#generation kill ray person x reader

[hitman-two]

Cpl. Ray Person Smutty HCs

Happy New Year Smutty Motherfuckers! Godfather would be proud disturbed.

▸ Ray acts like a teenage horndog… and is basically a teenage horndog 70% of the time. The rest of the time, he’s respecting you and not being a complete and utter horny teenager 24/7. Take it as a compliment though; he’s horny for you and only you. ▸ Granted, he jokes when he’s overseas. But that’s Ray just thinking he’s being funny. Having taken it upon himself to be the class platoon clown. He won’t ever act upon the stupid shit he says. ▸ Unfortunately the boys know every inch of your curves and assets. Ray’s big mouth just babbling away. Boasting about your body. Not in an objectifying sense… just more so that he’s got this hot girl waiting for him back home and he personally doesn’t think the other men have hot girlfriends compared to you. ▸ However, Ray’s not joking about things when it comes to what he intends to do to his girlfriends pussy. ▸ First thing he wants to do when he gets home is go down on you. Make you moan out his name. It’s also his favourite thing to do. ▸ As much as he’d enjoy it being returned, he also doesn’t expect it. Just for simply falling in love with him, his entire being is dedicated to you and making you feel good. ▸ He’s a kinky lil shit. Will attempt to do it semi-publicly. Walking back from a date? He’d have no problem hiking up your dress and taking you in a darkened corner in the alley, or in a deserted carpark (in the car). Unfortunately military training has taught him that laying on the deserted beach, as romantic as it seems, is not worth it with having the sand grains giving you ass-crack rash. ▸ Don’t ever bend down in the kitchen to retrieve something you’ve dropped or a utensil from the bottom drawer…it’s a literal open invitation for a certain horny little boy. ▸ But he would take you anywhere and everywhere. ▸ He never says ‘no’ to you. He’s always in the mood. You wanna do it? He’ll do it. Hell, it’s even hotter for him when you specify exactly what you want him to do. You know he’s got a shit-eating grin but will happily oblige. ▸ Unfortunately Ray forgets to stop and make love. He’s too caught up in just wanting to fuck you silly every single time. But he saves those love-making intimacy for when it really matters. He worships your body every single time but when it’s softer, more romantic… there’s just something different about it. I’m sure sometimes you’d wish he’d do this more often but at the same time…if he did… it’d lose that special intimacy. ▸ He’s generally loud and does more cussing than moaning. But it’s always your name that falls from his lips. However, in those softer moments… that’s when you’re able to hear those sweet, vulnerable gasps of pure pleasure, lust and wanton. ▸ It’s the same compliment over and over again, but you know he means it with his entire existence. You literally render him speechless that he can't seem to deliver any other words. Repeats it like a mantra. Fucking: “God you’re hot…you’re so fucking hot…” His voice just rough with lust. Love-making: “You’re so beautiful…every inch of you…you’re so fucking beautiful…” His voice much more gentler, dripping with nothing but awe and honesty. Because he only does think you’re the most hottest angel to ever grace this Earth.

~

|| Disclaimers: These were written specifically for a friend, but like Brad, felt it was too good not to share on my blog. It's a little less HCs than Brad's one because Ray is my comfort character when I need a laugh. That big bro. So it was kinda hard to envision him in a smutty sense. Hopefully I did him justice! Gotta try because people are requesting smut with him XD I gotta deliver, y'know... You don't have to like these, that's okay! It's just how I perceive him.

[lostinthewiind]

Generation Kill fic requests you say? Can I get a Ray Person where sometimes he accidentally hits the radios buttons and the reader overhears his rants and comes back with some of her own? Or a Nate Fick angry and it triggers an “oh no he’s hot angry” reaction that the reader can’t hide?

Hotheaded

Nathaniel "Nate" Fick - Generation Kill

A/N: I couldn't choose so I decided to combine both prompts into one fic :)

Rating: 16+ (language)

"-and if you take a moment to really think about it, it makes total sense!" Ray's sped up rant continued over the comms, no doubt thanks to the amount of ripped fuel he had ingested over the past 24 hours. "This war isn't about money or oil or any of it! We're here because of sex!"

Slamming your head back against the headrest, you let out an exasperated groan. "How long has he been going on like this for?" You turned to look at Rudy.

Rudy glanced down at his watch. "About 10 minutes."

"Good God! How does he not know he's broadcasting this to everyone?" You slammed your boot down against the humvee floor and grabbed the receiver. "That's it. I can't listen to him anymore."

Rudy chuckled under his breath. "You tell him, little lady."

"Would the Whiskey Tango individual who insists on ranting about sex and his deranged theories about the origin of this war over the comms please shut the fuck up?" you snapped into the receiver. "I don't feel like listening to your family-fucking twang for the entire time we are sitting here."

You could hear a couple of laughs escape the humvees directly in front of and behind your own. For a few seconds, you thought Ray had actually caught on to how annoying he was being and shut up. Then the comms crackled to life once more.

"You sound just like the government, trying to silence the truth because you're scared about what it means for your good American values!"

"Ray, you wouldn't know the truth if it slipped into your bedroom at night and tickled your prostate!" you shot back. You weren't backing down until the idiotic RTO shut his goddamn trap. "And even if this war was about sex, what would you know about it when you look like someone who'd only get some through an unfortunate keep-it-in-the-family arranged marriage or if a blind woman took immense pity on you?"

More laughter. Even Rudy, who usually tried to stay out of the constant back and forth, couldn't help but crack a smile.

You could tell Ray was ramping up for another response, but before he got the chance, Lieutenant Fick's voice sounded over the comms. "Will you two idiots keep your lover's spat off of company-wide comms so the rest of us can sit here in peace and wait for further orders?"

You swallowed hard. "Sorry, sir," you apologized.

Ray's voice didn't follow. He didn't even apologize. Then you heard a distant shouting.

"Hey!"

You and Rudy shared a confused look. Leaning out the side of your humvee window, you spotted Ray doing the same thing at the front of the convoy, shouting back at you.

"What the fuck are you doing?" you shouted back.

"I get plenty of pussy, thank you very much!" Ray clearly wasn't done with the conversation, comms or not. "I wouldn't expect you to understand though, considering not even Manimal would get near your salmon-scented cavern, and he'd fuck anything with a hole!"

"Unfortunately, not all of us are born with a built-in dating pool—you know, that thing that regular people call the family tree! Or, in your case, the goddamn family circle!"

Ray furrowed his brows. You could see his mouth moving a mile a minute, but due to the sudden increase in wind, you couldn't make out what he was saying.

"What?" you called.

He tried again. Still nothing. Frustrated, he disappeared back into his humvee. "You keep telling yourself that, and when you're back home with no other choice but to sell your Iraq-worn body and dusty pussy on the corner, you'll remember what your old pal Ray said about the reason for war," he said, resorting to comms again.

"I think this is the longest I've ever heard him bicker with someone," Rudy pointed out. "You really know how to get him going."

"And I'm about to shut him down for good." You picked up the receiver one final time. "Ray, your unhinged theories are a direct result of your unique and equally unfortunate makeup of chromosomes, which could only come from someone whose mother is also their aunt! And when-"

The receiver was suddenly snatched out of your hand before you could end your finishing blow. With a sheepish smile on your face, you turned to see Lieutenant Fick standing outside your humvee, receiver in hand and a scowl on his face.

"Corporal, what the fuck did I just tell you?" Nate used his free hand to grab you by the collar of your uniform.

"Not to argue with Ray over the comms," you replied.

"That's right, Corporal." Nate leaned into the humvee, his bright blue eyes burning holes into your soul. "Now, tell me, are you just too fucking stupid to know how to follow orders or do you find joy in purposefully pissing me off?"

You felt a heat rise to your cheeks at the sight of Lieutenant Fick so angry. You had never seen him filled with this much rage, and for whatever reason, it was hot. Super hot.

You gently shook your head. "Neither, sir."

"Then why the fuck did I hear your voice over the comms again just now?"

"No excuse, sir."

"What's the matter? No rebuttal for your old pal Ray-Ray?"

You watched as Nate's face twisted into a horrible mixture of disappointment, anger, and exhaustion. "Ray, get the fuck off the comms before I come up there and throttle you through your humvee's window!" he snapped over the comms before throwing the receiver back into the humvee and releasing your collar. "I swear to God, it's like babysitting with you two."

You swallowed hard when Nate removed his helmet and ran his fingers through his dirty blonde hair. If this was turning you on so much, maybe Ray was right; maybe you did need to get laid more. Or maybe the Iraqi heat was getting to you more than usual today. Either way, you couldn't tear your eyes away from your Lieutenant.

"Something to say?" Nate caught you staring. "Or are you just getting a kick out of watching me snap?"

"No kicks here, sir," you assured him.

"Then what is it, Corporal?" he demanded. "Come on, spit it out."

You turned back to look at Rudy, silently pleading with him to save you. When all he did was shrug, you slumped your shoulders. "I really don't think I should say, sir."

"I didn't ask you to think. If I remember correctly, you attempting to have an original thought was what caused this whole thing in the first place. Everybody knows Ray rants. And everybody knows that if you just ignore it, he'll eventually stop. So, now that we're here, spit it the fuck out."

You were screwed. You just had to say it. "It's just that you're very attractive when you're angry, sir. That's all."

That stopped Nate's anger in its tracks. "What the fuck did you just say?" His voice had dropped into a low whisper.

You drew in a deep breath. "Did you want me to repeat it, sir?"

"No, I unfortunately heard you the first time." Nate looked over your shoulder at Rudy, who was looking out the window and pretending that he wasn't listening. "Corporal, switch with my driver. It appears you need some more direct supervision."

With that, Nate walked back to his vehicle at the rear of the convoy.

"Oh, my God, I cannot believe I actually admitted that!" You buried your face in your hands. "Why didn't I just say something else? Literally anything else?!"

"I don't know." Rudy was clearly amused by your misfortune. "You're right though. He is very attractive when he's angry."

"Right?!" You started to pack up your gear. "Well, wish me luck. If I don't make it to the next stop, you know who killed me."

Rudy gave a mock salute. "It's been an honour serving with you."

The walk of shame back to Nate's vehicle felt like an eternity, and when you passed the other driver, you didn't dare make eye contact. After stowing away your gear, you climbed into the driver's seat and settled in. Nate watched you like a hawk the entire time.

"I'm sorry about arguing with Ray over the comms, sir," you apologized once more, hoping it would help you get back in your Lieutenant's good graces.

"No apology needed, Corporal," he told you. He was much calmer now; back to the regular Lieutenant Fick you were used to dealing with. "I can't count the number of times I wish I could have done what you did. Ray and his fucking rants are the main reason I cannot wait to get out of this damn war. I'd quite literally rather take a bullet to the chest."

You couldn't help but laugh. "I'm sure we'd all appreciate watching you tear him a new one some time."

"Maybe," he sighed.

"- it's lack of pussy that fucks countries up. Lack of pussy is the root fucking cause of all global instability. If more hajis were getting quality pussy, there'd be no reason for us to come over here and fuck 'em up like this! 'Cause a nut-bustin' haji is a happy haji." Ray had once again accidentally turned the comms on while ranting to his passengers.

You watched as Nate gritted his teeth. Then, completely unexpected, he picked up the receiver and handed it to you. "Tell that fucker to shut his hole, Corporal."

"But, sir, I thought ..." you trailed off.

"I'm not the only one who's hot when they're angry." He smirked, and when you finally took the receiver from him, he sat back and got ready to enjoy the show.

"Pretty sure I said 'attractive', sir," you corrected. "But hot works too."

[wcters]

𝗣𝗔𝗦𝗦𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗠𝗢𝗠𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗦

pairing: nate fick x fem!reader

word count: 1.4k+

summary: you and nate hated not being able to act like a couple sometimes, but you never broke the rules . . . at least you tried not to

warnings: established relationship, angst, weapons, swearing, sexual innuendos, some outdated wording, war, war language, wounds, blood, violence, etc | this is based on the fictional characters from the series generation kill, not the actual war veterans. this is no way intended to hurt or disrespect the veterans.

You knew what you were signing up for when you joined the marines: stress, rough work, misogyny, mostly men, and passing moments.

You had met Nate Fick when you were a teenager. You had met in high school through mutual friends and you had clicked. Soon enough he got the courage to ask you out and it's been the same ever since. You'd been through everything together. You'd graduated together, you moved with him to Dartmouth College, and signed up for the marines together. Seemed fit that you were stationed together.

You felt good knowing you were fighting for a good cause, but you never thought it would be this hard. Yes, you see and work with him everyday, but you don't get to kiss him, hug him - even hold his hand. Sometimes, when you both managed to sneak away, you'd get some time to catch up and act like a couple, but after that it's back to coworkers. You hated that, but you never broke the rules.

The sound of the Humvee's engine lulled you into a sense of calm. It never really was calm, but it did feel nice being in the one place you recognized. Ray was rambling about something stupid while Brad looked like he was just about ready to shoot him. Trombley was with the gun, probably tired of Ray's rambling too, and the reporter was asleep beside you.

"How much ripped fuel have you ingested?" Brad's voice broke you from your trance. You snorted, "too much. He's going to be shorting out pills." Ray laughed, lack of sleep clear, "I'm on it like a motherfucker Brad! At this point, I think my whole stomach is those fucking pills!" You looked to Evan and rolled your eyes. "No more of that shit." Brad told Ray. "Yeah, you'll overdose. Even though that would be great, we need a driver."

Ray started ranting again while you got into the least neck-breaking position you could and tired to fall asleep. You had gotten used to his insane rambles and it lulled you to sleep.

When you finally work up, the sun was out and you were still in the vehicle. "Y/n, you're finally awake after 50 fucking hours." Brad said as he saw you sit up. "Damn, I thought you were dead. I wanted to put Rudy in your place so I could see his beautiful gay face every time I looked back there instead of your hideous one." Ray added, looking at you through the mirror.

“Hideous? Wow Ray, that's a big word. I didn't know you knew words like that, let alone speak anything other than the simplest terms out there." Before he could rebuttal, Brad was on the radio. "Hitman Two, this is Two One. Do you want my victor to provide overwatch on the northeast corner of the M.S.R?" "Roger that. This is Hitman Two. All Hitman Victors align of Two One." Nate's  voice was heard through the radio and you smiled when you heard it.

“We're not done this conversation you bitch." Ray pointed at your reflection. You just posted back.

Your Humvee pulled into the group of cars and it stopped. You opened the door and got out, stretching your arms and legs as you did so. You had seen Nate when you passed by so you made it your mission to find him. Right when you got close, you heard the sound of tires on cement. You turned your head towards the sound and saw two white trucks coming towards you.

“Sir, I observe men with A.K.S. They're in the lead vehicle." Rudy explained as you leaned down with your gun out. "Hitman, this is Hitman Two. We have two victors with armed Iraqis approaching. How copy?" Nate spoke into the radio. "Hitman, solid copy." "Hitman, I am seeing armed Iraqis in civilian clothes in white pickups marked with red diamonds."

“We should smoke 'em, sir!" Someone called out from behind you. You did a slight chuckle. Only a marine would be this desperate. "Hitman Two, this is Hitman. Interrogative. Can you . . . Can you wave them off? Over." A voice replied back. You looked to Rudy in front of you and raised your eyebrow. He did the same. "Hitman, this is Two. These are armed Iraqis in marked Victors with weapons pointed at us. Over." Nate was persistent with what he was saying and probably thought the same thing as you and everyone else did.

“R.O.E. States uniformed soldiers only, and they should be firing at us." This time, you turned back around to look at Nate and made eye contact with him. "This is Two. I'm requesting to at least snatch one victor, find out who these guys are. Over." "Negative. Wave 'em off." "Hitman out."

A couple of voices rang out saying things like "this sucks!" and "what the fuck?" until it was silenced with the sound of A.K going off. You stayed still while the marines shot at them while they drove off, and didn't realize anything was wrong until there was a hand on your shoulder. "You okay, y/n? You haven't moved." Right when you turned to face Nate you felt the pain in your side and groaned. You dropped your gun on the ground and instinctively put your hand to you side, then pulled it off. Red.

Nate must've realized this too as he caught you before you fell backwards. He sat down and pulled your head into his lap, his hand going to where your bullet hole was. "Corpsman! Shit, shit, shit. Corpsman!" You moaned in pain as he hand pressed harder and his yelling caused a headache. "I know honey, I know it hurts." You mumbled out a Nate as you started getting delirious. He slapped you cheek lightly to keep you awake. When your vision was clear for a couple seconds, you saw Doc Bryan.

“Hey y/n. You doing okay?" He asked as he grabbed a bandage from his bag. "Great." You joked with slurred speech. That was the last thing you said before you passed out. While you were out, Nate was worried. Probably the most anxious he had been in his entire life, but he managed to compose himself and lead his group. He watched as you were taken away in a stretcher to the Doc's Humvee.

Nate didn't see or hear from you again for a week or two, which felt like forever. He hated not knowing how you were. Doc Bryan had assured him that you would be fine, that it wasn't too bad, but Nate being your boyfriend worried no matter what the man said.

He was sitting and talking to Brad while the mail had finally arrived. He didn't really expect anything, and was surprised when one was dropped on his lap. He picked it up and noticed the handwriting on the front. It was yours.

"Y/n?" Brad asked him. "Yeah. At least I think so. That's her handwriting." Nate replied. Brad patted him on the back and got up. "Well, if you right her back let her know we miss her. And that we need her back to get Ray to shut the fuck up." Nate laughed at that and began to open the letter.

"Dear Nathan,

It's me. I think you would've figured that out from the handwriting on the front. Sorry I couldn't write you sooner, I've been in the hospital and haven't been able to get stamps. I'm doing good. It hurts, but doesn't hurt more than being away from your stupid face.

As much as I hate to say it, I miss Ray's stupid rambling about how pussy would solve the war and Brad's hate for country music. Hope they're doing well, and hope Brad can get Ray to shut the fuck up.

I also hate to say I miss out passing moments. They kept me sane out there. They were what I was waiting for everyday. I miss your touch, your smell, your face.

I've been wearing your shirts to bed. They still smell like you, without sweat and dirt. It feels weird being home, especially without you. I've been keeping up with the news and it's sounding like it'll end in the next couple months. I don't think I'll be able to come back. I'll keep writing you though, and when you get internet, maybe send you something else.

Don't let your hair out too long, and don't get shot. Who else is going to keep those stupid fucknuts in line.

Love you,

Y/n.”

He smiled and closed the letter, shoving it in his pocket. God he couldn't wait to see you, in real life, or in a picture that he would make good use of.

[dontbesoweirdkira]

25. “This might sound weird, but I like it when you’re sick. Because then you let me take care of you.”

¡Yandere! Raiden x reader

A/N: y’all be neglecting yandere mk1 Raiden so I had to whip something up (tbh mk11 dark Raiden reigns superior. I love papa) but there’s so much you can do with his “sweet” personality wink wonk

Requests: always open

Masterlist

Raiden was more than desperate for your attention/affection. It has been a few weeks since he’s captured and taken you away for himself, yet you still haven’t come around to him.

You ignored most of his questions and attempts to talk with you. Even shunning away when he’d try to touch you, even if it was a light tap on your shoulder to get your attention.

He knows what he did was wrong. He shouldn't have taken you like that but you were slipping away from him. Your interest in him was depleting and someone else had your attention. He was guilty of letting his sinful desires rule over him.

That guilt wasn’t enough to stop him though. Raiden couldn’t help himself from manipulating you, playing up his innocent side to get what he wanted . He loved being the shoulder you cried on even though he’s the reason your lover was now gone and how soon, you’d be taken by him and locked up for his ownership. It was all so sick yet it filled him with a certain level of joy nothing else could replicate .

He manipulated, stalked and killed his way into your heart. You hated his guts for what he’s done to your life. Just thinking back and putting the pieces together is enough to make you feel nauseous.

You tried your best to not give him anything else he may have wanted from you. You never asked him for items and reluctantly took the necessities he offered. You knew any positive interaction, no matter how small, would just fuel his delusions more…but that all changed after you became sick.

When the virus first hit you, Raiden asked if you were doing okay because of how sickly you appeared but you denied saying that you were okay. You told him how he should just leave you alone and let you handle it yourself.

Deep down you prayed that it was just some common cold with a little fever but each day it became worse. Your entire body ached, your head spun and your throat was sore. You could tell without a thermometer that your fever was through the roof.

Your pride wanted to stop you from calling out your captor’s name but staying in this worsening condition was agony. You couldn’t handle yourself, you couldn’t even stand up to go to the bathroom. You unfortunately needed him.

“..raiden..?” You hesitantly called out

A few moments later he opened your room door, a bit confused to hear his name being called by you. That confusion quickly turned into concern when he saw you curled up on the ground with tears in your eyes.

“Y/n? Did you call me? Are you okay, you seem so unwell.”

Using a bit of your strength to sit up, you reached up your arms out towards him and cried

“Everything hurts, Ray. P-please make it stop.”

Hearing your voice crack and beg for him made Raiden even crazier for you. He knew it, he knew one day you’d come around. It just sucks you’re so sick when it finally happened though.

Without much hesitation, he picked you up and carried you in his arms to the master bedroom, the one you were supposed to be sharing with him.

There, a close eye would be kept on you around the clock and he could wait on you whenever you needed. It was an honor to be needed by you like this. Regardless of how often you asked for something or how tired he was, he did anything you asked without any complaints.

He brought you soups, medicines, food and whatever else you desired. He was so caring and generous to you, even despite how cold you’ve been towards him. It might’ve been the medicine or the feeling of guilt but you started letting up on him. Maybe he wasn’t the worse, besides lifeline at the moment. You found yourself cuddled up to him and craving his affection while you got better. Even pouting when he had to leave for something.

He ran his fingers through your hair and hummed. This moment was so perfect. This was all he ever wanted from you. He could take care of his darling like this forever. Your pouts, whines and clinginess sends him into overdrive every single time.

“This might sound weird, but I like it when you’re sick. Because then you let me take care of you.”

A chuckle escaped your mouth and you sarcastically spoke, not thinking much into your words…

“Yeah, you should savor this. It’s probably the only time I’ll ever be this cuddly towards you again.”

Suddenly, Raiden stopped massaging your scalp and grabbed a fist full of your hair. He you pulled up to his face. His eyes narrowed and he shifted his position yet his signature sweet smile was plastered across his face.

You could feel the light energy in the room switch and become heavy. An uneasiness in your chest raced through your chest as you waited for his next move.

Raiden didn’t appreciate your answer, he’s been so good to you. You’re going to take all this away from him after you get better?! He’s proven his love and devotion to you. He needed this, he needed you.

“Well then, maybe I should keep you sick like this so you’ll always need me. You’re just far too precious like this.”

His voice had a hint of playfulness to it, but it was overshadowed by something far more sinister than that.

“You’d let me take care of you like this forever, right?”

His smile dropped a little bit, his head tilted to the side and his eyes widened, almost like a tiny puppy waiting for its owner to accept its invitation to play with them.

You could tell that he genuinely wanted an answer. Not an honest one, but a sweet one he could replay in his head over and over.

You nodded and agreed.

“Who else would take care of me if you didn’t?”

The biggest smile came across is face as he almost exploded with joy. Cupping your face in the palms of his hands, he pulled you close, smashing a loving kiss on your lips. A soft nip of your bottom lip beckoned you to kiss him back, fearful of where another rejection might lead you complied

You were foolish to let your guard down and to not choose your words more carefully. He’s now gotten a taste of your love and he’s never going back from it.

[nymphbroadcast]

Scarabia x MC! Like Charlie Morningstar

⊹Synopsis ⊹ೃ 🏜⋆The Scarabia boys with an MC! or Yuu like Charlie Morningstar.

⊹Relationship ⊹ೃ 🏜⋆Fall in love / free of interpretation.

⊹Fem! MC/Yuu/Reader ⊹ೃ 🏜⋆

⊹Clarifications: This scenario is based on my own analysis of Charlie in the series, adding some information to give more meaning to the story.

⊹Charlie's Analysis ⊹ೃ 🏜⋆

• Charlie is a kind and generous person, despite her obvious royal status she does not take advantage of it and also finds it "mean" if she used her status to intimidate other people, she tends to be completely disinterested unless she is in a desperate or dangerous situation with their loved ones. Charlie is a sensitive, very artistic and dreamy person who enjoys musicals, plays, shows and entertaining movies. She is a firm believer in second chances and always strives to understand the tastes and hobbies of others even if they are not entirely to her taste. When she hurts someone else's feelings she tends to exaggerate the situation and blame herself excessively even if it's not a big deal and she tries to make up for her mistake. She is quite skilled when it comes to her supernatural abilities and immense power but curiously she doesn't usually brag about it. and notably prefers to be "simple" and act like a less powerful person. Returning to her emotional sensitivity, Charlie is usually a pacifist but will not hesitate to use her immense power to defend her loved ones even if that includes sacrificing herself or hurting her enemy (only hurting because she is incapable of killing) and intimidating anyone if it is necessary only because of her love for "her people" even if she knows that they would not do it for her, it is easy for her to connect with people thanks to her pure heart.

Kalim Al-Asim

☀️ (Charlie and Emily Interaction 2.0) Kalim is very similar to you, you may be a little less childish but you are both innocent rays of sunshine who like to make others happy.

☀️ Kalim usually drags you with him everywhere to show you things he thinks you will like and you are delighted to see his thousands of animals and all his family's treasures and all the legends that follow them.

☀️ YOU TWO ARE THE LIFE OF THE PARTY, since you are splendid in singing and entertainment activities and Kalim in the organization and planning of banquets and parties... THE DUO IS PERFECT!!! You complement his skills and even help Jamil get at least 5 minutes of rest!

☀️ We all know that Kalim can be a little messy, but on the contrary you have an ENTIRE ITINERARY ORGANIZED IN YOUR HEAD so you usually remind him of certain things he must do and appease many of his extravagant desires with kindness and before Jamil explodes. (Jamil thanks you)

☀️ Kalim realizes some time later that you use your sorcery skills for similar things to what he does! For example, you light light bulbs for Halloween decorations or create fireworks at larger celebrations, it is something that fascinates him because often you hardly use them for anything and he thinks they are very cool!

☀️ At first your little panic attacks surprise him, because he thought you were much more relaxed... Seeing your VERY few moments of pure anger, the poor thing is terrified to see you so angry and your powers almost destroying everything around... fortunately It hasn't happened more than twice and you've never hurt anyone.

☀️ Kalim sees that you are a cheerful and very kind and generous soul like him, you both definitely have certain ideas of "justice" and "redemption" in common.

☀️ The first time he participates in your trust exercises he can tell that you and Jamil were the people he would trust the most, you were too honest to tell him that and Jamil... Well it's Jamil.

☀️ Kalim is a little curious when you introduce him to your two butlers, they look like goats in his eyes but you correct him and tell him that this is just a more friendly and functional way of looking, when you decide to show. Kalim the true form of the goats... THEY ARE TWO HUGE INFERNAL DRAGONS??!!! He is excited and offers to fly with you on his magic carpet, now imagine how terrified all of Scarabia is to see two dragons flying with their dorm leader through the sky... (RIP Jamil viper)

☀️ So you and Kalim are nicknamed "The Sun and the Rainbow of Night Raven College" and you both take care of and cheer up others together!

Jamil Viper

🐍 Upon meeting you and seeing how naive you seemed he clearly takes advantage of this, using his unique magic on you seeing that you're never particularly as alert as you should be since you arrived at Twisted Wonderland.

🐍 He is surprised by those two goats that follow you and Grimm wherever you go and how they are so protective of you, you explain to him that they are your twin butlers and that your dad gave them to you to guarantee your safety and he doesn't know what to think... why a couple of little goats???

🐍 However, the times he interacts with you while you are not under his control, Jamil can see that in addition to being naive, you are too helpful and kind, offering to help him with his tasks and duties in Scarabia and with Kalim.

🐍 At the time of the Overblot and being sent to the farthest corner of Scarabia, you asked the Octavinelle boys and Kalim to "ride" your two little butlers. Their surprise was pleasant when both goats turned into... COLOSSAL INFERNAL DRAGONS... Floyd he's having fun and Azul is terrified... (I know it doesn't have much to do with Jamil but I had to add Razzle and Dazzle's transformation)

🐍 Also during his Overblot Jamil was able to see for the first time what your anger was like (unleashed by feeling betrayed and Jamil's horrible audacity in controlling Kalim, who fully trusted him) and your powerful chaotic witchcraft, fortunately you have a law of "Not hurting anyone" and you only dedicated yourself to tiring and stunning him until Octavinelle and Kalim's boys hit a final blow.

🐍 After that, Jamil thought that you would be willing to give him some kind of punishment with that powerful "magic" of yours, however his eyes widened when he saw how you extended your hand towards him and talked to him about a second chance.

🐍 From then on he has tried to be as formal as possible, both for your status and for your sensitive personality (He doesn't want to feel a couple of fireworks breaking his eardrums again).

🐍 Every time he discovers more facets of you, your cheerful, almost invasive personality sometimes reminds him of Kalim and he only torments himself thinking that he will have to take care of you too.

🐍 Luckily for him, you are much more responsible and calm than Kalim and you are often the one who gently convinces Kalim to stop his extravagant ideas and he thanks you (not out loud).

🐍 On the other hand, Jamil sometimes doesn't know what to think about you since you listen to him when he starts rambling about his childhood and his desire to be even better than Kalim... And you're also sane enough to remind him that it's not Kalim's fault that Jamil is forced to take care of him 24/7 and that in reality Kalim is just a spoiled child who is too innocent and a bit ignorant to realize that maybe he forgets to give Jamil some space and quiet.

🐍 YOU EVEN PROMISE THAT WHEN YOU ARE THE RULER OF YOUR HOUSEHOLD YOU WILL HELP HIM STOP BEING A SERVANT OF THE ASIM FAMILY. (I see Charlie capable of this, sorry)

🐍 He definitely takes on the role of your protector out of will, seeing that you are perhaps too pure to be there and be labeled with the "Villains".

🐍 You catch him off guard when you say with the purest of smiles and the most honest words that it doesn't bother you when people call you "Villain" because all of them, including him, are your people... they are your family...

🐍 In the end he appreciates your company and your firm beliefs, he strives to make you understand that sometimes you cannot give a second chance to certain people but you always show him the opposite, you become his refuge and a cloth for tears because you are so pure that he He knows that you will never take advantage of his weaknesses.

Nymph's Note:

Charlie is my favorite character from Hazbin Hotel, since this is my first writing I hope you will forgive my mistakes because English is not my native language, I hope you liked it... And I have been thinking about doing one of these for Malleus! As the SIMP No. 1 of Malleus, I feel like an MC! like Charlie would be the perfect Yuu to be the darling of the cute dragon boy!

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed!

Remember to tune in, end of this broadcast!

Scarabia Dorm x MC! Like Charlie Morningstar Done! ⊹ೃ 🏜⋆

Next...???

[ataraxiaspainting]

Heyy!! I don’t know if you still do Chrollo fics , but if you’re doing recommendations/commissions , can you make something like where the readers like “do you think you’ll kill for me one day?” and he’s like “yes. of course I will my darling” ?? It’s based off a sound I heard somewhere .. I think the song is called “I want it all” by Lana del ray. Thank you!! 🫶

damn he really would say that huh?

Bad Habit.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader.

Synopsis: “Where there is carnage, there is beauty.”

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, general anxiety and uneasiness, references to disturbing works of art (Saturn Devouring His Son, The Nightmare, Ivan the Terrible and His Son Ivan), manipulation, and talks of violence.

Word Count: 900.

*~*~*~*

There are as many things people can see as beautiful as there are shades of light shining through a prism.

Spectrums are quite common along with comparison and placement. It varies greatly from person to person, their preferences and their life experiences and their joys, and their fears.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, yes, but the eye of the beholder is also the window to their soul, to their psychological responses and traumas and memories of a past that would rather either be forgotten or worshiped. Every soul is different, and there is beauty in that. So, why do you find the heart and soul of Chrollo Lucilfer, whom many would call beautiful if they never knew him for what he truly is, so, so simply lovely? It does not have to do with his mannerisms or his confidence or his knowledge of virtually everything in this world, you concluded one day, after receiving yet another call from him, with him, as always, asking general questions like if you miss him and such. It is because he is the only thing I can cling to that will stay here, with me.

You cling onto him like a lost puppy, yearning for any sort of affection they can get no matter the cost. You did that when he first transported you from one place to another with hardly regarding any words from you on the matter. You do that now, in this art museum, full of unfamiliar faces and unfamiliar artwork and unfamiliar architecture. You missed home, back then. You still do now, and Chrollo still does not care one bit.

His hand is like a cuff, his arm like a chain, as he walks with you from one room to the next. But, still, it is the only thing that keeps you from falling apart.

So, like a sort of dance, you two move in sync. It is up to Chrollo as to if or when you will stop. It is never up to you, after all.

Does Chrollo enhance the horrific allure of these paintings, or does he once again bring all the attention to himself?

*~*~*~*

“Mythology often comes from our own woes.” He says, pointing upward, slowly, to Cronos’s eyes, which are bloodshot and large and dark. “A popular theory was that Goya was representing an oppressive government through Kronos, and the son that was prophesized to kill him as an adult represented the people who had started to revolt. But others don’t see it that way, oddly enough.”

You don’t respond, you simply look at the beheaded infant, which looks so soft and so rotten at the same time, with blood and deskinned chewed flesh running down his neck. He fits into his father’s hands perfectly, like he was made to be eaten.

*~*~*~*

“While most incubi are written and drawn as physically attractive creatures, this one in particular looks more akin to a gargoyle than that of a man.” He hums, and you can feel his hand wrap more tightly around yours. Not so much in a strangling, hurtful way, but rather just in a sort of reminderful way. “Maybe Fuseli was trying to make sure that the point of what the incubus really is is sent across to the viewers?”

With not a single word coming out of your mouth, a sure sign that you are zoning out his words, he squeezes a bit tighter to get your attention back where he wants it to be.

“What do you think, beloved?”

Once again, instead of answering, you choose to remain silent and focus your attention on other things. So, you look around. To the floor. To your high heels. Everything else, anything else. Only silence remains for a few more moments, but when the silence is not enjoyed any longer with another increase in his grip, you decide to answer before you get yourself into trouble.

“...I… I think that maybe it deals with sleep paralysis.”

Chrollo widens his eyes and smirks, and from those actions alone you know you have created a believable lie and concept that is sure to be amusing to him.

You’re forgiven.

*~*~*~*

“Historians say that the son’s death was the point of no return for Ivan.” A cradling of the arms and a Cat’s Cradle are the same; they both trap those within them.

Eyes are still eyes, whether they are real or not. Ivan the Terrible’s show a thousand tragedies and a thousand other faces his destiny could have worn, if he pushed the other one aside, if he had the strength to.

“Just like how Ivan was his son’s undoing, his son was also his.”

*~*~*~*

“...Would you ever kill for me?”

Violence is often not the only path Chrollo can choose to take. His words can be another, albeit that road will be much longer, and less smooth.

Who knows what he will choose when the hour of the heist comes to fruition when the art can finally be grasped and never let go of?

Which path do you prefer?

Which path does he prefer?

Do you prefer to be threatened with sweet honey that sticks to your skin or is so hot that it burns it?

“Of course, my dear.”

What you find grotesque, like the way the topic of violence is spoken so naturally from you and him, Chrollo always seems to find beautiful, like the way your moving lips are so lush.

…

Paintings are often just a reflection of how the world is, after all.

[farfromstrange]

Do No Harm

CHAPTER ONE: Night Shift

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: Matt has to accompany Foggy to the ER in the middle of the night because he dislocated his shoulder. In need for some peace and quiet, Matt wanders the halls of Metro General and instead finds you crying in one of the abandoned hallways. A conversation ensues.

Warnings for this chapter: Slight angst, mention of injury.

Word Count: 4.3k

A/n: My brain gets the strangest ideas for fics and then I have to write them or else I will go crazy. This is how this baby was born. Keep in mind, I’m not a doctor. I simply watch a lot of medical dramas and I like to research medical terms for the fun of it. Heed the warnings for the entire series (see Series Masterlist) but also chapter-specific warnings that apply, as seen above. I hope you enjoy!

Read Chapter 1: Night Shift here on AO3

Ever since he can remember, Matt has hated hospitals. The antiseptic scent that lingers in the air, the sterile white walls that seem to close in around him—it all brings back memories of days spent in agony, tied to an uncomfortable bed, and seeing nothing but an endless void of black.

He can only tune out so much. The stench, the sirens, and the overlapping voices in an emergency room—they could easily kill him. 

Hospitals remind him of what he lost. He lost his vision, he lost his father and in the process, he lost his innocence. Matt lost everything, and even though he is well aware that it isn’t the hospital’s fault that he decided to save a man or that his father made a deal with the devil and got himself killed, he still hates the same empty walls that made him feel so small to begin with.

Matt doesn’t want to be a liability, he doesn’t want to be the reason the people he loves get hurt, and yet it continues to happen time and time again.

Maybe he’s cursed. It’s the only explanation for how things are going for him now. Maybe God has a grudge and finally decided to exercise his right to make his life a living hell. There is an infinite number of possibilities, but none of them make sense. 

He’s the anti-hero of his own story and that of everyone else who has ever dared to let him into their lives. He’s his own worst enemy, his personal saboteur. His unwavering pride has a tendency to get in the way of his happiness, which often leads to more bad than good, but admitting that would leave him vulnerable and exposed—and he can’t let himself get hurt again. 

It’s better to push the people he loves away before he can hurt them and force them to walk out on him the same way everyone else in his life has walked out on him ever since he can remember. At least in his twisted mind, that’s true. 

He never thought he would find himself in Metro General again, not since Claire came into his life. Claire, the caring nurse who saved him when he was on death’s door and continued doing so until she realized that falling for the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen comes with its own set of risks. 

Foggy dislocated his shoulder. 

It’s almost laughable. Out of everyone, he chose Matt to come to the hospital with him. Not Karen, Matt. He had the choice between the most empathetic person either of them have ever met, and Matt, someone so far out of touch with his own feelings, living in denial has become the standard for him. Foggy chose the latter, for whatever reason he doesn’t even seem to know himself. It just felt like the most natural thing to do, he told Matt when he asked his best friend, “Why me?”

He should feel honored that he trusts him that much, but being trapped in the sterile four walls of the hospital he only connects bad memories to while Foggy is stuck in the queue for an X-ray feels more like torture than an honorable act. 

The loud, demanding voices of the nurses, the painful groans and soft cries coming from the patients in the waiting area of the emergency room a few doors down, and the obnoxious beeping of the machines lining the walls in every room are like a swarm of bees in Matt’s inner ear. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t get them out. He’s allergic to them.

The room smells of disinfectant, blood, and other bodily fluids. He tries to focus on his cologne and the scentless laundry detergent he has grown so accustomed to over the years, but the balm only lasts for a few seconds before the wound reopens and his senses are flooded.

Matt keeps rhythmically tapping his fingers on his thigh. How much longer he can sit on this uncomfortable plastic chair in front of the radiology area and wait for Foggy to return, he doesn’t know. It won’t be long now until he loses his mind. He is about to drown in his own misery.

He feels the desperate urge to land his fist in the wall next to him. He wants to scream, cry, maybe even both—this night is not going well. He hasn’t had a good night in weeks. Tonight though, he’s stuck in the hospital rather than outside, doing something against the injustice he is forced to listen to every day.

The hits he took the previous night were pretty severe, and his ribs still hurt. The numb ache that tears through him whenever he moves is a temporary relief from the pain induced by the noise around him. Whatever bits of sanity he tries holding onto eventually slip through his fingers. 

Eventually, he can’t take it anymore. He gets up, his head tilting toward Foggy’s elevated heartbeat. He’s still in line. Fifth, probably.

Matt taps his cane against the floor, making his way down the hallway. He’s not quite sure where he’s going or where he will land, he just knows that he needs to get out of there as fast as possible.

Rounding the hundredth corner of the evening, the sound of clattering metal trays and medical supplies disappears behind layers of drywall and automatic doors. Matt takes a moment, and he realizes that right here—right where he is now—he can finally breathe again.

The sound travels more easily. The air wafting through the vents and over the cotton sheets on a row of empty beds is the only sound that meets his ears. They’re lined against one side of the wall. The rooms are empty, the doors locked. It seems as if in a moment of desperation, he found his way to one of the abandoned parts of the hospital. 

A lack of funding caused Metro General to cut their losses. It certainly wasn’t an easy decision, but with capitalism on the rise, public hospitals are barely holding on.

Even though the truth is depressing, Matt still can’t believe his luck when he realizes how quiet it is. That may be a selfish thought, but he can't help it. The world is always so loud and uncomfortable. Finding someplace quiet after torturing himself in the waiting room for hours feels like heaven on earth on such a busy night.

The fog dulling his senses finally dissipates. He takes a deep breath. The air is cleaner here. No disinfectant, only the faint scent of plastic and dust; he wouldn't have thought it possible that he would ever consider that combination a blessing.

That’s when he hears it—a slightly elevated heartbeat followed by a series of muffled sobs. He got so caught up in the fact that he finally found what he was looking for amidst the chaos that he forgot to fan out his hearing.

Despite what he originally believed, he isn’t alone.

The air smells of the salty essence of human tears. Matt stops dead in his tracks, not sure whether to continue his journey or to turn around and return to the uncomfortable plastic chair in front of the radiology department.

“This nervous breakdown space is occupied,” your soft voice bounces off the high walls. It’s thick with exhaustion. Pain. Loss. He almost recoils at the all-too-familiar feeling it elicits in him.

Matt keeps his cane hugged tight to his chest, his knuckles whitening with how hard he is gripping the base. “Oh, I...I’m sorry,” he says, careful to keep his voice light. “I didn’t catch you there.”

You’re essentially a stranger to him. A troubled one, at that. You must have your share of problems or you wouldn’t be here. You wouldn’t be crying your eyes out. He doesn’t want to intrude, but he also can’t turn around. Not now, not anymore. You’ve already noticed him.

You sniffle, your hands wiping against the soft skin of your reddened cheeks. For a moment, your heartbeat picks up in speed before returning to its normal rhythm. “It’s alright,” you assure him.

Matt picks up on the faintest hint of disinfectant and the scent of antibacterial soap on you now, maybe a little blood, and definitely antiseptic laundry detergent—you’re wearing medical scrubs.

Your shampoo smells of vanilla and some herbal element he can’t quite identify just yet. Your perfume isn’t expensive, just enough to last through a long shift and filter the sweat that is seeping out of your pores. It’s not unpleasant. You smell like someone who’s been working hard and far past your limits, too.

“Do you need something?” you ask him. 

He pauses for a moment, rethinking his answer. His lips purse. He’s not sure how to answer that without completely giving himself away.

Your eyebrows raise slightly.

“Oh, just…some peace and quiet,” Matt says, finally finding his voice again. It sounds a bit more nervous than he would like to admit.

The chuckle you exhale is one of surprise and possibly even a bit of genuine amusement. “Yeah,” you sniffle, “I know that feeling.”

���Well, I’ll, uh, leave you to it. Sorry again.”

“No. Don’t.”

Matt stops in his tracks when the words pass your lips. 

You pat the space beside you. Your perfume becomes a little clearer. It’s so natural, so… you. He could get high off of it. Or maybe it’s just the sleep deprivation catching up to him. 

“This is the only quiet corner in this hospital,” you tell him. “Trust me. Underfunding has its perks for introverts. Rest in peace to about thirty internal medicine beds, but lucky me.”

Your chuckle echoes bitterly off the walls. You use humor to cope, apparently, but you’ve run out of strength to pretend.

His cane begins to gently pave the way as he makes his way forward. “Do you mind?” Matt nods toward the bed you’re sitting on. 

You pat the mattress again with a shake of your head. “Not at all.”

Gentle seems to be the one word that is consistent with everything you do. He can’t get this picture he has painted of you based on the sound of your voice out of his head. Maybe you’re an angel and he has officially gone insane, or maybe there are just a lot more good people left in this world than he originally thought. 

Matt folds his cane and skillfully sits down on the edge of the mattress. You smell even better up close. Your heartbeat reminds him of a beautiful symphony, no longer as erratic as when he first picked up on your presence. 

“I’m Matthew, by the way,” he says.

He can hear a sudden uptick in your heartbeat. He may have just imagined it. You suck in a sharp breath, and he’s sure he didn’t imagine that, but then you lift your hand to take his.

“Olivia,” you say. 

Matt listens closely. You have no reason to lie about your name. Your heartbeat may be faster, but it isn’t a lie. You just seem a lot more nervous and unsure than before. It doesn’t quite make sense why you would be unsure about your own name.

“Nice to meet you, Olivia.” His lips curl into a soft smile.

You smile back, he can hear it, but it lacks an essence of truth. You’re trying hard to seem like you’re okay. It’s not your fault that his senses are sensitive to all changes in the human body, even in that of a stranger he just met.

You’ve been crying, so of course, you wouldn’t be alright. The question is, why? 

“I take it you’re not part of the staff,” you say into the silence.  

“No.” Matt chuckles. “I, uh, have a friend with a dislocated shoulder,” he says.

“Ah! Let me guess, his doctor in the ER reduced the dislocation but insisted on doing an X-ray just in case, so now you have to wait because radiology has a hold-up longer than the Nile?”

A laugh rumbles through his chest. “Yeah, that… that’s pretty accurate.”

“It’s always like this,” you say. “A dislocated shoulder doesn’t have priority. We have bigger fish to fry.”

“You work here?” he dares to ask. 

You pull at the bottom of your scrub top. “Guilty as charged. Trauma surgery. I’ve been an attending here for a little over two years now.”

“Oh, wow! That’s…that’s incredible.”

Matt has encountered his fair share of doctors in the past, but no one has ever been quite like you. You’re unique. Mysterious. An enigma. You have piqued his curiosity, to say the least, and your profession only adds to the pile of interesting things he can ponder about.

You smile at him again, but it’s still not a genuine one. “Thanks,” you drag the last syllable out, the air deflating your lungs.

He swallows. “Or it isn’t. I didn’t mean to–”

“No, that’s not… some days just aren’t that rewarding,” you say. “That’s all.”

“And today has been one of those days?” Matt asks.

“Yeah, something like that.”

Your eyes roam over him once again.

He reaches for his hair, running his hand through it. He ruffles the brown strands until they’re covering his left temple. Matt’s not sure if you saw; there is a high chance that you did, but he can't anticipate your behavior. Not yet. 

You let out a longer breath. “Not a fan of hospitals, I take it?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “It gets… loud,” he says. 

“Sensitivity to sound.” You nod. “Noted.”

He hears the fabric of your scrubs brushing against your skin and the cotton sheets on the bed. You cross your legs, opening yourself up to him just slightly, and he wonders if you really are comfortable around him or if you’re just being kind. 

“Probably to smell as well? Feeling? Taste?” There is a soft smile laced in your voice. This time, it’s real. 

Matt chuckles. You hit the nail right on the head. You’re simply not aware of how sensitive he is to these things. “Pretty sensitive, yeah,” he says. 

That about sums it up. You nod, but you don’t push him any further. 

“Well,” you say, “The ER is pretty disgusting. And loud. And to be forced to wait in front of radiology is probably a scenario they offer as a torture device in one of the seven circles of hell.”

He can’t help himself, “It’s nine, actually.”

“Sorry?”

“Nine circles,” Matt clarifies, his lips twitching in a faint grin. “Dante’s Inferno. A good Catholic boy’s guilty pleasure.”

You let out a genuine laugh this time, and it warms his senses. It’s a rare sound in a place filled with so much pain. He can almost hear the weight from your shoulders hit the floor. The tension in the air seems to ease, if only for a moment. You allow to let yourself go. 

Your grin turns into a smirk. “Catholic, huh?” you retort. 

“Since the day I was born,” he says. “Are you religious?”

That seems to steal your breath away. You have no words. For a full minute, silence settles in between the two of you. It’s almost uncomfortable, and Matt fears he must have crossed a line. He just doesn’t know how to apologize for something he is truly curious about. 

The topic of God and religion seems to hit a nerve when it’s not used in a humorous context. There are many reasons why that could be. He spends every day battling his own religious trauma and the demons that he feels he’s harboring deep inside, but he still holds on tight to his faith. If he doesn’t have an excuse—if he doesn’t have anything to hold onto other than what broken self-respect he has left—where would he be?

You finally clear your throat after what feels like an eternity. “No,” it’s a simple answer. “I don’t believe that there is a God.”

Your mouth stays open. You want to say something else, but your lips close within seconds after the thought has passed by you, and you swallow it. He wonders what he could have learned about you if you had allowed yourself to say what you were truly thinking when the words first left your mouth. You’re holding back, and it is audible. It might even be visible. Your cheeks are running hot. 

Matt nods. He doesn’t question you. Your beliefs are yours. Most of the time, he doesn’t even believe that there is a God himself. 

“It’s hard to keep the faith in this world, especially when you work so hard every day trying to save people’s lives. When you are forced to see what the system does to those who can’t defend themselves over and over again, but you can’t do anything about it. Or when you see what people do to each other. I mean, the cruelty of human beings is unmatched, and it makes you wonder if God is just a sadist, or if maybe he isn’t even real because a gracious God wouldn’t let innocent children die,” you cut yourself off in an instant, and he tilts his head toward you in surprise. 

Your breath shudders. “I… I’ve seen too much bad to believe that there is an all-merciful God,” you say. “So I simply don’t.”

You try to meet his eyes, but all you see is your reflection in the red of his rounded glasses. Your heart breaks a little, he can hear it. Your shoulders slump. You’re defeated.

He isn’t sure how to react to that. How to help. How to be a decent human being. Matt just doesn’t have the answers you need, and it makes him question his own faith for a minute. Not that he has ever not questioned it; his relationship with God is as complicated as it gets.

You catch yourself after a moment of staring into the void of his glasses. “But… that’s my opinion. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“I’m not offended,” Matt says.

You were smiling, and now you’re not anymore. He doesn’t like that. He liked it more when you were more open with him. Your legs have moved back to your chest, your arms clinging to them. You’ve retreated. 

“Sorry,” you whisper. The edge in your voice breaks his heart. 

He shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. I get it. Injustice…it’s a parasite. I’ve encountered my fair share of good people who deserved better than what they got. You try and you fail over and over again because the world isn't fair. I’d be the last person to judge you for not sharing my beliefs.” He breaks off in a chuckle. “I'm not that kind of guy.”

Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline. “What is that you do again?” You didn’t ask that question before.

“I’m a lawyer,” he states. “Defense attorney.”

“Wow,” you let out a soft puff of air, “And you chose to go to Metro General instead of jumping on the big money train to the Upper East Side?” 

Although your tone is joking, Matt can tell that there is an ounce of truth in your words.  

He hides his laugh behind a cough. He’s not sure if he’s surprised or if he actually finds that assumption hilarious. Maybe a bit of both.

“Oh, no.” He shakes his head. “I have never even been in the same station as the big money train.”

“Oh?”

“No. We, my partner and I, do pro-bono work. We don't get paid for our services. Well, other than baked goods and overdue bills in the mail, of course.”

You chuckle. “That’s a relief. Not so much for your bank account, but ethically.”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry for assuming. That was prejudiced of me,” you say. “I’m not trying to judge you. I’m sorry. Rich or not, it’s none of my business.”

Matt shrugs. “It's okay. Lawyers and doctors are the two professions so many think make millions of Dollars a year, and while that may be the case for a few, a lot of us just… don’t,” he says.

“Amen! If I had a drink, I’d toast to that.”

“Yeah, well, an intoxicated doctor would not fare well in the legal sense.”

“You think that would end my career?”

“I can’t even give you good legal advice other than, don’t.”

Your giggle turns into a laugh. “Thank you for the advice, counselor.”

He joins in. “Anytime.” 

For a moment, only the two of you exist. Matt adjusts his position, but he doesn’t take his bruised ribs into account. His wince is barely audible, yet you notice it in an instant. And when his hair slips, you can see the gash on his forehead. The one he tried to stitch up himself but probably did an awful job at concealing. 

Your eyes narrow in concern. “What happened to you?” your voice barely breeches the sound barrier. 

“Oh, nothing,” he tries to shrug it off. “Just an accident.”

“An accident?”

“I am blind, you know. I tripped, hit my head. It happens.”

“Hm.” Much to his surprise, you don’t press him further. Instead, you gently reach out to brush the sweaty strand of hair from his face that he used to cover up the aftermath of his latest endeavor. 

Now that he thinks about it, his ribs really do hurt. He’s sure nothing is broken, but they are severely bruised. Even he can feel the blood pooling under the skin. 

You bite your lip, not wanting to pry. The urge is obvious to him, but only to him. You’re good at your job. You focus on the task at hand. That is probably why you became a doctor in the first place; to help people, not to pry. 

But Matt Murdock doesn’t need help. 

“It’s fine,” he assures you. 

You nod. “I believe you.”

You don’t. You’re lying. He appreciates the effort though. You try your best at making him feel comfortable and welcome. Asking questions would only drive him away; you wouldn’t be able to satiate your pathological need to help. It’s who you are.

“Whoever patched this up did a terrible job,” you say, “and I don’t want to know who did it because if you tell me it was you, I will lose my mind, so, I choose to believe you for the sake of my own sanity.”

His lips part in a soft laugh. “Yeah, you don't wanna know,” he says.

“Can I fix it?"

He opens his mouth to decline, “You don’t have to, I–”

“Please.” 

There is no arguing with you, it seems.

Your footsteps echo in the empty hallway. One of the drawers in the cart across from the bed slides open at your touch. Matt can hear the distinct crinkle of packaging and the clanking of metal. When you return to his side, your steps are a little heavier. 

“I’m going to clean the wound and then apply a butterfly bandage to help the skin grow back together,” you explain. “The cut isn't that deep, but you must’ve hit your head pretty hard when you fell. I can’t force you to get a head CT, so… If you experience any nausea or neurological deficits in the next few days, you should come back to run some tests. But—and that is not my expert medical opinion because I don’t have the tests to back it up—I think it should be fine to heal on its own.”

“Any other advice, Doc?” he jokes. 

“Well, I can’t give the same good news about your bruised ribs.” You only have to place your hand on his side and his lips come to press tightly together. “I’m guessing third and fourth,” you say. “If one of them is fractured, it makes you run at risk for internal bleeding, but to see the extent of your injuries, we’d have to get an MRI. That is not my call to make. I can’t force you to get your battle scars checked out, I can just advise you to think about it. Really think about it.”

Matt sighs. His laughter has long died. “I know.”

He doesn’t want to repeat himself. He’s fine. He has to pretend that he’s fine because he doesn’t have time for doctors or questions. Neither you nor the law can protect him from the damage that the truth would do. 

You’re disappointed, but you swallow your pride. With delicate precision, you start cleaning the wound on his forehead, the cotton swab dabbing at the dried blood. He winces at the sting of antiseptic, a subtle twitch in response to the pain.

“Sorry,” you murmur.

Matt manages a half-smile. “It’s alright. I’ve had worse.”

That doesn’t make you feel better, but you accept it. You’ve learned to respect your patients’ wishes, even if that means swallowing a lie. 

As you work, your fingers graze over his skin with a careful tenderness. It’s a stark contrast to the harshness of the world he navigates outside—a double-edged sword. If he doesn’t go out there, more people die or get hurt. He would sustain the same injuries over and over again and almost die rather than pretend that evil isn’t lurking right outside his window every night. And there is a bigger storm brewing in the distance, one he isn’t fully prepared for. 

Yet.

You finish cleaning the wound and proceed to carefully apply a fresh bandage. Matt can feel the cool adhesive against his skin. Your touch is soothing, almost comforting, and he allows himself to relax.

“There,” you announce softly. “All patched up.”

Matt lifts his hand to touch the bandage, a habit he developed over the years to reassure himself that someone cared enough to tend to his wounds. “Thank you,” he answers. 

“No biggie.” You shrug with a tiny smile, and that makes him smile, too. It shows him that while you are displeased with his lack of respect for himself and his health, you aren’t mad at him. You just care.

The shrill beeping of your pager tears a headache through his skull.

You curse under your breath. “I’m so sorry,” you say as you skim over the text that has been sent to you. “The, uh—the ER needs me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he quickly responds. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Go. Save a life!”

You’re reluctant at first, but then your lips curl into a broader, more genuine smile, and in the heat of the moment, you grab his hand. “It was nice meeting you, Matthew,” you say. “Take care of yourself.” 

Your footsteps retreat and your heartbeat gets fainter as you walk down the hallway. He’s speechless. He doesn’t even remember how to say goodbye. 

“Oh, and do me a favor?” You stop momentarily just to ask him, “Get those ribs checked out?”

His mouth opens and closes like that of a fish on dry land. “Sure,” he says. 

“Thank you,” these are your last words to him before you take off running. 

Both of you know though that once he is out of Metro General and on his way home, he won’t come back. Not for himself, at least. And it is something you have to accept as much as he has to accept the fact that you are long gone, off to save a life in the very four walls that seemed so scary to him all alone only fifteen minutes ago.

Tag List: @shiorimakibawrites @allllium @siampie @auroraslibrary @roseallisonparker @abucketofweird @thatonegamefish @capylore @kniselle @sumo-b98 @peachstarliight @littlehappyperson @danzer8705

[lirarere]

relationship headcanon with Peter

Peter Maximoff\Quicksilver(X-Men) x reader

notes: I still have a strong hyperfixation on Peter, and I'm still stupidly in love with this mutant, I miss Peter in real life(

warning: bad english, silly fluff, mention of the reader being Xavier's adopted child (very briefly), possibly OOC Xavier lol, mention of movie plots (not too much), some mention of self-hatred (Peter), daddy Issues, mention of depressive episodes

words: 932

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

★ imagine that you met him when you pulled Eric out of the Pentagon (and imagine that Xavier is your adoptive father), well, he flirted with you a lot and persistently and, well, maybe Xavier wanted to kill him a little (?) (yes, in my headcanons Xavier this is exactly the kind of father, please don’t hit me)

★ but nevertheless, you decided to stay and not fly to Paris, or rather, it was your father who decided, he thought it was better to leave you with a teenage guy (SOS SOS NO BOYS ❗❗❗) than to put you in danger (especially considering that Eric is on board)

★ and you decided to hang out with Peter, like you were bored and he seemed like a nice guy and you both listened to Pink Floyd, so why not?

★ you hung out all day, and it was a great day, you did literally everything you could and perhaps also became a kleptomaniac (Peter seems to be a very bad influence on you)

★ you separated, but decided to continue communicating, although you were gradually moving away because of your studies, helping your father, etc., but for some reason you missed Peter, he seemed so familiar, it was so easy with him, and even despite the fact that he was always flirting (with everyone), he did not cross the boundaries and, in principle, seemed not tojust like all the other boys.

★ and then the apocalypse, Peter told you that he is Eric's son, and much more. so much has happened lately that you didn’t even understand when it all ended and when Peter decided to stay at school, but you were glad for this coincidence of circumstances.

★ you had time to catch up, which you were both very happy about, and Peter definitely fell first and harder.

★ he decided to hide it because, well, he’s clearly not in your league, you clearly could have someone better and cooler and more beautiful than him, Peter didn’t even understand why you were friends with him.

★ but you definitely fell in love with this gray-haired kleptomaniac, and unlike him, you didn’t think for a long time and almost immediately confessed your feelings to him. In general, it’s so banal, but you started dating.

★ uhh he is definitely a very gentle and sensitive lover, he is 100% master of all types of love, he will tell you forever about how much he loves you and how beautiful\handsome you are even if nothing has changed about you:

—god, baby! you are so beautiful\handsome today, you are simply beautiful\handsome!

—Peter, literally nothing has changed since last day.

—shh, it doesn’t matter, you’re always stunning.

★ baby, darling, ray of light, my love, etc. - absolutely all pet names Peter will use in relation to you.

★ he will hug you forever, like.. constantly, sometimes some mutants think that you have already grown together (children constantly shout “EWW”)

★ he will definitely buy you something (steal), like literally you just mentioned that you want (something) and the next second he’s standing there with it lol.

★ he is still a person with his own feelings and thoughts, so sometimes you have to calm him down from attacks of self-flagellation and self-hatred, you tell him that he is great, that he is the best person on earth, etc., and he will definitely cry.

★ continuing on this topic, he still has not told his father that he is his son, and he suffers greatly from this, either because of the all-consuming desire to say it or because of some subconscious resentment towards Eric. you will definitely support him in any case and listen to his thoughts on this matter.

★ he just lies his head on your lap and talks about his feelings and experiences, and you just stroke his head, combing his soft hair.

★ but don’t worry, this is not a one-sided game, he also supports you and will do everything (and when I say everything I mean ABSOLUTELY everything) to make you happy and if you need to distract you from all your worries.

★ if you have depressive episodes, he will do all the housework for you, clean, cook, even if he needs to take you to the bathroom and wash your hair, you are the best thing that has happened to him, a small thing can do this to you, regarding how much love there is you give it to him.

★ sometimes he thinks that he is unworthy of you and you always scold him (kindly) for these thoughts, because why does he even think so, he is the best boy on earth, this should not be in doubt.

★ you ship your fathers as a joke (SORRY—)

★ remembering Xavier by the way, at some point he accepted that you were together, although he still tries to take care of you (and it seems to you that he threatened Peter a couple of times, saying something like “if I hear even one bad thought about my child in your head..." )

★ btw, I have headcanons of Peter's jealousy.

★ almost every evening you have a kissing session while watching a movie, no matter what, after 5 minutes they will already forget about film.

★ dates in arcade machines are the best that could be, in principle, every date with Peter is the best that could be.

★ to summarize, Peter is the best (anyone doubted?), He is the best thing that could happen in this life. he's definitely 37637262726\10.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

god I love Peter, I want him in real life or his kinnie in my life (please if you are Peter's kinn text me—)

sorry if there are mistakes here, I wrote this very sleepy :(

masterlist

♡rere

[serendipityandbenevolence]

I gotta say, when I passed out last night after writing this post, I didn't expect to wake up to people actually liking it. but hey! thanks for the support. As per my little footnote (if you didn't read it then sucks to be you ig) the people who commented got first choice of which characters im going to write. love y'all by the way <3 which means that first up is... Dottore! (as requested by @amber-sekio and @gallantys)

(I am not playing rn when I say that I spent a large amount of time reading Dottore x reader fanfic so I could figure out how the hell to write him and this is probably still ooc but i did my best)

Contains - Yandere behavior (kept to a minimum though) dottore being a charming ray of a human (he mentions enslaving other countries), discussions of blood and injuries

"Dottore?"

The silence from the hallway was almost deafening. The sudden intense quiet was broken only by the gentle crackle of the fire, a welcome reprieve as your words hung in the air. Perhaps it was stupid, to call for a person who may not be there and who, of all the Harbingers, might be the most likely to still attempt to kill you. A foolish whim, but nearly dying does funny things to a person's rational.

Your door slid open silently, revealing the Doctor himself peering in at you. He did not appear to be wearing his mask, but with the low light and strands of blue hair covering his face, you couldn't make out his features well.

"Yes? Can I help you?"

Something was wrong. His voice was too soft, his words too gentle, the whole demeanor was wrong. You knew he had segments that acted differently, but you couldn't imagine Dottore ever being that kind sounding. But you were in too deep.

"Can you come in here, please? I need to ask you a question."

A few murmurs struck up behind him, but Dottore simply nodded and stepped into the room, turning his back to you as shut the door.

"You know..." he mused as he clicked the lock shut.

Ah, there it was. With the door closed, his voice changed, with that hint of cruelty and mania that you had come to associate with him lacing his words. His blood red eyes bored into you, a sly smile creeping across his face.

"Oh, what's with the expression? You seem a little scared of me, Divine One. Am I not as nice as you assumed?"

He didn't allow you to answer, pacing closer to where you lay, buried beneath the pile of blankets.

"There's really no need to be scared of me. After all, I was the one who nursed you so lovingly back to health when you were brought here out of the cold. Aren't I so generous?"

"You healed me?"

You didn't bother hiding your concern. You kicked off your pile of blankets and assessed your body, trying to see if any of your organs were missing.

"My my, do you have such little faith in me? I am a doctor after all. One of the best I'll have you know."

He leaned against the wall by your bedside, giving you a rather unnerving grin.

"Well, you have my undivided attention. What was it that you wanted to ask me?"

You were starting to think that it was a very bad idea to ask for Dottore, but you also suspected that saying you wanted to talk to someone else would go over even worse.

"Yes, I just...wanted to know what I missed while I was asleep. You know, with the other nations."

"Ahh, of course! Well, upon some reflection they seem to have come to the conclusion that you are the actual creator and not a 'fake' as they so cruelly labelled you. Needless to say, quite a few letters of apology have been sent begging for your forgiveness for their dreadful ignorance. Including-"

He reached over to you, laying a shockingly gentle hand upon your bandaged side.

"-the one who nearly killed you."

"You know who it is?" you asked in surprise.

"But of course! Simply assessing your wound, I could tell the weapon and the particular style of it, which made it rather easy to cross-referencing that with the time and location that you were attacked and deduce your attacker with little difficulty. "

"Really?"

He scoffed. "No, of course not. They mentioned in their letter that they were the one who harmed you."

Dottore stepped away from you, pacing towards the door as he pulled a crumpled note from his pocket and tossed it onto the end of your bed.

"You should read it sometime, it is truly a delightfully pathetic read. They only made one mistake."

"Mistake?"

He turned to look at you and you saw that all of the cruel humor that had covered his face was gone, replaced with an infinitely scarier coldness.

"They signed their name. So now, I know exactly who will be my next experiment, when we invade the other nations."

There was silence for a moment, before his features softened and he let out a soft laugh.

"You should sleep. It's the best medicine after all. We can discuss this more in the morning."

Dottore went to turn from you once more, but paused as you opened your mouth.

"Dottore, burn the letter. I don't want to read what they have to say."

A wicked grin flashed across his face as he snatched the letter back up and strode towards the fire.

"You know, I think-"

He tossed the letter into the embers and watched as it instantly caught alight.

"-that you and I will get along very, very well."

Dottore pulled the door open and gave you one last comment before leaving, not even turning his head.

"Sweet dreams, Your Grace."

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

That took me so long to write guys 😭 but anyway i hope you liked it! like i said earlier, i struggle a bit with dottore because he has all his different segments with different personalities but i think this turned out okay.

Also, the order for the next few harbingers will go as such

Tartaglia- requested by @gallantys and @followingyou247

Pierro - requested by @mistresssasori

Capitano - requested by @moonlite-drabbles @megsthings and @legendarysacrificer-blog (yall really love him clearly)

If you guys want to help me pick the order after that, go ahead in the comments!

also tagging @heizoubeloved in this because you mentioned wanting to see more!

[slashersidewhore]

How would different slashers react to an s/o who has a service dog? Please include Jason Voorhees thank you!

Slashers! HC S/O with a service dog

Slashers x gn!reader

Including Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Thomas Hewitt, and Vincent Sinclair

Warnings: Beefy murder boyfriends, Established relationships, talk/mentions of murder, mentioned shitty people, cutesy stuff

Requests are open! Inbox or ask!

Michael Myers

A service dog 👀

…

Michael isn’t exactly a ray of sunshine, nor someone who cares at all about those around him

I can see him being cold seemingly distant in a relationship, although deep rooted with insecurity and self doubt

I mean he was locked up for years without proper psychiatric treatment

He knows what it means to be seen differently, not understood and frankly not given a shit about, whatever the reason you have a service dog for, he can relate it to some degree

Stalking. This man is a literal psychopathic murder, he can’t be seen with you out in public, but leaving you unwatched? Unprotected? Not happening.

Most of the time you notice a pair of eyes on you, comforted by the fact the man is somewhere keeping you safe with his presence

Other times, you’re distracted by certain people

You know those people when it comes to service dogs, we all do

The ones that feel inclined to pet it, or insist if you say no, or better yet question why you even need a service dog in the first place

Yeah they aren’t alive for much longer, especially considering the threatening man clenching a knife a few blocks away, heavy breathing under his mask

He doesn’t give a shit about your dog

The one thing keeping him from killing the mutt is you, the fact that whenever he’s not around, he knows that little guy will always be there for you

Definitely doesn’t like the dog

Not one bit

And no, that time you caught him awkwardly patting the dogs head doesn’t mean anything

Jason Voorhees

This man adores animals, and you

So having a s/o with a dog? Best package deal

A tad bit nervous early in the relationship, doesn’t want to make the poor animal hate him and in proxy, lose you

Someone tries to pet it without asking? Yeah no, not on his watch, the dog is for your comfortably and safety, not for senseless teenagers to bother

Whatever the reason you need it for, he’s always there to lend a helping hand

I can imagine he’s a protective lover in general, wants to keep you safe no matter what, especially since you have a service dog

Personally labels the food and water bowl with your dogs name, has created a schedule for feeding and going out

Knowing he keeps various traps around the camp and forest, Jason is normally always at your side if you feel like going out, walking you to the edge of camp or just keeping an eye out

This one time you nearly stepped in a bear trap, before Jason had become more clingy about you out alone

If it wasn’t for your dog, you probably would’ve lost a foot

Imagine this lumbering, beaten down and hardened man nervous about petting it, his large, scarred hand shaking like a leaf as he gently rests his palm against its head, softly repeating the motion

You don’t have to imagine it though, because it’s the same every time he gives the dog any sort of affection

To Jason, the dog that helps you is an extension of his own love for you, if this furry friend is taken care of and kept safe, then so are you

It’s a win win

Thomas Hewitt

You have two service dogs

One is huge, watchful and protective, keeping track of each step you make and when something could go possibly wrong

And the other is an actual dog

Such a softie, feeds it, gives it baths, takes it for walks with you

Even gives the little guy his own nickname, although he would never admit to it

He was a bit awkward at first, wasn’t sure the animal would warm up to him all that much, jokes on him though!

Dogs are great at sniffing out good people, it was definitely a great sign when it was on its hind legs trying to lick Tommy’s face

You have a command where if you need more support, the dog will go track down Thomas to come help you, something he’s glad of considering he unfortunately can’t always be glued to your side

Honestly sometimes forgets dogs can bark for no reason, always gives him a heart attack thinking you’re in need of help or in trouble but it ends up being a squirrel or something

Makes him feel all warm inside when the two of you are wrapped in each other’s arms at night, the fur baby at the end of your shared bed, curled in a ball

Hoyt once made a joke about eating it for dinner

He got bitten

You’ve never seen Thomas so confident in his laughter

Vincent Sinclair

It’s a friend for Jonsey!

Honestly I don’t see Vincent as a huge dog lover, he doesn’t hate them, but they can be too rambunctious for his more calm atmosphere

But… it’s for your support, to keep you grounded and safe

So he can make an exception

Doesn’t want the dog in his studio though, the possibly of dog hair getting mixed with his artwork would tickle his brain the wrong way

Don’t worry though, any help you need, he is more than happy to supply

In fact, this man would probably wear a collar if you asked

Kidding

…

Anyways, thinks the two of you are adorable, regardless of the shiver of disgust when he sees it slobber

Maybe he’s just jealous

I mean he can understand why you needed one before him but now? You have Vincent, your Vinny, your honey, why do you need to rely on anyone but him?

Like babe… you never leave the house? How are you supposed to be there every minute

It’s okay, on a serious note he just wants you to be happy and healthy

So if a dog can keep you that way, he’s all in

Just, don’t give the dog in question too many kisses in front of him

He gets pouty, even as a grown man

Requests are open, inbox or ask!

I hope this worked well for anyone who does have a service dog!

Thank you for reading!

[hitman-two]

Ficklist (Masterlist)

[Radio static] All Hitman Victors, this is Hitman Two Actual, be advised that our ROE remains in place as we roll through Tumblr Territory.

𝐒𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐲 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬: ▸ Grace x Doc Bryan ▸ Humvee Roadtrip with Brad and Ray ▸ Nothing Homoerotic, Sir...

𝐃𝐨𝐜 𝐱 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 ▸ Amazing Grace (Ongoing series) ▸ Bouquet of Flowers 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝 𝐱 𝐍𝐚𝐭𝐞 ▸ Of Thunder and Fireworks (AO3) | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 ▸ The Jalapeno and Cheesy Tears 𝐋𝐢𝐞𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐅𝐢𝐜𝐤: ▸ Smutty HCs 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭: ▸ Smutty HCs ▸ Smut Request (Scheduled to write) 𝐃𝐨𝐜 𝐁𝐫𝐲𝐚𝐧 ▸ Smutty HCs 𝐆𝐮��𝐧𝐲 𝐖𝐲𝐧𝐧 ▸ Gunny x Nate's Sister HC (Scheduled to write) 𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐭 𝐇𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐫 ▸ 𝐑𝐚𝐲 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 ▸ Smutty HCs ▸ One-Shot Requested (Scheduled to write, changes might occur)

[lostinthewiind]

Bad Influence

Ray Person - Generation Kill

Rating: 16+

"Alright, Ray, I've got that hose you were looking for." You approached the humvee and waited for Ray to pull his head out of the hood.

Sweating buckets from a mixture of the hot steam and stifling Iraqi heat, Ray looked up at you. "You brought me hoes? Where?" He whipped his head from left to right.

Unamused, you placed a hand on your hip and stared him down. "Do you want me to fix your humvee for the millionth time or not?"

"Work your magic." Ray stepped away from the vehicle and held his hands up in defeat. "I can't seem to get the bitch working."

"I don't suppose that's the first time you've had trouble turning a bitch on, now is it, Ray?" you quipped as you took over for him and began to replace the radiator hose.

Ray grimaced. "You know, I liked you a lot better when you were the quiet, sweet mechanic."

"Blame yourself for teaching me such inappropriate language then," you accused him. "I was such a nice, innocent girl before I met you."

Ray smirked as he pulled his sunglasses out of his breast pocket and slid them on. "Hell yeah, you were. I love being a bad influence."

"I'm sure you do."

While you worked away on the humvee, thoroughly coating your hands and t-shirt in grease and God knows what other lubricants Ray had used in a desperate attempt to get his vehicle working again, Ray stood by and watched. Every once in a while he would tell a joke or throw in some unwanted advice, but generally speaking, he was useless.

"Do you think when your parents popped out a perfect baby girl, they imagine a future of fixing old ass humvees in the Iraq desert surrounded by some of the most depraved men in the world for her?" he asked out of nowhere.

Wiping the sweat from your brow with the back of your arm, you glared at Ray. "Do you think when your parents popped out a perfect baby boy they-" You paused. "Oh, wait. Never mind."

Stepping away from the vehicle and taking a quick break, you wiped your hands on the rag you carried in your back pocket the best you could before using the bottom on your t-shirt to wipe your face. With your lower stomach exposed, Ray let out a low whistle.

"You know, I think I've had a dream like this before," he said. Arms folded across his chest, he let his eyes trail over your body as you furrowed your brows. "Oh yeah, I've definitely had a dream like this before."

"Ray, if one more HR violation comes out of your mouth, I'm going to leave you and your broken humvee in the dust while the rest of us invade Iraq," you threatened. "Is that what you want?"

"What?" Ray retorted, defensive. "You're hot! It's a compliment."

Ignoring the comments, you returned to the task at hand, hoping you could get it done ASAP and head back to your tent to get out of the sun. With a couple more adjustments, you were sure you could get the hose attached and tightened properly. Hopefully, that would do the trick.

"This would be a lot more fun to watch if you took your shirt off."

You felt your eyes roll into the back of your head. "Ray, shut your fucking mouth before I come over there and shut it for you."

"Is that a threat or a promise?"

Drawing in a deep, calming breath, you focused on fixing the radiator hose. Once it was done, you slammed the hood back down and marched over to Ray, hands still slick with grease.

"Both." You grabbed his face with your hands, completely throwing him off guard. His relentless banter was a constant in your life, but he never actually acted on any of the things he said; and never in a million years did he think you would act on them.

You felt him inhale sharply as you leaned in, lips inches away from his. "I'm both terrified and extremely turned on right now," he whispered.

"Just how I like my men," you whispered back, lips ghosting over his.

"Are we about to kiss right now? Is this actually happening?"

"Ray," you breathed out, and when his hands lifted to your hips, you smirked. "I would rather wrap my mouth around the humvee's exhaust pipe and suck than ever kiss you."

With that, you pulled away and shook your head. Ray stared back at you, completely oblivious to the two greasy hand prints on either side of his face.

"Man, that's fucked up! Messing with a guy's emotions like that," he complained, clearly embarrassed with how quickly he had become caught up in the moment. "I don't want to kiss you anyway. You smell like sweat and grease."

"That'll teach you to harass me when I'm doing you a favour," you said as you grabbed the rag out of your back pocket again. "The humvee should be fine now. Go ahead and give it a try."

Narrowing his eyes at you, Ray slid into the driver's seat and turned the engine over. After a couple sputters, the vehicle roared the life, significantly quieter than it had been previously.

"Hey!" Ray slapped his hands down on the steering wheel. "You did it! And to think they said women weren't any good outside of the kitchen."

A defeated sigh fell from your lips. Then, you smiled. "Never change, Ray."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he replied. "Seriously though, thanks."

Your smile widened. "No problem."

As you turned to leave, you heard Ray clear his throat and stopped to look back at him. "You know, I don't actually think kissing you would be so terrible." His cheeks were redder than usual. "I mean, you do smell like sweat and grease, but we all do so its not exactly a turn off, considering the circumstances."

You chuckled. "And I suppose kissing you wouldn't be as bad as sucking on an exhaust pipe. A marginal increase in enjoyment, probably."

"So ..." He eyed you. "Should we, you know ...?"

"Absolutely not."

"No, yeah, it's probably a bad idea. You're right."

You shook your head as you began to leave. "I'm walking away now before things get weird again. Goodbye, Ray."

"Smart move. Goodbye."

[adventuringblind]

Mend Me

Lando Norris X Reader

Genre: Magical Realism via Superpowers (kind of), A mix of fluff and angst

Summary: After a long history of being running and hiding, she finds someone who isn't afraid of her. Enough to risk it all for him. Feat Oscar and Carlos being a chaotic duo for once.

Warnings: A tad dehumanizing (if you really squint), mentions of hospitals, mentions of blood/wounds/weapons/bruises, reader literally bring someone back to life,

Notes: This is incredibly experimental. I like these kinds of AU's that incorporate racing still. It's fun to see different concepts come to life in a normal world! I'm currently working on a few A/B/O fics and a few other experimental things :)

Side Note: and another request! I had so much fun writing these two and this story in general! I'm hoping to write more like this, or for these two specifically, in the future!

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

This is not the life she envisioned for herself. The running, hiding, forging papers to try and keep herself safe.

Stupid unnatural abilities that she never asked for. A danger rating that started at three and moved up steadily as these abilities expanded. Classified within a unique group that tends to be more isolated due to their nature.

A healer is what her new papers say, a danger rating of five. Her armband required across the globe remains the same color. Unassuming and weak, which is how she needs to be perceived.

Powers, abilities, magic, auras, whatever you want to call them, manifest in different ways. Some are element based, some a material, some deal with things like the mind and soul. Smaller groups include shapeshifters, psychics and mediums, shadow work, and her own group.

Those who deal in life and death are not to be messed with. The healers and the reapers. Which, you would think wouldn't be dangerous. She was lucky enough to not be sentenced to a life in captivity. The reapers can decide who dies when, if they are strong enough. Usually prompted by the healers if they person is out of reach. It's a peaceful passing. Yet that doesn't stop people from fearing that kind of power and control.

No, she's a healer. Lower levels are kept as doctors and nurses. Knitting wounds together, feeling the pain of others, being able to x-ray a body without a machine, are all useful.

Raising people from the dead? yeah, that tends to freak people out.

Her wound transference started small. A scraped knee on a friend became her own, but without a mere itch. Soon it progressed into deep lacerations which bled less on her and healed faster. Then it was bigger injuries like broken bones and concussions.

Training was required for anyone with abilities. In order to see where they fall in rating, where they can be utilized, and make sure they have control over the chaos.

She spent ample time in the local hospital with the other healers. The paramedics had rushed inside. The body nearing death. They flatlined, mangled in different ways, yet she still managed at the age of sixteen to bring them back.

The amount of pain she was in was nearly unbearable. She'd almost killed herself in the process.

Her rating shot up to seven after that and she was whisked away to a facility for people like her. They moved her up to nine after another year. She'd managed to bring back someone who'd been dead at least a day.

She's a necromancer.

Whatever she is, they all knew they couldn't stay in that place. Inevitably escaping with their combined powers. She'd never run so fast. She was provided new classification papers and sent off to a different country.

Which is how she found herself here. Traveling and healing despite the prior adversity. She likes this job, specifically because she's strong enough to manage drivers and personnel in the paddock who hurt themselves with their own abilities, but not enough to look conspicuous. Which is a fine line she's toeing, but she makes it work.

She has regulars. Max Verstappen frequently asks her to come around. Metal tends to slice him when he's not grounded and specifically more agitated. Lando has a tendency to hit himself in the head with things when he's excited and the telekinesis decides he needs something right that second. Carlos shapeshifts into a bear, which comes with its own set of problems (she didn't know she'd have to be a vet, also). Then there is Alex, who always seems to be summoning feral street animals.

The year she started; she was nineteen. Lando and Carlos were teammates then. The Brit a in his sophomore year of the sport. The number of bruises on both drivers was ridiculous due to Lando randomly pushing and pulling random objects was ridiculous. Carlos even joked he might have been doing it on purpose at the time.

It was 2021, and the encouragement of Daniel, that got him to ask her out. An invitation she accepted. It was nice, but there was that lingering fear in the back of her mind that he would figure her out and turn her in.

A night out in 2022 is what changed everything for her. The ability to trust and a longing for connection driving her to spend the night with him.

Now, her suppressor band is strong enough that she's only supposed to wear it for twenty-four hours maximum. She'd put it on when she woke up the morning prior and hadn't taken it off sense. Lando had asked if she wanted to take it off, let their energies meld together. A privilege only people like them have. But she'd declined and he hadn't pushed.

She slept in. The best sleep she'd had in a while, mind you. Yet the pain firing through every nerve of her body had her crying. She hadn't cried in pain in so long. This was entirely new to her, and if she's honest with herself, terrifying to experience.

~~~~~

Lando stirs beside her. His hands cup her face and eyes scan her body as he attempts to understand what's wrong. She's unresponsive and he panics. Enough to call Carlos and ask if it's something to do with her classification of power. She could've overdone it, or it's the residue of a different injury she took on herself. Whatever the case, he needs help.

"Lando, mate, she's a five right?"

"Yeah? why?"

"Suppressor bands for five and up tend to be stronger than four and below."

Lando pauses for a second. "Aren't you a seven?"

"And I take mine off in intervals." Carlos' explanation makes sense. Enough for Lando to calm himself and locate the chain on her wrist. "Just take it off and see if it helps. It might not be immediate though so give it about ten minutes and then call me back."

"Thank you, Carlos."

"Not sure what we'd do without her. Maybe kill ourselves? So, you better keep her alive, mate!"

Lando ends the call. Her body seizing in his arms in a scary kind of way that makes him want to vomit.

The chain doesn't come off easily. The second he manages to unclasp it; she becomes deadweight in his arms. But he doesn't get the kind of relief he is hoping for from it.

The aura she has around her is strong and intense. The kind he's never felt before. It's not nauseating like when Carlos or Max is high on emotion, this is serene. Like he's never felt better in his entire life. Which is strange, considering how strong it is...

He calls Carlos back. This cannot be normal for a five. The fact he has it off, but she's sweating and gripping his hand like she's in turmoil makes him wonder.

"Did it work?"

"Uh - possibly?"

There is a brief pause. "What does that even mean?"

"Okay, so, energy of a five healer, is it supposed to be this intense? Cause I feel like I'm on cloud nine and she's still in pain." He wishes he could reverse it, just get her to settle and not look like she might die until he can help her.

"I'm coming over."

It takes Carlos too long to get to his room. His anxiety is getting worse by the second. She's finally exhausted herself enough to fall asleep, but her energy is still permeating the room in a way he can't describe.

Carlos nearly falls over when he steps inside the door. "You like this?!"

"I feel fantastic!"

"Well good, we know you have a soulbond now. We'll talk more about that later. I'm going to pass out if she doesn't have a suppressor on."

Lando whines, but he knows Carlos won't last like this. He just hopes something reset and bought them time to figure it out. He puts the chain back on her wrist and Carlos immediately looks better.

"Verdict?"

"She's not a five, that's for sure." He inspects the chain and her arm band. Carlos' own brown band is still around his bicep. The shapeshifter colors. Lando's is yellow for the energy category, Max's is red for the secondary elements, and Alex's is brown with a green stripe in the middle for the animal handlers. Her band is white with a black ring in the middle, the reapers are the opposite. The number attached to her band is a five. It's the same as a legal document.

Lando snatches the band off of where it lays next to his own. Sure enough, when he flips is around, A different number is crudely patched over enough that nobody could make it out unless staring for an obscene amount of time.

Lando hands the flipped band to Carlos. "She's a fucking ten."

Carlos hums and examines the elastic in his hands. He then fishes a suppressor ring out of his pocket and switches hers for the one he brought. The energy is still there, but the Spainard doesn't look like he's going to be sick anymore. Lando claims this as a win.

On the other hand, he can't fathom why she didn't trust him enough to tell him. "I don't understand-" The crack in his voice is embarrassing.

Carlos gets him to sit down next to him on the edge of the bed. He places Lando's hand on her shin and they watch the tension she was holding in her body disappear.

"Have you ever seen how the treat anyone six and above?"

"No... you never talk about it."

Carlos sighs. It's a pained one; eyes distant as he recalls memories. "Fives toe the line of being stronger than the people deem safe. These universal numbers used to classify us aren't just for the amount of energy we exert, it's what we can do as well. I shapeshift into a bear, which can be destructive, but I can also do it with fewer breaks and for longer stints."

"What does that have to do with any of this?" Frustration now evident.

"Relax, I'm getting there." Carlos gives him a pointed look and quiets himself. "Six and above tend to have more restrictions. They want to make sure we can't cause any chaos or start wars or something. Reapers are immediately labeled as tens. Healers start small but increase depending. I met a good few back in school that ended up being taken away for some unknown reason."

"So, she's a ten, meaning she can do what?"

"I'm not sure... but she is definitely at risk if anyone were to find out."

Carlos stays with him. Explains to him what is probably happening due to the extreme suppression of this kind of energy. He explains this soulbond thing. How their energies mesh well together which is what was giving him that euphoric feeling earlier. It's not rare, Lando is only a three himself, but for her it is because of the intensity.

It's around midnight when she wakes up, panting and drenched in sweat. Whatever these higher energies are, the seem to communicate for them. Carlos gets next to her and switches the suppressors again. He's giving her the familiarity in a stressful situation with no words.

"Fuck - Lan, I'm so sorry!" Her voice is hoarse and cracked. He wants to tell her that he's fine, that he understands, but words aren't there. Not when she looks this sick.

He opts for the physical contact route instead. The gentle kind, so he doesn't scare her. This hug feels different than any he's had before, but he assumes it's because his aura is actively seeking hers. "We have a soulbond. Our energies mesh together quite nicely."

"So, you know now? You're not going to turn me in?"

"Absolutely not! Carlos has been giving me a crash course and everything. I'm sorry that you are treated so horribly..."

She grips onto his shirt and sobs harder than she has in her entire life. It's broken, and Lando can't help but wonder when the last time somebody cared for her and her abilities alike is. "I'm not leaving you, okay? I might be a three, but I'll do my best to keep you safe." And he means it. He has every intention of keeping her out of the clutches of those who would see her locked away.

~~~~~

Lando convinces her to quite working under the FIA and let him take care of her instead. She still attends to the drivers since she can, because she wants to.

It's never a surpise when she receives a phone call from across the paddock asking for her assistance. It's more fun this way, not having the constant pressure of people watching her for any semblance of too much power.

Carlos keeps a close eye on her when she looks on the verge of overexerting her power or suppressing for too long. He had her and Lando set alarms for when to take it off and put it on again.

2023 comes around, and both her and Lando are more relaxed this year. Car wide, the Brit would rather die, but otherwise, he's fine.

Oscar is a rating six water manipulater. Carlos makes sure he knows where to find him if he ever needs anything. The FIA tends to get on the case of higher ratings.

It's because of that rating that Oscar manages to figure out she's not what she says she is. Lando gets wildly defensive when the Aussie brings it up. She just laughs when he threatens to throw his teammates dinner into his face.

They all get along nicely. Lando manages to not send random objects at Oscar despite various threats, and she still finds herself in every garage.

Then Vegas happens, and everything changes.

The crash replays on the screen, but she can't hear it over the sound of her heart. Their soulbond had only gotten stronger, she can feel his pain and discomfort now because of it.

As an established healer, Jon lets her tail him to where Lando is. The medical team only lets her go so far.

But it's worse than anyone is letting on. She can feel his heart slowing, the internal bleeding more than they originally thought.

He's still alive when the race ends, but he won't be for much longer. They won't let her inside. Oscar and Carlos can barely get past the front desk to where her and Jon are sitting outside the door. Doctors are still working away at a problem they haven't found yet.

"They won't let you in?" Carlos gives a look of utter confusion. "Wouldn't it be helpful to them?"

"Yes, but I'm too emotional to be in an operating room as a five."

Oscar's face lights up. "How far does your energy reach?"

"Decently, why?"

"If me and Carlos take our suppressors off, then we can blame the energy on that."

The three of them take off their suppressor in unison with Jon watching the end of the hall in case someone comes around the corner.

The wall makes it hard to navigate. But she knows Lando's aura like it's her own. She's mapped his entire body, healed him more times than she cares to remember.

The flatline of the moniter rings through her ears.

She finds his heart. Where he's bleeding out, where his ribs are cracked and splitting him open.

And she fixes it.

Lando sits up on the table, heat beating erratically, but he's alive. The doctors don't know what to do with themselves.

They open the door. The only one there is Jon, teary-eyed, but not from sadness despire what he says.

~~~~~

Lando is high on painkillers. Though he wishes his human healer were here to make it better. He just wants to meld with her, thank her without words.

Jon had filled him in on the details. It's not safe for her at the moment, but his teammate has her, and Carlos is on his way back to Lando after helping get her settled.

The Spainard drives him back. Even stopping for food on the way since none of them have eaten and Carlos has this perpetual need to store food for the winter. Lando always gets him honey as a joke.

"When you see her, don't panic. There's blood we have yet to clean up from the incisions they made. But it's mostly just pain and exhaustion."

Lando nods and opens the door. The sight is odd, more so than scary. She's on the bed, pale, and covered in different fluids. Her mouth is open, and Oscar is dripping tiny water droplets inside. Her supressor bracelet has been ditched, but her ring is on so the other two can be around her.

Her eyes drift towards him the closer he gets. "Lan!" She tries to sit up but fails after two seconds and yelps in pain.

"If you'd just take the water and stay put, then you might not be in as much pain." Oscar scolds her, but she just rolls her eyes.

Lando crawls onto the bed next to her. His hand drifts over where he heart is, and he places her hand over his. "I'm alive because of you. I can't - I just - I don't understand why they didn't let you in. You're not dangerous. You saved me."

"Lan, it's okay... I'm happy being considered dangerous as long as I have you around."

"Ay! What are me and Oscar then?!"

"Rivals, according to the media." Oscar muses and drops another bead of water into her mouth.

"That was planned and executed well, okay, we make great rivals." Carlos nearly jams some kind of pastry into Oscar's face, but he opens his mouth just in time. "What am I going to do with you three?"

Lando doesn't have the energy to ponder the question. Him and his lover end up falling asleep at some point. Both of them are still in pain and in desperate need of rest.

He wakes up to a call the next morning from Jon. His trainer is adamant about speaking to all four of them.

Yeah, they all get lectured about how he had to go get tested and was humiliated by the hospital staff when they laughed at Jon's own ability. "Aparently, making people sneeze isn't an ability. But I'm happy you're okay, Lando. I would've missed you, buddy."

"I second that!"

"And a third."

Everyone looks at her expectantly. Some kind of response swirls around in her head. Maybe witty or sarcastic with the way she's smiling to herself.

"If you died, Lan, I would've never forgiven myself." Her energy taps on his. It envelopes them, warm and comforting. Their bond still growing stronger as their souls dance together around them.

"Gross, you two should get a room."

"This is our room!"

"Your point?"

Carlos and Oscar can't stop their laughing fit. Delerious from the long night they had previously and little sleep then managed to get. Still, Lando goes back to being in his own world.

He's wrapped up in her, and she's wrapped up in him. Exactly as it was intended to be.

"Reckon you could make an undead army?"

"Osc - I swear to god-!"

[trancylovecraft]

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

Previous Chapter ☆♡☆ Masterlist ☆♡☆ Next Chapter

AO3 link

CHAPTER TWO: "You crazy-ass cosmonaut, Remember your virtue, Redemption lies plainly in truth"

(IMPORTANT NOTE): So, Decided to turn this into a whole ahh fic. Anyways, This takes place in my SLAYER+ AU. Which is something I haven't talked about but the general jist is that it expands the story of Demon Slayer

So if anything in her seems a little bit off its either because its apart of SLAYER+ or I've just made a mistake.

Thank you!

Impostor syndrome is an internalised thought process which make people doubt their standing or achievements, Believing themselves to be undeserving of praise.

This can make the person in question believe that they are not as great as they are portraying. This syndrome often comes hand in hand with other disorders such as Depression.

Cut, Slice, Stab, Pierce!

The blade's movements flowed through the air and struck like lightning against the demons neck.

It wasn't even aware it was defeated until its head hit the ground.

Bouncing once, Then twice until it rolled away like a running coin.

The demon's head came to a halt. The soft sun rays of the oncoming sunrise started to sizzle at it's skin, Making the edges burn away into fading ashes.

The words he wished to say died on his tongue, Watching as the man only a few feet away from him sheathe his sword and exhale once through his mouth.

It was like the slayer didn't even make any effort to kill him, Like he was just doing another chore.

The demon's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, Trying to find the syllables to say yet the only sound he could produce was only a single vowel.

"H-How..?" He choked out. The sun started to reach his face now, Ashes scorching out and fading in a blitz.

The slayer said nothing, He only turned back to the demon. His eyes shown through the small rifts on his mask, The vivid colour looking back at the demon with.. Nothing.

There wasn't any emotion shining behind his eyes, Not like any other of the demon slayers he had faced before eating them.

Disgust, Pity, Resentment.. None of that was present. Not a burning hatred or a disgust for his kind. Instead he seemed tired, Exhausted even.

The last thing the demon saw before burning up completely was the slayer turning back around, Walking off towards the sun.

Then, His remains dissolved entirely, Fading back into the world from where he came from.

Just like all the others.

☆♡☆

The bowl of udon sat uneaten on the table.

[F/N] held a single chopstick in his hand. He circled it around in the bowl, Watching as the contents rippled around like koi in a pond. By now, The noodles and toppings had cooled down, Being now only lukewarm.

[F/N] stared dead into the bowl, Seemingly enraptured by the movements.

It was early in the morning. [F/N] had been called by the crow and arrived at the swordsmith's village only half an hour after sunrise, Yet it was too late. By the time he got there the battle was already won.

It was an Uppermoon attack, Reportedly both five and four were attacking the village. Except from the Entertainment District incident this was the first time an Uppermoon was seen and actually killed in over one hundred years.

If he didn't take a detour to slay a nearby demon he would of gotten there in time to fight the two. [F/N] chided himself for his stupidity.

"Hey.. You're making that face again.."

[F/N] snapped his head up to look across the table.

Mitsuri Kanroji, The Love Hashira, Sat looking at [F/N] from across the table. She had a look of concern on her face, At least as much concern she could show with a clump of noodles stuffed in her mouth.

Mitsuri, One of the combatants in the fight went up against number four and survived. After winning the fight she had decided it was only right to celebrate with a feast. [F/N], Who was already there at the village was invited to join her.

[F/N] accepted, It was convenient. A way to break the news easily.

"What look?" [F/N] asked. The eyes on his kitsune mask widened with the movements below.

"The face-mask thingy.. The one where you look like you despise your food personally.." Mitsuri explained using several vague hand movements to gesture to [F/N]'s face. "How'd you even eat with that thing on anyways?" She added.

"Oh.. Right." [F/N] mumbled.

Moving his hands up to the leather straps reaching behind his head. Unclasping the clip at the back with precision he placed the mask on the table besides his sword, And suddenly he became a she.

The previous build of a strong athletic man had dissolved into the smaller frame of a young woman in her early twenties. The sleeveless slayer uniform and dragon-patterned haori that fit perfectly before had suddenly became oversized, As if she was wearing a rather large blanket.

"Kyah~! No matter how many time's I see it, It doesn't get any less cool!" Mitsuri gushed. The ghost of a smile graced [F/N]'s face and shook her head, It seemed like Mitsuri was back to her normal self.

"..But even though it was cool, It's not gonna get you out of telling me what's wrong" Mitsuri tutted. Shoving another shrimp kebab into her mouth from the dozens of plates beside her, A mountain compared to [F/N]'s anthill of a bowl.

"Really? Nothing does get past you, Does it?" [F/N] mumbled, Trying to gather her thoughts while catching her breath at the hit of sudden weakness.

"Nope! Now spill. You know you can tell me anything right?" Mitsuri said. She set down her fresh plate of food, Her attention now set fully on the woman in front of her.

[F/N] felt her lip quirk, A sudden anxiety chilling her.

"I.. I guess I was just worried about you, 'Tsuri. Are you sure you're okay? A battle with an Uppermoon is no joke, You know?" [F/N] worried, Checking over her form to check for any wounds or bruises.

It wasn't a lie, [F/N] was worried about Mitsuri. She was her closest companion, The woman she could call her best friend yet [F/N] supposed that was why it was so hard to tell her the real truth.

Mitsuri hummed for a second.

"..Of course I'm okay.. Though I do have to admit the fight did give me a run for my money, And you should of seen the mouth on that demon boy!" Mitsuri exclaimed, Recalling the early details of the battle.

"Really? What'd he say to you?" [F/N] asked.

"He called me a tramp! Can you believe that? I've never heard such foul language come out of anyone, Demon or Human!" Mitsuri exasperated. The usual dramatic tone she always wore was present in her voice, Good. [F/N] could confirm she was alright, Atleast in mind.

"Anyways, I swear! If I wasn't strong enough to survive that blast or my if my breathing style wasn't as fast as it is: I would've been a goner." She concluded, Shaking her head.

"I'm glad you're alright, I'm just sorry I wasn't there to help you" [F/N] replied, Sombreness lacing an undertone of her voice.

"Don't worry about it, I surv- WAIT! What I said just reminded me, I forgot to tell you!" Mitsuri squawked, Suddenly jumping up in her seat.

"Hm?" [F/N] lowered a brow, Prompting her to continue.

"Do you remember those Kamado kids? Tanjiro and Nezuko, Doesn't ring a bell?" Mitsuri questioned.

"Erm.. Who?" [F/N] asked in return.

"You don't remember them? The boy with the checkered haori, The absolutely adorable little demon girl?" Mitsuri squealed as if she was a mother gushing over her children's achievements, Fanning her face to cool down her ever-present blush.

[F/N] hummed and searched through the archive of her memory.

"Nope, Don't think I've met them." [F/N] concluded, Her mind drawing a blank.

"Wait. You showed up late to the meeting right?" Mitsuri snapped her fingers, Suddenly recalling.

"..Yep. If you mean the outside portion then yeah, Missed it." [F/N] said nonchalantly, Finally taking a clump of noodles and moving it up to her mouth.

"Ah, Right. That makes sense then. You should really keep better track of time, [F/N]" Mitsuri scolded lightly, Taking another bite of food. "Anyways, I've decided to send them your way!"

[F/N] paused. The cluster of noodles inches from her lips stopped mid-way through Mitsuri's sentence.

"..What?" [F/N] queried, Lowering the noodles. Maybe she had misheard. Mitsuri quirked a lip.

"Erm.. I decided to send them your way..? The boy, Tanjiro has this special breathing technique… And since you've got the most expertise on breathing styles I kind kind of.. Sent him your way?" Mitsuri said slowly, Trying to pique what kind of reaction [F/N] would have.

She watched as [F/N]'s face morphed into a kind of blank stare, The same one she had while glaring at her soup.

Mitsuri let out a small squeak, Waving her hands about.

"I-I didn't really mean to! It just kind of came up in conversation and I kind of let slip that you might have some information since you've helped others before on this stuff- And.. And he just kind of decided to find you- I didn't know you were coming here so he's already on his way to the Kakushi Base, I'm really sor-" Mitsuri's babbling came to a halt at the feeling of a hand gripping hers, Stopping its movement.

[F/N] sighed lightly and looked back at Mitsuri with a small smile.

"It's fine, 'Tsuri. You don't need to explain yourself, It's just.." [F/N]'s small smile dropped.

[F/N] knew that she needed to tell her eventually, If she didn't get it over with it now then it would be more difficult later on. [F/N] just prayed she'd understand.

"I didn't just come here to celebrate your victory.. I.. I need to tell you something" [F/N] started. Her [E/C] irises met the lime green hue's of Mitsuri's. She stared into them trying to gather up the confidence while Mitsuri only stared back with a concerned gaze as she picked up her chopsticks.

Setting her hands on her lap, She took a deep breath.

"I'm retiring."

Mitsuri dropped the chopsticks.

They fell back onto the plate, The resounding clack! seemed so much louder than it did before as it echoed around the room.

"W-What.. Come again?" Mitsuri stumbled on her words, She was in shock as her shoulders tensed up. The surprised reached her face, Disbelief in her eyes and her jaw slack open.

"I'm retiring, 'Tsuri." [F/N] repeated, Confirming her words to Mitsuri. The silence was deafening.

Suddenly two hands gripped onto [F/N]'s shoulders from across the table, Almost pulling her over.

"What?! Did you get hurt? Did someone die? What happened? You can tell me you know, I won't say a word to anyone!" Mitsuri exclaimed, Shaking [F/N] by the shoulders from across the table.

"Aah! Nothing happened to me, Tsuri! I'm fine!" [F/N] blurted out, Still being shaken around.

Mitsuri lifted her hands off from [F/N]'s shoulders, Yet it wasn't a relief as Mitsuri got up from her seat. [F/N] following close behind her as they met face to face.

"Then what, [F/N]? If you're not hurt or anything then why?" Mitsuri questioned, Her pitch lowering down to a low plead as she got closer to [F/N], Gripping her hand tight.

[F/N] raised their entwined hands, Putting her other hand over Mitsuri's.

"Listen, This isn't something I'm doing on a dime, Okay? I've been thinking about this for a long while now.." [F/N] said.

"Since when?" Mitsuri prodded.

"Since Tengen's retirement.. Since Rengoku's death. It's been on my mind for a long time, And I just think it's time." [F/N] explained. Her voice stung at Mitsuri like a live wire, It sounded strained like something was blocking up her throat.

Mitsuri squeezed [F/N]'s hand tighter.

"[F/N], I can't understand but you need to be with us in the Hashira right now.. We still haven't found a replacement for Rengoku or Tengen. You of all of us can't quit, Not you." Mitsuri argued going closer to [F/N]

"Out of all of us in the Hashira it's you who is the strongest out of all of us, You even beat Gyomei in that department. Do you even remember what you did?" Mitsuri continued.

[F/N] frowned hearing Mitsuri's declarations of grandeur towards her. She looked away, Either in shame or embarrassment she didn't know.

"You're the Soul Hashira, [F/N]! You're the slayer who killed a thousand demons in a year, All on your own. Do you understand the weight of that?" Mitsuri announced.

[F/N] Fujimori, The Soul Hashira. She was the woman who killed one thousand demons in a year, A feat done by no other in recorded history. A feat so big that lower members of the demon slayer corps even doubted she existed, Something only possible by both her reclusive nature and her actual appearance during the day.

The mask. A rather old looking porcelain kitsune mask with black and blue markings, It was a trinket [F/N] had acquired long ago. It had a rather unique effect where whenever [F/N] placed it on her face, She could suddenly change her appearance at will.

She didn't understand it nor did she ever know how it worked but she decided like the vast majority of things that it was better to not look a gift horse in the mouth, A sentiment she had carried ever since childhood.

So, Using it to her advantage [F/N] made herself into the peak version she could be, Or he to be more accurate. An athletic masculine body, More muscle mass than a normal person yet only enough so that it didn't weigh down her movements, Making her both strong and agile in a fight.

It was the entire reason she was able to achieve the title of "Strongest Hashira". That and along with the countless hours of training and meditation, That is.

"Mitsuri.. I understand who I am alright? I know who I am and it doesn't matter to me, It never has. Neither my strength or title.. Even if I did change my mind about this I've already sent my resignation letter to Oyataka-sama, He should be receiving it by tonight.." [F/N] started. The look of determination and finality on her face as she stared Mitsuri straight into the eyes.

"I just.. I feel like my time as a Hashira has ran it's course. After I leave I'm sure Gyomei will be just fine in taking my title.. All my life I've been giving my life and serving other people, I think it's time that I be selfish for once in my life and retire like I should." [F/N] finished, Her stance wide and steady, Unshaken from Mitsuri's argument.

Mitsuri looked at her, The final part of her sentence made her frown once again.

She reached out a hand and placed it firm on her shoulder.

"[F/N].. Is this about him?" Mitsuri whispered, A rare frown painting her face as she looked deep into [F/N]'s eyes for the answer.

[F/N] pried her eyes away from her, Trying to find anywhere except her to look at. Her jaw trembled, Only slightly.

"It is, Isn't it..?" Mitsuri continued quietly.

"Shizuko will be fine without me, Mitsuri!" [F/N] said, Whipping her head back round to face The Love Pillar with a sudden angry tone, Like a nerve had been struck.

Though, Her anger dissipated once she seen the taken aback appearance of Mitsuri.

"I.. Sorry, 'Tsuri. You know I didn't mean that.." [F/N] said, Mimicking Mitsuri's movements by resting her hands on Mitsuri's shoulders.

"No, I shouldn't of brought it up like that.. I'm just surprised, Okay?" She consoled.

[F/N] sighed.

"It's just you're acting like this will be the last time we'll see each other. That's not true, 'Tsuri.. You don't need to worry about me.." [F/N] said quietly, The argument before now mellowed into a discussion.

Mitsuri shook her head.

"We joined together as slayers and fought with each other, I just thought one day we'd both leave together. Like we always have." Mitsuri explained. The onset of tears forming in her eyes were quickly wiped away by [F/N], Who walked over to the food table and picked up two cups of sake, Holding one towards her to which Mitsuri took hesitantly.

"I know, 'Tsuri.. Even though I won't be a slayer tomorrow, I trust that you'll be there for Shizuko, Okay? But tonight I am still a slayer, So please. While this is our last meal as comrades this isn't our last meal as companions. So for the last few hours I'm still on payroll, Let's enjoy tonight." [F/N] said.

Holding her cup of sake up to Mitsuri who smiled at the gesture.

The clinking of the cups signalled the festivities. As celebration Mitsuri had called for more rounds of food, As much as she could imagine (Which was a lot). While [F/N] had called for another few bottles of their strongest sake.

By the time they were done the sun was about to set over the horizon. The crystal clear cerulean had long faded into burnt tangerine skies, Soon to fade into a star-speckled ebony night.

[F/N] had changed into a suitable kimono and her signature haori at this point, Her mask carried in a leather pouch and the large medieval sword hauled on her back with surprising ease.

Mitsuri and [F/N] had walked out past the remains of the village, Their celebration being both of the victory, [F/N]'s retirement, And a final farewell to the memories made inside the houses.

They got past the villagers cleaning up the rubble and packing up their things, Mitsuri stopping and thanking them for their help on their way, Hand in hand with [F/N]. They had called for a carriage to be sent which arrived soon enough, One of the rich tokyo-centered one's for rent coming right down the path being pulled by horses.

"Well then, This is my ride then.." [F/N] concluded as she was greeted by the driver, Who bowed once then helped her up onto the footrail of the vehicle. She looked back at Mitsuri with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, Her hand slipping from Mitsuri's hold.

"I'll see you soon, 'Tsuri" [F/N] said her farewells as she turned around and opened the carriage door, Stepping in.

But suddenly, [F/N] felt herself tugged back by the hand.

She turned around to face Mitsuri, Who seemed just as surprised as [F/N] was at the sudden contact.

"Ah! Sorry, My bad. I didn't mean to do that, Apologies..!" Mitsuri half-heartedly giggled. [F/N] returned it with a curt nod.

"Don't sweat it." [F/N] said, Stepping fully inside the carriage now. However, Mitsuri called out to her.

"Just.. When you get to the Kakushi Base, Don't do anything extreme, Alright?" Mitsuri said with a smile. Yet [F/N] could tell there was something more to it, Something that was just out of reach of [F/N]'s hold.

Instead she returned the smile.

"Of course, Nothing extreme." [F/N] said, Waving her off as the driver closed the door, And with a whip of the reigns the horses took off. Eventually, Mitsuri along with the village grew smaller and smaller, Until they weren't visible at all.

[F/N] laid her head against the glass that was rattling along with the carriages movements along the dirt road. But despite it, Either due to exhaustion or the amount of sake she had drunken, Found it rather easy to go to sleep.

As she felt her remaining consciousness slip away her eyes closed, Embracing the darkness until the blizzard faded into view.

☆♡☆

The sounds of heavy footsteps echoed around the ever-changing space of the Infinity castle.

The reverberation of biwa strings and far-off chatter could be heard from far away, Bouncing off the moving shoji-walls and polished wood floorings. The place smelled like fresh sawdust to the point that it left a lasting impression on the scent of anyone coming in or out.

The dim lighting of the paper lamps and candles alit barely gave any lighting to the movement of the two demon's making their way to the centre of the castle.

The larger of the footsteps strode in front, The other lighter pair trailed along behind the larger pair.

All of Kokushibo's eyes were put dead forward, Set on the task ahead of him. His nagagi kimono wove lightly in the short breeze travelling through the cavern of rooms along with his ponytail swaying with it.

Kaigaku sheepishly trailed behind him from a fair enough distance, His eyes were focused fully on the demon in front of him.

They both had been summoned by Nakime, Assumedly along with the other Uppermoons or at least what was left of them. This was the second time in the same week they were called to the infinity castle and Kokushibo already had a suspicion to why.

Kaigaku however, Hadn't gotten a clue.

"Master.. M-May I ask why is it we have been summoned here today?" Kaigaku stuttered out, Fidgeting with his hands as he eagerly waited on his mentor's answer.

Kaigaku, The newest upper rank after the siblings perished and having the honour of baring the title of Kokushibo's Tsuguko. Of course, The title of Tsuguko suggested that Kaigaku would take over from Kokushibo one day, Which was a complete misnomer.

Kaigaku, Despite being a previous breath wielder with potential had absolutely no chance of passing Kokushibo in power.

He wouldn't dare to anyways, He could barely keep himself together in front of him. Challenging Kokushibo for his spot at number one was simply unthinkable.

"Keep your voice low.. You'll find out.. When we get there" Kokushibo hissed, Keeping his eyes in front of him as he spoke out in a deep, Raspy sort of voice.

Kokushibo could see Kaigaku flinch from the corner of his eyes, A chill running down him at the sound of his voice. Kokushibo hummed. Good, He knew his place.

Eventually they reached the centre of the infinity castle, Looking over the clearing.

The faraway chatter had turned out to be arguing. Douma seemed to be pestering Akaza as usual. Douma seeing a friendly bonding exercise with his subordinates while Akaza only saw it as a taunt, Which was most likely the truth.

"Akaza-dono! Why'd you have to be so cold with me, It's been so long since I've seen you after all!" Douma drawled, A grin plastered wide onto his face like a salesman as he placed another hand onto his shoulder.

Akaza's actions spoke more than his words as a single fist shot up, And in a burst of blood and tendons Douma's arm tore from its socket, Falling helplessly to the ground.

However this only made Douma grin wider, As the limb regrew almost as soon as it was severed.

"It's only been a day, Keep your hand off of me." Akaza said through gritted teeth, Taking a few strides away from Douma.

"Ah! No need to get so offensive now. I guess I've just missed you all so much that it just felt like days! Weeks.. Month even!" Douma mused with a dramatic exclaim, Snapping his fingers together as he watched Akaza walk away.

"Whatever.. Nakime!" Akaza called out, Turning the the woman tuning her biwa only a few feet away on the podium. "The rest of the Uppermoons.. Where are they?" He asked, Steady and firm on his feet.

"Uppermoon one and six have arrived, As for the other two.." Nakime cut herself off, But it didn't matter. Akaza had disingaged and already snapped his head around to look up, Spying both Kokushibo and Kaigaku looking down on them.

Akaza's eyes narrowed as he scrutinized the two above him.

"Upper six.. one" He said, Only giving a nod of respect to Kaigaku: Who nodded back rather feverishly towards his superior.

"Akaza.." Kokushibo drawled. All six of his irises stared him down like an ant under his sandal, A stare that made Akaza's muscles tense and his fists ball up.

"I thought I had reminded you.. Last time.. That you ought to show more respect to your superiors.." Kokushibo started. Though his voice was levelled, Akaza could sense the irritation behind his voice. A feeling they shared mutually.

"Kokushibo-dono..! So glad to see you.." Douma called out. Despite the salesman smile still painted on his face, The cheery voice dimmed into a more cautious tone in Kokushibo's presence. Kokushibo ignored him.

"You are continuing to ignore the hierarchy set in place.. As I've said.. Challenge him to a blood battle if you are unhappy.." Kokushibo finished, His calm tone coming to a finality as the remains echoed around the silent atmosphere of the Infinity castle.

He didn't wait for Akaza's response as his overhanging figure suddenly vanished from view, Making Kaigaku yelp from the sudden disappearance of his mentor while Akaza only muttered something angrily under his breath.

Kokushibo manifested a good bit away from the group, Sitting on his knee's in-between one of the hanging castle halls.

What a waste, He thought. Akaza, Even after being as generous to spare him the first time he challenged Kokushibo to a blood battle, Never took his advice.

The first time, He had knocked him to the ground. It hadn't even been five minutes before he had been truly, utterly defeated.

Akaza had lain on the ground, His limbs barely regenerating as he watched Kokushibo slowly walk up to him. His scrutinizing glare burning into Akaza's soul like the suns ray's to his skin. Taunting him, Looking down on him from his unshakable throne.

It would of been better if Kokushibo had just absorbed him, Akaza thought. Even as he was spared it felt like he was an injured bird, Completely dependant on the mercy of whoever came across him.

He hated that feeling, The feeling of him being completely helpless under another's will. He would of rather been absorbed then feel that for the rest of his existence.

Kokushibo on the other hand had felt as if Akaza was wasting his potential.

He had already gotten to Upper three, His potential was there, Almost glowing. Yet he wasted it with his morals, The ones he had carried over from his human life. Akaza refused to consume women, Even went so far as to never lay a hand on one.

Kokushibo had urged Akaza to give up these morals during their fight, It's why it lasted so long anyways. Women did tend to be more nutritious and by not eating them entirely he was cutting off his food source by 50 percent, And Kokushibo had tried his best to convince him of that.

Yet ever-stubborn Akaza refused, While Kokushibo's position was untouchable the same could be said for Akaza's principles. Akaza was weak and refused to change, To get stronger and instead mainly relied on traditional martial arts training.

As the final strum of the biwa reverberated around the castle, Kokushibo knew that it was barely enough. Akaza couldn't protect who he held dear in his human life, Even though he couldn't remember his past he still held his will strong, Carrying on the memory of who he lost.

Kokushibo felt disgusted, Hatred.. And that same spark of green from his human life. And as the meeting finally began, He started to feel like maybe most of it wasn't directed towards Akaza.

And he felt disgusted at that too.

☆♡☆

The cold gusts of wind hit against [F/N]'s face like titanium whips on bare skin, Creating patches of red skin and aching pain.

The blizzard raged on. Both hailstones and large clumps of snow hurled down onto the forest ground, Coating the ground in a thick layer of avalanche. The trees hit each other in the wind, Beating and smashing into each other in the sheer force of the gales.

It was cold. It was so, so cold.

Every inch of [F/N] felt numb, It ached when she moved. Her chest hurt a lot too, So much more than the cold eating away at her. It felt like someone was constantly turning a iron blade inside of her chest, Making sure every sharp end dug into her chest and cut open frozen blood.

It was a reoccurring nightmare. Every time [F/N] fell asleep she woke up in the same place, In the middle of the woods during a snowstorm.

They had started a good long while ago, Around the time she had first became Fujimori. At first she thought it was just another one-off nightmare and decided to ignore it, After all, Nightmares were common in her line of work.

But when they had continued, Night after night after night. [F/N] had had enough and tried to seek help. Doctors, Experts or anyone that could help her she had ran to asking for assistance, Yet nothing that had been provided to her that could help came along.

So after ages of dealing with the Night terrors with no remedy she had decided to stick it through, To see if it would go away on its own.

So now, [F/N] trudged through the rushing winds. Pulling her foot from the snow and slamming it back down in front of her was a herculean task of its own.

The blizzard seemed to pick up on intensity, The snow hitting the ground harder like thrown rocks and pushing [F/N] around in the winds.

She didn't know why she kept moving forward, Keep trying to go further than the last time. She had no reason to, But inside of her aching chest the instinct resonated, It drove her forward. Trying to escape the snowstorm.

However, There was always a point inside the dream. The breaking point, Where her legs couldn't hold anymore, When the weight of her strength died out inside her, Making her collapse into the snow, Burying her alive in it.

When it happened she curled up into a fetal position, Trying her best to hold on to her life force slipping away. She couldn't cry no matter how much she had wanted to, The dehydration burned at her throat making it impossible.

The last thing she felt was.. Warm. The frostbite finally reaching her heart, A bittersweet heat invading her failing organ system as it shut down. She yearned for something, Weakly calling out to someone with her dying breath.

When she finally closed her eyes, Letting the darkness swallow her whole as the last thing she saw was a man coming upon her. A tall figure amongst the storm, Looking at her, Rushing forward with his purple kimono swaying in the wind.

But before she could see his face, Death had already siphoned her. The darkness being the only thing she could see.

[F/N] shot up, Gasping for air.

She looked around frantically, Heart beating like a drum. Survival instincts kicked in trying to quickly examine her surroundings.

Though she relaxed once she saw the wooden inside of the carriage she was in. The rattling of the vehicle moving along the road comforted her, Confirming that she was safe.

She let out a big sigh, Watching as the exhale turn into cold mist in the morning air.

[F/N] raised an eyebrow, Turning to look out the carriage window. It was snowing, The glisten of white sleet covering the ground shone in the pre-dawn sunlight. [F/N] felt her heartrate pick up again once more when she remembered her dream, Only for a split second.

It wasn't the harsh snowfall of a blizzard, Nor was the mist of cold vapour taking up everything in sight. Instead, It was the soft fall of flakes slowly making their way down to the earth, As well as only a whisp of frozen vapour dancing in the air.

It was the kind of fall where you could stand outside catching snowflakes on your tongue, The kind where you could stand idly by with a cup of hot tea in hands; Watching the beauty of cold terrain. [F/N] rubbed her eyes, She wasn't back in her dream.

Judging by the cold she was near the Kakushi base. She had set off at the first sign of the setting sun and had woken up when the sky was still a deep navy blue, Only the cracks of sunlight making their way through the edges of the faraway mountains.

Moving over to the front of the carriage she tapped on the glass window.

"Hey, How long until we reach our destination?" [F/N] called through the window. The driver turned back to look at her for a moment, But ultimately kept his eyes on the road.

"I'm just about to stop up here, Is that alright with you?" The driver responded. [F/N] mumbled out a yes and lain back in her seat.

She watched the snow fall carefully as the carriage ascended up the mountain.

"So, Urm.. Do you have anyone waiting on you, Ma'am?" The drive asked tentatively.

"..Nope, No one in particular." [F/N] replied, Keeping her eyes outside the window watching the snow fall.

They were left in silence for a short moment, Left only to the sounds of turning wheels and a rattling base.

"Then.. I wouldn't suppose you don't know the man down there?" The driver called out after a while.

The corner of [F/N]'s lips quirked, Twitched for a moment as she was brought out of her stupor and put straight into confusion, Caught off guard.

"What man?" [F/N] asked, Her tone raising a little in alarm. Who could be out here at this hour in these weather conditions?

"Eh.. He's a little bit down the road, You might be able to see him from your window." He replied suddenly gathering a bit more in tone at the sound of alarm in her voice.

[F/N] didn't hesitate to peer round, Craning her head as far as it could to try and get a good look at the ma-

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

[F/N]'s limited vision revealed Gyomei Himejima, The Stone Hashira, Standing a good few metre's down the pathway from where they were headed. He didn't move, But from what she could see he was waiting on the carriage passing them.

"Ma'am? Are you alright?" The driver asked, Concerned. But by the time he had let out the first word the blinds on the windows had already been shut.

"F-Fine! Just slow down and park in front of the guy, You can leave afterwards. Okay?" She called back to him, Sticking her hand through the little window hole with a handful of cash to which was taken immediatley.

"Alright then.." The driver said, But she didn't hear him as she was already pulling out her rucksack. While Gyomei was blind, He had extraordinary senses. Plus the fact that her voice also changed to a more masculine lilt when she put on the mask.

The fact was that [F/N] was actually a woman was suppose to be a secret, With only a small handful of people including trusted handmaidens, Mitsuri, Shinobu and Oyataka-sama actually knowing about the mask.

It was something she didn't tell anyone, Why she didn't want to say is something she didn't tell anyone either. Though it didn't really matter in that moment, Only the quick rapid succession of her rucksack opening and clothing getting flung everywhere.

Gyomei listened as the carriage rolled down the pathway, The cold seeping into his skin didn't seem to bother him and if it did then he did a good job of hiding it. His hands pressed in that same praying position, Haori flowing in the soft breeze as he heard the carriage come to a halt in front of him.

The door opened with a squeak, The thumping of boots hit the snow with a crunch!

"Himejima-san! Great to see you, What brings you all the way out here?" [F/N] called out, A fabricated cheer in the voice now belonging to him. He walked out a few steps toward Gyomei, Now wearing his slayer uniform and kitsune mask as the carriage went away.

"Fujimori-san.. It is good to know that you are in a cheerful mood." Gyomei said, His voice was filled with the ever-present sorrow. Tears eternally running down his face as he rattled the beads in his hands.

"Of course, I always am.. But uh.. What about my question? What brings you all the way out here?" [F/N] asked. In the corps she was only known by her last name, Fujimori. Her first name might be too much of a give away.

"I believe you are already aware of why, Fujimori-san." Gyomei muttered out. Despite [F/N]'s new tall and imposing form, It felt like comparing a tree to a shrub when in the presence of Gyomei. His height easily towering over him by a good foot.

[F/N] clicked his tongue, He already knew why. Though he felt it appropriate to continue his ignorance.

"..Not a clue, Care to enlighten me?" [F/N] drawled out, Feigning stupidity as the clanking on Gyomei's beads came to a jolting halt.

"..Please, May we not go back and forth like this again.. This is a serious matter." Was all that Gyomei said to [F/N], Yet his words held much deeper implications.

The simple truth was that both [F/N] and Gyomei didn't get along, It wasn't due to anything they had done to each other or anything they've said. But it just so happened that they both had rather conflicting personalities and philosophies.

Gyomei was a buddist monk, [F/N] was a shinto shrine maiden. Gyomei had conviction and it showed through his blade, [F/N] had barely any drive when she drove it into a demon's neck. Gyomei was the ideal hashira and someone to look up to, An idol among men. [F/N] couldn't even show up on time to meetings.

It would be wrong to call the two rivals, Though you couldn't deny the tension that followed the two whenever they were in a room together. [F/N] sighed and pinched the temple of his mask.

"Yeah.. Okay, You got me. Nothing gets past you, Eh?" [F/N] started with a rather sarcastic chuckle "Oyataka-sama sent you 'cause of my resignation letter, Right?"

"Correct."

[F/N] groaned lightly through his mask, He knew he should of expected this yet last night's sake and exhaustion kept it off his mind. "And let me guess.." [F/N] raised a hand to stroke his chin, Making an overdramatic motion. "He sent you to try and change my mind?" He gasped.

Gyomei nodded.

"Right now, We can't afford for you to retire from the corps. Two positions in the Hashira have not been replaced and with your retirement especially the corps is surely to take a blow" Gyomei explained.

[F/N] folded his arms.

"Please do understand, Fujimori-san.. It is your duty as a demon slayer to fight until you are unable, To give it your everything. An oath you swore years ago." Gyomei said, Taking a few slow steps forward towards his colleague.

[F/N] groaned, Not even bothering to hide it this time.

"Oh don't talk to me about Oaths, Gyomei. Have I ever told you how much I hate those?" [F/N] started, The fabricated cheer in his voice now gone and replaced with one of frustration and annoyance as his mask mimicked as such.

"Oaths are just words, Gyomei. No matter how you want to put it or how binding it may seem.. Oaths, Promises or Vows.. They're just words at the end of the day. The only thing that matters is the actions that follow, And you know that I've never given it my all, And right now I feel so tired of this damn job that I might as well be unable.." [F/N] finished, The exhaustion haunting the undertones of his voice like a parasite.

Gyomei frowned a little more.

"If you are so tired of this job.. Then why would you come into this line of work in the first place..? We all have motivations here, And I'm sure you do as well." Gyomei asked.

[F/N] scoffed, Who was he to ask such a personal question? An annoyed tinge rose up inside him, However he felt something else come up along with it.

It was true, Being a demon slayer was hard. It was certain death by many horrible and painful ways, The only reason you'd ever want to be one is for your motivations.

Gyomei's found family of eight was slaughtered by a demon let in by one of the children, Betrayal was his motive. Sanemi's mother slaughtered his siblings, Anger was his. Shinobu, Revenge. Giyuu, Grief. Muichiro, His memories. Even someone like Mitsuri had the simple yet powerful desire to help people.

Everyone had a motivation, Everyone except [F/N].

[F/N] said nothing, His body freezing in place not just from the weather.

"I.. I.." He mumbled.

He twitched his fingers, Shuffled around his foot in the snow as he tried to search for a response.

"..It's cold. We can discuss this later, Ideally in a warmer environment." [F/N] finally concluded.

Gyomei didn't make a move, Only for a second. Then he nodded.

"Alright then.. Let's go then.."

☆♡☆

"The first time in centuries, An opportunity has finally presented itself. A way to conquer the sun." Muzan finished his announcement, His voice echoing out to every corner of the Infinity castle.

He stood far off, On higher ground than any of the uppermoons below him--Some kneeling in respect and others listening patiently.

Muzan's voice, Though still the dark commanding tone persisted, It had a new lilt to it. It was something they had never heard before, It was something lighter and almost relieved if they didn't know any better.

"I fully expect all of you to focus all of your efforts into finding and capturing the Kamado girl. Alive." Muzan emphasised from where he stood pacing, The usual lab equipment he had out was behind him untouched.

At the start of the meeting, When the biwa string called- It had been announced that both Uppermoon five and four had been slew.

First it was the previous number six, Daki and Gyutaro. Their death's hadn't been a spectacle as they were the lowest rank and as Muzan had put it: Predictable. Daki was holding Gyutaro back, End of story.

But now that two Upper ranks were defeated together, The tone in the castle had shifted. The onset of worry now seeping into the atmosphere most evident by both Akaza and Kaigaku.

Though by the end the information brought out by their deaths had brought about a new shift in the air, A way to conquer the sun right at their fingertips.

"From here on out you are to act more diligently. You are not to rest until you find and capture Nezuko Kamado, I don't care how you do it nor do I want to know, You get it done" Muzan finished, Turning away from the audience below.

"Do not disappoint me"

And with that, Shoji doors slammed shut and he had gone.

The silence ruminated loud within the infinity castle, Louder than any shout or scream could ever be. The finality of his words being the only thing whisping away at them.

"Ah.. A demon girl resistant to the sun? How interesting..!" Douma exclaimed from where he sat, A fan raised over his face to conceal the malicious smile creeping up on him. "I wonder.. Which one of us will be able to get to her first?"

Douma looked over at Akaza, Who hadn't moved from his kneeling position on the floor. Though the cracked glass blue of his eyes shifted up to Douma at the hint towards him.

Akaza knew what Douma was doing, And he clenched his teeth at it.

"Akaza-dono.. What about you?" Douma teased, The fan covering his face did no good to hide the edges of his grin which was now spread from ear to ear.

Akaza's lips trembled, The urge to say something itched at his tongue yet the warning Kokushibo had gave him earlier made it feel too heavy to move in his mouth.

"Hmm..?" Douma insisted, Leaning closer towards number three.

"Back. Off" Akaza hissed lowly, The threat only made Douma laugh it off. Though his eyes narrowed as he watched Akaza march off, To which he cocked his head to the side.

"Kaigaku-dono, How about you? As one of the newest members I'm absolutely dying to hear your opinion!" Douma hummed. A predatorial glint shone in his multichromatic eyes as he stared down his subordinate.

Kaigaku froze in place, Looking back at Douma like he had snakes for hair.

"E-Eh..?!" Kaigaku stuttered. His clawed fingers fidgeting with the edges of his ebony kimono, The mere acknowledgement of his superior was enough to send him into a nervous halt.

"Come on, Don't give me the cold shoulder now~!" Douma persisted. Kaigaku gulped.

"W-Well I personally am g-going to-!"

A sudden sensation of freezing water ran down his back, Caught off by the sudden presence lurking behind him.

"Douma.. Maybe if you spent more time taking your duties as Upper two more seriously and less time distracting my Tsuguko.. You would find out who gets the Kamado girl first.." Kokushibo said, Towering behind Kaigaku to look down at Douma.

Though Kokushibo was never one to care what Uppermoons did to their lower counterparts, He did get a little irritated at the lack of commitment to Muzan's cause.

"Ah..! Apologies, Kokushibo-dono. I wish good luck to you..!" Douma called out as he walked off.

"Nakime!" Kokushibo called out to the biwa lady. And with a single strum both Kokushibo and Kaigaku had vanished.

☆♡☆

The large doors to the shrine opened up at the arrival of the two Hashira, The hinges creaking as it revealed the courtyard.

[F/N] and Gyomei walked inside, The courtyard grounds recently salted leaving no indication snow had fallen despite the fading flakes still gliding down.

The Kakushi Base, One of the only few demon slayer headquarters along with The Swordsmith village and the Ubuyashiki estate, As well as the newest. The base was made up of an old Shinto shrine dedicated to Inari [F/N] had came across a few years ago, And in her time as a slayer had been made into The Kakushi base. Before then all operations were relegated to the Ubuyashuki estate.

But now after being renovated several additions to the blueprints were added. More rooms and hallways covering the top half of the mountain for storage and activities. A third floor with several Kasugai crows coming in and out of their aviary assigned with missions. And finally was the library, A place where records of all sorts were kept.

Of course, It still being a shrine did still hold importance as most of the slayer operations had been assigned to the lower floors while the main area was used for religious practice. During the day it was quieter, With only a few shrine-maidens walking about. But at night The Kakushi activity was more prevalent.

Still very early in the morning, A lot of Kakushi were still about and greeted both [F/N] and Gyomei with respect as they passed. Either lurking around for business or resting up.

In the springtime wisteria bloomed all around, Yet as the winter came in the wisteria had died and given entrance for snowfall.

Opening the main doors and closing the door they both felt the relief of the shrine's warmth wash over them from the unrelenting cold outside.

"Welp.. We're here!" [F/N] exclaimed, Resting his hands onto his hips. Gyomei nodded, Turning towards him.

"So.. About your resignation.." Gyomei started, But was instantly interrupted by [F/N]'s groan.

"Ah right, forgot about that.." He breathed, Pinching the temple of his mask. Gyomei shook his head lightly.

"There is no avoiding the topic.. It is better if we discuss this over now than later.." Gyomei stated, Despite the walk giving them enough time to think he hadn't shaken in his opinion "If I may ask.. What do you plan on doing once you retire?"

The question seemed to make [F/N]'s lip twitch, A movement that the mask mimicked perfectly. In that moment, [F/N] silently thanked Inari for Gyomei's blindness.

"..Ah, You know. Drink a surplus of sake.. Go for a real long rest.. Maybe I'll take a little trip abroad north, I'll see if I'm in the mood." [F/N] drawled.

"It pains me to know how little you are dedicated to your job.. Fujimori-san." Gyomei mourned. [F/N] sighed.

"Listen, Himejima-san.. I know-"

"Master?"

A voice cut off from down the hallway they stood in. [F/N] peered over Gyomei's shoulder to find the source.

Genya Shinazugawa stood at the end of the hallway. He was dressed in a sleeping yukata and held a pillow under his arms, [F/N] remarked to himself about how much he looked like his brother.

Gyomei turned around.

"Ah.. Shinazugawa-san.. I see you are doing well.." Gyomei greeted as Genya walked down the hall towards the two Hashira.

Suddenly however, A realisation stabbed into [F/N] like a pike.

"Himejima-san.. Did you bring both of your Tsuguko here..?" [F/N] whispered lowly only Gyomei could hear. [F/N]'s expression seemed empty now, Devoid of emotion and instead replaced with a serious demeanour.

He raised a brow.

"Yes.. Both of them are here, I decided to bring them with me.." Gyomei said. Finally letting Genya catch up to the two of them, He finally noticed Fujimori who went hidden due to Gyomei's height.

Genya stopped once he finally saw [F/N], Realisation of who he was and his portfolio hit him hard, Before bowing in respect.

"F-Fujimori-sama! I'm sorry.. Was I interrupting anything?" Genya asked, Realising the position the two were in.

[F/N] looked once at Genya, Then Gyomei.

"No, No. You're fine.. Apparently the snowstorm outside is going to get worse, You two should stay here for tonight.." [F/N] chuckled, His serious expression now turning light once more before walking off.

"Fujimori-san, We are not-"

"Goodnight, Himejima-san." [F/N] asserted with a finality in tone. [F/N] waved once behind him.

"Rest up, You two!"

☆♡☆

The door closed lightly behind her, A loud click resonating out.

[F/N] took a few barefoot steps down the stairs feeling the warm water submerge her ankles. She sunk further, Watching as the aqua parted to make way for her as she reached waist length.

Mist rose up from the pool, Mixing with the cherry lotus incense drifting through the air and crafting a new potent steamier aroma.

[F/N] felt herself sink until the water reached her neck, Bubbles rising up tickled at her skin once they popped. [F/N] let out a large sigh, As if she had been holding her breath for too long.

"I'll miss this.." She hummed. Her wary muscles relaxing as she felt her entire body melt into mush.

Today had been a long day. When she took her mask off she was just known as [F/N], The head-maiden of the shrine, And being head-maiden brought upon a lot of duties such as leading prayer ceremonies or just the daily tasks around the shrine.

As soon as she had slipped off the mask as Fujimori and came out as [F/N], Her day had started. Brushing the floors, Avoiding Gyomei and his Tsuguko's, Handing out orders to the other maidens in the shrine and tending to both the crows and the injured Kakushi; All in her daily work.

Not to mention her daily training. Four hours of meditation in the morning, Her workout in the afternoon and her night-time prayer ceremony had taken a lot out of her.

So as [F/N] let her aching muscles be remedied by the water, She couldn't help but let her worries slip away from her; Her nightmares, Retirement, Shizuko.. Only to be replaced by the foggy steam of the bathhouse.

She wished she could stay like this forever, To be swept away by the warmth and never get out.

So [F/N] sunk lower, Soon enough the tip of her chin was submerged, Then her mouth, Then her nose. All the way until she could no longer be seen from the surface.

[F/N]'s body floated in the water. Watching as the bathhouse lights become blurrier and blurrier as she descended further, It distorted until it was only a glowing overlay in the aqua.

She heard the sound around her be muffled by the water, The sound of talk in other rooms, A slow click and the soft sound of the bubbles ascending.

Her lips parted, Letting her breaths come up in air pockets and rise back up to the top. Straining her eyes in the water the pressure of it comforted her like a blanket on a cold night, Eternally staring up at the distorted light as her breath was taken away.

Her lungs depressed, But it didn't matter. To [F/N] this was Nirvana, Heaven or Valhalla, Whatever you believed to be waiting for you after death. Her lungs depressing wasn't important now.

In truth, [F/N] was a shintoist, She has been for as long as she could remember. She believed once people died they returned to nature, Their souls energy going back to where they came.

It sounded peaceful to her, Warm, Never cold. The last bit of oxygen escaped her trained lungs; Lips finally closing.

The water only got hotter, Bubbles rising up quicker and quicker before suddenly her eyes bolted open, Now aware of the presence in the room.

The light she had been staring at was obscured by a hazy figure. She rose up quicker than she had sunk gasping for air.

She surfaced with a large splash, Making the figure flinch away from the sudden movement. A loud desperate inhale let out only interrupted by coughs erupting from her throat.

She flung the top half of her body over the edge of the pool, Hanging on as if her life depended on it and coughing up spurts of water.

"Ah! I'm so sorry, I thought..-" The figure stuttered. [F/N] hauled her head up to find that it was a young boy clad in demon slayer uniform, A checkered haori hanging off him.

"W-What the.. Who are you?" [F/N] wheezed, Wiping her lips. She could of sworn she had locked the door, How someone got in here evaded her.

"Ah.. My name is Tanjiro Kamado, I came in here because I saw Fujimori-san's haori on the hook outside.. Um.. I'm so sorry, I must of been mistaken.." Tanjiro apologised, Quickly turning away.

The checkered haori, Right.

"N-No.. No.. What is it that you want Fujimori-san for?" [F/N] asked, Spitting out the last of the water.

"Oh, Uh.. I was told that he had some information on my breathing style from Kanroji-san, Do you know where he is by any chance?" Tanjiro said, Not turning around.

"No, But I'm the head shrine-maiden here, I know just about as much as he does.." [F/N] said.

"Really? Would it be alright if I talked to you for a bit?" Tanjiro asked, Back still turned to the woman digging her nails into the floorboards.

"Sure.. Just, Why aren't you turning around?" [F/N] asked.

"U-Um.. You're sort of.. Naked?" He responded nervously.

"Ah! Get out, Get out!" [F/N] screamed out, Grabbing and holding up one of her sandles to throw.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! AHHHH-!"

☆♡☆

[F/N] sat herself down on the tatami mat, Fixing up her haori.

"Well then, I apologise for my indecency earlier.. I believe you had some information you wanted to know about breathing styles?" [F/N] asked. Picking up the cup of sake-infused tea she took a sip, The boiling liquid not affecting her as it ran down her throat.

Both Tanjiro and [F/N] sat in one of the rooms of the shrine, Sitting on parallel sides of their little table with a tea-set hot and ready.

At the back on [F/N]'s side was a handmaiden watching over them with the teapot in hand, Ready to serve.

"Yes! I've been to several places around including Mr. Rengoku's old estate, However their records were unfortunately.. Damaged. I was hoping you would have any records or information for me." Tanjiro explained, Picking up his own cup of tea he blew on it before he took a short sip.

[F/N] hummed.

"Describe your breathing style to me." [F/N] asked, Setting her cup down.

"Like.. How it looks?"

"Yep.. How it looks." She confirmed

Tanjiro took a second to think.

"Well.. It's kind of like Mr. Rengoku's breathing, But it's more.. Bright. It's hotter.. I learned water breathing from the old water hashira and this one from my father… He called it Hinokami Kagura." Tanjiro said, Snapping his fingers at the end in recollection.

[F/N]'s finger circled the rim of the cup.

"Hinokami Kagura… I see.." She drawled "Well, Nothing exactly comes to mind.." She finished, Careful to pronounce every syllable while distracted by her thoughts.

Tanjiro's smile dropped ever so slightly.

"Ah.. Alright then, Thank you anyways for your help.." He said as he bowed his head down.

"..But the library may have something that could give you some insight" [F/N] continued.

Tanjiro perked his head up, Eyes slightly opening in interest.

"The library?" He queried

"Yes, The library. It's on the other side of the shrine, First floor. It holds the vast majority of information collected over a few centuries, Both relating to demon slayers and not. If there is any info about your breathing at all then it will be there in the library." [F/N] said. She recalled the several nights mulling over the information in there for her nightmares, If anything was it would be there.

Tanjiro nodded, The smile reappearing in his face.

"This is very helpful, Thank you so much… Um.." A look of puzzlement came over him. "I'm sorry.. You never told me your name?"

"Oh.. My name is [F/N-"

A sudden throb came from her chest, An ache making her keel over on the table, Dropping her boiling hot tea all over the tatami mat.

[F/N] yelped out in pain as The Handmaiden from behind her rushed over to [F/N]'s side with a napkin. Tanjiro also got up and ran to her adjacent side.

"[F/N]-sama! Are you alright?" The handmaiden asked in concern, Trying to dry the stains left on her kimono.

[F/N] only gripped the core of her chest, Pressing down hard and grabbing a fistful of her kimono in the process. She coughed up liquid from within her throat, To which her handmaiden, Maika, Provided a handkerchief for.

"Is it your chest, [F/N]-sama?" Maika pleaded as [F/N] wiped the last of the residue off her mouth.

[F/N] nodded.

"I-I'll go get some medicine! I'll be back soon!" Maika exclaims. She suddenly gets up from her position comforting [F/N] to rush out of the room in search of a remedy.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Tanjiro asked with concern, Resting a hand on [F/N]'s shoulder.

"Yes.. I'm fine.." [F/N] said through clenched teeth. This must of been an after-affect of her bath earlier, A small bit of water probably still lingered in her lungs causing her body to cough it back up.

Tanjiro's nose twitched, His expression only got more wary. [F/N] noticed, Catching the spasm easily she waved him off.

"I'm fine.. Just, I'll take you down to the archives tomorrow alright? I need a bit more rest tonight.." She said. Looking up to the younger boy's singed eyes, Who stared back into hers with a sincere truth.

"..Alright then, Thank you for your time anyways.. [F/N]-san" He bowed his head lightly and got up from the kneeling position on the floor.

"Goodnight, Tanjiro." [F/N] called out to him as he left, He smiled and bowed once more before closing the shoji door entirely.

She was once again left alone in the solidarity of the tea-room. Lukewarm tea splotches dried into her kimono and the tatami mat around her.

The slow throbbing ache in her chest remained in her chest, Small wheezes coming out under her breath every time her lungs decreased. [F/N] chided herself for her stupidity, She should of been more aware of her surroundings, She should of checked.

The shoji door slid open once more, Revealing Maika standing awkwardly in the doorway, Fiddling with her hair.

"So.. Erm.. It turns out due to the current winter.. We're out of the necessary ingredients to make a herbal remedy and.." Maika stuttered, Avoiding eye contact with the woman hunched over infront of her.

"It's fine, Maika.." [F/N] said. However her words didn't do much to stop Maika.

"..H-However the nearest village should have some in stock, I'll go down and gather the right ingredients for you!" She explained.

"..Maika, The snow outside has picked up. I don't want you to get hurt so it's probably best if you stay inside before it gets any worse." [F/N] explained.

"But.. Uhm.. Uhh.." Maika stuttered, Trying to stall enough time to come up with a good reason.

Maika, One of the newer, Younger shrine-maidens. A small mousy sort of girl with untidy golden hair shepherded with ribbons into a ponytail, Complete with the shrine maiden uniform of red hakama trousers and a white kosobe. She had passed final selection yet had refrained from becoming both a slayer and a kakushi.

So she came to the shrine instead to become a maiden, It only made sense that she would want to prove herself to [F/N]. To do her best, To be of some help to people she cared about.

[F/N] supposed she could understand.

"Alright then." [F/N] cut off Maika's babble with two single words. Her eyes widened and sparked up in the light.

"R-Really?! Okay! Uhm.. I'll go do it then..!" Maika exclaimed, Turning around to move outside the room.

"But!" [F/N] interrupted. Maika turned back around.

"If you are to go out, You must find some heavier clothing. And don't try to descend the mountain alone, Find a Kakushi to come with you, Okay?" [F/N] laid down the rules to her like a mother explaining them to her child.

Maika nodded rather feverishly.

[F/N] smirked, Only slightly.

"You'll do good here, Maika." [F/N] mumbled, Maika's face lit up in a large smile ear to ear.

"Thank you, [F/N]-sama! I won't disappoint!" She exclaimed. And with that, She was off.

☆♡☆

[F/N] lay on her futon, Her eyes heavy with drowsiness and stress. She waited on Maika coming back. She didn't mean to lie down, But unfortunately the dragging weights of exhaustion had brought her to her futon, Defeated by the day.

She didn't want to fall asleep. The ever-present threat of the nightmares ate at her mind like Oneiroi. If she could choose to stay awake forever, She would.

However as [F/N] stared up at the ceiling and saw the dark curtains close over her eyes, She could feel the singe of the chill on her skin. The crawling cold sweat running down her neck as the darkness left and the blizzard faded into view.

Closing her eyes she took a deep breath in, Letting out mist as she exhaled.

And as she opened them back up, The storm had risen.

☆♡☆

Kaigaku trudged through the snow, The cold tickling his sandals barely affecting him as he navigated his way through the dark alleyways in search of a meal.

The village had barely anyone in it. He knew as Uppermoon six he could of easily wiped out the entire town, But he liked the game, The hunt for prey, Not the one and done destruction.

His artic coloured eyes scanned over the group of people over at the market, Though dwindled by the storm the crowd was still there, Gathered round the snow covered stall.

He looked at everyone of them, His teeth bare and wide not being able to contain his giddy smile.

He wondered how he could lure each of them individually, How easy it would be to make them cower in front of him, Squeezing out all the superiority from them and consuming it like a parasite.

Then he'd bite into their limbs, Tearing them apart as they screamed and cried for help. Kaigaku couldn't hold back much longer, The mere hunger pounding at his stomach ached for him to feed.

But then, One specific person came into focus.

They had ran over to the stall he was staring at in a hurry. A look of urgency in their eyes, But that's not what drawed him in, No.

It was the kakushi uniform they had adorned.

He seemed to be accompanying another girl, Of what looked like to be a shrine-maiden. They both had ran up to the merchant, Asking for herbs.

His eyes widened at the sight. If he couldn't hold back his grin by now then he was smiling like a madman in a straightjacket at this point.

Kakushi, Rarely seen yet held such worthwhile information for demons. He licked his lips, He could hold off his hunger for just a little while longer.

This was a chance to prove himself to Kokushibo after all.

Next Chapter

[greyspirehollow]

Vesuvia weekly ; The courtiers' Guilty Pleasures !

Pairing : The courtiers x reader Fandom : The Arcana visual novel Warnings : none. Pure fluff.

Volta :

I like to believe she loves dancing, like ballet, and the opera ; she loves the pretty dresses and the music,, and will secretly try and get some costumes custom tailored for herself, which she'll keep preciously in her closet and put on when she's alone, to admire herself in the mirror and imagine being on stage, amidst the crowd of pretty dancing people and musicians.

I'm pretty sure she would love to be able to fight. Being short comes with a lot of disadvantages,, I'm pretty sure she would like placing a few punches or kicks just right in people sometimes. Maybe she's already asked Vulgora to train her in the past, too.

Loves going to Portia's cottage. Loves Pepi. The flowers. The leaves. It's all so pretty ! And Portia's so nice !

She'll get all flustered and stutter if you ever ask about those secret hobbies of hers, but she'd want to share too, and even get a little frustrated by her conflicting emotions.

Vulgora :

I think they like being calmer and softer when no one's around, and to be treated calmly and with kindness (I'm sure they like being hugged, but you will never for the life of them see them admit it).

They like to play chess with the Countess, even if they loose systematically.

I have a feeling they'd love to go hunting too, with or without a falcon/dogs, or someone else's company.

I think behind their very loud and impulsive facade, they're a rather secretive person, not used to open up about things other than the plainly obvious, and so their little hobbies would be hard to discover unless you look into them a little, or generally get interested in them.

Valdemar :

I think they can play the violin, and some forgotten old instruments. They like how they have to make their finders dance over the instruments to make music.

They're a pretty manual person I think, and can craft little things here and there when they're bored ; pretty sure they tried embroidery even. Very steady hands (heh.)

and fashion. No one can convince me otherwise ; they have a sense of fashion and just don't exploit it. They don't dress often, if ever, or openly comment on people's outfits. but they COULD. IF ONLY THEY DID ARGH-

Secretive person as well. But you'd have no way of discovering any of that if they didn't want you to.

Vlastomil :

Always loved the sound a harp makes. He'd kill to learn how to play it, but he's never dared to take that initiative. It's just such a beautiful instrument, so calming, and it looks really nice to have it lean against you...

I think he'd also enjoy taking walks in the forest, and go lay down in some fresh and humid dirt, listening to the little river nearby, the chirp of birds, the leaves in the wind, the rays of sunlight peeking through...

We know how much he loves his worms, but what if he liked other things as well? what about isopods? tiny lil things.

You may surprise him indulging once or twice, but he'll always stammer a half-made-up excuse and shift the topic of the conversation quickly

Valerius :

Cat person. Loves cats. Wants cats just so he can sit in a big chair and have one on his lap and pet it menacingly while he sips his wine. Will not admit it.

LOVES velvet. Would wear velvet every day of his life if he could ; but he feels it's maybe a little too much in certain scenarios, so avoids it. He does have a cape in the back of his closet, which he wears sometimes when the halls of the Palace are desert.

Actually like to let his hair down ; thinks it gives him a mysterious charm (which yeah, if he styled it a little better), and one time you caught him mindlessly twirling his fingers into his strands.

He's not necessarily secretive, it's just he's learned court etiquette a lot, and so has taken the habit of hiding and bottling his personality down. That part at least.

[dogloveri23]

Thieves and Saints

pairing: Cyno X gn! reader Warning: Angst and mentions of death A/n: So, I just want to mention again that these posts are to celebrate my blog's 4-year anniversary and the others will be linked in the anniversary post here!

Often times Cyno often layed in bed and questioned the decision he would make if his ideals and desires one day collided. He often weighed his decisions and came to the conclusion that he wouldn't let go of his ideals. He saw it as an interesting concept but never a reality at least not until today. His muscles tensed as he raced through Sumeru city to get to the Academia. His lungs burned and his sweat dripped profusely across his entire body.

"Theif, you shall not be spared by the Matra!", He heard someone yell. He hoped and prayed that his intel was wrong but it was rarely wrong. Yet he held faith in Hamanubis that this would be some cruel joke.

"If this was past Sumeru, you would be killed quietly in a corner", Another voice said.

The closer he got, he could see your familiar tuft of hair. Your head dropped as you hiccupped between cries. "I didn't do this, I know that's what the evidence is pointing to but I swear I know nothing about this!"

Your voice was shaking, you didn't sound the way you usually did and now you were covered in cuts and bruises that would get infected if no one helped you out.

"Step away from them," He spoke firmly. He could feel the rage bubbling within him as his eyes glanced at your restraints. You looked up at him and he could see a glimmer of hope in your eyes. But he couldn't relax not when he understood the gravity of the situation.

"General, this person is in charge of all previous cases of the stolen commodity. They and their people are in charge of crippling the economy and trade of all of Sumeru as we know it!"

It was a lie. Cyno knew it. He didn't have to see the evidence to know it. "What are the grounds and evidence of your claims?" He inquired, his eyes not leaving you and his mind not ceasing its prayers.

"The fingerprints analysis of her and those on the abandoned carriers in the desert line up as well as various photos of her with the fatui."

Both were suspicious but the odds of you working with the people who killed your parents are highly unlikely. If anything, you were probably seeking revenge. He would make sure to scold you when you got out of here. The fingerprint would be a tougher case to dispute.

"General Cyno, Carriers are not touched by mere passersby in Sumeru. As they do not work at Caravan Ribat to inspect goods, unless she was actively involved, it would make no sense for their fingerprint to be there!" A matra argued.

It was a solid line of reasoning. "Did you question the suspect?" He asked as sourness filled his mouth. It didn't feel right to call you a suspect but if he let a term of endearment slip, there would be no way for him to save you.

"Yes, but they insist they had no part in it and they just happened to be caught up in the middle. They mentioned helping a child going by the name of Zamba that they met in Sumeru City. No names were found in the archives"

"Then we shall take their word on it and search for Zamba. It would destroy the face of the Matra if we gave undeserving sentences".

"But if we let them go and they escape, they could likely cause more trouble. We shall detain them in prison for three days while we investigate."

"Very Well"

He grits his teeth. He couldn't stop you from going to prison as it was standard protocol. It was just three days, he needed you to hang on for three days while he got the evidence to set you free. He could save you and still stick to his ideals.

"Cyno! Cyno, please! The crimes I am being accused of are grave, the prisoners were starved because of it. If they get word that I may-"

"I'll look into it," He cut you off. But it was cold, too cold. He could see the last rays of hope completely fade from your eyes. It was like you knew something that he did not. Yet, if he spoke any longer, he wasn't sure how much longer he'd be able to keep his emotions at bay.

As soon as he was left to his own advances, he endlessly scoured the desert looking and searching for clues. His body begged for rest and yet he knew that if he closed his eyes, you would be behind bars.

As Hamanubis would have it, he found the real culprits and brought them to the Academia. He could feel his body crashing and yet he wouldn't give in, not until you were back home safe. Not until he could hold you to fall asleep. Not until he could kiss your worries away and have you back.

On his arrival at the academia, the other Matra gave each other solemn looks as they scratched the back of they're heads. "The person from earlier is innocent as per my report. I had expected to see you processing their release."

No response. Cyno cocked his head and looked at them once more. He couldn't understand why none of them refused to bring you out. Why were they choosing to keep his happiness away from him? Why were they choosing to deny him of his lover? He hadn't slept in days and yet they chose to withdraw his slumber further by keeping them away!

"General... They were killed. It slipped that they were a suspect and-"

"And you let the other prisoners mess with them?" He yelled. His calm exterior faltered in the blink of an eye.

"Sir-"

"You let them die!"

He felt himself fall to his knees as his palms dug into the ground. He could feel Hamanubis' power slipping out of him uncontrollably. He was too angry to stay calm. He was too upset to keep up a Facade. He wanted everyone and anyone to pay for the grave mistake.

***

Cyno coughed loudly as he broke into a cold sweat. His eyes dashed around to the familiar walls and bedding till they landed on you staring at him concerned. You looked sleepy and your general appearance was dishevelled. but you were unharmed and in one piece, just the way he liked you. It was all a terrible dream. He sighed in relief.

"Are you ok, Cyno. Do you need me to-" His arms engulfed you as his fingers traced patterns into your back.

"Just hug me. That's all I need my love."

"Alright, " You sigh. Your eyes are still heavy but you can tell he needs this from you."I love you."

"I love you too. And please run away from anyone named Zamba."