#why must i be stressed out in my slumber

[binch-i-might-be]

had a fucked up dream that some rats had tiny little babies and for some reason that was the only thing that mattered to me ever but they got lost!!!! in the big bang theory guys apartment!!! yes the big bang theory guys were there briefly even though the last time I actively watched that show was eight years ago!!!!

anyway me and some other person had to go on a whole ass odyssee to find all the little rat babies to the point that we were rowing across the open ocean after The Titanic II and dropping from the ceiling light into the galley to inquire if anyone had seen TINY RAT BABIES. very stressful wouldn't recommend 3/10

[nochedie]

sleepless | dean winchester 🌙

pairing: dean winchester x reader

genre: fluff

wordcount: 689

summary: after a night of staring at the ceiling, drowning in your own thoughts, dean helps you fall asleep

a/n: actually wrote this at 3am last night because i couldn’t sleep! i haven’t written for dean yet and i really wanted to show him love so here’s a short little drabble! listened to simulation swarm by big thief while writing 🫶🏼

2am.

your bare feet lightly padded across the laminate of the motel room floor, and you felt around to help you navigate the poorly lit room.

you flinched as your hip bumped into the table, making a bit of noise. you turned to look in the direction of the bed you got out of to grab a drink of water, and through the slight illumination from the moon through the sheer curtain, you could see dean stirring slightly and you hoped you hadn’t woken him.

the motel you were staying in had a small kitchenette with a refrigerator, and you had put a water bottle in there earlier in the day to cool. you grabbed the water bottle and savoured the feeling of the liquid on your dry throat, instantly refreshing. you took the bottle back over to the bed and placed it on the bedside table before trying your best to get back into bed without making any noise.

“you okay, baby?” dean spoke, voice even deeper than usual with sleep.

“yeah, i just needed a drink. go back to sleep, love.” you placed a hand on his hair, brushing your fingers through until you heard his breathing deepen as he fell back into a peaceful slumber.

you stared up at the ceiling, willing your eyes to shut.

3am.

you were still wide awake, having not slept a wink. you turned to dean, still fast asleep. you could just about see his silhouette in the darkness, and you leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to his forehead.

3:30am.

dean began to stir beside you when you moved to grab the water bottle from the bedside table.

almost instinctively, and still half asleep, he reached out an arm to drape across your waist.

you paused your movements, frustrated with yourself for making too much noise and disturbing him.

“c’mere.” dean tugs your form slightly, prompting you to put down the water bottle and slip back down beside him.

“can’t sleep?” he tries to suppress a yawn.

“not really.” not at all, in fact. you hadn’t slept a wink all night and you didn’t even feel close to falling asleep.

one of dean’s hands found yours, and he placed a gentle kiss to your neck. “anything i can do?”

“no.. it’s alright.” you turned your body to face him, shuffling as close as you could as dean wraps you up in his arms.

“have you slept at all tonight?” he questioned.

“no…”

“baby…” dean brushes a few strands of hair away from your face. “is there something wrong?”

“there’s nothing wrong, really. it’s just… i don’t know, i guess i’ve been a bit more stressed than usual lately.”

“why didn’t you tell me?” his tone was soft and concerned. he wasn’t berating you, but rather worried that he had done something wrong or that you didn’t trust to tell him about any of your worries, big or small.

“i didn’t want to bother you with it…”

“you couldn’t bother me if you tried, sweetheart.”

“i worry about you. i worry about sam and cas. i worry about everybody we’ve ever known. i don’t think i could cope with losing anybody else…” your brain was full and it wouldn’t turn off. countless scenarios playing in your head on a constant loop.

“i worry about that too, baby… but you need your sleep. you must be tired.” truthfully, you were exhausted. but everything was just so loud.. it wouldn’t grant you peace.

dean knew you loved to hear him sing, even though he would only do it once in a blue moon and never in front of anybody but you. feelings of content smothered you as soon as the first note left his lips.

“i close my eyes… only for a moment, and the moments gone…”

after a few moments, the sound of his voice, his touch, his scent, him, muted the sound of your crushing thoughts.

it didn’t take you long after that to finally allow sleep to engulf you. by the end of the song you were fast asleep, your breathing deepening with each passing moment.

“sweet dreams, baby.”

comments, feedback etc always appreciated! thank you for reading!

[hqbaby]

five — crush them

mess it up — gojo x reader & sukuna x reader

⁀➴ when i told you i’m fine, you were lied to. when the love of your life falls for someone else, you decide to move on—by pretending to date your best friend, the campus fuckboy.

previous — masterlist — next

word count. 1.9k content. profanity, lots of stress first thing in the morning

When you wake up, you’re vaguely aware of the foot on your face. And the elbow pressed against your thigh. And the hand on your knee. And the drool on your sheets.

You open your eyes, blinking as they adjust to the light, and look over at Sukuna, spread out on the mattress in a deep slumber. There’s an impulse to kick him, an impulse to laugh at how he hasn’t changed at all, still as much of a restless sleeper as he was in high school. But there’s another impulse—to jump out of your bed because you are so fucking late for training.

“Holy shit!” you exclaim, throwing Sukuna’s leg off of you as you practically crawl out of bed, half of your body still asleep while the other fights for its life to get up. “I’m gonna die!”

Sukuna’s awake now, eyes wide with panic as he watches you scramble to your closet and grab your shorts, shirt, socks. “What?” he says loudly, scrambling to get up too. “What’s happening?”

You pull your shirt off, completely ignoring the fact that you’re getting undressed in front of your well-known pervert of a best friend, as you search for a sports bra in your dresser. “I’m late!” you say, more to yourself than to him. “Coach is gonna have my head!”

“What?” he says again, louder this time, as he topples out of your bed, his head hitting the floor. “Fuck!”

You glance over at him. He’s rubbing his forehead as he searches for his hoodie. “Why are you panicking?” you ask, panicked.

“Because you’re panicking!” he says. He finds his hoodie and pulls it on, quickly rushing for your bedroom door. “I’ll drive you! You can change in the car!”

You’re standing in your bedroom in nothing but your bra and pajamas, hands full of clothes. If you were thinking clearly right now, you’d tell him he was being stupid. There’s no way in hell you’re going to get changed in his car. What is he even doing here in the first place? But your better judgment has escaped you and the only thought in your head is loud and blaring: You’re late.

“Move faster!” you tell him, grabbing your tennis bag in the corner and rushing past him. At least you have enough sense to not forget your phone and house keys before you’re running out of the apartment, Sukuna hot on your heels.

The two of you eschew the elevator, both knowing just how much time you’ll lose waiting for it, and run down the three flights of stairs to the parking lot.

“Where’s your car?” you yell at him over your shoulder. It occurs to you then how ridiculous you must look, half-dressed and completely deranged. You can’t bring yourself to care.

He points at the beat-up thing at the end of the parking lot. “There!” he says, tossing you the keys. “Go!”

You run ahead and start the car, jumping into the backseat as Sukuna finally catches up to you and gets in the driver’s seat. He steps on the gas as you haphazardly change into your clothes before checking to see the time. 

You’re ten minutes late as it is. You are so going to pay for this.

“Can’t you go any faster?” you ask him, smoothing out the creases in your shirt.

“Not if you don’t want to die.”

“I’m already gonna die!”

He swerves onto campus grounds, speeding as the car darts straight towards the sports complex. “If we die, do you think we’re going to hell?”

“Definitely,” you say, already on the edge of your seat as he pulls up in front of the gym. “Bye!”

You rush out of the car, running past a group of bewildered guys from the basketball team as you zoom ahead, running on pure adrenaline. When you get to the gates of the tennis court, you stop dead in your tracks.

Your bag.

You’re running back, already out of breath when you bump—well, crash into something. Or, to be more specific, someone.

There’s a moment when you feel your legs give under you and you’re ready to fall onto the ground. You hope that it’s a clean fall, one that won’t end in you dissolving into a puddle of flesh and bones. You wait for the fall, the pain, the terror.

And it never comes.

Instead, you feel two hands on your waist. A chest against yours. A voice saying your name with concern.

You look up.

Satoru.

His eyes are on you, searching for any signs of injury, any signs of distress. His grip on you is tight and familiar. His gaze is scrutinizing, but oh so comfortable.

There’s an impulse to cry to him and tell him that you’re late for training. That you’ll probably never see you again because you’re going to die very soon. That you want him to hold you forever. That you miss him. That you want him back.

You jump away, not allowing yourself to melt into his touch even if your body is screaming at you to let it. “Shit, I’m sorry,” you say as you try to find your balance. You realize that one of his hands is still on your waist. “I didn’t see—”

Another voice calls your name.

Sukuna runs towards you with your bag in hand. His footfalls slow when he sees you. When he sees Satoru.

“You forgot your bag,” he says, blinking as he processes the picture before him. You and your beloved ex who has his hand on you. “I thought you were late.”

You don’t have time for this, you decide, rushing over to grab your bag from him. “I am,” you say, already turning to run back to the court. “Thanks!”

You’re leaving before either of the two men can say a word.

“Finally gracing us with your presence?” your coach, Yuki, says as you step onto the court. To your relief, she doesn’t look too upset, even slightly amused. “Had somewhere better to be?”

“No, coach, I’m sorry,” you say as you take your place beside Mai. The rest of the girls on the team look at you with worry, confusion. “It won’t happen again.”

She crosses her arms over her chest and sighs. “You know what to do.”

You hang your head. “How many?”

“Five,” she says, hands already waving you off. “Go, go. We’re doing drills.”

You nod, dropping your bag on the benches before going off to do laps around the court.

It’s only as you’re running that the whole morning dawns on you. You woke up next to Sukuna. You got undressed in the back of his car. You literally ran into Satoru. And Sukuna found you with him.

It shouldn’t bother you as much as it does that your best friend who, yes, you are dating but only as a ruse, saw you with your ex. But it still leaves a weird feeling lingering in your chest, like a cough that’s just waiting to explode.

What should bother you more is how you were so ready to fold for Satoru. And, yet, that somehow feels right. It’s like you always knew you’d want to run back to him given the chance. It’s like you never wanted to leave in the first place.

As you hit your fourth lap, one thought strikes you: You don’t feel as tired as you usually are.

The past three weeks have been a haze of sleepless nights that have rendered you useless in the morning. You go to class, go to training, find it in yourself to eat, then lie in bed wide awake. Any moments of rest have quickly been interrupted by your recurring night terrors.

But you slept well. A solid few hours of dreamless sleep. As much as you want to deny it, you can’t help but think that it has something to do with the fact that you didn’t sleep alone. That Sukuna was right there beside you the whole time.

“What’s up with you?” Mai asks, handing you a bottle of water when you finally finish your laps. “You’re not usually this out of it.”

You take a swig of water and wipe your forehead with a towel. “Just a weird morning.”

She doesn’t buy it, because who would? So she stares at you, hard eyes waiting for an answer. While both Maki and Mai are capable of being completely terrifying, there’s just something about Mai that makes you shrink back, want to run and hide.

“The breakup’s been tough,” you tell her, immediately regretting it as soon as you say it. You can’t believe you’ve become the kind of girl who falls apart because of a guy. It’s embarrassing, but now you realize it’s probably warranted at times. Especially times like these. “It’s just a bad time.”

She raises a brow. “You can’t let it get in the way though,” she reminds you. “We have a tournament next week. I’m not losing my scholarship because you’ve decided to slack off.”

Now, that strikes a chord. That lights a fire. That starts a challenge. Like fuck are you going to let her think you’re slacking off.

“Fuck you,” you say, putting your water bottle down. You take your racket out and nod towards the court. Two of your teammates are already on the other side of the net. “Let’s crush them.”

She grins at that. “That’s my girl.”

“You can’t let her egg you on like that,” Maki says, watching as you slather yourself with Salonpas on the floor of your living room. “She’s just being a bitch. Like always.”

“I know,” you tell her. You wince as your muscles tense beneath your touch. “But she’s right. I can’t let Satoru get in the way.”

Your friend eyes you suspiciously. You can tell that she wants to say something, but she’s clearly holding her tongue.

“What?”

She feigns innocence. “What?”

“You have something to say,” you tell her. “So say it.”

Maki shrugs. “Nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.”

“It is.”

“Maki.”

She stretches out on your couch, her head lolling to the side as she lies down. Avoiding your eyes, she says, “Maybe it’s not just Satoru who’s getting in the way.”

“What do you mean?” you ask. “I haven’t broken up with anyone else.”

“Sure,” she says, looking at you now. “But you and Sukuna have been spending an awful lot of time together.”

You find yourself shaking your head automatically, as if you were just waiting for her to say that. “That’s stupid.”

Maki gives you a knowing look. “Okay,” she says and drops the subject completely. She knows you, and she knows you’re definitely going to be stubborn about this. Because there really is nothing going on with Sukuna. He’s just your friend, nothing more. “So what are we having for dinner?”

“Do you mean what are you going to buy me for dinner?”

The two of you bicker before deciding on heating leftovers from the other night. You’re not exactly sure that the leftovers in question are still edible but that hasn’t stopped you before.

While Maki raids the fridge, you unplug your phone from where it’s charging by the couch. And that’s when you see it. Or, well, them.

booger: i left my sunglasses at ur place

booger: give them back tnx

satoru <3 : i hope training was okay

satoru <3 : can we talk sometime?

notes. idk about you guys but i would run back to gojo at the first chance too 🧍‍♀️

[seozii]

TIP TOE

very unusual and slightly interesting

# PAIRING seungmin x f/gn!reader

# 🐈 — SEO reposting from my old acc bc why not? Hell yah am I rotting in writers block 😍 plus exams coming up, yes girl I’m going to disappear again🥰

Seungmin was never the type to show his affection through physical touch. It was a known fact.

Once when you tried to hold his Hands he swatted yours away. When you tried to back hug him he glared into your souls before you could even take a step near him. You don’t even remember the last time you’ve kissed.

You realized that not many people are a big fan of physical touches. Especially seungmin.

It was like any other day, all you did was work work and work. Have you even had any breaks?? Just packed schedules with your boss bossing you around like you were some kind of robot.

After hours of you being overworked it finally ceased. You finally had a chance to go home and rest to relax.

You took a quick cold and refreshing shower coming out feeling very refreshed and clean.

Inspecting through your wardrobe you smiled once you’ve finally found your favorite pair of pajamas.

You quickly slipped in on before collapsing onto your bed. You let out a sigh feeling welcomed by the soft and plush mattress.

You’re finally able to relax allowing yourself to be fully enveloped by the plush mattress, without someone throwing you around like a rag doll or nagging into your head.

You heard muffling sounds of the door opening and closing shut, footsteps echoing through the hallways. No you weren’t bothered by it at all. All you wanted to do was fall into a deep slumber.

As you were about to drift off to sleep you felt someone felt a presence behind you before you knew it you felt an arm being wrapped around your waist, drawing your body closer to their chest.

Highly bewildered you whipped your head around only to see seungmin holding onto you tightly.

You were about to speak but he cut you off burying your face in his chest.

His touch was gentle, warm and welcoming. You can’t lie, you absolutely loved this feeling.

He seemed to be lost in his own world. You didn’t want to be the one to ruin it but you had to ask. This behavior was stranger considering he was the one who absolutely hated physical touches.

You finally muttered up the courage to ask. “Min….are you good?” You asked softly glancing back up at him.

He didn’t say anything. Instead he changed positions burying his face in your chest.

He was obviously in a frail state, he needed comfort.

Hesitantly your hands began to find its way through his scalp massaging it softly. You heard a low and soft hum escape from his lips.

He pulled you closer his hands still around your waist as he pulled you even more closer, your legs tangled under the layers of the bed sheet, leaving your heart beating at an extremely fast rate.

Suddenly he pulled away catching you off guard. “Ah i’m so sorry, I must have made you feel uncomfortable, I didn’t ask for your permission, I was just really tired and stressed I didn’t even—“ he babbled looking down in embarrassment

You immediately interfered. “Hey, no it doesn’t make me uncomfortable and you don’t need to ask for permission” you reassured Smiling softly.

He looked at you with a skeptical look. “Are you sure about it?, so we can continue?”

You nodded then felt yourself being pulled back into the bed.

He buried your face into his chest once again. His hot breath tickling against your neck.

“Mmm let’s do this more often” he asserted.

“Why not” you agreed getting more comfortable in his arms. Soon you both drifted off to sleep with you in his arms and his arms around your waist.

[exhaslo]

Puzzle Pieces Ch16

(Mafia!Miguel x Shy!Reader)

Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch.5, Ch6, Ch7, Ch8, Ch9, Ch10, Ch11, Ch12, Ch13, Ch14, Ch15

Warning: Smut so Minors DNI, mentions of abuse, torture, blood, murder, language, fluff, bullying, mentions of sex, praise, shower sex, aftercare

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sky was cloudy as snow started to fall heavily upon the city. A sudden chill ran up your spine as you tried to cover yourself up in the blanket some more. The heat was on, but you still felt the cold from outside.

Your body felt weak and exhausted from yesterday. While there was the relief of Eddie never bothering you again, just seeing him still brought you down in the dumps. He always made you feel sick to your stomach. At least Miguel was here to ease your worries.

Reaching out to your loving boyfriend, you let out a whimper. You felt congested and dizzy. Snuggling into Miguel, you coughed and closed your eyes again. He felt so warm and comforting. Perfect to go back to sleep too.

"Hn, (Y/N)? You don't sound too well," Miguel muttered as he started to wake up. You coughed again,

"I'm...fine...just need...some more...rest," You whispered tiredly, "Long...day yes...terday..."

Miguel sat up, stroking your head as you started to drift back into a deep slumber. He let out a soft sigh, knowing that this was partly his fault. Miguel was worried that taking you yesterday would push you too far and it did. The stress of it all had gotten you sick. So today was probably not going to be the best for you either.

"Baby, I have to head out, but I promise to be back early and to bring you some medicine, okay?" Miguel whispered as he kissed your head.

"Mhmm," You lazily replied in your sleep.

As Miguel scooted off the bed, he heard your whine and chuckled. You were reaching out for him, how tempting. If Miguel were to get back into the bed, then he might take advantage of your cute sickly body.

As painful as it was, Miguel got ready for another day of work. He would rather stay by your side, but what he was doing today was for you. Calling Lyla, Miguel did make sure that someone would be here for you if you need help.

He wasn't going to let his future wife be lonely.

Once Lyla arrived, Miguel made his way out. His phone was blowing up with messages from Peter, and Miguel knew why. A clear smirk was on his face as Miguel had all of the pieces start to stick together. This was going to be a glorious puzzle once completed.

----------

This was personal. Miguel made sure to keep his guests waiting. Entering the supermarket with Hobie and Ben behind him, Miguel approached the deli. He glanced over at your former Supervisor and just gave a simple nod.

"Attention customers, due to a spill in the cleaning aisle, we must ask that everyone leave the store. Again, please exit the store in a timely fashion. We apologize for any inconvenience." The supervisor spoke over the loud speaker.

Miguel glanced as one of the workers 'accidently' spilled two chemicals that were definitely not supposed to mix. As he entered the third freezer, Miguel just smirked towards the loud yelling and bickering coming from inside.

"This is NOT what we signed up for!!!!" Your mother screamed at the top of her lungs.

"We've been waiting here for hours!! You had my wife sleep on some shitty ass apartment floor! NOT A HOTEL! Where is your boss?!" Your father added.

"Right here," Miguel said calmly as he appeared before the two, "Was there something wrong with your accommodations?"

"Something wrong?! Everything was wrong!! Your lackey-"

"Ow," Peter whispered childishly.

"Told us that we were going to be treated like royalty! Given a five star hotel for the night and all inclusive dinner and breakfast! We received non of that! He threw us in a disgusting apartment building and we had to sleep on the floor!!! Are you going to compensate for our back pain?!" You father screamed. Your mother huffed and pitched in,

"We were given no dinner! No breakfast! Then you have us wait in this accursed place!"

"Oh? So if the apartment was not fitting for you, then why was it good enough for your daughter?" Miguel questioned before snapping his fingers, "As for food, I did bring you something."

"Pfft, daughter? What do you know about (Y/N)?" Your father asked with a scoff and saw a table being brought out.

"What I know, is that I plan to make your daughter my wife-"

"Haha! She's already engaged. You may have bought our supermarket, but what do you have to offer for our daughter's hand in marriage despite shitty service?" Your mother huffed and sat down in the seats that were given to them, "Besides, she will be marrying a fine young man soon. It's too late."

Miguel felt his smirk disappear as his anger started to show. Your parents were truly evil. It was for the best that you weren't here. You may have stood up to Eddie, but parents were another thing. Hell, not even Miguel could really stand up to his own mother.

"Do you mean Eddie?" Miguel asked as Hobie set two covered plates in front of your parents. Your father seemed to have beamed at the name,

"You know of him? Good!"

"Yes, I know of him. He's made quite a name for himself here in the city, but enough about that for now. You two must be starving. Enjoy your meal."

Miguel's smile returned as he watched your parents uncover their dishes and nearly cheered at the sight. Miguel was calm as he watched your parents stuff their faces while his men had to resist their laughter.

"At least the food is up to par with our standards. I've never tasted something so delicious! What is the main meat for this dish?" Your father asked. Miguel chuckled darkly,

"For you, I believe that would be Eddie's balls...for your wife, his dick."

Within the second, both started to cough and spit their food out. The two looked at their plate in horror. Miguel leaned back in his seat,

"As I mentioned, Eddie did make quite a name for himself here. So much so that I had to put a stop to him. To think that you would let such a horrible influence get near your daughter in the first place, disgusts me." Miguel slammed his fist against the table, "The pain that you two brought her. The pain that you ignored? The two of you are insects to me."

"You can make as many threats as you want-"

"Threats?" Miguel chuckled once more as Jessica dropped some pictures, "As you can see, Eddie is just barely breathing. I made sure he suffered just as much as (Y/N) and some. Do you really think I brought you two here for small talk?"

"W-Who-" You mother nearly froze in fear as she started to understand the situation they were in, "W-What do you want from us?"

"What I want is to have you skinned and killed, but (Y/N) will cry if I do such a thing to her parents. She resents you, but still cares. Isn't that nice? Your daughter still has a heart for demons like yourself, but that doesn't mean she doesn't have to know about this."

"As if we won't tell-"

"Tell her what?" Miguel pushed your father down and pressed a gun to his head, "Do you have any idea how hard it is for me right now to not pull this trigger?"

"Please! Please don't kill him!" Your mother cried, "We'll do anything! Please!"

"Finish your meal. I want to see that plate spotless." Miguel waited until the two of them started to eat again, "Don't puke. You still have plenty more meals after this. Can't let anyone find Eddie's body now, can we?"

Miguel slowly returned to his seat, watching your parents cry as they forced themselves to eat. Now, Miguel had never done anything this cruel before and of course, he wasn't actually planning on feeding Eddie to your parents.

Just his junk.

But the fear in their eyes was enough for now. Eddie's use was finally done, so Miguel could finish him off and dump his body in the river. Once the plates were clean, Miguel slid a document over to your parents.

"Read and sign. You will never contact (Y/N) again. She will make that decision on her own. You will nullify the marriage for I will be taking (Y/N) as my wife. If you mention anything about this, then you'll be joining Eddie. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes." They both said in unison.

Miguel watched as your parents quickly signed the contract. Once the deed was done, Miguel removed himself from the room and told everyone to do what they pleased. Your parents were quick to cry for help, begging for their lives.

They weren't going to die, but they will wish they did.

-----------

You sniffed and cried into your pillow, complaining about not being able to breathe and missing Miguel. Lyla found it both cute and slightly annoying. The fact that you loved Miguel so much despite him being such a brute was the annoying part.

"It's okay, he'll be back soon. The vampire doesn't like his sun," Lyla teased.

"Stop calling me that," Miguel said with a heavy sigh as he placed some medicine and a bag down.

"M-Miguel!" You sobbed, reaching out for him. Miguel chuckled as he dismissed Lyla, "M-Miggy! I missed you."

"I missed you too, baby." Miguel hummed as he picked you up. Your arms wrapped around him immediately, "Let's get you washed up."

You hummed happily, resting your head against his shoulder. Miguel undressed the both of you and filled the tub. His warm embrace, keeping you at ease. Miguel kept you between his legs once the bath was filled.

"I brought you some Pho, thought you could use something hot to ease your throat." Miguel kissed your head as his hands roamed your body. You muffled a quiet moan,

"T-Thank you, Miggy," You cooed, his hands groping your breasts, "H-How...was...y-your day?" You asked.

Miguel kissed your neck, making your already fuzzy brain even more rattled. Your breathing got heavier as Miguel's hands kept teasing your body. You turned to face Miguel, burying your head against his neck as you whimpered and moan.

"Accomplished," Miguel replied as his hands started to rub your clit, "I was able to get everything I wanted done."

"G-Good...mhm..."

Your arms snaked around his neck as you started to move your hips to his hands. Your body was already burning up and weak, causing you to reach your orgasm quicker than usual. Miguel must have found this amusing since he chuckled.

"Awe, is my good girl a little more sensitive today?" He teased, his finger now inside you, curling against your gummy walls, "Don't worry, I won't tease you for long. Gotta wash you up,"

"M-Miggy~" You moaned with a cough.

Your vision was blurry enough as it was, but you could still see Miguel's loving expression. You cried out as Miguel slid his cock into your folds, starting his rough charade of thrusts. Your grip was tighter against his neck as you cried and moaned his name.

"Such a good girl, taking me in so well," Miguel grunted as he held your waist, "I'm going to take such good care of you from now on,"

"Ah~ Hah~ M-Mig~" You shivered, clenching against his dick as you cam once more. Miguel pulled you in for a kiss before giving you a load of his seed,

"You don't have anything to worry about now, (Y/N)" He said with a grunt, pressing your back against the wall as he turned the shower on now, "You're safe with me,"

"Mhm~ Y-Yes....I-I am~" You agreed, barely able to hold onto him.

Miguel realized that he was getting carried away and decided to just give you one more load of him. He grunted as he held you in place, enjoying the last of your sickly moans and whimpers. With a heavy sigh as he felt you suck his dick in, Miguel waited for him to finish cumming before pulling out.

"Mig..."

"Shh, can't waste all you're energy, baby. You still need to eat and take your medicine," Miguel said with a chuckle as he cleaned you up.

You squirmed slightly in place, muffling small whines as Miguel washed your body. His hands were still so hot compared to your burning skin. Feeling yourself being lifted, you leaned against Miguel as he carried you out of the shower.

"Don't fall asleep yet," Miguel whispered as he dried you.

"Shirt..." You pleaded.

Miguel complied and gave you one of his shirts to wear. He dressed himself once he finished with you and carried you back to the bedroom. Sitting you in his lap, Miguel helped fed you the soup and gave you the medicine.

"Get a good's night rest, (Y/N). I have a lot to tell you tomorrow." Miguel whispered as he kissed your head.

"Ni...ght."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

next chapter (final)

@migueloharacumslut @18lkpeters @deputy-videogamer @leahnicole1219 @synamonthy @thedevax @jolynesposts @thraetor @freehentai @2099hitmylineyline @vvampir3s @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @secretadmirerisnowonline @jadeloverxd @bunnibitez @oharasfilipinawife @randomgoosegame @lilbanas @daisy-artfield @axi-moore @mimiemie @darkfairy102190 @jazzyj1011 @mcmiracles @innercreationflower @spoderssimp @thel0velykey190 @moonvoidpng @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @scaleniusrm @love4saturn @nyxgoddessofchaos13 @slutty-chronicles @ghstypaint @migueloharastruelove @brainmatterdump @a060403 @trendyharold @yannauauau @kimivixen @angel-xx-1 @nxrdamp @miguelzslvtz @lynxslokley @wafflefries786 @pochapo @what-the-jams @flaps200 @ii-angelsrolltheireyes-ii @nakimushiohime @tojishugetiddies @aya-world @supercowgirl04 @mysteris-things @daisy-artfield @mcmiracles @alexa4040 @llama--drama @kpopscoups17130000 @havkjhdecs @ruexvn @tojishugetiddi @openup-yourmind @black-swan-blog27 @xstarsdiary @kiddisquacking @gachagator @yujyujj @emmyrxx @blackteamint @sockears @black-swan-blog27 @soraya-daydreams @byjessicalotufo @nanoinn @bunnibitez @aockskcw @l3laze @dimitri-needs-therapy

[witchezandwonderz]

Letters in the Dark

Pairing: Aegon x Reader

Summary: Aegon finds a deep connection with someone through meaningful letters...

You voted for fluffy Aegon so here he is, loud and proud- likes, reblogs and comments are unbelievably appreciated x

The sound of steel clashing echoed faintly from the practice yards as she balanced a basket of freshly pressed linens on her hip. Being a seamstress in the Red Keep wasn’t a glamorous job, but it was steady work. Most days, she spent her hours stitching hems or patching cloaks torn by reckless knights.

Every day was just as busy as the previous, and Y/N was overwhelmed with tiredness and stress, for there was an upcoming event in which Queen Alicent had ordered her to ensure that the entire families clothes were perfection; this meant that her working day was even longer than usual.

Finally arriving at her quarters, she practically ran into the room and shut the giant door firmly behind her, pressing her back against the closed door and fluttering her eyes shut, briefly, taking a deep breath and appreciating a moment of silence.

When reopening her eyes, a stained piece of parchment that peeked through the gap under the door caught her eye. She squinted and bent her body in an attempt to gain a clearer view of the parchment.

"How curious." She whispered to herself as she moved closer- she barely spoke to other humans, or, more so, other humans did not speak to her, let alone send her letters. She reached out and gently guided it from underneath the door, being delicate in the hopes that it would not rip.

She unfolded it carefully, her brow furrowing as she read the neat but bold handwriting:

“To the one who works in silence, You must find your days tiresome, toiling away beneath the weight of others’ expectations. But remember this: no matter how unseen you may feel, your hands create things of worth. And that is more than enough.”

Y/N blinked. She read the words again, her mind racing. Who would send this to me? There was no signature, no name, only the mysterious words that somehow seemed to see her, to understand the exhaustion that clung to her bones. She shook her head. Strange.

Y/N found the letter strange, but she found the meaning even more curious- how did this person know of her feelings? How did this person know of her loneliness? Of her sadness? Of her longing to be noticed? She decided to reply- perhaps too quickly, indeed.

Excited by the circumstance, she quickly grabbed a fresh piece of parchment and a quill, frantically and carelessly dunked it into a pot of ink and began writing.

“To the one who writes in shadows, Your words are a rarity, a gift I did not expect. I often feel like a mere shadow, unseen in the vast halls of the Keep, and yet your letter spoke to something within me. It’s not often that I am reminded that my work, though unnoticed, matters.

I do not know who you are, nor do I know your intentions, but for once, your words have brought me a small comfort amidst the chaos. I wonder, does anyone ever truly see the ones who serve without question? You have, and for that, I thank you.

Yet, I must ask, who are you? And why do you choose to write to me, of all people? I will wait for an answer—though I do not expect one. Until then, The One Who Works in Silence."

She was aware of the difference in length between the two letters, that being that hers was significantly longer than the original senders- but she did not care. This was the first time in years that someone had spoken to her- really spoken to her. Y/N was beginning to think that she was seen as a walking piece of machinery at this point.

Unfortunately, she did not know where to send the letter too- so- she decided to put it in the exact spot where she had found the original note, in the hopes that the sender would return to find it. Y/N wedged the note in between the door and allowed herself to fall into a peaceful slumber, imagining all of the possibilities of whom would be writing to her.

Once waking at the crack of dawn, as usual, Y/N would normally get dressed immediately in preparation for her daily duties. On this occasion, however, her mind automatically flew straight to the prior nights events- the letter. She sprang out of her small, uncomfortable bed and lightly ran to the door- the cold floor boards stinging her bare feet as she moved. If she was completely honest, she did not actually expect the person in question to have responded within a mere night time.

Y/N bent down so that she was held up by her knees, and peered down through the gap in the door. She felt disappointment cloud her as she saw that her parchment was still in the exact spot where she had left it. Nonetheless, she looked closer, just in case. When noticing that the parchment was a slightly darker shade of beige, she smiled to herself. She was mistaken, for it was not her note. They had replied.

Y/N's hands trembled as she reached for the note, her fingertips brushing against the slightly rough parchment. She could not help but feel worried, for a secret exchanging of notes with a stranger may be seen as an act of traitorous events, in the eyes of the King, Aegon. She shook her head at the thought- she did have a habit of overthinking. For a moment, she simply held it, staring at the folded edges and the small blot of ink that marred the corner—proof of its hurried creation.

She sat back down on her bed, swiftly and quietly- the walls were thin and she did not want to wake anyone near. Carefully unfolding the parchment, she sat back slightly in an attempt to seek better comfort from her cold sheets.

"To the One Who Works in Silence, You searched for my reply, and here it is. I must confess, your response lingered in my mind long after I first read it. I am both glad and uneasy that my words have found their mark. Glad, because you deserve to know how deeply you are valued, and uneasy, because I fear my own words may fail to convey the truth of what I feel.

You ask why I write to you, and I wonder if I can provide an answer that satisfies us both. It began with admiration, perhaps—your quiet diligence caught my eye long before I found the courage to put quill to parchment. But it did not stop there. I saw a beauty in you, not just in your face, which holds a grace unmatched in these stone halls, but in the way you move, the way you dedicate yourself to your craft without seeking applause or acknowledgment.

You intrigue me, and I cannot help but feel drawn to know you more. In a world where so many feign sincerity, you seem so utterly and beautifully real. That is why I write to you. That is why I hope you will not turn away from my letters, though they come from someone you cannot yet see.

As to who I am, I am bound by duty and expectation. My name carries weight, and with it, chains I cannot yet escape. I will not lie to you—there may come a time when I must reveal my identity, but for now, I ask you to see me through my words.

Yours, with all honesty, The One Who Sees You."

Y/N felt her cheeks burn hotter and hotter as she read the letter, she read it once, and then twice, and then a third time. She wanted to find a deeper meaning, she wanted to know who this admirer was.

As to who I am, I am bound by duty and expectation. My name carries weight, and with it, chains I cannot yet escape.

So, whoever this is, is someone with a title- someone with a title who resides within the red keep, or at least is extremely close with someone who resides in the red keep. But who? It could not be the King, despite her hopes that it would be. Perhaps Aemond? She shook the thought away, for she had indeed met Aemond many a time, but in every one of their encounters he had offended her in one way or another. Y/N let out a deep sigh, for all she could think about was the fact that a man, for the first time in her life, regards her as beautiful.

The next few weeks involved many letters indeed, sad ones, happy ones, angry ones, emotional ones, you name it- there was a letter for it. Y/N felt naïve, but she honestly felt like she was in love with this secret person- she had never revealed so much of her life, of her emotions. Similarly, she had never experienced anyone being so open and honest with her, either. She burned with desire- all she wanted to know was who it was.

As always, she sat on the end of her bed re reading the previous letter that he had sent during the night.

A quiet knock on the door interrupted her deep and chaotic thoughts. Y/N cleared her throat and flung her sheet over the note before calling "come in."

The door opened and with that, the King's mother, Alicent, entered the room. Y/N had always quite liked Alicent- she was good to her. Especially when Y/N had been sent there to work when she was a child; Alicent saw that it was wrong, to have a child as a servant, so, arranged for Y/N to be taught how to make clothing. Hence, why Y/N was now the lead clothing maker for Kings Landing.

Alicent smiled brightly at Y/N. "Y/N, you are late." She said, walking further into the room, her smile now fading. "Get dressed, I need your help with the finishing touches for the banquet." Alicent barely looked at her, clearly riddled with stress about the anticipated events.

"I will wait for you outside, hurry up!" Alicent called out, before walking out of the room and pulling the door shut. Y/N let out a deep sigh, for all she could think about was the fact that a man, for the first time in her life, regards her as beautiful.

She quickly got dressed, laced up her boots and tucked the letter into a draw, where she kept all of the accumulated confessions. She sighed, realising that she would not have enough time to write a letter back, she would have to wait until she is released back to her room to get ready for the banquet. Never mind.

Moments later, Y/N followed Alicent out into the hallway. The queen walked briskly, her gown sweeping the stone floors. Y/N tried to match her pace, though her thoughts strayed again to the mysterious writer, as they always did.

As they turned a corner, the two nearly collided with Aegon, who stopped abruptly, a startled look flashing across his face.

“Mother,” he greeted, his usual nonchalance missing entirely. His hands twitched at his sides, and his gaze flicked nervously to Y/N before darting away just as quickly.

“Aegon,” Alicent said sharply, crossing her arms. “Shouldn’t you be preparing yourself?”

“I—yes,” he stammered, his usual glib tone replaced by something softer, almost uncertain. “I was… just heading there.”

Y/N curtsied quickly, her eyes fixed on the floor. “My King.”

Aegon’s response came slower than usual, his voice quieter. “Y/N.” The way he said her name sent a ripple through her chest. She dared a glance up, meeting his eyes for a moment before he looked away again, his cheeks tinged with a faint pink. She felt awful- she had always taken a liking to Aegon, but she had a lover now- well, technically anyway and loyalty meant everything to her.

Alicent sighed. “Come, Y/N. We have no time to waste.” She moved forward, but Y/N lingered half a step behind, waiting for Aegon to move aside.

He hesitated, his hand twitching slightly as though he wanted to reach for something—or someone. As Y/N stepped forward, his fingers brushed lightly against the back of her hand, barely a touch, but enough to send a shiver down her spine. Her head snapped towards him in confusion, but he had already begun walking away.

To Y/N's surprise, Alicent stopped suddenly, in turn nearly causing Y/N to topple over. Alicent turned instantly, calling after Aegon once again. "Actually, I have changed my mind, Aegon!" Her voice carried loudly and echoed throughout the stone walls. Aegon hesitated before stopping and turning back, causing Alicent to speak once more. "I think you should do your fitting with Y/N now, there may need to be some finishing touches."

Y/N panicked, she did not expect to have to see Aegon so soon after the awkward, yet satisfying slight moment of intimacy.

"Now?" He asked, his eyes looking around him. Alicent nodded. "Yes. Is there a problem?"

Aegon shook his head before walking towards the pair. Alicent gave them both a curt nod before turning on her heel and walking briskly down the corridor, her gown flowing behind her like a banner.

Y/N and Aegon looked at each other blankly for a moment before Y/N decided to fill the awkward silence. "This way, your Grace." She flashed him a small, nervous smile, before using her arm to gesture down the hall.

Aegon did not speak, and one of Y/N's downfalls, she thought, was that she was incapable of allowing a silence- she just had to fill it, always.

"My apologies, your Grace, as this may sound out of my bounds but all of my things are kept in my room." She breathed, as they walked briskly down the empty halls. "Would you mind doing the fitting in there? Or would you prefer me to gather the things and do-"

Her words were interrupted.

"Your room will be fine." Her head snapped up at him, but he was looking at the ground once more. She did not respond with words, but instead hummed quietly.

Y/N’s nerves thrummed in her chest as they reached her modest quarters. Her hand trembled slightly as she opened the door, stepping aside to let Aegon enter first. He hesitated for a moment, then crossed the threshold, his movements awkward and uncharacteristically cautious.

“Please, your Grace,” she said, gesturing towards the small space. “It’s not much, but it should suffice.”

Aegon nodded, his eyes sweeping over the room, taking in the neatly folded fabrics, spools of thread, and tools that spoke to her craft. He seemed strangely out of place, his royal attire a stark contrast to the simplicity of her surroundings.

Y/N busied herself at her work table, retrieving the measurements and pins she would need. The silence stretched between them, heavy and oppressive. She chanced a glance at him, only to find him staring at her with an expression she couldn’t quite place.

“Your Grace?” she prompted, her voice soft.

He blinked, as though snapping out of a trance. “Yes, of course,” he said hurriedly, stepping onto the small platform she had indicated.

Y/N approached him cautiously, draping the cloak over his shoulders. Her fingers brushed against his neck as she adjusted the fabric, and she felt him stiffen slightly under her touch.

“I trust the preparations are to your liking, my King?” she asked, trying to keep her tone professional despite the fluttering in her chest.

“Yes,” he replied, though his voice was quieter than usual. He shifted his weight, his hands fidgeting at his sides. “You’ve always done excellent work, Y/N.”

The use of her name, spoken so gently, made her pause. She looked up at him, her brows furrowing in slight confusion. “Thank you, your Grace,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aegon opened his mouth to speak, and then quickly closed it again. Seemingly having changed his mind, it opened once more.

"Y/N, I know about the letters."

Y/N felt her heart leap in her chest, and her eyes visibly widened. She told herself to calm down, and act natural.

"I am unsure of what you mean, your Grace." She breathed, busying herself with a needle. Aegon let out a sigh. "It is ok Y/N I know everything." He said calmly. Y/N unhooked the needle from the garment and looked at him. "I am sorry, your Grace." Her words left her mouth unbelievably quietly- almost a whisper, although she had not intended them too.

Aegon's eyes softened. "Why are you sorry?" He asked, but before giving her a chance to answer, he spoke once more. "It is me that should apologise. You have been speaking with me." He stated, he had not intended for the confession to be so sudden, and so blunt at that. Y/N's brows furrowed in confusion, it couldn't have been him all along- the King himself?

Aegon could sense Y/N's inability to find the correct words, so took the chance to explain himself further. "I have never felt so close to someone, Y/N, these past few weeks have been." He paused, and then smiled. "They have been so enjoyable, getting to know you. You are the only person that has ever truly listened to me, the real me."

“You?” she whispered, her voice almost inaudible. “You’re the one who’s been writing to me?”

Aegon nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on hers, vulnerable yet unflinching. “I am,” he said simply, his tone earnest. “It was selfish, perhaps, to write to you as I did. To let you share so much of yourself with me without revealing who I was. But I couldn’t stop. Your words—they were like a light in a very dark place.”

Y/N opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Aegon took a hesitant step forward, closing the gap between them. His presence was overwhelming, but she couldn’t bring herself to move away.

“I know it must come as a shock,” he continued, his voice quieter now, almost tender. “But everything I wrote, every word, was true. I meant it all. And more.”

Y/N looked up at him, eyes wide, like a deer caught in headlights. "I meant everything too." Aegon instantly relaxed at her words, almost as if all he needed was the slight indication that she was not too disheartened with discovering that it was him.

"From the moment that I saw you, I felt close to you. This may sound, slightly strange, but the words that we have exchanged have caused me to develop deep affections for you." His eyes, that were firmly gazed into hers, now fell to the floor.

Her breath caught in her throat. “Your Grace…”

“Aegon,” he corrected gently, his hand covering hers fully now. “Please, just Aegon."

Aegon’s gaze flicked down to her lips, his breath uneven as though caught between anticipation and restraint. “May I?” he asked, his voice trembling with uncharacteristic shyness.

Y/N nodded, her cheeks warming as she tilted her head slightly.

He leaned in, his movements slow and deliberate, as though giving her every chance to pull away. When their lips finally met, it was soft, hesitant, and achingly sweet. The kiss was not one of fiery passion, but of quiet devotion, a promise that words could never fully convey.

When they parted, Aegon pressed a small kiss to her forehead, his mouth then curving into a shy smile.

"I want you to be my wife, Y/N." He admitted, looking deep into her soul once again. Y/Ns heart panged, for she wanted to marry him, of course she did- but she knew that it was not possible.

"Aegon." She whispered. "I love you." Y/N leant up and pressed a lingering kiss to his lips. "But, we would never be accepted." She bit her lip slightly.

Aegon shrugged. "Accepted by who?" He asked, a smirk now creeping onto his expression.

Y/N playfully rolled her eyes. "Your mother, for one, your sister, your brother, the whole of Westeros? I started as a servant, Aegon." Y/N rambled, panic arising within her at the thought of potential judgement. Aegon watched her with amusement.

"I am the King, Y/N. You may have been a servant once, but not now. You will be the Queen." His fingers intertwined with hers.

Y/N sighed. "You really think that it is this simple, don't you?" She too now held a small smile on her face. Aegon mimicked her expression before placing a kiss on her nose.

"I have spent my reign thus far, terrified that my mother will force me to marry a random woman. I have finally found love, a woman who I actually see myself having a future with." His hands now found the back of her hair, as he pulled her close and embraced her in a hug.

"I will not let you go now."

[phoenixblaze1412]

Heyy may I request dottore with a very sleepy (Fem/gn)Reader who always struggles with nightmares and staying awake

(idk what to do against my sleepiness :<)

Dottore, being a man of science, a doctor himself, has seen people go through various things. Whether it be painful to the person physically, mentally, or emotionally- he has seen it all. Even done it to others.

But when it comes to you, he wouldn't dare put you through that pain nor stress. So when he noticed something weird about your behavior. He has to know why.

Observation is always the first step a researcher must do in order to gather data. With his clipboard in hand, he watched you move around his office.

Subject: Y/N

Observations:

- Subject shows signs of lack of sleep due to the bags under their eyes.

- Subject has a hard time doing their assigned tasks; lack of focus, sluggish movements, constant yawning.

- When the Theta segment recommended them to sleep, subject reacted anxiously before declining their suggestion and stating they don't need it. Subject seems to be scared. Possibility that the subject is afraid of sleeping or something related to sleep?

Comments:

- Subject does not want to sleep due to something that is giving them constant fear. Best to question them on why they do not wish to sleep for almost a week now. Another solution is to give them a sedative that could help them recover the rest they needed.

After reviewing his notes for a second time and making sure he got everything, Dottore went off to find you.

"Darling?"

You hummed in reply, your tired eyes looking up at your partner. Dottore could only sigh when he saw the bags under your eyes becoming more worse by the day.

"Is there a reason on why you do not wish to slumber? I have noticed how you're struggling to even move around or speak due to your lack of rest. I suggest you tell me why, I'm beginning to worry that you might hurt yourself due to your fatigued mind."

You didn't give any replies, embarrassed about your reason. Already knowing that avoiding sleep would be pointless and the fatigue would catch up to you sooner. Your state couldn't even go unnoticed by the doctor himself.

So... how would you tell Dottore that you can't sleep due to your nightmares? Childish as it may, the constant horrific dreams you've been getting each day was the reason why you didn't bother to go back to sleep. Not even a wink or shuteye.

Without further delay, you decided to tell Dottore. The harbinger himself listening to every word, processing, even coming up with various solutions to at least comfort you. It's not really in his nature to do the latter but for you, he would do anything.

"Nightmares? And what, pray tell, are you having nightmares about? Is it due to the screams of the test subjects in their cells? The 'grotesque' view that others would find whenever I am in the middle of an experiment?"

Though the words he used may sound cold and blunt, the hand rubbing your head gave enough warmth and comfort. Dottore prefers to say things whatever it is.

What's the point of sugar-coating the truth when it's already in front of you, afterall? That is what Dottore would think.

Nevertheless, his actions does speak more than his words. He led you to sit on the couch he has in his office, letting you lean onto him as he gently pulled you by the waist to be closer to him while he listened to you vent out your nightmarish dreams.

"Is that so? I have a few suggestions that can be of help to you, darling. You see, I have concocted a little sedative, one that can easily make you fall asleep for.. let's say maybe twenty-four to thirty-six hours. Just enough to recover the rest you needed. I also have melatonin that could help you fall asleep. Hm.. maybe we should use them as a last resort."

Dottore had to be reminded that you cannot sleep due to your nightmares. Which caused him to stop in his rambles before crossing out the ideas he suggested.

He may have gotten a bit carried away.

You couldn't be upset at him, he is trying his best. It's the littlest things that matters, after all. Besides, he's never been in a serious relationship with anyone until you came into his life and you're probably the only one insane enough to even date the second harbinger.

"How about.. you sleep with me? You could use the rest too and I need someone to cuddle with so I don't get any nightmares."

"Cuddle? Darling, I am a doctor, a scientist. I may know the benefits of physical contact, hugging to be exact, to a person but I am not one to do such a thing--"

Dottore could even finish his sentence when you were already clinging onto him. Like a newborn to their parent, your arms were wrapped around the doctor's neck as you cuddled up to him. Said doctor could only lay stiffly on the couch, he really doesn't know what to do, you even pinned him down to the furniture and got into a position where you both would be comfortable. His fingers were twitching to flip the positions, with you laying on the couch instead so he could return to his work.

But you felt so warm and soft and so vulnerable even--

No. Bad. Keep yourself in check, Dottore.

"If you don't want to cuddle then it's alright. I can go back to my room."

Before you could even move away, Dottore kept you in place. His arms circling around your waist to keep you from getting out of his hold as he leaned his chin on top of your head. Luckily he wasn't wearing his mask or else it could have poked your eye.

"If this will be of help to let you sleep easier without anymore nightmares then go on ahead. You do know that the brain could eat itself if it lacks sleep for a long time."

You could only laugh in amusement at the information. Dottore would always tell science facts here and there whenever he is doing something very affectionately. It's an easy way to hide how flustered he is.

Your eyes started to feel heavy as you nuzzled more into Dottore's warmth. You felt something soft pressed against your forehead along with a small hum from the man holding you, causing you to smile as you slowly entered a deep slumber. Dottore's words being the last thing that you hear before entering your dreamland, this time, no more nightmares.

"Go to sleep now, darling. I'll be here till you wake up. I won't leave you alone with your nightmares this time."

[mrpenguinpants]

Pale Blue Slumber [ Commissioned ]

[ Hello hello hellooooo, I was wondering if you could do hcs for Ayato x reader where the reader is constantly sleepy/sleep deprived and has a habit of falling asleep whenever, whether that be while standing up in the middle of a date or just straight up in the middle of battle ]

Word Count: 1.7k

Alhaitham Ver: Green Slumber  [Masterlist]

I nearly missed this if kofi didn't spam you with 10 emails. But thank you so much for the commission! I looked at it and almost didn't believe my eyes lol. Please let me know if I accidentally went under the word count.

If you see a sleeping figure slouched in the middle of the hallway, don't approach them and alert Lord Kamisato immediately. It's a saying that's been instilled into the estate and something every worker is told on their first day. Although the language used makes it sound like there's a dark secret that the Kamisato family is trying to hide. Perhaps a dangerous yokai or evil curse has been placed, and they don't want anyone to know? It would explain why Ayato has managed to rise and maintain his position as the Yahiro Commissioner despite being so young. Whispers and rumors bounce between the paper walls as people speculate just what this mysterious "sleeping figure" is and why Ayato alone can deal with the situation. Yet the answer is lackluster when they find out that it's just his lover who, once again, has fallen asleep standing up.

The image of the Yashiro Commissioner carrying a limp body in his arms is slowly becoming a regular occurrence and less of a cause for concern. The first couple of times, people rushed with medical supplies only to be met with a sharp eye and an equally scary smile for them to please quiet down lest they wake up the sleeping figure in his arms. Now people will quiet down once they recognize your hair and that it's you Ayato is carrying, and he offers them a nod of thanks. That's not to say the whispers stop because as soon as they see Ayato turns the corner, they're back to gossiping and gushing over how cute the image looks. The graceful and refined Yashiro Commissioner becomes a soft and kind family man as he cradles you back into a quiet room to sleep in. It doesn't matter how busy or stressed Ayato is, when someone alerts him that the "sleeping figure" has "returned", he'll politely excuse himself and leave. Any complaints are ignored that it would have to take the Shogun herself to make Ayato sit for a second longer. But only for a second.

You can't explain why you're constantly sleepy or why you will suddenly fall asleep whenever no matter the circumstances. Ayato likes to compare your sleepy nature to Sayu, but he does try his best to accommodate you despite his busy schedule. He knows that you get a bit insecure about your habit, so he tries not to draw too much attention to it when the moments happen. He remembers the early days when you and he were just acquaintances, and you fell asleep on him mid-sentence. The young Ayato has no idea what to do with someone who just fell asleep in the middle of a serious conversation that he thought you died from the pressure. It caused quite a commotion that Ayato still likes to bring up just to see you get embarrassed. But now, if you fall asleep mid-step, he'll easily scoop you up in his arms and carry on as if nothing has happened. If you happen to fall asleep mid-sentence, he'll gently lean you against his shoulder and continue your sentence. If anyone tries to ask why you've suddenly fallen asleep, he'll pretend that he has no idea what they're talking about. The person nestled into his side? What do you mean they fell asleep in the middle of eating? You must be mistaken because they've been asleep the entire time.

Due to your sleepy nature, you're constantly in a drowsy state. While Ayato finds you adorable, it also means you have absolutely no filter. Sometimes he thinks you do it on purpose because of how easily you can write off your mumbles as the aftermath of dreams. Saying the first thing that comes to mind only to pass out the next second and leaving him to deal with the embarrassing consequences. It doesn't help that Ayato is usually the first thing you see when you wake up, and regardless of how your eyelids droop halfway, he's pretty. Really pretty. It takes a clumsy hand to reach up, cup his cheek to pull him into a soft kiss, a remark that he's the prettiest person you've ever seen, before promptly passing out again. You aren't awake for the aftermath of a pink-faced Ayato desperately trying to reign in his racing heartbeat and Yae Miko snickering at him.

On the rare occasions that you're more awake and energized, you'll seek Ayato out yourself. It's always an endearing sight to see Ayato's usually calm demeanor turn elated when it's you that pops your head through the sliding door. Shyly asking if he wants to go out for lunch as if he'll say no to you of all people. Although Ayato is a person that does not like to show his face in public often, that doesn't mean he won't find any opportunity to take you out on these special days. Any concerns about his overbearing work are easily brushed aside. His work will be there when he returns. You, on the other hand, might not even be conscious enough to see the papers. He gets a huffy scoff and a gentle swat on the arm before you take his hand and pull your teasing man along. He ensures he has an arm wrapped around your waist, gently squeezing you into his side while you prattle on about how cute Taroumaru has gotten.

While Ayato and the staff have gotten used to your habits, that can't be said for everyone else. When you suddenly slump forward, quickly caught by Ayato's hand so you don't fall face-first into your food, Kiminami nearly passes out in fright that she might have accidentally killed Lord Kamisato's lover with her food. She has no idea if Ayato's smile and wave are a sign of reckoning and that is a signal that he's going to send someone to kill her later. It takes an hour, and even Thoma arrives to calm the poor girl that no, she didn't accidentally food poison anyone, and yes, this is a regular occurrence so please stop crying-

That's not to say every instance is funny. You are his lover and if there were numerous assassinations against him in the past and present, that means they'll eventually turn to you. Regardless if you're aware or not, he has his men trail after you silently to ensure your safety. So when Sayu nearly barrels into him to report that there's been a fight and you're in the middle of it, he can feel his blood turn cold as he rushes to the scene. His hand itching against the hilt of his sword as he follows Sayu into a clearing. Only to find you propped up against a spear, passed out in the aftermath of a battle unharmed. Like your body auto-piloted your slumbering self and parked itself directly in the middle of battle just to give him a heart attack. It takes a nudge at his leg from Sayu to snap him out of his stupor before he lets out a sigh that sounds older than him before he walks and collects you back into his arms. The comforting weight and warm body against his settle his heart just enough that he can think properly over his heartbeat. If his work doesn't kill him, you sure will.

Ayato stays behind the scenes for a reason. He knows your body can fall asleep at a drop of a hat regardless if your mind actually wants you to. There's a reason why you're not allowed in the kitchen regardless if Thoma is there with you. There's a reason why Ayato is the only one allowed to carry you back regardless if Ayaka finds you first. There is a reason why there is a rule set in place for no one to approach you. On one busy occasion, a stranger spotted you leaning against a wooden beam with papers for the Iradori festival in your hands. It made for a bit of a funny sight with how you managed to support yourself upright while also clutching flimsy papers was a mystery. But no one seemed to be waking you up and you were standing in the middle of the street. The stranger tries to call out to you but receives no reaction so he does the logical thing and reaches out to shake you awake. Too many things happen within the span of a few seconds. A male voice yells out for them to not touch you, the stranger's fingertips barely brushing against your shoulders before they're pushed to the ground.

When you first wake up, there are a couple of expectations you expect to see. Whether it be a ceiling, blankets, or the side of your pillow. It's always something constant that grounds you back into reality. Unfortunately the habit of falling asleep whenever your body feels like it has you waking up in unfamiliar places that your flight or fight instincts kick in before your mind even has time to see properly. So in order to combat this, Ayato has now become your constant. When you wake up to pale blue, you know you are safe. Yet when you wake up this time, it's too noisy and there's a stranger in front of you. So you do the first thing your mind registers and it's to run. Run to someone who has pale skin, light purple eyes, and pale blue hair. Thoma tries to call after you but when you don't turn around at his familiar voice, he lightly curses under his breath before turning towards the Kamisato estate.

It doesn't take long for Ayato to find you. He always seems to know where you are and he's always the first one you see. Pale blue hair contrasts the purple background with a kind smile to ease your heart back down to its regular pace. He can tell you're exhausted, more so than usual, as he tenderly brushes your hair out of your face. Fingers brushing aside the leaves and dirt that got tangled into the strands before dipping to rub circles into your back. Another hand comes under your knees and carefully lifts you up, tucking you under his chin as Ayato makes the trek back to the estate. The quiet command to sleep makes your eyelids droop again before finally closing peacefully. Your mind finally accepts it's safe again to sleep against pale blue.

---

[taglist]  <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

@letthewindlead @kluvr0 @k1y0kosdiary @genshins1mpact @creatorofstars @xoneaboveallx @timmyitsmeeee @raingoesboomboom @duhsies @thegayrubberducky @isa-solasun @afoxesgreed @yuuki4646 @angel-luv-04 @inlovewithwaffles @maddymints09 @moonssandstars @ieathairs @crypticbibliophile @cumbermovels  @totallynotaraidensimp @yurika1016

[somuchforsnakes]

Bionicle's Bohrok were one of the first antagonists in the theme, yet it's incredible how their designs nailed their characterization and story role while being unique. Let's analyze them all, for they must be analyzed.

In my review of Friends' Leo, I stressed the importance of communicating character and story role efficiently and effectively in a toy, since you can't guarantee that everyone will read the supplementary material before or after buying it. This is also true for the Bohrok, but their story isn't about baking and soccer games.

The Bohrok are a hive of powerful, fearless and mysterious machines built long ago, kept in a deep slumber underground. When awoken, they swarm the surface and destroy everything, per their directive to "clean it all" (The Bohrok aren't truly evil, it's just that our heroes count as "all" right now). There's no use appealing to emotions or morals, since the Bohrok have neither. While the story's main protagonists can disarm a few Bohrok at a time, their weapons can't stop the whole swarm.

Aside from a few technicalities, this is a typical "alien invasion" story, so the Bohrok need designs befitting an invading force. They need to instill fear and look unfamiliar, but they should also have an interesting thematic throughline. On top of that, the Bohrok need to look distinct from other monsters in fiction and unmistakably belong to Bionicle. How did the designers solve these dilemmas?

Like many sci-fi and horror creatures, the Bohrok's designs draw from a classic well of inspiration: the arthropods. Basing a design on something so different from humans is a convenient way to instill unfamiliarity and fear (it's partly why more people fear spiders than deer, who have a much higher body count). The Bohrok don't draw from a single creepy crawly, though: they have sturdy, compact bodies reminiscent of beetles, the cast structure of termites (two monarchs, a wealth of soldiers, and diminutive helpers), powers that evoke the roles of eusocial insects in an exaggerated way, a hive similar to a bee's, the ability to curl into a ball like a woodlouse, big eyes and sharp mandibles.

The Bohrok also deviate from their inspirations as much as they borrow: they're bipedal, they have two body segments, and they lack many of the trademark body parts of an arthropod, such as wings, antennae and stingers. Altogether, the Bohrok's designs are hard to pin down - they're not quite animals, but not humanlike either - and that ups their fear factor (their sharp shape language also helps). Their inscrutable faces sell their lack of individual thought and makes it even harder to relate to them.

This may not have been intentional, but one of my favorite details about this character design is how it plays with our tendency to look for eyes first. Since the standard Bohrok silhouette is bipedal, I was conditioned to find the Bohrok's eyes near the top of its head, but this failed me since I just saw their clear head-plates. Those teardrop-shaped parts next to the mandibles are their actual eyes. Even if this misdirect lasted for a few seconds, it left a distinct impression on me.

Nailing the fundamentals is all well and good, but I could have used those earlier paragraphs to describe a lot of monsters. What makes the Bohrok so special? The answers lie in what made Bionicle so special in its early years: the focus on combat and the masks.

You may have noticed that beneath the Bohrok's head-plates lie rubbery, face-like things: those are krana, the brains of the Bohrok and their only piece of organic tissue. This exposed brain serves as both ghastly imagery and a play function: press down on the Bohrok's eyes and the krana jumps out. If it finds its way on a character's head, they become part of the swarm.

Mind control and assimilation are two other classic sci-fi conventions, conveyed beautifully by the krana forcibly replacing the victim's mask, the window into their character. Combined with how they don't quite fit their victims' heads, you know something isn't right when a character is wearing one of these.

Since both the traditional masks and the krana are designed to be knocked off in battle and the Bohrok can attack using their gear functions, the intended story can unfold naturally through play. Children could easily invent stories where a Bohrok emerges and it's too powerful, and uh-oh, one of the heroes has become corrupted! They can pit heroes against heroes, or maybe the villagers find their own way to stop a Bohrok. Sure enough, these possibilities are explored in supplementary material.

It's no easy feat to make a design's inspiration and role clear while also respecting its mystery, but the Bohrok stick the landing. While the tropes they pay homage to are familiar, they put a Bionicle spin on them. They truly earned their status as one of Bionicle's most iconic antagonists.

Author's note: Thanks for reading my second analysis! Going from minidolls to Technic creatures was a weird transition, but I'm glad I chose these bonkle bugs as my first non-minifig, non-minidoll subject. Brushing up on the lore was a ride.

I probably won't analyze another Bionicle character for a while, though, as I want to represent a wide variety of themes on this blog. Still, I appreciate recommendations and feedback.

If you're wondering about the Friends cast in that last picture: originally I planned to showcase the Bohrok's play features through a Nuhvok invading Heartlake City and destroying stuff, but I thought it would be more fitting to use its home series' media to prove my points. Plus, I forgot just how small typical LEGO characters were to the Bohrok. I still wanted to include something featuring them, so here's Autumn and pals dismantling it. Careful with that krana!

[undermine-the-instinct]

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝑳𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝑮𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝑯𝒆𝒓𝒆 (Then I Intend)

Sesshoumaru x reader Part ||

Masterlist.../ Previous part.../ Next part....

Summary: The Lord Daiyokai often shuts you up in an inn, every few days of the month, for the demons that are attracted to your bloodscent. It is one of the few graces he allows. You would think its for your safety, and truly it is. Because not only do you seem to forget that he is a demon, but also a man.

Rumors of a bloodhungry demon arise, one that prowls the edges of this ghost town, devouring its residents under the shroud of moonless nights; Of which steadily approaches. Under the dark viel of a new moon, all desires will be brought to light.

Content warnings: Misogny, A LOT of it, era apropiate sexism, (physical) assault, dismemberment (a little and not reader) non graphic.

A/N: A lot of the misogyny here is just characters reiterating what women of this era were expected to do, i.e be homemakers listen to men and whatever. However, the physical assault part will be put under a bar if you need to skip.

Length: 15.8K (This one got away from me bois gn)

Part 2 of 4

What I'm trying to say is that, in this universe which sculpted itself from a baptism of fire, I am the moon swept up by your tendernes. You got me dreaming foreign words: gravity, ellipsis, perigee, until all i can think about is becoming ancored into orbit around the saltwater green landscape of your laughter.

You had another strange dream that night, when you fell asleep.

Rin fretted, so you swung between a light and deep slumber, and the images that flashed behind your eyes were strange, to say the least. The remnants you remember play like a movie.

It's dark, the cloud of your body floating away from you like a mist in the darkness. White scales glow. Another man’s voice, frantic, angry almost. A familiar blade. Tenseiga flashes like the cold white edge of the moon, and then, silence.

And then warmth.

Were you just stressed? Was your mind just filling itself with nonsense after what happened– What almost happened last night?

You’re up before the sun, dawn just a lavender-pink bruise on the horizon.

Numachi-san must still be asleep, because no one stirs as you make a pot of tea, ginseng and ginger, like the old apothecary had intended. You’re not sure if they’re meant to go together but oh well. The earthy, warm drink is also spicy, and does wonders to help finish waking you up so early.

The slightest shuffle in the dim dark, and you whirl. Your Lord steps into the foyer, and you try to ease the sudden pounding of your heart.

He lifts a hand when you bow to greet him, barely sparing a glance and striding past. The breeze of his pace cools the sweat on your brow, and you reach out.

Figuratively of course. “My Lord, would you not stop for a cup of tea? It's…ginger and ginseng. It will help reduce stress for you.”

“I am not stressed.”

“Still, it wouldn't be, uh, very good to start the day on an empty stomach, my Lord.” He turns on his heel. And in the pastel colored dawn cringing its way across the sky, his eyes almost glow. They could be glowing, for all you know. The moment feels too trepidatious to really ask.

Your voice is soft. “...What are you doing today, My Lord?”

“...It is none of your concern.”

“I’m not concerned, I'm just curious. Will you tell me?” And you step forward. Just one tiny step but he tracks it.

“The demon, stalking this village.”

“So they’re real? Not a rumour?”

“Yes. It must have some measure of strength, I intend to test it.” A hand on his blade, not Tenseiga. That is for emergencies.

“So that's why you’re gone throughout the day. Are we... Will we see you at dinner?” He sighs harshly, suddenly, and turns where the foyer leads to the front doors.

“What is the point? Does it bring you some added comfort, my presence?”

“Yes, it does.” He meant that rhetorically, or sarcastically, you only realize. And you answered far too honestly. You backtrack.

“And Rin, too, as well. It would do her some good to know that you are still around. The last time she saw you was early morning yesterday; You leave signs of yourself even when we are on our travels, so I suspect she’s worried. And, that that's why she had a nightmare.” You wring your hands, you’re babbling too much.

Why are you nervous…? This isn’t new territory, not really.

There's always been some odd kind of tension between you and the Lord, even if you were hesitant to call it so. He’s been more lenient though hasn’t he? Besides the night before. He doesn’t really force you to walk on foot anymore when you forgo honorifics, and he’ll just ignore you when you get too obnoxious. Nothing crazy, but he’s already used to you!

You always just figured he wasn't used to company before, especially one such as yours, and there has always been some feelings of safety and attraction on your end. He is rather beautiful, though you wouldn't call yourself vain. Yesterday just breathed to life the embers that have been left smoldering for too long. 

Above all, you just want things to flow naturally.

He sighs. “You so readily coddle the child.”

“Should children not be coddled?”

“No.” He pivots, eyes eerie and pointed. “How will she survive, if you spoil her so?” 

“That is different, she is a child, and the adults have the responsibility to care for and protect her. That is different from coddling.”

“That sounds exactly like it.”

“But it's not. She is still being taught what she needs to learn. And if you're so against this ‘coddling’, why did you let me leave to take care of her last night?”

And just like that, the breath in the room is sucked away at the slightest mention. Sesshoumaru goes still, still in that way that reminds you that yeah, this isn't a human. He isn’t a bomb, steadily ticking towards explosion. No, he’s a mountain, a breath away from a landslide.

But he doesn't say anything. The way he looks at you seems to be daring you to make mention of that again, and you’re not sure that that is such a good idea anymore.

“...It's just…she's a child, and I believe all children deserve a happy childhood and… I'm just eager to please her, My Lord.”

“And not I?” You both catch that at the same time, because when your eyes meet, you see the slightest, just the slightest  shock in them. A reprimand, for himself.

Huh.

He clicks his tongue, sharp and flat. “Nevermind. You are–”

“My Lord,” You’re bold enough to cut him off, gods be damned. “I can’t even begin to imagine what I could do that would begin to please you, with our…differences. Should I start? You have to be clear with me.” You take another step closer, and when did you become so bold? His eyes flit to yours.

The silence doesn't just fall, it crashes, like a boulder landing, like a current pulling you under.

That came out… much more bold than you were intending. But you don't backtrack, you wait.

There are no distractions now.

“I ‘must be clear’, with you?” He steps forward, in that all too familiar way. It's like he’s gliding more than walking, and the proximity makes your heart pound. You hold your tea closer.

It's still a touch too warm, stinging your hands, but it doesn't seem to affect him when he takes it from you, sets it down; With his one hand he grabs your wrist, his hand large enough to dwarf yours, a thumb pressing into the lowest thrum of your veins.

“Your pulse is quick.” He murmurs, head dipped. He’s so close to you. You drink in those regal features, the way he’s so fixed on your hands.

He rubs over your wrist, slow, deep circles that slow your heart under their prudent care. You don’t say anything, you just breathe as he works, oddly…focused.

His nails, his claws, are hued red at the points, fingers long and defined and pretty. Not soft, calloused and rough, he is a samurai…but pretty.

He moves to rub his wrist against yours, and a slight shock of static makes you jump, but he’s too close for you to get that far. Not that you want to go far. You’re reminded of when your mother would rub lotion on your hands, or scented oil into your wrists. He does it once, twice, on both wrists, sliding his skin across your wrist, the inside of your forearms, before he moves to the delicate skin behind your ear.

You laugh and jolt away. “That tickles.”

“Just stay still.”

“I’m trying.” Not hard enough, you jitter away from his touch with breathy laughter, and with a breath of a mutter he cups the back of your head, and replaces the slow drag of his wrist with his teeth.

That stills you. It's…barely a bite, what he’s doing. But his teeth are there and you’ve never felt anything so sharp so close to your neck before. You quiet, under the conscious threat of being near something so sharp. But he wouldn’t do anything.

You're 80% sure.

He murmurs against your skin. “Are you going to keep still, now?”

“Uh, yeah?” you breathe. “Your fangs are at my throat, duh.” He doesn't rise to the bait, he just drags his teeth over the soft column of your throat, his claws tangled in your hair.

“What... are you even doing?” 

He clicks his tongue, and you can almost feel the wet heat of it. “Dense as always.”

“I am not ahh-” a staggered breath, just pushing a moan of your lips when he bites down, just above your collarbone. It's gentle, not even breaking skin, and that's what surprises you.

You’re clinging onto him, you realize, strands caught between your fingers. You lean back, but there's nowhere to go between where you were and him.

He just sighs against your skin, and leans into you more, so your back is arched and you’re melded against him, like a pressed flower.  There's a rumble in his throat you can feel when you squeak. 

Well, two can play at that game.

You reach, press into him with your body and return the favor; your mouth tracts the pointed shell of his ear. When you reach the pointed end you bite down, and he jolts. He actually jolts. 

Not away, mind you. But his teeth clamp down before he moves, leaving an imprint around that plum colored bruise.

You look at each other, caught in this twilight moment. And he draws away. You want to cling, but you have your pride, and reluctantly you let him out of your hold, white strands of silk slipping through your fingers.  His face is smooth but you sense a contentment? There, the slightest sense of smug satisfaction. 

You press your fingers to the spot his teeth were in, just seconds ago, when he leaves. There, just above your collarbone. If you had a mirror you could see it, but you’re certain.  A lavender pick bruise, delightfully sore. 

You press down, hard.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Breakfast is a normal affair, or abnormal, as you were the first person up which happened almost never. Breakfast was served anyways, and it didn't take much cajoling to get Numachi-san to sit down with you again, even if she only accepted a cup of tea, which she poured herself, after she served all of you. Must be a tendency of hers.

“Hey, Numachi-san, have you lived here in this town your whole life?”

“Hm? Oh, no, I moved here when I was quite young, no older than you, actually,” she tells you as she sits. You pout a bit.

“Oh, I was going to ask you some things about the Demon haunting this place. Like whether it's been here longer than you have or something.” She looks at you oddly, with her dark bangs. Her eyes and her hair.

“They've been here a few years before I came here, and the attacks weren’t as bad. They got worse over the years. This used to be a popular spot for a resting Daimyo on their travels, as it was a good spot to rest travel wise. One was eaten though, and his entourage, that's what made people stop coming here. If even a Daimyo isn't safe, no one is. People are too poor and sentimental to move. And some others were eaten, trying. Most don't bother anymore.”

“And…yet you chose to stay? Your sons were able to leave, why didn’t you go with them after you're husband passed, since I'm sure you don't get many customers nowadays…”

“Oh, because when I do get customers, they’re amazing ones, like you honored guests! There's the occasional weary traveler–but I get monks, samurai, swordsmen, hunters looking to take down a fabled demon…those folk hardly return though.

“I…you could say, inherited this place when I came to this town, after I left my village. It was when the Daimyo had been eaten, along with the samurai who protected him and the old inn keepers. I worried it would be too hard a job for me to fix, but my sons helped me. It’s only as furbished as it is now because they helped me with the more tedious things.” She delicately raises her cup to drink.

“How helpful of them. What are your sons like, Numachi-san? They’re visiting pretty soon, right? You must miss them a lot. ” She looks up from the tea in her hands, tilts her head.

“Oh, well, yes of course…I had twin sons, one would have been ideal, but having two...You might not know but twins are an ill omen. When I gave birth…It was either leave one or be banished. So I was driven from my home, and found my way here. No one cares about ill omens in a town that's already cursed,” she shrugs. “Now I’m here.”

“You said your husband stayed with you?” Her smile turns sour.

“Well, no, he…visited. He too believed in the ill omen of twins…and he was a very reclusive person, even at his most affectionate. So the visits dwindled until…he eventually passed away.”

“I'm…so sorry for your loss?” Even though he sounds like an asshole?

“Don’t be, it's a relief in some ways...” The bitterness surprises the both of you, she pauses, and then covers her mouth in horror.

“I-I mean…It's just–”

“You...don't have to explain anything to me, Numachi-san.”

“I don't want you to think I’m ungrateful,” she presses, daring to inch closer to you. Her hands tremble.

“You’re so kind, honored guest, and I’d hate to spoil your image of me. I am grateful for both my sons and my husband when he was with me. I'm grateful for this Inn, and the people in this town who are kind enough to not have chased me out like my birth family. Truly, I am.”

“You don't have to be grateful for the bare minimum.” 

“Hm?” She looks so confused, and the expression she wears nettles at you. You’re not irritated with her, just her attitude. She’s so….timid. Mellow.

“Of course you can be grateful for the blessings, all the good in your life. But it's okay to…not be okay with just the barebones. You don’t have to be thankful for the scraps.” You can be angry too, you know, you want to tell her.

You think of a girl, with twin boys, being driven from a village by her own family. Traveling alone for goodness knows how long, until she reached a cursed village and a dilapidated inn she would painstakingly restore. A husband who only visited ‘sometimes’. 

You would be livid. 

Maybe that’s why you’re always so hesitant when it comes down to the new, the change. A chance of failure is never completely zero. 

Maybe that’s why you’re always so hesitant to take a step forward.

But Numachi-san, unfreezes, and laughs, waving away your words like more than a too cool breeze on an autumn day.

“You’re such a strong-spirited person, honored guest. I admire your strength; and I am a bit envious too.” She rises, and takes the teapot with her.

“I think I’ll go brew a new pot, this one is no good cold. Excuse me.”  Even though her hands on the pot flush pink from the heat, you watch her leave.

Jaken shakes his head at the woman, bug eyes closed.

“That woman is far too meek and soft-spined for a town like this–no husband, no sons…Though, her attitude is the proper one a woman should have, nothing like your brashness and lack of manners and respect.”

“Jaken, can you kindly shut the fuck up?” 

“See! That's exactly what I mean!” 

“Rin.” Rin looks up  from the table she’s been staring intently at. People think just because she’s mute, she is also deaf. She hears much of the world around her, more than people realize. Her eyes are young and wide as you speak to her.

“...You don't have to rely on a man to define yourself. You can do what you want to do, anything at all, alright?” She nods but her eyes drift back to the table. You tap it with your knuckle to get back her attention.

“I'm serious. You have me. You have Sesshoumaru. A-un and Jaken too, I guess. If you need something….”

Jaken cuts in. “Go to the Lord, he’s much more capable.”

“For like...intimidation and murder and money. I got everything else.”

“Like?!” You shrug.

“Well, she’s going to grow into an adult one day..."

‘Like you’re a proper example.”

“I am!”

“Of course you are-’ And Rin breaks out into laughter, snickering behind her hands, eyes crinkled in delight.

You feel your heart warm, swelling three sizes and all, before you reach over the table to tickle the girl.

“Hey! What are you laughing at?!”

You might not be a parent, but Rin is the closest thing you have to a child, and you’re going to do right by her. Coddling and all.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

In your musings it takes more than a full hour to traipse your way to the rice paddies from the inn. You've gotten faster at walking, during your travels with your little group, but it was still away, at the other end of town, at the bottom of a small mountain which a stream ran down from, and fed into the rice paddies. Behind that mountain, miles and miles past, you could just see the peaks of a mountain range. That was where Sesshoumaru wanted to go after all this. It was pretty far, on foot it would take at least…a week, or two? With A-Un, and the Lord, only two or three days.

When you went up to the little house on the hill overlooking the paddies no one answered, and you looked about for any signs of the oldman. 

Rice paddies spread out below you, and you look down the hill to check for any signs of life. Luckily, you did, a group of people working close by in the fields below. You went to meet them.

And promptly fell down the hill.

And oh no, you couldn't just trip and roll down like a normal person, or even bonk your head on a rock and pass out, which would be merciful. Instead, you do this stupid half trip, half wobble and catch-yourself-but-still-very-much-falling dance down the hill like a demented horse, before gravity finally lets you go; You collapse like a maiden struck by a curse.

‘Gods, are you there? Why have you forsaken your most devoted child?’

With an audience to boot. Well, at least you didn't fall into the water of the paddies, you landed barely a foot away from where the grassy hill turned into mud, and sloped down. A guy, thigh deep in the waters gapes at you. Three identical versions of him you see in your swimming vision as he steps forward and nudges you with a wet hand. You give him a thumbs up to show you’re alive. You think he calls back to the others you saw with him.

Some of the words swim in and out your hearing, your head too dizzy to focus on them, so you can only squeal as your world tilts, and you're suddenly held in the arms of the first man (or three) you saw, the world flashing in colors of blue and green and brown.

You try to protest as he starts carrying you up the hill but he doesn't listen to you.

“Excuse me?! I said put me dow–” 

“I can hear you.” His tanned hands are wet and warm from the sun and work, black hair pulled into a ponytail. He looks around your age, if only a few years older.

“So then put me down.”

 “No, that was a long, erm, fall.”

“It was nothing, please put me down.”

“Nope! What if you rattled your head and your brain comes spilling out your ears if you move too fast?” A beat of awkward silence, and he tries to laugh off that crazy ass sentence like it was a joke. 

You have to get out, you're in the hands of a madman.

“Uh… that, wasn't a good thing to say... sorry? Really though, if you’re hurt we should get you checked out–the Doctor is actually here for our father today, so she can just look you over real quick and then you can be on your way.” Finally at the top of the hill, he sets you down on your feet gingerly.

“Actually, what are you here for? Aren't you those fancy guests at Numachi-san’s honjin?”

“Uh, I guess. We’ll only be there for a few days, since we’re there to...recover.” Yeah, you’re not telling him the real reason. But he nods, looking over you, assessing.

“Traveling on the road, even with such a powerful Lord, must be exhausting for you two. Of course you should rest while you can!”

“Us two?”

“You and the child, of course.”

“Oh yeah, of course…”

The tense silence doesn't seem to bother him, in fact, he just waits…and waits. When no one tries to break it, he perks. “Yes!” He shouts and you jump. “How about I help you with what you need? Did your Lord send you to buy an order…?”

Couldn’t have asked that quicker? “No. I’m just running some errands for Numachi-san. Though that's not a bad idea, some rice would be good for our travels…”

“Our rice is grown from the melted caps of the mountain streams, you won't find anything better. Fit for your mighty Lord's tastes, I should say.” And he leans in, eyes gleaming. “Hey, please indulge me, for curiosity's sake… he wears a kimono with two sleeves but he’s missing an arm…did he lose it fighting some horrible demon?!”

He is a horrible demon. Technically. “I…suppose so? He left me in a village so I didn’t see the battle.”

“What about those markings on his face?”

“He was born with them, I believe?”

“And his chinese robe, very strange fashion, but he’s a demon right? Where did he get it, his sword, his armor?”

“The sword came from his father…? And I don’t know about the robe and armor, I’m pretty sure that's a result of his Yoki energy.” Did he make it with yoki or does he acquire it and then have to put it in his inventory, of sorts?

“I don't really know what I can divulge to you…?”

“Oh...” And, damn, the sad way he deflates endears you, like a kicked puppy, so you offer something else.

“I’ve seen other battles though, though they can hardly be called that with the strength of my Lord, if that would suffice.” 

“Yes! I am Takashi, by the way, forget the honorifics.” He bows, and when he rises he winks, ushering you inside.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

“...So he swiped out with his poison claws, and the demon fell to ribbons. It was so quick, so precise, that no blood stained his hand. It careened in an arc in the air, the slice so clean it took a minute for the demon to start bleeding out. We just continued on our way then.”

“Amazing…” He breathes, awestruck. The tale is practically playing behind his eyes and you laugh.

“It must be amazing to be able to serve a Lord like that…”

“Honestly? It is.” Despite your troubles and woes, there are sights that have taken your breath away and moments that are seared into your memory. Even in your world, you doubt you would have ever seen as much, ever.

Takashi-kun, as he cheekily insisted you call him, tilts his head to the side in question.

“You serve him?”

“Yes, it's tedious, but I’m glad for the work, it keeps me busy.” Never let him hear you say that, he would hold it above your head forever.

“...No, I meant being his disciple, not his servant.”

“Yeah, that's what I meant.”

“You are his disciple?” 

“Yes…? The Lord is much too…dignified and proud, to name any disciples of his own. Still the imp wields the two headed staff, and Rin carries a tanto.”

“And you?”

“I can take care of myself, I have to,” you shrug. “I'm a woman, traveling. I’ve asked the Lord to teach us how to wield the naginata, but every weapon’s master we’ve seen never meets his specifications, so he won't teach us until we get the right weapon. ” you pout.

“Seriously, shouldn’t he put more priority on teaching us, if we’re to be traveling on the road with him?”

But Takashi fiddles with his hands, running fingers over some age-old scar there, looking down at it with a pensive expression. “Well why should he? Why would he? You’re a woman.”

“...Excuse me?” He gestures.

“I mean, even in this kinda’ place, we’ve heard of the Lord of the Western Lands. Such a strong and disciplined leader, it would insult him if you continued to pester him about teaching you how to wield an actual weapon, as if he weren’t capable of protecting you and the child.

“It's already awfully gracious of him that he allows the child the tanto, or that he allows two women to accompany him; I assume he provides you shelter and food and the like. Shouldn’t you be more grateful?”

“Huh?” There's this odd look on Takashi-kun's face, just beneath the surface, and the mischievousness that was present there is gone.

“No. No, I'm appropriately grateful. And there's only one woman; the girl is still a child.”

“Yeah, I guess you're more his type.”

You slam your fist down on the table. “Repeat that.”

You forget though, the men in this era haven't ever been taught to heed a woman. So he just looks at you oddly and says,  “I assumed that you served him as steward or maid, though I guess I was wrong.” He points towards the table, the pot of tea that has been sitting there.

“The pot has been sitting for a few moments now, and you have not served. I figured you were enraptured by the grand stories of your Lord, which is understandable. You are a guest here, yes, but as eldest son here it would still be rude for me to serve. Your Lord must be an odd one.” He sighs.

“Were you a sacrifice, from your village? Is the child yours? Oh, is she both of yours? Forgive me for my earlier comment then…Maybe that's what the Tanto is for–I heard Samurai give the Tanto and Naginata to their wives and daughters to defend themselves and the home from enemies. That must be the reason, right?”

“...”

“But again, he is a demon. Who is he to follow human conventions? Perhaps you aren’t a ‘wife’, exactly–” You stand so quickly the table is jostled, and he reaches out a hand to steady it, looking up at you unperturbed and confused at your outburst.

“...Do you not think before you speak?”

“Excuse you?” He frowns. “I’m making basic observations. You are really pretty, and not too old, so you must have been with him for some time, if the child yours. Are you his concubine? Your teeth aren’t black, obviously you’re not a wife,” he sighs.

You want to smash the chipped cup into his face. You want to pour the hot tea into his lap and burn him. He looks so satisfied with himself for this genius conclusion, not even considering the truth of the matter. You are a companion–not concubine.

But you breathe, you reign in your temper. Calm down, he doesn't know any better.

“I…am not a concubine. Nor a wife. No, I do not serve him in those…ways.  I am simply a traveling companion. Nothing more.”

“But you are a woman. What else do you offer?”

Just before you throw the tea pot into his face, an old frail frame strides into the room with purpose–and when you look up you stare right into the hard eyes of the apothecary, and the wrinkled face of the man who walks in with her.

“Oh, Father! Doctor!” Takashi-san rises to feet like he’s going to embrace one of them, but she just looks at him and he backs down. Her gaze turns to you.

“Ah yes, you, young lass. Put down that pot before you spill it. What are you doing this far from your hotsprings and futons and mochi?” You’re ready to snap at her but the old man speaks before you do.

“Oh, you’re that girl who came in with that Demon Lord, right? How about you sit back down and tell us what you came all the way here for.” His wrinkled face is spotted in moles and cherry, and you can’t help listening to the old man.

“Father–”

“Shh!” The old man hushes him, and Takashi-san rolls his eyes, playfully, but you see the exasperation in them. You all sit, and the apothecary is the one who pours. Takashi looks at you.

“I’m just running an errand for Numachi-san, I don’t feel right just sitting still and relaxing when she has so much to do.”

The old man gives a precious wrinkled smile. “Oh, what a kind girl you are. And what a generous Lord to allow his servant to help others.”

“I don’t think he did allow it, Father,” Takashi cuts in. “You weren’t there but I saw him; A Lord of that caliber wouldn't allow his… servants, to run off to do manual labor.”

“And what were you doing so early in the morning, before even dawn, that you saw them go inside the honjin, hm?”

“I…I wasn't! I was here, sleeping! I saw him after, when I was in town delivering!”

“Sure you were.” Old man Taiga, as you know he is, looks up at you, and so fast you almost miss it, winks. “Must have been taking mighty long if you had time to ogle at some demon Lord.”

“He's the Lord of the Western Lands Father!”

“Yeah, yeah, how about you go now and gather up that rice now for the good lady, and pack her an order too, for that Lord you so admire.” You like this old man. Takashi-san doesnt even look at you, he just grumbles under his breath as he shuffles from the table to go to fulfill his father’s orders.

The apothecary grins. Her teeth are white and straight as a US military cemetery. “One good thing about being a haunted town–at least we don't have to pay any taxes! We can eat all the rice and mochi we want and not have to worry about any Daimyo coming to raid the town.”

“A bad thing is that we don't have that many workers for the fields, so we often work more than we eat.” Taiga sighs, patting his back. He looks at you.

“The last Daimyo came to collect taxes since we had not paid for some time, and stayed at Numachi-chan’s inn– Well, it wasn't hers at the time. But he came with some few samurai, which were more than enough for a town like this. But not enough for the demon.”

The apothecary huffs over her tea cup. “I bet he ate well that day. And hasn't eaten that well since.”

“‘He’?”

She shrugs. “Female demons aren't so voracious. Or maybe they are–maybe she’s got a brood she needs fed.”

“What kind of demoness still feeds her kids for thirty, forty years? They’re grown and out now, if they exist.”

“If they exist. I'm betting it's a male demon though.”

“And how would you know?”

She slaps the table. “I’ll find out when I get eaten of course!”

“With how bitter you’ve become over the years? Ha!”

“And with how sickly and tough you are? You got a few good years before your time Taiga. And it won't be by demons!” They laugh, while you look at them over the rim of your cup. They seem to be pretty old friends, if the way they talk is any indication.

“Ah, I still wanna see my son and daughters get married though,” Taiga huffs. “Four daughters and one son…I wouldn’t mind if Takashi was sneaking about to meet a Lady,  but instead he’s training, like the next Samurai that comes in will notice his potential and take him on,” Taiga shakes his head.

“He thinks he’s gonna be the one to slay the demon of this place. He has more luck minding his business and keeping his head low. I’m still here after all, my children and all.” You notice no mention of a wife though, and tamp down your curiosity.

“Does…anyone know anything certain about the demon? Like, what type, or how old?” The apothecary and Taiga look at you, look at each other.

“Only the dead,” she supplies unhappily. “Though, we have seen the marks they left behind… the ones who fight back. And the wreckage the demon leaves behind, like the wrecked buildings in town”

“The demon seems cocky, to openly go into town and just into random buildings to eat people.” Like knock knock, delivery. Oh! You're the meal.

“Arrogance, yes, but no ones seen nor caught em’ yet. Been here for years and will probably move on when we’re all gone or eaten. A mighty demon to be sure, most definitely.” 

“But stronger than her Lord?” Taiga points his cup towards you.

“Lord of the Western Lands…I grew up hearing the myths of this Lord, never thought I’d ever be so close to him… You must be honored to be able to serve such a Lord.”

“Uh…I guess?” What was he, some God? “He’s actually pretty frustrating and pretentious but to each their own.”

That didn't give you the reaction you thought it would. Instead of chuckling, they gape at you, moon eyed.

“...I don’t think it would be wise to talk about such a Lord in that way… Imagine if he heard you, girl!”

“I’d say it to his face.” Again, that doesn't give you such a good reaction. They both just stare at you, though the apothecary’s eyes narrow.

“Hm, well…he must be lenient with his servants…very lenient! Maybe he just is unaffected by a human’s words!”

“No, he’d just tie me to the back of A-un, our demon steed, if you will, and make me walk a few miles. Or cut my food rations. But honestly, he needs to be taken down a few pegs. Everyone is walking on eggshells around him, singing his praises, he needs a dose of reality.” You grin sneakily. “Just a small dose though, so he doesn't realize I’m just blowing hot air and he really is all that.” The old man looks like he could choke, poor him, and the Apothecary shoots to her old wrinkled feet.

“Come on now,” the apothecary grabs your wrist, and with more force than you expected, drags you up and out. You’re only able to pull your wrist back when you’re leaving the front doors of the house, leaving old man Taiga behind.

“Hey! What are you doing?!”

“No, what are you doing?” She throws your hand back. “You’re dumber than I thought if you think you can get away with talking like that in front of that kinda folk.”

“What do you mean-”

“The only reason they’re not ganging up on ya is because they think if they butter up the Demon Lord’s concubine, then maybe he’ll slay the demon for them. Do you even know how rare it is for travelers to actually arrive here, intact, this close to a full moon? It's either intentional or luck, and I'm betting on the former, in your Lord’s case.”

You scoff, but you can't really argue with her words. You’ve seen this sort of thing play out before, so it's not implausible. 

You’ve seen plenty of desolate towns, both with and without your Lord, you’ve been driven out of a few of them. But with your lord, they always beg aid, offering up their most valuable goods, resources, wares…people. Your Lord has always rejected them all. It's very rare if he decides to take them up on their pleas.

Now that you think about it…wasnt it always whenever you were running low on something?

There was one time a rather prosperous village asked for aid in a demon that kept eating its women. Sessoumaru refused, and you nearly left, if not for one merchant, who offered some sweets amongst the things he could trade. You and Rin had perked, Jaken had scoffed, and your Lord...accepted. You and Rin were feasting on mochi for days.

The Lord had killed the demon quickly—but still called it a waste of time.

“I’m not his concubine…” She clicks her tongue at you.

“Yeah, it figures. I assume he wouldn’t let ya wander around on your own if you were.”

“He hardly lets me do that now,” you gripe. “He just always avoids me during these times so I got some leeway now.”

“You mean you can't let yourself get caught out here like this.”

“...It’s not that serious, I just don’t want to deal with him, that's all.” She coughs out a laugh, and slides a hand down her face.

“Oh girl…you might not be a concubine, but you must be something to have the courage to talk about him like that. Out or to his face.”

“Yeah, I’m a traveling companion.”

“Dense as a rock too.” Why do people keep saying that about you?! It's not true.

She waves a hand. “I know haughty types like that, and they’re not the type to take your kinda attitude girly.”

“How would you know? You know nothing about me.”

“Of course I know you, I used to be you.” She sighs and leans back against the walls of the house. You’re staggered into silence, and she takes the opportunity to talk again.

“Same attitude, same talk, same naivety. That's why you ought to take advantage of the things you have, and not leave them to chance. You got something going with that Lord of yours. Do something before he changes his mind–if not for yourself than that girl you got.”

“Rin? But he…” You know he cares. He brought her back to life for goodness’ sake. “He wouldn't do anything.”

“But he could. And if he could then there's always a chance he will.”

But you remember. The look in his eyes as you and Rin feasted on mochi. The almost teasing way he nettles at Jaken, who is none the wiser. The golden shade of his eyes in the lantern’s shine, in moonlight, the dim gleam of dawn. They way he murmured and breathed against your skin, like he wanted to–

You stop that thought right in its tracks.

Your fingers rush up to press against the bruise. The sore throb is a reassurance.

“But he wouldn't.” 

She pauses, and she coughs a little in her incredulity. “Oh, girl,” and her face twists in sympathy. “You’re in love with him.”

“...It's not that serious.” Was it?

“Well, so much for your bluffing, you’re already too far gone,” she scoffs, like you didn't say anything. 

She clicks her tongue, something lighter, and almost…fond? She walks closer, and starts fixing your clothing, like a grandmother would, adjusting things this way and that.

“Did you try the tea?”

“Huh? Yeah, I had some this morning.”

“Take some when you go back, It’ll be good for you.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“Hm. Then take this word of advice too girly,” and she wipes her hands down her front. “Besides talking about your Lord of course. Don't get too chummy with that innkeeper. You don't like being called a concubine, fine, whatever, you can afford that. But some people aren’t given that choice. She’s one of them.”

“What? She’s a widow. Her husband died.”

“By her own design. Why do you think her sons left her? Normally I wouldn't fault her–do you know how many potions I sold to all sorts of women? But her? I can’t forgive her. I won’t. ” With those ominous words and her hawk gaze, she walks away.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Takashi-san, whose Father insisted on ‘assisting’ you, who had insisted on carrying the rice bag because’ it’s much too heavy for you, you’d probably make it to the inn by sunset!’, nevermind that it was barely noon now, is annoying you. Damn chauvinist.

You didn't let slip the change in attitude he had, since you mentioned the Lord and the tanto thing. Before was the politeness and cordial attitude of a person talking to the servant of a nobleman or something. And yeah, you were used to that. That attitude, and even the cloying, patronizing way that this boy spoke to you was better than the outright venom that people spat at you with, when you dared to call yourself his travel partner…

It was still no less frustrating.

“Shouldn't we head to the inn as soon as we can?” he called to you, as you left him near the bottom of the stream.

“I wouldn’t want to upset your Lord because you’re not where you’re supposed to be.” A vein could pop from how tightly wound you are.

“I have chores to do, and then you can ‘escort’ me back. You followed me, so we’re going by my schedule.”

“Did your Lord grant you permission for you to be on your own?”

You pause, and turn to him slowly to show your displeasure. “...He doesn’t care. What does it matter?”

“But still…I should at least accompany you on your way.”

“You really shouldn’t. I'll be fine on my own. I've lived nearly the same amount of days on earth as you have, and I’ve definitely traveled farther. I'm good.”

“You’re very audacious for a woman.” And he wants a rock to his head, doesn’t he. “I'm offering my help. Even if you were being bashful, trying to deny me, you could be more pleasing.”

“...You have a shallow ego don’t you?”

“What?”

“....Takashi-kun, I appreciate how kind you are, but I would be remiss if you were to aid me any further. I want to please my Lord by bringing something pleasing for dinner, but if you help me it would just ruin all my efforts. Please wait here for me, please?” You make your voice sickly sweet, and bat your eyes. Though his brow twists, he doesn't offer a rebuttal, struck dumb by whiplash.

…Is it really that easy? “That…does make sense. He’s already letting you stay at a honjin, you should do something to thank your Lord.”

“Yes of course. Now, I have to hurry so I’ll be quick, alright? I’ll be quicker on my own anyways, and then the Lord will praise you for your efficiency. I’ll call you if I need you Takashi-san!” And you scamper away with your basket and a wave, letting the wide smile you put on drain away as you roll your eyes. You were sooo fake, did he really not notice?

Twenty, thirty, forty or so paces upstream, just underneath a few big rocks, nestled in the low current, the traps lay. Just where Numachi-san told you. The current was lazy, about waist high as you hopped along the rocks dotting the banks. You set your basket on a tall rock. There, you strip to your innermost layers, and stride in to catch your fish.

You have to be quick, and careful, odd high waves often rolled over, Numachi-san warned you. There were also other animals that came here to hunt, so you had to scurry.

There are only three or four bright red snapper fish as you checked, and pretty young by the looks of it, barely over a foot long, and weakly trying to swim free; despite your sympathy you know it was your job to bring them back.  Alas, why must so many of the tasty foods come from things alive?

And then you realize something. Beyond the bumbling stream, you can't hear anything.

And no, the water isn't loud enough that it blocks everything else out, no. It's just silent. No birds, no shuffling, no wildlife. Silent.

Somethings here.

Your hair stands on end as you reach for your tanto. There's nothing on the banks, and no movement in the undergrowth but there– 

For a second, a blur races out of your peripheral vision. Cold dread followed by a flush of heat under your skin. You bring up your knife and whip your head to chase the sight, but it runs quickly and you only see a dark smear slither into the trees.  

A few moments pass in tense silence, before you hear the birds again. You untense, and lower your knife. The blur was pretty large, probably…a bear cub, wandering from its mother.

But that silence… Still, you need to hurry, lest you want to wrestle with some bears over fish. There's a specific way to untie the part of the net that would free the fish-of course, you grab onto the tail of one so it can’t slip away, already flipping around in your hold. But you can't pick at it.. You’ll have to go under to do this.

 So you hold your breath, and plunge.

The water is just hitting the edge of too cold as you go under; It's rocky and craggly under, and quickly you untie the net and grab your fish, one by one; The first two you grab by the tails and stride over, hurriedly tossing them into your basket and closing the lid after. The other two are harder. With extra room to move they fight, and you barely get the third in before you notice the water receding.

You’ve read enough to know when an incoming current is gathering. Quickly, you duck back down to untie your last fish, fumbling your fingers over the knot. You get it loose, but the fish, smarter than its brethren and slippery, darts around your hand and tries swimming off.

‘Oh no you dont–’ you turn under water to chase it, just grabbing the ends of its tail and holding on, but your foot gets caught in a crevice between rocks.

You get your face to break water right as the current comes in, knocking you back, hard. You don't land on the rocky bedfloor, but you’re thrown off balance, your foot stuck. You’re left floundering, you don't know how you don’t let go of the damn fish, but you don’t.

You try to reach up again, lungs burning, only to snort water as another wave smacks you dead in the face, pulling you back under. You’re losing air, and fast. You reach a hand, trying to break the surface, and kudos to your incredible luck, someone grabs it.

You are yanked out of the water, ankle scraping painfully against the rocks, choking on air on your way up.

“What are you doing?”

“Takashi-san?!” He pulls you up, your arm socket protesting the movement; He gathers you into his arms and drags you onto the banks.

“You followed me?!” 

“What was I supposed to do, leave you on your own?”

“Yes, that's exactly what you were supposed to do.” You wrestle in his arms, they way he just lugs you over to the banks like…like a bag of rice. Of which he had, now you cannot see. You look around and reach for your basket that teeters dangerously on the rocks.

“You thought you could sweet talk me into acting like some…some–!!”

“Some what, Takashi-kun.” You wipe the droplets from your brow. Takashi-san sees this, the inner robes you wear. You’re still in his arms. He goes red. 

“I knew you were just faking that demureness. How shameless.”

“Oh? And what gave it away?”

He drops you like hot coal.” You called me Takashi-san. Normally I wouldn't question this, it's only proper, but you’ve been calling me Takashi-kun. You slipped up.”

“Oh darn,” you roll your eyes. “And here I was thinking I could ditch you.”

 “I couldn’t just leave you be, you know there's a demon lurking around here–”

“Like you can fight off a demon?” You rub the hip you landed on, and grab your basket. Seems he tossed rice to the side, presumably when he went to rescue you.

“I’m more capable than you are?” 

“I'm not in danger of drowning now, am I?”

“Listen woman,” he hisses, his mirth replaced with irritation. He reaches out to grab your arm but you dodge out his way. “You’re a stranger here, you don’t know these parts. No one comes up here to fish, it's too far away and if you screamed, I wouldn't have heard you over the water.”

If you scream now, no one will hear you.

“Then fine, let me just grab my things and we can head back, alright?” 

But his eyes narrow, and he shakes his head.

“No. We’re going back to my father’s house, it's closer. Then you’re going to wait for your Lord, or that Imp to escort you back.”

“I am not a child, nor do I need a chaperone–”

“You were taking too long!” He keeps advancing and you keep retreating. “I was waiting, and the woods went silent. That’s never a good thing. I had thought a demon had gotten to you, and then what would I say to your Lord!”

You roll your eyes. “Glad to see you’re so worried for my well being.”

“Good! You’re welcome!”

A harsh sigh drags its way past your teeth. “I did hear that odd silence, that’s why I was rushing. But maybe if I didn't feel so rushed, I would have waited until the high wave rolled over.”

“But you didn't, instead you almost drowned. Should you even be out? I mean, hunting surely isn't your strong point.”

“And keeping your mouth shut sure isn’t yours.”

“Excuse me?” You know that drop of voice. You could recognize it in this century or the next. So before he could get on with his next tirade, you snatch your outer layers, hurrying them on and making your way back down with your basket.

“Where are you going?!” you hear him fumble with the rice, but he decided to carry it, so that’s his fault.

“Back to the inn, where else? Are you following me or not.”

“You need to do as you’re told! You're not going to–”

“Listen Takashi, you're a rather pretentious prick, so if you have nothing of value to say, then be quiet.”

“You are supposed to–” you whirl around and he stops in his tracks, brow furrowed and one hair away from a full blown scowl.

“I didn't ask you to be my escort, protector, or chaperone. You were the one who decided to take the roles on yourself, so don’t get upset that I'm not playing into your little fantasy of being some noble village boy helping the poor maiden. Who are you to tell me what I'm supposed to do? You, some village boy?” You would poke his chest to emphasize the words, but you’re not getting as close as needed for that.

“And for the record. The Lord isn't going to acknowledge you just because you ‘escorted’ me. I’m not his pet.”

“But you are a woman,” he grits. “And you are his. There are basic rules you must follow for order–”

“Rules are meant to be broken.”

“You shouldn't even be wandering out on your own. Look what happened when you did, you nearly drowned!”

“I didn't nearly drown because I'm a woman idiot, my foot was stuck in a crevice.” Your ankle which, now that you’re on land, smarts. You can feel the blood dripping, not yet clotted over.

“Thank you for your aid in getting me out of that, honestly–Your attitude could use some work though.”

“My attitude?” And you turn away from him. That is your mistake.

A hand yanks you back by the back of your collar and you choke, dropping your basket. Your instincts kick in when he tries to wrap his arms around you. You drop, and while he fumbles with your dead weight you grab his ankle and topple him over. 

He must fight with his sisters a lot or something though, because it's hard keeping him down, even as you claw red lines into his face and skin, making sure he doesn't pin you instead. He seems to know where you’ll kick, the vital points you try and dig your fingers into. But you persevere, you get the upper hand when you get him face down in the grass and pin his arm behind his back, a knee in the soft dip of his spine.

He huffs against the dewy grass, a soft angry-laugh. “I'm going to make you regret this.”

“Oh yeah?” Your tanto knife looks deadly against the skin of his throat, and he stills. “Repeat that for me.”

“Your Lord–”

“Can you not imagine any woman’s choice or actions being independent of anyone? What about my Lord? If you've  forgotten, he’s a demon. He’d care less about me killing some human than whether it’s going to rain in the coming days.”

“Guess you don't know how crucial rains are for rice growing.”

“Save me the metaphors.” You huff. You tap the knife against his neck as you speak, if only to make him flinch.

“You know? I used the little blade on more men than I have demons. Isn't that something?”

“...I bet you don't even know how to use that.”

“That's for you to figure out. Try me. And do I really have to know how to use a blade to be able to stab you?” 

“Your Lord-”

“I call him that out of gratitude and habit, but he is not my Lord.”

“You still must obey him.”

“Because he offers me protection, shelter, food, whatever else I could need. Mostly, because he is a demon.

“ou and I are on two very different boats, in two very different waters. So. you’re going to get up, and pick up the things you dropped. You will walk in front of me. You will not speak and if you even try to pull a stunt like that again, I will make you bleed. How much depends on what you do, but you will bleed. Understand?”

And it takes him a moment to quell the hate in his eyes and swallow, but he jumps as your blade digs in, red dripping down, and stutters out a “Y-Yes.”

“Good. Thank you. You can do just that.” You stay close, in case he tries to get some distance on you for a hit or grab, but he just does as you told him, hateful eyes cast to the floor, and starts walking.

You follow him back down to the inn. You don't sheath your tanto.

You don't parade Takashi through the streets, but enough people stop in their tracks to stare at the way Takashi walks in front of you, face stormy and pace brisk. He probably did that to spite you to run after him, but again, you’re used to traveling so it is no issue for you.

In no time at all you reach the inn, and Numachi-san is already pacing the entrance, wringing her hands in worry, she rushes up as she sees you two approach.

“I’ve had a few people come up to the inn already to tell me something odd has happened. J-Jaken went with the Lord into town and should be back soon. Rin is here…So is everything alright?” She rubs at the side of her neck, like theres a kink there. You shake your head.

Word does travel fast in small places. “Everything is fine.” You had long put away your tanto when you entered the village, but kept it in your sleeve, flashing it whenever Takashi looked back.

“We got the rice and the fish–”

“I would like to sit inside and rest, if I may, Numachi-san,’ Takashi cuts you off. His face is cool and he doesn't look at you.

“I’m tired from walking all the way from my home to here with such a heavy load. Will you let me inside?” Her dark eyes flash between you two, her hands worrying that spot on her neck. She meets your eyes, and you shake your head, warning her with your eyes. 

But she looks back to Takashi-san, the tense way he waits like a coil about to spring, and sighs. “Perhaps… just for a cup of tea, before you go?” You throw your hands in the air, and stomp after him as he walks in.

He settles down, and Numachi-san is ready with the tea quick enough. But he goes on talking, or stalling rather, and you’re not stupid enough to wonder what he is stalling for. You glare at Numachi-san, who only has the courage to meet your eyes for a few seconds at a time, keeping her head bowed to the young man.

For someone who might’ve killed her husband she sure is meek.

“I’ve never seen the inside of this place, but it's wonderful, Numachi-san!”

“Thank you, Takashi-san.”

“I mean, I was just a child when the last owners, erm, moved on, but the building seemed damaged beyond repair. The fact that you restored it, and ran such a thriving business before the demon attacks increased–just proves what a dedicated woman you are.”

“You’re much too kind Takashi-san.” She refills his cup and he sends you a pointed look, like you’re supposed to feel something other than annoyance. Out of the corner of your eye you see Rin poke her head into the room. She’s not sly though, and Takashi catches note of her.

“Is that the child that accompanies you? What's your name girl? You don't have to be–”

“You have no right to speak nor look at her, and I suggest you leave before you dig yourself in any deeper,” you shut that down real quick, and Numachi-san’s shoulders hunch up to her ears. 

But he just tilts his head at you, like he’s looking at a bug.

“Speaking without being spoken to, such base manners. I’ll be sure to bring this other point up to your master. I hope you’re teaching the girl to be better than that.”

“Am I supposed to be scared?” You take the pot closer to your side so Numachi-san can't refill his cup, knowing he wont do it himself.

“And it's still better than a prick who derives his worth from how well he can be served by a woman. Or one who attacks another from the back because their pathetic ego was injured.” 

Takashi-san slams his cup down. “Better than one who doesn't know their place or lot in life.”

“What place? What lot?” You laugh. “If anything, take your own words to heart. You just can't handle seeing someone else living your dream while you waste away in a place like this. You can't handle your fragile ego being challenged by a woman, no less. That's why you attacked me.” 

You grin as he leans forward. Your voice drops to a hush, a loud whisper. “I'll be sure to savor it more in your place when we leave.” You see Rin dart away from the corner of your eye, gone like a leaf in the wind. Good. Better she doesn’t see this anyway.

“You are so insolent. Your Lord allows this?”

“And you're a simp. Always mentioning ‘my lord’ this, or ‘my lord’, that. It’s like you’re the one that’s in love with him.”

“I’m going to–”

“What? Try me, make my day!”

“Please!”  Numachi-san cuts in, waving her hands between you two. “Let's just settle down now. There's no need to get so agitated. Look, the tea is getting cold.” She tries to take the teapot back from you but you don’t let her.

“I would love to Numachi-san, but someone has to tell this one that their manners are uncouth,” He grits, “Befitting of a low class sow.”

“Aha, you’re mad,” It's childish but you poke your tongue out. “And jealous too. It's not a very pretty look, you know?”

“Be quiet!”

“Make me!” 

“What is going on here?! ” Both of you turn, and Jaken stands there in his bug eyed glory, that eerie two headed staff in his hands, eyes narrowed. Takashi immediately gapes– for a resident of a town stalked for decades by a demon, he acts like he never heard nor saw one of one until this very point.

“Human.” He points the staff at you, and both Numachi-san and Takashi flinch. “Explain.”

“The boy overstays his welcome,” you drawl, “though he was never welcome to begin with. He took it upon himself to be my chaperone and insists on staying to meet the Lord.”

“Ha!” He squawks, and Takashi’s eyes dilate at the sound.

“You? Meet the Lord?”

“I just…I-I just wanted to, to explain! Yes, explain what happened today. His servant nearly drowned in the streams–”

“I did not–”

“And t-the silence… I just wanted to advise the Lord that maybe it's best that she remains…here. Women aren’t suited for manual labor, you know…?”

“I know?” Takashi pauses, gulps. “So I just…wanted to offer my services, is all!”

Jaken doesn’t look impressed, but he rarely does. “You’re trembling in front of an imp, and you think you can be of service to the Lord?” Takashi shoots you a baleful glare as you snort, and draws his shoulders up.

“Yes. Yes I do.”

You see Takashi-san tremble when Jaken smiles, perfectly too wide and uncanny, and on purpose. “Well good. You can plead your case to the Lord then, he is here.”

“What?”

“And that's my cue to go.” You rush to your feet, and don't bother with bowing or muttering your goodbyes.

“Wait, excuse you?! Where are you–”

“Human–”

“Don't forget to tell the Lord how you tried to pin me down on the banks. And everything that we’ve said to the other. Everything.”

“Running, are you?” He grins. It shakes at the edges.

You just smile, really smile; Wide, and with your teeth, gleeful and mischievous, pulling at your cheeks and crinkling your eyes.

“You know, you’re much more tolerable, and cuter, when you keep your mouth shut. Remember that.”  And as the confusion settles on his face you go. 

You hear the sliding door rushes open, and you disappear around the corner quick enough not to be seen. You can hear the muted, frightened, greetings of the two you left, but that's none of your concern anymore. Numachi-san should have never let them in and he shouldn't have been such a sexist prick.

You bathe first, the day's dirt and sweat sloughing off your skin in the water, and you wash quickly, eager to soak in the hot springs. You clean off the dried blood on your ankle. You dip your toes in when you’re ready, it's a touch too hot, but nothing unbearable, and you dip into the water with a wince, then a sigh. The heat smooths away your aches and pains, and you sit in the spring, content.

You don't know how long it is, but moments later, you hear banging, and rushing, yells. A man’s voice, Takashi-san. It doesn’t sound like he’s being murdered. The Lord is efficient enough you wouldn't hear him scream. Maiming it is then. Takashi-san sounds high pitched and afraid, and you listen to the sounds of crashing and screaming throughout, and then, silence. Nothing. 

Nothing else. Rin appears, comes over to the edge of the pool you're in, toiletries in her hand.

“...You okay?” she nods. “Where did you go earlier?” She points back inside. “Went to get L-Lord Sesshoumaru.”

“That was you?” A nod. “He was actually c-close b-by.”

“...Okay. Okay, thank you Rin.” She hums when you pet her hair. “That guy was being a j-erk.”

“Yeah, he wouldn’t stop going on and on about what I should or shouldn’t do, because my Lord,” You groan and roll your eyes. “What happened after I left?”

“That guy told on you,” her breath is hardly above a murmur, but steady.  “You were in trouble at the stream. Wood went silent so he followed. Fought with you. He said you, y-you shouldn’t be on your own. No common sense. He said he could h-help.”

“Ha! Stupid.” You roll your shoulders as she lays out the towels.

“And what did our noble and regal Lord say to all that?” She gives you a look like you don't know exactly what he did. 

“Are you alright?” She nods again, then thinks, shrugs. “The Lord l-looks upset. He took his ear.”

“...I asked about you. Did you eat, bathe already?”

“Yeah. A-And Numachi-san gave me snacks. So it's your turn n-now.” You smile at your girl as she reveals what she hid in the bundle of towels, a cup of tea and some mochi.

“Wow, wonder where Numachi-san got Mochi from in a place like this.”

“She made it.” Oh. Maybe that's what the rice was for. Rin supplies. She sets down her wares and pats your arm. 

“Don't take too long, or you’ll faint. Dinner w-will be ready soon.” And her feet pitter patter away.

You don’t know how long you speak there, but the light dims from what peaks under the rag, oranges and red slowly bleeding into evening. You hear nothing save the water and crickets and the wind, Jaken on the inside scurrying to do who knows what. Rin said that dinner should be done soon, so Numachi-san is fine, and the Lord was either in his room, or long gone, back to find whatever demon was plaguing this town. You sink deeper into the water.

When you open your eyes, Sesshoumaru is there at the brim of the spring, staring at you.

You gasp, and choke, consequently.

He watches you flounder, as you hack up the water you inhaled.

“Almost drowning twice in one day. A record for you.”

“Not on purpose!” you flick water at him and speckle his cheek with water drops. But he’s unperturbed.

“I heard,” he drawls. “That something happened at the stream.” and his eyes, so they dilate?

“Tell me.” He leaves no room for rebuttal or refusal. So you tell him what happened at the Old man Tianga’s place, at the stream. You don't mention the odd silence, mainly because he didn't ask yet.

“....The boy is not wrong in what he said. But he put hands on my belongings; That warrants punishment.”

“Belongings?”

“You are my servant, and he deigned to put his hands on you.” He takes your wrist and pulls your arm, gingerly, out the water. He turns it, this way and that, and only now do you see the faint marks from your scuffle in the banks.

“They’re not that bad.”

“The problem is that they are there at all.” His eyes are bright, and angry. You only know that lookin passing–whenever you would annoy him too greatly. This is ten times that.

“Not only that, he insulted you, b y extension me. And to have the audacity to ask to be my disciple? I should have taken his hands and his tongue, not two simple fingers.”

“And an ear. Which I wonder about…you were lenient with him, my Lord.” 

“I was,” he lets your arm slip back into the warm waters.  “The child was watching.”

“Ah.” Rin was no stranger to gruesome sights- they were unavoidable with a demon samurai Lord for a master, but at least he had some discernment, if not compassion for the young girl.

“So why the ear?”

His jaw is tight, as is his voice. “The boy didn’t heed his senses. He continued to spout nonsense.”

“Haha! That's what you tell me all the time.”

“Yes, those inane tales you drivel on about… at least they serve a purpose.”

You cross your arms on the lip and rest your arms in their cradle, looking back at him. “What, entertaining Rin and staving off her nightmares?”

“No. Beyond that. You speak of the future–that I will live to see.”

“Like, wait what? That's… hundreds of years in the future, Seshoumaru.” You almost slap a hand over your mouth over the lack of honorifics, but he doesn't correct you.

“I will still live to see it. These things you speak of, skyscrapers, electricity, automobiles, public parks and libraries and sprawling cities. I will be witness to it all.”

You didn't think he paid any attention to the things you rambled about. You didn't think he listened. Or cared. “So what am I, like, your seer?”

“Exactly.”

“...I never thought of it like that.”

“Dense.”

“Stop calling me that! I am not dense.” You huff and pout, but he ignores you, as he often does, choosing instead to lean over, looking into the waters for…something.

“You’re injured.”

“Huh?” What? He just saw your arm. It takes you a moment to realize he probably means your ankle.

“Oh yeah.” How did he know? You almost forgot. By now the wound wasn't so fresh, not yet scabbed over and just starting to heal. Soft and pink and shiny.

Sesshoumaru looms over you.. “Show me.”

“...?” How? Are you supposed to do a handstand underwater? He sighs, annoyed, and reaches down–

And suddenly he has you by the collar, pulling you up and out of the water to sit at the brim. You splutter, but he pays it no heed, just crouching down so he could inspect your ankle closer. Despite the furrow to his brow he sets you down so gently.

“It's fine, it's already started to heal.”

“That's for me to decide.”

“Oh really, of course, of course. Tell me when to breathe too, I’ll keep your words in mind.” And, quicker than you could blink he reaches for your ankle, pulling you forwards a bit. You almost topple back into the waters, your third drowning of the day, but right yourself in time, casting a glare at Sesshoumaru. Your ankle is bird thin and fragile looking against his pale hand. This touch too, is careful.

You're still technically in your underclothes. If he lifts your leg up any higher he's going to see something.

He just…stares at the wound, soft from the water, something pointed and uncanny in that gaze. He looks at it, this way and that under the mellow torchlight, evening deepening into a darker hue of blue, sunlight gone.

“I should have taken both his hands…”

“I think that would have been a tad too much.” Yeah, he's a prick but you didn't want his life ruined.

Sesshoumaru hums under his breath, a light note. “You defend him?”

“Like any good samaritan will do,” you respond cheekily. “Plus, he’s the only son of old man Taiga, so he stands to inherit the rice paddies.”

“So?” The tone he uses is still light, but dangerous for its levity. 

“If there's no more rice how will they make any mochi? This is the best we found in recent months.” You reach behind and snatch a piece from the plate Rin left you, humming at the treat.

“I can forgive any slight so long as I’m awarded treats in return.”

“Glutton,” he pushes out a breath. “I knew you were never loyal.”

Oh, was that a joke? You laugh. “What can I say? I have needs that must be satisfied.”

As he looks over your ankle you take the moment to look over the contours of his hand, the elegant wrist disappearing underneath the robe, the crips collar of his Kimono. Even here, like this, he looks so unruffled. 

“Needs?” And he lifts your ankle higher. “Do I not account for them all?”

“...My most pressing and immediate ones.”

“Hm. And seeing as those are met, which others might I satisfy?”

Oh.

And your heart pounds into overdrive.

He brings your ankle closer to his face… and licks.

You flinch back in reflex, but that only amounts to an inch within his grip. His eyes flash over to you, but when he meets no more resistance his tongue darts out again, lapping over the wound. 

It doesn't hurt– his tongue is wide and flat, and thin, like a dog, you think, and just swipes over, cleaning the skin almost. But it feels weird, and you’re puzzled, and his grip tightens as you flinch back. 

You’re trying not to tremble, but when his mouth moves to the thin part on the back of your ankle you gasp. There's a pause he takes, before he bites down. It's just a nip really, but you gasp again, and then his teeth are trailing, up, up your calf– then he stops.

Well, only for a second. His hand moves, smoothing along the soft skin of your leg, underneath the wet cloth. It slides to your thigh, and he pulls up and back. He slots forward in the open space between your thighs, leans forward, and suddenly you're folded up tiny against the grass and his chest, one leg on his shoulder and the other pretty close.

You squeak, hands flying to his shoulders, while his nails trail softly over the back of your thigh, raising goose flesh, creeping on dangerous territory.

Something soft rumbles in his throat.

“You still smell like that boy…”

“O-oh?” you squeak, breathy.

“I don’t care for it.”

“Well, it wasn’t like it was on purpose.”

"I should hope not." And he moves even closer. The spikes of his armor press into you and he's all around you--His hair a curtain that blocks off the outer world, a few strands dipping into the springs. Like earlier, he goes straigh to your neck. He trails the tip of his nose along the conturs of your neck, the under curve f your jaw, dipping down to your collarbone and starting the journey over again. Almost like he's nuzzling you.

He takes slow, deep breaths through his mouth. He breathes in, holds it...and releases it steadily, like he's trying to make your scent stick to the back of his throat. You smell nothing on him but cold, and metal, and silk. But beneath that frigidness is something...softer. Not gentle, more refined, almost. fresh, not unlike linene, or fresh cut greenery. You like it.

But you can't really move, and it's getting hot, and not in a good way. You feel his weight, yes, but it feels more imposing thatn comforting. The gurgle of the water is all you can hear; that and the blood in your ears.

If you scream now, no one will hear you.

"Wait, wait," you gasp, your voice a pitiful breath. "I can't...wait a moment." For a second you think he's not going to move, he presses closer into you, further pushing the breath from your lungs. But with a growl deepening in his throat, he moves away.

You can't help feeling like his gaze is accustaory when he looks at you

"You breath is scarce. Calm yourself."

"I am calm."

"Hm." And he takes your wrist, presses his thumb to your veins. For a minute you think he's going to slide his wrist across yours in that soothing motion, he moves to, but he doesn't. Its disappointing.

"No. Your pulse is too quick." He lets you go. "I can smell your lust. But above that, your fear. I told you, I wont have a tearful servant girl in my bed. You must be willing or not at all."

He rises to leave, but you panic, leave, dont leave---you're confused between the two. But you grab onto his sleeve, and he stops.

"Im not...Im not scared of you, not exactly...not really."

"I can--"

“Just--!! I don't understand. Why do you want me? What do you get from me?” You scoot back.

“Everyone keeps calling me your concubine or wife but I want to hear you. You said I was your seer, but what is that? Is that all you want from me? I don’t think it is.” Beads of water stumble down the cradle of his jaw, and you watch them instead of his eyes.

“You said 'willing or not at all'… Why do you care so much if I'm willing? You can just take.”

“There's no pleasure to be had when it’s forced,” he says. “And there is no need for force. You wouldn’t have come to my room if you weren’t enticed.

“And are you enticed?”

“I am. But that's not the issue here.”

And you think he’s going to sigh harshly, glare, or worse yet, leave. You don't want him to leave now. You see his furrowed brow and his waning patience, and you want to huddle into yourself against the brisk cold he’s sure to blow your way.

And he does sigh, but he doesn't leave. He lends back, and lands you back your space. “Then what is?” 

"You're going to listen to me?"

"Yes."

"...Why?"

"Because I want to."

The emotion that swells in your breast makes you duck your eyes, if only to hide the tears that have suddenly, embarrassingly, sprung. "Does a mountain need to heed the clouds?"

"The clouds dictate the skies. Even mountains are weathered by storms, and thrive in sunlight." He extends an open hand to you. "No more of this timidness. Speak plainly."

And so, you try.

“....I know this world is different from mine. In just the way I’m perceived. I am not your servant, your steward, or a disciple. I am not a companion, but a concubine. A wife if I’m lucky.” You snort.

“....But I’ve always been more than just my body, my Lord, and I do have my pride, meager though it may be. I've never belonged to anyone but myself. Whether this pride is at odds with you depends on your answer,” you sigh.

“I’ve named so many titles already. But what exactly am I to you?”

—------------

Torment. Lovely. Inferior. Endearing. Mine. Mine.

Damn instincts. Instead he asks, “...What need is there for specifications?”

“Forgive me my Lord, but…it is needed. What I am dictates what I can give.” You fumble with your hands, before clasping them together and holding them between your thighs, where he was moments prior. He should be back there, lapping at the slick dripping from your core, tasting it, tasting you but--- Ah, you're speaking. You said something. He has to listen.

“What do I give that is of value to this group? To you? Actual value, not those silly stories. I can neither set up camp quickly enough nor forage, fish or hunt better than the others can. My etiquette, or lack thereof is obvious. I'm much too insolent, in Jaken’s words. I take care of Rin and I love the girl to death but she’s mostly independent... She prefers Jaken anyways.”

Rin, who you took under your care and nurture, The same girl who could barely look him in the eyes or utter a sentence running in the middle of a dilapidated, haunted town to find him, for you.

“...So what do I offer you, that makes it so that I’m pulling my weight here? I don’t want to be useless.” And I don't want to be coddled either, he hears the unspoken words. So he answers you.

“Spring wears

A cloak of mist.

A thin fabric,

For the mountain breeze

Would, doubtless, disarray it.”

Your brow furrows.  “I don’t–”

“An exercise in subtlety,” he remarks. “And an answer to your question.” He gestures. “Go on.” Ariwara again? So you reply,

“In my yearning

I am fading completely as

The morning dew;

This morning to arise

Was beyond me.”

He ‘tsk’s’. “Again, with the dew?”

“I mentioned it, what, once last night? You can't fault me.” You say it a bit too defensively; You wish he would just answer you, or leave you be, but he does not. You just have to stay there and listen as he recites, your breath stuttering when his hand moves to your face, a finger over a cheekbone, nothing more.

“More even than the dew

From an illustrious house come

This chrysanthemum, so

The flower’s Mistress

Will live longer still, I believe.”

Chrysanthemums… Sunlight?

“The colour of this flower

Has already faded away,

While in idle thoughts

My life goes by,

As I watch the long rains fall.”

He responds back, just as quickly, 

"At Yoshino River

Waves crash high above the rocks

The rushing water

Swift as your

Lodging within my thoughts."

“...I nearly drowned today my Lord, is that not inappropriate?” 

“Something more tasteful then,” he comments.

“If it be so, Then so be it

I thought once, but

As white snow falling,

With the passing day

My yearning grows ever stronger.”

There's no mistaking the context of his words. But also not the roiling emotions in your heart. You reply,

“...An ancestral home

It is not, so

Towards me why

Is his heart

So cold and distant?”

His body language goes stiff, the ease in which he held himself something you hadn't noticed until it was gone. You are sorry to see it.

“...Don’t respond so hastily if you don't want to be answered in the next breath,” you exhale. You could wonder at your own audacity, and you might have imagined it, but he pauses before he recites another.

“A secret it is, but

When I feel love rise,

From leg wearying

Mountains, the moon

Sets out, and so do I.”

“...My Lord, please, don’t.” You don’t even know what he’s asking,  but he’s running his fingers over your neck, the dip at the base and pressing onto the mark he left. It makes you shiver. You notice it for a soothing habit, and it makes you wonder. But he continues.

“This world of men

Is such a place:

The gusting wind,

Invisible, as she I’ve never seen

And yet do love.”

“My Lord, w-wait--”

“Do you wish to reply?” He’s just petting you with that stray finger, and stuck between your passion and hesitance, you can't speak.

“...I, I just…” he hums a note, too low to be anything more than a vibration in the air.

“Night deepens

With the sound of calling deer,

And I hear

My own one-sided love.”

“It's not!” You rush, your hand coming to the one at your throat. You lean forward. “It's not!”

“Then why this hesitance? Why do you care so greatly for the words of others?”

How do you explain that kind of fear, that kind of insecurity, just like that? “...I’m scared that their words will prove right. That I'll just be another woman of circumstance.”

“You’re unlike any woman nor demon I’ve encountered in this era. If I haven’t killed you yet, what makes you think I would now?”

“...I’m scared of more than just death, at your hands any less. I’m wary of your ire, and the slow rot of my self under domestic subservience,” you admit. It feels like being flayed alive.

“You were never subservient,” He shuts that down. “Why would you start now?”

Why would you start now?

…Yeah. Wait, why would you?

"What...?" Wait...

“I can barely keep you tethered and quiet in one place for an hour, or keep enough sense in your thick skull to keep you out of danger. If anything, this is more work on my end,” he drawls. “So again, why would you start trying to be competent now?”

You start laughing, big, belly shaking laughs that have you holding yourself together. Yeah...yeah! Why would you?

And that, that realization, that relief, is like a breath of fresh air. What were you even worried about?

“What is this–”

You rush forward, laughing still, lacing your fingers in his hair and pulling him down into a kiss.

>_>_>_>_>_>_>_>_>_>_>_>_>

You rest easily, in his futon, under his sheets. He has no pressing need for slumber, now or otherwise, so he’s never used the bedding here. He regrets it almost–There so much you’re missing, that you don’t know. You deserve a nest–full of pillows and quilts and whatever strikes your fancy. Clothing articles, his, naturally. You don't have the same sense of smell but he’s sure it would be just as effective. Because even now, you burrow into his side and sigh contentedly in your slumber. 

A new bruise sits above the one he first gave, darker, and larger. They’re joined by others, varying colors of bruises. It's not a mating mark–not yet. He plans to give you it when you mate, so that the pleasure could override the worst of the pain. 

It doesn't matter if you're human or not. He has decided that he wants you. He finds the emotion is reciprocated, and thus, you are his. Honeysuckle scent and annoying behavior and all.

He smooths over the faint marks with a finger, under the curve of your jaw and your parted, kiss swollen lips. Your lashes flutter under his touch, ghosting over your skin and the scent glands right beneath your ears. He bit here too. Not as deep as he'd like.

You just sigh deeper, but dont wake, a steady wash of honey over him as he presses against the glands. He can still taste your skin on his tongue, the way you shuddered.

“Sleep here,” he demanded. But it was not forceful, because he knew you would agree.

“And what about Rin?”

“Tell her, and come hither after she falls asleep then.” He clicked his tongue. “You and your fretful worries…”

But he doesn't mind it. A faint scent of milk lays over your skin, and it’s endearing, for how familiar it is. It doesn't vex him as greatly as it should.

Alpha children are born with more mild versions of their scents, which mature quickly with age. The mild sweet milk scent fades a few weeks after birth. For betas, it stays a year or so, before settling into something bland and weak. For omegas, the scent lasts up to teenhood. Rin has barely finished her first decade.

Two omegas under his ward. What are the chances? He dreads the day of her maturing, twice as many demons following their trail. Perhaps you were right in wanting you both to learn swordplay. If anything, a person should be their own last line of defense.

And you two are especially weak.

He has to tamp down on that dark satisfaction that builds, in your case particularly. Rin is a child, he will ensure her safety and comfort. But you…He has to remind himself despite his instincts. You are not some soft, pampered omega mate he keeps in his abode. Your weakness is not what draws him to you. And neither will it ever, he detests the weak and aimless. It's your fearlessness he favors. Your mind, thick as it is.

A man threatened you and you didn't simper, you pinned him down and drew your blade against his throat. He’s disappointed in you that you didn't decide to draw blood, but he’ll take care of that on your behalf. The thought of the boy and his murky, spicy scent over yours makes his eyes bleed red. He insulted you. Put his hands on you. He cannot let this insult be.

He needs a proper lesson. So he slips away from your lovely warmth, your aroma, and slips outside.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

It's easy to find the salt and musk trail of the boy, even easier to walk his way to the rice paddies. But the boy isn't there– He hears the struggling breath of an old man, and four sets of gentle, even breathing. Not there. There's a hidden path leading from the house, down to the streams and into a secluded area. It looks like only one set of feet made this nothing trail, and it's exactly who he’s looking for. Though, It's still close enough that should he scream, people will hear.

He plans to be quick.

He’s training, with a bamboo sword that must have been hand made, decent, despite its crudeness. Sweat and blood and the stressed scent of pain lacerates the air, his skin flush with exertion. He practises a basic set of moves, efficient, but lacking proper stance.

He stumbles, and when he pauses, Sesshoumaru notices he leans towards the side missing an ear, bloody bandages around his hands, gripping onto the makeshift weapon. He lacks talent, and manners, and dicipline, but holds no small amount of tenacity. Which unfrtunately will remain unrewarded.

Sesshoumaru stalks. He doesn’t crouch nor hide–he moves too fast for the discernible, human eye as he circles his victim, looking for the best angle to slice him. His nails and teeth lengthen. 

The wind stills and the animals silence themselves. Insects no longer cricket or tribble, and the birds still, ready to burst into flight at the slightest movement.

The night is at standstill. But he is not the reason why.

He steps away. His blade slips out its sheath like water poured out a glass. It rests above the pale throat of its target, the faintest red line rising underneath its honed edge.

The demon raises its hands, a Naga; White scales that would stand out in the pitch darkness, he must use demonic energy to hide himself. The scent of it is thin and acrid, rot-sweet. An alpha, but a weak one.

It spreads it's raised hands, not in surrender, but supplication. It tilts it's head down the slightest bit, even if it digs its throat deeper into the blade.

“You are the demon hunting this town.”

“That is I,” He expected a thin, hissing voice, but the naga sounds like any normal human male. Again, weak.

“And you are the Lord of the Western Lands, the Great Daiyoukai Sesshoumaru. I am honored to be in your presence.”

“And foolish.” Skin parts like butter under the blade, dripping a thin red.

“I let you live so long as you stayed out of my sight. Now you lose your head.”

“Ah ah!” It tries to placate. “I truly apologize, my lord, but If anything, I was hunting here first. You came to me.” It hisses low as Sesshoumaru presses. “And you came to meet your end.”

“Didn't you come here for the boy?” The naga points back. “I’ll, I’ll back off! I was planning to eat him and one of his sisters, or two, but I’ll go! You need not see my face again!”

He seems a pretty weak demon.

But the luminosity of those teeth and scales belied the cowardice It had shown. The wreckage left in the town discredited it further.

Strangely, there is soot over the wrecked buildings, like something had been burned. This would not be difficult to believe, if a demon trespassed into a home and knocked over lighted oil, but there is no sign of fire damage around the buildings; The grass is still fresh and green around it. The buildings are a few years old, yes, but if there had been a fire there would be more pressing signs, Jaken stressed.

“The female head of the staff spews water, and the old male head spews fire, so I know the destruction both could wreck,” the imp pondered. “All the buildings have soot, but very slight burn marks. With how close and tight the community is, there would have been more obvious tells. No one in this town seems to have any breathing problems, or limps, and with these many ‘fires’, this town should have been burnt down, no matter that they live so close to a mountain stream,” He squawked.

“Something is suspicious with this town…”

And he was looking at that something.

“Tell me, why should I not kill you now and ensure that future myself?” A hiss slithers in the Naga’s throat, but It doesn't bear It's fangs. It's tail slashes the air anxiously.

“Because…Because I have done you no wrong nor do I intend to.” The blade presses in and It fights, Sesshoumaru sees, not to lash out. It knows attacking means earning his ire, which is certain death.

In most cases, not yours.

“B-Because I have information!”

“Lower your voice,” he says in low tones. “What information?”

"You, you must swear not to kill me afterwards. I want your word as a samurai!"

"You have my word I wont kill you if its not useless." He gripes. "Now speak or lose your life."

“That, that innkeeper…she's an omega as well.”

“The hag?” He can't even recall the color of her eyes, her head always bowed, let alone if her scent had the telltale sweetness of an omega.

“She’s human, and a widow.”

“Yes, and old, so the scent withers off to nothing. If some desperate alpha re-mated her, it might make a reappearance.”

“Re-mated,” he said. “She was mated by a demon?”

“Well, humans couldn’t mate with each other even if they knew how. Yes. That's why she was driven out her village, and came here.”

“And you made her a widow when you killed her husband.”

“I ate him for power, yes, he was very strong. And delicious."

Hm. She does show all the typical signs of an omega, if he recalls. He just can't imagine her paired with a demon. She should have more a backbone, if so. She seemed a pretty meek thing when he confronted her after the boy had ran from the inn.

The boy drips blood and tears, sobbing pitifully as he staggers from the inn, holding his parts. When Sesshoumaru turns the innkeeper is kneeling in seiza, trembling, head to her hands on the floor.

“M-My Lord–” He tosses her the cut off ear, still warm and dripping.

‘You stand to lose much more if you allow anyone else inside.”

“M-My sons are coming to visit me, tomorrow or the day after, my Lord.” More nuisances.

“I don’t want to see them. I don't want to catch a scent nor sound. Understood?”

“Y-Yes, yes, my Lord. Of course, My Lord.” And so he goes to you.

"And what of her children?"

“Her sons?" The naga's nose wrinkles. "They are hanyo’s, half bloods…disgusting, I know. One of them is a beta, and the other is an alpha.” It casts a knowing look. “So I suggest you keep your little omegas from wandering about too far.”

His blood spikes. Yes, he has the demon of this town at blade point, but it was a weak and a coward, and now there were two others, no matter that they were the innkeepers' sons, heading straight for the lot of you.

So he sheathes his blade. He turns and shows his full back to the demon, a blatant insult.

“The next time I see you will be the last. You have my word.”

“Well, I sincerely hope it wont be,” he can hear the relief in it's voice. “And, were you not stalking the boy…?”

“Take him, his lack of situational awareness is his own undoing.” He thinks. “But leave the rest of the family be. Just the boy. That and your life is the reward for your information."

“The only thing better than a daughter is an oldest son,” the naga laughs. He bows where his waist tapers into scales.

“And it's always good to live one more day. Thank you, my Lord.”

“I intend to know the name of the next demon I kill.”

“Oh, my name?” the naga grins, each tooth pointed sharp and gleaming.

“It’s Shingetsu Numachi.”

________________________________________

Taglist: @tanspostsblog . @xmenteria,

________________________________________

Poetry links

Ariwara no Yukihira / Ariwara no Yukihira / Fujiwara no Masatada / Ono no Komachi / Ki no Turayuki / Ariwara no Narihira / Ise / Tsurayuki / Tsurayuki / Ono no Komachi

A/N: I used a lot more poetry in this one, but can you believe I cut it down? I wanted to add more but stuck with the ones that lent more to the plot. So I stood with the really romantic 'era accurate' poems (smh Sesshoumaru has to confess via poetry bc our mc really is that dense) lol.

__________________________________________________

[dark666posting]

Stress Relief

Innocent!Virgin!Reader x Dark!Eddie Munson

TW: NON CON, NON CON!!********

It's been a long week. College enrollment on top of job searching isn't boding well for Eddie. You notice he's been on edge for the past few days and it's only getting worse as time goes on. He's lashed out at almost everybody but you, including his band and DnD club members.

The others ask you what Eddie's damage is, but you're as clueless as they are. Knowing how sensitive you are, you decide to keep a little distance between yourself and Eddie, certain you'd cry if he were to snap at you. He's only ever done it once before when you accidentally dropped his guitar while it was in his case. You were helping unload for a show and he went off. It makes you embarrassed to remember, so you'd rather not repeat it.

That wishful thinking doesn't last long. You get out of your last class a little later than usual, not realizing your presentation went over the time limit. Eddie, who is usually your ride home, taps his foot impatiently in the parking lot.

"Hey, Eddie! Sorry I'm late, we-"

"Don't worry. No one's day moves unless you say so, princess." He huffs, looking straight ahead, avoiding looking at you at all.

"Eddie... I'm sorry." You stand with the door open, unsure if you're still welcome in his van if he's this upset with you.

"Are you just gonna stand there? Is it not enough that I waited for you, we gotta waste some more time?" He tosses his hands up and your mouth hangs slightly open in shock. He's never been this kind of person, he must be going through a lot. You feel terrible for him, it must be hard. You quickly climb into the passenger seat and he sighs an exasperated "Finally."

"Eddie," you try to get him to talk to you. You're hoping you can help get to the bottom of all his stressors.

"What, Y/N?" He pinches the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb as if he's already more annoyed than he's ever been. It makes you feel small.

"A-Are you okay? I know you've been stressed and I-"

"Oh, you know I've been stressed? Thank you, Y/N, for having eyes," he laughs through the anger. "What if instead of pretending to be my therapist, you just sit there quietly while I give you another free ride home?"

You gasp, unsure what you did to warrant this kind of treatment from him. You turn your attention to the road ahead as you try to hold back your tears. Your unsteady breaths are as quiet as you can keep them, but he hears you anyway. When he glances over and sees the tears finally overflow past your lashes, he sighs, shaking his head. You feel humiliated. Unbeknownst to you, and honestly news to him, seeing you cry makes him... Incredibly aroused.

Eddie delivers you to your house and speeds off before you can thank him or apologize or anything. You feel a hollow in your stomach. You don't want to lose your best friend, but you're far too sensitive to be talked to like that. You disappear to your room to cry and change into your pajamas. You plan on spending the entire rest of the day and night in bed.

You're relaxing in your room, listening to your favorite Blondie cassette, and getting ready for bed. You had half expected Eddie to call, but he doesn't. You know you'd forgive him in an instant if he'd just call. You turn off the lamp on your nightstand and settle into your plush, pink bed. Sleep takes no time to find you, you're drifted off into a deep slumber in just a few minutes.

In fact, you're sleeping so deeply, you don't notice the sound of your window being jostled open. A cool, nighttime breeze wafts through your room as a curly-haired figure climbs through. Eddie carefully closes the window and steps toward you where you sleep. He hoped you'd be awake, but he's not sure why. He didn't plan on apologizing to you. He stares at you for a while, reaching into his pants to palm himself over his boxers.

"Fuck," he whispers. Eddie didn't realize what it would do to him to see you laying braless in your skimpy, pink silk pajamas, surrounded by your pink and white bed set. You're like an angel. All he can think about is how pretty your crying face looked earlier today. The cool breeze from the open window has hardened your nipples under your top and Eddie can't help but rub his thumb over them gently. They become even more pebbled from his touch.

Eddie stifles a laugh of disbelief as he watches the rosy blush rise in your cheeks. As if no longer in control of his actions, Eddie unfastens his belt and frees his erection that's straining against his boxers. He inhales sharply through his teeth as he strokes his shaft a few times before taking your sleeping hand and limply wrapping it around his length. He strokes himself with your hand for a while before becoming a little bolder as his arousal swells.

Carefully, Eddie takes your head to the side and gently slips his tip past your lips. The wetness of your tongue is enough to send him over the edge, but he holds back. That's it, he's caving. He throws his shirt off of himself and dips into your bed beside you. Instinctively, you cuddle your back into him, subconsciously brushing your ass against his exposed cock.

Eddie reaches between your legs to strategically rub your clit so you'd already be wet for him. You're sound asleep, but moaning like a whore being filled from every angle. He's mind blown hearing your innocent lips release such vulgar whines. He whips your shorts and panties off with ease and positions himself at your dripping hole. Just as he slips it in, your eyes shoot open as the stretching pain tears you from your sleep.

Your fight or flight response tries to carry you away, but Eddie's grip around you tightens. He continues rutting into you, releasing sensual deep breaths down your body.

"Shhh, baby. You're okay. You're okay," he whispers sweetly as if he's not forcing himself inside you.

"Eddie?!" You gasp in disbelief and betrayal. "Eddie, please! It hurts!"

"Shut the fuck up." He grips your hair, pulling your head back so he can watch the tears well in your eyes.

"Eddie!"

"What's wrong with you? Just help me destress a little, okay? That's what friends do," he coos in your ear, not letting up.

"But... It.. hurts..." You sob.

"Why the fuck does it hurt so bad? You're not a virgin are you?" Eddie furrows his brow, unsure how you of all people could go this long without having sex. You are gorgeous, after all.

You don't reply, letting Eddie know that yes, you are. Well, were. Tears fall down your face as you close your eyes. At first, he feels bad, but it quickly fuels his fire when he thinks about the way he's ruined you for anyone else. He picks up his pace, breaking your heart further as you watch him relish in robbing you of your virginity.

Eddie withdraws from you for only a moment before climbing on top of you and forcing your legs open in front of him. He slams back into you, stimulating your clit with his thumb. You brace yourself by holding into the bars of your brass headboard while he fucks into you with no emotion, no love, only anger, and lust.

Eddie feels his climax coming so he places a firm palm over your lower abdomen as he fucks you. The new friction builds an orgasm in you at an inhuman pace.

"Don't cum until I tell you," he demands dryly.

"Eddie, please stop..."

"Don't. Cum." You try to do as he says, fighting for your life to withhold your orgasm before he allows you to climax. His thrusts are rough and mean, feeling as if he's tearing you apart from the inside.

"Now," he breathes, allowing you to release. You flood him where he stands when you release, drenching your pretty little, pink, gingham bed set. Eddie pulls out and strokes himself, cumming all over your face and chest. He's breathless, staring at you with a smile. Something he thought he'd never see is his innocent best friend covered in his cum.

"E-Eddie..." You sob, staring at him through one eye as the other is covered with the evidence of Eddie's visit. "What did I do?" You sob.

"Shhh, shhh. You did amazing. Don't cry, look how much you enjoyed it." He touches the drenched blankets and traces his fingers up your legs. You shudder, pulling away from his touch.

"You... I didn't..." You try to find your words.

"Don't start acting like you're too good for it now. I'll be seeing you next week, okay? This is how you're gonna help me manage all this stress." He starts getting dressed, leaving you filthy and fucked out.

"I-I don't want to..."

"Oh, please. You're not gonna make your best friend suffer like this, are you? Besides, you don't really have a choice, do you?" He smiles at you, warmly. It's confusing and unsettling.

The rest of the week, Eddie seems completely back to normal. He's mended things with all his friends. You watch them in the lunchroom as you contemplate eating lunch outside or in a bathroom instead of taking your trademark seat right next to your best friend. Eddie catches your eye and waves you over. You do as you're told, why do you do that?

You flinch as you try to sit too fast, still healing from the internal thrashing given to you by Eddie. He smirks as he watches you avoid eye contact. He'll be sure to address that at your next session.

[goosefruit]

5 times vanessa brought you flowers (drabble collection)

vanessa shelly x fem!reader

tw: none

a/n: i need her to show up at my door with a bouquet of flowers ples

Hydrangeas

The first time Vanessa showed up at your door with a bouquet of flowers was on the night of your first date. 

She nervously shuffled her feet, wondering how you might react to her last-minute grocery store purchase. In her defense, she had just finished working a night shift mere hours before she had to start getting ready for tonight. 

An arrangement of baby blue hydrangeas laid in her arms, with little white flowers filling the gaps. 

Vanessa had stood in the flower section of the store for a good half hour as she tried to decide on the perfect offering for you. The obvious choice would be roses, but she was afraid of coming off too strong. 

After all, she had only known you for a week, after dancing with you at a bar. Even then, there was a spark between the two of you that she had never felt before, and she knew that she would do anything to have this work out. 

So she decided on something perhaps even more thoughtful than roses. 

The hydrangeas had caught her eyes the moment she saw them. They were the same shade of blue as the sparkly aquamarine earrings you always wore (she knew because you were wearing them the night you met, as well as in most of your Instagram pictures). Something about the delicate hue reminded her of your soft smile and gentle eyes.

Those same blossoms of blue were seen in your favourite vase for months after, its petals dried and preserved.

‎‎ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ°•. ✿ .•°

Wildflowers

For your one year anniversary, Vanessa had planned a picnic in a nearby meadow. 

You sat under the warm May sun with your eyes closed, leaning against your girlfriend's shoulder. The occasional cool breeze tickled your skin as you basked in the sunlight, sighs of delight falling from your lips. 

In every direction, fields of colour stretched on for miles. Flowers of all shapes and sizes were beginning to wake from their winter slumber, with many already in full bloom.

Groggily, you opened one eye to admire how wonderfully Vanessa’s blonde locks gleamed in the afternoon light.

“Hey honey,” she smiled when she noticed you staring. Giving you a peck on the forehead, she began to stand up. “I’ll be right back.”

You thought about following her, but were in way too comfortable of a position for your muscles to want to move. Instead, you laid back on the picnic mat and listened to the birdsong overhead. 

Vanessa returned soon after, prancing towards you in her pretty pink sundress. She held out a brilliant bundle of wildflowers: reds, blues, oranges, and yellows amongst various shades of green. The stems were tied together with a blade of grass, assembled into a perfect little bouquet.

“For you, my beautiful girl.”

‎‎ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ°•. ✿ .•°

Lilies of the Valley

This time, Vanessa had to ask the Internet for help.

You and her had been in rocky waters for the past week, arguing over trivial things such as who was going to do the dishes. 

She knew that you were only matching her attitude, as she had been quite unfair in how she spoke to you lately. Really, she didn’t mean it—the long, stressful shifts at work had gotten the better of her, but instead of talking it out, she pent up those emotions until they overflowed. 

Vanessa knew she had to do something to clean up the mess that she had created. 

A Google search for apology gifts gave her a list of ideas, and she set out for the store while you were at work one day. It took her several tries before she found a florist that supplied what she was looking for.

The vase held a bunch of delicate little white flowers, each hanging off of thin green stems in rows. There must have been at least a hundred of them, every one perfectly bell-shaped. 

She recalled that you had once stopped to admire a patch of these on a walk, which is why she recognized them almost immediately when they came up on her search. Apparently, they symbolized apology, amongst other things. 

Knowing that she would already be at work by the time your shift ended, she left the flowers alongside a note on the dining table:

My dearest Y/N,

You are my world, but I haven’t been treating you like it lately. I’m sorry that I’ve been a terrible communicator, and for taking out all my stress on you. You didn’t deserve that.  

I got you a little something here: Lilies of the valley. It has a pretty name, just like you.

I know it doesn’t make up for how I acted, but take it as a token of my love. Really sorry I can’t be home tonight; you know how my shifts are. 

Maybe we can do something fun when I get back?

I’m going to do better from now on, my love <3

-Nessa

‎‎ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ°•. ✿ .•°

Roses

On Valentine’s Day, you received the sweetest, reddest roses. 

Vanessa had taken a day off just to prepare for the occasion, taking it upon herself to decorate the entire apartment with candles and petals. 

At her insistence, she picked you up from work, wearing a suit so nice it made you feel underdressed in your plain blouse and jeans. The look was completed by a rose between her teeth, one corner of her mouth lifted in a gentle smirk. You giggled at how ridiculous but sexy she looked.  

She presented you with a bouquet she had hidden behind her back, a dozen more roses bound by lace and gold wrapping paper. 

Each flower had been carefully handpicked by her, the process having taken her nearly half a day at the florist’s. She made sure to select only the most vibrant ones, with every petal intact, for her babygirl. 

They smelled so good, it made your heart flutter. Of course, you knew that roses were known for their fragrance, but something about getting them from the love of your life made the sweet scent all the more mesmerizing. 

To top it all off, the lace holding everything together had the same colour and pattern as that chic white lingerie set you knew she loved seeing you in. 

You took a mental note to change into it before the evening’s fun.

‎‎ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ°•. ✿ .•°

Paper flowers

You were puzzled when Vanessa took an unusual interest in the crafts section of the dollar store. 

Your girlfriend had never expressed herself as an artistic person, always leaving all the home decor DIY stuff to you. But now, she was buying stacks of coloured paper and disappearing to her office with them for hours at a time. 

You had been reading on the couch one Sunday afternoon when you felt her hands cover your eyes from behind. 

“Don’t peek! I have a surprise for you,” she whispered excitedly. 

You nodded, keeping your eyes shut as she set something down on the table in front of you. 

“Okay, now open your eyes!”

The product of her mystery project blew your mind beyond words.

In a tall glass vase, she had placed paper flowers of all different colours, each resembling different species with shocking accuracy. They were folded with such neatness that you immediately understood why it had taken Vanessa so long. 

“I saw a video online, so I knew I had to make some for you,” she grinned cheekily. “The papercuts were all worth it.”

You grabbed her face and kissed her, all while a singular thought circulated through your mind: How many other hidden talents did this woman have?

[lianaloverr]

She

stalker!Sam Golbach x fem!reader

summary: You finally got the man of your dreams...

ᜊ

Warnings:Just a tiny bit of smut so MDNI

ᜊ

Word count: 1k

ᜊ

“one, two, your the girl that i want..”

ᜊ

“It’s always the same.”

ᜊ

you come home from work exhausted, looking forward to taking a really long shower and sleeping all day until you go to work.

ᜊ

You just moved to a new town, and everything is weird, even your dad. He's upset because of your going out partying and having boys over. But it's normal it's not like he caught you all doing anything wrong... At least, not anything he knows of.

ᜊ

This guy caught your attention he is with a small group of three including him, probably friends.But you're already scheming to get into their pants.

ᜊ

One of the guys is already talking to you, being all friendly with you, even though you can tell he's just looking for a one-night stand. That's fine by you though, because your attention is already on someone else and that is..

Sam Golbach

ᜊ

“C’mere, baby don’t hide” the guy keeps saying, moving your hands from your face, but all you can manage to say are ugly moans and sobs. How you wish it were Sam instead making you have orgasm. You later discover the name if the guy who has you in a weird position and is all up on your guts is Colby he and Sam are best friends. How disappointing they must have some sort of bro code.

“It’s too muchhh I can’tt” you keep repeating, urging him to finish faster, but he won’t budge.He keep thrusting even harder and its making you exhausted.

Thats how your days go when you spend time with Colby.

ᜊ

On this spectacular night, you and Colby are so close, the heat between you is so bad that you guys are a sweating mess. As you straddle him, he kisses down your neck, sending shivers down your spine. Suddenly, he flips you over and reaches for something. A gun. Confusion sets in as he stands, grabbing his phone.

ᜊ

“Why did you do that?” you ask, puzzled.

“Someone was at the window… didn’t you see?” he snaps back, his tone unexpectedly harsh.

ᜊ

“There’s no one there, come back to bed,” you say, irritation creeping in. Why won’t he just relax? There’s clearly no one outside. You ponder this as he dials 911.

ᜊ

“Fine, I’ll check the window since you’re so anxious,” you roll your eyes, rising to inspect you look out.Your eyes widen. “M-my dad is outside!” you whisper scream in shock.

ᜊ

He stares at you, equally surprised. “What?!” he exclaims, as you hurriedly push him into the closet. “Quick, hide… and don’t make a sound,” you instruct urgently.

ᜊ

As you hear your dad come in, you decide to be the responsible daughter that you are and greet him in the living room. He looks stressed, so you try to lighten the mood. “Rough day, huh? How was work?” you ask, hoping to cheer him up.

ᜊ

“Leave me alone, y/n. Go to sleep; you have a long day tomorrow,” he grumbles, clearly not in the mood for conversation.

ᜊ

Rolling your eyes dramatically, you mutter under your breath, “Well, excuse me for trying to be a supportive daughter.” You storm to your room, feeling unappreciated.

ᜊ

You walk back to your room and collapse onto your bed, immediately drifting off into a deep sleep. At some point in the night, you’re jolted awake by the sensation of something touching you. Groggy and half-asleep, you shift slightly, but in your drowsy state, you dismiss it as a dream and quickly drift back into slumber.

ᜊ

The next morning, you wake up feeling oddly unsettled, unable to shake the feeling that something was off during the night. You replay the events in your mind, trying to make sense of the sensation you felt. Could it have been a dream, or was there something or someone in your room?

ᜊ

As you wake up, the eerie feeling from the night before lingers. You notice that some of your panties are missing, and your blood runs cold when you see the message scrawled on your mirror "MEET AT LAKE." Fear grips you, and you shudder at the thought of someone invading your space.

ᜊ

The idea of going to the lake is out of the question; it feels like walking into a trap, a scene from a horror movie where the victim meets their demise. You try to shake off the fear, but the sense of being watched follows you like a shadow. The violation of your privacy leaves you unsettled, unsure of who could be behind such a sinister act.

ᜊ

You finally get the chance to talk to sam you guys make plans on going to a cafe. As the two of you sit in the cafe, the conversation takes a serious turn. “Sam,” you begin, hesitating slightly, “I need to tell you something. I’ve been feeling really scared lately.” Sam looks at you, concern flickering in his eyes. “What’s going on?” he asks gently.

ᜊ

You take a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “I feel like someone’s been following me, watching me. It’s like I’m never alone, even when I should be.” You glance around nervously, as if expecting someone to be listening in.

ᜊ

Sam reaches out and places a reassuring hand on yours. “I’m so sorry you’re going through this,” he says sincerely. “Have you talked to anyone else about this?”

ᜊ

You shake your head. “No, you’re the first person I’ve told. I just… I don’t know what to do. I feel like I’m being paranoid, but at the same time, I can’t shake this feeling.”

ᜊ

Sam listens attentively, his expression thoughtful. “It’s not paranoia if you’re genuinely feeling scared,” he says softly. “I’m here for you, okay? We’ll figure this out together.” His words offer you a sense of comfort and relief, knowing that you have someone by your side who understands and cares but you can’t help to wonder if..

ᜊ

If he’s the stalker.

Heyy guysss! I hope you liked part 1 of “She”. Let me know if you want part 2!

Thanks to @gloryaiis for this writing!

Masterlist

[moderator-monnie]

Before The Ritual (A COTH Story)

Dr. Ivo Robotnik, otherwise known as Dr. Eggman, was currently sitting in his lab, infuriated as always. He threw some papers off his desk and sighed heavily.

One hand was on his chin, and the other was tapping against his table, mumbling some things to himself quietly.

"Drat that damn hedgehog... Always getting in the way of my plans, he is truly a worthy adversary, but if I want to get rid of him for good, I need the ultimate plan! What haven't I tried? What could I use? Now that is the question at the end of the day."

"Perhaps a doomsday device? Hmm, not too predictable. Maybe I could touch upon the metal virus in a new light? ... No. Not too dangerous. I made some mistakes with that attempt. I didn't even think about my own safety."

"Maybe upgrade Metal Sonic or bring Tails Doll and Mecha Knuckles out of retirement? Could I even make some robot copies of the rats' other friends? That lemur would make an interesting machine. NO NO, none of these plans work!"

He soon laid back in his chair, rubbing his temples. He didn't want to work himself, but Sonic was a powerful foe and quite intelligent too, even if Eggman wouldn't admit it out loud.

"Just what can I do? What would really wow him? WHAT CAN BEAT HIM FOR GOOD? THERE MUST BE SOMETHING I'VE MISSED, IN MY RESEARCH OF MOBIUS!!! AN ULTIMATE WEAKNESS!"

Suddenly, a red light flashed in the room, and Sage appeared, sitting on his work bench, kicking her legs before clearing her throat with a gentle smile and a wave and speaking. "Hello Father, I see you are stressed over finding a way to, and I quote, 'crush that blasted hedgehog' may I offer my assistance?"

Eggman sat up in his chair, letting out a hearty chuckle before looking at his AI daughter. He took her words carefully and rubbed his chin before responding. "Ah, hello, Sage. Hello, it's nice to see you. You know what? You might just be what I need; a fresh eye on things would definitely help me figure out exactly what I need to defeat Sonic once and for all."

Eggman put his hands together, striking a pose. "You have access to my data banks along with the internet, correct?"

Sage nodded softly. She then teleported away, inserting herself into the main computer and combing through it rather quickly.

A sudden dinging noise was heard, and Eggman could see some files being downloaded, but he allowed time for Sage to explain what they were for.

"Father, I have discovered something you may have overlooked. You are aware of Grandfather Gerald Robotnik's research into the gods of Mobius and of humanity, correct?"

Eggman's eyebrows rose, wondering where his daughter was going with this, but he was quite curious as well. "Why, yes, Sage, I'm aware of all this; why did you bring it up? I've tried using god-like creatures against Sonic before, like with Dark Gaia and Chaos."

Sage soon pulled up some semi-corrupted files she had dug up. She is in the deepest parts of the internet, and Eggman's own files are on the main computer screen.

"Well, Father, you may have overlooked something. Its origins are not exactly clear. It's commonly unknown if humanity or Mobians discovered this entity, but unlike many other gods of Mobius and Earth, this one has not only been proven to exist to some extent."

"This God, or rather god-like entity, can control dreams themselves and is not physical, at least not without a host body to call its own; it has the ability to interact with solid objects, but with a host body, epically one with a high enough chaos energy.

And given enough time. This entity could possibly even put all of Mobius into a slumber of its own control, one they can't wake up from without its consent."

Eggman began to smirk very widely as he got up out of his chair and looked at the screen widely, seeing all the files Sage showed him.

"What a very interesting find, Sage! I'm very proud of you, but what makes you think we can control it and have it help us get rid of Sonic?"

Sage blushed. She had stars in her eyes for a moment; she was always happy to have her father be proud of her, but she soon cleared her throat and continued.

"Ahem, ah, right, you are father. The reason why I believe this entity would help us is due to its documented nature. It has been shown in the past to love pure chaos, and what would be more chaotic than helping you take over the world?

"Sonic would have no way to stop it either, due to it being far more powerful than him. And Sonic can't simply attack something while he's asleep now, can he, Father?"

He nodded along, listening closely before using a virtual glove he made to be able to pat Sage on the head softly, and then sat back down, carefully reading all the information Sage had brought up.

"Correct, you are Sage; that hedgehog would stand no chance of something he can't even interact with. I shall begin preparations. I see this 'god' has some ties to the chaos emeralds. 

So perhaps I can build a new robot, one that can harness chaos energy without directly needing the emerald, in order to create the perfect host for our friend to take possession of, and with us working together, friends can finally win! I'll need to be careful though and build in some safety features so I can control the robot once our friend takes it's new body."

"Though I shouldn't make the controls too obvious, otherwise strike this 'god's ire."

With a few clicks on the screen, a few images and historical documents showed up, revealing something quite interesting to the doctor himself.

A strange golden arch was under the site where Angel Island once stood, back when it was just a normal land mass.

"How in sweet mother Gaia did I ever miss such a thing during my many trips to Angel Island?"

He zoomed in on the photos, inspecting them closely, and wrote a few things down on his notepad. Not much information seems to be known about this historical sight, but a few tablets were recovered from the sight itself, written in a language similar to the ancients themselves but different.

All Eggman could gather from the rough translations he could figure out was one word: 'Zepperaith'. He would need to travel to the historical site, inspect this golden arch up close, and figure out its secrets.

"Zepperaith... I will unleash you upon this land, and SONIC THE HEDGEHOG WILL BE GONE FOREVER!"

Dr. Eggman began to laugh loudly, with Sage joining him quietly, with a new plan in mind. Perhaps this will be Sonic's downfall once and for all.

[smolmousepotato]

Tw: ooc, Boothill x fem!reader, tavern, bad writing ig, cringey i think

Midnight tavern

"What's a pretty lil' thing like ya doin' here eh?"

You can feel a warm waft of air trail the side of your neck as a figure corners you from behind. The night is still young.

You came to this tavern in hopes of drowning the day's fatigue with alcohol, with or without fun, you couldn't care less. But the relieving is a must.

Alone, you sit on a stool by the counter with your usual drink: a blueberry martini.

Your senses can't help but relish in the way the berries and vodka blend and soothe the raging storm within your soul. Everything is washed away, bit by bit along with each sip. By the end of the night, you'd expect a cleansed mood, free of annoyance and exhaust.

But this random guy who had been staring at you from across the counter might just create some more stress for you.

You were talking to the bartender when he rose from your peripheral vision. His tall form caught your attention. You notice the mechanical details on his body and the way he showed them off in a flashingly bold way.

The rim of his hat was overshadowing the half of his face. Gruffly, you see him approach.

The bartender left you with it, being occupied with another client.

And so that leads to you, being pressed against a wall by the man whose name you barely know.

He speaks to you in a low, rough voice with a thick Southern accent, towering his form over you. Chills were sent down your spine, and the alcohol in your system did the effect worse.

It felt hot. Amidst the crowd of the tavern, he traps you in one place, breathing heavily down your neck.

"Tell me."

"Just... for a little relief..." you reply with a quiet voice, looking away from his intense gaze.

"Mm, why do pretty lil' dolls like you need relief eh?"

"Personal stuff. Is it necessary for you to be this nosy?" You grumble, a little annoyed by the close proximity between you two.

"Hm, why, it ain't my business at all, in fact," the man leans back a little, noticing your annoyance. He chuckles, "I was just a lil' curious 'bout this pretty doll right here, so feisty ain't ya?"

"Not your business."

"Of course it ain't, cutie."

"What?"

"What? Got any problems 'bout that nickname I give?"

"Yeah. I don't even know you, and you're throwing nicknames at me."

"Aight, the name's Boothill. Pleasure to know your beautiful name?"

"Why should I even tell you..."

Afterwards, he eventually got your name. He grins and presses a brief little flirty kiss on your lips.

"See ya later, darlin'~"

You wouldn't think of a day you'd see someone's dignity missing like that.

He awaits you the next day you return, flirtatiously gazing at you. You can see him tip his hat.

Day after day, he'd be there, in the same spot you'd found him in since the first day, tipping his hat a little and grinning.

One day you step in to find his absence. A routine image, now you can't help but feel a little empty inside.

You take your seat, order your usual and chillax.

You sigh. Perhaps that flirt was entertaining after all.

Drink after drink, you venture forth beyond your forte, intoxicating yourself by midnight, when the tavern lessens its people.

That is when a certain man walks in, all bloody and staggering. He had a duel with another outlaw and took a bullet in the arm. The blood was the other's.

He sees you, limping over the counter, probably passed out cold. A closer distance; he smells alcohol and a mixed scent of multiple berries.

With a chuckle, he asks the bartender for some bandage and wraps his "wound" up.

His eyes wander back to where you sat, his heart swell with a need to wrap his arms around your form and pick you up.

But that'd be weird if he does, right?

So he tries his best to ignore it and acts casual, walking past you like nothing happened.

——

But she wasn't fully asleep. She can pick up the metallic scent of blood from where she sits, and it alerts her from her slumber.

His steps come to a halt when he felt a light force tugging at his arm. He turns around, a smile gracing his lips.

She, a small little thing who picked up the sense of danger and decided to be awake, though a tad bit sleepy.

"Well, what's this huh?" He chuckles, "clingy all out of a sudden?"

He can hear little grumbles from her, signifying her unclear annoyance towards him.

"Tell me, doll," he swoops in, his arms on the counter, trapping her from above, "would you?"

"Hah?"

"Would you care... if I walk in... this bloody?"

"I mean who doesn't? You look like you were dying."

"Yeaaaah, but still, that's just a side question. Here's the real one dollie, answer it honestly."

"50-50. Depends."

"Stop that."

He leans closer, his lips about to touch the shell of her ear when he whispers, "miss me?"

That sent shivers down her spine, making her weak in the knees and blank in the mind. That caused her heart to race like it's never before.

That makes her realize that she craves his presence.

"No." She spats, feigning annoyance.

———

You hear him chuckle.

"Y'know liars don't get to live so long."

"I wasn't lying."

"Sure thing, hun."

His hand grasps at her chin, pulling it upwards so that her head leans back. Those grey, unique eyes gaze into hers in a certain way that stirs up the butterflies in the pit of your stomach.

"Mmmh... what a sweet lil' thing, ain't ya?"

A pause of silence, where he looks into your eyes and solidifies you with all those feelings.

"Consent?"

"What?"

"A kiss?"

You look hesitantly at him, but your body has a mind of its own to decide on what must be done. Your hand wanders to the collar of his shirt, gripping it and pulling it down until his lips press against yours.

There was a slight halt in his breathing, as his eyes widened and his lips slightly agaped. But that was a brief moment before he dived right in, carrying passion with his kiss.

Your lips lock in a palpable passion, where your hands grip the back of his head and his hand rubs your body all over.

He chuckles as the kiss breaks. His hand grabs you by the collar and yanks you away from the stool.

"Get down 'ere, you sly lil' minx."

The alcohol in your system exposes you to being a little staggering, and an extra bit of flirtatiousness.

You grin, looking up from your height, into his eyes. There was affection and amusement in those eyes.

And then your lips collide in an intense kiss, once again. His arm wraps itself around your waist and tightens, pulling your body into his, and encouraging you to hold onto him.

So your hands do. They grasp onto his shirt, trying to pull him closer.

His hands then snake themselves under your body and pick you up, carrying you to the inn next to the tavern.

———

And then behind doors, each and every one of their kisses further lightens up the passion that has been suppressed within their hearts in fear of rejection. But now they both accept one another's feelings and are already in the same bed, it's clear that the passion blooms into lust and whatever comes afterward.

Perhaps the cowboy has found his place where he belongs, and so has she.

[violetlunette]

For the sake of this ficlet, Silver is a female.

Notes: *Period talk and Lilia not understanding what it is.

*mini-twst spoilers

A sharp cry awakened Lilia from his slumber.

“Silver?” Since it wasn’t like Silver to cry out like that, Lilia was tense. He teleported from his room to the hallway, where he knocked. (She was a girl, so he couldn’t just barge in.) Lilia didn’t sense anyone or anything other than the child inside, but something was clearly wrong. He knew that before the shaky tone edged its way through the wood of the door.

“Fa—father?” The tremble and whimper in her tone twisted Lilia’s heart. Something was definitely wrong. Even so, he plastered a smile on his face as he opened the door. He didn’t want to make things worse after all.

“What’s—” The scent of iron hit Lilia’s senses instantly. His eyes grew twice their usual size as he stared at the source—a pool of blood soaked into the mattress.

A chill went through him.

“What in the world…?” His gaze darted around the room for Silver, and he found her on the floor, shaking as he clutched her stomach, breathing heavily. Lilia was before her in an instant.

“Let me see it,” he told her, peeling her arms away. Then he frowned when he noticed there was no blood on her nightgown or visible wound.

‘What is going on here?’ “Where's the wound?” he asked, his eyes searching Silver's body. Poor Silver was nearly as pale as her hair as she shook, her eyes wide as she tried to hold back her tears.

"I..." she started to speak, but then closed her lips, groaning as pain shot through her. Lilia grabbed Silver's shoulders to steady her as she lurched forward, teeth gritting.

“Silver,” Lilia repeated. “Where are you injured? You have to tell me, so I can take care of you.” Silver shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut.

“I...But I’m not… I didn’t…” The girl was mumbling, clearly bewildered by whatever was going on. Lilia clenched his jaw behind pressed lips, trying to keep his head.

“Silver. You’re bleeding,” he stressed. “And from the looks of it, you lost a lot of blood. If this keeps up, you could DIE. You need to show me where you’re hurt, now.” Silver rolled her lips back, shifting on the spot.

“I...I…” Her face turned pink, and Lilia struggled to keep himself from shaking her and demanding he show her the injury.

He didn’t understand. Why was Silver so reluctant to show him her wound? She never kept secrets from him before, and in this case, the wound must have been massive. Was she doing something she wasn’t supposed to do when she was injured? Was she afraid she’d get in trouble for it?

Lilia’s grip tightened on her shoulders.

“I promise, I won’t get mad,” he told her. “Whatever you did, I--”

“But that’s just it!” Silver burst, and tears now rolled down her face. “I don’t know what I did! I don’t know what happened! I—I just woke up, and I was bleeding!” She was staring at him, begging him to believe her. Lilia took a breath.

“We’ll figure out what happened later,” he promised. “For now, we need to treat you. So, just show me where the blood’s coming from,” he added, trying not to lose his patience with her, his terror clawing at him. He wanted to take care of Silver and make sure she was okay. That was all that mattered.

“Ngh!” Silver nearly doubled over, tears leaking from her eyes. Lilia held her up and shook her.

“Show me where you’re bleeding! NOW!” he ordered. Silver shook her head.

“I...I can’t…” she whimpered.

“Why?” Lilia said, impatience adding a growl to his tone.

"Because... because I’m not supposed to show that area... to boys..." There was a beat across the room.

“Silver. Point to where you’re hurt.” Silver pointed. Lilia blinked, his brain trying to catch up.

“You mean you’re hurt in your..."

“Um...Um, sort...sort of..." Silver mumbled, not looking up at her father out of pure embarrassment. “The pain’s in my stomach area. It’s just the blood’s coming out." She didn’t finish, and Lilia didn’t force her. His mind was catching up.

Silver must have either gotten some internal damage from training or eaten something poisonous. Either way, at least he had an idea of what was wrong. Unfortunately, if the pain was internal, then Lilia couldn’t do anything. He stood.

“We’re going to the healers,” he announced.

Silver got dressed as best she could in a black skirt, and the two tried to leave for town. However, as soon as they stepped outside, the pain in Silver’s gut became too much, and she nearly toppled over. Lilia didn’t waste a moment before scooping the child into his arms. She breathed heavily against the pain, air seething through her teeth. Lilia pulled her close to his body.

“It’s all going to be okay, Silver,” he murmured into the top of her head as the girl shivered. He began running as fast as his legs would carry him, panic making him forget about his flight ability. “Everything’s going to be fine.” It had to be. Lilia couldn’t lose his little girl.

He couldn’t.

~*~

Lilia’s head dropped to the table, his hand tightly wrapped around the glass Baul had given him. His bangs shadowed his eyes, and his hair, loose from its ponytail, fell around him.

“I… I don’t believe this. I mean… How…” The glass shook in his hand. Baul stared sympathetically.

“General…”

“It’s just...I just..."

“General, please, it’s going to be okay.”

“THERE IS NOTHING OKAY ABOUT THIS—period!” Lilia hollered, throwing his head back, revealing a pink face from the drink. Baul blinked then frowned.

“Are you talking about the affliction, or were you emphasizing?” Lilia’s face scrunched into a pout.

“Like it matters!” The old fae leaned back in his seat and took a heavy drink of the liquor Baul gave him to calm his frazzled nerves. Lilia felt like a complete idiot.

Lilia had brought Silver to the doctor, one who knew the two well, as Lilia often brought her for checkups. Both he and Silver were terrified, especially when they had to take Silver to treat her. Then, after several awful minutes of Lilia going over the worst-case scenario, a nurse came out laughing. (Lilia had to stop himself from clocking her for laughing while his child was dying.) The lady—realizing her life was on the line—quickly assured him that what Silver was going through was just her entrance into womanhood.

Knowing that Lilia—a man—wouldn’t understand what this meant, she immediately jumped into an explanation.

Basically, Silver developed a demon in her womb area that demanded an infant sacrifice every month. If a baby wasn’t supplied, the demon would go mad and rip Silver’s insides apart, resulting in the carnage leaking out the closest exit.

Okay, she didn’t say any of THAT but Lilia would rather she had, as it was surprisingly less gory and traumatic than what was actually happening to Silver.

The gist he got was that her uterus—the place where the female body stored the “eggs” to make babies—wanted to create a baby. However, it needed a seed of some sort from a man to do so. Without the seed, the uterus dumped the eggs for that month, resulting in a bloody mess and pain.

If Lilia understood correctly, then Silver’s body was punishing her for NOT being pregnant, even though Silver was TWELVE.

The father did not understand the biological logic of that—except that nature was being cruel to women—but he and Silver were given a book that explained it. A big book. With pictures. Pictures Lilia made the mistake of looking at. He would not be doing that again. Ever.

“It’s definitely a shock,” Baul stated, taking a huge drink, a memory of a similar event aging him ten extra years for a moment. "Thankfully, my wife was still around then.” Lilia nodded, not having a response.

There were times when he thought having a female around would be better for Silver; however, with the way things were, that wasn’t going to be happening anytime soon. He wondered often if he was selfish for that.

‘Thank goodness for the Zigvolt family,’ Lilia thought, looking at his oldest friend, still alive.

After they visited the doctor, Lilia and Silver came here for help, as Lilia often did.

Once they explained things, Baul’s daughter mercifully took Silver to buy the things she would need while the bloody hell lasted. (Sebek wanted to go with, but was refused by every female present and dragged away by his older brother and father, who were explaining that men should stay out of certain things.)

Lilia heaved a heavy sigh.

“At least Silver’s not going to die.” Lilia leaned forward and rested his head on his folded arms, his body heavy with relief and his mind weighed by other things.

The fae was more than glad that Silver was going to be "okay,” but now he had another worry, one that carved an unfamiliar feeling into his chest.

His daughter, his sweet little girl, who was literally running through the wildflowers with her animal friend the other day, was now old enough by human standards to have a baby. She was still a baby herself, yet she was supposed to have one of her own?

Lilia sat up and stared at his drink as he swooshed the contents. He knew humans grew quicker than humans, but Silver was twelve. She only reached double digits two years ago, and now...

Would she be looking for a mate soon? If her body was literally craving children, then Silver would have to go find a husband to stop her from attacking itself every month. (Just thinking that line made Lilia grimace. “Perfectly natural,” his ass.)

Meanwhile, Lilia...

“General?” Baul’s concerned tone broke the fog in his mind. Lilia shook his head.

“I’m fine. It’s just... She’s really growing up, huh?” he said, his grin forced. Baul sighed in condolence.

“I know what you mean,” he said. “It won’t be long before she’s married and having kids of her own.” Lila’s smile became brittle.

“You’re right…”

--

Aw, periods. Nature's way of saying, fuck you to the female body. But oof, poor Lilia, but especially Silver.

Fun fact: one of the reasons I gave Silver a mature female body was for a potential Lilia arc. See, Lilia doesn’t understand humans, so when he sees Silver looking like an adult, he treats her as such because he believes she’s fully grown (and she got her parts at 15).

This is one of the reasons why he wants to leave in Book 7. He believes that Silver’s supposed to find a mate, but he’s holding her back. (This is one of the reasons why he’s not super protective when it comes to boys. He believes she has to find one so her body won’t rip itself apart.)

He doesn’t understand that a) a period, while unpleasant, won’t kill her. And b) just because the parts are in doesn’t mean she’s grown up, and while she doesn’t need Lilia as much as she used to, she still needs him as she’s still growing. This causes problems later, as her emotional needs aren’t always met, and she doesn’t voice them because she doesn’t want to be a burden.

(Of course, this is all overthinking.)