#wisteria dipped in gold

[almondmilkcleanser]

𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐀 𝐃𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐂𝐇. 𝟑

𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐍𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋. You're a fox youkai who's just been betrothed to be married to this anonymous demon. But is he really that anonymous? He looks.. familiar.

✥ ` ■ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒. f!reader x sesshomaru ✥ ` ■ 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒. Arranged marriage; opposites attract; ✥ ` ■ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. my perfectionism don't like det. ✥ ` ■ 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎. Teresa - moments x where roses bloom ✥ ` ■* 𝐀/𝐍. — Happy holidays <3 Leave a comment to be added to the update list! ✥ ` ■ 𝐄𝐗𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐕𝐄 ���𝐎𝐔𝐊𝐀𝐈 - @hisokaswaifu32 all-the-thngz-i-nvr-said traumatizedgirly meontheblock002 tcapter luv-for-fictional-characters rlurvey obsessedalpaca bontensbabygirl bunniotomia

“Explain this “arrangement” to me right now!” the castle consorts hid their faces in their palm. Your brash mannerisms were nothing new. They were encouraged even by your father despite your mother’s attempt at teaching you to be a studious, demure, quiet lady. 

“Oh, Y/N. This arrangement was long arranged since before you were born. You see, Sesshomaru’s father, the great Inu Taisho-” Sesshomaru nodded his head slightly at your father, giving him the OK to continue. 

“Him and I would meet during the seasons. “Oh, my daughter!” your father clapped his hands together. A triumphant smile plastered across his face. You stood next to Sesshomaru, your face flustered, grimacing and grumbling under your breath.

“Daddy! Explain the meaning of this!” you stomped your feet against the wisteria covered steps. Your father met the two of you outside of the castle gates inside the garden. Speckles of violets and morning glories danced in the air around the two of you; bright pigments of lavender, green, sage and yellow in preparation for the spring. It was going to be a beautiful spring according to the season oracle. But none of that mattered right now-

And its through his skilled knowledge of the land that we were able to expand our kingdom into such a beautiful creation that it is today. No war. No famine. Our kingdom has been designated to aide in a kingdom’s beautification from near and far. Sesshomaru was but a child then, but we agreed that if and when i have a daughter, she would be his bride. 

“Well, what if I don’t want to be his bride!” you protested, glaring at him from the side of your eye. Sesshomaru returned your stare with a his own. Letting off a short chuckle as he looked away.

“You see, daddy! He doesn’t even want to proceed with the arrangement. And besides, he’s too soft-looking. You said it yourself that my husband needs to be a warrior!”

“Y/N, don’t be so crude, sweetheart.” your mother looked over at Sesshomaru apologetically. His expression remained neutral. “You can’t outwardly judge someone so harsh-”

“I’m assuming you’re going to blindly negate from the fact that I saved you from that large demon outside in the fields.” your father’s eyebrows shot up. “Your life was nearly over if I didn’t find you when I di-”

“I didn’t ask you to do that!” you huffed, crossing your arms as you looked away. “I would have figured out a way to take him down.”

“With a measly hand blade? I would have enjoyed watching that happen.”

“Tsk! Daddy!”

Your father pressed his fingers on both sides of his nose. He knew this wasn’t going to be an easy 1-2 process. 

“How’s this. Get to know him till the end of summer. By the time the last hydrangeas fall to the ground to welcome the winter and you still have your apprehensions, we will cancel the arrangement. And in exchange, I will let you choose whether to stay or go. Whichever you

decide.”

Your face softened. Your father must have really respected this Inu Taisho person. With a brattish glance at Sesshomaru, you took a deep breath and dropped your arms.

“Fine. But if this doesn’t work. I want that jade necklace you promised me and 2 horses for myself.” you walked off to the right towards your chambers, leaving your handmaidens no choice but to follow you.

“And he’s not staying in my room!” was the last thing you said before disappearing into the distance.

Your father looked at Sesshomaru with the deepest, most silent apology. “I promise you she’s not normally like this..”

Sesshomaru grunted in response. “If its alright with you I’ll take my stay outside of the castle. I suspect if that one demon was so close its best I linger around for a little while longer.”

“Ah! Yes! A-are there any other acquaintances of yours that we should accomoda-”

“Lord Sesshomaruuuuuuu! Wait for me!!!!!” Sesshomaru’s face showed its first expression this whole time; annoyance. A small green creature with buggy eyes and a large stick sprinted through the garden, his breath ragged and fumbled.

“Ah! My Lord! You ran away so suddenly and I- Hm? What is this place?” the creature looked around frantically, his eyes both in wonder but also in.. permanent worry?

“This is my wife’s kingdom, Jaken.”

“Your wife.” Jaken repeated. He looked around at your father and mother, the servants, and the flowers until it hit him,

“Your wife!?”

“This simply has to be a mistake. No women is worthy enough of the Great Lord Sesshomaru! Just what kind of bribery must have- OOF!” In a blink, Jaken’s face was to the floor with a large knot to his head. Sesshomaru pivoted on his heel, walking out of the castle, leaving Jaken on the floor to catch up to him.. Eventually. 

—

“Y/N! Are you crazy! You have to marry him. Do you not see him? He’s incredibly handsome.”

You crossed your arms, eyes darting bullets at your friend, Saya. Saya put her hands to her cheeks, her bright brown eyes glimmering at the inert fantasy playing in her head.

“To have such a strong demon under your arm and bear his children must be a dream come true!”

“Not for me! I don’t even know this man. He could be an absolute psycho.”

“Or a dream!” your other friend, Miko, piped up alongside Saya. You could see the soft envy in their eyes, but it wasn’t harmful. Your own friends didn’t even understand why you were so apprehensive. 

“I don’t know…” Miko sighed, rubbing her temples. “I just feel like I’m still young. Still wanting to explore the world. Or-”

“Still wanting to pickle yourself for that fool Hachiko. I’m telling you, Y/N. You’re going to get yourself hurt all over again and this time its going to stick.” Saya looked at you and Miko, who you felt was more of an older sister type of friend, with curious eyes.

“Who’s Hachiko?” Saya asked.

“Oh he’s some soldier in training in the neighboring kingdom that Y/N is head over heels about. But he’s just a peasant boy, no grounds for a pri-”

“Peasant boy or not, I love him. And no Sesshomaru is going to stand between us.” You stood to your feet to escape back into the garden.

“Y/N.” Miko piped up, her eyebrows scrunched in concern. “Just- think it over. Opportunities like this don’t come around often for women like us.”

You looked back, your mouth pressed together. Without saying much else, you walked out of your room, into your personal garden.

[theseshipsshallsail]

Happy Birthday, Armie Hammer ❤️ May your day (and car) be filled with love, laughter, and the joy of things to come.

He’s precisely where Armie hoped he would be: perched on the low, circular wall at the centre of Luca’s Renaissance garden. 

Long legs crossed at his Conversed ankles. 

Gimlet eyes closed in obvious contentment. 

A thin halo of cigarette smoke gilding his chestnut curls. 

Just like always, the gently sloping lawn masks his unhurried approach, but Tim’s smiling all the same when he brushes aside the tumbling wisteria; turning his face towards him as if fully expecting he’d seek him out. 

As if his company is a given.

Because here they are - two days shy of wrapping their Italian idyll - and they both know that it is.

“I thought you’d quit?” Armie teases, scooping up the familiar carton of Marlboro Golds.

A joint resolution, to be fair, but Tim merely shrugs as he takes another drag: arching his spine in a decadent stretch. “What is it they say?” he murmurs, gesturing for him to sit. “The road to hell is paved with drunk intentions?”

Armie scoffs. “Something like that, yeah.”

They’ve each made an effort to curb the tongue-loosening vino , too.

Nevertheless, he’s so close there’s barely a sliver of breeze between them, and the next time Tim lifts that slender hand he snags his arm mid-movement: autopilot fingers forming a pinion bracelet over the thin blue veins at his wrist. 

The thrum of anticipation is immediate: a subtle, head-to-toe tension born from the effort of staying still. Armie leans in - Tim’s body an extension of his own - and angling the filter he commits the slide of bone and tendon to memory: thoroughly enraptured by the staccato drumbeat beneath his sweeping thumb. 

Self-preservation falls by the wayside, and with no further thought he slots the pilfered cigarette between his waiting lips, relishing the shallow dip in the orange paper from the other man’s teeth: the enticing hint of surrogate dampness as he breathes in deep, invoking the acrid sting at the back of his throat.

“Careful, Hammer…” Tim says softly, fumbling a China demitasse from the ledge of an ornate water feature to ash the smouldering tip. “Just ‘cause you’ve ditched the Giorgio Armani, don't make it any safer to play with fire.” 

His words hold an insight that can’t be dismissed, and Armie exhales slowly; a fresh wreath of silvery-grey blooming like the courtyard’s fragrant azaleas as he tempers his awkward grip. “The last thing I’d want is to see you get burned.” 

“No,” Tim mutters, insouciance personified. “With that martyr complex your sporting, you’d set yourself alight before the flame dared touch me.” 

As accusations go, it’s terrifyingly honest. 

“Some habits die hard, you little asshole.”

“Some habits need to,” Tim counters, discarding the butt in the dregs of his espresso as the rumbling crunch of tyres on gravel issues from the nearby driveway. 

It’s a powerful magic: the element of suspense. Especially when paired with such raw inevitability. There’s so much more Armie longs to tell him - promises and declarations he’s not quite ready to voice - yet braced for the Hollywood falsehoods ahead he settles into the liminal silence: cradling Tim’s hand under the burnished kiss of dawn.

[persphonesorchid]

Minisode: Jungkook

Notes: Okay so...happy birthday Jungkook my bro! It's a bit over 500w but it's okay, because, it's Jk 🙂‍↕️

Minisodes Masterlist

The garden is your secret, a hidden maze of wildflowers and towering hedges far from the watchful eyes of the court. The moment you tug at Jungkook’s hand, you both abandon your titles, slipping away from the rigid structure of the palace.

His hand in yours, you move swiftly through the winding corridors of the garden, the sound of your laughter blending with the rustling leaves. The sun filters through the thick canopy of roses, casting dappled shadows on the ground as you weave between the tall hedges. Here, you can be whoever you want to be—no princess, no guard—just two people lost in the wonder of each other’s company.

Jungkook steals a glance at you, catching the way your eyes sparkle as you gaze up at the blooming wisteria above. You’re different here—lighter, free. It’s a sight he treasures, one that he knows he’s privileged to witness.

You find a hidden nook within the garden, a small alcove surrounded by thickle bushes, the scent of roses heavy in the air. Jungkook releases your hand, and you twirl in the open space, your laughter ringing out like the sweetest melody. He watches, a soft smile tugging at his lips. In these moments, the lines between duty and something deeper blur, leaving only the warmth of your presence beside him.

“Close your eyes,” you say suddenly, stepping closer.

He arches a brow but obliges, closing his eyes and feeling the brush of your fingers as you adjust something on the hilt of his sword. When he opens them, you’re holding a pendant, its surface catching the light with a soft shimmer.

“For you,” you murmur, your voice just above a whisper.

He looks down at the pendant, its intricate design familiar, yet the meaning behind it remains unspoken between you. There’s a depth in your gaze that speaks of more than just duty—something warm, something close.

“Thank you,” he replies softly, his voice almost reverent. He knows it’s more than just a gift; it’s a piece of your heart, carefully chosen, and silently given.

You smile, a soft, knowing curve of your lips that makes his heart stutter. There’s a moment of silence as you stand together in the garden, the world beyond fading into the background. For now, you aren’t bound by your roles.

Jungkook feels the weight of the pendant on his sword, a reminder of this moment, of you. And though the words remain unspoken, he knows. The pendant is more than just a token—it’s a quiet celebration, a small, private mark of a day that would have otherwise gone unnoticed in the chaos of palace life.

As you both make your way back through the maze, the sun begins to dip below the horizon, casting the garden in hues of gold and orange. The moment lingers between you, a shared secret in the fading light. And as you return to your roles, the pendant remains, a silent promise of what you can be when the world isn’t watching.

[gauloiseblue]

Private Love Hotel

[Giorno Giovanna × Reader]

Warning: kidnapping, dub-con, yandere

In the wealthy area of Naples, there was once a private hotel owned by the mafia. Only people within the organization who could rent a room, as the hotel itself is just a cover front. Beneath the surface, there was a filthy business going on. Illegal guns, drugs, booze, high-class brothel, and even killing contracts. It was notoriously known as a killing ground, before there was a new policy imposed by the boss. Any killing that happens in this hotel won't be forgiven, and the killer would pay a heavy price—with their own life.

Besides drugs and killing, there were lesser businesses that made people stay for a night. It was the prostitution. Even though it's not as heinous as those top businesses, it still shared the same atrocities. The demand of the escorts were high at that time, and so to meet their demand, they relied to the human trafficking business.

Naples is known for its raving tourism, and it's not a surprise that it added some numbers to the overall missing cases. Although it's not always caused by the human traffickers, it still contributes a hefty part of the cases. Lone travelers, or even local girls were often targeted by them.

But after the great war within the organization, the hotel fell into the hands of the renegades. As a result, it no longer becomes the hotspot for the criminals. There's no more drug trades, and the abducted girls were released discreetly. Of course, there was an outrage from the old pack, but they were quickly shut down by the young rebels.

In the beginning, only a few knew about the existence of such place. But now, there's only one person who can actually enter the hotel.

The reason? Quite simple. Because he's the new owner.

—

"We've arrived, sir."

The man in the back seat slowly blinked away from his thoughts. It seems like the endless ride from Cosenza to his city has finally ended.

"Grazie, Bono."

The chauffeur lowers his head politely, before he opens the door for the young Don.

When he stepped out from the car, he let out a satisfied sigh, as he finally touched the ground. His bones are aching, and he wants nothing but a long and hot shower.

"Pick me up at 8 o'clock tomorrow morning will you, Bono?" He asked, and the old chauffeur replied with 'certainly, sir.'

He dismissed the old chap before he went to the grand buildings in front of him. The buildings have an overall white exterior, with a hint of gold embellishments. There are some wisteria flowers creeping on the wall, and they seem to always bloom. He looks down to the marble tiles under his shoes, it seems like they've been polished. It appears that his henchmen did a great job on keeping this place beautiful when he was away.

The waterfall sound greets him as he opens the door, the replica of Fontana del Nettuno silently watches him as he enters the place.

The elongated pool from the fountain ripples softly when he dips his hand, the water is pleasantly cool. It was something that he usually does whenever he came, though he wasn't quite sure why. Maybe it's because he always wanted to do that before he owned the place, or maybe it's just a peculiar habit of his.

He wanted to sit by the fountain for a bit longer, but he needed to see his cara.

Oh, yes. A woman after his own heart, with a pretty name—(Y/N). A woman with a perseverance in her eyes, burning with hatred. Just like a wildfire, and it's beautiful.

When you were first brought to him, he shivered the moment he met your eyes. You had a certain intensity of willingness to fight, and it mesmerized him. He had planned to release you along with the other girls, but within that second, he changed his mind.

He hums as he presses the lift button, and the familiar 'ding' is heard when the lift has arrived. He ignored the other floors and immediately thumbs the 7th floor button.

The door is closed, and he leans his head to the back as he crosses his hands. He stares at the ceiling, and he finds himself staring at his own reflection. His weariness makes him look far softer, and he no longer looks like the ruthless Don Giorno Giovanna. But he doesn't mind, because at the end of the day, he just wants to come home to you.

As he reaches the 7th floor, he steps into the red-carpeted hallway. This particular floor was exclusively reserved for the higher ranks, as the rooms are bigger than the others. The statues made of marbles are standing on either side of the hall, decorating the place with the touch of arts and plump bodies.

Even though he only uses one room, he keeps most of his wealth in the other rooms. Golds, money, arts, his wide collections of booze and jewelry, and everything unimaginable. Some of them are priceless, and Mista had commented that it's a bad idea to keep them in just one place. But he has his teroso in this hotel, so he might as well put his valuable things in here.

When he opened the door of your room, he noticed that the room was quiet. It's no surprise, given that you always try to hide from him. But when he turned around, he suddenly saw something swing at him at a light speed.

Alas, Golden Experience was faster than you as it caught your hand before you could hurt him.

"Cara." He spoke in a calm manner as he saw you with your hand suspended in the air, holding a screwdriver. And to your horror, the tool in your hand had slowly turned into a white lily.

"How clever of you, you managed to steal this thing from my men when they came here." He commented as he plucked the flower from your hand, "But certainly not patient enough to kill me in my sleep."

There is a visible rush in you as adrenaline makes you tremble, but there's also an unmistakable fear in your eyes. Of course, you didn't know what's going on due to the fact that he never used his stand against you before.

You shrieked when he suddenly twisted your arm painfully and pinned you to the nearest wall. Your cheek was the first one to hit the hard surface, and it would be a lie if it didn't hurt.

"Let go of me!" You shouted and kicked around, but he just chuckled at your futile attempt to fight him.

"How can I become so sure that you won't try to kill me again?" He said with a sneer.

A surprised yelp escapes your mouth when he tears your pants down, cool air begins to kiss on your exposed skin. He called out his stand to keep you pinned to the wall, before you heard the sound of metal clinking and zipper from behind.

"No, no, Giorno, please don't." You protested.

"Relax, (Y/N)." He pried your legs open so easily, even though you had put all of your strength to keep it shut. You almost lost your balance when he pulled your hips toward him, and soon enough you felt him lining his member in front of your lower lips. You screamed when he entered you in just one thrust.

"Please, please Giorno—" Your voice choked up when he began to move. The initial thrush didn't hurt you much, but with every snap of his hips, the pain was gradually increasing. Even though you despise his touch, he never treated you like anything but a lover. But the way he treats you now is like how you were being used in the past, and it shouldn't bother you but it did. Unknowingly, you begin to sob.

You feel the weight that has been holding you against the wall disappear, before Giorno presses himself against your back. He slips his hand under your chin, and guides you to face him. You feel his lips grazing on your wet cheek. "Why do you always want to run away from me, cara?" He began to speak as he kissed you, "All I ever did to you was to make you happy, and I only asked you to love me in return."

"It's not fair," You cried, "I didn't ask for all of this."

"Oh, cara." He cooed to you softly, "You just haven't realized how much you need me. But I'll wait for you, I'll wait for however long it takes."

He begins to return to his usual pace, where he takes you in a slow and loving manner. Although you still refuse to give in, he no longer sees any resistance from you. He smirks, you were just like a wild thing, but it seems like he finally got you under his control.

[buildthoughts]

Snifferish Builds #1

Taking a dip into modded minecraft with Sniff's latest video! Specifically Chisels and Bits, which will probably show up in the future as I enjoy rats smp.

The windows and the moss and the wisteria on Sniff's cottage really show of the artistic strengths of the chisels and bits mod. Using round windows in contrast with the dramatic sharp shape of the roof helps push the cozy vibe. The lattice designs on the circle windows is so neat and keeps the pattern from becoming too repetitive. Sniff added a tiny stained glass arch above the door which adds a ton of personality to the build. Having windows cracked open and the wood chopping log also add extra life to the cottage.

Just inside the door, there's boots, a hat, and a backpack. Sniff built this cottage for themself and these extra lived in details add to the feeling that Sniff actually lives here.

Cozy is the game with this interior and I wish I could live here. Plants in every corner and a big bed with a library on one side and a sunlit art setup on the other? Dream Home.

Sniff's attention to shape and weight when it comes to sculpting cloth, like those curtains, is admirable. I love the pattern on the carpet but I'm pretty sure that's a default from one of her mods since Sniff didn't mention designing it (and she noted when she was bringing in previous models they've made like the bed). Sniff mentioned they like high ceilings, which was why they didn't do an attic. For my own person tastes, I'm more torn. Sniff ended up doing a loft which I think looks stellar, but the a-line ceiling in this section of the house, I'm less a fan of. I don't think I've ever lived somewhere with an a-line ceiling, so maybe that's why it feel off/unfinished to me?

Kitchen is cute! Love the stove, fridge and shelving! I like that the sink faucet's gold color matches the detailing on the stove/fridge. But something about the sink isn't doing it for me. I think it might be because its the least textured spot in the room? But porcelain is smooth, so a texture wouldn't make sense. I'd be curious what adding a little lip around the edge of the sink would do? It'd probably be too bulky and throw off the scale.

I just noticed that the stove wall is a different texture than the one by the sink. That's an interesting choice. In this image it didn't feel right, but I watched back her video and it looks a lot more cohesive in motion and adds some nice warmth to the room.

I couldn't get a good screenshot of the loft, but I loved the inclusion of a book press and the art desk. Adding a railing for safety, also very good.

A lovely build. The colors are warm and earthy. Chisels and Bits builders go off.

[eluvisen]

Still Waters

Fandom: Andromeda Six

Characters: pre-relationship Vexx Serif/Traveller

Rating: T

Summary: Queen Nikolle’s youngest daughter has a habit of swimming in the fountains, and Vexx discovers some of the currents beneath the palace’s surface.

—

The first time Princess Nephien emerges from her suite wearing only a silk robe, Vexx has no idea what’s going on.

He follows her to one of the many gardens scattered throughout the palace grounds, stopping beside a fountain. This one is as large as a swimming pool and maybe as deep, lined with bright mosaics in blue and gold. A three tiered sculpture rises from the centre, sending streams of water into the basin. Vexx finds an unobtrusive spot in the shade of a wisteria trellis that gives him a decent view of the garden at large.

Nephien sets her towel on a nearby bench and slides the robe from her shoulders. It finally clicks when he sees the swimsuit she’s wearing beneath. Her skin is a flawless brown, and he’s surprised to see the shift of sinewy muscles as she steps up onto the edge of the fountain, highlighting her slender shoulders and the curves of her hips. 

Despite himself, he’s caught by the arch of her body. She’s more graceful than he expected as she dives into the fountain, sailing beneath the water’s surface. Not that she’s ungraceful on land, exactly, but she’s usually doing everything she can to pretend she doesn’t exist. But she owns the water with sure strokes as she makes several quick laps around the pool, and it’s frankly impressive how long she can hold her breath for. While her gills might be more pronounced than his, they aren’t any more usable. If she wasn’t half-human—and Kitalpha wasn’t a graveyard—she’d probably do better underwater than above it.

Vexx watches Nephien drift by, now floating beneath the surface with her eyes closed, and she propels herself with a lazy flick of a foot. She looks positively lustrous with her skin all but shimmering and her hair billowing around her in thick ripples. For the first time, he notices—okay, lets himself admit—that she’s beautiful. It’s a shame, really.

The princess’s fountain dip becomes something of a routine as the weeks pass. Regular, but not so regular that anyone can predict her schedule as she visits different fountains across the grounds, and it takes Vexx longer than it should to realise she times her swims after the patrol has swept through the garden to maximise her time alone. She never quite relaxes, either. Whenever she comes up for air, the first thing she does is scan her surroundings, and her shoulders don’t come down from around her ears until she’s confirmed the coast is clear.

The only threat in the palace is the royal family itself, he’s learned. 

One afternoon, Vexx notices movement in the garden. A member of the Guard, and one he can’t place by sight. Not part of a patrol, not at this hour, and not one stationed at the south wing. Which means he’s someone’s security detail—and the asshole he’s assigned to has to be nearby. 

The guard captain emphasised that Vexx isn’t supposed to initiate conversation with his charge unless it’s a life-or-death emergency, and shitty family doesn’t qualify. But what the hell. Out of all these pricks, the princess is one of the least awful. Between her and the rest of them, he doesn’t want them to win. 

And who knows, if he gets in her good graces, she might drop some more interesting tidbits about the palace.

When Nephien next surfaces, Vexx says, “Your Highness. You have company.”

[Read on AO3]

[thekillingmoonmoon]

one | sunlight, sweetpea

(happy goodbyes, thank-you for a pleasant stay, we part with love)

sequel to wisteria wishes (one / two)

part one / part two (this somehow became two parts, oops)

Pairing: Inui Seishu x Fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, soft dom! Inui, smut, cunninglingus, angst (I’m sorry)

Length: 1,7 k

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

You awoke with the dawn beside you, a god formed in a haze of gold, broken by ocean blue as Inui blinked at your sleeping form. You were not alone. Inui had not left. Sunlight spilt across your pillow, his hair cascading across the cotton in a shimmer of summer, his lashes glittering gold as he joined the waking world. Inui had not left, yet.

“Morning, pretty girl,” he rasped, and the arm around your waist tightened to pull you flush to his body. Soft silken skin kissed into his lean muscles and he sighed, his thumb immediately rubbing sweet circles into your bare lower back as your chests pressed together. You hummed sleepily, battering away your worries, nuzzling your nose into the crook of his neck, each movement carefully aware of the ache between your thighs. You whispered your hand up Inui’s chest to run your fingertips along his jaw, your dozy eyes grazing along the nicks and bruises blooming beneath his creamy skin.

“Good morning, Seishu,” you murmured, your eyelashes fluttering when Inui laid a feathery kiss to your forehead, ��did you sleep well?” Are you going to leave? He nodded, the corner of his mouth crooked up in a languid smile. “Slept better with you beside me,” he admitted, recollecting the tussled nights in his empty apartment, the lonely blinking at his dark ceiling, the salt-stained memories of his youth flooding his bedroom. Your heart was quick to throw his sweetness away as a sweet nothing, an empty promise placed on ruffled pillows, soon left cold.

“Oh,” your cheeks warmed in betrayal, still caught in blush at your true emotions, and you ducked your head away from his steady seaswept gaze. But Inui’s fingers caught your flight, cradling your jaw to keep you in place. He rained chapped kisses over your cheeks, his lips slowly tracing your features in his affection. Your mouth met his in a hushed sigh, exchanging slumber and secretive smiles as he deepened the kiss. You clutched desperately at that sun-stained moment, hoping to seal it away forever, lest it should disappear into a memory

“Fuck, angel,” he groaned, his shoulders easily tipping you onto your back, “you’re so beautiful,” he mumbled over your lips, caging you to his chest, the gold of his hair dripping down onto your flushed skin.

You could feel him flicker to life above you, his cock growing hot and hard against the supple flesh of your thighs, which you automatically parted to accommodate the narrow of his hips. Inui laid his sunlit skin over you, offering up his warmth in a shower of kisses and coos, your praises falling from his lips in prayer. The birds twittered into song outside your window, and your favourite starling alighted upon your balcony, singing for his sunrise meal of seed and whatever stray fruit you had squirrelled away. His song dissolved away in the early sunlight of Inui’s affections, your thoughts tugged from the spring sky to the summer in your lover’s eyes as he lay above you. Inui’s fingertips ran over your body with sandpaper softness, trickling across your skin with honeyed sweetness, pressing and painting his love into every dip and curve. His lips left yours, coaxing a muted whimper from your open mouth.

“Ssh,” Inui reassured, his tongue slipping past his teeth to lap and nibble down your neck. You tilted your head back, exposing your throat to his lust-layered fangs, which he sank into your velvet skin with a hum. His breath coasted across your flesh in warm puffs, tickling the sensitive shivers of your body as he moved down your body. Inui groaned into your bare breasts, your nipples tightening at the chill of the early air as Inui pulled the sheets away from your form.

Inui’s mouth was impossibly warm when it closed over your areola, and a whispered gasp escaped your chest. Your back arched into Inui’s tongue, his fingers digging deep into the plush of your hips. “Seishu – ��� a plea poured from your throat, your hands thrown over your face as Inui covered your chest in open-mouthed kisses and darkening marks. “I know, pretty girl,” he mumbled into your skin, cobalt blue washing over your body as his eyes fluttered to yours. You wondered if he really knew? If he knew how much your heart craved his, craved him? You did not know where the dark creeping fear of his departure crawled from, but now that it had set up the cage around your love, you could only clutch at its cold bars.

“Look at me when I love you, angel,” he commanded through the cracks in your fingers, his words dragging your hands from your face. You clutched at the pillow beneath your head, your knuckles drawn pale when Inui sucked a teasing kiss onto your nipple. “Good girl,” he laid a final kiss to your sternum, before shuffling the sheets down to pool at the foot of the mattress. He crouched between your spread and shivering thighs, still shaking with last night’s loving. His cock lay hot against his Adonis belt, the cream of his lust pearled onto the porcelain skin of his lower abdomen. One rough hand circled his length, giving it a few tugs at the sight of you splayed out beneath him.

Your knees began to close, covering your cunt at the thought of Inui’s cock stretching into you once more. The muscles of your thighs ached, and your lower abdomen sobbed, especially at the possibility of his penetration without preparation. Inui’s sure and steady stare understood the fear blossoming behind your eyes, and, with one hand still pumping languidly at his cock, he dropped a chaste kiss to your knee.

“Come on, love, open up for me,” he asked, his other hand slipping between your thighs to whisper his thumb over your cunt. You whimpered, but tentatively obeyed, shifting to sit up on your elbows when Inui sank his shoulders down between your legs. “’m sore, Seishu,” you mumbled, flinching when Inui’s thumbs plunged into the plush flesh of your inner thighs. “I know, angel,” Inui shuffled you up the mattress, shouldering your thighs whilst lying on his stomach. “Lemme look after you, yeah?” his eyes flashed vibrant blue at you, “lemme make my pretty girl feel better.” He wrapped his hands around your thighs and hips, holding your pussy in place in front of his face. You nodded hazily, only to receive a muted pinch to your skin. “Ask nicely for me, love,” his teeth grazed the satin of your inner thigh, “I gotta hear you ask for me, my pretty girl,” his tongue praised you with velvet lapping, his mouth just a murmur away from where you wanted him, where you needed him. His breath fell cold on your slick-saturated folds, and you felt yourself clench around nothing. “Please, Seishu,” you asked, “please make me feel better,” you breathed. Inui’s eyes glimmered, and his golden locks fell in sunlit shades over his forehead. “That’s it, love,” he purred, “do you want my mouth, pretty girl?” “Yes, Seishu, please,” you sighed as his lips kissed your clit, “want your mouth, Seishu, want you –“ Want your heart, want you forever.

And you had him. You had Inui Seishu knelt at your feet, head bowed to your glory, eyes drowned in reverence of your majesty. But reality evaded your own imagination, and rueful ice flooded through your veins. As the sun had sidled over the horizon, so had your fears of regret risen in your heart. What if this was only a single night of happiness? What if Inui regretted the night before? What if the whispered words shared between the two of you and the moon were nothing more than wishes to be swept away on the wind? Your heart thumped an anxious tattoo within your chest, almost stuttering in anticipation of your bedpartner’s abrupt departure with the morning light.

But Inui had stayed, pulling you closer to snuggle deeper into his warmth. He had stayed, and now he lay between your legs, lavishing you with his delicate tongue and dexterous touch. He started softly, puffing little gasps of air onto your sensitive pussy, his mouth curled into a smile at your whines. He followed with a series of kisses up your legs to your clit, his lips slipping between your folds to suck on your sweetness. He explored you with his tongue, dipping the tip past your tight entrance, fucking the muscle into your weeping slit. He gradually descended into a symphony of slurps and hums, creating his own paradise from your pleasure. What if that paradise was just a mirage?

“Keep your eyes on me, angel,” he demanded, blinking at you and you keened in acquiescence, fighting the urge to tilt back your head in bliss. Warmth blossomed within the cradle of your hips, encouraged by the heat of Inui’s mouth and the gentle words pouring in wine from between his lips. “You taste so good, love, so sweet,” he rumbled, “are you sweet f’me, pretty girl? This pussy is just f’me, yeah?” you could only nod and moan in response, enraptured by the building tension in your core, by the rhythmic lapping of Inui’s tongue over your clit, heightened by the tight press of his fingers into your cunt. A groan bubbled in your throat as he pushed into your walls, the tip of his digits just brushing the pressure point deep within your silky plush. “Yeah? That good?” Inui’s tongue circled your clit, spelling out his name across your sensitivity. Your climax came at you in a slow wave, the tingling spreading from your torso to your toes to the tips of your fingers, scrunched into your sheets. “Seishu,” you huffed, “gonna cum, wanna cum,” you teetered, static running through your veins, your muscles tightening into iron around Inui’s touch, your nerves skittering away with an anxious scurry. “Then cum f’me, pretty girl,” he sucked hard on your clit, the final push to orchestrate your gradual fall, letting you drift in a blue-stained wash of warmth and pleasure. Your thighs twitched and shook whilst Inui still fucked you open on his fingers, using your climax to push your walls in preparation for him. He praised you, pulling you back to him, his golden tones your lighthouse guide from the storm of his sin.

Inui crawled back up to tease you with your taste, slipping his tongue past your teeth until your arousal filled your kiss. His arms curled around you and you found yourself latching onto him, your legs looped around his waist. Salt lined your eyes, your fears forming in large drops along your lash line. “Are you gonna leave me?”

tr flowers: @cursedmoonchild @issamomma @ravenina14 @sujiko @mrskisaki @scatoru @iridescesara @rinnsenpai @ransbatongobrr @demonslover @deajanew @rinrinfoxy @peepeepoopoot @nsiversi @randombackgroundcharactersworld @maltate123 @twochainsandrollies @eriskaitto @haruphilia

[writeblrfantasy]

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pax said he liked my clothing descriptions and i haven't been able stop thinking about that so i put together this compilation!! from acogs, brenin, oots, a short from gkbk i'm working on, and the farlingverse. i hope you love all of these because i'm super proud of all of them <3<3

taglists and ts under the cut

Katya is dressed in a brilliant red velvet gown whose floor length skirt trails behind her. Gold is embroidered onto the hem of the skirt and the bodice, supported by a thin red strap that curves around her neck. Her orange hair covers her shoulders in loose curls, two parts on either side pulled back from her face and secured with a ribbon on her head like always. She wears no jewelry on her pale, freckled skin, and the neckline of the gown teases her breasts.

In a few minutes, one huge golden ring will sit on her right middle finger. Nikolai pictures it now.

Beautiful and mighty, she’s sitting on the old throne of the temple, from when this was the palace and Aspiania was the capital. The fingers of her left hand curl over the white armrests, and she leans her head back onto the red cushion there. Green eyes dulled behind the wire frames of her spectacles have the power to freeze an empire, a whole world.

Nikolai is more interested in the drawn golden sword in her right hand.

~

Esme is wearing custom made robes in a beautiful mix of red, dark blue, and purple, with a sash and hems of shimmering gold. Embroidery of the sun and moon decorate patches in tiny patterns, stars covering every inch of them.

In traditional Tan style, they wrap around his shoulders and tie at his waist with the knot in the back, the sleeves loose and flared out at the wrists. They go down to his feet, covered in polished black boots. His black hair is sparkled with gold dust, but it’s forever too long and strands fall into his eyes.

He grins when he sees Laurent across the temple for the first time, dopey eyed, as Laurent’s soul evaporates from his body. It’s a remarkable testament to his self-restraint that he doesn’t cross the temple in three strides and tackle Esme to the ground.

~

Feryn looks truly like an angel, or a god, or grace incarnate. No veil covers her head, but her white hair hangs loose round her face. Cygnus was expecting curls, or a braid with flowers, or an updo with a diamond circlet wrapping her hair. But the reality is plain. And it’s beautiful.

She’s wearing cosmetics, he’s sure, but he can’t see them well. Her brown eyes just look a little brighter than normal, her lashes a little longer, her cheeks a little fuller. She smiles at him with warm eyes and pink lips.

Her gown is something he’s been looking forward to seeing and endlessly imagining ever since she and Lian got engaged. Like her hair, it’s much simpler than expected. The fabric is shiny like satin, the straps thin and the bodice plain like the gown Evan wore to her bridal shower.

Unlike Evan’s, the neckline dips, and the skirt of Feryn’s dress is slim. Feryn must be wearing shoes with tall heels, because Cygnus knows she isn’t naturally this tall. Or perhaps it’s just her posture, the straight back, the easy, content way she holds herself.

~

Feryn, who asked Cygnus to trust her when he asked what he would be wearing at the play, dresses him in bright red silk robes with drapes over the shoulders that blow out behind him. She says she had them made especially for tonight. Cygnus is rendered speechless, reminded of the luxury he lives as king. Feryn seems only pleased.

The shoulders and collar are decorated in sapphires and embroidered in gold. The robes don’t allow trousers to show that much, so he wears plain black. Feryn chooses polished black shoes with gold trim, and a red and gold clip for his hair.

When he looks in the mirror, he thinks he’s dressed for the most pristine play in the whole country, not Cherie’s little central company.

~

“Valerie—” Ruby begins, words dying in her throat as Cygnus holds up a hand. A rich sapphire ring adorns on his hand, and that’s not the only finery he’s wearing. His silk jacket of dark green is bejeweled with glittering gems and delicate piping. His boots are shinier than she’s ever seen them, and with his purple cloak and combed hair, he’s obviously going to meet someone important.

~

Like every other lady in the castle, Ruby allows Feryn to force her into nice clothes. She refuses the robes Feryn brought out, heavy red velvet, and chooses instead black breeches, a fine shirt, and an ornate jacket. The jacket is dull green, trimmed in gold and fastened with gleaming buttons. Ruby pulls on a new pair of black boots and actually gives some thought to her hair, after a moment permitting Feryn to braid it down her back. It’s all tedious to her, but she’ll endure it to keep poor Cygnus company.

~

“Come in,” came Alea’s voice at my first knock. I opened the door, watching Moureen muttering and fussing over Alea’s dress. The mix of sea greens and blues complimented her beautiful hair, some curls braided into a crown around her head, the rest lying around her shoulders. I couldn’t hold back a grin.

“What?” she asked.

“You look beautiful. I have something for you,” I said, bringing forth the box from behind my back and thrusting it into her hands. I motioned for her to open it.

“Oh, Bren, you didn’t have to—” She opened it, her mouth falling open. “Oh, my—” Alea turned and set the box down, picking up the jade and sapphire teardrop earrings that I’d bought her in the shop. It must’ve been the gods’ will for the dress and earrings to match perfectly, making her green eyes stand out. She looked every bit the duchess, every bit a queen.

~

Alea was in a stunning gold ballgown that glittered and shone when she moved. The skirt was embellished with pearls and diamonds, dripping and glittering. Her hair was up, a white flower hairpin keeping it out of her eyes. She smiled, and her green eyes looked even more beautiful than ever. I told her so. She laughed like she didn’t believe me.

~

More footsteps came to the door. I glanced up at Moureen, who was coming in with my freshly shined shoes. Thales hovered in the doorway in front of Lakus. I looked him over, taking in his bright blue jacket, adorned with gold trim and beading. The finished jacket looked much better now than it had during yesterday’s boring afternoon in the store. I found myself catching my breath.

He gave me a small smile. “You look good. The green, uh, looks good.”

I did something with my hands. “Thanks, I guess.” My jacket was well done. Light green and silver, pearl buttons and dark stitching. I chose the silver just to get on Lakus’s nerves, since I knew Danda couldn’t care less about whether people wore gold or not.

Lakus, by contrast, had bright, gaudy orange on. There was so much gold on him I could feel the money, and I grimaced, looking away from him after a glance.

~

Cerrick doesn’t recognize anyone else in the purples, reds, yellows, but he sees his man in the center of the pack in bright blue and green armor, cloak fluttering out behind him. his horse is gray, mottled with black spots, shorter than the rest. His sword is gleaming in his right hand, black gloves clutching the hilt like one born to it. His braid sticks out of his polished blue helmet, shining in the sun. Cerrick doesn’t care if Olin laughs at him for his reaction, he still curses softly under his breath.

Njord is beautiful.

The knights run a few casual circles around the stadium, waving to the crowd. Cerrick watches the crowd hand their knight of choice bracelets, charms, wreaths with fresh flowers braided into them.

acogs taglist (lmk to be added/removed) @magic-is-something-we-create @inkflight @spencer-nyx @writing-is-a-martial-art @ashen-crest @wisteria-eventide @nikkywrites @denkis-phone-charger @myhusbandsasemni @lynolord @ettawritesnstudies @golden-apple-s-blog @chazzawrites @pen-of-roses @47crayons @wickerring @sleepy-night-child @florraisons @faithfire @croctears @inkovert @kait-writes

fv taglist (lmk to be added/removed): @mel-writes-with-her-dragons @magic-is-something-we-create @47crayons @idk-bout-tonight

oots taglist (lmk to be added/removed) @willowiswriting @ninazeniks @magic-is-something-we-create @myhusbandsasemni @ren-c-leyn @justwriteyoudummy @47crayons @yejidoesthings @ettawritesnstudies @faithfire @a-forgotten-dusk @talesfromaurea @ashen-crest

general taglist: @magic-is-something-we-create @myhusbandsasemni @wickerring @directionoftime @47crayons @familiarvillain

gkbk taglist: (lmk to be added/removed) @magic-is-something-we-create @idk-bout-tonight @ren-c-leyn @crystallized-ink @hysteriwah @denkis-boyfriend @ashen-crest @aconfusedomni @myhusbandsasemni​ @oshaaru​ @metanoiamorii @47crayons

[haikyuu-scenarios-box]

how about a scenario where kenma wants to propose to his girlfriend???? but hes too shy :3

A/N: I LOVE KENMA SO MUCH AND THIS WAS THE CUTEST THING EVER TW: very mild manga spoilers Word count: 922

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‘Why did they make another FIFA game?’ [y/n] groaned, staring at one of the many games on the shelves, ‘there’s more than twenty of them and they just slap on a new coat of paint every time. It’s like EA just—’ 

Kenma’s attention faded; an unfamiliar occurrence to his observant nature. As the sky aged, the concealment of his anxiety faltered slowly. The wedding ring box in the front pocket of his jeans dug into his leg whenever he moved it, constantly reminding him of his upcoming proposal. He adjusted his large hoodie, ensuring that the box remained hidden beneath it. 

‘Kozume,’ [y/n] dragged out his name, leaning their head into his line of vision, ‘you keep zoning out today... do you feel sick or something?’ 

‘No,’ Kenma responded stoically, skin growing slightly pale. 

‘Are you sure?’ they asked, forehead wrinkling in concern, ‘we can go home if you’re tired, I really don’t mind.’ 

Despite that they’d been together since their second year at Nekoma, [y/n]’s tendency to worry over any sign of illness he displayed never lessened. They frequently scolded him for staying up too late to edit his YouTube videos, coaxed him into eating more greens and brushed his hair in the mornings. They also bought him a slice of apple pie whenever his nights turned melancholic, did a celebratory dance every time he secretly let them win at multiplayer games (“I can’t believe I just beat a pro gamer!”), pecked his cheeks until they grew warm with a teenage shyness—

‘I’m fine, stop worrying,’ Kenma assured, ‘have you spotted anything interesting?’ he changed the subject, gesturing to the array of video games in front of them.

‘Nothing we don’t already own,’ [y/n] said, pulling out their phone and taking note of the time. ‘We should go get lunch. Onigiri Miya is closeby, so let’s just head there.’

“Do it now," Kenma’s brain blurted, “wait, hold on, don’t do that. Proposing in a game store is a horrible idea."

‘Okay,’ he muttered.

‘Let’s take that route over there!’ [y/n] said excitedly, quickly heading towards a path encompassed by a round garden arch. The arch was covered with wisteria vines whose flowers hung downwards, the small gaps between their leaves allowing a few beams of sunlight to escape through.

‘I know you don’t like going this way because it’s longer, but it’s too late now,’ [y/n] feigned an innocent smile once they both set foot on the path. It was no wonder they got along with his childhood friend - they shared his sly streak. Kenma was forced to follow.

“There's no one here... now is the best time," Kenma thought, ceasing his strides, ‘[y/n]... we’ve been together for a very long time now...’ he paused, paralysis suddenly striking his throat. He dipped his fists into the pockets of his hoodie, toying with the box through the fabric in a feeble attempt to alleviate his apprehension. Kenma falsely predicted that asking [y/n]’s parents for their blessing would be the stressful part. A polite and financially stable man who possessed an unwavering love for their child? Of course they gave it to him ecstatically.

Asking [y/n] proved to be the stressful part.

‘Yeah, it’s been a long time, hasn’t it? Seven years,’ they beamed.

“No, don’t ask now. But you’ve been holding on to that box all morning, you can’t keep it there forever—”

‘Do you remember the “pudding head” nickname?’ [y/n] giggled, looping their arm with his and continuing their walk. Kenma’s appearance hadn’t changed drastically besides his hair, which was now past his chin. He hadn’t bleached it in years and its natural colour returned, its tips blond and the back portion messily tied into a small bun. ‘You went from sadako, to blond, to pudding—’

Kenma’s gaze was fixated on [y/n], their words completely drowned for the nth time. He couldn’t recall an occasion where his ears disliked the sound of their voice; their words, their laughter, their gasps, their sighs. His thumbs lingered over every physical imperfection of theirs whenever he held their face within his palms, and he adored every single one since those features belonged to them. Them, them, them; constantly drifting within his thoughts and sending ripples of ease each time. 

[Y/n] was still reminiscing distant memories, a nostalgic grin tugging the corners of their mouth upwards.

“They are truly beautiful.” 

‘[Y/n],’ Kenma stopped once more, prompting [y/n] to turn around to face him. Glowing hues of gold speckled their face, brightening the details of their irises - the same ones he fell for years ago.

‘Yes?’ they asked after a short pause, prompting him to dig into his pocket and pull out the box. The moment he held it in front of him, most of his energy began to go towards maintaining his hands steady. Lavender, mauve and violet hung above and around them, releasing the occasional flutter of petals that would swim amongst the waves of the gentle breeze. When one entangled itself between the strands of [y/n]’s hair, Kenma raised a hand to delicately brush it away, the tips of his fingers fleetingly stroking their cheek as they returned to their original position on the box.

‘I... really love you,’ Kenma uttered with a tender smile, slowly opening the box and revealing the ring within, ‘and... I want to spend the rest of my life with you.’ 

‘Kozume...’ tears fell past [y/n]’s waterline, a quiet sniffle leaving their nostrils as a wide grin painted their lips, ‘I do too.’ 

[q-gorgeous]

Crayon Asks

in honor of my love for crayons and my need for ask games i made my own ask game using the 152 box of crayons that i have and theyre on a color spectrum of some sort sdgvyj

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Purple mountains majesty: what mythical creature would you want to exist?

Deep space sparkle: how do you feel about SPACE?

Purple heart: who's your best friend?

Blue violet: have you ever dyed your hair?

Glitter purple 1: favorite gemstone?

Eggplant: do u like eggplant?

Royal purple: are you a queen?

Cyber grape: are you tech savvy?

Violet (purple): how are ya?

Glitter purple 2: how do you feel about glitter?

Vivid violet: red or green grapes?

Plum: are you plumtastic?

Razzmic berry: strawberries or raspberries?

Wisteria: do you think magic exists?

White: ghost?

Glitter white 1: how old are you?

Glitter white 2: do you have immense power?

Black: are you an eldritch being?

Shadow: are you afraid of the dark?

Gray: have you ever done a warrior cats roleplay?

Sonic silver: gotta go fast?

Timberwolf: have you ever done a wolf pack roleplay?

Silver: favorite song?

Manatee: favorite animal?

Cadet blue: do you paint your nails?

Wild blue yonder: do you yearn to run into the wild and never return?

Periwinkle: favorite flower?

Sky blue: do you go cloud gazing?

Glitter blue 1: do you take lots of pictures?

Cornflower: do you like baking?

Blue bell: do you like cows?

Cerulean: do you like to sing?

Glitter blue 2: what did you want to be when you were younger?

Glitter blue 3: do you like to draw?

Blue: what's your favorite word?

Glitter blue 4: do you like makeup?

Denim: jeans or khakis/whatever aren’t jeans?

Outer space: favorite planet?

Navy blue: do you like boats?

Indigo: are you a morning or a night person?

Midnight blue: what's your aesthetic?

Pacific blue: can you swim?

Blue green: do you like to read?

Steel blue: do you have nerves of steel?

Turquoise blue: what's your favorite tv show?

Aquamarine: have you been to the ocean?

Metallic seaweed: do you like sushi?

Robin’s blue egg: have you ever had a pet bird?

Illuminating emerald: what's the first fandom you were in?

Caribbean green: have you ever been on a plane? Where to?

Sea green: favorite oc?

Jungle green: do you ever go exploring in the woods?

Shamrock: lucky number?

Glitter green 1: favorite food?

Pine green: favorite kind of tree?

Tropical rain forest: earliest childhood memory?

Asparagus: do you like vegetables?

Green: feelings about grass?

Mountain meadow: have you ever been in the mountains?

Forest green: where have you always wanted to go?

Granny smith apple: favorite kind of apple?

Sheen green: are you squeamish?

Screamin’ green: do you need to scream?

Yellow green: favorite holiday?

Fern: do you like the person you've grown into?

Glitter green 2: cooked or uncooked vegetables?

Electric lime: do you drink energy drinks?

Inchworm: do you like bugs?

Glitter yellow 1: do you sunburn easily?

Green yellow: do you like the rain?

Spring green: favorite thing about springtime?

Olive green: is there anything that you regret?

Gold fusion: do you watch steven universe?

Gold: best brand of peanut butter?

Goldenrod: What's an animal that you've always wanted?

Metallic sunburst: do you like knick knacks?

Laser lemon: do you like lemonade?

Canary: favorite kind of bird?

Yellow: here comes the sun?

Almond: do you collect things?

Dandelion: are they weeds?

Banana melon: tell us what you're thinking of right now

Unmellow yellow: how chill are you?

Sunglow: what's your favorite time of day?

Macaroni and cheese: favorite restaurant? 

Atomic tangerine: do you like soda?

Yellow orange: how long is your longest friendship?

Neon carrot: do you have laser vision?

Orange: are you a creative person?

Vivid tangerine: is there anyone that you miss?

Outrageous orange: what's the most outrageous thing you've ever done?

Mango tango: do you like to dance?

Sunset orange: favorite part of the sunset? 

Red orange: cats or dogs?

Scarlet: the most badass thing you’ve ever done?

Shimmering blush: last embarrassing thing you did?

Bittersweet shimmer: do you know what you're doing?

Razzmatazz: jazz hands?

Glitter red 1: hand holding or hugs?

Red: Do you have a crush?

Big dip o’ ruby: how big is your crush on your crush?

Brick red: when did you start liking your crush?

Maroon: dream date?

Cerise: is your crush the coolest?

Glitter red 2: how does your crush make you feel?

Glitter red violet 1: something you are looking forward to?

Red violet: can I hold your hand?

Fuchsia: what do you want to do right now?

Jazzberry jam: strawberry or grape jelly?

Purple pizzazz: pizzazz is close to pizza, pineapple on pizza?

Magenta: Am I real?

Hot magenta: fear level?

Violet red: most romantic thing you've ever done?

Wild strawberry: who was your first crush?

Pink sherbert: favorite ice cream flavor?

Radical red: have you ever surfed before?

Wild watermelon: send me your own question about my crush!

Salmon: what's your favorite kind of pet fish?

shocking pink: do you think your crush likes you back?

Carnation pink: what's the longest relationship you've ever been in?

Glitter pink 1: are you still friends with your exs?

Tickle me pink: how ticklish are you?

Razzle dazzle rose: will you confess to your crush?

Cotton candy: how do you plan to confess to your crush?

Pink flamingo: do you like live action or animated shows/movies better?

Blush: what makes you happy?

Orchid: gender?

Glitter pink 2: sexuality?

Mauvelous: are you marvelous?

Lavender: what about yourself do you like?

Piggy pink: do you have a piggy bank? Do you use it?

Melon: are you worried about anything right now?

Apricot: what do you want to do for a career?

Peach: what's one goal you have?

Glitter tan 1: do you have long or short hair?

Alloy orange: favorite time of year?

Burnt orange: if there's one thing you could change about yourself what would it be?

Tan: favorite color?

Bittersweet: favorite memory?

Mahogany: do you like to write?

Chestnut: roasting on an open fire?

Fuzzy wuzzy: do you sleep with a stuffed animal?

Burnt sienna: what's the last thing you ate?

Brown: are you procrastinating on anything right now?

Sepia: send a sneak peek of whatever you're working on!

Beaver: do you have good teeth?

Raw sienna: do you like to paint?

Blast off bronze: would you ever want to go to space?

Antique brass: do you have any pets?

Copper: SLEEP!

Desert sand: do you play minecraft?

Tumbleweed: have you ever been to the desert?

[vesuviannights]

Violet, Lilac, Wisteria, Amethyst: Part 1

Asra x Reader. Gender neutral, no pronouns, 100% lemon-free.

The night before you are to be wed, you make one final desperate attempt to save yourself by summoning your Patron Arcana to make a deal. But what - or rather who - answers your call is not what you expect.

Featuring: demon Asra, softness, soffftt.

*

In just twelve short hours, you are to be wed.

The bells will toll, the people will cheer, and the last piece of your raging soul will be trodden into the ground by the approving looks of those you once held dear.

Because you know none of it is for you. This engagement, this marriage, this life set out for you is not of your design. It is only to please those in power, and to give your partner-to-be more of it, and you have caught yourself more times than you can count just wondering if any part of who you were would contribute to your partner’s happiness, or if it were all merely a cosmic joke.

You have tried many times for freedom, for even an ounce of control. Every frustrated cry, every attempt at a bargain you have thrown out into the universe: they have all fallen on deaf ears.

The Gods, the wind, the magical realms: they do not wish to hear you.

In the witching hour you are on your knees, surrounded by herbs and bloodied marks and chalk outlines on the floor of your shop.

Waiting, always waiting, the seconds ticking by as you watch the space where the magical being you have summoned is to appear.

But they do not.

You growl. You scream. You lash out at the nearest things and send them scattering around you in a fit of quickly collapsing rage.

And then: a voice from behind you.

“I have always enjoyed the fiery passion of the human race.”

You turn. It’s…you don’t know what. But he is the most beautiful being you have ever seen,  in all your years of traveling the world.

High cheekbones kissed by golden skin. Plumes of white hair that fall into his deep violet eyes which, even half-obscured, seem to shift in hue as they take you in. Two sleek horns curve back from his hairline, and you can spy a flicking obsidian tail with an iridescent spike at the end that seems to shift along with his eyes.

He is watching you with an inscrutable gaze, arms folded as he leans against the frame just in front of your very closed, very locked shop door.

You swallow and stand, feigning your boldness. “How did you get in here?”

He just smiles at you.

You shift on your feet and take a step closer. “I asked you a question!”

“And I don’t suffer questions the answers to which are already known.”

You hesitate. Your eyes scatter over him once more, before slowly, very slowly…

…going to the array of magical items at your feet.

The corners of his lips flick up. “There we go.”

“You’re not the Arcana I summoned.”

“Actually, you’ll find I’m not any of them.”

“Then how did you—?”

He steps further into the room, eyes traveling over the items placed out for sale. He plays with a few of the nearby trinkets as he walks, nimble fingers glancing over them as he answers you.

“I’ve been known sometimes to intercept messages from mortals that…pique my curiosity.”

He stops in front of one of your many shelves, lined with herbs and powdered flowers and every other manner of ingredient.

You bite down on your tongue when he begins picking up bottles, reading the labels and giving indecipherable hmmms as he places them back. When he picks up a particularly expensive and rare one, you take an emboldened step forward.

“If you break it, you buy it,” you snap.

This brings his attention back to you. He turns to glance you over his shoulder, his eyes a new shade—lilac, you think—as his lips curve into a smile.

He places the bottle in question back, then with a slow drag of his eyes down to your balled fists, he continues his perusal of your shop.

“I would rather you leave,” you tell him, watching as he approaches your collection of tomes and novels. He fingers the spine of a forest green one, the words inlaid in a bright gold. “I was actually busy before you barged in here. Uninvited, might I add.”

“Oh, I’m never uninvited, cherub,” he answers.

Your cheeks heat at the name, an angry flush that you quickly cover by turning away and beginning to gather your things.

“Well, you were this time,” you mutter angrily under your breath.

Your fingers fumble on the dried rosemary, the bottle of Elk blood, as you stuff them all into your linen satchel. Somewhere behind you, the click of his boots stops, and you can feel his searing gaze on the back of your neck.

“Were you not after someone to save you from your looming, impassive marriage?”

You freeze, fingers grasped around the edge of your book. Your gaze becomes a little unfocused, barely able to see the words on the page before you.

It didn’t matter now. You had tried many times to save yourself, and no mystical being or god or any of the Major Arcana had deemed you worthy enough to answer your calls.

You were not worthy of being helped, it seemed. You should have realised it from the beginning.

“Cherub?”

He repeats the name softly, tentatively, breaking you from your thoughts.

You shake your head, clearing the haze and stuffing the book into your satchel. Rising to your feet with a shake to your limbs, you sling the bag over your shoulder and begin toward the exit.

“Please make sure you lock the door when you leave,” you tell him.

Your hand is inches from the handle when he appears before you, blocking your escape. His hands are tucked behind his back, and his eyes—those damned eyes—have changed their shade once more.

Amethyst, swirling with shadows as they take in your expression: the bags under your eyes, the twist of your lips, the tightness of your jaw. All the empty hollows inside of you that had been left by your pathetic fight, always doomed to fail.

“You called for help, yes?” He asks. His voice is so quiet, almost inscrutable. You nod. “Then allow me to help.”

You swallow, then immediately back track with a soft shake of your head. Your gaze drops away as you speak, a whisper you can barely force out.

“I can’t pay you,” you tell him. “Every offering I had was for—”

“We will figure out payment later. You wish to be free of this impending marriage. You wish to be happy. Free to choose?”

You hesitate. Of everything you have learned in all your time dealing with the Arcana, with all things magical and otherwise, one of the first was what to look for in the makings of a murky bargain.

No bargain without explicitly outlined payment was ever worth making. The payment could come at any time, and in any form, and more often than not the being in question was merely after a profit—the payment was always too steep for the reward.

And you’re about to shake your head and deny his offer. About to take the safer option; perhaps you can summon your patron Arcana after the vows, perhaps there is still a way out after you have been wed.

But…

Your eyes flicker up to his. They are a deeper amethyst now, no shadows, with flecks of wisteria. You are quickly coming to understand that each colour means something, and a strange part of you aches to know you might never understand exactly what.

“Why?” You ask, finally breaking the silence.

You watch his expression shift again, some of the lightness clearing from his eyes as his brows pull down to cast shadows over them.

“Why what?”

“You said you intercept messages that pique your interest. Why was mine so interesting?”

The corners of his lips flicker up as he tilts his head at you, and you feel another flush coming to your cheeks, though this one is not angry. In your mind, you begin creating a list for the shade of his eyes: lilac, amusement.

“I said ‘sometimes’,” he corrects you softly. “And sometimes, when I don’t choose, the choice is made for me. The universe has been known to be more of a trickster than I, and this time…”

He trails off, his eyes dropping to your lips.

Wisteria: lust.

“…this time,” he murmurs. His eyes move back to yours. “It was less of a trick and more of a catastrophe.”

You swallow. He has come close, so close.

“A catastrophe?” You whisper.

He nods. One hand comes up to push the hair from your face, then dips down to trace your lips. You watch the movement, breath held in your throat.

“In that, I’m afraid that if you say no to my bargain,” he says. “I may just pretend I did not hear you, and whisk you away to your freedom anyway.”

Your eyelids flutter shut as he shifts forward, and you are enveloped in the scent of him. Lavender. Sage. The musk of incense, ones you’re sure you’ve been burning in your room since you could light a fire at your own fingertips.

A shiver envelopes your entire body when his lips make contact with your forehead. They linger there, warm and soft, with his hand cupping the back of your head.

“Please, cherub,” he murmurs against your heated skin. “Honour me by letting me take you away. You will only be with me for as long as you are happy.”

“And then?”

“And then I will take you to wherever you need to be to be happy still.”

Your eyes open as he pulls back to find him already staring down at you. A new colour, one that is so barely there you have to search for it.

But the answer comes to you after a moment, almost as easily as breathing. You can feel it swirling in your chest as it shifts, wisteria into orchid, and you know: power. A promise.

He will not force you into his bargain. But, should you say no, he will still watch over you. From his knees, he will still do whatever is necessary to keep you you, to stop you from becoming suffocated and lifeless.

Nothing is beyond his power, and you are the being at its helm, allowed to direct it in any way you so need.

“I don’t even know your name,” you tell him. You receive a soft laugh in response, a twinkle to his gaze as it lightens.

“I am Asra.”

“Well then, Asra…I should like to make a bargain.”

“Mmmmm. I thought you might.”

He kisses your forehead once more, and then dips down a little lower to capture the tip of your nose. You crinkle it, and he laughs, and at the sound of it you quickly realise that the payment might not be the part of the bargain that undoes you.

“We will seal our bargain with a kiss,” he tells you. “Would you allow me to kiss you? Properly?”

You nod.

You loose a breath.

And then he kisses you.

And it’s the softest, the most glorious, his power and desire and affection wrapping themselves around your very soul as he cups the back of your head and swirls his tongue through your mouth.

You gasp against his lips, a hand to each of his wrists, as though that might steady you.

But the world still spins.

And your heart still sings.

And before he whisks you away in plumes of shadows to a better world, you add one final colour to the list in your mind.

Amethyst: love.

On to part 2 --->

🍑 Requesting | Masterlist | My Ao3

[vannahfanfics]

Nothing Else Compares

Category: Mild Romantic Fluff

Fandom: Atlantis- The Lost Empire

Characters: Milo, Kida

Hi, guys! I wrote this for a Atlantis zine I’m trying to apply for, so I thought I’d share <3 

Milo barely registered the burning of his calves and thighs as he squatted beside the large, lily-covered pond stretching out before him. Throughout his stay in Atlantis, Milo’s physique had considerably improved thanks to frequent hiking, swimming, and climbing. Still, even the stoutest muscles would complain after being stretched for thirty minutes without rest. The dull ache was far from Milo’s mind, for he was far too captivated by the beautiful fish gliding just below the still surface of the pond. His pencil sailed over the notebook pages. He continuously sketched the gorgeous creatures and recorded the aspects of their behavior, not wishing to miss a single detail in his rapt scientific study. 

The creatures much resembled the koi fish of the surface world, but they’d evolved a little differently due to the unique mesocosm of the rich waters of the Atlantean pond. Rather than the gold, black, orange, and white variations of patterning expressed by their overworld counterparts, the fish’s scales were dynamic arrangements of sapphire blue, cerulean, white, lavender, black,  and violet. Nothing in the surface world came close to the elegant beauty of the gorgeous fish serenely circling the pond. Milo wondered if the surrounding underwater vegetation contributed to the adaptation. The seaweed rooted in the muddy bottom of the bond wasn’t any shade of green, but hued with deep purples and blues. That’s only speculation, of course… I’ll have to carefully observe their behavior to see if they utilize the seaweed for camouflage, he thought as he tapped the end of his pencil against his lips. 

As his mind trailed off following the thought, Milo finally became aware of his thigh muscles’ screaming agony. Groaning, the academic slowly eased himself down on his rump, ultimately alleviating the pressure on his lower extremities. He could swear he heard the cells audibly sigh in relief, and the pain eased back into a dull, pounding ache. He set his notebook down to massage the distressed meat of his legs while casting a glance at the surrounding area. Milo had spotted the glittering fish first, so he’d neglected to drink in the environment around their secluded little pool. 

The pond was fed by freshwater from the mountains trickling through the crevices of the smooth, rounded rocks piled on the north end of the area. Multiple streams dribbled through the tightly-packed stones to feed into the large pond, filling the air with the pleasant babbling of the water. The stone face extended out on either side of the fishpond, where thin, twisted, gnarly trees clung to the wet surfaces with a labyrinthine network of roots that bored into the rock face. Spongy, light green moss coated every inch of the rock where the tree roots didn’t permeate. White-gray lichens draped from the spindly tree branches like curtains; they ruffled in the breeze, making the trees resemble ghostly wisterias leaning over the pond. 

Milo took a few minutes to scrawl the habitat across two pages of his notebook, just in case he needed it for future reference. The forest echoed with rustles and snaps and trilling bird calls, as all forests rich with life do. Gradually, a series of small susurrations and snapping twigs peeled Milo’s attention from his observations, making him glance over his shoulder into the underbrush to see who- or what- was approaching. A bright smile alit his face as Kida’s graceful form slipped out from underneath some elephant-ear plants to pad into the clearing. 

“Oh. Here you are, Milo,” she smiled pleasantly. “I see you’ve found something new today.” Milo nodded and eagerly gestured for Kida to approach so he could regale her with his scientific observations. The white-haired woman strolled across the clearing to sink onto her knees beside him, leaning over his shoulder so she could have a clear view of the graphite-covered pages. 

“Look, look! So, this lily system-” he gestated wildly at the collection of green lily pads floated serenely across the pond surface, blooming with lavender-colored flowers. “-is an effective filtration and aeration system for the pond, which only gets limited oxygenation by the addition of the small trickles of water from the streams…” Kida listened attentively as he lectured on all his discoveries and assumptions, her bright eyes scanning the words and diagrams while considering his speech. Kida wasn’t nearly as passionate about science as Milo, but she never berated or ignored him, and often posed some theories or considerations. It was just another small thing in a great list of many that made him hopelessly in love with the Atlantean queen. 

“And, that’s as far as I’ve gotten,” he finished with a huff, snapping the book shut and smiling expectantly at her. 

“Not bad for forty-five minutes,” Kida chuckled appreciatively. With a contented sigh, she leaned back on her hands and stretched her tanned legs out to soak up the relaxed atmosphere of the secluded little ecosystem. Her blue eyes beheld the assortment of lilies floating languidly across the pond surface with untroubled tranquility. Milo drew his knees up to his chest and leaned his cheek against his forearm with an endeared smile, watching Kida survey the area. After several minutes of comfortable silence, her sky-blue eyes flickered to her peripheries, and she grinned playfully. 

“Want to go for a swim?” 

An electric pulse of excitement propagated across every nerve junction of his body. There were no insinuations or innuendos contained within Kida’s simple question; it just reminded him of one of their first times alone, when they’d dived into the lake to swim down into the hidden cavern. Who knew that such a small event would trigger such chaos and drama? Milo reminisced silently in his head, drifting off into space as he so often did. Kida chuckled amiably and snapped her fingers in front of his face to yank him back to reality. “Earth to Milo.” 

“Oh! Yes! Swimming,” he rambled as he climbed quickly to his feet. He shed his clothes between quipped phrases. Sometimes he dressed in Atlantean attire; sometimes, he wore the clothes he’d brought with him from the submarine voyage just for nostalgia. Today was a case of the latter. “In water.” He pulled his cream-colored tank top over his head. “The two of us.” He kicked off his sandals. “Together.” He shimmied out of his cargo pants and likewise flung them carelessly aside. “Great plan.” 

“Milo,” Kida laughed, daintily covering her mouth with her hand as she rose from her position, “You act as if we aren’t engaged.” A pink blush painted Milo’s cheeks, and he flashed Kida a bashful smile while rubbing at the back of his neck. Giggling, she leaned in to pat him cutely on the cheek before unwinding the shawl that covered her upper thighs. They’d been engaged for some time now, so Milo really ought to be used to Kida’s jaw-dropping gorgeousness, but his jaw refused to get the memo. As the soft blue fabric slipped from her shapely tanned legs, his mouth fell open, and his head craned back a little so his eyes could traverse the smooth curves of her body. A polite cough brought his eyes heavenward, finding Kida’s sparkling with amusement while one of her white eyebrows quirked. 

“Uhm, I, uhh… Pretty, you’re very pretty,” Milo stammered dumbly. Kida threw back her head in another bout of delighted laughter, making Milo smile sheepishly and play with the scraggly brown hairs at the base of his neck again. Kida’s arms lunged forward to grab him by the wrists, guiding his body to guide him into the pool. 

“Thank you, Milo,” she chuckled as her ankles dipped into the cold water. The lilies bumped against her calves as she waded back into the pool, coursing across the ripples with much more speed than their previous lazy gaits. The koi scattered as Kida’s feet tracked across the deep brown mud, throwing up clouds of it in the otherwise clear liquid. When Milo’s bare feet kissed the edge of the bool, his spine tingled at the cold sensation that bloomed in his toes. The feeling spread up his legs as he slipped into the pool with his fiancé to feel him with a refreshing chill. 

The deepest region of the pool only reached the height of Kida’s waist, so that is where she dropped his arms to begin running her fingers over the surface of the water, creating dozens of ripples. As her arms moved in slow, gentle arcs, something about the movement of her body made Milo’s heart thump in his chest. He must’ve gotten a strange look on his face because she snickered, “What?” 

“You’re just the most gorgeous woman that I’ve ever met.” A flush deepened her cheeks’ skin tone, making the electric-blue tattoo decorating the area under her eye seem to glow. A shy grin spread over her pretty plump lips; he could visibly see the glee bubbling up inside of her. The water sloshed as Milo closed some distance between them to grip her arms by the elbows lightly. With a playfully considerate look, Kida watched him as he slowly raised them, hand sliding down the length of her forearm to leave dewdrops of water clinging to her gorgeous tawny skin, until he brought her hands to his face. With his eyes locked on hers, Milo kissed each of the tops of her hands and then smiled salaciously. “Definitely the most gorgeous woman that I’ve ever met,” he confirmed with an appreciative nod. Kida snorted, but he could see how flustered she was by his smooth words by the red flush creeping down her neck from her face. 

“You’re in an awfully good mood,” she commented. Milo’s flirtatiousness instantly dissolved as his fragile thread of consciousness snapped. For a second, he wondered if Kida wasn’t in the mood, but that thought evaporated as she slipped forward to press her torso against his. As the soft fabric binding her bust pressed against his pectorals, Milo reflexively began to stammer; Kida silenced them with a seductive “shhhh.” Her hands detached from his to slide over his shoulders, and he shuddered as the cold water kissed his skin. Kida’s arms wound loosely around his neck so that her fingers could play with the curly hairs resting against the nape of his neck. 

“Uhhh,” Milo blinked, compulsively pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “You’re in a pretty good mood, too.” Kida laughed airily; thankfully, his dumb comments always seemed to amuse rather than aggravate her, so he was grateful for that. 

“Well, I am with the love of my life. That will put anyone in a good mood.” Milo’s face blazed crimson, and he began to sputter nonsensically. Kida snickered, gazing in his eyes for a few moments, before her eyes dropped down to the beautiful water around them. Instinctively, he glanced down as well. 

The koi-like fish had acclimated to the lovers’ presence, as they were now freely and undauntedly gliding through the seaweed waving around Milo and Kida’s legs. Occasionally, one of the foot-long fish would bump against one of their calves; the creature would wriggle as if apologizing before swiftly swimming around. Their scales glittered like gems in the crystal-clear water- pearl, amethyst, sapphire, sugilite, onyx, and zircon glinting beneath the peaceful surface. Suddenly gripped by the urge to be even closer to the fish, Milo relaxed his legs, allowing gravity to tip him backward onto his rump. Kida cried out in alarm as her body followed suit, slumping into him on their downward slant. Milo laughed animatedly as the water splashed up around them, slicking them from head to toe. 

“That wasn’t funny,” she pouted as she pushed the water-soaked strands of white hair from her face. Milo tutted apologetically and helped her tuck the large chunks of damp hair behind her ears. The fish were momentarily startled by their sudden movement, but soon grew curious; they swam forward to nip experimentally at the fabric of their clothes and their soft skin. Milo and Kida both laughed at the ticklish sensations. Milo hummed happily and drew Kida in, spreading his legs around her frame to settle her close. Kida reclined against his chest, nestling her head against the crook of his shoulder and began to trace the star-patterned tattoo adorning the other. “Milo?” 

“Hmm?” he grunted. His eyes had resumed tracing the graceful swimming patterns of the koi fish. 

“Do you regret not leaving with your friends?” They’d only been gone for a short time, almost as short as Kida and Milo’s engagement. But what did that have to do with anything? Milo looked at Kida incredulously, unsure of where the spontaneous question had come from. Kida’s face was drawn into a sad frown, and her downcast eyes bored into the groove of his neck. She continued to trace the jagged lines of his tattoos, but the motions even seemed despondent. “I just cannot help but wonder,” she admitted morosely. Milo took a moment to shove his gut reactions aside. He wanted to carefully consider Kida’s feelings to find the best words to say. After a moment of deliberating, he answered. 

“My entire life goal was finding Atlantis,” he said quietly. He craned his head back to the heavens, where he could just barely see the ever-present stone-carved effigies of the former royals floating in the sky and brimming with spiritual energy. “Coming here was the fulfillment of my life purpose. But, more than that,” he smiled and looked down at Kida. He cupped her face, drawing his thumb over her cheekbone in a purely adoring gesture, “I found my new life purpose. You, Kida. I could never, ever regret leaving all that behind, because none of it compares to what I’ve gained with you.” 

Kida’s eyes crinkled up at the corners as she smiled broadly. Her hold around him tightened desperately as she snuggled against him, ensuring every inch of them was touching. Milo inhaled happily, wrapped his arms around her in a similarly bracing embrace, and leaned down to kiss her softly. 

The fish continued to circle them, around and around, as the two young lovers cuddled one another in the crisp, cold water. Peaceful, tranquil, unbothered by the tragedies and atrocities of the surface thousands of miles above the bedrock dome… Why would Milo ever trade blessed days like this, and the beautiful woman in his arms, for anything else? Nothing else compared. 

Nothing else compared.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

Tag List: @deliathedork​

[chestnut-b]

Himawari - Chapter 1

Try not to get too attached.

A warning, Kakashi later realised, that he should have taken a bit more seriously.

Chapter 1 of a Kimetsu no Yaiba-verse AU

Kakashi sighed as his feet found the ground.

He looked up, squinting as the breeze brushed past him. He’d been standing on the branch of a huge oak seconds ago, and before that, the edge of a cliff; but before him now was a sea of blue and yellow, split against the horizon. Among a seemingly endless field of sunflowers, a pair stood on the path before him. A youth, who couldn’t be much older than 17, and a child, whom he knew for certain had just crossed his 7th year. 

The squirming boy holding the youth’s hand tightened his grip and stared at Kakashi warily, a living reflection of their surroundings with a head of blonde, and eyes as blue as the skies above them.

Really, Kakashi couldn’t have made a better clone of his former mentor if he tried.

He shifted his scrutiny to the lanky youth before him. There wasn’t much to note, though he felt the nagging of something familiar; tanned skin, dark hair in a ponytail, wearing the standard blacks and drop earrings of what looked to be sea glass. He had a stark scar across the bridge of his nose that looked more delicate and deliberately placed than the typical battle scar, but for demon slayers, a facial scar or five was nothing to write home about. This one in particular seemed almost decorative compared to the damage he’d seen in his years as a Pillar. 

Upon seeing Kakashi, the stranger broke into a wide grin. Almost too bright, Kakashi thought.

“Hatake-dono! I see you’ve finally made it. We were getting a little worried so we came to get you, didn’t we, Naruto?” The youth said, dipping his head towards the child beside him, who merely shrugged in response. There was a slight teasing tone to it; a greeting that was a little less reverent than he was used to receiving, but Kakashi didn’t mind.

“Yes, well, the wards were changed since I was here last. Getting past the new ones took a little more time than I expected.” He didn’t let the irritation he’d felt leading up to this point seep through. This bounded field was already half a day’s travel from their headquarters, and Kakashi understood and at certain points, even grudgingly admired the security measures that had been put in place. The journey towards the first barrier was routine, but he didn’t expect it to take half that time to find his way through the rest of them. The annoyance he’d felt was at himself really, for having taken so long to break in.

“Ah, I’m sorry about that,” the youth smiled sheepishly. scratching at his scar. The gesture seemed to imply that Kakashi’s delay had been his doing, but the Pillar couldn’t say for certain yet. “but now that the wards recognise you, I don’t think you’ll have any issues for your next visit. Please follow me, you must be tired from your journey. We aren’t too far from the school now.” He kneeled down and offered his back to Naruto, who climbed on enthusiastically. A few minutes later, the pair were singing a butchered rendition of a local farming song as they continued on the path. Kakashi followed, silently amused.

“I didn’t get your name.”

“Oh!” The youth turned back to him, beaming. As if being asked for it was something of a pleasant surprise.

“I’m Umino Iruka. It’s my great honor to meet you, Hatake-dono.”

---------------------------- 

It turned out that Umino Iruka had been in fact, the person responsible for his delayed arrival to the Slayer holding school. He’d surmised as much when one of the youth’s fellow teachers, another silver-haired fellow who introduced himself as Mizuki, had come up to him, apologising profusely with feigned sincerity for the perceived inconvenience caused by his colleague. Kakashi however, held a firm disdain for boot-lickers and snitches, and thus, had felt the need to correct him.

“Quite the contrary, it means Iruka’s barriers are effective. I hope you’ll been teaching them at the school, they’ll be appreciated on the field.” It was a comment that had left both Iruka and Mizuki flushed, though for entirely different reasons. Naruto, who was now standing next to Iruka, nodded approvingly, though Kakashi doubted he’d understood the deeper meaning of their conversation. A request was made for accommodations to be prepared for the Lightning Pillar, before they parted from Mizuki as Iruka led them deeper into the school.

Kakashi mused; even though they called this housing facility a school, considering the majority of its inhabitants, it may as well have been called a Slayer orphanage. He’d spent a short stint in a facility like this; his mother had died in childbirth and his father, a former Pillar himself, chose to end his own life after having been turned a demon in an encounter with their destined enemy; the Progenitor Serpent - Orochimaru.

No one staying here did so in fortunate circumstances, but he did end up meeting some of his closest comrades, Obito and Rin, even - shudder - Gai, so his days here were not entirely without merit. While not every person in the care of the school would become a warrior of repute, much less a Pillar, those who passed the Slayer selection exams would go on to be, at the very least, a part of the invaluable support corps.

Iruka paused at the entrance to a smaller room, then turned to kneel before the boy behind him.  “Naruto, could you go play with Lee-kun for while? Hatake-dono and I have some things to discuss. I won’t be long, promise.” He smiled as he mussed the boy’s hair, and the child tried his best to sound petulant with feigned annoyance, but took his instructions and ran off to find a playmate.

He then motioned Kakashi into the room, and after drawing the shoji doors closed behind them, attached a ward to their combined frames. There would be no unwelcome observers here.

“You seem to be rather good with those.”

Iruka smiled as he settled on the tatami floor before him, placing his sword to the side as he did so. He started a flame on the small hearth nearby and began to make preparations for tea.

“Everything I know, Sarutobi-sama was generous enough to teach me.”

That made Kakashi raise an eyebrow. The retired Flame Pillar wasn’t known to be a particularly difficult man, but he was notoriously picky when it came to students, more so than other instructors. To have received training from someone who’d lived to even retire as Pillar; it meant that Iruka had more potential as a slayer than probably the youth himself realised. 

With a subdued gaze, he observed Iruka. A seemingly innocuous act; making tea, but one he performed without a single wasted movement, In his concentration, the embers in the flame flickered gold in his eyes, which were a tide of black and deep earthy brown. Despite his relaxed appearance, Iruka’s awareness of their surroundings even beyond the sealed room never faulted even for a moment.

“My parents...they’d been killed by the Fox, and he was kind enough to take me in. He seemed to think it would come in handy once he found out I would be assigned here.”

His smile took on a tinge of sadness as he offered a filled cup to the man before him, who accepted it gratefully. He then lowered his gaze again to the flame, allowing Kakashi a moment to lower his mask to drink unhindered. A student of Sarutobi indeed, the tea was just as he’d been served the last time he’d met the esteemed ‘Professor’.

So Iruka had been assigned to the school...and to Naruto specifically, if he dared to guess. He’d seen firsthand how well they got along, but it didn’t escape Kakashi’s eye, a minute strain in his smile as the youth interacted with the boy. But his affections towards the child were genuine, that much he could tell. The strain he saw was more likely than not, directed towards himself.

His thoughts turned to Naruto, and memories from years ago bubbled to the surface. It had been a real cause for tension once it had been revealed that his mentor, the late Wind Pillar, Minato, had fathered a child with an Uzumaki clan member. The Uzumaki clan had been few in number, and despite having fought alongside one another for generations, their existence had been merely tolerated by the Slayer organisation, and that was putting it kindly.

Many of them were Marechi, and in their descendants slept the ancient Fox demon, Kurama. Unlike the deliberate maliciousness of Orochimaru who was, relative to humanity’s history, a recent plague, Kurama’s origin stretched back thousands of years, and its fury was more akin to that of a natural disaster.

It made the Uzumaki the very definition of a double-edged sword. Their blood would attract scores of crazed demons, but their innate power and vitality made them a trump card in their fights to repel them. Their skills were only witnessed in the abyss of night, such was their nature as vessels for demons, and their aversion to the Wisteria, while not as strong as full-blooded demons, also meant they were almost never seen at the Slayer headquarters, further adding to the division and tensions.

That was part of the reason why Kakashi would be spending the next two months here, he lamented. If i’m even that lucky. He placed his empty cup onto the floor.

“Hatake-do-”

“Kakashi’s fine.” The formalities were getting a bit tiring, and the constant reminders of his father were not going to be terribly useful.

“Um, well. Kakashi...san.” Kakashi gave the barest nod he could produce.

“Jiraiya-sama told me what he could before his departure. He said you’d be taking over his duties here to observe Naruto.”

Unfortunately, Iruka wasn’t mistaken. It seems that the old man had been needed elsewhere, and the sly toad had nominated him for his replacement, despite the fact it was well known that Kakashi operated alone, and acted more as an informant as he roamed the cities hunting for traces of Orochimaru together with his eight canine messengers. His eye twitched as he recalled Pakkun delivering his mission details. As displeased as he was at the time, one simply did not question orders from their leader. Jiraiya was himself, a retired Pillar, and Minato’s former master. His nomination hadn’t been taken lightly.

“Between you and me, Iruka-sensei, Naruto’s development has been an issue of contention back at headquarters for a while now. No one seems to be sure what to do with him.” Kakashi stated plainly. Now he was the one feeling awkward. Iruka was not only younger than him, but younger than any teacher would normally be. But a teacher he was, nonetheless.

“Naruto...he’s just like any other child here. Prone to the occasional outburst, has some trouble concentrating in class, but it’s nothing unusual for kids his age. He’s shown no signs for concern so far.” The young teacher gently clenched the fists he had resting in his lap.

“That’s what I was told, but he’ll be making a move soon. Naruto needs to be prepared for the worst.”

“Orochimaru?” Iruka whispered.

“Ahh. They’re worried. Worried that Kurama might come under his control. If he ever does...it could spell the end of us all.” It would be a quick end, at least, Kakashi mused.

Iruka’s complexion turned a shade paler.

“Then why isn’t he being housed at the Headquarters? Surely he’d be much more secure there...”

Kakashi paused. He was certain Iruka already knew most of the answers to his own question. Firstly, it wasn’t known for sure if Naruto would survive the trip past the Wisteria fields. Even if he had, and he’d been compromised at their base, it would surely be an attack that would end the Slayers as they knew it. It was the very reason this outpost had been set up. Iruka, having been specifically trained to set up advanced misdirection barriers and then posted here, had to have known this. So, Kakashi grimly thought of one more answer to satisfy the young teacher’s question.

“I’m afraid, sensei, the majority of our comrades...if they knew about Naruto, would rather see him dead.”

“No. You think they’d-”

“I don’t just think, sensei. I know this for a fact.”

Iruka was stunned into silence, and Kakashi wondered if he had been a bit too honest for his own good. But it would do no one any favours to be in denial of their situation. His main job here was to evaluate Naruto, to see if he’d add anything to their efforts. His second job was to guard him, should it be necessary. What he’d spared Iruka the knowledge of at least, was that if Naruto were in any danger of being compromised while Kakashi was here, his duty would have been to -

A pained sound from across Kakashi prevented him from finishing that thought. He looked up to find Iruka, bowed over, trying to control irregular, pained breaths as a hand clenched his chest.

“Iruka? What’s wrong?” He crossed the room quickly and knelt at the teacher’s side. He was struggling silently, shaking his head. Kakashi placed a hand on his shoulder and rubbed his back, hoping to lend some kind of support. Now that he looked closer, under the uniform was a build slightly smaller than he’d expected.

“It’s fine, Kakashi-san. I’m ok.” Iruka said, having finally managed to pull himself together.

“If you say so.” Kakashi slumped onto the tatami where he’d been kneeling beside the teacher, breaking any semblance of formality between them. “Happens often?” he asked.

“Runs in the family.” Iruka sighed. They sat in surprisingly comfortable silence for a few moments, before Iruka turned to him, his eyes filled with determination and sharp like flints. 

“Kakashi-san, whatever your job is here...all I ask is that you give Naruto a fair chance.”

So the young sensei wasn’t completely naive after all, Kakashi thought with some relief. He patted his junior’s shoulder casually, trying to dispel some of the serious atmosphere that had been building up to this point. It resulted in a few surprised coughs from the sensei, but quickly turned into warm, quiet laughter. 

“Well, you have my word, sensei. I have my reasons, but it’s not as if I came all the way here to see him fail.” Naruto was, afterall, the last legacy of a mentor that had been dear to him.

“I’ve just realised that, yes.” Iruka sighed with humor, as if the last few minutes were something of a revelatory experience. He met Kakashi’s eyes and smiled, with none of the dissonance he’d observed earlier that day. The warmth he felt made Kakashi wonder if the stove had been going for a little far too long for a day like this.

A few seconds later, a voice outside the room called for their attention.

“Senseiiii! Are you done yet?” Naruto had obviously had enough of waiting.

“Well. Time for work, Kakashi-san.” Iruka joked as he got up from his seat. He walked towards the doors and lifted the paper ward from the wooden frame. Turning back to the Pillar, who was still seated, he smiled again, a bit more playfully this time. “I hope you won’t find your stay here too traumatic.” Iruka teased. With that, he slid the doors open, only to get tackled by a very noisy Naruto as soon as he stepped out onto the corridor.

Kakashi observed them for a few moments in quiet amusement. Then, a familiar presence reached his senses, and in trotted a rather pleased-looking Guruko, holding a piece of paper carefully in her jaw. After patting her head and giving her a well-deserved scratch, he took the letter from her, unfolding it carefully to reveal the written script of the person who’d gotten him involved in this in the first place. Judging from the last place he’d sent Guruko, he must have just missed Jiraiya by a couple days. Late as usual, he could hear Jiraiya laugh at him. That just meant he wouldn’t have the opportunity to voice his displeasure in person.

He started reading:

-----------

Yo.  

Thanks for agreeing to this, I trust your judgement completely, as you know. I’m sure you’ll do fine. To be honest, it’s not the boy I’m worried about. There’s been some activity in the northern regions, so I’ll be heading there to check things out. I’ll send a messenger once I’ve cleared it, though it may take a while. Thought it would do ya good to interact with something that wasn’t a dog for once, no offense!

-----------

Kakashi rolled his eyes at that. Even the one under the eyepatch. Offense taken. He gave Guruko another scratch behind the ear.

He’d read the letter in Jiraiya’s typical lackadaisical tone. He hadn’t written any names as a precaution, but it couldn’t be hard to figure out who he was referring to. It was the next line though, that gave him a bit more cause for concern.

They’re good kids, really. You could even pick up a few things from the teacher. The monkey’s trained him well. It’ll be tough, but try not to get too attached. 

Try not to get too attached.

A warning, he would later realise, that he should have taken a bit more seriously. 

------------------------------

Author’s notes

That’s it for chapter 1! It’s been posted on A03 as well in case you’d prefer to read it there. 

The focus will be on Kakashi and Iruka, so don’t expect anything really expansive. I haven’t written anything this long in years, but it’s been fun to explore KnY’s setting using these characters. (They do have quite a bit in common) All this started with Iruka and Muzan sharing the same seiyuu, and just spiraled from there. 

Any comments/reblogs you have will be joyously appreciated. 

See you next chapter!

[hellishmess]

9: New Girl

May 28, 2018

"It won't be for too long." Maeve assures me, senseing my annoyance. "You can come in and chill."

I got out of the car, looking back up at the True Master’s estate*. It was huge, screaming elegance and wealth. I was moderately curious to actually see the house this time. The last time I was here I was too involved in saving it.

“Alright. As long as we don't miss the movie,” I agree.

I headed up the steps, stepping inside after Maeve. She didn't knock, but not a second after the door was shut did Shay appear.

His eyes met Maeve's. "Hey,” he greeted with a smile.

"Where's the stuff?" Maeve asks, setting down her keys on the foyer table.

Shay's eyes slid to me, “Nice to see you again, Aspen.”

I smiled, dipping me head a bit. “Thanks, same to you.”

An awkward air crept through the room, making all of us pause and glance at each other. I shook my head, throwing up a peace sign to signal my leave. "I'm gonna go walk around."

Shay looked like he was about to object, but Maeve stopped him with a wave. "She'll be fine."

Wondering around, I found myself passing through a dinning room. A patio was connected by a golden framed glass door, beyond the patio was a garden.

I headed out, smelling the sweetness of the wisteria and listening to the twitter of hidden birds. Turning along a stone path, I found myself surrounded by plum trees. I picked one and took a bite.

The peel was sour, but still good enough.

The trail went further than I expected. This was a big garden. The house was easily 100 yards away now.

I stopped when I saw a girl. Her back was too me, half cloaked with wavy brown hair that fell down to her shoulder blades. Still, I could see that she was dressed in jean shorts and a tank top. Purple and yellow bruises covered her arms, wrists, and legs.

She had a few pages pressed to the ground by a rocks. I recognized the attempted motions and mutterings.

She was trying out witchcraft and getting no where by the looks of it.

I made some rustling sounds and walked closer. She whirled around, fear striking her face.

I rose my hands up in peace with a calm smile. "Hey."

She eyed me, "Hi."

I smiled, hoping to dispel the distrust. "I'm Aspen. Uh I can help you with your spell work."

Her face lights up. "Oh my gosh you can?!" She yells.

I come closer, looking down at the writings on the paper. It was just a simple levitation spell.

"Yeah." I chuckle. "Show me what you're doing."

"Okay!" She brushed her hair behind her ear. The sun catches in it, highlighting certain strands in honey colored gold.

It takes me a moment to realize that she's staring back at me. I try and suppress a blush. "Sorry. I was thinking about how I could help you."

Her grin widens. "I'm Ana by the way. Ana Marie Quin."

I nod, extending my right hand. "Cool, pretty name. I'm Aspen Farley."

My compliment earns a pretty smile. She turns her face away from me, half trying to hide it. Ana accepts my hand with a soft shake.

I jolt. My body humming with a reverberated power that shook my cells to the core.

Ana pulls back. Her eyebrows pinched together in concern, "Are you alright?"

I gasp for breath. "Yeah. What the hell are you?" I find myself talking before thinking.

Ana's eyes slide from my own to the ground. She shrugs, "They say I'm a witch. I was raised by a half witch and a human."

I shake my head. "There's no way," I mutter to myself.

"No way what?" She asks, jutting her chin out.

"No way you're a witch." I reply. "Witches don't do that."

"Do what?"

My hand gestures wildly between myself and Ana. "What just happened!" I exclaim.

Her face was blank.

I couldn’t believe this. "You didn't feel that?"

Ana shakes her head. "No?" Her confusion hung in the air between us.

"It was like I just got connected to a car battery," I explained.

My phone dinged. It was a text from Maeve: Where tf are you? We gotta go or we'll be late.

"Shit," I swear. I text back: Be there in a sec. I'll meet you at the car.

Ana frowns in what I hope is disappointment. "You've gotta go?"

I nod. "Yeah sorry. Um. I can give you my number if you wanna talk? We can reschedule this."

"Yeah that'd be really cool." I watch as Ana rolls her lips to stop from smiling. She takes a few steps to the left, grabbing her phone from a shady patch of grass. "What is it?"

I list the numbers for her. "Text me," I say with a smile and a wink. "Magically related or whatever."

Ana returns my energy easily. "Sure thing."

I turn away, a blush working it's way up my face.

"Bye," she calls after me. "Have a good day!"

Already heading back to the car, I spin and continue walking backwards. "You too! Don't be a stranger."

Heading back, my mind was moving ten times as fast as my feet. Endless possibilities ran through my mind. Ana was beautiful, and, God I swear, she didn’t shy away when I peppered in some light flirtations. If anything she seemed interested.

I shook my head, maybe I was thinking too much about it. Doubt made me step back. Maybe I was seeing what I want.

Then there was the mystery of whatever the heck she was. She couldn’t be a witch. Especially not some half witch. Why would Jesse, a all powerful True Master, want her? If she was truly some half witch there’s not way she’d be connected to these vampires.

I couldn’t piece it together, but I already felt myself being drawn in. There’s no chance I’d leave this alone.

———————————————————————

True Masters Estate* just a reminder that this is the house that Aspen saved earlier. Jesse, the True Master Vampire, lives here with his whole nest of bloodrelated vampires. Shay, Maeve’s love interest, resides here.

[mistraliprincess]

Gotin’s Gift

Waking from the comfort of slumber, the Qilin sits up from her bed, stretching herself out with a yawn. Though as her eyes open, they settle onto the view of a long box laid across the foot of her bed. Shifting to grab it, she pulls the box back as she sits back and looks it over for a long moment.

Carefully, her hands take to the lid of the container and she raises it off the box beneath, revealing to her a long, gently curved new weapon. A Katana with a white grip, dark grey fabric wrapped around it, a matching grey hand-guard designed to mimic a pair of Wisteria flowers with golden cores, and a black sheath. Gold and silver engravings decorating the sheath itself with a simplistic depiction of mist along the length of it.

Speechless at the sight of the weapon, she stares at it with a hand raising over her mouth as it curled to a wide smile. Sure Kemuri had a hunch that Gotin was working on such an addition to her equipment, she had mentioned considering it in the past so she could learn some more advanced techniques within her Family Semblance. But to actually see the weapon itself, the details he put into his work, it made her stomach flutter. 

Gently reaching to the weapon itself, she takes hold and lifts it enough out of the box that she could draw the blade a couple inches to take a proper look. The clean metal tainted only with the evidence of the multiple materials and the many folds needed to form it with subtle strips of darker coloration. Beyond that, only one simple carving is present near the base of the blade itself, mimicked perfectly on both sides of it. A symbol, writing from her Kingdom’s past, that reads ‘Survive’. 

Catching a glimpse of a small note under where the weapon had laid within the box, she looked down to it to see a simple message written on it.

“Prioritize survival, and live to use this time and again.

                                                                            ~     Gotin’

Sheathing the blade completely once more, the Faunus got up from her bed with the weapon held close to her chest. Taking it with her as she moves to her dresser, retrieving two gifts she had received the day prior. A small, golden, flat figure of a Qilin from legends, and a chain holding a patterned steel medallion with her family’s crest engraved. Taking the two ornaments with her, she begins out from her room, and through her home, slipping some sandals on before leaving to cross the road to the Amachi home. A simple glance confirming what she knew to be the case more often than not.

Smoke rising from a chimney in a small building to the side, Gotin was awake and at work on something.

Heading over, she knocks on the door and calls out the Marten Faunus’ name, receiving a call that she could enter from the familiar voice within. Fingers hooking into the open spot of the door, she slides it open and steps in. Looking around the forge house over the many tools, finished and unfinished works, work spaces, until finally seeing her smithy stand from his seat at his forge, wiping his hands clean along a towel as he turns to meet her gaze. Seeing the weapon in her hold bringing a smile across his face.

“Merry Christmas.” He says simply as both he and the Huntress begin closing the gap between them. Setting out his cleaner arm, while she set out the one not holding her weapon or the trinkets, the two share a firm hug.

“Merry Christmas.” She reciprocates within the embrace, turning her head to kiss at the man’s cheek. “Though I have two small requests, if you have some time.”

The two step back from each other, just enough to let eyes meet once more before she presents the ornaments she had received as gifts. “Could you help get these fit onto the Katana?”

Gotin looks over the two additions she was requesting, for a second his face is curious and deep in thought. Though the next it’s back to the warm, beaming way it was when he saw her. “Of course I can. Just set them over on my workbench and I can get to it in a moment.” Nodding his head aside to the cleanest spot of the room, a long table of wood and stone with a multitude of shelves, instruments, and a lamp ever shining onto the top. 

While Kemuri steps over to ease the items onto the top of the work space, Gotin moves back to the forge. Drawing a heated blade out from the fires with tongs, he looks it over a moment before nodding to himself. Setting the weapon back down, not into the flames again, nor on his anvil, but on the stone edge of the opening to the forge. Keep it warm, but slow the heating process significantly so he had the time to step away without worry of ruining the piece.

Stepping away, he crosses the room entirely to a basin full of water. Dipping is arms in, he washes them clean of ash, charcoal, and sweat. Withdrawing them to grab a new towel and dry himself on his way to the workbench where Kemuri sat patiently waiting on an extra stool. 

Grabbing his own, he sits down, scoots up to the table, and gets to work. Carefully undoing the wrapping around the weapon’s grip so he could fit the carved golden Qilin along the center, then re-do the wrapping to secure it in place. Aiming to attach the medallion on it’s chain afterwards, once everything is set back in it’s place.

The Fujiki sitting beside him, watching the whole process in both awe, and adoration for her friend and smithy. Tail behind her swinging itself in figure-eights. Fingers gently feeling at an onyx pendant which hung from her neck.

[squidpro-quo]

As a mini AnS exchange for the discord server, @yukiialice​ and I teamed up to create something on the theme of “Zen’s birthday Banquet”! The absolutely lovely and breathtaking art is from @yukiialice​ and my fic is down below, please enjoy!

Zen scratched at his cheeks and breathed in the smell of perfume, five to be exact, each from a different noble chatting beside him or walking by, wafting their scent like a calling card amidst the crowd. He moved away from where he’d taken up an inconspicuous position leaning against the fireplace and tried to find another spot with a hopefully less cloying atmosphere.

Not that there was much hope of that. The glittering ballroom was crammed with people, dignitaries from small city-states only Izana had gotten the chance to visit, and a never-ending flow of food winding around the edges on islands of silver platters. He ducked under the arm supporting a passing tray of champagne and plucked a glass from the edge: his third of the night. His face felt too warm and the ribbon ends tickled the back of his neck like an unwelcome gaze; two hours of the party was more than enough for him and he still hadn’t managed to escape yet.

“Ah, Zen, I was looking everywhere for your… telltale feathers.” Izana’s voice materialized out of the laughter and clamor of the surrounding revelers much like the owner did. His hands darted from beneath the shimmering cloak of scales cascading over his shoulders and snatched Zen’s glass before the rim could touch his lips. Watching its sparkling contents disappear as Izana tilted his head back, leaving a line of emeralds to glint in the candlelight that bathed his temple, Zen was tempted to try to slip away again.

“Don’t go just yet, the party’s barely started. They’re here for you, after all.” Lowering his arm, Izana dangled the champagne glass between loose fingers, deceptively off-guard as he reached up to adjust his mask of jade-green. Zen wished he’d picked a more colorful one for himself, in the midst of every shade imaginable swirling around them the cream white of his stood out too much for his taste.

“This wasn’t my idea,” Zen muttered, turning to look for another tray on its way past and avoiding Izana’s gaze in one motion.

“It didn’t have to be, birthdays are always a perfect excuse for foreign relations. Clarines will be the talk of the week.”

And it would last till next week too, if Izana had anything to say about it, Zen was sure of it. What good would come of the entire blown-up celebration would make itself clear in a month’s time when he’d be signing the mound of paperwork but until then he can imagine there was some sort of point to what felt like a waste of an evening.

Izana broke him from his silent stupor with a hand on his shoulder and smiled, whispering, “Stay sharp, brother. You can never be certain who’s in attendance.” And with a look of pleasant, if bordering on uncomfortably-shrewd, interest, he swept past to engage a lady adorned with the eyes of a peacock and a fan to match.

Left on his own again, Zen fiddled with the clasp of his collar, regretting the last glass he’d had as his mind pulled at strings of suspicion with every glimpse of eyes on him. If there was a danger at the party then he needed to find it first, before anything could happen to the palace’s security or people.

The ranks closed around him, nothing recognizable or familiar in any of the silk and satin faces forming the mosaic of guests. His own armor was merely stray feathers and a gilded mask, a trick so flimsy it may as well be made of smoke. Pushing a smile onto his face, he headed towards the wall, stepping over expensive fur trains and ruffled capes on his way to a more sedentary spot.

A hand caught him in the side as he passed the dance floor, his heart making the leap up his throat even while he was whirled around by a grip as insistent as steel. His feet found more room once he was pulled into the drifting tide of dancers, but he still had yet to see who’d whisked him away.

Forced to turn his attention to the music lest he end up trampling hems and feet alike, Zen found himself in a line running the length of the floor and facing another row of faceted eyes and ribboned smiles. This dance was at least one he knew the steps to, if only to give him time to find out what had happened.

The dance started, both rows coming close and separating in a slow tease. Zen stared at the mask opposite him, its thin slits hiding any hint of the wearer’s eyes while the gold thread running through their charcoal-dark tunic was only visible when he was a few inches away. For all that his costume stood out, the other’s was just plain enough for the eye to skip over if the odd glint of the cape’s underside didn’t draw their attention instead. But Zen didn’t get the chance to speak before the dance had already moved on, lines weaving between each other with partners switching every few measures of the twining music.

His first partner’s hands scraped his palm with her sharp, purple nails, gripping his proffered arm like a hawk’s talons. Passing her on wasn’t much of a relief when the next partner loomed above him, leaving him in shadow until the music marked the next switch.

A gloved hand slipped into his, sure and firm, though that confidence didn’t extend down to her feet. The barest of hesitation before the complicated steps gave her away. Zen looked up from the golden brocade edging brushing the floor and into eyes that could rival the color of Izana’s emeralds and smile tucked underneath her mask.

“How— “ He was cut off as the music swelled and the next partner stepped forward, pulling her away before he could say any more.

His eyes stayed on her back, the ribbon trailing in her wake all he could see even as he craned his neck, staring over his partner’s shoulder until he felt a nudge in his side.

“People will think you’ve found someone of interest,” the amused voice of his dark counterpart from the beginning pulled him back to the steps he’d trusted his feet to know and the hard edge he felt as his fingers brushed his partner’s side.

“Obi,” he said, fighting back a grin, “You both made it in here?”

“Miss wanted to wish you a happy occasion,” Obi’s cape flared as he made a turn around Zen, “And there’s plenty of fangs underneath the velvet in this room. Wouldn’t want an accident to happen.”

Zen’s anxious miasma dissipated as he and Obi kept in step, dancing around each other within arm’s reach, and he had the chance to look around without the urge to keep checking over his shoulder. They had circled the room, the whirling dancers giving them more space to move and see through the crowd to the edges. Passing the open balcony doors, a sweet smell touched his nose, of wisteria and the promise of spring. Something he could count on to enjoy during his birthday, a quiet but steady smell with nothing overly flashy with its flowers or bright fruits, just a reminder wafting in through the open windows while he worked.

He felt a tug on his hand and a slight touch at the small of his back, all it took to steer him outside and into a softly lit garden ringed in slender columns wreathed with flowering vines. The party’s incessant chatter and noise ebbed away, dampened amidst the leaves and petals until it was just the three of them. Shirayuki pulled her mask down, smile in full bloom as she looked around at the arrayed colors of nature’s own silken gown before turning back to Zen.

“Happy birthday, Zen,” she lifted the hem of her dress, gold shoes peeking from underneath, “I’d have brought your gift along but it wouldn’t have survived the pockets on this dress.”

“I think it’s the dress that would have found it hard to survive,” Obi quipped from where he leaned against one of the columns with his own mask pushed up into his hair and hiding a laugh at Shirayuki’s rueful look.

The tension in Zen’s shoulders eased as he watched them joke with each other, Obi blocking the balcony’s entrance with his dark silhouette and Shirayuki resplendent in the light, both here with him when he’d thought himself alone against the tide of revelers. It was easy to forget in the usual stream of days how much they permeated his life but in those times when their presence made all the difference, he was grateful that they managed to find their way to him anyway. Pulling a flower closer, he dipped his head and traced the delicate spiral of petals where they met in the center.

“How did you get in?” he finally asked the question that had been burning on his tongue ever since he first recognized them.

Obi and Shirayuki exchanged glances, before they began to talk at once.

“A little mischief— “

“We can’t say exactly— “

“It was my brother, wasn’t it,” Zen cut in, not bothering to make it a question and surprised at the warmth that spread through him. Izana might milk every last opportunity for diplomacy from the simplest thing, but now that he remembered that self-satisfied smile over the rim of a wineglass, he knew it couldn’t have been anyone else’s doing.

Brushing off his pants, he turned to pluck two sprigs from the bush whose fronds had tickled his senses earlier, tucked them into his pocket and gestured to the other two.

“May I have another dance?”