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galamalion · 3 months

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⚔︎. 𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐉𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐘 (𝐢)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mizu hummed in response.

“And if he’s not here?” you pried.

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

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

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

“I make no promises,” she stated plainly.

You just rolled your eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wished you were anywhere else right now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please,” you implored, “I can help.”

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

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

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

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

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

“A name,” she responded, walking ahead.

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

“This one has a direct connection.”

“So did the last one.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

“...Did you kill them?”

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I need no maid nor nurse.”

“I have money.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shrugged, moving to inspect and apply your salves.

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

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

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

“...Don’t call me that.”

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

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

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

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

“I’m looking for a man.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This travel pass is invalid,” he declared.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mizu—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Keep your eye out for a puppet show.”

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

“Around the gates…”

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

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

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

“No.”

Well, it was an answer, at least.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Mizu, isn’t that—”

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

“...How much for three.”

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

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

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

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

“And I don’t?”

“You provide a service.”

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

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

“I—ahm, hadn’t meant to imply—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He will for me.”

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

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

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

“I must insist,” she said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I already have one.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hadn’t expected him to return, however.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You snorted at his comment.

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

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

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

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

Mizu wouldn’t lose, not here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He gave an affirmative hum.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...Peaches?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#mizu x reader #mizu x you #blue eye samurai #mizu blue eye samurai #taigen blue eye samurai #akemi blue eye samurai #ringo blue eye samurai #heiji shindo blue eye samurai #abijah fowler blue eye samurai #bes mizu #mizu #reader insert #series

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soursturniolo · 6 months

Text

Accident • Matt Sturniolo

pairing: matt/reader

summary: a cute date night with matt takes a sudden turn.

tw: car accident, mention of blood/injuries, medical setting

Matt and I were having a lovely night. It started out with him taking me to our favorite local diner for dinner, and now we were just driving around, enjoying our time together.

We’re currently sat at a red light, just listening to hotel ugly play softly from the speakers, when the light turns green. As we begin to drive, to my horror I see a set of headlights coming at us that aren’t slowing down.

“Matt, look out!” is all I can get out before the car hits ours. We feel the impact immediately, my eyes clenched shut in fear as we’re jostled around as our car is moved by the force. I hear glass breaking and metal crunching, and feel something sharp hit my left cheek, which now feels warm and wet. Our tires squeal as they slide on the pavement, before the car hits the guard rail on the side of the road, grinding against it until we stop.

The silence I hear now is an eerie contrast to all the thunderous noises I had just heard. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding as I slowly open my eyes. I survey my body quickly. My legs and arms are fine, protected by my thick hoodie and sweats. There’s shards of glass that litter my clothes. My shoulder and back feel tight and sore from the seat belt and hitting my seat, but I think I’m okay. I turn to Matt to check on him.

His eyes are shut, head slumped down to the side. There’s a gash above his eyebrow, bleeding down his face. I quickly put my hand on his neck, breathing out a sigh of relief when I feel his pulse, strong and steady.

“Matt? Baby?” I call, shaking his shoulder gently. He doesn’t respond, which worries me.

I wince as I reach down and unbuckle my seat belt so I can turn my body easier to face him. Suddenly, an older woman appears outside of the car, standing next to Matt’s busted out window.

“I saw the accident, sweetie. My husband is standing with the guy who hit you both, he’s calling 911. Are you guys okay?” She asks, looking worried.

“No, my boyfriend isn’t waking up, he hit his head on the window I think,” I tell the woman with my voice quivering, scared but thankful I’m not dealing with this alone. As I finish my sentence, I hear sirens in the background.

The next minutes are a blur of officers and first responders checking me and Matt and asking questions about what took place. I quickly learn it was a drunk driver who hit us, who is already in custody on the way to the hospital for their own injuries. They get me out of the car first, having the pry my door open because it had been smashed in from hitting the guard rail.

A paramedic sits me on back of an ambulance truck, quickly checking me over and bandaging up the small cut on my cheek. As he warns me that I may be sore from getting jostled around in the accident, I watch with tears in my eyes as other paramedics surround Matt’s side of the car.

They put a c-collar on Matt before moving him very carefully onto a stretcher. He’s still out cold, which worries me.

“Can I go in the same ambulance as him, please?” I ask the paramedic helping me.

“Who is he to you?” he asks.

“He’s my boyfriend, please I don’t want him to be alone,” I beg.

The paramedic nods and goes to speak to one of the officers. After a moment of them conversing, the paramedic sends me a smile and motions for me to get into the ambulance they’re loading Matt into.

I sit on the bench next to the paramedic who is hooking Matt up to some monitors and an IV, pulling out my phone to make a call I’m dreading.

I quickly find Nicks contact, hitting call before bringing my phone up to my ear. It rings twice before I hear him pick up.

“Hey! Are you guys on your way home yet? Can you have-“ Nick rambles but I cut him off.

“Nick, is Chris with you?” I ask him, voice shaking.

“Yeah, he’s right next to me, why?” Nick asks confused.

“Put me on speaker and both of you sit down please,” I tell him. I feel my hands sweating from nerves and anxiety. I hate this. I’m so worried about Matt I feel like I can’t breathe.

“Okay…” Nick says, and I hear rustling on the end of the line.

“Whoa, what’s this all about?” I hear Chris ask.

“Listen, guys, Matt and I were hit by a drunk driver,” I begin.

“What?!” They both exclaim in shock.

“Yeah, we’re headed to the hospital now,” I tell them both.

“Are you guys okay?” chris asks, the question bringing tears to my eyes.

“I am, Matt’s been knocked out since the accident, so I don’t know,” I cry.

“O-okay, listen I’ll call Laura, we’ll meet you at the hospital, okay?” Nick stutters out, his voice choked with emotion.

“Okay, I love you both,” I tell them, sniffling.

“We love you,” they chorus, before hanging up.

The ambulance ride is fast, over before I can even process it. Matt is quickly wheeled back for scans and assessments while a kind nurse leads me to the waiting room. I take a seat, letting my head fall to my hands as I cry once more. I’m so worried about Matt. He’s my everything, I don’t want him to be seriously hurt. I’m praying to any god that will listen that nothing extreme or dangerous is wrong.

I’m pulled out of my thoughts by the sound of a group of people coming in. I look up to see Chris and Nick quickly walking towards me, their eyes and cheeks are red from crying. I stand as they both pull me into a group hug with them both. As we hug, I look over their shoulders and through my tears I see Madi and Laura there too, looking just as distraught. I hold my arm out to both of them, inviting them to join in our hug.

All five of us embrace for a moment, finding comfort and support in each other.

“Sturniolo family?” A doctor calls out from the doorway.

“That’s us,” Nick says.

All of us pull back from the hug, wiping our eyes as we walk to the doctor.

She gives us all a reassuring smile, she seems very kind.

“I’m sorry we kept you all waiting, we just wanted to double check the scans. Matthew is fine, he’s awake now. He has a pretty nasty concussion, a couple stitches on the wound above his eyebrow, and some bruising on clavicle from the seatbelt, but other than that he’s okay. You can all see him if you’d like,” she offers to which we all quickly nod, moving to follow her as she leads us to his room.

We turn the corner into his room and I’m filled with so much relief. There he is, sitting up and smiling at the nurse helping with his IV in his hand, alert and very much alive. Matt turns to see all of us in the doorway, and looks just as relieved.

“Thank god, you’re okay baby,” he says as I walk up to his bedside.

“Im so glad you’re okay, Matt, I was so scared,” I tell him as I lean down to give him a gentle hug. To my surprise, Matt wraps his strong arms around me, pulling me down into his lap on the bed.

“Matt!” I laugh.

“I woke up here without you and I was so afraid, all I could remember was you screaming,” he tells you softly.

“I’m sorry, I’m okay though, just a little bruised up,” I tell him, and he nods, kissing my head before turning to look at his brothers.

They both come up to him and instead of doing their usual handshake or anything they all just immediately hug tightly. If I hear any sniffling from them as I sit next to Matt on the bed, I don’t say anything. Their bond is so strong, and it’s a beautiful thing that I love that Matt has.

Laura and Madi also come over, telling us how happy they are that we’re both okay. A horrific night reminded us all what was most important in life, each other.

tag list: @secret-sturniolo @devsturniolo @sturniolopepsi @christinarowie332 @mangosrar @cupidisworld @urmyslxt

want to be added to my tag list? reply to this post :)

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b0tster · 6 months

Note

ok i have to know and i understand this is gonna sound stupid or weird but ive been thinkin about it too long

so game development

when a release date is set is the time between like for polishing the game or is it downtime? maybe crunch time?

ive been curious for so long and im so curious

also very exited for bloodborn cart!

no crunch!

basically the game has enough content to launch, but I do want to make some more levels for campaign mode, so the remaining development time will be creating that, and also a lot of polish!

#lilith answers

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kookslastbutton · 8 months

Text

Love's Remedy ༓ jjk (m) l Ch. III

✑ Summary: Jungkook is a romantic. He comes from a highly intelligent family who wants him to carry out the lineage. Being this way, he goes to college to be a pharmacist but his friends say college isn't just about studying! With a little persuasion, he goes to his first frat party thinking his hat will help him pick up a girl-or woman he means.

Pairing: STEM major!virgin!jungkook x STEM major!hot girl!reader

AU/genre: angst, smut, fluff, s2l, college au, mini-series

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 4,378

Warnings: jk is very determined to "win" oc, jk a romantic, oc has philophobia (fear of relationships), protective!koo again, oc is an engineering student, PC Bang, jk is a king at LOL (League of Legends), jk lowkey flirts with new person, oc gets cold feet but please don't blame her 🥹, jk and oc get on level ground after hashing things through, themes of stalker-ish behavior (not oc or jk!), feat Jackson and Jae-beom, if i missed warning lmk!

Now Playing: seven, summertime sadness, she’s kerosene, angels like you+

A/N: For reference a PC Bang is: "a type of LAN gaming center and Internet cafe in South Korea, where patrons can play multiplayer computer games for an hourly fee". Also, I am not a gaming guru but I try for this chapter that means I researched haha Enjoy! 💞

<< ch. II ༓ ch. IV >> | series masterlist

A week later, Jungkook waits for you at your agreed rendezvous point; for over an hour. You promised to meet him near the campus garden at 7 pm but here it is almost 8 pm and you're a no-show.

He checks his phone for the fourteenth time since arriving–no reply.

Jungkook tries not to jump to conclusions but you broke your word and you ghosted him.

He thinks back to last week when he'd stepped between you and Jun-ho. And when you followed him back to his dorm where he told you he could love and take care of you, as you helped patch his wound. Had he come on too strong? Did you get into more trouble that he didn't know about?

He kicks a few pebbles by his feet, sending them flying in every which way, as the number of endless possibilities rattles his brain.

"Stupid," he cusses himself. "You're just so fucking stupid."

How could he believe that after two short weeks of random run-ins with you that he'd earn your interest? You told him you don't do relationships yet he still shows up, anxiously presenting himself as your knight in shining armor. Any sane person would tell him he was barking up a dead tree.

"Might as well get a head start on next week's homework." Jungkook loses hope, trotting back to the dormitory with the wind howling and mocking behind him.

"What do you mean she ditched you?" The boisterous inquisition belongs to Jackson who's looking thoroughly offended once hearing his new best friend was shown up. He isn't sure how much this woman meant to him, but either way, it makes him livid. Even if you weren't going to go out with him, you should've at least told him like a decent human being.

"I really thought she'd come," Jungkook replies with his heavy eyes. He walks alongside the blonde-haired boy, dirt crunching below his feet. "Guess she had something better to do."

"No." Jackson stops in the middle of the road. "You know who actually has better things to do? It's you. What do you say to hitting up the PC Bang downtown? Play a little League of Legends or Overwatch?"

Jungkook shrugs with less enthusiasm than a snail. "Sure…"

"Hey man," Jackson puts a hand on Jungkook's shoulder. "I'm sorry about you and __. It sucks being stood up. I've had my fair share and you just gotta take it as a blessing that nothing else happened between you both. Nine times out of ten, it didn't have anything to do with you either so don't blame yourself. Take it as a lesson and keep working on yourself until the right person shows up. They'll be the person you can truly give yourself to."

"Hard to believe you've been shown up. You're charismatic, confident, in good shape, have good facial features, and you're getting your MD." Jungkook's aware of his friend's attempt to lift his spirits but he can't fathom anyone not giving Jackson the time of day. Due looks like a pop star in the making.

"Nah, most of what you just said is me bullshitting my way through life. I'm not all that," Jackson rejects, striding forward. "I got rejected by a girl a few days ago myself."

"Had a boyfriend?"

"Nope, just didn't like me. And she doesn't go out with first -years apparently."

"Oh," Jungkook's eyebrows shoot up. "She was an upperclassman?"

"Yup, on her third year."

At this Jungkook's mouth gapes open. "No wonder she said no. What the hell are you doing trying to go out with a third-year?” The accusatory tone spins Jackson's head–he's a sad little puppy with you but a bulldog with him. What a puzzling fellow.

"Same thing you're doing trying to convince someone who doesn't want a relationship to go out with you."

Jungkook dials back his previous assertion. "We're idiots."

"Correction. we're dreamers." Jackson slaps him on the shoulder. "C'mon, let's go burn some shit up at the internet cafe."

By the time he and Jackson get to the cafe nearly all the computers are taken. It's no surprise since PC Bang's are quite a rave amongst university students like themselves. You can play the hottest games for hours while stuffing yourself full with whatever food's served on the cafe menu–all for a small fee of course.

"Let's go here." Jackson manages to grab two free id cards from the counter–guiding them to two empty PCs, side by side to each other. "How long do you want to play for?"

Jungkook sinks himself in the leather gaming chair and powers on the machine in front of him. "I'm good until 6 pm, but then I should head back to my dorm and do homework."

"Cool, same for me. We'll play for three hours then."

"What should we play?" Jungkook tosses the headset over his ears and scrolls through the game options. Jackson does the same.

"Kinda in the mood for LOL." He flips to the game's screen card. "Gonna need to join a team though."

"No problem.," Jungkook clicks the game on his own pc until the loading screen covers his view. "So many people play League of Legends. We'll be able to find one in no time."

Jackson nods and opens LOL himself. "Let's kick some ass."

"Fuck yeah," Jungkook mumbles, inaudible to everyone but himself.

An hour passes and he and Jackson have been hammering their opponents into the digital abyss. The thrill and surge of adrenaline cause him to forget previous heartaches–aka you. Plus, after finding a team of three to jump into; one member who happens to be female, Jungkook's been able to turn his attention to other prospects.

"Soomin, how long have you been playing LOL for?" Jungkook decides to learn more about his female teammate after claiming the final victory over the opposing team.

"Five years," her raspy voice comes through his headset. It sure is a unique voice, he notes.

"Same. We should play on a team more often. In fact, Jackson and I are thinking about building an official LOL team so we could use a third person. You're really good so if you want, we'd love to have you." Beside him, his friend gives him a confused look. 'We are?' he mouths silently which Jungkook ignores.

"Wait really?" She pauses a moment. "I've never been on a permanent team before. I guess that'd be cool."

"I play late at night sometimes too. Meaning if you ever wanna jump on with me shoot me a message or something."

"Alright, I'll jot down your username."

"Already got yours memorized," he says, a tad more cocky than he meant.

"Damn," she cusses. "You work fast. By the way, do you go to university?"

"Yeah, I go to Seoul National University."

"No way, what year are you? I attend there too. I'm a second-year."

"What?!" He nearly hits the ceiling once the information is disclosed. He had no idea Soomin would be this close and that he could meet her in person. call him eager but should he ask her out? No…he's already made that move with you and look where it left him. He'll ask to hang out first. "We should meet Soomin. As long as you don't mind that I'm a first-year that is," Jungkook chuckle lightly and looks over to Jackson who immediately gives him a double thumbs up.

"Well I'm kinda busy this week but how about next week? Also, if it's good with you, can my boyfriend come?"

Fuck. If this is some kinda joke he'd like to catch a break any time now. Not that he was as intrigued with Soomin as he was, or still is, with you but he definitely thought it was going somewhere!

"You're dating?" Jungkook watches Jackson lower his double thumbs up, frowny face on.

"Yeah, we've been together for a year. Met as classmates." When she giggles Jungkook has the unexpected urge to roll his eyes. Of course, you did, he mutters, just a perfectly peachy coincidence for you two.

"Well that's nice," he says bitterly.

"Oh, I'm sorry Jungkook. He's actually calling me now so I have to go but I'll talk to you soon. And message me when you want to meet. I'll tell my boyfriend about you!"

Great. Jungkook bids her goodbye and she signs off.

"Sorry about Soomin. She seemed cute." Jackson slides his headset off his ears to rest them around his neck. "But you know what? You're still a force to be reckoned with inside the virtual world. I honestly don't know how you do it."

Jungkook grins shyly and slips his headset on the desk. "I've been playing for a long time. Must be something to do with that." He throws a hand over his abdomen when his stomach rumbles at the same time. "We should order food." He browses the cafe's extensive menu on his pc. Nothing but rows and rows of tasty options flash back at him, urging him to spend fortunes.

Still, he's got to cap it at some point with only about 2,000,000 Korean won (about 1,500 USD) in his bank account. The Jeon family is wealthy but Jungkook is not. His parents are especially careful to inform him that generational wealth is not going to be given to him freely. Instead, he is to earn his own money, starting at the car wash which he worked at over the summer.

"I'm getting an order of Tteokbokki and a soju. What about you?" Jackson punches in his order, sparing a glance at Jungkook who's tapping on his keyboard with one hand while the other rests under his chin.

"The Jjajangmyeon looks good. I'll get that with a soju too." After Jungkook enters in his own order he strolls his chair out from under the gaming table. "Do you see a bathroom around here?"

"Yeah, it's all the way to that far right corner." Jackson points in that direction with his thumb.

"Okay, I'll be right back."

Bathroom, bathroom, bathroom.

Jungkook repeats the simple word to himself. He scans the corner Jackson gestured towards earlier but sees nothing except a giant blank wall. Must have meant the opposite direction. He turns himself around to scout the other side of the floor.

"Excuse me sir-" a voice chimes close behind him.

"Oh sorry." He steps aside to let the young lady by and as soon as he does his whole body jerks forward in shock. "__!"

You turn around with the tray of food in your hand in what looks like a work uniform. "Yes, what can I do–Kookie?" You grip the plastic tray firmer to keep it from shaking uncontrollably, though the clamminess of your palms makes it a challenging task. Seeing Jungkook at the place you work was bound to happen being that the PC Bang is close to the university. You just weren't prepared for it to be tonight during one of your last shifts of the season.

"I didn't know you worked here."

"Yeah, only part-time." After bumping into Jungkook moments ago, you found it inevitable to avoid him further. You agreed to meet him outside once your break started. "I'm planning on leaving before the semester gets crazy. I have about a week left probably."

It dawns on Jungkook that he doesn't know what you study so with shifty eyes and clenched fists, he asks. "What are you going for?"

"Engineering." You can tell he wasn't expecting that for an answer; most don't be a woman in the field and all. "Jungkook, let's not do this. I'm sorry about what happened the other night." A sick queasy feeling settles in your gut–you're well aware you did Jungkook wrong. You're not proud of it in the slightest and him standing in front of you right now only reminds you of your guilt.

"I waited for you __. You said you come even if it was a rejection." A twinge of hurt laces behind his words and he keeps a controlled stance. He doesn't get in your face, demanding for an answer, nor does he break down and cry. He's more inquisitive than anything else. "Where were you? Why didn't you come?"

"I–" You intertwine your fingers, a nervous habit you picked up in childhood. "I panicked Kookie. I'm so sorry."

Jungkook stiffens when he hears the endearing name drop from your soft lips again. It was nice at first but now it feels like a sharp pain twisting in his side, like a thorn only for his misery. "Can you not call me that, please? It's–It's making me uncomfortable."

"Oh god," you lunge forward out of instinct but freeze when he steps back. "Jungkook I really am sorry. I was planning to see you. I had my shoes on and everything. Like I said I panicked, I'm not suited for relationships. And I'm not suited for you."

The last part stings the most.

"But–"

“There’s no buts Jungkook." You place your hand on the door of the building. " I have to get back to work."

"Wait!"Jungkook moves to face in front of you from an angle. "You say you're not suited for relationships but why did you get ready to see me? Why didn't you just say no to me? And last week when you told me you needed more time to think…was it a lie?"

"Because I like you okay? You're cute, protective, sweet, but you like me too much." you release the handle. "You don't know anything about me yet you've already got into a fistfight with an obscene jerk for me and claim you'll wait for me even when you just met me. If you love me this much now how much more will you love me later?"

" I'll love you for eternity."

"See this is it, Jeon. You saying stuff like this before anything real has happened between us–it's too much. How can you be this devoted to basically a stranger? You'll love me for eternity but have you considered that maybe I won't?"

"What are you saying?"

"What makes you think I'll love you as much as you do me?"

" I don't think like that __. I don't want a relationship so I can see what I can get. that's not how my mind works. I understand that I've been very forward with you. I should have been more conscientious about how that would make you feel but when I say that I love–"

"Please, don't drop the 'L' word. If you're saying love then you don't love me; only the idea of me."

Jungkook pauses, wordless

"Never thought of it that way huh? Guess not. Let me ask you something…do you know what I do? With men?"

He swallows and shakes his head no

"I sleep with them. A new guy a week if not twice a week. People call me a whore, and I'm spreading my legs for everyone and anyone willing. Do you want to get involved with someone like that?" You wipe away an escaped tear.

"I don't care about that at all __."

"Well, you should! This is who I am Jungkook. I can't let you be responsible for me. So unless you want a one-night stand or a friends-with-benefits relationship, I suggest you forget about me. I can't be your girlfriend."

"__!" Your manager shoves the front door open, causing you and Jungkook to jolt in surprise. " Where have you been? We have about twenty orders that need to be served."

"Sorry Manager Choi. I'll get right on it." You spare Jungkook one last glance before disappearing back inside the PC Bang. "I'm sorry," you say with a lowered head.

That night Jungkook lays on his bed, thumb hovering over your name in his contacts list. His logical side whispers for him to delete it. His heart says to call, text, or do something to–no. He remembers your pained facial expression; on the verge of tears as you explained to him that he'd been too quick in making his mind up about you. But then he replays your final words.

"…unless you want a one-night stand or a friends-with-benefits relationship, I suggest you forget about me. I can't be your girlfriend."

Well, he doesn't want the first two but if it meant he could be in your life longer–stop. His logical side intrudes. "You don't want to go down that path," he matters to himself. "It's better if you just delete the number." Jungkook moves to tap the trash can icon on your phone contact, a pang in his chest. Just as he's mustered up enough strength his phone buzzes off, screen lighting the entirety of the darkened dorm room. His roommate groans at the sound and rolls over in their bed.

"Jungkook," said roommate rubs his face. "I have an 8:15 tomorrow morning. Please speak take it in the hallway."

Jungkook quietly jumps out of bed not solely because of courtesy to his roommate but also because it's from you.

"Jungkook… can you um…"

"__?" He eases the door shut behind him and paces up and down the hallway. "Are you there?"

"Can you meet me at the bus stop near the campus library/ I'm sorry to be asking you it's just that…Jun-ho's–"

"What is it? Are you okay? What about Jun-ho?"

" I'm taking the bus back from work and he's on the same one he keeps staring at me and I'm scared of following me back to my dorm. Please Kookie-Jungkook I mean. I don't have any right to ask you, I know. He won't try anything with the bus driver here but once I get off I'll be alone. I have some pepper spray in my bag–"

"Yes, yes I'll be right there. How far are you out?" This isn't about pursuing you, impressing you, or anything like that anymore; it's about your safety. Jungkook leaps into his room, grabs his wallet, and shoves the sneakers on his feet. "__? Did you hear me?"

" I'm five minutes from the stop. Oh, he's, he's still staring at me."

"Don't look at him __. I'm walking down right now. Stay on the phone with me. I'll be waiting for you when you get there okay?"

"Thank you Kook. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. If Jun-ho's tracking you down like a wolf, it'll be his funeral." The icy tone in Jungkook's typically warm, milky tone sends a shiver up your spine.

The bus you're on pulls up in exactly five minutes, as you estimated. Jungkook frantically searches for you through the window glass, growling when he sees Jun-ho standing up a few rows behind you. He makes sure to be as close to the bus's exit doors as possible so he can grab your hand as soon as you step out.

"Hey!" He greets you loudly. "How was your shift?"

"Great! We were running around like crazy but thankfully, I didn't have to work through the night." You cling his hand tighter, slinging your other arm around his.

"That's a blessing." Jungkook and you walk faster, putting more space between you and Jun-ho. "You must be tired."

"Oh yeah, I can't wait to slee–ah!" You trip over a ledge on the sidewalk. Jungkook grips you before you completely fall flat on your behind.

"New feet?" He can't help but joke and you slap his arm. Jungkook helps straighten you back up, your hands remain interlocked. When it comes to a split in the road, you and Jungkook filter to the right side towards the female dorms. You hope to god Jun-ho takes the left.

"He's such a fucker." Jungkook curses, peering over his shoulder just enough to see Jun-ho faltering at the intersection. He burns holes at both of you so much that it makes Jungkook feel like kneeing him in the gut but he doesn't want to provoke the bastard–putting you in unpredictable danger. "I'll get you to your dorm. Which one is yours?"

"Up ahead." You gesture at the brick building with the number 318.

"We can let go of our hands now." You're the first to speak after arriving outside your dorm.

Jun-ho thankfully did not follow you any more than back at the split in the path between male and female dorms. The fact that he still attends school here makes your skin crawl. You don't exactly like calling people a mistake but Jun-ho is by far an exception. You messed around with the guy one time while you both were a bit tipsy and he keeps hounding you. If you need to, you will make him stay away from you permanently.

"Promise me you'll get a restraining order on him if this happens again or gets worse." Jungkook ignores your suggestion to release your hands. "That idiot has no right to be around you."

"I will. Thank you for coming out. I was nervous to call you being what happened earlier. I truly, from the bottom of my heart, am sorry. And I know having to go back to work left things hanging so if there's anything else you wanted to talk about or tell me, please feel free."

"Anything for you–" slips out of his mouth before he can stop it. He slaps a hand over his mouth instantly, you chuckle softly.

"It's okay Jungkook," you reassure. "I can tell you wear your heart on your sleeve. You're naturally very accommodating and flattering."

"And you're beautiful. Damnit, I did it again. I'm sorry __, but whenever I look at you I feel butterflies and I say a lot of fluffy stuff. I'm not trying to flirt or impress you by using what can be in the right context, shallow methods. But yeah, I was thinking about what happened at the cafe earlier tonight and I think get it–I've been too quick to the draw. I'm honestly not sure why I'm so attracted to you other than the fact that you're breathtakingly gorgeous in literally every way, both physical and non-physical. It makes me want to know you more. And the fact that assholes like Jun-ho won't leave you alone makes me want to be your personal bodyguard or something. I don't lift as much as him but fuck, I can keep him in his place. I'm starting to sound crazy, aren't I? It's like you said, we're strangers after all…right?"

Jungkook waits for you to respond. The cool autumn air is crisp against your cheeks, not cold enough to see your own breath, but enough to have you secretly grateful for the warmth that comes from his hand. That's right, you've been clinging onto his hand for dear life for the past fifteen or more minutes. You should probably let go now if weren't for the fact that he's also clinging onto yours just as hard.

"You really want to know me Kookie?" You brush a few strands of his hair that have blown in front of his eyes. He's incredibly handsome now…how did you not see it before? Sure he's cute with his bunny-like smile, mole on his button nose, and his adorable voice that makes you oh so soft and comfortable inside. But he's also handsome with his piercing oak tree-colored eyes, perfectly sharp jaw, and eager yet tenacious energy that always seems to show up for you.

Jungkook takes your other hand in his, swinging them between you both. "Of course," his earnest voice chippers. "It’s next to impossible for me not to want to know you. I'm sure I'll eventually move on if that's what you really want, but if there's another alternative that can avoid that I'd like to take it. You seem to be in deep thought about something…" he switches up his response when he notices you don't look as alert as you usually do. “__.”

"I'm here," you say, the tiniest bit dazed. "I was just thinking about something."

"Yeah I know, but about what?"

You swallow before replying. “…You.”

Jungkook smiles sheepishly. You're unsure if he's pleased or nervous. "Is it–is it something good or should we leave it here?"

"Are you free tomorrow?" You bite the inside of your cheek, begging yourself not to take it back. "It's Sunday so I get if you have some last-minute studying to do. Just thought maybe we could do something….together." Jungkook goes to reply, cheeks more than raised but you continue speaking before he sounds a word. "It's not a date per se. I'm being crazy annoying but I'd like to be friends first with something extra."

"You said no to friends before though. This isn't an offer to be friends with benefits is it?"

"That was when I wasn't sure what I wanted with you if anything. I didn't want to take advantage of you or anything. I want to start as friends so we can see if we can somehow be more. I'm interested in you Jungkook so no, not friends with benefits but rather, friends with the potential to be more."

"Okay," Jungkook squeezes your hands. "I can do that. What do you want to do? What time do you want to meet? What do you want me to wear?"

"First of all, if we're going to do this I'm going to need you to treat me like your bro. Wear what you want, we can meet afternoon and we'll figure it what to do along the way." You think your suggestion is fair yet it's crystal clear that it's not ideal for Jungkook, given the pout on his face.

"I don't want you to be my bro though," he whines.

"We start as bros or we're not hanging out." You're firm because you want this to work but you know yourself, and you need to take this slow.

"No wait, okay. Bro it is. You'll be the prettiest bro of mine."

"Jungkook," you snort, undignified. "That sounds weird."

He shrugs, "I'm weird when I'm with my friends. Especially when they're as pretty as you, it makes me all dumb because I can't seem to think straight anymore."

"Alright Romeo," you say, face flushing. "Save the rest for tomorrow."

<< ch. II ༓ ch. IV >> | series masterlist

A/N: This was originally going to be three chapters but it will be extended 😶 Lmk what you think and if you wanna to be tagged fill out tag form or ask 💞

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Taglist:

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no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

#jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #bts angst #bts fluff #bts imagine #bts scenarios #fic:lovesremedyonfire #kookslastbutton

274 notes · View notes

eepyuii · 5 months

Text

frostbite — pt. 1

pairing ; childe x gender neutral!reader

content ; childhood friends to “rivals” to lovers, slowburn-ish

cw ; some swearing, mentions of wounds & medical stuff, dottore warning (?) he doesn’t exactly do anything but y’know- it’s dottore, sort of proofread

note ; i am so scared, i’ve never posted anything like this on tumblr or at all LMFAO this is my first fic ever and very self indulgent. ive already posted 5 chapters of this on ao3 but i was curious as to how the tumblr ajax kissers would react to it. im sorry if this sort of info tab isn’t very descriptive, im just basing it off what i’ve seen from the viewer’s perspective.

ALSO, for context- tetya= aunt and dyadya= uncle in russian!

constructive criticism is appreciated!

next part | masterlist

“hey, watch your step! snow’s gotten harder and slippier these days…”

“yes, sir!”

“yes, father!”

just as the warning rings out, it’s followed by the dry crunch of heavy boots against snow. it’s not the same soft sound as it was a month or so ago, rather it sounds almost as if the ice gnashes aggressively at the leather boots.

it gnaws at your ears painfully, though you’ve been sensitive to such sounds for as long as you could remember, yet you still flinch.

ajax notices right away. he always does.

“here,” he goes, the cloud of his warm breath visible. turning your head toward the boy, you see that he’s handing you his earmuffs.

a sheepish grin invades your lips as you wordlessly take him up on his offer. mind rid of the god awful crush of the snow, you come up with a brilliant idea.

“last one there’s a rotten catch!” you charge onwards with a laugh.

“ah, n-not again!”

ajax’s father only watches from behind as his son hurries to catch up, a defeated sigh leaves him. “these kids…”

said kids were already reaching the lake clearing at that point. the frozen water already has its own layer of fresh-fallen snow, making it seem like an entire new tundra- that is, until you and ajax brashly create footmarks and snow angels on the surface while his father is still yet to catch up. if he’d been closer you would’ve heard the old man’s grumbles about having to carry all the fishing gear.

thankfully, there were no rotten catches that day.

your best friend’s laughter and your very own echo in your head like bells in an empty chapel, uninvitedly. the entire memory is instead invited by the sight of a father on the street with his own children, he carries a bucket and fishing rods as the youngins run ahead excitedly. you conclude that you should’ve left for zapolyarny palace earlier today.

this morning cannot start off on a bad note, not when the doctor had meticulously scheduled an operation for this very day with your presence prerequisited.

you’re acutely aware of this.

you’re still acutely aware of this when you slam your work bag onto the desk with such force that even the fatui guard monitoring the palace hallway jumps.

and you’re still acutely aware of this when you almost bump into one of your boss’s segments on your way to the operation room, a most certain death that would be if you did bump into him. even as you break your stress fueled stride, the segment blocks the path forward.

“if i didn’t know any better, i would assume this is your first day on your first job. ever.”

you furrow your eyebrows confusedly while the segment coldly scrutinizes you top to bottom.

“even the lowliest of fatui recruits know that the first thing one should do after clocking in is get into the proper uniform.” he indicates with a snark in his tone.

ah- your lab coat.

“yes sir. my apologies.” with a haste in your step previously thought impossible to achieve without actually sprinting, you beeline straight to your office, which is conveniently on the other side of a very long hallway from the operation room. so long, in fact, that it gives enough time for a certain someone to slink into the office room without you even seeing it.

you don’t notice him even as you’re already inside the room. well, how could you with such tunnel vision, powered by your early-morning frustration and innate fear of disappointing the doctor. you’re practically out the door with lab coat in hand when he finally quips.

“uhm, doc?” the voice is shaky but still impossible to not recognize.

god dammit.

the tsaritsa was truly not on your side today. with a deep inhale, you do your best to keep a neutral expression as you turn around to face the head of red hair that haunts your dreams. or rather nightmares.

“how may i help you, lord tartaglia?” you still hated that title.

“well heh… this is the head nurse’s office, i believe you can help me by exerting the very function of this room?” the harbinger puts on a friendly front, acting like he can’t feel your burning glare. within it, you start to gauge at what’s brought him here, few surface-level scratches and even fewer cuts that are ever so slightly deeper present on him.

“i’m afraid i’m running late for an important appointment with the doctor, you’ll have to ask one of my subordinates.” you state matter-of-factly and start turning to leave again.

“w-wait, please!” he reaches out to stop you and the hand lands on your bicep, rather than your wrist which would’ve been a quicker latch. huh. “let me talk to him afterwards, he’ll understand. plus, i’m your boss as much as he is.”

“you’re quite literally not.”

“yeah, i’m not. still your boss though.”

childe is not of as high authority over you as the doctor is, afterall you’re one of the doctor’s assigned assistants, but the way he talks so casually and… playfully makes him seem even less bossy. but you don’t allow yourself anymore time to dwell on it, instead you roll your eyes and give in. your boss almost giddily sits on the examination bed.

the sterilized silk gloves slide snugly onto your palms as you look your patient up and down.

“how did you even manage to get yourself roughed up so early in the morning?”

“it’s never too early in the morning for a spar! though- hah… even i didn’t expect to take this many free hits.”

“who were you sparring?”

“eh, some junior lieutenants at the northwest wing. there were some new recruits there too so i figured i’d set an example for ‘em.”

northwest wing..? you visibly pause at the revelation.“that’s… on the other side of zapolyarny palace.”

“so?”

“so there’s nurses there too.”

childe himself seems to pause then- you were catching onto him. he realizes he must think about his next actions as carefully as humanly possible.

“ahah… a-are there?”

good one, ajax.

you look down at the alcohol-soaked cotton ball sitting snugly between your tweezers and then up to a scratch right above childe’s eyebrow- seems like the perfect time to treat your patient. the sting comes before the harbinger can even react and much to his dismay, you keep the cotton ball on his forehead even as attempts to lean away from it.

“childe tartaglia,” you start, voice menacing and low. “did you orchestrate a sparring session with low-rank officers and get yourself injured on purpose to come see me?”

“a-ah ouch!” childe hisses. “surely you w-wouldn’t commit medical malpractice over something as trivial as this?” clearly he forgets who you work for, or pretends to at least.

“start talking.”

“okay, okay! yes, i did all that…” the red head sulks with a defeated sigh. pleased by the confession, you move away with your alcohol cotton ball of doom and give him space.

you watch the tsaritsa’s weapon of war crumple into himself, looking off into a meaningless corner of the room.

“i… i’m being stationed to liyue tomorrow.” his voice is entirely different from what it was when this entire ordeal began- quiet, hesitant.

“and?” is your response before you can even think about how douchey it sounds. it’s already too late when you see childe deflate even more and feel like you just kicked a puppy.

“and i wanted to come and give you the news.”

really? that’s all he wanted from this?

“then why go through all this effort of sparring newbies at practically the ass crack of dawn and lose? why not just come here and tell me at once?”

he scoffs bitterly. “like you’d talk to me under normal circumstances.”

the regret you were feeling from your cruel response from earlier quickly bleeds out into incredulousness.

“you haven’t talked to me under normal circumstances since we were fourteen.” you stab back and childe bites his tongue, he won’t retaliate this time. the rest of the appointment is spent in the deadliest of silences as you finish tending to his “injuries”. neither of you ever look up to face the other.

you pack up quickly as to haul ass from the office room as soon as possible. but not before you mutter stoically- “have fun in liyue.”

and childe is left to sit pathetically on the bed and contemplate his astronomical failure.

—

what a wretched week.

the days seem to take a thousand years each to end, the laboratory feels stuffier, the people less tolerable and you swear the pen in your hand feels heavier than a lead ingot.

“are you done sulking?”

oh yeah, there’s also the ruthless fatui harbinger you work under and the equally insulting bajillion copies of him. you know bajillion is a gross overestimation but you also gave up keeping track of how many segments the doctor has a long time ago, they’re bossy all the same.

“not sulking, sir, just… thinking.”

“thinking about the medical records you’re supposed to be overseeing surely?” he taunts and you can only scoff non-committedly.

said medical records were mere reports on several of the doctor’s past experiments and operations, arguably not worth such a commitment of your time or worth a hackling from your boss. either way the words and paragraphs had merged into blurred lines and incomprehensible messes in your eyes about ten minutes ago, you were only pretending to be doing something at this point.

the irresistible force of your boredom drives your gaze to anywhere but the papers in front of you, eventually settling onto a corkboard hung up on a farther wall of the doctor’s laboratory. tired retinas struggle to focus on the blueprints that are stuck onto the corkboard but they seem to have rough sketchings of… body parts? they’re definitely not human, no, instead the drawings indicate they’re robotical. on another blueprint is an unfinished rendering of the full robot body. the shape language is unconventionally stylized, to a point where they almost resemble traditional inazuman patterns or even… the patterns on scaramouches robes-

“l-lord dottore!! i have an u-urgent matter sent by lord pierro himself.”

huh?

“out with it. quick.” the segment doesn’t even bother to face the stammering officer that had bursted through the door right then.

“u-uhm… some of our liyue informants have reported t-that rex lapis suddenly p-perished during the rite of descension,”

huh?

“rex lapis, dying? well,” he drawls amusedly. “that would certainly be a sight. but how exactly does this development concern me? is the banker not available?”

“w-well y-yes… lord pierro specifically requested for your word on the matter a-and perhaps see if one of your s-subordinates could… be on-site?”

dottore’s segment lets out an exasperated sigh while a gloved hand goes up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “unfortunately it doesn’t surprise me that the collective surplus amount of agents we have stationed in liyue harbor proves to be utterly incompetent to the point where the jester himself would come to me for help.”

a feeling of dread settles in your chest as you try to digest the insane information you’ve been given-

rex lapis, the oldest of the seven archons of teyvat, is dead.

pierro, the head of the fatui harbingers, is requesting dottore to send one of his subordinates to investigate the scene.

that’s you, you’re dottore’s subordinate.

which means you’ll be sent to investigate an archon’s death. in liyue.

that’s where he is.

your head feels like it’ll explode any second now. the segment, ever so brilliantly clever like his prime version, seems to have the same idea as you and beams a sharp-toothed sadistic grin.

“why my assistant here does seem to be available, wouldn’t you say?” he turns a serpentine stare over to you.

“err… i don’t think i could leave my post here, sir, i am the head nurse after all-“

“nonsense, i doubt the bumbling idiots of this palace will find themselves into anything more troublesome than a papercut while you’re gone.”

oh the irony of hearing that after your… situation the other day. you huff defeatedly, standing up to start packing for your impromptu trip. the mysterious blueprints in the laboratory long forgotten.

—

morepesok hasn’t changed a bit since you left.

which, as much as you love your hometown, isn’t saying much- morepesok is as uneventful as it gets. in such a small seaside snezhnayan village, the only points of interest are the painfully traditional values of fishing and family.

the visit to your parents’ house is brief but comforting, some teary goodbyes and heartfelt words about how pleased and proud they are of what you’ve accomplished for yourself- achieving such a high position in the fatui ranks by merely helping people. you don’t even consider telling them about the doctor.

but what makes you feel worse is the visit to ajax’s family home. it’s like the house has been frozen in time, the place where you spent years of your childhood is intact and unchanged- except for some newer family pictures, of course.

teucer, tonia and anthon are the ones to greet you first, then ajax’s parents come along. huh… ajax. you hadn’t even noticed the switch your brain does whenever you’re back home. here, he’s ajax but in zapolyarny palace, he’s childe or tartaglia. but there’s no time to dig yourself a deeper hole in that topic because you’re presently being pampered like a very own daughter of the house by his parents.

“my dear, look at you! you look so grown and mature… have you been eating well?” his mother walks up to cup your cheeks with the most genuine parental love. she, like the rest of the environment, looks exactly as you remember her, with a few newer white strands betwixt her bright orange curls. well, remember is a strong word.

“tetya, it’s only been a few months since we’ve seen each other, i’m all the same.” you laugh and she reciprocates.

“yes yes, i know… and- oh! as a matter of fact, we saw ajax just this week, said he was being transferred to a northland bank all the way in liyue!”

and when you thought you could not feel shittier about this.

“it is a shame to have our ajax so far from home so suddenly but at least we still have you, dearest!” she grins, pinching your cheek with more vigor than you’ve seen apparent in fatui sergeants.

“hey!” the three younger siblings call out in unison.

“yeah, a-about that, tetya…” you start hesitantly. “i’m… also being transferred to liyue. there have been some unexpected developments and i’ll just be on field to check up on things.”

ajax’s mother huffs incredulously. “by the tsaritsa’s name! they must hate mothers over at that palace!” she shakes her head with disappointment. “speaking of which, have you gone to see your parents yet?” you only nod. “good good… well anyhow, are you in a hurry, dear? i could make you some hot chocolate and then you’re free to be on your way.”

how could you ever deny your tetya’s hot chocolate?

the rest of your stay in the household is spent chatting with the family and playing games with the younger kids, as well as drinking a cup of hot chocolate so delicious you almost cry. the afternoon is nearing its end when you’re walking out the door and teucer is bawling his eyes out at your departure, or maybe he’s just tuckered out.

“have a safe trip, kiddo.” ajax’s father pats you on the shoulder firmly.

“thanks, dyadya, i will.”

“oh! and take care of ajax, make sure he doesn’t get in over his head.” this time it’s tonia who pipes up and the rest of the family nods in agreement.

“bye bye, everyone!” you’re already at the house’s front fence, waving back as fiercely as you can.

the only thing you don’t notice is the knowing look that is shared between tonia and her mother when she mentions ajax.

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edutainer2022 · 5 months

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@astranite About the PROM PROTOCOL from this thread . It's a Sky and Star headcanon very dear to my heart. I'm so glad you found it! 💙🧡

The PROM PROTOCOL is a story I really hope to write out some day. But if I never do, the general outline is as follows: think the Kansas farmhouse front porch, around past midnight. There's a figure on a porch swing - Jeff. Waiting up. Steps crunch the gravel and stop to an abrupt halt by the porch. Scott hasn't been expecting Dad to wait up for him like this. Scott is past his curfew.

The party had been a long and ardorous negotiation - Jeff was weary, because springbreak and highschool seniors (and juniors) usually equals underage drinking and recreational edibles or pot, or who knows what else, especially if somebody's college freshman sibling is doing the chaperoning. Scott was adamant and made a good case of being the most responsible and reliable sixteen year old in the history of ever - youngest President of the class, Prom King nominee, Team captain and projected valedictorian at the graduation (early graduation for him, because he worked his a** off over summers taking extra AP credit and got early admission to Yale), consummate big brother. Besides, he promised to take Stacey the Girlfriend to THE springbreak party. Surprisingly, Virgil and John chimed in on Scott's side with a good case too - he deserved a night off, as big brother had nearly run himself to the ground the years Mom was gone, while Jeff buried himself in grief and more work. Jeff doesn't enjoy thinking back on the boy's translucent pale face on the hospital sheets and the drip of IV in the deafening silence. Jeff gets the reasoning, but he's not ready. Not ready for Scott to be growing up and leaving for college (John soon to follow, skipping a class the genius his ginger is), not ready for things to change, not ready for the boys not needing him soon, not ready for Scott being serious to take up his Ivy League degree parallel to the AirForce program.

Anyhow, this one time Dad conceded and is now sitting up on the porch, waiting for the eldest to be back past the curfew, minutes away from rising up Kyrano to start a state-wide search and rescue. But Scott is walking back. WALKING. Jeff is absolutely certain the boy left in his car to pick up the girlfriend and then drive her back home. And to ensure there would be no succumbing to peer pressure to drink at the party. Jeff is ready to rain thunder and lightning, assuming that's what happened - drinking, smoking, something irresponsible.

But Scott is shivering in his windbreaker, hands deep in his pockets, face visibly stricken with tears. He walked all the way from the town to the farm in the middle of the night. Somebody's college freshman brother home on a break being far more alluring to the Prom Queen nominee is what happened. Vicious and biting, and humiliating words happened. First love crashing and burning in an instant is what happened. Scott was shaken too much and couldn't drive. So he walked all the way home.

Jeff manages to coax the boy up the porch, on a swing and into his lap. Quiet, hot tears are back. So help him, Jeff is not ready. That was to be Lucy's area - nursing bruises, kissing away booboos and heartbreak. Jeff is not ready. He wants to tell his boy there will never be pain and betrayal again. He wants to make sure there isn't. Ever. But he can't. Jeff wants to keep Scott and his brothers safe from any danger of the world. But he's not sure he can reliably ward off more heartbreak. So he just holds the crying child on the cusp of adulthood and wishes his wife were still there.

Scott is still grounded - he didn't call Dad to pick him up, and walking alone at night was very dangerous. He'd be grounded till the Prom (Jeff is not cruel enough to let the school have no Prom King). That's where the problem is, unexpectedly. Scott's not going. Stacey the ex girlfriend now has that college freshman as a Prom date to show off. Everyone would know he was dumped. He has no date and doesn't have the heart to go anymore. Jeff really, really wishes Lucy were there. He's out of his depth.

That's when the rustle on the porch roof happens and a lithe, agile form slithers expertly down to the rails. John. John, who too is not asleep. John, who was probably stargazing past his bedtime or too lowkey waiting up for his biggest brother. John would go with Scott to the Prom. John is graduating next winter, so will miss his own Prom - nobody will ask questions. That dries the tears, at least, and has Scott sit up from Dad's lap. John HATES social anything. It will be loud, and flashy, and crowded, and LOUD. John would be uncomfortable. Scott can't have that. Exactly! Everyone knows the Ginger Tracy hates that kind of scene. And everyone knows Scott always has a posse of little brothers. So, if Scott is too upset, or not having fun, or overwhelmed - nobody would bat an eye that he had to take the "ginger weirdo" back home. John is calm and completely logical - clearly he had it all thought through. But what if Scott is having a good time and John is uncomfortable at a big party?

That's when more rustle on the porch roof happens and a bleary eyed Virgil parcours down too. Jeff is more or less resigned that bedtime is just not a thing that day, apparently. In THAT case, Virgil is going to the Prom too. Everyone know his two brothers are graduating early, so they won't be around for his Prom. It's a sound cover up. If Scott is enjoying himself, but John needs to leave - Virgil would accompany him home and make sure he's not overestimulated by the noise and the crowd. And Virgil would still have his own Prom to go to next year, if he wanted a big ole party. And thus - The Prom Protocol is born.

In the end, it's a huddle on the porch swing - Jeff holding Scott curled up in his lap, John leaning into Dad's side, and a semi-asleep Virgil draped over Scott's still shivering form for warmth and comfort. Still, Jeff is not ready. Amazed by the bond his boys share, but not ready to let them go.

#thunderbirds are go #scott tracy #scott tracy needs a hug #jeff tracy #john tracy #virgil tracy #the prom protocol #methinks i have astronomy

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official-darkforest · 1 year

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this is kinda old news but something i noticed when ppl try to criticize cheeteh z/the maps he hosts is they are 99% just outsiders and don't actually know what happens behind the scenes. as someone who has been in a few of those maps and is in the server to this day i promise you we are not crunching as badly as you say we are. him and his cohosts are very accommodating and its often why people tend to collab so much in those maps to divide the work/finish up where someone couldn't.

the initial deadlines listed in the final maps were misleading, yes, and the server has discussed it and decided to remove the original deadlines from the completed titles to avoid confusion and concern about us. i can only truly speak from my personal experience in that group but a lot of us feel comfortable asking for extensions. please stop making assumptions that we're being pushed so hard to our limits when you're an outsider because that is NOWHERE NEAR what happens in there.

also "nobody is getting paid to do this". correct! but you need to understand that people can just... do things. for fun. for community. for free. this is not an industry. this is not fucking disney or dreamworks or some other studio, this is just people with time and passion. this is not a fucking animation sweatshop. you can literally just do things for the fun of it, not everything has to be repaid with money to be worth it. I've been in plenty of groups where it's mostly teens-early 20s just doing ambitious projects for fun!!! teams that do shit so a userbase can have fun!!! its a SHARED HOBBY. THIS IS NOT A FULL TIME JOB!!!!!!!!!! i UNDERSTAND the concern but this is not what you think it is because you're not actually inside the group!! EVERY map is just a group of people with time on their hands and passion!!! its just a fucking wide-scale group project holy shit!!!

edit: while i did get a bit heated pls just remember this is based primarily on MY PERSONAL thoughts/experiences in the server, as well as what ive SEEN others say in there about some things that were brought up here. i cant speak for everyone so just keep that in mind

#like literally if u have opinions on cheetz or whatever fine but I'm not gonna listen to you if you're an outsider bcuz u don't actually -#-have the experience or perspective to make real judgements on how the projects in there are run #i got a bit mad at the end lolll sorryyy

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lesbianranpoe · 6 days

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I'm Craving Open Air and Solid Ground

atsushi & kunikida centric (platonic), canon divergent

sneak peek of the current fic i'm writing!! inspired by a post i just made (the brainworms took over😔) it's an AU where atsushi managed to leave the orphanage earlier and ends up being taken in by kunikida, a 16-year-old runaway. this is the first fic ive written that's going to be 1k+ words (though this little snippet is around 800) & will probably have a sequel :D i'm posting the full thing next week! also, if anyone guesses what book nana is a reference to, u get a cookie

When Kunikida turns sixteen, despite his situation, he has a few things going for him.

He's found a place to stay, for one. The man who owns it is always wreathed in cigarette smoke, but he hadn't asked for any identification; just gave Kunikida the room and asked him to keep the noise down. It was why he'd come to the sketchier part of Yokohama—here, no one bothered to check his identity. No one wondered why he was all alone. He was free.

And wasn't that a thought?

When he'd first ran away, a year back, Kunikida hadn't been nervous about them finding him. Hell, his parents had kicked him out of their house. They wouldn't look for him—nobody would. Surviving on the streets hadn't fazed him much either.

(Everyone around him had wondered why he'd gotten into so many fights, why someone as smart and obedient as him was beating bullies into the dirt, and he didn't know how to explain that liking authority and liking order were different things, and protecting people was more important than any symbol of power.)

He was good at surviving on his own. His scabbed-over knuckles and torn jacket were proof of that. It was why, when he walked down the dirty back alleys, he wasn't worried about getting jumped.

Kunikida wasn't an idiot. He knew this part of Yokohama was notorious for its gangs, and the Port Mafia's shadow loomed above them all, from the weakest child to the most hardened criminal. These passages, built from crumbled brick and cardboard, were prime spots to be targeted. But it was mid-afternoon, and the Port Mafia usually left him alone, so he continued walking. Besides, the cats would want to see him.

Shards of glass crunched under tall combat boots as he walked, and the scent of mold filled the air as he walked under tall buildings, awnings blocking the sun, but he didn't mind; he's walked this path so many times he could do it in the dead of night, with only the light of a cigarette flickering against brick walls to illuminate the way, and only the squeaking of rats to keep him company.

Something moved in the dimness to his right. Kunikida glanced in that direction, but didn't change his posture. It was one of the cats: Nana. There were many cats that lived in this alley, shielded from the elements, but Nana was his favorite. He was the first to approach Kunikida, those few months back. It had been injured by a car and crawled its way into a cardboard box in this very alleyway. Kunikida had cleaned it up, and just like that, he'd had a new friend. It was named Nana, nine in Japanese, after the shape of its tail, which was bent at the top, like the Japanese kanji. Checking in on the alley cats had quickly become a new part of his schedule, something that he followed religiously. (Kunikida doesn't like obeying, doesn't like obedience, but this isn't the result of some authority figure pushing their judgment onto him; he trusts himself more than he does one of those, anyway.)

It crept out of its box, slinking closer.

Kunikida holds out a piece of tuna—the remnants of his last dinner, two days before. "Hello, there."

The alleyway was silent save for the quiet sounds of a tail swishing.

He reaches out a hand and waits. Nana inches forward—tentative, like a rat crawling out of a hole. It presses its face into his hand.

Kunikida smiles faintly. "You're a strange one, aren't you?"

The cat peers up at him—

And something moves out of the corner of his eye. Nana jumps up and leaves quickly, dashing for the exit.

Kunikida spins around, suddenly anxious, hands raised. It wasn't the first time he'd needed to fight someone in an alleyway—and then he pauses.

There was someone in the box behind him. A child, to be specific.

Its eyes remind him of the cat he had just been petting. Eyes that currently stare up at him from a hollowed face, painted with terror.

Kunikida frowns down at him—he has a clear enough view to assume that it's a him. "Hello? What are you doing here? A bit too young to be out on your own, don't you think?"

That was probably a little hypocritical. But, this child was even younger than he was, and obviously didn't know how to fend for himself. If Kunikida had to guess, he'd say he was around 10 or so.

Still, it is a child. A clearly starving child who might need his help. So he crouches down at eye level, softening his voice—as much as he knows how to—and says, "I don't have any real food with me, just raw tuna, but there's a restaurant near here. Would you like something to eat?"

Again, the kid doesn't speak, just stares up at Kunikida with those large, unblinking eyes. He suppresses a sigh.

And then—slowly, like someone might hurt him if he moved too fast—the kid gives a silent nod.

Kunikida gets up with a huff. "Well then? Follow me."

He does.

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #doppo kunikida #atsushi nakajima #bsd atsushi #bsd kunikida #bsd fanfic #fanfic #spreading my rebel kunikida agenda #THE SIBLINGS EVER !!#can you tell i loved the travelling cat chronicles #<- may actually be writing a ttcc inspired soukoku au

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soquimic · 6 months

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hi guys!!

ive been trying to be more active here and coming back with my usual affs and methods for my manifestations or the void, ive been loosing focus to the point where i feel its impossible to reach back again —its not—, and i want to tell you: if you are a person who has entered the void more than twice but for some reason you cant seem to do it again, look for disturbances around you, DON’T blame the 3D. the 3D shouldnt be included. i noticed that having so much pressure in the daily gets me to a state where i overthink and i cant seem to focus in my meditations. if your circumstances seem very tight to the point where you feel drained and feel hopeless, PLEASE do not attempt to enter the void in a time crunch. why you may ask? and the answer is pretty simple: you’re focusing more in your circumstances than the objective behind it all itself. it’s impossible for a person who overthinks and has big doubts to think in a positive way or stop getting distracted at the right very moment. if there’s something you can do in the meantime to help yourself like distracting yourself in the day, going out to make you feel better, reprogramming your subconscious, please do it. its very necessary to have a positive mindset whenever youre planning something, or otherwise how will u be able to accomplish that if you dont believe in yourself and that youre capable? if you have trouble focusing while meditating intending to tap into the void, try to wake up there. its easier, i tell you by my own experience. something wont work out if you force it, when you do things naturally theres a 90% more chance that it will turn out right the way you want, the other 10% are the complications that you oversee yourself in.

if you need help, feel free to text me. my dms are open for everyone, i also needed to let this out cause i’ll start my mind reprogramming week and i’ll be less active in tumblr as i focus in myself. if you got any questions, you can let them rest on my inbox if youre comfortable <3

#void state #law of assumption #manifestation #manifesting

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your--isgayrights · 7 months

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Probably a bit silly and you’ve likely answered this before, but do you think you’re going to come back to “at the Very least, the Wall will change?” I’m just getting into ORV and I want to read some fanfic! I promise I am patient but I’m hesitant to start reading something that’s abandoned. I hope this doesn’t come off as disrespectful! I completely understand burnout (med student here hehe) and there’s no shame is shelving a project for a time if it no longer speaks to you. I just wanted to check

You're right that I've answered this before but like it's totally fair to ask me again after how long it's been lol. Bc like I think about this a lot too and thus the answer/feelings I have about it kind of changes?

Like my journey with this fic has kind of been tumultuous because I started it before I had access to ADHD medication and a lot of my life can be divided into the Before times and the like Now Times where my baseline happiness/standard of care of myself is vastly improved. I outlined all of wall fic before publishing the first chapter and then the scenes I wanted to include took up a lot more time to create than I initially thought they would and that like frustration was really harmful to like my sense of being a "writer," I guess?

Sorry, getting into this bc I'm trying to articulate my own feelings to myself, but I'll tldr; it at the end probably.

Like when I first started wall fic it had like a strangle hold on my imagination and was a way I was able to articulate feelings about things in life. Truth is, I'm someone who has called 911 for suicide/self-harm of friends/classmates like 4-5 times before turning 18. There is this feeling of helplessness I always had as a minor that the world was always ending around me but even when I was up till 5 am making sure my friend got to the hospital ok without any way of really knowing except waiting for a text back, I still had to just buck up and go to school the next day. The emotions I have towards these times in my life really latched onto omniscient reader, because the way it discusses suicidal ideation and what can help with it rang really true to me. I love KDJ a lot, part of that is, in my interactions with suicidal ideation, his sense of narrative inevitability really describes the emotions behind it well, the feeling of "this is the only Solution that will Actually work" is sewn into the fabric of the universe as "probability." And I've actually been thinking about that term "probability" a lot lately, and how it relates to ideas about Narratives. We're always estimating the likelihood of future events based on past experiences, calling things "realistic" or not. But the function of this system in my own life has often been to convince myself to 'give up' on certain things, conserve the energy it would take to try them. Sure that has helped me when Ive not had any free time/energy in crunch times or big projects, but when something is actually important, giving up feels like shit to be honest. Which is part of why I really love and kind of idealize this character of Yoo Joonghyuk, someone who 'never gives up.' To me KDJ and yjh in wall fic represent these two radical sides of a spectrum where someone becomes unhappy by giving up caring about everything and someone becomes unhappy by never giving up on anything. KDJ is then sort of this love letter to people who give up on themselves, people who could never imagine living past a certain age and yet somehow implausibly remain. YJH is a love letter to people who have been left behind and are So aware of their choices and their power over situations that they blame themselves for things that were actually out of their control in the first place. It's these two different ways of interacting with helplessness and grief and fear, giving up knowing you never could have made a difference in the first place or being convinced you could always have done Something and blaming yourself for failing, constantly stressing about what you could have done and what you ought to do the next time it happens.

Codifying these themes into Characters is originally this fun way of exploring emotions I have about them and sharing the experience of feeling them with others without having to tear too much of my self a part. I feel like when we're young it feels like a sense of self is something like a wall, an image of ourself that we have Built and must put in work to Maintain from erosion. This sense of self and protection makes us feel distinct from other people, the line we draw where we begin and end in the universe, and they become rules dictating How we will Act and Appear towards others. Drawing these walls and lines is pretty important to KDJ's perspective in wall fic, but i now realize I had sort of started doing to myself? Towards the middle of writing it?

Just because I've been on the Internet so long, I know the sort of "narratives" of being different "kinds of authors" online. Because of this, when I started posting wall fic, something that was of a lot of concern to me was how I appeared as an Author to people reading. I honestly think now that the performance of things I associated with like Being an Author were more sort of motivated by a fear of failure and disappointing others than anything else. It's kind of only been recently that I've realized that I have a choice to do things because I enjoy them instead of the fear of not doing them, which sounds a little crazy/obvious to be honest, but forcing myself to be an honor roll student for like more than a third of my adolescence while completely unmedicated kind of made that sort of intrinsic fear of disappointing others the ole'reliable of Task Motivation. Participating in ORV fandom has sort of been this emotional tight rope walk for me of like. Kind of really desperately desiring validation from others but also being afraid of receiving it bc of like the pressure it then puts on to Keep Doing the thing that Works and otherwise feeling like a Failure. But obviously like creative writing isn't going to have the same like Fear/Urgency factor as life stuff and it shouldn't feel that way, anyway, tbh. I'm kind of having to like. Re-invent the idea of writing being Fun and Relaxing for myself. And the idea that talking to other people on the internet (also like. People in general I still do this at uni even) does not actually have to have like any performative elements or factors of like? Disguise? Because like my sense of self doesn't actually have to be a wall I keep building and have to repatch whenever someone comes along with a pickaxe like my sense of self doesn't actually need a metaphor attached to it because it just is what it is lol. Like whatever I am RN is my "self" and that meaning would only suffer under the restraint of comparison, lol.

It's been easier to like feel normaler/better quicker in like my day to day stuff, but because a lot of the time I spent previously trying to write wall fic lies in that like that brain space where I felt afraid and stressed out etc I think I currently have like an aversion to sitting down with it out of like a fear of returning to that mindset. Because I'm like looking it in the face and such I do have like strategies of getting over it like doing warmups or taking time to make nice writing spaces and having a name to/strategies to access the creative part of my brain, but that stuff takes time and because it's a lot less likely I'll have writing on the brain than go through my every day life like the process of becoming normaler/feeling better goes a lot faster day to day than in my approach to writing.

Because in my brain the progress of wall fic is a sort of gentle curve I've been trying to shape the growth of upwards, I wouldn't say it's abandoned at all. But also like because the next "update" is not really guaranteed and I'm kind of hesitant to force myself to commit to a timeline for finishing/releasing it, I think it makes sense to like hesitate about starting it as a reader? In terms of a sense of completion, the chapters are organized in such a way that each one concerns a sort of complete Section of KDJ's life/relationships, tho. Like, Chapter 1 shows KDJ and YJH's first meeting as kids and establishes the "soulmate" setting. Chapter 2 shows the life KDJ carved himself to thereafter, how he and YJH's paths have diverged, established the stakes of KDJ's current "world" in a way parallel to the first few chapters of wos/orv. Chapter 3 focuses on how the soulmate worldview and KDJ + YJH's characters/past interact with the way they view children/the idea of "childhood/youth." Chapter 4 is meant to show how that worldview encounters adult life/ adult friendships/relationships, but the final part of it is something I'm still working on a bit. The structure is such that I tend to bring the end of the chapter back to a moment of peace/resolution/settling in the "new world" after the events of the chapter and then writing a one sentence cliff hanger about what the next chapter includes. So if you want to give some of it a read but don't want to be left feeling too incomplete, I'd read up till before the last sentence of Chapter 3, tho that's a bit silly, lol.

I will say again and have said before, I don't mind that much getting thoughtful comments/messages like yours at all. Thoughtful in the sense of like, desiring a response from me as a person, I suppose? Towards the start of writing online i really like needed the validation of little comments to feel good about myself/my work, but now I realize that the thing I like actually desire that ao3 comments aren't often a good format for is that I just like talking/discussing these things with other people. Sometimes comments will make me feel more like an unpaid customer service representative getting feedback or a student looking at a quick note on my report card. The kind I like most are messages where people want to ask me questions, argue with me about something, share something of their own interaction with the text that there's room for me to interact back with them as a person. The thing I hate most is feeling like I care too much about something/talk/think too much to the point that people are tired of hearing from me/form a bad opinion of me.

So like typing this all out has actually put myself in the brain space of remembering some of the things I like to write about and feel and how the current part of wall fic explores them. I'm kind of setting up my computer and such to start working on it like rn actually, hopefully the like feelings I'm having towards wall fic won't evaporate when i have to go to my class in 1/2 an hour or when i try to reread some of what I've written so far lol.

TLDR; Wall fic isn't abandoned or on hiatus or anything, but I am super slow about it lol. If you wanna give it a read I recommend stopping before the last sentence of Chapter 3 if you don't want any "cliff hangy" feelings. Questions like yours that ask me to interact with orv/wall fic/related themes do honestly help me start thinking about it again and I'll probably try to work on some of it tonight bc of you so thanks 👍

#long post #wall fic #ask #anonymous #TLDR; Wall fic isn't abandoned or on hiatus or anything #but I am super slow about it lol. If you wanna give it a read I recommend stopping before the last sentence of Chapter 3 if you don't want #any “cliff hangy” feelings.#Questions like yours that ask me to interact with orv/wall fic/related themes do honestly help me start thinking about it again and I'll pr #obably try to work on some of it tonight bc of you so thanks 👍

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carbo-ships · 5 months

Text

Christmas

AO3 posting: [link] words: 1,976

Christmas fell on a Monday that year, which meant preparations for the day prevented Ardis from spending the weekend with Aether and the ghouls as she typically would have. It was, of course, one of the biggest days of the year at her monastery, and nothing more than an average weekday at the satanic ministry.

She was, however, permitted to visit them after the evening service on Christmas day. Ardis transported to the outer wall as soon as she could, eager to see her friends. The heavy gate swung open almost immediately after she rang the bell, revealing Aether. He must have been waiting there for her. Before she could even greet him, he pulled her into a tight hug. "I missed you so much," he murmured into her hair, placing a gentle kiss there.

She smiled as she hugged him back. "I missed you, too." When they finally pulled away, he shut the gate behind them and took her hand in his. Aether led her through the gardens toward the residential building, residual frost crunching under their boots. It was a cold evening, but Ardis's hand felt warm in his. They quickly stepped inside and closed the door to keep the heat in.

"Did you have a nice Christmas?" Aether asked her as they walked through the stone halls. It was warm indoors, which Aether still wasn't fully used to. When he first arrived, the ministry was working on a much smaller budget. Running the heating was a luxury. However, thanks to the success that came with Papa Emeritus IV's rise to power, those days were over. The ticket and merchandise sales kept the residential building cozy throughout the winter.

"It was certainly busy, but everything came together nicely. The services were lovely. You'd have liked them," she said with a smile. "We got to break out the good candles, and the fancy vestments... It was exhausting, but worth the effort.

Aether grinned. "I'm glad to hear it. And now, it's time to relax. You have been working too hard." They soon reached the ghouls' den, and Aether opened the door.

When Ardis stepped through the doorway, she gasped. In the corner of the room sat a Christmas tree, carefully decorated in string lights, red ornaments, and golden tinsel. A long garland was draped across the mantle over the lit fireplace. Eleven stockings were densely crammed together so they would all fit. Scattered around the room were all of the ghouls, dressed in festive sweaters of varying quality. Papa stood in the middle of the crowd, cozy in his red velveteen tracksuit with a Santa hat atop his head. They all greeted her with warm smiles. "What... What's..." Ardis stuttered, her eyes darting around the room in surprise and amazement.

"We, um..." Aether started awkwardly. "We wanted you to feel at home." He squeezed her hand. "Did we do alright?"

"Oh, Aether," she squeaked, throwing her arms around him and burying her face in his shoulder. He hugged her back tightly. "Is all this really just for me?"

"Of course it is," he cooed, kissing her temple as the others smiled at them. When she pulled away, he caressed her cheek lovingly. "It's important to you, so it's important to us."

Aether finally released her to let her say hello to the rest of her friends. Swiss scooped her into his arms, making her laugh, then handed her to Sodo. The stoic ghoul caught her awkwardly then carefully reacquainted her feet with the floor before accepting her affection with an ingenuine eye-roll that very poorly hid just how fond he was of her. After she greeted the other ghouls, Papa plopped down on the loveseat and patted his knee. "Come along, cara ," he called to her, "tell Santa what you want for Christmas!"

Ardis giggled with delight and skipped over to him, settling into his lap. He pecked her cheek and wrapped his arms around her. "Oh, Papa, you look adorable!" she fawned.

"What can this old man do for his little angel, eh? You've been a very good girl this year," Papa teased, giving her a little squeeze.

Her wings fluttered as she let out a childlike laugh, overcome with glee. "I don't need a single thing. You've already done so much for me. And I can't thank you enough for all of this," she said, gesturing to the festive room.

"Oh, don't thank me," he said dismissively. "It was Aether's idea. All I did was put on a funny hat and help him herd the others."

She gazed at Aether adoringly. His back was turned as he shed his jacket and pulled on a Christmas sweater. The collar got stuck on one of his horns for a moment, and Swiss had to come assist him.

"But really, Ardis," Papa said, drawing her out of her trance, "is there anything I can do to make this day any better for you? Just say the word, cara . Your wish is my command."

She thought for a moment. What did she want? Was there anything Papa could provide that was missing? An idea struck her. She leaned close to whisper in his ear, too embarrassed to make her request out loud. "Can the three of us cuddle again sometime? Like we did on the tour bus?"

A smile stretched across his lips. "As long as Aether agrees to it, I'm more than willing," he whispered back before kissing her cheek. "Not tonight, though. I believe your ghoul has something planned for you."

"H-He does?" she asked, her cheeks warming.

Papa put his finger to his lips playfully. "I've said too much. All in due time, my pet. But yes, I'd be more than happy to cuddle tomorrow evening. You can even spend the night again, if you'd like."

She practically beamed at him. "Oh, yes please!"

He gave her another little squeeze before she climbed off of his lap to return to Aether's side. The ghouls all eventually settled into the various couches to watch a movie. While Papa voted for Die Hard , insisting that it was technically a "Christmas movie", the group ultimately decided on The Nightmare Before Christmas . Ardis was tucked blissfully into Aether's side as they watched. He had his arm around her, periodically pulling her closer. It was so nice to have a moment to relax like this. She giggled when Swiss and the ghoulettes sang along to the songs. Papa took it upon himself to do his best impression of Oogie Boogie.

It was late when the movie finished, and Papa was clearly getting sleepy. “Aether, go on and give Ardis her present before I doze off,” he said with a yawn.

Ardis looked up at Aether in surprise. “You got me something?”

“Of course,” Aether chuckled. “Sodo, dig it out of her stocking for me, will you?”

Sodo nodded, standing from his seat with a grunt. He approached the mantle and his hand dove into one of the stockings to retrieve a small wrapped box.

Aether accepted it as he thanked him before handing it to Ardis. It was only about the size of the palm of his hand. “Just a little something.”

Ardis carefully tore off the paper and removed the lid. Inside was a necklace with a silver pendant in the shape of the quintessence symbol. Her cheeks flushed. That was Aether’s symbol. “Oh, Aether…”

“I hope that isn't too tacky,” Aether chuckled. “Swiss insisted it was a good idea. I wanted you to have something to remind you of me when you're away.”

Swiss laughed. “I was thinking of it more like a dog tag.”

“Shut up, Swiss,” Aether barked back. “It’s, well… Perhaps. I’m proud that you're mine. I want people to know that you’re mine. But mostly the first thing.”

She smiled at him bashfully. “Could you put it on for me?”

He grinned back at her. “Of course.” She swept her long braids over one shoulder as he took the necklace out of the box. Unclasping the dainty chain, he looped it around her neck and fastened it behind her.

She let her fingers gently touch the shiny pendant just below her collarbone and smiled to herself. She was his. “I love it, Aether. Thank you.”

“You're very welcome.” He kissed her forehead lovingly.

Papa stood from his seat and followed suit, giving her a quick kiss on the forehead. “It’s time for this old man to go to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow morning at breakfast, okay?”

Ardis nodded. “Good night, Papa.”

“Good night, cara .” With that, he exited the ghouls’ den.

“I imagine you're probably getting tired as well, aren't you?” Aether asked her. “You’ve had quite a long day.”

As if on cue, she yawned. “I suppose so,” she giggled.

“Let’s get some sleep, then,” he said, standing up and offering her his hand. “Good night, everyone.”

They all said farewell, and Ardis and Aether walked hand in hand to his bedroom. When he opened the door, Ardis spotted what Papa had been alluding to earlier that evening.

Tied to the center of his headboard was a sprig of mistletoe.

Ardis gasped. "Oh!" While not practiced in her homeland, she was well aware of the tradition. She knew what mistletoe meant.

Aether cleared his throat awkwardly, suddenly a bit self-conscious. Perhaps he'd overdone it. "I, er, hope that isn't too forward of me."

"N-No! I just, um... wasn't expecting that." They'd spent countless nights kissing in his bed, but it was always something that just happened . Not something he ever explicitly requested. He'd never gone, Good evening, Ardis, shall we make out tonight?

"It's, well..." he mumbled sheepishly. "This is what I'd like for Christmas. I trust this presents itself as a request rather than a demand, yes?" he clarified quickly.

"Yes, of course," she assured him. "I... I'd love to," she admitted bashfully, her wings fluttering a bit.

Relief flooded Aether's system and a broad smile appeared on his lips. "Well, in that case, let's get ready for bed." He let go of her hand so they could both change into their sleeping clothes. Ardis moved to the drawer that Aether had cleaned out for her and pulled out a comfy pair of sweatpants and one of Aether's old t-shirts. She was comfortable changing in the same room as him now, with the understanding that he would have his back turned and wouldn't stare. He was always on his best behavior in those vulnerable moments, of course, even when it went against his ghoulish instincts. He'd worked hard to earn her trust and intended to keep it.

When they'd both changed, they made their way to the communal bathroom to brush their teeth. As they stood together at the sink, Aether's gaze drifted to the reflection of the shower stalls behind them. He'd often imagined asking her to shower with him. She'd say no. He knew that. But still... Maybe someday, he told himself. The thought of helping her wash her small back almost made his tail wag.

They returned to his room when they were done and said their prayers at the foot of his bed before he turned to her with a grin. "Shall we?"

Ardis gave a little nod, returning his smile. She lied on her back on the center of the bed and Aether carefully crawled over her. She couldn't help but giggle. Being so close to him like this made her a bit giddy.

He laughed as well, gently rubbing his nose against hers. "You're so cute, you know that?" He took her new necklace off for her and set it on the nightstand where it would be safe. They gazed at each other lovingly for a moment before he leaned close again, his eyes closing and his breath fanning over her lips. “Merry Christmas…”

#carbo writes

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soulofapatrick · 1 year

Text

Five Times Tommy Tries To Kiss You and the One Time he Does -Tommy Miller x Reader

Summary: Literally what the title says

Words: 5.7k

Warnings: little angst; dry humping; teasing; partial nudity; fluff

Notes: Hasn’t been proofread yet. I wanted to try this as ive done it fro teen wolf and really enjoyed it - I can do a Joel one too

Y/N’s POV

First Time:

I know Joel and Tommy are gonna be mad that I snuck out again but Jackson was getting too much. It was too noisy; too many people and the festivities were draining so I had to get out. There’s a small area near the eastern side of town where they’re fixing the walls and I’m able to slip out without being seen or heard which is great. So much easier than having to either climb the wall or slip through the gates unheard. I haven’t been gone long, just needing a few minutes and the snow is blissful. It’s quiet and I can actually hear myself think as I crunch my way up the hill to look down upon the massive power that is Jackson. You can hear the laughter and music from here but it’s muffled by the snow.

I sigh softly, letting myself fall back into the fluffy white paradise and look up at the sky as snowflakes falls. Snow has always been my favourite type of weather as it’s so peaceful, after the snow falls it’s like the world goes quiet and still for once. The cold against my back grounds me as it tries to seep through my jacket and jeans, grounding me and letting me know I’m alive and breathing. It’s strange how only just a mile away from Jackson I can feel the change, the silence and the loneliness. It’s a quick escape from people who have settled inside the safety of the walls of Jackson and begun a life there.

There is definitely a life for me in Jackson but it’s not… I’m not ready for it. Having braved the outside world for years on my own after the outbreak happened means people are a difficult adjustment, having to be suddenly expected to rely on others for things like food and clothes and the lack of need for weapons unless you leave the walls of Jackson. Everyone is so open and kind but it was too much so the first month or so I retreated into my house, refusing to come out even when I ran out of food which meant Joel had to come over with two massive bags of food. He was so stubborn, practically having to force his way inside and I’m glad he did as I’ve found trust and safety with him and Ellie as well as his younger brother - Tommy. Tommy’s always help my attention as he’s gentle and patient with me, not pushing me too far like Joel does sometimes. Joel’s very hands on and pushing when it comes to getting over fears and making me socialise whereas Tommy does it in little bits like inviting me to join him in the Tipsy Bison if he seems me around or letting me join him and whoever he’s partnered with on patrols as he knows I like being out of the walls as well. He’s also always the first person to feel my presence as if we’re drawn towards each other like magnets.

I should have known he’d notice my absence and know exactly where I went but I didn’t think about it really and now he’s standing over me, hands in his pocket and head tilted as he looks down at me. He looks really fucking good right now, the sun catching his eyes and making them a warm cognac colour instead of the darker russet they usually are and I can see more freckles than normal. His dark curls are shiny in the light, a few silver strands visible through them, wearing his jeans that fit his figure perfectly and those stupid cowboy boots I tease him about. He’s probably got his usual denim flannel under his fleece jean jacket and I just know it’s way too baggy for his own good, hiding his perfectly muscular figure underneath. The look on his face is warm, the corners of his plump lips curved up underneath his moustache but he doesn’t speak. He watches me for a moment longer before surprising me and laying in the snow next to me, keeping his eyes to the sky like I was but now I can’t help but watch the way his adams apple bobs when he swallows against the icy wetness below us.

Not really sure what comes over me when I look back up at the sky and put my right hand out between us, his head is moving out the corner of my eyes and my breath hitches when his warm and calloused hand slips into mine. His cognac eyes on my face, studying me, so I speak, “When it snows it gets really quiet because snow actually absorbs sound.” I finally turn my head to meet his gaze, the smile lines visible across his sun kissed skin, “I sometimes wish it would never stop snowing.”

“You have a beautiful mind.” He squeezes my hand and I can’t look away from where we’re joined and how right and easy it feels. His hand fits inside mine so perfectly and I want to want it but I can’t. Tommy doesn’t deserve someone as wrecked as me when he’s such a kind soul who deserves the whole world. It doesn’t mean I won’t take what he’s offering to me despite it being so selfish. He’s looking at me with admiration and an emotion that shouldn’t be directed at me so I’m looking away, feeling my cheeks flushing redder than ever but the cold masks it and it’s as if Tommy can sense my uncomfortableness as he’s speaking again, “We should probably head back before Maria kills us.”

He’s climbing to his feet before taking my hands in his and pulling me up in one swift motion, my chest colliding with his and his face is oh so close to mine, his breath fanning across my lips but I can’t have this… he doesn’t want me, I clear my throat, “We should head back.” Stepping back and reluctantly dropping his hands, beginning trudging back to town while Tommy matches my pace with his hands in his pockets and in silence. I’ve hurt him but I don’t know how…

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Second Time:

The next time I see Tommy is on patrol, we’re partnered together and the uncomfortableness has dissipated and Tommy’s back to cracking shitty jokes. He’s currently telling me about him and Sarah used to gang up on Joel on the rides to school and tell Joel the cringiest jokes and how happy he is that Ellie does it too. It’s made me always look out for any joke books I can find on my patrols as I like hearing him laugh, it’s full and hearty and the way he smiles is to make anyone weak. He was a little bit of a playboy before the outbreak which I can see why, who wouldn’t fall that southern charm that always surrounds him.

We’re headed towards a small cabin not far outside of Jackson where you can sometimes find people trying to hide from the storms that sweep through here. We’ve picked up a few people who are now living happily in Jackson while others don’t trust enough to stay so they take the shelter over night before continuing on and you also get those who have no good intentions. They find this post apocalyptic world freeing as they can steal, abuse and kill without consequences which makes them even more dangerous but I’ve come across my fair share of them and am still here so I’m always willing to take my chances.

Tommy’s ahead of me, chattering happily about something or other as we coax our horses through the freezing weather. His curls are all I can focus on as he moves his head with his words, drawing a blush from me whenever he glances back with that stupidly bright and cheeky smile. I’d be ending the conversation and turning and walking home if we were in Jackson, too embarrassed about the way my heart ached for him but I can’t exactly do that so I just scan the surroundings for anything. Something is making me feel uneasy, the hairs standing up on the back of my neck as we slow the horses to a stop not the far from the cabin just in case someone is in there. Don’t want them to steal the horses and escape before we can help them or for them to leave us stranded with no way back.

I glance at the taller man when we jump down, he feels the uneasiness too from the way he grabs his rifle from off Cash’s saddle. I do the same, grabbing mine from where it’s sat on Indiana’s saddle, soothing my trusty stallion by petting his mane and cooing softly until he stops pacing and stamping leaving us in silence. Tommy’s got a small smile on his face when I turn back to him which I ignore, heading towards the cabin. We crest the hill for the cabin to come into view, my eyes scanning everywhere as it’s a very open area. The cabin is at the bottom of a few mountains and hills meaning it’s an easy place to trap people, hence why Maria sends patrols to check it out, Today is no different, it’s eerily quiet, the door being open, not by much but it’s open and there’s something very wrong. Tommy’s striding down the hill, eyes intently on the cabin door while I scan the surrounding again and when taking a hesitant step forwards I see it. There’s a glint of metal reflecting the sun and it’s aimed right at us and I’m acting on years of survival instinct.

“Look out!” I snap at Tommy, racing forwards to protect him as a bullet whistles past my shoulder and embeds itself into the snow. I collide almost painfully with Tommy’s firm body, both of us tumbling the rest of the way down as the bullets keep flying as we come to a stop with me on top of Tommy. I push myself up onto my knees, finding the sniper and aiming my own rifle at him, taking a deep and steadying breath before firing. The gun flies, metal glinting as it disappears into the snow and I can hear the foot steps approaching from the right. Tommy’s opening his mouth to speak from below me but I slam a hand to his mouth, letting my rifle drop beside him to pull out my pistol instead as it’s much better for close range fights. He’s tilting his head, trying to listen but hearing nothing which I suddenly don’t either. It’s gone quiet, too quiet and I can hear Tommy’s harsh breaths below my hand, feel his whole body thrumming of energy from where I’m straddling his waist and something poking against my ass. Oh my fucking god, he’s -

A glimmer of movement from the corner of my eye erasing every impure thought of Tommy as as I turn my upper body and shoot the hunter with two very well aimed bullets landing and sinking through his chest. He stumbles back before collapsing into the snow, staining the usually pretty colour an ugly red.

It falls silent and all I can focus on is the way Tommy’s large hands are gripping my thighs, cognac eyes a dark russet colour now and I’m removing my hand from his mouth so I slip my pistol back into its holster on my upper thigh. He’s sitting up, our chests pressing together and I can’t help but watch as his tongue darts out to wet his pretty plump lips before his eyes fall to mine. I want to stay here and kiss him senseless but we still have to check out the cabin for anyone and get back on time so Joel doesn’t worry and send out a search party for us so I’m dislodging his hands from my hips and climbing to my feet, an ache growing in my chest with every step away from Tommy.

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Third Time:

Every Wednesday is family meal day according to Ellie so that’s where I finally catch sight of Tommy again. I’ve been avoiding him ever since the incident while on patrol. I don’t want him to get hooked on me or anything as I’m not good for someone as free spirited as Tommy. He deserves someone like Maria as they’re perfect for each other. Maria balancing out Tommy’s energetic-ness and wild thoughts with logic and calmness. They’re like ying and yang and it made me want to hate Maria for having caught such a beautiful person. Then I found out Maria did not indeed have anything going on with Tommy when I found her with another man. He’s a sweet guy, a little hopeless and no where near ready to be introduced to our family meals yet.

Joel and I are usually the ones to cook for this but today Ellie and Dina wanted a go at it. Ellie cannot cook for the life of her, burning everything so we were reluctant but when Ellie told us Dina would be helping we agreed with the condition we can go and check on them every so often. We’re not the hovering type but I don’t think Maria would be very happy if she were to lose a house to a fire and have to rehouse us. So there’s where I currently am, sitting on the counter while Ellie and Dina move about the kitchen in their own rhythm. They’re perfect for each other and I’m happy for Ellie finding her person after everything we’ve gone through the last four years.

“Tommy’s been eyeing you up since he arrived.” Dina suddenly states, the girls glancing at each other with knowing looks when I choke on my drink, “And that means you think the same.”

“Why don’t you tell him you feel the same?” Ellie asks, clover eyes bright and head tilted slightly as she waits for a response.

“Look at me, I am not the type of person he needs.” I’m admitting, shaking my head and downing the rest of the whiskey in my glass. It burns on the way down, trying to choke me but it settles in my bones all warm and loose. I’m jumping down from the counter, wanting to get away from their prying eyes and mutter out a quiet “Tommy doesn’t need me, he needs someone like Maria.” Before leaving the room, not waiting for them to respond.

The Miller brothers are sat discussing something with bright and happy voices as I enter the room, both beaming at me. I make a beeline for Joel, leaning into his side when he wraps his arm around my waist, needing the normalcy so I don’t go into a full panic attack about Tommy and Dina’s comment. Joel’s my safe place, having been with him since the Boston QZ where him and Tess took me under their wings so when I’m feeling like I’m slipping I cling to Joel. The way he squeezes my waist reassuringly lets me know he understands, he know I’m feeling a little overwhelmed and he doesn’t end the conversation with Tommy. The younger Miller’s eyes glued to that spot where Joel’s thumb has slipped under my shirt and is rubbing soothingly against my skin. It has me flushing and Joel’s honey eyes fill with recognition, forcing me into his chair and mumbling something about helping the girls.

Joel’s disappeared to the kitchen to make sure Ellie and Dina aren’t going to burn the house down as they’ve promised to cook dinner for us. Maria and Jesse will be joining us when they get back from their patrols so it’s just me and Tommy sat in the small dining room. He’s nursing a glass of whiskey, swirling it around the glass with a small smile on his lips. He’s stuck deep in his thoughts giving me time to admire just how fucking good he looks right now. His raven hair in soft brushed back curls with a few escaping and falling across his forehead and his sun kissed glows in the January sun streaming through the windows. He’s in a white polo, his usual fleece jean jacket hung up by the door, leaving his arms exposed and I can’t look away from the freckles adoring the bare skin and the small silvered scars catching in the light. He’s broad build, not as broad as Joel, and muscular with well defined abs that have featured in my less than innocent thoughts.

Suddenly, he’s moving and it’s jolting me from my thoughts realising I was staring. The intoxicating mix of vanilla, burnt coffee and sandalwood invades my senses as he settles next to me, knee brushing mine and finger hooking under my chin to make me look at him. I take in the way his adams apple bobs when he swallows and noticing the lack of freckles around his neck. The small goatee and moustache framing his shiny lips perfectly. They’re curving up, smile lines appearing and I can see more of the freckles that are sprinkled across those delicate cheeks, a small crease between his eyebrows and those eyes a warm mixture of cognac and russet. He’s so close, pulling my face forwards and I can smell the whiskey on his breath.

Every fibre in my being is telling me to get up and run away, to stop Tommy before he gets into too much but the clearing of someones throat saves me. I’m jumping up, away from Tommy, seeing Joel in the doorway and blurting out a quick, “I should help the girls.” Before scurrying off without waiting for a reply.

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Fourth Time:

I like spending my time with the horses as they’re predictable animals, meaning I don’t have to keep my guards up. If I’m not with Joel or any of the others I’m found in the stables, taking care of these beautiful creatures. The smell of hay so sweet in air as they snicker and stamp with nothing to do but watch the world go by around them. I even helped Charlotte - the stable manager - birth one of the prettiest foals and it was breathtaking. The fact that I brought life into this world left me with a warm feeling in my chest the rest of the day and nothing could break my joy.

Today is no different. I’ve been with Charlotte all morning in the stables, grooming the horses, helping tack them up for patrols and just passing the time with them. The foal has grown in the last week or so and is as cheeky as ever, jumping around and annoying her mother so. I’ve been left in charge to raise her and I could not be happier, especially when I get to take her and her mother out into the exercise field, sitting on the gates and just watching them prance around. Thinking of a name is difficult as the only good name I’ve come up with is Indiana which is my own dapple grey Irish Hunter who is currently throwing a tantrum in his stable as I haven’t been giving him half the attention I’m giving the foal. He’s a needy thing but I wouldn’t change him for the world, even when he’s being a spoiled brat.

‘What to name you sweet thing,” I rub the foals nose softly as she nuzzles at me, baby teeth nipping at my trousers where I have a few sugar cubes hidden, “You got a smart nose on you.”

“How about sugar?” That southern drawl appears to my right as I feed her a sugar cube and I’m snorting before turning my head to the side. Tommy’s grinning when I give him a look that says ‘are you serious?’, “How about Bella? Or Bailey? Or Spirit?” I smack his arm lightly at the way he says spirit sarcastically, listing all of the most cliche names around. That knowing smirk never once leaving his lips that I find myself staring at, especially when he darts his tongue out to wet his bottom lip leaving it plump and shiny in the evening light. I have to grip the railings tightly to stop myself doing anything either of us might regret later, not wanting to lose the friendship I have with Tommy. He’s quickly come to mean a fucking lot to me, even after I promised myself to not trust anyone like that but he does something to me unexplainable and just from one look I’m like putty in his hands.

I have to swallow, hard, to keep my voice even, tearing my eyes from his smirking lips, “I’m thinking more along the lines of Whiskey or maybe Cricket.” The second one sticks more when the way the foal jumps and stumbles, currently bothering her mother who is just trying to graze in peace.

“I like Cricket.” Tommy speaks, fingers brushing over my hand, making me jump. His body practically thrums with electricity and want and I would like to give into it but I’ve been trying so hard to keep my distance that I instinctively jump down, putting physical space between us. Before I can move away even more his hand darting out, gripping my chin and drawing me closer, breath mingling as he murmurs, “I know you feel it too baby girl. I’ll wait as long as I have to but I want you back.”

With that he’s gone, the ghost of his hand on my jaw seared into my skin, leaving me alone in the field and chest heaving with nothing but longing aching through me. Fuck, he makes it hard for me to stay away.

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Fifth Time:

Ellie’s dragging me inside the barn, the music almost deafening and the bustling of people makes me want to turn and run away. I’m going to stay for a little while to keep the eighteen year old happy as I’d feel like a terrible person if I were to be the one to wipe that smile off her face, her nose scrunching up as she laughs at something she hears in passing.

Maria’s organised another party night so people of Jackson can have a day off from their work and let loose. I’ve been spending most of my time in my house, taking my name off patrols for the last week and Ellie’s had enough of it as she was partnered with a slime ball of a guy for her patrol on Friday instead of me. This was her compromise to forgive me as well as I couldn’t say no to those puppy dog eyes. So here I am, moving awkwardly on the dance floor with her, Dina and Jesse.

They’re giggling and Jesse sweeps me into his arms, trying to get me to loosen up and it works because soon enough I’m laughing and swaying my hips in time with the music. Never did I think I’d be in a club of any sort again after the outbreak but here I am on a hot and sweaty dance floor, moving in time with the music and letting loose. Maria had to have a word with me a few weeks ago about needing to socialise with others and become more of an integrated part of society so when Ellie came pounding at my door earlier it was a good enough excuse.

It seems like everyone in Jackson is here, the dance floor unable to be seen as it's practically wall to wall people dancing except for the booths around the edges of the room and the stage. The music is all nineteen nineties but Jesse and I are dancing, twisting, turning, holding hands as we change sides. We're all grins, probably looking like idiots and for once I don't care. Inside we're just happy, happy and more alive than we can ever be in this post apocalyptic world. However, some subconscious part of me feels so guilty and I’m scanning the room for a set of familiarly broad shoulders or dark curls but can’t see them and the ache in my chest returns. All that joy and happiness slowly seeming from me and I’m starting to feel like every arm or body that bumps into me is searing hot and it’s too stuffy in here with too many people.

“I-I’m sorry Jesse… I gotta-“ I don’t finish my panicked sentence, turning and trying to push my way through the masses of hot and sweaty bodies and hands grabbing and grasping. I’m itching to grab something to defend myself, body stuck between fight and flight when familiar hands settle on my waist. They draw me backwards, pressing their chest to my back and the smell of sandalwood and whiskey had me settling back against them as the fear seems to seep from me. I don’t know how Tommy does it but I don’t know why I was even panicked in the first place when he whispers in my ear, voice low and husky, “I’v got you baby girl, you’re safe with me.”

My head falls back against his shoulder, forehead pressed to Tommy’s neck as his hands wriggle their way under my shirt to find bare skin as he saw how much it calmed me down when Joel did it at the dinner. It works because soon enough my eyes are slipping shut, only able to focus on everything Tommy as he gently sways us in time with the music. My hips press back against his, drawing a sharp sound from his lips which are suddenly latching onto the exposed skin of my neck as we grind to the music. Every instinct is yelling at me to end this before it goes anywhere but the way his tongue laps over my jugular has me weak at the knees and keening for more. I’m tilting my head further to the side to give him more access, feeling the skin blooming and bruising beneath his lips and the way his hips are pressing against mine is harsher and faster.

I shouldn’t be doing this but the way his hands are tightening on my hips and the way he’s groaning in my ear has me staying where I am, the music drowning out any sounds, barely letting me hear his soft whimper of, “Don’t stop.” Before he his rut into my backside, stuttering and messy and he’s close, I can feel it in the way he clings to me. I shouldn’t let this happen, I shouldn’t be letting him use my body to get off , I shouldn’t be letting the obviously reciprocated feelings he has for me progress this far. Then he’s biting hard at my collarbone, a guttural sound leaving his throat as his hips jerk one last time before we’re stilling. His heads raising, eyes so dark they’re almost black but filled with want and something else that scares me, especially when his face dips closer to mine. I’m yanking myself out of his grip and running out but not before sending him a panicked, “I’m sorry.”

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The One Time He Did

My front door flies open, stealing a yelp from me as I spin around where I’m making coffee at the counter to see Tommy. He’s in jeans and a shirt but his shirt is loose and done up haphazardly as if in a rush to get dressed. It’s very un-Tommy like but by the way he’s stalking towards me he had something else in mind, he’s caging me against the counter with his face extremely close to mine as he growls out, “You have been nothing but a tease baby girl,” His lips pressing to that soft spot just under my jaw before he continues, “Everyone has told me how much you like me yet when I try and give you an opening you run away.”

“Y-you don’t want to be with someone like me Tommy.” I’m pushing him a step backwards, putting space between us, “I’m awkward around people, I’m a hermit and a loner with no many in the town-“

“Y/N!” He’s snapping, eyes hard as he holds my face in hands and makes me look at him, “I love all of you. I love that you’d rather spend your time curled up with a book. I love that you are always finding sneaky ways out of Jackson to help us cover our bases. I love how gentle you are with the horses and how much you let yourself care. I love-“

“Kiss me.”

“Yes ma’am.” He closes the distance, one of his hands moving to my hair and pulling my head back into the kiss, swallowing the sound it draws from me. His lips are just as plump and pillowy as I imagined, the kiss soft and open as he caresses my cheekbone and his tongue licks inside my mouth. It’s better than I could have imagined, the mixture of last nights whisky and this morning’s coffee on his lips an intoxicating mix and I never want to stop kissing him. Foreheads resting together when we have to pull away for oxygen and everything seems to slot into place. It is okay to want something as you never know if it’s within reach if you don’t try and well… Tommy is willingly moving with me when I slam my lips back to his and walk him backwards to the sofa.

A gasp falls from those pretty lips when he falls back onto the couch, a smirk appearing as he reaches forwards and grips me by my thighs, yanking me onto his lap and sliding his hand back into my hair to draw me into a hot and dirty kiss that sends sparks of electricity through my spine to my aching core. His other hand is on my ass, rolling my hips over his to create a delicious friction that has me mewling into his mouth. He’s nipping at my bottom lip, sucking on it before trailing his lips down my neck and over last the hickeys he left on my skin last night. My hands fumble with the buttons of his shirt as he creates more dark marks, a rumble in his chest when I lightly drag my nails down his abs, trying to memories every dip and scar just in case Tommy changes his mind.

I can feel the pressure building in my core every time he guides my hips forwards, the outline of his thick length being felt through both layers of jeans. My nails rake through the visible curls of his happy trial, moving to his jeans so I pop the button while his hands are tugging at my shirt until I get the hint, lifting my arms for him to throw it across the room. His breath hitches when he realises I went braless, not seeing any need for it if I was gonna spend the day in the safety of my own home, fingers ghosting up my stomach and dark eyes flicking up to mine in silent question.

“Ever the gentleman,” I’m practically moaning when he immediately tweaks a nipple between the rough pads of his fingers when I guide his hands up to touch. His lips close around the other, tongue swirling and my back arching into the pleasure, not having been with anyone in years. Fuck this man is talented and he knows it from the way he’s smirking up at me, eyes never leaving my face as his mouth and fingers swap, his other hand pressing my hips down even harder and drawing a low moan from me as the coil in my stomach tightens even more.

“Y/N YOU’RE NEEDED AS COVER ON PATROL! OH MY FUCKING GOD AHHH!” Ellie comes flying into my house, freezing and quickly slapping her hands over her eyes, as Tommy presses my chest against his while his arms wrap around me to cover my modesty, “THANK FUCK THERE WILL BE NO MORE SEXUAL TENSION BUT AHHH YOU HAVE LOCKS FOR A FUCKING REASON!” Before she spins around and blindly stumbles for the door, slamming into the side of the frame and calling out an “I”M OKAY!” Then she’s gone, leaving me and Tommy alone, staring at each other until a laughter bubbles up in my chest.

“Fucking cockblock.” I grumble, sliding off his lap to find my bra that I know I threw somewhere down here when I got home last night. It’s on the back of the arm chair and Tommy’s nimble fingers help me do it up at the back before he’s slipping his flannel on my shoulders and spinning me to face him so he can also button it up for me, a content look on his face.

“I will be right here when you get back baby girl,” He draws me into a gentle kiss, chuckling out a quiet, “Well, I might be waiting in your bed for you actually.”

“I like the sound of that.” I can’t stop the smile as he kisses me again, drawing me closer to him like I’ll disappear.

“HURRY THE FUCKING FUCK UP Y/N! STOP TRYING TO EAT TOMMY’S FACE!”

“I’m coming!” I call back, breaking away from Tommy and slipping my shoes on and grabbing my jacket. He’s standing in my living room, shirtless and jeans unbuttoned with red nail marks bright against his sun kissed skin and the tip of his dick peeking through the small gap where his zipper has slipped down, making my mouth water and that ache between my legs worse.

Ellie of course ruins the moment by getting a firm grip on my arm and yanking me out the door, shaking her head as if disappointed which I know she isn’t and letting out a yelp when I smack her lightly after she mutters under a breath.“Bet you fucking wish you were.”

“Shut up.”

“You shut up.”

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