#also sorry just understood what a spare umbrella is a reference to

[perrie-edwards]

this is the fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17448965/chapters/41085542#workskin it’s GOOD okay😭😭😭

i went into the patrick/rihanna tag and this is the only other fic and it's inspired by the one you linked. it starts with bronx going "aunt rihanna!" 😭 did pete wentz himself write this

[vangoddamn]

Resolutions are bad

y/n makes a new years resolution, van makes it hard for her to keep.

Warnings: None, but I cried writing this lol

The new years you made the resolution to stay away from him you were too drunk to realise how impossible that was. You were also too drunk to realise that even if you could stay away from him, he couldn’t do the same for you. To be honest his friends warned you, made sure you knew Van wanted something serious. The thing was no one warned Van that you couldn’t cope with the distance.

But there you were three months into the new year with a bottle of wine trying to figure out how you’d avoid him when he came back from tour next week. See it’s all well and good ignoring someone's calls because they’re halfway around the world. But, when they come back you really can’t hide and well it’s not like you’ll want to. 

Van makes you a different person, before you met him the idea of throwing your life away for someone else would make you spit in their face. But with him, well the more you spent time with him and even more away, the more it made you want to quit your job and follow him wherever.

He never understood why you broke up with him, really you didn’t. Of course, you could pretend it was about your shitty job that meant you could keep living in your shitty apartment. When really the reason you did it was because you were scared, scared of waiting for him to realise he was too good for you, scared of the day he'd come home and forget you existed and just wouldn’t call. Bored of waiting for him to realise you weren’t good enough for him and he leave.

It wasn’t even an excuse and the more you thought of it the more it broke your heart. You knew he’d never even thought of that, he never thought about the bad stuff. So when he came back you let him knock on the door and you let him leave a thousand voice mails. 

Every night after he came back from the tour a dozen answer phone messages were left on your phone. And every night you’d slide down the wall of your flat with a tub of ice cream and cry. 

----

The day had dragged on more than usual, too much paperwork and too much rain. By the time you had dragged yourself home bidding farewell to your co-worker at the bus stop, accepting your feit of no umbrella, you trudged home. The bus didn’t go to your part of town, the dodgy end. And well even if it did you doubt you’d be able to afford it.

The rain lashing down soaked into your jacket, the white shirt underneath sticking to your cold skin. You could definitely feel the goosebumps on your arms, a warning that if you didn’t get back home soon you’d freeze to death. In a bid to get there quicker you picked up the pace, instantly regretting it when you ran into a puddle, water splashing up your legs. Running seemed almost impossible now, your tights rubbing feverishly against your skin and boots.

You felt like an emotional wreck, feeling tears run down your face. It was at this point you forgot about what you had done and the resolutions you’d made, all you wanted was Van. You just wanted him to give you one of those warm hugs and tell you it’s going to be alright. He was always good at that. 

So when you got back to your flat and ran up the stairs, the elevator had been broken a while, you didn’t even second guess the fact the door was unlocked. You just stumbled in, shutting the door and sliding down it, tears falling down your cheek in the most unattractive way. Panting to try and calm yourself down, only making it worse. You cursed anything pure in the world trying to get your shoes off, prying the leather boots from your cold sticky legs.

“Fuck, I just want Van!” You huffed thinking out loud, giving in and leaving your boots half unzipped. You rested your head against the door, closing your eyes, trying to stop any more tears from erupting.

That was before you felt a warmth cloud you, a warm and cosy hug lifting you up and a soft kiss to your forehead. You felt a small tear roll down your cheek when you could smell that familiar scent. A calming breath out when you felt those calloused fingers brush it away almost as soon as it appeared.

“Van?” You whispered, scared that it wasn’t and you’d been dreaming his presence in your overworked head. But even the most tired of emotions couldn’t dream up the true reality of this. He was truly there, placing you down on your warm bedsheets.

You opened your eyes slowly to reveal, Van slowly easing your leather boots off your feet. You were happy to see his face, having not seen it in too long. But your happiness soon faded once you noticed his purple bags under his eyes and the messiness of his hair. The type of messy due to him combing his hands through with stress. He looked skinnier than usual and it made you feel empty inside. Not empty, full of regret and deep down guilt. 

Because you’d always been the one to remind him to put the guitar down and eat. You’d always been the one to talk him to sleep or kiss his back until you heard his breathing regulate. You felt guilty when you knew the job of looking after his poor soul would’ve been handed over to the lads. And although you loved them and knew they’d try their hardest, Van was tricky. But he was your tricky and seeing him almost as broken as you hurt.

You were allowed to hurt, but not him.

He was able to pry your shoes off, leaving him to carefully roll your tights down, revealing the blisters you had made. “y/n, these look sore” He sighed, a worried tone to his voice, matching his face. 

All you could do was let out another sob, apologizing between breaths. He turned even more worried moving towards you, crouching over your body, his hands cupping your face. 

“I’m so sorry Van, I thought I could cope without you... I thought if I let you go and be with someone you deserve I’d be fine. But I’m not” You tried to get it all out, the words barely audible over you ugly sobs and harsh breaths.

“What, no, love calm down please” He begged kissing your forehead, making you realise how much you missed those lips. “Come ‘ere” He whispered moving off you and pulling you into his lap.

You lay in his arms for a while, your head resting on his chest whilst he massaged your scalp, stroking down loose bits of hair. Your eyes fluttered shut and your arms were tightly wrapped around his waist.

“Love, is that why you did it?” He sounded wounded and as if he’d cry. You knew he wouldn’t but there were tears in his eyes. You knew what he was referring to, the words you blurted out. You couldn’t answer with words, opting to just nod your head.

“y/n why would you think that? All I’ve ever wanted and will ever want is you. I can’t imagine being with anyone else, I just couldn’t” His words were soft, trying not to sound too panicked.

“Van” You tried but couldn’t come up with anything worth saying. He moved under you, sitting up straighter, slowly peeling off the wet clothes that clung to your body. Soon enough you were just in your underwear and the hoodie Van had on before he placed it over your head. He went to your dresser, remembering where everything was like nothing had happened getting out some of your fluffiest socks.

“How come you're here?” You asked whilst he pulled the covers over your tired frame.

“I came over to try and talk, but when it got late and started raining I got worried and used the spare key, I hope that’s ok. I know it’s a little intrusive” He explained before you cut in.

“No Van I needed you.” You admitted looking up to him with sad eyes, worried he might leave. 

“Your the strongest person I know, you don’t need anyone”

“That’s not true” You whined like a child getting out of bed, walking over to where he stood in the doorway. “Please don’t go” You had him right in front of you and even if he tried you didn’t think you’d ever be able to let him go again.

“y/n, your tired love” You could tell what he was doing and you didn’t blame him. He thought that if he stayed he’d get too comfortable and in the morning you’d push him away. But now you’d seen him, felt him, you wanted nothing more than for him to just get comfortable again.

“I’m tired because I can’t sleep without you. It’s worse than when I thought you might leave me cause now your already gone, and it’s my fault. I can’t breath when I think about it Van, I need you” You rambled on trying to make him stay but he’d already wrapped himself around you when another tear surfaced. 

“You don’t know how much I missed you” he mumbled into your hair, leading you back to bed where this time he joined you in his usual spot. 

This time around you knew you had to tell him how you felt. Yes it killed you to think about how much better he could do but it killed you, even more, to be without him.

"I hate resolutions" You mumbled into him.

“Me too” He whispered back, letting you fall asleep in his arms tear-stained cheeks but happy you had him back. You knew it would be hard to explain everything properly in the morning but the lack of energy mixed with Vans presence lead you to sleep quickly. At least he was home.

A/n: I might just be overly emotional but yes, I did cry writing this and I have no regrets! Lol hope you loves are all doing well, I've been busy writing recently so i'm thinking my posting days for the future will be every sat/Sunday and maybe the extra little midweek treat depending on how much time I have, hope you had a nice week! xx em

[war--lords]

Hanayome

Warnings: Female!Reader, mild family conflict, possible inaccuracy Word count: 3,648 Tagged: #hanayome Translations and important notes:

Irouchikake is a colorful variant of the bridal kimono, while shiromuku is the kind that is all white. 

Norito chants are a form of Shinto prayer/incantation.

Shimenawa refers to the special rope used to signify something holy, like trees, for example.

Tengu literally means ‘heavenly dog’, but in mythology, they are portrayed to take the form of birds of prey.

This has really gotten out of hand—I know it’s not nearly as popular as my other fics, but I genuinely enjoy writing this, going so far as to stay up late and make multiple edits :’) So I hope you enjoy reading it!

Part 1 Part 3

2.

Not long ago you were dressed in a rush with the help of at least four other miko, and now, an intricate hairstyle sitting atop your head and donning an irouchikake, you stand before the red gate, eager to make the ascent. Your garbs are especially audacious when compared to Kiku’s shiromuku: its scarlet base, just as the god Tengu demands, brings out the black-colored designs, and on top of that are auspicious imagery filled with white and outlined in what seemed to be gold thread. It appears to shine as you walk.

If Kiku looked like winter’s first snow, you looked like autumn’s burning foliage. 

Your attire is the last thing on your mind, however. It never crossed your mind that you would actually climb up those sacred stairs to the Seiiki just the way you imagined it earlier, while you were half-asleep and angry. There is still a low fire kindling at the bottom of your gut, but it is more determination than vexation. You’ve hugged Kiku and your mother after you got dressed—they held you in their arms as if it would be their last time seeing you, but a part of your demeanor shows as though you were only meeting the god Tengu to talk. You’ve yet to decide if that’s a form of denial. 

As for your father, you knelt before him and kept your head down for the appropriate amount of time. You don’t know what kind of face he made. You don’t really care.

Something inside you tells you that it’d be better for them without you. You hastily brush that thought away, realizing that the voice is the same one who whispers only ugly things to you. It’s not as if your fate is sealed, anyway—you’re adamant to show the god Tengu that he isn’t the only one with demands, and the first one you’ll declare is for that harrowing mark on Kiku’s neck to disappear. You won’t leave until it is done.

Then again, you’re not sure if you want to go back to the temple. Do you? Unconsciously your eyebrows knit, the first symptoms of your overthinking. You’ll deal with the problem when the problem arises, you decide. Pondering won’t be of much help. 

You look back to the unmoving scene behind you: your family, standing in a row in their ceremonial garbs, followed by the whole of the temple. They are all completely still, with little to no emotion betrayed by their faces. Only Kiku appears to be misty-eyed, most likely from how downright absurd the tables turned. As your gaze falls on her you spy the red string around her neck. You choose to flash her a small smile, but you find yourself not knowing what it means. “You’ll be fine on your own”? “I’m sorry it turned out this way”? “I’ll be back”? Somehow you mean all of that and, at the same time, none of them feel right.

You spare one final glance at your parents before walking out the red gate. Despite your mild fever, your steps are wide and sure, not as fast as the vision you saw in your mind’s eye, but just as driven. The evenfall rain thins out into a light shower. Still, you have an umbrella in one hand, the traditional lantern gripped tightly by the other. The young miko from earlier follows closely behind you—she volunteered to climb again because she was “already wet anyway”, but everyone insisted that she carried an umbrella nevertheless.

If the steps aren’t so slippery you would already be running, you mentally note.

Up and up you go, feeling the air change ever so slightly with each inhale. The rustle of bamboo leaves to your left and right becomes the new silence to your ears, with only the occasional whistle of wind as an almost musical accompaniment. Rain brings out a nostalgic smell from the ground—it reminds you that your feet are still on earth, and that the soil on top of Mount Kurama the same soil on top of which the village is built.

You think that the twists and turns of the steps are rather broad compared to what it looks like from afar. In person, it feels more like a gentle change of direction, and it makes you pay more attention to the mountain, like you are feeling where the ground is level and where it slopes. Your mind maps it out almost like a human body: alive.

The thought helps especially because it feels like you are climbing a stairway to heaven.

You preoccupy yourself with the topology—anything to stave away excessive, useless rumination. You find that norito chants prove to be effective as well. 

To your disdain, however, climbing a seemingly endless flight of stairs does things to your mind. It has to be quite a while since the start of your climb, and your eyes are beginning to spin from looking at the same pattern of stones many times over. The mantras lose their purpose as soon as muscle memory takes over, your lips mechanically forming the words, robbing your mind from the necessity to think it through. Your fingers adjust their grip on the umbrella and you purse your lips.

You can’t help but think about Kiku, and you briefly wonder if she thought about you too during her ascent.

It is not off the mark for you to assume that the holy steps are also a place of trial, for the things you recall about your shared childhood with Kiku seems to highlight only the darkest moments. You know that it was overall a pleasant, peaceful experience, growing up with her, but the steps… it’s as if every single bitter knot in the deepest crevices of your mind has surfaced because of it, no matter how small and ugly they may be.

She is the temperate lake to your forest fire.

Not exactly loving words coming from a father, but not exactly lies. Kiku has always been the milder one, and you know that this has led to her being more well-liked. She isn’t absolutely obedient and meek, but compared to you, she appears so. After all, you are always the one to question, accepting the argument that inevitably occurs in the aftermath. Perhaps that was why you weren’t as popular with the boys when you were young—you were close to plenty of them, but only as a friend, never a love interest. 

Kiku was very popular. Still is. In fact, when that fateful arrow shot the temple roof, many brave—borderline foolish—men offered a more... confrontational kind of solution in hopes of saving her from her destiny. Your father declined, however. They would simply perish before the god Tengu and further fuel his anger, which would do the village no favors whatsoever. You remember how it was the same back in the day—a lot of boys enjoy helping out Kiku, perhaps viewing her as nothing more but a powerless pretty girl, but you were always there for her first. Subconsciously, your lips tug into a small smile.

With that many pursuers, you wonder if Kiku had any lovers. You recall some who were close to capturing her heart, but she was very young and feeble, maybe a little scared of the idea about a relationship—especially after your father found out about one particular boy she was close to and drove him off, forbidding Kiku from ever seeing him again. His family wasn’t distinguished enough in your father’s eyes, this much you understood even while you were younger. You remember feeling angry about it.

“I swear I love him,” she cried in your arms that night, “so much...”

That was probably the hardest she’s ever cried in front of you.  

On the other hand, your luck was never in the romantic sphere, so to speak. There were men interested in you, but it never lasted. You had your fair share of rejecting their advances because you just thought a relationship wasn’t what you wanted, and you also had to go through some painful, confusing experiences with the man suddenly growing disinterested and leaving. It brought you an amount of self-doubt, which later on grew to become rooted insecurities that you somehow couldn’t blame on anyone.  

You’re sure Kiku has her own problems to deal with, a sentiment that you think she shares. This could be largely why the two of you were never gravely jealous of each other—a level of empathy and communication led the two of you to an understanding that you are different and it’s okay.

It’s okay. The thought serves more like a promise than a statement because you feel your legs begin to ache. The repeating stone patterns seem to be all your eyes can see and it’s starting to make you sick. 

Just a little more, you think, as the stairs make yet another turn.

——————————

You don’t know if it’s fatigue or fog, but by the time you reach the peak, everything seems so cloudy it looks like a dream. The air is significantly colder on top of the mountain, and you’re suddenly grateful for the many layers of your bridal ensemble—they are not made for warmth, but in its abundance you find comfort. The forest’s rustles fill the silence, though the wind isn’t as strong now.

In front of you are stairs no more, only single leveled stone path with flaming bamboo torches on its left and right despite the consistently light rain. Holy flames, you note, and the way it looks more white than gold reminds you of the arrow. There’s a faint throbbing in your chest, making you stop in your tracks for a moment. 

She will climb up Mount Kurama to meet her groom and dwell in the Seiiki with him forever.

You feel the young miko’s gaze behind you, watching, perhaps in concern from your sudden inaction. You allow yourself to let out a sigh as you start to walk again. 

Swiftly, the flames of the torches parallel to you disappear with a whoosh, as though they were blown away by something. You are indeed taken aback, but manage to keep your emotions hidden, continuing to walk the stone path. For all you know, there could be watchful eyes in places you can’t see—the god Tengu attracts devotees with many powers that can be used to harm mankind should he wills it. 

You walk on, trying to ignore the way each torch blows out when you pass them. You look up at the sky from under your umbrella—it’s so nice to finally be able to see it again, after what seems like hours of climbing and looking down at your feet to make sure you don’t slip. The night is dark and the rain remains insistent, but you can see the clouds beginning to drift away, revealing stars that look too close to be real. 

Not long after you discovering a wide clearing to what seems like a terribly unassuming, unmistakably old mansion, albeit not the kind of old that is worn throughout the years. It is the kind of old you don’t see, but feel. And yet its feeling is as plain as day, even the most spiritually detached can see it—that this is a place of utmost sanctity, one that a daughter of a head priestess such as yourself hasn’t experienced.

Shimenawa ropes are tied together from the bronze poles that surround the mansion’s court. Wordlessly, you turn around to look at the young miko—she already knows what to do, this being her second ascent within less than a day. From the bundle of cloth, she takes out a jug and a single rice ball, her meal before she returns, traversing down those same treacherous stairs to the temple. You watch as she makes herself comfortable, sitting down at a spot at the end of the path. Filled with sympathy, you wonder why she willingly undertook the task, and if you’ll ever see her again after stepping foot beyond the shimenawa.

Offering her a long bow, you take one last look at the miko—she can’t be much older than you—before bracing yourself to face the inevitable. According to the ancient decree, only head priests are allowed in the temple, but you suppose the god Tengu can bend as many rules as he wants as long as he’s the one who designed them. 

You lean down to grab the rope. Holding it above and over you, you step in, both feet touching the court’s cobblestones. Nothing happens. Were you not meant to be here, how will you perish? Thunder? Fire? A flock of the god Tengu’s hawks, from the stories, descending from the sky to pierce at your flesh and gouge your eyes out?

...or maybe an arrow to the heart?

Your chest throbs yet again. The many distracting thoughts your mind conjures make you feel like your head is crowded and full, so you decide to count each step you take towards the mansion. Its obvious entrance, marked by more torches, is facing you, the symmetry of the building conveniently letting you know where to go—straight ahead.

One. Two. Three. Four. Your heart starts beating faster than it should.

The sound of your geta on the ground echoes, five, six, seven, eight, and you watch the lights in the mansion. Somebody is home. You wonder if you’ve ever been this nervous, because by the eighth, ninth, tenth step, the butterflies inside your stomach have multiplied, their wings fluttering up a storm. A minor shiver racks up your spine and you feel your fever coming back twofold. There’s cold sweat on your nape.

Eleven, twelve, thirteen. You will yourself not to look back at the young miko—has she gotten enough rest?—for fear that you will abandon your mission. But you can’t. You don’t want to. Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen steps in, and you remember Kiku’s neck, the crumpled paper from the arrow slipped in your obi, the white fire. Suddenly the butterflies are powerless, dissolving like cotton flowers on a lake. Your heart might still be beating as fast as a rabbit’s, but you feel purpose coursing through your veins. 

It takes you fifty steps to reach the mansion’s entrance, and by that time you feel the fog clouding your mind has been lifted. Besides the dryness of your throat, nothing else seems uncomfortable, even the heavy irouchikake isn’t as heavy as it was at the beginning of your ascent. You’ve never felt more present, more centered and grounded. All your doubts purged by the stairs, leaving you light but not faint. 

You are exactly where you need to be.

Realizing that your lantern is unneeded, you place it gently in front of the stairs towards the door. You walk up, counting each of them. Fifty-one, fifty-two, fifty-three, fifty-four.

The sliding door opens without any prompting, and you find yourself unsurprised. He is expecting a guest, after all—one that is supposed to stay forever. You look ahead, taking in the interior as much as you can without delaying your arrival too much. The god Tengu lives in the mansion of an emperor, which is arguably modest considering his godliness. A straight hallway lies in front of you, leading you to the next door. 

Your chest responds as the door behind you closes, this time not a dull ache, but a more powerful shudder. Strangely enough, you don’t find it painful anymore.

——————————

Kiku is right—the room is large, a throne room for royalty. He sits in the middle, at the very end of the room, like a languid yet expectant royalty. To an unassuming person, he appears to be just as human as you are, no more than thirty years of age. He wears the finest of fabrics, the designs on his kimono lavish and grand. Like the rest of the room, he wears scarlet lots of black, including a feathery cape on his back. His seat on the carnelian dais is simple in comparison to how you imagine most thrones would look like, but it is the ceiling-high decorations and ornaments surrounding it, colored in red, black and gold, that makes it impressive.

No, that isn’t right. It is he who makes it impressive. Intimidating. Powerful.

Just like in the stories, he has a face of a hawk, except that it is a mask. It covers half of his face, revealing only his mouth and the lower part of his face to view. You notice there are no holes for his eyes to see—the only explanation is that he doesn’t need them. The swoop of the hawk’s bill forms a sharp silhouette that makes you wonder if it can cut through skin.

The mask can’t, but the real hawk on his shoulder most definitely can. It watches you with caution from its perch, its yellow eyes seemingly shining through black feathers. You notice two black dogs, one on each side, sitting just underneath his feet below the dais. Under their paws are brilliant red orbs, which look a lot like their blood eyes.

“Come closer.”

His voice booms even from so far away, and it doesn’t look like he’s trying to be loud at all. You find yourself unable to take your eyes off of him as you walk down the room. The beating of your heart in your ears are deafening on top of the silence. Is it because you are facing a god that your mortal body can’t take it? You might be filled with resolve, but it’ll meaning absolutely nothing should your heart decide to explode.

With his hands he lets you know that he wants you in front of him—he steps down from the dais, and at that moment you notice that the cape you thought he was wearing turns out to be a pair of broad wings. The air around you moves as they flap once, as if to stretch. He waits for you.

Standing in front of him, you find your self-awareness extremely heightened. He is taller than you, with wider shoulders and an unmistakable aura of inhuman authority. Despite all this, however, he does not extort any fear out of you at all. In fact, he is strangely... comforting. Like something you’ve known your whole life.

Kiku’s voice rings in your ears just then. He said your name... he wants you.

“The paper,” he says, holding out his hand. There are no echoes to his voice anymore.

You reach for the crumpled slip and took it out, giving it to him with both hands.

He receives it on his palm, and instantly the calligraphic character on it emits a strong light, beaming up holy rays to the ceiling. You feel your breath knocked out of you—your chest. It’s hot. And then, excruciating pain. Too much for you to bear, too agonizing you can’t make a sound, your mouth feebly opening in a silent scream. It spreads through your nerves and you can sense them so clearly like they’re burning paths on your skin. Your hands clutch your chest in fear of your heart bursting out of your ribcage. Tears begin to form in your eyes, closed from the sheer pain of it all. 

A second later it’s over, the ‘marriage’ kanji returning to its dull ink color, and in that moment all the strength escapes your body. Everything—from the ascent, from your dream, from when the arrow first struck your home, from the years of your life before all this—they’ve all been let go from you, merely sands through your fingers. You’re about to fall face-first from the weakness in your knees but he knows, bringing you into his arms until you seem ready to stand on your own. His hands on your waist and back are pleasantly warm. 

“Red looks exquisite on you.”

“Yes, but it isn’t so flattering on Kiku. Reverse that enchantment on her at once.”

“My, you’ve always been one fireball, haven’t you,” he replies with a chuckle. It reverberates from his chest to yours, and there’s something immediately calming about the sound. “It has been done,” he says, showing you the paper in his hand. It doesn’t look much different, but you can clearly notice the absence of its spiritual force. You felt it first-hand.

As you slowly depart from the security of his arms, trying to regain your bearings, you feel his hand on your forehead.

“You are still warm,” he declares, emotions unreadable from under the mask. “We shall continue this somewhere more appropriate for you to rest.” He knows you have much to discuss with him—he is a god, after all. At this point, nothing should surprise you. 

“I’m fine,” you quickly say, and it suddenly strikes you that you’re not sure how to address him.

“Tengu is the name given to the people for them to worship me. To those who are in equal standing as I, I am called Nobunaga. You are my bride,” his hand wills you to look up, a finger under your chin, “thus you are my equal.”

His bride. It hasn’t sunk in yet, but somehow the title is now more palatable than when you first heard it. As if it were destined. You blink, hoping for the thought to go away. Perhaps being in close quarters with a god makes it easier for him to make you feel more inclined to his wishes?

But ‘Nobunaga’... how odd. It sounds like it could be the name of any other man in the village. You look at where his eyes are supposed to be behind the mask.

“Are you going to read my mind throughout the entirety of this meeting?”

“Only to warm you up,” he says, lips curling into a dangerous smirk. He turns around, walking towards a sliding door. With the pain in your chest completely gone, you follow closely behind.

[xathia-89]

Setting off the Trap

The uneasy truce was certainly felt throughout Azuchi during the visits made by Yukimura, Shingen and Kenshin. Kennyo was the common enemy to eliminate, though it was going to be a free for all once he was captured as to who would get the ultimate decision as to what to do with him. Most of the warlords had intercepted a plan from the determined man to kidnap me, though Ieyasu and Yukimura were now viewing it all as a personal battle to one-up each other after they’d both had to rescue me twice from hired rohins and devoted followers in an attempt to lure out the rushed alliance before everything was decided. After Yukimura had carried me back a second time, Ieyasu had told Oda to put a ban on me going anywhere alone. 

Nobunaga had agreed to it and issued the order immediately. Which meant that I now seemed to have all of the warlords around me most of the time. I was summoned to war councils every day and then added in to bring some of my sewing along to do since it was basically ensuring that I wasn’t being left out of their sights. I had been moved into Ieyasu’s manor just before the final order, and he was looking a little grumpy that I was being constantly moved about now as to where I was staying on a daily basis. It was strange, he was moody whenever I was under his care but even more so when I wasn’t. Mitsunari was able to spare me an hour or so and was taking me to one of the tea houses for some dumplings to escape the oppressive atmosphere. 

Just to get out of the castle was a relief, though my happiness was short lived as Yukimura came running down the wooden ramp to catch up with us. “Mitsunari, the whole castle is looking for you,” he huffed, “You’re wanted in the hall.” 

“I do apologise Natsuki,” the angel smiled sadly and bowed as well.

“It’s not your fault, I was just looking forward to spending some time outside of the castle,” I replied, trying to reassure the man. “It’s okay, another time.”

“I’ll take you,” Sanada spoke up suddenly, then blushed a little at how eager his response had been as we both looked at him. “I mean it’s not like I’m needed currently and getting out of the castle sounds good.”

“You are too kind, you’ve already rescued me twice,” I smiled broadly. “You might want to bring your sword with you.”

The three of us walked back in a slightly uncomfortable silence. I was the inevitable buffer between them and somehow had managed to become quite a treasure on both sides, even if I wasn’t sure any of us understood how I’d done it. I had quickly learned that Shingen natural reaction to any woman was to flirt, so to handle him was the same line of technique as it was to when Masamune started getting a bit hands on. Kenshin’s instant response was to kill first, ask questions later, but Sasuke was his handler for certain as the usual distraction was to mention sake or pickled plums. Yukimura was I trying to figure out in many ways, he was brash and referred to me as a wild boar on many occasions, but was also the first of the Uesugi-Takeda forces to offer me protection. He would go out of his way for me at times and had spent our entire second trip back from the final rohin capture complaining to me about how I made myself an easy target by not knowing how to defend myself. I got the inkling that he didn’t understand his feelings either on the scenario. 

Ieyasu had already started teaching me medicine since it was becoming quite clear that Nobunaga had no intentions of leaving his lucky charm behind for any skirmish or battle. And that way I wasn’t being a hindrance to anyone in his words. It would generally also free him up instead of being the main healer in the troops. But my lessons had ceased with the constant movements, and I was starting to miss my time with the prickly male as I loitered in the entrance way of the castle. 

It didn’t take long for Yukimura to reappear, his face relaxing as he saw I hadn’t wandered off and I gave him a little wave. I felt like I’d been in the castle for months as we left again. My coin purse was slipped away securely in my obi, and then halfway down the bridge, Sanada paused and the frown on his face told me that he was thinking too hard as I couldn’t hold back my laugh. He blew the air out of his mouth and then offered me his hand, the tips of his ears blushing. “You know, just so we don’t get lost, you’ve had enough adventures and caused enough problems,” he replied, trying to brush it off as nothing as I couldn’t stop my laughter and put my hand in his. 

“Sure Yuki,” I teased lightly. 

I felt as though I was being watched, but glancing back over my shoulder proved my theory to be false. The vassal shook his head at me and pulled me along to get down into the town. 

All of the vendors had been more than relieved to see me safe and well, as I made sure to take enough time studying the newest fabrics and patterns and discussed getting a delivery up to the castle for me. Yukimura was constantly on the lookout and trusting no one as his hand was resting on the hilt of his sword. Then one of the seamstresses passing by noticed I had donned one of my latest creations, a doubled over band of fabric that sat comfortably around my head and kept my hair out of my face, a type of headband that didn’t dig in as I’d found that it was annoying to needing to keep styling my hair out of the way on a daily basis. It also acted as a good cover in the rain since I would usually be caught without an umbrella. So we had stood and chatted for a little while about that. It took us a long while to get to the tea house, and then we were seated at the high point of the covered seating, where no one could sneak up on us or get to me without attracting a lot of attention. The whole town it seems had heard of my misadventures and targeting. 

The tea was refreshing as the dumplings were as sweet as I remembered them, and even Yuki looked to be enjoying himself as everyone was keeping their distance and creating a barrier of sorts around the entrances. His smile softened as he tasted the dumplings, and I remembered that it must have been a long time since he was last here and posing as a merchant when I had talked him into coming here with me. 

“It’s refreshing to see you with that smile on your face,” I commented, and then watched the vassal close back up. “Aw, I was enjoying you relaxing,” I teased, poking his cheek. 

“Pfft,” he retorted and shoved a dumpling into my open mouth. “Eat these, though I swear you are as bad as Lord Shingen for sweet things, I’ll probably need to start rationing you as well,” then he eyed me up and down.

“Putting some weight on might stop me being carried off so easily,” I scoffed, feeling a little sulky at the comment. 

The male immediately started trying to backpedal. “No, I didn’t mean that!” He panicked. “Too many sweets isn’t good for you is all I’m saying.” His eyes were threatening to pop out of his head as I gave him a side look. 

A scoff attracted both of our attention as Ieyasu plonked himself down on the cushion next to me. Another pot of tea came over as the two men were silently weighing each other up as I rolled my eyes and found I had another serving of dumplings in front of me, the tea house owner giving me a wink. 

“Thanks,” I smiled generously. “You are going to run yourself out of business if you keep spoiling me this way,” I laughed, clearly ignoring the chest beating that was going on around me. 

“Who knows how long until your next visit? Might as well lavish on you now Princess,” he replied, waving any attempt at the payment I was going to make, though I was given another subtle wink as he jolted his head towards the men. 

“Who knows indeed, thank you kindly,” I replied, taking the hint and the fresh dumplings. 

Ieyasu was asking me about various herbs and medicines, purposely trying to keep Yukimura out of the conversation and my attention focused solely on him. I was feeling sorry for him as the three of us were soon joined by Shingen and Sasuke, and the sake was brought out. Tokugawa was definitely going nowhere it seemed as Takeda swapped my tea for sake, and ramped the charm up. Whilst Sasuke was simply there as damage control it appeared. 

It was a couple of hours before I could convince any of them to move. Apparently, I was attracting a lot of attention as the situation kept going on, and it was making me feel a little uncomfortable. It was bad enough having all of the spotlight on me with the six warlords I was used to, never mind another three and then all of the townspeople too. It was an odd feeling to be so treasured as Sasuke escorted me back to the castle. Ieyasu apparently needed to go to the market and Shingen was staying for more sake which meant that Yukimura wouldn’t leave him unsupervised. 

Sasuke was looking vaguely amused once we were clear of the chaos. “So, you’ve got everyone looking at you it seems,” he smiled. 

“Tell me about it, I thought having my parents phone me a few times a day was bad enough, but having nine overbearing warlords definitely beats that. Especially when there’s a genuine reason for concern,” I groaned, my head tilting back and looking up at the sky. “I thought Mitsunari was the only free one today anyway,” I paused and frowned as I looked back at Sasuke.

“He heard that Mitsunari was needed, but he was meant to be escorting you, and Lord Shingen apparently said something about ‘go and spend time with her’ according to Lord Kenshin,” he replied eventually after a heavy pause. 

“You all can’t keep sacrificing things for me,” I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. 

“On the contrary,” Masamune and Hideyoshi greeted us at the gate, as Date’s arm was slung around my shoulder with a slightly perverted grin. “You are the key to this mystery currently. So getting you out in the town is now the game plan, especially if you keep attracting such a crowd so that people will pay attention to you without looking out of place.”

“So, I get to deal with all of Azuchi focusing on me?” I replied nervously, and watching where Masamune’s hand was going as he nodded. “Great.”

“Don’t sound so worried,” Hideyoshi sighed, taking Date’s hands off me. “It just means you’ll be going into town with at least two of us as guards most days,” he smiled and patted me on the head. “We’ve already been hearing reports of what was happening in the tea house when Ieyasu appeared after Yukimura was already with you. So it means they’re more likely to come and study us all for openings.”

“But if I’m constantly out with at least two of you,” I frowned. “Then that’s no guarantee you’ll get anywhere.”

“No, but you’ll have a regular routine, and then all of a sudden we drop the guard,” Masamune explained. 

“Right,” I nodded. This was going to be really awkward for me, I could usually handle having all of the warlords' attention in the castle, but add in the publicity, and I had a feeling I was going to be put on a stage effectively. 

Mitsuhide was relishing in embarrassing me as much as possible the following day as we walked around the market with Hideyoshi in tow. I wasn’t sure if Toyotomi was trying to mother me more or scold Akechi for his antics as I didn’t try to show them both how much I was enjoying the show they were performing for me. A few of the merchants had comments about unusual activity on the trade routes, but nothing concrete as Mitsuhide would slip them a few coins and Hideyoshi would make a mental note of who to chase up on his next visit. Ieyasu was pacing outside my room as we returned. The fabric had been delivered from yesterday’s visit as he stalked me straight away from my room and to his manor, muttering about having time for lessons. 

He was as close to me as possible, his hand shadowing over mine as we trailed through books on disguising poisons. His choice of topic was a little macabre but necessary as he advised on coating weapons and how to ensure nothing caused a mishap. I was practically sat in his lap as a knock startled us both, and Yukimura entered without waiting, a very unusual move for the man. The glare he was giving to Tokugawa was making me feel uncomfortable as it turned out I was staying with Shingen that night and to tell us both that dinner was ready as Nobunaga had called for all of us to be present. 

I was happily sat adrift of the glaring duo, and placed between Nobunaga and Hideyoshi as all of the food prepared for me was taste tested by a young maid. She would take miniscule amounts, enough to show that if poison was present without overdosing on anything, despite my protests to Oda. I had to sulkily accept it as the rest of the warlords immediately agreed with him, and then Nobunaga surprisingly replied that the maid was being appropriately rewarded in monetary terms for the job. 

Yukimura insisted on escorting me back to Shingen’s chambers, under the facade that he didn’t trust his lord to not be a gentleman. I could see Ieyasu practically turn green with envy, which was starting to concern me. “Have you realised it yet Natsuki?” Shingen humoured himself after I was stretched out in my futon, my head turning towards him as he was enjoying a bit of sake whilst watching the moon and stars. 

“Realised what? Why I’m constantly under guard?” I queried, sitting up to look out over the scenery from where Shingen was at his ‘post’. 

“Why Ieyasu won’t leave you alone,” he corrected with a chuckle. 

“He does,” I replied, frowning. 

“He was really busy yesterday, and then heard that Yuki was the one escorting you around Azuchi, so he wore such an expression that Nobunaga suggested he go and find you,” Takeda was enjoying this far too much. 

“I really doubt that,” I shook my head, a sigh escaping in the meantime. 

“And then how do you explain the look he was giving Yuki when you were escorted from the hall to here? I know you saw it,” he teased. 

I was blushing and was immensely glad it was dark enough that the warlord couldn’t see. “I don’t know!” I scoffed before laying back down and turning onto my side so Shingen couldn’t see any further reactions to his jests. 

I was yawning incessantly the following day. I had been so flustered by Takeda that it had taken me forever to get to sleep, and then it was constantly full of dreams of being kidnapped again when I did drop off. I was beginning to think of hunting down to Sasuke to find out when coffee would be brought into Japan as I walked straight into Yukimura. 

“You really are hopeless,” the vassal sighed, patting me on the head. “Come on, this way,” he joked, taking my hand and leading me to the hall where everyone had already assembled for the next meeting. 

I was then snatched by Ieyasu, and seated promptly next to him, as Shingen gave me a look of ‘I told you so’ whilst I remained completely confused. Sanada backed off and went to sit next to his Lord, whilst some food was passed to me by Tokugawa, though he was busy ‘warning’ off the others with his bitter expressions. 

“She’s asleep?” Hideyoshi sounded surprised as Ieyasu was shifting about in discomfort at the position she was using as her pillow. They had been thoroughly discussing how best to confront the rohins and how much longer to continue the facade of the warlords' guards when she failed to answer a question that Nobunaga asked. Shingen was looking smug, especially as Ieyasu was torn between pummeling the man into the ground and storming off with the slight woman. 

“She keeps having nightmares,” Takeda spoke up. “I couldn’t sleep, she woke up after screaming every time,” he was serious, and looking at her with concern as Natsuki’s face began to twist and scowl. “I’d take her somewhere quiet and get her something to eat and drink,” he shrugged. 

Oda nodded merely to Ieyasu, who carried the Princess in his arms back to his manor. The rest of them were ceased in any movement by Nobunaga and Shingen. 

“This is something they need to sort out,” Nobunaga announced. “Masamune, I’m sure the kitchen could do with a hand to fix up a nice batch of okinawa soba,” he suggested, looking at the one-eyed dragon. “And maybe some okayu as well.” 

It smelt homely when I began to stir, and there was someone next to me as I slowly opened my eyes. I could just smell the food from the kitchens as my stomach made a loud grumbling noise in response. 

“How long have you been having those nightmares?” I froze at the sound of Ieyasu’s voice and realised I was clinging to him as the heat source. “Natsuki,” he sounded tired and lifted my chin up so we were looking each other in the eyes. “What did I tell you about other men?” 

“That you’re all the same?” I was trying to think of anything except how close we were. 

“You started to have a nightmare until I held you, then everything calmed down,” he frowned. “And everyone else reported something similar, despite that you were passing it as one-offs to them all.” 

“I guess you’re the lucky one?” I tried to smile, but my heart was threatening to burst from my chest. 

“Apparently so,” he murmured, his lips closing on mine softly. “Stop touching everyone else, it makes it harder to tell them you’re mine,” he scoffed, wrapping me up in his arms tightly. “Especially with how easy you are to read, stop it,” he muttered as everything in me was glowing with happiness.