#based on a pic i linked in the ao3 notes

[littlebluespoon]

Stranded - Octo!König (Part 4)

Hello! Here's Part 4, as promised even though it's the next morning for me :)

1.5Kwords, 18+ non-humanoid sex toys and obsessive behaviour in this chapter

AO3 link

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

---

(stole pic from google sorry)

Once again, you were going weeks without properly seeing König. You’d catch his shoulder disappearing around a corner or the sound of suckers echoing in an empty hallway but no actual sightings of a giant man or bright octopus. For you, life was mostly normal. Patching up soldiers, bandaging up Soap after he gave himself happy tail again and hanging out with the rest of the taskforce while on downtime,

“Soap, you cannot rocket jump in real life. You. Would. Die.” If this had been the first time you’d had to explain this to the canine hybrid you might have had a little more patience but seeing as it was not, you were ready to throw something at him,

“But whit if we weren’ human?” Soap’s enthusiasm at least was endearing. So giving him an exasperated smile you just shook your head and moved on while noting to refill your supply of painkillers and burn salves. 

It was currently just you and Soap in the small kitchenette in the taskforce’s assigned rooms, you had no patients to see and Soap had the day off given his ‘extensive injuries’ so the two of you had taken over the games console and were having a competitive tournament in Mario Kart, loser has to steal a piece of clothing from Ghost. Currently it was 2-2 and you were on the last match so now it was getting dirty,

“So was the LT around when you broke your tail?” you teased, hoping for him to take his eyes off the screen,

“Oi! At least I wasn’ the one wi’ hickeys all o’er their neck,” he fired back, smugly like he’d been expecting your teasing.

“They weren’t hickeys! …They were bruises…” you refused to look at him, knowing exactly the expression on his face having seen it far too much for your liking,

“Isnt that what hickeys are?” you decide that driving off the edge of Rainbow Road was the better option, take the loss and deal with the consequences later. 

Seeing as you have 24 hours to steal from Ghost you left Soap to his gloating and went off to find out where Ghost was before breaking into his room. After finding out from a passing corporal that Ghost was in a meeting with Price, and double checking the hall was clear so no one else would catch you breaking into your superiors quarters, you picked the lock on his door before quickly running in and grabbing the first item from the laundry basket, a shirt with his name on it. Perfect for your bet, not so great if anyone else sees however. Ignoring all of that you run back to Soap, completely missing the seething bright orange octopus attached to the ceiling above you. 

-----

Retreating to you room after dinner without having to take a mountain of paperwork with you was a luxury but seeing as the 141 hadn’t been called out in several weeks, you’d had plenty of time to catch up on it. Which means your plans for the night were finishing your current read and maybe starting a new one if there was time. Of course those plans depended on you getting to your room, it seemed like every four or five steps you were stopped by a Kortac soldier,

“Do you know where the colonel is?” “Do you think you could look at something for me?” “I want a second opinion on this rash,” “Could you..?” “Would you..?”

By the time you escaped them your plans of finishing your book were out the window. However as you approached your door, all your plans went out the window. There was a box outside your door, plain brown, not small but also not massive. It looked like it held a water bottle or something. The hallway was empty and there wasn’t anything to tell who had left it but given that you were on base you were pretty sure it wasn’t anything dangerous so as you closed your door you decided it could wait until after you’d gotten changed into comfier clothes and out of your uniform.

The nondescript box didn’t have much weight to it so you were expecting it was maybe mislabelled bandages or some other medical dressing so when you scored open the box you were surprised by the nice stationary. High quality textured paper, a subtle peach colour with typed lettering;

Think of me My Heart

An odd note but what was even odder was the other object in the box. A bright orange tentacle. About as big as your fist, with a marbled look of orange and teal, and made of silicon. Someone had left you a tentacle shaped sex toy. Upon recognition a yelp leaves your mouth and you’ve thrown the box across your room before you had even realised you’d moved. You know exactly who sent it, you just couldn’t understand why. You barely know each other, you don’t even think he’s said more than 10 words to you outside of missions or commands. You’re the medic on base with the most aquatic hybrid training, that’s the only reason you see him so often so why would he do this? Or maybe he didn’t, maybe it’s a prank? It could be Soap getting back at you for teasing or even Ghost for stealing his shirt or maybe even a Kortac soldier trying to rile up their colonel or something. It could have been anything, it was probably just a prank because you didn’t want to even entertain the thought that König had sent you this. He was a friend, it was a tentative relationship but you called it friendship as after everything you’d been through with him it was a little hard to just call each other acquaintances. It’s a prank, so you boxed it back up and shoved it to the back of your wardrobe to be never seen again.

Trying to get to sleep was difficult. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up and every time you turned around it felt like the blankets were suffocating you. After an hour of this you decided to check your room, turning on all the lights, opening all the doors and doing a well-known routine to you. Unlock, open and check, relock. You did that with all the cupboards, you pulled your bed apart and reorganised your desk, kit bag and wardrobe. Nothing, there wasn’t a thing for you to be paranoid about and you’d made sure of it. Climbing back into bed exhausted, you settled into the blankets and closed your eyes. The blankets no longer heavy on you, the hairs on the back of your neck were soft and yet, you still felt watched.

-----

In the bright light of the morning the box looked no different and thankfully your paranoia had waned, so there was no interruption to your morning schedule. Not until you had you leave your room, which is where you found another sheet of peach coloured paper, folded next to an envelope. The fear stopped you in your tracks. Once again there was no one in sight, no noises to indicate a person either and you hadn’t heard anything while getting dressed. Deciding to deal with it before breakfast seemed like a smart decision at the time because if you’d known what was in the envelope after breakfast you were sure you’d never have kept it down;

My Dearest Heart, 

You must think me a cowardly man for this but I felt this was the best way to approach you. I could not hear you last night, were you holding in your heavenly sounds so that no one else might hear? You need not worry Heart, I would never let anyone else near you. Not even the feral Lieutenant you seem so fascinated by. I do hope you liked my present and that you enjoy this one too, although I admit these were more for my pleasure.

With all My Love,

Your Soul

You could feel your heart escaping from its cage with every word you read. You were a soldier, you’d been in battle, you’d nearly died. There had been scarier moments in your life than this. So how was it this is the only time you’ve ever wanted to curl up in the back of a cupboard and never face the world again? You didn’t want to open the envelope. You never meant to open the envelop but your hands were shaking as you moved to stuff the letter with your first unwanted gift. It slipped and that’s when you discovered it wasn’t sealed and its contents had spilt all across your floor. Pictures of you were scattered across your floor. You; eating, working, training, in the gym, in the shower and even in your bed. You had been watched. Someone had been watching you for months.

[trancylovecraft]

(KNY) YANDERE PLATONIC! KOKUSHIBO x SISTER READER: You, Shibou. I, Kokoro (CHAPTER FOUR)

Previous Chapter ☆♡☆ Masterlist ☆♡☆ Next Chapter

AO3 link

CHAPTER FOUR: "Achilles, Achilles, Achilles, come down Won't you get up off, get up off the roof?"

NOTE: THE SONG OF THE DAY IS "Two Birds on a Wire" BY REGINA SOMETHING. LISTEN WHILE READING IF YOU WANNA HAVE FUN IDK YOU DON'T NEED TO. oh right btw pls send me aesthetic pics for my moodboards, im running out and almost resorted to quotes 😭✋ (which i did but shhh)

oh right, shit also gets real this chapter LETS GOOO.

Suicide notes only accompany in 25-20% percent of cases, Sometimes reaching 50% in some cultures and areas.

Reasons for writing a suicide note can include easing the pain of those known to the victim, To express thoughts and feelings that the person felt unable to express in life or to set out their reasons for committing such an act.

Murders of crows escaped in flocks, Flying high into the air in a wild panic as they hollered that one single phrase over and over again like a broken record player.

"EMERGENCY! EMERGENCY! ATTACK! ATTACK! THE KAKUSHI BASE IS UNDER ATTACK! CALLING FOR ALL NEARBY SLAYERS!"

The sheer number of them was carrying the sound so far, Their call could be heard for miles even all the way to the village. The song of their screams frantic as they all flapped in different directions, Disappearing into the dark horizon.

Tanjiro couldn't see anything, He couldn't smell anything either. The sheer amount of dust made from the debris had blocked up all of his senses making him uncontrollably cough within the smoke.

He stumbled around, The shock hadn't even hit him yet. One moment he was walking around the base and the next he had been flung to the tile roof, All due to that gust of wind.

The tall stone walls surrounding the shrine had suddenly been destroyed all within a single moment, Throwing chunks of rock and wood hurtling into the main body of the shrine and its people.

The screams and shouts of panicked crowds rung in his ear like a church bell reverberated to the nines. It felt so loud, So bloody loud that he thought his head might explode from the raw volume of the wails.

Tanjiro was dazed, It was all a blur moving in slow motion as he tried to catch his footing on the flat of the roof.

It was only then once his foot was steadied that he could finally sense an overbearing presence. Somewhere in the mist.

"Someone is here.."

A voice like faraway thunder jolted Tanjiro out of his stupor, A voice that shook Tanjiro deep down to his very bones. It was nothing like any kind of voice he had heard before, It didn't sound human and certainly didn't smell like it either.

A putrid stench had hit Tanjiro, A sudden smell had came to him and it almost made him drop his sword. This was no ordinary demon, The scent was overwhelming his senses of nothing but pure and utter power.

The gale's sole blessing had manifested in the clearing of the smoke. The after breeze lifting up the thickest points of dust and blowing them away, Yet some still remained as a dark figure was now made clearer.

But it was the figure's six medallion eyes, One's that shone like headlights through the fog that really caught Tanjiro by surprise.

His eyes widened as his arm went to the hilt of his sword on response, Yet when his hand went to grab it he felt absolutely nothing there.

He snapped his head to his empty belt. His heart seemed to stop in his chest.

He still hadn't gotten his new sword sent to him yet, It was still being sharpened. He was absolutely defenceless.

By the time he had looked back up at the figure the fog had cleared completely, The dust long cleared as his eyes settled upon the demon in front of him.

Tall. He was towering in height, Well over six foot at least. His hair tied into a dark spiked ponytail with red whisking at the tips as it flowed in the wind, His hexagonal kimono oversized in the arms as it moved with his hair.

But it was the kanji in his eyes that made him freeze.

"You.. Boy."

His voice rang out again as he turned to Tanjiro. He stumbled back, Despite the demon being a few metres away on the other side of the roof he was still too close, Way too close.

His eyes glared down to the younger slayer, Stabbing into every point of him. Scrutinizing him from afar before finally landing on the piece he feasted his gaze on. Two hanafuda earrings dangling from each ear.

Tanjiro watched as his expression went blank, Only for a couple of seconds before flinching when he saw the demon's mouth contort into a snarl. An angry visage that showed off his lion-like canines protruding from under his lips.

"I.. You.." Tanjiro stuttered. He tried backing away once more but the heel of his foot hit the tile railing. He watched as small bits of debris fell off the roof down to the floor below, It was a long drop. If he fell there was little to no chance of survival.

"Those earrings.." The demon drawled. It sounded like something was stuck within his throat, Something he was holding back. "How did you acquire them.."

Tanjiro tried to steady his heavy breathing as he stared him down. "I.. T-They're a family heirloom.." Was all that he was able to muster up, His voice shaking as much as he was.

Kokushibo felt himself tense up, All six eyes scrutinizing the earrings as he tried his best to calm down the building sense of rage starting to burn inside him. A family heirloom? His brother's earrings, A family heirloom. The idea of it sounded so stupid to him, Not to mention the mere reminder of his twin brother made his fingers twitch and grasp onto the hilt of his sword from instinct.

"A family heirloom.. Disgusting.." Kokushibo jeered. Feeling the words on his tongue he felt the previous anger inside come to a peak, This wasn't acceptable. Yorichii, Do I really need to be reminded of you even five hundred years later?

The sword from his hilt slid out of the sheathe with ease. The eyes embedded into the flesh of the sword darted around wildly, All examining its surroundings as the muscle pulsated.

He drew it to his side. Tanjiro's heartrate started to pick up, Feeling as if it would burst out of his chest as he watched Kokushibo get into a fighting stance. What would he do? He had no sword and there was no exit. What can he do? What can he do?!

Kokushibo pushed his foot forward, Lunging himself forward with his sword ready to slice. He was so fast, Tanjiro could barely raise his arms to his face. A weak attempt to defend himself as the blade drew nearer and nearer towards his neck

CLASH!

It was over in an instant.

Dust from the broken walls and ceiling tiles blew out out into the high night air, A whirlwind of smoke covering anything and everything in sight as pieces of stone and splinter flew off.

Tanjiro coughed once more, The dust blowing hard into his face. He moved his hands up towards his neck to check for any damage. Feeling it over and patting it a few times it felt.. All intact.

"What the.." Tanjiro muttered. His eyes widened as he watched the demon from before jump back into his original position, Landing a few metres away from Tanjiro in a crouched stance.

Tanjiro looked up and gasped.

"Fujimori-sama-!"

[F/N] stood only a few inches away from the younger boy. His position was low and his sword was drawn like a shield, Both it and his body creating a block between him and the demon.

[F/N] looked back towards him from the side, That old fox mask's mouth quirked up into the most reassuring smile it could. The eyes of the mask looking down at him in kind.

"Tanjiro Kamado… That was a close one, Eh?" A light chuckle came from him, Tone dancing in the air like the weight of the whole situation was lost to him entirely.

Tanjiro didn't even think to ask him why he knew his name, Something unimportant in that moment.

"Fujimori-sama.. The demon-"

"Don't worry about the demon. You don't exactly look like you have the proper weaponry to fight back so I suggest you start evacuating the shrine with everyone else, Alright?" [F/N] advised.

Tanjiro shook his head.

"What about you?! This.. This is Uppermoon one! He's strong, I can smell it! You can't take him on by yourself!" Tanjiro cried.

It didn't affect [F/N] in the slightest, Only making him raise a single brow.

"..Really?" He hummed, A playful tune lilting in the air to contrast the dire implications of his words. He seemed to stay there in thought, Only for a moment as Tanjiro watched the mask stare off into the night sky.

"He was able to sense me coming.. Not to mention block my attack.." He muttered, The mask contorting back into a thoughtful visage. An incomprehensible babble to the boy behind him as his eyes finally lit up, An unrecognisable emotion sparking inside his eyes.

The dust cleared once more, Kokushibo stood up to examine the sight.

His eyes landed on the Hashira a few metre's away, Crouched in a defensive position. In a split second that man was able to get himself in between him and the boy, Able to attack in that single moment.

It would of been impressive, Something he would of respected if not for the mans garments.

He wore his usual slayer uniform, Tight fitting and finished with a belt with open arms to show off tattoo's. But the haori draped loosely around his shoulders, That accursed haori drooping from his shoulders was one that shocked his heart like a amateur defibrillator.

The dragon pattern.. That cerulean blue.

"Michi-Nii!"

The grip on his sword hilt got tighter, Almost crushingly so.

How fucking dare he..?!

Kokushibo felt his nose twitch, Eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets as they trailed across the rest of him, Prying at every little detail of him. The kitsune mask resting upon his face, The medieval sword propped up in front of him like a shield.

"And does it work?" Michikatsu asked, Studying the mask.

"Haven't tried. It's a sacred artefact of the shrine. It would be a disrespect to Inari if I did." She stated.

A disrespect to her.

Two reminders of his late siblings, One beloved one despised. Both side by side with each other in such a short time frame. It made him absolutely furious, Outraged both by the resurfaced memories and the sheer dishonour towards his sister.

Both the renewment of the shrine and the man parading around with her haori..

It made him absolutely livid.

"You.. What is your name. Tell me it.. Now" Kokushibo pronounced through gritted teeth. It took every inch of his willpower not to pounce and tear him apart limb by limb, Bite into his jugular and rip his voice box out with his molars.

[F/N] finally seemed to snap out of his realisation as his mask's eyes landed on Kokushibo, That burning glint shining bright as he looked at him. The first time getting a proper look.

"Wow.. Uppermoon one, What a pleasure to meet you." [F/N] drawled, Yet it wasn't condescending. Standing up to his full height he matched Kokushibo perfectly, Both men locked in a stare down as [F/N] ignored his question.

Kokushibo didn't answer him, So [F/N] took the opportunity to speak once more.

"I see what Kamado here means about powerful.. Your soul certainly gives off that aura alright." He chuckled again, Taking a few drawn steps to the side.

"Kamado.." Kokushibo pondered. It only took a second to click in his head. The Kamado girl, The one his master had talked about during the meeting. If this boy was here then that would mean the demon girl was here, The one who conquered the sun.

[F/N]'s eyes narrowed.

"Ringing a bell?" He questioned, Cocking his head lazily to the side. Kokushibo didn't answer once again.

[F/N] examined him head to toe. His fingers, His ears and his sword. From his eyes to the soles of his sandals he simply radiated power. A feeling that permeated in the air making molecules shift in his presence.

A wild grin appeared not on his mask but on her face, A wide toothy grin that felt so foreign, So alien to her. It was a smile she hadn't made in years, One she couldn't supress even if she tried.

[F/N] peered back around to Tanjiro, Who was still behind him.

"Tanjiro. I need you to do me a favour, Alright?" He asked. His tone still containing that playful tint yet it held something different now, Something more serious.

Tanjiro nodded

"Y-Yeah, What do you need?" He asked.

[F/N] reached a single hand into the inside of his haori and slipped out a single pristine envelope, Perfectly packaged with a blue fox seal. He presented it to the younger boy, Who hesitantly took it into his hands.

"I need you to deliver this to Mitsuri Kanroji, Alright? Promise me that you will deliver this to her and place it in her hands personally yourself." [F/N] asked. That tone of importance growing ever stronger in both his voice and his mask's eyes.

Tanjiro's eyes widened as he looked down at the envelope, He nodded his head, Ignoring the scent that was coming off his elder. [F/N] turned back towards Kokushibo.

"Go now, Tanjiro. Find a handmaiden named Seijun, She'll help you and the rest down the mountain." He said, Not looking back at him for a second. Tanjiro nodded as he took off, Carefully scaling down the tiled roof's of the shrine.

Kokushibo looked back at the two, Readying his sword once more.

"No.. You're not getting away from me." He hissed, Raising the blade high in the air as he pointed at the two slayers.

[F/N] returned the gesture, His own heavy-weight sword lifted with ease as he pointed it straight back at him.

"Not if I have anything to say about it!" [F/N] exclaimed. The excitement returning to the tune of his voice, A wild primal excitement as he stared the demon on from behind his mask.

Kokushibo prepared his own stance, [F/N] did as well in turn.

As they finally charged at each other, [F/N] yelled out

"Soul Breathing, First form: Psyche Cutter!"

☆♡☆

Heavy footsteps hit the snow with a crunch, The large stature of the Stone Hashira leaving deep footsteps behind him as he traversed throughout the woodland mountainside.

Zenitsu, Inosuke and Shizuko. The younger slayers behind him trailed along with Gyomei's stride in search of the lost shrine-maiden.

Luckily the snow had stopped a little while ago, Making it easier to see throughout the vastness of the tall winding tree's.

It had been only half an hour since they started searching, Yet in that time they had made their way a few miles out from their starting point.

"M-Man.. Is it cold out here, Now I wish I just stayed at the base.." Zenitsu said through a chattering jaw, Keeping his arms folded to try and conserve heat as he warily looked for the maiden.

"Not for me! The mountains I ruled over got real snowy, So of course I evolved to be cold-blooded!" Inosuke announced in his march. It was true, Despite him being eternally shirtless in the blistering cold he didn't shake once despite all odds.

"T-That's impossible! You can't just evolve to be cold-blooded!" Zenitsu cried out, Annoyed from both the cold and his comrades announcement.

"Can too!" Inosuke argued.

"N-No you can't!" Zenitsu yelled back, His words eventually snowballing into a larger quarrel between the two boys. Both seeming to believe whoever yelled louder was correct.

"Ngh.. Can you two shut up? You're giving me a headache.." Shizuko groaned, Cupping his ears with his hands in annoyance.

The two boys ignored him and continued their argument as they trailed behind Himejima. Zenitsu and Inosuke not backing down for a single second while Shizuko gritted his teeth. Gyomei didn't seem to particularly mind, If he did he didn't show it, His stoic expression painted on him like a portrait.

They hadn't found the shrine-maiden, Even though they had been searching for a fair amount of time there no trace of her prescence.

There wasn't any footsteps or any blood, Absolutely nothing.

The rattling of Gyomei's beads slowed as his whitened eyes narrowed in thought. Gyomei had assumed that the most likely scenario was that the maiden had trouble either getting down or getting back up the mountain, Though now that seemed a dwindling possibility.

He sighed, Letting cold mist escape from his mouth.

"Seems like the maiden isn't here.. It's probably for the better that we move down towards the village and check in with the locals." Gyomei announced as he turned around to face the younger slayers, To whom were still fighting.

Shizuko groaned once more before raising his flat hand and bringing it down hard onto both their heads.

"Ne, Stop arguing and start listening to Himejima-sensei! You're giving me a migraine and we're no closer to finding the maiden.. No thanks to you.." He scolded. A rare angry expression appearing on his face with those same perpetually wide eyes glaring daggers into the boys.

"Ack-! W-What the hell man! We are looking!" Zenitsu yelped out, Hands rushing to the quickly forming sore spot on his head.

"I am! I can see a lot of things. Snow, Tree's, Shrubs!" Inosuke butted in. Shizuko groaned once more, Even though they had stopped their spat never quelled.

"Birds, Twigs, Red Fabric, Flakes of snow!" He continued.

Both Gyomei and Shizuko's heads snapped round to face Inosuke, A sudden movement that made his rant pause in its tracks.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?!" Inosuke questioned, His vision rapidly darting to both Shizuko and Gyomei in seconds like a cornered animal.

"Red fabric..? Where do you see that?" Gyomei asked.

"By that tree over there, To the left!" Inosuke said. Arm pointing up straight to a tree just off to the side of the trail they were going down. And sure enough swaying in the wind was an untethered piece of crimson cloth, Blowing in the breeze.

Zenitsu was the first to get over to the fabric, Catching up with it and snatching it away from the wind.

"You're right.. B-But this could be any random piece of fabric.. It doesn't really mean much." He muttered. The piece was too small to make out any defining shape, So small that it was only as big as his thumb.

"Shizuko.." Gyomei ordered an unspoken action, Nodding his head forward towards the boy.

Shizuko nodded back as he quickly moved over to Zenitsu without a second thought and put out his hand.

"Ne, Give it here.." Shizuko commanded, Impatiently shaking his hand as he beckoned Zenitsu forward.

"O-Okay.." Zenitsu muttered as he placed the cloth into the palm of Shizuko, To which the latter shuddered as soon as the fabric brushed at his skin.

Shizuko took the sanguine felt into both of his hands with an obvious reluctance as it looked like he was holding back his own puke. He ran his nimble fingers along the surface of it, Nose scrunching up in disgust as he spoke.

"Ngh.. It's mostly Linen however I can feel a minority of cotton as well.. Ne.. Fairly thick, 0.73 inches.. But judging by the weavement of the fabric it's most likely worn by someone of shorter stature.." Shizuko explained.

"Ngh.. So in other words, It fits the description of the lost maiden.." He concluded, Instantly dropping it back into Zenitsu's hold as he finished his last syllable.

"I see.. And is it fresh?" Gyomei asked.

"Felt like it.." Shizuko replied.

They stayed silent after that. Gyomei seemed to furrow his brows as his mind worked away at the next possibility. Both Shizuko and Inosuke seemed lost in their own world as well, The former following his master in thought while Inosuke seemed to trail along as well.

"She must be somewhere around here.. We must circle back around, She may already be-" Gyomei stopped out of the blue, His words cut off as his senses picked up a change in one of the slayers.

Zenitsu had frozen up, And it wasn't from the cold atmosphere.

"Child.. What is the matter?" Gyomei asked as his tone grew only a little more serious as he stopped the rattling of his beads.

Zenitsu seemed to be sweating bullets as he seemed intently focused on some unknown force. His eyes were shot open and he started to shake, Teeth barren and fingers twitching as he raised his hands up to his ears.

"I.. I-I hear it.." Zenitsu mumbled out an uneasy lilt, Jaw shaking.

"Hear what?" Gyomei prodded.

"T-The Kasugai crows.. The Kakushi base.. I-It's being attacked!" Zenitsu yelped out, Stumbling back a few feet.

A unanimous shock washed over the group like a tidal wave to a sandy shore, The news startling everyone on edge.

"What?!" Shizuko yelled in disbelief as he moved over to Zenitsu. Lowering his head to meet eye to eye as he searched for any sign of doubt, An unsure gaze, Anything he could find to try disprove his declaration.

But he came up empty, Only staring back into shaking saffron irises. The hands over Zenitsu's ears tightened as he howled out in pain. He fell to his knees, The sheer volume of the crows combined with his hearing was too much as he felt ichor start to trickle at his fingertips.

"Zoritso!" Inosuke called out as he instantly rushed over to his friend's side.

Gyomei at this point had unsheathed the axe and chain from within his overbearing haori, Already given enough confirmation from his Tsuguko's reaction as he tightened the grip on the wooden handle and chain.

He ignored the suffering of the younger slayers, His expression firming up.

"We must go at once then, No time to spa-"

"Blood Demon Art: Electrokinesis, Third form: Thunder Swarm!" A voice suddenly yelled out from within the storm and as soon as it finished, The attack commenced.

Black bolts of lightning shot out of nowhere, Bursting out from the blade of Kaigaku, Leaping down from the tree branches.

☆♡☆

"I'll see you soon, 'Tsuri"

Those words. Those five simple words echoed in every little corner of her mind. On paper they seemed so little, So obscure. Small talk to the normal ear, In a normal conversation it would be such a normal farewell and by all means it was.

But it just didn't sit right, Not with Mitsuri.

She ran fast through the snow, Her legs were burning as she tried to focus her total concentration breathing. She maneuvered around rocks and over fallen logs, Carefully but quickly ascending the tough terrain with ease.

Her heart pounded so rapidly in her chest so much so that it was painful yet Mitsuri continued onwards. She had to keep going, She needed to get to the shrine as fast as possible.

Keep going, Don't stop. Not for a single moment.

Mitsuri had been running for who knows long, Hours maybe, She hadn't stopped for a second. An awful feeling sat dormant in her chest, A foreboding omen that unsettled her for too long.

As soon as she had heard those five little words she'd known that something was wrong-

No. Mitsuri had always known something was wrong. A draining parasite that sat in the back of her mind, Eating away at her for years now. Those words.. It was just those five little words that made her realise what that something was.

The parasite had been nibbling away at her, Planting little ideas of possibility and doubt into her passing thoughts every time she and [F/N] talked. Back then she had brushed them off, Not completely of course but enough to where there was plausible deniability. Just enough to where she could push it out of her mind.

But when [F/N] had muttered those words, Spoke them in such a normal tone of voice there was absolutely no more avoiding it. Her doubts, The possibilities.. She needed to face them.

Or maybe it wasn't those words specifically, It was the way [F/N] had looked at her when she said them.

Her stare, Her blank doe-eyed gaze permeated into Mitsuri's mind. The picture in her mind vivid as it was as she first saw it.

The smile [F/N] had on her face just didn't quite reach her eyes, A small little smile that felt so wrong looking back on it. The dull stare that pleaded to Mitsuri's own, Begging her no matter how unconsciously it may have been.

It was such a melancholy gaze, A sad little smile. She remembers now the tiny quirk of her lip.

Mitsuri should of done something sooner.

Back then Mitsuri herself couldn't process the deeper meaning. But she remembered her body reacted sooner than she herself should of, Grasping onto [F/N]. Holding her hand as she tried to get inside the carriage.

Subconsciously she had recognised the meaning. She should of said something, Should of done something. Ask her to stay the night, Go with her, Or even just offer her a simple hug then maybe [F/N] wouldn't think that way.

But in the end she did nothing. She just let go of her hand, Feeling the warmth slip away from her grasp.

Only a few hours later did the true meaning really render inside of her mind, And when it did it hit her like nothing else ever did before. What it meant, She knows now.

As soon as Mitsuri knew she had taken off, Running off into the streets without a second thought. Something bad would happen, Something terrible would happen if she didn't get there to her on time.

Mitsuri knew she shouldn't of let go of [F/N]'s hand. The regret pounding throughout her bloodstream as she felt tears involuntarily drip down her cheeks. She shouldn't of let go.

Even though she didn't do anything back then didn't mean she couldn't do something to stop it now. Mitsuri needed to, She wouldn't let [F/N] slip away once more. Never again, She will be there for her this time.

And as she heard the call of the crows, Mitsuri knew that this would be her last chance to do so.

☆♡☆

"Moon Breathing, Fourteenth Form: Catastrophe, Tenman Crescent Moon"

Siphoning ultraviolet crescents flew out haphazardly into the fighting ground, Crashing down onto the nigh-derelict rooftops throwing rubble out everywhere. Several stray crescents hurtling past the slayer, Barely able to avoid the attack.

It was absolute chaos, Pandemonium. A spectacle of whip-like half-moons striking at it's enemy so swift that any normal person would be severed in half in an instant.

By chance however [F/N] was no ordinary person as he dodged and weaved throughout what very little openings were given, Body contorting and swimming through the gaps as he tried his very best to land his own attacks.

"Soul Breathing Second Form: Seven Separate Spirit Slashes"

"Moon Breathing, Seventh Form: Mirror of Misfortune, Moonlit"

"Soul Breathing Sixth Form: Apotheosis Blade o' Ascension"

"Moon Breathing, Ninth Form: Waning Moonswaths"

Kokushibo never gave much of a chance however, His movements or slashes of his sword never strayed from what could be considered perfect form. The closest so far [F/N] had come to severing his head was when he had lobbed off an arm, Which regenerated within a split second.

It was enough to frustrate anyone, Anyone but [F/N].

The wide smile he had worn at the prospect of a fight had grown into a euphoric grin stretched ear to ear. For the first time in years, [F/N] had felt alive.

Though the several cuts on his arms and legs bled, Though he had been fighting for several hours he had never gotten tired. Not once did he falter or stumble, Not once did he succumb to exhaustion.

Not even the aching in his lungs, Which grew more painful with every breathe he took. The adrenaline made him feel nothing.

Kokushibo on the other hand felt the same way, Yet the anger in his chest only seemed to infest inside him more and more as the fight went on. He wanted this one to suffer, He wanted to watch this one bleed out on the ground while he crushed his windpipe.

The disrespect he had shown, Both to him and his sister. The careless attitude The Hashira had towards him, The haori he was desecrating. It made him absolutely furious. Even more so when he found more difficulty than normal when attacking him.

His transparent world showing his body to be at it's peak potential, Though oddly enough he wasn't able to see through the porcelain mask on his body. Kokushibo had to admit this was the longest fight he'd had in centuries.

The man he fought having zero fighting spirit, An oddity. Something he had never came across within a human, Combined with the mastery of the blade and his repetitive action movement he made a formidable combatant.

Even though he despised his opponent, He had to lend a begrudging respect.

[F/N]'s sword swayed along with his own movements. White wisps of translucent mist danced along the blade and left a shivering trail as it went. It was beautiful, Glowing so softly in the moonlight yet it struck so hard it burned like fire.

[F/N] landed in a crouching position after dodging another attack just by the hair on his back. Pushing both his hand and foot forward he launched himself towards Uppermoon one at high speeds.

Yelling out his next attack he readied his sword

"Soul Breathing Fifth Form: Noumenon High Dragon!"

The wisps tailing the edge of his blade were set ablaze, Picking up in velocity the trail formed into a tail as [F/N] rushed towards Kokushibo.

The demon readied his own attack in turn as The Soul Hashira's technique bursting into the shape of a gigantic jaw-opened dragon speeding towards his form, Twisting and swirling around the demon ready to swallow him whole.

"Moon Breathing, Sixth Form: Perpetual Night, Lonely Moon - Incessant"

Kokushibo swung his own sword down as soon the dragons gaping maws were about to bite down on him, An array of hyper-violet crescents exploded from Kokushibo's blade.

The sheer kinetic energy caused by the clashing of their swords erupted from the centre of it all like an immovable object to an unstoppable force. The energy hit the ground below them, Blasting both of them apart by the raw force.

Flying off of the tiled roof, [F/N] was shot up far into the air with Kokushibo in the opposite direction.

[F/N] yelled out in surprise as he flailed around in the air, Spinning and swooning around as he started to fall downwards.

Wind rushing through his kimono as he watched the ground grow larger and larger. He raised his sword and took a deep breath in, Ready to counteract gravity with the force of an attack.

"Soul Breathing Third Form: Soul fire, Burn bright!"

Just as he was about to hit the ground he struck his sword, His breathing technique bursting out into a bonfire as it connected with the dirt of the courtyard.

It was successful. Enough to stop the fall but also enough to throw him back up.

Luckily however he had hit one of the lower roofs of the shrine. And thankfully due to his recovery breathing the damage wasn't serious, Only a few scratches and later bruises to decorate his skin.

"Ack-.." [F/N] coughed, The dust from the impact hitting him as he lain sprawled out on the roof. His chest moved up and down, Breathing in and out while only feeling a tiny bit of pain in his ribs.

"Wow.. That could of been bad.." He heaved, Voice hoarse and rough. He raised his upper body so he was now in a hunched sitting position, Completely still except from the movements of his lungs.

[F/N] sat there for a moment not moving in the slightest. He could no longer sense Kokushibo's powerful aura, At least not nearby anyways. It seemed like the force of their blades clashing sent him flying to the other side of the shrine.

That's fine. It gave [F/N] time to recuperate from the non-stop attacks they threw at each other, He needed to savour these moments as best he could.

[F/N] looked around at the destruction of the shrine, It hurt. It felt like his heart was wrenched out of his chest every time he came across levelled rooms, Broken walls and fallen statues.

The home [F/N] resided in for years, One that had provided warmth and comfort when nothing else did had been destroyed. Memories long gone played out in his mind as he came to terms with his loss. It didn't matter now though, He supposed.

He ran his hands down his body to examine for wounds. Feeling along the torn fabric of his uniform and the dips in his flesh [F/N] figured that he wasn't too badly injured. While there were a few points where his fingers came up bloody he had judged it wasn't too bad.

It didn't hurt anyways, Not to him.

Settling his hands onto the roof he pushed himself up with only minimal effort. Stumbling a little to gather his balance he finally steadied himself upon the roof's wooden structure in the middle, Walking on it similar to a tight-rope.

He stalked along the middle beam, Movements similar to a feline's as he put one foot in front of the other.

Rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck [F/N] decided it was time to go back into battle. He needed to at least buy enough time for the last of the residents to evacuate the building, Afterwards there was only one thing left to do.

As he strolled along the edge of the roof he made his way to the end, Lowering his knees and k-

"[F/N]!!"

He froze in place.

That voice, No.. She wasn't supposed to be here. This wasn't how it went in his head, Not at all.

"[F/N]! P-Please.. Turn around.. Alright?" The voice yelled, A high-pitched tone that sounded so desperate in that one moment that [F/N] couldn't disobey.

And once he did turn around, The expression on Mitsuri's face hurt more than any wound inflicted on his body.

"'Tsuri, Hey! You're not suppose to be here.. You know?" [F/N] chuckled, A practiced sound that seemed so strained now as the façade he had tried to build up for so long crumbled down around him along with the shrine.

Mitsuri was sobbing. Tears leaked out from her face like a faucet, Her eyes were bloodshot like she had been crying for a while. Something that was most likely true. Every so often she let out a small choked wail from within her throat, Gasps for air following it close.

It looked as if her knee's would buckle under her weight. It was such a painful sight that [F/N] couldn't bare to look at her.

It felt like his heart was beating a hundred miles per hour, Thumping madly in her chest like a metal drum. He tried to keep a straight face, Some kind of mental barrier he could place between him and the woman he called his best friend.

"D-Don't act like that.. Just.. P-Please just don't act like that right now, [F/N].." Mitsuri yelled out, Her voice pained and shrill.

"'Tsuri.. I.." [F/N] couldn't find the words to say, His mind blank. No words could explain himself, None at all.

"I-I don't wanna hear an excuse.. Please.. I.. I just want to talk.. N-No excuses or lies.. Just the truth." She cried.

[F/N] stared back at her through the mask, Guts turning at the sight. However the porcelain face held up as he wore a blank face, One you might see at a poker table. He mulled over her words, An unnoticeable cold sweat suddenly dripping down from the side of his head.

"..Okay" [F/N] whispered. It was such a low tone but in that single moment it felt like it was just the two of them in the world, Making his mumble seem like a deafening scream to her ears.

"[F/N].. I.. I'm so sorry.." Mitsuri cried. She brought her shaking hands up to cup her face as she cried into them, A fleeting attempt to hide her grief.

[F/N] shook his head.

"Mitsuri.. What do you need to be sorry for?" [F/N] said. A levelled tone playing in his voice.

"I.. I s-should of done something sooner.. I should've known that you were feeling like this, I.. Why couldn't I notice.." She shook her head warily, Trying her best to hold back the choked sobs from her throat.

[F/N] steadied his breathing, He couldn't break.

"Mitsuri, I'm fine. You don't need to wo-"

"[F/N] I'M NOT STUPID, JUST LISTEN TO ME!" Mitsuri screamed.

[F/N] flinched, The sheer volume of it catching him of guard. In all of his years knowing Mitsuri, [F/N] had never seen him act like this, Like a completely new person stood before him now.

"I-I'm not stupid.. I can see how everyone's feeling.. I can always tell how angry Shinobu is or- or how unhappy Giyuu is all the time.. I can see how everyone is truly feeling, That's always been my talent.." Mitsuri lamented.

She wiped off the tears with her sleeve

"A-And just because you hide behind a mask.. That doesn't make you an exception, [F/N]! It never has..!" Mitsuri shouted once more, Now staring up at her best friend. The person she's known all her life freeze in place like a statue at her words.

"It's just.. All the time you're so.. So sad.. I-I've known you for so long and it's been going on.. F-For the same length of time.. S-So much that I just took it as normal but looking back now I feel so- so stupid!" She cried out.

[F/N] couldn't respond, He felt like a spotlight had been shun directly on him now. Like he stood in front of an unwanted audience as he stared her down.

"Y-You're scaring me, [F/N].. Y-You're really, really scaring me.. Just please.. T-Take off the mask.." Mitsuri broke down into a quiet sob, Soft cries aching her throat.

[F/N] looked back at her, An indescribable emotion etched into the porcelain of the mask. He felt his fingers twitch before raising them towards the straps. Lightly unlocking the clasp at the back she pulled the leather down from her head, Lowering the kitsune mask into the palms of her hands.

[F/N] stood there, The blank expression she wore was flooded with tears flowing free from her eyes as she gazed down at her best friend breaking down. Her lip twitched, Unable to say anything as she barely held back quiet cries of her own.

"'Tsuri.. Please, Just don't look at me like that. Just.. Just don't" [F/N] said, Swallowing back her pain.

"I.. I just.. I.." Mitsuri babbled as she clutched the centre of her chest, Trying to soothe the ache of her heart.

"You've got to leave.. 'Tsuri, It's not safe here, Alright..? I've got to get back to the fight.."

"N-No!" Mitsuri yelped out, Cutting off [F/N] prematurely.

"P-Please.. 'Tsuri, You've got to go.." [F/N] said. Her breath was growing more laboured by the second as the tears dripped down her eyes.

"N-No, You're not going back to the fight, [F/N].. Y-You can't go, You can't.. I.." She bit down on her lip, The thought trailing with her words were cut short.

"Why..?"

"B-Because when when you go into that fight.. Y-You're hoping that you won't come out of it.. And it terrifies me.." Mitsuri cried.

Her words felt like a knife jabbing into [F/N]'s heart, Like a blade was eternally twisting and turning inside of her arteries. It hurt, Out of everyone she had ever met, Mitsuri was the last one she would have wanted to say that to her.

"J-Just please.. G-Get off the roof, Come down.. D-Do not waste yourself on this roof, [F/N]. D-Don't you remember our promise..? Please.. J-Just come to me..?" Mitsuri pleaded, Reaching her hand out for [F/N] to take.

Her words felt so enticing, Like an oasis in a scorching desert.

Something she had been searching years for, Only to turn up in a gift wrapped box sitting on her doorstep. [F/N] felt her fingers twitch, So desperately wanting to reach out and take her hands.

But the letter had already been sent, Her mind had already been made up so long ago. As much as she wanted to hold her hand, Run away and never look back [F/N] knew that it wouldn't be enough.

"'Tsuri.." [F/N] mumbled. Mitsuri caught on quickly to her tone and her eyes widened.

"N-No, [F/N]! Please.. Come down, P-Please just take my hand.. PLEASE!" She cried out as she watched [F/N] place the mask back on the now his face.

"'Tsuri.. Do not feel guilty over me, You were the best friend I could of ever asked for. You did your best.." [F/N] smiled.

The mask was now matching his expression as it looked down on Mitsuri, Who rushed forward but her knees finally buckled making her fall forward.

"Ah-!" She cried out. [F/N] tried to resist the urge to go and help as he spoke.

"'Tsuri.. You still haven't recovered from the swordsmith village attack.. Not to mention it looks like you've been running for hours.

"Please, Don't exert any more energy." [F/N] said as he turned around back towards the direction Kokushibo would be in.

Mitsuri screamed out for [F/N].

"P-PLEASE, [F/N]! L-LET ME COME WITH YOU, PLEASE! A-AT LEAST LET ME COME WITH YOU. W-WE GO TOGETHER, L-LIKE WE ALWAYS HAVE! TOGETHER!!" Her voice was so painful it tore a hole into [F/N] as he tried not to run to her side.

"I'm sorry, 'Tsuri.. Between the two of us, You have people that will miss you. There are a lot of people out there who love you, Adore you not just for your strength but just for yourself. Between the two of us.. You'll have people who will mourn your loss." [F/N] said.

Mitsuri didn't even have time to scream out as Seijun rushed over from somewhere south. She had been put to help with evacuations and Mitsuri's screams had alerted her over.

"[F/N]-sama! Kanroji-san, Are you both alright?!" Seijun asked, Alarmed by the incoherent babble of Mitsuri in front of her as she desperatley tried to pull herself to her feet. A futile attempt as she just fell back down.

"..We're alright, Thank you.. I hope evacuations are going well?" [F/N] asked. Cocking his head to the side as he tried his best to focus on the maiden instead of the mourning.

"Smoothly. Due to the combined efforts of the slayers and the handmaidens, The first round of escapee's have successfully gotten away… Though there are quite a few many still around.." Seijun said, Quickly bowing down to her superior.

[F/N] nodded.

"Seijun. Thank you for helping out with the evacuations, I sincerely appreciate it.. All I ask of you now is that you could escort Kanroji-san out of the area. She's in no state to fight and is delirious." [F/N] turned back to look at the two, A reassuring smile sat uneasy on the mask.

Seijun nodded as she started to pick up Mitsuri by the armpits. At the touch of the handmaiden Mitsuri instantly started to scream and flail around in her grasp, In complete hysterics as she cried out [F/N]'s name.

"Kanroji-san, Please calm down-"

"[F/N]! [F/N]! PLEASE! L-LET GO OF ME, LET ME GO! [F/N] COME DOWN, COME TO ME PLEASE- I CAN'T DO THIS WITHOUT YOU!" She screamed. Despite her inhuman strength her muscles were so tired from both her injuries and the marathon here that she could barely even struggle in Seijun's hold, Just scream and scream as she tried to get out of her grasp.

[F/N] turned back, Walking on the roof like a lamb to the slaughter as he tried his best to ignore the gut-wrenching pain in his stomach. He had made up his mind, And as much as [F/N] adored Mitsuri it wasn't going to change anything.

Her screams got further and further away as he drew his sword once more.

As they did, He raised his head high and smiled.

☆♡☆

"Blood Demon Art: Electrokinesis, Third form: Thunder Swarm!"

Black bolts of ebony struck down from Kaigaku's blade, The steel conducting the movements as he brought it down onto the group of slayers he had been tracking for quite a while now.

Several yells called out into the vastness of the forest, Snow exploding into the air once the thunder whipped at the ground. Kaigaku cackled as he heard the screams of his prey, The game of cat and mouse had begun.

He had leapt out from one of the tree branches, Ones he had been carefully maneuvering on as he quietly trailed along with the group.

Kaigaku had struck at the right time, They had taken the bait. The red cloth was a carefully placed lure he had swiftly placed in order to lead them into a honey trap, It was easy. Especially once he knew who he was dealing with.

He was shocked at first. Not in a million years did he expect to come across them, Not at all. It was something that seemed impossible to him, But here he was pouncing in for the attack.

Gyomei, Zenitsu, Shizuko. Along with that boar-headed kid they were well-known targets, Once he had lain his eyes on them his heart seemed to soar in his chest. A sadistic kind of glee bursting up from inside of him.

People who had looked down on him in the past, People who had treated him like he was just another person and not the prodigy he really was. The kind of people he truly despised were right in front of him, All grouped together.

Even though he was ordered to attack the shrine from the other side, He had to take this. It was an opportunity he couldn't pass by on, Not for a single second.

They group was launched into the air. The force pushing them away from the focal point as Kaigaku watched the boar-headed kid land into a tree, Hitting his head and passing out while the other two kids were pushed off a steep hill.

He laughed like a closing in hyena. His body falling close to the ground as he prepared to land, All before a chain launches out of the snow dust, Hurtling straight towards the demon.

Kaigaku swerved. Only dodging the metal by a hair as the mist finally cleared, Revealing The Stone Hashira standing strong in-between the snow. Chains in hand he swayed them about as the axe in his hand started to swing between his fingers.

Another chain shot out from beneath his haori sending it straight towards him at nigh-impossible speeds.

Kaigaku breathed in to steady his style. Tossing his sword up into the air he threw out a hand and wrapped it tight around the chain. Tugging once he screamed out into the night

"Blood demon art-"

An explosion of electricity erupted out from his palms, A black current travelling down the steel chain as it quickly developed into a shockwave heading straight towards Gyomei.

Sensing the incoming thunder he let go of the chain and threw out the axe as it hurtled towards Kaigaku.

Catching his sword in a single hand Kaigaku brought it down with a clash! The metal hitting together with hot sparks bursting out from the sheer force of their connection.

Kaigaku landed on the floor. Gyomei's axe successfully deflected as he hit the ice, Steadying himself with a single hand as he peered up at the Hashira with a Cheshire grin.

"Gyomei.. You've bulked up a bit since I last saw you." Kaigaku sneered. A condescending drawl drawing out every syllable as he peered up at his former peer.

Gyomei halted in his actions, A sudden stop to his quick movements. Grasping the unelectrified chains it pulled on the axe, Catching it in a single hand as he froze in place.

"That voice.. It cannot be.." He muttered. Memories seemed sing out inside of his mind, Voices he remembered coming back to him for the first time in years. Ones he had pushed away, Hidden and ran from yet all coming up within the brutal song of the demon's voice.

Kaigaku's grin grew bigger.

"What? It's not the kid you let be thrown out? The person you discarded so easily? The one whose gonna put this blade through your skull?" Kaigaku cackled, Raising his sword and pointing to the sharp metal.

"Oh.. Right. My bad, You're unable to see the thing that's gonna to kill you. How sad!" Kaigaku laughed as he gripped the side of his head, Tufts of ebony hair sticking out as he hollered like it was the funniest thing in the world.

Gyomei's frown got sharper.

"A low hanging insult.. Even for you, Kaigaku.. It pains me to know how badly you've fallen.." Gyomei lamented as he recalled back on the time's they shared together.

Kaigaku, An orphaned child. One of nine who he had taken in at his temple, One of nine who he cared for like his very own. One of the children who he had worked himself down to the bone for, Tried his hardest everyday to provide for. Even going as far as to starve himself just so they would have enough food to satisfy them.

Even though he was blind, Even though he was starving almost every second of the day making him frail and scrawny he worked to provide.

He had considered them all family, Even if they had no blood connection it never mattered. The covenant was stronger than the womb, They loved each other no matter how bad it would get.

But that one fateful day, That one day was like carved stone in his mind. The wisteria incense put out, The betrayal he had known as he heard the screams of terror from the children he considered family.

Kaigaku had been a thief, He always had been. But when he had gone so far as to sneak out at night, Run into a demon and sacrifice the peers he had known just for a chance at survival that wasn't even guaranteed.

They were all slaughtered by the very thing Kaigaku chose to become. It proved how little he cared, How little humanity he had in the first place.

In the end, He could only save two. And it cost him his freedom, His chance at a normal life.

All because of the demon in front of him.

"How badly I've fallen? Gyomei, I'm upper six now! I've been risen to such great heights, By a man who could actually see my worth!" Kaigaku proclaimed, Raising his hands out as if to announce this to the world.

Gyomei paused, Letting the words sink in.

"Then.. I doubt that man was a good judge of character.. You've always been such a weaselly little boy." Gyomei stated. Even though he couldn't see he could practically feel the sudden drop in Kaigaku's smile.

Kaigaku stood there, The hands he had raise shook. This wasn't the answer he had been expecting from the man.

"..How dare you.. My master is an honourable man! He knows my worth!" Kaigaku yelled out. Baring his canines out towards The Stone Hashira who stood there motionless, Starting to rattle his beads once more.

"No.. You've always been such a pitiful little thing.. Such a selfish child.. You have as much worth as a rat in the gutter." Gyomei announced with such a sad and nostalgic tone, Yet it held so much weight that it felt like a stone to the head to Kaigaku.

His jaw fell agape, Displaying his rows of sharp teeth. From the way Kaigaku was imagining this day in his head, He didn't expect this of all responses.

He had envisioned the sheer pain drown out the features on Gyomei's face, Tears drip down from his eyes as he begged for forgiveness under the sharp point of Kaigaku's claws. He'd cry, Yell in pain as he was slowly mutilated in the slowest way possible.

He didn't expect to be fixed in place, Feet feeling so heavy he was unable to lift them. Unable to do anything as he stared him down. He felt helpless, So helpless. And that made him angry.

"I-I am powerful now! I am strong! You just can't comprehend how powerful I am now, Y-You're the one that's weak! You just can't believe how great I am now!" Kaigaku yelled, His voice suddenly sounding hoarse as he gripped the hilt of his sword tighter.

"Really.. Are you really that great?" Gyomei asked quietly.

"O-Of course I am!" Kaigaku yelled back in response.

"Then.. If you truly are.. You would know a distraction when you see one.." Gyomei finished.

Kaigaku's brow raised before a sudden prescense- No, Two presences appearing from behind him at nigh-impossible speeds.

He only turned around in time to see the two boys, Zenitsu and Shizuko, The two boys he knew so well raise their swords in a prepared attack.

"Thunder Breathing, First Form: Thunderclap and Flash"

"Earth Breathing, Second Form: Seismic Shake"

They screamed in unison, Only a few feet away from Kaigaku's stunned body as they raised their respective weapons. Thunder started to crackle at the metal of Zenitsu's katana while the murky smell of fresh compost emanated from Shizuko's machete as they charged towards him.

Kaigaku lowered his knee's and jumped back just in time to avoid the massive crater left in the place where he stood.

"You bastards-!" Kaigaku screamed out as he was flown out into the air. He looked down at the horrified visage of Zenitsu, While he scowled at the enraged Shizuko as they jumped up towards him once more.

"Ne, You're one to talk..!" Shizuko screamed as he used the tree branches to throw himself up to Kaigaku's level.

"K-Kaigaku.. How could you!" Zenitsu cried as he followed in his peer's footsteps.

"Oh shut up you wimp! You know exactly why!" Kaigaku screamed as he watched the two slayers come up towards him, Preparing another attack.

Just as the two were about to swing their weapons a metal flail flew out from beneath them all, Shooting out towards Kaigaku.

This isn't good, This isn't good at all. Kaigaku was seething, This moment was suppose to be glorious with him on top and those below quivering under his iron fist. But he had no more time to daydream as he was about to be attacked on three separate fronts.

Zenitsu directly below, Shizuko from the front and Gyomei from the side. He couldn't lose, He was special.

Quickly, Kaigaku had no time to think as he activated his blood demon art. His sword igniting as he yelled out his attack.

"Thunder Breathing, Fourth Form: Distant Thunder!"

Kaigaku screamed out as bolts erupted from the cold steel of his sword, A versatile attack reaching in all directions. Below, Front and side thunder crackled out in response to the attack.

He wouldn't let them kill him, Anyone but them. He knew he was worthy, But also knew he had to prove it.

And this was the perfect way

☆♡☆

Kokushibo stood in the middle of the rubble, Standing in the midst of broken wood, stone and clay as he examined his surroundings.

He had been thrown to the other side of the shrine, An unexpected force from the joint impact pushing him off the roof. Kokushibo had meant to get back to the fight, Get back to that accursed Hashira.

But as he looked around, He found himself hesitating.

He took a deep breath in, Inhaling the cold night's air into his lungs as he reminisced on old memories. It would be the last time he would ever get to experience this after all, The shrine was in complete disrepair now.

It was bittersweet, The memories he had here played in front of him like a reeling tape. How he'd come back from a mission only to be greeted with the smell of stewing vegetables and sweet berries. He'd smile and walk inside only to be greeted by [F/N] and Yorichii.

Now the mere scent of human food disgusted him.

The shrine would be destroyed, Not like there was much to save in the first place. The slayers had desecrated it, Infected it like parasites and transfigured it into something unrecognisable from its original state.

And just like a parasite leeching on the flesh of an arm, The only solution was to cut it off. It wasn't her shrine he was destroying, No. It was already gone, He was just levelling another base of operations. Nothing more.

Kokushibo was brought out of his thoughts by the sound of footsteps hitting the tiles, A slow pace as they walked up to his location down below in the garden

He turned, Looking up to see that slayer on top of a roof point, Balancing on a single foot. The moon shone down from behind him, High in the sky to illuminate their oncoming brawl as his haori danced in the breeze.

A neuron clicked within Kokushibo's mind once his sight connected with the mans stance, A realisation dawning on him.

"You.. I remember you now.." Kokushibo drawled as he fully turned over to look up at him.

"Really? I don't remember us ever meeting." [F/N] said carelessly, Yet there was still a hint of curiosity in him as he waited for the demon to go on.

"No.. We have not met.. But you, You are the slayer who killed one thousand of my kind.. In a single year.." Kokushibo said, Eyes narrowing as he stared him down.

He remembered his the notice from his master ringing inside his mind, The announcement demanding the death of this slayer for the crime of efficiency. This one single demon hunter had managed to cause such alarm in Muzan, A feat never done before.

They had never managed to catch him, The slayer was rather tricky.

Moved about place to place and never lingered long, Never slept in any inn's or districts. Any demon that did come face to face with him however was instantly shot down and killed in seconds.

Normally, Kokushibo would hate to see a waste of talent die out. He never understood why slayers would prefer staying human, Instead of becoming a demon to perfect and hone their technique to perfection.

But knowing the weight this man had, Knowing the haori he disgraced and the artefacts he wore with no care. Kokushibo had no bargain to present to the slayer, Instead enticed by bringing his head back to Muzan for the reward.

"What is your name.." Kokushibo asked.

"Fujimori." [F/N] replied, Shrugging his shoulders.

"Your full name.." Kokushibo prodded.

[F/N] wondered why he wanted to know, Why it was necessary information. But in the end he supposed that the demon wanted to know what name to write on the trophy stand.

"It's just Fujimori." [F/N] answered back, If that was the case then he wouldn't give him the satisfaction. If he was going down then he was going to make it as inconvenient as possible for his killer.

Kokushibo breathed out hot air from his nose. The careless tone in the slayers voice angered him, How could he be taking this so casually? A fight with Uppermoon one and he took it like child's play.

It was infuriating.

He drew out his sword once more, The flesh pulsating as it grew out in length. [F/N] in turn drew his own blade from the sheathe on his back, Pointing it at him like the judge to the accused.

"Alright then. Don't hold out now, Better give me all you've got!" [F/N] laughed as he jumped down from the shrine spire, Sword raised as he swung it down.

"Soul Breathing, First Form: Psyche Cutter!" He screamed, Sword alight with white wisps as it hit down onto the place Kokushibo once was, Rocks erupting out leaving only a crater.

[F/N] turned around, Seeing Kokushibo about to pierce into his back he raised his sword in response.

Metal on flesh connected with a clash! Both swordsmen's blades pushed against each other, Battling for that single opening to end the fight once and for all. [F/N] struggled, Letting out little groans as Kokushibo's strength was unmatchable.

Kokushibo yelled out, A pained scream. He swung out a forceful attack making [F/N] back up as their swords rapidly connected back and forth, Withdrawing and crashing right back into each other. If [F/N] stopped for a single moment, He'd be cut down.

[F/N] could barely dodge the oncoming breathing techniques as he tried to let off his own, It was one after the other so much that he couldn't take his mind away. He supposed it was a good thing.

Mitsuri's face, That desperate expression. Her hysterical screams for him to come back, To not do what he needed to. It was all set into the stone of his mind, Appeared when he blinked and hallucinated her voice.

[F/N] was thankful he had no time to think about it.

Their blades made sparks burst out like a faulty lighter. [F/N] started to struggle, The grip on his sword beginning to fall despite his iron-clad grip. His grin never faltered though, This was what he had been expecting.

[F/N] was only human, His stamina was bound to run out eventually and he knew this.

Jumping back up onto the roof to avoid another attack, Kokushibo quickly followed after. It was labouring as [F/N] tried to balance both his feet and his continued slashes at the same time, Being pushed back by the force of the demon's blade.

He felt his breath get heavier with each inhale, The pain in his chest doing nothing to help him as he felt his fingers ache. He only had so much left to go before his body finally gave up, Before he collapsed. This was [F/N] chance, To go out in one single blaze, Hopefully taking down the Uppermoon with him. His final action as a slayer.

Ever since he saw the kanji in his eyes, Ever since he felt the raw power coming off of him [F/N] knew what action to take.

The Eighth Form of Soul Breathing. The most powerful of them all, An attack that left [F/N] bloodied and beaten into a coma the first time he used it. Hospitalized for months in critical condition.

The year onwards he hadn't used it, He didn't dare. It was an attack only supported by the blade he was wielding, The Soul Sword. An attack that utilized the trapped spirits in the blade, Using the power of them all in one devastating move affecting both the user and target.

He felt the trapped souls of one thousand course through the hilt of the blade as they continued to duel against each other in rapid motions, The concentrated spirits radiating through his skin. If he used this attack, It was bound to kill both him and anyone in the surrounding area.

But Kokushibo? He wasn't sure.

Thankfully however the evacuations were successful, [F/N] had made sure to check. Everyone was out and at least a few miles away from the shrine, It was just the two of them now fighting to the death.

[F/N] smiled lightly. No one would get in the way, Not the hand-maidens, Not Mitsuri, No one. There would be no casualties on [F/N]'s hands, That was good.

[F/N] needed to try. To end it all and try to bring at least something good out of his death, To bring something good out of his life for once.

But then, He caught the faint hue of carmine red.

The mask's eyes widened as it caught the vivid colour tucked hidden within the rubble, It was barely there but [F/N] could make out a face. One that sparked up his own in recognition.

It was Maika.

Maika sat hidden behind a torn wall, She looked wounded with her kosobe being stained in thick ichor. She stared wide-eyed at the fight, Looking absolutely horrified. Her hands cupped over her mouth, Not daring to speak for a second.

But what concerned [F/N] the most was her legs, They were trapped under a large wall crumbled down onto her. She was unable to get out.

No.. No this wasn't good. [F/N]'s heart beat faster and faster by the moment, Losing concentration from the fight as he stared the injured girl head on trying to make sense of the sight in front of him.

Maika was still here, She had somehow gotten back to the shrine only to get caught within the destruction. Did the evacuation team miss her? Did they not find her? [F/N] felt his jaw shake, He couldn't use the Eight Form. Not while she was still here.

[F/N] dragged his eyes away from the girl, Trying not to alert the demon of her presence. Before he had taken this fight with a careless grin but as he saw the young girl there, Injured and terrified the stakes had finally hit him.

Her life was at stake, And somewhere deep inside him he wasn't willing to let that life slip through his fingers.

He can die any other day, But she needed to go on. Maika was too young.

[F/N] pushed himself up into the air, Sword readying itself above his head as he ignored the implications of his thoughts. He couldn't use the eighth form, Not while Maika was here. So [F/N] had to settle on the next best thing as the wisps grew into a blazing inferno.

"Soul Breathing, Seventh Form: Takamagahara's Wrath, Divine Judgement."

Moonlight danced around his sword as gravity pulled him down forward straight to the demon. Spirits trailed along as energy picked up. He felt the air shift around him and the energy pulse in his sword.

Kokushibo raised his own sword once again, A counterattack ready to happen.

"Sixteenth Form: Moonbow, Half Moon"

His sword moved up and before he knew it, [F/N]'s sword was at his neck, Sharp side pressing into the side of his neck. [F/N] screamed out, Exerting his energy as the fibres of Kokushibo's neck started to tear-

SLASH!

[F/N] landed on the other side of the roof, Sandal soles lightly touching the ground as he steadied himself.

[F/N] stood there completely still, The only movements of his figure was the light breeze passing through his clothing. He sheathed his sword, All before his knee's shook and [F/N] stumbled hard.

Copper was tasted at the tip of his tongue as he stumbled around on the roof losing his balance. He could only feel the sudden burn in his abdomen as his foot pressed down onto nothing, Letting him tip off the roof.

That speed, That blinding speed. Kokushibo didn't utilise it before, He had been formidable yet.. [F/N] felt the dawning realisation rise.

Kokushibo had been toying with him.

He had drawn out this fight, Holding back his true strength. Those cuts placed onto [F/N]'s body were a way to torture him, To let his blood be drawn and to feel agonising pain in the highest degree.

[F/N] never stood a chance.

[F/N] knew this was what he wanted, The thing he had been craving this entire time. This should of been a sweet release, Yet there was such a bitter aftertaste that it filled his mouth along with the blood. Overwhelming his senses.

He still wanted this, He did. It was a happy finality, It didn't matter whether he was in an immense amount of pain or not. It didn't matter at all. Yet the thought of Maika's fate was the one to spoil that moment.

Would she be okay? Would she be discovered by the demon?

He could barely comprehend the question as he hit the ground, World going red.

☆♡☆

Hack, Slash, Hack, Slash!

Kaigaku had barely any time to dodge the unrelenting slashes of Zenitsu, All while dodging the bloodthirsty hits of Shizuko's machete. Both desperate to get to his neck, To sever it and take it as their reward.

It wasn't even the most difficult part. Gyomei had still not moved an inch from his stance on the snow yet he kept sending out axe then flail, Ones Kaigaku couldn't even dodge at times due to the velocity at which they went.

Even then Kaigaku asked himself why Gyomei didn't dare to move from his position, This wasn't like the man he knew. The one who would charge head first into a problem and tackle it head on. It made him angry, Gyomei should be trying to kill him yet he chose to refrain.

And it made him absolutely livid when he found out the reason. Gyomei Himejima, The man who he had lived with for several years, The man who was his family only to be abandoned and ruined the life of all because of Kaigaku was holding back.

All because he still harboured love for him.

Kaigaku yelled out in frustration as he prepared another blood demon art, This time focusing off of the two boys who were still hurling attacks and insults at him as he targeted Gyomei instead.

The thought of him holding back infuriated Kaigaku to no end. Stupid human feelings.. It was disgusting. The notion of it, The action of it, The feelings that rose up inside Kaigaku himself were all absolutely disgusting.

"You fucking bitch!" Shizuko screamed as he charged at Kaigaku once more, Machete wildly trying to hack away at his neck.

Kaigaku dodged. Completely ignoring him in favour of charging at the other man as he got behind Shizuko, Pushing his foot into the dip of his back he used the forced momentum to launch him forward towards Gyomei.

"You absolutely worthless human being!" Kaigaku screamed His sword was raised as he charged at the blind man. Kaigaku ignored the way Gyomei's frown got deeper, Ignoring the way his own grew deeper as well as he got closer and closer. Black sparks jolting out from the metal.

"Himejima-san!" Zenitsu cried as he gave chase, Doing all he could to ignore the past both him and the demon shared as his blade charged up.

Shizuko joined in, Screaming his master's name as Kaigaku got closer. It was clear, Gyomei couldn't kill Kaigaku, He wouldn't. The memories they had shared together were too strong to be cut down for him.

He would rather die than kill one of his kids.

Despite how much Shizuko respected his master, He chided him for letting that get in the way. Even though Shizuko shared the same memories as Gyomei did with Kaigaku, He never let it get in the way.

Not in the way of his work.

Kaigaku was only a few inches away, Sword lightly grazing the skin of Gyomei's neck about to be cut down in an instant.

Come back, Now.

Kaigaku's eyes widened. The voice of Kokushibo, His master, Rang throughout his head. The telepathic link connected to him sounding an indescribable tone in his voice, Something he had never heard off his master before.

Emotion..

Kaigaku jolted away from Gyomei, Landing a few feet away from him as he skidded on the ground.

Zenitsu and Shizuko rushed over to Gyomei's side as he stood there frozen, Kaigaku had stopped. His senses told him so but for what reason.

Kaigaku looked back at the group and snarled at the feeling so persistant on bubbling up inside him. It was weakness, Human emotion. He had no time to think it over as he took off in a single shot of lightning, Leaving the group behind.

Shizuko snapped his head over to the sound of faraway thunder only to realise that the bastard was gone, Escaped while he was concerned over Gyomei's safety.

He gritted his teeth and screamed out into the night after him.

"Ne, Come back and face us! You're a coward, You've always been a coward.. COME BACK AND FIGHT US!" Shizuko hollered out, Voice echoing through the vast treeline surrounding them.

Shizuko could only hope that the demon he once called his brother could hear his yells as he was chased off into the night.

☆♡☆

Erratic sputters of blood erupted from [F/N]'s throat, Making ichor drip out of his mask and down his chin, Staining his already drenched uniform.

Everything hurt, Everything hurt so bad unlike before. [F/N] kept telling himself to breathe, In and out. It would be over soon, Everything will be over soon. He wouldn't need to worry anymore, He had got what he wanted.

[F/N]'s body made spasms, Wild jerks of motion as his back was propped up against fallen stone.

When he fell he had landed into a pile of rubble. Jaded rocks jagged into his flesh, Opening wounds and bursting blood vessels. If his vision wasn't blurry enough, The dust that came up from his heavy landing had made it nigh-impossible to see.

It was a miracle [F/N] was holding on as long as he was. The wound cut so deep into his abdomen that you could near see his guts. He had lost a lot of blood too, More than a normal person could survive losing.

He could barely make out the shape of the maiden only a few feet away cried quietly.

"F-Fujimori-sama.. Fujimori-sama.." She wept. Tears were left unashamedly flowing down her face as [F/N] lolled his head to meet hers.

He had to blink once to remove the visage of Mitsuri appearing on her face. It was funny, [F/N] had never noticed the visual similarities between the two until now. If his lungs were in shape, He might of laughed at the thought.

"Mi-Maika.. Listen closely.." [F/N] rasped out. Voice hoarse as dry as the maiden nodded quickly, Intently ready to hear his final words.

"Y-You need to trust me here.. Y-You won't be able to get out in time.. So.. I need you to get under the rubble.. H-Hide yourself.. Alright?" [F/N] coughed up more blood, Staining the inside of his mask as Maika's eyes widened.

"D-Don't make a noise.. No matter what happens to me or.. Or what you see.. O-Only until sunrise are you to come out.. Only once you know its safe.." [F/N] wheezed as he watched a shape in the mist start to form.

"Q-Quickly.." At his final word enunciated Maika quickly pushed herself under the rocks, Burrowed her small body into the tight space until all [F/N] could see was the moonlight's reflection on her eyes.

[F/N] smiled weakly, He hoped it would be enough to keep her hidden. Enough to save her life as he watched the figure in the fog take shape into his assailant, The man who would be his executioner.

"Pathetic.. Really.. You were able to take out one thousand of my kind.. Yet you fell to me, Even when putting in your all you just couldn't win.." He drawled out, Making sure to pronounce every syllable. Mocking the man, A sharp frown etched into his face yet [F/N] could tell he was enjoying this. Every last second.

[F/N] felt his vision double, A dark haze appearing over the horizon of his eyes. He could barely hear what Kokushibo was about to say next, All blurring into white noise.

He felt the dark haze thicken, He didn't hesitate to let it swallow him whole.

Kokushibo breathed out air from his nose, Returning his blade back to its hilt as he took slow strides towards the fallen man. He watched as his head lolled from side to side, Most definetly in a state of semi-conciousness from the blood loss.

It really was pathetic. If this man didn't bring up such horrid memories, If his very cells didn't make his blood boil he might of offered this man to become a demon. A way to forever hone his already impressive skills.

It was a waste, But it didn't matter now. This Hashira will die by his blade, It was near-written in the stars.

Kokushibo stopped in front of his incapacitated body. All six of his eyes taking in the sight before him as he crouched down to the mans level.

He was sprawled out, Body black and blue in so many places.

Kokushibo knew he was still somewhat awake, In between death and life. Even in such a spot he should've been able to move, Say something at least.

But the man never said anything. Kokushibo lowered a brow, It was if his body was fighting tooth and nail to stay alive yet his mind was ready to give up. It puzzled him, Any other slayer would be fighting whole heartedly to stay alive yet this one decided to go out without complaint.

"You.. Fujimori. You are such a miserable creature.. Everything about you is simply.. enraging" Kokushibo seethed as his eyes moved onto the rest of him. Kokushibo reached a single hand out to grasp the soft fabric of his haori.

"This haori.. How you were able to get a hold on it confuses me.. Yet angers me all the same. The way you wear it.. The way you no doubt have stained it with blood of those you've killed.. The way you wear it is a disgrace to it's true owner.." Kokushibo lamented. His voice growing only a tone drier.

He trailed a thumb over the pattern. The scales of the dragon were soft under his touch, It made a chill go down his back. How he was able to get his hands on this homemade pattern he didn't know, He had buried it with his sister's body.

Yet here it was, Caressed under his claw.

"The gods may be punishing me.. Making me look at it again.. But I suppose it does not matter now, Not to you.." Kokushibo said. His hand trailed up the man's body, All the way up to the rim of the kitsune mask.

He trailed a talon along his jawline, Deep enough only to make his body twitch at the touch.

"Not to mention the precious artefacts.. One's you wear and wield like your everyday kimono.. Disgraceful." His talon moved up to dig under the brim of the mask. Kokushibo watched on intently as his claw played with the leather strap wrapping behind the mans head.

"I am unsure whether you can hear me.. yet.. If you can.. I want you to watch as I tear out your intestines.. A fitting punishment for your crimes.." Kokushibo whispered.

His claw started to rip the leather slowly. The hide easily coming apart as he tore it down once.

It broke.

The fox mask fell to the floor, A loud clatter hitting the floor.

Kokushibo's heart stopped in his chest.

What.. What is this?

The smoke around them seemed to settle down back to where it came from. The moon was raised high in the sky, Looking down upon the scene from the heavens.

Kokushibo's hand retracted instantly, His body jerking away like he had just touched hot coal.

All sets of eyes went like saucers, All fixed down to the young woman in front of him.

It.. It was [F/N].

His little sister..

No- That was impossible. It couldn't be.. She had perished in his arms over five hundred years ago. He held her cold corpse, He cradled her cadaver begging any god who could hear him to bring her back to him. His tears wet her corpse.

Before this was a man, A man of stature unlike his little sister's. Yet when he took off the mask.. One moment it was the man he had defeated, The next it was her.. But.. It couldn't be her, He was hallucinating again. It couldn't.. It just couldn't!

Yet Kokushibo nudged forward. He reached out a hesitant hand. His fingers lightly cupped her cheek, So delicately as if she'd break from a single touch like a porcelain doll.

He felt the fading warmth in her cheeks, He felt her skin corporeal in his hands.

She was real but..

He heard a soft whisper come out from her throat, Something repeated over and over like a broken tape.

He moved his ear closer to her

His eyes only grew wider once he made out what it was

"M.. Mi-Michi..Nii.."

She mumbled softly, Blood still leaking out of her mouth. Kokushibo's jaw fell agape, His grasp of her cheek growing shaky.

There was no doubt

She was real, She was here.

But how.. How could she be here?

Kokushibo felt his vision start to blur yet never felt the hot tears leaking out of his eyes.. He was crying. She.. She said his name.

His jaw shook as he looked down at her, He saw the red ichor leak out of her gut. He saw the thousands of cuts placed onto her skin, All the bruises and the blood.

Did.. Did he do that?

Memories hit him. Back to that day in the snow, The day almost identical to the present. The day he saw the wound in her back.. The day she died..

Kokushibo yelled.

His body moved for him. In a single second he wrapped his arms around her and hoisted her up onto his shoulder, Carefully cradling her body like a small child in his hold as he started sobbing.

He felt her blood stain his kimono, He felt a panic shock him to his very core.

She was going to die.

That thought on its own was enough to send him into a bloodlust. It didn't matter how she was here, How she was reunited with him once more. It all faded into the back of his mind as the one task came clear in his mind.

He couldn't let death take her away from him, Not again. He couldn't lose her, He needed to keep her alive.

The one person whose ever loved him more than Yorichii. She needed to live.

Kokushibo yelled out to Kaigaku in his mind, The telepathic link connected from him to Tsuguko calling out to him. Telling him to come back. They needed to go, He needed to save her life.

The shrine didn't matter, It was if it never existed to him anymore. Going after the evacuees nor searching for useful information throughout the ruins were not a thought going through him.

Carefully making sure she was secure in his hold he pushed her head into the crook of his neck, Made sure her arms were locked around his neck as he watched Kaigaku run up on the horizon.

"M-Master..!" He called out to him as he ran. However his pace skidded to a halt once he came in front of the event unfolding before him.

His master was holding a maimed girl.. And he was crying.

"Wh-What is-"

"Quiet." Kokushibo hissed, His tears still fresh and flowing down his cheeks as he let out a harsh silence.

Kaigaku didn't push him any further. Shut his jaw and listened, The curiosity killed on his tongue yet the incredulous expression still played out on his face.

"We are leaving. Now." Kokushibo said.

Kaigaku nodded quickly. Bowing down low to show respect as he watched his master turn away, Softly running his fingers through the hair of the girl he held. Kaigaku was baffled, He couldn't understand it.

"Nakime!" Kokushibo yelled out.

And in a single strum of a biwa, They were gone.

☆♡☆

The sun rose up in the sky. Clementine skies painted like a tapestry, Only stopped by the misty clouds adorning the atmosphere. Cold air dancing on passer-by's skin as soft sunlight shone down towards the butterfly mansion.

It was lively. Crowds of escapee's and refugee's flooded into the gates of the mansion desperate for medical attention as the staff ran around trying to tend to them all. They all arrived on wagons, Coming out in groups.

As several people walked by they were lightly pushed out the way. Mitsuri ran like hell through the crowds, The lime hue of her eyes scanning every wagon. Every person who resembled [F/N] even if only a little bit.

She asked around. Asking any person she could find to see if they know of her whereabouts, All came up empty. None knowing where she was.

Mitsuri was in the middle of talking to a shrine-maiden when she heard her name called out from the side of the mansion.

"Kanroji-sama!"

She snapped her head over, Only to be met with Tanjiro.

He was standing in one of the nooks in the garden, The one next to the shed with several trays of plant life growing along the windowsill.

Mitsuri rushed over to him. A glimmer of hope rising up inside her, Tanjiro. If anyone was to know where she was, It would be Tanjiro. He was apart of the rescue team after all

"Kanroji-sama.. I'm glad I found you." Tanjiro greeted her, Bowing once. Mitsuri returned it rather hastily with a last-minute smile. "No. I'm glad I found you, Tanjiro.. I've been all over.. But.." Mitsuri huffed, Her injuries still severe as she had to take a breath.

Tanjiro laid a hand on her back, Patting it lightly as if to relieve her pain.

"Thank you, Tanjiro.. I came to ask.. H-Have you seen [F/N]? Was she able to evacuate or.. In fact, Have you seen Fujimori?" Mitsuri said. She grasped Tanjiro's hands into her own, Hope shining in her eyes as she looked at him.

Tanjiro frowned a little.

"N-No.. I haven't seen [F/N], Nor have I seen Fujimori-sama.. I'm sorry." Tanjiro apologised.

The grasp on his hand felt lighter, Mitsuri's smile faltering only slightly as she gulped down the overhanging feeling in her gut.

"I.. I see.. Thank you anyways, I.. I better get back to searching." Mitsuri said. She tried to keep her normal tone, Her normal bubbly tone that she wore everyday without effort yet there was an undeniable fumble as she walked off.

"Wait!" Tanjiro called out.

Mitsuri turned back around to see Tanjiro search his pockets, All before fishing and holding up a folded envelope in his hands.

"I haven't seen [F/N].. But, Fujimori-sama gave me this letter.. He told me to deliver it to you.." Tanjiro announced as he presented it to Mitsuri.

A letter.

A sudden cold sweat washed over Mitsuri. A bad feeling came up in her gut as she walked over.

Mitsuri took the envelope in her hands. The soft paper feeling like sandpaper in her touch. She steadied her breathing, Trying not to break down in front of her Junior.

Taking in a deep breath she carefully picked off the wax seal and unfolded the envelope. Watching as the folds came undone only to drop a pristine piece of white paper in her hands.

She started to read.

To Mitsuri, My dearest friend.

This probably isn't the letter you wanted from me, I know that and I've tried to make it better so it won't hurt as much.

This is about the fiftieth time I've tried to write this letter, Over and over again I've tried to find the right words to say to try and make it perfect, But every time I just end up throwing it out.

So I've decided to just speak my mind, Let it all out. No more redo's. Alright?

First off this isn't your fault, It's not at all. I've been feeling this way for as long as I can remember and I've tried and tried to find a way to feel something else other than monotony or subservience. Sake and such. but nothing has ever worked for me. So I want you to know that however I died, Whether I found someone strong enough to kill me or that I finally found the gut's to do it myself. I want you to know I did it I did on my on volition. I chose this, You have nothing to feel bad over.

Life just isn't worth living for me. I remember getting asked a short while ago what my purpose in life was, What my motivation was. It ate away at me for a while trying to find an answer. But In truth I have none except for protect those I hold dearest to me, Yet once I found out that my single motive became obsolete I now realise that what we call a reason to live is also an excellent reason to die.

I'm living a lie, Everyday I go to work as someone I'm not because of myself. It's pathetic. There isn't any meaning, I'm sorry for saying this but as these are my last words I feel like it's necessary.

I feel like I missed out on a lot of things. A family, My childhood, A normal life. All of these things I feel like have slipped out of my grasp away from me, And I can't get them back and that hurts me more than I can put into words. Everyday it haunts me and I just can't take it anymore.

But, I lied earlier when I said nothing made me feel something other that monotony.

The truth is its you. You were the only thing that made me feel like I had a family, Like I had my childhood, Like I was a normal person for once in my stupid little life. I adore you, Tsuri. I really do.

Do you remember that day on the porch? You probably don't but I do, I know it was just a one off thing you did for me but at the time I felt like a little girl for once, I felt so happy in that single moment and it meant the absolute world to me. It was probably the first time I ever had a genuine smile on my face. I treasure that memory so very dearly.

Please don't feel sad over me, I don't want that. I love you so so much and I know you probably don't feel the same. I'm sorry you had to put up with me, You deserved a better friend than me.

If Shizuko ever finds out the truth, Tell him his big sister is sorry she couldn't be there for him and that I'm so proud of him for becoming a slayer.

I love you, And I wish I said it sooner

-[F/N] Fujimori

"Kanroji-sama..?" Tanjiro asked, Taking a step towards her.

The letter shook in her grasp, Letting the envelope fall to the floor as she gripped the letter in both hands.

"Kanroji-sama.." Tanjiro watched as wet splotches started to stain the letter, All before the woman he looked up to fall to the floor

And scream.

Next Chapter

[musings-of-a-rose]

Oh I have a good thought about Benny and Sparks. Based on this pic

Thinking about them having a lazy day at home. It's too hot to go outside. Benny has plans to make it hotter inside.

Lazy Day

Pairing:Benny Miller x "Sparks" f!reader from Light Me Up (link in notes)

Word Count: 900+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: I freaking love these two and will always take asks or what ifs or whatever! It was really nice to be able to visit them again. Gosh, I miss them.

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Light Me Up Masterlist (Where Benny and Sparks came from)

Benny Masterlist 

"I wish it wasn't so fucking hot outside!" You complain, turned backwards on the couch, leaning on the back of it with your head in your hands, staring wistfully out of the window. "I really wanted to go to that farmer's market today."

Benny pops open a bottle, the sound echoing through the quiet room as he takes a few gulps. "I know, Sparks. It's just too hot. Maybe next weekend?"

You sigh. "I'm not sure it will be there next weekend."

" 'm sorry, sweetheart." You hear him shuffle behind you, the glass bottle quietly thunking against the wooden coffee table as he sets it down.

His hands settle on your hips as he kneels behind you on the couch, pressing himself to your ass. "Do you know how hot you look in my shirts?"

He starts to slowly grind your ass against him, you being in the perfect position to rub him. He grunts, letting out a puff of air, his fingers digging a little deeper into your skin. "Sparks?" You answer by grinding back on your own, a quiet moan escaping you when you feel how hard he is. 

Benny scoots back off the couch but before you can complain, he's back, hooking his fingers in your panties as he yanks them off, tossing them somewhere in the room. You try to turn around but he grips your hips preventing you from moving. He moves you slightly, arching your back just a little before he presses his face to you, licking down you before sucking slightly on your clit. 

Your fingers twist into the couch, knuckles turning white as he starts to fuck you with his tongue. "Fuck, Benny!" But then he slides his fingers up, gently teasing your clit and you come, moaning out his name as he continues to touch you. 

Then he's moving, kneeling behind you again, pressing your upper back down so you're arching a different way. He hikes your shirt, well, his shirt, over your hips, digging his fingers into your hip to keep you still as he slowly pushes in, his own whimpers and moans joining those coming from your own mouth. "Fuck, Sparks, you always feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock." 

"Please, Benny. I need you to move, please," you're not above begging when he's fully inside of you, stretching you to your limits. 

His voice is low and raspy. "Yes, ma'am."

He sets a rough pace, fucking you into the couch, your hand slapping against the glass window in front of you to prevent you from smashing against it. Your mouth hangs open, his name spilling from it with every thrust as you reach back with your other hand, digging your nails into his ass, willing him deeper. He feels your desperate pull on him, adding an extra hard thrust of his hips, smiling when you cry out his name. A few thrusts later and your body tenses, pulsing around him as you come screaming his name, head thrown back in ecstasy. Benny comes a moment later, spilling into you, a mix of grunts and your name fumbling from him. 

You stay like that for a moment, sweat beading along your forehead while a few drops from Benny's face fall onto your back. He leans over you, pushing your shirt up higher to place kisses along your back. Eyes closed for a moment, you let out a contented sigh. But when your eyes open, your cheeks instantly catch fire. 

"H-hi, Mrs. Johnson!" You give the woman a wave as she glares at you, yelling at you to be ashamed. Benny's body starts shaking and then the laughter tumbles out of him, filling the room with it as you join him once he pulls out. 

"She told us to be ashamed!" You say through your laughter. 

"Ah she's just jealous," Benny says as he wipes the tears from his face. 

Using your hand you start to fan yourself, taking a few breaths. "Well that didn't help the heat."

"No, but I much prefer this heat," Benny waggles his eyebrows as he pulls you to him, kissing you deeply before putting his forehead to yours. 

"I love you, Sparks."

"Don't you mean Mrs. Miller?"

Benny groans, trailing kisses down your neck. "You tryin' to get me all hot again, Mrs. Miller?"

"What ever do you mean? I was just looking out the window and you took advantage of me."

He chuckles. "Is that so?"

"Mmhmm… but next time, it's my turn."

He pulls his head back to look down at you, his eyebrows raised. "Oh?"

Silently, you push him to the floor and show him exactly what you mean.

—----

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[maithefluffychicken]

Centerfold

Rated T, fluffy, meet-cute/ugly, photographer Steve meets rockstar Eddie. Ao3 link

Enjoy!

“When were you going to tell me?” Dustin confronts him, arms crossed tight over his puffed chest. He’s angry and glaring at Steve.

Steve has no idea why, though.

“To tell you, what?” Steve asks, eyes lazily coming back to the screen of his computer. He has been working on a photoshooting made earlier, a boring model for a top brand just changing outfits and shifting from pose to pose quickly and efficiently; basically he’s sorting the best pics to send them to the editor and retouching lights and shades and shit. 

“As if you didn’t know it already!” Dustin accuses him. Dustin is one of the youngest photographers in the agency, and he had the luck to be the one assigned to one of the fiercest journalists, Erica Sinclair, they both cover the best shit and they’re hyper competitive and clever. They’re made for each other, if you ask Steve. Meanwhile, Steve is lucky if he can work on one of his photo reports between photoshoot and photoshoot.

For some reason, though, Steve is fond of Dustin, maybe because they’re both only children and Steve kind of adopted Dustin, to the point of exchanging extremely complicated and elaborated secret handshakes that makes everyone roll their eyes in annoyance. Not like they mind it.

“Henderson, I have no idea what you are talking about, I need a coffee for your antics if you’re going to yell at me first thing in the morning,” Steve sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying to get up, but Dustin doesn’t let him leave the chair.

“You’ve been assigned to do a photoshoot for Eddie Munson!” Dustin yells, face red and eyes wide. “Don’t try to deny it because the Boss told me already, she didn’t care that I begged, she was adamant that you’d be the one doing the job!”

Fucking great.

“I’m not denying it, Henderson,” Steve sighs again, feeling exhausted. “Yeah, Nancy assigned it to me, and I have no idea why, who is this Eddie Munson?”

Steve knows who Eddie Munson is, he’s the lead guitarist and singer from this band, Corroded Coffin - Jesus Christ, what a name - and that they’re pretty popular right now, their new album released and, because of the recently acquired fame, basically every magazine wanted to interview the band and, above all, they wanted Eddie Munson.

What Steve wants to know is why everyone, including Dustin, seems to be so besotted with this Eddie Munson.

“Ok, ok, since you’re all asking so nicely…” Eddie smiles, the quality of the video is not great but Steve can see that the man has a pretty face and a thin frame, and he’s holding his guitar in a way that is almost indecent. And the first notes of the song start playing, the crows cheering and whooping. Steve barely recognises it, a cover from an eighties’ rock band or whatever, he thinks - based on the title of the video.

“Who is… You’re asking me who Eddie Munson is?” Dustin gapes, incredibly offended. “You have no right to be the one working with him, Harrington! It’s not fair!”

While Dustin is angrily muttering about how unfair life is and that Steve is an uncultured swine, he pushes Steve’s chair to the side and takes control of his computer, ignoring Steve’s weak protests. Dustin opens a tab and writes “Eddie Munson Master of Puppets cover live Indiana”. Clicking the first link, the video starts playing on and it shows Corroded Coffin on a stage, the stadium full of people, and Eddie Munson is at the front, black shirt open, showing a hairless chest, and silver chains catching the light of the spotlights. Dark curls clinging to his face with sweat and he smiles, smirks at his audience, who is yelling at him, chanting “Master of Puppets” again and again like just one voice, hands raised and clapping.

“Corroded Coffin’s leader, Eddie Munson, was playing his guitar in this hole-on-the-wall somewhere, you don’t care where anyway, and he started playing Master of Puppets and then James Hetfield himself stood up and joined him singing! The man was there and Eddie was awestruck, and the fucking Metallica helped him to start, dude, it’s the most amazing story ever…” Dustin is talking fast and without taking a breath, as he always does when he’s hyped about something. “And they let him play their song every fucking time, like, imagine to know your hero like that…”

Steve hums. And frowns.

“Hey, you told me I was your hero, kind of a role model for you, that you started studying photography because of me…” Steve pouts, and Dustin’s cheek redden a bit.

“Well, yeah, but, it’s not the same, like, they’re actual rock stars, Steve…” Dustin mumbles, and then he starts writing again and the video stops to show another one, recorded with the camera of a phone and the shittiest quality ever. Steve tries to not overthink about what Dustin just said.

Eddie Munson, a year or two younger, with the same long brown hair in disarray, and wearing a denim vest over a leather jacket, overdressed in comparison with the other video. His on-stage persona is still magnetic, the small crowd already making the chorus, it’s the same song, Master of Puppets. Steve keeps watching and, in the video, people start gasping and a loud Oh My God! can be heard when a man older than Eddie, with short blond hair and broad shoulders stands up and reaches the stage and starts singing with Eddie. Eddie seems a bit stunned for a second when he realizes who the man is, and then he nods, smiles and stops singing so the man - James Whatever, Steve can remember the name Dustin just had told him a moment ago - can take the mic and Eddie keeps playing the guitar, a wide grin on his face.

They both seem like having fun and the older man pats Eddie on his shoulder and tells him something, Eddie nods enthusiastically and, grinning wide, he starts playing another song.

“I hope you take this seriously, Harrington,” Dustin admonishes him. “Everyone wants to work with him and to take the best photos of him, and they always say how amazing he is, so, can you, please? Take it seriously?”

“Nancy, our editor,” Steve reminds Dustin, “already told me that, and I always do a good job, Henderson, no matter who is in front of the camera.”

“But this is important, Steve,” Dustin urges him one more time. “This work could change your whole life, dude!”

Steve rolls his eyes and huffs, watching Dustin walk towards his own computer to actually do his job, and Steve takes the opportunity to stretch his legs and pours himself a mug of coffee. Once again in front of his screen, Steve lips his lower lip.

He doesn’t like to work with celebs, not all of them play nice and not all of them listen to Steve, usually they complain about their schedule or are simply… plain and boring. That’s why Steve prefers to do his photo report about interesting things or places, there are a lot of stories out there waiting to be told.

-

“What do you mean there’s no brand behind him?” Steve asks, deflating in the chair. At the other side of the table, Nancy Wheeler, the editor, is organizing some papers. 

Nancy shrugs, and looks at Steve with a brow arched.

“His manager says that she’ll give us the different outfits, but that they’re not interested in any specific brand or name, Eddie has a penchant for the eighties, glam-rock, old rock stars vibe, and there’s no brand that can provide that nowadays,” she explains. 

“Well, if his manager is going to give us the clothes, I don’t care, as if he wants to show up in pajamas, honestly,” Steve says bitterly.

“If you don’t care then leave me work, Steve,” Nancy smirks and Steve grunts, standing on his feet again and ready to leave Nancy’s office.

“Why do you hate him so much?” She asks before Steve can leave. “You don’t even know him.”

“I don’t hate him…” Steve says, and it’s true. “I just, ugh, all celebs are just the same, proud and so self-satisfied, they’re usually mean and petty.”

“That’s a lot of prejudice and hate in those words of you, Steve,” Nancy huffs. “He seems nice, his manager is very sweet, or that’s what Robin says at least, and God knows she’s even pickier than you with people.”

“That’s why we both get along so well,” Steve smiles. “Why me?”

“Hm?”

“Henderson wants the job, he’s a fan, why not him for this session? He’d be so happy, Nance, and he’s even better than me at this point.”

Nancy studies him for a moment, considering her options.

“I would give him this assignment, but I can’t,” she sighs. “Eddie Munson wants you, he asked for you specifically, Steve. And we already signed the contract.”

“What? Why?” Steve asks, confused and feeling hot all over, angry at the celebs and their fucking idea that the world spins around them.

“I have no idea, Steve,” Nancy sighs now, too. “But Eddie Munson is the big thing happening at the moment, and he wants us, he wants you, this can change…”

“Change my life, yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Steve closes the door behind him with more force than needed.

-

Eddie Munson, just like the rest of the celebs Steve has worked with, is late. Of course he is. A big rock star like him surely has better things to do than appear at the hour he has been told so Steve can do his fucking job.

He has everything ready to start, the camera settled, the fucking lights, the screen and, ok, maybe he wouldn’t be this upset if he wouldn’t made his job so fucking thoroughly even if he knew it was going to lead him to another disappointment. Steve is good at his job, he takes it seriously no matter what Nancy and Dustin say, and that’s why he asked Robin to call Eddie Munson’s manager and to get him some information. And then, he did some research and called some friends.

In just a week, Steve found several leather jackets, tight enough that no matter how thin Eddie is, he couldn’t wear a shirt underneath, just as his metal heroes did back in their days. Just as tight jeans ripped at the knees, even a few ones with animal print: zebra stripes over red, leopard dots over blue. Denim jackets with spikes at the shoulders. Oversized shirts with ruffles, very pirate-y. And all kinds of jewelry and bijou and chokers and chunk rings, bandanas, chains, everything a eighties-lover metalhead could want and more.

And guitars and their amps - just in case. Steve owes several favors now for a fucking photoshoot just to offer this guy different guitars to pose with. He hopes the man arrives sooner or later, he has to return all the clothes and guitars tomorrow first hour, so for the first time that week, Steve wants Eddie Munson here and now. A part of him, the part that he doesn’t want to listen to and that has been devouring every video of Eddie Munson available on Internet, wants desperately that Eddie likes the set Steve has made for him, and that’s the other reason why he hopes the man will appear any moment now.

It’s easier if he says to himself that he just wants to do that perfect photoshoot, far too easier than to admit that the guy looks hot on every fucking interview and has the habit of winking at the camera. It’s easier if he says to everyone that he’s just a greedy photographer who wants a raise, a chance to prove himself, or whatever other lie he can think of. 

Being late is not very hot, in Steve’s opinion.

There’s a rustle behind the door of the studio and then two figures storm in, a cute blonde young woman with her hair tied in a ponytail, wearing a black blazer and jeans, and right by her side, Eddie Munson himself.

“Steve Harrington?” The woman asks, a bright smile in her pink lips, and she offers her hand for Steve to take. “I’m Chrissy Cunningham, Eddie’s manager, I’m sorry we’re late, we got stuck in traffic, I tried to call you to the number Miss Buckley gave me last time, but it seems like it’s not working.”

Steve takes the small hand in his and, fuck, he had silenced his phone earlier because Dustin was texting him non-stop about Eddie Munson and Steve forgot to check in just in case. Well, I’m an idiot for that one, Steve admits while shaking Chrissy’s hand and smiling.

“Nice to meet you, Miss Cunningham, and don’t worry, traffic it’s awful in this city” he says, trying not to look like an idiot, and his eyes find Eddie Munson behind her, worrying his lower lip shyly, eyeing him up and down. “Mr Munson.”

At being called, Eddie takes a step forward and offers his hand to Steve, smiling nervously. His hand is warm, if a bit sweaty, smaller than Steve’s but with long fingers and calloused palms, and Steve realizes he’s thinking too much about said hand, releasing it quickly, shoving all his current thoughts down, crumpling them like a ball of aluminum foil and tossing it at the back of his mind for later examination, or not. Better not.

“Mr Munson is my uncle, please, call me Eddie,” he says, nervously and shivering. “And damn, the pleasure is mine, I can’t believe you’re actually here.”

Steve blinks several times before his brain registers Eddie’s words, as if their roles were reversed and Steve was the rockstar and Eddie Munson was a fan. Steve can’t help but notice the soft pink that paints Eddie’s cheeks.

“Ehm, same,” he says confused, he was the one believing that Eddie wouldn’t appear after all.

“No man, and I’m so sorry to be late, I hate driving in the city,” Eddie laughs, rubbing his neck and drawing a complex expression on his face. “I hope we can still do the photoshoot today? I’m free and all for you, I mean, to make out with you… To do you! To do the photoshoot! Damn, Munson,” Eddie groans, embarrassed and laughing awkwardly. Steve is having a crisis, or a stroke, or the weirdest dream of his life; he laughs too, his mind racing with very inappropriate images but honestly, he can just blame the stress and the anxiety for doing this job. Eddie recovers, though. “I’m sure you have better things to do, more appointments or something, and if you want to reschedule or something… Chrissy, help, please?”

Eddie Munson rambles when he’s nervous, his cheeks are a bit flushed, and he’s making Steve second guessing everything he thinks he knows about Eddie. And it’s making his knees feel like jelly.

“What Eddie is trying to say is that he asked for you to be the photographer for this session, and if that our delay is an issue, we’ll do whatever it’s on our hands to do it any other day, and of course we’ll cover the inconveniences for today,” Chrissy smiles softly, looking around the studio. “You have the whole set ready, and I know all the hard work you put in here. And if you still have time today, we’ll love to keep the plan.”

“It’s ok, don’t worry, we have time,” no, they don’t. “I don’t have any more appointments today.” It’s not a lie, but he does have work to do that needs to be finished. And yet, now that Eddie is here, Steve doesn’t want him to leave, and it’s not that late. Steve is getting better at lying to himself, then. 

Also, what Eddie has to do is just stand there and look pretty, the bitter part of him that is still annoyed snaps to himself, only to be answered with the other part of himself with: damn, he’s already very pretty.

Steve shakes his head and shoves down both thoughts, annoyance and awe can wait until the session is over. Or like, forever. They’re just two more foil balls bouncing at the back of his mind with the previous one.

“We can still do the session today, sure,” Steve reassures them, smiling and nodding.

“I don’t want to be a bother,” Eddie says, tugging at a stray curl and putting it in front of his face, hiding from Steve. He has no right to be this sweet, where’s the annoying, overconfident rockstar Steve was expecting? Steve feels his body melting because of Eddie, and that’s not good.

“You’re not a bother, just… We can start when you want.”

 Eddie grins, dimples showing and eyes widening, Steve feels the sudden need to clear his throat and drink some water.

"It’s settled then, I need to make some calls, be good, Eddie, ok?" Chrissy says, looking at her tablet and smiling smugly. "Mr Harrington, thank you for this, and if he misbehaves I'll be out there, just scream for help." She adds with a wink before leaving and closing the door behind her, and Eddie makes a sound that it’s too much of a squeak. 

"Ok that was... unnecessary," Eddie laughs awkwardly again, and yet he looks comfortable on his own skin while Steve is fighting to maintain his professional composure. "She's just teasing me because, uhm..."

"What, a rock tar like you that doesn't like to be in front of a camera?" Steve asks, a bit awestruck if he's honest to himself, and flirting without noticing. Or, noticing it just a bit.

"I prefer to be on stage, yeah, but, ehm... " Eddie huffs. "I've been waiting for this for a long time, and I want to thank you for having me here today."

"How's that?" Steve asks, smiling, unable to imagine Eddie Munson all shy and flustered, and yet here they are.

"Oh, because I wanted you to make out with me... To have a session with me! With the camera!" Eddie rambles, his cheeks incredibly red and Steve is sure his own are burning now, he can’t even chuckle at this, not when he’s the one imagining it now. Great. "Oh fuck, I'm already making a mess... Ok, fuck it, ok, I've been following your work and I’m kinda obsessed with your style."

Steve can't help but giggle this time, shock running down his body, this is all so absurd, a proper rockstar that stands in front of thousands of people stuttering and praising his work as a photographer. Also, said rockstar admitting to being a fan of his own work. If Steve had a nickel for every time that has occurred to him, he’ll have a one single shining nickel, though.

"You kidding?" Eddie asks, big Bambi eyes widening. "That story about Indiana's Queer secret nightlife? Or the one you did about the abandoned Hawkins lab? You're insanely talented, man, and when I heard you were working as a photographer for this magazine, I begged Chrissy to get me a session with you."

"You like my work?" He asks, incredulous, shaking his head in disbelief.

This can't be real, there's no way a man like Eddie is praising a dork like him.

"Wow, Munson, damn," Steve laughs now, the praise making him feel like he’s floating, and rubs the back of his neck with his hand, his cheeks burning like never before. "I don't even know what to say, thank you, I..."

Fuck, Steve can't lie, he had a lot of prejudices about Eddie, and he doesn't like metal music... Ok, great now he's feeling like a jerk.

"Just saying the truth, dude, and I hope you don't mind me fangirling about you," Eddie smiles, dimples showing, and Steve's breath catches in his throat. This man is a dream, sweet, and incredibly handsome, wearing the simplest clothes: just a white short sleeved shirt and jeans, his long hair in a messy bun. And fucking praising him.

Steve forgets about all his troubles to get the different outfits for Eddie, now he wants to photograph him just like this, all flustered and unhinged in the most beautiful, honest way. In horror, Steve realizes that he’s developing a crush on the man in front of him, just after what, four minutes in his presence? And ok, that’s a new record for him.

This is bad, this is really bad, this is too embarrassing, and once again and for completely different reasons, Steve wishes that Nancy had given Dustin this job.

"I... I want to say that I love your work too but, ehm..." Steve rambles and Eddie's grin widens. "I don't want to look like an idiot, because you're being amazing and nice with me and..."

"Hey, I get it, metal is not for everyone, and I'm just happy that you accepted to work with me, no harm done," Eddie's smile falters a bit but it's still here, chocolate eyes pining Steve in his place.

Steve’s resolve resurges, he decides that he was right putting all that effort in this session after all, and he’ll make it up for Eddie with the greatest photoshoot ever.

"Ok, so," Steve claps his hands. "Before we start, I have a selection for you, clothes and accessories and some guitars, I guessed based on your, ehm, videos and all that, if you want to follow me..."

Steve leads Eddie and shows him the place, and delights in Eddie's gasps and squeaks with almost everything Steve picked for him.

"Ooooh fuck, this can't be real! This is a Carvin JB24 Jason Becker Tribute? Fuck me, Harrington, is this for me?" Eddie yelps, his hands wrapping around the slim, long neck of the guitar. "I always wanted the blue one he always used, you know? But well, I found my Sweetheart, and that was love at first sight," Eddie smiles fondly. "Do you believe in love at first sight, Harrington?"

Fuck, I do believe now, Steve thinks almost hysterically when Eddie winks at him. That leads them into a conversation about Steve's cameras and his own collection, and it's easy to talk with Eddie, he understands Steve and his passion and Steve can understand him now. They both tell stories to the world, Eddie uses his music, Steve his sight.

It’s time for Eddie to choose some outfits for the session and once again, praises Steve for his good eye, for taking him seriously even if he’s a silly man with a guitar, and Steve frowns. He craves Eddie’s praise, sure, but he doesn’t like the way the man talks about himself. 

"For a man who claims he doesn't like metal you got me a lot of great stuff, Harrington... Oh shit, this jacket is just like Yngvie Malmsteen’s, can I...?"

"Eddie, we have time," Steve smiles, ignoring how ironic it is that he didn't want this job and now he just wants to spend the whole time with Eddie. "You can try all the outfits."

What a fucking worst-best idea.

Eddie is stunning in every one of the outfits, and he's kind of goofy, making a lot of different poses that makes Steve guffaws behind his camera. It’s fun, and easy, to have Eddie posing for him and following Steve’s instructions and tips. They try different outfits and guitars, and Steve doesn’t want the session to finish.

Steve is happy he just settled his video recorder too, he does that always, the celebs like to have the behind the scenes video, but this? Eddie making him laugh and enjoying the session so freely? Steve is so fucking grateful, he's going to buy Nancy a bouquet of roses or something.

Every five minutes or so, Eddie remembers some iconic photographs of his metal heroes, including Jason Becker, Yngvie Malmsteen and James Hetfield among others Steve is not going to remember their names, sadly, and shows them to Steve asking if they can recreate them.

Steve is happy to indulge Eddie.

"I can make your pics look like they're from the eighties, y'know?" Steve smirks, and Eddie's eyes get even bigger, Steve is not going to survive the weight of that gaze on him.

“Really? Can we… Can you do that?” Eddie asks, almost gaping.

"Yeah, pretty easy, just take the .RAW file and then convert it to .TIFF and just add some gaussian blur..." Steve knows he's rambling but Eddie is smiling openly at him, looking at him like he's doing something amazing for him, even if Eddie has no idea what he's talking about.

"You're so fucking precious, Harrington," Eddie whispers, still with that tight leather jacket wrapped around his torso, the chains hanging from his neck, and he's to close to Steve, so fucking close…

"I..." Steve wants to say that he's only doing his job, but it's not true, not anymore, Steve doesn't bother to try and lie to himself at this point, when he can just lean in and kiss Eddie Munson. "You're so happy with all this, that I want to..." To it be perfect for you.

Steve wants to do something that is not at all professional of him, that it could cost him his job, his whole career, and even Eddie's, if he's taking this all wrong, if Eddie's not looking at his lips the way Steve is almost sure he's doing it.

But Jesus Christ, Steve wants to kiss him, so fucking badly. Maybe the whole shit about rock stars being a chicks magnet is true - Steve just called himself a chick and doesn’t even care, for fuck's sake…

They stand like this for a moment, leaning into each other, something powerful tugging at them, pulling them closer.

"Edward Munson, stop annoying this poor man! It’s been three hours already!" The studio’s door opens then, they both jump and take a step back, Chrissy stepping inside and looking at them with a bright, startled look. "Oops! Oh, f- I'm sorry! I'll wait outside, but, Munson..."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, I'm… We’re almost done, I'm sorry Chris," Eddie smiles sheepishly.

Chrissy leaves them again, and Steve is losing his mind, his heart hammering in his chest, breathing heavily and needy like when he was a teenager.

"Guess I should go, then," Eddie says with a sigh, and leaves Steve to hide behind the screen to change into his normal outfit again, and Steve’s heart breaks a little. He hasn’t felt like this in years, Eddie has gotten under his skin faster than anyone else before, and Steve doesn’t know what to do with this feeling.

So Steve starts watching the pics on his camera screen, smiling at himself at the antics of this Eddie Munson. Hot and humble, a goof, always winking at the camera- no, at Steve, and some of those winks show in the photographs.

"Hey I look good in that one," Eddie whispers in Steve's ear, standing behind him and propped up on his feet to look over Steve’s shoulder at the camera. Steve tilts his head and shifts so that Eddie can look better at the photo. Eddie's hair is free from his bun, all bouncing messy curls framing his handsome face, wearing an open maroon button up shirt, he's holding his Sweetheart and kissing the neck of his guitar, eyes closed. The photo is extremely hot and tender, and is one of Steve's favorites too.

"You look good in every fucking photo, Eddie," Steve whispers too, giving up, showing up his cards.

He turns his head to look at Eddie, short sleeved white shirt again, but open, just like in the photo, his chain hanging from his neck and hairless chest on display, but good Jesus, his happy trail is of light brown, soft looking hair.

It’s the first time Steve can see all of his tattoos, too. The bats and the puppet master, the wyvern, in his arms. A zombie head and a black widow on his chest. Steve wonders if he has more tattoos hidden under his clothes.

Steve’s fingers itch with the need and want to touch the man in front of him.

"May I... like this? In your casual outfit?" Steve asks, shyly. He's being greedy, but Eddie grins at him wickedly.

"Only if I can have your personal number, it's only fair."

Steve smiles brightly, his heart hammering in his chest, nodding too fast, imagining Eddie texting him, calling him… Eddie poses a few more times for Steve, and Eddie saves Steve's number in his phone.

"Oh, Harrington, just one more thing..." Eddie says, Steve by his side, before opening the door for him. Steve looks at him, basking in his presence for a few more seconds, and hums, urging Eddie to keep talking.

Eddie leans in and closes the distance between them, kissing him softly, chaste, lips meeting lips, and Steve's hands fly to Eddie's waist, fingers digging in his pale skin and making Eddie’s breath hitch.

"I'm free tonight, if you want to..."

"I'm out at seven," Steve rushes to answer and Eddie smiles against his lips.

"I'll be here to pick you up, and we can have dinner together,” Eddie offers shyly, as if he’s still doubting that Steve wants to have a date with him. Steve reassures him, deepening their kiss, tongues sliding together easily and sending shivers down Steve’s spine.

When they part, Eddie’s cheeks are delightfully red and he seems just as affected as Steve feels, already counting the hours until they meet again later.

WIth a last shy peck, Eddie opens the door and leaves, turning just one more time to wink at him, and Steve grins.

Dustin was right after all, this session surely has changed his life forever.

[punchdrunkdoc]

Part 3, Chapter 1

Summary: After the events of S3, Matt Murdock is trying to once again balance life as a lawyer and a vigilante. But he’s been scarred by loss and betrayal - will a mysterious new neighbour help him heal? Or will her secrets drag him back into the darkness?

Notes: This is a slow burn romance with an original female character, told in 3 (maybe 4??) parts. There is mystery, intrigue, action/violence and angst - all the good stuff!

Also available on AO3 and Wattpad

Masterlist

Reference pics

————–

Part 3, baby! Lets go!

————–

PART 3

Chapter 1

Just over a week later, Calina’s new found resolve to do ‘whatever it took’ was put to the test.   

She’d left the house early that morning for a run, after waking well before dawn. She’d tossed and turned for an hour trying to fall back to sleep before finally admitting defeat, so she’d gotten up, shoved on her workout gear and snuck out of the house.  Her time was better spent exercising and improving her stamina instead of chasing elusive sleep. She’d spent too many weeks cooped up inside and sedentary - either in Matt’s apartment or in the Widows' base - and she needed to be in better shape for the battles to come.

She checked her watch as she slowed from a jog to a brisk walk on the long driveway leading to the house. She noted the time and frowned - she was minutes off her usual speed. She definitely needed to work on that.

She made her way around the side of the house to the back door. It led straight into the kitchen, where she hoped another early riser had already started brewing a pot of coffee. She was desperate for a caffeine hit before she grabbed a shower. There’d been too many sleepless nights over the past week and she was operating at a constant low level of exhaustion.

It was another thing she needed to work on. She just wasn’t sure how she could banish her insomnia without Matt beside her. She hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep since the one they’d spent together at Christmas...

She approached the back door, and paused at the sound of raised voices within. It was still early - and most of the Widows had started to enjoy sleeping late in the mornings - but judging from the racket, every Widow in the house was wide awake, sitting around the table and arguing with each other.

Something had happened.

Calina quickly yanked open the door…and the room went quiet.

Weird.

“What’s going on?” she asked slowly.

“You’ve infected them all with your romantic bullshit,” Yelena replied from her perch on the countertop. “That’s what’s going on.”

“What?”

“I found Volkov’s money man,” Anya said, seemingly changing the subject. She was sat at the table with the rest of the Widows, her laptop open in front of her.

That news was a more effective energy jolt than caffeine. Calina perked up and squeezed onto the bench beside Katya. “Who is it?”

“Salvatore Ranieri. The grandson of a wealthy Count based in Naples.”

Calina frowned. “Why would a member of the Italian aristocracy be funding Volkvo’s faction?”

Anya leaned back in her chair and began explaining. “The Ranieris used to be a big deal, but now they’re a family in decline. Not in terms of wealth, but in terms of relevance - when Italy became a republic in 1946, the recognition of nobility ceased. Salvatore probably spent his whole life hearing stories from his Grandfather about all the influence and power their family used to wield, and now they have none. From what I’ve been able to gather, its left Salvatore deeply angry and disaffected.”

“Basically, he’s a narcissistic man-child with a massive chip on his shoulder,” Katya summarised.

“Sounds like an easy mark for Volkov,” Calina added.

“Exactly,” Anya continued. “Being part of a secret organisation that seeks to manipulate world events from behind the scenes would definitely appeal to Ranieri. There’s also the small matter of him being a misogynistic man-whore.”

“Why does that matter?” Calina asked, not seeing the link.

“A misogynist, with a rumoured sadistic streak and a thirst for control and dominance would probably get off on the idea of ‘owning’ a group of mind-controlled women.”

“Gross,” Inessa said.

Calina agreed. But she also agreed with Anya’s assessment. She wouldn’t be surprised if Volkov had sweetened the deal with Ranieri with the promise of his very own Widow. A man who saw them as nothing but assets wouldn’t think twice about trading them away as part of a business venture.

“So what’s the plan?” she asked, looking around the table. Several of the women dropped their eyes and looked away.

Again…weird.

“He’s too high profile to kidnap,” Yelena said. “Definitely too high profile to kill. Misogynistic womanisers are apparently popular with the Italian tabloids - especially when they’re handsome, rich, and party with movie stars. If something happened to him, the press would be all over it and the authorities would get involved. We need stealth for this one.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“We need to get close to him - close enough to clone his laptop and phone, and plant a few trackers - but in a way that completely avoids suspicion.”

It sounded a lot like the missions that Calina used to undertake for the Red Room. It was her speciality, in fact - getting close to a mark in order to steal their secrets, then leaving undetected. Which meant the strange tension in the room, and the lack of eye contact from her sisters, suddenly made a whole lot more sense. “You need me to do it,” she guessed.

Yelena sighed, and nodded. “Ranieri’s hosting a party at his family’s villa next month. It’s our best chance to get access to his private rooms. You’re fluent in Italian, and dressed in one of the tacky Eurotrash outfits that he likes, you’ll be guaranteed to catch his eye. You can do this in your sleep, Calina.”

“But that was before she had Matt,” Inessa said firmly. A few of the other Widows nodded in agreement.

Yelena rolled her eyes. “See?” she said to Calina. “Romantic bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit!” Inessa objected. “You can’t expect her to hookup with some random guy when she’s in a relationship with someone else.”

“No one’s asking her to sleep with him! Just flirt. Maybe a kiss or two. Enough to entice him up to his room where she can sedate him and get to work.”

Calina tuned out the argument as more of her sisters leapt to her defence. It was sweet of them to care, but this was her decision. And she agreed with Yelena. Not that romance was bullshit…but that there was no room for it here. The mission came first. Bringing down Volkov came first. She’d resolved to do whatever was necessary to gain her freedom and return to her life with Matt.

And this was necessary.

Besides, in the grand scheme of things, it was a small sacrifice to make. It would be a relatively low-stakes mission. A simple honey trap, similar to dozens that she’d pulled off in the past.

“Maybe it’ll be good for her,” Yelena said, her arms crossed and an obstinate expression on her face. “She fell too hard and too fast for Murdock. A little distance would do her good.”

“Love is not a potato, Yelena,” Inessa objected.

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“Its a proverb. ‘Love is not a potato, you can’t just throw it out of the window’.”

Yelena groaned. “Not you too! We get enough of those asinine sayings from Calina.”

“I’ll do it,” Calina said, ignoring Yelena’s jibe.

“What?” Inessa said.

“Are you sure?” Katya asked quietly.

“Yes,” she answered. “This is our best - our only - lead at the moment, correct?” she asked the wider group.

“Yes,” Anya and Yelena responded at the same time.

“Then let’s see where it takes us.”

———

One month later…

Matt jogged up the stairs of his apartment building, checking the readout on his watch as he did so.

3:22pm.

Plenty of time.

The meeting was in an hour and it wouldn’t take long for Matt to grab the file from his apartment and make it back to the office. Karen had offered to get it, but it was Matt’s fault for forgetting it in the first place, so he’d made the trip. His friends were bending over backwards to be nice to him these days, but he didn’t want to take advantage of their sympathy. He just wanted to get on with his job. Do his part for the firm, and keep himself busy.

Keep himself distracted, as much as possible.

His life had pretty much returned to the way it was before Calina had entered it. He worked all hours of the day. He suited up and patrolled the city at night. He went for drinks with his friends - he’d even played fifth wheel during a double date with Karen, David, Foggy and Marci. He was living his life day-to-day, just trying to get by.

But all the while…he missed her.

Her absence was a constant. A low level discomfort, like an itch that couldn’t be scratched. A forgotten word on the tip of the tongue. An ache in a phantom limb.

He tried to hide it from his friends. He tried to plaster over that feeling of loss with his diligence at work and his willingness to be sociable…but they saw through it, of course.

Hence, the sympathy and kindness.

“Guten tag, Matias.”

Matt slowed his brisk walk through the foyer to return the old woman’s greeting. “Afternoon, Mrs. Schneider.”

She paused in the act of unlocking her front door and rattled off a series of words in German. Matt only caught one of them: ‘Calina’.

He sighed and shrugged. “I don’t know where she is. And I don’t know when she’ll be back,” he responded, figuring one of those statements would answer her question.

And it was the truth. He didn’t know where she was. Or what she was doing. How close she and her team were to gaining their freedom, or if she was safe…

He didn’t know anything, because he hadn’t heard from her in over a month.

39 days to be precise.

He was back to counting again.

New Years Eve had come and gone without her. As 2017 had ticked into 2018, a part of him had held out hope that she would appear. That he’d get another surprise visit, like the one at Christmas.

Valentine’s Day was just around the corner, and that same hopeful part wondered if he would see her then.

As if they could punctuate this separation by marking the holidays.

It was a foolish thought, but it kept him going. The slim hope of seeing her - even if only for a night or just a few hours - helped him get through each passing day. And he knew that when February 14th came and went without her, he would pin his hopes on the next big occasion, whatever that was.

Probably St Patrick’s Day. The most romantic day of the year. She was bound to show up for that.

Matt huffed out a laugh at the sarcastic thought, and Mrs Schneider gave him a questioning look. He shook his head. “Its nothing. Enjoy the rest of your day.” He gave her a small wave goodbye, and made his way to the elevator bank.

Just as he reached his floor, his phone rang.

The phone rang. The burner that Calina had given him.

He almost dropped the device as he fumbled in his pockets for it. He carried it everywhere and always made sure it was fully charged, but it had remained silent and inert all this time. 

He quickly flipped it open, his heart hammering in fear. “Calina? Are you okay?”

There was no answer.

He froze in the middle of the corridor, the handset pressed tight against his ear as he tried to pick up a sound from the other end.

But there was nothing. Not even the gentle rasp of her breathing. “Calina?” he called again. “Are you there? Talk to me, sweetheart. Are you in trouble? Do you need help?”

There was a faint click, as if she’d unmuted her speaker. Then she spoke, her voice small and hesitant. “N-No. I just…I just needed to hear your voice.”

Matt exhaled, his breath shaking with relief that she was okay.

Well…at least not in immediate danger. She didn’t seem okay. At all.

“What’s wrong, Callie?” he asked softly. He hadn’t heard her sound so despondent since the aftermath of the serum when she’d been a shell of her true self. And the fact that she was calling at all - when she’d been so adamant that their conversations could be monitored and tracked - scared him.

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong,” she finally answered after another few moments of silence.

But he didn’t believe her. Matt strained to hear what was going on in the background - to give him some clue as to where she was and what she was doing. He could detect her muffled steps as she paced barefoot on a carpet. There was the faint sound of traffic in the background, and a TV was on nearby - broadcasting a woman talking…in Italian?

Then a series of brisk knocks rang out in the silence between them. Calina gasped softly. “I have to go-”

“No, wait! Calina-”

“I love you,” she whispered quickly. Then hung up.

Matt quickly called her back the call went straight to voicemail. He flipped the phone closed with a curse and clenched the device with his hand, his grip so tight that the plastic casing started to creak.

He exhaled, and forced himself to relax - he couldn’t risk damaging his one connection to her.

He slowly and deliberately stowed the phone back in his pocket and took a few more deep breaths to try to calm his racing heart.

But it didn’t work.

The simmering frustration of the past few weeks boiled over. The agony of knowing Calina was out there somewhere hurting but that he couldn’t help her - and he didn’t even know what was wrong - suddenly spiked. He let out a primal yell and punched the solid wood of his door.

He punched until he felt the skin split over his knuckles. Until the jolt of the impacts ricocheted through his bones.

Until his cries turned hoarse, and he collapsed to his knees in the empty hallway.

———

Calina quickly snapped the phone closed and stashed it in her luggage. “Yes?” she called out to the person on the other side of the door.

It was Katya. “You almost ready?”

Calina glanced in the mirror. Her tears had bled mascara down her cheeks and her nervous lip-biting had worn away the siren-red lipstick.

She sighed. “I need another twenty minutes,” she replied.

“Got it. I’ll let the others know.”

Calina grabbed a wipe from her kit and scrubbed her face clean, then started re-applying her makeup.

She needed to look flawless.

Tonight was the culmination of weeks of hard work researching Salvatore Ranieri and honing the perfect cover to lure him into a trap.

She’d quickly determined that she needed to invent a persona that would tempt the playboy enough for a night, but not entice him so much that he’d go looking for her afterwards. And given that Salvatore was notoriously xenophobic - and looked down on anyone who was not Italian - she’d decided to create someone who was able to speak his language, but not be from Italy. Someone attractive and fun, with a common language, but a background that wouldn’t appeal to him long term. 

So she’d created Eliise Kask, a nouveau-rich ‘It girl' from Croatia - a country that boasted a minority Italian-speaking population.

During the weeks of preparation, she’d thought about everything. Every possible conversation starter. Every dress choice. The colour of her hair and the exact level of gaudiness of her jewellery. How to get him up to his room, and how to administer the drug that would knock him out.

But she’d never thought about how this moment would feel. She’d never thought about how it would affect her to be back in this situation, using her looks and body to trick a man - just like she’d been forced to do for years under the Red Room’s control.

Even though this time it was her choice, and it was for a good cause, and Ranieri was by all accounts a horrible human being…the justifications didn’t seem to help.

She felt sick to her stomach.

She hated the idea that she was doing this again. That she was right back in this position, after months of supposed freedom. That she was back pretending and manipulating, when all she wanted to do was be herself.

And be with Matt.

It had all hit her at once - the unfairness of the situation; the anger at having to do this mission; the self-loathing it was causing and the overwhelming homesickness for New York and the life she’d tried to build there. It had led her to break down in tears.

And in that moment of weakness, she’d called Matt.

She’d needed to hear his voice. She’d needed a tangible reminder of why she was putting herself through this. She’d needed his strength to help shore up her own.

But it had backfired.

Because now - on top of everything else she was feeling - she had the added guilt of betraying the man she loved.

She’d managed to avoid that aspect of the mission over the past month. She’d convinced herself that what she would have to do as Eliise Kask would have no bearing on her relationship with Matt. Because it would be Eliise getting close to Ranieri - not Calina.

But that reasoning wasn’t working for her anymore.

Right now, in this hotel room, in the centre of Naples, an hour away from entering Salvatore’s party, the guilt and shame was suddenly overwhelming.

She was dressed for another man, about to go flirt with another man, and possibly kiss another man…and she was so scared that Matt would hate her for it.

Because she hated herself.

She dropped her lipstick, put her hands on the countertop and leaned forward to stare at her reflection in the mirror. She let all the contempt and disgust show in her eyes. She let herself feel every drop of it. She let it course through her veins like acid, until she felt nauseous with it.

Then she buried it.

She forced it down deep, swallowing it with the bile burning the back of her throat…and smiled.

It was a wide, vacuous smile. It was Eliise Kask’s smile.

Because that’s who she needed to be tonight.

Calina didn’t matter. Calina’s thoughts and feelings didn’t matter. This mission was more important. They needed to get to Ranieri, because he would lead them to Volkov. And getting Volkov was the number one priority.

It took precedence over everything else.

Even her relationship with Matt.

That thought felt disloyal, but it was true. Because there could never be a relationship as long as Volkov was still out there.

So she needed to suck it up, and get this done.

Whatever it took.

Katya called through the door again. “You good to go, Calina?”

Calina blotted her lipstick, the siren-red back in place. “Yes,” she replied, no hesitation this time.

She slipped into her heels, picked up her clutch with the tranquillising drug safely inside, and fluffed up her hair. Then she opened the door and greeted her friend. “Let’s get this bastard.”

————–

CHAPTER 2

Tag list: @hollandorks @stilldreaming666 @yanna-banana @chezagnes​ @tearoseart-blog @acharliecoxedfan​ @freckledbabyyy ​​

If you’d like to be added - let me know!

[peachpearsnook]

Okay, so originally I was never going to post these because I didn't feel like I needed to (and I don't think the art is the best), but I thought why not do it anyway.

So, here are two ref sheets for the Scar AU (it's really a Scarred Don + Blind Leo AU but just saying Scar AU is easier). These sheets got all my notes about struggling with how to draw. I also took pics of my own body doing some of the poses because I was struggling so if it looks weird idk my body just does that.

Based off a story I posted to ao3 with the help of SalemWoods or @korvidq, however, all art is my own :>

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/series/4049539

[writingsbychlo]

Could I ask you for some advice ? Would it be weird?

It may be long, so if you're not in the mood to read/give advice or if you don't want to, it's totally fine ❤️

For context, I went on tumblr and created an account on September or October 2023 ( one of those two months, I don't remember which one it is). Initially, I only went on this platform to read and access more fics since I could have a bigger panoply of choices than on ao3. I sometimes commented on some fics or liked them, but that was it. I never planned on doing more with my profile because I was only reading and feeding my imagination. I was kind of just here, on tumblr.

Eventually, it made me crave wanting to write fics and post stories/concepts that I had but didn't see any similar written. I am a daydreamer since I was little and always had a vivid imagination, writing allows me to express those thoughts and show others the world's that I'm building in my mind.

I have multiple questions...

-For starters, how do I upgrade my profile, how do I personalise it, make it aesthetic? How do I add pictures for the main page/ homepage..? ( Does my question make sense?) I don't want to be a blank profile. I literally have no idea how to personalize my account because I was previously only having it to jump in the fanfics.

-Also, would anyone see my fics and be interested in them? I feel like since there are so many talented authors ( which is an amazing thing btw!), having someone that only began wanting to write fiction on tumblr, not an essay or something practical, and who'se English is the third language spoken, would not attract readers. It may not even be that beautiful written or poetic since I do not have practice yet.

-How do you organize your time to write? I personally have no idea how and I have a lot of things with uni at this moment. How can you do it all? 😭

-Lastly, how the f can I protect my work against AI ?! It freaking discourage me and exasperates me that my writing can be taken advantage of and help improve something that I don't want to.

Thank you so much and I want to express how much I love your Mattheo fics!!! 🥰

hi! I totally get the nerves and the discouragement, don’t worry!

I would suggest that firstly, when you’re starting out, the biggest thing is tags! tag your works as much as you can, join events and write for them as theyll reblog (ie: @starfallweek which has just taken place, a lot of people use this to discover new writers, etc!) and staying consistent! I still have works these days that only get a few notes, and sometimes, it’s thousands! it’s all just based on algorithms, who sees it, and what readers are in the mood for! stick with it and you will grow, I promise!

as for AI, I can’t say anything about that. I try not to think about it to be honest 😅. and time management? couldn’t help you there. I have been so run off my feet with work, getting sick, and keeping up with uni lately that writing has been basically impossible! it’s about when you can squeeze it in, pressuring yourself to stick to a timetable never helps!

I can, however, advise on the aesthetics. I like to use matching colour schemes for a cohesive look, and I usually use a profile pic that matches my current interests, as well as colour scheme. I also like to just mix it up and use pretty pictures. use little emojis and links to masterlists etc. to keep things tidy, and have fun with it! play around and see what you like! I use pinterest for a lot of my images, btw!

I hope this helps! have fun and enjoy your hobbies, sending so much love xox

[charbax]

Here Comes a Thought (Battleborn Fic)

Here Comes a Thought (1536 words) by charbax Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Battleborn (Video Game) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Alani & Toby (Battleborn) Characters: Alani (Battleborn), Toby (Battleborn) Additional Tags: Meditation Sessions, Spoilers, for the character backstories, anxiety mention, unsanitary mention, please read fic notes for context its not anything like. body fluids tbh., death mention, accident mention, body trauma mention, Songfic, ...is it? Summary:

A meditation session between two beings with anxiety. Alani & Toby friendship fic inspired by tenta--prince's pic, inspired by an anon. https://charmemes.tumblr.com/post/175946413712/thanks-to-whoever-sent-me-this-not-my-best-but

Fic underneath readmore, otherwise AO3 link here!

Outside of the rogues, Toby rarely trusted people. 

Ok, Ernest was an outlier, but only because he was actually really nice and was supportive of Toby, in that hard, commander way (ie. zealous use of 'Maggot!' and shouting). Honestly, it was helping Toby's self confidence make leaps and bounds ever since he signed up with the Battleborn, even if it threw him off sometimes. 

But the commando bird was on a mission to Bliss, recapturing an old UPR base, and his own flock - group, he reminded himself, the Rogues were definitely not aviants, even if sometimes they felt closer than his own biological family - were on Fortune's Favour, not onboard Nova. With this kind of thing, they would be the first he'd go waddling to, but alas, there was only him and a scattering of others preseny. And while they were on varying scales of niceness (Bene-jerk notwithstanding), the thought of approaching them with this problem made him want to keel over and die instead. 

Hence, he opted to wandering around the hulls of the ship like a feathery spectre, checking for faults, because faults could lead to holes, and holes could lead to failures, and failures could lead to systems malfunctioning, and systems malfunctioning could lead to Nova spiralling out of control and crash-landing onto one of the few planets left in the system, resulting in the fiery death of everyone onboard…

Even anxiety can ruin the easiest of tasks. Toby cursed. There also seemed to be a correlation between his stress levels and swearing, if the string of worries and extremities leaving his beak were anything to go by.

In fact, he was concentrating so hard on calming himself down that he didn't notice that he had barged into someone's space until he heard polite coughing from above, then a voice said, "Uh...you ok there?" 

His beak clamped embarrassingly fast as he finally took in his surroundings. He must've stumbled into the water reservoir, judging by the water tank. The large room was windowless and dark, lit only by the blue glow of the tank in the lower half. Perched on top of a floating platform was one of the newer members of their motley crew, who was blinking down at him. It took another second of panicking to remember her name; Alani, the monk from Akopos. Outside of name and general calm nature, that's all he knew about her. After all, he's only responsible for checking the background of potential rogues, not the rest of the battleborn. That’s Ghalt’s job.

"It’s-it's nothing, miss Alani, sorry to disturb you, it won't happen again, sorry." He stuttered out, the word running together into one, conjugated disaster.

He was already backing out of the room before Alani replied, "It's ok! It's just a bit weird how you just walked in here. Without knocking." 

"Sorry again." 

"Wait! I mean," she sighed. "I meant like how preoccupied you were. Unless you normally barge it to people's rooms un-announced?" She unhelpfully added. 

Toby made a noise of embarrassment, “Yeah, I don’t normally don’t do that. I was, uh, busy thinking.”

“About?”

“Nothing really. Just me being my dumb self and worrying about nothing, so sorry to bother you again, miss Alani!”

Alani was silent for a moment, from contemplation or awkward shock (Toby's money was on the latter), then she said "Want to sit with me?"

He blinked. She patted the space next to her with emphasis, the movement setting the platform bobbing gently on the water's surface. Would it...be ok? He could always just say no...and end up disappointing her more than he already did right now. With that in mind, he took a deep, fortifying breath, and scurried up the ladder on the side of the tank. It was easy paddling across the short distance to the platform, with him sparing only a moment to voice a concern. 

"Uh, this is the ships water, right?"

"Yup." She confirmed. 

"...won't we end up drinking this?" 

"Yup.” She repeated. “Don't worry though, my nanobots- I mean, cleansing energy,  gets rid of pollutants. They work a lot better than any water filter." 

"But won't we be drinking them too?" 

"Yeah, they’re probably inside your body already."

Toby had nothing to say to that apart from a quick face of revulsion. He didn't say anything else however as he pulled himself to Alani's metal island and gingerly planted herself next to her. "Okay, I'm here. Now what miss?" 

"Meditate with me? Just copy what I do." And she closed her eyes, folding her hands pose-perfect onto her crossed legs. Aviant limbs weren't exactly great for crossing legs and twildling thumbs, so Toby let his flippers flop onto his outstretched legs, one on top of the other. 

"Like this?" He asked. She nodded, then her shoulders rose and fell in a controlled breath. Like a bad habit, Toby's mind leapt to the worst conclusion of even the ever patient monk losing patience, and he already prepared to leap from the platform and make a second attempt to an ungraceful exit. He was stopped by Alani’s sheepish smile. 

"Oops, sorry. I meant breathe slowly." She looked as sheepish as she could with one eye still closed. With a silent breath of relief, Toby inhaled and exhaled. Then repeated. And repeated. 

She stayed silent, letting the only sound be the echo of dripping water. Toby was aching to fill the quiet with something, anything, extending but not limited to the non-existent weather on the ship, but miss Alani didn’t look like she wanted to be disturbed, so he sucked it up and tried to meditate as she said. His thoughts, as always, started swirling again, like a shard storm that decided that it wasn't done wrecking havoc on a science dwarf's laboratory just yet. Before long, he was squirming in his spot, struggling to remain still like the monk next to him. He was frustrated too. Frustration at himself, at the meditation, even the tiniest bit at Alani for not seemingly solving his problem. That last one he shoved back down even if one small, dark bit really wanted to let it fester and grow. And that wherein was the problem - he was bad at recognising what was his fault and what was the fault of others, so it was easier to lump everything together and blame himself even for the smallest of things, because, in the end, it meant he could fix it, and he wouldn't be kicked out again for not fixing it. It meant that he was still wanted by those around him, because what was he without others needing him-?

That’s when he heard of the sound of water churning instead. "Please don't freak out." Was her only warning. The water rose above them in a dome, smoothing over and clearing like glass. Despite the way it enclosed over him, Toby felt anything but anxious. Rather, it seemed that the room, heck, even the entire ship, had faded away, leaving them in a small bubble of just him and Alani. Like every problem, every worry, was washed away, if for the moment, to be displayed for his perusal. 

"I thought it might help if you keep thinking of your worries being outside of the bubble.” Alani said. 

The words burst out of Toby’s mouth before he could stop them. “But they still get to me.”

“Yeah, and that sucks. Things get to me too.” Alani admitted. “But I think, hey, I got my bubble. They’re just...thoughts in here. Like butterflies, I guess. Man I miss butterflies.

“Ugh, I’m getting distracted. I got my bubble! You got a bubble too. I don’t think you can actually conjure one out of water, unless avians can and I just didn’t get the memo. But you got one. And when the worries come fluttering back, bring it up, mentally. You are here. You're here. You're going to be ok.”

And the weird thing was that Toby actually...started to believe her. He can’t will away the anxieties, otherwise this would be the perfect universe, but it’s a lot easier to look at them from this side of the bubble. Through the watery lens, he could imagine what would happen if his Berg malfunctioned in the middle of battle and not stop the shot that might take Whiskey's life. Or if a mine detonated at the wrong moment, catching Shayne and Aurox in the midst of their blood run. Not only failing the Rogues, but the entire Battleborn. They were terrible, horrible images, but with the blue tint on, his mind already picked out some solutions – increase the frequency of the maintenance rounds. Train with Shayne and Aurox more to get a feel for their behaviour on the field.

Trust them, instead of bottling it up and letting the hurricane carry him away. Of course, that's easier said than done.

"Miss Alani?" He ventured quietly. "Can I...come back whenever it gets bad?"

"Sure! Just knock first."

Yeah. He can do that. "Thanks. For helping a little."

Alani just smiled gently, and closed her eyes again. He followed suit and let himself be.

'I'm here, I'm here, I'm here.'

[midnight-queery]

small world

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28476486/chapters/69885582#workskin

Lena still wasn’t entirely sure how she’d managed it, but even though she was the CEO of L-Corp she still got to spend most of her time in the labs, especially the ones for R&D. She even knew most the scientists who worked with her, at least in a casual, work-acquaintances type of way. She knew that Johnson had three grown kids, two in college and one on her third year of the so-called ‘gap year’; she knew Blanchard’s daughter was dating a girl named Regina who Blanchard and her husband did not in any way approve of (from what she’d heard, Lena quite liked her though); she knew Lucas had a crush on French and vice versa though neither apparently knew it; she knew one scientist was seriously considering changing their name to ‘Leg’ since some cats were named ‘Whiskers’ and why the hell not; and she knew that Danvers had lunch with her sister every day. But now they were seven minutes into lunch and Danvers was still there, fiddling with her work.

“Dr. Danvers, shouldn’t you be going to meet your sister for lunch?” Lena asked, trying to sound casual. She didn’t want anyone to know that she usually stayed in the lab for lunch, ignoring food in favor of working on her designs.

Danvers continued to fiddle with the device on her desk another moment before putting it down and looking at Lena, tilting her head and giving her a considering look. “If you’re going to call me ‘Dr. Danvers’ I’m going back to calling you ‘Dr. Luthor’.”

Lena bit her lip to hide her smile, shaking her head slightly. “Alright then, Alex, shouldn’t you be off to see your sister?”

Alex planted her hands on her worktable and shrugged her shoulders, giving Lena a wry grin. “Eh, I’ll go in a few minutes. Kara’s always running late so I may as well get some work done instead of just standing around waiting.”

“How can someone always run late?” Lena asked, arching her brow. It was nearly ten minutes past at this point; surely Kara was here by now.

“My sister is very… distractable,” Alex said cryptically. When Lena’s brow only climbed higher she elaborated, rolling her eyes. “If it’s not a pretty flower it’s a cute dog, or a cat stuck in a tree. God, last week she ran into some kid walking like seven dogs and by the time she got here lunch was over.”

“Ah, so that’s what happened Wednesday?” Lena asked slyly. When Alex’s eyes widened in surprise, Lena smirked. “I couldn’t help but notice you very aggressively eating a protein bar after snapping at one of the interns.”

“I- well, yeah.” Alex stopped propping herself up on the table and crossed her arms, looking sheepish. “I was, as Kara would call it, hangry.”

Lena snorted at the word mashup, but before she could comment on it Alex’s phone rang.

“Hey, Kar, you here?” Alex asked as she hurriedly began tidying up her workspace one-handed, other hand holding the phone to her ear. Then she froze and groaned. “What do you mean you got lost? We’ve lived here for six years, Kara!” Alex used her free hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. “I wish I could say I didn’t believe you, but that does sound like something you would do. Put her on the phone, please.” Alex shot Lena a long-suffering look before startling so badly she nearly dropped her phone. “Sam?”

Lena really wished she could hear the other side of the conversation. She wondered if it would be rude to go grab the device she’d made for listening in on phone calls (for law enforcement, not spying on her employees, but this could totally count as a test run).

“Yeah, Kara is my sister.” Alex sighed. “Okay, if you have time how about we all just meet at Noonan’s for lunch? I still have forty-five minutes of my break left. Okay, cool. See you guys soon.” Alex hung up and stared at her phone for a solid minute, her face inscrutable.

“Everything alright?” Lena asked curiously.

Alex looked at her, startled, as if she’d forgotten she was there. “I, uh, yeah. My sister just… stalked my girlfriend… cuz she had her dog strapped into a carrier on her back? I… I never thought this was how they’d meet.”

Lena blinked at her several times, not really knowing what to say to that. “Well, since it sounded like you’ll be meeting them at Noonan’s I suppose you can get it all sorted out there.”

“Right, yeah, Noonan’s.” Alex shook her head and slipped her phone into her pocket before shucking off her lab coat and heading for the door. She paused on her way out and turned around, brow furrowed and a frown on her face. “Wait a minute. You’re always the last in the lab before we leave for lunch, and the first back. And we only have like forty minutes of lunch left.”

“So?” Lena asked, averting her eyes and reaching down to play with some loose wires on her worktable. Alex’s eyes narrowed. Lena needed to work on her nonchalant voice, apparently.

“Lena Kieran Luthor, please tell me you don’t skip lunch every day just to stay in the lab.” Alex put her hands on her hips and stared her (suddenly-fidgety) boss down.

“I’m not sure how that’s your business,” Lena tried, not looking up at Alex. She didn’t know how the woman even knew her middle name, but she didn’t like it one bit.

“That’s it, you’re coming to Noonan’s too.”

“That’s not-” Alex was suddenly beside her, pulling the wires out of her hands and giving her what Lena figured was her big sister look. Much to her annoyance it was very effective.

Noonan’s was only a few blocks away, so despite Lena offering to have her driver take them she ended up walking the short distance with Alex and wishing she’d worn shorter heels. Thankfully no one recognized her during the walk, though that might have had something to do with Alex’s stormy expression making everyone coming their way give them a wide berth.

She followed Alex into the small diner and after looking around for a moment Alex made a beeline for a booth in the back, where Lena saw two women sitting. With her back to her was a blonde with her hair back in a ponytail, and seated across from her, a fluffy white dog in her lap, was Lena’s friend Sam. Small world.

By the time Lena reached the booth Alex had already slid in next to Sam, leaving Lena to take the empty seat next to who she assumed was Kara.

“Lena, this is my girlfriend Sam,” Alex introduced, gesturing to the brunette whose eyes were wide with surprise at seeing her workaholic friend out and about, “and my sister Kara, the stalker.” Alex gestured to the blonde and Lena turned to face her, Kara turning at the same time.

“Woah,” Kara whispered, bright blue eyes wide behind her thick glasses. Her jaw literally dropped. “You’re so pretty! And even though I don’t know anything about you if Alex invited you to lunch she must like you so you’re probably really nice too! Are you single? Wait no I should ask if you like women first… Oh Rao you probably know I followed Sam and got lost cuz of her cute dog and Alex just introduced me as a stalker you’re never gonna want to date me now!” The adorable blonde grimaced and hid her face in her hands, muttering something in a language Lena (surprisingly) didn’t recognize.

“Kara this is my boss, she’s not going to date you,” Alex groused. “And do you really not recognize-”

“Actually,” Lena interrupted smoothly, eyes still on Kara, “I get off work at seven tonight, if you’d like to go for dinner?”

Alex made a choking sound and looked at Lena with wide, incredulous eyes, but Lena barely noticed, gaze intent on Kara as she let her hands fall away and gave Lena a hopeful look.

“Really?!”

“Really.”

“Even though I accidentally stalked someone?” Kara asked nervously.

“Hope is an adorable dog, darling. I can’t exactly blame you for following her.” Lena bumped her shoulder against Kara’s and barely managed to stop herself from reaching out and grabbing the woman’s arm after because from the brief moment of contact she was pretty sure Kara was ripped under her soft pink cardigan. Actually, no, she hadn’t managed to stop herself because she was now very obviously groping Kara’s arm, and damn. “Besides, you’re not so bad yourself,” Lena purred. Kara’s adorable blush and quiet spluttering drove any questions about just how she was so fit from Lena’s mind.

“Wait a minute,” Alex blurted, squinting at Lena and trying to ignore how her boss was ogling her little sister. “How did you know Sam’s dog’s name was Hope?”

“Same way I know Lena’s weakness for pretty blondes,” Sam piped up, giving her friend a toothy grin before turning to her girlfriend and shrugging. “We went to boarding school together. I didn’t realize my girlfriend worked for my bff though. Weird.”

“Not as weird as my sister becoming my girlfriend’s accidental stalker before you guys had even met,” Alex grumbled.

“Well I think it all worked out for the best,” Sam said, smiling happily. “Maybe dating Kara will help Lena get over her hopeless crush on Supergirl.”

“Sam!” Lena gave her so-called bff a betrayed look, only dimly aware of Alex suddenly looking constipated and Kara… crumpling the metal knife she’d been fiddling with into a ball. What the- oh. Oh. Guess her crush wasn’t so hopeless after all considering she’d already scored a date with the heroine. Smirking, Lena slipped the twisted ball of metal from a shell-shocked Kara’s hand into her purse before Sam (who was much too busy laughing at her) or the incoming waitress noticed it, Alex giving her a wide-eyed look. Lena just winked and gave the waitress her order.

[theharrowing]

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[apocalypse-shuffle]

APOCALYPSE-SHUFFLE+

──

────

───────

(pic of: GHOUL from batman beyond: rotj)

hi, I’m Trix (20yrs old|black), and this is my writing blog where I post imagines and the such.

about: character imagines/x readers/headcanons (here’s my masterlist)

50+ (fics, hc’s, & imagines)

I repost stuff too

connected blog: apocalypse-boogie

my ao3 (note that my works are set to only show my work to registered users)

my wattpad

Authors Note: I cannot write for every type of person. Please don’t act like I can or should be. I am one singular person who has a life and feelings, not a genie in a bottle and I don’t have to do any one thing. Thx

DNI: minors; on my posts/reblogs that are 18+ (because I want peace of mind).

racists; because ‘fuck you’ that’s why. race fetishists; see above quote in orange for why.

homophobes; because I’m not and never will be in the mood.

terfs, misogynists, & pedophiles

one more time, y’all

me: Trixie

20yrs of age

black; as in brown skinned

18+ only on posts tagged “18+”; minors dni with those (I’ll just block you)

ALSO FREE PALESTINE

I don’t care about how you might want to argue with me about this, I don’t support genocide and I just want to make my stance on that clear. (Unfollow me if you want, you won’t be missed.)

Once I gather all my links together I’ll be putting resources and information on Israel’s occupation of Palestine and ways to help right here.

To learn about Palestine and the ongoing conflict there: thepalestineacademy.com

USCPR’s toolkit for calls (what you do - in the US - to call for a ceasefire & the end of the US’s support of Israel)

Make sure to state your name and address (& at the very least your zip code when calling) so that your call/voicemail/email is recorded by your local representative.

Here’s global protest information to look into if you are able to physically attend a rally.

Boycott! Boycott! Boycott! Boycott! (We have spending power let’s put it to good use.)

Siemens, Puma, Garrefour, Ahava, Sodastream, HP, and AXA (a multinational insurance company based in France that provides its services throughout the West) all support Israel. x x

This post gives a lot of info.

Also, protest tips to keep yourself safe out there because the right to free speech in America is a joke. If you can, look into faraday bags (or alternatively tinfoil) to combat the police tracking your cell (but, really, just try not to bring your phone at all). Look into temporary burner phones (that you can discard), and in order to better combat facial recognition wear goggles as well as a mask.

[via: comicsareforkids]

THERE IS NO BLACK LIBERATION WITHOUT PALESTINIAN SOLIDARITY (and FYI Black Palestinian Lives Matter too)

[the-mad-starker]

Starker Smut: A Little Stress Relief

Having a rough morning so here I am, posting this fic I wrote for @itfeelssogoodmrstark ages ago for a boost in happy feels. Based off a discord convo over me yelling about bottom Tony due to the above pic 😱 also felt like a good time for some bottom tony posting 🎉

Notes: daddy kink, lingerie, plugs, oral sex, bottom Tony

WC: 4541

(Ao3 link)

💗💗💗

Peter made his way back to his apartment with his laptop tucked under his arm. His last final was tomorrow afternoon and after spending most of the morning swimming in equations and theories, he was ready to call it quits for the day.

He was as prepared as he was going to be.

An incoming text diverted his attention and even though he felt exhausted, Peter paused just outside his door. By the tone alone, he knew who it was and the thought of talking to Tony energized him. He opened up the message right then and there, too impatient to take the time to go inside.

Still studying?

One handed, Peter replied.

Just finished. Can't wait to fly home.

Home… They had spent days looking for this perfectly good apartment when Peter finally settled on the tough decision to go to college out of state. It was in the best location, only a few minutes away from the campus and within easy reach of fast food places that were perfect for college students.

It still wasn't home, not when home was a pair of warm brown eyes with just the slightest creases in the corners. A touch of silver in otherwise dark hair. Comforting arms that were always ready to hold him. And a body that was just as receptive despite their age difference, Peter being an overly hormonal young adult and Tony, a more experienced but settled lover.

Home was a person and for Peter, that person was Tony. But he still had an exam to do and a bed waiting for him to pass out in before he could fly back.

He fumbled with his keys. Two days until he flew back to New York. Two days until he can see Tony again. It couldn't come sooner.

You're gonna ace it, kid.

Peter smiled, warmed by Tony's encouragement.

I don't even know why I'm so stressed. I know this stuff.

Key in the lock, a soft click, and Peter walked in. Maybe he'll have some ramen.

Maybe you just need a little stress relief, babe. Something to help you sleep tonight.

Peter flushed at the words.

He had picked up Tony's bad habit of pulling all nighters, whether it was school or Spiderman business. Funny enough, even though Tony refused to see the irony in it, the older man often made sure Peter went to bed at a reasonable time.

Oftentimes, he bribed Peter with the promise of cuddles which usually had the younger boy easily complying. But when Peter was particularly stubborn, a little bare skin was enough to have him following the older man into the bedroom like an eager puppy.

Peter sighed, pouting a bit. He was stressed. He knew that but now that he was paying attention, his body was sore from sitting at the library, hunched over his textbooks and notes.

Subconsciously, he bit his lip as he considered convincing Tony to get on webcam for him. Even miles apart, they could still have a little fun together. That would surely help relieve some of the stress.

Just the very thought had his body heating up, yearning for his older lover.

Stress relief, huh? Maybe you can help with that.

He walked into the small living room, so focused on how to word his request that he didn't notice the lights were already on.

"I'd be glad to help," came Tony's voice, right there in front of him.

That, Peter did notice. His head snapped up away from the screen, eyes wide and mouth dropping open just the slightest.

"Tony?"

It wasn't his imagination nor was the stress taking a toll on him. Tony, who should've been back in New York, was there in his apartment, lounging carefree on the plush little armchair tucked away in the corner of the room.

He looked good. Well, he always looked good but to Peter who hadn't seen him in person since the beginning of term, the sight of his lover took his breath away.

Tony's lips ticked up into a smirk, so achingly familiar that Peter's heart stopped then rebooted in overtime. Confidence was always an attractive trait to Peter and with Tony looking like he did now, he was the very embodiment of it.

His legs were casually spread apart, one leg thrown over the armchair in such a cocky manner. It paired well with Tony's smug little smile. He knew exactly what dirty thoughts entered Peter's mind at the very sight of him.

"Hey, kid," he greeted warmly.

"You're… You're here!" Peter exclaimed, a smile lighting up his entire face.

Those warm brown eyes scanned him from head to toe, no doubt taking in his disheveled state, his ruffled hair, and his shining eyes. For a brief moment, Peter felt all too self-conscious of his bedraggled state but he recognized the look in Tony's eyes. It was one that he was very familiar with.

It wasn't just Peter that had been affected by their separation.

"Wanted to surprise you," Tony said and a hint of mischievousness edged the corner of his smile, turning it even more captivating than usual. "So, still need some help with getting rid of all that stress?"

He watched as Tony casually plucked at his top button, teasing Peter with just that one tiny movement before putting him out of his misery. A little bit of flesh peeked through and just like that, Peter was gone.

"God, yes," he breathed out, rushing forward to where Tony remained waiting for him.

Eager hands reached for the rest of the buttons and in his haste, he may have popped off a button or two. Tony laughed when they clattered to the floor, uncaring and maybe even a little amused at how Peter's control seemed to fray around him.

"It's been months, okay," Peter muttered, cheeks warming.

"I know, baby," Tony murmured reassuringly, that knowing smile still on his lips.

A warm hand gently clasped the back of Peter's neck and Peter's eyes skipped back up from where his fingers were working. Their eyes met and Peter was naturally drawn in. With the slightest bit of pressure, Peter leaned down to hungrily kiss his lover.

Their lips met in a soft kiss but it didn't remain that way. A moment of tenderness, a reaffirmation of their feelings, before the hunger in them both became too pressing of a need to ignore.

A low groan escaped him, muffled by Tony's mouth and he pressed even closer. God, he'd miss this. Missed Tony.

When Tony made to pull away, Peter wasn't done with him yet. He chased after him, one knee settling on the cushion between the older man's legs.

His fingers sprawled over Tony's skin, wandering and re-memorizing the familiar toned muscle of his chest. Then, in retaliation or maybe just because he wanted to, he pinched Tony's nipple. That little nub hardened right between his fingers even as Tony groaned at the slight pain. Not one to waste an opportunity, Peter deepened the kiss and slipped his tongue into the soft, wet heat of his mouth.

The kiss conveyed everything that he'd been missing the past few months. Hunger. Passion. Love.

When they pulled apart, Tony's eyes were dark and Peter's trailed down his exposed chest and even further to where Tony's pants looked to be tighter than they should be around his groin.

"Bedroom?" Peter suggested eagerly. He was already considering just picking Tony up bridal style when the older man hummed in thought.

"Why wait?" Tony tempted him with a soft murmur. That knowing look in his eye grew even more sly, more provocative. "Besides, I have another little surprise for you."

Peter's heart thumped hard in his chest. It was so obvious he was on board. Bedroom or living room, what did it matter?

"Yeah?" Peter said with a breathy exhale. Tony always gave him the best surprises. "Did you wear something nice for me?"

"Maybe..." Tony teased.

That one word invoked so many possibilities that it made his head spin. All the blood rushed south and Peter was suddenly aware of just how painfully hard he was.

It was just so easy for Tony to do this to him. One look, one word…

"Oh, fuck," Peter breathed, just thinking about it.

Posessively, Peter's hands wandered further down. He couldn't feel it through Tony's suit but he could imagine it. Something lacey, maybe? Would it be black or red? Any color would look gorgeous against Tony's skin.

His hands, greedy little things that moved without his permission, settled on the older man's belt.

"Let me see?" Peter nearly begged. Despite asking, he was already unbuckling Tony's pants and tugging impatiently at the belt. At least this time, he didn't rip or break anything.

Tony's sexy smirk made him do it. Practically taunted him to strip the older man bare and see what was waiting for him, Tony's little surprise just for him. A huffed out little laugh from the older man only made Peter's cheeks grow warmer. Even still, Tony's hips lifted to help Peter with his task.

"I'll do you one better," Tony said with a contented sigh as his pants slid off in a rushed tug. "You can even touch me."

The retort was on the tip of Peter's tongue but it died off as soon as he saw what he was working with.

Tony had arrived impeccably dressed. Anyone with eyeballs could see how sexy Tony was, so confident and irresistible in his perfectly fitted suits. They were each custom tailored to show off all the flattering lines of his body but Peter knew that he was the only one to see what was beneath all that expensive designer.

He was right. He loved being right and he loved that Tony was Tony, someone who didn't give a damn about what other people would think.

Because there, wrapping so nicely around his hips, were lace panties. The shock of color, a brilliant red, was a beautiful contrast to the sleek black and grey suit Tony had worn. And through the delicate strip of lace between his legs, Tony's cock was starting to lengthen and push up against the panties.

"Oh, God," Peter breathed, voice full of reverence and above all, hunger. "I love it, Tony. It looks so good on you, so pretty and then there's your cock..."

His mouth watered just looking at it, hidden away in pretty lace but still so obviously male and beautiful.

Tony just knew everything possible that would make Peter's body want to combust out of sheer lust alone.

"Yeah?" Tony encouraged as he reached down and skimmed his fingers over the bulge of his erection through the lace. "I'm glad you like it, sweetheart. Wore it just for you, after all."

For me…

Tony was so perfect for him and Peter loved him. He was also going to suck his cock. How could he not? Tony's cock was right there in all its glory, so long and thick, and yet, he wasn't even fully hard.

Being older, it sometimes took a bit of time to get there but Peter didn't mind. He loved feeling his efforts rewarded by hard flesh, Tony's cock filling out completely in his mouth until he struggled to take it.

Peter slipped down to his knees to get into a better position.

"Gonna suck you off," Peter barely warned before he was lowering his head.

His lips brushed against the lace and he lapped at it with an eager tongue. The spit turned the red darker so that it was maroon.

Above him, Tony's gave a hiss of pleasure, hips twitching towards the wet warmth of Peter's mouth.

A taste of salt, Tony's precum seeping through, had Peter mouthing over the covered tip. He suckled lightly, not intending to tease Tony but just hungry for a taste of him.

His tongue traced over the outline of Tony's cock, licking eagerly while one of Tony's hands carded through his hair, gently and yet urging him for more.

"Ah- fuck, baby… Your mouth..." Tony breathed above him. Some of that cocky attitude had bled out now that Peter had his mouth on him. Peter could almost purr at how the tables have turned. A choked-off chuckle and then a breathless request, "Don't make me come."

Peter's eyes flicked up to him, a smug little smile on his lips when he found Tony looking at him, riveted.

"No guarantee," Peter murmured, lips caressing against hard flesh. "You'd still let me fuck you though, won't you, daddy?"

Another lick, another suck, harder and more pressure which meant more pleasure. The older man let out a soft "Fuck–" which, although it wasn't an answer to Peter's question, it was enough to let him know Tony would.

Just this brief little play and the older man already flushed and panting, though Tony tried to hide it. Peter loved taking him apart, whether it was with his mouth or his cock.

"Brat," Tony gasped when Peter peeled away his underwear.

Peter, being the brat Tony claimed he was, only pulled it down far enough that he could get Tony's cock in his mouth. He did exactly that, slipping the older man's erection into his mouth and playing with it just how Tony liked.

He watched with hooded eyes as Tony's mouth trembled before pressing together hard. It was an attempt to stop the moans from spilling out but Peter knew exactly what to do.

He didn't even need to hold Tony's cock in place, the bunched up panties were doing a perfectly good job holding him captive. It gave him the opportunity to gently caress the insides of Tony's inner thighs, another sensitive point that added to the older man's pleasure.

He had Tony ditching his reservations in no time. He loved the sound of the older man's moans. He also had the added benefit of living alone so really, what reason did Tony have to hide those sounds from him? There was no excuse.

He was tempted to get Tony off just like this. With his hands on Tony's trembling legs, the older man's cock twitching in his mouth… Not to mention, Peter loved swallowing him down.

But he had other plans. As corny as it was, he wanted Tony to come while being fucked. He wanted to feel the tight squeeze of his lover's body as he pushed inside, stirring up his insides with his cock and cum.

He could tell Tony was close so as much as he wanted to keep going, he stopped.

With a soft smack of his lips, he let Tony's cock slip from his mouth. Tony's grip tightened for just a moment, his hips twitching towards Peter's face before he fell back against the armchair with a harsh "Tease–"

To make up for it, he gave the older man slow, lazy jerks with his hand, just to take off the edge.

"You said not to make you come," Peter said, trying his best to sound innocent even while jerking the older man off.

"Didn't think you'd actually listen," Tony panted, voice tight even as his cock strained in Peter's grip. It was almost a whine. "Fuck, baby, think you need to get on with it before I just jerk off on your face."

Peter licked his lips at the thought. It was so tempting… Everything about Tony wanting him was tempting him to just give in and do what he wanted.

"I had to do something when you mentioned a surprise…" Peter said, "You know I love it when you dress up for me."

Then, to Peter's surprise, Tony actually chuckled and shifted so that his lower body was closer to the edge.

"Oh, sweetheart… You thought that was your surprise?" Tony almost crooned out the words, "Yeah, no, baby boy. The panties were just a nice bonus."

Then he wiggled a bit, thumbs hooking over where the panties were bunched around his thighs. Taking the hint, Peter helped remove it but while doing so, he figured out what his surprise actually was.

"Wait–" Peter breathed, rock hard and desperate to confirm, "are you wearing a…?"

Tony smirked. He was too cocky for someone that was just moaning Peter's name a minute ago but Peter didn't care.

"Knew you were a smart cookie," he hummed and spread his legs even further apart in invitation.

Tony was wearing a plug.

Tony was wearing a plug.

Peter couldn't help how he tugged the older man even closer to the edge nor could he help himself from pushing Tony's knees towards his chest.

His lover grumbled at the stretch but not a word of complaint was actually voiced. He was clearly enjoying the power he had to render Peter speechless. That was fine– Peter was gonna make him moan enough for the both of them.

His surprise was perfect.

There, situated between the perfect round cheeks of Tony's ass was the flared base of a plug, keeping him all nice and ready for Peter to fuck.

"When did you even…?" Peter breathed as he reached out and touched the base with eager fingers. "Didn't you just come off a plane?" Peter's words continued to rush out, as chaotic as his thoughts. "Did you really…?" Touch yourself thinking about me…?

Above him, Tony chuckled once more though this time, it had a more breathy quality to it.

"Who do you think I am?" Tony said, "I know exactly what you need, kid, and I know better than to show up anywhere near you without prep."

That was it. That was the last straw.

Peter rose to his knees and shuddered when Tony's legs circled around his waist. He leaned forward desperate to kiss the older man. His hard cock, still damningly clothed in his jeans, rubbed against Tony's erection. He gave a dirty preview of what he wanted, hips rutting harshly as he nibbled Tony's bottom lip.

Tony was just so good to him and they've been together long enough that Peter had become utterly shameless in his desires.

Even so… The thought of Tony prepping himself, either while waiting for Peter to return or fucking himself open on the plane just for him… It sent such a dirty thrill shooting through Peter's overeager body.

"I gotta…" Peter groaned, blindly reaching for the end table by the armchair. It was a long shot that there was lube in there since he hadn't been expecting Tony at all but he was getting desperate.

"Yeah," Tony groaned against his mouth, "I know, kid, I know– That's why I'm ready for you. Know just how much you need it..."

There wasn't any lube there but before Peter could curse or pull away, Tony was already pressing a small bottle into his hands.

"Oh, thank fuck," Peter groaned. He didn't waste any time popping the cap and squeezing out a good amount into his hands.

Meanwhile, Tony didn't waste any time and had efficiently unbuttoned and unzipped Peter's pants. A warm hand reached into his boxers and wrapped around him.

Peter's breath stuttered in his lungs, his body eagerly shoving forward into Tony's familiar touch. Tony's fingers curved around the length of his cock, tugging and squeezing with just the right amount of pressure.

"Look at you, Pete… Already so hard, your cock's practically ready to blow just from this…" Tony said as he jerked Peter off, basically getting all the precum smeared on his cock. "Hurry up, baby, I'm all ready for you."

With a harsh exhale, Peter hastily spread the lube along his cock, even getting some of it on Tony's hand when he retreated. It was messy and some dropped onto his boxers but he was thorough.

"Take it out, Tony," Peter groaned when he was ready, "Take it out so I can put it in…"

So close… They were so close and yet, Tony still teased him.

"Put what in, baby?" Tony's voice trembled as he reached between his legs and started to tug the plug out.

"My c-cock…" Peter said, eyes fixated on Tony's fingers.

He was teasing Peter so much, easing the plug out so slowly and torturing Peter with the sight of his tight little hole stretching over the girth of the toy.

"Wanna put my cock in you, daddy," Peter said. No sooner were the words out, the plug was finally free and Peter surged forward, pressing the tip of his eager cock against that wet, loosened hole.

He barely heard Tony's words, "Go on, baby boy, fuck daddy– I can take it, sweet boy…"

And just like that, he was inside Tony. He could almost swear that he saw stars or his vision went white or maybe just that his mind blanked out from the sheer pleasure he felt entering his lover.

He just knew that his body moved instinctively. Even a little half crazed, he was still careful with his strength. He only used as much as he needed to drag Tony's body towards the very edge of the armchair so that he could fuck into him, nice and easy.

Tony's body welcomed him, that tight heat encompassing Peter's cock perfectly. Peter could scarcely stand it.

"You okay…?" Peter managed to stutter even as his hips continued to move.

Beneath him, Tony's face was flushed, eyes hooded and his wet mouth gasping open. He was taking every inch of Peter's cock from the get go and neither of them would have it any other way.

Peter knew that the stretch must be almost uncomfortable but then again, he trusted Tony to prepare himself well. If he said he could take it, Peter was going to give it to him.

"Yeah, I'm f-fine– I'm good, just…" Tony groaned when Peter's cock rubbed right into his sweet spot. with how hard and fast Peter was going, he didn't really expect the boy to last. "Jesus Christ, kid, don't you use the toy I got you? Got it for a reason–"

The sex toy that Tony had snuck into Peter's luggage months ago had been put to use but with Tony right there… His body was so warm and so tight around him… How could a bit of plastic compare to this?

"I tried, daddy, I tried…" Peter gasped wetly, as his hips moved almost without his say so. "But it feels nothing like this… Even when I'm thinking about you, it just feels like it's not enough. Feels nothing like–"

"Ugh, good thing I came to get you, huh?" Tony breathed, a hint of smugness in his voice. "Bet you would've ended up fucking me in the bathroom on the plane."

"Probably still gonna," Peter groaned harshly at the thought, "gotta make up for lost time."

Tony huffed a laugh even while he braced himself against the armchair. "Wasn't that long ago, you're just a sex fiend."

"And your ass is to blame…" Peter grunted as he looked down at the perfect little hole spread wide apart on his cock.. "This perfect… fuckable ass… Hugs my cock just right… Nng… Mr. Stark… Can I come inside this time? Wanna come inside… Make it all wet and messy inside you…"

Tony groaned and tossed his head back. He panted, cock jerking on his belly. "This time? How many times you planning on going…"

"I'll let you know," Peter licked his lips.

He felt ravenous and too focused on this time to think about the next. He just knew that it wouldn't be the only round. He needed this too much. Tony's ass was heaven and Peter wasn't leaving the older man alone until he had his fill. "I'm like… really, really stressed, Tones…"

"Ugh, fuck… Fine– I said I'd help, didn't I…?" Tony relented, "Just try not to get it everywhere…"

Peter let loose, fucking Tony's perfectly fuckable ass with abandon. It was exactly as he said. The expensive pocket pussy that Tony got him couldn't compare to the older man's tight warm hole. He'd tried it, he really had, but it couldn't compare to the way Tony writhed beneath him. Couldn't compare the satisfying slap of their bodies coming together, almost painful but entirely worth it.

He gripped and held tight, fingers digging into the meat of Tony's thighs. The older man was at his mercy, legs hooked over Peter's elbows as his hips flexed and pounded away.

Amid their combined groans and soft curses, Peter's eyes had drifted closed. The heat of Tony's body gripped him tight, squeezing, massaging, provoking him to take what he wanted, what he needed.

For all of Tony's hard lines, the muscles he built over hard work and time, his insides felt so soft and warm. Wet and intense, a perfect little hole for Peter to fuck and use as he wanted. Because Tony would let him and more than that, he got off on Peter being the horny little shit that he was, unable to resist a man that could very well be his father.

It was an ego boost to them both, just how hungry and desperate they were for each other. Tony was just better at hiding it.

He wanted to hold on. He didn't want to stop.

He had Tony right where he wanted him, impaled on his cock and gasping Peter's name.

His muscles were tight and tense, his cock being milked by Tony's hole…

"Ah– f-fuck…!" Peter groaned as his balls drew tight.

His grip tightened, some of that super strength leaking through as he sought to get as deep as possible. At the same time, he shoved forward, hips slotting perfectly in place, getting every single inch into Tony's receptive body.

He gave everything he had and then some. It felt like a small eternity and yet, it was only seconds as his cock pumped load after load into the hole milking him dry.

His heart was going a mile a minute and sweat dripped down his neck. When he opened his eyes, he saw that Tony wasn't any better.

Cum painted white strips over his unbuttoned shirt. He had an arm thrown over his eyes, chest rising and falling rapidly but starting to stabilize as they both started to calm down.

Peter's cock was going soft and he could feel his cum squish around him as he pulled out.

"So messy," Tony murmured as he peeked at Peter. "You still wanna go for more?"

Peter looked down at his softening cock but his gaze gravitated to Tony's freshly creamed hole. His cum was oozing out and his cock twitched with interest. He'd be ready again in no time.

"God, yeah," Peter breathed as he leaned down. "I'll clean you up first, daddy."

"Clean me up just so you can mess me up again?" Tony clarified.

"Mhmm…" Peter didn't need to say anything more. He just slipped back down to his knees, pulled Tony's legs over his shoulders, and set his hungry mouth to work.

His body might be a bit sore tomorrow but it wouldn't be from stress. He was intent on getting every bit of stress siphoned out of his body and he had the perfect partner to help him.

[imagine-loki]

As blue as the sky itself

CHAPTER NO. 13. Never AUTHOR: colifower ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki falling in love with The Tesseract RATING: Gen NOTES/WARNINGS: Well, well, well. We're finally at the end of the journey. I hope that you've enjoyed your time with my little snippets of Tess and Loki's lives. I originally wrote this as part of @worstloki 's Tessember challenge back in December. You can see here what the other wonderful people have contributed to.

Since it was a prompt-based challenge, my original story was a bit mesy, so I decided to "clean the timeline" and post it here as ABATSI. The original version is still avilable on my AO3. It is longer and has some non-loki chapters but if you want to know more about it, the link is here.

There are no warnings for this chapter

The pic is also by me :D

“So, you convinced me to tell Loki how I felt. And it worked!” Tess stated, picking up Raisin from his place. They had a solid plan for the evening. “I want to repay you for your kindness.”

“…What are you scheming…?” they said, suspiciously. Tess was up to some shit, they felt it in his bones.

“………………………….grab my hand………………………….I promise I won’t hurt you……………………”

“You realize that now I’m even more scared than before, right?”

Tess just smiled mischievously and held out his hand to Raisin.

“Tess?”

“Raisin?”

Raisin huffed and held their hand. “If I die my ghost will hunt you forever.”

Tess giggled and teleported them to their secret destination.

“A bar?”

Tess giggled and pulled them towards the counter.

“A gay bar?!” he exclaimed, seeing the asgardian pride paraphernalia. “You brought me to a gay bar?”

“Yeah!” they shouted above the noise. How was it that crowded at four pm, Raisin would never know. “I’ve been holding hands with Loki for a week now, I want you to find somebody that wants to hold your hand all the time too.”

“Aw… that’s very sweet of you, Tess.”

“Thank you,” they added. “Tell me who do you like and I’ll ask them to come over ;). Oh. Wait, I forgot to tell you.”

Tess leaned over to whisper in Raisin’s ear, not before having looked both sides for spies, just as Bor had taught them. It was important to keep your secrets secret. “Some people will want to do T-h-e S-e-x with you, be careful with that.

“I like having sex, Tess” he laughed. They have scared them a bit at the beginning.

Tess frowned. “Really? Wow, I guess there’s no problem with it then. They looked intensely at their friend. “But like… for real?”

“Yeah. I like having sex with other men.”

“Amazing. I don’t think I’d enjoy having The Sex with anybody. More people for you!” they cheered. Everything was going according to their plan. It wasn’t particularly elaborated or good, but it had taken them so much time to read the dating advice guide that now they were going to follow through, nevertheless. “So… do you see somebody you like?”

“First we take something to drink” Raisin made a sign for the bartender to come and take their order. “One extreme portable fridge for me and… what do you want?”

“Do you have warm milk with sugar?”

“Sure” they answered.

“Then one of those.”

“Noted.”

“Now we find a fine gentleman for our… fine friend ;). Who is your hottest person? Hot? Is that the word, right?”

Raisin groaned. “This is not a toy shop, Tess. You can’t just pick up a random somebody and bring it home” Raisin complained. They spotted a strong figure at the other side of the bar. They had long and luscious black hair pinned with a Vanir-style headpiece. “Well… maybe you can?”

Tess violently snapped their head and searched furiously for Raisin’s potential march.

“Here you go! It’ll be seventy AsBucks.”

“Damn. Seventy AsBucks? For some milk? At least give me some silly straws to enjoy it better.”

The bartender grumbling searched for the silly straws. They knew well that that glowing fella was the Allfather’s current boytoy and would complain to the Emperor that they had charged them seventy times the amount.

“Here you have.”

“Ooh… two horizontal and a heart-shaped loop! This is decadent. I’m so honoured. Thank you very much” said the Infinity Stone, grabbing the strawed drink and heading straight towards Raisin’s pick.

“Tess! No!”

“Tess, yes!” they said to themself. “Hello! My friend Raisin over here would like to hold your hand, maybe have The Sex with you. What do you think?”

“Tess, no…” they whispered. He was dying of embarrassment. “Wait, Sif? Is that you?”

The warrior slowly turned around. “Raisin? What are you doing here?”

“Erm… Hello? I just explained it to you. He’s looking for somebody to hold his hand.”

“What are you doing at the gay bar, Sif?”

“Oh? Is this the gay bar?” she said sweating bullets. “I was mistaken, I thought this was the wrestling bar! I’ve never been here before.”

“Sif! Glad to see you here. Same as always?” asked the bartender from far away. Sif gave him a death stare.

“It’s ok, I kind of wanted to make some more queer friends” said Raisin, pulling up a chair. Tess was slurping their warm milk with fascination; they were really silly these straws.

“Ugh. Never tell a word about this. Specially not to my father. Never ever. Or I’ll end you.”

“Noted.”

[siren1song]

Dating in Quarantine

Summary: The group is on video call, trying to decide the best dating strategy for quarantine.

Warnings: Quarantine, mildly suggestive language

Pairings: Anxceit, Logince, Intruality

Word Count: 878

Taglist: @acanvasofabillionsuns, @emo-disaster, @greenninjagal-blog, @jungle321jungle, @sleepy-sides, @gattonero17, @another-sandersidesblog, @strawberryjellystuff, @logic-with-a-pinch-of-deceit, @gr3ml1n-loser, @main-chive, @firey-alex, @spooky-scary-virgil, @yalltookmyurlideas, @sanderssidesweirdo, @stormypaint, @just-a-little-bit-gay-oops, @dying-is-a-hobby, @the-angry-ship, @rosesisupposes, @just-perhaps

Notes: I’m too tired to put my usual promotional stuff. Plus I gotta remake my commissions post to reflect new and updated information so just. Enjoy these dorks. Oh also I wrote this for @fandom-games!!

Ao3 Link!!

“You are not seriously suggesting that sending dick pics is a way to land a date in quarantine.”

“I am! And you’re too coward to admit it!”

Virgil sometimes wondered if Remus considered the words he said, or if he based every thought purely on how much it would annoy Roman.

“Uh… Remus, honey, explicit pictures are only good when they’re asked for by the person you wanna send them to,” Patton spoke up, his camera quality making him jump around the screen and his uncomfortable expression barely visible.

“See! Patton’s right. You can’t woo any man by sending pictures nobody wants to see!”

“Roman,” Logan interrupted, briefly turning on his own camera to give his boyfriend a look, despite the fact that Virgil could see Roman on his desktop in his background.

While Virgil watched them argue, he got a dm from his own boyfriend, who was technically downstairs but neither of them felt like bothering to move from their spots.

[Snake Boi] how long until they realize remus is basing his argument on experience?

Quickly muting himself, Virgil let out a loud snort. Patton narrowed his eyes at his screen (he thinks, the camera fuzz made it difficult to tell) and he typed a quick bullshit explanation of his allergies acting up or something.

[Bat-tle Axe] forever until patton admits he’s not as clueless as they all think

[Snake Boi] i still think we should coerce them into admitting their relationship to the others

[Bat-tle Axe] tricking patton into saying hes in love with remus isnt coercing snake bite

[Snake Boi] youre no fun

“Virgil? You’ve been muted for several minutes, are your allergies that bad?” Logan asked, making Virgil swear as he finally unmuted himself.

“Nah, I just forgot to unmute myself. What’s the verdict on dating in quarantine?” he asked, toying with the idea of turning on his camera before once again deciding against it.

He hasn’t done laundry in weeks, and was just in a hoodie and boxers, he’d rather not expose that to the world.

“Ya sure that’s all, kiddo?” Patton asked, his camera flickering into a rare moment of clarity to show Virgil his suspicious look.

[Bat-tle Axe] shit pat’s onto me

“Yeah, pops, I’m sure.”

Patton grinned at the fatherly nickname and his camera quality went right back down the shitter.

“Anyway, the verdict on dating in quarantine is none of you know how to make a man swoon,” Roman said, continuing the conversation and glaring at the screen.

Remus’ grin indicated that while Virgil was distracted, he’d said something to infuriate his brother.

“You don’t either, Roman,” Logan pointed out, though his voice was quieter and his account had left the call so Virgil was pretty sure he decided to do something productive.

Virgil let out another snort, covering his mouth with one hand even if his camera was off.

[Snake Boi] yOu DOnT eitHeR roMAn

[Snake Boi] logan stfu youre the one who didnt even realize roman was crushing on you for a whole year

A wheeze and a too fast rush to breathe later, Virgil was choking on air and pushing his laptop off his stomach so he could sit up and ease the coughing.

“You alright over there, Ursula?” Remus asked, and it took Virgil a moment but he eventually managed to send a thumbs up into the chat.

“Good! You must be over there choking on Jayjay’s d-”

“That’s enough, Remus!” Janus cut in, finally unmuting his mic in a frantic to not have his best friend bring the conversation to his sexual exploits.

Virgil tried to laugh again, but the scratchiness of his throat sent him into another coughing fit.

“If you guys kill Virgil, I’m killing you,” Roman said, crossing his arms and leaning against his desk to take his glare closer to the camera.

“I thought you had a rivalry with Virgil, dear,” Logan said, his voice louder.

Upon looking up, Virgil noticed he was hovering over Roman’s shoulder, looking at what was happening.

“Yes, but a rivalry means that if anyone is gonna ‘kill’ him, it’s gotta be me,” Roman explained, instinctively turning his head and pressing a kiss to Logan’s cheek, which in turned got a soft smile from Logan.

Gross.

“Nobody is killing anybody! Kiddo, you need to get some water,” Patton said, getting a ridiculously close to his own cam to show his concern.

“Way ahead of you,” Janus said, making Virgil yelp because the fucker was right in his room.

“Don’t-” he started, but was quickly interrupted by another round of coughing.

Janus raised an eyebrow and extended his hand with the glass of water.

“What happened, love bite?”

“Laughed too hard and spit went down the wrong pipe,” Virgil croaked, grabbing the water and drinking until half of it was gone.

While he shifted to put the glass of water on his desk, Janus got comfortable on Virgil’s bed and gestured for him to lay against his chest.

When he finally got his laptop back in his lap, Janus turned the camera on and they were met with a mixed chorus of delight and teasing.

“You all are aware that online dating apps exist, right?” Janus pointed out, and the conversation about dating in quarantine resumed.

[matan4il]

Pinned post: all of my content

You can now find all of my content by clicking “my content list” at the top when you view my blog. And because I was asked for it, here is also the link for my AO3 account.

You can also find a few of the direct links here and in my blog header:

Replies to asks (most of which were Buddie meta asks)

Buddie content

Buddie gifs

My weekly Buddie meta || S7 911 reactions

Additional Buddie meta posts

Buddie fics

Ryan / Oliver / both gifs

Buddie fanart

Buddie moodboards

Buddie humor posts

Content for other ships

Kinnporsche content (meta and gifs, plus anything related to Mileapo, such as Man Suang, as well as the Mileapo timeline)

Robron content (meta, fics, humor)

Brucedick content

Patrichie content

The Blacklist (Keenler as well as queer reading of Red)

All of my gifs (includes all ships as well as queer movies)

All of my fics (includes all ships)

All of my fanvids (includes all ships)

Other fandom content

Additional meta

Fandom humor

About fic writing

Jewish representation

If you need help with anything or something’s not working, please let me know!

(under the cut, you can still find my old systems for sorting content)

Here are a link and an explanation for my old fliters-based content masterlist, as well as a link to my archive blog. Note they are currently not updated for s6. They’re still usable and I will update them, I just don’t know exactly when. Possibly during a hiatus, if real life allows it.

filters-based content list

archive blog

Advantages of the filters-based content list:

you can browse my fics and my meta using filters (so you can, for example, sort fics based on genre, length, etc.)

you get short descriptions for each post

Here’s the explanation on how to use the list’s filters!

The main menu for the content list looks like this, you have category titles on the left with the options with each category, on the left, while the main part of the screen is boxes with links:

Clicking on one of the categories on the left side will leave you with only the boxes that are included in that category. From the main page, you can filter my content by ship (Buddie, Robron or others) or by content type:

This is the main page filtered for fics. Click the box you’re interested in. Depending on how much content that category has, it will lead you either to the content itself or to one more page of filters that will lead to the content itself:

The one additional page of filters is either for my Buddie fics or my non-fic Buddie content. Both pages use the same structures, with category titles and options on the left, and boxes with links to the actual content in the main part of the screen. Here’s my non-fic Buddie page, as an example, allowing me to filter for meta, visual content (gifs, moodboards, fanart) or humor:

At any point you can return to the main page by clicking my profile pic or “my content categories” (circled in white) or to my Tumblr (circled in pink):

Still can’t find something or have a question? Please don’t hesitate to contact me via my DMs or an ask! xoxox

[foolforshera]

Rules: it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 (ish) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and post or link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works! 

I got tagged in this and honestly, I’m all over this. This was the year I started writing fic for the first time. I’d written my own stuff off and on but hadn’t written really for years until I saw the last season of She-Ra. Suddenly, I had this urge to write again and I did. It’s honestly hard to pic out five because I really enjoyed pretty much all of my stuff I’ve done this year. Now in no particular order, here’s my five favorite this year:

I Am Teaching Myself How To Be Free: This was my first fic I ever wrote and it’s the start of The Lyrical Anthology (works inspired by lyrics). This is a Catradora fic that takes place in flashback as Catra roams around on the spaceship near the beginning of their road trip. She can’t sleep and she’s dealing with the possibility that Adora may come to realize that she doesn’t actually want to be in a relationship with Catra. It’s angst but with my rule of happy endings. Link to AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24472825

Send Me An Angel: I initially didn’t think I’d write this one. I didn’t originally like the premise behind it, a try and rescue Angella fic, but it grew on me and then I had a headcanon (that I talk about in the notes of the fic) and it turned out I had to write 23,000 words to get that into a fic. This was my longest fic at the time, and second longest thing I’d ever written at the time, and I have to say that I go back and read this one, especially the end. My wife gave me one of my favorite feedback notes. Basically, without giving anything away, I had her fully invested in the story even though she knew exactly how it ended. Link to AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25383487

Make for Me A Soft Universe: Much like Repkyle, Castaliet kind of caught me out of left field. I’m really irritated with myself that I haven’t written more Castaliet. The two of them getting together after the war and just having this quiet, romantic relationship just to themselves... I love the idea so much. This one was a bit spoiled if you read Send Me An Angel because it takes place before that but that’s fine because I love the concept of their relationship of poetry, tea, sweets, and a quiet room to enjoy them in. Link to AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25531822

That One Time in Seaworthy: This was written in my second series, Finn and the Moms of Power. That series was GOING to be all fluff. Well, the problem I had is my headcanon was that Catra and Adora find Finn as a child living on the streets and take them in and I decided I needed to write that story and of course, that’s not going to be happy. This is one of the stories that I had tears in my eyes when I wrote some of the scenes. I do have to say that I also had a load of fun coming up with titles for Mer-Mysteries based on old detective fiction. Link to AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25808314

To Strive, To Seek, To Find, and Not To Yield: Maybe I’m cheating because this isn’t finished yet but it’s the one that I have to say I’m really proud of this year. It’s the longest thing I’ve ever written (103k words and counting) for one. It’s also got a lot of OC’s and worldbuilding in it. It’s the story of Finn, an older teenager now, trying to find their biological family members and of course that means they have to go all over Etheria searching. I’m really happy with how well it’s going. Link to AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26896540/chapters/65631127

That’s the five! I’ve got forty works up on AO3 though and I have to say that the other thirty-five I didn’t mention I really liked as well. These are just the big ones that hop to mind. Go give the rest some love too if you’d like.

AO3 Works link: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSofterGentlerMe/works?page=1

I will say that I’m not sure who to tag in this so if you want to give it a whirl, feel free to tag yourself and go for it.