#was thinking of this when I was listening to paradise yesterday (I think?)

[incomplete-ruler]

You know, we talk a lot about Allen's "gonna blow your ass", but we don't talk enough about Hajun's "swallow me"

[darabeatha]

[bunnysbrainrot]

A Lesson in Manners

Relationship: Dean Winchester x f!Reader

Content: Romantic tension, protective Dean, alcohol consumption, a weird guy ft. the way Dean handles it.

Summary: After a long, exhausting day of hunting, Team Free Will unwinds with drinks at a nearby bar. You're enjoying your time until a stranger decides to pester you, but that won't go unnoticed by Dean.

The signature purr of the Impala faded as Dean turned off the ignition, releasing a heavy sigh, a defeated and tired noise. Whatever nasties they have down here in Georgia have been difficult. All signs in this case were pointing to a djinn, but without getting in closer, there was no way to be completely sure.

That risk was left to Sam and Dean, as they had told you yesterday, when the research finally fell into place.

Sam's lips pressed into a thin line as he stared at his laptop screen, his brows twitching. He deadpanned and looked to his brother, "Djinn. How the hell didn't we think of that yet?"

Dean matched Sam's frustration with a scoff. He simply shook his head.

Djinn were unfamiliar to you still. Though you had done a fair bit of research, helpfully guided by Sam, and learned quite a lot. But, you also knew that research and experience were very, very different for a hunter.

"Awesome, so... what?" Dean inquired, raising a brow at Sam. You sat in the small armchair in the boys' motel room, looking between them. "We gonna go into blood-sucking paradise-dream-world again?"

Sam flashed a quick smile, "Let's just hope it doesn't come to that. Do we have any more lamb's blood?"

Dean's expression changed to annoyance, "Not after that dickbag Balthazar used it for that stupid parallel-universe crap." He crossed his arms over his chest and threw his head back in thought. "And where are we supposed to get it, anyway? We're in the middle of friggin' nowhere."

"Cas?"

"If we could even get a hold of him."

"I'm sure he's still listening, Dean. I know he's been here and there for a while, but-" Sam explained.

Whirling to face his brother, Dean countered, "'Here and there'? Sam, we basically wait three to five business days for him to give us anything. If he's so focused on Heaven right now, let him stay up there."

You had seen Dean's rising upset with his friend for a few weeks now, seeing the angel's presence less and less. Castiel didn't indulge any details, and kept recollections vague - but, the lack of transparency had been taking a toll on the group.

He’d been absent for two weeks now. Nothing.

Dean's lengthy sigh showed his stress. He brought a hand up to his brow; Sam rolled his head to stretch his neck in the passenger seat.

"I need a fuckin' beer," Dean breathed.

You laid a hand on his shoulder from the seat directly behind his - Sam was more conversational on long drives, so sitting on the left side gave good distraction in the long hours on the road. Dean craned his neck to you, looking to you expectantly.

Because as much as he didn't like to admit it, Dean craved the moments when you touched him.

You couldn’t tell if you spooked him, judging by the way Dean froze in his seat, eyes boring directly into yours. A grin spread across your face, "Let's get shitfaced."

Dean shook his head and pointed to you, "You don't wanna get to shitfaced level with me, sweetheart. Just a few beers. Plus, I’ve seen you get tipsy even after one."

Each of you started stepped out of the Impala, respectively stretching your achy legs, or arms, or backs or neck and everything else. No matter the hunt, the soreness remained the same. You released a groan as you lean backward, flexing your stiffened spine. Dean neared and landed a gentle pat between your shoulders to get you moving along.

You noticed how quickly Dean pushed ahead to open the front door, before you had the chance to lift a finger. He looked into the cracked door - an assessing glaze cast over his eyes. Always on the lookout for danger.

Who could keep you safer than Dean Winchester?

After all of his impressive feats so far, it’d be hard for someone not to admire Dean. Saving the world was easier on the drawing board, and with having been to hell and back, you couldn’t fathom the willpower he gained to push past it. Not a semblance of that traumatic experience showed in that handsome, stoic face.

Dean pressed the door ajar to make way for you and Sam. You scanned the tables and stools at the bar; patrons scattered around in clusters, each chattering and laughing amongst themselves.

The thick smell of liquor filled the air. You noticed the hints of whiskey, oddly reminding you of Dean, and the way that scent mixed with his cologne. You memorized that smell from his occasional hugs, or times where you’d sit together, and you’d wondered if he could hear your heart hammering in your chest.

Sam led the way toward a taller table in the corner of the joint, settling in a stool closest to the back emergency exit. You eyed the stool at the outer side, but a creeping feeling dawns on you - someone is staring. Settling into your stool, you took the chance to swivel around, looking for the source of that persistent feeling.

At the bar, a man with a scruffy beard had his eyes trained on yours, roving over your form in the chair. You exhaled, fighting back the feeling of disgust, and turned back to Sam, plastering on a terse smile.

“What is it?” Sam asked, his brows furrowing in concern.

You paled slightly, the man’s stare still honed in on your back, “Dude at the bar has a staring problem.”

Sam leaned casually to reach for his pocket, craning his head for a swift second. A glint in his eye told you he’d found the perpetrator. Footsteps approached from behind - a familiar pattern, one you’d heard every day, and without turning you’d known it was Dean. A careful brush of his hand between your shoulder blades eased you, a gentle reminder he was here.

“Bottoms up, buttercup,” Dean teased, placing a shot of amber liquor in front of you, himself, and then his brother.

Three lime wedges rested on a plate, along with a salt shaker. You glance at Dean with a ‘seriously?’ look, and he gave a signature Winchester grin. You did say you wanted to get shitfaced. And hell, it could help with that looming creep. You licked the back of your hand and sprinkled some salt.

“To figuring something out,” you proclaimed, raising the shot glass. The boys follow your lead before clinking them on the table, and tossing their heads back.

The tequila burns the back of your throat, but the lime helps you ignore it. Sam held a steady face while Dean grimaced at the burn.

You giggled softly, “Can’t handle tequila, Dean?”

He flashed a toothy grin, and a quick middle finger. Your giggle evolved into a bright laugh that drew one from Sam, too.

“Bet you couldn’t handle pool, though,” countered Dean.

Sam eyed you from the side and threw a knowing smirk. You’d never back down from a challenge, especially when it was Dean testing you. There was a desire to beat him at his own games, to show him you could match his skill and then some.

Then there was the chase of it - cycles of teasing comments and passing glances, but never a break in the tension.

Your voice lowers, “I’ll take you on any day, Winchester.”

The jest made Dean grin. The chase was on again.

Sam stayed behind when you and Dean claimed a vacant pool table, letting you set yourselves up for the perfect one-on-one.

Dean nodded to you and eyed the cue ball. You bend at the waist over the table, and felt the creeping feeling again. It radiated along your spine to the nape of your neck, as if your body was set ablaze under the stranger’s stare.

Until suddenly, you had company.

“Say, think you could spare me a game when you’re done, beautiful?”

The voice matched the face. It was nasally with a copious amount of douchery; another entitled asshole who got involved when he wasn’t wanted.

Across the table, Dean’s brow twitched.

“Listen bud, we’re just getting started here. Plenty of other folks in here who can play you,” the edge in Dean’s tone was a warning in and of itself.

You hitched a breath awaiting the man’s reaction.

Out of the corner of your eye you spotted Sam sliding off his barstool, slowly making his way closer to your pool table. He idly looked at his phone, but kept a watchful glance.

“I’m sure you’ll have the time for another one, right, baby?” The stranger’s words slurred stupidly. He didn’t address Dean with meeting his stare, and instead fought to have yours. He closed the gap between you two further - the smell of alcohol lingered on him, thick and nauseating.

You bark, “You’ve got ten seconds.”

“Oh…. hic… ten seconds ain’t enough for me, sweetheart..”

Dean’s voice was taunting, probably trying to pull the dickbag away from you, “It’s plenty for us.”

Finally, the man looked to Dean, straightening his posture at the height difference. He was lean, but couldn’t hold a firm stance, by the looks of it. The man scanned Dean top to bottom before turning back to you.

Before crossing a crucial line.

A foreign hand stroked your spine, making you recoil. Anger contorted your features as you warned him yourself.

“Try that again, fucker,” you spat with disgust. You could still feel the touch on your back. Gross.

The man’s lips tug into a smile, and the anger continued to brew. Of course, you were not the only one with that bubbling rage. Dean has closed the distance before you could register he’d moved at all.

Dean loomed over the man with a haunting glare. To add fuel to the fire, the man had the gall to grin at the threat, raising his hands to Dean’s chest.

“Come on, jus’ gavin’ a lil’ fun,” said the stranger.

In one swift motion, Dean collected the man’s wrists with one hand, and delivered a hook with the other.

The blow knocked his head to the side. Other patrons turned to the scene unfolding - some turned back to their drinks, some kept staring. You gasped when Dean landed another strike, sending the man tumbling to the floor with a resounding thud.

“Dean, that’s enough, he’s-“

He didn’t react to your objection.

Behind the commotion, Sam’s eyes widen with shock, though he smiles with satisfaction at the takedown.

A final shove put enough distance between you and the pathetic drunk. You turned to see the bartender giving Dean a stern look, but they return to filling a pint glass.

You panted softly while the stranger walked away, bracing his bloodied chin with his hand. You looked to Dean and found his attention back at the pool table, letting out a frustrated grunt. There wasn’t a way to thank him. No need. The man had made great strides in protecting you, enough to reassure that you didn’t have to offer thanks. It came naturally, protecting one another.

Sam made his way back to the table and returned to his stool, shaking his head in disbelief, a smile on his face.

What a night, right?

It was Dean’s voice that brought you back to your senses. That same voice that calmed you, that ignited your body to its core.

“Alright, sweetheart, you go first.”

——

“Dammit, whathefuck- that isn’t fair-“ you protested. You’d lost, but kept trying to knock the striped pool balls into the pockets, insisting that there was some sort of rule to let you go until you were fully done, including the cue ball.

Sam handed you a glass of water, which you sipped on immediately. Your fingertips slowly grew numb against the cold glass.

Dean chortled as he collected the pool balls, “Shitfaced and pool don’t mix well, do they?”

You let out a tipsy laugh and shake your head at him. The moment stilled, where the rest of the scene faded away. Dean scanned you over, and held a too-long look. A small spark lit behind his eyes.

“Let’s getcha home.”

Thank you for reading! I liked this idea, and I think it could easily have a second part. Vote in the poll or me know in the comments if you’d like to see where this goes!

[bornagainmurdock]

another night in paradise

author's note: very inspired by ddba!matt and the very end of ep 2 'optics,' no spoilers for the show or ep, just in love with sadomasochist dilfy matthew <3

contents: 18+ ONLY, angst; hurt/comfort, smut, matt murdock x reader, gender neutral reader, sub!matt, masochist!matt, no sex, temperature play, candles/wax play, ice play, kink as therapy/emotional regulation, (don't worry if this isn't your thing, they'll be more sadomasochist matt in the near future)

work count: 2.7k

Matt wanted to have a good day, but truly, what does a good day even look like anymore? Cases, files, chasing leads and finding dead ends. He was working on a case that was getting drawn out by the DA, who moved the trial a few more weeks in the future. While this granted Matt more time to position his defense, it also drew out his anxiety. He slept most night if you counted laying on your back crying into the silence and shaking, falling in and out of consciousness sleeping.

Tonight Matt had one goal, and one goal only: to relax, shake the tension out of his body, and get some rest, some real rest. And the best way to do that: you.

Matt sat on the floor, criss cross, breathing slowly into the cold air of February leaking through the windows. His body stilled as he inhaled a count of four, held for four, and exhaled for four before repeated the cycle.

Earlier this week Matt asked you to set aside some time to help him get out of his head and recenter himself. He knew what he needed, but asking for it was the hard part. He told you he would make dinner and then you could stay over into the next day that he had taken off of work.

You walked into his apartment with his spare key you kept to find Matt on the couch, unaware of your prescencem shaking slightly with his head in his hands.

"Matty?" You called, walking slowly towards him as a warning of your prescence.

He sniffled for a second, pulling himself together before answering.

"I'm sorry. I should get started on dinner so we can eat soon. I bought some groceries yesterday. How do you feel about eggplant parm?" He said while standing, turning to face you. His cheeks were red and wet, a tear still threatening to escape from his eye.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

"I'm just really overwhelmed with work. It feels never ending." Matt aproached closer and reached out to grab your hand. "But I'm okay. I'm really excited to have dinner with you this evening. Just got to get started."

"I can make dinner Matt."

"I don't mind really. I just need a minute."

He took a few deep breaths while you strategized.

"Kneel."

"Babe, you don't need to do this. I'm okay." He took a step back, almost complying before questioning the moment.

"I know I don't need to do this. I want to do this. Kneel, Matt." You repeated, watching his rough exterior melt just slightly.

Matt lowered to his knees and waited there, continuing his steady breathing pattern.

"Thank you. I'm sorry things have been overwhelming at work. I want to help if I can. Do you think getting out of your brain will help?" You ask genuinely, hoping not to push him too far.

"Yes." He said, moving his head down to face the floor.

"Okay. First, you're going to take your clothes off. I want them in a neat folded pile on the edge of your bed, and then you kneeling at the end of the bed waiting for me. Everything off. I'm going to give you two minutes." You say, prepping a timer on your watch. "Okay, two minutes."

At your ready, Matt stands and walks calmly to his bedroom. You can hear him begin to undo his tie and unbutton his shirt. You sit on the couch and wait, listening to the sounds of Matt catch control over his environment, folding each piece of clothing until it's perfectly square.

With twenty seconds to spare, you hear Matt lower to his knees once again and then silence. The seconds inch by, Matt's silence settling into the background.

The timer goes off audibly, warning Matt of your soon entrance. When you finally step inside, you avoid him entirely, looking first over his pile of clothes, admiring his work, and then walking to the closet to grab a few items.

From there, you set the items on the side table and walk to the kitchen, passing by Matt's still body again. You grab a cup and pile some ice into it before returning to the bedroom, the cup of ice joining the other items.

"Stand, but stay put."

Matt rises to his feel and holds his arms behind him by the elbows, swaying slightly on the balls of his feet.

"First I am going to move your pile of clothes. They are very tidy. I am proud of you. Then, I'm going to put a water proof blanket over the top of the bed." You complete the series of actions, while Matt waits. He's patient but on the edge of frustration. "Okay, lay down. Hands at your sides."

Matt moves swiftly, sinking into the mattress with ease and resting in a comfortable and easy position.

"Good. What do you think about some sensation and temperature play?" You ask.

"That sounds really nice." Matt responds, heart catching up to his excitement.

"Do you want warnings before I do anything?" Matt could get oversensitive quickly, and the abrupt switching of sensation could, if not the right play, could send him into overdrive.

"No."

"Say the full sentence please so I know you understand."

"No, I do not want warnings before switching sensations."

"Thank you, Matt."

You reached towards the side table, grabbing the lighter to start the candle you pulled from the box. With the flicker of the lighter, Matt's body shutters, anticipating his fate.

Once the candle was lit, you moved to grabbing the cup of ice, digging out a small piece and walking towards Matt's still body.

"Ready?" You ask.

"Yes." Matt nods while he speaks.

You set the first piece of ice on the center of his chest. His skin, already warm and flushed, begins to melt the ice. A small pool forms around the cube itself, with trails dragging down the sides of his skin, tracing along his rib bones.

He winces at the inital contact, but quickly settles into the sensation. You watch the small piece melt entirely, drips sliding down his chest and upper stomach still, but leave no shiver in their path. The water adjusts to Matt's skin quickly.

You grab the next piece, this one much larger, and set it on the center of Matt's collar bones where his neck meets his chest. His gasp creates a pocket for the ice to rest there, already pooling.

You drag it slowly down his chest, making sure to pause for a moment each time he winces and audible responds. Once you got to his mid stomach, Matt was whimpering, shaking and turning trying to push the ice off his skin. You left the remaining part of the cube in his bellybutton, pooling and dripping across his stomach and hips, sending chills through his body.

Little did Matt know, this was a warm up.

Once five cubes were melting across his skin, you reached to the table to grab one of the candles that had been flickering for about ten minutes now. Wax began pooling at the center, edges of the candle holding it hostage to drip on Matt.

Seconds later, you move to hold the candle over Matt's shivering body, still adjusting to the ice cold water flowing across his body. Without warning, you tilt the candle slightly, sending a single drop of wax down to Matt's chest.

At contact, Matt winces and shrieks, unprepared for the change in sensation and temperature. The ice water maintains a barrier for a split second before allowing the heat to reach his skin.

Within a few seconds, you drop two more droplets of wax onto Matt's skin, avoiding where the water still rests. He winces at each one, throwing his head back into the bed.

With Matt warmed up and adjusted to the heat, you pour a line down the center of Matt's chest, from neck to hips, slowly and carefully. The heat permeates his skin, pressing up into the air to relieve the pain as well as ask for more. He twists his torso, wax dripping accordinly to each side as he moves before it hardens on his skin.

After ten more drops, you reach for the ice cup again, grabbing an ice cube in your hands and holding it over Matt's stomach. It dropped a single segment of ice water, bouncing off Matt's warm skin before sliding down his side, following the previous pattern of ice water.

He whimpers at the change in sensation again, turning to force it faster down his side and onto the blanket.

You continue to drop ice water onto his skin for a few seconds to reaclimate him, before returning to the candle. Ice in one hand, and candle in the other, you switch between the two, chasing each wax drip with ice water and vice versa, sending Matt into a frenzy.

His torso and hips twist and snake around, doing his best to keep put, but failing. His legs squeeze together and apart, pressing his hips up and down depending on each sensation. His arms grab at the blanket and fist it into small piles of fabric that he claws and rips at.

His mouth is agape and unmoving. He gasps for air every few seconds, trying to catch his breathe and losing all at the same time. His body splotchy and red, it attempts to regulate and cannot, icey flushed red skin mixing with the slight burn of the wax. Both trail across his skin, mix, and fight one another. Ice water now pooling under Matt on the blanket and dragging the cold termperature to his back and arms. The wax hardens, refusing to let Matt writhe and wriggle, holding him in position until it cracks and breaks across his skin.

As you continue the torture, one drop of ice water, one drop of wax, Matt whines. He isn't sure of much anything anymore besides the immediate moment. His brain saying, "cold, cold cold," and then "hot hot hot" interchangebly and one after another until the words don't make much sense anymore.

He's begging and screaming nonsense, forgetting your name, where he is, and his own name. The letters mix in his head and come out of his mouth out of place and drenched in twisted delight.

Each wax droplet feels like a new pain he's never experienced, and each ice water drop soaks frost through his entire body. The sensations, despite happening one after another never mix. They never combine into their average temperature, they stay cold and hot, and entirely opposites.

Until he's red in the face and voice raspy, you continue the back and forth.

"Last drop of each. Do you have any requests?" You ask in earnest, leaning over his body heaving below you.

"I," he takes a deep breath before continuing, "Can I have five more of each on my stomach? Please."

"Of course you can. Count each drop."

With methodical precision you allow exactly five drops of ice water to land on his lower stomach. They drip down into the contours of his hips and pelvis, touching previously unbothered skin.

He gasps with each one.

Once his breathing calms down again, you continue with the wax, dripping five wax droplets across his lower stomach in almost all the exact location as the previous ice drops.

He gasps again at each one, writhing at the final two drops before slamming his hips back down into the blanket.

As he pants and gasps, you clean up: blowing out the candle, taking the cup of ice back to the kitchen, and collecting clothes for Matt to put on shortly.

Once you return to Matt's exhausted body on the bed, he reaches for you, finding your hands and pulling them towards his face, kissing both, and holding them there.

"Thank you. I think you read my mind before I even thought the thought." Matt whispers into your skin.

"Anytime, baby." You answer, holding his face for a second before taking your hands back. "Let's get this wax off."

Matt still his body again and you grab a flat tool from the table you placed earlier and start digging at the wax pile ups. Each tug hurts exactly how Matt wants it too, pulling at his skin and hair the perfect amount.

He moans throughout the removal process and moves his hands to press on the freshly revealed skin, still a bit red and raw from the wax.

"You're so good with wax. I always forget how good every second feels." Matt says as he digs his nails into the most painful spots.

"Cool it you masochist, we gotta dry you off and loction up your torso now. And then, I'm making dinner."

Matt whined at your response, trying to pout loud enough to get your attention.

"C'mon. Stand up."

You pat Matt dry and take him to the bathroom, sitting him on the toilet. You warm up the lotion in your hands to skin temp before rubbing it on his body, not wanting to agitate the wax burns more.

"Feel okay?" You ask.

"Everything feels better with your hands on me." Matt smirks while he talks, pressing his body further into your hands.

"Calm down," You jokingly roll your eyes, "put some clothes on."

You set the clothes you grabbed for him in his lap and allow his to change while you prepare the kitchen to cook.

A minute later when Matt emerges, he's in your shirt and a pair of comfy boxers, sitting across from you at the counter island.

"I can cook still." Matt offers.

"I can do it, baby. I'm not sure how to make eggplant parm, so you might have to direct me through it, but I really don't mind. You get to sit there and tell me about your day and anything else you want while I spoil you." You say, pulling out a sheet tray and various utensils.

"Okay, okay. Step one, cut the eggplant and put salt on it to release any excess moisture."

You grab a cutting board and the eggplant, setting it on the counter before grabbing your favorite knife in his collection.

"How thick?"

"Half inch is what I usually do." Matt answers, leaning his head down into his arms on the counter.

You start cutting the eggplant, slowly and precisely making each slide a half inch.

"Can I talk about my day?" Matt asks.

"Of course."

"Okay so, Kirsten got me coffee this morning. And then when she opened the office door she promptly spilled it all over herself. Which means I had to have drip. And you know our office machine needs an upgrade."

Matt continued talking, giggling and recounting the funniest and calmest parts of his day, taking inventory of the things that stressed him out while also appreciating the good parts.

"What's next?

"In my story or for the eggplant?" Matt teased.

"Both." You smiled back.

[nubiawrites]

chapter six

Pairing: Aaron Pierre x Black Original Character

Warnings: Slow burn. 18+. Smut. oral (giving). toyplay.

Summary: a night in with Aaron has Iriye ready to risk it all as production of Paradise Lost hits a snag.

Notes: I'm still thinking about Aaron's sleeve. Please let me know what you think about this chapter and where things are going. All the love that has been shared with me excites me.

MASTERLIST

Focus was something Iriye was lacking at the moment. Completely. Especially when she was in the kitchen with the fine specimen, currently chopping up onions on the special marble cutting board in her kitchen, and her eyebrows knitted together as Aaron worked. His glasses slid down the bridge of his nose as he worked, and Iriye stopped going through her fridge to move over to him, pushing his glasses up on his nose.

Aaron turned to face her, a small smile coming on her face. She returned the smile, returning to grab the chicken she had seasoned earlier for the rasta pasta she had planned to make.

“I didn’t take you for someone who was such a good cook,” Aaron teased. Iriye playfully glared at him.

“Well, I’m not going to oversell you, but I can at least cook to survive,” Iriye said, moving to find her wooden cutting board. And by cooking to survive, I can call my mom and ask her for help when I’m flailing. " This might have been the night before when Iriye called, needing the pasta recipe her mom often cooked when she was a kid.

“I respect that,” Aaron said, moving the onions into a bowl she set aside. “I hope I didn’t send you into a tizzy when I asked to see you tonight,”

“You didn’t. I was glad you wanted to see me again,” Iriye admitted. “I mean, after the night we had… and the morning,” She was trying to be cool about it, her mind thinking about how he woke her up,”

“Turn over for me,” Aaron breathed. Iriye raised an eyebrow but did what he said, remembering she only wore his shirt. He pushed the material up, moving to reveal her bare backside. Aaron moved behind her and pulled her hips up till she was on her knees, back arched. She felt his hand spread her cheeks, giving him a peek of her pussy.

“Aaron…” She moaned in anticipation, wanting to know what he would do. But she didn’t have to wait further when he began licking at her lower lips from behind…

“That was quite the morning,” Aaron mentioned, and Iriye felt her cheeks warm as he looked at her as if he would eat her again. A girl could hope. 

“It was,” Iriye smiled. “How has shooting been for Lanterns,” The grin that appeared on Aaron’s face lit up the room and she listened as the man began to yap on as they cooked the rest of their meal.

Iriye and Aaron sat at her dining room table, plates finished as they continued talking.

“Do you think you’ll ever get used to being in the limelight?” Iriye asked him, his hand playing with her fingers.

“I don’t know, honestly,” Aaron admitted. “Everyone’s at the top one day and the next, they’re yesterday’s news,”

“I doubt that for you,” Iriye shrugged. “You’re good at this. Acting. You put your whole soul in it. Like, I can tell you enjoy what you do. What you bring to a scene,” 

A small smile crept up on Aaron’s face at those words, and he lifted her hand and kissed its back. 

“I’m glad you think so,” Aaron kissed her hand again. “But sometimes I wish I could just do my job and go home. Not to deal with the extra,” He said.

“Being toted around like a show pony,” Iriye stated. “You know how many agents and managers I had meetings with before I signed with my current one? Eighteen. I felt like none of them saw me. I was just some diversity quota to fill up their clientele roster. And then I met my current manager, Devery. I thought he was this total gym bro, and then he told me one of the details I put in a script. A little tradition my mom and her people would do back in Kingston. And he loved it. Of course, I thought he was about to ask a question about it. But he researched it. It seems tiny but it meant everything to me. After that meeting, I wanted him to sign me, and we’ve been working together ever since,”

“Well, it seems he has your best interest at heart,” Aaron said, Iriye shrugging.

“He does. To have someone that has your back along the way. It's worth its weight in gold,” Iriye explained. She moved to take their plates to the kitchen, feeling his hand trailing against hers as he let go. She came back, seeing he was quiet. She placed her hands on his shoulders. “Whatcha thinking about?”

Aaron kissed her hand and pulled her around to stand before him. 

Aaron nodded. “I just want to make sure I do right by you, Tamara, Nelly, and everything Lanoire Productions is with Paradise Lost. " 

“You are going to kill it, Aaron,” Iriye tilted his head to look at her, his hazel eyes peering at her dark brown ones. “This story is going to flourish on the big screen with you in it, and I’m not just saying that to stroke your ego,” 

Aaron smiled, his hands smoothing up the back of her thighs, his hands almost catching the silk dress she wore.

“You have a call time, tomorrow,” Iriye stated, remembering him mentioning that he had to be to the lot.

“I know,” Aaron nodded, his hands moving to cup her ass, pulling her till she was straddling his lap. Her hands touched his neck, slowly scratching at the skin, and she licked her lips as she heard him groan. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything?” Iriye said.

“This doesn’t bother you? You know… staying in,” Aaron asked. Iriye looked at him. “I don’t want you to think I like us in these four walls only,”

“You only like me when we’re alone. Well damn,” Iriye teased.

“I like you everywhere, Iriye,” Aaron said. “I want to take you on a proper date one of these days… if you would like to,”

Iriye felt her cheeks warm at the words.

“You’re making it hard to find the red flags, Aaron,” Iriye admitted. She moved to stand up. “So? Are you going to ask me on a date?”

Aaron shook his head at her as he watched Iriye look at her wrist, acting as if she was checking the time. He stood up, his six-foot-three towering over her five-foot-eight frame.

“Will you let me take you out on a date, Iriye?” He asked.

“Of course, Aaron,” She answered quickly. “You have a call time,”

“I know,” Aaron kissed her softly, his hands gripping and squeezing her waist. Iriye moaned as she felt him grabbing her.

“My place is further from the lot,” Iriye reasoned between kisses. “You need… you need a good night's sleep. Because you’re playing a beacon of class and strength,”

“Yo!” Aaron breathed out, Iriye giggling.

“I’m serious. You got a long drive from Baldwin Hills to your place,” Iriye mentioned. “You need to rest,”

“Then put me to bed,” Aaron suggested, raising an eyebrow at her. Iriye bit her lip before leaning on her toes, pressing a tender kiss against his. “We’re going straight to bed. No funny business,”

“No funny business. Scouts honor,” Aaron raised his hand like a boy’s scout, and Iriye rolled her eyes. Iriye took his hand, and he pulled her back into his body as they walked together into her bedroom.

Iriye felt some distance was needed, and while she showered, she left Aaron to his imagination while he was in her room. He made himself comfortable, taking in the most intimate space Iriye had for herself. He set his two alarms on his phone so he could get up and stripped down till he was left in his boxer briefs. He didn’t want to impose on her space, but he took in the different photos and trinkets.

On her bedside table, Aaron saw a picture of her with a woman with the same features as her but was slightly older. He picked up it was her mother as he noticed different photos of them around her room. He smiled because they shared the same smile, finding the beauty in them both. Random pens littered the nightstand, and charging cables were entangled. It was homey and right for Iriye.

The bathroom door opened, and steam billowed out as Iriye shut the door behind her. She opted to change in the bathroom, knowing she would be distracted by him if she got dressed.

When Iriye saw Aaron on her bed, she moved to the right side, where she had slept. She grabbed her scarf and tied it around her head. She then opted for a crop top she had cut herself and sleep shorts to ensure this man got to bed for his call time.

“You need more pillow cause I have some in the chest,” She asked.

“I’m alright, love,” Aaron said, slipping under the covers with her. She settled under the covers, mirroring him as they lay on their sides. “Come here,” Iriye tried to resist, but Aaron snaked his hands around her waist and pulled her close.

“Hi,” Iriye breathed. “Can you turn off the lamp?” She asked. He turned to switch it off, and the room was engulfed in darkness except for the moonlight peaking slightly through her blinds. Even through the darkness, she felt his eyes on her, his hand massaging her hip with his thumb. They were in a comfortable silence, and she loved it. “You didn’t go snooping through my draws while I was showering, did you?”

“Never would dream of it. Don’t want to encroach on any secrets you might have,” Aaron teased.

“Not even my panties drawer,” She teased. 

“Definitely not that,” Aaron chuckled.

“Hm. Too bad. You would have found something really interesting while snooping,” Iriye moved to turn her backside to him. “Night, Aaron,” Though she knew they needed to sleep, like clockwork, he pressed his hands on her hips, and she felt him growing harder against her ass.

“You can’t say stuff like that and then tell me to go to sleep,” Aaron complained, knowing he meant it teasingly.

“You know nothing good comes this late at night,” Iriye nuzzled into her pillow, trying not to let out a gasp as feeling him against her backside.

“What was it?” Aaron asked, whispering against her ear. She could feel the heat radiating from his chest. Iriye tried her best, but this man behind her drove her crazy.

“Turn the lamp on,” Iriye said. He quickly reached out to turn it back on. She shuffled over to her side of the bed and opened the drawer, pulling the device and holding it close to her chest. “Okay. You gotta promise not to laugh,”

“I promise,” Aaron spoke, turning to lay on his stomach and look at her. Iriye turned and showed him the device, and seeing his eyes widen at the vibrating wand was something else.

“Something to help me sleep at night,” Iriye admitted. She was nervous. Not because of her healthy sex life with another person or even solo but because Aaron was silent. His face was blank as he looked at her vibrator. “I think I broke the boy from South London,” 

“Can I see it?” Aaron asked. Iriye raised an eyebrow at him. “I wanna see it,” She handed it over to him, chuckling.

“What are you up to,” Iriye asked. A slight grin came on Aaron’s face. 

“Lay back,” Aaron pushed the covers further down to the end of the bed. She eyed him before propping herself up on the pillows. He set the vibrator to the side and moved to tug his fingers into her shorts, pulling slightly to ask to take them off. Iriye lifted her hips to help him, her lower half now bare. It didn’t help that her pussy was growing wetter as she felt his eyes on her. “Take off your top,”

Iriye didn’t waste time taking her pajama top off, leaving her bare before Aaron. She laid back, spreading her legs as he got between them. He made sure to put her spread legs on his thighs so he couldn’t escape.

“I’ll go to sleep after I get to play with your beautiful pussy,” Aaron stated. Iriye couldn’t even control herself. She pulled him close, her lips on his as she arched her body against him.

Aaron’s tongue licked against her lips before slipping inside her mouth, tongue fighting for dominance as they made out against the bed. Her hand grasped at his hard dick, Aaron groaning against her mouth. He pulled away, seeing her nipples growing harder, and he moved to kiss down her body, his mouth wrapping around her right nipple and sucking it softly.

Iriye whined out with every pull from his lips on her nipple. Aaron let it go with a smack before moving to the neglected one, sucking it as well. She felt every pulse going to her center, her body aching for it and for him. 

“Fuck Aaron…” Iriye pressed her breast closer to his mouth. Aaron pulled away, and she pulled him to kiss her again, her hips rolling up and pressing against his clothed length.

“Relax,” Aaron breathed against her lips. Iriye hummed, nodding at him. She couldn’t keep her eyes off of him as he grabbed the vibrator, configuring it quickly to start at a low hum. Iriye reached for it, but Aaron pulled it from her. “I thought you were going to let me have control,”

“I am,” Iriye whined.

“Then we are going slow, baby,” Aaron gave her a grin before he moved the vibrator over one breast, her nipple hardening even more under the vibrations. Her back arched, and she felt him move to her other nipple, the vibrations steadily making her grow wetter.

Aaron bit his lip as he watched Iriye rolling her hips towards the vibrator in his hand. Lips parted as moans spilled from her; Iriye was feeling like he was torturing her. She was used to going fast and hard most nights when she knew she would be busy. She wanted to get off those nights. But Aaron was determined to make her feel.

“Aaron,” She breathed, her hips rolling against the vibrator as he kept pressing it against her clit, listening to her gasps and moans so he could move the toy to what spots were making her react. She wanted to shut her legs, but he was between them. “Please, Aaron,”

“You want me to turn it up,” Aaron teased, leaning down to kiss her lips, his thumb brushing against her bottom lip. “Talk to me, love,”

“Turn it up,” Iriye breathed. She whined out as he pressed the buttons, and the vibrations came faster.

Aaron watched how her body rolled towards him, his hand slipping to hold her down against the bed by her stomach. He was so hard, his length begging to feel her, but he wanted to make sure she got hers first. He pressed down a little, flicking the wand against her, and Iriye moaned louder.

“Fuck,” Iriye moaned, pressing closer to her toy. Aaron groaned as he could hear her getting wetter as the vibrator worked against her. She was all breaths and moans, her hands moving to her breast, squeezing and teasing her nipples.

“Take the vibrator,” Aaron ordered her. Iriye took it in her hand, and she felt Aaron slip his fingers inside of her. She whined as he caressed his fingers inside of her, touching her g spot, and she whined. “God, you’re so fucking wet,” Aaron leaned over, his lips colliding with hers and she moaned into his mouth. One hand trailed to cup his cheek as his fingers, caressing the spot inside of her that made her go wild inside of her.

“Mhm,” Iriye moaned, his teeth pulling on her bottom lip as she felt him moving his fingers in and out of her. She wanted more. She needed more. 

Aaron’s lips trailed down to her neck as he continued to thrust his fingers into her, feeling her walls fluttering more and more around his fingers. His lips went to nibble and bite at her collarbone, nibbling at her collarbone. He wanted to leave his mark on her like Iriye was slowly leaving on him. Her whimpers and moans ringing through his ears and him looking up at Iriye to see her head in the pillow and her body rolling sensually against his as she got closer to her end.

Aaron’s hand went over Iriye’s and he took a hold of the vibrator, watching as she peeped her eyes to look at him.

“I’m… close,” Iriye let out between a moan. Aaron began moving his fingers more to fet her closer to her hand. “More…” Aaron took her words and he pressed it to the next setting on the vibrator, the buzzing louder and faster as more moans, whimpers and cries left her mouth. He focused his attention on m oving his fingers faster, testing the waters and slipping a third finger inside of Iriye.

Iriye wanted to pull away when he pressed a third finger in, the stretch feeling so good amd him testing the waters as he watched her. Aaron kissed her again, moaning into her mouth.

“I wish I could feel you wrapped around me,” Aaron whimpered against her lips. Iriye kissed him back, her tongue pressing to lick inside of his mouth. 

“I want you, Aaron,” Iriye moaned. His fingers moved inside of her faster, his finger tips pressing just the write way as she could hear how wet her pussy was around his fingers. She was so close, that edge right there and with a certain flick of his wrist as he pressed back into her, she felt her body fall over it.  Iriye cried out her orgasm against his lips as he focused on making sure she got every bit of it.

Aaron wanted it all. He wanted every moan of hers. Every cry that graced her lips. Every moment of pure pleasure she had to offer. He continued pressing the vibrator against her, his fingers fucking every whimper out of her as he prolonged her orgasm till she weakly pushed him away. 

“Aaron,” Iriye breathed weakly. He pulled the vibrator away to turn it off, slowly pulling his fingers out and licking the essence that covered them as he watched her blissed out face. Iriye worked onc atching her breath, pussy still throbbing from aftershocks. “I want you,” She whispered.

“I want you too, love,” Aaron said. Iriye kissed him again and he wrapped her up closer to him but she stopped him. 

“I want you to fuck me,” Iriye whined. A grin took over Aaron’s face, his hand moving to her chin. She pressed closer to him and he grasped her hips. “As much as I want to, we won’t leave this bed,” Aaron stated. “I’ll want to taste every inch of your body and leave no patch of skin untouched,” He caressed her thigh and she whimpered. 

Iriye moaned at his words and he kissed her, his tongue slipping into her mouth. 

“I promise, it’ll be worth it,” Aaron said, trailing a finger between her breast. Iriye looked up into his eyes and she could tell it would be worth it. She nodded and he sealed it with a kiss.

The thoughts of the night before replayed through Iriye’s head, knowing she should be focusing on Tamara’s words as she spoke to her and Nelly during lunch. But all she could think about was when she and Aaron would fu-

“Earth to Iriye,” Tamara raised a brow at her friend. “You listening,”

“Yeah, I am,” Iriye looked between a concerned Tamara and smirking Nelly. “What?”

“You’re chewing the hell out of your food. Thought you might bite your tongue or something,” Tamara chuckled. “So, the camera test footage looks good but the executives want to float someone else into the mix for Nora,”

“But we like Sam for Nora,” Iriye tried her best not to be annoyed.

“Well it landed with someone. Vivian Kincaid,”

“Shut up,” Nelly whispered. “I love that  talented messy bitch,”

“Vivian Kincaid? No,” Iriye shook her head. “I get it. She’s the wonder girl for WB but at this moment, we’re locking in Sam,”

“They want her and Aaron to test together. See how it goes,” Tamara said. “I don’t think they will touch what Sam and Aaron did but she reached out Davis directly he said. I guess she’s looking for a more serious role for a comeback,”

“But this could be a breakout for Sam,” Iriye stated. “She’s worked jsut as hard as us to get to this point,”

“I think it’s more of a formality of letting Vivian throw her hat in. I wouldn’t worry,” Tamara said. She checked her phone when it rang. “It’s Jay…” Iriye tried her best not to roll her eyes at the mention of her ex. “He asked to talk about some camera shit. I’ll keep it short and cute,” Tamara stood up, pressing a kiss to Iriye’s head and leaving her with Nelly.

“So…” Nelly said. Iriye rolled her eyes playfully. 

“Ask away,” Iriye said.

“I didn’t tell anyone what I saw with you and Mister Pierre,” Nelly teased. “What is going on with you two?”

Iriye tried not to smile too hard as she thought of the man who she shared an innocent shower with earlier that morning. The one who she walked down to his car because she wanted to make sure he go to the studio on time, kissing him slowly against his car in the early dawn of morning. But she couldn’t help it.

“We’re just… taking things slow,” Iriye admitted, even if she was ready to spread her legs for him if he asked in a hearbeat. 

“Taking things slow my ass,” Nelly teased. “But it’s cute. I’m happy to see you having fun. And if he’s not showing you a good time or treating you right, I’ll kick his ass. I don’t care if he’s six foot two,”

“Six foot three,” Iriye corrected.

“I knew you were obsessed with him,” Nelly shook her head.

After lunch, Iriye made it back to the production office, seeing a bouquet of lilies waiting by the door. She smiled, picking them up and heading inside of her office. She knew Tamara and Nelly were busy on the lot and she would have the afternoon to herself so she put the flowers at her desk. Finding the card attached with them, she read it was from Aaron and smiled to herself.

Iriye picked up her phone, sending him a text along with a thank you for her flowers. It ook him a few minutes but he called her, Iriye putting it on speaker.

“I’m glad you enjoyed the flowers. I figured I should properly court you,” Aaron’s voice flowed through the phone.

“Properly court me?” Iriye laughed softly.

“Yes. I’m kind of disappointed I didn’t send you flowers before getting a taste of your personal garden,”

“You better be in your trailer,”

“I am. But let me focus. By properly courting you, I was wondering what plans you have Friday night,” Aaron asked. Iriye hummed, pretending to check her schedule. “Nothing at the moment,” Iriye replied.

“Good. May I take you out Friday night?” Aaron asked. “I promise. You won’t regret what I have in store for you,”

“Yes, Aaron. You can take me out Friday,” Iriye smiled to herself. Even with the nerves she felt, it was refreshing and terrifying but Aaron was someone she wanted to see the end of this journey with.

@wildwomanalereyia @teenage-aria @skvrpion @absentmindeddreamer @blackpinup22 @liv10002 @styleismyaddiction @jungwonsgfs @hooliemooliedonutshawp @hippiesandpeacesigns @blowmymbackout @justagirlwho-believes13 @caribbeangyalsworld @melovedorks @moihasarrived @ashanti-notthesinger @xx-mintyxx @iluvchrisbrown @ash-ketchumzzz @deijalee @pyramidlight @xosharieee @kaylaahisthebestest- @chaniceandrea @kimmivlixx @saveadanc @kaylalb @queenbritbrat @kceeee @naughtynolly-blog @myawesome56 @chainingxday @nononoks-blog @kinginwithbreezy-blog @apple123cg @jazziejax @lauren1000000 @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @venusincleo @loveschrisbrown20 @brwnskingirlll @iamfredtina @cozyashhh @modelmemoirs @kimiasinterlude @rpayn22 @mscarter123 @lolola22267 @thesweetestdrug @valarghoulis @nyifly22 @zimsilandela @teheeboo @blveeeeeee @5starsirl @yassbishimvintage @23jammy @prettiegal @vadeadiugularis @gabbywontlose @pinkkycherrish @slashervalley @aqueenwasmadehere @lee-jennie @wuzzzgoood

[iateyourparents]

snow angels | c.b.

pairing: colby brock x fem!reader

summary: you love winter but you hate getting sick. but when it happens you have colby to take care of you.

warnings: bad writing and grammar(i’m sorry but english isn’t my first language)

an: it’s short but i love snow and colby so i decided to make this because it snowed so much yesterday in my city <33

pictures are from pinterest:)

„Baby you will get cold.” Colby warned looking at you with a little smirk when you were laying on the ground doing snow angels with Katrina.

It was winter, your favorite season and because Los Angeles wasn’t known for snowy and cold weather, Sam and Colby decided to surprise you and Katrina with a little travel to Norway. It was heaven for you, so much snow and cold weather.

„I won’t love.” you rolled your eyes „Come here and make your angel!”

He rolled his eyes but started walking to you with Sam and they both laid down and started copying your and Kat’s movements.

„Come on love, let’s go inside baby.” Colby took your hand some time later „You will really catch a cold if we stay outside for any longer.”

„No.” you whined letting go of his hand „Let’s buid a snowman!”

„You will regret it.” Colby warned with a laugh but also got to work on your snowman.

And truth to be told, you should listen to Colby when he was urging you inside but you only realized it couple of hours later when you were laying in bed coughing and sneezing.

„I told you so babe.” Colby sighed looking at termometer in his hand “You have high fever.” he looked at you with worry and you took his hand.

“I’ll be alright. It’s only a cold. Plus I have the best nurse on the world to help me get better.” you smiled at him and he only laughed kissing your nose.

“You look like a rudolf with this red nose.” he kissed it again “I will go make a soup, okay?”

“Don’t leave me here all alone.” you pouted.

“You should have listened to me and you wouldn’t be in this situation.” he smirked and you rolled your eyes.

“You’re no fun.” you whined but let’s be honest, he was right, but you would rather spend three days sick in bed than admit he was right.

“Sure love.” he kissed your head and walked out of your room.

You laid there for a few minutes but you quickly got bored and your phone wasn’t any help, so you got up from the bed and ignoring your body’s shivering, you started walking to the kitchen where from you could hear Colby singing.

You quietly stood behind him and hugged his back placing your cheek on his shoulder blade.

He jumped a little but then sighed “I told you to stay in bed.”

“I was bored.” you pouted slightly “I missed you.”

He laughed quietly but continued making a soup.

“You didn’t miss me?” you faked a gasp and stopped hugging him. You immediately missed a warm his back was providing you but you took a few steps back acting as if he did something cruel “How could you?”

“I didn’t say I didn’t miss you.” he defended himself.

“Your silence did!” you accused “Alright then, go back to your no missing me and I will go hug Kat and Sam.”

You walked out of the kitchen hearing Colby’s laugh and him shouting your name and I love you behind you but you ignored it and went to the living room where Sam and Kat were already looking in your direction with smirks.

“Problems in paradise?” Sam joked and you pouted.

“He doesn’t love me anymore!” you accused loudly to make sure Colby could hear you in the kitchen.

“I didn’t say that! I love you!” you all could hear Colby screaming and that made Kat and Sam laugh and you rolled your eyes.

“Do you wanna hug?” Kat looked at you and you quickly nodded, sitting on her side and snuggling into her body while Sam covered you both with a fluffy blanket.

Some time later Colby came into the room with a steaming bowl and also steaming cup in the shape of gingerbread man.

“I made the soup and I also made you a cocoa as a sorry for making you think I didn’t miss you while I was in the kitchen and you in the bedroom. It was wrong.” he smiled at you and you laughed.

“Add kinder surprise and I will forgive you.” you smirked at him and he smiled at you.

“They are waiting in the kitchen.”

“I love you.” you kissed his cheek when he was sitting things on the coffee table in front of you.

“I love you too baby.” he kissed your forehead “Now eat.”

[thetriumphantpanda]

take me away to paradise

You guys voted and you wanted part 4 of Joel being a menace so here you go, the next instalment of my dbf!Joel. Shoutout to the anon who sent me the ask with the inspiration for this part - I love you.

Pairing | dbf!Joel x female reader

Summary | Joel is back fixing up the attic, you're stressed waiting for a call about the job you really want. Stress relief seems the only option to distract yourself, until Joel discovers your trove of toys.

Word count | 2.8K

Warnings | As always, dbf!Joel is a flirty menace so be warned. There's guided masterbation, sex toys, protected (FINALLY THEY ARE SMART) PiV sex, dirty talk and some fluff for good measure.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

You’re stressed. There’s no beating around the bush on this one. You’d interviewed for a job you’d wanted pretty damn badly two days ago. They’d promised to call you as soon as they’d made a decision, but you were still waiting. Phone turned off silent, volume turned all the way up so you wouldn’t miss the call. 

You’d tried everything to distract yourself – you’d gone swimming in the pool yesterday afternoon, but the scrabbling at the sides when you heard your ringtone for it to be your mom asking you to put the chicken in the oven ready for dinner that night had given you a heart attack. You’d tried reading, going for a walk, you’d even picked up a cross-stitch you’d started about four years ago and never finished, only to throw it down thirty minutes later when you’d realized you’d done two rows in the completely wrong colour. 

Today was proving even more difficult. Joel was banging around in the attic, trying to finish up the job your dad needed doing. He’d arrived pretty early – your mom only just on the way out to work. He’d given you a small smile and a hello but had been hidden upstairs for the whole morning. 

Boredom was seeping through your body, along with a tightly wound string of stress and frustration, there was only one thing for it. You shut the book you were trying to concentrate on, setting it on your nightstand, before your hand reaches into the drawer and pulls out the small bullet vibrator. Is this going to become your thing? Getting yourself off when Joel is just meters away from you? You’re pretty sure if you climbed the ladder and asked him to, he would fuck you, but there was something about thinking about him whilst you got yourself off that had excitement bubbling under your skin. 

You fit your fingers into the waistband of your shorts, pulling down just enough that you can spread your legs. You make quick work of pressing the button on the bullet vibrator a few times before it stops on your favourite setting before placing is gently against your clit. Pleasure is bursting through you almost immediately and you can’t stop the small moans that fall from your mouth as your hips start moving with your hand, pressing your clit more firmly to the vibrator. 

Your brain is foggy at best but you’re sure as you find yourself slowly edging towards your release that Joel’s name falls from your lips, wishing it was his fingers on your clit instead of your toy. You can feel the tightening in your belly and the spots that start to cloud your vision. You’re close and it’ll only take a few more moments of vibrations to push you over the edge. 

“You’ve gotta stop doin’ this kinda thing, sugar.” 

You squeal in surprise – the high you were rapidly hurtling towards quickly dissipating as you press the button to stop the vibrator. 

“You shouldn’t be listening in.” You grumble, trying to pull your shorts back to a respectable position. 

“I tried not to,” he shrugs, “But these walls?” He knocks on yours with his knuckles to prove his point, “Paper thin.” 

You make a move to put the vibrator away, now more frustrated than you had been when you began, “No need to stop on my account.” 

“Funnily enough, I’m not really in the mood anymore.” You groan as you turn over and bury your face in your pillow, attempting to mask your embarrassment. 

You can feel the bed dip beside you, and Joel’s warm hand wraps around your ankle, giving it a comforting squeeze, “Look at me, sweetheart.” 

You turn over onto your back, Joel letting your ankle go so you can move more easily, “I didn’t mean t’make ya embarrassed darlin’,” He smiles, running his hand up your leg, “Were you thinkin’ about me?” 

“Maybe.” 

“C’mon now darlin’, weren’t so shy just a minute ago when you were moaning my name, were you?” 

“Yes Joel, I was thinking about you.” You admit. 

A smirk splays across his lips, his free hand reaching for your vibrator, which he holds between his fingers in front of your face, “Show me,” His voice has dropped a few octaves and his eyes have gone dark in that way you love, “Show me how you make yourself feel good when I’m not around.” 

You stare at him for a moment before your hand is taking your vibrator from him. You lift your hips with him still sat next to you, dragging your pajama shorts down your legs, before you spread your legs. You can see his eyes flutter to your pussy, aching and wet from your earlier ministrations. You press the button and place it gently against your clit, feeling Joel’s hand come to rest at your hip, anchoring you to the bed and to his presence next to you. 

“Such a good girl for me,” He murmurs as you start to wine when you press the button again to change the setting, faster and harder vibrations thrumming through your body, “Does that feel good, baby?” 

“Feels so good,” You moan, pressing the small bullet more firmly to your clit, eager to find the high you were hurtling towards before he interrupted, “Not as good as you are though.” 

Your eyes have fluttered closed as your hips buck every so often with the vibrations, but you can still hear him chuckle and shift himself a little on the bed, “You want me t’help, darlin’?” 

“Yes!” You cry out, mostly from the fact that you’re so incredibly close to coming, but also because you can’t ever say no to this man, “Fingers, Joel,” You breath, “Put your fingers inside me.” 

You feel his hand trail up the inside of your thigh and you automatically spread your legs wider for him. His fingers dip only slightly inside of you, and you can hear a deep exhale from his mouth, “Jesus baby,” He breathes, “Always so fuckin’ wet for me.” 

“You… ohhhh fuck,” He’s slipping one of those fingers inside your pussy, curling it up automatically in the way he’s so quickly learned sends you feral, “You love it, don’t you?” You ask. 

“Love that you’re always so ready f’me?” You nod, eyes still closed as the feeling of his finger inside you, teamed with the rampant vibrations on your clit has you teetering on the edge of oblivion, “Course I do.” 

He slips his finger from your tight heat and you’re about to complain when he slips it back inside you with another, filled so deliciously. He’s shifted so he’s knelt between your thighs, free hand splayed across your belly to keep you exactly where he wants you. 

“Come on baby,” He encourages, “Wound so tight, ain’t ya?” You can only nod, “Come for me darlin’, I know you’re desperate for it.” 

It takes another few pumps of his fingers inside you before you’re crashing over the edge. Your legs are quaking, and you can feel yourself clenching tightly around Joel’s fingers as you move the vibrator from your clit, the stimulation just a little too much for you right now. 

“Good girl,” Joel has leaned forward, fingers slipping from you, to press a kiss to your forehead, then he’s taking one of your hands and placing it at the front of his jeans, you can clearly feel the outline of his cock straining, “Let me fuck you baby, please?” 

You come around from the haze of pleasure at him begging you like that – it’s new. He’s usually commanding, taking exactly what he wants from you, knowing always that you willingly give it to him. You shuffle a little underneath him, Joel pushing himself up to rest on his knees, pulling his shirt over his head and then working his belt from his jeans as you open your bedside drawer, fishing around to find a condom. You’re about to pull one out when Joel’s is crowding over you. 

“What’s this?” He pulls out the bright purple silicon that caught his eye. 

You let out another groan, not so much of embarrassment this time, more from frustration that you were desperate to have him inside you as soon as possible. 

“You got eyes?” You asked, “What does it look like Joel?” 

“Looks like a poor substitute for me, is what it looks like.” He’s smirking down at you, rolling the dildo between his hands. 

“Put it back in the drawer then,” You’re pulling at his wrist, tugging it back towards its home, “And fuck me instead.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” He’s standing quickly from the bed, shedding the rest of his clothes, you’re doing the same, pulling your tank top off, revealing you naked bodies to each other for the first time, “God, you’re a fuckin’ picture baby.” 

His big hands are running up the curves of your sides and then he’s pressing a kiss to your lips, rutting his hips into your own. You can feel his throbbing cock, sliding through your folds. You’re almost about to wrap your legs around his waist and pull him inside you when you remember his words from last time. 

“Joel,” You mumble, pushing gently at his shoulder as his head is dipped to press kisses along your neck, “Joel!” 

“Hmmm?” He lifts his head just enough to listen to you. 

You grab the condom that was discarded on the bed and hold it in front of his face. He smiles, taking it from your hands. He settles back on his thighs, and you watch as he tears the packet, deftly rolling it onto his cock in such a practiced motion you were almost jealous of all the women that had come before you to make him the man he is for you. In this moment he is quite possibly the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. Broad shoulders and a thin sheen of sweat covering his tanned skin, his dark eyes and soft lips. 

He's shuffling closer to you now, hooking you’re the back of your knees in his arms, folding you almost completely in half as he wastes no time at all in slipping himself inside you. This new position has you whining below him. He’s slow in his thrusts to begin with, giving you time to adjust to being spread out and stretched like this. 

“God damn baby,” He hisses from above you, “I love bein’ able to take my time with you like this, all spread out for me.” 

A moan falls from your lips as he shifts on his knees slightly, pushing himself so deep inside you that the tip of his cock brushes your cervix. No-one before him had even gotten close to the level of pleasure you felt coursing through you at this moment in time. 

“Faster,” You beg, gripping onto his biceps as he obliges, “Fuck Joel,” Another filthy moan tumbles from your mouth, “You’re so fucking good to me.” 

“I know baby,” He coos, “I know.” 

His thrusts don’t let up, in fact, they become more intense and every hit of him bottoming out inside of you has a gasp or a moan leaving your lips. He dips his head to take one of your tits into his mouth, sucking and running the pad of his tongue over your nipple before he switches sides to shower attention on the other. Your hands managed to reach around and find a homme gripping the meat of his ass, almost daring him to go further. It’s delicious, the way his cock brushes the spot inside of you, but you want more, need more from him. 

“Joel please,” You almost sob in pleasure, “More, I need more.” 

“Darlin’, I can’t give you much more,” He’s chuckling, leaning down to crash his lips to yours, “Why don’t you put your hand on your pussy and make yourself come for me?” 

You do exactly that. Your fingers are circling your clit at a brutal pace, desperation to find another high whilst Joel is buried inside of you outweighing the pain of overstimulation you’re feeling. You can hear his own moans falling from his lips as your fingers are bringing you back to the edge. 

“Fuck baby, c’mon,” His voice is faltering, and you look up at him, he’s ruined, and you can tell he’s not going to last much longer, “Come for me.” 

In all your years of having sex with other people, not that there had been many, you’d always thought that someone demanding you to come was a myth. That there was no way a voice could hold that much power over you. Joel’s voice was different. The low octave, and the way he’s looking down at you as he pounds into your tight pussy, has you arching your back into him whilst you actually scream his name. Your fingers make light work of making sure you’re thoroughly spent through your orgasm, and then all you can focus on is Joel. 

His hips are stuttering, and you can tell by the way he’s got his eyes screwed shut and his mouth is hanging open that he’s not going to be far behind you. He opens his eyes, and you make direct eye contact with him, winking as your hands come to your tits, massaging them in your hands and using your fingers to run over your nipples, “You gonna come for me Joel?” You ask, batting your eyelashes with an innocence that is directly justxaposed to the fact that he still has you folded in half and is seconds away from his own ecstasy. 

“Fuckin’ hell baby,” He groans, “Gonna be the death of me.” 

And then he’s following you, throwing himself over the edge as he stills inside you. His head is buried in the crook of your neck as he groans your name. It’s only now that he’s stopped that you realise how much your body is aching. Almost like he can sense how you feel, he’s finally freeing your knees, letting them drop to the bed and giving you some much needed relief. 

He rolls off from your body, collapsing next to you to catch his breath. For the first time since you started whatever this was you curled into his side, draping an arm over his chest, reveling in the feeling of not having to rush anywhere or worry about anyone disturbing you. He wraps his own arm around you, pulling you closer to him as he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head. 

“I gotta get moving, sweetheart,” He speaks softly, “Your dad is gonna have questions about why the attic is takin’ so long, and I can’t exactly admit it’s because I spend most of my workin’ hours balls deep in your pussy.” 

You smile, although you’re disappointed. Sure it’s exciting to sneak around and there’s something in the thrill of the risk of getting caught, but there’s a part of you that wishes you could both curl up and fall asleep together and not worry about getting caught like this. 

“Alright,” You mumble into his skin, “Get back to work then, Miller.” 

You stay planted on the bed, the ache of your bones is delicious and you know you’ll be feeling him for days. You stretch as he discards of the condom in your trash bin, dresses, when a moan of pleasure at the clicking of your back as his head turning to you. 

“Didn’t hurt you, did I?” 

You shake your head, “Just a little sore, but in the good way,” Once he’s got his shirt back on, he’s kissing your lips, “Gonna be feeling you for days Joel.” 

“Good,” Another kiss, this time longer and more languid, you think if you pulled his arm he would fall right back into bed with you, but you don’t, you know he’s got work to do, “Just know, the next time I catch you gettin’ yourself off before you ask me for help, I might not be so forgiving.” 

“Is that a threat or a promise?” You smirk, eyebrow raised. 

He’s chuckling and shaking his head, “You naughty little thing, stop distracting me.”

Your hand is motioning for him to leave you, “Go on, get back to work, I need to soak myself in a hot bath to recover.” 

He stops in your doorway like he’s thinking of what to do next, “I could help you?” 

“Joel!” You throw your discarded shorts across the room at him, “Go!”��He holds his hands up in defeat before he’s gone.

You hear his boots on the ladder up to the attic and within minutes the hammering from before is filling the house. You finally manage to drag yourself from your bed, grabbing a fresh set of pyjamas for after your bath. You run the water as hot as you can bare it, filling the water with bubbles before settling into the water. You can still hear Joel working above you and although you had been spent and sated not moments before, your hand is automatically running down your abdomen and between your legs before you know what happening. What Joel doesn’t know, won’t kill him, right? 

[henrioo]

°•*⁀➷ TWO AGAINST ONE: PORTGAS D. ACE

꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : "Ace makes the mistake of eating one of your pregnant husband's sweets, you, now he needs to somehow earn her forgiveness. However, it seems that in this dispute, your son has already chosen who his favorite father will be."

꒰ WARNINGS ꒱ : TRANS MALE READER, FTM READER, TRANS MASC READER, PREGNANT MALE READER, MEN PREGNANT, BIOLOGICAL PREGNANCY, GAY RELATIONSHIP, Reader is a little dramatic, pregnancy dramas, unnamed baby but is a boy, Ace and you are married, Ace is a golden retriever and you're mean to him (just a little), Ace is a perfect dad and husband

꒰ WC ꒱ : 917

꒰ NOTES ꒱ : Wow, more babies! Hahah who would have thought... Okay I wanted to say that it's the last baby story but it's not, At least next time I'll try to post another topic or you'd start to think I'm weird. The post was supposed to be yesterday and it was also supposed to be a late ask, but the ask is 7k words long and I'm having a serious problem translating it, so I'm going to post this other story today so I can have more time, enjoy!

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"Love, honey, my husband, my man, my sweet, forgive me." Your husband, Ace, whimpered beside you as you lay on the reclining sofa, covered in pillows and with a soft blanket over your huge belly. You had an irritated expression and crossed arms, purposely ignoring him and pretending to pay attention to the television.

"I'm not talking to you," you snorted irritably, and if your feet weren't swollen and your legs weren't aching, you would have kicked his ass out of the house.

"I swear, I didn't know it was your chocolate! I thought it was mine... I'm sorry, my love," he was kneeling on the sofa next to you, his hands clasped together begging for forgiveness, and his puppy eyes were so sad that anyone would have accepted his apologies.

Anyone, except you. No, no, you were a pregnant man dealing with a very active baby and hormones so out of whack that you seemed like a ticking time bomb. You definitely wouldn't forgive your husband for eating the last of your chocolate stash. Especially because it was Sunday! The store that sold your favorite, expensive, artisanal chocolate only opened on Tuesdays. You would have to go two days without your chocolate because of your husband's stupidity in not checking who the chocolate belonged to before swallowing it!

Okay, you weren't exactly craving chocolate in the past few days, and that one had been stored for a long time... But that doesn't change the fact that he shouldn't have eaten it!

"I swear I'll buy the whole store for you to forgive me! Please, don't pout at me like that," he whined again as he lovingly rubbed your arm. Ace hated hurting you, no matter how small the reason. Now that you were pregnant, he tried his best to make you live in paradise, as he was extremely worried when he found out that stress could cause serious complications in pregnancy. Although Marco and Law tried to explain that it had to be an absurd amount of stress, he practically didn't listen and accepted as an absolute truth that even the smallest amount of stress was a deadly risk for you and the baby!

"I hate you," you murmured irritably, and your frustrated pout grew. You didn't like arguing with Ace and usually didn't care so much about something like this, but those damn hormones made you go crazy. One moment you were crying, and the next you were trying to set the house on fire with Ace inside. Then, you would go back to normal as if everything were fine. You could only think that this was Ace's punishment for taking so long to propose to you.

"What can I do to make you forgive me, my king?" he sighed and sat closer to you, kissing your arm and then trying to kiss your cheek, which resulted in you moving away. "You're breaking your poor husband's heart."

"I'll ask for a divorce if you keep annoying me," you said, trying to stay strong, although you were almost giving up on arguing and just getting lost in Ace's warm embrace.

"Ouch... So cruel," he whimpered and carefully laid on your belly, then gently stroked it, giving kisses on the shirt you were wearing. "Come on, little guy, help your old man make peace with your daddy. He'll put me to sleep on the couch if he stays like this," he whimpered, trying to get help from his unborn child.

Before you could reprimand Ace again, a kick was felt by both of you... Your baby had just kicked exactly where Ace's head was, making him startle and jump from the slight blow he received, causing both of you to widen your eyes in shock.

"Our son just kicked me?" he asked, confused and incredulous about the situation.

"Humph, looks like it's two against one now," you smiled triumphantly as you caressed your belly. "Our son is smart, he knows that this daddy here is the only one whose right," you continued teasing Ace, already feeling your mood improve and the anger dissipating.

"This is unfair! The two men in my life are ganging up against me!" he crossed his arms with a pouting expression.

"Think twice before eating my sweets next time," you shrugged. "You heard the baby, today Daddy Ace sleeps on the couch," you laughed, feeling some gentle kicks from your baby, as if he really agreed with you.

"This little rascal will have to deal with me when he's born... Stealing my husband, I was here before you," he muttered childishly as he glared at your belly. "And you, mister grumpy husband, I'm going to squeeze and kiss you until you're forced to forgive me! And if you try to kick me out of our room, I'll cry at the door like a stray dog," Ace made his threat, and before you could disagree, he threw himself on top of you, covering your face with kisses as he hugged you tightly. All you could do was laugh, feeling ticklish from his kisses. You didn't usually get mad at your husband so often, but if it meant having him as a repentant little puppy trying to win your forgiveness through affection and love... Maybe you would start getting mad more often, especially if your son would help you.

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[mediocrecowboyhat]

Set in sand - Chapter 22

We mark the year 1934 and a peculiar journal falls into your hands. It's telling the tale of an outlaw and the downfall of a gang. Some pages are torn and others are downright unreadable, but nevertheless, you are still able to make out some parts of the tragic story.

With the help of a certain time traveler friend of yours, will you be able to save the author of the journal or will you be the cause for his demise?

Previous chapter - Next chapter

Word count: 4k

TW: end-game spoilers will be mentioned very early on in the story, 18+ MDNI, sexual themes, violence, gore, death, misogynistic themes (anything that happens in the game as well), she/her pronouns

"Who pissed in your coffee this mornin'?" Sadie seems to materialize out of nowhere next to you and you let out a startled gasp at her sudden appearance.

"What do you mean?", you breathe out and she eyes you from top to bottom. You squirm under her intense stare.

"You look like you're ready to stab a man for breathing wrong."

I do?

A sigh escapes you and you run a hand over your face. It doesn't come as a surprise to you that your fight with Arthur yesterday has left it's mark on you. There surely are some words and actions you regret, but it's as if the outlaw has been swallowed by the earth.

Earlier today, or rather right after you woke up, your eyes were scanning the camp in hopes to catch him, but he was nowhere to be seen. That still is the case. At this point, you might need an iron to straighten out the deep crease between your eyebrows.

"Don't tell me there's trouble in paradise." Sadie rips you out of your thoughts with a teasing smirk plastered on her face. Once she notices that you don't find her joke amusing at all, the smirk falters and her expression turns into a more serious one. "Shit, do you...uh wanna talk 'bout that?"

Even though the question comes out as awkward as can be, you appreciate her efforts to be there for you. Maybe that's good. Maybe what you need right now is a distraction.

You give your surroundings a quick look-over to make sure no one is standing close enough to hear you. Afterwards you tell her what happened after Arthur fixed up your shoulder, intentionally leaving out the part where you two almost kissed of course.

Sadie stays silent the entire time, only nodding every now and then to indicate that she's listening. Once your story comes to an end, she shakes her head and looks at something in the distance.

"He'll come around, trust me. My Jakey...", she speaks up and kicks a pebble away. It takes a second for her to continue and when she does, it's with a strained face. "As wonderful as he was, he could still be a moron sometimes. But we always figured things out at the end and so will you."

"I'm just scared that he won't stop pushing me away.", you admit hesitantly. These thoughts have been plaguing you all night and all day and you're afraid that, now that you voiced them out loud, they might come true.

"I heard from the others that he had a pretty unfortunate love life before he met you. What was her name again? Mary? They were serious, right?"

You nod before answering. "They were engaged, but she left him eventually. Married someone else after that."

"Jesus.", she breathes out with a surprised huff and crosses her arms infront of her chest.

You recall Mary's words from back in Saint Denis, when Arthur went to get her brooch back and left you two alone. She told you that it would work out for you and him. The memory sends a stinging pain through your chest and you immediately shake it off.

It will be fine, I had told Francis. Nothing will go wrong, I had said.

Thinking about your old friend, makes your lips curl up into a bittersweet smile. He would be so incredibly pissed if he'd know what you've been doing this entire time. Robbing, killing, fooling around with outlaws.

Only that it feels anything but fooling around when it comes to Arthur. Every private and intimate moment with that man always leaves you dreaming and hoping, fantasizing about a life together. Do you have the same effect on him? Is that the reason he's pushing you away?

Sadie bumps her shoulder against yours (your good shoulder, thankfully), startling you. Something flickers in her brown eyes. Something mischievous.

"Come on. We're leavin'." With that, she strolls towards the horses and you hastily follow her.

"To where?", you ask, confusion lacing your voice.

"You promised to take me out of the camp, didn't you?" She throws you a knowing look over her shoulder and mounts a horse. As puzzled as you are, you still mimick her actions and get ontop of Penthesilea.

"But we were talking about jobs. Sadie, I don't really think that robbing a homestead is going to make me feel better."

Her long, blonde hair falls over her shoulders in waves as she tilts her head back to laugh. "No! We're just gonna take a walk in town, do some sightseein', maybe visit a saloon."

All that sounds harmless enough, but knowing Sadie, that could very well change throughout the day. Going out with her will either end with the both of you absolutely hammered and having to go through a hellish hangover the next day or you find yourself running from a bunch of lawmen.

Now that you think about it, you probably shouldn't narrow it down to just the law. She isn't picky when it comes to pissing off people. Excited laughter cuts through the air, drowning out the sound of your horses' hooves and you can't help but smile, seeing your friend like this.

"It'll be fun! I can feel it!", she shouts in your direction and you sigh in amusement.

"As long as you behave.", your voice comes out in a teasing tone and she furrows her eyebrows as she looks at you.

"I can behave."

"Sure. Arthur told me what a normal shopping trip with you looks like."

An offended gasp can be heard from her and she places a hand on her chest, clutching her non-existent pearls. "I can't believe he'd go behind my back like this and tell you."

The rest of the ride to Saint Denis goes by with some more banter and chatter and you hitch your horses on the side of the road once you make it to the center. You're not sure if you will ever get used to the smell here.

"How's your shoulder?", Sadie asks and your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. With everything that's been happening, you totally forgot about that bruise of yours. Whatever cream Arthur used on you, it's doing fantastic work.

Your fingers carefully press against your shoulder and a mild, dull pain spread in your arm. Granted, you should probably still take it a bit easy, but all in all your arm is almost fully functional again. "Pretty good actually."

"Good enough to get rowdy tonight?" A sinister smirk tugs at the corners of her mouth and you shoot her a warning look.

"No fighting.", you say in a firm tone.

"Of course!" She snickers, making it obvious that getting into trouble is exactly what she was thinking of. "I meant drinks."

"Yeah. Sure."

With it being noon at the moment, you don't really feel like you're in the mood for drinks just yet. Fortunately, neither does Sadie and she motions with her chin towards a store. It is a tailor, but a tad less fancy than the one Trelawny has dragged you too.

"What? You want a new dress or something?", you ask, amusement evident in your tone and she let's out a scoff.

"No." Her response comes out faster than a bullet and she examines your attire. "You got the guns and the scars, but there's somethin' important missin', outlaw."

Something within you stirs upon hearing the nickname. It's not wrong. That is precisely what you are, an outlaw, but being referred to as one makes you uneasy. Before she could sense that anything is wrong, you school your features and match her energy.

"And what's that?"

"Do you even to ask? Ya need a hat, sweetheart!", she says in a matter of fact way and it gets a chuckle out of you.

Next thing you know, you're being dragged by the wrist towards the tailor and she pushes open the door. The shopkeeper and some of the customers there turn their heads in your direction after that energetic entrance and you shoot them an apologetic smile.

Sadie picks up a bunch of cowboy hats from the wall and places them on your head, one by one. Her lips are pursed in concentration as she studies every single piece closely and you raise your brow. "Do I have a say in what I'll wear?"

"Obviously. I'm just narrowin' it down for ya.", she mutters, lost in thought and you decide to leave her to do her thing.

After a few minutes of her mumbling incoherent words under her breath as she tries out almost every single hat on you, a satisfied smile begin to spread on her freckled face. Seems like you got a winner.

Finally she allows you to see what she picked out as she hands you a handheld mirror. It's a pinch front style hat that is made out of a dark leather that matches your belt. The band is a similar color, but lighter, complimenting the accessory quite nicely.

"That one is perfect.", you breathe out, impressed by her ability to pinpoint what you'd like. Her satisfied smile becomes a proud grin at your reaction to her choice and you go to pay for it.

Afterwards you two spend the time with some errand running and window shopping. There are some rifles she eyes at the gunsmith, but none of them end up being what she's looking for. The next stop is a small restaurant and by the time you leave it, the sun has set.

Sadie stretches her back, cracking and popping some bones with a pleased sigh and she cracks a yawn. "I don't know about you, but I could go for a drink."

"Same." You don't feel like returning back to camp just yet. Sure, you could maybe run into Arthur there and try to talk things out with him. Though, there is also the possibility that he's not there and then you'll be left sitting alone at the campfire, spiraling. Tonight you don't want to go down that rabbit hole that is your complicated feelings towards the outlaw.

Sadie takes you to a small saloon, located more on the edge of the city. The area doesn't strike you as too safe, but it's not too worrying either. You've budded heads with worse than some Saint Denis thugs.

Leaning against the bar counter, you two order a glass of whisky each and you bring it to your lips.

Oh, sweet sherry, how much I miss you.

"Have you talked to Dutch again about joining on jobs?", you ask and a shadow falls over your friend's expression. As if you hit a nerve, she downs the alcohol in one go and brings the glass down with a loud thud.

"No, but I don't think it's much use anyways.", she murmurs and signals the bartender to give her another drink. "Even though I went all out with that O'Driscoll trash durin' the ambush."

Memories of that fight flood your mind, images of bloody corpses scattered on the docks. A shiver runs down your spine and you take another sip, hoping that the alcohol will ease the tension in your muscles.

Maybe it's better to move onto a lighter topic. "Thank you for helping with the hat, by the way. I really like it."

Your words get a cheeky grin out of her and she nudges your good shoulder with hers. "It's the least I could do for you."

"What do you mean?", you ask, confused, but then you roll your eyes in feigned annoyance. "Listen, don't worry about how I feel. Arthur and I only had a fight. Not a falling out."

I hope.

"It's not that.", she counters and lowers her gaze. Suddenly, the air between you becomes awkward and tense and she plays around with her glass. "You've been so kind to me since the beginnin'."

Quickly, your hand shoots forward and you place it on her arms, giving it a gentle squeeze. When she looks up to meet your eyes, you smile softly at her.

"Of course, my friend." Then you clear your throat and order two more drinks. The whisky is going down faster than you expected, but it's nice. "Enough with that sentimental mood now. Let's have some fun!"

It doesn't stop there. The alcohol flows like honey, becoming easier to swallow with every sip and you drink.

And drink.

And drink.

Sadie says something that you can't quite make out, but that isn't stopping you from finding it incredibly funny. You bend over, cackling and she does the same. Some of the customers throw irritated looks your way, but you don't pay them any mind.

Another glass is being placed infront of you and you furrow your eyebrows. "I didn't order that."

"Consider it a small gift from a kind stranger.", someone next to you says and you turn your head to face a man who looks to be your age.

He's rather handsome with his bright green eyes and curly blonde hair, but maybe the alcohol is clouding your judgement. You take a moment to study his features some more, noting how his eyebrows are darker than his hair and how there are dimples on his cheeks when he smiles.

"Might the stranger extend his kindness and tell me his name?", you ask, playing along. Your positive response makes his smile go wider, exposing a set of bright white teeth.

The shirt he's wearing looks old and stained and his pants are dusty, but the skin on his hands is smooth without any callouses. Nothing about this man indicates that he has worked even a day in his life, yet his outfit begs to differ.

"Jim.", he says, extending his hand out to you and you shake it. Indeed, it's very smooth almost delicate. "And you?"

You give him your name and bring the glass to your lips. Before taking a sip, you subtly breathe in the scent of the whisky, but nothing stands out to you. It passes the taste test too.

Maybe you're reading too much into it. So what if that guy is from the upper class? He could be living a double life to get away from something. It wouldn't be anything out of the ordinary.

"So tell me, Jim, what is someone like you doing in a place like this?", you ask and watch him from the corner of your eyes. Sadie shifts in her seat next to you, listening in on the conversation.

The man doesn't look unsettled by your suspicion. On the contrary, he chuckles and shakes his head in disbelief. "Am I that bad of an actor?"

His reaction makes you relax and you allow yourself to smile. "I don't mean any offense, but you don't look like you have lifted a single finger in your whole life."

"No offense taken, my good lady. You're correct, I haven't."

"Then why pretend? Saint Denis has some high-end saloons with liquor that doesn't taste like dog piss." The tipsy state you're in has loosened your tongue quite a bit.

"But they're filled with...snobs.", he counters, wrinkling his nose.

A sly smirk tugs at the corner of your mouth and you cock your eyebrow. "And you're trying to tell me you're not like the others?"

For a moment you're afraid that you might be taking it too far, crossing a line of some sort, but amusement flickers in his eyes. He seems to be enjoying your boldness.

"If you give me a chance then I could prove to you that I'm not."

Sadie let's out a snort next to you and you give her shin a light, but firm kick. You don't think that it's going to go anywhere with Jim. Arthur stills occupies every nook and cranny in your mind.

"I'll think about it."

Jim nods, content with your answer. "Don't worry, I don't intend to rush you. Rome wasn't build in a day either."

The way he speaks makes you smile and you lower your gaze to look at the glass infront of you. Sadie shoots a knowing glance your way and you playfully slap her arm.

"That's a mighty fine gun you got there." Your attention is back on Jim and his eyes are set on the pistol at your side. 

"Can you shoot?", you ask and his eyes go wide in shock before he shakes his head in a bashful way.

"No, I seem to never get the aim right.", he declares with a soft chuckle. Casually, he lift his own glass and swirls the liquid inside it around. "Perhaps you could teach me some time."

Hope flickers under that confident, playful mask of his and you open your mouth to answer, but a deep voice beats you to it.

"You better mind your own business, boy."

The hair on the back of your neck stands up upon listening to that familiar southern drawl. Arthur, your Arthur, is standing next to you and you rub your eyes to make sure that it's not some hallucination your drunk mind has come up with.

"Oh, shit.", Sadie hisses behind you, visibly delighted by the unexpected turn of events, but you, on the other hand, would rather have the ground swallow you whole.

"What are you doing here?", you breathe out in disbelief and maybe a bit of horror as well.

"What I'm doin'? I'm gettin' the two of you home.", he says in a matter of fact way. He stands before you like a dream. Broad shoulders, hat tilted low and his large hands on the belt.

I think I had too much to drink.

Jim is looking between the two of you, confused by Arthur's sudden appearance and hostility. "I'm sorry, friend. I didn't know she is your girl."

His girl...oh, I'm definitely too hammered.

"First of all, I ain't your friend. I ain't nothin' to you and neither is the Lady here, so do yourself a favor and bother someone else.", Arthur snarls in a low, threatening voice that doesn't tolerate any backtalk.

Jim straightens his back and raises his hands. "I didn't mean any offense, sir. We were just talking."

The outlaw moves his jaw, but before he could do more damage, you extend your arm and pull at the sleeve of his leather jacket. "What is your problem, Arthur?"

"C'mon. We're leavin'.", he says, completely ignoring your question and he makes his way towards the entrance.

Sadie snickers, but downs the contents of her glass and follows him. Quickly, you mouth an apology to Jim, but he waves it off with a warm smile and you rush out of the saloon.

Cool night air fills your lungs as you take a deep breath, but it does little to nothing to calm your nerves. It clears up the fog in your head, in fact, leaving you seething in anger. Heat rises up to your face as you think about how much of a fool Arthur has made you look like back there.

With your hands balled up into fists, you stomp towards the man and grab him by the shoulder to face you. In the corner of your eyes, you see Sadie become suddenly very interested in a lamp post.

"Have you lost your mind?", you snap at the outlaw and he looks at you as if you grew a second head.

"Have I lost my mind?", he repeats, absolutely baffled and your mouth hangs open. For a while the both of you just stare at each other through narrowed eyes and with flared nostrils until you decide that it's enough.

This isn't something you want to take out in public. The streets of Saint Denis are buzzing with life and you don't want to draw more attention to you. So with a quiet huff you make your way towards the horses and your trio rides back to camp in awkward silence.

As you hitch up Penthesilea, Sadie taps you lightly on your shoulder and you turn around.

"I'll go ahead.", she whispers and you nod. It's obvious what she's trying to do with this.

Talk to him.

Arthur goes to follow the woman, but stops in his tracks when you softly call out to him. It's very late and you don't want to wake anyone up with your shouting.

"What was going on back there?", you ask, more calm now than you were back in the city. Anger still burns in your chest, but not as hot anymore.

When he doesn't answer, you let out an irritated sigh. "Why won't you talk to me? I thought we were fine. More than fine even until you made it very clear yesterday that you don't want this, that you don't want me. Then when someone talks to me you act like some territorial ape. What do you want from me?"

It's difficult to make out his expression in this darkness, but it's evident that he's carrying out an internal battle with himself. His shoulders are tense and his chest rises and falls heavily.

"I...I'm real bad at this.", he mutters after a while and you dare take a step closer to him. Hesitantly, you take his hand and bring it up to your chest, holding onto it tightly.

The warmth of his body and the feeling of his skin under your fingers has become so painfully familiar.

"That's okay.", you answer in a hushed tone and you take another careful step. He let's you in, let's you stay close to him so that you feel his breath caressing your face and you remove his hat to get a better look at him.

"I had a son once. Isaac was his name."

Your heart drops at the sudden confession. You don't make a single sound, don't move a single muscle. He's finally opening up to you and you don't want to push him.

"It was years ago. I met this waitress, Eliza.", he continues, voice strained and raspy as if he's fighting to hold himself back. "I didn't stay with them, but visited as much as I could. I shared my earnings from the gang, so they could live somewhat comfortable."

His fingers twitch in your grasp and you feel his thumb circling over the back of your hand as he continues.

"One day I came over and was met with nothin' but two graves. Some folk robbed and killed them."

"I'm so sorry, Arthur." Your voice is trembling and he shakes his head.

"Don't be, sweetheart."

For the longest time, both your breathing was the only sound aside from the rustling of leaves and an owl making itself known occasionally. Sadie wasn't kidding when she called his lovelife unfortunate, but you don't think that anyone knows about this. Aside from Hosea and Dutch maybe.

"And you know how it ended with Mary.", he then says and you nod to yourself. There isn't much context needed regarding that topic.

"You don't have to worry about me or us for that matter.", you answer and he let's out a deep sigh, but you continue before he can respond. "I'm part of the gang. We're together in this."

Mary was right. You understand the way he lives his life. Hell, you're living his life yourself. Granted, there is no divine shield protecting you from the dangers that come with this line of work and you're never 100% guaranteed to see the next day.

But that is just the risk of living.

"I'm not a man that you should-"

"Arthur Morgan." You say his name with stern emphasis and he immediately shuts his mouth. Your hands find their way up to his face, cupping his cheeks. "I don't care if you're the man I should be with or not. You're the man I want and that is the end of the matter."

A defeated sigh escapes him and he grabs one of your hands, tender lips brushing over the palm. The gesture sends jolts of electricity through you and heat boils up in your lower stomach.

"You're gonna be the end of me, woman.", he mumbles in amusement.

Taglist: @shackspossum @abducted-cowz @heloixe

[literaryvein-reblogs]

George Orwell: Pleasure Spots

George Orwell:

Some months ago I cut out of a shiny magazine some paragraphs written by a female journalist and describing the pleasure resort of the future.

She had recently been spending some time at Honolulu, where the rigours of war do not seem to have been very noticeable. However, “a transport pilot… told me that with all the inventiveness packed into this war, it was a pity someone hadn’t found out how a tired and life-hungry man could relax, rest, play poker, drink, and make love, all at once, and round the clock, and come out of it feeling good and fresh and ready for the job again.”

This reminded her of an entrepreneur she had met recently who was planning a “pleasure spot which he thinks will catch on tomorrow as dog-racing and dance halls did yesterday.”

This Future Paradise

I have no doubt that, all over the world, hundreds of pleasure resorts similar to the one described above are now being planned, and perhaps are even being built.

It is unlikely that they will be finished – world events will see to that – but they represent faithfully enough the modern civilised man’s idea of pleasure.

Something of the kind is already partially attained in the more magnificent dance halls, movie palaces, hotels, restaurants and luxury liners.

On a pleasure cruise or in a Lyons Corner House one already gets something more than a glimpse of this future paradise.

Analysed, its main characteristics are these:

One is never alone.

One never does anything for oneself.

One is never within sight of wild vegetation or natural objects of any kind.

Light and temperature are always artificially regulated.

One is never out of the sound of music.

That Dreaded Thing, Thought

The music – and if possible it should be the same music for everybody – is the most important ingredient.

Its function is to prevent thought and conversation, and to shut out any natural sound, such as the song of birds or the whistling of the wind, that might otherwise intrude. The radio is already consciously used for this purpose by innumerable people. In very many English homes the radio is literally never turned off, though it is manipulated from time to time so as to make sure that only light music will come out of it.

I know people who will keep the radio playing all through a meal and at the same time continue talking just loudly enough for the voices and the music to cancel out. This is done with a definite purpose.

The music prevents the conversation from becoming serious or even coherent, while the chatter of voices stops one from listening attentively to the music and thus prevents the onset of that dreaded thing, thought.

A Return to the Womb

It is difficult not to feel that the unconscious aim in the most typical modern pleasure resorts is a return to the womb.

For there, too, one was never alone, one never saw daylight, the temperature was always regulated, one did not have to worry about work or food, and one’s thoughts, if any, were drowned by a continuous rhythmic throbbing.

Whenever one hears such phrases as “pleasure spot,” “pleasure resort,” “pleasure city,” it is difficult not to remember the often-quoted opening of Coleridge’s Kubla Khan:

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan A stately pleasure-dome decree: Where Alph, the sacred river, ran Through caverns measureless to man Down to a sunless sea. So twice five miles of fertile ground With walls and towers were girdled round: And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills. Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree; And here were forests ancient as the hills, Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.

When one looks at Coleridge’s very different conception of a “pleasure dome,” one sees that it revolves partly round gardens and partly round caverns, rivers, forests and mountains with “deep romantic chasms” –

in short, round what is called Nature.

But the whole notion of admiring Nature, and feeling a sort of religious awe in the presence of glaciers, deserts or waterfalls, is bound up with the sense of man’s littleness and weakness against the power of the universe.

The moon is beautiful partly because we cannot reach it,

the sea is impressive because one can never be sure of crossing it safely.

Even the pleasure one takes in a flower – and this is true even of a botanist who knows all there is to be known about the flower – is dependent partly on the sense of mystery.

But meanwhile man’s power over Nature is steadily increasing. With the aid of the atomic bomb we could literally move mountains: we could even, so it is said, alter the climate of the earth by melting the polar ice-caps and irrigating the Sahara.

Isn’t there, therefore, something sentimental and obscurantist in preferring bird-song to swing music and in wanting to leave a few patches of wildness here and there instead of covering the whole surface of the earth with a network of Autobahnen flooded by artificial sunlight?

An Effort to Destroy Consciousness

The question only arises because in exploring the physical universe man has made no attempt to explore himself. Much of what goes by the name of pleasure is simply an effort to destroy consciousness.

If one started by asking, what is man?

What are his needs?

How can he best express himself?

One would discover that merely having the power to avoid work and live one’s life from birth to death in electric light and to the tune of tinned music is not a reason for doing so. Man needs warmth, society, leisure, comfort and security: he also needs solitude, creative work and the sense of wonder.

If he recognised this he could use the products of science and industrialism eclectically, applying always the same test:

does this make me more human or less human?

The Highest Happiness

He would then learn that the highest happiness does not lie in relaxing, resting, playing poker, drinking and making love simultaneously. And the instinctive horror which all sensitive people feel at the progressive mechanisation of life would be seen not to be a mere sentimental archaism, but to be fully justified.

For man only stays human by preserving large patches of simplicity in his life, while the tendency of many modern inventions – in particular the film, the radio and the aeroplane – is to weaken his consciousness, dull his curiosity, and, in general, drive him nearer to the animals.

Excerpts from "Pleasure Spots" published in Tribune, 11 January 1946

More: George Orwell

[archivallyfound09]

All You Could Want (Baulder's Gate 3) pt. 2

Part 1

Pairing: Raphael x reader (afab), no y/n

Rating: Explicit (descriptive sex, cursing, mature themes)

Plot: Raphael is known for his deals. You were one of those deals. What happens when you become more than just a signature? What happens when others intrude on that relationship?

“I still don’t understand why we are going through with this!” Gale whined, “I’m not exactly too fond of breaking into devil’s lairs and trying to steal precious artifacts from them.” 

Astarion rolled his eyes, “You wouldn’t be saying that if you were still eating the fucking artifacts…” he muttered under his breath, shooting Gale a glare before continuing to explore just outside the new portal that had been created. Gale opened his mouth to rebuff the vampire snarky commentary, when his mouth closed abruptly.

A small, dwarf-like apparition appeared in front of the group, her crazed commentary immediately drawing all to her plight in the House of Hope. The group listened and transformed, attempting to break in and steal more than just the Orphic Hammer. Hope, as she was called, made mention of freeing her physical form before leaving- she also teased something about a new visitor, but it seemed that only Astarion caught the comment.

As they traipsed through the ominous and tortuous halls, the group was faced with more than just the cruelty of the cambion they were after- they saw the absolute destruction of the human soul. Entities around them begged for freedom, some screaming, some crying, but the most hauntingly awful ones only begged half-heartedly, already resigned to their eternal damnation. Astarion felt a tug on his once-beating heart, he could imagine the pain, but blocked it out best he could as he continued towards the library with Gale, Shadowheart, and Karlach. 

This certainly wasn’t the group he was planning on joining with his newfound freedom, but he was glad to have at least a few other damaged beings along with him for the ride. As he rounded a corner, a small flutter of fabric caught his eye in the darkened hallways. He held his hand up to stop the group, Karlach all but crashing into him as he did so. She gave him a sheepish look and shrugged as he rolled his eyes.

“There’s someone here,” he held up his hand to silence Gale while he finished his thought, “ and she,” he emphasized, “does not smell infernal.”

-------

When you awoke, your room had transformed back to the way it always was. Reds and golds decorated the high-vaulted ceilings all the way down to the ornate floors. You smiled and stretched a hand over your head as you let out a satisfied yawn. The bed, no longer opalescent, but now scarlet red, was just as comfortable as it had been before you had gone to bed. With sleep still heavy on your eyes you sat up slowly and then noticed the figure standing with his back to you.

You tried to stifle another yawn, but failed, a chorus of chuckling meeting your sleepy facade as he turned around, hands clasped behind his back as he looked you over, enjoying and basking in your humanness for a moment.

You gave him a heartfelt smile. “Good morning,” you said quietly, eyes now bright. He couldn’t help the smirk that now decorated his face.

“I should think that any morning where I get to see you wake up like that should be,” the honeyed words were sweet, but you saw the honesty behind them. He continued, “I do hope you enjoyed your little paradise yesterday, “ you nodded happily, reminiscing of the warm pool and seaside breeze. He hummed in approval. “I knew you would. I do hope you are rested and looking forward to another day here…” 

His voice trailed off a bit as you noticed he stepped closer to the bed, the mattress shifting under his weight as he sat alongside your legs. You nodded and sat up on your knees, leaning in a bit closer to him. He smiled and wrapped you in his arms, the warmth emanating from his skin was deliciously hot as you felt his hands slowly glide up and down you back, pulling you closer to him. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, breathing in and immediately smelling burnt wood and cherries, and you let out a small yelp as he quickly changed positions and you found yourself on his lap.

“Raphael! You startled me!” you couldn’t help the almost girlish giggle that escaped your lips. To him, it was sweeter than any wine, more delicious than any torture- your laugh was the one thing keeping you here, safe, in the cambion’s arms. You smiled, pressing your forehead to his and closing your eyes.

“Tell me that today you will be able to spend time here today...” you quietly begged, cracking an eye open to try and convince the man under you to agree. He smiled- you liked his human smile, even though you knew there was another more natural side to his being. The wrinkles around his eyes were clear to see up close and you wanted to kiss every one of them to make him stay. He chuckled, his chest and shoulders shaking under your forearms as they found purchase around his neck.

“I’m terribly sorry, apple of my eye, there seems to be a bit of an intruder issue that I must attend to,” you noticed the slight snarl on ‘intruder’ but decided to let him finish his thought, “‘tis nothing more than a few rodents, I’m sure.” You smiled, deciding to forego mention of your experience from the night before. After all, he was already on their scent- surely that would make for the end of any issues.

You smiled sweetly and kissed his nose, pulling your forehead back and then finding your lips completely captured by his. He tasted of aged brandy and hot smoke and you couldn’t help but melt into his grasp as his hands now traveled up your sides. He pulled away far too quickly for your liking.

“Soon, my dear, “ he promised, standing and effortlessly placing you on the bed, “soon.”

--------

You had spent your morning as you usually did, lounging in the pool, reading, trying to learn and enact certain spells that you had read earlier (it was all going horribly), but you continued to entertain yourself until Raphael’s business was wrapped up.

As you went to the library to return yet another spellbook, you noticed voices emanating out from the main foyer. The table that once held a feast was now empty, but the chairs were filled with four others and Raphael’s back was to you. You quickly tried to pull yourself behind the pillars, not wanting to be spotted, but remained endlessly nosy about the intruders. 

You immediately recognized two from the intrusion in your room, but you noted that what you had thought to be a barbarian male was clearly a woman and she appeared to be on fire. The other two men were dressed in shabby clothes, as was the small woman to the left of the cambion. You craned your neck to try and hear their dialog, only picking up a few comments here and there. 

“We can make this so much easier,” you hear Raphael’s business voice ring out, “a simple contract. You get what you want and all you have to do is return something small to me and the end of your quest.” You saw the others in the group look at each other, debating in hushed tones. You watched as Raphael pretended to pick at his nails, allowing the deliberation for a bit before he grew impatient.

“Or,” he interrupted jarringly, his aggravation palpable, “I could end all of you for breaking into my home uninvited.” He stood, his hands slamming to the table, causing you to jump and cover your mouth from an inevitable squeak of surprise. You quickly pulled back fully behind the pillar, but not before the small white-haired woman caught your eye. You dared not look back at the group as deliberations continued- you slunk back to your room as fast as possible, terrified of interrupting Raphael’s business dealings.

------

“My dear,” his voice was smooth like velvet as he interrupted you walking around the room, a book in one hand, an apple in the other. You paused your steps, finished your paragraph and looked up at him adoringly. He couldn't help the slight swell he felt in his chest at your glance.

“My dear,” he started again, walking towards you, “I am sorry to have kept you waiting for my time; my business seems to have taken far too much of my attentions,” he snaked an arm around your waist as you stood, still poised with a book and fruit in hand. You smiled. This was nothing new. 

“I do believe I owe you time in paradise, and soon I will be able to accomplish that like never before,” he stepped behind you, your back flush against his chest, soft lips pressing searing kisses to your neck and shoulders. You dropped your hands to your sides, barely holding onto the items grasped within, and closed your eyes, leaning your head back against his shoulder. He chucked and you felt your body laugh along with his. His fingers traced your collarbone and rested flat across your decolletage, his pointer finger and thumb lightly at the base of your throat.

“I am sure if anyone can accomplish that, it’s you,” you sighed. Raphael felt his ministrations pause as he took in your sincerity. You were not just another contract to him. Sure, you fit the bill- wandering hero, monster-slayer, desperate to make mankind better, but unable to do so without sacrifice and help. It was in all those years of watching you and offering contract after contract that Raphael decided to help tip the scales in your favor during a battle or two…he also may have helped a bit in prepping you before negotiations and by offering you some extra health and strength when yours was spent. 

Raphael closed his eyes, breathing in your scent, as he remembered watching you for that long decade. Denying his wishes, making him go mad with fury, worrying about your pathetic life span- he had become a cambion he didn’t recognize. His memories began to float back instantly. 

It wasn’t until Harleep’s incessant teasing stopped that he knew he was in trouble. He had fallen for you- a mere mortal with a savior complex. 

It was then that he knew what he had to offer: you for the rest of humanity. 

You took the offer far quicker than he expected. He didn’t think the frequent visits over the years had done much to win your favor, but as he watched you pick up the infernal quill to sign over your life, he saw how much life had taken from you. The bags under your eyes, the sullen cheeks, the ragged and messy hair- you were still a vision to him and his hands longed to embrace you, but he saw the damage that fighting and saving had done.

It was at that moment that Raphel did something he had never done and vowed to never do again: he amended a contract for your benefit. The signing over of your life to him would now include restoration to your previous healthy body eternally and forgotten memories of the harshness of your previous life. You were completely unaware of this contract- you believed what he had told you- he had saved you from certain death at the hands of those who wanted to kill you.

You were also completely unaware that after 5 days of caring for you and altering your experience within the House of Hope, Raphael destroyed the contract. You were free to leave at any point. He had felt nothing but damaging fear the first fortnight (or the first 12 years you were with him-time no longer held meaning), but he slowly trusted that you wanted to stay. 

“So what paradise will you be conjuring up next?” Your sweet, dulcet voice breaking Raphael out of his reverie. You imagined far away places and exotic smells and designs you had only ever read about. You imagined animals and treats you had never seen before. You felt his thumb tap at the base of your neck, humming quietly to himself.

“What if the next paradise,” he purred, “is real?”

[sylvia-forest]

[CN] Shaw's Small Paradise Date

⚡Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a Date which hasn't been released in EN yet!⚡

[Released Date: 1 FEB 2024]

[This date was translated with the help of Google translate ~]

[Section 1]

Some stuffy and warm air flow disrupted my sleep. I stretched and yawned, fumbling to turn off the air conditioner before slowly opening my eyes.

The sky was already clear, and the faint light leaking through the curtains was blocked by the broad figure in front of me, outlining undulating contours.

MC: Shaw…..

I couldn't help but reach out and poke his shoulder.

MC: Are you awake?

Shaw [sleepy voice]: …..Mm.

Shaw didn't turn around; instead, a nasal-toned response drifted over gently.

MC: When did you wake up? Shaw: Twenty minutes ago. MC: How come you woke up first and didn't even call me? Shaw [in a cold indifferent tone]: Wouldn't it be better to wake up naturally? MC: ……?

Seeing him continuously speaking with his back turned to me, I poked him in confusion.

MC: Shaw, are you on your phone? Why are you maintaining that posture for so long? Shaw: Nope.

...If I can't hear the indifference in his tone now, then I must be a fool.

But this early in the morning, I haven't even had the chance to annoy him, right? I couldn't help but pout.

MC: Can you turn around? It's awkward to talk like this.

Shaw [sulking×1]: Isn't this the distance you wanted? MC: ...When did I ever want this kind of distance? Don't casually slander people…..ugh!

Before I could finish speaking, the next moment, a shadow had already descended heavily upon me, rendering me immobile.

MC: Wha-what are you doing...? Shaw: What do you mean, of course, it is to judge you.

His breath tickled my forehead, making me instinctively wrinkle my nose. This action seemed to be misunderstood by Shaw as resistance, so he chuckled coldly.

Shaw [continuation×2 + sounds a little bit hurt]: I'm asking you, last night I pulled you into my arms twice, and you struggled free twice. What's the meaning of that? Shaw [×3]: Do you despise me? MC: Of course not!

I suddenly felt incredibly unjust. Just as I was about to argue with him, a vague memory flashed through my mind, causing my words to get stuck in my throat.

Last night, I did feel his hands assertively wrap around me.

And then, in a half-asleep state, it seems like... I subconsciously struggled to free myself a couple of times.

Thinking about this, I awkwardly tugged at the corner of my mouth.

MC [testing the water]: Uh, yesterday doesn't count, right? Shaw [in a cold threatening voice]: Why doesn't it count?

My mind raced as I quickly searched for reasons to justify my actions from yesterday.

MC: Because the air conditioning was set high yesterday, it was a bit hot when we were cuddled together... MC: And, um, your arm was a bit too firm and uncomfortable to rest on, so I... um, made a technical adjustment!

Shaw [sulking×4 + feeling hurt]: You mean, you feel uncomfortable when I hold you to sleep?

[T/N]: Call me insane but I'm in love with his sulky and pouty voice *bangs my head on the wall*

MC: I didn't say I felt uncomfortable, it was...well, my body didn't listen to me in my sleep… Shaw [×5]: Oh, so it was just your body instinctively moving away from me.

MC: No! Shaw, why are you like this…

Seeing the situation escalating, I didn't know how else to explain myself. Shaw had already cut me off.

Shaw [smirks]: Okay.

Shaw squinted his eyes halfway and interrupted me.

Shaw [someone is holding a grudge]: It's really my problem that I didn't take your feelings into consideration.

Shaw [finally made up his mind]: I'll pay attention next time.

As the restraints on me loosened, Shaw turned to get off the bed. I quickly sat up and grabbed his arm, blinking at him with a hint of guilt.

MC: Wait, wait, are you sure you're not just saying the opposite out of anger? Shaw: Am I that kind of person?

Shaw raised his eyebrows as he spoke, leaned over, and placed a gentle kiss on the tip of my nose.

MC: …..?!

I stared at him in astonishment, and he responded with an innocent yet subtle smile.

Shaw [reluctantly accepts the current situation + plays the part of a wounded person]: It's just one night without cuddling. There will be plenty of opportunities in the future.

Shaw [lovingly]: Besides, today is Valentine's Day. Why would I quarrel with my dear and beloved?

—

[Section 2]

Something was off. Very off.

After getting up, Shaw went about his morning routine as if nothing had happened. He even "thoughtfully" brought me breakfast from downstairs.

However, my keen intuition told me — this guy was definitely still sulking.

MC: The worst I can do is stay still tonight… Shaw: What did you say? MC: I said, Tonight, you can pull me however you want, I'll definitely stay put!

Shaw: …… Shaw [sighs]: Why are you still worrying about what happened in the morning? I forgot about it. MC: Is that so?

Shaw didn't answer my question, he just raised his hand and pushed the soy milk on the table towards me.

Shaw: Only a three-year-old child loves to pry like this. Hurry up and drink your soy milk, we should go to the antique shop after you're done. MC: Huh, are we spending Valentine's Day at the antique shop today? Shaw: I was just planning to clean up there, but if you want to spend time there, that's fine too. MC: Why clean up today?

Shaw saw that I was still confused, and a familiar teasing smile appeared on his face.

Shaw [laughs + starts teasing her]: Tsk tsk, isn't there someone who dreams of getting rich overnight every day? How could you forget that today is also the fifth day of the Lunar New Year when we welcome the God of Wealth?

MC: !!Welcoming the God of Wealth! We need to hurry and set off, or else we'll be late, what if there's traffic on the God of Wealth's route?

I instantly got excited and quickly finished the soy milk, pulling Shaw towards the door.

With one hand being pulled by me, Shaw used his other hand to grab a couple's beret from the hanger and put it on my head.

Shaw [clicks his tongue + in a low, sulking, jealous voice]: ...Who knew in the eyes of a fool, the God of Wealth is more important than 'lover'.

[T/N]: MC WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!!

—

The antique shop has been closed for less than half a month, and there was already a thin layer of dust in the room.

We quickly divided the tasks and started cleaning with our respective tools.

Before long, the various items in the store were shining with their appropriate luster and colors.

Shaw lit a stick of incense and respectfully placed it in front of the God of Wealth's altar. Then, he found a yellow paper from somewhere and spread it out on the table, picking up a brush to start writing.

Curiously, I leaned in to see what he was writing and followed along with his vigorous strokes, reading each word aloud.

MC: Inviting the Five God of Wealth to descend, humbly requesting... What is this?

Shaw: It's the invocation script for the Five God of Wealth. Shaw: Since we're welcoming the God of Wealth, we should do it properly. We need to specify our wishes, our address, the auspicious date... everything has to be written meticulously. Shaw [as a matter of fact]: Otherwise, how would the God's know who is asking for wealth? MC: Oh, I see. It's like how some people nowadays report their ID numbers when they go to burn incense! Shaw [chuckles]: That's what it means. MC: Then you quickly help me write it, may the God of Wealth bless us to win big prizes every day this year, and even pick up money while walking! Shaw: Why, the jackpot won last year wasn’t big enough?

Thinking of my experience of becoming an island owner and winning an RV last year, I raised my chin proudly.

Reference from his “Four season” event and “6th Anniversary” event!

MC: Hum hum, I am so greedy! MC: Besides, if I won a lottery, it will benefit both of us~

Shaw [in sync with her energy]: Alright, I'll help you write it. Let me keep benefiting from your good luck next year.

As I watched Shaw earnestly write down the whimsical wishes, a hint of sweetness brewed in my heart.

It felt as though some kind of power was truly born from his brush strokes, capable of conveying our intentions to the ethereal Gods.

We spread the invocation script in front of the God of Wealth statue, just after lighting the incense and making our wishes, when suddenly there were two knocks on the door of the shop.

We both turned around and faced Mr. Yan's smiling face. The other person held a pig doll in one hand and made a bow to us.

Lao Yan: Shaw, MC, Happy New Year!

[T/N]: Here Lao Yan calls them little Ling and little MC in Chinese but it doesn't look great in the EN version so gonna go along with just their names only.

Shaw [in a cheerful voice]: Happy New Year to you, old man. What's the matter? Lao Yan: There you go, just this matter in my hands.

Lao Yan had a look of helplessness on his face, and he patted the pig doll in his hand.

Lao Yan: I accidentally washed the doll my granddaughter sleeps with, and just bought her a new one as an apology, but the little girl doesn't want it. Lao Yan: She said this is not what she wants, she doesn't like it. Lao Yan: You young people understand these things better. How about you, MC and you, help me buy one? It's the big New Year, I don't want the little girl to be unhappy because of this.

Shaw and I exchanged a glance, clearly asking for my opinion. I pondered for a moment.

MC: If it's a doll to sleep with, then I know what kind to buy.

—

[Section 3]

Miniature floppy-eared rabbits, chubby ducks, and even anthropomorphic vegetables, insects...

As soon as I entered the doll store, I was dazzled by the dazzling array of dolls.

MC: Wow, this eggplant is so cute!! MC: This long-haired rabbit is so adorable!

I let go of the little rabbit plushie, then hugged a half-sized elephant plush toy, reluctant to let go, I rubbed against it contentedly.

MC: Shaw, this one is so soft to hold!

Shaw stood a few steps away, arms crossed, and raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

Shaw [elongates his tone]: So you like soft ones so much. MC: Huh? What does that mean?

I was a bit slow to react, and Shaw's jaw raised even higher.

Shaw [a hint of displeasure hidden in his voice]: I said, if you think it is comfortable to hold, buy it. MC [burst out laughing]: ….Pff.

— —Sure enough, you still care!

Unexpectedly, without me probing, this guy exposed his tangled thoughts that he had been holding in for half the day.

I found it somewhat amusing, unable to resist teasing him, I winked at him.

MC [starts acting]: Well, it's too soft for me. I prefer something with just the right amount of firmness when I hug it~

Shaw [shocked]: …..

Shaw seemed momentarily stunned by my comment, his lips parted and closed again, before finally tilting his head to the side in silence.

Shaw [clears his throat + pretends not to hear it and starts teasing her]: Okay, aren't you here to choose a doll for Lao Yan's granddaughter? Why are you discussing your own preferences?

Changing the subject again, how boring. I rolled my eyes and showed him the photo on my phone.

MC: I've found the one I want to buy for the kid. MC: I just had Lao Yan took a photo of the damaged doll. We'll buy the same model.

Shaw [having a hard time to believe]: Are you sure? There are so many new models here.

MC: Of course I'm sure. Didn’t Lao Yan say that this doll was for children to hold while sleeping? MC: It indicates that, in her heart, this is the softest and most familiar comfort toy.

I picked up the doll that was exactly the same as in the photo and gestured towards Shaw.

MC: No matter how good the new models are, they can't compare to the comfort of that one that holds a special place in her heart.

Shaw looked at the doll in my hand and nodded.

Shaw: You know a lot about this. MC: This is my experience. Didn’t you sleep with a stuffed animal when you were a child? Shaw: No  MC [happily]: If you have a chance, you can try it. Sleeping with a doll in your arms will make you feel at ease~

Shaw's expression once again turned peculiar, and he chuckled, then walked over to the shelf.

Shaw: I'm too lazy to try, but you seem to really want to relive the feeling of your childhood. Shaw: Why don't you choose a sleeping doll that you feel comfortable with and has moderate hardness and softness? Shaw [starts playing the role of a wounded person×1]: From now on, you will sleep with it in your arms, and you will feel at ease. Shaw [×2]: Well, I think this red panda one is pretty good… MC: Shaw!

Seeing Shaw earnestly selecting a plush toy, I quickly interrupted his soliloquy.

MC: I don't want this red panda.

Shaw turned his head, returning my gaze defiantly.

Shaw [continues with the act×3]: So, which one do you want? The rabbit, the shark, the giraffe, or maybe the eggplant, the bread? MC: Don't want any!

I reached for the nearby keychain, grabbed his hand, and slipped it into his fingers.

MC: I just want this "red panda", is that okay?

In an instant, a faint blush flashed across Shaw's face, yet he deliberately pouted his lips downward.

Shaw [carefully testing her by acting all innocent]: Weren't some people picky before? Why are they suddenly attracted to it now? MC: It's not like I suddenly took a liking to it now. I've been chasing after him for a very, very long time, planning to stay by his side for the rest of my life!

Shaw's throat bobbed heavily, and he looked down at his ring finger, then raised his gaze, staring longer into my eyes.

Shaw: Even if he's very rigid, very stubborn, and his actions are unreasonable, would you still want this uncomfortable little panda? MC: Yes. MC: Because he gives me the most comfort when he hugs, is that not okay? Shaw: Okay.

Finally, Shaw revealed his brightest smile of the day, and with a flick of his wrist, he firmly clasped my fingertips.

Shaw [in a really really good mood]: But I have to remind you, once you're bound to this little panda, there's no return or exchange.

—

[Section 4]

Even though I was bound to this "little panda," I still couldn't resist the adorable onslaught of the shop's merchandise and ended up buying several plushies.

After delivering the doll to Lao Yan's granddaughter, Shaw and I took the other plushies home.

After I got home, I happily placed the dolls on the sofa one by one, then sat among them and turned on the TV.

MC: This is the perfect sofa!

Shaw [feeling jealous]: ?How come it's perfect? They filled the sofa. Where's my place?

Shaw placed the cola on the coffee table, then discontentedly picked up a small dinosaur by its tail and placed it on the floor. He then squeezed in and pulled me into his arms.

Shaw [feeling satisfied with his action]: .....This is perfect.

The TV kept replaying the New Year's gala from a few days ago. I flipped through a few channels but couldn't find anything interesting, so I simply handed the remote control to Shaw.

MC: Is there anything you want to see? Shaw: No, TV programs are boring to begin with, and the Spring Festival ones are even more boring. MC: Shaw, you're holding a renowned TV show producer in your arms!

Shaw [acts like he just realized this fact]: Oh, how about watching a TV show produced by this well-known program producer?

Shaw, while saying so, actually picked up the remote control and switched to Loveland TV, where a variety show produced by [MC Company name] happened to be airing.

MC: Ah, don’t look—— ——

I let out a cry of dismay, trying to grab the remote control from Shaw, but he deliberately extended his arm to prevent me from taking it away.

Shaw: Why not let me see it? MC: It’s not that you are not allowed to read it, but will you read your final thesis in front of relatives and friends during the Lunar Year? MC: And when I saw the faces of these guests, I was reminded of those troubling things during the shooting again...

When Shaw heard what I said, his interest became even higher.

Shaw: I'm not interested in the show, but I'm very interested in the story that tortures you. Tell me?

What kind of person are you!

I hummed twice, slid down a bit, and rested my head on his shoulder.

MC: Just look at this middle-aged man wearing a pink tie. He was fine during rehearsals, but after the official shoot, he always likes to improvise... MC: And here, do you feel that the editing was stiff? It’s because the original challenge content was not what is being broadcast now… MC: One time, the host and the lighting technician got into an argument, and it ended with everyone's supper being spilled...

Shaw chuckled as he listened to me rambling on about my grievances, occasionally adding a comment or two to commiserate. Meanwhile, the program on the screen gradually came to an end.

This day was obviously no different from any other day, but I felt a fresh sense of comfort cuddling up with him like this.

Was it because he was listening to my worries while shooting? Or was it because the little misunderstanding in the morning was resolved?

Is it because we made a shared wish for this year together in the antique shop? 

Or is it simply because today is Valentine's Day, and our moods are just good?

I can't figure it out, and I'm too lazy to think about it. I just hope that this comfortable feeling can continue indefinitely.

Shaw: MC. MC: ….Hm? Shaw [carefully]: Do you feel comfortable like this now? MC: Hey, why are you thinking about the same thing as me?

I nodded contentedly.

MC: It’s so comfortable now. Your chest is so wide. I can lie down wherever I want~

Shaw [in a good mood + his lazy voice×1]: But didn't you notice that your hair keeps rubbing on my face?

MC: Ah? But I just moved down. Shaw [×2]: A bit further down. MC: Okay... like this?

Shaw clicked his tongue and wrapped one arm around my shoulders while using his other hand to pinch my face, moving my head to rest against his collarbone.

Shaw [satisfied]: This is more comfortable. MC: No no, I feel uncomfortable like this.

I adjusted myself with seriousness and then placed Shaw's hand on my waist before lifting my face to look at him.

MC: What do you think of this posture now? MC: You see, my legs fit perfectly on yours, and there's room for your arms too. MC: My arms can move too, and they won't block your line of sight either...

Shaw [chuckles sexily]: How come you sound like you're giving a product report?

MC: Of course, I have to explain clearly why this position is good! MC: Otherwise, what if we adjust into another awkward position that makes both of us uncomfortable? Shaw: Really.

Shaw lowered his eyes and stared at me. After a moment, he raised the corner of his mouth.

Shaw [HIS HUSKY VOICE FILLED WITH MISCHIEF]: But you seem to have forgotten to mention the biggest advantage of this posture. MC: Hmm? What advantages?

Shaw [IN A LOW SEXY WHISPER]: Kissing you is easy.

He lowered his head and easily captured my slightly parted lips.

The kiss was irresistible. The sweet breath blends into a thin mist, which quickly escapes between the lips and teeth.

I widened my eyes, and the next moment, a long leg firmly pinned down my attempt to move.

Meanwhile, that unreasonable hand firmly held my jaw, and each touch of his fingers along the side of my neck sent shivers down my spine.

Under his assault, the original position gradually collapsed. The plushies on the sofa also fell to the ground one after another in the melee, rolling around with the little dinosaur.

When our lips finally parted, I couldn't help but use my free hand to lightly pinch his arm.

MC: Why did you sneak attack again…

Shaw grinned triumphantly, his eyes filled with the satisfaction of a successful ambush.

Shaw [HIS SULTRY VOICE SKSKSK]: Calling it an ambush doesn't sound too good. Shaw [×2]: This is a lightning strike, specifically targeting the unprepared.

The protest I just uttered was swallowed back by him.

This time, it wasn't clear whose body pressed against the remote control. In the corner of my eye, the noisy scene on the screen flickered twice, then turned into a blank screen.

Suddenly, the room became exceptionally quiet, making each other's breaths and every friction of our clothes unusually clear.

The narrow sofa contained two violently beating hearts, and also contained the romance that only belonged to me and him in this peaceful evening.

My hand inadvertently brushed against his ring finger—where I had left a "trapped" mark during the day.

Now it was empty, but I knew there was no need for any ring to lock it down; this person belonged to me.

MC: By the way, Shaw…

I was immersed in the aftertaste of happiness, and suddenly remembered something.

MC: You said, now that we have adjusted the perfect sitting position, can we also find a sleeping position that is comfortable for both of us? Shaw [×3]: You're addicted to adjusting?

Shaw smiled and lowered his head, lightly nibbling on the tip of my nose.

Shaw [×4]: There's no need to adjust your sleeping position. I've already figured out how to deal with you. Shaw [DAMN HIS VOICE HERE WAS SO SEXY]: Tonight, set the air conditioning to 16 degrees. I don't believe you won't snuggle into my arms.

[T/N]: BYE BYE WORLD, IT WAS NICE KNOWING YOUUUU. Man PG do know how to quench our thirst🤭 damn I wasn't expecting the last part to be soooo hot🔥🔥

—

💍Call

[aritsukemo]

Paradise | Chapter Two - Trainer Sakonji Urokodaki | KNY

Summary: After a terrifying encounter, Sakonji Urokodaki makes an appearance.

Warnings: Depictions of blood ahead! Decapitation ( A demon's head get kicked off ) so read with caution if this puts you off/makes you uncomfortable!

A/N: Decided that I'm going to post this story over on here too so here's chapter two! Feedback and comments are highly appreciated! <3

Tagging: @overluvsick, @nursedflowers, @jspidey5 + anyone else who wants to be tagged!

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Third Person Pov

 "Excuse me. Would it be okay if I took that basket, straw, and some bamboo?" Tanjiro asked a farmer.

 "Sure, feel free to have it," The farmer said, "But that basket's full of holes."

 "That's alright. Here, I'll pay you for it," Tanjiro said, beginning to reach for the coins in his pocket when the farmer urges him to halt.

 "No, that's all right. Like I said, the basket's full of holes," The farmer shakes his head, "You can have the bamboo and straw for free too."

 "I'm still paying you!" Tanjiro shouts, an expression of unneeded determination playing on his face, much to the farmer's dismay.

 "I said it's okay, you stubborn kid!" And just then, Tanjiro grabs the farmer's wrist and slams the coins down in his hand. The man yells out in pain.

 "Please accept this, although it's just small change!" He shouts. He then grabs the basket, some straw and bamboo, and runs away, leaving the man to hold his stinging hand and writhe in pain.

 "Thank you very much!"

 "She really dug a hole.." Tanjiro mumbled under his breath at the sight of his sister peeking at him from where she sits in her self-dug hole, her brows creased from discomfort.

 "Is she a mole now?"

 "Don't be an idiot," Y/n butt in, "She's hiding from the sunlight," Upon hearing that, Tanjiro's brows knit together, his eyes wearing his sympathy for all to see. He then suddenly gets on his feet, yelling out a quick 'Hold on!' before turning back to the basket, straw, and bamboo.

 "What do you plan to do with.." As Y/n watched Tanjiro work, her tongue fails her and the urge to finish her sentence dies. With quick movements, Tanjiro chops the bamboo and begins to twist and tie them around the basket, slowly covering each and every hole until the entire basket is covered in a bamboo pattern.

Once he puts the final touches of weaving the straw into basket straps, he gets up and walks past Y/n and into the cave where he kneels before Nezuko and presents her the basket.

 "Do you think you can fit inside this? I want to keep moving during the day so I'll carry you in this," He says to her before pointing at the inside and speaking slowly, "..Can you fit? ..In here? The basket?"

After a moment passes, Nezuko finally crawls out of the hole and into the basket. Unfortunately, only her head can fit inside. The sight makes Tanjiro frown initially, but a smile soon replaces it.

 "She's gotten so big.. Seems like yesterday that she was tiny," And then it clicks. Tanjiro gasps at his own realization befor speaking once again, "Hey, Nezuko. Remember how you became big like an adult earlier? Do you think you can do the opposite? Can you get smaller?"

Giving her encouraging pats on the back, Y/n stares at the sight with skepticism. To her, it's a miracle that she's even understanding what he's saying so quickly after transforming, but to further her surprise, Nezuko seems to listen. Grabbing onto the basket, she gets onto her knees and dips head first into the basket. The basket tilts uprigt and rocks and Tanjiro quickly grabs the edges to steady it, allowing the demon girl to slide the rest of her body in with ease and roll over so that she sits up in the basket, revealing her face which looks noticeably younger. Tanjiro beams in awe.

 "Good job, Nezuko! I'm impressed!" He says as he pats her head. Y/n simply stares at the sight as she walks further into the cave and up to them, tossing him a large blanket. Tanjiro blinks at the blanket before looking up at her, confused.

 "I got it from someone while you were gone. Tie it over the basket so that the sunlight can't reach her," She says. Tanjiro nods his head.

After doing as she instructed Tanjiro slides on the straps and stands to his feet, a small huff escaping him from the newfound weight on his back. He then nods to Y/n that he's ready and the two begin walking towards the cave's exit until..

 "Hey," Tanjiro stops, looking back to see Y/n looking over her shoulder at Sumiko, who's sitting in silence past the hole and against the wall; the area farthest from the cave's exit where the blinding sunlight seeps in.

 "What are you waiting for? If you expect me to carry you like I did before, don't. That was a one time thing. Get up," She says. But the girl doesn't budge from her spot, simply staring with furrowed brows.

Y/n grits her teeth, her eyes beginning to twitch a little as she turns on her heel. She walks, avoiding the hole, and leans down where she grabs Sumiko by the arm and roughly snatches her up, "I said..get up!" The younger girl tries to resist by twisting her body and flailing around, but all it ends up doing is make Y/n nearly rip her arm off dragging her.

 "Try not to be so rough with her," Tanjiro says as he watches Y/n walk up and past him, "Sometimes rough treatment is needed. Especially when she's being unneccessarily..difficult!" And with that, Y/n tosses Sumiko out of the cave, ignorning the uncharacteristically loud cry she lets out as she rolls on the ground. 

 "Y/n! You're going too far!" Tanjiro runs past Y/n and up to Sumiko. He crouches on his knee, his touch as light as a feather's as he pulls her. His brows knit together as he takes note of her trembling body.

 "Are you okay? You're shaking.. Did you hit your head?" Questions fly from Tanjiro's lips, but none of them get answered. He opens his mouth to ask more questions but as he finally catches a glimpse at Sumiko's face, every question he wants to ask slip from his brain. His eyes slowly widen.

Sumiko, who was known for her silent and absent nature, was staring down at her hands and panting loudly as if she'd just ran a marathon. Her eyes shoot upwards to look at the sky in a frenzy, her face looking as if she just dodged getting struck by lightning..

 "Hey.." Tanjiro grips her shoulder, her reaction is intense; her body noticeably tensing as she looks at him. It only concerns the boy even more, "Are you alright?" He asks, but again, she doesn't answer and simply stares at him, her chest rising and falling at a fast rate.

 "She's fine," Y/n says, yet her gaze lingers on her sister as she walks up to them, only looking away when she's makes up behind Tanjiro, "The next town is closer to the mountain so if we want somewhere more comfortable to sleep tonight, we need to leave now."

 "But.." Tanjiro's words evaporate in his throat as Y/n gives him no time to argue and walks right past the two of them, "..Alright. Let's go, Sumiko.."

Standing to his feet, Tanjiro helps Sumiko up and then grabs her hand. Her reaction is less intense this time and she isn't practically flinching away from him like she was seconds ago. That's good, he thinks. He decides then to take one final glance down at her. When he does, he notices the way her bangs cast a shadow over her face, making her paled irises stand out more. The light reflecting off of them is dimmer, yet her flowery pupils shine strong. It makes him feel this slight stir in his chest; an almost sting feeling akin to unease.  It leaves him confused, why is he feeling this way right now? Why does looking at her now feel off?

..Oh well, he doesn't have the time to dwell on it right now. Y/n's already so far ahead.

Giving the girl a gentle, reassuring squeeze to her hand, Tanjiro begins following after Y/n. He doesn't run after her despite the distance between them. Sumiko's still a little shaken so it would be best to take things slow for a while, he thinks.

 "The sun's about to set. Are you sure you want to head up the mountain with all that luggage? And with your little sister as well.." A woman asked the group when they were about to past by her home. The evening skies shining on her gentle features as her child skipped up to her.

 "We'll make sure to be careful," Tanjiro bows his head. Y/n does too, but bends less than Tanjiro does, "Thank you for the concern."

 "..Try not to lose your way. People have gone missing up there lately!"

As the group hikes up the mountain in silence, the oldest two's minds keep drifting back to that conversation—well, Y/n's does more than Tanjiro. As the cicadas and crickets sing their tunes to welcome the dark, starless sky, feet patter in a rhythm against the rocky ground until they come to an abrupt stop.

 "There's a temple over there," Tanjiro's the first to break the silence, "There's light leaking through, so someone must be there. Let's check it out," His eyes drift over to Nezuko, who left the basket soon after the sun disappeared from the sky and had been walking hand in hand with her older brother. He then glances over at Sumiko and Y/n, who were hand in hand and staring at him with skeptical looks, although, it was mainly the latter. Alas, before she can even open her mouth to speak, the painfully familiar scent of death strikes Tanjiro and his brows dip.

 "I smell blood!" He immediately begins running, "This mountain path is pretty rough. Someone must've gotten hurt!" He says in a hurry, already making his way up the steps with Nezuko in tow.

 "Hey! Tanjiro! Wait!" Y/n runs after him, "We don't know that for sure!" She runs up the stairs with Sumiko following closely behind her, now running down the stony path that leads to the temple, "You need to be more cautious!"

 "But if someone really is injured, we gotta help them!" And with that, Tanjiro makes it up to the door and slides it open, "Are you alright?" He shouts only for his heart to drop when his eyes spot the man crouched over in the corner.

A gasp leaves his lips. Loud squelching vibrates throughout the small temple. Tanjiro's eyes widen and the basket slowly slides off his shoulders, hitting the ground with a soft thud. Y/n eyes the corpses stuffed in in the corner. One body bent and torn open, allowing the crimson to seep out and stain their clothes as well as the clothes of the others lying underneath them. The others are cut up in other ways, parts of flesh missing as the sickening noise of chomping paints a perfect picture of what happened.

 "Eh? What the hell? This is my turf," The gruff mumbles are heard, but barely comprehended as the male responsible slowly turns his head, his dark green hair moving to reveal his angry, slitted eyes. His unnaturally paled, grayed skin that has been painted by the red blood of his victims, and his fangs that are so drenched in the same color to the point it drips from and down the corners of his mouth..

 "If you break into my territory, I'll make ya' pay the price!" Tanjiro's eyes slowly look between the man-eating demon and the bodies behind him. Nezuko's eyes haven't left the corpses. The sight tantalizing her so much that drool drips from her muzzle like a faucet that has started to leak. The demon gives his stained fingers a lick, doing little to rid it of the blood due to the fact that his tongue is coated in the disgusting-smelling liquid. Y/n grits her teeth, the tips of her fingers beginning to tingle and the tips of her toes starting to shake. The urge to move being overriden by fear. Sumiko simply seems horrified by the sight before her.

 "There's something off about you guys," The demon grumbles as he stood up, his muscular frame becoming all the more apparent. Tanjiro takes a step back, "Are all of ya' really human?"

Silence. As they stare each other down, it's as if the nighttime noises come to a halt. The singular candle light illuminating the dingy temple walls flickers. The fire disperses and darkness quickly seeps in. As it reaches the farthest depths of the temple and shrouds the corpses in darkness, the demon seems to disappear from sight.

A wind of warning blows and in an instant everything happens at once. Sumiko throws her body into her older sister and the two tilt out of the way just in time for the demon to go soaring at Tanjiro.

As the two fly back together, the boy moves quick. With a strong swing of his now uncovered hatchet, the demon's sent flying back with his neck sliced open and his blood spraying in every which way. Tanjiro lands, back sliding roughly into the stone path while as the demon swiftly recovers with a mid-air flip and lands on his feet.

As his hands comes up to catch the blood dripping from his throat, the temple demon lets out a guttural laugh, his eyes glancing upwards to look at Tanjiro, "A hatchet, huh? Not a bad choice, but a scratch like this should heal in no time!" And as those words leave his mouth in a throaty yell, the blood stops dripping and the wound closes, much to Tanjiro's horror.

Y/n sits up, realizing her sister's smaller arms are still caged around her waist. She looks back, surprise evident on her face. Sumiko stares over her shoulder at the demon, her flowery pupils nowehere to be found as she stares at the demon with a hardened, slitted gaze and gripping onto Y/n's clothes tightly, restricting the girl's movements. Nezuko stays glued in her spot, staring at the corpses in the temple with hungry eyes as drool continues to drip down her chin.

Slowly, Tanjiro sits up and readies his hatchet, but he's slammed down in an instant. The demon now towers over him, holding him down by neck whilst holding down his hand that holds his hatchet.

 "He's fast and unbelievibly strong too!" Tanjiro thinks as the mocking grunt of the demon's voices forces it's way into his eardrums, "You won't get me twice!"The demon says before laughing again, "Now, I'm going to snap your neck!"

As his grip on Tanjiro's neck tightens even more, the boy grits his teeth as the air in his lungs slowly fades. Y/n grabs Sumiko's shoulder and attempts to push her off but to no avail. When did she get so strong? Or maybe Y/n's just hallucinating her strength so that she has an excuse not to move. Either way, the smaller girl clings to her with no intent on letting her go.

 "Shit," Y/n mentally curses. Luckily, a certain demon answers her prayers. Finally snapping from her trance, Nezuko turns and runs around, meeting at a point where she then pulls back and kicks the demon's head clean off it's shoulders. The head goes speeding head into a tree where it collides with it and splatters it's blood on it.

Tanjiro stares at the sight, mouth agape as he looks up at the headless body above him. It falls onto him and Tanjiro immediately pushes it off of him with a frantic yell before looking up at his sister.

 "She- She killed him!" Tanjiro thought, unbeknownst of the body twitching to life behind him, "Wait, he's a demon, so.." Slowly, the demon's body leans over, it's claws getting threateningly close to Tanjiro's head..

 "Tanjiro!" Y/n finally finds the strength to push her sister off of her, "Watch—!" Before she can even get the words out, Nezuko kicks the demon's body away with her foot, causing it to go rolling into another tree a little away from them with a harsh thud.

 "I don't believe this! Did he just move without a head?" Tanjiro thought, his face still displaying his surprise and fear. Y/n runs over to them, Sumiko following closely behind her. She passes by Nezuko and crouches down to inspect Tanjiro before looking over at Nezuko, her face furrowing at her.

 "You bastards!" Everyone's attention snaps over in the direction of the voice. The head of the demon stares, angry and flashing his fanged teeth like a hostile animal as he speaks, "One of you is a demon after all? I knew you gave off a weird vibe!"

 "Traitor! What's a demon doing teaming up with a bunch of humans?" He spat, Tanjiro looks at him as if he'd grown multiple heads, "He's actually talking!" 

Suddenly, Sumiko spots the demon's body running towards them. As the body jumps into the air, twisting and twitching it's limbs in all kinds of freakish ways, she jumps to both move herself out of the way and to push Y/n away which causes the older girl to go tumbling into Tanjiro. As the force of the body's landing causes the dust to scattering wildly, Tanjiro loses sight of his sister momentarily before she comes fumbling out of the small dust storm.

Before she can collect herself, the demon swings at her. She throws her hands up to block the punch only for the body to grab her by the arms, "Nezuko!" Tanjiro cries, pushing Y/n up before reaching for his hatchet, "Stop it!" He shouts, standing and running towards the body with clumsy movements.

 "Tanjiro, look out!" Y/n warns just in time for Tanjiro to spin around and block the demon's head, which had sprouted arms and leaped at him. The demon's head chomps down on the metal blade of the hatchet and grips Tanjiro by the shoulders where he digs his nails in.

Tanjiro grits his teeth, looking back to see his sister being kicked around. As he shouts her name again, Sumiko goes running to her rescue. The body roughly grabs Nezuko by the shoulder just as Sumiko jumps on it's back. She scratches and bites at it's skin, but it does little damage to the body and only makes it twists and flail widly.

 "Dummy! Don't try to be the hero!" Y/n yells as she gets up and begins to run over to them whilst Nezuko smacks the demon's hand away and lands a kick to the body's side. Alas, it tanks the kick and grabs her ankle. It digs it's claws into the skin of her ankle before reaching back with it's other hand and grabbing Sumiko by the collar of her haori, tossing her away as if she weighed nothing. She goes hurdling into Y/n and the two go tumbling back and to the ground while Nezuko ends up getting thrown into the forest with the demon's body jumping after her.

 "No!" Tanjiro yells, but his attention is diverted as the demon's head begins to wrap himself around Tanjiro's hatchet using it's hair, "What's the deal with this guy?" The demon's hair grows even more and slowly wraps around Tanjiro's wrist, "I don't have time for this. I gotta save Nezuko!"

Suddenly, Tanjiro grabs fistfuls of green strands and throws his head back, "Out of my way!" He yells. Slamming his head into the demon's with a force powerful enough to cause a large dent and his eyes twitch every which way.

 "This kid.." Tanjiro grabs him by the hair again and yanks him in, "His head is..as hard as a rock!" With another painful headbutt, the demon is completely discombobulated. Tanjiro waste no time to grab the handle of his hatchet and toss it. The demon, still attached to the hatchet, goes spinning until the blade catches in a tree, prefectly trapping the head in place.

As the head grumbles incomprehensible words to himself, Tanjiro turns to Y/n and Sumiko, "I'm going after Nezuko, watch the head in case it tries to escape," Y/n opens her mouth to respond, but before she can get her words out, Tanjiro runs off. To her surprise, Sumiko gets up and runs after him.

 "Sumiko! What do you think you're doing?" Y/n staggers to her feet. She glances over at the demon head and they lock eyes. She then turns back towards the forest and grits her teeth, "'Dammit.."

She runs after Sumiko and Tanjiro, her regret already beginning to build as she enters the dark forest.. 

 "Nezuko! Where are you?" Panting and sweating, Tanjiro looks around in a frenzy, his eyes scanning everything left and right in a hast as he tries to spot his sister in the darkness. Nezuko's nowhere to be found. He decides to sprint further into the forest.

Weaving around trees and through bushes, he finally spots Nezuko and the demon's body in a clearing. He watches as the body kicks her to the ground and he immediately speeds up his pace.

 "Nezuko!" He yells, before letting out a drawled out shout at the headless demon body, "Stop it..!" When he's finally close enough, Tanjiro tackles the demon. The force causes the two to go flying..right off the edge. As the ground disappears from under him, revealing the large drop below, Tanjiro's heart drops to his stomach.

As a yell falls from his lips, his descent is quickly cut short. Two hands reach to grab the back of his clothes and his body halts in it's descent to the bottom, leaving him dangling over the edge. The demon's body slips through Tanjiro's grasp and hurdles to the ground where it lands neck-first on the rocky floor. It jolts as if it's been struck by lightning and shivers before finally falling limp.

Tanjiro cranes his neck to look up at his savior and sees both Nezuko and Sumiko. The two together pull him up and he lets out breaths of relief just as Y/n arrives..

 "What happened? Where's the demon's body?" She asks upon seeing Nezuko safe. Tanjiro, heart racing and still panting, says in a choked voice, "Down there.." He points over the edge and Y/n walks over and peers over, spotting the motionless body at the bottom.

 "I almost fell over the edge myself if it weren't for Nezuko and Sumiko catching me," Tanjiro says. Y/n looks back at them, her eyes lingering on Sumiko, a feeling foreboding unease forming at the pit of her stomach..

 "Is that so.."

Metal slides against wood as the small knife is pulled from it's scabbard. Tanjiro takes a small step forward, knife in hand and his dark, red eyes trained on the demon's head before him.

After the events that transpired on the cliff, everyone had returned to the temple. The demon was still suspended against the tree, unconscious. Y/n had made the suggestion to destroy it since it was too dangerous to leave it until sunrise. The person who took upon the heavy task however, was debatably the softest of the group; Tanjiro.

As he stands before the green-haired monster with the knife in hand, he seems hesitant. Teeth clenched as he takes the smallest steps towards the tree, "I wonder if there's tons of demons out there," He finds himself thinking.

 "This demon doesn't have the same scent as the one who attacked my home, even so.." The rhythm of his chest as it rises and falls seems to pick up in pace and his haggard breaths seem to get louder with each passing second, "..Even so, I gotta finish it off. Otherwise, it'll attack and kill more people.."

Skeptical hues watch the boy heave and narrow at him when a few more seconds pass and nothing happens. At this rate, the sun will come up before he does anything. That wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing, but if it wakes up before that happens and manages to free itself..

 "Let me do it," Y/n offers, beginning to outstretch her hand to him when Tanjiro immediately follows with rejection, "No! I- I can do this.."

Do it. Can he do this? His breathing gets quicker and shorter the more he thinks about, "I can do this. I gotta do this.. Do it," Do it, do it, do it, do it, do it, do it. All he has to do is--

A rough hand grips his shoulder. Tanjiro shoulders tense upon contact. That hand didn't feel like any of the girls', he thinks. His breath hitching as he spin around to see—!

..A..goblin mask?

 "You can't finish it off with that weapon," The masked man said, his voice grating and amplified by the depth of his voice, making it sound like a statue being dragged against concrete.

 "I couldn't hear his footsteps at all.." Y/n stares at the masked man with wide eyes, too focused on her revelation to notice that her little sister had moved in front of her and Nezuko, her eyes narrowed and her arms outstretched in front of them as if to keep them separated from him.

 "H- How can I finish him off?" Tanjiro dares to ask, jumping a little when the man suddenly raises his voice, "Don't ask me! You have a brain for a reason, don't you?" He tells him. Y/n was tempted to intervene. And she tries to do just that.

 "Who—!" She begins only to immediate be silenced by the man's raised voice, "Don't get involved. He needs to figure this out himself," Y/n's focus had long shifted from the demon stuck to the tree. She was much more concerned with who this man was. Why did he seem so familiar? Has she seen that mask before?

Then Tanjiro suddenly walks away. She blinks and her eyes follow him, watching as he walks over to a nearby tree, grabs a rather large rock with both hands, and walks back over to them with the obvious intent of curshing the head completely.

But can he do it? As he stands before the demon's head again, he only manages to take a few steps towards it before freezing. He stares it down, cold sweat rolling down his face and damp brows scunching as his breathing slowly picks up again and his hands begin to tremble, "To crush his skull completely, I'd have to beat his head in multiple times. It'll hurt him a lot, he'll suffer greatly.. Isn't there any other way? Is it possible to kill him in one blow?" He bites his lip, eyes darkened with his rising guilt. The masked man watches in silence, taking in Tanjiro's scent..

 "This kid isn't going to cut it. He's facing a demon who's likely killed hundreds, and yet, a scent of guilt clings to him. He shows empathy for even a demon. He isn't going to make it, Giyu.."

Suddenly, the demon regains consciousness. His eyes snap open, small pupils beginning to dart around. He looks down at his hands and then his body—or more like his lack of a lower body. Finally, he looks up and notices Tanjiro and he grits his teeth and swats at him, yelling, "You bastard, I'll kill ya'! I swear, when I get free, I'll devour ya'!"

As threat after threat falls from his toothy mouth, the morning rays begin to peak through the trees, stealing Tanjiro's attention completely as he turns his head to look a the sight of the sun rising in the horizen, "I faltered for too long.."

As the gentle rays slowly light up the area, the demon holds his arms up; a feeble attempt at protection that's quickly proven to be futile because as soon as those soft rays creep up and touch his paled, gray skin, it sets an intense fire to it that spreads all over in a blink of an eye. The demon lets out a painful screech and in an instant, he's gone. Cindered and burned to ash and swept away in the wind. Tanjiro drops the rock as his hand shoots up to cover his agape mouth, his eyes widening in horror.

 "It only took that much sunlight? No wonder Nezuko's so terrified of it!" And just as that thought crossed his mind, he's finally forced back down to earth. He looks around, no ones standing behind him. Panic shoots through his veins. Where..

 "Nezuko?" Is who he first calls out to, only to be met with terrifying silence, "Nezuko?" He calls again, this time more urgently as he slowly stumbles back before he turns and takes off in a full sprint. He runs over to the temple, leaps up the steps, where he's met with—!

..Nezuko's head peaking out from the bamboo basket, the thick blanket he used to cover her before being draped over her head, leaving only her scrunched brows and frowning eyes visible. Sumiko sits beside the basket, closest to the dark corner of the temple. A matching look of discomfort on her face. Her head propped up on her knees which are squeezed together and against her chest with her arms caged around her legs as if she was trying to shrink into herself.

Tanjiro's whole body relaxes. As if a pile of rocks had been lifted off his shoulders, his grin is lazy as a sense of ease overcomes him, "Thank goodness," He finds himself mumbling aloud. And it's only then, when his nervousness falls flat, that he remembers the masked man.

 "I wonder where he disappeared to.." He finds himself walking down the wooden steps and over to the side of the hut. The masked man is there, kneeled over handmade graves of dirt. Y/n stands just a little behind him, although she's standing tall and her arms are crossed against her chest.

 "So he buried the people who were killed.." Tanjiro walks closer, stopping besides Y/n who takes a glance at him before returning her eyes to the masked man who had begun to stand up.

 "I'm Sakonji Urokodaki," He tells them, "I'm assuming you are the ones Giyu Tomioka sent my way."

 "Yes! My name is Tanjiro Kamado!" Tanjiro exclaims. He gestures at Y/n, "This is my sister, Y/n!" His hand points left towards the hut, "Our sisters' names are Nezuko and.."

 "Tanjiro," Urokodaki's sharp voice cuts his introduction short, "What will you do if your sister devours a human?" The questions flies at him, but he's unable to catch it in time. His eyes widen, so does Y/n's. They both watch him then spin on his heel and walk closer to them, unable to react before a firm smack is landed on Tanjiro's cheek.

If this were any other situation, Y/n would've flew to protect him, fussing up a storm. Alas, as she stares at Tanjiro, watching him raise his hand to his reddening cheek, she takes a small step back, her hands halfway up, not knowing whether to put them up to protect her face in case of a similar event happening to her or to stay at her sides and be ready to run at a moment's notice.

 "Too slow! You're too slow at making decisions! That's why you failed to finish off that demon before daybreak!" He shouts, "Do you know why you couldn't answer my question right away?" He asks, "It's because your resolve is too weak!"

 "There are two things you should do if your sister devours a human. Kill you sister, then you and everyone else you're traveling with must slit their own bellies and die! That's the gamble you're taking for traveling with your sister who's become a demon!"

 "But that must never happen, no matter what! Your sister..taking the life of an innocent person.. That's the one thing that must never happen. Ever!" He turns away from him, "Do you understand what I'm saying?" The question flies at him and this time, Tanjiro's able to ctch it and respond with a resounding, "Yes!"

 "All right then. Now, I'm going to test you to see if you're fit to become a member of the Demon Slayer Corps. Carry your sister on your back and follow me—!" Before he can completely finish his sentence, Y/n shouts out, "Me too!"

Both Tanjiro and Urokodaki turn to her, the latter noticing the conflicted look in her eyes quicker than the former, "..Test me too!" She tells the man, "I'll show you better than Tanjiro or anyone else that I'm worthy of becoming a demon slayer!"

 "Huh?" Tanjiro stares at her, his eyes wide and sharpened by the shock of her words. Urokodaki's facial expression is unknown due to the red goblin-like mask he wears, "Very well then, grab your sisters and follow me."

The sun's rays were harsh and did nothing but intensify the burning heat in the air. Amidst this uncomfortable air, Tanjiro runs as fast as he can, lungs having long started burning in his chest and face drenched in sweat as he looks on in awe at Urokodaki, who was a ways ahead of him and seemed to be doing completely fine.

 "He's so fast! How old is he anyways?" He thought to himself, feeling rather bewildered as he further thought, "And just like earlier, I can't hear his footsteps at all! How is that possible?"

His thoughts drifted, "Nezuko, I know this must be uncomfortable for you, but please be patient with me! ..Well, I suppose being patient was all you ever had," A scene begins to play in his mind. Nezuko sits on one of the floors of their home, her damaged kimono in hand, yet he remembers the kind smile on her face clearly..

 "You're fixing your kimono again? I guess we'll have to buy you a new one," He remembers himself saying that to her only for her to immediately look back with a raised hand, "No, no! It's fine!" She told him cheerily, "This kimono is my favorite!"

 "Besides, I'd rather use that money to get more food to fill our siblings' bellies!"

His heaving becomes just a tad bit worse and his haggard breaths leaving his lips in loud puffs. Tanjiro closes his eyes shut, eyes beginning to well with tears, "I swear to you Nezuko, I'll turn you back into a human. And when I do, I'll buy you a beautiful kimono!"

 "I promise, everything I couldn't do for the others, I'll do it all for you!"

In that moment, a small gush of wind gently hits his clothes, and if they weren't already flailing in the wind, that sudden blow of wind would've probably blew his sleeve every which way. His eyes slowly open, his lashes flicking the tears along his waterline and the wind blowing them away and clearing the slight blur in his vision. He catches the sight of the backs of Y/n and Sumiko, the sight of the latter leaving him much more surprised than the former.

Y/n's eyes glance at her little sister where they narrow before their forced back to the road ahead of her. Sumiko doesn't seem to notice the stares from either of them. She seems to be in her own zone; and yet, she seems oddly focused. Her once dim, dead hues glinting with tiny orbs of life. It felt as if her eyes had been replaced altogether.

But no one said a word to her, too focused on not losing sight of the silent man ahead of them who seemed to be increasing the distance between them with every passing moment..

Sweat drips from Tanjiro's forehead and onto the gravel below. He's crouched over, hands on his knees as he pants, sucking in air and relishing in the feeling of it gradually filling his lungs. Sumiko is on the ground, leg kicked up as she also heaves in gusps of air. Y/n stands—a little more composed than the both of them—hands on her hips as her shoulders rise and fall in a steady motion, her panting quiet and controlled.

 "N- Now, have I.. Have we.." Tanjiro couldn't barely get his words out from how much his lungs were burning from the torture they just endured. Every word that left him felt like burning fire in his throat and mouth, "..Did we..pass the test?"

Urokodaki—who seemed to be the only one not out of breath—took his time to reply as he neared a small hut and slid the front door open. He grabs a hold of the self-made handwrap on his head and yanks the cloth off in one fell swoop, revealing his short, sliver strands that hid underneath and the thick black band that's tied neatly at the back of his head, keeping his red mask in place.

 "The test starts now," He said simply, "We'll be climbing a mountain." Tanjiro could feel his heart drop like a lump in his chest and his face forms into a look of dread. Sumiko, who still has sweat dripping down her face, slowly stands to her feet. Y/n simply looks on, her breathing stablized at this point.

After that, Urokodaki guided Tanjiro to lay Nezuko down in the hut, "I'll make sure to take care of your sister," He told him from where he stood at the door, "Both of them," He specified further. Yet, as those words left his lips, he felt a grip on his sleeve. He looks down and Sumiko's staring up at him, face hardened and her eyes filled with this unknown fire, it was certainly an odd sight that Y/n noticed.

 "Hey," She called, "Don't get any funny ideas. You're staying here."

 "N- No!" She couldn't believe it, neither could Tanjiro as he whipped his head around to look back where he locks eyes with her starry blues, "..What?" Was what ended up leaving Y/n's lips, her previous sentence having slipped from her mind before it could be said.

 "I said, no!" Sumiko repeated loudly, a stark contrast to her actual voice which was soft and delicate, "I'm going too! I want to be a swordsman!"

 "What the hell are you talking about?" Y/n mumbled, her vexed-sounding voice raised by surprise, although it only made her sound like a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. That fact is only proven further when her voice immediately shoots up and becomes more and more aggressive, "You could barely walk until a few weeks ago and you think you can become a swordsman? Give me a fucking—!"

 "Very well," Urokodaki's guff voice cut her off smoothly, like flowing water swaying away a pointy rock, "Then the three of you, follow me," He turns on his heel and begins walking away, "Hey, wait!" Y/n yells after him, quickly following pursuit, "What the hell do you think you're doing, old man!"

Tanjiro stumbles to his feet and runs out the door, following after them, "Y/n! Don't be rude!"

Sumiko stands there for a moment, her eyes looking over and landing on Nezuko's sleeping form. The gaze of hers looked out of place on her usually calm face and her eyes seemed to tell so many unknown things, yet nothing at all. It was peculiar, but still held the fading sense of familiarity with how distant they looked. It was a forgone look that anyone would get lost in trying to figure out. Another moment passes, Sumiko turns and sprints out the door and in the direction the others went, leaving Nezuko to sleep as the sky slowly began to fall to darkness.

The night was loud with ominous chirps of the many bugs and rodents on the mountain. Feet softly crunched down on leaves and grass in an uncordinated rhythm. A fog surrounds the group, making everything around them look faded and dank. Among the group, Tanjiro seemed the most visibly uncomfortable. His brows knitted together on his forehead, his mouth open to suck in as much air as he could.

 "I'm so exhausted," He thought to himself, "My legs are starting to buckle. I'm starting to feel dizzy, too.."

Sumiko walked alongside her sister. Y/n would occasionally glance at her, taking in every twinge and twitch her face made from discomfort, yet she never said anything to comfort her as if silently saying, "Hmph, serves you right".

Suddenly, Urokodaki stops in his tracks, making everyone do the same, "Now, from here, go back down to the house at the foot of the mountain," He instructed, before adding in a rather pointed tone, "This time, I won't wait until daybreak!"

And then, he fades away in the fog and disappears completely right before their eyes like some kind of illusion come to life. None of them take it too much to mind though.

 "Is that all we have to do?" Tanjiro thought to himself, "I see.. He thinks we might get lost in this thick fog. But, we just have to get back down before daybreak, right?" He begun to smile to himself, a big air of confidence beginning to swirl around him,"This'll be easy! Afterall, I've already memorized Mr. Urokodaki's scent!"

 "I hope you're confident in your abilities because no one's going to baby you up here," A snarky comment is made behind him, but it seems that it wasn't directed at him. He looks over his shoulder. Y/n's turned to Sumiko, her arms crossed against her chest as she continues, "If you get hurt then it sucks to be you. And, don't even think of asking either of us to carry or do anything else for you, got it?"

Sumiko simply nods her head. 

 "Don't worry, this is actually pretty easy," Tanjiro spoke up in which they both look over in his direction, "With my sense of smell, we don't have anything to worry about! Just follow me!"

 "Don't be so rash. They're could be— Hey!" Her warning falls upon deaf ears as Tanjiro began running. It seems, however, that her warning was justified because soon after taking off, his foot catches on something. He stumbles before halting completely—a mistake on his part. Tanjiro doesn't even get the chance to look back all the way to look at what he tripped over before rocks smack him in the face. He moves back, eyes widening as the ground beneath his foot sinks in. He hears a cry of his name and before he knew it, he was sent tumbling down sharp rocks and twigs.

When he opened his eyes again, he's met with a blurring sight of the moon shining down on him. He was on his back, his lungs feeling completely and utterly empty and his breathing erratic as blood drips from his head like thin streams of water..

 "Oh..I get it now. They're traps laid all around this mountain," Y/n's silhouette appears above him as she crouches and outstretches her hand to him.

 "I tried to tell you," She said as she grabbed his wrist and helped him out of the pit, "I doubt it would've been that easy."

 "Now, be more carful before you.." In that moment, her foot pushes down on a suspended rope. Her eyes widen and she shoots up. Her head darts around in all directions and then bam! A large log sends her flying.

 "Y/n!" Tanjiro cries out as he runs up to her. She sits up, her hand to her bruising head as she spits, a glop of blood shooting out of her mouth instead of clear saliva, "I'm fine. You need to worry about yourself," She tells him and, although he nods his head, he still helps her up.

 "Crap. If we keep walking into traps like this, we'll never make it down the mountain by morning!" His shoulders rising and falling seems to quicken, "And besides that, this mountain.." Helpless gasps are heard as Tanjiro breathes in an out, mouth opened wider than before, "The air up here..! It's so much thinner than on the mountain we used to live on!" He grips his chest with one hand as his desperate gasping continues, "That's why I'm getting so dizzy! ..Why didn't I notice before?"

Tanjiro begins running, Y/n does the same, "Will I make it?" Tanjiro thought to himself, "I might pass out before I can reach the bottom. If that happens.." He catches himself glancing over at Y/n and stops himself, "No! I can't get help with this! I gotta do this on my own!" 

And then, strands of black and white fly past them. Sumiko's running as fast as she can with no sign of stopping. Her blue hues glow in the moonlight as she snaps hidden ropes completely uncaring, "Sumiko, watch out!" Tanjiro yells as a log swings down her path. His eyes twitch, tempted to close completely so that he wouldn't be forced to bear witness to the little girl getting hurt. Sumiko doesn't slow up, keeping her fast pace.

Just as the log's about to meet her chin, she bends her knees and throws her head back, sliding under the log. Her knees slide roughly against the gravel as another log come flying at her from behind. She curls her body inwards, rolling forward like a ball and the log misses her entirely.

..Unfortunately, when she rolls back onto her feet, her momentum causes has her sliding and she inevitably tumbles. The remainder of the traps she triggered hit her in waves. Rocks fly at her, knocking her in all directions before a hit from an oncoming log has her soaring and sliding face first into the ground. Nevertheless, she recovers quickly and continues her fast and reckless descent down the mountain, her face scratched up and beginning to bleed.

As the logs she avoided loses momentum and comes swaying to a halt, Tanjiro and Y/n run around them, both of their minds clouding like the fog around them.

 "Since when did she become so nimble?" Tanjiro asked himself, "Before, she was never this responsive to things. In fact, ever since she woke up from her coma, she always seemed to have this disconnect with not only her surroundings, but her body too. It was to the point we had to help her do even the simplest things like sitting up. The village doctor told us that she'd always be like that..but was he wrong all along?"

Tanjiro shakes his head, "No! I can't think about that right now! I have to focus! I gotta make it back!" And then he slides to a halt. Y/n continues running, not bothering to glance back. Whether that was because she didn't notice or not is unknown.

Closing his eyes, Tanjiro tells himself, "Get your breathing together.. Keep it under control.." Repeating similar thoughts over and over for a moment, eventually his breathing levels out. His chest slows as does his heart. He can finally fill the air entering and leaving his lungs, and although it doesn't feel like much, it manages to calm his mind and body.

 "..Sniff out each of those traps!" And slowly, they come to him. The familiar scent he's already grown accustomed to comes at him in all different directions ahead. All it takes is a few whiffs before his eyes shoot open and he takes off again.

He snaps a rope with his foot. It doesn't slow his momentum. He narrowly dodges the incoming log. He slides, slowing himself down to dodge the second one. He stumbles. His foot nearly gets crushed by another log. He's a little spooked but continues running.

The ground suddenly caves in. He nearly falls into another pit but grabs onto the edge and crawls out. He runs and ducks under a rope. He trips on another. He twists the upper half of his body to avoid a log that soars at him. He nearly trips over his own foot upon landing. He pushes himself off a tree to stablize himself again.

He slows his pace again to dodge another log. He takes a flying leap over yet another rope—all while chanting in his head, "I've got this! I've got this!"

 "Traps set by human hands leave a distinct smell! Not to mention that a lot of the traps on this path have already been triggered by either Sumiko or Y/n!"

And then, a snap echoes throughout the forest. A hidden stick of bamboo shoots up and catches Tanjiro by the stomach. It swings him up high before harshly slinging him down to the ground. Dust kicks up upon impact. Tanjiro tries his best to resist groaning out as a stinging begins to creep up his back.

 "Despite all of that.." He gets back up, and immediately after beginning to run again, bamboo comes down on him on all sides, "That doesn't mean I have it easy! They're still some traps that they avoided and I'm not athletic enough to dodge each and every one of them!"

 "But I'm going to make it back no matter what!" He grips onto a tree for support, hauling himself forward. He falls, but he throws himself back up whilst clenching his teeth the whole time, "No matter how much I get hurt, I have to make it back to Nezuko!"

The sound of fire crackling on wood is the distinct sound that is heard in the small hut. A futon has been laid out where Nezuko now peacefully sleeps. Y/n sits against the wall, her face and body littered in dirt and blood as her body aches—a result of her own carelessness.

Sumiko sits close to her, her knees up to her chest and her arms wrapped around her legs to keep them in place. Her appearance matches that of her older sister; roughed up, dried blood and dark marks staining her skin, and dirt all over—especially in her hair. Although, it's more noticeable in certain parts like her scalp, where her white roots had been soiled by the nasty brown mud outside.

Y/n watches silently as Urokodaki gently slides the blanket of the futon up to Nezuko's shoulders before sitting back on his knees. She then glances over at the only window in the room. The deep blues of the night sky had long since began to lighten into a soft perwinkle. The sun will bask it's strong yellow rays onto them soon enough.

 "Seems like he's not going to make it after all.." The thought surfaced in Y/n's mind, but it didn't bring her sadness or disappointment. It felt like a much needed rub on her back, firm yet reassuring—damn near comforting. No, the thought of his failure was comforting. In fact, she wished that the brat beside her, and even herself, would've—  

Slowly, the door slides open. Tanjiro stands there, breathing out thick, heavy puffs of chilly air and looking just as beat up as Sumiko, if not worse. His bloody brows are scrunched downwards, making the fire in his burgundy pupils pop like the sun that had begun to rise in the sky and transforming it into that gentle morning pink..

 "I.. I made it.." He struggled to say, "I..have..returned.." He drops to his knees, utterly drained. He has a grip on the doorframe and he ends up leaning against it entirely before the exhaustion and pain finally takes over and he passes out. Y/n stares, wide eyed. The face she's making could only be explained as one of terror, like she experienced a bad jumpscare. That feeling of comfort had dissipated as soon as her eyes laid on him. 

Urokodaki stares at boy, yet his expression is left unknown due to his mask. He thinks back to a few days ago. He remembers the cawing of his crow clearly and the feeling of the smooth paper against his callous fingertips as he read the contents of the letter he had gotten..

 "Forgive my abruptness, Mr. Sakonji Urokodaki. I'm sending a boy your way who wants to become a Demon Slayer swordsman. He was brazen enough to attack me unarmed," It read, "His family was slaughtered by a demon, and one of the only surviving members—his younger sister, Nezuko—has become one. However, I have determined that she will not attack humans."

 "Like yourself, the boy has a keen sense of smell. Perhaps with that, he'll find a way to break through and become your heir apparent. That being said, I'm asking you to train him."

 "I realize that this is a selfish request I'm making, so please, forgive me for asking you to humor me. I hope that you will take good care of yourself in your endeavors regardless of anything else. Yours truly, Giyu Tomioka.."

Urokodaki stands up and walks over to Tanjiro's hunched over form. Sumiko had already made her way over to him and was gently petting his head. When he's close to them, Sumiko looks up, patiently waiting for his next words. And, when they finally came, the feelings felt were different for everyone who heard them.

 "Tanjiro Kamado, Y/n Kamado, Sumiko Kamado.. I accept you all as my students."

Author Ari | Hey guys! Before I get on with our Taisho Era Secret for today, I would like to say that if you've made it this far, thank you! Your support is what helps fuel me to make my stories, especially your comments! I truly love seeing what you guys have to say about my works, good and bad! q(≧▽≦q)

Author Ari | Ah—! But I shouldn't start rambling or else certain people will cut me short, hehe.. Anyways, onto our secret for today! 

Author Ari | *Leans in & whispers* It might be a little hard to believe, but Y/n once got a marriage proposal from a traveling merchant's son! For a while, he would give her things like expensive hairpins and kimonos every time she came down to the village in an attempt to court her. He eventually gave up after a while though, because she would constantly reject him and sell all the gifts she got.

Author Ari | As for my Author's Note, I'll simply use it this time around to let you guys know of some things. My Author's Notes won't be at the end of every single one of these chapters like the Taisho Era secrets will, but when they do, they'll usually be used to let you guys in on some behind the scenes facts about the making of this book! I hope you're okay with that because I can't wait to share my thought process with you guys!

Author Ari | Okayyyy so I'm starting to get a few glares so I guess it's time to wrap this up! I hope you guys are enjoying this so far, although it's not much yet! (❁'◡'❁)

Author Ari | Next time, chapter three, "Sabito and Makomo"! See ya there! ('▽'ʃ♡ƪ)

Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx

[the---hermit]

Today's focus vs yesterday's. Can you tell it's fucking storming again??? We got like one day of sun and then it's back to feeling like it's November again ugh.

04|06|2024

I got an email from my history lab professor, giving me another idea for the paper, but at this point I'll see what I can do after I have read all the sources. Today I finished working on the first primary source, which seems actually really good for what I wanted to do initially, so hopefully I'll manage to do what I wanted and have a good product at the end. I have yet to email her back, but I think I'll do that tomorrow because my brain is absolutely fried right now. I then spent the rest of my day reviewing for my English lit exam, and I am very happy about the fact that I finished everything regarding Paradise Lost. I plan on working on my history lab project in the morning, and using the afternoons to review English lit, and judging by how it went today it seems like a good plan. I must admit I do terribly when I have to focus on multiple subject at the same time, but I don't have that much time so I have to find a way to make it work. Trying to divide in my head the days in two blocks could be the move. At the end of the week I'll see if it was actually the best idea. I should also start plaguing my dad by reviewing with him, but that might happen at the end of the week. I am so lucky he willingly listens to me rant about stuff, because actually talking to a person and explaining stuff, making sure I am clear enough he understand, is the most useful thing in preparation of oral exams.

Today's productivity:

started my day with an audiobook since lately my brain has been struggling with focus and reading in the morning has been more complicated

finished reading and annotating the first of my primary sources for the history paper I have to write

started reviewing outloud for my English lit exam (and finished the first review of Paradise Lost + the academic article on it I had to analize)

📖: The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien

[fromthepinnacle2thepit]

cervi e consumo

hannibal lecter x reader

chapter 2: il sentiero

well you made it though your first session with Dr. Lecter! how will the second go?

a/n: song inspiration for this chapter: lacrimosa by mozart

hello!! i just wanna say thank you so much for reading. just a warning: this chapter contains descriptions of a panic attack and brief descriptions of a car accident with an animal. if this is something that might bother you i recommend doing what’s best for you mentally. enjoy!!

tags: @flow33didontsmoke

chapter 2: il sentiero

Your first session with Dr. Lecter had gone well. You were still a bit apprehensive as to what you might show the man so far, but he had given you lots to think on.

He truly impressed you so far. From what you could gather, he not only was incredibly intellectual, but also a man of philosophy. You could admire that. Hell, you already admired him. He seemed good at his profession. Already, he’d referenced the work of Dante.

“The path to paradise begins in hell, as Dante put once. Just as you right now are in low conditions in your mind, I have to imagine that we always have brighter places to work towards.” he had said, his deep voice rang clearly across the room.

You had thought about it, and he had been right. You’ve got to start somewhere, even if it’s hell. Though you felt dramatic for calling your current situation “hell”. You appreciated how well-read he was though. It had inspired you.

An hour later you were sitting with a copy of Dante’s Divine Comedy in your lap, weighing down on your legs. The cover had a painting behind the title and other writings on the cover. You scanned the faces that were shown, and in interest, made out two figures, staring at legs coming out of the ground. For such a classic renowned book, it sure did have a strange cover. But the wisdom in your psychiatrists words had inflicted a curiosity upon you that was deeper than any unsettled emotion.

The evening after your session wore on, and in time, you had fallen into a deep sleep.

Days passed slowly, and the pages of the book turned with your continuing progress. It took patience to get through. Both the days and the book. Your job flooded you with responsibilities and when you came home and opened the heavy book, you were faced with words that did take some effort to decipher, but soon you found comfort in the word-laden pages. You tried listening to his advice about how the path to paradise begins in hell. What could paradise have in store for you? How long would this path take? Why couldn’t you have just started halfway? What if this wasn’t hell, and your journey hadn’t begun, and things would only get worse? Anxious questions seemed to constantly flood your mind, attacking any means of traveling on said “path.” Throughout the next few days, when the questions occasionally became too much, you would think back to Dr. Lecter’s rich voice, the distinguished air of his room, his analytic chestnut eyes. And the thought that soon you’d be there again. All hope wasn’t lost for you. You had Dante, Dr. Lecter, and this so-called path to paradise. You’d been through a lot to even make it here. You would try this. You had to.

Before you knew it, you were once again in the refined waiting room. Music once again played softly and the receptionist seemed to be in the exact same nervous state she was in yesterday. This time as you sat you allowed yourself to study your surroundings a bit more. Your eyes focused more clearly on the paintings that adorned the walls, you allowed yourself to breathe in, the air smelling of books and something you couldn’t quite name. You allowed yourself to gain a less tense position than last time, though your hands fidgeted slightly in your lap and you couldn’t help but notice the pattern of your breathing and your heart. You were nervous. You usually were before sessions, it wasn’t something you were unaccustomed to. You knew though that as time went on, you would relax into things more, just as you had already.

“He’s ready to see you now,” the receptionist spoke suddenly. A pleasant smile was plastered on her face. You nodded at her and stood, crossing the waiting room to stand in front of the wooden door, just as you had the week before. You looked back at the receptionist. Her face was now turned back to her work but her eyes still held the smile from the moment before. The nervous energy that had encompassed her not too long ago suddenly seemed a lot less nervous. Maybe it was simply energy. Maybe she was simply passionate about her work. She didn’t seem unhappy. This made a smile begin to grow on your face too. You made a mental note to talk to her more next time.

Sounds from the other side of the door interrupted your thoughts. It sounded like footsteps against the wooden floor, heading towards you. And as if on cue, the door in front of you opened to leave you smiling at the face of your psychiatrist.

He looked about the same as the last time you’d seen him. The same well-styled earthy hair, paired with the earthy eyes, the charming smile. The one different thing about him was his suit. The one he wore today was a brown plaid one.

“Good evening,” he spoke and a part of you relaxed at hearing his soothing voice, “How do you do? Please, come in,”

You smiled and stepped past him, walking into the large tranquil office. It felt reassuring, in a strange way, to be back here. The quote about the path flashed through your mind.

“Good evening to you as well, Doctor,” you replied to the man and turned to give him a smile as he followed you through the doorway, “I’ve been quite well. And you?”

“I happen to have been the exact same,” he replied. Just as last time, he gestured to the two chairs in the middle of the room and you both made your way over to have a seat. Once again, your thoughts danced around how intimate the setting was. You appreciated it. His eyes studied you, and it now felt like a common thing to get the feeling he wanted you to speak. This time, you took the opportunity.

“I’ve begun reading The Divine Comedy, as you quoted it in our last session,” you said. For a moment, you wondered if you shouldn’t have said it. You weren’t sure why. It just felt personal, deep. You knew it was meant to though. You also couldn’t tell if it was embarrassment you were feeling or if it was the strange feeling of being open. Your eyes suddenly focused again on Dr. Lecter and for a brief instant you thought you might’ve seen interest flash across his features before he spoke.

“What a keen memory you have,” he replied. The way your last name formally slipped from his lips at the end of his praise made your lips quirk up in a slight smile, “You must tell me your thoughts on it,”

“It’s fascinating. I love finding the meaning in such complex words. It all gives me so much to think about. While I have not read too much of it yet, I do intend to continue,” you remarked.

“I must admit, I quite agree with you. The meanings and knowledge woven into such works are intellectual delicacies. It does one much good to take a bite,” he responded.

As the session carried on, you did your best to comprehend his thought-provoking words. It only made you want to read the book more. Your mind wandered back to it, even as the conversation had steadily drifted away from that topic a while ago. In between the continuing banter, the appealing idea of curling up with the book when you got home became a thought that was growing in prominence. You might light some candles, settle into bed, maybe get something to eat or drink. You pictured the how the world would look from your window. The way buildings would be soaked in shadows of the navy night, the way wind would trickle through leaves in quiet susurrus. The night would be pretty to drive home in. Stillness protruding from the trees around the roads that led to your home. The idea of such a pleasant evening was incipient in your head.

Your attention was about to return to Dr. Lecter, when a sudden memory flashed through your thoughts. Headlights on a dark road, the shining eyes of the deer, the sudden franticness, a sickening jolt of the moving vehicle, a gut-wrenching scream. The recollection instantly made your stomach drop in the most dreadful way. You felt as if you were back in that moment. Your heart began to race, an execrable gut-churning feeling of pure terror took place in your abdomen and stomach. Unbeknownst to you, your hands had begun to fidget in your lap. Your eyes fixed on one spot on the floor. The emotion of panic felt like it had taken over your entire being. The moment just kept replaying in your mind. You saw it, even worse, you felt it, over and over in your mind. You silently screamed for a way out, feeling desperate. Your breaths became short as you felt increasing horror in your chest, laboring your breathing with pressure. You just wanted to make it stop. You were scared. You wanted a way out. Stop. Stop. Stop. Please get me away from this.

Abruptly, something began to intrude on your distraught and terrified state. A voice began to make its way through your racing thoughts. It was a deep and rich voice, dusted with an accent. Taking a moment to hurriedly try to identify the voice, it was Dr. Lecter’s. He was saying your last name in that formal way he had a habit of saying it in. Your eyes darted to him, seeing that he was now crouched next to your chair. That calm demeanor was still on. He felt so far away, the memory playing over again in your mind. You felt your mind begin to delve back into the state it was in before. You faintly heard your name off his lips again.

“Look at me,” he firmly instructed. You felt like you couldn’t, as if you were frozen in your memories. Your name left his lips once more. “I must ask you to try and listen.”

You wrenched your eyes away from the spot on the floor, turning to him. Though your eyes were on him, you felt as if your mind was a million miles away. For an instant, with the help of his voice, you felt more stable. You tried your best to keep your eyes on him.

“You are safe, you are in my office. No harm will come to you here. No doubt you feel overwhelmed right now. Try to focus on your breathing, in and out,” with his words, you began to break through the wall of panic that had settled in your mind, “I assure you, your mind cannot immure you.”

The world around you slowly became present to you again as he spoke. He continued, and you listened, fighting away the emotion. Occasionally your eyes would squeeze shut and your abdomen would tense in fear, but Dr. Lecter’s voice would always pull you back to where you were. You focused on him, the comforting words that continued to leave his mouth, the way he pointed out things in his office to distract you. He spoke softly about some of the paintings, your eyes caught occasionally on the strokes of the paintbrush that had created images with swirling emotion. Like the state of your mind.

Eventually, your focus was more on him than it was the memory that had resurfaced. Parts of your face were still tinged with worry, and you didn’t feel all that comfortable with your posture, but it was better than you had felt minutes before. You didn’t notice the doctor had been silent until he spoke, your name leaving his lips in that formal way before he finished his question.

“I take it that what just occurred was quite an intense panic attack. Might I ask if you know what triggered it?”

“A memory,” you spoke, you watched as he gently rose and stepped back to his chair where he took a seat, “It’s not important now.”

You wished so badly to be able to tell the man about the memory, but felt if you got into it, you might get stuck in that well of emotion and never come out.

“What has the ability to bother us to that extent is of great importance.” Dr. Lecter replied smoothly. You noticed the way his eyes silently searched you, as if deciphering you like an ancient language. The man was perceptive. You wondered what exactly he was searching. Your body language, your mind, signs of another panic attack. At this thought, you took special notice of his own body language. His legs were crossed as they usually were and his chin was tilted upwards ever so slightly. His hands were folded neatly in his lap. Even after witnessing such a paroxysm of emotion as yours, he managed to stay calm and unalarmed. You couldn’t deny that it was impressive.

“Could I talk to you about it at our next session, Dr. Lecter? Extreme emotions like that seem like too much to handle at the moment,” you felt bad saying that, and worried it came across as rude. But at least it gave you something to plan for leading up to the next session.

“If that is what you feel will benefit you the most,” he said with the slightest nod of his head, “Though, never be afraid to feel. It is much more than a mortal burden. Emotions allow us to have such a scope of remarkable experiences. Those of us filled with vehemence are bestowed with one of the best human gifts and burdens. Do not be afraid of it.”

The formal concluding niceties occurred as you were left ruminating on his words. He had a point. Of course he did, he knew this stuff.

Eventually, you had both risen from your respective seats in the middle of the room and were beginning your walk to the door you would be exiting from. He opened the door for you, but you paused. Looking back a him and giving him a soft look you spoke.

“Thank you.” you said, you saw a spark of both pride and slight confusion glow in his eye, accompanied by a slight turn of his head.

“I’m your psychiatrist,” he said, your last name leaving his lips in that formal way you’d grown used to, “It’s my pleasure.”

You stepped out of his office and before you knew it, you were back in the chilly air of the night. You looked at the building you had just exited, seeing warm light glow from the rooms inside, a contrast from the dark sky overhead. Part of you wished to be back in his office. Bach playing softly in the background, surrounded by art and literature from times far passed, the doctor’s sophisticated and accented voice ringing clearly through the room.

You could get used to this.

And now, you had Dante waiting for you to read when you got home.

Your journey on the path had begun.

[lenievi]

When I was writing the previous post, I had a random thought, so I want to offer a different perspective I just thought of lol

MCCOY: You listen to me, you pointed-eared Vulcan. SPOCK: I don't like that. I don't think I ever did, and now I'm sure.

imho people are too quick to jump to the interpretation that Spock has always hated McCoy because of this line. That Spock was just silently suffering and never said that McCoy's words bothered him.

Which is literally so ??? to me because Spock will express his dissatisfaction.

SPOCK: Frankly, I was rather dismayed by your use of the term half-breed, Captain. You must admit, it is an unsophisticated expression. (What Are Little Girls Made Of?) SPOCK: Captain, I hardly believe that insults are within your prerogative as my commanding officer. (The City on the Edge of Forever) SPOCK: Don't be insulting, Doctor. (The Trouble with Tribbles)

are just a few of them. Spock typically says "don't be insulting" when Kirk or McCoy suggest he has feelings (or when Kirk compares him to a human), but as you can see from What Are Little Girls Made Of? he literally brought a thing that bothered him with Kirk up. Why would you think he just silently suffered McCoy's words? Why would he say he was bothered to his commanding officer and not his subordinate? That's not Spock.

Plus, when people use the line from All Our Yesterdays to "prove that Spock hates McCoy", why is

MCCOY: I wonder where Jim is. SPOCK: Who knows. We can only hope that he is well, wherever he is.

that precedes the "pointed-eared" comment ignored? Why is it ignored that Spock literally doesn't care about what happened to Kirk? That he just hopes that he is well. Why do you think McCoy got angry at Spock in this scene? Because Spock didn't show any kind of worry about Kirk. He just accepted that they couldn't go back. He gave up.

Now, when I got that out of my chest, this is the third time in 79 episodes (minus those McCoy didn't appear in), that McCoy used "pointed-eared" with Spock. The third time. One, in Bread and Circuses during an emotionally charged conversation, two, in The Gamesters of Triskelion, where Spock was like do you wanna mutiny (when Kirk, Chekov, and Uhura disappeared).

Why would Spock's reaction be at McCoy, especially? He doesn't say "I don't like you saying it, Doctor", he says he doesn't like the words. People - Kirk, Uhura, McCoy, random people - kept talking about his ears throughout the series, sometimes as a joke, sometimes as an insult, comparing him to Devil even (Uhura and Kirk both btw) or Midsummer Night's Dream's Puck. When Kirk tried to make him angry in This Side of Paradise, he uses "you're an overgrown jackrabbit, an elf" - both typical for pointed ears.

Humans always pointed out his ears. Always.

And now, when he's not in control, he's realizing that maybe he never liked humans talking about his ears. Not just McCoy. Everyone ever.

And it makes more sense to me that Spock's statement is in general rather than aimed at McCoy only.

yeah, anyway.