First off: I LOVE your fics, I love your writing, and I probably even love you.
Well, I wanted to ask for a fic where, like Mizu, the reader is a woman disguised as a man. Neither of them knows that the other is a woman and strangely they develop feelings for each other.
I don't know, I think I just want a fic where the reading is as badass as Mizu and not just a poor fragile thing. (and of course it can be NSFW because a little spicy never hurts.)
Don't forget to hydrate yourself and again: I really love your writing 😭
thawed and frigid.
Pairings: mizu x fem!reader
CW: sfw, female reader, afab reader, wlw, no sex sorry you got scammed, blood, violence, mentions of prostitution, samurai reader, taigen kinda like…exists here, both parties see each other as men, reader is arrogant af, I guess you’re getting wlw and mlm in a single package here, author has a severe case of writer’s block, this is so ass, I know I tagged it smut but there’s no fucking smut leave me alone, cliffhanger ending, wait stop this sucks so bad don’t judge this too harshly i was in tears while writing, EXTREMELY rushed may be my worst fic oat, ew ew ew ew (not to your request, to my writing. it was a great idea but i had zero clue how to go about it im sorry) not proofread.
Synopsis: bought and sold. that was the only life suited to girls like you, just to reside in the confines of a brothel as you wasted away pleasing those who wanted to rip you limb for limb. concealing yourself was the only way to escape, and the art of the sword contributed to said escapism as well. such a fine art that had led you to a devilish young man you sought interest in…
A/N: welcome back to my fanfiction I haven’t wrote in a while and literature class has burned me out BAD so I’ll try my best to keep up my usual style during this week I have to myself. but tbh it is not looking too good I stress drank a whole bottle of tea for this cause my brain wasn’t functioning, but all and all just enjoy this and if I’m being fr it’s more of a warmup for my next fic.
It was but a simple thought.
One you believed would tear you away from the clawing treachery bounding lengths to grab ahold of you. Eyes raking over your worn kimono with every beaded glance that betrayed the chastity of innocence in their gaze. All you could do was sit paralyzed in the wake of their calculated inspections, soiled fingertips running along your wrist with methodical strokes across the goosebumps of your twitching skin, as if it was nothing but paper they tested for a cut.
Indistinct chatter frequented the room as your mother and father stood face to face with the men who came to check up on you, sometimes in the bitter cold stinging past the frigid skies in a blanket of white crystals. Now tainted by the outline of dusty footprints whenever they would press their heels against the dip of spintered wood creaking beneath their weight. You occasionally glanced over, hands toying with what you had left of the loose hangnails protruding from your nails. All while your parents had instructed you to remain still, mind still clouded with the perplexed blur that hindered your understanding of the situation.
“She’s far too thin.”
“Nothing a few meals won’t fix. She’d go for a good price regardless.”
Stupidly enough, you had never even thought to question the venomous tone that these creatures had spat regarding you. All while their gaze bore straight into you shamelessly, as if they wanted you to hear the filth that spilled from their chapped lips. Circling you like a haunting screech impeding on the comfort of your body that was once your own, soon to no longer belong to you. Soon to reside under the care of hardened bones shattering under impact.
A single hiss. Followed by another.
Akin to a serpent luring you in bit by bit, scaled tail sweeping around the curve of your waist with a low screech to draw you into the darkening pits of hell. All while you were entirely unaware.
You weren’t fond of secrets. Not in the slightest. The shroud was quite unamusing to your tastes, lingering in the shadows cast over the path laid out before you, flickering between the pale, warm glow of hope that allowed you to carve a path of your own—and another that crumbled the stone to bits. Your path which was once dusted in the heaps of browned earth grained beneath your feet, now blown away and swallowed by night.
Come that particular day when you were sold, it was as dull as ever. Widening the ever gaping pit in your stomach that sunk like a heavy rock pointed around It’s chiseled edges to pierce at your insides aimlessly.
The silent grating of coins clanking together, weighed down in the miniscule purse echoed in your skull as you laid on your side. Smaller frame curled as your knees brushed against your chest weakly in the howling winds of harsh winter. You had no words to say. Not a single one that threatened to force its way past your throat until sunrise. Simply a deafening silence chipping away at even the worn corners of your home.
Your blood spilling out between the crevices of the floorboards would have been far more merciful to you. More than what you could envision life in something as vile as a brothel for what would be practically an eternity of silent torment sucking you dry, all until you were a shell of a woman with nothing to see above you. Your eyelids refused to shut under the cool moonlight brightening your arms, face shamefully tucked away between the creases of your palms as all you were fated to do was succumb to your unforgiving fate.
How did it come to this? All because you were born in a vessel so unforgiving of circumstances. A world that centered around the very prospect of your destruction—worshipped you, but also hated you. Glorified, yet struck down.
Your mother a poor girl married off. Your father a retired warrior. A man who once drew his blade as it gleamed with splatters of blood painted along the defined steel, with a simmering echo ringing through the clearing. Those who stood before him quivering in awe, now no longer groveled to the pathetic old timer he had now morphed into. Sake spilling down his chin as the stench clung to his beard, eyes hazy as he staggered onto the floor. Sometimes a tatami mat if he wasn’t stupid enough to atleast see clearly.
Money bellowed down into a small handful. Barely enough for basic necessities, while the rest was scooped into your father’s palms to gamble his life away. All before coming home to collapse his weight onto whatever surface accommodated him, cheek squished to the flat plane his head lay on.
You couldn’t hate him. He was far too miserable, too gone to coherently string together a sentence or realize what he did. Muttering apologies to you and your mother on his knees, until it cycled into a warp once more. Gambling and drinking until there was no money left.
You couldn’t hate him. But you were so utterly repulsed by him.
Your lashes slowly fell over your vision, filtering it past the jaded gradient of your sight blurring together everything you knew. Perhaps you were just easing yourself into what would soon be your suffering. A futile attempt to mend the predetermined scars that would etch themselves into your skin deep no matter what you had done in an attempt to avoid it.
And yet, you kept yourself plunged into the hyper aware state of your skin crawling with each flail of your body onto the opposing side. Alternating from one shoulder to the next as you rolled yourself over in rushed jolts onto your sides in an effort to get a wink of sleep. After all, this might as well be the final day you’re able to get a fulfilled night of sleep with your belly full and mind clear.
It was blatantly clear that you haven’t truly submitted to what should’ve been your future nudging up against you, drawing itself closer at such a tortuously slow pace, yet a pace you wished would halt in its tracks or come far slower.
However, fate was such a foolish adherence that people stuck to. Justification for their poor circumstance without as much as moving a muscle, all while tears cracked down their cheeks as a result of their misery.
Your father’s sword.
It’s polished edge caught your eye from the corner of the room where it lay. Untouched and scratched from his former glory, now left to be nothing but an ancient relic, blending into time and forgotten while your father lay on his back. The katana carried every memory, every soul of those who had been slain by the tip of the sharpened blade, a the lingering cries of pain upon being cut open, all trapped within the shining steel situated beneath the sheath.
Tsuba worn and chipped at, its delicate bronze hue rusted in deep scratches from god knows what. Surely, your father knew of the dishonor that came with letting parts of a sacred weapon be damaged so readily if not from wear and tear, but you were sure the man didn’t care.
To your dismay, you were always barred from even so much as putting a finger upon the handle, no matter how much it fascinated you. For he would always be present to reprimand you as you dared to lay a glance upon the idle blade discarded in the dusted crevices of your home. Rather bellowing out in his low, slurred out voice to go help your mother in her household duties.
To which, you’d unfortunately comply.
But by now, you couldn’t allow yourself to be swept away by the adherence to what they had wanted. Your parents money was already delivered, and you were sold for a hefty price. Just not collected yet. Your mother and father would fare fine without you, they would be able to escape from any hunt or bounty placed on their heads for supposed theft of the brothel’s money upon not delivering the promised girl.
Every fiber in your body screamed at you to stay. While simultaneously telling you to leave. To start a new life where nobody would even think to plunge you back in the depths of hell at the service of others. Two emotions warring with each other in a pained clash that tightened your chest, squeezing out every drop of poisoned rationality that stung at the pulse of your heart.
…
‘I’m sorry, mother.’
‘I’m sorry, father.’
—
Winter was all too familiar to you, the sting of frost fluttering upon your skin morphing into a burn whenever you encountered the cool breeze kissing the tip of your nose. You despised it. You despised the sullen familiarity of winter’s embrace laced with the rancorous encounter seven years ago. Back when you were well on your way to be sold into a brothel.
For the first year or two, the haunting shade of the bounty loomed over your head past the thick cloak grazing your cheek, shadowed past a glance of your eyes. People swerving forth across every corner of Japan in a hope to claim some the money to find you. Truth be told, you had no clue as to why they had put so much effort into searching for you. Plenty of other girls were being bought and sold as they spoke, so quite frankly, it was a waste to spend so much time and energy to find a single escapee.
Each passing day, you’d come face to face with person after person, their eyes squinting to inspect your features thoroughly while you uncomfortably retracted yourself from them. And the moment they opened their mouth, paper clutched between their grip with your drawing on it, you shut them off before a single protest could be uttered.
It was just a coincidence your features were strikingly similar to this girl sketched on the page. That your voice was a gentle euphony that could lull others to sleep in distant quietude that gently stroked them to sleep. You learned to push aside the snarky comments spat at you, carving an indistinguishable border between jealousy and a genuine compliment, saying you were ‘far too pretty to be a man.’
The coming years gradually allowed the roar of your name to die down as it was kicked away in the dust to fade, your training now wavering in the light the further you honed your swordsmanship skills.
Swings of your blade through the rugged splinters of a wooden post nearly served as a sort of therapeutic tranquility to you all these years, easing you into a repetive sense of peace that dissolved away your past troubles. Allowing you to forget the bitter memories which lingered at the back of your mind. Your troubles washed away with ease as the edge sliced through the wood in a precise, clean cut. One you could be proud to look upon once examining your technique.
The Shindo dojo was your refuge. Uninterrupted from the turmoils of your past ever catching up to you, flinching away from the prospect alone like it was a plague on your soul.
—
“(Name)!”
The abrupt call of your name hissed in a high shrill within your eardrums, your neck craning over your shoulder to shoot over an irritated glare.
“What is it?” you sighed out, heels pressed into the snow lapping at your feet past your sandals and hand rested on the hilt of your katana fastened on your left hip.
“It’s Taigen..he’s been ambushed!”
Taigen? The fool you’d occasionally converse with after your own training sessions?
You had spoken to him a few times, despite his grating voice being a distracting white noise that shifted the crosshair of your focus. The light green of his clothing fabrics being recognizable from a mile away, accompanied by his low laugh and and sharp jaw…not to mention his annoyingly persistent boasts of his status. It annoyed you to no end. Though, you wouldn’t deny that many men took it upon themselves to act as arrogant as he was, yet the difference being that Taigen somewhat lived up to his reputation he was oh so proud of.
24 duels won. An unbeaten champion radiating true concentration and swordsmanship from the top of his tsuba to the tip of the katana. It was fairly impressive, you had to admit.
Yet it truly was such a shame to see the once prideful man, struck down in the snow’s embrace, crimson tainting the once pure outline he was buried deep into.
—
“Show yourself.”
Your voice abruptly hummed through the clearing, swerving past the trees in its low note bellowing past the blanket outstretched in its glory. A sliver of blue peeked past the oak towering above, a silhouette that appeared human,, but lacked the slightest sense of humanity fostered within it. His kasa tipped forward over the hood of his eyes, obscuring them from your sight.
Cautiously, your hand rested on the handle of your katana in apprehension at the sight of his glasses falling past the bridge of his nose as he kept his eyes fixed on you. Cloak masking his whole body as a way to only heighten your care for not dying before the strange individual you had encountered here. Not as if you weren’t seeking him yourself, brows furrowed and teeth grit for a challenge that ran through your blood in an exhilarating thrill.
As stupid as it may sound, you had in fact actively sought out the one who had struck down Taigen. Even if it was an ambush, your curiosity was piqued, as well as your insatiable drive for a fight that led you to him. Behind those tinted shades of orange, you knew there lie the unnerving tinge of cerulean stilled into his irises, cold and unfeeling in a void of any regard or emotion for those who came before him.
And yet, you still dared to draw your sword against this monster, looking him dead in the eye as the lens tipped down, piercing your gaze into his and unafraid to look away.
The ring of his blade echoed in tandem with your own, a high pitched, powerful shriek along the sheath as he aligned it before his face, exhaling as he wordlessly accepted your challenge. Your blood ran both cold at the cruel, calculating flare in in his eyes, yet coursed with excitement at the fresh opponent before you. Within, you were thawed and frigid, split between who you were to be, and who you should keep up to be.
However, death would be such a waste. For both of you.
So perhaps granting him his life in addition to your company…would remain a mercy for you both.
A/N: HELP THIS WAS SO BAD I ENDED UP CRYING CAUSE I COILDNT WRITE PROPERLY OR THINK OF WHAT TO DO IM SCREAMING like full on tears I think I need to go get myself checked or get a professional diagnosis MENTALLY cause it’s getting bad. The first half of the fic was doing fine…UNTIL I FELL ASLEEP YESTERDAY AND MY TRAIN OF THOUGHT BROKE AND I COULDNT WRITE IM GONNA ACTUALLY GO CRY IN THE SHOWER DONT TALK TO ME
hey anon feel free to re-request this with any additional plot you want me to add? Cause basically what I had posted was the equivalent of a “part 1” and although I don’t do my writing in parts…like at all- I think it would be appropriate to request a part 2 for this cause I really needed this fic evicted from my drafts asap
OH MY FUCK I FEEL SO BAD FOR MAKING THIS SO BAD NOW BECAUSE ANON PROFESSED THEIR LOVE FOR MU BLOG FORGIVE MEEEEE
no reaction pic for the end you get my misery and only my misery new bes fans discovering my page please go look at my other mizu fics and not this shit
Imagine crying over not being able to write couldn’t be me ha ha ha (I’m in tears as we speak) 😹✌️
Chewing on Ringo’s rice balls, you stared up at the large opening in the side of the mountain. Large pointed icicles hang from up above. Taigen had described it perfectly, a “death trap”. Mizu turns to face the egg man asking “Heiji Shindo is this way?” he grunts and nods, “Then I go this way” she walks forward, smoothly taking your hand in hers.
Despite being frustrated with her stupidity you knew this was important, she even squeezed your hand, both for reassurance and to steal some of the natural heat.
You hide a smile in your wife's shoulder when the big man stops Taigen from following you both, he deserved it, deserved everything that even slightly inconvenienced him. Perhaps all your praying to the Buddha did some good by balancing out his incomprehensible levels of irritantion with small portions of karma.
“I’m the only one who gets to kill him. So if he’s walking in to meet certain death, I’ll be there to keep him and death from getting too friendly, Got it?”
“What about Ringo?” Mizu looks down at you from the corner of her eye “Hmm?” you nudge her side lightly, looking back at your friend. “He’ll be all alone with that man, what if it is a trap and he’s stuck out there with him?” Mizu rubs her thumb over the back of your hand. “Ringo is watching the horses for us, and besides if he wanted Ringo dead the man would wait until the people that hired him told him too” you mutter back “Heji Shindo?” Mizu nods “that's right.”
The gusts of wind flowing through the opening sound like dying groans, doing little to help ease your anxiety over leaving poor defenceless baby Ringo all on his lonesome. Your waves of fear are quickly polluted by annoyance as the only male left in your company decides to fill the temporary silence with his voice. “Meet me for tea. It’ll be fun” Mizu hands you her hat as you squeeze past the two walls that lead to the opening. She holds out her hand, motioning you to wait, before running in to find…tea.
“Hello!” the stranger called from his seat.
You re-join the pair and offer a small glance to Taigen, someone equally confused. Though you supposed he always looked that way. From back there you could tell his bald spot wasn’t going to grow back any time soon, luckily he’s tall enough so that the light reflecting off it did not blind you when traveling up the mountain.
“Huh, I was just in the mood for tea” Mizu sheaths her sword and the three of you cautiously approach the man, for once agreeing with Taigen when he angrily grumbles “It’s still a trap”.
The man had only brought three seats. Mizu kneeled on the floor beside you, chivalrously offering you her zabuton cushion. She is definitely trying to apologise for almost dying again.
The man looked normal, startlingly average from what you could tell. There are no physical signs of evil, but there usually aren’t with men. He was rich, you could tell from his clothes and hair making it somewhat believable that he could be related to the old man from the dojo. “In my youth, I saw enough flawless swordsmen to know I’d never be one. I put my effort into other arts. Commerce. Tea. That kettle has been in the Shindo clan for three hundred years.”
Your wife responds politely with the truth, "Beautiful ironwork.” the lord taps his temple, smiling in a way that makes your throat tighten “We have no secrets here.” Mizu takes off her hat, then her glasses slowly, handing the spectacles to you in your lap.
He seems so proud that he’s managed to get her to shed these layers of protection “You were meant to be alone. Fair. You expected an attack. I am unarmed but for a small knife to cut bean cake. Does the woman want some bean cake?” you wished he could not see you, you wished he could be blinded so that he could never see you again.
Mizu glances and you subtly shake your head. “No. She does not.” Taigen breaks into the conversation, inviting himself into the small stand off. “We have our swords.” Heiji ruffles at the challenge, sitting up as he responds “Maybe I have five hundred archers hidden in the cliffs around us.”
“You are Heiji Shindo. You trade in flesh, opium, chiefly guns. Middlemen to illegal traders from the west.” They both cut through the stiff small talk to reach the point. |Hopefully putting an end to this encounter.
“You have been looking for me.”
“For a man you are connected with.”
“I am connected with many men.”
“The white man.”
“There are no white men in Japan. That’s the law. No one would break the law... Abijah Fowler.”
“Abijah Fowler. That is his name.”
“And what business do you have with Fowler?"
“He was one of the three white men who were in Japan when I was born. I will kill all three of them."
“There were four white men. When you were born.”
“There are three now.” The corner of Mizu’s lips raise into a small grin as she says that. Smug.
You fidgeted with your hands. Waiting. Unable to do anything but sit and wait for the trap to ensnare you both… and Taigen. Your internalised panic is broken by the return of her voice. “I look your way and don’t even see you” you cast your eyes back down to the table, then your hands, then over at Taigen as he scoffs down the cakes. You could practically hear them glaring at each other; it was not pleasant.
“I sent the Four Fangs.”
“I killed the Four Fangs.”
There's a moment of quiet between the two, before it is broken “An offer?” Heiji brings out a small box “Fifty thousand ryo. And we appoint you as the new Lord of the Sandai-han, free to choose a fresh women. Rich in lumber, sake, and silk. The Shogan will appoint a successor at our request.” your eye twitches uncontrollably, this filthy pig. Taigen sprinkles in his usual sarcasm, passively aiding you in hammering some sense into your ‘husband’ “Lord Mizu of Sendai, Why not?”
You swallow back a gag when Heiji brings out his collection of thumbs, despite the cold, they wreak of mold and scum. “I refuse. I have no interest in money or power. I have no interest in being happy. Only satisfied” Her words plant a seed of doubt in your mind. You look over to the women beside you. Was she not happy with you?
“This, you expected. A man for whom commerce is art. This you planned for with an attack or a second offer. Perhaps not so pretty.” the lord now stands above the three of you, raising his voice with growing hostility “If you attempt an assault, you’ll die before you see his face. Unless someone were to help you. I can get you inside the castle.” He pulls back the cloth to reveal a single sake barrel
“You’re not actually considering getting in that.” you saw the look on Mizu’s face, she couldn't be serious. “I have questions. How do I trust you won’t lead me in there to die?”
“Not planning on taking your friends with you? I can have a second barrel brought if you wish to have your whore accompany you. Or is she your wife?”
Mizu bristles at that, standing. “What happens If I refuse?” The man grabs her arm “Enough questions. Get in the barrel or You die where you stand. My little joke earlier was no joke. Now get in!” She raises a brow and slowly looks up at him before removing a part of that limb from the rest of his body.
You watch as the arm falls, shading the snow in red. You move to stand behind Mizu and continue to follow the arm's escape to fall as far away from its owner as possible. Heiji yells in pain, Mizu only presses her blade closer to his throat. “There aren’t any archers!” Taigen is then proven wrong.
A faint whistling grows from up above as a rain cloud of arrows looms in the sky. The pig scurries away into the woods, abandoning you all to fate. You and Mizu carry the kettle lid towards the opening of the mountain while Taigen moves with his back pressed up against the two of you, counting with his sword raised.
As they reload the three of you make your way in, ditching the makeshift shield. The arrows return and Mizu presses her arm against your chest to ensure that you are as close to the wall as possible. They bounce off, planting themselves in the ground, you hold onto Mizu’s arm tightly. Eyes closed.
The two swordsmen take to using their weapons to deflect the projectiles. A luxury you did not have. Mizu was half shielding you with her body but it was difficult when the focus was getting out of the crevasse fast. Taigen gets hit in the leg and in that small moment of looking to see if he’s okay you feel a very warm shock to your stomach.
Oh look, you’ve been impaled.
Fabulous.
It didn’t quite make it the whole way though but you could definitely feel a pressure in your lower side, around where your kidneys are but a bit higher. Like the skin was about to birth the arrowhead but wasn’t quite ready to pop.
Mizu gasps and tries to hold you up straight onehandedly. “Hold me over your head and run. No reason for us all to die” you did not expect such a gesture from Taigen, but you didn’t really have time to think about that when you could feel your organs getting splinters from the stick kebabbing your torso.
You whimper, biting your lips to prevent the possibility of alerting others of your location. Leaning your head on Mizu’s shoulder you hear a horse, “Ringo?”
You’re placed in front of your saviour, while Mizu and Taigen get to ride economy class on either side of the back end of the horse, shielded by another saddle. Your blood stains the horse's white mane slowly.
Upon successfully escaping Mizu takes hold your legs and Ringo grabs under your arms to slowly lower you off the animal. She does not let you go, she stays quiet, holding your head to her neck like she's cradling you. One hand is holding onto the area around the arrow and is pressing down. Hard.
You wheeze and for a moment you can understand what she's been muttering the whole time “you’re okay. I’m sorry. My fault.” all in the same order over and over again. Ringo steps in and now you have your head laying on her lap as a cushion instead. You’re on your side on top of a blanket to keep you off the snow. The noodle expert hesitates for a moment, he looks scared. You reach out with your bloodied hand and rest it on his shoulder to maybe offer some reassurance that he probably can’t mess you up much more than you already are.
Mizu is shakily running her fingers through your hair as Ringo works his magic. Taigen is laying in the snow, watching the sky. “just pull it out already, she’ll probably get it infected anyway” Ringo doesn’t take his eyes off of your injury as he slowly peels back the layers of cloth he’s had to cut. “No. The head is barbed, I need to push it out the back” your eyes widen at that “What?”.
The boy stutters “well that’s what my dad did, this one bounty hunter came into the shop-” you winced as he brushed up against your back. He quickly apologies and works on dislodging the iron from your back. Thankfully it didn’t hit anything important, or else you’d be dead by now.
Looking up at Mizu’s face you knew she was worried, she looked more scared than Ringo even. Her eyes looked damp and red from down there. In a way, you were kind of happy that she cared about you enough to almost cry over your close call. Raising a hand you cupped her face and brought her down closer to you. She leaned and pressed a kiss to your forehead, bringing a small smile to your lips. Ringo looked away towards Taigen, who mimicked a gag like a child who just saw their parents snogging.
By the end of it you were left with stitches on both sides, a cut up/blood stained kimono, and an unstable ‘husband’. Getting back onto the horse was no easy task, after all that blood loss what was left seemed to drain to your feet instead of your brain.
scooping you up in her arms Mizu carries you off to a half frozen stream. She sits you down between her legs and cups the icy water in her hands and presses it to the fresh strings holding together your flesh. You whine and try to squirm out of her hold but she doesn't let you, She presses a kiss to your cheek and just mumbles out some sweet apologies, heavily contrasting the numbing sting of her hand pressing water to your previously open wound.
Eventually you just stop fighting her, letting her hold you as she rinses the bodily fluids from your stomach. She also damps her sleeve and uses it to cool clean your face, wiping away the dirt and sweat. She didn't quite have time to comb through your hair but she did tie it up for you again, catching any loose strands that threatened to irritate you later.
Mizu was adamant on giving Taigen their duel, meaning you concussed the swordsman and ditched him in the forest. You sat in front of Mizu again with their hand resting on your stomach to steady you, Ringo made for a nice conversationalist while you listened to your wife’s rapid heart under your ear. To cover up the holes in your dress Mizu gifted you with temporary possession of her cloak, ensuring that you were wrapped up nice and tight like a new born babe.
“You know I'm okay.” you whispered to her sweetly, she held you close, melting her frozen nose on the base of your neck “you could have been not-okay though.” you lace your fingers with hers tightly “But I’m not-not-okay. I’m okay, I’m safe. And we’re heading into town right?” when she sighs you can feel the warmth of her breath fan out against your skin and slowly disappear.
“Yes.” you smile to yourself “so you can apologise for being an ass properly and putting us in danger by not listening to anyone.” Mizu sits up slightly and rests her chin on your shoulder “how would I do that?” you make an effort to shrug “buying me new clothes, and something sweet. Somewhere warm to sleep with you and medicine to forget the pain in my sides.”
“Done. We’re already going to madam kaji” you rolled your eyes, moving so that you could sneak a side glance at her “Another brothel? Are you perhaps in need of a ‘fresh woman’ lord Mizu?” quoting Heiji from earlier. “Shut up” Mizu hides her face in your collar for a moment, only a little embarrassed “Perhaps a younger more fertile bride may suit your fancy, someone to pop out all the spoiled brats you want” the woman huffs out a laugh, mumbling “Don’t want brats. Just you” your cheeks redden at that but you continue with the teasing “Even if I’m an aged, shrivelled up barren crone. Well past her birthing years? Barren. Alone. For all eternity”
“You’re younger than me.”
“What would the other lords say?”
“Don’t care, they don’t even like their wives”
“Awwe, are you admitting you like me?”
“Quiet”
“I think I hear the wedding bells, could I be your true love after all? Ringo, would you come to our wedding?” the poor boy looked so confused riding alongside the two of you. “I thought you and my master were already married?” you both blush and look away from each other, the reality of your words quickly dawning on you.
Heeeyyy it’s been a while… I’ve had a crazy few months. Here is a run down of events:
- my step mom gave birth
- I got a new job
- I was diagnosed with carpal tunnel syndrome and can barely hold a pencil
- developed insomnia
- got promoted at my job
- am now moving
I really want to get back into the swing of posting and drawing but the odds are stacked against me a bit 🥲 I am working on a short little Twilight fanfic for funsies that will be on ao3 in the next month or so hopefully 🤞
Love u all 🫶🫶🫶 and I’m counting down the days until bes season 2
I’ve seen a lot of people wonder if Taigen’s gonna pull a Li Shang from Mulan once he finds out about Mizu’s Secret™️ but I mean. This man’s internal logic is already so damn weird, this might as well happen, y’know??
