#Silver frost wc

[the-pantry-of-art]

Full character design- #2

Erin Hunter character- #2

WC character- #2

*[ design info ]: Her ears where choped a bit by frostbite and a bit by birds of prey, and her paws are also a bit worn out by frostbite but also walking on rough, hard and sharp stones of the mountains. She also has a few broken & missing teeth from gnawing on bones. She holds golden eagle's femur in her jaws, and theres also this bird's feathers on the ground.*

AU's info/ headcanons:

She's Snow Hare's sister,

and Sharp Hail's mother, and in my AU he's Quiet Rain's ex-houseband,

So, by that meaning she's Clear Sky's & Gray Wing's grandma <3

ps. I made her a bit simillar to Clear Sky

[exocynraku]

[marmosetpaw]

[gougarpaw]

“We'll hunt too. We might not be as young as you, but our claws are still sharp.”

Silver Frost is a gray-and-white she-cat.

Snow Hare is a white she-cat.

[bowiestarzzz]

warriors designs in order of appearance 2/?: Silver Frost

[Image description: a digital drawing of a thick gray and white cat. She has light teal eyes and a serious expression. Text above her says "Silver Frost." End ID.]

[loveshotzz]

for your blurbs:

‘bent over a table while something bakes in the oven.’

with my favorite bartender. maybe it’s his birthday or somethin’ :)

Hi bf 🥰 I hope you enjoy your boyfriend being a birthday boy menace.

A/N: this blurb is with bartender!eddie from my whatta man au, but can be read as a stand alone. just know it’s your bartender boyfriends 32nd birthday.

wc: 1.9k

warnings: 18+ for smut,fem!reader, dirty talk, mild food play, spanking, cream pie for days

“I thought I wasn’t supposed to see the cake before the party babe?”

Eddie’s voice echoes down the hall from your bedroom, an annoyed sigh escaping from between your lips when you stop stirring the chocolate icing you’d just ask him to come try.

“That’s the bride before the wedding, and you weren’t supposed to be hereeee.” You call back in an irritated song when you remind him of his three a.m. decision to come and see you after his shift at The Foxy Lounge using the significance of today to get you to say yes. “But since you are, I want the birthday boy to tell me if this is sweet enough for him.”

You wipe your hands on your sleep shorts that you haven’t been able to change out of yet, turning around only to be crowded against the counter in a blur of black and ripped denim by mister thirty two himself. Your palms land flat against his chest as his full lips start peppering kisses all over your face and the giggles he gets only encourage him further. The hard formica pressing against your back becomes smooth against the bottom of your thighs when he lifts you up to sit on it instead. You squeal his name when he pushes himself between your legs with the kind of smile that gives you butterflies like the first night you met him.

“I really like it when you call me birthday boy.” Wiggling his eyebrows, you can still see the dimples that poke his cheeks under his scruff, while big ring-covered hands find a home on the curve of your ass pulling you closer to the edge. The silver chain attached to his wallet that dangles from his belt is cool against the skin of your calf from the A/C when you wrap your legs around him.

“I’m not surprised in the slightest,”You grin, unable to stop the way one of your hands fluff’s out his freshly washed curls. The softness from your deep conditioner is evident against your fingertips. “Now are you going to try this frosting or not before Steve takes you away.”

“I also really like when you’ve got a lil attitude like this,” Eddie teases, nudging the round end of his nose with yours as he leans to try and steal a kiss only for the plush softness of his full lips to hit your cheek instead and it actually makes him whine a little, “come on, it’s my birthday.”

“Try the frosting and maybe I’ll reconsider.” Crossing your arms over your chest, you catch the way he has to physically pull his eyes away from your now pushed up tits.

He sucks the skin of his teeth, looking at you with a narrowed stare before raising his eyebrows at you in a silent challenge. Nodding before shrugging a little too casually, he dips his index finger into the rich velvet, the boars head that dons it catching in the sunlight.

“Fine, I’ll try it. No problem baby, anything for you.” His tone is the only warning you get before the chocolate that matches his eyes is smeared sloppily across your lips.

Eddie doesn’t hesitate to take advantage of your open mouth when you gasp, doing what you asked of him while also still getting what he wants. His hand reaches up, cupping your cheek in his palm letting the pad of his thumb coax you open for him with a swipe of his tongue collecting the chocolate from your bottom lip before meeting yours in the middle with a low groan. It’s a battle for dominance before he sucks yours gently, getting your back to arch and fingers to bury themselves in his curls, melting into him just like the sugar.

He grins into the kiss when the heels of your feet start to dig into the curve of his butt, your irritation from before forgotten with a roll of your hips. He smacks his lips against yours once, twice, three times before he pulls away more than proud of himself when you look at him with a dazed smile and glazed over half hooded eyes.

“Mmm, I think I need another taste. What do you think?” His nose ring bumps against your heated cheek when he kisses you again, this one softer, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip while his finger makes its way back into the bowl of chocolate by your hip.

“I think it’s your birthday, you can do whatever you want.” The double meaning in your words doesn’t go unnoticed, black pupils taking over coffee ground eyes.

The sarcastic remark he has about your attitude just minutes ago is quickly forgotten when your hand wraps around his wrist bringing his frosting covered finger to your lips. He can feel the warmth between your thighs that lock him in place, cock twitching against the seam of his ripped jeans when you lick a long stripe up the side before bringing it entirely into the heat of your mouth. Hollowing out your cheeks as you suck, his eyes hit the back of his head with a muttered ‘fuck’ and a rock of his hips in search for the kind of friction only you can give.

You release him with a loud pop that bounces off the walls of your kitchen and you’ve never been more thankful for your roommate to be out of town. There’s a hunger in his stare that wasn’t there before when it meets yours and the fingers spread across your ass grab at the soft flesh pulling you closer. The evidence of your teasing makes you moan when it presses against your clit.

“Gonna let me bend you over then?” The gravel in his voice is unmistakable, leaning his forehead against yours as he looks at you from under thick lashes.

“Uh huh” you nod, letting your top lip connect with his bottom one in a dare, a deep exhale blowing through his nose when he smells the chocolate on your breath.

“That’s my sweet girl,” he grins, stepping back just enough for you to get off the counter, both of his hands finding your sides to help you down, “just like your icing.”

Your eyes don’t leave his as you make a show of letting your body slide down the length of him with a smile. Nipples hardening under your tank top as they rub down his chest. He curses under his breath, licking his lips when you turn around to press your ass firmly against the throb in his jeans. A teasing thrust from him has your palms find the counter top for support, while his hands wrap tight around your curves.

“Fuck, look at you.” He’s mesmerized by the dip of your back as you arche for him, the hem of your shorts stretching over the fat of your ass, riding up just below your cheeks. He wants it to be his birthday every day.

“Better hurry up before Steve starts callin’” You tease looking back over your shoulder with a wiggle of your hips.

“Hmmpf '' Eddie huffs with one more thrust, ringed fingers curling around the sides of your shorts, stepping back just enough to let them pool at your feet. “He can wait, this is more important.”

He grabs a handful of your ass, spreading you apart to reveal just how wet you already are and the sight of it makes him groan. He works on the button of his jeans, metal clinking when they fall to the floor.

Dripping for him, he slides the tip of his cock along the seam of your cunt with ease, catching against your clit making you keen. You push back for more and the heat of his palm connects to your cheek with a smack, the metal of his rings adding an extra sting that makes you gush.

“Don’t be rude baby, I’m the birthday boy.” He reminds you, watching how your ass jiggles the way he likes.

“Don’t get cocky - ohmygod” The air is taken out of your lungs when he lines himself up with your entrance and pushes in without warning, the stretch when he bottoms out with his chest to your back makes your eyes pinch shut with a whine.

“I think you like it,” His words come out right next to your ear in a breath of peppermint and chocolate that make goosebumps rise along the back of your neck.

He doesn’t wait for you to respond before he stands up straight, fingers digging into the dough of your hips when he pulls almost all the way out before filling you back up to the hilt. Circling his hips, his tip bullies the spot that makes your toes curl and the flutter of your walls encourages him to start his unrelenting pace. The first three strokes make your jaw go slack, fingers curling around the edge of your countertop, the ends of your nails scratching against the wood underneath.

“Always feel so good baby, Jesus - sucking me in like she can’t get enough.” The lewd sounds of your slick and the slap of his hips against your ass fill the quiet of your apartment, a low whine pulling from your throat when he adjusts hitting a different angle.

“Eddie - fuuuck.” You can’t find it in yourself to care how pathetic you sound, not when two calloused fingers start playing messily with your swollen bundle of nerves.

“Yeah sweet girl? That feels nice?” Hunching over you, his strokes get deeper the tip of his nose nudging the shell of your ear.

“S’good” you manage to get out, pushing your hips back meeting his.

His hold on your waist becomes bruising as he keeps making circle eights with the pads of his finger to your puffy clit, while the pattern of his thrusts start to get sloppy when he feels the way you tighten around him like you're close. The slow burn that started deep in your gut starts to become all consuming like this, one of your hands releasing its grip from the counter to cover on top of his between your legs. A low chuckle vibrating in your ear when he picks up the pace.

“Yeah, it’s like that?” You can hear the grin in his voice, and your smart mouth from before is gone. All you can do is nod, your arousal coating both of your fingers and leaving them to slide messy in a way that has your chest tighten, and your mouth fall open.

“Give me my present then baby, come on, give it to me then. Wanna feel you on me all day.” He grunts nipping at your earlobe, and it’s enough to get him exactly what he wants.

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie!” Your eyes squeeze shut when you scream his name, your orgasm washing over you in a burst of heat as he thrusts into you hard enough to push you on to the tips of your toes with every one.

“Shit - that’s it, that’s fuckin’ itttt.” The feeling of your walls constricting around him so much that they try to push him out only makes him bury himself deeper as he paints your insides white. Muscles tensing with his release before they go limp when he melts back into you, huffing out a laugh that fans against your neck.

“The icing is great sweetheart, I can’t wait for the cake.”

[somanyratsinthewalls]

Run Away With Me Chapter 1

NEW SERIES BABY

Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x Named Female OC (Charlotte Ginger)

Summary: Big Mom's daughter, Charlotte Ginger is married off to Vinsmoke Sanji. What could possibly come of this?

WC: 2200

Run Away with Me Chapter 1

— —

The transponder snail rings. 

Big Mom waits a few tones until she answers.

The snail was presented to her on a silver platter from one of her many servants. She lounges in a giant bed and presses the phone up to her ear. 

“Yes?” She answers. 

“Madam Charlotte. It is a pleasure to speak to you directly. Thank you for taking my call.” A deep voice booms from the other end of the snail. 

“The pleasure is all mine, Judge. Did you make a decision from the papers I sent you?” Big mom asks, nibbling at a carrot cake slice she had left on her side table. 

There was a pregnant pause. 

“I’ve made a decision… but not from the options given to me.” Judge Vinsmoke says from the other end of the line. 

“You know how I feel about a change in terms, Vinsmoke… tread carefully.” 

“Your daughters are nothing less than spectacular, Madam Charlotte, but what I think would best serve our alliance is one of them I didn’t see in the file.” Judge replies. 

“Oh? And who would that be?” Big Mom inquires after wiping the cream cheese frosting from her lips. 

“The red haired one. The hunter. From the wanted posters. That’s the one I want for my son.”

Another silence. 

“So you want my Ginger, eh?” Big Mom indulges him. “Why?”

“She’s strong. Intelligent. Crafty. Good breeding stock for my boy. This legacy lives long after we’re gone, Linlin, am I correct? I have no interest in simply making an alliance. I want to build an empire.” Judge says grimly, with a smirk hidden not-so-plainly in his voice. 

“Hmm… you make an interesting point, Vinsmoke. I’ll consider it.” 

— —

*peck*

*peck*

*caw?*

Your eyelids flutter open. Your familiar raven, Nori, was gently prodding his beak at your nose, causing you to wake up and scrunch your face together. 

“What? Gods forbid a girl get a break around here.” You sigh and throw the blanket off your body. Nori flaps his wings and settles on your night table before cocking his head and giving you an urgent sounding coo. 

You throw your long, bright red hair into a ponytail quickly as you rise to your feet. You slip on your boots, still slightly dank from the long journey at sea. You were sent on a hunting expedition, as searching and destroying was always your area of expertise. Your mother, an emperor of the seas, had you go off to hunt down a pack of deserters and bring back some supplies along with the bodies of her betrayers. 

Always the good daughter, you obliged your mother’s every request. It was no easy feat, capturing and executing the deserters, but with your skills and prowess you were able to achieve your goal. You carried the men’s heads deep within the belly of your ship, carefully preserved to present to your Mama. Years ago you lost count of the heads of dead men you’ve offered to your mother for her shrewd approval. Marines, pirates, low brow bootleggers, high born nobles, no target was safe from your murderous grasp. 

You loved your position. A general of Big Mom’s army and Minister of Spice, you were her most powerful daughter and an essential member of her armada at the tender age of 24. As little love and care as your mother showed you growing up, you appeased her now to stay in her good graces. You knew if Mama got a single *whiff* of indignation, your status would be lost to one of the multitude of your other siblings…

Perhaps someone larger… one of Mama’s children with giants perhaps. Or one of her fishmen children, adept in the arts of karate and unmatched in the seas. Your father was a wood elf from a secluded island in the South Blue… or so your mother told you. Perished before he could meet you. She explained this only once when you asked why your ears were different… pointed so much that you were bullied in school. 

“Tell me who’s bothering you, cupcake. I’ll just have a nice talk with their parents..” Your mother would always say when you asked her why the other children made fun of your ears as a kid. When you were young you hid your ears with your long hair, but once you proved yourself as Big Mom’s strongest tracker and hunter, you no longer feared judgment and mostly wore your hair in a slicked, long ponytail. 

*squaaak!* Nori cawed louder, as if trying to urge you to hurry up getting ready. 

“Alright alright, I’m moving.” You hush the bird and throw the pink cloak emblazoned with your mother’s jolly roger over your shoulders. You slide your daggers into the holsters on your thighs and swing your bow and quiver across your back before making your way to the door of your captain’s quarters. 

You push the wooden door open and trudge out into the sunlight. You bring your palm to your brow in an attempt to shield your eyes from the sun’s brightness. Once your eyes adjusted to the light, you can see Whole Cake Island coming up fast on the horizon. You let out a deep sigh. 

Another mission over. Stuck at home until the next assignment… But what was home, really? You loved your ship, your crew, your job… being at the chateau depressed you. Stewards and maids waiting on you hand and foot… constant badgering from your underlings and younger siblings… you wished you could always be at sea. 

The sea awakened you. The battles filled you with vigor. The camaraderie of a crew on the ocean brought you to life… But you were cursed to always come home to Mama. 

“Men! Prepare for arrival!” You shout to your crew before beginning to take down the main sail yourself. 

— —

You stepped off the gangplank and your soggy boots met the worn wood of the dock at Whole Cake Island. 

“Alright men, bring my cargo up the chateau. Mama will be quite pleased to see her spoils from this trip.” You say as you wipe the sweat from your brow. You turn around and see an emissary with several guards approaching you on the dock. 

“I can’t say I’m used to a welcoming party. A special occasion?” You quip at the emissary as you straighten out your leathers. 

“Big Mom has requested your audience as soon as possible, Miss Ginger. You are to come with us.” The grey bearded emissary said with a blank expression. Your hunter’s intuitions can’t help but notice the way the guards grip on their spears tighten as he finished his sentence. You scan their faces. You can only see fear. 

“And if I don’t go with you?” You cock your head curiously.

“I am afraid that’s not an option.” The emissary purses his lips. “Miss Ginger.” 

You were exhausted and not prepared for a fight, your men were loyal to you, but wouldn’t risk their lives to Big Mom for anything. 

“Aye. I’ll come.” You resign. 

*caw! CAW!* Nori frantically called from your shoulder. 

The emissary clears his throat. 

“Your mother requests you alone.” He says as he eyes your bird. 

“I’ll be fine, Nori. I promise. Wait here.” You coo to your familiar. 

He grows disapprovingly before flying off. 

— — 

You follow the emissary and the guards up the the chateau through the winding, frosting lined corridors of the castle as your mind races. What could mother possible want with you so urgently? You had done everything she asked for… the heads of the deserters on a silver platter… a ship filled to the brim with sweets and supplies… you couldn’t think of anything you’e done recently she could even consider a transgression… unless it was about Lazora….

You eventually reach Big Mom’s chambers and the emissary holds the door open for you. You take a deep breath before crossing the threshold. 

Your mother was seated on her lavish, massively large loveseat indulging in several bowls of what you could only perceive as banana pudding. Her throat bobbed heinously as she shoveled more of the dessert down her enormous gullet. You stepped towards her softly as not to disturb her gorging. 

“Mama…” You say quietly. 

“Ginger!” Your mother exclaims as she righted herself and placed the empty dish on the coffee table. “I’m so glad you’re back, my sweet child. Something incredible has come up, and I just can’t wait to tell you about it!” 

“Yes, Mama?” You ask. 

“Come, come, my love. Sit down! I can even have the guards bring some of that red wine you like.” Your mother gestures towards the armchair across from her. 

“I’m quite alright, Mama, thank you.” You say as you sit down and place your hands in your lap. 

“Well, Ginge, I’ll get right to it. We’ve come into the opportunity for the strongest alliance the world has seen in decades.. and you’re the one in the middle of it! How exciting!” Your mom claps her massive hands together below her double chin. You were reminded at this point how easily it would be for her to crush you in those hands…

“I… I’m afraid I don’t understand, Mama…” You say, confused. 

“Germa 66… the most powerful technological agency in the entire world has offered to marry one of their sons off to the Charlotte family! It would prove greatly beneficial for both us and them. Isn’t that fantastic, my sweet cupcake? Your wedding will be in nearly a weeks time! I am so happy for you! And all of us!” Your mom grinned. 

“But… mother… You told me if I could rise to the ranks of general… or minister… I would be exempt from political marriage! I’ve managed to do both and you’ve still sold me off? I don’t understand…” You shake your head in a panicked manner as her words start to sink in. 

“Things change, darling. We all took an oath to protect and serve this family… and I’ve determined this is the best way you can do your duty.” Your mother reaches for another bowl of pudding from the table and you instinctively flinch, thinking she was lunging for you. 

“Mother I must protest.. I have no desire to marry, which is why I pursued the role that I did. I am your most elite hunter and assassin… the fleet will be left with a massive gap without me! I have done everything you’ve asked since the day I was born I-“ You stutter out through gritted teeth. 

“ENOUGH!”

You mouth is snapped closed by an unseen force. Your mother’s power was far, far greater than your own. 

“You will marry the Vinsmoke boy with no issue. You have been chosen for this task and should feel grateful.” Your mother scolds you. 

“M-m-my sh-shi-ship-!” You choke out through the invisible grasp that Big Mom has around your throat. 

“Silly girl. Cracker will take over your fleet. He may not be as productive, but he’s got you cornered in the strength department. I’m sure his results will be just as fine.” Your mother shoots you a cheeky glare. 

You sputter for breath as you struggle to breathe. 

“Ma.. Ma..” You croak out. 

The grasp on your throat releases and you clutch your neck, gasping deeply to regain oxygen. 

“The wedding is Sunday.” Your mother says casually as she gulps down a second bowl of dessert. “It’ll take that long to get you presentable.” She gestures to the guards. “Get her to the chambermaids. She needs a decent gown and to wash that vile sea-stench from her hair. The Germa Prince arrives tomorrow and she needs to be look like a lady for once.” She commands as you grasp at your own throat in relief. 

You feel strong arms encircle each of your shoulders 

Your body was too weakened to fight back, you simply had no choice but to allow the guards to shuffle you to your chambers. 

— —

You fall face first onto your plush comforter, your mind still swimming with thoughts of what your mother just told you… you can’t take it laying down.. there’s no way you’ll be married off… it was guaranteed to you…

“Wait! Stop!” You push yourself off the bed and rush towards the door, pulling desperately on the handles, only to find it locked already by your mothers devouts. “No!” You push your legs on the opposite door as you pull the handle with all your might. You pull one of your daggers from your thigh-holster and try to jam Ito between the double doors to unjam the lock mechanism. 

“Ah!” You screamed.

It was like a lightening bolt hit your body. You were shocked and blown backwards. Your mother must have put some enchantment on the door… you were trapped… 

— —

A/N HEY YALL NEW SERIES TIME! I PROMISE WE’LL GET SANJI IN THE NEXT CHAPTER! We’re just doing a lil world building, ya digg?  Also please send me inboxes or comments for ideas for this series or critiques! Love yall.

[sashi-ya]

東京 NIGHTS mini event

𝑭𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑯𝑼𝑵𝑫𝑹𝑬𝑫 𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑷𝑺ㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𓂃 ࣪˖ ichigo kurosaki x f! reader

⤹˚ synopsis. adult! ichigo takes you to a winter date to the tokyo tower, climb the steps by his hand, let him guide you the sky.

requested by: @cofeedaifuku ➡ Hello! It has been a really long time since I last requested, so I’m a little shy, but knowing that you are the one that is going to receive it calms me down. Can I request Adult! Ichigo with the prompt to see the tokyo tower at night? Nsfw, female reader she/her, (I’m really bad with requests so I don’t know if I should describe the details of the ask, but in any case, something like Ichigo just loves his s/o so much and he just looks at her and completely loses control. Please ignore this if it is not the case.) tw: MDNI. slight nsfw. adult! ichigo. masturbation through the clothes. wc: 1.7k masterlist

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤHis hand feels warm, powerful too. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤYour hand, in his, feels tiny… protected.

“Can you make some time for me?” that’s how he asked; Ichigo had red apples for cheeks when he did. Your eyes shined like five-point stars; you waited for him to ask you out since forever…

Through the cold streets of Tokyo, the frosting sound beneath your feet sound like cracking. The trees, all of them decorated with silver fairy lights. A gleaming spectacle to the eyes, contrasting with the visible glooming cold of December.

Christmas is right around the corner; the streets are busier than ever. People carry big bags with gifts during a Saturday night, but both of you aren’t buying stuff.

“Have you ever been to the Tokyo tower during winter?” Ichigo asks, stuttering. For some reason, he can be a totally different man when it comes to be all alone with you.

“I never been there during the winter season! I am excited to see the lights!” you chime, so happy your heart could jump out of your chest. Spending time alone with him feels like a dream come true.

Ichigo smiles softly, his eyes flutter to the ground in sign of happiness but still total shyness. “I am glad I chose a good spot, then” he murmurs, scratching the back of his head.

You nod, with a lovely beam. You wish to tell him any spot with him would be perfect, but what if it’s too much? What if it’s not proper?

As you wait for the light street to turn to green, he fidgets with his fingers. His eyes are fixed on your hanging hand, the ginger man is dying to hold it.

You notice, and internally giggle. You help him, letting your sleeve slightly go up. There is no point on acting more shy than him.

Soon enough -or at least right when the red light turns to green- Ichigo snatches your hand. It’s not delicate, it is clumsy but definitely dominant, the way he grabs you and pulls you through the crowd.

Your eyes shine brightly with the lights all around, and the wind plays with your hair looking like the typical shoujo scenes.

Your sight wanders and lands on the freckled cheeks of the strawberry boy; a little blush garnishes his skin, but he has that look of fearless man you know too well. He has decided to stop being shy, to finally get what he came to gain.

A few more steps and your eyes get blessed by the imponent look of the Tokyo Tower in front of you. The red metallic pieces now shine lights of different silver shades. And as you look up, a halo of cold mist surrounds its upper levels.

“Beautiful” you murmur, causing in Ichigo to gasp and look right into your eyes.

“You… you are…” he mumbles, immediately looking away with long orange lashes that cast beautiful shadows over his galaxy cheeks.

You bite your lower lip with a smile, how cute…

“Let’s hurry up, or we aren’t gonna be able to get there before it closes” he tells you, pulling you softly towards the entrance where a man kindly scans the Qr codes from different tickets. You nod and follow him, never once letting you go from your hand.

Once inside, while most of the people decide to take the elevator, both of you chose to climb the 600 steps of the outside stairs. It’s a lot more magical to see the lights of the city as you go up, even if the cold air may seem painful to your lungs. But you don’t care, and neither does he.

You follow him, with the sound of your feet hitting the metallic steps and the heart pumping as hard as them. The more you climb, the more beautiful the city looks beneath your feet.

Ichigo turns around to look at you from time to time, and he is smiling preciously. A beam that he rarely has on his face, but that is big enough to make his brown eyes squint.

The first checkpoint gets cleared, 200 steps in. Then the second one, this time with a little more difficulty. 400 steps, laughing and almost running are a lot more than what your body is used to. However, you want to keep going, but you definitely need to catch some air first.  

“Wai-wait Ichigo” you giggle, taking some deep breath of humid cold air through your mouth.

“Oh… sorry, I- I didn’t mean to make you run that much- I��” he excuses himself, watching you with guilty puppy eyes.

You simply laugh. It is more than okay. If you wanna keep up with him, you need to train. He is an amazing substitute Shinigami, and not only that but the stronger ever made; the least you can do is to be able to climb some steps fast enough to catch up with him.

“No worries Kurosaki-kun. I just needed a little bit of air; let’s go” you rush to keep climbing, even if you are clearly not recuperated still. Your head is a little bit dizzy, your legs a little weak.

You try to walk towards him, but you feel like everything around turns dark for some seconds. And Ichigo notices right away.

“(Name)? are you ok?” he urges you for an answer while his arms surround your tired body with his protective embrace.

You would lie if you said you were feeling bad; after all Ichigo is now hugging you. Nothing could go wrong.

“I am fine… I just got a little lightheaded” you whisper, looking up at him. Your nose barely grazing the sharp jaw of the Shinigami. Looking how his Adam’s apple move as he swallows in clear sign of nervousness.

And even if you wanted to move away from his arms, you couldn’t as he kept pulling you closer, tightly against his chest.

The scent of his soft perfume mixed with the one his winter skin has, reminds you how much you desire him. You want him, you want to praise him, and you also want his lips against your lips.

“Please, rest for some minutes more…” he mumbles, this time delicately pushing your head towards his chest. “You need to breathe calmly…” he continues, enjoying perhaps a lot more than he should the closeness of your skin against his.

You don’t dare to argue; you don’t want to. You just want for him to hug you so eternally, and even after too. You nod, nuzzled in the little crook that his prominent collar bones form in the middle of his chest. The little patch of visible skin in between his scarf and white big coat, is all you need to rest assure for the rest of your life.

His hand slowly goes down to the small of your back; his touch is not indecent, it is caring and loving and despite that, the sexual tension in between both of you is undeniable.

You place your ear on his chest, letting yourself go with the song of his beating heart… allowing yours to beat in perfect synchronicity with it. Your eyes open, and they get filled by the view of a city that never seems to sleep, with neon lights flashing all over long, long streets.

Ichigo does the same, both look through the metallic red protective net for some minutes until a little white fluff falling from the sky catches your attention.

“It’s snowing…” you whisper, snaking your arms around his waist. “How beautiful, it is the first one this year”

“Yes…” Ichigo sighs, with trembling voice and reiatsu growing stronger inside the very core of his body. He is gaining strength, or perhaps thinking carefully about his next actions… what he is about to do, might change the destiny of both.

You know it too; when it’s right, you just know…

“Ichigo, I…” you murmur, looking up at him with your eyes plastered on his lips. Giving him the permission to kiss you once, and as many times as he want.

With the same hand he wields his zanpakuto to protect, he now grabs your chin and rather desperately kisses your lips. When your mouths crash against the other, both let some air scape your lungs, living off each other’s souls. More and more, deepening the kiss, melting into one.

The light show of the tower, the last of tonight, begins. Nobody seems to notice you two, neither you notice the lasers blinking through the heavy atmosphere of cold and snowflakes falling.

His hands, this time pooling in the small of your back in concupiscent intention, pulls you closer than ever before. You notice how much of a man he has become; grown up to be stronger and also to be sexier, mature, extremely attractive.

Your belly, feeling the hardness growing in between Ichigo’s winter clothes. Your legs, quivering as his tongue plays with yours in wet, lustful kiss.

The loud songs coming from inside, accompanying the light spectacle, letting your moans to be unheard by the rest as his hands slips so needy in between your tights from under your flannel skirt.

Ichigo’s fingertips get wet, as they rub against your stockings. You shiver and jolt, as he presses right in the spot. The graze of the tights and panties on your clit makes you whine louder into his mouth. A moan he eats so pleased, so hectically.

“I-Ichigo… I….” you stutter, so close to the very first climax of the night… just by the simple touch of his hands with your clothes still on.

“I know… I know… I am sorry, I couldn’t stop myself no more…” he sighs, kissing your forehead but never stopping the circular motions on your core. “I just love you so damn much, (Name)…” he finally confesses, breathing your last moan before you could melt right there, into a mess of sexual desire unleashed and pleased.

“I… I am… Ichigo…” “I know, let’s go back to the hotel… I wouldn’t like you catching a cold, we can come back tomorrow…It was a good idea to come all the way from Karakura town to Tokyo with you 💖~”

[violettduchess]

A/N: Because he didn't have one yet 💜

WC: ~600

He tastes like coffee and wonder, like fudge and fervor.

The minutes leading up to this moment, this embrace in the depth of night, began with you coming back through the mansion door just as the clock struck the midnight hour, one hand pushing back the rich hood of your cloak, revealing cheeks flushed from the cold and eyes bright as sunlight winking off a morning’s frost. Your smile was wide and warm and open as you stepped into the parlor, searching for him. Arthur took one look at you, threw down his hand of cards and with a light smile and breezy valediction, took your hand and took his leave, pulling you along with him, away from the knowing glances of the others.

Up the wide staircase you go, down the carpeted hallway with its arched windows letting in pale slants of moonlight. Your room is much too far away and his may as well be on the moon. 

He needs you now.

And so he pulls you into a shadowy alcove, pulls you against his lean body. You’re laughing softly, breathless, murmuring something about still wearing your cloak and boots and- 

“As if that matters, luv.” 

And then his lips are on yours and you realize, no, no it doesn’t matter at all. Although eager, his kiss begins soft, one hand sliding up, across the plane of your cheek, thumb stroking smooth skin. His lips leave yours to roam the line of your jaw, to prowl the sensitive place below your ear. You tilt your head back and allow him access to the slope of your neck, expecting him to sink his sharp fangs in immediately, unable to resist the feeling of lawless pleasure.

He does not.

Instead, kiss after kiss decorates your skin, as if you are a blank page and he is the writer, jotting formless words of desire and devotion, of tenderness and aching affection along your throat, your collarbone, your shoulder.

No one before you has ever mattered. You are the beginning of his greatest story.

His name is a sigh whispered into the shadows, your fingers catching his chin and lifting his head back up so you can kiss his mouth, the romance of the moment draped around you like silken cords. His hands slide under your cloak, untuck your blouse from your skirt and slide underneath, palms pressing against the bare skin of your back. Up they slide, along your spine, then back down the lines of your torso. You are softer than vellum, his fingertips curling and tracing a filigree along your waist. They feel feather-light, like ink trails across your skin.

“I need you,” he breathes against your lips, sincere and honest, his heart a fragile thing you hold in your hands. And you smile, clutching the nape of his neck. “I need you too.”

He lifts you into his arms, kissing you once more, this time harder, a kiss edged with the promise of what is to come. You curl against him, soft and boneless as his long legs carry you down the hall, towards your room. You close your eyes, nuzzling into his neck, dropping kisses like tiny sparks against his skin. 

His heart thunders in his chest at your touch and he knows, with every fiber of his being, that you love him, as he is. You, who pulled his gaze away from the regrets of his past and helped him close the chapters on the trauma that had haunted him for far too long. Your love cradles him and keeps him safe, a cover to his fragile pages and a promise for all that is still unwritten.

Tagging: @xbalayage @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @redheadkittys @tele86 @olivermorningstar @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @ikesimpleton @ikemenlibrary @namine-somebodies-nobody @greatstarlightstarfish @cellophanediamond @whatever-fanfics @justpeachyteastea @chirp-a-chirp @got7igot7family @kookie-my-little-sunshine @mastering-procrastinating @portrait-ninja @fang-and-feather @bubblexly @ozalysss @kiki-tties

[catscidr]

flowers blossom beneath the scalpel - chapter one: painfully punctual

chapter warnings: none, just banter and storybuilding wc: 3,2k

Fontaine is a beautiful region, but especially so during the evening. The moonlight reflecting the calm waves of nearby bodies of water onto nearby buildings, lamp posts illuminating the polished cobblestone streets and the bustling nightlife coming alive while the businessmen and women hastily strut through the streets to get back home so they can finally rest after a long day of hard work. Younger people chatting away and catching up on whatever drama that had been circulating around the city lately, blissfully unaware of how loud they were being as some older, more cranky residents give them nasty looks in hopes they would be a little quieter with their gossip. And then some people closing shop, cleaning around their store or booth setup, making sure the area stays clean for the next day. 

You were currently anxiously dusting off even the smallest, most insignificant surfaces of your flower shop in Vasari Passage- the pleasant smell of freshly plucked pluie lotuses wafting in the air unfortunately did little to ease your nerves. You kept running around in circles, going from fixing the window setup to restocking various items, to sweeping the floor for the millionth time. 

Part of why you were so on edge, more so than usual, was because of Fontaine’s new relationship with the nation of eternal frost. 

Snezhnaya and Fontaine had been on rough terms, issues between one of their diplomats and the eccentric Hydro archon unknown to the public until the Iudex of Fontaine declared that they would begin to rekindle the nation’s relationship slowly, starting with the civilians and locals. Unfortunately, the florist was one of the people involved to service an incoming Snezhnayan diplomat that would visit the region to study its flora. Something about research about the flowers’ medicinal abilities; Neuvillette explained the whole process, however you missed some parts of what he said because of how stressed you were. All you knew was that the Snezhnayan was supposed to arrive at any given moment, and you were still closing shop, far behind your self-imposed schedule. 

The whirlwind of thoughts only served to make your blood pressure spike to levels it usually doesn’t reach. Thanks to the panicked movements, while sweeping the floor you managed to accidentally knock over a porcelain flowerpot with the broom handle when you turned around abruptly. A loud crash resounds in the small shop, making you yelp loudly in surprise. 

“Fuck!” you exclaim noisily, whipping around to gawk at the broken pieces of clay scattered all across the floor you had just broomed. Grumbling a self-deprecating monologue to yourself under your breath, you round the corner to grab the dustpan and quickly clean up your mess. 

While you were busy making sure every little piece of porcelain was off the floor, you failed to notice the presence of someone else in the shop. 

The person in question wore a large white coat adorned by fluffy black fur around the collar with a Fatui emblem on their right shoulder. The cloak was lavishly decorated with embroidery, silver and royal blue threads adding some color to their otherwise gloomy-looking attire. They had messy icy blue hair, some locks softly curling around the sides of their face to frame their cheekbones. Though their face was mostly hidden by their black and white mask, their crimson eyes were visible and shone brightly with mischief, doing little to hide their expression of amusement. 

They chuckled under their breath while looking down at the frantic florist. During their long trip to come to the region of hydro, they had missed seeing people tremble with fear and, even though this person wasn’t exactly reacting in consequence to their actions, they still enjoyed the sight. But duty called- they couldn’t bask in the woman’s misery for too long. 

Plus, they had to maintain an amicable relationship with Fontaine anyways... The whole reason they’re here.  

“Ahem,” they cough audibly, raspy voice echoing in the otherwise quiet store. The sound of a voice other than your own made you jolt, accidentally pricking your index with a shard of porcelain that you hadn’t cleaned up from the floor yet. You stand upright immediately, turning around again, but this time to face the stranger. Met with the sight of an unfamiliar man but a familiar uniform, you can only deduce that he’s, in fact, not a burglar and had a good reason to come in the store even though the sign said ‘CLOSED’ outside. Even if he kind of looks like a criminal. 

“Hello! Good evening!” you stammer nervously, dusting off your apron. The movement made you cringe inwardly, injured finger stinging slightly with pain. “You’re the diplomat from Snezhnaya, right?” you ask politely. 

“That I am,” he says with a nod, tilting his head to glance around the store. He makes a slow scan of the flower arrangements around the shop, whether because he was actually curious, or to stall and make you even more nervous, you couldn’t tell; it may as well have been both. His gaze flickers back to the florist, locking eyes with you. You visibly flinch, much to his delight. 

“Il Dottore,” he says simply, with an easy smile. 

You blink, heartbeat slowly calming down. Seems like he wasn’t going to rob or kill you, despite what your anxious mind made you believe for a split second.  

You introduce yourself and give him your name with a nod and a forced, customer service-like smile. 

The two of you stand in awkward silence for a few moments. You look at his attire, equally in awe and in fear and he stares down at you, his expression unreadable. 

“Would you like me to teach you some... uh, stuff about our regional specialties, then?” you ask quietly, deeply unsure of how to go about this. Why wasn’t he saying anything? Shouldn’t he be asking about whatever information he needed? You fiddle with a frayed thread on your apron, eyes moving from the warm, comforting familiarity of your shop to the cold unfamiliarity of the Harbinger in front of her. To your surprise, the man laughs. A hearty, genuine laugh- though it didn’t seem like it was because he thought you were funny. When he finally calms down, he scoffs and crosses his arms beneath his cloak. 

“No.” 

Dottore’s answer was firm and straight to the point. With that, all you can think of doing is shutting up and waiting for him to say something since your attempt didn’t really do anything productive. The mood shifted in such little time, your poor mind reeling with what if scenarios as Dottore simply stands confidently, not affected by the atmosphere in the slightest.  

So much for rekindling the nations’ relationship, you think to yourself. 

“I’ll take a couple of plant samples, though.” he says abruptly, suddenly tired of the silence. The Harbinger had a cold tone, bored of whatever wasn’t happening, like he was used to wreaking havoc for his own morbid pleasure. You shudder at your passing thoughts, swallowing audibly. 

“Of course,” you respond after a moment of hesitation. Taking one last look at the man, you turn around and head into the storage unit. You were expecting the Harbinger to follow but the absence of his footsteps said otherwise; breathing out a sigh of relief, you take a moment to let your overworked body rest, shoulders slumping and head drooping down as you press a hand on your chest. It was beating so, so fast- too quickly for it to be considered a normal heart rate. But, being (mostly) used to it, you click her tongue in annoyance and lift your head up, ready to scan the shelves to pick out the worst-looking plants out of spite and childish rebellion. 

The shelves were only going to be restocked in three days, which left the storage room more barren than it usually was. Unfortunately, Dottore would have to come back if he wanted more samples, fresher plants, or if he had any questions about their properties. Unfortunately, that means you’re going to have to see him again, which you’re already dreading- even though he hasn’t left the store yet. With an irritated huff you grab a small plant of rainbow roses, lumidouce bells and two marcotte plants to make up for the lack of... everything else. After making sure that the more fragile plants won’t slip out of your arms, you carefully walk out to the open area of the store, where Dottore was silently observing a simple, plain sweet flower. Prodding and poking at the plant, he didn’t bother turning around to speak up. 

“Are you just going to stand there all night?” he asks. In the dim light of the flower shop, you felt equal parts intimidated and... reassured? You felt an odd sense of peace wash over you, seeing such an intimidating man handle a flower so carefully- you didn’t think he would handle the plants with such care, being the man that he is. 

You take a few steps towards him, tilting your head to look at what he was doing. “A sweet flower?” you ask in a hushed tone, almost afraid that being too loud will make him mad at you. 

“A sweet flower from Fontaine,” he specifies, a hint of irritation in his voice. “Although found all over Teyvat, everything evolves in different ways depending on where it resides, and plants are no different.” Dottore turns to glance at you for a second, then looks back down at the sweet flower, a frown on his face. “If you were to take this one,” he holds a petal between his thumb and forefinger, “and plant it somewhere in Dragonspine, it would die.” 

He lets go of the flower and lets his arm rest at his side, hidden by his large cloak once more. 

“If you were to take a mint from Mondstadt and plant it in Sumeru, it would die too.” He straightens his back and takes a proper look at your skittish figure, looking down at you with an unreadable, yet stern expression. “I want to study their differences. To know how they survive.” To exploit their properties, he thought. This was the most he had spoken since he got here, yet you almost wish he had stayed quiet instead. 

Taking in his words, you swore you heard a hint of what seemed to be a quiet threat to his otherwise smooth voice. But, again, you chalked it up to your head messing with you, ignored the feeling of dread pooling in your stomach and nodded slowly, even though you didn’t really understand what he was getting at with his explanation. He probably just liked hearing himself speak, you thought to yourself, scoffing. 

“So... would you rather I give you some sweet flowers and mints?” you ask with a raised brow, growing tired of being so on edge because of him. You should have been home ages ago. The man doesn’t catch your irritation (or rather, doesn’t seem to care about it) and nods, saying something about you actually making yourself useful that you brush off indignantly with an uninterested slow blink and brows that were furrowed ever so slightly. 

Instead of lamenting your precious time lost that could have been spent staring at your phone scrolling through social media until you fell asleep, you go back to the storage room and bring back a pot of sweet flowers and a plant of mint. When you get back to where Dottore stood, you immediately spot another man with him. He had dirty blonde hair and a gray mask on his face that covered half of his face, though his mask had black eyes drawn on instead space cut out for his eyes to shine through. You wonder how he can see through that thing, in comparison to Dottore’s mask. They were busy speaking- or more like the doctor was speaking to the shorter man while the latter nodded feverishly- but you couldn’t catch what he was saying. Though from the sight of the flowers you had previously brought in his arms, you assumed it was something like put these away so I can dissect them later or something along those lines. 

The man bows at Dottore and leaves with the plants. Deciding not to question him, you just come up to the Harbinger and place the new batch of flowers on the counter in front of him. 

“Here. Now did you want to discuss anything else?” you ask with a quiet sigh, though you try to keep your pitch higher so you don’t sound too tired. A habit from working a customer service job for so long. 

In response, Dottore’s lips curl into a small smirk and in the same cocky attitude as before, crosses his arms while turning around to have a better look at you. 

You wore a short-sleeved beige button-down with the flower shop’s signature steel blue apron over it along with black, skintight shorts that ended right below your knees. There were a couple of small tears and signs of distress on the hem of the skirt, but it seemed to be well-taken care of, nonetheless. Plain, slightly worn white sneakers finished off the uniform and, though simple, it had its charm. You had a multitude of bruises and cuts on your hands and knees; although small, they decorated your skin with hues of pink, blue and faded yellow from previous accidents on the job. You kept a pair of shears in your apron’s front pocket as well as a pen and what appeared to be a small notebook. Pushing up your large glasses, you shift your weight on your other foot impatiently- clearly a little irritated by how long it was taking the doctor to speak. 

“That won’t be necessary,” he says with a dismissive wave, shaking his head softly. “I need to get back to work myself. And you,” he huffs, his smirk dropping ever so slightly, “need to watch your tone.” 

You stared at the man; expression unwavering aside from the dumbfounded blinks you couldn’t help herself from... blinking. Were you supposed to tell him about your most sincere apologies after his rude display of attitude? Double down on your true thoughts about him and start insulting him? As far as you knew, you just looked a little tired. 

For a second, you were tempted to respond with a witty remark of your own to match his energy but, remembering who you were dealing with, you put that thought aside for now. 

“...sorry about that,” you mutter sheepishly, flustered that someone was actually confronting you about your lack of overly enthusiastic customer service attitude. “I’m not technically on the clock so I just...” 

As you continue to elaborate, you trail off and stop talking to prevent yourself from digging yourself into an even deeper hole. Looking up at the doctor, you shoot him an awkward grin and look away as you await the inevitable reprimand. But instead of scolding her, all Dottore does is shrug and scoff at your excuse.  

“You’re in severe lack of a backbone, don’t you think?” he asks with a strained, fake grin. 

Dumbfounded once again, all you can do is blink at the doctor. Once, and then twice. You shut your mouth, which had been slightly ajar from the shock of how boldly he spoke, and somehow kept yourself together, not wanting your body to be brutally mutilated and never found again. While you deal with your inner conflict, Dottore grabs the plant samples and makes his way towards the front door of the flower shop. 

“I’ll see you soon enough,” he says, purposely brushing his arm against your shoulder to make you stumble backwards. Knocked out of your dazed state, you shoot him a weak glare and mutter I hope not under your breath before holding the door open for him, a habit that you can’t get rid of since you started working with the general public. Dottore scoffs, obviously holding his tongue as he simply rolls his eyes in response to your quip. 

“Try not to be in such a sour mood next time. I’d hate to do something impulsive to correct that attitude of yours,” is all he says as he whisks himself away in the dim cobblestone streets, light footsteps slowly growing quieter the more distance he puts between the two of you. 

You stay standing at the door for a second, narrowing your eyes at the man you not only met about an hour ago, but already have beef with. Thinking back on the exchange, you couldn’t tell if you had done anything wrong to set him off or if he was just another one of those entitled rich men that thought they could get away with being dickheads just because they have a powerful job; you can only sigh and thank the archons that he left before you accidentally made the situation worse. 

Turning around, you head back into the flower shop to quickly cross out the stock you had given out to Dottore for free and make a quick note to mention it to Neuvillette next time you see him. The silence in the store was very welcome, your pounding heart finally able to relax while you lean over the counter to write down the details on what happened so that the Iudex could write it off as a business expense. At least this wouldn’t come out of your own pockets. 

Putting the document away in the desk behind the cash register counter, you take off your apron and hang it on the coat hanger in the break room. The four walls seemed almost too bare, too quiet at this time of day. With the lights being turned off, only the moonlight shone through to illuminate the surface of the small coffee table in the middle of the room, surrounded by a handful of less-than-comfortable chairs. 

With one last glance at the room, you grab your bag from the hanger and head out of the shop, locking the door carefully. If anything, at least the place looked fresher from how intensely you cleaned up earlier- you won’t have to do too much cleaning when you come back to work tomorrow. 

“Tomorrow...” you murmur to yourself with a groan. You take out your phone from your bag and hold back another, more dramatic groan- it was half past midnight. 12:32AM. Clicking your tongue, you shove the phone back in your tote, picking up the speed to get back to your flat before it got even darker outside.  

The streets were mostly barren, save for the handful of bars that had people occasionally stumbling out to get some fresh air. For a second, you briefly considered going in for a drink, but after a second of critical thinking, realize that the inevitable hangover wouldn’t be worth it. That and you might just throw your drink at a man if he looked at you the wrong way. The only remedy for your foul mood is your comfortable, warm bed and some good food to soothe your tired body and mind.  

With the sound of bar music fading away, your footsteps quicken as you get more and more excited to go home when, finally, you unlock your apartment door and fling your shoes off, collapsing onto your bed with a tired, dramatic groan- calling it a night. 

a/n: heheeee hi. hello. (゜▽゜;) this is a (very self indulgent) fic i started ages ago. i originally wrote it for myself but i edited it so it could be read as an x reader fic instead of oc/selfship x reader. idk if anyone's even going to like it but that's fine either way, i have a plot planned out for this and i intend on actually going through with it, unlike the dozen of unfinished fics and ideas i have in my laptop. So. consider this a gift from me to u, dear dottore enjoyer reading this. smoochies ٩(◦`꒳´◦)۶ if anyone wants more of this lmk because im nervous about posting this LOL (reader doesn't have a set appearance but i Do describe her work uniform and mention that she wears glasses, just fyi). apologies in advance if this reads a bit awkwardly i had to change it from third person to second person lolol it wont be like that for the entirety of the fic, just the first chapter and like half of the second one. n e ways

next chapter -> ch. 2

[chernabogs]

Growing Season

Inc: Malleus x Reader (2nd person terms used for reader; can be taken as romantic, but nothing in stone :) ).

Warnings: None! Maybe a little bit of political drama, but I mean... that's being a Prince for you.

WC: 2k+

Summary: It's time to add new roses to his garden in Briar Valley, and he considers all of the things he'll write to you about in his next letter as he does so.

It’s a warm day in the Valley—unusually so. Malleus moves soundlessly through the gardens, a tray of small rose bushes in his hands as his gaze rakes over the patches of soil bare and open for new harvest. The sounds of insects buzzing, their gossamer wings caught in the rays of the sparse sunlight that trickles in, frequently diverts his gaze from his task. Those same sun rays cause the black clothing he wears to heat him up to a point that he feels sweat forming.

Black is inconvenient in the spring. He hears your voice vaguely in the back of his mind as he holds the tray, your silver-tongued rebuttal about how leather and latex are causing his illness when he complained of being too hot before. His fingers tighten around the tray, and he kneels, the scent of earth mixing with the myrrhic one of the trees nearby. He can tell the last frost has passed as his pale fingers sink into the soil and disturb it, upturning it like a grave for the seedlings he’s about to plant. Briar Valley’s frigid air left little time for the planting of roses—making today an especially important one.  

He's been writing you letters. Despite the distance between you both—he, in the Valley, and you, still on Sage’s Island—and the inhibition of Briar Valleys non-technological lifestyle, you two had managed to work things out. He told you he was going to plant these today many weeks ago. It was one of those sparse, passing comments you make to your loved ones without much thought. Then, your most recent letter had asked if he was planting them still. Somehow, throughout all the exchanges you’ve had since that comment, you remembered what he had said. 

When the hole is sufficiently deep, he carefully—surgically—removes one of the seedlings from the tray and sets it into the earth. He pushes the dirt back and pats it down, almost loving in his touch. 

One down, six to go.  

The letters you two exchange serve as something for him to look forward to. Because of the way Briar Valley’s postal service is, they only come once a week—sometimes only once every other—and yet they’re so detailed it’s like reading a small novel every time one arrives. He tries to match your level of excitement; you write of your classes and your friends; he writes of his duties and politics. You write of your eagerness for holidays, he bemoans how these holidays no longer exist for him. You ask if you can see him this summer, he tells you of a wonderful summer estate that the Draconia family possesses on the coast—one he has a key for.  

He kneels on the earth again and sets the tray aside. He would get some odd looks from his attendants when he returned with flushed cheeks and dirt on his hands, but he doesn’t let this bother him right now. He’s sequestered away in an idyllic world—one of sunlight, and flowers, and dragonflies with their gossamer wings—and he isn’t keen on letting the attendants break the illusion as he continues to think of you. His hands sink into the earth again and dig another fresh grave of flowers as he places the next seedling down.

Five more to go.  

The constant flow of mail is noticed by those around him, of course. Whereas Silver and Sebek who know you don’t care that you two talk (if anything, they’re glad their Prince has someone outside the Valley to speak to) the servants, the attendants, and those who keep the inner-mechanisms of the Palace running are curious—and curiosity has killed more than one cat in its lifetime. He wasn’t surprised when an inquiry came down from the Senate regarding an influx of letters from Night Raven College. They have no business asking, of course, but the Senate has authority and he, who is set to work with them for the rest of his life, has explanations he needs to give.  

His knees hit the earth again and he digs another hole. He’d have bruises tomorrow; gentle kisses from the soil, reminding him of the brief labor he embarked in. In another life he would have found himself toiling in the fields for a living rather than leisure. Harvest is a key part of Briar Valley life; many he knows work long hours in the sun. He plants another seedling, gives another life to the earth, and sighs.  

Four more to go.  

You’re something he wants to keep secret for now for one reason—forbidden. A Prince may have friends, but a Prince may not love freely. It’s a harsh reality a tutor had drilled into him when he had made an off-handed comment about wishing to marry the charming character from Briar Valley’s mythologies he had been reading. It was a comment that a child would make—and yet the tutor had acted like he committed a grave sin. It was one of the few times he cried before an adult. The tutor had been dismissed—no one touches the Prince—but the lesson long remains in Malleus’ mind. Whereas I love you holds weight to many already, to fall from his lips would be a commandment set in stone. He cannot just say it to anyone. 

It’s by the blue roses that he plants the next seedling. He wonders if you like blue as he sets it down gently into the soil. Or perhaps you like green? Maybe yellow? Maybe white? He looks up at the roses he had been planting for many springs so far, each a different yet vibrant color. He’ll find your favorite and enchant it so that he can send it to you with his next letter. That will brighten your day as you continue your studies at NRC. He remembers how stressful they were, after all. 

Three more to go. 

His Grandmother had asked him recently about his influx of letters as well. Queen Maleficia, despite what many people presume from their relationship at a glance, is quite caring for her last family member. Although she keeps a strict, professional front to all, Malleus has been privileged to see her softer, more compassionate side more than once—and always directed at him. He admits, he did ramble a bit about you. There was much to say, after all; you were his friend, his confidant, and the person who managed to brighten his week in your own unique way even an ocean apart. She had watched him talk, her green eyes shining with an emotion he couldn’t place as a smile played on her lips, before she had simply said that’s wonderful, dearest, and let him on his way. When she received a request from him to investigate old Briar Valley laws for review, she had not commented on it, nor questioned him on his reasoning—she had simply approved it and moved on. 

The sun is still rising in a slow, tedious climb in the sky, and Malleus is beginning to hear others waking up. Servants are speaking of the latest gossip in the kitchens—which, admittedly, he loves to listen in on—and a few guards are making their rounds through the gardens. Malleus crouches a bit lower to not be seen by them as he plants the next seedling. He’d rather not be roped into an uncomfortably polite conversation following the lines of ‘my Prince, why are you hiding in the bushes?’ any time soon. 

Two more to go.

He had considered sending you another letter when the Senate had requested a brief freeze in mail to the Palace. They wanted to readjust the way that it was sent in to enable a more thorough checking of contents before being delivered. Malleus isn’t stupid; he knew this was their method of nosing into his personal business under the guise of official legislature. He’d been moody about it for weeks until your most recent letter was finally approved to come in. The one he’s planning to send next will certainly be longer; along with the rose he’d selected, he’ll be happy to discuss this latest change with you as well, alongside the law reviews, and the planting of the seedlings. You’ll finally get the novel-length message he knows you deserve, and he dearly hopes the reviewers like reading it as well. 

Two more seedlings sit in his tray, He feels terrible separating them, setting only one in the hole, and taking the other away. They’d been planted and nurtured together for the laborious months he fussed over them in his greenhouse—and now, they’re a gardens width apart. A small, melancholic grimace plays on his lips. He’ll plant the last one directly across the plot; that way the two plants will still see each other every day. 

How funny, to treat plants like people, and to try to keep them together even when they cannot be.  

One more to go. 

There’s a passage written in a story he read once: The Fae and The Fallow. It’s a book that had been banned in the Valley until shortly after he was born due to the nature of its content. The tale follows a Fae Prince by the name of Ælfric, who lived long, long before the Draconia family did. Ælfric fell in love with a human, Auðr, and entered a forbidden affair with them; their love had been deep and true—enough to inspire a four-hundred page epic—and Ælfric had promised Auðr he’d find a way for them to be together. Unbeknownst to Ælfric, another Fae by the name of Goda saw the two lovers and—in jealousy over being denied Ælfric’s hand—poisoned Auðr when Ælfric had left on a hunt. 

The Prince had gone on an odyssey of sorts to save his lover’s life, even venturing into the Otherworld to find a way. There had been battles, and betrayal, and all the wonderful pieces that a child like Malleus loved to read. 

But he remembers hating the ending of The Fae and The Fallow.  

Ælfric, out of time and losing Auðr quickly, had begged an ancient spirit of the Otherworld to find a way for him and his love to be together. In return, the spirit had turned them into fallow deer; their lifespans were shortened, but Auðr was alive, and as the fallow deer, they were able to be together without judgment and fear. The story had claimed the fallow deer of the Valley were evidence of Ælfric and Auðr’s story; their love had, in a way, lasted forever. 

Malleus had burned his copy of the book after that. The entire thing incinerated, save for one page that he tore out and kept close. In this scene, Ælfric has just become lost after a battle with a great giant. He feels alone, torn from his friends and further from his lover than ever before. Malleus tore it out of the book because he, in some strange twist, felt like he could understand Ælfric in the moment. The passage simply said; 

I have been in the darkness without the light of your smile to guide me Without your beauty to inspire me, without your voice to unravel me Oh, my love, my life You are a forbidden Eden that I seek; One that I yearn for when without, and I mourn for when denied  My paradise, my fall  I will defy even the Gods to keep you by my side

He considered sending you a copy of the tale with his letter as well. You did say you liked reading but something about the story—about the passage he saved in his pocket which now reminded him always of you—felt too sacred, too personal to give away just yet. So, he tucks it away, with your letters signed ‘yours truly’ at the end, and he bides his time, bides on the Senate, bides on old laws that are now being considered in review. It takes three years for a rose bush to grow, but Malleus will wait a thousand if it means finally having you. 

Your story will not be Ælfric and Auðr—this, he swears. He will not let any Senate, any laws, or any intent poison you as Auðr had been. 

He sets the last seedling in the hole and sighs, patting it down before looking up and around at the garden once more. The morning sunlight is golden, the heat now more bearable, and the flowers sway gently in a spring breeze. It’s beautiful, it’s promising, and hidden within a paradise of his own, the Fae Prince wears a soft smile.

[daechwitatamic]

VII. Supposed to Be With You

(banner by @/itaeetwon)

Title: My Feet to Follow, and My Heart to Hold (Masterpost)

Rating: NSFW - minors dni

Genre: college!au, roomie!au, angst, s2l, the absolute slowest of burns

Pairing: Namjoon x female reader, unrequited Taehyung x reader

Beta'd by @/kookstempo, @/casuallyimagining, and @/toikiii - thank you endlessly!

Summary: You know a lot about the many types of love thanks to Kim Taehyung. You love him as the only person you see as “family”, you love him as your very best friend, and you love him as the beautiful, funny man he’s become. But when a twist of fate during your senior year has you rooming with his good friend Kim Namjoon, you just might find that you have plenty left to learn about love. 

Lesson One: there are such things as a right way and a wrong way to love and to be loved.

//

You and Namjoon support each other through some tough days.

Section Warnings: language, dealing with loss, pov switch to Namjoon for a section or two

WC: 6k

The world is mine: blue hill, still silver lake, Broad field, bright flower, and the long white road A gateless garden, and an open path: My feet to follow, and my heart to hold. - Journey | Edna St. Vincent Millay

Saturday November 10th

[9:22 AM] You: grocery run??? [9:36 AM] Tae Bear 🧸: ur just using me for my car 🙁 [9:37 AM] You: not true!!! i like when we go together and talk while we shop 🥺 [9:37 AM] You: the car is simply a bonus ☝️ [9:39 AM] Tae Bear 🧸: i mean do i rly want to go run errands this morning… no [9:40 AM] You: you’re the worst [9:43 AM] Tae Bear 🧸: text me later tho! and buy those chips? remember the good ones? [9:45 AM] You: you’re literally insufferable 🙄

Officially on your own, you rise from the couch, coffee mug cooled and almost empty in your hand, and head back to your room to get dressed. When you’re ready, you place your coffee cup in the sink to deal with later and get your little wheely cart from the pantry. When you turn, Namjoon is in the living room, and you jump - just barely fighting back a shriek of surprise.

“God, you really are jumpy,” he laughs. “Are you ever just relaxed?”

“I startle easily!” you say defensively, laughing too. 

“Are you getting groceries?” he asks, eyes catching on the cart in your hands. 

“Yeah,” you say, following his gaze and looking down at your hands. “I was just on my way.”

“Can I go with you?” he asks, totally surprising you. “I need a few things.”

“Oh,” you say, still a little shocked by the question. “You can tell me what you need, if you want! I can grab it for you.”

“I’d rather join you,” he says, “as long as you don’t mind?”

You consider this. “No, I don’t mind,” you say, shrugging. “Do you need a few minutes?”

He shakes his head. “I can go now.”

It’s pleasant, walking through town together, pulling your little cart. It’s unseasonably warm, though the forecast claims you’re due for a frost that night and the next few days will stay cold. Namjoon talks easily with you as you collect produce, meats, and cheeses from the front section of the store. Overhead, the muzak plays 90’s hits that your mom used to love. 

“You start on this side?” he asks, a little playful. “I always start on the other end.”

“I have a system,” you insist, smiling. “You’ll see. It’s very methodical.”

On the cereal row, your favorite brand seems to be low in stock. You stretch on your tippytoes, reaching, fingers just barely catching the corner of the box. It tips, then settles back where it was. 

You know what’s coming, somehow, and you - the world’s jumpiest human - aren’t startled at all when you feel Namjoon’s warm body solidly against your back. One hand steadies you both by resting on your waist, the other reaches easily for the box you wanted.

There’s space between you again, too quickly, as he hands you the box. He avoids your gaze, like he’s not sure if he crossed a line or not. 

“Be careful,” you tease, “or I’ll get spoiled and I’ll ask you to reach all the high places for me.”

He smiles. “It’s a curse I’ve lived with for a long time.”

You make your way, shivering, through the freezer sections, grabbing what you need. Namjoon carries a reusable bag of his own handful of items he’s picked up through the rows, so that he can pay for his separately. 

Once you’re done, you check out and head home. Namjoon places a hand on the cart to pull it for you, and you shoulder him away.

“I’ve got it,” you insist. 

He gives you an indulgent look. “You can let me pull the groceries, Y/N. It doesn’t have to mean anything you don’t want it to mean.”

This shames you into silence, and you move over to let him take the cart. You don’t feel like you deserve the patience he’s affording you. 

“Don’t get all quiet on me, little cactus,” he says, eyeing you sideways. “Everything’s fine. We’re fine.”

What’s we? The only reason you don’t know is because you’re too cowardly to ask.

“What ever happened with your ex?” you ask, needing the subject to change. “We haven’t talked about that in a few weeks. Did you ever answer her?”

Beside you, Namjoon grimaces. 

“We don’t have to talk about it,” you say quickly. “I was just curious.”

“I answered her a while ago… back before Halloween. I told her I wasn’t interested in talking. She’s… been persistent.”

You frown. “Has she said what she wants?”

He shakes his head. “Just that she wants to see me, she wants to talk. I’ve pushed it - I know she’s got a reason - but she sticks to that story. She just wants to see me.”

You wrinkle your nose. “It doesn’t sound like she even knows.”

He purses his lips, annoyed with the situation. “That’s not it. She knows. She just can’t straight out say to me that she wants to see me to find out if I miss her or not.”

“Well…” you say carefully. You’re walking behind him a little, so you don’t have to see his face as you ask, “Do you?”

“I truly don’t,” he says, turning to look at you, something earnest and insistent in his voice. Like he needs you to believe him. “Trust me, it was toxic.”

You’re quiet for a minute, following his footsteps. “I think you can recognize the flaws in a relationship and still miss the person, though,” you say quietly. “I’m just saying. I wouldn’t judge you if you did, a little.”

“I don’t,” he says firmly. 

You walk in silence, chastised. Then, you ask, “So she hasn’t given up?”

Namjoon shakes his head again.

“Let me talk to her for you,” you tease. “I’ll sort her out.”

He looks backwards at you now, smiling a little. “You’re not scary,” he disagrees.

You drop your jaw in pretend indignation. “I am scary!” 

He shakes his head. “Not even a little.”

You pretend to gasp. “That is absolutely the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me,” you pretend to pout, reaching out to give him a playful swat. 

The apartment is in sight, and you’ve got Namjoon’s laugh ringing in your ears as you get close enough to the front steps to register that someone is sitting on them. Then you register the parked car along the sidewalk.

Your brain slowly puts two and two together.

Taehyung watches you two come closer, the groceries in tow. He looks serious, and as you get close enough to talk to him, you wonder anxiously if he’s here because something is wrong. 

“Hi,” you say, a little breathlessly. He steps out of the way to let Namjoon up the stairs with the cart. “We were getting groceries.”

“I see that,” he says, voice just a touch flat. He looks between Namjoon and you. “I called you.”

“Oh,” you say, reaching immediately for your pocket. “I didn’t feel it go off. Sorry, Taetae.” You give him big, sad eyes. He cracks quickly, just like he always has. 

“It’s okay,” he says, sounding more like himself. “I just wanted to see if you wanted to hang.”

“I definitely do,” you tell him. “Come up while I put the groceries away, and we can figure out a plan?”

He nods, following you up the stairs. In the kitchen, the cart sits in the middle of the kitchen, all of your items waiting for you. Namjoon is in the fridge, putting a few of his own things away. 

You start pulling your own items out of the cart one by one, putting them where they go. You and Namjoon move around each other easily, like it’s choreographed. At one point, he gently takes a box from your hands and puts it up on the highest shelf for you. You smile at him in thanks.

Taehyung watches all of this silently from where he’s perched at the breakfast bar. When your groceries are put away, you face Taehyung and put your hands on your hips. “What do you wanna do?” you ask.

He shrugs easily, his eyes on his phone screen as he scrolls. “Don’t care. What were you gonna do before I showed up?”

Honestly? Probably hang out with Namjoon in the living room, read a little, do some homework, maybe watch a show. 

“I’m going to get some writing done,” Namjoon says, even though nobody asked him. It’s like he wants you to know you can remove him from the equation. You have a feeling that hadn’t been his original plan, either. 

“Just hang out,” you say, looking back at Taehyung. His messy hair falls over his eyes as he bends his head to look at his phone. “Wanna put on a show?”

You get comfortable on the couch. The familiarity sets in, the comfort of doing your normal thing, with your normal person, in your normal place. It’s so much less scary than foraying into uncharted territory with Namjoon. 

But it’s stagnant, too.

“My parents said to tell you hi,” Taehyung informs you from his side of the couch. “They asked how you were.”

“Oh,” you say, looking over the top of your phone at him. “Hi! Tell them I’m good. I miss them! Tell your mom I miss her stew, like, badly.”

“I can’t tell her that,” Taehyung laughs. “She’ll make you some and tell me to drive there to get it for you.”

“I fail to see the problem,” you sniff. From behind Namjoon’s door, you hear the telltale sound of classical music. 

You know what that means - the writing isn’t going well. On the other side of the door, he’s stuck.

Thursday November 15th 

Your alarm on Thursday goes off way before it should. You tap the snooze button without looking, and then are baffled when the buzzing doesn’t stop. You actually open one eye to peek at the screen and see that Kris is calling you. Something must be wrong.

“Hello?” you answer groggily, clearing your throat.

“I am so sorry,” they say in greeting. “I am such an asshole for waking you up and I am such an asshole for what I’m about to ask you.”

You groan, already knowing what’s coming.

“Can you please - please please please please please - cover me at the store for like two hours later?” they beg. 

“I’m in class until 4:30,” you tell them. 

“That’s fine, I don’t need you until six.”

“You want me to close?” you yelp. “Kris!”

“I will owe you a hundred times over,” they say desperately. 

You roll onto your back and close your eyes again, the phone pressed to your ear. “Fine,” you grumble finally, because you love Kris, and because you need the money. 

You survive both your morning and afternoon classes, grabbing lunch with Taehyung in the caf between the two. After your afternoon class, you have a weird gap of time before Kris needs you at the store, so you head for the library and do a bit of work. When it’s nearly time, you pack up and head to the store. You’re nearly there when you feel your phone vibrate in your hand.

[5:51 PM] Namjoon: did you order dinner already? I’m leaving campus now

[5:51 PM] You: im covering kris at the bookstore until 8:30 :( 

You watch his three dots appear, then vanish. Appear, then vanish. Appear… hover… then vanish. 

[5:54 PM] Namjoon: want me to bring you something to eat?

You want to sink down onto the concrete path and melt into the ground. What is this absolutely boyfriend behavior, and why are the butterflies in your stomach having a rager over it?!

It’s like he knows you’ll be having a whole meltdown about it, because he follows up quickly.

[5:55 PM] Namjoon: it’s not a big deal i can grab something on campus for myself too and bring it over

[5:56 PM] You: i would really appreciate that :’) best roomie ever

[5:57 PM] You: that was NOT me roomie-zoning you!!! you can be best roomie ever AND ….whatever else lol

Sometimes you wonder who decided to let you ever leave your house. You deserve a trophy for being the most awkward human alive. 

You can’t dwell on it, though, because you’re at the store and you have to clock in and take over the register. There’s always a bit of a rush around the dinner hours - more students are in the student center for dinner anyway and stop in for what they need, or opt to get crappy snacks instead of real dinner. You don’t judge. 

It’s almost eight when you see Namjoon’s familiar shape in the door. He’s holding a bag of food and uses his shoulders to push the door open. 

“You brought me sustenance?” you ask hopefully. Your stomach is growling. 

“I did,” he tells you. He sets the bag on the counter and you dig into it immediately, pulling out the wrap he got for you. 

“You are a god amongst men,” you tell him reverently. He beams at you, standing still practically in the doorway of the store. He shifts over when the bell above the door chimes, and a pretty girl with dark hair steps through. You don’t think anything of it until you watch the smile literally drop off of his face.

“I thought that was you,” she says, her voice hushed like she’s in church, and her eyes are on his. You shove another bite of your wrap into your mouth and sink further behind the cashier’s counter, praying for invisibility. 

“Elyse,” he says, and you notice several that all of him has gone tight - his eyes, his shoulders, his fists, his voice. All of it becomes coiled, ready to spring. You resist the urge to say his name, even though it’s fighting its way out of your mouth, so strong is your urge to calm him. “What are you doing here?”

“I was just passing,” she says, sounding a little wounded. “I thought I saw you in here, so I came in. What are you doing here?”

You wait for him to implicate you, to indicate that he’s here to bring you food, spend time with you on the sly. 

Instead, he says, “I lost my headphones again.”

A lie. 

A lie that leaves you out. 

The smile creeps over her face, fond and adoring. She shakes her head, hair swishing. “You’re such a mess, Namjoon.”

His eyes narrow, but he says nothing. The silence stretches between them, and finally he says, “What do you want, Elyse? You saw me and you came in why?”

Her eyebrows knit together; the hurt you’d heard in her voice shifts onto her face. “I just wanted to talk to you,” she says. “I’ve been trying to talk to you.”

He licks his lips, glances at you for the barest of seconds before facing her, arms crossing defensively over his chest.

“I’m aware,” he says dryly. “And I’ve been telling you no thanks. So, again… why are you here?”

Now the girl - Elyse, obviously - eyes you for the first time. You take another bite of your wrap, all innocence. For all she knows, you’re just the girl working the register at the school bookstore. She doesn’t know where you live… or what you’ve been doing with your roommate. 

“Can we… go somewhere?”

He looks at her flatly in response.

“To talk,” she says, like she needed to explain, like he doesn’t completely get it. 

“If you need to say something to me so badly,” he says, his voice scarily even, “you can do it right here.”

“I just…” she says, faltering, looking back at him, “I just wanted to know how you were, I guess. I’ve been… having a hard time, and I…” She glances at you again, like she’s embarrassed for this conversation to be witnessed - and honestly, you don’t blame her. “I guess I wondered if you were, too.” She looks at the floor, rubbing her arms self-consciously.

And here’s the thing… from an outside perspective, even though you’ve heard his side of this… you kind of believe her. Maybe he was right when he said she just needed to grow up a little. 

“I’m sorry you’re struggling,” he says, his voice softening. “You know I don’t want that for you.”

“I know,” she whispers, looking up at him through her lashes. 

Damn, you think. This girl is good. 

“Honestly, Elyse,” he continues, his voice still soft, gentle, “I’ve been doing fine. I’ve been okay. Just… just writing, you know?”

She smiles again, a tiny smile. You can’t believe your amazing luck to be able to innocently witness this transaction, but you also feel for him - to have this conversation in front of you has to be killing him. You can’t imagine trying to have a conversation like this with Taehyung with Namjoon listening. But you can’t leave - you’re glued to the register, your mouth still full of a chicken-avocado wrap. 

“Of course,” she says, smiling shyly up at him. “Always writing. But, Namjoon...” She heaves a sigh. You wish Kris was here to witness this with you, to help you dissect it later. “I guess… I wanted to talk to you because I’ve been… I’ve been thinking about us.”

Your eyes go wide and you look at Namjoon immediately for his reaction.

“There’s no ‘us’, Elyse,” he points out, so kindly, like he doesn’t want to hurt her and he knows he has to anyway. “You made sure of that.”

You almost gasp out loud, and you quickly stifle your reaction with another big bite of dinner. 

She has the presence of mind to look cowed. “I know that,” she admits. “I just… I guess I’m not sure how I feel about it now. About how we left things. And like… if that’s just me, I guess it’s my problem. But I needed to know… if it was just me.”

You’re chewing furiously, and then the damndest thing happens. Namjoon looks right at you.

You hold his gaze, and wish you could call time-out, pull him aside, confer with him before he answers. Say what you need to say, you’d tell him, because you get it. As complicated as shit is with you and Taehyung... of course you get it. 

You’re fully prepared for him to tell her that it’s not just her, or at least something kind of in the middle, like it’s complicated.

He surprises you.

“It’s just you,” he tells her, and he’s holding your gaze the whole time. Like he’s talking to you. “I’m not coming back, Elyse.”

The door opens behind her, and a group of girls come in, talking loudly to one another. It gives Elyse time to get her face right, you guess, because when you look back she’s managing to smile at him, though it’s clearly forced. 

“Okay,” she says. “Thanks for telling me. If your mind’s made up… then I guess there’s nothing else to say here?” She makes it a question.

“There never was,” he says, and though his words are cutting, his voice is still kind. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

She nods, licks her lips, eyes on the ground, and then she heads for the door. The group of girls come up to the register to pay, and you catch Namjoon’s gaze over their heads.

“I’ll see you at home,” he says, not a question, and you nod, scanning their items blindly. 

The rest of your shift crawls, uneventful and lonely, and when you finally clock out you’re dying to text Kris or literally anyone about the episode you just witnessed. 

After you lock up, you head outside of the student center. It’s dark, and freezing, and you hike your jacket up around your neck. 

A voice says your name and a hand reaches for your elbow. Every time Namjoon has startled you at the apartment and you’d jumped or dropped what you were holding pales in comparison to now; you shriek, so loud that some students further down the path turn around to check on you. 

“Jesus,” Namjoon huffs, laughing. “It’s just me.”

“Don’t grab people!” you scold, heart pounding against your ribs. “Holy shit.”

“Sorry,” he says, kind of an afterthought. “Are you going home now?”

As you come down from the adrenaline rush, things start to piece together in your head. “Were you… did you wait for me? It’s been almost an hour!”

“I know,” he says, rubbing a hand over his face. “I know. But I wanted to make sure I caught you.” 

You take a few steps in the direction of home and he follows. You start walking together this way, you leading for once. “Why?” you ask him, genuinely curious. 

He sighs, looks away from you as you cross campus together. “I wanted to tell you thank you.”

“For what?” you demand, flummoxed. 

He runs his hand down the back of his neck, still avoiding your gaze. 

Adorable, you think. 

“For being there. For all that with Elyse.”

“Firstly,” you point out, “I did literally nothing except popcorn-gif. Secondly, if you think that was dramatic, you haven’t watched enough dramas with me. That was tame. No one even cried.”

He laughs, once. “Chances are she’s crying now.” 

“What happens when the scene cuts away doesn’t count,” you tell him firmly. Then, a beat later you add, “You were admirably forth-coming with her.”

“Made me feel like shit,” he admits in a grumble. You reach out and pat his arm reassuringly. 

“I’m sure it did,” you tell him. “But this has to be better than stringing her along or something.”

He gives you a hum of agreement. “Well, anyway. Thank you.”

“Namjoon,” you say seriously, “I didn’t do anything.”

“Y/N,” he says, equally serious. “You have no idea how that would have gone if you hadn’t been there. You being there saved my ass from telling her we could talk again, if it made her happy. It stopped me from getting swept away in nostalgia, or her magic powers that make me stupid. You… grounded me.”

This knocks you into silence. It feels big, like he’s telling you a lot more than he’s actually saying. 

And, you get it. Because Namjoon makes you feel grounded, too. 

You aren’t sure what to say. You want to say thanks, because it feels like he’s given you a compliment. You want to say you’re sorry that he had to stare her down and tell her no, when - probably - at least one, little part of him wanted to say yes.

Instead, you just ask, “Are you okay?”

He shoots you a grateful look. “Yeah,” he says, “I am. Thanks.”

“Stop thanking me,” you tease, smiling, elbowing him lightly. 

He catches your wrist, tugging you closer as you walk. When you’re close enough, he wraps an arm around your waist, holding you tight through the last two city blocks.

Monday November 19th

You’ve walked to campus with Namjoon three Mondays in a row, so he waits for you this morning too, sipping his coffee at the breakfast bar patiently. As he watches the time pass, the time you normally leave together inching closer, he starts to get a little concerned. 

He tries texting you - you coming to campus today? - but you don’t answer. Finally, with about ten minutes to spare, he caves and knocks on your closed bedroom door. He hears your voice respond, muffled, but he doesn’t catch what you say.

He inches the door open, and is surprised to find that not only are you not ready to go, you’re still just a lump under your blankets.

“Y/N?” he ventures. “Are you sick?”

There’s some movement up by your head as you move the comforter enough to peer at him. “No,” you tell him, your voice a bit gravelly from sleep. “But I’m not going to campus today. You can go without me.”

“You’re not sick?” he repeats, just to clarify. There’s a little part of his brain that wonders if this is a menstruation thing, but wouldn’t he have noticed days like this in the months before now?

“No,” you repeat, and pull the blanket back up to cover your ears. 

He feels unsure, like maybe he shouldn’t just leave you here, at least without getting to the bottom of what’s going on. 

“Are you… okay?” he asks, the same question you’d asked him before the weekend, when Elyse had tried to fucking blindside him and drown him in guilt. 

“Mhm,” you say, and he waits for more, an explanation, a reassurance, anything. You give him nothing. 

“Okay,” he says finally, when he’s about five minutes late and he can’t stand it anymore. “I’m going to class. You’ll be alright here?”

You give another hum of an answer. He leaves your door open as he leaves, like it’ll help.

Concern and guilt eat at him all the way through his morning class; he can barely concentrate. He doesn’t really have time to go home between class and his TA hours, but when his professor dismisses him, he finds himself lifting his bag off the ground by his chair and heading in the direction of the apartment. 

The apartment is so quiet when he gets there that he feels a flash of relief - you’d gotten up and gone to class after all. But as he makes his way through the living room and peers into your room, it’s clear that you haven’t moved. 

What is going on? he wonders. 

“Y/N?” he says. There’s no movement, no indication that you heard him. He inches into your room, still unsure if you want him there, if he’s crossing boundaries, if he’s overstepping. “Hey, have you eaten or anything?”

Silence. He purses his lips. Words Elyse used to throw at him ring in his head - stop trying to fix it when I’m upset. I don’t want a solution, I want support. But as far as he knows, you haven’t moved all day. He goes into the kitchen and fills a glass with water and walks it back to your room determinedly. 

When he gets close enough to set the glass down on your nightstand, he can see that you're awake, laying on your side, your eyes on the wall, unblinking.

He sets it down, watching your face carefully, and backs away. He’s about to give up and head out to the living room when he hears you, quiet as a breath, whisper, “Thank you.” 

He pauses, turning back. “Can I…?” He falters, still so uncertain. “Can I stay with you?”

You don’t respond right away, the moment stretching heavy between you. Then, silent, you nod your head, just once. Something blooms in Namjoon’s chest, stretching and growing so that he feels his ribs must shift to make room for it. He circles around to the other side of the bed and gingerly sits, turning and stretching his long legs out, leaning back against your headboard. 

You don’t move, you don’t talk, so neither does he. He just stays, and waits, and watches the slant of sunlight through your blinds crawl inch by inch across your bedroom wall. After about an hour of this, he rises, needing to move to get his phone out of his pocket. He stands, trying to get some circulation back in his legs, as he dials the department head. 

“Hey,” he says, walking to your bedroom window and peering through the crack in the blinds. “I’m going to take a sick day today, okay? I didn’t have anyone scheduled… maybe Alec can take it if you need someone?”

He listens for a minute, then adds, “Yeah. Thanks, I appreciate you. Yeah, I should be fine for tomorrow. Okay. Sorry about that. Thanks again.”

When he turns back to you, you’ve actually rolled a little bit peering over your shoulder at him. “You didn’t have to do that,” you say. 

He regards you seriously. “I… think I did,” he admits. “I just don’t understand exactly why yet.”

You don’t answer, your tongue sneaking out to wet your lips. Then you reach over and flip the corner of your comforter down on the empty side of the bed, an invitation. 

He sits, as expected, sliding his legs under your blankets, and pulling the comforter up to his chest. He lays next to you for a few minutes, about six inches between your bodies. Then, emboldened, he scoots closer, rolls and wraps an arm around your middle, pulling you flush against his front. You stiffen for the barest of seconds, then melt back against him, letting out a deep breath. His hand rests against your stomach, and after a few minutes you shift to place your own hand against his, holding tight. Keeping him in place.

Namjoon might not know what’s going on with you today, he might not know the best thing to do to help you. But he knows he wants to do this - hold you close, wrap himself around you like a protective cocoon - until you tell him you don’t need it anymore. 

He thinks he drifts off for a little; he wakes, groggy, from a half-sleep, his nose buried in your hair against the pillow, his hand slack against the mattress, still touching yours. The tightness in your shoulders tells him that you’re awake, and the blue glow from outside the window tells him the sun has set behind the buildings across the street. 

He rolls a little and hugs you tight again, moving to press his face to the junction of your neck, gently. “I’m going to get up and make us something to eat,” he tells you.

“You can’t,” you tell him.

Puzzled, he asks, “Why can’t I?”

“Because I can’t save you from lighting the kitchen on fire,” you tell him seriously, and he’s so surprised that you’re joking right now that it startles a laugh out of him. 

“I’ll do a better job this time,” he promises. “I’ll start smaller. You good with ramen?”

You hum. “The spicy one. With an egg.”

He smiles against your neck, and you shiver when it tickles. “Your wish is my command,” he tells you, starting to rise. 

“Be careful,” you warn. “I’ll get used to this.”

“Nope,” he tells you, finally releasing your middle and scooting towards the edge of the bed. “Once you’re out of the bed, I go back to being normal.”

“Guess I’m never getting up, then,” you say wryly. Your phone buzzes on the nightstand - a call - and you ignore it. Namjoon leaves, making a point not to look at the screen. He knows who’s calling you, even without looking. 

In the kitchen, the water’s not yet boiling when there’s suddenly a pounding on the door. Eyeing his pot of water over his shoulder, Namjoon walks over to open it, only to find Taehyung standing there holding a bag of take-out. The relief he feels actually surprises him, but he realizes instantly that he probably should have reached out to Taehyung in the first place, to ask if he knew what the fuck was up with your sudden day of silence. 

“Thank god you’re here,” he blurts out, and watches as understanding crosses Taehyung’s face, followed by guilt.

“Ah,” Taehyung utters, upset. “I should have been here hours ago. Where is she? Has she eaten?”

Namjoon steps back to let him in. “She’s in bed,” he says. “She hasn’t moved all day - I was just heating up water for ramen for her.”

Taehyung sighs, sinking in on himself. “I’m glad you were here,” he says, so genuinely that it makes Namjoon feel sick with guilt, like he was taking part in a great deception. “I usually take care of her today. I fucked up. I didn’t realize what day it was until like half an hour ago.”

Namjoon nods at this, not sure what to say. Part of him wants to ask Taehyung for some answers; a bigger part of him would rather it come from you, when you’re ready. To give himself something to do, he moves into the kitchen to pour out half the water - he only needs to cook enough for himself, now. 

Taehyung makes his way into your room, the food bag clutched in his hands. He doesn’t close the door, and Namjoon tries not to eavesdrop from the kitchen, but he can’t help but hear Taehyung tell you, in a voice that’s absolutely sorrowful, “I’m so sorry. I’m a fucking terrible friend.”

He doesn’t hear you reply, but Taehyung says, “Yes I am. I left you alone today.”

This time, Namjoon hears your reply. “I wasn’t alone,” you tell Taehyung firmly. “Namjoon was here.”

“Good,” Taehyung says, his voice muffled, like maybe he’s hugging you in there. “Good.”

Tuesday November 20th

Namjoon awakens to the smell of bacon. Confused, he pulls a tshirt over his head, and blearily peeks his face out of his bedroom. You’re bustling around the kitchen - something he’s literally never seen before - cooking a full-course breakfast. 

“Y/N?” he ventures, and you whirl around, eyes wide, the spatula in your hand.

“Oh!” you say happily. “Come get some eggs!”

Namjoon doesn’t dare argue. He sits at the breakfast bar, still half asleep, trying to open his eyes all the way. You present him with a full mug of coffee, which he takes gratefully. Then, you load up a plate and slide it in front of him, and then you lean against the counter from the kitchen side, watching him intently.

“Yes?” he asks archly. 

You take a deep breath. “I’m sure you have questions about yesterday,” you say seriously.

He lowers his coffee cup. “You don’t have to tell me anything,” he says quickly. “Don’t feel like you owe me an explanation. I’m just… I’m glad I could be there for you. I don’t need anything else.”

You look away from him, blinking suspiciously hard. He waits you out. When you face him again, there’s something steely in your expression. 

“I have a hard time on the 19th,” you tell him. “Every year. It’s… an anniversary. For, um. For when I lost my parents.”

Namjoon’s appetite leaves him instantly. He feels himself lean forward, like he’s trying to get closer to you, like his body needs to wrap you up, just like he had yesterday. He murmurs your name, and you avoid his gaze again. 

“Anyway,” you say brusquely, “thank you for staying with me. And trying to feed me. Normally Taehyung does that.”

He wasn’t here this time, something ugly inside Namjoon thinks. 

Instead, he says, “You’re welcome. I’m glad I could… be there. I’m glad I was with you.”

Your gaze drops to the floor, then you seem to get it together and look up at him. “I am too,” you say, and the words sound heavy coming off your tongue. “So, really… thank you.”

Namjoon pauses. He wants to ask - he wants to know - but he’s afraid it’ll push you away. “Can I ask you something?” he ventures, finally. 

You look back at him, clearly nervous. “I guess,” you say, clearly uneasy.

He grimaces a little, unsure of the choices he’s made. “Yesterday… should I have called someone?” There’s a pause, where Namjoon decides to say what he actually means. “Should I have called Taehyung? Would that have been the right thing to do?”

He watches you soften, eyes widening as you realize what he’s been worrying about. You set down the dish towel that had been in your hands and come around the breakfast bar so you can look at him unobstructed.

“No,” you tell him seriously, eyes on his. “No, you did exactly what I needed.”

“Okay,” he says, reaching for his fork to try and eat some of the eggs you’d made for him. “I just wanted to make sure.”

“Namjoon,” you say seriously, and he looks back up at you, fork in hand. You shake your head, voice pleading with him to believe you. “There is not even a tiny part of me that wishes it was Taehyung with me yesterday instead of you. I promise. Okay?”

“Okay,” he says easily, taking a bite of egg. Does he believe you? He’s not sure. But he’s eager to move on; the topic’s uncomfortable. He knows he started it, but he really did want to know if he did the wrong thing. “Did you eat any, yet?”

You give him a little smile. “I was waiting for you,” you tell him. “I’ll make my plate now.”

You settle next to him, eggs and coffee cup both steaming, and you eat in silence. Namjoon can’t say what you’re thinking about, but his head is spinning. He’s thinking about how it had felt when you’d touched his hand in the bed yesterday, giving him the signal that you were okay with this, that you didn’t want him to move away. 

He’s thinking about how when he’d opened the door and found Taehyung standing on the other side, he’d felt like the person who was supposed to be with you had arrived to make it right. 

He’s thinking about how when Elyse sent his mind skittering towards old, bad habits, locking his eyes on yours had kept his feet firmly in the present. 

He’s thinking about your hips under his hands in that damn halloween costume, almost a month ago, and how he hasn’t come even close to kissing you since then.

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[juniper-sunny]

A Knight to Remember - Part 2

Medieval AU | Knight!Silco | Silco x Female!Reader | No (Y/N) | Romance | Slow Burn | Eventual Smut | Fluff || SFW | WC: 7.56k | art by @designfailure56 (full piece here) | betas: @deny-the-issue @silcoitus <3

ao3 || Part 1

Your repeated efforts to bond with your new knight are slowly but surely rewarded…

taglist (open): @sherwood-forests @ilikemymendarkandfictional @ursawastricked @quirkykaty @let-the-monster-out @ariaud

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Winter snow buried the meadow like thick furs draped over a soft bed. You felt the loss of the colorful wildflowers quite keenly, but the blank canvas of frost provided its own amusements.

The knight had never seen snow before. Despite your best efforts, he did not take to the cold well. He refused to join you in frolicking or making snow angels and only looked on in annoyance when you lobbed a snowball in his direction. He would blink furiously when a snowflake landed on his good eye and endlessly brush the falling snow from his styled hair until he started wearing his hood up, pulled low over his brow. As graceful as he was, he did trip once and fall, surprised that the snow cushioned his fall like a pillow— an icy cold and wet pillow.

The nostalgia for your younger days was potent. As children, you and your brother were allowed to freely play in the snow. All too soon, the behavior was deemed unseemly for the offspring of your lord father. It was an impulse you had not yet grown out of. After years of solitary excursions, you had forgotten how much you enjoyed having a playtime companion, even a reluctant one.

But the knight never complained, remaining as close to you as always. If you were not the daughter of his lord, there was no doubt he would have voiced his displeasure in many colorful words. As it were, you suspected he held his tongue not for your sake but your father’s. You paid the knight extra silver whenever he indulged your whimsy and made sure the kitchens supplied him generously with hot broth for his supper.

Still, the arrival of spring was more than welcome. The snowmelt was slow, the ground churning with slush and mud under your feet. Weak rays of the sun returned, piercing through the clouds as a soft caress on earth and skin. Then breezes blew in with gentle, refreshing warmth. The trees were no longer naked but dotted with little green buds, promising to grow into full leaves. You no longer trudged through piles of snow. Small piles of unmelted frost no larger than a puddle remained, none of them large enough to mischievously shove the knight into.

At the beginning of the season, the wildflowers were asleep. Nothing poked out of the dirt yet except for short grass. And yet you visited the meadow as often as you could, hoping to see the vibrant blooms once again.

The unexpected discovery was immediately visible.

From a distance, the thing was round, small, and white. At first, you thought it was another lump of snow. You paid it no mind and made to sit at your favorite spot, but the knight stepped in front of you, an arm raised in caution.

“What is it—”

The knight hushed you, turning to raise a long finger to his lips.

He stepped forward cautiously, raising and lowering his feet with the utmost care so that his steps might not be heard.

His hand drifted slowly but purposefully towards his sword, grip wrapping slowly around the hilt. Unsheathing it deliberately so that the noise was low.

At last he brought his sword to a draw. You followed him, unconsciously mirroring his pace.

You both took another step forward and then the shape sprung up. Or it tried to, before collapsing onto the ground again. 

It was a tiny wolf pup, white on its chest and grey on its back and head. Black eyes and a small nose stood out on its soft face. The breeze ruffled its short fur, no doubt fuzzy to the touch if only you could pet it. It had not yet grown into its overly large paws, sized like apples at the end of thin sticks. Pointed ears lay flat against the back of its head as it regarded you and the knight with wariness and fear. When it yelped and growled, it was too high-pitched and juvenile to be anything except adorable.

The knight seemed to feel differently. He walked more confidently and quickly forward, raising his sword to swing.

“Stop!!” you cried out when you realized his intent. “Lower your sword!”

He did but did not sheath it. When you stomped over to him, he pointed at the pup. There was a wound on a leg that you had not noticed before. The smears of dried blood on the creature’s fur obscured its severity, but the pup whined in pain and licked furiously at it. Such was its distress that it ignored the threat of the sword to tend to its own hurt. But it explained why the wild animal did not flee at the sight of humans.

“The injury is grievous. It is unlikely the pup will live to see the end of the day,” the knight said in a detached manner. “It would be a kinder mercy to give it a swift death.”

“That is not for you to decide,” you said furiously. You had already paid the knight his silver, but you shoved your whole purse in his face. “Run to the nearest alehouse and buy four legs of chicken. Return here as soon as you can. Quickly now!”

He raised an eyebrow at you, but your resoluteness left no room for debate. After he left, you backed away several paces. The creature needed space, but you still wanted to keep an eye on it. You slowly went down on your knees, lowering yourself gradually to not startle the creature. Its gaze followed you, watching you close should you lunge forward. You slouched as soon as you were able to sit. Hopefully, you were small enough that the creature would know not to fear you.

Its eyes never left you. It cocked its head at an angle, appraising you curiously. You turned your gaze away from its face, watching its paws instead. To meet its eyes would mean you were challenging it as a larger, fiercer predator.

Despite your command, the knight’s absence felt like it lasted an eternity. He was gone long enough that the pup finally lost interest in you and resumed cleaning itself. You let yourself glance at it. It was too cute and strongly resembled the pet dogs you had seen running around town.

Finally, the knight returned with a wooden plate in hand. It was stacked high with chicken legs, freshly cooked and steaming with heat. You gestured for the knight to sit next to you, and he did so with his legs crossed. In your haste, you burned your hand on the hot food. Swearing under your breath, you pulled your sleeve down as far as you could over your fingertips. It was not much use and you were forced to wait.

The pup returned the force of its full attention to you. Its nose twitched as it sniffed furiously, and it tried to stand on all four legs. The endeavor was clearly painful as it rose unsteadily, whimpering all the while. It only managed to wobble in place before it collapsed.

You touched the chicken again. It had cooled off enough that you could rip chunks of meat off. After shredding a decent amount of chicken, you took careful aim, closing one eye to gauge the distance between you and the animal. Your first throw was too long; the pup followed the trajectory of the thrown meat intently, lifting and turning its whole head when the food landed behind it. The next throw was much too accurate as it hit the pup square on the nose. It blinked and yelped again, but its consternation was soon forgotten as it sniffed and ate the offering, eyes wide with happy surprise.

You smiled at your victory. More food was tossed at the animal, and in its eagerness to eat it attempted to leap into the air. As the pup’s delight grew, so did the knight’s disapproval. His lips thinned and a notch between his brow deepened as it often did when he looked at something he disliked.

“You may speak freely, sir knight,” you said without looking at him.

He frowned, the scar on his upper lip pulling into a longer cut. “You are wasting good meat.”

“If you are so worried about the loss of food, you may have some for yourself,” you retorted. “And I would thank you to remember that you did not pay with your own silver.”

“The pup will not survive even with your help.”

“And yet I refuse to withhold my help from those who need it,” you said. His words were maddening, but you needed to focus on shredding another chicken leg. The action helped hide how your hands were shaking with anger. If you were not concerned with scaring the pup you would have rounded on the knight. “Why did you save my mother?”

His expression of surprise mirrored the pup’s, brows raising and good eye widening into a teal lake.

“Surely it would have been a ‘kinder mercy’ to let her die a swift death. And it would have been less trouble on your part to leave her to her own devices.”

“Does your mother know you speak of her this way?”

“I am not speaking of her. I am speaking of you, sir knight— and your inclination or disinclination to offer help,” you shot back at him. “Why did you come to my mother’s aid?”

He regarded you carefully, looking down his long nose at you. But for once his judgment was not turned on you. His eye was curious for your reaction as he spoke thoughtfully, “My motivations were selfish, I admit. Your mother’s carriage and retinue indicated she came from a family of wealth. I hoped to be rewarded upon her rescue.”

“Was escorting an ealdorman’s daughter part of the reward you had in mind?” you could not help yourself from asking.

“No,” he smirked. “But your father’s hospitality and silver are very generous rewards indeed.”

“And there you have it. If we let nature determine our fates then you would have me let the good people— and animals— on my father’s land starve, all for the misfortune of not being born into wealth,” you said firmly. “I would not let that happen while I am still able to offer help.”

“Help in the form of your father’s silver,” he commented dryly. Leaving unspoken his distaste for the privilege you were born into. He had never spoken of it out loud, but hearing of his formerly impoverished lifestyle made you self-conscious at times.

“It is as much part of his responsibilities as it is mine to see to their needs.”

“So you are motivated solely by a sense of duty?”

“Partly,” you admitted. “But perhaps there would be more good in the world if more people felt it was their duty to be kind.”

He stared at you now, an incisive glint in his eye as sharp as the day you first met. You turned away from it, uncomfortable goosebumps rising on your neck. The third chicken leg was ready to be shredded, so you turned your focus on that. Ripping the meat apart with more concentration than was necessary.

Finally, he dropped his gaze to the last of the food. It had cooled off considerably, and he grabbed the last chicken leg. He looked it over before biting into it. It seemed as if he claimed it for himself, but he spat out the morsel and tossed it to the wolf. It yelped in joy as it darted between the food you and the knight threw, too greedy and confused to know which bits to eat first.

“The morsels you are shredding are too large, my lady,” the knight said.

“And yet the animal does not seem to mind,” you smiled at him, grateful for his help.

You were loath to leave the pup behind. Its eyes were watchful as you and the knight departed the field, bare chicken bones left behind on the plate. Your feet followed the path home as if they had a will of their own, such was your concern for the pup that you had little room in your mind for anything else. Worry plagued you for the days to come. The wait seemed an endless infinity until you finally found your next opportunity to return to the meadow.

The pup was still there, having dragged itself to the nearby bushes for shelter. It could not put its full weight on its injured leg which was still in a bad way. There was recognition in its eyes as you made another careful approach. You were able to come a little closer than before. It growled and you stopped, although the sound was more akin to a stomach rumbling than a feral warning. You sent the knight off for more chicken and played the throwing game again when he returned.

Several months passed in this manner. After each visit, the pup allowed you to come closer and closer, closing the distance by paces. Its health seemed to improve; although it did not often attempt to walk, the animal would sit up at attention at your arrival. It did not need to lie down as often and would only do so when it had finished eating. Still staring at you with wide eyes, slow blinking as it fought the temptation to slumber in your presence. Its appetite grew as well. Soon, four chicken legs were not enough to satisfy it, as it would stare at you expectantly once you had given it everything, licking its lips in anticipation of more. The knight did pause when you asked him how much more you should buy.

“We have fed it enough, my lady. Surely we may cease feeding it,” he said. “If it should grow dependent on us then it may not learn to hunt properly.”

“It has not yet died from starvation or thirst,” you pointed out. “Perhaps it has been hunting on its own during our absences.”

“If this pup were a child, we would be indulging its laziness. It would grow into an adult with no ability to work. The aid we have already provided is more than adequate.”

His statement annoyed you, as he so often did when he disagreed with you. But you took satisfaction in his use of the word “we”. He had seemingly come around to your way of thinking even if he never admitted it out loud.

You were about to protest when the pup stood up. It limped forward cautiously. When you first arrived, you and the knight sat a fair distance away, far enough to place a long feasting table in the space between. The pup tried to cross that distance now, weighing heavily on three feet before quickly hopping on the fourth injured leg. Its gait was unsteady but its gaze was focused on you. 

The knight leapt to his feet and took a stance in front of you, putting himself between you and the animal. Clearly intent on protecting you from its approach. You had forbidden him from drawing his sword on the creature, so instead he reached out to grab it by the scruff of its neck. As his hand neared the animal, it looked up, head cocking to the side in curiosity.

Before the knight could react, the pup’s pink tongue darted out, licking the chicken grease off his hand. The animal’s eyes widened, shining with concentration as its tongue thoroughly enveloped each of the knight’s fingers in turn, engrossed in polishing off what little was left of its earlier meal. He froze in place and his stunned reaction allowed the animal to keep licking away with abandon. When it finished, it licked its lips and nose, finally satisfied that the knight’s hand was clean.

All the while, you had to suppress your laughter, clutching your sides as you heaved with silent mirth. The pup shared in your good mood and smiled at the knight, tongue hanging flappy with a great wide smile. It whined sulkily when he remained frozen. Pushing its tiny head into the knight’s palm was not enough to solicit pets, no matter how earnestly it rubbed itself against his hand. Finally, it rolled onto its back, paws flopping charmingly in the air.

The knight stood in confusion. Your giggles subsided enough to tell him, “Do indulge the creature, sir knight. It means you no ill will.”

“What does it want?” he asked, an alarmed tinge to his question.

“Have you ever played with a dog before?”

“No.”

“When a dog shows you its belly, it is a sign of submission. They are showing you their vulnerability as a way of demonstrating their trust in you. I imagine the same applies to wolves,” you added thoughtfully.

He still made no effort to move.

“It’s a show of goodwill, sir knight,” you continued. “You may demonstrate the same by obliging the creature.”

“How?”

“By petting it, of course,” you smiled at him, although with his back to you he had no way of seeing it.

You might as well have asked him to die in battle for you. He was still, no doubt some internal conflict playing out in his mind. It was easy to imagine the knight’s expression of consternation: good eye wide and brows high, his mouth fallen open to reveal the charming little gap in between his two front teeth. The thought almost made you giggle again, so you cleared your throat before stating authoritatively, “Sir knight, I order you to pet the animal. I promise you will enjoy it.”

The order seemed to turn his surprise into exasperation. He let out an almost imperceptible sigh that you noticed only because you were keen to observe what he would do next. The knight obediently sank to his knees, still slow with caution. You craned your neck to watch him place his hand on the animal’s stomach, fingertips first, before smoothing his fingers into its coat, letting his palm rest fully. Then he rubbed slowly, up and down movements ruffling the fur. He did not say anything further but you could tell he was enjoying himself, as he allowed his normally uptight posture to slouch, shoulders lowering in relaxation. Loud and happy panting from the animal filled the air. It was a point of envy that the pup warmed up to the knight first, what with the knight’s reluctance to get involved during the initial encounter. Still, it pleased you to see wonder on his face, the end of his lip twitching upward as if he was fighting the urge to smile.

You were always reluctant to return home after these outings, and for once the knight seemed to share in that unwillingness. He was always the one reminding you that the end of prayers was drawing near. This time, you were the one to let him know it was time to leave. His departure was slow, and as he made to follow behind you he cast one last look over his shoulder. As tempting as it was to tease him for his newfound attachment to the animal, you instead discussed with him how to further aid the pup’s recovery. Now that it readily accepted his touch, perhaps you could administer medical attention. The discussion was cut short when you rejoined your other attendants outside the church.

On your next trip, the knight brought a roll of bandages with him, hidden inside his pockets. Unfortunately, it had been too optimistic to hope that you could help with the pup’s injury so soon. The high-pitched yelps it unleashed when the knight grazed its injured leg were pained, and it once again growled with all the ferocity of a little beast. The knight was quick to withdraw his hands.

“Oh, you poor thing,” you sighed. It was hard to watch its suffering and be powerless to help.

“It’s alright, my lady,” the knight said encouragingly. “It will make a full recovery in time. Our aid has guaranteed it.”

You glanced at him. He met your eyes, and his expression spoke of unshakeable confidence. So strange to see this change from his distant indifference to the warm reassurance he was offering you now. The simple acknowledgment of your shared endeavor made you blush and look away. Luckily, the pup had begun licking its leg vigorously and made itself a convenient target for your gaze. You breathed deeply to calm your heart, a sudden anxiety making it jump erratically in your chest.

“What a brave pup to endure such an injury, all alone with no family in the world,” you said wistfully. A thought rested on the tip of your tongue, one that you were suddenly afraid that the knight would object to. But why did his opinion matter to you? As your knight, he would be obedient to your whims no matter how he felt about them. You pushed down your concern and spoke, “If you should go through the world alone, at least you need not be nameless, little one.”

As if it knew you were speaking to it, the pup stopped licking and looked straight at you, staring intensely. You cleared your throat and spoke softly, “You were not born a lion, but you share its courage and its heart. Leo shall be your name.”

The speech was less silly in your head. Now that it had been spoken aloud, it sounded downright ridiculous. What if the pup would not respond to the name? Did the knight think you were too childish or pompous? He did let out a noise of amusement through his nose, not a snort but a low exhale. He was too dignified to snort.

In your embarrassment you wanted to snap at him, but he spoke first. “It is a good name, my lady.”

His validation cheered you. You turned to smile at him, and he returned it with one of his own, both ends of his lips lilting lightly upwards. Not a slanted smirk that showed amusement at your expense. It brought a handsomeness to his face that you never noticed before. A loud, happy bark from Leo drew your knight’s attention, and you were glad for him to look away before he saw how your blush deepened. 

As if receiving a name had spurred its recovery, Leo was able to walk slowly but steadily towards the edge of the meadow, looking to rest under a bush. You and your knight departed in the opposite direction. Today, your sense of revelry was not just in Leo’s improved recovery but also your knight’s first sincere smile at you, although you only discussed the former with him. It saddened you to rejoin your entourage, as it meant the end of your private time with the knight. At least you could look forward to your next outing in the future.

On your way back to your father’s hall, the blacksmith Talis hailed you. You greeted him politely as he approached. It was a warm summer’s day and he was shirtless, gleaming with sweat and smeared with grime. Evidence of a long day’s labor at the forge.

“Milady,” he grinned as he took one of your hands in both of his, placing a chaste kiss on your knuckles. “Are you and your parents well?”

“We are, thank you,” you said. “I shall let them know you inquired after them. Are you in good health?”

“I am, thank you. Your lady mother’s birthday approaches, doesn’t it?” he asked.

“No, not for several more months.”

“Then I will have her gift ready for her by then,” he beamed at you. “Good day.”

“Good day, Talis.”

If you had remained in the hot forge, you would have sworn that was the reason for your discomfort; being near such blazing heat in the summertime was nigh unbearable. However, as you made your way back into town the distress persisted. What could be the cause? You turned to ask your ladies-in-waiting some idle question, hoping to determine if anyone else felt ill at ease. All seemed well with everyone else— except your knight. All warmth had drained from his being, his posture straightened to the point of near stiffness, a scowl on his lips and a notch between his furrowed brows.

More often than not, your knight’s usual demeanor was less than pleasant. But to see his previously good mood suddenly ruined caused you no small amount of worry. The rest of the day was agonizingly long and you were overly distracted, unable to put your apprehension to rest until you met privately with your knight, in the evening as he escorted you to the staircase leading to your chambers.

“Are you well, sir knight?”

“Why does the blacksmith act so familiar with you?” he asked, ignoring your question.

“Oh—” what a bizarre inquiry. It caught you so off guard, you laughed in puzzlement. “His family has served this town for generations. Talis is friendly with all who employ his services.”

“That is all he is to you? Someone your family employs?”

“Yes,” this conversation was becoming more and more strange—

“You have no interest in him beyond that?”

“No.”

“Would he say the same about you?”

“I don’t see why not. He is married, after all.”

“Is he now?” your knight raised an eyebrow at the information. “It is a strange custom here. Do all married men kiss the hands of women they have no interest in? And offer gifts to their mothers?”

“He seeks to curry favor with the ealdorman’s family, nothing more and nothing less,” you said, more bewildered than ever. To turn the tables on him, you asked teasingly, “And what about yourself, sir knight? You have lived here nearly a year now— have you met anyone of interest yet?”

For a man with a singular eye, the knight’s gaze could become extremely penetrative when he wanted it to be. It paralyzed you. Just as suddenly as it began, the interrogation was over. He bid you goodnight, leaving you to stand on the stairs alone.

The whole conversation was too peculiar to dismiss. You paced your room endlessly, repeatedly brushing your hair and remaking your bed, stopping one activity only to return to the other mindlessly. What was the purpose of the knight’s questions? Why did it feel like he did not believe your answers? Why did that possibility fill you with a sense of defensiveness? You had done nothing wrong— so why did you get the impression that your knight felt otherwise?

You stared at yourself in your mirror and shook your head. You had unintentionally made the knight into your confidante when he insisted on accompanying you on your secret outings. And it was only natural to feel a sense of camaraderie with someone you spent so much private time with. It was a mistake to assume that closeness would grow into friendship. His obligations to you began and ended with your commands and your father’s.

Perhaps he wished for your relationship to remain professional, and nothing more. After all, he had quite the withdrawn manner when he first came into your service. Was his tolerance of you solely based on staying in your father’s good graces? There had been others who sought out your friendship merely to use you as a means to an end, without any interest in forming a genuine bond with you. The knight would not be the first nor the last.

You ought to limit your interactions with him. Just as you resolved to do so, a tiny feeling of sinking disappointment settled in your chest, churning into an unpleasant sourness in the pit of your stomach. Was it so wrong to enjoy the knight’s company?

What if he found no enjoyment in your company? That notion was outrightly painful, a stinging little hurt in your heart. Your hand rose unconsciously to your chest, rubbing in circles to soothe yourself.

Well, he would think it strange if your visits to Leo ceased in such an abrupt manner. You would visit the pup for as long as it accepted your presence. Then you would stop sneaking out altogether, or at least find another way to leave the knight behind entirely.

The air in your room felt cold despite the warmth of the late summer.

───────────────── ●◉◎⚜◎◉● ─────────────────

Was it your imagination or was the knight’s morning greeting to you even icier than usual? He had a habit of speaking only when spoken to, but his answers seemed even more taciturn, opting only to nod, shake his head, or hum in acknowledgment. If you did not know better you would have wondered if he had lost the capacity for words entirely.

At least Leo did not need words to express joy at your arrival. He was waiting at the edge of the meadow for you today and barked, tail wagging excitedly. His acceptance of you had progressed to the point where he allowed you to pet him. The wolf was so jubilant that he raised his forelegs and batted you on your shoulders, almost knocking you off your feet.

Delighted, you leaned in to hug him. How had Leo’s growth escaped your notice? The wolf may have still been a pup, but only in age and not in size. His body exceeded the length of your torso, his head towering above yours when you sat on your knees. Your arms did not meet when they wrapped around him. His fur was no longer soft and thin, but now rough and thick underneath your hands. You laughed as he licked your face, his wet tongue and hot breath on your cheek. What a miraculous development! 

You glanced surreptitiously at the knight. He made no move to separate the two of you. Perhaps he had finally grown to trust that Leo truly meant no harm.

However, the wolf had not quite recovered fully. He had the bad habit of periodically reopening his wound during his sporadic moments of self-grooming. The wound’s severity was never quite as grave as the first day you met. However, the wolf would never heal properly if his self-sabotage was not prevented. Being able to hug Leo safely was a good sign that he would let you bandage him.

When you met the knight’s eyes again, there was understanding on his face. Despite whatever grudge he held against you, it was a relief to know that he would continue his involvement in your plans to help Leo. You wordlessly held out your hand for the roll of bandages just as the knight pulled it out of his pocket. After scratching Leo underneath his chin, you stood up and backed away to give the knight plenty of room.

You had instructed the knight how to restrain a hound, a method that you had learned from your brother. However, today would be the first time that the knight would put this practice into action. You watched with bated breath as the knight knelt next to Leo, patting the wolf’s back. He pressed gently on Leo’s shoulders, encouraging him to lie down. The wolf rested on the ground, staring off into the distance and panting happily, seemingly content just to have the two of you nearby. Then the knight leaned over the wolf, tucking the animal under his arm and grasping its chest with his hand. It was imperative that the knight perform this part, as his strength was greater than yours and would allow him to restrain the animal. Leo was undisturbed and merely licked his lips.

The wound was on Leo’s left hind leg, a sideways cut not dissimilar to the knight’s own scarring. It was a stroke of luck that the injury only spanned the upper half of the wolf’s leg; there would be no need to wrap the entirety of the limb. You adjusted the position of the leg on the ground, highly conscious of the knight’s proximity to you.

His back was broad, long lines sloping into the straight, handsome column of his neck. You were close enough to him that you could have bumped your forehead against his shoulder. The smells of the forest did not overshadow his scent—

Leo boofed in annoyance, his foot kicking out of your grasp. His patience at being manhandled was running out. Hastily, you unrolled the bandages. The wolf whined and squirmed but the knight’s hold was strong, allowing you to wrap the wound tightly. You backed away immediately after you finished and the knight let go as well.

The wolf instantly made to lick his leg only to be confounded when his tongue met bandaging and not skin. He licked and licked and licked, unable to reach his intended target. After a minute or so he became disinterested, turning abruptly to resume staring into the air. 

Victory! You laughed in relief and exhilaration. This had been by far the riskiest endeavor of Leo’s recovery and the pair of you successfully completed it unscathed.

“Thank you,” you told the knight, beaming at him. “You did well to earn Leo’s trust. We could not have accomplished this without it.”

The knight regarded you with an unreadable expression but he nodded. “The same goes for you, my lady. Leo’s recovery is a credit to your compassion and persistence.”

“Nonsense,” you turned away from him, blushing. You scooted forward to scratch Leo behind his ears, studying the pattern of gray and black coloration on his fur. He closed his eyes in enjoyment, mouth hanging open and tongue lolling out happily.

“It’s true, my lady,” he said simply. “Well done.”

The heat of your embarrassment burned away any words you may have used to disagree with him. Why did you choose a dress with such long sleeves and a high neckline today? It was positively oppressive in the summer season. You mumbled your thanks, pointedly staring at a spot on the wolf’s shoulder. You felt more than saw the knight sit down across from you on Leo’s other side.

(When was the last time you visited the medic? You needed to stop by at the first available opportunity. Some strange ailment had befallen you and you needed a cure: a mingling excitement and anxiety in your chest, an excessively rapid heartbeat—)

“There is no one,” the knight said.

“I beg your pardon?” you looked up at him finally. To continue avoiding his gaze when he was conversing with you would be rude.

His eye was serious, and he spoke solemnly, “To answer your previous question: I have not yet met anyone of interest.”

How strange that you felt both thrilled and dismayed by his statement. But you giggled and blurted out, “Perhaps that can be remedied. There are a number of my retainers who wish to become better acquainted with you, sir knight.” You winked at him for emphasis.

“I am aware.” Of course he was. He was too astute to not have noticed.

“And you are drawn to none of them?” you asked, surprised. “They are all good people. You need only choose your favorite— I could make proper introductions if you so wished—”

“I do not,” he said, firmly but not unkindly.

“Truly?”

He nodded. He scratched the wolf under its chin, smiling gently. Leo closed his eyes, lost in bliss.

You could not help but sigh, a heavy heart in your chest. The knight’s eye alighted on you. His examination of you this time was gentle.

 “That is quite a shame,” you said lightheartedly, or you tried to. “There will be many broken hearts among them.”

 He rolled his eye. “If they are good people then they will find love with ease.”

 “I hope so,” you said. “You all may live and love as freely as you please. If only—”

If only you could as well. You had stopped speaking, swallowing hard when a lump in your throat made it too painful to continue. As if he could sense your discomfort, Leo crawled closer to you, resting his head on your leg. His eyes were wide and doleful as he looked up at you.

“Are you betrothed?” the knight asked. His tone was casually curious.

“No,” you said, absentmindedly petting the wolf. “But perhaps it is only a matter of time. My father does intend for me to marry. If I cannot find anyone ‘worthy of our family name’, then he will choose for me.”

Even in your unhappiness, you could not help but smile at the wolf. You scratched him behind his ears, avoiding the knight’s gaze as you spoke, “I am sorry… You must think me a spoiled child… my family has more than enough silver to see me live comfortably to the end of my days, and yet I often find myself feeling caged…”

Tears welled up in your eyes. It took such an effort not to cry that you could not restrain yourself from the outpouring of complaints. “There are moments where I wish to run away when the world is too loud. And it very often becomes loud. After all, I am never allowed a moment alone except to wipe my own ass.”

The knight’s lip twitched upwards, but he continued looking at you with sympathy. “We were meant to choose our own destinies. If someone else chooses for you, then the desire to run away is only natural.”

He turned to look directly at you. His gaze was unwavering but a note of worry crept into his voice. “My lady… I have not been fully truthful with you. I wish to do so now. I cannot stop you from telling your parents, but it is my hope that you will not. You will come to understand why.

“I told you of how my brother and I lived in poverty. That was not always the case,” he said. “As orphaned babes, we were left at the church. They raised and fed us when no one else would… but they asked for too much in return. We were expected to join the clergy, to remain and serve for the rest of our days. I wanted more out of life. I asked my brother to leave with me. He was free to stay, but he chose to join me.

“The church and our community spurned us. As if wanting a life outside of monastery walls was a crime. You already know of how we lived… and my brother grew weary of it. He went back to the church and begged for their ‘forgiveness’. Played lapdog after everything we suffered. They agreed— but only if we returned together.

“I trusted him, and he betrayed me. And yet I was the unreasonable one for not wanting to rejoin the church,” he scowled darkly. 

You gripped a fist in Leo’s fur. Fury at the brother boiling inside you. “Your brother’s treachery cuts quite deeply, sir knight.”

“May you never experience the pain of betrayal, my lady,” he said. “It can break you, or forge you into something greater. But there are other ways to find strength. To become powerful enough to defy your fate. I hope to help you find it.”

What a blessing to witness so many selfless acts from your knight today. Even as he looked to you for reassurance that he had not alienated you, he still reaffirmed his loyalty.

“I am sorry you endured so much hardship, sir knight. May I say again that you deserved none of it. If there is anything I can do to lessen your pain, all you need to do is ask,” you said softly. Would that there were more words you could offer in sympathy. “I will not tell my parents if you do not wish for them to know… after all, neither of us are as devout as they would like.”

Was the joke too poorly timed? You bit your lip for your thoughtlessness. But your knight chuckled and looked at you warmly. Perhaps the worst of his pain had faded.

You dared not voice this, but you were glad for his survival. Not just because your knight deserved to live freely, but also because he somehow ended up on a path that led to you. Instead, to change the topic you asked him, “Are you happy, sir knight? It seems to me that you traded a life in service to the church for a life in service to a mortal.”

“I do not mind. This life is much more preferable. After all, I chose it for myself,” he said. “And you are a much worthier master.”

You smiled at him in thanks, but the hollow flattery of his words did not move you. His earlier compliment might not have been sincere either. It was foolish of you to forget how the knight was only pretending at kindness towards you. This reminder did not hurt any less than the first time you realized it.

It was necessary to remember it always, if only to guard your heart.

And yet you could not stop from finding happiness in the time you spent with the knight. It was too comfortable a companionship that you had yet to find anywhere else. Trusting each other with secrets you dared not share with others. Made all the more exciting by a certain irony: you were not allowed to spend time alone with any man unless you had an escort, and yet the knight seemingly did not count as a man. A loophole that made your paired outings feel more like secret trysts. No one witnessed your transgressions except for the wolf.

Now that he was bandaged, Leo’s recovery became straightforward. You and the knight changed his wrappings every time you visited him, and the wound was more improved each time you checked. No fur grew on the scar, but the skin was no longer tender and Leo no longer flinched when he was touched. You found yourself making excuses to keep attending to the wolf. His leg might still be weak in the muscle and the bandaging provided support. If the knight found your reasoning to be implausible, he did not remark on it.

Autumn passed and winter came, marking close to a whole year since you first met Leo. He had reached his full size and was now exponentially longer and heavier than you. Yet he was as playful with you as ever, clamoring to lie in your lap and disregarding how his weight crushed your legs into the ground.

A sudden change fell over him as you unwrapped his leg. He stared out into the woods, beyond the horizon. Contemplating something that was beyond your perception. The impulse to hug him overwhelmed you, but as you wrapped your arms around him he moved away, stepping out of your grasp. He stalked away easily towards the edge of the meadow where the trees grew thicker in number. It was as if he had never been injured at all.

Leo turned to look at you and the knight. His eyes were the same brilliant white as the snow on the ground. Staring at you with some unrecognizable emotion. Or perhaps he looked at you with no emotion at all. There was no sign of the pup you nursed to health; only a wild beast remained. Perhaps it was his gratitude to you that did not compel him to run away unceremoniously.

You and the knight stared back at Leo. You dared not breathe too loudly, nor run up to the wolf and pet him one last time.

Because there was the unshakeable conviction that this was the last time you would ever see Leo again.

He turned and loped into the woods, soft footfalls lightly crunching the snow underfoot.

And then he was gone forever.

It should have been a joyous occasion. He was never meant to stay with you as if he were a pet, in such close proximity to other humans who may have wished him harm. His full recovery guaranteed his survival as he rejoined the wild, as he was always meant to do.

But the world blurred as tears welled in your eyes. You sniffed and turned away from the knight, not wishing to cry in front of him. Were your parents struck by a similar sense of grief when your brother grew old enough to travel on his own? It was an irrational thought that would not leave you.

You hunched over, hands covering your face. As if that would prevent the knight from noticing your sobs. The notion that he was bound by your orders to never speak of this to anyone provided little consolation in your devastating sorrow.

The knight sat as near to you as possible. His knee almost touched yours. He moved his hand towards you but stopped just shy of touching your shoulder. He clenched it into a fist and kneaded his thigh.

“He will hunt often and well, my lady,” said the knight. “I do hope that might provide you some solace.”

It did, but not enough to stop the tears. It was many moments longer before you could catch your breath and compose yourself. The knight sat next to you the whole time, a quiet source of comfort that could not touch you but nevertheless felt like twin arms wrapping around your heart.

Part 3

[flock-from-the-void]

♾ (for the story based on song game)

Hi! Thank you for participating! Sorry that it took this long, haha...

Anyway, the song is 🥁🥁🥁

Brutal

wc: 1395 universe: Mirage of Spring tw: self harm, suicidal ideation, cursing

“Rú Zhèng!” sect leader Wǔ screamed, her eyes filled with a fury of a snowstorm. “How dare you? For the minister of ceremony to disrespect a sacred sect this bluntly!”

Rú Zhèng starred in the abyss before her. Her robes, wide at the hemline and collar tightly hugging the woman’s neck, were giving her an impression of a lonely mountain. Tiny figurines of high-mountain birds were sitting on her silver hairpins and her face was so pale as the snow.

Sect leader Wǔ couldn’t look at this expressionless white sheet. “Does this mean nothing to you?! So insolent!”

Loud slap pierced the room, all the elders of Dòng​chuān sect froze in place. A splash of blood stained the snow – Rú Zhèng’s cheek turned bright red. Regardless, Rú Zhèng bowed deeply. “This lowly minister will pass on the sect leader’s response to her majesty. Thank you for discussing this matter with me.” She turned in place and, followed by dozens of eyes, she left the main hall.

Outside the snow quickly covered her blush. She was slowly passing the buildings of Dòng​chuān. Like a noble crane she was taking slow steps, her wide sleeves turned into wings by the wind. Only up close to her face, examining her eyes, one could see a hint of tears.

She was breaking.

She went through the sect’s gate and turned left, towards the mountain’s base. It wasn’t the time to leave the mountain yet – a small group of servants was waiting for her in the guest room. Her steps were turning into springs. She didn’t want to see them. They still didn’t dare to insult her directly but whispers and glances pained even more – like a precise needle could cause worse injuries than a punch.

This crane flew through the mountain until the snow made the air so dense, she couldn’t see a thing – only endless whiteness. She was truly just a part of nature, her soul just as blank and full of mourning.

She tripped. The coldness covered her, and the only thing she wished for was becoming one with it, like a snowflake that falls and fades, and not even a memory of it remains. Who would look for her? Who would cry for her?

“Hey, someone lies there?” a voice rapidly stopped her thoughts. A slender face full of beauty marks broke through the nothingness. A rough hand swiped down the frost from her chest. “Zhèng-jiě, what on earth are you doing?”

Rú Zhèng rubbed her eyes. Was it…?

“Come on, Zhèng-jiě,” the person helped her to stand. They hold her close. A warm sincere hug was something she hadn’t experienced for a long time, a faint blush bloomed on her cheeks.

“What are you doing here, cultivator Rú?” she asked, as they were strolling in an unknown to her direction.

“What am I doing here? Sweet idiot, you’re maybe an hour away from my sect. It would be surprising if I wasn’t here.”

“You have a point,” she murmured.

“And don’t address me so officially. Please, we’re family. And friends, hopefully.”

Rú Báiyàn was her cousin from the father’s side. Usually they were meeting under official circumstances. Truth be told, she wasn’t sure if they had ever talked like this, without formalities and prying eyes of others. Rú Zhèng was a bit uncomfortable with familiarity glazing her words, yet being called “Zhèng-jiě”... it had a certain… appeal. Warm and sweet appeal.

They entered a cave. It was lightened with candles and lanterns, and full of things of all kinds. Rú Zhèng sat on a blanket and covered herself with another one. While Rú Báiyàn was boiling the water, she inspected the space. The walls were painted in random patterns. Dragons, butterflies and clouds were flying above the mountains of real bamboo strips and empty wine jars. Some poems were dangling under the lanterns, and she noticed a bunch of colorful instruments. Among all that, some lonely pots, fans and shoes were wandering.

Rú Báiyàn noticed the movement of her eyes and started to explain: “the sect leader doesn’t like excessive drinking, so we created this place. I’m pretty sure she knows about it but isn’t evil enough to end it. I mean, it’s not without a benefit for her, the bonds among the disciples and masters of Dòng​chuān were never this tight. Nothing brings people together like a good wine, right?”

“I suppose.” But what she could know about it?

Rú Báiyàn stretched her hands and gave her a cut cup filled with the water. She sat next to her. Without any shame, she rested on Rú Zhèng’s arm. The latter halted for a second, moved by the sudden touch. A drop of ink could change the color of a cup of water, a warm gesture could change the mood of a person. And so Rú Zhèng felt faint happiness.

This wasn’t good. After all, Rú Báiyàn was from the Rú family – from the people who abandoned her. Without their support, she lost everything to Dū Cuán, her right-hand man who she was supposed to trust. Even if they didn’t care for her, they should at least protect the honor of the family, but they ignored every humiliation. No one saw her as a part of the Rú clan anymore. She had no family.

Thoughts were painfully pulsating in her mind. Her skin was itching. If only she could shed it like a snake… but she couldn’t. Snakes were leaving their past life behind and just starting anew with a fresh form – she wasn’t seeking that. Maybe she was more like a squirrel who had changed her fur for the winter and now desperately tried to get the previous one back; yet she could only wait for the change in the world.

Her fingers wandered towards the fireplace. They were like… Ah, they weren’t like anything, she shouldn’t be… She should be… She should be here… Just a little bit further and… She dipped her fingertips in a flame and let go a sigh of relief. She became physical again.

Her hand was forcefully removed from the fire but she felt refreshed already. She took the hand back and glanced at Rú Báiyàn. “Sorry,” she said icily. There were no tables, so she put her empty cup on the floor. The blanket became a neat rectangle in her hands. She stood up with grace. “Thank you for trusting me with this place and your hospitality, táng​mèi.”

Rú Báiyàn’s face was frozen in shock. The second she came back to her senses, she shouted: “Zhèng-jiě!”

Rú Zhèng felt silent. She was so confused.

“How could you…” Rú Báiyàn’s brows met in the middle, the flickering light of the fire made her look more aggravated than she really was. She caught Rú Zhèng’s arm again and then she said slowly, carefully articulating every syllable: “I want to help you.” Even though Rú Zhèng gave her a confused and angry look, she didn’t fight back, so the woman continued: “tell me, why should you bear the weight of Rú Sàizhuàn’s decisions? That old ungrateful bitch pushed you to a puddle of mud and expected you to stay servile. But you can pull her in, can’t you?”

“But they are…” Rú Zhèng bit her tongue. She was not a part of the Rú family, so she was not bonded by any duty. It was as if a wall in front of her was turned into rubble and she could see a rising sun again. A mass of flaming red rage which filled not only her view but also her soul. 

She crouched, dragging Rú Báiyàn with her, and picked another charred stick. It moved so rapidly, as if gods were supporting her case and hand – a mere martial artist couldn’t avoid it. A scream filled the air. Never in her life Rú Zhèng was so free. Her wings grew again on her back – from a crippled crane she was reborn into a hawk.

“Please, forgive me” she said with no remorse in voice. “Your only sin is being of the Rú family, Yànyan, but it’s a sin nonetheless.”

Laughter exploded from Rú Báiyàn’s mouth and she couldn’t help joining in. Shivers were flaring up and dying out in her body. She felt so purified.

“Now,” Rú Báiyàn cut the laughter abruptly. “Let’s fry the rest of the pests, right?”

Mirage of Spring taglist: @cruorons, the taglist is always open!

[the-pantry-of-art]

Full character design- #3 & #4

Erin Hunter character- #3 & #4

WC character- #3 & #4

*[ design info ]: Misty Water- She's depressed after losing her husband Broken Feather to starvation. She's also nearly compleatly blind and have a poor hearing. Skin on her paws have been burned out by frostbite. Thou not like in most cases her ears have't been demaged by it. 'couse insted of being more skiny, they're more 'fleshy', thick, fairly small (or at least smaller then avreage) & coverd in protective layer of fluffy fur.

in my AU she's also Quiet Rain's mother !

So, she's kin to Clear Sky, Grey Wing, Fluttering Bird & Jagged Peak!

Snow Hare-Her paws are covered in thick fur and her paw pads are coarse & rough so, more resistent to cold and overall serve better protection in moutainous terrain. She have only stumps of her ears, originally they were quite big but later as a young lass she have been stuck for a long time on a stone shelf in the middle of winter unable to get out. As a result her ears had third stage of frostbite, and Stonteller (Half Moon) unfortunetly have to cut them of using a broken piece of flint.

She's Silver Frost's sister

[clover-warriorcats-main]

PART 2

PART 1

- Q -

Quailfeather (CotC)

Quailfeather (TBC)

Quailheart

Quailkit (WC)

Quick Water

Quickpaw

Quiet Rain

Quietkit

Quince

- R -

Rabbitear

Rabbitfur

Rabbitleap (SkC)

Rabbitleap (TC)

Rabbitstar

Rabbittail

Rage (Boar)

Raggedstar

Rain (AVoS)

Rain (DotC)

Rain That Passes Quickly

Rain That Rattles On Stones

Raincloud

Raindrop

Rainfall

Rainflower

Rainfur (SkC)

Rainfur (TC)

Rainleap

Rainsplash

Rainstorm

Rainswept Flower

Rainwhisker

Rapidkit

Rascal

Ratscar

Raven (AVoS)

Ravenpaw

Ravenstar

Ravenwing

Red (SD)

Red Claw

Redclaw

Redscar

Redstar

Redtail

Redthistle

Redwillow

Reed Tail

Reedclaw

Reedfeather

Reedshine (CotC)

Reedshine (MV)

Reedstar

Reedtail

Reedwhisker

Reena (KP)

Reena (Ro)

Ridgekit

Riga

Rileypool

Ripple Shine

Rippleclaw

Ripplestar

Rippletail (RC)

Rising Moon

Riverstar

Roach

Robinkit

Robinstar

Robinwing (RC)

Robinwing (SkC)

Robinwing (TC)

Robinwing (WC)

Rock

Rock Beneath Still Water

Rockfall

Rockshade

Rocky

Rook

Rooktail

Root

Rootspring

Rose (FQ)

Rose (TS)

Rosebush

Rosepetal

Rosetail

Rowanberry

Rowanclaw(star)

Rowanfur

Rowankit (ASC)

Rowanstar (CotC)

Rubblekit

Rubblepaw

Ruby

Rufus

Rumble

Running Fox

Running Horse

Runningbrook

Runningnose

Runningstorm

Runningwind

Rushpaw (BotC)

Rushtail (RC)

Rushtail (WC)

Rushtooth

Russetfur

Rust

Ryestalk

Ryewhisker

- S -

Sage (Lo)

Sagenose

Sagewhisker

Samwise (Dog)

Sandgorse

Sandstorm

Sandynose

Sasha

Scarlet

Scooby

Scorchfur

Scorchwind

Scourge

Scout

Scowl

Scrap

Scraps

Scree (Ro)

Scree Beneath Winter Sky

Screech Of Angry Owl

Scruff

Sedgecreek

Sedgestar

Sedgewhisker

Seedpaw

Seedpelt (FQ)

Seedpelt (MV)

Seedpelt (PC)

Seville

Shade Pelt

Shaded Moss

Shadepelt (AVoS)

Shadepelt (TPB)

Shadestar (Tiger)

Shadowsight

Shadowstar

Shannon

Shanty

Sharp Hail

Sharpclaw (SkC)

Sharptooth (Cougar)

Shattered Ice

Sheeptail

Sheer Path Beside Waterfall

Shell Claw

Shellfur

Shellheart

Shimmerpelt (BrS)

Shimmerpelt (CP)

Shine

Shiningheart

Shivering Rose

Shnuky

Shorty

Shredtail

Shrewclaw

Shrewfoot

Shrewpaw (TC)

Shrewtooth

Shy Fawn

Shyfrost

Shyheart

Silt

Silver

Silver Frost

Silver Stripe

Silverflame

Silverhawk

Silvermask

Silverpaw (BotC)

Silverpaw (TPB)

Silverstream

Skipper

Skyheart

Skystar

Skywatcher

Slant

Slash

Slate (DotC)

Slate (IH)

Slatefur

Slatepelt

Sleek Fur

Sleekwhisker

Slightfoot

Sloefur (RC)

Sloefur (ShC)

Smallear

Smallstar

Smoke

Smokefoot

Smokehaze

Smokepaw (SotC)

Smokepaw (TNP)

Smoketalon

Smoky

Smudge

Snail (Ro)

Snail (Sister)

Snail Shell

Snailpaw

Snake (DotC)

Snaketail (FQ)

Snaketail (PoT)

Snaketooth (RC)

Snaketooth (ShC)

Snapper

Snaptooth

Sneezecloud

Sniff

Snipe

Snipkit

Snookthorn

Snow (Sister)

Snow Falling On Stones

Snow Hare

Snow Tail

Snowbird

Snowbush

Snowdrop

Snowflake (KP)

Snowflake (Ro)

Snowfur

Snowkit (TPB)

Snowstar

Snowtuft

Snowy

Socks

Softpelt

Softwing

Sol

Songbird

Songleap

Soot

Sootfur

Sorrelshine

Sorrelstripe

Sorreltail

Sparkpelt

Sparrow (CotP)

Sparrow (Ro)

Sparrow (Sister)

Sparrowfeather (DF)

Sparrowfeather (StC)

Sparrowpelt (SkC)

Sparrowstar

Sparrowtail

Speckle

Specklepaw

Speckletail

Spider (Lo)

Spider (Sister)

Spider Paw

Spiderfoot

Spiderleg

Spiderpelt

Spiderstar

Spike (Dog)

Spikefur

Spiketail

Spireclaw

Spiresight

Splash (KP)

Splash When Fish Leaps

Splashfoot

Splashheart

Splashkit (CP)

Splashnose

Splashpaw (TNP)

Splashtail

Splinter

Spotfur

Spotted Fur

Spottedleaf

Spottedpaw (ShC)

Spottedpelt

Spring Claw

Squirrel (CotP)

Squirrel (Sister)

Squirrelfur

Squirrelstar

Squirrelwhisker

Stagleap (TC)

Stagleap (WC)

Stalk Purr

Star Flower

Star That Shines On Water

Starlingfeather

Starlingwing

Stemleaf

Stempaw (ASC)

Stick

Stoat

Stoatfur (ShC)

Stoatfur (SkC)

Stone (DotC)

Stone (HJ)

Stone (Sister)

Stone Song (DotC)

Stone Song (PoT)

Stoneclaw

Stonefur

Stonepelt

Stonestar

Stonestream

Stonetooth

Stonewing

Storkkit

Storm (Ro)

Storm Clouds At Dusk

Storm Pelt

Stormcloud

Stormfur

Stormheart

Stormtail

Streak

Stream

Streamkit

Stretch Blink

Strike Slash

Strikestone

Stripekit

Stripes

Stripestar

Strong Pounce

Stumpytail

Sun Shadow

Sunbeam

Sunfish

Sunflower

Sunnypelt

Sunnytail

Sunpelt (Lion)

Sunpelt (SkC)

Sunrise (Sister)

Sunshine

Sunspots

Sunstar

Sunstrike

Susan

Suzy

Swallow

Swallowflight

Swallowtail (RC)

Swallowtail (WC)

Swampkit

Swankit

Sweetbriar

Sweetpaw

Sweetums

Swift (DotC)

Swift Minnow

Swiftbreeze

Swiftflight

Swiftfoot

Swiftpaw (TPB)

Swiftstar (Leopard)

Swiftwing

Swoop Of Chestnut Hawk

- T -

Tadpole

Tallpoppy

Tallstar

Talon Of Swooping Eagle

Talonpaw

Talonstar

Tangle

Tangleburr

Tanglepaw (RC)

Tanglewhisker

Tansy

Tansypaw (SkC)

Tawnyfur

Tawnypelt

Tawnyspots

Taylor

Teller Of The Pointed Stones (OotS)

Teller Of The Pointed Stones (TNP)

Tempest

Tess

Thistle (Ro)

Thistle (TC)

Thistleclaw

Thistleheart

Thistlepaw (CotC)

Thistlepaw (TNP)

Thistletail

Thorn (SkC)

Thorn That Grows In Cleft

Thornclaw

Thorntooth (Tiger)

Thrushpelt (TC)

Thrushpelt (WC)

Thrushtalon

Thrushwing

Thunderstar

Tiger Tail

Tigerstar (AVoS)

Tigerstar (TPB)

Timberfur

Tiny Branch

Tinycloud

Toad (Ro)

Toadfoot

Toadskip

Toadstep

Tom (ES)

Tom-Tom

Tommy

Tornear

Tree

Trout Fur

Troutclaw

Troutkit

Troutstar

Troutstream

Tulipkit

Tumble Leap

Tumblekit

Tuna

Turtle Tail

Turtlecrawl

Turtlekit (ShC)

Twig

Twigbranch

Twigtail

Twist

Twisted Branch

Tyr

- V -

Velvet (AVoS)

Velvet (SD)

Victor

Vinestar

Vinetail

Violet

Violet Dawn

Violetshine

Vixenleap

Voleclaw

Volestar

Voletooth

Volewhisper

- W -

Wafflepaw

Wanderkit

Wasp

Wasptail

Waspwhisker

Wavepaw

Weaselfur

Weaselkit

Weaselwhisker

Webfoot

Webkit

Webster

Wee Hen

Weedwhisker

Weevil

Wetfoot

Whiskers

Whisper Claw

Whispering Breeze

Whisperkit

Whistle

Whistlepaw

White Tail

Whiteberry

Whitebreeze

Whiteclaw

Whitefang

Whitestar

Whitestorm

Whitetail (StC)

Whitetail (WC)

Whitethroat

Whitewater

Whitewing

Whorlpelt

Wildfur

Wildkit

Willie

Willow Stream

Willow Tail

Willowbreeze

Willowclaw

Willowkit (CP)

Willownose

Willowpelt

Willowshine

Willowstar

Windflight

Windstar

Wing Shadow Over Water

Wish Stalk

Wishkit

Wolfheart

Wolfstep

Woodkit (RC)

Woodlouse

Woodsong

Woody

Woollytail

Wrenflight (SkC)

Wrenflight (WC)

- Y -

Yarrowleaf

Yellowfang

Yellowstar

Yew

Yew Tail

- Z -

Zack

Zeke

Zelda

Ziggy