could be heard, as the townsfolk that stayed in their homes observed the foreigner with suspicion. The man, with his black clothes, stiff cane and leather bag, never stared back. He was the doctor that the town needed.

—Maybe it's too late... —Wondered the doctor, scratching his beard.

Promptly he arrived to the galleons, where an emissary of death should unload a charge of a Plague. His superiors had heard about it long before, and predicted a wave of death and decay so great that it might as well be the end of all men. A disease so terrible that made the greatest Imperium of the world quail, and transformed the deserts of the East in black seas, making the Crusades look like a simple bar fight, and leaving piles upon piles of corpses, tall enough to cover the light of the morning sun.

—He is here!

—It can't be.

—Just in the right moment.

The people that had gathered in the gallows welcomed the Doctor with most expectation and joy.

—What is happening, my friend? —Asked the Doctor to the nearest man. Fear started to grow inside him as he realized that he already knew what was the problem.

—Ships came, the mariners look so sick, we'd never seen something like that! —Answered the man.

The Doctor walked to the sick mariners, seemingly calm. Dead flesh by fingers and tumors as big as apples adorning their necks; the mariners had what was soon to be known as the Black Death. Such sight deeply affected the Doctor, that feared they wouldn't survive enough to be played with, and make the townsfolk help them arrive to a church. He had more important things to do in the main ship, and as so, giving the excuse of finding a cause to such an horrible illness, he went alone.

He wandered to the insides of the ship, slowly revealing his nature: skin withe as winter snow, theet and claws sharp and short as daggers, a tail that moved elegantly over the ground, and horns long and curved in a beautiful but simple way, with black ends. The demon Doctor finally was free, as he both rejoiced and shivered at the results of the Black Death; mariners abandoned still alive, drowning in their own vomited blood, corpses filled to the brim with tumors, and at the end of it all, a rotten, destroyed last corpse of what seemed to be a rather small and young man roughly dressed as a Eastern Companion Lady.

—Not even the rats would claim this one... —Said the Doctor, poking the rotten corpse with his cane. A expression of disgust was on his face.

—But you can, it's not that expensive —answered the supposed corpse in a sweet tone, or at least the sweetest it could do with its vocal cords so damaged.

—What in the bloody name of lord Baal...?

The now alive youngster extended a tounge like a venomous serpent, wich slowly coiled around the Doctor's cane in a unsuccessful attempt to look somewhat provocative. The Doctor looked at him with mistrust, as he didn't want another demon on his lands, even less one that could put in risk his entire career. But something called the attention of the Doctor: the young, rotten, blighted and lustful demon had glittering eyes with a strange beauty on them.

—Who the hell are you and what is your business here? —Asked the Doctor politely, snapping out of his trance, and pulling his cane out of the mouth of the living corpse— I just cleaned this thing...

—My name is Gillian, and I am a humble Satan's servant like you —said Gillian after he grew another tounge— born in holy land like you, ended up in the west, where Lord Belcebub gave me his most recent toy. Really not my type, but really kinky, I must admit.

—Go to the point.

—Whatever you say, big boy. I was taken by those called Mongols in an invasion, they used me and threw me to the walls of a city, and I came with the merchants that ran from the war, and here you have me. So, do you want me to...?

The Doctor interrupted Gillian, tapping the wooden planks with his cane. The smug and peaceful expression with wich he entered the ship was again in his face. He Scratched his beard again, meditating about the situation. Before speaking he put on a small pair of reading glasses.

—I want you to leave. Now! —Shouted the Doctor, clearly mad— I can't afford to lose all my potential patients because of your pestilence!

—You don't sound like a doctor at all —said Gillian, carefree and rather relaxed, almost like if he enjoyed the anger proyected at him.

—I am, but I have no enough hands, nor patience to amputate all this people, it wouldn't even be fun anymore —The Doctor turned around, ready to leave— I am not the only one that will get damaged by this situation, so is better if you swim back to the East.

—I will see what I can do, hotstuff —Gillian lifted his leg, showing off what was left of it before it fell, leaving nothing but a small pool of black mush.

—In my 1400 years of life I've never been so horrified...

—It is not the last time you'll say that, I bet.

Breathing deep the Doctor started to leave, thinking of ways to actually save some lifes before the plage started to get worse.

—Anyway, before you leave, what is your name? —Asked Gillian, trying to slowly cralw.

—Kynto.

Gillian stopped in his tracks, looking at Kynto more than impressed, he knew the name of the demon that transformed a section of the holy order of the Hospital from templars to a encrazed cult that adored a gigant goatman and the art of the unnecessary surgery on living humans.

In that cold morning Kynto, the cruel image of the sadism dressed as men of medicine, met both the factor and the person that would end his current life, and forever change his eternal one, just like the world itself".

For those to made it to the end; a million thanks, and have a good rest of the day.

[eccentricpartynights]

words hung above

fandom: ensemble stars pairing: koga x yuzuru characters: yuzuru, koga, tatsumi, tori word count: 1400 summary: a wrongly sent text starts a rollercoaster of emotions

Only a single word flashes on his screen. A word that has a million meanings and a million more feelings attached to it. His eyes scan over it again and again; his heart thumps in his chest

Why did Koga Oogami text him ‘help’?

Only a single word flashes on his screen. A word that has a million meanings and a million more feelings attached to it. His eyes scan over it again and again; his heart thumps in his chest.

Why did Koga Oogami text him ‘help’?

So many scenarios swim in his mind. Is Oogami-sama hurt? Is he in trouble? Why is Yuzuru the person he texted? What is he supposed to reply? 

Yuzuru forces himself to stop and breathe. He needs to think rationally about this. It's possible that Oogami-sama is just messaging him for help with his homework. They are in the same class, after all. But this has never happened before. Oogami-sama has never needed him..

Perhaps it's… no. No, he cannot entertain that possibility. Never. He shouldn't feel these things, especially not for a classmate. Not for anyone. Not while he works for the Himemiyas.

The message, Fushimi.

His hands shake as he looks at the single ‘help’ on his screen. He'd said nothing else. Just ‘help’. What if something has happened to him? Yuzuru has half a mind to put his coat and shoes on and knock on Oogami-sama’s dorm room door. But that would make it worse. Seeing him would make it worse.

Holding his breath, he types out his own message: Are you okay, Oogami-sama? Do you need something?

He presses the send button before he can rethink it. The blue check marks appear under the message, indicating that Oogami-sama has read it. He stares at the screen. Oogami-sama says nothing else.

-----

Koga’s face pales. Oh, shit. How the fuck’d he manage to mess up already? He wasn't supposed to send the text to Fushimi, and he sure as hell wasn't supposed to read the text Fushimi sent back…

He panics and shuts off his phone. Reading the words on the screen has made his insides feel weird, like he's going to be sick. What's with that? The feeling makes him angry and he slams his fist onto the table. The startling pain makes the anger worse and he lets out a strangled-sounding yell.

Kazehaya-san pokes his head into the kitchen. 

“Is something the matter, Koga-san?”

“Nah,” says Koga through gritted teeth. 

Kazehaya-san frowns. “You seem angry. Would you like to talk about it?”

Koga takes a minute to calm down. He nods once, and Kazehaya-san comes to sit with him at the table. He says nothing, clearly waiting for Koga to talk when he's ready.

Koga balls his hand into a fist, ignoring the pain that digging his nails into his palm is giving him. “I fucked up sendin’ a text,” he says quietly.

“How did you do that?” asks Kazehaya-san.

“I meant ta send it ta Adonis, but I sent it ta Fushimi instead��� and then I read the text Fushimi sent back, like an idiot.”

Kazehaya-san smiles gently at him, and Koga fights the urge to roll his eyes. “You aren't an idiot, Koga-san. You made a mistake, that's all.”

“Well, it was a fuckin’ big mistake, wasn't it?”

Kazehaya-san taps his fingers on the table, something Koga had noticed he does when he's thinking. “Well, can you reply and tell him that you didn't mean to send the text to him?”

Koga rolls the idea over in his head. “Nope, cause that’d hurt his feelin’s. And I don't wanna do that.” He slams his head down on the desk.

“But you say you've already read his reply, no?”

Koga sighs. “Yep.”

“Koga-san, why is it so bad for you to have sent Fushimi-san a message?”

Koga lifts his head at this. “Because… then I'd have ta think about my feelin’s an’ all, and I don't want ta have ta do that.”

Kazehaya-san raises an eyebrow. “Feelings? What feelings?”

Koga’s face drains of colour yet again. Why. “Uh…”

Kazehaya-san just sits and waits patiently, and that makes him furious. “I think I love him, Kazehaya-san,” he says, his voice rising in volume. “And I wasn't supposed ta think about it because why the fuck would Fushimi like someone like me? You had ta fuckin’ pry, didn't ya? Now I have ta ‘confront my emotions’ or whatever religious bullshit yer gonna throw at me, or else it's gonna fuckin’ plague me for the rest of my life!”.

Unsurprisingly, Kazehaya-san doesn't react to his outburst. “Talk to him,” he says gently. “I think you should talk to Fushimi-san. I think it'll help you a lot.”

This makes Koga pause. Not what he was expecting. “How am I supposed ta do that? ‘Oh, hi, Fushimi, I’m in love with ya’?”.

“Well. Not straight away, but yes.” Kazehaya-san checks his watch. “It isn't too late. You could go over to his dorm and talk there?”

“I…” Could he do that? Could he really tell Fushimi why this was happening? “If it fails, ya owe me two thousand yen, Kazehaya-san,’ he says, pocketing his phone and getting up off his chair. Annoyingly, Kazehaya-san just smiles, like he knows something Koga doesn't. “Fuck you, priest boy.” 

Kazehaya-san laughs. “No thank you, Koga-san. I'll see you later. I wish you luck.”

Koga only grumbles a ‘thanks’ as he shuts the door behind him.

-----

The message has been forced out of Yuzuru’s mind (almost). Oogami-sama still hasn't replied, and he knows he’ll just work himself up if he doesn't stop thinking about it.

He has work to do, and he'll do it even if it kills him. He scribbles down notes furiously, listening to the way his pen scratches against his paper as a way to shut his thoughts off.

It's only when a knock comes at the door that he looks up from his page.

“I'll get it!” yells Tori, and Yuzuru watches as the door opens and Tori pokes his head out.

He can't hear the other half of the conversation being had but he's too engrossed in it to go back to studying.

“Hey, Yuzuru, someone's here to see you.” 

“Me?” Yuzuru's heart skips a beat. Could it be…?

“Oogami-sama,” he says as he stands in the doorway. A mixture of worry, anger, and… something that he doesn’t want to admit fills him.

“Um, hi,” Oogami-sama says, and the flush in his cheeks from the cold makes Yuzuru want to kiss them. (The thought is out before he can stop it.) 

“Are you okay?” asks Yuzuru. “You didn't reply to my message, and I was worried about you.”

Oogami-sama laughs sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “I… I’m sorry, okay? I didn't–didn't wanna hurt yer feelin's, see? I… okay, listen. I don't know how ta say this because I don't do good with this kinda stuff but… yer really great, and I freaked out after I read yer text because… I jus’... why would you like someone like me? I’m jus’ a lone wolf with too many issues and ya—”

It takes Yuzuru a second to process his words, and when he does, he isn't sure he's interpreting correctly. He holds up a hand to stop him talking any further. “Excuse me for interrupting you, Oogami-sama, but could you please repeat what you just said?”

Koga’s eyes widen. “Oh… I… I’m jus’ a lone wolf with too many issues?”

Yuzuru can tell he's stalling. Did he say something he didn't want to? “Before that.”

“... For fuck’s sake, Fushimi,” he grumbles. “I really like ya, okay? I didn't want ta do it. I don't like havin’ these feelin’s but yer just so… ya make feel so… weird, and I don’ hate it. And I know ya won't like me back because yer so proper and I'm—”

Yuzuru’s head is spinning, and he doesn't let himself pause for too long in case he regrets it, but he can't listen to this man talk like this anymore. “Oogami-sama,” he says, voice soft.

“Y-yeah?” Yuzuru can tell the pink in his cheeks isn't just from the cold anymore. 

He steps outside and closes the door, shielding them from Tori’s prying eyes. “May I kiss you?”

Oogami-sama takes a breath.  “Please,” he whispers.

Yuzuru cups his hand against Oogami-sama’s cheek and closes his eyes as their lips meet in the middle. Somehow the result is a feeling of peace and something explosive all in one, and Yuzuru takes a second to note that it feels like he did the right thing, before letting himself get lost completely in Koga Oogami’s arms.

[parachutingkitten]

Optimistic Idiot

An intro to my OC Beatrix, and a look into Lloyd’s weird variety of trust problems. Might expand into something bigger. I planted some seeds. We’ll see.

~1400 words

“You’ll just have to stay here, we cannot risk getting caught,” Zane concluded.

“Guys! I’ve got my disguise, it’s pretty good, it’s dark out. I’ll be fine!” It was true, Lloyd almost looked like a different person when he wasn’t in green, none the less with his hair styled this differently.

“It’s too risky. If they see you, it’s game over,” Jay agreed. 

“What? Just because I’m the green ninja I’m that much more likely to get recognized than any of you?!”

“Yes, Lloyd. That’s exactly the point.” Nya stressed. “Now stay here until we get back. Hopefully, we won’t be too long. We’ll signal for help if we really need you, okay?” 

Lloyd thought for a moment, finally submitting. “Okay,” he sighed. “What is this place anyway?”

“Some club,” Cole shrugged. “A perfect place to get lost in the crowd, don’t get noticed, okay?”

Lloyd looked back at the building, colored lights streaming from the windows and music blaring from the inside. It was hardly where he imagined himself that night, but it would have to do. “Good luck guys,” he turned back to the team. “Let me know as soon as you get back.”

“Hey, maybe you can even have a little fun while we’re gone, huh?” Kai teased as they started towards the truck. 

“Hey, and no drinking, okay?” Nya yelled back. 

Lloyd rolled his eyes, turning back towards his destination for the evening.

Upon entering, he was hit with a blinding series of lights he was sure would end with him having a headache by the end of the night. There were plenty of people dancing, talking, laughing, and drinking. He looked around for a place he could sit out the night. That’s when he spotted it. There was a small alcove at the back, with a few bar stools and a table. It wasn’t the location that struck him as much as the person sitting there. She sat alone, her back to the room, leaning over, slowly stirring her drink. Something about her drew him over. He made his way to the back of the room, the noise becoming less and less intrusive as he approached the table. He quietly took the stool next to hers, waiting a moment before speaking. 

“You seem like you have a lot on your mind.”

She smirked at the sound of his voice, taking another slip of her drink. “Not much time to think when you’re running away from your problems.”

“Problems like…?” Lloyd pressed. 

“I think the real question is,” She turned to face him. “What problems are you running from?”

Lloyd smiled, playing along. “Not really running. Just got ditched at a bar by some friends.”

“Other than that,” she waved him off, taking a sip of her drink. “What real problems have you been avoiding. Everyone has some.”

Lloyd looked down in thought for a moment. This had certainly escalated quickly. “Well, my dad-”

“No, that’s not it.” She stopped him, shaking her head. “I mean it’s a problem, but you’ve come head to head with that already.” She placed down her drink and held out her hands. “Here, give me your hands, I’ll read your energy.”

“Read my… what?” Lloyd hesitated.

“Just trust me,” she rolled her eyes.

He placed his hands on top of hers, still a bit unsure. She closed her eyes, concentrating. Strangely enough though, he did feel this strange tug of… energy going towards her. It could have just been in his head, but it was a very distinct feeling that felt strangely familiar. But there’s no way it could be real, right? There was no way she could actually tell anything about him just by touching hands.

After a moment, her eyes reopened, her expression souring a bit. “Oh, you have some serious ex hang ups, don’t you?”

Lloyd could feel himself struggle to respond. “Well… I…” He looked back down at their hands, still gently layered on top of each other. 

“She hurt you real bad, and you’ve been floundering in your love life since to try and replace her. But you can’t commit to anything because you’re too afraid you’ll get hurt again.”

Lloyd lifted his hands, looking at them, half wondering how this was happening, and half wanting it all to stop.

“Probably why you approached me in the first place, something about me reminds you of her,” she continued. “It’s usually the looks, do I look like her?”

Lloyd sighed. “Bleach blonde, green eyes, yeah.” His head sunk in a unique mixture of defeat and admiration.

“It’s okay. You’re far from the only one with problems here.”

“How did you... I mean, it’s like you read my mind.”

She smiled a bit at his bewilderment. “The only guys who ever approach me first are either optimistic idiots who don’t know who I am, or possessive assholes who do. Mind me saying, but... you don’t seem like an asshole to me.”

“No, optimistic idiot sounds about right.” Lloyd rolled his eyes. “I suppose you don’t want me around then, huh?”

“No, it’s okay!” she stopped him. “I have a thing for the optimistic idiots.” She smirked, beckoning him back.

“Thanks,” Lloyd chuckled. “Good to know I’m not a total lost cause.”

“I’m sorry if that came off a little strong,” She shook her head. “We don’t have to talk about your baggage. Goodness knows I don’t want to talk about mine.”

“Yeah, a normal conversation sounds nice about now,” Lloyd agreed. 

“So, what’s this about friends of yours?”

Lloyd’s mind refocused on the mission, seeing his mysterious new friend in a new light. “Actually, maybe you could help us.”

“What exactly with?” she asked, curious.

Lloyd hesitated a moment. Mission details weren’t something he wanted getting around. But they needed help. Badly. “We’re looking for someone known as The Healer. If we can get them to the top of the mountain, there’s a chance we could be able to stop all these earthquakes. We need a way up the mountain, information about the properties of the summit, and about where we would even begin to look for The Healer, we need… a lot.”

Her expression bittered as he spoke. She knew something. “Look, I know who you’re looking for, and I don’t know what power it is they have, but I sure as hell wouldn’t describe it as healing.”

“So, you do know?” Lloyd pressed.

She turned to look at him more directly. “You’re sure you can stop the earthquakes? You really have a way of fixing this whole mess?” She seemed skeptical, but there was hope behind her eyes.

He took a deep breath. “We don’t know anything for sure but… we’re probably the best chance Ninjago has at surviving.”

She sighed. “Look, I’m familiar with the trek up the mountain. I could probably get you to the top. If you have any chance of finding this healer person, it’s going to be on your way up.”

“Are you serious? You would do that? You would help us?” Lloyd wasn’t expecting such a receptive response. 

“Sure,” she shrugged. “I trust you.”

Lloyd was still a bit shocked. “Really?”

“Well, you trust me, don’t you?” This statement surprised Lloyd, but she was right. It was hard to place why, but even though he didn’t know her name, there was something about her that felt… safe. “But I can’t promise you the results you’re looking for. Ninjago is literally being torn apart at the seams, if there’s any power strong enough to reverse it would need to be something on the level of like… the green ninja or something.” She lifted her glass, finishing what was left.

“Yeah…” Lloyd sighed, his eyes darting away as she unknowingly mentioned him.

Her glass hit the table again as she stood up. “Come on, let’s dance for a bit.”

Lloyd was caught a bit off guard. “What?”

“While we’re waiting for your friends to come back,” She explained, grabbing his hand. “We can try and forget that pesky ex of yours,” she winked.

Lloyd smiled. He quite liked that idea. “Before I do, what was your name?”

“Beatrix,” She laughed. “But my friends just call me Trix.”

“Am I your friend then?”

She smiled mischievously. “Do you want to be?”

[puffmamaa]

Elbow Deep: Part 1

So this is my first time ever writing fanfiction!! I’m a little bit nervous because in this fandom, whew chillay.....y’all are some muthafuckin’ WRITERS, hunny. “Talent all up & thru this bitch.” lmao I hope mine is decent enough for y’all tho.

But anyways, here goes...something lol.

Pairing: Erik “Killmonger” Stevens x Black, Dark-Skin, Plus Size OC. (Always💛)

Summary: Erik begrudgingly attends a benefit gala. He prepares himself for a wack ass night, only to be met with a quite, scrumptious surprise. 😉

Word Count: Somewhere around 1400, 1500.

Warnings: Cussing. Use of the N-word. Dragging white people. T’Challa on his bullshit lol. But mostly fluffy and cute.

A/N: In my mind, I want this to be a series but I’m not sure how to make it work yet. If not, than I guess a cute little one-shot? Idk, If y’all like it enough, I’ll try for a part 2 at very least. Also, I wrote this on my phone at like 3 AM so please excuse any mistakes or typos. 😝

“Dedicated to my new found love for hot wings.”

——

“Welcome ALL to Wakanda Outreach Center’s Annual Benefit Gala”

Erik snorted as he read the overzealous banner. He hated these kind of events. The only reason he even bothered to show up was because he lost a bet to his cousin. Nigga prolly cheated, he thought to himself.

Erik N’Jadaka Udaku-Stevens wasn’t one to be presurred into obligation. So when King T’Challa tried to convince him to support the Wakanda Outreach Center at their annual gala, Erik literally laughed in his face.

—

“Hell nah, nigga. I don’t go to these things for a reason. My energy is better used towards actually doing work for the community. Not rubbin’ elbows with a bunch of uppity negroes and cracka ass crackers.” Erik snapped, twisting his lips and being extra as hell.

Princess Shuri giggled. She (not-so) secretly loved when her cousin went off on one of his colonizer-dragging rants.

“N’Jadaka, we talked about calling them that.” T’Challa shot Shuri a stern look while crossing his hands behind his back. “And, it IS for the good of the community. Engagement with everyone, including other races, is necessary to keep things civil. How would it look if our own Director didn’t show up to support?”

“It’ll look like exactly what it is,” Erik said, crossing his arms across his chest. “A bourgie ass event with bourgie ass people, throwing around bourgie ass rhetoric about shit they don’t know a damn thing about. I’m good, love...”

“...enjoy!” Shuri blurted out in her Keke Palmer voice, cackling with Erik at T’Challa’s frustration.

T’Challa pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He was completely over Erik and his shenanigans. Quickly, he perked his head up and rolled his shoulders back. He had the perfect Plan B. “How about we make this a wager, hmm? If I win, you attend the gala. If you win, I won’t bring it up again,” He teased with a sly smirk, knowing his competitive cousin all too well.

Erik paused.

Shuri turned on her Kimoyo beads.

“Bet. You won’t be smiling when I beat that ass, tho.”

“Oh it is on, cousin.”

“Say less, cousin. Throw them hands up.”

“On scissors.”

“No nigga. It’s on shoot. Tryna best me when you don’t even know how to play? Tuh! Have fun at that punk ass gala, boi!”

—

And there he was. In a stuffy ass suit watching his corny ass cousin fake laugh with rich white folks for donor money that they didn’t even need.

“Fuck rock, paper, scissors,” Erik murmured to himself, shifting uncomfortably against the wall.

T’Challa peaked over at Erik, watching him sneer at another group of white folks who almost ran into him.

“Excuse you. Damn,” Erik nostrils flared. “I know y’all can see my big ass standing here.” T’Challa appeared, placing his hand on Erik’s shoulder to stop him before he lit into they asses. “Relax, N’Jadaka. This is supposed to be a fun night.”

“Fun, my ass,” Erik growled lowly. “This shit is wack. Even the food is trash. I mean, what the fuck is liver pâté on cucumber toast? All the Black people you know and you couldn’t get some decent food? No chicken? Shit, some Jollof rice would suffice,” He bellowed, rubbing his grumbling stomach.

“Nakia was in charge of the food. She likes to...experiment,” T’Challa chuckled. “One time she tried to get our chef to make these Chinese style pork buns. Which was comical because his only Asian specialities are Japanese cuisine and—.”

“Yeah, I don’t care,” Erik huffed dryly. “I’mma go see if they got some real food around here. I’m starving.” Erik rolled his eyes as he stomped away, leaving T’Challa standing there with the oop face.

“He on my last nerve, I swear,” Erik spat to himself.

He shuffled past a crowd of people mingling in the gala hall, before bursting through the kitchen door. “Hey, y’all got anything else back here? Shit, at this point I’ll settle for a grilled cheese sandw...” Erik stopped mid-sentence, completely taken back by the sight before him.

A woman seated in a tall stool at one of the islands was expertly downing a plate of hot wings, not getting a speck on her crisp white, off-the-shoulder gown. Erik watched her do a little happy dance as she cleaned every bit of meat and gristle off the bone. She popped a mocha colored finger in her mouth, sucking off left over sauce as she turned towards the direction of the eyes she felt gazing into her side.

“Oh, my bad,” Erik said, realizing he was staring at her a little too hard. “I was just looking for something to eat. But I see you beat me to it.” He smirked, while rubbing his hand nervously over his neatly braided dreads.

The woman let out a short laugh. “Did you see what they’re serving out there? Might as well put up a sign that says. ‘Don’t eat if you have tastebuds.’ You would think with Black people in charge, at least the food would be good.”

Erik smiled, letting his dimples peak out for the first time all night, “I’m saying, tho.”

“Here,” She exclaimed as she pulled up a stool next to her. “They’ll make just about anything you ask for. But I suggest the wings. They’re bomb.

“Mhmm,” Erik said as he took the seat & looked her over. He motioned towards the chef. “I’ll have what she’s got.”

As the chef prepared his food, Erik surprisingly found himself in deep conversation with the eccentric woman. Mostly about random things like where to get the best wings in Oakland & why white folks don’t season their food. Still, he was memorized by how laid back and real she seemed to be. Something he didn’t expect to find at a uptight, bourgie ass gala.

“Daamnn. You cleaned those bones like the chicken’s going somewhere,” she teased.

“Says the woman elbow deep in buffalo sauce,” Erik shot back jokingly, eying her as he finished off his last wing.

“Pffhtt...whatever! You wouldn’t even have known to get the wings if I wasn’t here. You should be thanking me,” She huffed, folding her arms across her chest.

Erik laughed and rolled his eyes, dramatically sucking the chicken bone in his hand while leaning in her direction.

She swatted at him playfully before checking the clock on the wall.” Oh shit, I gotta get back out there.”

She wiped her hands, before standing to smooth her gown. “Do me a favor and check my dress? Last thing I want is to be thinking I’m cute but I’m actually covered in chicken stains,” She said with a chuckle, slowly turning in front of Erik.

“Sure.” Erik said lowly before clearing his throat. He took in her frame, admiring her glowing dark skin and the way the gown hugged her fluffy tummy.

“You good.” He said, forcing his eyes to hers before they got lost in between her thighs.

She kissed her teeth and shot him a bright smile, “Thanks. Well, this was fun. Um...?”

“Oh, uh..Erik,” he replied, smiling back. “And yea it was...fun. Um...?”

She giggled. “Janessa.”

And with that, she sashayed out the double kitchen doors and into the crowded gala hall.

Erik sat back with one arm slinged over the back of his chair, juggling a toothpick in his teeth as he rubbed his now satisfied belly.

He would definitely see her again.

——

I hope y’all enjoyed! (lmao I’m so corny but Keke cracks me up🤣)

Also, let me know what y’all think. 👀

CONTINUE: Part 2.

🌞

[demonsofhunting]

All My Sins - Chapter 13

Pairing: priest!Cas x demon!Dean

Summary: Castiel and Dean are on the run. But where are they supposed to go? And Cas is hurt...

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, blood, fluff

Words: about 1400

A/N: Welcome to chapter 13! <3 This one just fits perfectly in the spooky season, doesn't it? It's one of my favs so far, I guess, it was so intense and fun to write. Our cute lil sinners finally get some rest...at least a little.

Catch up here ( Masterlist ) :D

I hope you'll like it! Enjoy! <3

Castiel's heart is beating fast as hell as they are running through the foggy streets of their town. There are sirens literally everywhere...well, that's what it feels like. It's horrible. Dean is holding the priest's hand, pulling him straight forward, even though Cas stumbles with almost every step he takes. His breaths are heavy, his chest burns. He can feel blood tripping down his clothes, making him feel dizzy. Don't you dare and pass out, Novak. We're fucked if you do that. Castiel clenches his jaw, trying his best to keep up with his love. Dean is pretty exhausted as well. Sweat is dripping down his forehead, and his facial expression is that what you could call 'restless'. It's getting darker and darker. The day is going to an end, and Cas has no idea how much time they already spent with...running and hiding. The fog is getting thicker and thicker. Wind blows from the direction they are heading for, as if it wants to stop them with its power. Cas shivers, the shreds of his clothes are not covering his chest pretty well, and it's getting freaking cold outside. After they run past another dark block of houses, the priest stops, leaning over while breathing, heavily. "Hey, what's going on? Cas? Are you alright?" Dean rasps, worried. He immediately runs to the other's side, ready to carry him if he needs to. Castiel smiles, weakly. "No...I...I just can't do this any longer, Dean. My...my chest fucking hurts. Everything...hurts..." he whispers, closing his eyes. I can't give up. I - "Cas? Hey, look at me!" Dean says, firmly, and the priest opens his eyes again, looking up, shaking. Dean's green eyes are filled with determination. "We're gonna make it, okay? I...I have an idea where we can go. But you need to hold on a little longer, alright? Just a few minutes, I promise," he tells the priest, stroking the other's cheek, "If they catch us, everything is lost. Please, Cas. Do it for me. Hold on." Castiel nods, shivering. Sure. I would do everything for him. "Awesome," Dean mutters, pulling Cas up again. Then they continue to run down the street.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- It takes more than a few minutes for them to reach the place that Dean was heading for. Castiel breathes in, sharply. "Seriously?" he coughs, getting slower again. His gaze flows over the line of trees that marks the beginning of the forest. "What are we supposed to do out there? Die because of the cold?" he scoffs, feeling completely exhausted, "Dean. That's just...stupid." "Well, we can't go back. They are searching the whole town. We don't have a car or something like that. The only way is to go into the forest, and head for the next town," Dean shrugs, running a hand through his messy hair. "That's insane, Dean! We're gonna die!" Castiel blurts out, letting go of the young man's hand. "Better than having to deal with the fucking police. C'mon, honey. Don't be a baby!" Dean chuckles, but he sounds tired as hell. "No! I'm not gonna - " Cas begins, but gets interrupted by the loud noise of sirens howling in the distance. Damm it! He grabs Dean's hand, and runs right into the sea of trees.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- It's dark in here. They run until they can't see the street anymore, then the priest just sits down on the ground that is covered with wet leaves. "That's it. I'm done," he cries out, burying his face in his hands. He accidentally touched his clothes, so he that he now smears blood on his face. But he doesn't care. Not anymore. "Dean...how are you doing this? This is horrible," he sobs, as the other sits down next to him, hugging him from behind. "I know, sweetheart. I know. Well, I don't have any other choice, do I?" he hums, softly. The darkness is covering them like a soft, heavy blanket. "I...I'm sorry," Cas mutters through his tears, "I love you, Dean." "Hey! Don't be sorry, okay? It's all my fault, Cas, not yours. I love you too. We're gonna make it, okay? Just...hang on." They sit there for a few minutes without saying a word, just comforting each other, quietly. Then Castiel breaks the silence, carefully. "How did you know that Meg was a demon?" he asks, "It almost looked like you knew each other pretty well." Dean swallows. "I wasn't completely honest to you, and I'm sorry about that. I just wanted to keep you safe. I...I know Meg since I made my deal. She was harassing me, playing with me after that, just randomly showing up to mock me. She enjoyed spending her time following me, and being happy about my desperation. I never though that she would follow me even into this town - your town. But she did. And after you told me about her using you in that sick kind of way...I...I wanted to kill her, Cas. But I didn't. I still didn't. And that makes me sick. To know that this whore is still alive, and that she tried to harm you..." He hesitates as if he has to control his anger, so that he doesn't explode, immediately. "It's fine. I was the one who let her use me like that," Cas says, weakly, "I gave her an opportunity, and she simply took it. I should have never talked to her. I'm glad that you followed me today, though." "Sure," Dean adds, "I just had an uneasy feeling. And I was right. It was worth the risk." Then they stay quiet for a few minutes again, until Dean asks straight ahead: "Can I take a look at your wounds, Cas?" The other winces, but nods, lightly: "Sure. Just...just tell me that it isn't as bad as it feels right now, okay? I feel like I'm constantly at the edge of passing out." The priest turns around while Dean pulls out his phone. The young man uses it as flashlight, and strokes back the shreds of Castiel's clothing, carefully. "Ow," the priest hisses, laying his head back in pain. "Sorry," Dean mutters, examining the wounds on the other's chest, closely. Cas can feel the young man's finger tips touching his skin, softly, sending thousands of shivers down his spine even though the pain is making him go crazy at the same time. Love and attraction. Such strange feelings. Castiel looks at Dean's face, carefully, searching for anything that gives something away. "And?" he asks, worried, "What...what did she do to me?" Sure, I could take a look myself, but I'm to damn afraid to do that right now. Dean makes a pout. "Well...doesn't look so bad," he says, but his eyes are saying something else. "You're a terrible liar. What's up?" The young man sighs: "Usually, I am a pretty good liar. But...this bitch carved some sick shit into your skin. Almost looks like old symbols or something like that." "Wait - what?!" Cas cries out, trying his best to take a look himself. The movement hurts, but what he sees on his chest in bloody lines makes his blood run cold. "Oh no. Oh nononononononono!" he stutters, looking at the symbols with disgust. "With our terrible luck, this must be some fucking voodoo stuff. I'm gonna die!" Cas cries out. I'm will rot form inside, I will - "Hey, hey! Take it easy. Maybe...maybe it's just some sick kind of art," Dean tries to comfort the priest, but this doesn't work at all.  I'm gonna fucking die... "You're not gonna die. Not on my watch. At least, it kinda stopped bleeding," Dean says, calmly, as if he just read the other's thoughts. He looks around, then his gaze meets Cas'. "I'm gonna patch you up," he determines. "With what? We don't have anything with us, we -" the priest, begins, but gets interrupted as he has to watch Dean taking his leather jacket of. "Dean, what are you - " "Shush," Dean mutters, letting his jacket fall to the ground with a frown. After he did that, he tugs a little on his shirt like he wants to test something. Then he takes it off, and begins to rip it into long shreds. Castiel stares at him with his mouth wide open. "Dean, please. I don't want you to freeze to death!" he tries to stop the other, but Dean has already ruined his piece of clothing. "And I'm not gonna let you die,"he says, firmly, "And now let me take care of you." And Cas does that, blushing a little.

( A/N: Next chapter on October 11, 2019 <3 )

That was chapter 13! Thank you so much for reading, and if you would like to leave a comment or reblog this shit, I will love you forever! <3

Tag lists are open! ( and under the cut this time XD )

[artificialqueens]

Stake Through the Heart (Branjie)- athena2

So this is based on an amazing prompt from @writworm42: “If anyone is looking for a prompt of late, a branjie fic where Brooke is an Extremely Serious vampire hunter who hears legends about Vanessa and turns out Vanessa is an ennui-filled, sarcastic, chaotic good vampire (a la what we do in the shadows) who is Not At All afraid of Brooke would be complete and total poetry xx.” I hope this is at least somewhat what you imagined, and I hope you like it!

Brooke first heard about Vanjie when she was 12.

A year after her parents were killed and she went to live with her grandmother. 

A year after she was drafted into a war she had been groomed for her entire life, a war she quickly became an honored soldier in.  

“The Mateo clan is one of the oldest, most dangerous clans of vampires in the world,” her grandmother had explained early in her training. “Some say they go back to the 1400’s.”

“Vanjie is one of the most feared. She’s the last of the line. She’s been a vampire less than a century, but she’s killed more than those three times her age. Four hunters have been killed by her in the last year alone. None have ever managed to kill her.” 

Brooke shifts in the shrubs, eyes narrowing as a figure approaches. 

The brunette is yapping on the phone, parading through the cemetery like she’s at a party. Doritos fall out of a bag as she walks, a trail of fake nacho cheese breadcrumbs. Her wavy brown hair flows behind her, shining in the moonlight. 

Hand on her crossbow, Brooke stands, ignoring her screaming muscles, sore from 15 years of hunting. 

Gotcha, she thinks. 

—

It’s not the first time their paths have crossed, though neither of those times went according to plan. 

The very first time, none of Brooke’s careful training could prepare her for finally seeing Vanjie. It was probably some sort of vampire charm, but Brooke couldn’t take her eyes off Vanjie and her smooth skin, mesmerized by her big brown eyes. By the time Brooke recovered her mind enough to take out her stake, Vanjie had already disappeared without so much as flashing her fangs. 

She’d taken on Vanjie with junior hunter Plastique last winter, Brooke barely escaping with her life after Plastique knocked herself out with her own crossbow, but not before it misfired and an arrow lodged in Brooke’s chest, dangerously close to her heart. 

The pain must have made her hallucinate, because she thinks she remembers Vanjie putting Hello Kitty Band-Aids over a scrape on her arm, then vanishing right as an ambulance Brooke didn’t call for arrived. 

It was probably just a hallucination. 

Though she never was able to explain the Band-Aids. 

The arrow wound took months to heal and the scar tissue still twinges when she moves wrong. 

She went back to working alone after that. She should have known it was dumb to take someone under her wing; she’s better on her own, has been since she was a kid. She threw herself into extra training, extra research. She won’t fail again.

Third times the charm, and all that nonsense. 

—

“I know you in them woods, Blondie. Want some Doritos?” Vanjie’s voice sounds like a gangster from the movies. 

Brooke stills, heart thudding painfully. A vampire had never been able to pick out her hiding place. Vanjie was as good as the legends said. 

“Come on out,” Vanjie continues. “I don’t bite. Well, not on the first date, anyway.”

Brooke tightens her grip on the crossbow and moves silently out to the gravestones. 

“You here to kill me? You could at least buy me dinner first. Seriously. Minimum wage is shit. A bitch is broke.” Vanjie stands with her hips cocked and inspects her crimson nail polish. 

Brooke doesn’t say a word. She inches closer, her finger on the release. She should have already pulled it. Why hasn’t she? And why aren’t Vanjie’s fangs out? 

“Am I supposed to be scared of you?” Vanjie demands. “You pretty impressive, I’ll give you that. But you can only be so scary when you smell like lavender. Are you, like, 90?” 

Well, the lavender body wash was supposed to be calming, not that it’s working considering the way Vanjie is making her blood pressure skyrocket right now. 

Vanjie sighs. “Look, if you’re gonna kill me, can we go to my apartment first? I should be allowed a last meal.” 

This is against the rules. This is wrong. But this is the closest she’s ever been. She can feel it in her blood. Brooke shrugs. “Lead the way.”

—

Brooke was always a good student, bringing home A’s as soon as she was old enough to get letter grades. She didn’t go into her hunting career unprepared. 

She started at 18, the earliest they would let her, though she’d been training and studying for 6 years. By then, she was too late to avenge her parents: the two heads of the Mateo line died mysteriously when she was 16, no hunter taking the credit for it. 

But Brooke still worked. Within months, she was a top hunter, killing vampires that had been around for centuries. Each one was just practice, an appetizer before the feast. 

Last year, after months of studying the Mateos, she set her sights on Vanjie. 

She knows Vanessa Isabella “Vanjie” Mateo was born October 1930, the youngest of the Mateo line. She had been turned in the summer of 1958, when she was 27. She’d bounced around Puerto Rico and the United States, currently residing in Toronto. 

Brooke’s heard the legends, the stories of horrible vampires and the brave hunters that fought them in her ear since she was a child tucked into bed with stuffed animals. Vanjie’s were always the most gruesome stories, the ones that made her stay up all night fearfully clutching her stuffed rabbit as Brooke vowed to become the thing that vampires feared. 

According to legend, her kill count is in the thousands. 

According to legend, she ate the hearts of those she’d killed when blood wasn’t enough.  

According to legend, no hunter to engage in combat with her has ever walked away alive.

—

Brooke’s hands sweat. She’s not following the rules. She’s certain no hunter has ever been to a vampire’s home. But it’ll be worth when she gets revenge for her parents. When she kills the most dangerous vampire in recent history. When she becomes the brave hunter in the stories parents tell their kids. 

“You mind if I change first? I always say my job is gonna be the death of me, but I’d rather not die in this thing.”

The blue polyester polo is ugly, though Brooke thinks it looks unreasonably good on Vanjie. 

“Okay.”

Brooke takes in the messy kitchen with its checkerboard floor. Takeout containers are piled in the sink. None of the chairs match; one is a rocking chair, one is shaped like a giant hand, and one has ornate trim and red velvet lining. A goldfish swims in a soda bottle filled with water, while mysterious green liquid bubbles(?) in a fishbowl. The refrigerator has stickers reading “Meme Wall”, and is hidden beneath cut-out pictures of people and quotes even Brooke admits she can relate to. Strings of Pokémon cards serve as a pantry door, a lava lamp glows purple on the table, pink streamers hang from the ceiling light, just brushing the floor. Brooke forces her eyes down on the floor before her head explodes.

Something doesn’t add up. Where was the creepy dungeon stuff Vanjie had in the legends? This place looks like a bunch of stoned college kids decorated it. And why was Vanjie being nice to her? She can’t let her guard down. This is probably all a ruse; how Vanjie lures hunters in before she kills them. 

She is still standing, bow slung over her back, stake in its thigh holster, when Vanessa comes back in black leggings and a sleeveless shirt made of flowy red silk. 

“Stay a while, Blondie. Sit down and relax. You always so tense? Let me loosen those shoulders for ya.” Hands unclasp her bow and nudge her into a chair before clamping down on her shoulders and massaging out the aches. 

“I don’t–I’m not–my shoulders are none of your business!” She splutters, wriggling her shoulders until the hands leave, refusing to acknowledge how nice they felt. She stays in the chair, the velvet one, which smells like Sour Patch Kids mixed with wet dog. “I’m here to kill you, if you haven’t noticed!”

“So do it. I’ll even give you an open shot.” Vanessa pulls aside her shirt, exposing the smooth skin over her not-beating heart, and Brooke forgets how to breathe. Vanjie definitely has some sort of charm power. 

She makes no move for her stake.

“That’s what I thought.” She covers her skin, breaking the spell. 

“I will. Eventually,” Brooke promises. “I want answers first.”

“You want coffee?”

“No. It makes me jittery.”

“Good, ‘cause I don’t have any.” Vanjie reaches for a bright orange Frisbee, dumping in cereal and milk before crumbling chocolate Pop-Tarts and Fritos over the top. 

Where was the blood of her enemies? The hearts she ate for dinner? Brooke thinks she’d rather watch Vanjie eat a heart than this monstrosity. “Who the hell puts that in cereal? And why are you eating out of a Frisbee?”

Vanjie drops into the rocking chair across from Brooke before speaking. 

“Don’t judge me. I work retail and I deserve this. One, it makes Cocoa Puffs more chocolatey, and chocolate’s my main reason to live. Or well, to not die. Plus you get salty-sweetness. And two, A’Keria’s slacking off on the dishes.” She slurps up milk. “Why’s it matter? Who says cereal has to be eaten in a bowl? You know the shit I’ve seen? The earth is dying, bees are dying, who gives a flying fuck what I eat out of? You do. I bet you eat Raisin Bran with bananas.”

“Strawberries, actually.”

“So little soldier girl can tell a joke.” Vanjie grins. 

Brooke has to hold her own smile back. She’s here to kill this bitch. She’s never broken procedure like this, ever, and she has to remind herself she’s only going along with Vanjie’s nonsense because she’ll do whatever it takes to kill her. 

“So, why?” Vanjie asks abruptly. 

“Why what?” Brooke sighs. She wishes this bitch would shut up already so she can kill her, because the more Vanjie talks, the farther away Brooke’s stake feels. 

“Why do you hunt? Gotta be a reason,” Vanjie challenges with a smirk.

“My parents and grandparents were hunters.”

“Ah, family tradition. Hear that one a lot.” She crunches on a Frito.

“Your parents killed mine.” Shit. She had a strategy. She had plans, she had notes. She wasn’t supposed to blurt that out yet. 

“Well, shit.”

“That’s all you have to say?” Brooke’s out of her chair before she knows it, stake pressing against Vanjie’s chest. “My parents died! I…I was only 11!” 

Vanjie wraps her hand around Brooke’s wrist, her skin tingling. “I’m sorry. Can you give me a minute to explain? I know you’re all noble and stuff. Please hear me out.”

Brooke sighs and settles back in her chair, holding the stake tightly. 

“I’m sorry about your parents. I really am. That must have been hard. You were just a kid.” Vanjie’s voice is impossibly soft and Brooke finds her grip loosening. “But you need to know, I was never part of their whole murder thing. My parents…they cut ties with me decades ago. I wasn’t what they wanted. I like girls, first of all. And I wouldn’t kill. I only drink animal blood. I’ve never killed anyone.” She takes a breath. “Well, except for them.”

“What?” She drops the stake. This could all be a lie, and Vanjie could kill her any second, but she believes her. 

“Yeah. They said I could get back into their graces if I found myself a male companion or killed a newborn baby to prove my loyalty. You know, just basic things you do for your parents to like you,” she mutters acidly. “I just fucking had it. So I killed them.” 

“Holy shit.” Vanjie’s voice is deadly calm and serious, eyes dark, and Brooke knows she’s telling the truth. 

“Yeah.” 

“But-but the legends about you! You killed more hunters than anyone! You’re one of the most feared vampires in history!” She shakes her head frantically. How could this all be going so wrong?

“My parents made that shit up,” Vanjie shrugs. “Couldn’t have people know their daughter was a disappointment. It wasn’t like anyone was gonna fact-check ‘em.”

“I don’t think you’re a disappointment,” Brooke says quietly. 

Vanjie bites her lip and smiles sadly. She pulls her shirt open again. “So, we gonna get this over with?”

“Do you, like, want to die?” Brooke asks, making no move to hurt Vanjie, her mind still buzzing. 

“I mean, I’m not exactly having a good time in this hellhole.”

“Maybe you should talk to someone.”

“That’s your advice? A fucking therapist?”

“Sorry. My grandparents made me go to one. After, you know.”

Vanjie nods. After a few seconds of silence she stands up and leans in, placing her hand on Brooke’s shoulder. “Did you heal up okay? After your little friend got excited and shot you? Too bad I didn’t have enough Band-Aids to cover all of you.”

“You-” Her eyes go wide. It wasn’t a hallucination. 

“Yeah, I remember that night. Not everyday someone knocks themselves out with their own weapon. Couldn’t forget those eyes of yours, either.”

Vanjie’s hand slips underneath Brooke’s black T-shirt, fingers ghosting over the raised skin where the arrow pierced her. Brooke looks up at the exact second Vanjie looks down and then their lips meet. 

Vanjie’s lips are surprisingly soft and strong, pressing Brooke firmly into the chair. Vanjie’s hands roam all over Brooke’s chest and Brooke hesitantly lifts hers up to Vanjie’s back. There is no heartbeat pulsing beneath her fingers but Vanjie’s body feels infinitely alive as Brooke’s hands move to tangle in her hair. 

They break apart after what feels like years and Brooke tries to remember how to breathe. 

“That was pretty impressive, Blondie.”

“Brooke. Not Blondie.”

“Vanessa. Not Vanjie.”

They both look at each other awkwardly. “So I guess that means you’re not gonna kill me?” Vanessa asks in a small voice. 

“No. I’m not.” She gathers her bow and slips her stake inside its holster. 

“Leaving so soon?”

“Yeah. I-I should go.”

Vanessa nods. She gives Brooke a quick hug, hand steady over Brooke’s jacket pocket. Over her heart. 

“Mind the streamers on your way out. It’s some jellyfish costume Yvie’s trying to make.”

Brooke feels something inside her jacket pocket once she gets home. She pulls out a tiny piece of paper with a phone number on it. 

She falls asleep with the paper clenched in her hand.

—

The next day she dials the numbers that are unfamiliar to her but that she hopes become second nature. 

“Vanessa? How about that dinner?”