#i went a little mad with cyan but braids

[fleshbride]

PRESENTING . . . I HATE U!

⭒ ݁ . ໒꒱ HAJIME KASHIMO X BLK! F! READER SMUT.

⭒ ݁ . ໒꒱ CW: one-sided enemies to lovers, rough sex, vaginal fingering, edging, ruined orgasm, degradation, choking, breeding kink, spitting, hairpulling, cervix fucking, size kink, dumbification, overstimulation, dacryphilia, dick drunk y/n & pussy drunk kashimo, pussy slapping, usage of the names princess, angel, baby, slut & whore. soft! kashimo at the end.

⭒ ݁ . ໒꒱ wc: 3.8k

⭒ ݁ . ໒꒱ i went a little crazy on this one to be honest. like genuinely, i went crazy and i could’ve done more. i actually loved this smut tbh! mean kashimo <3333

He’s so annoying. It’s the only thought that’s in your mind as you glare at Kashimo Hajime — who might as well be the bane of your existence. He’s staring at you with the nastiest grin on his face; he had just tried to trip you in the library and gratefully, failed. You had quickly noticed his ploy and dodged his foot before he could swipe it underneath yours. “Are you fucking serious?” You snarl to him, plump, glossy lips pulling into a scowl. You two went to the same high school, and now — the same university. You wished that your dislike for each other would’ve dissipated when you two became adults; however, it didn’t.

To you, Kashimo is still as annoying and disgustingly cocky as ever. It’s only gotten worse since high school. He’s taller now — at around 6’4? 6’5? — compared to his teenage height of 6’1. Bulkier too. He still sports the same hairstyle, however; spiky shaggy cyan locks around his shoulders, with two small buns atop his head. His eyes are still that electric color that reminds you of fucking Sprite. As you glare at him, his face stretches into a grin. You curse the way your stomach tightens with attraction. Sure, you despised him — but you couldn’t deny the fact that he was attractive.

“Aw, don’t be mad at me,” he croons, head tilted, arms outstretched into a slight shrug, “I was… stretchin’ my leg, you know?” You tilt your head, pushing your box-braids off of your shoulder as you give him the nastiest stare in your arsenal. “Stretching… your leg. Shut the fuck up, Kashimo. My God.” Your voice is coated in both exasperated and irritation as you snap out, “We aren’t fucking sixteen anymore. Get a grip.” And as you pass him, you grumble out, “Stupid fucking bitch.”

Unfortunately, he hears you. “I beg your fucking pardon?” He questions, gripping your shoulder and spinning you around with little effort. He stares down at you, one perfectly chiseled eyebrow arched. “I’m a what?” Something pools in your stomach as he stares down at you. Your eye-view is with his chest and you have to tilt your head up to properly look at him. Your eyes trail over his face. He looks mad. For once, he drops that cocky ass facade. You made him drop it. A smirk spreads across your face. It’s your turn. “I said, you’re a stupid fucking bitch, Kashimo. I think you heard me the first time.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, unfortunately, I did hear you the first time,” Kashimo lets out a soft laugh as he runs a hand through his locks, eyeing you. It wasn’t his usual demeaning look, however. It was… closer to how you were looking at him. He gives you a small smirk and drops a heavy hand on your head, patting you. “I’ll see you later, ‘kay princess?” And he walks off, without another word, leaving your heart stuttering and mind confused.

It’s later that night when you’re in your dorm room, doing some studying. You’re in a flimsy tank-top and some small shorts that ride up the curve of your ass. Your textbook cracked open as you lay on your stomach, swinging your feet in the air, when someone knocks on the door. Your brows furrow as you question who could even be knocking at this time; it’s 12:13 am. However, you shuffle to your door and unlock it.

Kashimo is standing at the door, in nothing but gray sweatpants and a form fitting t-shirt. He tilts his head at you, looking you up and down. You frown; “What do you want, Kashim—” You’re interrupted by him grabbing your hips and pulling you into him, pressing his lips to yours. You’re shocked to say the least, gasping for air against his lips. Your smaller hands clutch his chest as you break away for a moment. “Kashimo,” you gasp out, staring at him with confusion, “What’re you—?”

“Shut up,” he huffed, picking you up and pulling your legs around his waist. He’s so fucking strong, you’re honestly concerned. “This what you wanted, right? Right, baby?” He was quick to move your textbook to the side, pressing you into the blankets. His hands are squeezing your tits, and your back is arching, and you don’t even realize it, but you’re mewling out, “Yes, yes, yes,” and you know you’ve lost.

“How long have you wanted me, hm?” He asks, as his hands grip the hem of your tanktop, beginning to pull it off of you — you’re all too eager, lifting your arms up, breathing heavy. As he asks you that question, you have to think back in your past. The fleeting glances, the heat that coursed through you whenever he merely touched your skin. “High school,” you murmur, clearly embarrassed as you look away from him. The reality of the situation closes on you; you’re in nothing but your bra and shorts in front of Kashimo, who you hate. (Don’t really hate, it’s obvious now.) And also kissed.

This was splendid.

Your conflicted thoughts are interrupted by Kashimo himself, his hand wrapping around the back of your neck and pulling you forward. “Yeah, I know. You just weren’t gettin’ the fucking hint — baby’s a bit dumb.” His voice is condescending, but drips into your ears like honey. He’s pressing his lips against yours again, pulling you into his lap. You can feel the hardness of his length against your cunt, making you let out a whimper into his mouth. The kiss is messy, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth, lapping at yours. He pulls away slightly to nip at your bottom lip, holding your hips down firmly against his body. As the two of you kiss sloppily, you grind your hips down onto him, and he lets out a soft moan. “Fuckin’ slut,” comes his rasped voice, “Pressin’ this pussy against me. Can feel how wet you are through the shorts.” You didn’t realize how wet you were until he said something. Now that you’re noticing it, you can feel your slick, trickling down your cunt, pooling in your panties.

His fingers hook through your shorts and he’s multitasking; pulling them down, down, down while laying you flat on your back against your pillows. His face pressing into your neck, lathering kisses against your neck and throat. His teeth dig into your skin, as Kashimo sucks a hickey onto your skin while his fingers dig into your thigh. His fingers creep little by little to your pussy. Quite frankly, you’re a hypersensitive mess, nerves completely on edge. All at once, everything was moving too fast and too slow for you. “K-Kashimo, are you sure—?” The question leaves your throat, but he’s quick to shush you with his fingers gliding through your cunt. Your legs spread immediately as you whine.

“Shut up, Y/N,” he hisses, index finger circling your engorged clit, “I’ve been waiting for this, and your fuckin’ mouth isn’t gonna ruin it for me.” So, you listen and you watch as he rips your panties, the fabric still clinging to your skin. He peels it off, leaving you in your bra and him fully clothed.

“Shut up, Kashimo,” you hiss, your legs scrunching as he runs his fingers up and down your pussy. “And just fucking touch me.” He gives you a glare, cyan eyes flickering with irritation. “You wanna be touched so bad? Fuck, Y/N, you’re just a nasty whore, aren’t you?” Kashimo grips your thigh and lifts up one of your legs, sliding two of his thick fingers into your soaking cunt. He gave you no time to adjust to the stretch and immediately began to thrust and curl his fingers against your gummy walls. You let out a soft moan, hands gripping the bed intensely as he pumps his fingers into you with no regard for your sensitivity, fingers leisurely, yet quick.

“O-Oh, fuck, w-wait—“ You stumble out, but Kashimo wraps his free hand around your throat, thumb coming up to touch between your lips. You take it without protest, sucking on it and sliding your tongue against it as if it was a dick. “Just a nasty thing,” he utters, eyes heavy with lust as the wet squelches of your pussy fill the room. The rough pads of his fingers are curling just right against that good, spongy spot in your cunt, that makes you whine around his thumb and roll your eyes back.

“So there it is…” He grins, and suddenly his speed increases, making sure his fingers press against that spot every single time. And it’s disgusting the way your back arches and your legs thrash a little, his thumb sliding out of your mouth as your pretty, high-pitched moans fill the room. “Kashi, Kashi, oh shit, ‘m close,” you whimper, gripping his arm as you let out pants and desperate noises.

“Close?” He muses, an eyebrow raising. “Fuckin’ slut, creaming all over my fingers like this. Thought you hated me, hm? You just hated the fact that you couldn’t fuck me, didn’t you?”

Your pride was injured. You didn’t answer, avoiding the question — desperately focusing on your impending orgasm and the way your stomach tightened. You were right there, right fucking there… And his fingers stilled.

You let out an anguished whine as he pulled his fingers out of you. Tears filled your eyes at the loss of your orgasm. “Kashimo, why—?” You choked out, throwing your head back, trying to hold in your tears.

“I asked you a fucking question,” Kashimo snapped at you, before wrapping his lips around his soaked fingers. He released them with a soft pop before reaching his hands up to undo his buns. His hair trickles down the sides of his face like a waterfall. You’d admire him, if not for your ruined state.

He gets on top of you, lifting your back to undo your bra, tossing it somewhere. “I’m gonna ask you one more time, do you fuckin’ understand me? Don’t answer? Don’t cum.” You knew he was mean, but you didn’t know he was this mean. You let out a pathetic whine, disappointed in yourself for succumbing so easily, but you needed it.

You needed him.

So you nod, and Kashimo’s lips curl up as he snaps, “I need to hear a yes.” You let out a weak whine of ‘yes’ and he simpers out “That’s a good whore.” You feel yourself get leagues wetter. He pulls off his t-shirt, and you think you’re salivating when you see his pale abs, perfectly sculpted. He has a body gifted by the gods, a divinely sculpted v-line and a happy trail that reflects his hair.

He grabs your legs, yanking you so that your entire lower half is in his lap as his fingers slide back into your cunt. He’s slow at first, languid, before rapidly snapping into a ruthless pace, his fingers curling inside of you. You’re a mess, gripping the sheets and moaning, your slick soaking his gray sweats. All the while, Kashimo is talking you through it.

“Messy ass pussy,” he hissed out, his other hand pressing a slap to your clit, “Look at the way this hole is taking my fingers. You’re just so eager, aren’t you? Now answer my fuckin’ question, baby. All that hostility was because I wasn’t fuckin’ you, right? Angel jus’ needed that attitude fucked out, didn’t you, Y/N?”

And you’re agreeing, grasping at the sheets as you pant out, “Y-Yes—! Yes, ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry— Fuck, right there, please, please, pleeeease… So close, Kashi, s’close.” He smirks at your state, purposely curling his fingers against your g-spot and pressing against it. You almost cum right there.

“So desperate. Just pathetic, Y/N. But I can forgive you.” He shrugs as if it’s no big deal, as if his long fingers aren’t ruining you right now. “Go ahead. Cum.” And as soon as you get permission, you’re letting go — creaming around his fingers as you squeal and tremble, stars dancing in your vision.

And to Kashimo, you look all too beautiful. He has to confess; he had never really hated you like you thought. He was just a dickhead. He was also a sucker for pretty girls like you, he was just bad at showing it. And when you looked like this, mouth open, eyes teary, braids splayed across your bed — God, he’s never wanted you more.

And it’s so visible in the way he’s yanking his sweats and his boxers down, revealing his perfect dick. Even in your orgasm induced haze, you’re sure you’ve never seen a more perfect dick. It has a delicious curve upwards, pale, like he is, but his tip is pink and weepy, precum gliding down the head. He’s neatly shaven, and his balls are heavy. He’s long, too long, tip just shy of his belly button. His girth is about three of your fingers. How are you supposed to take all of that?

You don’t know, nor do you care right now, not when he’s slapping his tip against your clit, making you whimper and spread your legs for him even further. Your hands wrap around his wrists as he goes to cup your tits, nimble fingers pulling at your nipples. “Hajime,” you croon, and the usage of him so off guard that his cheeks turn pink. “Pleeease, Hajime… Need you s’bad, put it in..”

The way you were whining drove him crazy; he couldn’t ever deny you, and he knew it. “Someone’s needy,” he whispered, his voice husky. He was just about as needy as you, and it was evident as his dick throbbed in his hand as he rubbed it up and down your slit before prodding at your entrance.

You let out a gasp at the stretch as he slowly pushed his dick into you, your hands immediately clutching at him, gripping anywhere you could hold. He was stretching you, so much so that tears were budding in your eyes. Your pussy gripped and clenched around him as he slowly filled you up; by the time he was done, you were arching your back off the bed, cries escaping your throat. His tip was pressed against your cervix, making slight pain course through you with every movement, even the slightest ones.

He’s gripping your thighs as he hisses, eyebrows furrowing at the way you’re wrapping around him. “Fuck, Y/N, there’s no way your pussy should be this tight around me…” And you’re nothing but a mess, whimpering as he tries to adjust inside of you, while giving you the time to get used to him.

“I’m moving now,” he said, pulling his hips back so that his tip was the only thing left in you. He slammed his hips forwards and you let out a squeal, your legs scrunching as he began to thrust into you, setting a rough and fast tempo immediately. You were damn near catatonic in your pleasured stupor, his tip nudging your cervix with every thrust. Your mouth hung open as the moans caught in your throat, the euphoria you were experiencing causing them to come out slow and gasped.

“I know, sweet whore, I know,” Kashimo murmured, slotting his lips to yours in a kiss as he grabbed your legs, bringing them near your chest, folding you in half. Every time he pulled out of you, his dick was coated in your messy juices, the sound of him thrusting into you echoing across the room. His hands found your throat, squeezing slightly while the two of you kiss, his hips still rolling into your pussy, which attempted to suck him back in every time he pulled out.

You let out shrill moans into his mouth as he pounded into you, the vein on his dick rubbing against your g-spot, making your toes curl. “R-Right there—!” You whine, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. “Fuck, fuck, Hajime—!” Kashimo chuckled against your lips, hiking your legs up higher.

“Needy girl,” he titters, “So drunk on my dick. You’re close soon, aren’t you, angel? Yeah, I can tell with the way this slutty pussy is clenching ‘round me.” He slaps your clit with his fingers, making you jerk, ecstasy coursing through you.

“Yes,” you whimpered, your stomach tightening as your pleasure nearly reached its peak. “Gonna cum—“

“Don’t cum yet,” Kashimo hissed, looking down at you. “I was gracious earlier when I let you cum on my fingers. But you’re gonna pay for those years of that bratty ass attitude.”

“But—“ You started, but you were interrupted by a particularly rough thrust that had you moaning, legs trembling. He’s trapped you down with his body, one hand around your throat and the other flicking your clit. “But nothing,” Kashimo snapped, hand tightening around your throat, “Fucking take it, do you understand me? And if you cum, it’ll be the last time you do so tonight.”

You let out a pitiful sob, tears filling your pretty eyes as you nod helplessly. Kashimo wishes he could be soft with you; wishes he could coo and kiss your tears, but no — this is what you wanted. You both knew it. So he pressed your legs further against your body as he slams his hips into you over and over like a man mad. All the while, your tears are spilling over as you let out sobbed moans. He thinks his dick gets harder inside of you while watching this show, as you cry out his name and begs to cum.

He should be generous, he should give you grace, but no. No, instead he pummels into you, his hand between your legs moving to press down on your stomach. “Y’feel me, angel? I’m so deep inside of you..” You wail pathetically, black spots dancing on the edge of your vision and your pleasure becoming tinged with pain. He only smirks down at you, before tapping your chin. “Say ahhh….”

You obey, lolling your tongue out, and he spits directly down into your mouth. You should’ve been repulsed, disgusted. But you weren’t. You swallow without even questioning or protesting.

“Good whore,” he praises, and you feel yourself ascend a little. Maybe your good behavior will convince him to let you orgasm.

“P-Please—“ You sob, as your nails dig into his skin, and you suck in ragged gasps of air, “Let me cum… ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry, won’t be mean anymore, p-please let me cum..!” His tip nudges your cervix again and you dig into his skin so hard, he begins to bleed. You’re trying your best, you really are, but it’s becoming a struggle. Your pussy is throbbing, your stomach squeezing as you tremble all over.

Kashimo hums as he looks down at you. He just can’t deny you when you look like this. Edges sweated out, eyes filled with tears that spill down your perfect cheeks, all depraved and hungry for him. “Hm… Alright. Make a mess all over my dick, won’t you?”

You’ve never been more relieved to hear such words. You let go, pushed off the edge as your cream coats his length. Your back arches off the bed as you gasp, eyes rolled back. Your mind is a haze and you’re barely there, hanging on by a thread. You collapse onto the bed as Kashimo’s thrusts slow by a margin and he moves back to let your legs drop.

But he’s not finished with you, at all.

“Turn over, Y/N,” he commands you, and when you don’t respond, he grabs you and manhandles you onto your hands and knees. He pressed down on your back, forcing you to dip until your stomach is pressed against the bed nearly, but your ass is perfectly arched for him.

“W-Wait, ‘m sensitive—!” You gasp, as he thrusts into you with reckless abandon, hands gripping your hips. You squeal out a “Haji! Hajime, no more…! Too big—!” But he isn’t listening to you. He’s intent on ruining you to the fullest, and two measly orgasms can’t do that. His hand fists your braids as he slams his hips snugly against your ass, the clapping sound filling his ears with pride. He watches the jiggle of your plump ass as his dick splits you open.

You’re a drooling mess, head pressed into the blankets, muffling your incessant noises. He yanks your head up, snapping out, “None of that shit. Let me hear those slutty moans.” His lip is pulled between his teeth as he lets out a groan. Fuck, he’s getting close. But he wants to make you cum one more time before he does. He releases your hair and watches as you drop like a ragdoll, hands barely fisting the sheets. You squirm a little when he slams against your g-spot, and try your best to crawl away, but you don’t get far. He grips you by your hair and slams you back onto his dick, making you cry out. He’s grabbing you, scooping you up while sitting at the edge of your bed. You’re facing him and he can clearly view your face now.

Your eyes are glassy, mouth open in a small o. He grins. Look at you, reduced to nothing. He’s grabbing your legs while you’re in his lap, and with no care in the world, he begins to drop you down on his dick. You’re letting out noises mixed with a scream and a moan, arms around his back, acrylics dragging at his skin.

“One more, princess,” he’s groaning in your ear, even though you’re unsure how many times he’s pulled out of you. Three, right? You can’t remember; your head is foggy and the only thing you can focus on is the way his tip is pressing against your cervix, the way his big hands are cupping your ass as he drops you down on his dick.

And suddenly you’re gushing, creaming all around him, so hard and so forceful that it makes you collapse against his chest. But he *still isn’t done.* He’s still thrusting into you, his hips stuttering and becoming reckless. “Gonna fill you up, ‘kay?” He groans and you nod, nod, nod, babbling out, “C-Cum in me, please… Want your cum s’bad, wanna be swell with your cum—“

He’s hissing out moans as he slams into your cunt, “Yeah angel, gonna give you a fuckin’ baby with the way I’m gonna stuff you full of my cum—“ He lets out a choked out groan as he grips your hips, holding you down on his dick as he shoots thick, warm ropes of cum inside of you.

You collapse against him and his arms wrap around you, caressing your skin and pressing kisses to your forehead. “Good girl. So good f’me, Y/N..” Your eyes are closing, exhaustion creeping over you, when you hear him say, “Love you.. Gonna take care of you, princess.”

You fall asleep with a smile on your face.

#jujutsu itadori #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x fem reader #jujutsu kaisen x black reader #jjk x black reader #jjk x fem!reader #jjk x black fem reader #black reader #black fem reader #⭒ ݁ . ໒꒱​ jazi writes #🎧 #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #kashimo x reader #kashimo hajime x reader #kashimo hajime #kashimo x fem blk reader

[warpaiint]

⌜ @misstantabismuses ⌟ ―― B a r o n e s s - C a i t l y n . & . J i n x ❝ Snip, snip, snip.

The small blade of the knife went through the thin threads, holding the sequins to the plush, satin pillow. Jinx was carefully cutting off one after the other, each cut eliciting a clear sound in the room. She was lounging on one of the large settees with its dark ebony frame and vino cushions.

The round, stained glass window painted the dim light of the neon pipes outside in blue, green and cyan onto the floor. A pattern like a forest floor in summer, only disrupted by the shadows of the thin, bone-like window grit. The air was heavy with the scent of dried herbs and rose water. Caitlyn never spared expenses when it came to the comfort of her guests.

"That's easy for you to say, Cit-Cat." Jinx turned towards Caitlyn, sitting opposite the sofette. The knife's cold steel reflected the sun in a flash of white. "You never had someone tell you that you are crazy or a loony or a dog. Or Silco's mad cur. Seriously, is that the most devastating line you can come up with, Finn?! I have known harder insults when I was twelve, you pussy!"

Before Jinx could stop herself, the knife found its way into the pillow, stabbing through the fabric and into its soft, feathery filling. Jinx huffed and her blue bangs flopped upwards. She grumbled: "I know that I don't need to appease anyone else. I am making Silco proud with what I do. That's all that matters. I still don't like being called a mad cur. I know I ain't right in the head. I don't need someone to point this out."

Jinx finally bothered pulling out the knife and tossed the pillow over the backrest of the settee. Flopping against it, she sat in a more manly fashion with her legs spread and feet firmly planted on the floor. Her hands rested on her thighs, alabaster skin gleaming in the darkened room. Her cobalt-blue braids curled half over the settee, around her sides and across one of her legs. Her sapphire eyes shimmered with lingering traces of frustration and boredom.

"Sometimes I wish Silco would let me blow up Finn", Jinx mused, "That airhead is one of the rudest Chem-Barons anyway, and Silco never looks too happy when dealing with him. But apparently, he provides 'valuable services'" - she did little air quotes with her fingers - "or whatever. So I cannot do that yet. I mean, we already have you and you can take out enemies way better than Finn. Plus you are more agreeable. So why do we need Finn?" ❞

Caitlyn shifted to sit down on the sofette, resting her back against it as she cross her legs and let her foot bounce a little. Black stiletto heels laced up her leg, hidden underneath a black jumpsuit along her body. Her hand draped against the back of the sofette, tilting her head as she watched Jinx messing with the pillow, each sequin falling with carefully precise cuts. Yet Caitlyn showed no concern for the pillow but more eyes upon Jinx. "Oh?" Caitlyn questioned, curious about where Jinx would go with it. Her foot tapped once, and she saw the glint against the blade as her manicured nail traced the back of her seat with care.

"I have not, unfortunately," Caitlyn agreed, remembering playing in the streets with Jinx as a teenager and also hearing those same insults. A few well-refrained words and a blade to the throw caused them to shut up. Caitlyn had refined her technique since her words brought more fear to people than the tip of her cane blade, but she had both for useful needs. "The man reeks of fragile masculinity," And then the pillow was completely ruined, stabbed through multiple times with a silver blade, the massacred cotton against the edges of her blade.

"My Little Sapphire," Caitlyn spoke with affection as she uncrossed her legs, reaching over to brush her finger up against her long blue bangs of her and tilted her head. "Silco is proud of all your work, and I for one, wouldn't change you for anything," Leaning back she watched Jinx shifting into an easier seated position as Caitlyn sat up to be able to look at her and grinned. She stood up and moved over to the Settee and sat next to her. "Perhaps Silco is waiting for the perfect opportunity to use him in the way he needs," Her fingers reached over to brush against Jinx's leg, lightly squeezing it.

"though I agree with you, he is full of hot air and a pathetic excuse of a chem-baron. All brawn and no brains, that one," And a man she would let nowhere near her brothel. "I wouldn't doubt if you blew him up, all you would see is clouds of smoke. Probably squeal like a rat in the end," Caitlyn raised a little brow, having no regard or care for how she spoke of one of the territory leaders. He left her alone no doubt due to the position of her brothel within the lanes. It was a small territory, as she had no reason to expand or look for power, and she preferred it that way. There were a select few in her inner circle she cared about, as she took one of Jinx's braids and brushed her fingers along the end of them. "What would cheer you up, dear? You name it and I will deliver,"

#misstantabismuses #[muse] caitlyn — interactions. #[wolf speaks] — tracker.

[allsonargent]

Lagertha + season 5B hair

#vikingsedit #lagerthaedit #vikingshistory #kwinnickedit #perioddramaedit #vikings #lagertha #mine: gif #ogif #i went a little mad with cyan but braids #1k

[alexmorrall]

The Emerald Seer

Chapter One

 Kaelyn woke to an empty bed, cool with morning dew. She rolled over, spraying a puff of sawdust from her mattress. Water flicked off her nose and soaked her blanket. It bled through cracks in her walls from the drip of trees above. A small price to pay for each day to begin with birdsong. Amaris was nowhere to be found. She couldn’t sleep like Kaelyn could, even wet and cold. An arrow thudded into a strawman outside. She bolted up, remembering this was her first Harvest Feast since turning sixteen. It was the last day of summer, and knights would arrive soon to pass judgment.

When her feet touched the dirt floor, she shivered. Something furry passed over her ankles. Straining her eyes, she saw Whiskerwinks dart back into the pantry. This time she rode five miles to Cyan Lake with the mouse, borrowing a horse from Remy’s stable. Leaving him in the forest, she said a solemn goodbye. Yet here he was, nibbling on bread and cheese once more. Kaelyn crossed their one room house to the pantry. Giving it a good kick, she hoped he’d come out easy. When he did not, she sighed and stepped outside.

Amaris brought an arrow to her ear. Both girls had green eyes, but little more in common. Kaelyn’s hair was silver and often tangled where her sister’s locked in red braids. Ami’s never got in the way when she swung an axe or shot a bow. Kaelyn’s was often caked in mud. Releasing the string, Ami’s arrow pierced the strawman’s heart. She knocked another arrow to her longbow, the weapon as tall as she was. Taking aim, lines in her muscles showed. Kaelyn had never seen a woman so strong. Her second arrow slid into straw beside the first.

“Enjoying the show?” Amaris gave her a wry look.

“I love to watch you shoot,” Kaelyn approached her sister.

“Too close,” Amaris brushed her away and took aim again.

“Did I break your concentration? In battle you won’t be so lucky.” Then Amaris turned, aiming the bow at Kaelyn’s feet. The girl jumped away. “Ami!”

“Want to take some shots? It’s time you hit the mark. Today could be your lucky day.”

“You know I can’t even pull the string...”

“I won’t always be here, Kae. When the knights come, what will you do?”

“They’ll not take me,” Kaelyn gave Amaris a long look. “I wouldn’t last a day in the mines. But you’d make them a fortune... I can see why you practice.”

“They won’t need to take me.”

“How come?”

“They just won’t, that’s why,” Amaris snapped. “Now, your garden looks like a weed bed. At this rate you’ll be selling dandelions this season.”

“Nothing wrong with that.”

Kaelyn went about her chores. She plucked weeds from her flower and vegetable beds, removed deadheads, and checked for mold. Then she brought a bucket to the town well. Remy’s villagers came for water to wash and cook for the feast. Listening to some women, she heard Lord Ryndale hired a new knight named Godfrey. He was said to be crueler than most and drank Karnath dry in one night. Hearing this, the local tavern owner Gascoyne abruptly left line. Waddling back to the Suckling Pig, he rolled his casks safely into the cellar.

It took Kaelyn an hour to fill her bucket, then she barely got back to the house without spilling half. Amaris was still shooting strawmen.

“Do you expect an army to come up out of the hills?” Kaelyn wondered.

“No, but perhaps some knights, a few rebels or if I’m lucky… Garzians.”

“You’ll take ‘em all on yourself, eh?”

“They’re just men, and they can be killed.”

“Can’t believe you’re working today of all days. You know the knights could kill you for dodging judgement.”

“Someone’s got to.”

“Well, don’t be late for the shift that kills you,” Kaelyn sucked air between her teeth, face going scarlet. She stalked away, grabbing a copy of Wilderwood Beasts and Legends on her way out the front door.

“Mornin’, Kae,” called Luc. The old man with blue eyes and skin like worn leather, stacked wood outside her door. Her house stood in the shadow of Edgewood Lumbermill. Luc helped them build their house, with wood gathered by Amaris and the other foresters. When Amaris turned sixteen, she asked to sign up for the war. She planned on marching west to kill the Bandit King. Hearing this, Luc adopted both sisters the same day. They were only with him a year, as Amaris was desperate to live under her own roof. Kaelyn could’ve stayed longer.

“Morning, Luc,” she waved. “Wonderful day for Harvest Feast, isn’t it?”

“Oh, it’ll be a beaut’,” he nodded and grinned, going back to his stacking.

Kaelyn turned north, taking the main cart road. It wound for half a mile before leading to a meadow of bloodred poppies. As sun smiled down, she basked in Daphne’s grace. Finding her way to the river that curled around the Fairy Tree, she reclined on its bank. Warm light washed over, as fish looked up, bubbles rising to the surface. A breeze passed through the old oak, and sometimes it whispered to her. Soft, kind words eased her mind. It was a needed escape from villagers who called her “ragamuffin” and “witch” for her silver hair. It made her look old, and sometimes she felt it.

When she looked at the Fairy Tree, she thought of the Wilderwood. Its ancient groves grew tall as the sky. The Fairy Tree was much younger, but Luc told her it grew from a Wilderwood seed blown east on the wind. This made it a holy relic, and none would cut it down. Its branches spread like powerful arms to either side. Sometimes Kaelyn pressed her nose against its bark, hoping it would give her a hug. Ami had not given her one in so long. The trees, and the river, and the fish never looked at her with scorn. It was here her thoughts could wander in peace. When she cracked open her book, she found herself in the Wilderwood.

Kaelyn returned home at midday to break her fast. With a yelp, she remembered Harvest Feast was in full swing. In her excitement to leave the house, she donned a crown of daylilies but forgot to eat anything. Racing to Remy Square, a basket swung from her fingers, filled with blossoms and apples. Her pace slowed as people blocked her path. They wore their Daphne’s Day best: brightly colored tunics and dresses, hair braided or slicked with grease. Seeing Kaelyn, covered head to toe in mud, they let her pass. Slipping through, she avoided their glares, approaching the main event.

Arriving in Remy Square, Kaelyn delighted in the smells and sights of harvest’s bounty. The aroma watered her mouth and rumbled her stomach. Noise and light warmed the Suckling Pig. Gascoyne roasting a boar on the common, its flesh sizzling over hungry flames. Every man, woman, and child lined up for his famous pork, two if patience held. Children watched him cut, moving dutifully forward in line. Gascoyne handed one boy a wine-braised rib, his eyes turning big as apples. He tousled the boy’s hair, smearing it with grease, and called, “Next ‘un up!”

Nearly every villager of Remy filled the square, sauce spackling their faces. They drank ale, mulled wine, and mead, ate fresh bread with black jellies and buttery cheeses. Mashed turnips, glazed carrots, and buttered onions slipped from plates into mouths. Kaelyn offered flowers and fruit to those who had no meat and looked as poor as she. Most were too proud to accept charity, least of all from her. They slapped her offerings away. Most often her hands and hair were dirty, and today was no exception.

A mother steered her children away. “That girl’s mad,” she said, “Sleeps too much in the woods. Fairies addled her brain. Stay away now.”

Moving on, she found a hungry-looking child who might be more receptive. She offered her an apple and the girl took it, but her father’s face soured. “Oi, that’s Luc’s waif, ain’t it? Always said they live too close to th’ woods. That’s where demons’ll get ye. Drop the apple, lass. Leave it fer the worms.”

The girl dropped the apple and Kaelyn picked it back up. As they left, a dull ache throbbed in her head. It wasn’t just hunger. She wished she could tell these people they were wrong. Her brains weren’t addled, and she had no demons. Nowhere was the goddess closer than in the peaceful woods. So many forgot her way, claiming the gods turned their backs on the world. They’d never listen. None thought it wise for the sisters to live by themselves. Most were jealous they’d been taken in by Luc, the richest man in town.

Hands clapped, lutes strummed and proud songs of Larasu rose on their lips. She tapped her foot to the music and began to dance. As she moved, she caught the eyes of Laran, who also kept his distance. Wine and ale flowed like rivers, and the day passed in a haze. Villagers chose to numb their fears by singing songs of the rangers. Misha the Mouse, Sir Cadmus Featherstroke, Sheon the Silver Lady, Grian the Giantslayer, and Bloodless Barric, the Lion of Larasu. Most were still alive, yet many had begun to despise the rangers. Still, the songs were sung, and though few sought to join their ranks, many praised their deeds.

Amaris loved these songs, and never had she missed a feast day. All year the sisters looked forward to Gascoyne’s pork, Olson’s White Delcins, and the songs of Harvest Feast. More than enjoyment, Kaelyn wanted her sister here for what was to come. Soon knights would arrive for judgement. Any who failed to appear in Remy Square could be punished with death. Kaelyn would stand for judgement as she turned sixteen. It brought another jab to her belly, and she looked at the line for boar.

Last year they took children to work the Karnath Mines. Small bodies fit into tunnels and little fingers could repair tools. Few lived to twenty anyways. Their parents were paid, and the children got food and lodging for winter. Even if they came back whole, they were never the same. Their hands were claws, eyes creased, and backs bent. Light faded from eyes, and skin turned ashen gray. Just from looking, you could tell if someone had been taken, or Daphne forbid, taken more than once.

Kaelyn noticed the six robed men who inspected Remy’s three carts of grain. Stable boys hitched the collectors’ carts to horses. Each year ‘standard cartful’ seemed to grow a little larger. Going easy on them this year, the collectors climbed aboard their carts. They rolled from Remy Square, heading west back to Raven’s Hill, leaving a trail of grain. Any who went to gather the grain were bludgeoned by Remy’s bounders. Each winter a child died of hunger, and Kaelyn gave their family some flowers. These were rarely rejected.

“Line up!” bellowed Chief Olson, slamming a club on his shield. He was in a poor temper, as he usually was. Wearing leather armor, and a bronze badge of office, he and his men enforced Ryndale’s laws whenever possible. This was their proudest event of the year. With a twinkle in his blue eyes, he bellowed, “Judgement time.”

The crowd turned quiet, songs trailed off, and Gascoyne doused his cookfire. “Welp, fun’s over,” he announced. “Join me at the Pig if ye’ve seen one too many o’ these traditions.” Lumping the half-eaten boar over his shoulder, he carried it away. Most of the villagers over thirty years shuffled after him. They were exempt from being taken and refused to watch their children’s judgement.

Bounders slammed clubs on shields, barking at Remy’s younger villagers to form a line. A couple bounders were Kaelyn’s age, exempt from judgement due to their service. Under the hail of shouts, Remy’s men and women, boys and girls, age sixteen to thirty moved forward. Kaelyn joined them, pulling hair over her eyes, and smearing mud on her smock. She had no finer clothes, nor did she want to look pretty this day.

A thunder of hooves filled their ears. In years’ past, it gave Kaelyn chills. Now, it made her stomach turn in a knot. Three men in scalemail armor appeared on the cart road. A large man with a yellow mustache led the way. Dismounting before Saint Remy’s statue, a boy brought them ale. Under his helm, the mustache did little to cover pockmarks and scars that riddled his face. He gulped from a jug and dropped it to crack on the ground. The boy knelt to pick up the pieces. Heat welled in Kaelyn’s chest, despising this man already.

“I present you with Sir Godfrey,” said the bounder. “A knight from Annandale, newly entered into our lord’s service. He’s been honored with the passing of judgment this year.”

Godfrey growled, spittle flying from his cheeks as he advanced on Kaelyn and the others. Ripping off gloves, he revealed hands as rough as boulders. His mustache must have itched because it bristled as he looked them over. Kaelyn stifled a giggle, trying to ease her fear. When his roving eyes looked for her laugh, she was too short to be seen.

“First order of business: Lord Ryndale needs soldiers to keep the rebels at bay. Men, step forward,” his voice scraped like hooks on gravel. They advanced, some flexing or making fists. Godfrey walked the line, observing them in turn. “I see none. You’d not make it to sixteen in Annandale.” The men frowned, looking to each other and the ground. “You’re free to go. Blessed by your meekness. But if I see one of you at the Pig, you’d better buy me a drink.” A few men nodded and saluted. “Get out of my sight.” Most walked home or found spots to watch the finale, while a few marched to the Suckling Pig.

Godfrey paced before the women and girls now. They stood straight and tall, forgetting to breathe. Kaelyn slouched, breath catching in her throat. She was Remy’s youngest prospect, and under the dirt her face was smooth, free of blemishes. In childhood she rarely suffered flux, sweats, or pox. Most orphans were not so fortunate, and their faces bore the scars. Smearing dirt from her hair onto her face, she looked to the knight.

“Not sure how you put up with those men,” Godfrey chuckled, shaking his head. “Now ladies, I see some of you in gold or silver, trying to look your prettiest. If you’re wearing fine metals or stones leave them at the foot of Saint Remy. Then you may go.” To Kaelyn’s surprise, a handful of women came forward. She never knew such riches existed in Remy. Not that she owned any that may have helped her.

“Now,” his tone brightened. “I’ve an exciting announcement. Lord Ryndale seeks a new handmaid. All girls older than twenty may be dismissed.”

This left six girls and Kaelyn was one of them. Four of them were from good families. They trembled, tears filling their eyes. Next to her was a fellow orphan, Kendra. Raven hair fell to her shoulders and she wore a deerskin jacket and breeches. A dagger rested on each hip. Last time Kaelyn saw her, she’d been sixteen, of an age to leave the orphanage. Departing Remy, she went out into the wilderness and no one knew where she’d been the past four years. Now she returned on judgement day.

Though Kaelyn was called strange by many in town, Kendra was considered far stranger. Like Kaelyn, she suffered little in childhood. Her skin was pale as snow, from years in the orphanage library. While Kaelyn read much, she did so under the sun, listening to birds and squirrels. Kendra took to dark, cramped places, ones filled with spiders. She slept some nights in the orphanage attic, where she emerged covered in cobwebs, wasps buzzing in her hair. Not once was she caught for stealing books, though Kaelyn knew she had them. Abbot Arden deemed her the perfect disciple of Daphne and lamented her leaving town.

Godfrey marched down the row of girls. With each step, blood beat in Kaelyn’s ears. Finally, he came to stand before her and Kendra. Looking both over, he stroked his mustache.

“You,” Godfrey said, pointing at Kendra, “you’ll join me at the Pig. We’ve much to discuss.”

Kaelyn let out a breath she’d been holding for weeks. In the corner of her eye, she swore Kendra smiled. As villagers resumed festivities, she sprinted from Remy Square.